Need (Quiet Evenings)
This time, Kakashi stayed away for three months, one week, and two days before finding himself in Iruka-sensei's apartment.
It was almost three o'clock in the morning, dark and cold with the smell of winter in the crisp air, and Kakashi had lost a teammate to a trap the chūnin hadn't seen.
Kakashi had seen the trap too late, trying to fight off the missing-nin who had ambushed them, and although he'd screamed, "Hitomi! Stop!" and earned a punctured lung from several senbon to his flak jacket, she either had not heard him or had been unable to stop.
They had recovered her body and gone to the hospital for the wounds of the other team members – Kakashi included.
They'd had Hitomi's funeral the same day Kakashi and his team had finished being discharged from the hospital.
It had rained, an icy, brittle-cold rain that slid down the backs of flak jackets and made the attendees shiver with a cold that wouldn't leave.
Kakashi bowed his head before the Memorial Stone and apologised, profusely, to Hitomi for failing her.
His heart ached.
But his memories of her, limited by the little time he had known her, went into a little iron box that he shoved back behind his heart and between his ribs.
He managed to keep his countenance flat and his emotions in check all that afternoon and evening as he cooked, ate a bland dinner, washed up, and wrapped himself in his own comforter.
But he tossed and turned, and his breath started sounding harsh in his own ears, his heart pounding, because if he had just seen that trap a moment earlier– if he had just been a little faster– if he had–
He didn't look at the time or even register that he had gotten up and dressed himself. He didn't register himself pushing open his window and bounding out into the cold air of the winter. He didn't notice the city passing him by in the dark.
He slid a senbon in between the frame of the window and the pane, clicking the lock out of place, and he pushed open the window of the main room of Iruka-sensei's apartment.
The barriers allowed him to slip in.
He slid the window closed silently, watching Iruka-sensei's still form, or at least the mound of blankets he assumed hid Iruka-sensei. The man had not so much as twitched as Kakashi broke in. They would need to talk about Iruka-sensei's sleep awareness, never mind that he was in his own home with ANBU-level barriers around the apartment.
"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to get in?" Iruka-sensei suddenly asked, making Kakashi twitch because he was too good a shinobi to jump in surprise.
He instantly forgot he had been prepared to reprimand Iruka-sensei for a lack of sleep awareness.
Kakashi locked the window and, taking off his shoes, padded out to put them in the entryway. He came back and quickly removed his flak jacket and weapons.
"You're freezing," Iruka-sensei complained as soon as Kakashi slipped between the blankets. But his arms twined around Kakashi and held him close.
Kakashi wanted to hold Iruka-sensei tonight. He shifted so Iruka-sensei's head was pillowed on his arm again and pulled Iruka-sensei into his chest.
Iruka-sensei made a soft sound and turned around in Kakashi's arms, backing into Kakashi's hold, pressed in a long line of body heat against the whole of Kakashi's front.
He couldn't protect Hitomi, but Iruka-sensei was here, whole and unharmed.
He held Iruka-sensei so tightly it had to have been uncomfortable, but Iruka-sensei said nothing; he only wriggled closer.
Kakashi buried his nose into Iruka-sensei's hair and realised, for the first time, that the chestnut-brown hair lay loose and tangled on the pillow.
He tried to remember if he'd ever seen Iruka-sensei's hair down before and concluded that no, he had not.
He wondered, as he fell asleep, what it looked like.
◈❖◈
About three months after that, well into early spring, Kakashi happened to be slouching through Konoha when it occurred to him to wonder how Iruka-sensei was doing.
He had seen the teacher's eyes that day at the Mission Assignment Desk and, for the first time, recognised the sorrow and the fatigue there.
Iruka-sensei made no effort to hide sorrow. It was just so unusual that nobody understood what they were looking at when they saw it on his face.
The sky said early evening would descend into twilight soon. But it was a Friday night, and Kakashi thought he might stop by and see if Iruka-sensei wanted to get a drink.
He waited for a while after he'd knocked on Iruka-sensei's door before the teacher appeared.
His eyes were red-rimmed and a little puffy, his ponytail unusually ratty, and his uniform rumpled, but he smiled when he saw Kakashi, a half-happy thing that made Kakashi, without understanding what he was doing or why, step into Iruka-sensei's space to sweep the man into a tight hug.
Iruka-sensei jerked in surprise, but then he hugged Kakashi back with a desperate sort of need.
Kakashi kicked the door closed and toed off his shoes without letting go of Iruka-sensei, and they sank to the floor right there, in the middle of the kitchen, as Iruka-sensei wept.
Iruka-sensei cried for quite a while. Kakashi's butt had long since gone to sleep, and pins and needles attacked his legs, but he didn't move until Iruka-sensei did.
Iruka-sensei knuckled the tears away from his face and smiled up at Kakashi.
"Sorry about that," he said apologetically. "I was just thinking about how worried I am about Naruto, you know? I haven't gotten a letter from him in months."
Kakashi realised that Iruka-sensei had been crying – hard – for want of a single letter.
"I heard from Jiraiya-sama a couple of weeks ago," Kakashi said, ashamed that it had not even occurred to him to pass the news on to Iruka-sensei. "Not much, just that they're doing alright. I'm sorry. I... should have thought to tell you."
Iruka-sensei slumped with relief.
"I'm glad to hear that they're well," he said emphatically. "You didn't have to tell me that, but I really appreciate that you did."
