This is for XxnotsoinnocentXx, the 100th reviewer on 'The Shinobi Bachelor'. It has taken me forever to write this because the original I wrote Just. Wasn't. Working. Also I started gaming again, got sick and went home for Christmas. I don't think it's exactly what you wanted, but I hope you kind of like it anyway. *puppy-dog look*
Set pre-series with a 17-y-o Iruka, which makes both Kakashi and Ibiki around 20.
Warning for explicit yaoi and bad language.
o0o
The night is cool and dark, the moon barely a sliver behind wispy ghosts of clouds. It's raining; not hard, but constant in its patter against the slick pavers of the street and relentless enough to chill any idiot who chooses to be out in it down to the bone.
There is but one man – maybe not quite a man, more a boy, really – out in the rain on this night, and by his bedraggled appearance it would seem he has been out for some time. His mid-length brown hair, darkened by the weather, hangs sodden and tangled around shoulders bent in a tired slump. He stands in front of a door with his hand curled into a fist, poised but reluctant to knock.
The door opens anyway, and his hand slowly unfurls and returns to his side, cracking with cold. The man on the other side of the door spares a mere glance into his heavy, dead eyes before stepping aside wordlessly, ushering him into the house. The brunet tilts his head in acknowledgement and thanks, shuffling inside with his eyes focused on his feet.
A towel and a clean, dry yukata are handed to him and the young man strips off his wet uniform without embarrassment. He is careful to avoid too much cloth touching his badly wrapped right shoulder, but he is too tired and unhappy to be mindful of his nudity. Being warm and dry makes him feel the tiniest bit better, and he offers up a small albeit genuine smile to his host.
"Sit," the older man says gruffly, and pushes a bowl containing some sort of broth towards him. He sits obediently and sips from the bowl at a leisurely pace, even though he is starving. He knows the older man will wait patiently until he is finished, but once he puts down the bowl the questions will start.
"Iruka-kun," the man says, and though his voice is still gruff – he cannot speak in any other manner, even if he tries – there is a strand of compassion running beneath it. "Did he hurt you again?"
"He doesn't hurt me," the brunet denies hotly, his eyes flashing with the first sign of life since he'd entered the building. "He would never ever hit me. My expectations are just too high, I guess. That's not his fault."
The older man's expression doesn't change, his lips set in a grim line. "You do realize that physically attacking is not the only way to hurt a person, don't you? I only ask because you vehemently deny that anyone has done anything to hurt you and yet you always show up looking like this."
"It's only because I'm weak," Iruka mutters, digging his fingers into the wound on his shoulder in a kind of self-punishment. He wonders why he came here instead of going home to collapse on his cold, lonely couch to have a nice long nap. It wouldn't have mattered too much if he'd woken up with a cold; he'd had worse. He traces the scars crossing the older man's face with his eyes, scars that remind him just how talented this man is at interrogation, and decides that it was definitely a mistake to come here.
The man doesn't offer him the obvious support, the you're not weak that the sympathetic usually reply with, instead resting his chin on his hands and studying his companion with dark, intelligent eyes. "Why are you weak?"
Iruka twists his fingers into the fabric of the yukata over his knees tightly, eyes firmly on the table. "I failed another mission, Ibiki-san," he says quietly, the words falling dead from his lips like dust.
o0o
He'd been hopeful, starting out on that mission. Wary and slightly doubting, but hopeful nonetheless. It was his chance to redeem himself, so to speak. He was paired with his last remaining comrade from his genin team, a high-and-mighty now-chūnin who had spent his entire childhood teasing Iruka about how worthless he was.
"I don't want to work with Iruka-chan. My sister can perform better jutsus than him in her sleep, and she's only three."
Shigeo had been a beautiful boy, with curly dark hair and long, thick lashes framing sparkling emerald eyes, and despite his somewhat vile personality at a physical level Iruka couldn't help but be attracted to him. He had someone better now, though, someone who could, if he so wanted, kill Shigeo a thousand times over in his sleep. This mission wasn't about getting Shigeo to like him. It was about getting his respect.
