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Uchiha Week 2022: Interest Check

We’re hosting an event dedicated to the Uchiha Clan! Please take our interest check! The interest check will help us gauge the number of possible participants, decide the month of the event, and even collect some prompts, if people are inspired and ready to share. This interest check will remain open until the end of November, so click on the link and give us some feedback!

https://forms.gle/gwMiFqpV3g5WKPDu9

Mod Shisui: @insaneflowergirl

Mod Kakashi: @dieselwinds

@narutoevents

than 🦋

valleys of the young

here, take this (a corny hyoshun comic set shortly after the sanctuary arc)

Swallowing back a laugh at the sight of Iruka looking at that pan with such sad eyes, Obito walked to close the space between Iruka and him shyly. Kakashi passed by them, looking at the pan resting on the stove that… wasn’t exalting the very best smell in the air.

Drowning on a half-mixed sauce, completely burned garlic bubbling up the surface, that couple of mushrooms looked almost as pitiable as Iruka himself when Kakashi peeked quickly at the pan’s content.

“Iruka,” Kakashi started so, with some humor in his voice as he softly pulled himself on their hug, “you tried to cook, love?"

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito/Umino Iruka

Rating: T

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 2088

Written for the @kakairu-discord-server Winter 90m Exchange for @dooilimx 💕. The main plot was "food is a love language".

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

Recipe used: Cheesy Mushrooms in a Creamy Garlic Sauce

English isn't my first language, but I (tried) to clean it the best I could. I have so muchhhhh fun writing this, so I tried to not worry so much about my language and just write. Butt I really hope it doesn't bother you while reading <3

Iruka has never been an enthusiast of cars, of all the things. Fast and furious had never really caught his attention, sadly for Toretto’s sake. Yeah, he had both family and friends and no white regatta in his closet, shamefully to his Latino blood.

Being stuck in a relationship not just with one, but two pilots were just a playful trick from Lady Luck.

However, the feeling of pure adrenaline while the chant of squealed tires sounded around the racetrack would never feel old when Iruka attended his boyfriends’ races. The F1 being shown on TV by the morning could never bring justice to watching real racing, live. Feeling the bleachers behind his feet shaking as the cars pass through the crowd like thunder, 230 kilometers per hour. The salty taste of the air—smoke, oil, gasoline—yells ripped out the crowd’s throat when the last lap flag stood up, the beer spilled up in the air; all of it made your blood pour out, the adrenaline ran wild through your veins like fire.

People screamed all around Iruka. Some cursed at their favorite pilot for losing, others were in a crazy-ish vibe, driven by race’s winner euphoria. It was quite a hot day, almost windless, so Iruka washed out a drop of sweat running down his temples as he signed, brows furrowed, and made his way between half-drunken men down the bleachers.

The team knew him, obviously. The ‘Ojos de Ángel, corazón de Obito y Kakashi’, as Obito liked to cheer himself at them, arms threw around Iruka’s waist. A few teammates of their boyfriends nodded at him as he easily drove himself at the pits, their expressions sorrowful for Obito’s bad racing too.

Iruka grimaced, looking at where his boyfriends were, standing next to Obito’s Toyota 86. Obito was throwing his helmet angrily at the ground. Iruka left out a worrying noise, squeezing himself to get closer to his boyfriend.

Kakashi glanced at Iruka throughout the people, his white brows deeply frowned while he whispered something at Obito.

“Hey…” Iruka tried, upping his hand to touch Obito’s shoulder softly…

But Obito just shrugged, shaking Iruka’s hand out.

“Obito!” Kakashi hissed.

“Fuck off, Kakashi. I just lost the fucking race alright? Give me a damn break!”

“I—” Iruka muttered, letting his hands fall loose behind his body. Obito scoffed aloud, pushing open the zipper on his jacket, his tan skin shining with sweat, and stepped away from both of them.

Kakashi cursed aloud, shaking his head. Iruka bit his lip, unsure of what to do before Kakashi turned at him with a sad smile. “He’ll be good, ‘right? He’s just upset.”

Iruka licked his lips carefully, trying to put a smile on his face. “Of course. I… see you home…?”

“Yeah,” Kakashi answered, leaning to kiss Iruka’s cheek softly, before turning away to chase Obito.

———————————

It shouldn’t be so hard, Iruka thought within himself, grimacing. It’s just a recipe. It wouldn’t bite.

