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tired-biscuit · 1 year

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Twenty-three Minutes

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: hinata hyūga/kiba inuzuka

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: slightly suggestive content, but nothing too explicit. mutual pining, friends to lovers.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 6.8k+

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: During a prolonged game of seven minutes in heaven, previously sheltered feelings come to light between two friends.

FOR a woman so passionate about clothes and all things fashionable, it comes to no surprise that Ino Yamanaka’s closet ends up being pretty cramped.

Filled with towers upon towers of shoeboxes and a seemingly never-ending row of hangers that all contain pricey jackets, thick sweaters and colourful skirts most of Konoha has yet to see her wear, the already tight space feels even more excruciatingly small when accommodated by a single person, much less two.

Especially if one of those people is a rather tall and burly man, who cannot for the life of him keep still, and the other one is a woman whose anxiety – invoked by that very same man, albeit unintentionally – makes her fidget all over the place, no matter that she so desperately attempts to make herself seem smaller than she actually is.

To be fair, Hinata has good reason to be nervous. During a round of seven minutes of heaven she had never actually agreed to playing with her very, very intoxicated group of friends, the poor – and completely sober – Hyūga had somehow ended up shoved inside a closet with no one other than Kiba; her former teammate and friend.

And much to her astonished surprise, he’s felt more than just that as of late.

Hence the anxiety. And speaking of the dreadful thing, Hinata’s breathing is ragged now as she assesses the current situation she’s wound up in.

Let’s see. She’s all alone in the dark with him – the man she has a mellow, albeit steadily growing crush on. His arm is touching her own with the close proximity. He’s been giving her fleeting glances the entire night. Smiling even more sweetly at her than usual, too; the signature feral grin growing larger and larger with every downed drink.

I mean, who wouldn’t be nervous?

Staring at the sheer, sparkly fabric, which she assumes belongs to a dress of some wicked style she’d never dare wear herself, Hinata attempts to calm down her wild heartbeat by channeling her focus on wondering how such an outrageous number of outfits can possibly belong to one single person.

All right, the person in question is Ino Yamanaka… but still. Surely even a woman like her would have some sort of limit? Right?

Judging by the slight crinkle of his nose when she reaches out to touch the shimmering dress as a failed attempt to seem busy, Kiba seems to be thinking the exact same thing.

“Damn, this place is fuckin’ drenched in perfume, huh,” his gruff voice reaches her ears all of a sudden, the familiar drawl to lace it even more prominent because of the fact that he’s ever so slightly tipsy.

Hinata merely blinks at the curse, seemingly unfazed by it. Over time, she’s learned that all Inuzuka talk in the same crude way; sharp and straight to the point, despite the tendency of swallowing down most of the words as if they can’t be bothered to say them in their entirety.

And yet, they still put in the extra effort to keep them as blunt as possible every chance they get.

Back in the day when they had been mere Genin, Hinata had been shocked to hear what filthy vocabulary Kiba opted to use on the norm right there – amongst elders and other children alike.

She remembers it quite clearly, actually. Being so, so worried about what his mother might think of it if she were to catch him using that kind of coarse language. However after meeting Tsume and spending a single afternoon inside her home with Shino, her worries proved to be entirely unnecessary. After all, the moment the clan leader had opened her mouth, it made sense where Kiba had picked up the habit from.

But now, after spending so many years in his company and going on missions, running errands with him and reporting to the Hokage, she’s grown used to it – somewhat.

If she looks past the rudeness, the way he speaks is almost one of his more likeable features. Right next to his messy brown hair, of course. And his wide smile that he only brings forth whenever he feels like it, as well as the dimples in his cheeks, and the red fang markings that accompany the grin.

Looking at it now, his grin still remains boyish even if he’s no longer the ditzy boy she’s always known him as. After all, standing in that boy’s place is a grown man, now. A fully capable man; a Jōnin with experience underneath his belt – no, not in that way!

Christ. Where had all the years gone? Hadn’t she been participating in low-ranked missions with him and Shino just yesterday?

Speaking of years, it had taken Hinata plenty to acknowledge the change, to force herself to admit that he’s grown into a person she could admire in more ways than one. Especially now, as she turns to look at her former teammate from underneath her lashes, and realizes that the childish roundness of his face and the insolent upturn of his nose have long since disappeared.

Because as far as appearance goes: Kiba has become all sharp and precise lines; all high cheekbones and an equally defined jaw. He’s got these piercing eyes that have the power to pin her down with just one look alone, and full lips that hide a rather dangerous set of teeth she’s never been afraid of – never.

Where her body gently curves, his own cuts. His skin is also darker than hers; tan and sun-kissed, like the sun itself appreciates the fact that he’s willing to walk under it, while it turns her red in return, mocking her by making her look like a damned sea crab.

But it’s not just his looks that have changed. He’s also become more attentive towards others, more easy-going with the passing years, too. The war had changed him, had turned him calmer and gotten rid of most of his immature foolishness, whilst it stirred and riled her up in return.

It’s nothing to fret about, though – his sudden calmness. He’s still got that snarky attitude that always made the hair on the nape of her neck stand to attention, sometimes in a bad way, other times not as much – he’s got plenty of it, actually. However, the only difference is that he’s also got the whip to tame it into submission whenever the need calls for it, now.