Shigeo's eyes had narrowed into slits when he'd found out Iruka would be his partner. "I don't want to work with him. He's cursed, and he'll get me killed."
Iruka feels unhinged laughter bubbling up inside him. Is it not fitting that his last teammate should die because of a stupid mistake of his, to fit with the trend he'd started by killing off Aiko-sensei and Kazuki-kun? Shigeo had been right, and by accepting the mission he'd essentially signed his own death warrant. Iruka is a failure as a shinobi, and yet he has the gall to keep on living while everyone around him pays for his mistakes.
o0o
In standard circles, it's not your fault would be the next words of comfort. Ibiki, not knowing the particulars of the mission, cannot say this and know it's true. And the truth, he believes, is the only weapon that should be used when dealing with trauma. "That kid always was too sure of himself. I am sorry you had to see him go, though."
Iruka tugs at his hair agitatedly. "I know it's wrong to say it, and it feels wrong even to me, but Shigeo – dying," he stumbles over the word, "Isn't even what's bothering me the most."
"Kakashi," Ibiki says gruffly.
Iruka drops his head. "Kakashi," he agrees numbly.
o0o
The walk home the next morning is painful. The weather is persistently optimistic, sporting a bright sun with very few clouds and tiny little multi-coloured birds doing their very best to trill their little hearts out. Iruka scowls at them and wishes for a storm to suit his mood. Ibiki is a good friend, but he's beginning to get a bit sick of the not-so-subtle hints for him to become a village-bound shinobi like a desk-nin or a teacher.
Ibiki says he doesn't think Iruka's a failure, he thinks he's just in the wrong job. Iruka doesn't know what else he can do. "A shinobi is a shinobi is a shinobi," is what he'd said in return. "If I'm not that then what am I?"
Ibiki shook his head and stood his ground. "You have excellent chakra control over the basics. You could easily study to become a medic-nin or a teacher, where you wouldn't be taking lives but saving them."
Iruka scowls and clenches his fists, his nails biting into his palms. He doesn't want to teach brats, and he definitely doesn't want the guilt that would come with every patient he'd fail to save as a medic-nin. He's got quite enough of that already, thank you. Kazuki-kun's mother in particular still makes it her business to spit at him every time she sees him before crossing to the other side of the street in haughty dismissal.
Kakashi doesn't know about this, because if he did Iruka is certain he would have done something to stop it by now. Iruka doesn't tell him because he doesn't want the older, more talented boy – man? – to know how much of a failure he is. He doesn't know that Kakashi has already searched through all his files and memorized his entire history.
Iruka sighs despondently and runs a hand absentmindedly through his hair, surprised when his fingers trail straight down to the ends. He hadn't realized he'd forgotten to tie it up, which speaks volumes about how distracted he is. He ties it up now, tightly, his shoulder aching as he lifts it above his head. He hates having his hair down because it makes him look like a girl.
Kakashi likes it – or he seems to anyway. He never verbally divulges what he likes or doesn't like, or what he wants. He speaks a physical language of touch, of intimidation, of bodily-enforced direction. Iruka sometimes wonders whether this is all he'll ever get from Kakashi, a sex-based relationship with little to no words of comfort or love whispered between them. He can't help but realize that he knows barely anything about the silver-haired man he calls his lover.
He knows the exact location and length of every scar on Kakashi's body, from the deep cut bisecting his left eye to the tiny sliver of raised skin just above his right ankle. He knows that the lower half of Kakashi's face and his neck are extremely sensitive from being constantly covered, and that the hollow in the small of his back is unusually deep. He knows Kakashi's body almost as well as he knows his own, yet he doesn't know Kakashi's birthday, his favourite colour, or what he really thinks about Iruka.
He can feel Kakashi's chakra as soon as he enters the house, cool and calm and patting him down. Checking, he thinks without humour, to see if anyone has been touching me. He reluctantly follows the chakra back to its source and can tell by the way the older man's eyebrow quirks that Kakashi knows he's not wanted right now but he doesn't intend to leave.
"You weren't here last night," he says calmly, checking idly beneath his nails for dirt. "Where were you?"
