|By : Sessakag|
Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata
Views: 496 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
|Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto or characters, just this story.|
Prompt: Sunshine Family
Morning rays streamed through the small cracks of the drawn blinds, gently rousing a snoring blonde from his slumber.
Naruto awoke drowsy, heavy lids lifting reluctantly.
He stirred, absentmindedly snuggling deeper into his cozy cubby as his mind came online.
He was warm and comfortable, cradled in the soft of his mattress, lulled by the woman he was currently wrapped around, the woman that was the true source of the deep seated peace currently radiating through every fiber of his being. He opened his eyes, sluggishly blinking twice in a bid to adjust to the sunlight peaking around their window curtains, before turning his droopy gaze to the sleeping beauty nestled against him.
They lay snuggled, her plump bottom resting in the cradle of his groin, silky dark blue locks tucked beneath his chin and pressed to his naked chest.
He couldn’t see her face at this angle, but he didn’t need to.
The delicate lines and soft curves that comprised her ethereal features were forever seared inside his mind, and etched deep in his heart.
Even if he were struck blind, deaf and dumb, he’d know this woman anywhere.
His beautiful wife.
The mother of his-
His brain snapped like a rubber band, knocking the cobwebs from his head, and filling him with excitement and purpose.
Today was a special day.
An important, twenty-four hours he was determined to make perfect.
He’d taken the day off in preparation.
He was determined to make this Mother’s day one to remember!
If there was any mother in the world that deserved to be treated like a queen today, it was Hinata.
She worked hard, day in and day out, inside the home and out. His ambitious wife spent her days as full time super mom and part-time kickass taijutsu specialist instructor.
She taught locally, privately and nationally, hosting taijutsu tournaments that raised money for various charities, opening an elite dojo in the Hyuuga compound. The dojo was a stroke of genius for Hinata in particular as her place of work often doubled as a daycare for their children. Not only was Hinata assured of their safety, but the kids were happy and content amongst their relatives, comforted in the thought that mama was merely a hall away.
Hinata had found a balance as mother. wife and businesswoman.
Right now though, his amazing life partner was on maternity leave.
He reached over, sliding his palm over her swollen belly, feeling the warmth of their son’s chakra. He was calm this morning, the calmest he’d been his entire gestation period. Ironic that he’d get tired of running his mother ragged when he was mere days away from birth.
Naruto had hoped little Haruto would be gentle with his mother the way Hima had been.
His little girl had been the most considerate of their mother, co-existing as two polite and cordial roommates, fussing only when Hinata resisted her incredibly strange food cravings. As long as his sweet wife was willing to down cinnamon rolls slathered in cottage cheese and topped with relish, Himawari was content to be carted around in her mother’s womb. She was so quiet and still, though she became her most lively when he spoke to his wife’s tummy. She’d twist and turn to the sound of his voice, often pressing her tiny hands to daddy’s face from inside her internal crib. He probably should have taken that as a sign that she’d grow up to be daddy’s little princess, following him around ever since she learned to baby scoot across the floor, forever reaching for him whenever she caught a glimpse of him, no matter how small.
A stark contrast to her older brother.
Boruto had been an absolute hellspawn, a true nightmare for both him and Hinata.
The damn kid could not stay still, treating his mother’s insides like a jungle gym the second he developed far enough to move, wrecking havoc on her hormones and bladder. Terrible morning sickness, flipping around in the dead of night waking up an exhausted Hinata and in turn waking him. Throughout the pregnancy, Naruto apologized profusely for their son’s behavior as there was absolutely no doubt in either of their minds (or anyone elses’s) that their child had acquired his obnoxious hyperactivity from his equally hyperactive father.
Haruto seemed to be a combination of both his parents, favoring Naruto’s high energy disposition at times, though as the pregnancy wore on, he seemed to favor his mother’s sweet temperament, much to Naruto’s relief.
He wasn’t sure he or Konoha could take another Boruto.
His son had just turned four and already showed signs of being a public nuisance. He had a penchant for finding trouble when they were out and about, terrorizing the Hyuuga Clan during his visits with his grandpa and aunt, making the worst kinds of messes around the house. His destruction was devious and targeted, as he kept his antics to a minimum with mommy, rarely testing her patience, it was daddy he saved his hell for.
Naruto couldn’t complain, he’d been more than a handful in his youth, Boruto was simply karma coming to bite him in the ass.
Not that he minded bearing the brunt of his mini-me’s machinations.
Naruto absolutely adored his family.
He loved being a father. No matter how bad his kids were, he wouldn’t trade Hima, Boruto or Kawaki for anything in the world.
Not that his little princess was bad.
Or Kawaki for that matter.