Submission.

The word lingers in her head for a tiny bit. Unlike her, Kiba had always been the exact opposite of it. More of the domineering sort. But now, standing in this tight space with him; sharing every single one of her breaths with him and feeling the warmth that just won’t stop radiating from his body, she can’t help but wonder if he’s also like that during… during…

Hinata’s pulse turns erratic once more as treacherous heat creeps up her pale neck and stains her equally as white cheeks with the sudden rush of blood to pool everywhere inside her body. Her thoughts run haywire for a second, and as if on cue, she feels Kiba move again.

The sleeve of his forest green sweater brushes against her cream-coloured one with the movement. She swears that she can feel that wretched heat of him right through the thick layers of cotton they’ve both donned on to fight the unsuspecting cold autumn had brought upon the village. Swears that she can feel it scorch her skin.

“Hina?” As if he can sense the change within her, Kiba also turns to look at her, now. Unlike her, he moves with his entire body; all until the middle of his chest – his heart – is pointing right towards her. As if the call for help she’s silently emitting is too strong for him to ignore, he unknowingly offers her his undivided attention just from the way he stands now.

He has always been like that, ever since they were kids. Always so open and transparent with his thoughts and emotions, he had always been there – right by her side. Soap-sliver thin, translucent. Relentlessly urging her to grow stronger and strive for something big, something special; not once had Kiba turned his back on her, whilst so many others did.

Like her father, for example. And Neji, back when the anger he’d felt for their entire clan had been unfortunately misplaced and aimed towards her instead.

Neji. The bridge between her and her cousin had been repaired at some point, a kernel of hope starting to take root somewhere deep within her as they at long last met at the middle of it. She grew; prospered. But then the war had happened, and its cruel wrath had taken Neji from her for a second time – this time with no chances of ever binding back the ropes that held that bridge together.

She’d cried a fucking river because of the loss; that already delicate bud of nearly blossoming hope withering right back to dust as if it had never even existed before. It had taken both Kiba and Shino literal years to piece her back together. To mend her back into what she once had been, what she has now become again – but this time stronger, and at long last willing to pick up the reins that held the power to control her life.

Hinata still remembers them both sleeping on the floor of her apartment that she’d moved into after the war as a means to isolate herself from her clan. Every single night they were there: Shino asleep on his back, those quirky sunglasses still sitting atop the bridge of his nose, while Kiba and Akamaru lay curled together into a mess of thrashing limbs, blankets and hefty paws.

She had never told Kiba that she heard him mumbling her name in his sleep on some nights, the furrow of his brow tight and his fingers twitching as if he was trying to reach out for the phantom version of her he’d conjured up in his dreams. Had never mentioned the look she’d exchanged with Shino when he caught her reaching over to run her hand through the Inuzuka’s hair in an attempt to calm him down on night number six.

It was easier to pretend, to feign blissful ignorance. After all, Kiba did just the same as he rose with the sun each morning and whisked those pesky late-night thoughts away for the day ahead. Shino did, too.

“Hina? Hey.” Kiba repeats the silly nickname the elders of her clan would never allow him to use, yanking her back from her thoughts with a snap of his fingers in front of her nose; pushing her back to this moment, to him.

The inside of the closet is dark, but she knows that his peculiar eyes allow him to see just fine in it – much like she’s able to use her own to discern any movement hiding in the shadows. And because of them, she now sees him as clear and bright as day as he tilts his head, studying her intently before he asks, “You all right?”

“Yes,” Hinata croaks in answer almost immediately. Her rosy lips form a thin line as she presses them together before she swallows the saliva that’s gathered inside her mouth. The sound is loud in the small space, too loud. So she clears her throat, her tone slightly more even as she says, “I’m fine.”

“Mm. You don’t seem fine to me,” he retaliates immediately, tapping his nose with the tip of his index finger with a small, albeit signaturely arrogant grin. Hinata tries not to look at the glint of his fangs too much when he drawls, “I can smell how nervous you are, you know.”

Unbeknownst to her, Kiba doesn’t mention the fleeting whiff of sweetness he’s caught emitting from her amongst the bitter tang of nervosity. Doesn’t allow himself to get his hopes up, even if he’ll trust his keen sense of smell right to the day he dies and gets lowered into his grave.

So instead, he watches as her pretty eyes dart onto his hand that he still keeps lifted to his face. Her gaze slides across the scars that litter almost every one of his knuckles; rises upwards to acknowledge how blunt and short he prefers to keep his nails, even if he possesses the ability to form claws.

Speaking of them, they’re all fully healed – the scars. Some are fading, others are thinning out, but Hinata still doubts they’ll ever completely go away. After all, the one that runs along the edge of his thumb in one clean, straight line, reaching down right to the upper side of his wrist, is still there even if it’s ages old.

It had been a not-so-kind courtesy from her kunai during one especially intense sparring session when she’d still fought like a goddamn lioness to try and impress her father – her clan. Back when she thought that she actually stood a chance.