Iruka is suddenly annoyed that Kakashi won't give him anything of himself and yet feels the right to be possessive of him. Kakashi doesn't care that he's come home from a mission on which he got wounded and the teammate he'd known through childhood had died. He doesn't care that Iruka is burning up with guilt inside and just wants to lie down on his bed and keep his mind empty until he passes out again.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," he hisses, turning on his heel and stomping off to his bedroom. He knows he's being childish but he's too tired and fed up to care. He sits down on the bed and scoots into the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest and his hands clutching them tightly, mindless of the way the position pulls at his torn shoulder.
Kakashi appears, hovering in the doorway and watching him sniffle with calculated disinterest. Iruka hiccups, and the motion makes the tears he'd been holding in silently cascade down his face. The last time he'd felt this alone was two nights after his parents had died, in the moment his twelve-year-old brain had finally realized they were never coming back. Ibiki merely feels a duty to protect him, and Kakashi – Kakashi is only interested in his body. He'd never even seen it before, though he expected that that was what Ibiki had been trying to tell him, and he feels like the world's biggest fool. "Why are you still here?" he snuffles angrily, hiding his face behind his knees.
"You're unhappy," Kakashi points out, his voice a little surprised.
"Gee, thanks for telling me that, Sherlock," Iruka grumbles, keeping his face hidden. He's upset and angry and embarrassed all at once. He's never cried in front of Kakashi before, and he never wants to again. He feels so utterly weak and useless. He doubts Kakashi has ever cried in his life.
He feels the bed dip and then Kakashi is moving his arms away from his face, gently but firmly. Iruka bars his teeth at him and growls. Kakashi has taken his shirt off for some unknown reason, mask and all, and he doesn't want to be able to see that carefully expressionless face staring at him, reminding him that Kakashi is everything a shinobi should be while he is everything not.
Kakashi's response to his unwelcoming reaction is to push Iruka's knees apart gently, lean forward, and suck Iruka's bottom lip into his mouth. Stunned, Iruka can only stare blankly as his lips are delicately pressed open and Kakashi's tongue flicks inside his mouth. Coming to his senses, Iruka pushes him away roughly. "What are you doing?" he hisses.
Kakashi blinks at him, pale face unreadable. He seems to be thinking about something, and when he leans forward again Iruka is forced to assume that the only thing he thinks about is sex. "Stop it!" he yells, and his voice is louder than he'd intended in the silent room. "I can't do this anymore."
Kakashi pauses where he is, cocking his head to one side. Iruka thinks sullenly that he's been spending too much time around dogs and not enough time around humans. "Can't do what?" his silver-haired lover asks, voice cold and flat rather than questioning.
"This! You! Sex!" Iruka buries his face in his hands. "I just can't. I can't do it any more when it's just sex to you. I want to mean something to somebody, anybody. I want to mean something to you."
Kakashi is silent for a long time, and Iruka begins to wonder if he has left. Then his legs are being shifted, his knees pushed downward, and a warm weight settles over his thighs. He moves his hands away from his tearstained face to find Kakashi's nose inches from his own. He doesn't resist as the older man takes both his hands, entwines their fingers, and presses them up against the wall either side of his head.
"Iruka," he says, voice low and throaty. Despite everything the sound of it sends a thrill shooting down to Iruka's groin. Kakashi hardly ever calls him by his name, and definitely not like that. "Do you know how many people alive have seen my face?"
Iruka doesn't know whether he's supposed to answer or not, and he doesn't know why the question is being posed. "Why are you sitting on me?" he asks weakly, twisting in a half-attempt to throw the other man off.
Kakashi ignores his question, tightening his grip on Iruka's thighs with his knees and leaning in close so his breath brushes the brunet's ear wetly as he speaks. "The answer is one."
"One?"
"One," Kakashi affirms, but Iruka's not really sure what they're talking about anymore as the silver-haired jōnin begins sucking on his neck.
"No – stop!" Iruka protests, his brain finally catching up with libido. "You can't just tell me a riddle and then expect me to give in to you."
