Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kakashi/Iruka
Status: complete
Summary: Kakashi remembers at the stone; Iruka watches…
Genre: angst
Warnings: angst
Disclaimer: I asked Kishimoto-san for several shinobi for my birthday… I kinda conveniently forgot to put them back when I was done… So technically they aren't mine, but I think they have a lot more fun with me… usually…
Author's Note: Just a little drabbly thing I wrote trying to get over being sick this past fall. I felt this tremendous urge to write, but it was next to impossible to stay focused enough to write more than a few sentences. Medication and I don't mix well…
Iruka woke early to an empty bed, the sheets already cool. There was only a hint of gray to the east, but Kakashi was already gone into the steadily lightening darkness. He dressed quickly in the shadows and rushed after his lover, not wanting to leave him alone, this, of all days.
Iruka found him standing as still as the large, dark stone before him, head bowed, dew forming intricate patterns of lace on the black clothing. He hated to profane the silence with his own words, but he couldn't bear to be so close to Kakashi, yet feel so far away. He raised a hand only to drop it again.
The slight movement was acknowledged as Kakashi sank to one knee, head cradled in the hand resting on the strong thigh. "It's been fifteen years Iruka, and every morning, the pain and grief and guilt are as fresh as the day he died. Fifteen years today..." the tear-roughened voice trailed away. "He would have married, had children of his own by now. And here I am, same as always, left with the broken remnants of another team..."
"Kakashi..." Iruka started hesitantly, not sure what to say. Everything he could think to say seemed so cold or uncaring of the vast well of emotion laid bare before him. The only thing he could do was be there for him, let him see that he didn't have to be alone. He knelt beside the jounin, arm draping the tense shoulder, sable locks mingling with silver, warm golden skin pressed close to the cool paleness.
The first glimpse of the sun above the trees shone straight into the two uncovered, mismatched eyes. Iruka had never seen a more beautiful or heart wrenching sight than the luminous orbs reflecting the sunrise, the hope of the new day mingling with the pain and grief of the past, reflected at once in the eyes of two teammates, one so serious, still alive, the other a prankster dead fifteen years gone. Iruka had long ceased trying to untangle the apparent contradictions his lover always posed. He would never entirely understand the man, but then perhaps that was what love was about, accepting the good and the bad and knowing they were there for each other.
He kissed the tiny tear track trailing from the gray eye and smiled.