Even to this day, Hinata still thinks of Kiba as an idiot for never getting back at her for it. She had been seething with blind rage, not caring if she actually caused him any sort of hurt or injury whilst chasing her father’s approval during what was supposed to be just a simple day of training.

The action had been so unlike her, had been a nearly polar opposite of her normally demure nature, and he had just… endured it. Had encouraged it even, and smiled that wide grin as she stepped back and dropped the kunai at the first sight of a droplet of blood dripping down her teammate’s hand.

He had never once winced as she cleaned up the rather deep gash only minutes later, her emergency medkit splayed wide open in the grass next to her. Had never once complained about it. Just told her that he was proud of her for sticking up for herself. That if she kept it up, she would be able to kick just about anybody’s ass real soon.

Hinata blinks. This closet – this closeness – is going to give her fucking whiplash. She doesn’t sound fully like herself as she says, “I-I’m not nervous.” Yeah, that oughta convince him.

“Aha, sure ya ain’t,” Kiba says, all sarcasm and blatant disbelief as if he can read her thoughts.

He ignores her characteristic stutter that she’s only now slowly ridding herself off - at the ripe age of twenty-five. Pauses to look at the faint tinge of pink on her round cheeks; at the thinnest layer of sweat that gathers on the column of her neck. Christ, she smells so sweet, so sugary. All he wants to do is bury his nose into the crook of her neck; inhale her fucking essence until–

“What?” she asks now, catching the way his pupils expand when he flicks his gaze up to look her in the eyes again. Her voice sounds so small, she hates it. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. Especially when she tries to give him a defiant glare.

Long seconds pass. Her heart is pounding like crazy inside her chest. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

“Nothin’,” Kiba finally mumbles, still staring at her. But instead of adding anything more to his answer, he rather sucks in a deep breath through his nose. As if trying to read her more thoroughly. Trying to pinpoint the exact emotions, the exact hormones that are altering her scent.

As if coming up with a plan.

Hinata swears that her nerves twitch with anticipation at how he quietly grunts after the inhale – twitch with whatever the hell it is that makes her feel like her pulse is thundering inside her ears. It just makes her sweat all the more. Makes her scent turn all the more prominent.

The tension in the small closet rises with inhumane speed when he tilts his head to the side and looks at her with a glint inside his eyes that she could only describe as purely predatory. He’s different now; his jaw clenched tight and his gaze so intense that it pins her down to the spot, making her breathing hitch in the back of her throat.

Flames are beginning to lick up her legs at the heat of his stare that burns like a forge, now. She can feel its warmth nipping at the tips of her toes, her calves, her thighs as they continue to run their ember tongues along her now-flushed skin.

“I’m not nervous,” she repeats meekly, as if the denial can serve as a shield of some sort. Her upper lip quivers in the same way her whisper does. She says the words but doesn’t even believe them herself, how silly.

Kiba seems to notice it, too, because a dumb smirk is plastering itself onto his even dumber face as he takes a step towards her and taunts, “Not nervous ‘bout what? Being stuck in here with me? All alone, jus’ you and me?”

And despite her instincts telling her not to, Hinata pushes back when he leans in, towards one wall of Ino’s stupidly cramped closet. She guesses that he’s just toying with her like he always does; but fuck, he’s so close to her now that she can smell the cool scent of his nettle shampoo and the spearmint chewing gum that sits on top of his tongue.

For how long have they been stuck inside this closet? Surely longer than seven minutes? He wouldn’t just pounce at her this fast. This quickly.

Right?

“C’mon, Hina,” he mutters, his voice deeper than usual; so raspy and warm that it reminds her of crackling wood in a fireplace she never got the chance to lounge in front of. “Just admit it. I can smell how you feel, you know damn well that you can’t hide that kind of stuff from me.”

“I-I–” she starts, heart suddenly hammering; jumping inside her ribcage from the surge of adrenaline to shoot throughout her. “I’m not... not–”

“Not nervous?” Kiba finishes for her, still advancing closer. “Yeah, you’ve already told me that. Now do me a favour and tell me what I wanna hear instead.” Dear god, has he always been this big? This demanding?

His intimidating presence fills the small space so rapidly that she feels like fainting. Even the previously pink blush that had lingered on her cheeks deepens into a furious shade of scarlet. It tingles across her entire face, the blush. Makes it prickle with heat.

Hinata blinks, her long eyelashes rapidly fluttering. It’s a struggle to form sentences from how fast her brain deteriorates to pathetic mush from being this flustered. “N-No, I–”

“You what, mm? Know that scent doesn’t lie?” He’s so close to her now that he’s towering over her in the dark, cornering her and caging her right between himself and the wall.

His scent envelops her, overrides Ino’s perfume that surrounds them and makes her toes curl in her knee-high socks. He smells heavy; like the rain and the rich soil it hits, nothing like her dainty notes of lavender and vanilla. A forest, something ancient and powerful. It’s enough to turn her slightly dazed, if the nearly non-existent proximity hadn’t done that to her already.

She’s frozen to the spot as he twirls a strand of her silky midnight hair around his finger before tucking it behind her ear. And whilst doing so, he accidentally – or not – brushes the sensitive spot right where her jaw meets her neck.

