AN: It's been a year since I'm here. That's a little anniversary :)
Of course, he only lies with the best intentions; still, he lies ( c )
Iruka stood up and winced. His body ached; he definitely overdid operating it during the previous night. Besides, there should be a change of weather soon.
He tugged on a bathrobe and went to the window. The street was empty at this early hour. The tree in front of his window was leafless and looked lonely. Just the way it did for almost seven years already.
Just to think of it – why did he count those years? Why couldn't he forget?
Iruka heard a rustle of sheets and slightly turned his head to look at the bed. He smiled at the sight of the young man slowly stretching his long lean body in his sleep and burying his nose into Iruka's still warm pillow. The youngster was soft, wild, yet uncertain in his strength; and fair-haired. Iruka preferred them fair-haired. Now he also had several white strands in his brown mane.
Iruka's lower lip started to tremble and he closed his eyes to prevent the tears from wetting his cheeks. He never cried, not a single time in seven years. The silver-haired scoundrel who broke Iruka's heart was too smart to allow him grieving. Although it became clear only later, he prepared his escape from Iruka's life perfectly and thought of everything.
Shaking his head, Iruka went to the bathroom, but the young man's hand caught his wrist.
"Come back to bed."
The sleepy voice was muffled by the pillow. Iruka freed his hand and petted the disordered fair hair. The hair that was too thin and too dry to compete with the silver hair of another man. And the eyes, which opened slightly just to throw a pleading gaze at Iruka, both were light shade of grey, not black and red.
Sometimes Iruka wanted to blind himself and stop seeing the world, because it became faded after the silver-haired bastard walked away from his life. It could never be the same wonderful world it was when they were together. The sun was brighter and the grass was greener and Iruka's feelings were so new and overwhelmingly clear and pure. And he was so happy!
But he stopped being happy seven years ago.
"Sorry, sweetie, I can't. I should go to the tower. A lot of work waits for me, as usual," Iruka said quietly.
With a short sigh the young man turned away from him.
The memory whirled through Iruka's mind. The memory of the pale hands, tugging him back into bed regardless of all his protests. The strong pale hands, simultaneously persistent and incredibly tender. No one had ever touched Iruka like these two scarred hands did. And he was sure no one ever would.
Very often Iruka wanted to erase his whole memory to prevent it from choosing to remind him about the most dear moments and sensations. He was proud of those memories, he was glad he had lived through them, but the sour realization that that time had passed and could never be repeated, was slowly driving him mad. It became very hard to pretend he was okay, because now and then the pale masked face popped out of his memory's depth just to mock him by its inaccessibility and ideality.
Still, Iruka would never let anyone erase his most precious treasure, the memories of time they spent together. The wish to do so was just a false pretense too.
Oh, how naturally that silver-haired bastard lied to him! How he used to pretend he was in love, how he embraced him, how he spoke to him. He was the only man that made Iruka loose his head, made him melt under his touches; made him forget all troubles the very moment he appeared near. Once there was the time when even a bare thought about that man filled Iruka with happiness and joy; he was ready to sacrifice his life for him.
He knew he would give anything just to see him again.
Iruka threw his bathrobe away and stepped into the shower. The hot jets of water forced him to close his eyes and he sank into the memories.
That night he was particularly tender. But in the morning he woke Iruka up shortly before the sunrise. Iruka lay in bed and he stood near the bed on his knees and stroked his hair.
"Remember I told you I want to start a new life?" he asked in a soft whisper.
Iruka nodded. He almost purred under the touches of those skillful fingers.
"The one without masks, weapons and vengeful enemies? I do remember."
"Good. Then you'll understand. I leave the village today," he smiled at Iruka sheepishly, as only he alone could.
"Whoa, that's unexpected," Iruka murmured lazily, still enjoying the touches, "Okay. I understand masks, weapons and vengeful enemies. But what about devoted lovers? Would you leave them behind too?"
The man laughed.
"But of course," he confirmed, "A new life means everything new. I'll find me a new lover. Although he or she can never be as good as you were."