Their rescued third child was merely…reserved, still learning that it was okay to be a child, to trust in the love they offered without fearing it was some grand scheme to hurt him the way his monstrous sperm donor had. He held a level of suspicion that was unnatural for his age, often appearing more as a wounded wolf rather than a six-year-old child.
Hinata had found the boy during a routine, politically driven, non-combat mission and quickly formed an attachment as she brought the damaged young boy back to Konoha with her. Naruto was certain the reason his wife had bonded so quickly was due in large part to Himawari’s birth less than six months before she found Kawaki. She was extremely sensitive at the time, her motherly instincts at an all time high and with Kawaki in desperate need of tenderness, love and affection, Hinata had been all too willing to share it with him alongside their two children.
And so, that was how they’d ended up as a family of five.
Haruto nudged his hand.
He grinned as he mentally corrected that number to six.
A family of six.
A six-year-old, a four-year-old, a two-year-old and a soon-to-be-born.
This was his life, as terrifying and mind-blowing and amazing as it was, this was his reality.
If he were honest, he was a pretty average father (being generous of course) but he’d be absolutely shit if not for Hinata.
A natural mother.
A natural wife.
She was the foundation, the apex in which their world revolved. It was Hinata that taught him how to be a parent, how to change diapers and make bottles, how to hold his bundles of joy with careful hands, how to sooth their fears and how to turn every act of discipline as a teaching moment.
It was thanks to his wife that he and his children were happy, their home always clean and running smoothly.
She handled it all with grace, and still had enough in her to spare for him.
Supporting his climb to the title of Hokage, staying up to wait for him to come home at night even though she could barely keep her eyes open.
She was amazing.
His pillar of strength and comfort.
An indescribable, wonderful type of loving he often felt unworthy of.
The distant sound of little running feet put an end to his rumination.
He glanced quickly at the clock, though he knew what numbers he’d see.
His hellspawn was on the way to raise hell. No matter how many times he told him, Boruto refused to knock first.
‘Well, not today, little man!’ he silently declared.
Unwinding his arms from his wife, Naruto formed his trademark seal before moving to cover his sleeping wife’s ears.
The door burst open.
His clone caught the wooden panel in one hand and scooped his squealing son up with the other and swept out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
He glanced down.
Hinata was still dead to the world.
He sighed, thankful, for once, that her pregnancy left her prone to sleeping often and deeply.
She hadn’t stirred once.
He slid from bed, tucked the comforter up and over her shoulders then headed out to get his children in order.
Expecting his first catastrophe to be Boruto, he was shocked to see his little princess making a mess on the living room coffee table. Brightly colored cereal littered the table and floor, not a big deal ordinarily, except she’d taken the milk from the refrigerator and was flooding the bowl, cereal and carpet with the white liquid. She didn’t have the strength to pour properly and was fighting to lift it high enough to get it in the bowl. She got everywhere but the bowl, soaking her bright pink pajama’s to her skin.
“Hima,” he whispered loudly, baby blue’s wide as he scrambled across the room and took the jug from her straining little hands.
“I making breakfast for mama,” his pretty little girl announced, smiling her whiskered smile, a mirror image of his own.
“I see that, you uh, did a good job, Hima,” he said, brow twitching as milk ran rivulets off the table, “but you were supposed to wait for daddy to help you. Remember our pinkie promise?”
He’d spoken to his children ahead of time, initiating a super cute, super secret, pinkie promise to make mom the best Mother’s Day breakfast ever, together, this morning. His biggest worry was that one of his children would spoil the surprise, not that they’d take matters into their own hands.
“Daddy was late, so I made it.”
His blonde brows rose to his hairline, “late?”
He hadn’t given them a specific time.
“She always starts breakfast at 8.”
Kawaki stood watching the milk catastrophe, his gray eyes sharp and curious as he informed the frazzled father of four of Hinata’s morning routine, “and we sit down to eat at 8:45.”
Himawari nodded sagely, cheerfully agreeing with her foster brother.
It was true.
Hinata was usually up an hour earlier, directing their children through their morning routines, making breakfast for the day and somehow making time to prepare a lunch for him in all the organized chaos. A late sleeper, Naruto was usually woken up at 8:45 by his rambunctious son announcing breakfast was ready. Hinata’s actual routine before he was jolted awake was a mystery to him.
Giving his short locks a bashful rub, Naruto chuckled, “guess daddy’s late then, huh. Sorry, Himawari, mama’s better at this than I am, dattebayo.”
Hinata’s doppelganger reached her father’s hand, transferring sticky milk to it, “that’s okay,” she assured him, ever the kind, benevolent angel, “we can still make breakfast for mama, she won’t be mad its late. She’ll be happy because we made it!”
