My first KakaIru, and my first serious attempt at yaoi, so I'd really appreciate some feedback back on this, you guys. Oneshot. May become a series of similar themed oneshots, some lighter, some just as serious as this, if you'd like- tell me in a review, please. Enjoy!
Warm sticky blood that left him cold cold cold, a pain that just wouldn't stop, a darkness that was blacker than the night sky closing in. The lone figure stumbled down the street, haggard and bloodied and hurt, but he stumbled towards safety and warmth and light, because in that other direction only lay a trap and chastisement and judgement and he had never liked hospitals anyway. Because, really, what shinobi did?
He moved down the worn path through instinct alone, because he sure wasn't thinking straight and he sure couldn't see anything past the blood dripping steadily down in front of his eyes. His friend's presence was like a beacon, and he dragged himself towards the waiting light and comfort, because there was nothing else he could do in this state but hope and walk.
Iruka sighed quietly, squinting to decipher just what exactly the chicken scratch was supposed to mean on the stack of papers he was trying to grade. It really hadn't been a hard essay topic- at least, he had thought. Just a discussion the differences between taijutsu, ninjutsu, and genjutsu, and why it was useful for a ninja to be familiar with all three. The reason he'd picked such an easy topic was because he had actually been hoping for a stack of somewhat intelligent essays to grade, so he'd have an easier time with it and a few of his less promising students would have the chance to be handed back a paper with a star on it.
But, as the night had worn on, he had grown steadily convinced that some of his students were being intentionally dense. One had tried to assert that taijutsu was a style of cooking while another had gone on and on about some fictional fight between the two great Konoha ninjas, Gai, user of taijutsu, and Kurenai, user of genjutsu without even discussing ninjutsu or a single difference between the fighting styles.
He sighed again, chewing the end of his pen. He loved every last one of his students, but, sometimes, they got on his last nerve.
His somewhat unhappy work was interrupted by a soft thump on his door. Iruka glanced up, checked his watch, then grinned. It was about an hour after Kakashi had told him he was supposed to get back in Konoha- so, perfect timing for the always-late copy nina.
Standing, Iruka walked over to answer the door, saying, "I waited up for you, just like I said I would. I hope that you're going to make it worth-"
Iruka cut himself off with a sharp gasp as Kakashi moved with the door, the silver haired jounin collapsing onto him with a weak cough. Iruka grasped the man around the waist before he hit the ground, his eyes wide. "Kakashi," he breathed, holding the older ninja tighter as he gingerly eased him inside. "Oh. Shit. Kakashi."
The older man seemed to lose consciousness the moment he crossed the threshold, as if he'd been fighting to hold on until he reached safety and that was as far as he had been able to go. And, as much as Iruka hated the fact, it wasn't the first time this had happened.
Kakashi had always hated hospitals. He wasn't the only ninja who did. He wasn't the only ninja that kept quiet about his injuries just to avoid a trip to that white prison where the guards bore needles and charts and the wardens wore lab coats. And, in the haze blood loss and exhaustion left his lover in after some of the more difficult missions, Kakashi would stumble towards one of the few places he equated with safety- and that wasn't the hospital.
And Iruka hated to take him across town to wait for a doctor to see him and wait some more for the doctor to come out and tell him that he could see Kakashi now but that he needed to rest and to keep it quick; he hated it that he couldn't be with his friend when he needed him the most. And so, he became Kakashi's enabler in his unhealthy habit of avoiding the hospital at all costs. Iruka wasn't entirely sure if that was good or not.
He half-dragged, half-carried Kakashi forward to deposit the injured man on the couch. This scene had repeated itself so many times over the years that he knew what to do. He gently, tentatively, touched his shoulder, then a little harder when Kakashi gave no reaction. "Kashi," he murmured when there was still no response, "Kashi, it's me. It's Iruka. You're safe now, all right? I need to take off your shirt so I can see where you're injured, okay? Can you hear me?"