Iruka's eyes widened in shock, he was finally awake.
"Wait… What? But…"
"I never imagined we'll last so long, really. It's only wise to stop this relationship, because we both know we are already tired of our little play in shinobi couple. Let's keep only good memories. We'll start to hate each other otherwise."
His last kiss was so gentle and affectionate Iruka almost convinced himself that all harsh words were just the teasing. But then the silver-haired man stood up and walked out of Iruka's bedroom's door. And he didn't come back the next day, and the next week, and the next month. He disappeared from the village and from Iruka's life.
He must be living somewhere in another village, free and blessed. He must have a new house and, without a doubt, a new lover, or new lovers. And them he embraces and their hair he strokes.
"Kakashi, I still hate you!" Iruka hissed into the shower wall, simultaneously pounding it with his tightly clenched fist, "I hate you so much, Kakashi."
The water that ran down his face was the water from the shower. He would never admit he cried a single tear because of that cheating bastard. When he looked into the mirror after he was done with the showering, his eyes were red. That must be because of the lack of sleep, not because of his weakness.
Iruka came out of the bathroom and touched the bare shoulder of his young toy, who he would never be able to take seriously, even if he would wish it with all his heart. None of his new lovers had a chance to reside in his heart, although some of them wanted and tried hard. His heart was already occupied once. And since his silver-haired man abandoned him, there was only a black hole left, aching, cold, and incurable.
"I'll create a jutsu upon the door; it will be activated as soon as you leave the house. Please don't forget anything inside," Iruka said calmly.
The youngster darted to look at Iruka, a hurt expression on his face.
"You don't want to see me again, do you? I… I like you so much, I think we could…"
Iruka bent to the young man and kissed his temple.
"I'm very sorry, sweetie. I already told you we couldn't. You agreed."
While he stood behind the door and worked on the jutsu, he heard the subdued sobs.
'Weakling', Iruka thought, partly pitying, partly disgruntled, 'Yet, did Kakashi think of me the same way when he left me? But I know this boy will restore, he'll find someone else, someone better, someone who'll be good for him. Did Kakashi also think so about me when he left me? I constantly fail to find someone better. I wonder if the better one exists.'
Iruka shook his head furiously. Here, he had already more than a sufficient amount of memories and melancholy for the whole day. It was time to think about the work even in spite of it was Sunday. First he'll go to meet Hokage to ask if there was a mission for him – anything possible, dangerous enough to thrill his nerves. And after Hokage's habitual rejection he'll return to his beloved paperwork.
It was very strange, but he met Hokage in the corridor.
"Iruka, there are papers in the archives I need and I need them right now. I already made a request. Bring them here and hurry up."
The papers were a big stack of old folders. No one requested them for years and they were covered in thick layer of dust.
Hokage arranged them on the table: four enormously fat folders, each crossed by a thin line in red ink and marked with a short word 'DEAD'.
"What are we going to do with them?" Iruka asked with interest, "Was there a mistake?"
Hokage shook his head and smiled sadly.
"No, there was no mistake. These shinobi were sent on a long-termed mission seven years ago."
Iruka shuddered after the words 'seven years' and squinted at the folders suspiciously.
"A rather long mission," he muttered, "But why were they marked like this?"
"They were marked because they were meant not to return. Iruka, it's not like you to think so slowly."
Iruka shrugged. He had to concentrate, indeed.
"Now," Hokage drawled, looking at the folders. After a short inspection he pushed two of them away. "These two go back to the archives. And these two…" He opened the two left folders, and handed one of them to Iruka, "Take this one, it's Hatake Kakashi."
Iruka took it, unable to tear his eyes away from the small official photo.
"But I thought…" he started, but was interrupted by the wave of Hokage's hand.
"You didn't know they left for a mission? Of course you didn't, it's a secret mission after all."
Iruka gulped, clenched his suddenly numb fingers on the old paper and pressed the photo to his chest.
