Work Text:
Sometimes, the memory comes with the feeling of that cold, slightly tingly metal, gliding half an inch through his clenched fist before the grip on it properly engages, before the locked muscles in his arm and upper body can catch the momentum.
Before that rod of black metal punches through Iruka’s head.
The memory always comes with a sense of dread, lurking in the dark, a suffocating pressure that feels quite similar to dying did.
The Pain that, once upon a time, had been Yahiko, had smelled of iron, and bitter almond. The flesh had been white and rancid and… dead.
Kakashi shivers, the evening breeze cold already, now at the beginning of autumn, the heating in the hastily rebuilt jonin apartments was not sufficient to keep the cold out.
Or anywhere else, since heating materials were already scarce, supplies were needed everywhere.
The light flickers, and then dies, and Kakashi raises his eyes up to the lightbulb with a sigh, watching the glow of the thin wire in the bulb pulse softly and then fade, into nothing.
He blinks, lowering his gaze to look at the shadows of his room, his eye adjusting slowly to the low light of the moon, half-hidden behind clouds.
The shadows seem to shift, and the memory rises again, with a sense of urgency this time, as the phantom Pain seems to raise his arm.
Kakashi squeezes his eyes shut, for a long moment.
And then takes his vest and shoes, unable to withstand the impulse to do something.
Unable to sit in the dark and watch the memory replay.
Konoha is silent already, which is normal now, but, with the once-again power outage, even more so. The streets are deserted, the lone ANBU hovering on a building near the Hokage tower motionless.
Kakashi looks at the mask, tries to discern the person under the wide coat, but it is useless, the mask not one he knew, and there are no mannerisms exuded right now, no clues.
No connection.
He grimaces, hovering in a crouch on a roof of one of the few buildings that had survived the initial attack… and then the fox’s rampage.
Clicking his tongue at himself when he realizes he is echoing the ANBU’s stance.
Refusing to shift it though, with a grim smile.
There’s only a few buildings left now, from before.
The buildings closest to the Hokage mountain made it, mostly. The tower, the hospital, most of the school. There’s ruins still standing of the houses just down the road.
The market center down that road is gone still, flattened to the ground and empty now, cleared of all rubble and structures, save for small stands where the people have tried to catch a thread of their old lives.
A small part of their livelihood. Somehow.
There’s buildings rising up around it, rebuilding happening as fast as possible, always pressured by the fear of colder weather.
Beyond that… nothing, for a short distance.
And then, the tents.
The tents that hundreds of people are still residing in, making do, somehow.
The people that have been very patient, all things considered. That have eaten the scarce and simple food without much complaint, the rations only now filling up, albeit slowly, after the harvest in the outskirts.
Tsunade’s mouth had been a thin line for weeks.
Extra rations had gone to the younger jonins, and the civilian children. To the pregnant.
Extra coffee had gone to the other jonins and ANBU, to keep them alert.
Kakashi hadn’t envied her decisions, though he knows they were the right ones to be made.
And nobody had said anything, not even the council.
And yet.
And yet there had been this sense of dissatisfaction, that had been rising during the last weeks.
Of unrest, the people buzzing around and about during the day, trying, desperately. Alive, yes, but handicapped. Stunted. Hungry.
Aware that winter is, indeed, coming.
Kakashi sighs, and then looks back at the dark jonin complex, the windows all yawning mouths of utter blackness.
All the candles and lamps had gone to the civilians, the military populace deemed capable enough to go without.
He averts his gaze.
Another decision he concurs with.
Still.
He tilts his head back to the village, at the few flickering lights.
Allows himself to look at his.
His light is always shining late.
Flickering, softly, behind the windows, casting Iruka’s shadow out over the surrounding houses.
Iruka’s apartment had been one of the lucky ones.
Far enough out and to the side as not to get hit directly by the blast.
Or blasts.
Kakashi actually isn’t too sure, the reports varying.
And he’d been dead, then.
The flickering light is like a beacon, drawing him in.
He cannot resist it.
Like a moth to a flame.
He grins softly, vaguely self-deprecatingly, while he hops over, keeping his stance relaxed, trying not to rouse the ANBU’s attention. Which is a lost cause, as he is well aware, with so little else going on. Aware also, that the ANBU circles will be buzzing with rumors in regards to him.
Again.
Kakashi rolls his eyes at himself, irritated at providing such an interesting diversion.
The last diversion had been his death.
And the manner in which he had stormed up the hill and towards Naruto after snapping back to life.
And of course the fact that he had been acting Hokage while Tsunade had been in a coma.
Come to think of it, that mask should be familiar.
Kakashi narrows his eyes, shooting the crouched figure a look.
And then relaxes, as it clicks. One of the new ANBU, right. ANBU recruited in preparation for the upcoming war. ANBU preparing to protect the village, or what’s left of it, when all the jonins will be gone.
Kakashi swallows, averting his gaze.
The light flickers, warmly.
He drops down next to the window, silently, once more.