The immediate zing of electricity to surge through her makes Hinata’s knees wobble. Makes her thighs clench together and her vision spin. She sags against the wall, nearly going limp from how soft her legs turn.

But when he reaches out to catch her, her hand shakes as she suddenly slams it flat against his chest. Right where his heart is. Her fingers clutch his forest green sweater, pretty nails, clear of any sort of polish, digging into the cotton; desperately clawing.

“Stop it,” she blabbers, evident panic clear in her voice. “You can’t– No, no, n-no... Enough!”

Kiba stops at the jumble of words she throws at him. Looks at her. Really looks at her. At her wide eyes, at the blush that still sears her entire face, making her look like a ripe tomato. At the quick rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathes, and breathes, and breathes, as well as at the sweat that gleams on not just her neck now, but also her brow.

And then, he chuckles. This deep sort of rumble that’s pleasant to echo within his chest. That outright confuses her. Especially when that same chuckle turns into a snicker, that finally turns into full-blown laughter.

“Wh–...” Hinata starts, heart still thumping, thrill still coursing her veins. She still feels light-headed. “What’s so funny?”

“Ah, I’m so sorry, Hina,” Kiba manages to let out between boyish snickers, his eyes crinkling with guilty delight. He wipes at the corners of them, now, upper lip quivering, showing off one pointy fang. “I couldn’t resist, hah…! You should have seen the look on your face, ahah!”

The raven-haired Hyūga blinks, feeling the colour draw away from her face, tinting her cheeks back into a faint rosy shade of blush instead of the previously intense red. “What are you going on about?”

“I was just messing with ya,” he explains through a wheeze, nose scrunching when he grins again – all broad and wild. He takes a shuddering breath, tries to quiet down the little giggles that just won’t stop erupting from him before he scratches the back of his neck and looks at her again.

Her brows lift, hiding beneath her bangs as she waits for further explanation.

One corner of Kiba’s mouth kicks upward at how sternly she looks up at him this time. “Did you really think I’d believe you’d be nervous ‘cause of me? C’mon.” He pauses, and looks her directly in the eye as if to challenge her before flicking his wrist, dismissing her. “I know I’m dumb, but I’m not that dumb. Have some faith in me, please.”

Hinata’s stare continues to remain unmoving, even if her legs still feel like jelly. Christ, who knew he had such an impact on her? The entire thing lasted what, a mere minute? And here she is – mere putty in his hands already.

She doesn’t comment on his level of intelligence, just asks, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

His smile falters slightly at the question, at the tone. Even his eyes seem to lose just a smidge of that mischievous glint as he simply shrugs and says, “Well, you’re still pining after Naruto, are you not?”

Silence stretches between the two friends despite the small space. The heavy, slightly uncomfortable kind.

“Everyone makes me nervous,” Hinata says finally. “Not just Naruto.”

Saying his name doesn’t bring the thrill it used to. Doesn’t make her heart clench, nor her tongue taste any sweeter. She cares about the future Hokage, of course she does, but not in that kind of way anymore. Not in that desperately, hopelessly infatuated kind of way that he never seemed to return.

He didn’t even see her, after all. At least not in any way Kiba did. Like he still does, actually, even to this day.

“Yeah, but he’s the only one that could… ya know,” Kiba finds himself running his mouth when she turns quiet again, attempting to fill the silence with words, words, words, “provoke you in that kind of way. ‘Cause of how madly in love with him you are, and all that lovey-dovey crap, hah.”

“Being in love is not ‘crap’,” she mumbles at his fake laugh, the curse tasting foreign on her modest tongue. Even he blinks in surprise at the fact that she used it.

But then he shakes his head. Loses the smile.

“Yeah, it is,” he says.

“No, it isn’t,” she counters right back. “Why would it be?”

“‘Cause all it does is bring you pain,” he retaliates finally. He pauses, that short beat of silence skipping as his eyes suddenly start to avoid her. “I mean, I don’t know ‘bout you, but that seems like a pretty crappy thing to me.”

Hinata gets the feeling that he isn’t talking about her struggles concerning love when he says the words.

But instead of saying anything, she just watches as he pulls back from her then, giving her space to breathe; to calm down. His touch to her neck had left the skin there burning in its wake, but that’s not why she frowns now. No, the reason as to why she pouts, bottom lip just barely jutting out, is rather because of the lack of that exact physical connection.

Kiba looses a sigh at the sight of that freaking pout. Runs a frustrated hand through his chestnut hair. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Mhm.”

“C’mon… Don’t be upset with me, it was just a joke.”

“Well, I am.”

“Ugh.”

She sits down next to him, still wearing that adorable pout on her face, when he motions her to join him by patting the warm floorboards right after he slides down the wall and plops down onto them himself. The closet is so small that their thighs are touching. His joggers rub against her bare skin, making her pleated skirt rustle.

Neither of them moves their leg away.

They stare at the dark for a moment, not focusing on anything in particular. The slits that are his pupils grow wider when she sighs herself and rests her head on his shoulder, they eat up the white space where his irises should have been. Meanwhile, Hinata’s own eyes serve as polar opposites to his own; the milky circles dilating with no visible pupils in sight.

