Kakashi was only sixteen, but he felt old and grey. His hair was grey, and his dark eye seemed to fade to grey after a long mission. The only color on him besides grey was red. Red that flashed, ached, cried, and devoured. Red was a greedy color, just as grey was a tired color. Kakashi was greedy for more but too tired to pursue anything more.
He went from mission to mission, fighting and killing as he was told. He had no other purpose, and no other meaning. He was a tool for Konoha, and he was getting sick of red, gray, and the occasional black that patterned his life. There were no other colors for him.
Until he saw Iruka. Iruka was white ,brown, blue, and vibrant. He moved with the clumsiness of a boy still growing, and worked with a vigor Kakashi had never felt. He thick brown ponytail swayed and snapped as Iruka dashed about, and the boy's stained white clothes were ripped and patched. Iruka threw his head back and laughed. Iruka wiped tears from his eyes with no shame. Iruka lived, and Kakashi was jealous.
Kakashi didn't know if he wanted Iruka, or if he wanted to be Iruka. He knew he couldn't be Iruka, so he just watched Iruka. Kakashi got off missions and went to watch the vibrant young boy who would never know the kind of like Kakashi lead. The boy was Gennin, but Kakashi doubted Iruka would make it past Chuunin, and he'd never be in ANBU, as Kakashi was. Iruka might actually live to be eighteen. Kakashi was expected to die in the next six months.
Iruka watching was one of the better parts of Kakashi's day, and it was training of a sort, right? Ninja should be bale to watch people without being noticed, and Iruka had no idea his grey, white, and red watcher was about. Iruka went about his daily life, and Kakashi watched and learned.
Iruka lived by himself. He was an orphan, but he wasn't in an orphanage. He lived alone in his late parents' house and seemed to fare well enough. Sure, sometimes he forgot to shower or buy groceries, but he was doing well enough to thrive. Iruka's life consisted of training, doing missions with his Gennin team, and puttering around his house. On some days Iruka went to the memorial for those killed by the Kyuubi, and honored his parents. It was a nice way to live.
Kakashi had been watching Iruka for almost two months when he broke his pattern. Kakashi was never seen, heard, or felt by Iruka, but one damp Tuesday Kakashi changed all that. He found the vibrant boy huddled in front of the memorial stone, his shoulder's heaving in quiet sobs. Kakashi was intrigued. Iruka rarely cried at all. He was usually laughing, yelling, or both. The tears flooding down his face seemed to drain him of color and made his dark blue eyes look black.
Before he was really sure what he was doing, Kakashi hopped down onto the ground behind Iruka and spoke: "Oi."
Iruka drew one hand across his eyes and stood slowly. He turned to face Kakashi, and Kakashi's heart lurched. Here, closer than he had even been before, was Iruka. The boy of vibrance and color. The laughing boy who hadn't been broken and beaten down as Kakashi had. Here was the boy Kakashi wished he could be. Iruka's eyes were red–the greedy color was draining the color from Iruka's eyes just as the tears had.
"What do you want?" Iruka's voice was thick with tears, and Kakashi's saw the loneliness in Iruka's darkened eyes. Kakashi moved towards Iruka, prompted by some impulse he didn't understand or remember having before. He reached up and wiped tears from Iruka's scarred face with a thumb. Iruka closed his eye and let Kakashi. Kakashi reached up with his other hand and did the same thing to the other side of Iruka face. He then tugged his mask down a little and kissed Iruka's forehead. He kissed Iruka between his eyebrows, and kissed him again on the nose, though that one was more of a lick.
Before Iruka could get even a glimpse of Kakashi's face the mask was back up, but Kakashi's hand were still rubbing away the tear tracks on Iruka's face. "Two year isn't enough time to dull it, huh?" As Kakashi spoke he thought of Obito and his sensei. He still felt that pain sharply. He imagined the same stabbing pain in Iruka's chest.
Iruka gave something of a bitter laugh. "Who did you lose?" Every ninja had lost someone when the Kyuubi attacked.
"My Sensei," Kakashi swallowed. "He was the last of my team, actually the others died a few years before..."
"So you're alone too," Iruka's voice cracked, and he took a quick shuddering breath. His eyes were still leaking those horrible tears, and Kakashi wanted to stop them. He desperately wanted Iruka to keep his color.
"D'you like stir-fry?" Kakashi asked. He knew Iruka did. The boy didn't eat it much, but he enjoyed it greatly when he did.
"What?" Iruka was thrown by the subject change. He looked at Kakashi and nodded slowly. "Hai..."
"You need something warm after standing out here in this damp," Kakashi said. Iruka looked at him, and Kakashi wanted like he'd never wanted before. Iruka stared at Kakashi and sniffed. "Do you want some?"