Kakashi pulls back and stares at him like he's the idiot. "I don't show my face to just anyone, Iruka."
Iruka's breath hitches in his throat and he's almost afraid he's going to cry again. "It's not just sex?"
Kakashi smiles at him, but he isn't given long to appreciate it before the persistent pervert is trying to kiss him again. "Slow down. I still don't – why?"
Kakashi growls. "Why are you making this harder than it has to be?"
"Because I don't get it," Iruka says miserably. "How can you say it's not just sex when that's all you ever come to me for, and when I'm such a… such a loser and you're pretty much world famous?"
Kakashi bites down on his bottom lip, taking a deep breath that he exhales loudly through his nose. "You're not a loser. You're my happy place." His colourless cheeks flush a pale pink at the admission.
" 'Happy place?' "
His cheeks darken further. "That you'll accept me gives me a reason to keep living," he mumbles, and tries to abate his embarrassment by kissing Iruka again. Iruka lets him, his mind still in turmoil from what Kakashi has said. Does he really… care about me? It's hard for him to doubt the young jōnin's sincerity seeing as Kakashi hardly talks at all, and it's easy to tell that everything he does say has been thought over a hundred times before the words leave his lips. But still… Iruka can't quite believe it.
Kakashi releases his hands, his long, deft fingers moving to divest him of his shirt. Iruka is unable to contain a yelp at the pain in his shoulder as his arm is jerked back above his head and Kakashi blinks at the now visible bandages. "Hospital?" he questions, fingering the rough field material wrapped haphazardly around his shoulder. Iruka shakes his head. "Does it hurt?"
"Not if I leave it alone." It does hurt, but he's not going to tell Kakashi that. Not because of his pride, though there may be a little of that involved, but because he feels he deserves the pain. He can endure a bit of an ache, no sweat, because he would bet everything he owns that Shigeo would prefer to feel this pain rather than dead, which is how Iruka left him. He should be the one who died.
Kakashi's hands stray away from his shoulder, avoiding the wound completely, and sweep down his chest. He shivers at the touch, and the jōnin's skillful mouth once again claims all his attention. He has the feeling that Kakashi is doing it on purpose, and something near the bottom of his stomach flutters. Closing his eyes he gives into the sensation of cool, almost delicate fingers tweaking his nipples into peaks then sliding down his abs, hot lips and tongue following their downward trail.
Iruka arches into the touch, a needy whimper escaping his lips as Kakashi swirls his tongue around a receptive nipple before gripping it lightly in his teeth and sliding his mouth away. "Kiss me," Iruka breathes, and Kakashi obliges immediately, pressing forward against him so he can feel just how turned on the older man is against his stomach. That doesn't quite seem right.
He's hard, but he hasn't even touched me below the waist yet. Gods, I haven't even touched him. He's not usually that interested in foreplay, so why now?
Kakashi gives him his answer by tugging at the waistband of his pants lightly, not pulling them down, looking at him with a question in his eyes. "You did tell me to stop, before."
He's giving me a choice, whether I want to continue or not. He's – Iruka's whole body freezes as the realization hits him. He's doing this for me. Umino, you're an idiot. You said it yourself that he speaks with touch, but you've never once bothered to try and figure out what he's trying to say. Baka!
"Iruka?" Kakashi brushes the backs of his fingers lightly across his cheek. He's asking, 'are you sure you're okay with this?' Kami, why did I never see this before?
"Kakashi." Iruka feels overwhelmed all of a sudden. He'd hoped but never truly believed that the older nin might feel something for him, and it feels like a weight off his chest that he does. "I want you – I want you to make love to me." He's nervous saying it, but Kakashi just grins at him, palming his erection through his pants. "You sure?"
"Very sure," Iruka says in his best sultry voice. He pushes up into his lover's hand, wraps his arms around that pale, scrawny neck and slides his tongue into an open, surprised mouth. When he pulls back he's blushing at his spur-of-the-moment boldness but it's totally worth the embarrassment to see that expression on Kakashi's face. He has managed to shock the unshakable Hatake Kakashi.