It’s always peaceful watching Iruka work.
Obviously grading papers and writing reports. Kakashi wonders how loud Iruka’s students may be whining, having to do all those tests.
The hitai-ate is off, so are the shoes and vest. The hair is up in its custom ponytail, albeit a bit messy at this late an hour, since Iruka seems to have this habit of scratching his forehead and hairline whenever he reads something he finds challenging. Or wrong. Then that rub is accompanied by a sigh, and a small shift of his feet.
He seems to be right-handed, a trait that Kakashi had not really noticed before.
The little table he is sitting in front has stacks of papers on it, hazardously crowned with a candle.
There’s another one on a small cupboard to the side.
And a cup of tea, half drained.
Kakashi smirks, and letting his gaze drift, the unease within him settled a bit.
There is a mug on the sill, with cold tea.
On the outside sill.
Kakashi stares at it, a moment too long.
He misses the moment when Iruka gets up to open the window, opening it just a bit, careful of the small plants on the inner sill that look suspiciously like siblings of Mr. Ukki.
Iruka’s voice is dry. “Not in the mood for tea?”
Kakashi blinks at him, and then averts his gaze, with a grimace, glad it cannot be seen. He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice light, while staring at the cold tea. “It seems I… came too late for it…”
Iruka hums, with an exaggerated, sad nod. “Indeed. You could come in and warm yourself though? Sitting on the roof cannot be comfortable.”
Kakashi pulls a bit of the face, uncomfortably aware of the attention of the lone ANBU now.
He wonders if Tsunade knows.
And what exactly she might know.
Because he himself sure does not know anything right now.
“I… don’t want to keep you from your work.” He pulls a face, knowing he sounds lame. Especially considering he has given no reason, at all, why he keeps showing up on Iruka’s roof.
Iruka tilts his head, and then steps back, carefully moving the plants to the side to open the window wider. There’s sincerity in his voice, with a touch of humor. “You won’t. I’m almost done for tonight.” He holds out his hand, off to the side, and Kakashi hesitates, and then climbs in, feeling vaguely out of body and wondering at himself what the hell he is doing here.
But the candle flickers, and he settles next to the small cupboard, cross-legged and with his back against the wall, watching the light play on the papers.
Iruka closes the window and shoots him a look, and then settles back at his table with a shiver. “It’s cold outside already.”
Kakashi hums, unable to form words, watching Iruka’s shadow mix with the flickering light behind him.
Iruka shoots him a look from the corner of his eyes, opening his mouth to say something, and then closes it again, picking up his pen again, instead.
The scratching of it on the paper is loud between them.
Kakashi blinks, slowly, a pressure he wasn’t aware of holding dropping away.
The candle next to him sizzles, just a bit.
Kakashi’s gaze wanders, helplessly.
Iruka’s profile is a delicate one, a fine one, the single scar across the straight, but slightly tipped nose only enhancing it. The scar is light, obviously deep enough to scar properly, but not ragged or too wide. Just a marker of life happening. Kakashi smirks softly, watching as Iruka frowns, his eyes moving just a bit over what someone wrote, the lashes casting little, feathery shadows. The brown eyes are lit up by the candle, almost amber in its flickering glow, though they are dark brown whenever Iruka shoots him a look in between the switching of papers.
Kakashi is aware he should probably say something, explain why he is staring, but…
The hairline is high, and smooth, not as ragged as his own. The brown hair seems almost black, but the tips of it show light brown with chestnut highlights whenever Iruka tilts his head.
Iruka has beautiful ears.
Delicate, too, and not too big, the ear lobe half attached.
Kakashi blinks, wondering at himself, at the thought, but lets it go, following the elegant column of the throat down instead, into the shirt collar, and then back up, past the Adam’s apple.
There’s a shadow of a beard there, around the throat and jaw, though it is faint, Iruka’s beard growth is obviously not too strong.
Kakashi refuses to acknowledge that he wants to touch, blurting out instead. “I should take off my shoes.”
Iruka pauses, looking up fully and turning his head to face Kakashi, his eyes dark now, and carrying a pull. He smirks. “Next time?”
Kakashi’s heart beats, traitorously, once. He swallows, viciously suppressing the shiver in his voice. Unable not to confirm, because yes, he wants. “Sure.”
Iruka nods, turning back to his papers, tone low, but conversationally. “I make them do so many tests to keep them occupied. It’s getting better, but the last few weeks…” He trails off, with a small grimace.
Kakashi works his jaw, for a moment, his voice almost a whisper. “I know.”
Iruka sniffs, and then nods again, tone low. “Still. Life-changing events often do serve as catalyst.” He hesitates, eyes carefully on the paper before him. “Make us reevaluate a lot of things.”
Kakashi shivers, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. His voice is gravelly when he speaks. “I should go.”
Iruka hums, but nods. “I need to sleep, anyway.” He turns his head to Kakashi, waits until he opens his eyes again, to lock their gazes. “Why don’t you come by earlier tomorrow, Kakashi-san? You can keep me company with this…”, he gesticulates at the still huge stack of papers, “monster.”
