Ghost

Iruka yanked Kurenai's hand. "This way!"

They ran, weaving in and out of people on the crowded sidewalk until they came to an alley. Iruka pulled Kurenai around the corner and looked for cover, his heart beating double time. "There!"

Kurenai balked. "I'm not climbing into a garbage skip!"

"Not even if your life is at stake?"

"But my suit!"

There was a ping, and a small round hole magically appeared in the trash can beside the entrance to the alley. "There's no time!" Iruka slung her over his shoulder and opened the cover of the skip. "Get in!"

"Cut!"

In an instant, people swarmed Iruka, touching up his make-up, offering him cranberry juice ('your favorite, right, Mr. Umino?'), repositioning pieces of colored tape on the ground, moving equipment, and doing the million and one other things that Iruka had learned to ignore while working.

Iruka carefully lowered Kurenai to the ground. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

She laughed. "I wouldn't complain even if you were! It's not every day a girl gets thrown over Iruka Umino's shoulder. Women around the world would kill to be in my place!"

"Er…" He hated it when people said things like that. He scratched the back of his head and smiled with a wince. "But you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Umino."

"Call me Iruka, please—"

"Umino!"

The director's voice cut through the chaos; the noise lulled for a beat before picking up again.

"Yes, Tsunade?" Iruka asked, turning.

Tsunade Senju's glare dared him to inconvenience her. "Anko laid out the costume for the next shoot in your trailer. I want you changed and back on set in twenty minutes."

Considering that the next shoot was one of the hot sex scenes that Icha Icha films were famous for, Iruka thought he'd probably be able to make the change with time to spare. He doubted the outfit would be much more than underwear. "Got it."

"Make-up will be waiting for you. I want to keep Icha Icha Instinct on schedule and finished by the end of the month, or that letch of a novelist who wrote it will start hanging around when he gets back from Italy."

"Everyone on the set loves Jiraiya," Iruka pointed out, smiling.

Her frown relaxed and she shook her head, arms crossed and bosom displayed. "I know. You're all idiots. Now, hop to it, soldier." She turned to Kurenai and her frown reappeared. "Yuuhi! Are you an actress or a bed mattress? I need more emotion from you…"

Iruka tuned out the babble of the crew as he walked to his trailer. The day was gorgeous, the kind Los Angeles was famous for, blue skies, warm sun and a slight breeze blowing in off the ocean. He breathed deeply. As hectic as his life was, it had its compensations.

He greeted the security guard watching the trailers. "Hello, Gai. Anything going on?"

"All's Quiet!" Gai boomed, giving Iruka a big smile and a thumb's up. "Call me if you have a problem, Mr. Umino!"

"Call me Iruka, please." He really hated the star treatment. "We've been working together for the past three weeks. I think we can drop the formalities."

Tears formed in Gai's eyes. "You are the Most Kind and Generous Person I have ever had the honor of Protecting."

Iruka patted his shoulder. "Yeah, well, thanks." He started toward his trailer and waved. "See you later!"

"Farewell!"

Iruka bit his lip to keep from laughing as he took the steps to his trailer two at a time. Gai honestly had more stage presence than half the actors he'd worked with, himself included. He imagined Gai outfitted in a tuxedo, on stage, enthusing about an award he'd received, and grinned as he opened his trailer door.

"Yo."

Iruka paused, half-in and half-out of the door. A silver-haired stranger, clad only in boxers and a rakish eye patch, waved a hair dryer at him. "Be done in a minute."

"Who the hell are you? And why are you in my trailer in your underwear?" He looked for Gai, but the security guard had disappeared.

Which meant he was on his own. He stood in the open doorway and assessed the man for a threat.

He looked relaxed and somewhat bored, but Iruka had a gut feeling that his appearance was deceptive. He was lean and slim, and he stood with a confidence that implied he was quite comfortable with his relative nakedness. His hair seemed to leap from his head, though some fell forward over the left side of his face, making a partial mask for the eye patch. A scar trailed downward from his brow line to disappear behind the black patch, only to emerge again below it and end halfway down his cheek. In fact, when Iruka looked closer, there were a number of silver scars marring his pale body.

The man beamed, the expression in his dark, uncovered eye unexpectedly shrewd, if friendly enough. "I got caught in the rain." He brandished Iruka's hair dryer again. "I'm just drying my clothes."

Iruka glanced past the man; he could see a dripping t-shirt and pair of jeans hanging haphazardly from the shower curtain rod. "Caught in the rain."

"That's right."

The man's torso rippled with muscle. Between that and the scars, Iruka reckoned he probably wouldn't be a pushover, and shifted a bit more outside. "It's sunny. Or was there a freak micro-shower?"

The man scratched the back of his head and smiled wider. "Did I say rain? I meant a garden hose."

"Ah. I see." Iruka glared. "Because, what? There's someone running around with a really long hose squirting people?"

"I'd be first in line if it were you doing the squirting." His deep voice was throaty with innuendo.

"Get the hell out of my trailer!"

"Can I at least dry my boxers first?" He slipped his thumbs under the elastic waistband of his shorts.

Before he could push them off, Iruka stalked to him and grabbed his wrist. "Look, just- we're about the same height. Wear—" He blinked.

What the hell was he saying? He should be kicking the bastard out of his trailer! He froze, confused, and stared at the wrist he held.