"I'll let you know when I hear from them in the future," Kakashi promised.
Iruka-sensei smiled gratefully.
"Thank you. I'm... sorry I haven't been able to...."
Kakashi shook his head.
"I came to check in on you, sensei," he said with a small smile of his own. "I'd noticed you looked sad today. I was going to see if you wanted company, maybe to get a drink or something. That's all."
Iruka-sensei blinked with surprise.
"You... did?" he asked, bewildered.
Kakashi winced.
"I've been taking advantage of your generosity," he said, contrite, his voice low. "I'm sorry."
"No, no!" Iruka-sensei protested, wide-eyed and painfully earnest. "No, not at all! I just... didn't realise I was so obvious about feeling down." He punctuated the words with an awkward laugh.
"You're obvious about everything you feel, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi informed him with a wry smile. "It's... nice."
And then he stopped, surprised at himself, surprised at the truth in the single, simple word.
When had it started seeming nice to see Iruka-sensei's emotions unapologetically announced on his face?
"I– oh." Iruka-sensei hesitated. "I try not to be obvious about my emotions."
Kakashi shrugged.
"It's who you are. You don't have to feel bad about it."
"I guess you are friends with Gai-san," Iruka-sensei remarked with a small smile. "Maybe I shouldn't be surprised."
Kakashi didn't physically react to the observation, though he realised with surprise that Iruka-sensei was right. Maybe he was drawn to emotional people, for some reason or another.
Or maybe, he thought ruefully to himself, they were thrown into his world unceremoniously, unafraid to challenge Kakashi's own stoicism, the way that a young Gai had been – and the way Hiruzen had nudged Kakashi and Iruka-sensei into the same space.
"Did you still want to get that drink?" Iruka-sensei asked.
Kakashi curved a smile at Iruka-sensei over his mask.
"I would like nothing more."
◈❖◈
Strangely, on the rare occasion that Iruka-sensei took the initiative and invited Kakashi out for dinner or drinks, Kakashi never felt a desire to refuse. If anything, he relished the quiet evenings together.
He was careful to keep his own invitations infrequent enough that he hoped Iruka-sensei wouldn't feel overwhelmed. At any rate, Iruka-sensei only ever declined when he already had some plans – or last-minute exams to grade that he had to hand back the next day.
He never turned Kakashi away when Kakashi wanted a quiet night in, though.
When Kakashi was on the verge of shattering.
Except....
Except sometimes, Kakashi found himself gravitating to Iruka-sensei's apartment even when he wasn't on the verge of shattering.
Sometimes, he just wanted Iruka-sensei's fingers in his hair, blunt nails raking gently across his scalp, even if Iruka-sensei was grading at the same time.
Kakashi would curl up and sit on the floor down at the foot of Iruka-sensei's desk chair, head resting on that powerful thigh, and just close his eyes as Iruka-sensei ranted and chuckled and swore with those hilarious pre-genin-safe curse words under his breath about his students' answers.
He wondered vaguely, almost two years into their odd... arrangement... if they were dating.
They had never kissed. They had never undressed around one another past their uniform blacks. Kakashi had never run his fingers over the scar he knew hugged Iruka-sensei's spine, and Iruka-sensei had never seen Kakashi without his mask.
They paid for their own dinners. Although they paid for one another's drinks, it was as friends who went out regularly together, each picking up the tab in turn, for ease rather than to treat the other.
Iruka-sensei had never seen Kakashi's tiny apartment, and Kakashi did not have a towel or a toothbrush at Iruka-sensei's.
"Do you ever go on dates?" Kakashi asked, his masked face pressed against Iruka-sensei's warm thigh, Iruka-sensei's warm fingers carding through his hair.
"Hm?" Iruka-sensei hummed, half-distracted. "No, not really. Why?"
"I was just curious," Kakashi murmured without opening his eye. "Why not?"
He heard Iruka-sensei shrug.
"Most people want things I'm not interested in giving."
"But you like close contact," Kakashi pointed out. "That seems like a dating thing."
Iruka-sensei shrugged again.
"I suppose."
Kakashi heard the sound of Iruka-sensei's pen being set down on the desk, but he didn't stop petting Kakashi's hair.
"What's all this about, then?"
"Nothing," Kakashi said honestly. "I was just curious."
"Do you ever date people?" Iruka-sensei asked.
"No," Kakashi replied. "I don't think so. Unless we're dating."
Iruka-sensei's hand froze for a fraction of a second: a stutter in his movement.
"I didn't realise you thought of us that way," Iruka-sensei said carefully.
"I'm not sure," Kakashi admitted. "I'm not sure I'd know how to tell."
He heard a soft sigh of what might have been relief.
"Well, I'd hate to think I was dating someone without even knowing it," Iruka-sensei joked, picking up his pen once more. "Anyway, we haven't kissed, or anything."
"Do you want to?" Kakashi asked curiously.
The pen clattered to the desk. Iruka-sensei muttered a soft curse and fumbled to pick it up.
"We don't have to," Kakashi said. "I'm not even totally sure I'd like kissing at all, anyway. I'm just curious."
There was a long moment of silence.
"I like kissing," Iruka-sensei finally admitted softly. "But I wasn't expecting to– I mean." He cleared his throat. "If you ever decide you want to try, we can. If you want to try with me, I mean."
"Maybe," Kakashi mused. "I'll think about it."
"Okay. You just let me know," Iruka-sensei said, and he went back to grading.