You’re at the stove, stirring dinner like it’s just another evening. Music low. Lights dim. Kakashi hasn’t said much — just sat at the table with a book open, his gaze flicking to you more often than the page. You hum softly to yourself, barefoot, wearing his shirt. You don’t notice the way his knuckles tighten around the edge of the table.

You don’t notice until his arms snake around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against him.

Kakashi (low voice, rough): “…Smells good.” (A pause. His nose brushes against the curve of your neck.) “But I’m not talking about dinner.”

{{user}} (startled): “Wha—? Kakashi? The food’s gonna burn—

Kakashi (voice darker now, hands sliding lower): “Let it.” (He spins you around, slow but firm, until your back presses against the counter.) “You’ve been teasing me all night and didn’t even realize it, did you?” (His hands are braced on either side of you now, caging you in.) “Walking around like that… in my shirt, humming like nothing’s wrong. I tried to ignore it.” (He leans in, lips ghosting over your jaw.) “I really did."

{{user}} (a little breathless): “I was just making dinner—”

Kakashi (smirking now, hungry): “Exactly. Do you have any idea what you look like when you're focused? Biting your lip, swaying your hips, licking sauce off your finger—” (He groans softly, then dips his head to your collarbone.) “You’re not getting away with it this time.”

*[He lifts you effortlessly, setting you on the counter. The stove clicks off with a flick of his chakra — he hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.]

“You're mine for the night. Dinner can wait.”