Disclaimer: not mine.
Warnings: none.
-untitled-
Kakashi's eye was black, cold like he wished he could be and as impenetrable as his thoughts, which he shared with no one.
Iruka's eyes were brown, so dark they looked black and disarmingly guileless, unless he let down his guard, which he never did.
"I never know how you're feeling," Iruka complained.
"I never know what you're thinking," Kakashi admitted.
Neither do I, they both thought.
Kakashi's hair was silver, long and fine, and as unconventional as he had always been.
Iruka's hair was brown, long and coarse, and as tightly restrained as he wished he could be.
"Doesn't it get in the way?" Iruka inquired.
"Doesn't it hurt?" Kakashi questioned.
Sometimes, they both thought.
Kakashi's skin was pale as though he worshipped the night, but he far preferred the touch of day.
Iruka's skin was tan as if his time was spent outdoors, but usually he saw the sun through windows.
"Don't you ever get tan?" Iruka wondered.
"Don't you ever turn pale?" Kakashi pondered.
Not really, they thought.
Kakashi's lips were full and smooth, and he tended to chew on the lower one when nervous; it wasn't like anyone could see.
Iruka's lips were thin and chapped, and he constantly licked them, not even aware he was doing so.
"How do you keep them so soft?" Iruka asked.
"How do they get so rough?" Kakashi chided.
They just are, they both thought.
Kakashi had strengths that were only earned by a lifetime of fighting and fears earned alongside them.
Iruka had weaknesses resulting from a lifetime of death and resolutions that coincided.
"Promise you'll come back," Iruka requested.
"Promise you won't leave," Kakashi appealed.
I can't, they both thought.
"Trust me," they both said.
-end-