Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! But Naruto is a great anime/manga, so you should go out and buy a few volumes of each! Buy them! Buy them NOW! Anyhow, this was just another fun little idea I had. So, without further ado, please enjoy!

To say that Iruka was scared was the biggest understatement anyone could've ever made. His heart had threatened to explode in his chest the minute that he heard rustling in the kitchen as he descended the stairs. He'd woken up and while wrestling with his mind about his troubles at work, couldn't get back to sleep, so he figured he'd run downstairs and make himself some hot cocoa and just relax.

Usually the sound of rustling in the kitchen wouldn't have alarmed him. He'd had more than one time when his coworker and friend Kakashi would show up, snag the spare key under the front door mat, and let himself in to raid Iruka's fridge for a midnight snack. He did so loudly on purpose so that he could get Iruka to wake up and come down and talk to him. He was just that odd. But lately, a scare had been going through the town. Iruka had been watching the news and eating breakfast when the story came up.

For almost a month there had been a series of thefts. Each night a different person's house was struck. It was a very peculiar case—each time the burglar managed to break a window or get through the door without waking up the people in the house, and every time they would leave without anything of any importance. In fact, investigators had come to the conclusion that the perpetrator stayed exclusively in one room of the house—and that was the kitchen. The only things missing would be some food items and a cup or two. Police said that while it was good that the burglar wasn't stealing anyone's valuables and didn't seem to want to cause harm, that it was still an offense, and still scared many people. One of the scariest things was to wake up to find someone had been in your house and you didn't even know. They also said that while it didn't seem like there was much danger there was still a possibility that the criminal could be armed and dangerous or become spooked if cornered. They advised everyone that should the thief be found in their house, the home-owner should not confront him but call the police.

Ever since the report not only everyone at his workplace but all of Iruka's friends had been shaking in their boots. He hadn't paid it much mind until lately when a person just a block or so away got robbed. That had gotten him nervous.

So it was perfectly understandable why he was frightened out of his wits by the time he got to the bottom of the stairs. And because he was out of his wits, he didn't think to call the police, and instead decided to do what he was told not to do—confront whoever it was in his kitchen.

As he walked towards the kitchen he tried to convince himself that it wasn't the burglar. It's just Kakashi, he thought. He must be here to tell me about his job again. By the time he got to the door he had an amused smile playing on his lips, convinced it was Kakashi. Why can't he pick a better time to talk with me about things? He swiftly pushed the door open and closed it behind him, having been staring at the door and not yet looked into the kitchen. So when he turned around, instead of being greeted by a shock of white hair …

… Bewildered blue eyes framed by golden hair and skin stared at him from his table. Iruka blinked and stared back. It was a boy. He couldn't have been older than sixteen. Said boy jumped up from the table, backing against the wall. His head swung around and Iruka figured he was looking for some kind of escape, like a window, but Iruka didn't have a window in his kitchen. But he didn't reach for a hidden weapon—instead he just sank to the floor and put his head between his knees. Obviously he wasn't 'armed and dangerous.'

Iruka looked at him some more. What caught his eye was that the boy's clothes were dirty, like he'd worn them for weeks. They were holey and ragged, and even his shoes were scuffed and had ripped in places. The boy's face was grimy in addition. Iruka thought it looked almost like those were the only clothes he'd ever had. And another thing he noticed was that through the thin, nearly-ruined shirt he could see the teen's ribs. He looked over to where he'd been sitting at the table and saw a lone bowl of ramen and a carton of milk …

Iruka sat down at the table and pushed the bowl and carton over towards the seat opposite of him. The blonde eventually looked up and saw him sitting there, legs crossed and fingers bridged. Iruka looked him over once more cautiously before nodding his head to the bowl with a smile.

A look of distrust painted the boy's features. "… 'S not poisoned … is it?"

"If I had done anything to poison it in the time you sat there looking down, you probably would've heard it," Iruka replied, gesturing quietly with a hand to the bowl.

The blonde sized him up with his eyes one more time before he slowly moved towards the table, watching for any kind of reaction, then sank into the seat. He stared with furrowed brows for a few moments longer before proceeding to voraciously empty the bowl. He completely tuned out the man across from him, concentrated only on satisfying his hunger. It was as Iruka thought—this was just a starving kid. A very crafty starving kid.