Briefly, she wonders what the eyes of their children would look like. What abilities they’d possess. What kind of life that would be for her. If he’d be as much of a good husband to her as he is a friend.

“Hina?” His tone is careful when it reaches her again.

“Mm?” she mumbles, her soft cheek nudging his shoulder as she readjusts herself. She brings her knees closer to her chest, but makes sure her skirt stays in place.

“I’m sorry.” Genuine this time. Torn.

“Did you really mean what you said,” she utters after a brief pause of thought. “About love?”

He’s silent for a moment, too. As if contemplating. She’s just about to switch the subject to something a bit more ordinary, something a bit more safe, when he finally says, “No.”

Silence lingers once more. And then she says, “I’m not in love with Naruto anymore.”

She can feel him stiffen beside her. Can hear his breath ever so slightly shudder as he whispers, “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“I’ve found someone new.”

“Oh.”

He rests his head atop her own. Inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo and cherishes the sugar in it whilst he still can. “Not to overstep, but… You don’t need to love someone just to feel fulfilled, ya know.”

“I know,” she replies, his words making a rather delicate part of her heart glow, glow, glow. “But trust me when I say that even I was surprised by it… It happened so unexpectedly, even though it had kind of… Always been there. In a way.”

“Mm,” Kiba hums, deep in thought. “So, wanna tell me what the lucky bastard is like?”

Hinata chuckles at the question. At the fact he’s unknowingly called himself a bastard just now. She rests her hands atop her lap, fingers intertwining together.

“Well… He’s rather annoying and stubborn. Loud… Like, so, so loud; you wouldn’t believe how loud he is.” Her insides warm up when he snickers at the attention she gives to the word. “But… He’s also genuine. Incredibly passionate and determined. Open, and supportive, and loving... Gosh, he’s so loving.”

“Okay, damn, don’t start drooling all over my shoulder ‘cause of this dude, now.” Kiba chuckles again as he mulls her descriptions over. Looks up at the ceiling. His toes wiggle as he thinks. “He sounds a lot like Naruto.”

“No, he’s different.” Firm, her answer. He’s his own person. Special in his own peculiar way.

“Is he nicer or somethin’?”

“Well…” The corners of her lips twitch. “Only when he wants to be, I suppose.”

“Towards you, I mean. Does he, like,” he mumbles, trying to find the right words, “see you? Treat you well?”

He’s the one. He really is. Maybe it’s time to admit it not just to herself, but to him as well.

Maybe.

Hinata stills at that; heart beginning to thunder again. Her fingers fidget, palms starting to feel clammy as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “I don’t know, Kiba,” she says, her voice so, so quiet that he can barely hear her despite the closeness and his sharp hearing. “You tell me?”

Kiba goes silent for a long moment, as if he’s attempting to paint the bigger picture inside his head. And then, at long fucking last, his breath hitches. His heart begins to race. Realization begins to dawn upon him and settles in, in, in.

“What?” He turns completely rigid, spine straightening, causing Hinata to lift her head from his shoulder. His face goes blank, eyes widening in the dark again. He swallows, not caring how stupid he may look as he repeats a meek, “What?”

“What?” she echoes innocently, the expression that lingers on her face completely coy. “What is it?”

“Are you saying– No,” he starts, cutting himself off with a wild shake of his head. As if he doesn’t dare believe the mere thought of her returning his feelings. As if he doesn’t dare say it. “You better not be fuckin’ with me right now as some sort of sick revenge… ‘Cause if you are, I swear to god I’ll–”

“I’m not messing with you, Kiba.”

His face flushes red now. This deep, crimson shade that almost matches the colour of the fang markings on his cheeks that tell everyone what clan he belongs to. “Stop messing with me. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not messing with you,” Hinata repeats sadly. She frowns at how lowly he actually thinks of himself. At how stubbornly he’s beaten it into his head that he doesn’t deserve to be admired by her, much less loved. For so long that he’s actually started to believe the denial.

He sucks in a deep breath. Through his mouth this time, to fill his lungs quicker with air because his chest feels way too tight all of a sudden. “But I’m not–”

I’m not Naruto.

“I know that you aren’t,” she interrupts him gently, taking his bigger hand and clasping it with both of her smaller ones. His callouses scrape against her own, thick fingers curling around her daintier ones by pure instinct. She can’t help but smile at the affectionate touch he seems to execute without even thinking about it. He’s always known how to make her feel seen. “I never asked of you to be him.”

“But I’m not… special, like he is,” Kiba continues, his voice so low as if he’s ashamed to admit it. “I didn’t– I can’t do the stuff he does. I’ve tried, but I just… can’t.”

“So? You’re special to me,” she says and it’s true. She blinks. Runs her tongue along her front teeth. “Do you really think I’m that shallow to only fall in love with a man because he’s the strongest of them all?”

“No, but I do think that you need somebody like him,” he retaliates stubbornly. “You’re, like… royalty, or whatever. And he’s a war hero, a-a…”

“I don’t need anyone,” she cuts in again, looking up at him underneath her lashes with fire burning behind her pale eyes. “You’ve said it yourself; that I don’t need anyone to feel fulfilled… And yet, I want you.”

“Why?” He can’t understand it. How? Why? Why him?

