"I wish you wouldn't look at me like that." Kakashi murmurs. He's sitting at the couch, a book in his lap—you're sitting on the floor, your head resting on his knee as you lazily look up at him.

The day had been long and unforgiving, hard on his body and soul. And upon retiring to your shared apartment, he found that his world-weary exhaustion lingered.

"Like what?" You ask quietly in response, tilting your head.

He pauses.

"I don't know," he hesitates. "Like you could love me."