Kakashi gave a low moan in his state of unconsciousness, and Iruka had to assume that was best he was going to get. He still approached him with caution, knowing full well that he'd just escaped from a fight and danger and that if he moved too quickly, even as he was now, Kakashi would have little trouble incapacitating him out of sheer fear and instinct.
Kakashi flinched slightly when he began to take off his vest- which was soaked in blood- but he didn't react violently, as he had sometimes in the past. Iruka carefully peeled off the wet cloth and tossed it over his shoulder to be dealt with later and went to work on his shirt. This time, the older man resisted a little more, even unconscious. A dark gash, in the same place as the wet red gap in his vest had been, plastered his shirt to his abdomen, sticky with blood. As many times as Iruka saw it and injuries like it, it never seemed to soften the revulsion, the need to vomit and be sick, the anger at those bastards who hurt him and a dozen other emotions he could scarcely identify.
Swallowing, Iruka struggled to work the shirt off him for several minutes. True, it would be quicker to simply use a kunai and cut it off him, but Iruka had learned it was a very, very bad idea to approach the man with a weapon when he was like this. The only times when Kakashi was calm enough for him to risk something like that was when Kakashi was well enough to remove his shirt himself.
In the midst of his work, Iruka noticed his left arm was disfigured- bent at an awkward angle that wasn't exactly possible naturally. He swore quietly. "They broke your arm," he murmured, more to himself then anyone else, because Kakashi wasn't listening but it always seemed to help to talk to him when he was like this. "What else did they do to you, Kashi?"
No response.
It's not like he was expecting one, though.
Iruka pursed his lips when he finally beheld the wound on his torso, the one which seemed to be the source of all that blood and causing him the most pain. Kakashi had done his best to take care of it himself, but, by now, the cloth he had used to bandage it in was so thoroughly soaked with blood it made the injury look almost more grotesque. It seemed as if someone had dragged a kunai across his torso. When he managed to pull off the makeshift bandages, he was greeted with the sight of dark purple and red bruising across his friend's chest.
And, with a confidence he had learned to fake after years of dealing with skinned knees and sprained wrists and crying children, Iruka leaned forward, lightly tapping the man on the side of his head to get his attention, and said, "Kakashi. Kakashi, listen to me. I need to go get something to wash that wound with. Hey, can you hear me? Kashi, can you hear me?"
"…'Ru…ka."
Iruka grinned slightly, in spite of himself, pushing some of that long silver hair out of his face. "Yeah. It's me. 'Ruka. You gonna be okay while I'm gone?"
Kakashi gave another wordless moan, and Iruka had to take that as a yes, because he didn't really have any other choice. He stood, quickly making way towards the kitchen and immersing a rag under a spray of cold water. Perhaps it should've worried him that he knew what to do, having done it for years, but it didn't.
When he came back to Kakashi, the ninja was still out cold, still a horrible sight of bruises and broken limbs and bloody gashes. Iruka paused for an instant, his hands trembling, before he shook his head and dropped to his knees. "It's going to sting. Hold your breath and think about something else."
Sure enough, as soon as he began to press the cold cloth against the injury, the older man recoiled with a hiss. His eyelids fluttered slightly and Iruka found himself swearing under his breath. Kami, can't he have a break. Let him sleep until I've finished this, at least.
If anything or anyone was listening, it didn't show, because no sooner had he thought this then was Kakashi giving a low groan, now seemingly semi-conscious. Iruka gently continued his work, his gaze flitting from the injury to his face, keeping a close watch on his features to watch for further signs that he was waking up.
Kakashi stirred again as Iruka was wrapping makeshift bandages around his wounded chest. His forehead creased and he shifted slightly, a groan escaping from his lips. "Hey. That.. that hurts… Ruka."
Iruka smiled and lightly, ever so lightly, pushed him on the shoulder. "Yeah, I know, you big baby," he said softly, but there there was a soft crack in his voice and he swallowed before he dropped to his hand to be entwined in his. "They got some of your ribs, Kashi. Squeeze my hand when it hurts, okay?"