“Because I see you,” she answers, frowning at the evident doubt that’s still present in his own eyes. “It took me a while, and I am sorry for that, but it’s true when I say that I finally see you; see the things you did and continue to do for me.”

Kiba’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. The prickle of one fang that the action invokes helps when it comes to grounding him, because if it didn’t, he’s sure as hell that he’d be floating up towards the clouds right now. Like a balloon – right through the ceiling of Ino Yamanaka’s closet.

She wants him. Sees him. Him, him, him; nobody else. At long last, he can stop pretending. Can slowly rid himself of all the doubts and the insecurity he’s managed to hide deep underneath his thick skin. Can stop wondering if he’ll ever be good enough; ever be enough.

“Kiba?” Hinata whispers, and goddamn had his name always sounded so good, coming from her mouth like that? Always so pleasant?

“Yeah?” he whispers back. Her face is so close to his own now that he can smell her strawberry chapstick and see the subtle dip of her Cupid's bow. At how faintly it trembles as she reaches out to run her hand through his unruly hair before resting it atop his heaving chest.

She’s the one to take a deep breath this time around as she tries to calm down; to mentally prepare herself before she asks, “Do you want me, too?”

Does he want her? Does he fucking want her? What a stupid question. What a silly, foolish question.

“Yeah,” Kiba croaks out, heart pounding – hurting in the best way possible. His voice cracks; he hates it. “‘Course I want you, Hina. I-I’ve always wanted you. Ever since we were kids.” She’s so close. Goddammit, she’s so, so close. If he pushed forward by a mere inch, he could probably kiss her, oh, Christ.

Just the mere thought of her soft lips touching his own makes him feel dizzy. Makes his head spin; brain doing the same cartwheels his own heart executes in his ribcage. Thump, thump, fucking thump.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks. He can’t fathom the fact that she’s actually bolder than him for once.

“Yeah,” he repeats like a parrot, like a lovesick moron because he is one. “Mhm, yeah, yeah. Of course.”

Honestly, he’ll consider himself the luckiest man alive if he actually manages to live for long enough to experience a kiss from her. This beautiful, kind-hearted, nurturing deity of a woman. Because judging by all the thrill that’s pumping through him right now, he doubts that he will.

And yet, he’s still around as Hinata leans in; cautiously, warily. Not because she’s scared of him and his brash nature, more so because she’s enticed by it – enticed by him. Her cheeks are so rosy, he wants to kiss them and touch them to feel their warmth. To squeeze them until her lips purse, and–

His jumbled train of thoughts diminishes and turns into pure silence when her mouth presses against his own gently and she at long last, after so many years of confusion, and lingering glances, and yearning touches and sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in separate beds, kisses him.

And fuck, the kiss is so soft. So sweet. His hand lifts to touch her cheek, feeling its warmth, her own two back to holding onto his other one that had never left her lap. Stroking his knuckles in a way that she can feel the scar she’d given him all those years ago and that he, unbeknownst to her, wears proudly today.

He melts completely into her. Melds himself with her very soul through every panting brush of lip. He calls himself an arrogant bastard, but he’s become as soft as a teddy bear that she gets to squeeze and play with to her heart's content.

Every kiss they exchange continues to grow in intensity. Turns to subtle click of teeth and swipe of tongue. Their lips don’t touch in the usual needy, feral tempo he opts for, but it’s still one that he can appreciate just as deeply – even more so, now that he thinks about it. Like he’s wound up in an alley he’s not at all familiar with, but surprisingly enjoys the stay in nonetheless.

Kiba pushes into her more deeply, makes her release this shuddering gasp that lights his body on fire as he takes over. He wants to pull her into his lap – to ravage her, taste her all over because he’s been waiting for this day, for this moment, for so long. To cherish her, adore her in more sinful ways. Make her feel special with his hands, mouth, tongue.

And how couldn’t he wish for that? After all, Hinata, his Hinata, tastes like sugar and everything nice, countering the bitter taste of beer he possesses on his own tongue because of the little party they’ve still got going on.

Shit, the party–

The closet door slides open a mere moment after Hinata senses movement and Kiba catches another scent. They part swiftly; with a quiet, albeit slightly lewd pop! Thank god for being ninjas.

The two rapidly blink at the sliver of light to seep into the closet as the third member of the former Team 8, Shino Aburame, gives both Kiba and Hinata a pointed look through his tinted spectacles, now. Their respective heartbeats are still all over the place by the time he peers inside the darkness himself.

They watch as he looks down, looks at their entwined fingers; at Kiba’s hand that still rests on Hinata’s cheek. At their panting chests. At how closely they sit together, how fucking red they’ve become.

“Hmm,” is everything Shino contributes to the conversation that’s yet to begin. Their friend merely quirks a dark brow as if he knows exactly what they’ve been up to.

And perhaps he does, Kiba thinks. Hiding a tiny bug amongst so many clothes the wretched Yamanaka owns, would be a piece of cake for the nosy insect user. But alas, who on earth would believe him if he exposed Shino as the true gossiper he actually was?

Luckily for him, however, Hinata is the first one to stumble into movement out of the trio. Her eyelashes can’t stop fluttering as she stutters a tiny, “H-Hi, Shino.”