Kakashi knows he should say ‘I shouldn’t’. Or, ‘I can’t.’ He nods instead, unable to do anything else under that gaze, that soft gaze that seems to pierce him, pin him, nonetheless.
Iruka’s smile is a smirk, carrying affection. “Good.”
******
Iruka grins up at him, but moves back to open the window once more. “For some reason I thought you would take the door this time, but it seems I am mistaken.”
Kakashi grunts, climbing in, and then toeing off his shoes and putting them off to the side. Settling in the spot he had been in roughly 20 hours ago.
He clears his throat, with a small shrug. “Old habits.”
Iruka hums with a nod and then settles at his table, too. Nodding at the cupboard. “The tea is still warm this time.”
Kakashi swallows, unable to say anything beyond a simple: “Thank you.”
Iruka looks at him for a moment, and then takes his pen again, starting to grade.
Kakashi exhales, letting his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud.
Iruka quirks an eyebrow, eyes still on the paper. “Hard day?”
Kakashi blinks, slowly, with a frown. “Hectic. Mostly organizational business. But with everything so destroyed still there is no structure yet, we’re trying to establish it, but it’s simply chaos, and everybody is hu…”
He trails off.
Aware that they’ve both lost some weight since then.
Aware that Iruka has likely gone hungry, too.
Though it’s been getting better, now that the outskirts have started delivering additional food. Now that some of the caravans to the other villages have returned.
He sniffs.
Iruka nods, and then tilts his chin at the cup on the sideboard. “You should drink it while it’s hot.”
Kakashi blinks, watching himself reach out and take the cup.
Iruka returns to his papers, a wisp of hair falling down into his forehead.
Kakashi sips on his tea.
Through his mask.
It’s warm in the little room, warmer than the housing complexes are right now and the light flickers, golden.
Kakashi concentrates on it, concentrates on keeping the shadow away, his left eye firmly closed. The moisture of the green tea stays, tickles his lips.
The light flickers.
To the left, in a dark corner, Pain’s purple eyes watch him. Kakashi blinks, focusing on Iruka doused in light.
At some point, after a dozen papers or so, Iruka snorts.
Kakashi hums in inquiry, with a slight tilt of his head, still gripping the now empty cup.
Iruka shoots him a look, from the corner of his eyes, a quick grin on his lips, there and gone again. “It’s just that Konohamaru used one very special phrase to make his point in this essay… it seems he is picking up more from Naruto than how to do the rasengan.”
Kakashi grunts, a small smile on his lips. “Who, in turn, has this habit to use phrases like these just as his mother did, even though he never met her.” He blinks, sobering slowly, bittersweet memories rising. “She used to end a lot of sentences with ‘dattebane’.” He snorts. “It’s really interesting that Naruto uses ‘dattebayo’ so much…” He frowns, staring unseeing into space. “I really wonder why that is.”
Iruka blinks, weighing his head. Hesitating for a long moment, before asking, very softly. “Think it could be because of the fox?”
Kakashi frowns, thinking of certain confidential reports he’s read, what he’s witnessed. Trying to sound neutral. “You think it’s talking to him?”
Iruka swallows, looking away. Kakashi can see the sudden tension in his shoulders. “We know they’re not the senseless beasts we’re taught they are, right?” He grimaces, though there is a smile in there, too. “I mean, they… it was directed, that night, was it not?”
Kakashi shivers, staring down into his cup. Remembering, vividly.
Iruka’s voice is a whisper. “Where were you, that night?”
Kakashi works his jaw, his nails finding the markings on the cup. The taste of bile is heavy on his tongue. “I… was stuck on the other side of the village, with Kurenai and Guy, and the others. I had been given the day off by the Yondaime, and I…” I was too late. He swallows, compulsively, raising his eyes to Iruka’s. “I heard.”
Iruka reaches up, with a shivering hand, to wipe at his eyes, with a sniff. He chuckles, a soft, broken sound. “Isn’t it funny how some wounds never fully heal?”
Kakashi swallows, the small space between them filled to the brim with pain suddenly, ebbing and flowing, brilliant pain. “I heard they fought bravely.”
Iruka sniffs, and nods, and then lifts his eyebrows, turning his head to look at Kakashi, with a small sigh. “I heard they did, too.”
Kakashi blinks, and then looks away, his knuckles holding the cup white. He chuckles, once, voice breaking. “Yeah, well. And here we are.”
Iruka hesitates, the weight of his gaze heavy. The words come, feathery light and yet with the weight of mountains. “I know your pain.”
Kakashi squeezes his eyes shut, and then shifts, leaning over to put the cup away. “I should go.”
Iruka’s voice is small. “Don’t. Please.”
Kakashi freezes, mid-motion, eye reopening to stare at his own hand, still holding the cup. He lets it go with an effort after a moment, letting the cup sit there, on the sideboard.
And then he settles back, against the wall, unable to do anything else.