"I didn't know you could do that," Kakashi murmurs, and sucks one of Iruka's earlobes into his mouth, his hand burrowing its way under the waistband of the brunet's pants to grab the hard, hot column of flesh waiting for him. Iruka moans and closes his eyes, feeling Kakashi's lips slide down his chest again. The momentary sting of cold air against his member as his pants are peeled away is quickly replaced by a moist pressure that feels absolutely fantastic. He opens his eyes again and watches, entranced, as the silver-haired man runs his tongue up the length of his member then swirls it around the head, swallowing pearly drops of pre-cum. He doesn't think he's ever been more turned on than when Kakashi moves his head slightly and draws his cock into his mouth ever so slowly until his nose is buried in wiry hair so dark brown it's almost black.
Kakashi moves back up again at the same snails pace, making Iruka fight very hard not to just grab that silver hair to hold his head still and thrust into his mouth until he cums. Fuck, I want him to swallow my cum. I want to see it on his lips, on his face, in his hair. Instead of unleashing his inner pervert by voicing his thoughts he lets out a needy whine as Kakashi stops just before reaching the head of his cock and plummets down again.
"Do you want me?" Kakashi growls, releasing his cock with an obscene popping sound and two fingers, cold and wet with lube, are placed lightly against his entrance. Iruka quivers beneath him and can't say anything, because Kakashi has gone back to sucking on his leaking erection and damn he's good with his tongue. Instead he pushes downwards onto the fingers, gasping as they slide uncomfortably fast past his tight ring of muscles.
Kakashi glances up at him, his tongue drawing lazy patterns around the base of Iruka's shaft, his eye mildly surprised. He doesn't move his fingers at all and Iruka wiggles in impatience. He doesn't mind a bit of pain, and right now he wants nothing more than to be fucked hard and fast enough to forget the way the light dimmed and then disappeared from Shigeo's lively green eyes.
Kakashi pinches the inside of his thigh, a gesture he takes to mean that the jōnin wants him to slow down and not hurt himself, and he ignores it. Screw 'making love'. I want him to fuck me. He bears down on the fingers inside of him, relishing the stretching feeling, and pushes back up again, accidentally forcing the tip of his cock to rub against the back of Kakashi's throat with his movement. Kakashi chokes and pulls away, sending him a mildly amused glare that clearly says, Are you really that impatient?
He bears down again but this time the silver-haired man stills his hips with his free hand and finally, finally, begins to move the fingers of the other. Iruka jumps as they find his prostate, unable to stop himself from letting out a low keening noise that is promptly swallowed by Kakashi's greedy lips. A third finger is swiftly added and Iruka groans. It's an odd feeling, being stretched, but his mind has long ago come to associate that feeling with the much more pleasant one of being filled with a hot, leaking cock which usually follows, and it only serves to make him more needy and desperate.
He wants Kakashi. He is dying to have Kakashi inside him, filling him and scattering any coherent thought he might have, making him feel wanted. When Kakashi does eventually deem him ready he presses the tip of his erection to the puckered ring of flesh of Iruka's entrance and refuses to go any further, the throbbing of his cock against such tender skin making the brunet tremble all over. Iruka glares. Kakashi grins, his one visible eye folding shut.
Iruka obstinately pushes down as hard as he can, his body almost reluctantly opening to let the much-larger-than-a-few-fingers object in. Both of them shudder and gasp as his tight heat swallows Kakashi whole. The silver-haired man presses his forehead against Iruka's, panting heavily, eyelid fluttering. Iruka kisses him, open-mouthed and messy, and the man's cock twitches inside him. "Oh Kami, move," Iruka breathes, even though he knows his body is still adjusting and any movement will hurt.
"Not Kami, Kakashi," Kakashi whispers back but obliges anyway, pulling back and then thrusting forward again smoothly. Iruka lifts his hips in response so he can slide in further, thrust harder, move faster. He clenches his muscles tightly around the throbbing organ inside of him, pushing the slight burn from his not-quite-stretched-enough muscles into the back of his mind and focusing instead on Kakashi's breath hot against his face and the slow, steady movement of the older man's hips as skin slaps on skin as his lover pushes deeper inside him.