"… Why don't you just stay home and eat?" Iruka asked him hesitantly. The boy looked up at him warily. "I mean … well, you know it too, right? That you're wanted in this town for a series of thefts … of food, apparently." He watched him nod. "So … why?"

"… Don't have a family. Mom and dad died a long time ago."

"Then why didn't someone take you to an adoption agency?"

"I got taken once. That family threw me out when I started making trouble."

"Making trouble?"

He shrugged. "Got into a fight or two."

"Then why don't you just go back to the agency—?"

"Hell no! I didn't like my last family anyway! What's the point in going if I'm gonna end up on the streets again?"

"The point is that at least the police aren't hunting you down, and you've got a much better chance of not starving to death."

He went silent, having finally emptied the bowl, not giving any response.

"… Look … I know I'm out of my God-given mind to do this, but I'm going to let you off with a warning," Iruka said with a sigh. Bright blue eyes looked up at him with hope. "Luckily you haven't hurt anyone. But that's not going to matter to a father who has his own family when you're in their kitchen stealing from their fridge. The longer this continues, the more likely it is that you will be shot full of lead before the police can even take you away. So consider going to the agency before it's too late. Before you're dead or an adult—once you're an adult, this will become your permanent life, if prison hasn't already."

"… Why are you letting me go?"

Iruka sighed again. "… It doesn't feel right to put a kid in prison because he has to steal food to survive. You could be faking right now to manipulate me, and I know that very well. But … I can't rightly condemn you if there's a possibility you aren't."

He took the bowl and set it in the sink before picking up the carton of milk and handing it to the boy. "Take this and come with me. How did you get in?"

He stood and took the carton, holding it to his chest like it was a jewel. "Broke the lock on the door …"

"Then I'll show you out. Luckily you didn't break any windows, so if I just send you out and shut the door, anyone watching will think I let you in. Now hurry. If you left the door open, we have to get you outside before someone notices." Iruka took him gently by the shoulders and guided him out of the kitchen, through the living room and to the door. "Now go. And remember what I told you."

The boy stared at the outside world and then looked back at him with eyes that shone like they were about to shed tears. "Mister … Thank you."

Iruka smiled. "The name is Iruka. Don't let me down. Go."

The boy didn't need to be told again. He dashed out of the house and down the street, still clutching the milk carton to his chest. Iruka closed the door and shook his head, wondering how sleepy he must've been to let a thief get away. He sincerely hoped he'd done the right thing, or else he'd be an accomplice. And speaking of sleep, now he was exhausted.

He trudged up the stairs and dropped onto his back on the bed, closing his eyes and immediately drifting off to sleep.

(XXX)

As Iruka yawned and stared at the papers on his desk everything that had happened the night before seemed like a dream. He was so tired that it wasn't even two o' clock and the lines on all his paperwork were blurring. He rubbed his eyes and struggled against the temptation to just rest his head on his arms and go to sleep.

Ice-cold fingers pressed into his neck and he jolted awake, turning around.

"Kakashi, what in the world?!" He said.

"Just brought some soda back from the vending machine," he said, showing him the bottle. "I noticed you were about to fall asleep on the job and my fingers were cold and well …" He didn't finish the thought. "What's up with you today, anyway?"

He forced a smile, remembering the previous night. "I just had an awful lot of trouble going to sleep last night."

Kakashi quirked a brow at that and Iruka wished he could've discerned the rest of his expression, but unfortunately since Kakashi's weirdness extended into clothing taste and he wore a black mask over his mouth, it prevented the outside world from observing anything his mouth might tell them. He was surprised they even hired the guy if he wouldn't show his face.

"Has it been like that a lot recently?"

"Well, for the past few nights at least. I don't really understand why."

"Then if you're not going to get any sleep anyway …"

"No."

"Come on, Iruka-san. My fridge is empty and I just had a breakup."

"When is that not the case?"

"Give me a break!"

"…"

"Please?"

"… Ugh, alright, fine. But can't you bring your own food?"

"Fridge is empty, remember? Later."