"Kakashi is dead? I thought he moved to another village. He told me he'll start a new life there. He lied about it?" Iruka whispered and felt something wet on his cheeks. The large drops of salty liquid rolled uncontrollably from the corners of his eyes, he could taste them on his lips, "All this time Kakashi was dead?"
Hokage raised his head from the folder on his desk and stared at Iruka.
"Iruka, calm down please..."
Iruka ignored him. He dropped to the chair, hugging the folder and muttering.
"Kakashi is dead? Dead? He is dead?"
Thoughts, mixed with memories, whirled in Iruka's head.
Kakashi told him he leaves him, liar. Kakashi walked out of the door sure that Iruka will hate him instead of mourning. Kakashi never left him for another better life, he went away to die. And Iruka was too occupied with his heart aching to look underneath the underneath and understand. That damn tricky bastard, he could be stopped! He could…
A sudden pain returned Iruka to reality and he brought his hand to his cheek, realizing that Hokage had to slap him for the sake of his sanity.
"I'm sorry, Hokage-sama."
Hokage reached out and cupped Iruka's chin, tipping the tearstained face up to look at his.
"Kakashi is not dead," he said patiently, "He is not dead. He came back."
Iruka blinked.
"He came back?" There was no sense in repeating the words, but Iruka couldn't get the meaning of what he heard.
"Yes, and you are here to help me restore his file. Iruka, do you hear me?"
Iruka stared at him, his eyes wide.
"He is back? Kakashi is back?"
Hokage sighed.
"Kotetsu!" he called and paused until the bandaged face appeared from behind the slightly opened door; then he continued, "I want you and Izumo to help me with the papers. Come here quickly, and also bring someone who can take Iruka home, he feels not well."
When Kotetsu reappeared with Izumo, Iruka still sat there, hugging the folder and muttering 'dead-is-back'.
"We have no one available, Hokage-sama, until you need an ANBU."
Iruka jumped up and bowed to Hokage.
"I think I feel better, I'll go now," he announced and turned to the door.
Hokage coughed.
"Iruka, would you please leave Hatake's folder here?" With an effort Izumo took the folder from Iruka's trembling hands and Iruka went away, almost running.
He didn't know what he should do. Kakashi came back, he could see him. That bastard, that scoundrel, that liar came home and he has a chance to tell him what he thought of him all those seven terrible years. Kakashi could be dead, but he was alive, he was in the village again. Would he be glad to see him? Did he change towards him? If the tale about the new life was a lie, could there be a possibility Kakashi didn't forget how good they were together?
The door into his apartment was left wide opened. Iruka frowned, fumbled in his pocket and gripped a kunai. Silently, he entered his apartment and looked around. There was no one in sight, but he felt the slight hints of chakra indicating somebody's presence in the bedroom. Careful not to make any sound Iruka stopped near the bedroom's door and peeked inside.
The silver-haired jounin was sitting on Iruka's bed, his face hidden in his palms.
Shocked, Iruka dropped his kunai and a loud clanking rang out through the silent rooms. Kakashi removed his hands from his face and straightened his back, but didn't look up.
"Here was a body in your bed," he drawled. The voice was painfully familiar, the intonation was lazy and the mask-covered face looked bored. Yet Iruka knew better, he saw all signs of danger. But it didn't stop him from frowning and shouting.
"What did you do to him?"
It was clear that the silver-haired man avoided looking at him, and preferred to stare at the floor.
"Nothing, sent him away," said Kakashi angrily. He made a pause before asking a question, "Is he so precious to you?"
"Does it really matter to you?" Iruka crossed his hands on his chest to prevent himself from shaking.
Kakashi still stared at the floor.
"I didn't want to leave, but I had to. I didn't want you to suffer, but I hurt you anyway."
Iruka sobbed, he didn't try to stay cool anymore and let his tears flow. His nails dig into the cloth of his sleeves, hurting the skin under the thin fabric. Kakashi continued to talk in monotonous voice.