It was warm and hard. The bones pressed into Iruka's hand with a strength that should have felt frightening, but instead, felt almost reassuring. He didn't try to pull away.

"That's very kind of you." His smile stretched so broad that his eye closed in a happy little arc. "You can call me Crow."

Iruka's breath caught in his throat. He released Crow's wrist and backed toward the closet, glancing at the clothes, but keeping his attention on Crow. He pulled out several items. "Some of these should fit," he said, throwing them on the settee.

He moved further back as Crow went to the settee, careful to keep the open door within a step or two in case he needed to run. Still, in the small trailer, Crow was close enough that Iruka could smell his aftershave, something dark and woodsy, strangely suited for a man standing half-naked in an actor's trailer in one of the most metropolitan cities of the world.

Crow regarded the clothes. "Hmm. I don't really look good in green, blue washes me out, and red is too loud for me." He turned to Iruka and smiled again, tilting his head. "Do you have anything in black?"

xxoXOXoxx

Iruka wasn't sure how he'd let Crow talk him into coming with him for a drink. One minute he'd been poised near the trailer door, ready to bolt if he needed to escape, and the next, Crow had taken his hand and was leading him to a nearby bar.

And he'd just gone along with it.

He took the time while Crow was waving down the bartender and ordering beers for them to try to pull himself together.

Yes, Crow was strangely charming, in a pushy kind of way. But there was that air of potential danger to him. Iruka had never really met anyone like him before, and he was disturbed to realize he had a strong curiosity to learn more about him. Yet the reasonable part of him, the part that drove his daily life, that he relied on to make rational decisions, argued that his actions were ill-considered at best, and pretty much insane at worst.

At least they were in a public place. Iruka reasoned that Crow wouldn't try anything. Not in front of witnesses.

Crow sat next to Iruka and handed him a beer. "My treat."

Iruka set his beer on the table. "Why did you strip down to your underwear?"

"Because I was wet."

"Don't give me that bullshit. You'd soaked the clothes in the shower just before I came in," Iruka said, keeping his voice even. "You probably overheard me talking to Gai."

Crow smiled, an expression of casual innocence. "Why would you think that?"

"Because the shower head was still dripping." Iruka leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Now tell me the truth. I figure you're paparazzi."

Crow hmmed and looked thoughtful. "And if I am?"

"I prefer to be civil. If that won't work, however, I won't hesitate to call the police."

"You're quite an interesting man, Iruka Umino." Crow leaned forward as if sharing a secret. "Do you expect paparazzi to tell you that they're paparazzi?"

"Expect, no. Hope? Yes."

"Very interesting, indeed." Crow leaned back again and reached for his beer. "No, I can honestly say that I'm not paparazzi." He raised his glass. "Cheers."

Iruka didn't respond. He watched as Crow drank. "You still haven't told me why you stripped down in my trailer and threw your clothes in the shower."

Crow put down his beer, scratched the back of his head and laughed. "Perhaps because I thought it might keep you from calling for security right away if you saw I was unarmed?"

"That has to be the stupidest reason in the world."

"But it worked," Crow pointed out. "Your turn." He picked up his beer again. "Why didn't you yell for help?"

"I've been asking myself the same question," Iruka admitted.

"Because you've got a 'helping people' thing," Crow said. "If someone's in trouble, you don't turn your back on them." He smirked into his beer.

Iruka blinked. He examined Crow's face, the relaxed laziness of his pose. They didn't look feigned. He was pretty sure the Crow was telling him what he thought was the truth. Remembering times when his manager had said something similar didn't make him feel any easier.

He really hated when people exploited common kindness as if it were some kind of weakness, and it angered him to think Crow had done that to him. Iruka firmly squashed his impulse to get to know Crow better. He didn't need people like that in his life.

Still, he was in public, and didn't want to cause a disturbance. He couldn't just hit the man, as much as he wanted to. "All right. I'll believe you," he said, reining in his anger as Crow finished his beer. "Now answer my next question honestly, too."

"A test?" Crow didn't look at all apprehensive about it.

"A test," Iruka confirmed. "So, if you're not paparazzi, why were you wandering around in a restricted area?"

"I got lost on the road of life."

Iruka sighed, tired of the clever comebacks. "Try again."

"I'm a stalker. Your picture is plastered over every square inch of my apartment."

"Disturbing, especially if it's true. Which it isn't, I bet." Iruka glared. "Try again."

"I wanted to see if I could do it."

"Hmm." Iruka examined Crow's expression. Closer. "Not the total truth."

Crow looked at him with open admiration. "You're quite good."

"I'm an actor. My profession is watching people. So, what's the rest of it?"

Crow sighed. "I know one of the crew members on the set. I was curious about things, so he let me in."

"His name?"

"You've got to be kidding."

Iruka hadn't expected him to tell, and was already planning to talk to Genma about new background checks on the shoot crew. He pushed his chair back, standing. "Thanks for the drink."

"You didn't touch it."

"I'm not much of a drinker."

"You're angry."

"Yes, I am."

"I've fallen for you, you know. Right from your first panicked look for the security guard."

Yes, his temper was definitely simmering. Some thrill-seeking jerk and a crew member who couldn't say 'no' had decided to play a stupid, stupid prank on him. Tsunade was going to kill him for being late. "You can stop now. It's over. I have to get back to the set."

Crow smiled, eye bowed closed. "I look forward to seeing you again."

Iruka didn't bother to answer, and didn't look back as he left.