Kakashi squeezed his hand.
Iruka smiled slightly, in spite of himself. "I haven't started yet, you dummy."
The slightest hint of a smirk beneath that mask.
Iruka rolled his eyes- sometimes working with Kakashi felt like he was working with one of his young students- before he rested his other hand on his bare chest and gently pressed down. He worked his way slowly up and across until Kakashi grunted, his body jerking, hand gripping his so hard he winced. Iruka nodded slightly and bit his lip. "Yeah, there's one."
Kakashi nodded lazily as Iruka continued his search, eyes staring up into the dark. He found two other broken ribs before Kakashi commented, his voice rough, "Haven't you run out of places to check?"
Iruka chuckled slightly and moved to help his friend lie on his back, nodding. "Yeah, I have, actually. You're lucky. Now, stay still." He began to wrap up his chest, doing what little he could for the three broken ribs before he turned to his attention to his arm. It certainly looked painful, but without any medical training, again, he couldn't do much. He quickly fetched an old, raggedy jacket that he had used for this exact purpose before and used it to fashion a sling, tying the sleeves in a knot under his arm and on his back.
Iruka observed his shoddy work unhappily, his gaze worried and concerned. Kakashi was sprawled on the couch, his arm and his leg hanging over the side. His abdomen was really just a mess of bandages and his left arm, held to his chest by a sling, was slightly swollen and bruised. The man himself was pale and still barely conscious, a lazy smile on his lips and a bored look in his eye.
"Thanks… Iruka."
He gave a pained smile and knelt down beside the couch, sliding under his arm. "Not a problem. Now, come on. You need to lie down."
"But I already am."
Iruka fought back a smile. "You know what I mean. Come on, stand up."
Kakashi nodded slightly, his head lolling on his shoulders, but made no attempt to move. His eye closed and he drifted off again. Iruka smiled at him as his tense, pained features relaxed, and he stood, pulling his arm over his shoulder. He pulled Kakashi through the dark hallway before he finally was able to gently deposit the jounin on his bed, carefully avoiding putting any stress on his injuries.
Iruka breathed a silent sigh of relief, his work complete. He lowered his head and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the tension to seep out of his shoulders as he sat next to his friend's prone form.
It never got any easier. Seeing him like this and doing this- it never got any easier. From that first night when the silver haired jounin had tripped into his home, right shoulder an utter wreck, kunai still buried in his flesh, eyes haunted and pained and breaths weak and shallow… the fear never lessened, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach never vanished, and the anger at those faceless enemies responsible never calmed.
He never grew any more confident in his treatment of the injuries. Almost always, they were wounds that any advanced Chuunin knew, in theory- and that he now knew, in practice- how to treat… but he always approached these uncertain healing rituals with uncertainty, always terrified he was doing something wrong, that he was missing something vitally important and if Kakashi would just go to the damn hospital he'd be fine, but Kakashi hated the hospital, hated feeling trapped and hated others touching him when he was helpless after those missions, and Iruka wasn't going to make him go when he was so clearly comforted by being here.
He knew how to speak to Kakashi, after years of dealing with students injured at recess- knew to keep his voice calm and confident and soothing, to never let his fear and worry show on his face or in his tone. And it always helped. His calm facade helped keep Kakashi calm. And, maybe if he wouldn't be so damned adept at hiding his real feelings Kakashi wouldn't be so calm here and would go to the hospital like a normal ninja so someone with skill and training could treat him.
But Iruka wasn't about to break their pattern. He couldn't, for some reason.
He glanced over at the unconscious jounin. He looked like he was in pain, even while asleep, and Iruka raised his hand and rested it ever so gently on his torso. He was no medical ninja, but he knew that channeling his Chakra into his hands always seemed to ease the pain in his young students' minor injuries, and the same usually worked for Kakashi in the past. So he did the same now.