Iruka sniffs, and then ducks his head.
His back is stiff, as are his shoulders.
Kakashi fights to relax his own.
Iruka sighs softly, after a moment, with another small nod. He tilts his head to Kakashi, but doesn’t look at him. “More papers?”
Kakashi exhales, with a slow blink, his voice gravelly. “Please.”
Iruka exhales, too, and picks up his pen.
******
Mr. Ukki’s siblings are set aside already, and Kakashi looks at them, a bit accusingly, when he clambers into the room the next evening.
Feeling utterly guilty, somehow.
Feeling utterly relieved, too.
Iruka’s smile could light up the whole world.
Kakashi swallows, harshly.
The tea is sweet tonight, carrying a note of honey. Kakashi wonders if Iruka went to the forests himself to look for some, because he knows that there’s no rations for adults for sugar.
He doesn’t ask though, just smiles, a careful, gentle and deliberate eye-smile, that results in a blush on Iruka’s cheeks, highlighting the skin beautifully.
Kakashi’s heart thunders, for just a moment, and he averts his gaze, pulling out his book with trembling fingers and opening it, eyes unseeing on the pages.
His mask is sticky sweet, catching on his lower lip.
The scratching of the pen starts up once more, after a moment, and Kakashi times his breaths to the strokes, turning the pages mechanically.
Iruka speaks up, eventually. “You know, you should probably take off your vest. It cannot be comfortable relaxing in it.”
Kakashi blinks, a shiver running down his spine. “I… I am already taking up more of your space than I should.”
Iruka shoots him a look, with a roll of his eyes. “Nonsense.” He winks at Kakashi. “I want you here, remember?”
Kakashi sighs, through his nose, licking his lips for a moment. The question of ‘why’ is heavy on his tongue. He swallows it down, and puts the book away, pulling off his vest instead.
Puts it down next to the plants.
He clears his throat. “Thank you for the honey.”
Iruka hums, nodding, while his eyes move over some calculations. “I found it helps.”
Kakashi swallows, and then nods, too, taking a sip, feeling the warmth and carbons settle his always hungry stomach. “It does.” He hesitates, and then adds. “It will get easier again, soon. Better.”
Iruka smiles, the white teeth glinting for a moment. “It already is.”
******
Iruka clicks his tongue at him, the next time he knocks on the window. “And here I thought you had abandoned me and my papers.”
Kakashi snorts, his heart fluttering, while he ducks his head to climb in. “No, just some short mission I was sent on.” He hesitates, and then unzips his vest, carefully putting it next to the plants, when Iruka closes the window. “I’m sorry.”
Iruka blinks at him, and then smiles, broadly, for just a moment. “It’s alright, I’m a Shinobi, too, I know how it is.” He weighs his head. “Not your caliber, and with a different career path, granted, but…”
Kakashi interjects, with a snort. “My skills are not comparable to what your skills hold as a value for this village. I saw you handle Sasuke and Naruto back then. You are a saint, and the children are lucky to have you.”
Iruka blushes, deeply, but clears his throat as he settles behind his table once more. “You saw me handle them?”
Kakashi sighs, leaning back against the wall with his eye closed for a moment. “I came to discuss something with Guy… you were practicing throwing shuriken I think, or kunais.” He chuckles, remembering vividly now. “Naruto almost hit you.”
Iruka snorts, tone deadpan. “Oh yeah, he really was good at that.”
Kakashi grins.
Iruka smirks to himself and then nods at Kakashi, while picking up his pen again. “So. Icha Icha versus essay about the morality of combat?”
Kakashi grunts, pulling out his book. “Definitely Icha Icha.”
Iruka grins, for a moment. “Good choice, I think.” He leans over, just a bit, voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve never read them though. Just heard of them.”
Kakashi chuckles, putting on a playfully indignant tone. Ignoring the lance of pain that runs through him, at the fresh memory of Jiraiya’s death. “Ohhhhh, that cannot be now, can it. You must read Jiraiya-san’s legacy.”
Iruka hums, shaking his head once. His tone is sly. “Maybe you can read it to me later?”
Kakashi freezes, his gaze dropping to the book in his hand, for a long moment. He’s not sure whether his voice might not be a bit too high. “You want me to read it to you?”
Iruka shrugs, eyebrows lifted, an innocent expression on his face. “Yeah, well, they must be riveting for you to read them all the time?”
Kakashi grunts, remembering certain, definitely riveting scenes in them.
Iruka’s voice is low, very low, and there’s something in it that scratches down Kakashi’s back. “Do you imagine yourself in those scenes, when you read them, or someone else?”
Kakashi can feel the blush creep up, suddenly feeling way too hot under his mask. “Errr… a little bit of both I guess?”
Iruka hums, weighing his head, but he doesn’t say anything, the pen scratching softly once more.
Kakashi stares at his profile. Aligns the conversation with the image, slowly. With the preconception of the man before him.
He resists the urge to tug at his collar, feeling hot.