Iruka sighed as Kakashi turned and headed off back to his own desk. He watched him as he left, silently mulling over things. He knew that Kakashi was just trying to be helpful. Most people wouldn't have noticed—his actions could be very vague. But Kakashi always showed up at his house when he was having trouble and when something confusing had happened, so Iruka had reason to think it wasn't mere coincidence. More than that, there was something else. If one had watched the exchange, they probably would've thought that Kakashi was just stopping by Iruka's desk on his way to his own after getting a soda.

However, Kakashi's desk was in the opposite direction on the floor above Iruka's.

(XXX)

"You met the criminal?" Kakashi asked incredulously over his cup of cocoa.

"You promised to keep quiet," Iruka growled in warning.

"I know, I know. But seriously, you just let him leave with your food?"

"Just hush and listen. He wasn't a criminal, he was a kid. A starving kid. I could see the bones sticking through his sides. I backed him into a corner and the least he did was curl up into a ball in fear. Obviously he was just trying to get enough to eat."

"But still … it's stealing. It's a crime."

"So is self-defense. But there are people who don't get charged for it because it was done for the sole purpose of survival. Yet it's viewed differently here, and people can just cold-heartedly say it doesn't matter if the kid was hungry, merely because the event that happened wasn't something like a situation that calls for self-defense."

"Wow, that was harsh, Iruka."

"Yeah, well, seeing the cold hard world stare you in the face in the form of a kid—a kid, all on his own—makes you a little less willing to be kind."

"… Poetic."

"Kakashi, be serious! Wouldn't you have done the same thing?"

The white-haired man looked into his cup at his reflection, eyes tracing the scar above his right eye. "Yes. I know what it feels like to be stuck alone and without a sure way to make ends meet."

"We both do …" Iruka sighed and sat back in his chair. "… But now I'm even more worried. What happens now? What will happen to him?"

"Well, you told him about the adoption agency, right?"

"Yes, but he'd already tried it. And it landed him flat on his backside on his own again."

"So they abandoned him…? Did he ever say what happened to his real parents?"

Iruka shrugged. "All he said was that they died a long time ago."

"It must've been harder for him to cope if he'd never had to deal with abandonment before."

"… He's had to deal with it before."

"He was adopted twice?"

Iruka stared at him hard, expression set. "… Kakashi, when your father killed himself, how did you feel?"

Kakashi stared at him back, expression cold and calculating, bordering on quizzical. "After reflecting on it a while … I kind of felt like he had been a coward."

"And you felt like he'd left you behind, didn't you?"

"… So you're saying he felt like he'd been abandoned by his parents."

"In a way. He'd been left alone and while it was not intentional abandonment, it still felt just as bad as it would have if they'd just dropped him off at some park and told him to find a ride."

Kakashi leaned back in his seat and sighed. "… Iruka, you should've become a psychologist. Emotions … you seem to have a better knack and more of a passion for dealing with those than with those boring old numbers and letters at the office."

(XXX)

After a while of talking—since it did seem that Kakashi had had a pretty nasty breakup after all—and a little bit of hot cocoa and snacks, Iruka sent his guest off with a wave and a smile. Kakashi's eyes curved up into a grin and he waved back, heading down the walkway as he heard the door behind him close. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, looking up into the sky. It was cloudless and the air was cool. He was truly grateful to Iruka. Those casual talks and the way the sky was always that way when he left was what made him almost look forward to a fight with a girlfriend or some problem at work.

He looked down again and a flash of yellow caught his eye. He blinked once and spied a head of blonde, spiky hair across the street on a boy looking left and right like he was trying to remember where he was. He was scrawny and his clothes were all dirtied and torn, and was that … was that a carton of milk he was holding?

"Hey kid," Kakashi yelled after looking both ways and starting across the street. The boy jumped and turned, frightened blue eyes staring widely at him. "What are you doing out here? Don't you know what time of night it is? You don't know what kind of strange people could be wandering out here at night."

"Ah … yeah, sorry," the teen answered, looking away. "I was just about to leave anyway …"

"Well … be careful," Kakashi said after a pause. He turned to head home.

"Wait, mister," the boy called. Kakashi looked back at him with a questioning stare. The blonde cleared his throat. "Um … do you know which house Iruka lives in? I … I've forgotten the exact address."