His hand began to glow a soft, warm blue, his own Chakra seeping into Kakashi. His friend trembled slightly before he gave a contend sigh, some of the tension in his forehead disappearing.
"It was a child."
Iruka had been so sure Kakashi was asleep his voice made him jump. He glanced at Kakashi's face to see that his eye was still closed, and he seemed so relaxed he could've been talking in his sleep. Iruka left one hand on his stomach and moved his other hand to hold his, watching him intently and remaining silent.
Kakashi cleared his throat and continued to speak in that rough, tired voice. "They were… trying to kill… a child. I had to push the… kid out of the way- that's how they got me."
Iruka nodded silently. He didn't ask who 'they' were and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"…Sorry, Ruka."
"What?"
Kakashi coughed slightly, pulling his hand from his and gesturing at his bandaged chest. "You helped me… again. S… Sorry."
Iruka felt his heart clench. "Kashi-"
"…Shouldn't keep… showing up here. It's rude to… come here uninvited."
"And since when have you cared about being rude."
Kakashi's eye flickered open and he glanced at him without turning his head. "Hey. I can be polite."
"When you want something."
The both laughed quietly, Kakashi's a pained, raspy chuckle, before they lapsed into silence. The copy ninja closed his eye again and murmured, "My mission report. Tsunade-sama… she's going to be angry that's it's late."
Iruka shrugged lightly. "Maa, given it's you, I'm sure she's expecting it to be late."
"Yeah."
It was quiet between them for a long while. Finally, thinking he was asleep, Iruka made to stand, intending to take off his vest and get some rest himself, but when he tried to pull his hand off Kakashi's chest, the copy ninja stopped him.
"Don't," he muttered, almost a plaintive wine. At Iruka's look, he shrugged slightly and continued. "It… feels nice."
Iruka smiled slightly and nodded. This didn't seem to be enough to calm him, however; the older man still struggled to sit upright, even as Iruka put a hand on his shoulder and tried half-heartedly to push him back down. "What do you think you're doing?" he chastised. "You need to rest."
"But… I want something."
Narrowing his eyes, Iruka shifted, searching his features carefully. "Don't tell me it's those dammed Icha Icha books."
Kakashi shook his head slightly. "Nope. Guess again."
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Kakashi."
"Give up?"
"Spill, Kashi, or I swear I won't do it, no matter what it is."
Kakashi pouted. "But… I'd really like one."
"One what, Kakashi?"
"A kiss."
Iruka fought not to grin as Kakashi snickered beneath his mask, the copy ninja watching him hopefully, eyebrow raised, head tilted to the side. He grimaced. He rarely refused Kakashi a kiss when he was well. How was he supposed to refuse him one now? "Oh, all right," he grumbled through a smile. "But no mask."
"If you insist."
Iruka gently tugged on the edge of the cloth, pulling the mask down before leaning down and doing as Kakashi asked. Two soft pairs of lips met, one giving the healing and the comfort the other so desperately needed, even if he would never say it. A hand gently tangled in strands of silver, eyes closed, faint moonlight falling down on the tender moment.
They remained entwined until Kakashi passed out, falling back onto the pillow, Iruka still leaning above him. Iruka pushed Kakashi's hair out of his face and smiled down at him before he made to stand, but, even in his sleep, his hand tightened on his, resisting him withdrawing his light touch.
With another small grin, Iruka continued to channel his Chakra into his hand, warming his lover's chest and hoping that it was doing something to ease his pain.
He couldn't do much else, really.
Hours later, they still remained in the same position. Iruka was still sitting upright on the edge of the bed, now leaning on his free hand, his other hand still resting on Kakashi's injured torso. The Chakra glow on his hand was much weaker than it had been at the beginning of the night and, while Iruka was sure Kakashi was so far out of it he wouldn't resist if he removed his hand, he still didn't.
Iruka grimaced.