The question hits him like a punch out of the blue. “Why did you come and save me?”
Kakashi blinks, stunned, for a long second. He shakes his head, slowly. Answering honestly from the depth of his soul. “It was where I needed to be.”
Iruka looks up at him, his eyes seemingly huge. “There were others in danger, too.”
Kakashi nods slowly and then shrugs, captured by velvety brown. “I know.” His gaze lowers, to his hand, feeling the black metal rod for a moment. His fingers twitch around air futilely.
Iruka’s voice is a whisper. “I heard you were dead.”
Kakashi quirks his eyebrows, with a slow blink. “I was.”
There is a tremble to Iruka’s voice. “How was it?”
Kakashi stares at him, knowing what he’s asking. “I know they’re at peace now, Iru…”, he stumbles over the impulse to say ‘Iru-kun’, the endearment wanting to roll off his tongue without his brain’s interference. “…ka. I only met my father there, and I needed to go back, but…” His world grows wobbly and then clears again as a tear falls, unbidden.
Kakashi’s voice is a harsh whisper, broken and filled with jagged, bleeding edges. “I didn’t want to return, though I am glad to be back now.” He smiles, brilliantly, through the tears. Repeating. “I know they are at peace.”
Iruka breaks their gaze, looking away with a small sob, and Kakashi exhales shudderingly, the loss of the connection a harsh one.
Iruka’s voice is brittle when he speaks up again eventually; the silver reflections of his tears are beautiful in their own right. “Please continue to come by?”
And Kakashi sighs, softly, with a shrug. “Of course.”
The thought is as simple as the warmth running through him.
Where else would I go?
******
Iruka is rolling his left shoulder, again, for the umpteenth time.
Kakashi watches him, surreptitiously, while pretending to read. Watches as Iruka reaches up again to rub at the obviously locked muscle with a grimace.
Gives up pretending to read eventually, closing the book with a soft snap.
Kakashi clears his throat. “Let me?”
Iruka’s eyes snap to his, a faint blush blooming on his cheeks. “… I… you don’t have to.”
Kakashi nods, and pushes onto his knees, shuffling over. “I want to.”
Iruka blinks at him, and then drops his right hand, the fingers twitching. “Alright.”
Kakashi licks his lips and moves behind him, trying to ignore the sudden impression of body heat so close. Or the vicious yearning for more.
Or the way Iruka’s hair smells, of chalk, and wood and apples. And something that is just his, and that Kakashi wants to bend down to and inhale, deeply.
Wisps of it tickle Kakashi’s hands when he places them on Iruka’s shoulders.
He starts to knead, softly, carefully, frowning when he notices just how locked up the muscle is.
He hums. “I think we need to get you a real desk.”
Iruka sighs, softly. “I have a desk.” He tilts his head back, just vaguely. “But the room is so big, it’s always cold there since the heating is…” He trails off.
Kakashi nods, continuing to knead.
Iruka clicks his tongue, after a moment. “It is much warmer with you here.” Kakashi can see him swallow. “Thank you.”
Kakashi snorts, softly. “If anyone should give thanks, then it should be me.” You’re keeping the horrors away.
Iruka’s voice is filled with gratitude - and humor. “Yeah? Why?”
Kakashi’s smile dies on his lips, shattering like a glass on the floor. He makes himself say the words, to vocalize the thought, the need to be honest outweighing the resistance. “Being here keeps the nightmares at bay. Being with you keeps the darkness away.”
Silence, as the words sink in.
Kakashi continues massaging, pressing into the points he knows will hurt but also help.
Iruka grunts, softly. Hisses when Kakashi worries a certain stubbornly resisting spot.
Moans, when the muscle finally gives.
Kakashi stares at his own fingers, watches them move.
The knobs of Iruka’s spine look so delicate in the half shadows, the candle helping them cast long shadows, despite their low height.
His throat seems slender from this perspective, and Kakashi helplessly compares it to the scene he read just earlier, where the heroine had been worshipped by her admirer.
He cannot help but remember what had followed after then, either.
He withdraws his hands after a moment, after realizing he’s just let them sit there unmoving.
For a while.
He clears his throat. “Glad it’s better now.”
Iruka sighs, rolling his shoulders and head, and his slightly wild ponytail tickling Kakashi’s face. He hums, and then shoots Kakashi a look while tilting his head back, expression unreadable. “Thank you. It’s… been a while since someone took care of me.”
Kakashi swallows, not trusting himself to answer. He nods, curtly, and then shuffles back, two feet over, to ‘his’ spot. He clears his throat.
Iruka’s voice is gentle, though his gaze is averted again. “Did you have many who took care of you? After…” He trails off, with a bit of a grimace.
Kakashi lets his head fall back against the wall, with a soft thud. Tries not to let the darkness rise, watching the flame beyond Iruka’s profile for long minutes, before answering. “No. The walls I built were too high, too carefully set up.”
Iruka looks up again from his papers, from where he’d taken up the grading once more when Kakashi had taken so long to respond. He whispers, guessing correctly. “No-one?”