Iruka cries out wordlessly, arcing his back off the mattress, and somehow Kakashi knows exactly what he wants, increasing his pace and shifting the angle of his hips by a few degrees so the tip of his member brushes against his lover's prostate every time his hips jerk forwards. The brunet lets out a slew of colourful curse words interspersed with breathless and downright sexy noises, digging his short, bitten nails into the relatively smooth and scarless skin of his silver-haired lover's back.
"Shit," Kakashi breathes, thrusting faster and reaching down to pump Iruka's neglected cock with erratic strokes. His other hand grips the brunet's hip tightly, telling Iruka what Kakashi refuses to verbalise – I'm close to cumming – although Iruka is so far gone by this point he wouldn't get the hint even if Kakashi shouted it at him.
"Ka-Kakashi," Iruka moans, his fingers clenching forcefully around Kakashi's shoulder blades, his body pressing hard against his lover and his entire body spasming as his pulsing member spurts white over his chest. The muscles of his velvet passage contract tightly as he cums, and as Kakashi watches his lover pants deliciously, hair wild and haloed around his beautiful face, he releases his own load into the tight channel with a barely restrained grunt.
Kakashi pants heavily, barely holding himself up over his lover on arms shaky after his orgasm. Iruka blinks at him wordlessly, lashes long and dark against the bright flush of red spread across his tanned cheeks, full lips parted slightly and almost pouting. With no small effort Kakashi pulls out and drops over the side of the bed, the movement eliciting a soft noise of protest from his partner. He cleans himself quickly, efficiently, and doesn't turn to look at the boy in the bed as he retrieves his pants off the floor.
"Please don't go." Iruka moves faster than Kakashi realized he could move, and presses himself against the silver-haired man's back, fingers unconsciously digging into his sides. His voice comes out desperate, needy, and he hates himself for it.
Kakashi pauses. "You want me to stay?" His voice is very nearly emotionless, but he hasn't quite managed to iron out all of the disbelief.
"Please," Iruka repeats, burying his face in a lean but muscled shoulder. If Kakashi leaves now he'll feel used again, but if he stays – if he stays Iruka can pretend the love he's imagining exists between them is real.
"I…" Kakashi turns in his arms, hesitant. Sometime in their last frantic movements the cloth keeping his eye covered had slipped, and Iruka finds himself looking at the terrifying beauty of the sharingan for the first time. Kakashi stares at him with both eyes, the tomoe in the left spinning slowly.
He's so perfect, so innocent, so nice. I'm corrupting him. The panicked thought slips into Iruka's mind and he shakes his head to clear it. What the hell? It isn't his thought. I shouldn't stay any longer, I shouldn't have come in the first place. I have to go. He doesn't know what he's asking for. Kami, but when he looks at me like that, like I'm someone worth caring for –
It takes a few seconds for Iruka to realize that what he's hearing is Kakashi broadcasting his feelings through the sharingan unintentionally and when he does he slaps a hand over the left side of Kakashi's face. He dreads to think what would happen if the silver-haired man realized he was listening in on such private thoughts. Hearing them, though, gives Iruka the confidence to raise himself onto his toes and kiss the older man senseless. "I care about you, Kakashi. And I am eternally grateful that you care about me," he says shyly when he pulls back from the kiss. "Stay with me?" He is unreasonably pleased that the real Kakashi is not as calm and collected as he tends to project himself as, and promises himself that he is going to find out more about this Kakashi, maybe even learn a favourite colour or a birthdate.
Kakashi hesitates, but not even he can resist the full force of Iruka's doe eyes. "Alright," he says with a small, tentative smile, "But only if we shower first. You just rubbed semen all down my back."
Iruka looks surprised, then releases a peal of laughter that is so pure Kakashi wants to capture it so he can listen to it over and over again. He has a funeral to attend tomorrow, his future is shaky to say the least and he doesn't know if he is about to be stripped of his rank because of his incompetence, but for now it doesn't matter. Because he finally has someone who cares, and with Kakashi's help he just might be able to get through this.