Work Text:
kakashi’s late.
this, on it’s own, is not a surprising statement, considering the man’s time management habits. but neither him, nor his advisor, have come through the door, and in contrast to the hokage, obito is never late, despite whatever kakashi claims he was like in his youth. but neither kage nor advisor are anywhere to be seen.
the summer sun beats down on everyone in the meeting room. naruto plays with a pen, head on the table. shikamaru drums his fingers on the table. tenzo fidgets in his seat. the two anbu agents stand motionless next to the door. shikamaru clears his throat. “maybe we should just…start without—?”
the door swings open and obito uchiha walks through, only five minutes late, sporting a grin the size of fire country. naruto perks up instantly. shikamaru’s expression pinches. tenzo’s eyebrows rise.
“evening.” obito quips, voice raspy. “shall we start?”
there’s a tense pause. then shikamaru sighs. “kakashi— hokage-sama—“
“oh, don’t worry about him.” obito doesn’t even try to restrain the glee in his voice. “he’ll be a while.”
naruto makes a tortured sound. shikamaru’s expression turns more towards pain. tenzo’s eyebrows disappear under his forehead protector. one of the anbu snorts.
obito walks cheerily through the room and takes his usual seat to the hokage’s right. he opens his mouth to speak,
but the hokage himself has just walked through the door, no more than six minutes late, and all eyes turn to him, wide, because kakashi hatake is sporting very obvious sex hair.
whatever exists on top of kakashi’s head is already more often defined as a bird’s nest than a head of hair, but today it’s blatantly obvious that that is not his usual mess. that’s intentional and meticulous and very obviously someone’s else’s handiwork.
kakashi saunters into the meeting room, nonchalant as always, adjusting his- now very apparently wrinkled- hokage robes to sit down.
kakashi clears his throat. “sorry for the holdup,” he says. naruto is going blue. shikamaru looks like he’s in genuine pain. tenzo’s eyebrows, momentarily returned, spring out of sight again. obito’s grin gets impossibly wider.
it doesn’t take being a genius to put messed up hair and wrinkled robes and horribly raspy voice together to figure out that kakashi is not late to this meeting of his own volition. at least not fully. “i got…caught up.” tenzo doesn’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice, the shadow of a smirk under his mask. naruto drops his head into his arms and groans. the anbu by the door shake with barely withheld laughter.
on the other end of the table, shikamaru looks like he’s aged ten years. he’s not getting paid enough for this.