Goodness, she’s so pink in the face; the blush blooming as furiously as ever now that they’ve been caught. So cute. Especially as she releases Kiba’s hand to run her fingers through her hair frantically, trying to smooth down the strands he’d managed to ruffle whilst kissing her like a madman.

“Hey, man,” Kiba plays along, seemingly unable to wipe off the dopey grin that remains plastered on his face, now. Still wearing the wild grin, he pushes from the floor and offers Hinata his hand to help her back up to her feet as soon as he stands up to his full height.

Swiftly standing right next to him a moment later, Hinata never lets go of Kiba’s hand. Neither does he let go of hers. Of course he’ll hold her hand if she wishes for him to hold it. At this point, he’ll do just about anything for her.

His eyes are on Shino as he clears his throat, trying so hard to be casual when he says, “What’s up?”

Shino’s gaze dips to their entwined fingers once more. He stares at how Kiba strokes Hinata’s knuckles so tenderly that the action almost seems alien for a brute like him, and how she shyly lowers her head until that curtain of midnight hair almost entirely obscures her from the view of the two men.

It doesn’t last long, however. After all, Kiba feels the need to tuck it behind her ear rather quickly. Feels the need to make her feel seen even quicker.

So after a silent couple of seconds, the poor Aburame finally looses an exasperated sigh at the new item to stand before him; at how their entire dynamic is surely bound to change, now. Gesturing them to follow, he merely utters, “Time’s up.”

“Is it, now?” Kiba drawls in answer. The Inuzuka swears that he can still feel the tingle of Hinata’s lips on his own. When he pokes the tip of his tongue out, he tastes strawberries – sweet!

“Yes,” Shino replies, stepping out of the closet so the pair can do the same. With his back turned towards them, he adds somehow amusedly, “It’s been up sixteen minutes ago, actually.”

Hinata and Kiba exchange a look as they head back for the living room where loud chatter suddenly erupts; all of their friends most surely anticipating their return and the juicy story to follow.

His grin grows, stretching even wider than usual when she gives him a single nod of her head. A silent approval.

Who knew that all it took was a cramped closet and twenty-three minutes to spare in the dark?

#this is my first character x character fic and i'm lowkey nervous lol #pls be kind #kiba x hinata #kibahina #naruto fanfiction #hinata x kiba #kiba inuzuka #hinata hyuuga

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riddlestiltskin · 1 year

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"The halls of Buckkeep were packed with festival goers, rivers of people bumping into each other and richocheting around the castle, townspeople dancing around nobles, the notion of ranking washed away in the floods of wine, ale and liquor.

The walls were thick with Smoke that Regal was pumping in from every corner, servants stood in every alcove in every corridoor and room with censers, thick clouds pouring in from them and weaving between what little space remained in the crowds.

I pushed my way through, giddy with it, from around the corner, where I had quietly exited my bedchamber. The acrid essence of Regal's favourite past time had seeped even up to Chade's secret quarters where I had been resting, how thickly the plumes billowed this night.

Harvestfest was always a tumultuous occasion, but now with Regal managing the event, it was even more raucous than usual, overflowing with wine and tainted with the bitter edge of Smoke whether you were willing or no. As much as I enjoyed celebrating the Harvest, I had never enjoyed the Smoke as my peers seemed to, it fogged up my mind and made me feel isolated in the world. It made my mind quiet, and I couldn't sense the life around me, something I rarely lacked given my predilection with the Wit. It was one of the first times during Harvestfest I was able and allowed to enjoy the festivities, without Chade whispering in my ear or Shrewd's secondary tasks to distract me. I did have one mission to complete, though, although Chade had set no limits to the task, no deadline and no specific target.

Despite this, I had someone in mind.

My breath hitched when I saw him, weaving gracefully around people who somehow didn't notice his presence, as he elegantly slid past them without so much as touching them - a near impossibility with how densely packed it was. He noticed my gawking and flashed me a grin, effortlessly diverting his course towards me. I realised I had stopped dead and so attempted to move towards him, but seemingly my feet had turned to rope and lead simultaneously, tangling together and causing me instead to stumble towards the Fool. The contradiction in our movements seem to amuse him; the Smoke had never affected him like it did me.

As he approached, I noticed how his skin seemed to radiate light. The corridor we were in was dimly lit by sconces on the wall, sparsely arranged, no doubt again by Regal, to cast shadows and encourage debauchery. Despite this, the Fool seemed to shine. He was dressed in rich colours, deep purples and reds, with gold stitching seamlessly tying together the outfit. The contrast of the rich colours made his skin almost luminous. I was entranced by him, his movements put me in mind of the way light glistens on dancing water, of all the sunsets I had watched with Molly on the cliffs of Buckkeep, the way the sunlight echoed across the tips of the waves as those evenings grew darker. Those memories were tinted rose-coloured with childhood nostalgia and the excitement of my first true love, and why the way Fool glanced at me now made me think of them, I could not say. Likely the Smoke in the air, I resolved to myself bitterly.

"Fitz?" Despite the music and voices mingling all around us, his voice somehow pierced it all, like ringing bells to my ears.