But, looking down at the ingredients on his lap, Iruka isn’t pretty sure of it.

Everyone has bad days. It was an important race for Obito, so Iruka wouldn’t blame him for being rude. He wasn’t a flower who couldn’t deal with a grumpy lover—even if, actually, Iruka usually was the grumpy one in their relationship.

The very first thing Iruka had learned from the races was that either you win, or you lose. There’s no such thing as a middle term, a second place, within the wrath of the motor.

(Stupid macho man and their pride, as always, Iruka would scoff on Obito and Kakashi’s faces.

“Ask any racer. Any real racer. It don't matter if you win by an inch or a mile. Winning's winning,” Obito said— quoted at Iruka.

To his credit, Obito really seemed deeply offended when Iruka told him to shut up because he wasn’t a protagonist on Fast and Furious.)

Grimacing, Iruka carefully put the bags at the kitchen counter. No matter how Iruka would scoff at Obito's gaudy quoting of Fast and Furious, he knew racing was a real, important thing for both of his lovers. It was their life, the asphalt, the cars, the racetrack.

Even if they’re damn stupid sometimes.

Kakashi had always been the ‘cook one’ between them, but Obito could get by himself pretty decently on cooking too. Iruka couldn’t count how many times he just left work feeling awful, just to be received in a warm home with the smell of his favorite food on the air. How many rainy, depressive days would’ve been cheered up with Obito’s usually gaudy, strong arms around his waist and the warmth of Kakashi’s lap while they watched movies and shared fresh-baked muffins.

Obito and Kakashi worked damn hard for this day. Of course, it isn’t a guarantee that everything would be perfect, and both of them were grown-ass men who could deal with their frustrations, but Iruka could as well help them, offering a piece of what they had given him all that time.

So. Cooking.

It shouldn’t be so hard.

With a sigh, Iruka looked down at his phone, conferring the recipe again. Everything was there: butter, mushrooms, white wine, tomato puree, garlic, cream, cheese, chicken stock, pepper, and salt.

You would look at Obito’s grimy face and just tell his comfort food are those cheapy, greasy $2 double cheeseburgers, all American style, not some fancy soup; but you could guess something, judging by Minato’s own wild mood.

They’d tell Iruka stories about their mentor. Minato was both a brilliant racer and a parental figure for them. He practically had raised Kakashi and Obito, taking those oily boys out of the gangs’ way to work with him on his mechanic.

Minato may have grown a passion for cars and motors, but his family owned a restaurant on Olvera Street. Kakashi may have told him those old memories a thousand times, but it’s still one of Iruka’s personal favorites; how Minato would lead them to his house and cook them those warm dishes after offering them dry clothes after a bad race, or just when they were in a nasty mood. Kakashi said it turned out to be a small tradition between them; to share that meal together after a not-so-good day.

Shaking his head, Iruka smiled faintly washing his hands, his hair already tied on a high ponytail, and turned himself at the stove.

Minato surely spoiled them rotten, but Iruka could do it.

He will.

Mind made up, Iruka breathed deeply. First step. Wash the mushrooms.

Easy peace, Iruka laughed with himself.

Iruka placed the pan and turned the fire in. He started dropping the butter to melt and saute the mushrooms.

It went.... suspiciously well, in the first moment. Too much well, and Iruka narrowed his eyes at the pan as the mushrooms slowly cooked as if they were his worst students, after getting caught doing a prank.

The next step was to open the wine and pour it to make a sauce. Keeping a careful eye on the mushrooms sauteing, Iruka grabbed a measuring cup and filled 80ml, and threw it on the pan cautiously.

A bit more than 80ml, perhaps. But wine was wine, and it went well with everything.

… he wasn’t sure if it was meant to lift fire up, but he felt a bit proud of himself for looking like Gourdon Ramsay on Kitchen’s Nightmare.

Although perhaps Kitchen’s Nightmare wasn’t the best example for this time.

“Stop freaking out, damn,” Iruka cursed at himself, placing a hand on his chest as the fire slowly rose down to die on the pan. It’s just a saute , dear God.

Looking at the recipe on his phone again, Iruka relaxed a bit. It was meant to cook for three minutes, so Iruka, still keeping a careful eye at the stove, stepped away and took his phone.

He could barely get time to close the safari and open a new Twitter tab as it rang.