Kakashi frowns, his jaw working. There’s a pressure to speak the words, a need that he’s unable to resist. “Everyone I lower my mask for dies.”
Iruka blinks at him, and Kakashi expects some kind of reassurance, of deflection, maybe ‘no, not everyone’, or ‘I don’t think your mask is the factor here’ or something similar, but he doesn’t, his gaze only dropping to Kakashi’s mask for a long moment before he returns to his papers.
Kakashi lets his gaze wander, feeling raw.
There’s photos of Iruka’s students on another cupboard in the background, colorful photos of small genins holding more or less still for the camera to take their picture.
Kakashi lets his gaze trickle along the frames, his eyes catching on something orange, and he grins, helplessly, his voice carrying a heartfelt chuckle. “He really looked like a little tangerine.”
Iruka snorts, looking up and following his gaze. “Yeah… I always wondered who got him that jumpsuit though, I mean he only had that small allowance, right, and that jumpsuit must have been expensive.”
Kakashi frowns, staring at the photo, unseeing. “Right.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Probably some kind of hidden gift by Jiraiya.” A small lance of pain, through his heart, again.
Iruka looks at him, with a hum. “Sensei Jiraiya did care for him, didn’t he.”
Kakashi nods, with the click of his tongue. “He was his godfather.” He swallows. And then shoots Iruka a look. “How did you feel about him being in your class.”
Iruka grimaces, looking away. “Not happy at first.” He snorts, shooting Kakashi a look. “And you may remember he was also quite the handful.”
Kakashi grunts, tone beyond dry. “He still is quite the handful.”
Iruka grins, and then sobers, watching Kakashi. “I was so pissed when you entered them into the chunin exams back then.”
Kakashi pulls a face, nodding. “Yeah, I remember.”
Iruka hums, still watching him intently. “But you were right. They were ready.”
Kakashi blinks, his voice dropping. “They had the best teacher.”
Iruka ducks his head.
Asking, again once more seemingly out of the blue, stunning Kakashi. “Do you want children?”
Kakashi stares at him, mouth open, and then exhales, in a rush, looking away, at the small candle next to him. “I…” He swallows, with a frown.
And then looks back, bravely, telling, admitting. “I think this village will become”, he raises his fingers to air-quotes, “’my children’.”
Iruka nods, his gaze heavy. “She’s setting you up as her successor.”
Kakashi swallows, reaching up to rub a hand over his face and mask. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Iruka chuckles. “Ah well, I know we could have it worse.”
Kakashi grunts.
Iruka’s eyes are dark. Seeing too much. “And you take the hat because you want the next generation, him, to have a chance at having families, and children… and so you sacrifice your own.”
Kakashi grimaces, picking at a non-existent fluff on his pants. “He is still too young, even in a few years. Even the Yondaime was too young, probably, and he was a bit older still.” He exhales, and then shrugs. “And a family has never been something that’s been in the cards. Not in my line of work.” He swallows his voice dropping to a whisper. “It wouldn’t have been fair.”
Iruka hums, his eyes locked to Kakashi’s. “There are female ANBU? I’m sure those would be able to understand?”
Kakashi closes his eye, and then opens it again, to lock it to Iruka’s, holding their gaze, a moment too long.
He watches Iruka’s pupils dilate.
Iruka averts his gaze, eventually.
The words are spoken into the room, carefully not directed. “I think the children I teach are my family, too.”
He takes up the pen once more, and Kakashi watches him, silently.
And something within him shivers.
******
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save your parents that night.”
Iruka’s head comes up, slowly, and then tilts and turns so Iruka can look at Kakashi. “What?”
Kakashi clears his throat. Repeating. “I’m sorry I…”
Iruka waves at him, pen in hand. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you. What I mean is why are you apologizing for that?”
Kakashi grimaces. “I was ANBU, I should have been able to…”
Iruka snorts, a dark sound, devoid any humor. “You may have been ANBU, but you were young, too. The same age as Naruto is now and recent events aside, even he wouldn't have been able to..."” He narrows his eyes. “What has brought this on?”
Kakashi’s voice drops to a whisper. Stubbornly repeating. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t save them.”
Iruka puts the pen down, and turns to him, just a bit. “Explain.”
Kakashi looks away, unable to hold the gaze. “I saw them… I saw. I wasn’t able to help. I should have been able to do something.” He swallows, compulsively. “I know how it feels to be alone.”
There’s a shift of movement, and Kakashi looks back at Iruka, sees that he has averted his eyes.
He breathes the words. “I’m sorry.”
Iruka swallows, and then nods, and then he smiles, sadly. “Is that why we never really interacted?” He works his jaw for a moment. “Before, I mean?”
Kakashi blinks, slowly. Remembering the times he’s watched. “Maybe.”
Iruka exhales, and then reaches for his cup, the tea once more enhanced with honey, and coming with a small biscuit tonight, a senbai that Kakashi had been able to bring, snatched from Tsunade’s stash, who had watched, but not commented. He puts his pen down and picks the senbai up with his other hand, looking at it for a long moment, before taking a bite.