Kakashi observed him closely and tried to pinpoint the reason why a kid would be asking which house Iruka lived in, especially in the middle of the night. It was downright suspicious. The only kid who'd had any connection with him recently was …

… Oh.

Kakashi smiled widely in response and jerked his chin over towards the house he'd just left. "He's there. I just came from there so he should still be awake. While you're there, tell him Kakashi said thanks for the cocoa, okay?"

The boy nodded nervously and watched as Kakashi turned again, waving casually. He waited until the white-haired man was completely out of his sight before making a mad dash for Iruka's house and pushing the doorbell.

(XXX)

When Iruka heard the doorbell he had haphazardly thrown the cups and dishes into the sink and started his way up the steps. His mind drew a blank. Kakashi? He guessed. What could Kakashi possibly want now? Maybe he forgot something? No … he didn't bring anything. Maybe there was something more he wanted to tell me?

He went back downstairs and quickly crossed to the door. He tried to turn the lock but forgot that it had been broken already by the crafty teenager that he oddly enough had shared with a casual, if not a little awkward, meal the night before. He mentally sighed and shook his head, pulling the door wide open.

"What is it Kakashi—?" He began, but froze. He stared ahead, somehow finding that the boy he'd just thought to himself about was standing right there in front of him, still holding the now-empty carton of milk.

"S-sorry … can I come in?" Blue eyes looked imploringly up into his and he found that any voice that might've been screaming at him to shut the door in his face had been at once silenced. His shoulders slumped slightly in defeat as he stepped to the side and motioned for him to enter. He moved inside and looked around before turning back to face Iruka. "I … I finished the milk … so … c-can I have some more to eat, please?"

Iruka sighed. "Look … I don't want to give you the wrong impression. I can't just give away food freely every night …"

"I-I know, so …" The boy pulled a ring off of his finger and presented it to him. "I found this in my pocket a long time ago …" Iruka looked at it and saw that it appeared to be a plain one made of sterling silver. "I thought … maybe y-you could get it traded in for some money or something …" He received a stare in return. He looked back with hopeful eyes. Then he remembered something and spoke once more. "Oh, and, some guy wanted me to tell you that 'Kakashi said thanks for the cocoa.'"

Iruka blinked at him slowly. The boy had a look about him of silent awe at the fact that Iruka took in company and treated them well so often. He was definitely still a child, so little of a threat that he didn't avoid talking to Kakashi, which might've aroused suspicion if he had been out to do something dangerous.

Iruka was sure of it now—he'd not been wrong before. This was just a kid.

"… What's your name?" He asked him. A guarded look crossed the boy's face, like he didn't want to divulge something that could give anyone a way to track him down and get him in trouble.

"… Uzumaki Naruto."

"Naruto … everything that you have with you … is that all that you have?"

"Uh … yeah, it is … why?"

Iruka sighed and scratched his head before smiling and gesturing towards the staircase. "Head upstairs and go into the first room on your left. But take a shower before you go to sleep."

Naruto's eyes widened and became a blue even brighter than the sky. "I get a whole room for the night?"

"You get a whole room," Iruka said, pausing and hoping he wouldn't regret what he was about to say, "for your whole life."

Silence stretched between them and he saw tears filling the orbs that never darkened but glistened, shining all the more. Words would've only cheapened the meaning that was clear and present in his expression. He closed the space separating them and clutched at Iruka in a quick hug before he remembered he was getting a bed and a shower and excitedly hopped away and up the stairs. Iruka stood amazed, watching him bound away, observing that Naruto had never even stopped to think that everything might be too good to be true … but certainly he would think about that when morning came, and things would still remain as they were, as if a silent and firm answer to his question.

Iruka still didn't understand why he'd done it. He couldn't fathom why he'd been so careless in the first place to let a criminal eat at his table. But he understood how it felt to be alone.

And well, it had become just lonely enough that he figured someone just as lonely would be all the better to share it with. So as he walked up the stairs after the bounding mass of blonde hair, listening to excited yelps about how the bed felt so much smoother than the ground and how the shower was so clean, he found he did not regret it—not one little bit.