This was supposed to stop after Kakashi had retired from ANBU. The incessant, never-ending cycle, injury after injury after injury, Iruka always doing what he could for them even though it never seemed to be enough. That was partly why Kakashi had retired from ANBU. Even though the jounin would never admit it, Iruka could tell that Kakashi had seen the toll it was taking on him, how much he made him worry, and that was at least part of the reason he had decided to quit the squad.
He laughed bitterly. It hadn't helped at all. He always accepted those dammed A-ranks and S-ranks and the cycle just continued. There was a brief reprieve, when he was assigned to Team Seven, and Iruka came home at night to Kakashi's stories of his former students that always made him smile- but soon after that, the dangerous missions returned, and Kakashi could be gone for weeks at a time, only to return a bloodied mess. Tsunade took advantage of the elite jounin even more than Sarutobi had, and Iruka hated it.
But there was nothing he could do. Kakashi was simply carrying out the lesson he taught every single student's first day at the academy.
Being a ninja is not about being able to throw shurikens about and threaten people with a kunai. It's not about being able to hit a target from twenty feet away and show off flashy techniques. It's not about going off on missions and coming back as heroes. It's about protecting the people important to you and the Hiddevn Village of Konoha.
In the academy, it was often very clear that only one or two of the students understood that. Most obviously had other ideas.
But Kakashi was actually living it. And seeing his lover like this…
He closed his eyes tightly and let out a shaky breath, tracing one of Kakashi's broken ribs with a trembling finger. It was a repeated occurrence and it really wasn't healthy for either of them. Iruka really didn't know what the hell he was doing; he could act confident for Kakashi and pretend to know how to heal, but, in reality, he was just stumbling through it and hoping that it wasn't something beyond a school teacher's ability to fix.
But Kakashi always seemed to heal faster here than on those rare occasions he found his way to the hospital, and Iruka didn't have the heart to tell Kakashi he shouldn't just rely solely on him when he was clearly the only one the jounin trusted with this. And, as much as he hated the fact that taking care of him like this was a necessity and that Kakashi could be hurt this badly, he still loved to be the one to do it. He still loved to be the one to comfort him and ease his pain and calm him down, whether it was in the aftermath of a terrible battle or a terrifying nightmare.
If only it would be enough.
But there was always a next time… and that was what Iruka couldn't stand.
His shoulders started to shake and he buried his face in his free hand, turning away from Kakashi so he didn't have to look at his broken arm cradled in that sling and his chest wrapped up in those bloodied bandages. But it didn't help; he just kept remembering all those times Kakashi had been injured before this and worrying about all the times he'd be injured after; a bloody figure at his door, a broken body on his floor, low cries of pain amidst his gentle shushes and light touches.
A light touch on his shoulder. A hand pulling the loose strands of hair that had escaped from his ponytail out of his face. A soft voice at his ear. "Iruka. …Iruka, I'm sorry."
"Go back to sleep," he murmured, and his weak voice cracked as he wiped furiously his wet eyes. "You need to rest."
"So do you."
Iruka remained still, not protesting when Kakashi slowly managed to push his unresisting body with a light touch to lie down. "You already took care of me tonight," he whispered, and Iruka felt a pair of lips press against the skin just below his ear, for once, meant to comfort rather than to seduce. "Now it's my turn."
Another unhealthy cycle of give and take, one they were both endlessly dependent on. Any psychologist could tell them that they were possibly the most dysfunctional pair in Konoha.
But they still continued on, Kakashi leaning on Iruka for recovery and Iruka on Kakashi when it got too much to bear, as it always did. And, somehow, their bond strengthened rather than breaking, and they grew closer rather than further apart. And it worked.
Iruka fell asleep nestled carefully against Kakashi's side, hand still on his chest, Kakashi's good arm snaking over Iruka's shoulders. Another occurrence of the forever repeated end to the night. Half-asleep, Iruka barely felt Kakashi kiss his shoulder and almost couldn't hear the soft murmur.
He somehow found the strength to reply.
"Love you, too."