Kakashi stares at his own, and then takes a sip of tea, through his mask.
******
“Are we becoming a habit?”
Kakashi hums, lazily turning a page in Icha Icha Tactics, while letting the humor and affection in Iruka’s voice warm his heart, his clothes still chilled from the short trip over. “Maybe?”
There is a minute silence, and then Kakashi asks, tone light as a feather and yet heavy as stone. “Are you putting out more tests so we can continue doing this?”
Iruka ducks his head, and Kakashi can see this one, shallow dimple, that appears when he’s biting his tongue to hide his grin. “Maybe?”
Kakashi sighs, dramatically. “The poor kids.”
Iruka nods, weighing his head, tone grave. “Indeed.”
Kakashi grins.
And turns another page.
******
“You know, when there’s vegetables to be had once more, I’ll cook for you.”
Iruka looks up, rolling his shoulders. With a smirk. “Really? You can cook?”
Kakashi lifts his eyebrows, tone carefully aloof. “I’ll have you know that I’m very careful with what I put in my body.”
Iruka drawls. “Really.”
Kakashi reaches for the small pillow next to him and pretends to throw it at him.
Iruka snickers.
Kakashi’s gut flutters. He clears his throat. “That would mean you couldn’t grade then though.”
Iruka hisses, through his teeth. “You mean, I would have to spend time with you without doing papers?”
Kakashi grunts. “I know. Terrible thought.”
“Devastating.“ Iruka grins.
Kakashi hums, eyes unseeing on his book. “What is your favorite dish?”
Iruka’s voice is carried on a chuckle. “You’ll laugh.”
Kakashi grins, to himself. “No, I won’t.”
“Uh huh.” Kakashi can hear the roll of the eyes. Iruka sighs, and then mumbles, with a sigh. “Ramen.”
Kakashi looks up, slowly, and then starts to chuckle, shoulders shaking. “So it’s you he has it from?”
Iruka tilts his head back, with a slightly peeved expression, though Kakashi can see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I told you you’d laugh… yeah, I took him to ramen back then fairly regularly.” Iruka’s expression sobers, slowly, his eyes huge on Kakashi’s. “It’s a wonder he grew up so healthy, given the way he was neglected.”
Kakashi swallows, the chuckle dying on his lips. “You didn’t neglect him though.”
Iruka blinks at him. “Neither did you. And yet we came into his life quite late, all things considered.”
Kakashi swallows, looking away for a moment. “Yeah.”
Iruka’s eyes are dark, seeing too much once more. “Do you hurt when you look up at the mountain?”
Kakashi sniffs, looking away. “It’s gotten better.” He quirks an eyebrow, adding after a moment. “I used to hurt when I looked at him, too. He’s such a wild mix of them.”
Iruka nods, a shadow of pain passing over his face. “I used to hurt when I looked at him as well. What he stood for was so present, at least at first.” He snorts, and then grins. “But Naruto’s personality is impossible to resist. As soon as you’ve opened yourself…”
Kakashi hums, watching the light play on Iruka’s face. Answering, as much Iruka as admitting to himself that that is what he is doing here, now, too. “Indeed.”
Iruka shoots him a look, obviously hearing something in the tone. He seems on the verge to say something, but refrains, turning to his papers again.
There is a short pause, as both obviously recollect.
Iruka clears his throat. “So. I couldn’t help but notice that the dark rings under your eyes…”, he hesitates, and then tilts his head back with a small quirk of his eyebrow, heavily emphasizing, “or, better ring under your eye…” He smirks. “The dark ring has vanished.”
Kakashi nods once and then exhales softly. “Yes, I’ve been sleeping better.”
Iruka smiles at him, for just a moment. “Do you always have to keep it closed?”
Kakashi hesitates, and then reaches up with his left hand, pushing the hitai-ate up and off.
Opens the sharingan, with a shiver.
Reality aligns with replayed memory and sharp contrast, and the feeling of black metal, in his hand.
Iruka’s eyes swivel back and forth on his, his voice a whisper. “What do you see?”
Kakashi grunts, letting the mangekyo twist. Letting the memory come. “Pain, trying to punch through your face.”
A tear drops from Iruka’s eyes, his voice broken. “When do you see that?”
Kakashi chuckles without humor. “Every time I close my eyes.” He swallows. “Every time it is dark.” He inhales, shakingly. “As I said, it’s been getting better.” Being here helps.
Iruka nods, slowly. And then leans over a bit and reaches out, with his left hand, pen between fingers, index finger extended. He ghosts the tip of it down Kakashi’s scar, eyes following the digit. Kakashi can see him swallow. “You should keep it off. Make new memories to replay.”
Another shiver travels down Kakashi’s spine, one that is not quite the same as before.
He swallows. “Yeah. Maybe I should.”
Iruka nods, once. “Good.”