Anko's very loud voice welcomed him as soon as he accepted the call. “Maria, Madre di Dio, Iruka, do you remember that substitute teacher who lives near me? With a bandana and face scars, acting bossy as if he's Escobar from Narcos?”

Blinking, Iruka chuckled, turning around to shore up against the wall. "Ibiki? Yeah?”

“Do you believe he dared to ask me about…”

Iruka grinned as Anko drowned at rumbling about… anything Ibiki had done to her, as she spoke as he had just murdered her cat. It was pretty amusing, the way she’d curse his life to however would like to hear just to hide from herself the massive obvious crush she got on him.

“... Iruka?” Anko called when Iruka went suspiciously quiet for too long.

“Shit.”

He forgot the motherfucker wine on the fucking fire.

———————————

“I was kinda a dick back there,” Obito said suddenly.

Turning back from the doorway to stare at Obito, Kakashi arched a mean brow. “Good you know,” he managed to answer, dryly. “And I will punch you if you say you ‘live your life a quarter-mile at time.’”

Obito grimaced with his tone but didn't do any further commentary. Looking at his dirty boots, Obito pouted. “I was upset.”

Opening the door, Kakashi was ready to— softly— scoff at Obito's moods again, saying he was lucky Iruka had a good day today and didn't beat the shit out of him in front of their team when a smell of burning garlic and smoke punched them right on the face.

Exchanging a worried gaze with Obito, Kakashi yelled, “Iruka? Are you alright?”

A muffled whimper comes from inside. “Kitchen,” Iruka spoke, raspy.

“Damn.” Obito cut his front, stepping on their house

Both of them blinked, in silence for a second, at the sigh of Iruka, standing pathetically straight in their kitchen.

“I… Welcome home?”

Iruka looked… pitiable, Kakashi thought.

Swallowing back a laugh at the sight of Iruka looking at that pan with such sad eyes, Obito walked to close the space between Iruka and him shyly. Kakashi passed by them, looking at the pan resting on the stove that… wasn’t exalting the very best smell in the air.

Drowning on a half-mixed sauce, completely burned garlic bubbling up the surface, that couple of mushrooms looked almost as pitiable as Iruka himself when Kakashi peeked quickly at the pan’s content.

“Iruka,” Kakashi started so, with some humor in his voice as he softly pulled himself on their hug, “you tried to cook, love?”

Iruka sniffed, rubbing his cheek and spreading tomato puree over his face. “I do what I do best. ‘improvise, all right,” he joked.

Obito cheered, his expression changing as Kakashi poked his ribs softly, mouthing at him. Cheesy mushrooms with garlic sauce, pointing at the pan resting above the stove. Obito frowned. Minato’s dish for bad days.

The realization soon enough beat on him, his heart foolishly aching with softness, as Iruka rubbed his face against his clean shirt, nuzzling closer. Kakashi blinked mildly annoyed at him.

“I’m sorry about early today,” Obito said, quietly, searching to Iruka’s hips to hold him, breathing at the comforting smell of Kakashi’s usual shampoo mixed within Iruka’s skin lotion.

Iruka shook his head. “No. You are upset, it’s alright. I was meant to make that dish of Minato’s, but…”

“Oh,” Obito breathed, a little bit wet—a thing that both Iruka and Kakashi promptly managed to ignore. “Damn, Iruka. I don’t deserve you.”

Iruka chunked, raspy. “Shut up, and… don’t eat. I burned it. Anyway.”

Kakashi couldn’t help but scoff, “I'm going to make us something edible, honey.”

“I hate you.” Iruka’s voice was muffled on Obito’s shoulder, but his gaze didn’t burn less on Kakashi’s shoulder bones. Just like an angreh’ puppy. “And don’t call me that.”

“Honey,” Obito poked, “may we have a minute of silence for the mushrooms?”

“Fuck you, Obito!” Iruka yelled.

Obito snickered. The room fell silent for a couple of seconds before Obito spoke, a grin playing on his lips that could be heard in his voice, “the most important thing in life will always be the people in this room. Right here, right now.”

Iruka cried out with a low whimper. Kakashi turned his eyes while Obito threw his head off and laughed, the bad race forgot for a moment.

They were home, and here none of them needed to worry about crossing the finish mark first. They had got all the time, here, now, between family.

(Damn. Dom really caught them there.)