Grimacing at the cold, gooey sensation in his hand, Naruto still had it him to give his princess a bright smile, “of course she will, but before we cook, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Stretching her ruined dress from her skin, Himawari assed the fabric a beat before beaming a enthusiastic, “okay!”
“We’ll be right back,” Naruto remarked to his son, reaching out his clean hand to ruffle the dark locks of his two toned undercut, before scooping up his little girl and dashing down the hall to the bathroom.
This wasn’t exactly the morning start he’d planned.
The bathroom was occupied.
He could hear his son’s giggles and the frustrated rumble of his clone.
Confused, Naruto knocked.
The door snapped open a moment later, revealing an exact copy of himself soaked down to his white shirt and sweats, his blonde hair and face smeared in bright blue paint.
“That daddy looks funny!” Hima giggled, pointing at his clone.
Naruto sighed, offering his amused daughter, “trade.”
Reaching behind him, Naruto scooped up a tightly swaddled, struggling to get free but squeaky clean, Boruto, and took the milk soaked little girl in exchange.
“I made breakfast for mama!” Hima explained to the clone as the door closed.
“I made the biggest, bestest bomb ever!” his wiggling burrito bragged as he carted him to the room he shared with Kawaki, “you shoulda seen it dad! I got you good, ‘ttebasa!”
The room was two toned, one side painted a vibrant blue (Boruto’s side) the other a forest green (Kawaki’s side. Naruto sat down on his son’s bed, and unraveled his towel prison.
“Boruto, didn’t mama and I tell you no more paint bombs in the house?” he admonished as he set the boy on his feet and toweled him dry.
“I didn’t use it in the house, see!”
Naruto followed his pointing finger to the open window leading out into the back yard and wished he hadn’t. Hinata’s garden was painted in blue, the wooden fence equally coated.
Brow twitching, Naruto got up, closed the window and drew the blinds.
He could only take so much right now.
“No more paint bombs, Boruto,” he decreed.
“Awwwwwww,” the blonde boy pouted.
Naruto was unmoved. He appreciate a good prank but the paint bombs were becoming more destructive than funny. He knew Hinata would agree, they made it a point to provide a united front when it came to setting rules, boundaries and discipline for their children, but even if she were feeling iffy about banning paint bombs, her ruined garden would tip the scales on that front.
“Pick out your clothes and get dressed, it’s time to make mama’s Mother Day breakfast, ‘ttebayo,” he said, ruffling the frowning boy’s messy mane.
Naruto rubbed his throbbing temples as his son huffed to his dresser and pulled out the shirt drawer.
He remembered something import as Boruto reached inside.
Three shirts went flying across the room, another in hand, blue orbs peered at him curiously.
“-toss your clothes around the room,” Naruto finished with a sigh.
How in the world did his wife put up with these shenanigans every single morning?!
A long, tedious ten minutes later, Boruto was dressed and pumped to make breakfast, practically cartwheeling out the door. Naruto followed him out, looking as though he’d rather go back to bed. His clone met him in the hall, carrying a clean, towel wrapped Hima.
“Hi other daddy!” she waved as his clone carried her into her bright yellow room.
Naruto waved, amusement unfurling despite his harassed state.
“Other daddy, can I wear my Kurama boots?” she asked his clone as the door closed.
A thought smacked him in the head as he walked down the hall, back to the living room. He should have made another clone to clean up the milk. The last thing he wanted was for his house to smell like spoiled milk.
He rounded the corner only to see Kawaki quietly cleaning the last remnants of the mess. A bucket full of soapy water sat nearby, and the soaked carpet was covered in towels.
“Thanks buddy,” Naruto grinned, “guess you’re my little helper for today, huh?”
Before Kawaki could answer, crashing pots startled them both.
Boruto was ready to cook.
Mixing pancake batter with three children and two copies of an inept parent was a disaster. By the time they got the first batch ready, it looked like another of Boruto’s paint bombs had gone off in the kitchen. They room and all it’s occupants were covered in white, unmixed, pancake powder.
The bags inside the box were hard to open, and Naruto being Naruto, hadn’t thought to get a pair of scissors.
They burned the first three pancakes, apparently buttering the pan before pouring batter was a thing. This was news to him.
The next three weren’t burned but unfortunately weren’t done on the inside.
Nor where the next four.
Out of three boxes of pancake, two were edible. Pathetically shaped and sad looking, the two pancakes had, at the very least, been cooked with love.
“Mama! Happy Mother’s day!” Hima cried, waving behind the clone wiping her face with a damp paper towel.
They turned as one, looking over to see the guest of honor smiling big, a digital camera in hand, snapping a picture of her silly sunshine family.
Hope you enjoyed.
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