Kakashi blinks at him, slowly, watching Iruka’s gaze following his lashes, just a bit. He clicks his tongue softly, pressing the words out. “I prefer to have memories of you alive anyways.” He exhales, and then closes his eyes for a moment, feeling laid bare. “I prefer to see you alive.”
Iruka blinks, and then smirks, just a bit, a tease prominently in his voice. “I prefer to be alive, too.”
Kakashi grunts, rolling his eyes just a bit. With a blush. “Yeah, well…” He trails off, suddenly unable to say anything else.
Iruka sobers slowly, hand still in the air between them.
An inch from the edge of Kakashi’s mask.
The air is heavy somehow, difficult to breathe.
Iruka sounds wistful. “If not for you I would have died that day.”
Kakashi exhales, shudderingly, his voice a whisper. “I know.”
Iruka nods, slowly. “I didn’t think about it much, that day…” He hums, and then smiles again, wistfully and beatifically. “If I had died you would have been the last thing I’d seen.”
Kakashi gasps, soundlessly, trying for humor to hide the beautiful pain. “Ah, I’m so sorry.”
Iruka grins, for just a moment. His voice is suffused with affection. “Baka.”
Kakashi snorts, and then nods, looking away, before raising his mismatched eyes back to Iruka’s dark ones.
Iruka blinks, very slowly. “Why did you come back, Kakashi?”
Kakashi swallows, fidgeting, just a bit. Trying to buy time. “Back?”
Iruka hums, turning back to his papers, though Kakashi knows his attention is fixed on him. “Yes. From beyond.” He swallows. “When you died.”
Kakashi sniffs, and then lowers his eyes to his book, unseeing, grateful for the space Iruka gives him. He works his jaw for a moment. “I was told there is still something I have to do.”
Iruka nods, and Kakashi can feel his sidelong gaze. He’s suddenly aware that their bare feet are almost touching, the space between them charged somehow, hot.
He twitches, unable to say whether he wants to inch away or closer.
Iruka’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “So… if you were sent back to do something still… that must mean that you have to do it here, right?”
Kakashi frowns and then shrugs once. “Yes, I mean… obviously?” He winces. “I mean, not obviously, but probably, I mean…”
Iruka waves him off, with a hum. “No, I mean, yes, it is obviously here.” He tilts his head, just a bit, and there is a smirk now on his face. “That is what I’m getting at, actually.”
Kakashi exhales, making himself relax. Trying to follow. “What is?”
Iruka clicks his tongue, and then puts down the pen, slowly.
“Weelllll….” Iruka hesitates, and then turns and crawls over, kneeling in front of Kakashi. The heat of his body burns Kakashi’s shins. “If you have to do something here, and I am here now, and you saved me from death and were sent back…”
Kakashi’s heart stumbles, and he lowers the book slowly.
Iruka’s eyes swivel back and forth on his. His voice sounds breathless. “What if what you were sent back for is what is between us?”
Kakashi shivers, a full body shiver that makes the pupils in Iruka’s eyes dilate even more somehow.
Iruka bites his lips, for just a moment, his voice a whisper. “Which also means I won’t die if you take it off.”
Kakashi swallows, harshly, feeling feverish, his mouth parched. He presses the words out. “How can you be sure.” I cannot lose you, too.
Iruka shifts, and Kakashi unfolds his legs, allowing Iruka to kneel over his lower legs now, close, so close. “You said I keep the darkness away.”
Kakashi blinks, slowly, knuckles white, still holding the book. He feels out of body, his world reduced to the dark in Iruka’s eyes. His tongue feels unresponsive. “You do.”
Iruka whispers, there between them. “What are you afraid of?”
Kakashi reaches up, with his right hand, as if in trance. “Losing you.”
Iruka blinks, eyes wide. Brave, so brave. “But would you not wait for me, then, beyond? Because I would.”
The world blurs and then refocuses, the path of the tear on Kakashi’s cheek ice cold and burning hot. His shivering fingertips find Iruka’s jaw. “What if you’re wrong? What if I destroy you? Destroy your light?”
Iruka lowers his gaze, the weight of it heavy. He leans in, whispering against the cloth. “My light is my own, and it is mine to use. And I offer it to you. Have offered it to you.” His eyes come up again, so close now. “And you accepted.”
Kakashi swallows harshly as Iruka turns his head into Kakashi’s palm. Confirming and aware that he does so. “Yes.”
Iruka smirks, and then presses a kiss to the pulse point of Kakashi’s wrist. Whispering against it. “May I?”
And Kakashi blinks, knowing what he’s asking, and he drops Icha Icha to take Iruka’s right hand with his left and guide it up, his heart beating in his throat, watching Iruka come closer, closer, and the heated air between them feels cold on his skin when the mask is dragged down, and Iruka sighs, and it’s so hard to breathe, and there’s a sizzle of the candle, and it’s dying… but the touch of Iruka’s lips is bright, so bright.
And the darkness lights up, brilliantly, behind Kakashi’s eyes.
And it is beautiful, once more.