"I knew I won't return, but I had you to return to, so I'm here," he slightly raised his head, reached for his mask and pulled it down. After completing that, he looked straight at Iruka, "I'll understand if you won't want me back, I deserve it. But you should know that every single day away from you I dreamed to see you again. And I'm glad I see you," he paused, staring at Iruka and chewing his lower lip nervously, then whispered, "I missed you so much, kitty."
At this point all Iruka managed was a loud whimper and a spurt and the very next moment he was sitting in Kakashi's lap, straddling his knees.
"Kakashi," Caressing that soft and thick silver hair with one hand, he cupped the pale face with the other, and unconsciously noted the new scar on the right jaw, "You made me hate you. I really believed you have a nice place to live and are happy without me."
"How can I be happy without you?" Kakashi pulled Iruka into a tight embrace and they both exhaled in pleasure of touching each other again.
"Seven years," Iruka muttered and buried his face into the collar of Kakashi's vest, "Seven years without you were a good enough proof that you have no desire to communicate."
"It was a mission, and a rather inhuman one. I'd better die, earnestly, but I had you on my mind and I wanted to see you at least once again," Kakashi nuzzled Iruka's exposed neck and Iruka sobbed into his already soaked with tears collar.
"I won't want you to die, I won't let you die," Iruka entwined his arms around the silver-haired man's neck.
"That's what I was afraid of," said Kakashi, "That's the reason I lied."
Iruka sighed. He was so enormously glad Kakashi was there for him again, he had no desire to discuss who's right and who's guilty and why. The wonderful feeling of silver-haired man's warmth was all Iruka really cherished at the moment.
Kakashi tilted his head, nuzzled Iruka's cheek and kissed it, caressing the tanned skin with lips and tongue. It made Iruka slowly raise his head to face the pale man. After the long staring at each other in silence, their eyes closed and lips met in a long unhurried kiss. Knowing each other so well, it was easy to pretend they had all time of the world ahead.
Iruka pulled away from the kiss and they sat still for a while, leisurely touching each other's bodies.
"So you have lovers," announced Kakashi suddenly.
"Did you think I'll stay celibate for the rest of my life?" wondered Iruka. He was flattered by Kakashi's concern, but it was really priceless. The man declared him he didn't need him and expected him to remain faithful nonetheless.
The silver-haired man chuckled.
"I'm joking, kitty. It's good that you found yourself a distraction. But I'm going to show them all you are not free from now on."
"Kakashi…" Iruka called, hiding his face into the silver-haired man's collar again. He felt like a very large cat indeed and that cat wanted to purr because his fur was stroked by his owner's hand.
"Yes?"
"I was always on top."
Kakashi froze and remained silent for a while, digesting the information.
"You mean your ass…"
"Yes," Iruka nodded.
"…is still only mine?"
"Yes."
Two hands grabbed Iruka's buttocks and squeezed them.
"I knew you'll be waiting for me, I knew it!" the hoarse whisper warmed Iruka's ear and he hummed, very much delighted by that affectionate outburst.
Kakashi petted the ass, tenderly. He had an exclusive right to it and was planning to renew the familiarity between it and his enthusiastically hardening cock without delay. It will be great to bury himself inside of for a long time untrodden tight passage and fill it with his fluids.
"Don't lie to me anymore," whispered Iruka. He started to unbutton his pants, eager to feel the pleasure of being fucked again.
"What, not even a cute little lie?" Kakashi tried to help him tug the pants down, but their four hands doing it together only hampered the process.
"No lies at all! Not even when it's for the best."
Kakashi hummed, finally holding the bare globes of Iruka's ass in his palms.
"But, maybe just one last time? Did I tell you I love you, kitty?"
"Joking again?" Iruka murmured, hugging him fondly, "You, bastard."
Iruka moved his hips up, admitting that it seemed impossible, but even the fingers inside of him felt better then he remembered it from seven years ago. A shudder of foretaste went through his body as he knew the fingers will be soon replaced by something much bigger and hotter. Something that was the core of his one and only true love.
Already loosing his head in the smell of the other man's body and sensations, Iruka first time in many years realized he was alive.