I realised I had been stood still and silent, dumbfounded, just staring at him, for a beat longer than was acceptable, even amongst close friends such as we. I looked then into his eyes, and saw something in them I had only glanced briefly before. Quickly, his lips twisted into his usual mocking smile, and whatever it was I had seen in his colourless eyes vanished, replaced by his usual knowing stare. My tongue was suffering the same symptoms as my feet now, as I fumbled and tried to form a sentence. I quickly abandoned the idea.

"FOOL!" I had to shout, the cacophony of Harvestfest made it impossible to speak at a normal volume, let alone think straight.

"Fool, I-.. Can I.."

I wanted to be closer to him, for him to be able to hear me when I asked what I knew I wanted to ask him. My face felt flushed and hot, suddenly. Curse Chade for putting me up to this. Harvestfest was the perfect time to execute this secret task, but I cursed him nonetheless for leaving this to me when I had wanted simply to drink the nights away and forget.

The Fool leaned towards me, and jingled the gold bells on his collar as he sang,

"Oh Fitzy Fitz

I cannot hear you mumble amidst this clamour;

Let us outside, that I can better listen to your stammer!"

His riddles that usually so frustrated me tonight seemed endearing, and so when he ducked out of a concealed doorway on to a balcony I had never before seen, I mindlessly followed. I knew Buckkeep was a warren of tunnels and secret passageways, but I had foolishly assumed I had discovered all of them, or that Chade at least had led me through them at one time or another. I had never noticed this doorway before, and knew I had never before set foot on this balcony either. It was only a small and narrow balcony, empty of crowds, with views across the town and out to sea.

The wolf in me noted gleefully that it was a full moon. I took this to mean that the outdoor air had cleared some of the intoxication from my mind.

The fresh, cold air emboldened me, and so I took a step towards my friend, who had turned back to face me. As I did so, I realised my mind was not as clear as I had hoped and clumsily I tripped over the doorframe and fell towards him. I reached out and inadvertently grabbed his slender wrist to steady myself, expecting him to crumble beneath my weight, but he was much stronger than he appeared. I had never been this close to him before. I leaned in even closer. It was intoxicating.

If I had thought his skin was radiant before, in the light of the full moon he seemed to glow. I noticed absently that my fingers encircled the circumference of his entire wrist, and the cool skin beneath his silk sleeve that looked so fragile was actually pushing back against my grip with surprisingly strength. He was not attempting to escape my grasp, but pressing back silently until his fingertips brushed the edge of my jawline. Ice cold, but not unpleasant, the touch sent shock waves through my entire body. I didn't understand why such a light brush of his fingers could illicit such a response from my entire body but it was like I had been struck by lightning. We were frozen together, and as I stared into his eyes, from such a position I again caught that shift, a meaningful glance I could not fathom. I had seen it before, but now the familiar Fool's smile I had come to know played softly across his features, melting into a gentle expression I had never had the pleasure to witness.

I found I could not look away, and the task Chade had set before me no longer felt like a challenge at all.

He had enlisted me to practice romantic subterfuge, to perfect the art of seduction to further my own causes as part of my assassin's training. I had originally intended to seek out Molly, but given that she was no longer speaking to me, I had assumed I would instead flirt with one of the kitchen maids.

Chade set this task over eight days ago, and simply said to take as long as I needed to, not to rush it. The old man had seemed very smug about this and implied he had expected me to struggle with this task, but impressed to me the importance of it. I shivered when I imagined him using the art of seduction - the Pocked Man flirting with anyone seemed a fantasy too far fetched.

It was only in the last few days that I had considered the Fool. He was my friend, and I was merely going to ask him to practice flirtation with me, he was one of few who knew and understood my training. I trusted him and felt if I were to be as terrible as Chade insinuated, I would be less embarrassed if I inflicted my clumsy attempts on my friend the Fool. He also had a way with words I had seen noone else in the Keep exhibit and so I had assumed I could perhaps take notes from him. I had even sought to ask his advice on who to target for this romantic task. Despite his infuriating and tricksy language, when decipherable, his words were often very wise.

Until this precise moment, though, I had not considered even remotely that I could kiss the Fool. For some reason, though, tonight I could think of nothing else. I was very aware of his lips, inches from my own, and the way he seemed to see into my very soul, I was almost wary he could sense what I was thinking, for he did always seem to have some sense of my intentions. Perhaps I was drunk, for I leaned ever closer to him, placing my right hand on the pillar behind him, now almost fully embracing him. The air between us felt charged, and I was very aware how little of it there seemed to be between us now. His expression had not changed, it was still a soft, almost triumphant smile, and his gaze had never once wavered from mine. Like marble, his skin was smooth and seemed to give off a cool air, like being near a spring on a warm day. I was privately impressed by his demeanour, until I considered that he had likely been briefed by Chade or overheard him discussing this task with Shrewd. For some reason this annoyed me, and I didn't dare delve deeper into that emotion for the time being. I wanted to simply exist in this moment without questioning.

I leaned in for the last time, intending to close the last of the electric space between us."

[My first attempt at some fan fiction for Fitz & the Fool! Written to accompany this piece I drew, please let me know your thoughts!] ~Feb 2023

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