The Taste of This Moment

   When he spotted Pein standing over Iruka-sensei, Kakashi thought his heart stopped.  There was no iron box in the world large enough to contain his memories of Iruka-sensei.

   They had not kissed.  Kakashi kept putting off asking, afraid of what might be ruined if he did, when things were constantly collapsing down around their heads.

   Now, it might be too late.

   He barely caught the lance before it pierced Iruka-sensei through.  His hand wrapped so tightly around the rod that he thought, for a moment, that his grip might deform the metal.

   He spoke coolly, without really hearing his own words.  All he knew was that he had to keep Iruka-sensei safe at any cost.

   "Kakashi-san!"  Even Iruka-sensei's voice could not break through Kakashi's distant coolness.

   "Please take that wounded man and retreat," Kakashi said blandly without looking away from Pein.  "Leave this to me."

   He had no idea whether he could survive this encounter.  Based on his already-flagging chakra and the exhaustion already nipping at his heels, he suspected he would not.

   He wished he could have one more night in Iruka-sensei's little apartment, head against Iruka-sensei's thigh or with Iruka-sensei's warmth wrapped up in his arms.

   He closed that thought away behind iron doors and thought, with relief, that maybe soon, he would no longer have to carry all those iron boxes behind his heart, between his ribs.

   "Ah– understood," Iruka-sensei said, subdued.  He wanted to argue, Kakashi could tell, but he would not.

   Not when Kakashi needed him to go.

   When had he become so adept at reading Kakashi's moods?

   And then he was gone, leaving Kakashi with the quiet relief that at least this once, he would be able to protect one of his most precious people.

◈❖◈

   Kakashi carried the hero Naruto from the forest.

   Naruto had worked so hard and achieved the impossible; to need to be carried was natural, not a weakness.

   Kakashi was glad to be able to be the one who carried Naruto home when Naruto had saved them all.

   But his sense of pride and gratitude was nothing compared to his relief, and his overwhelming joy, when he saw Iruka-sensei standing there, tears running freely down the face split by a massive grin.

   It was a wonderful smile.

   And when all the revellers had gone back to Konoha, carrying Naruto on their shoulders, Kakashi drew close to Iruka-sensei.

   He leaned exhaustedly against a tree, trying to look nonchalant.  Iruka-sensei smiled wryly, clearly not fooled in the slightest.

   "I heard you died," Iruka-sensei said, his smile gone, his eyes dark.

   "Yes," Kakashi agreed.

   Iruka's punch caught him completely unprepared, and Kakashi staggered back a few paces, holding his eye.

   "What the–?" he started to demand, and then arms wrapped tightly around him, clinging to him utterly desperately.

   "Never– ever– do such a stupid thing again!" Iruka railed, punctuating his words with smacks to Kakashi's shoulder.

   "Please stop hitting me," Kakashi pleaded plaintively.  "I already hurt all over."

   Iruka immediately stopped hitting Kakashi, rubbing the shoulder soothingly.

   Surprisingly, the ache started dissipating.  Kakashi looked down and let his eye widen slightly: Iruka's hand glowed the green of healing.

   "I can only do basic healing.  I learned because of the kids," Iruka mumbled, not meeting Kakashi's eye.  "Pre-genin get themselves roughed up kind of a lot when we start weapons training."

   "Thank you," Kakashi said softly.

   Iruka reached up, his fingertips gently brushing Kakashi's exposed cheekbone, soothing away the stinging throb there.

   Kakashi reached up and wrapped his fingers around Iruka's.

   "I think I'd like to try kissing you, now," he said, his voice husky and low.

   "O– oh.  Okay," Iruka whispered.

   He shot a look at the revelry moving Konoha's direction.  He slipped his hand into Kakashi's and gently tugged him into the stand of trees, hidden from view of any stragglers.

   Iruka backed himself up against a tree, tugging Kakashi along, and closed his eyes.

   Kakashi hooked a finger over the edge of his mask and slipped it down off his face.  His heart thundered in his chest.

   He leaned in – hesitated – pressed his lips against Iruka's.

   And then Iruka reached up, tangling his fingers in Kakashi's hair to pull Kakashi in closer.

   His lips were surprisingly soft beneath Kakashi's, pliant and warm and open and–

   Kakashi made a surprised noise as he felt Iruka's tongue swipe along his lip, but even though Iruka's fingers loosed from his hair immediately, Kakashi didn't pull away.

   It wasn't a great kiss.

   Kakashi wasn't even entirely sure that he liked kissing.

   But it was perfect.

   And as their kiss broke, Iruka's breath warm on Kakashi's bared skin, Kakashi pressed his hitai-ate against Iruka's and said, "I'm pretty broken."

   "No, you're not," Iruka said softly in reply.

   The iron boxes were still there, lying crammed behind his heart, between his ribs.  They would always be there.

   Kakashi still didn't remember how to cry or grieve.  He still didn't know how to handle loss, other than to shut it deep into the darkest corners of his being.  He probably never really would.

   "I just want you to know who I am," he said, his voice like gravel in his throat.  "You... you feel me, somehow."

   "For as long as you want," Iruka promised into another kiss.

   And Kakashi whispered into Iruka's mouth, "Forever.  I want you forever."

   And he felt Iruka smile.