"Stir fry?" Iruka asked, titling his head to the side.
Kakashi rolled his visible eye. "Yes, stir fry."
"I guess," Iruka was more confused than sad now. Tears still leaked from his eyes.
"Good, you...you go to your house and dry off and I'll bring it there," Kakashi said, trying to sound commanding. Iruka was only twelve, and he was raised to follow orders. He paused a little before heading off, and Kakashi hurried off on his own errand.
Kakashi bought Iruka's favorite kind of stir-fry without wondering if it was a good idea or not. He'd say it was a lucky guess. Kakashi had never eaten much stir fry, and had just gotten himself the same thing as Iruka. Maybe Kakashi could pretend to have some of Iruka's color while he ate what Iruka liked. Kakashi paused in front of Iruka's door and knocked. No one answered.
Kakashi knocked twice more before checking for traps and going in. The one trap Iruka had set up was easy to undo. Kakashi opened the door, ready for an attack, but none came. Kakashi walked into Iruka's house, and felt like he was contaminating it. This was Iruka's haven, his home, and Kakashi, red, grey and black Kakashi was bringing his dullness into it. He almost turned and left.
Instead he set the stir fry on the counter and went to look for Iruka. He found him in the bathroom, showering, and Iruka's shower door was clear . Kakashi could see the hard lines of Iruka from his shoulders to his ankles. Kakashi felt guilty, caught, greedy, and protective all at once. He didn't want anyone else to see the hard, brown lines of Iruka's body. He wanted to feel the lines of Iruka's body. He wanted...
Iruka turned off the water and turned around. He jumped and blinked. "Oh, you came. I thought you wouldn't." Iruka smiled widely. "I sorta thought you just wanted me to stop crying, did you really bring stir fry?"
Kakashi couldn't keep his face from twitching up into an almost grin. "Yeah. I did."
"Honto ni?" Iruka grinned. "Cause I haven't had stir fry in forever." Iruka grinned and grabbed a towel. He, evidently, had no sense of modesty. Kakashi wasn't surprised. It fit with Iruka's colors and innocence. He'd never think to cover himself up. He'd never think what was going through Kakashi's mind at the sight of his brown, naked body.
Kakashi suppressed a shudder. "There is stir fry, and it's probably getting cold as we speak."
"Shimatte! It's no good cold!" Iruka yelped and dashed past Kakashi. "Lemme put some clothes on!" Kakashi almost told him not to bother, but he didn't. He sat down at the counter and tried not to think of a lithe brown body under a shower's spray. He tried not to think of the things he wanted to do to that body.
Iruka came scrambling out of a room clothed in a big floppy shirt and short with a towel on his head. He slid up onto the counter and grinned at the stir fry. "Sugoi!" he paused to open the stir fry box, and then he grinned wider. "You won't believe it, but this is my favorite kind of stir fry."
"Is it?" Kakashi tried to sound surprised. Of course it was Iruka's favorite kind of stir fry. Kakashi hadn't spent two months watching the boy to learn nothing. He knew much, much more about the brown little boy who was sitting in front of him than his favorite kind of stir-fry.
"Hai!" Iruka grinned toothily and shoved a mouthful of stir fry into his mouth. He expression became rapturous and Kakashi almost laughed. Iruka took two more great bites before scrambling off the counter and flinging open the fridge. He peered around its mostly bare interior and then looked back at Kakashi. "All I have to drink is water and tea. Which do you want."
Kakashi paused and realized he hadn't even started on his stir fry. He opened the Styrofoam box and split the cheap bamboo chopsticks. "Water's fine." Iruka nodded with a bounce and poured water into two blue glass cups. He placed the gently on the counter before hopping back up onto the counter himself and grinning down at Kakashi, who was sitting on a stool.
"So, um, what's your name?" Iruka asked as he took another huge bite of stir fry.
Kakashi's mind jumped. Did he want Iruka to know who he was? Did Kakashi want the boy of color to know he was the boy of grey? "Kakashi."
"Kakashi what?" Iruka asked through a mouthful of noodles. There was a piece of sauce on the end of his nose, and Kakashi wondered how it had gotten there.
"Hatake," The name jumped out so easily, and he wondered why he had every thought to hide it. How many shinobi were there in Konoha with one eye and silver hair?
"Hatake Kakashi, like the famous one?" Iruka pressed with raised eyebrows. He wasn't impressed enough to stop eating.
"There aren't any other Hatake in Konoha anymore," Kakashi replied.
"Hmmm," Iruka frowned and suddenly grinned. "Then we're the same–I mean we're both orphans with no other family, yeah?"
Kakashi couldn't help it. He stared at Iruka. No one had ever said that to him. No one had ever even implied Hatake Kakashi was the same as anyone, and here was Iruka, just turned gennin at twelve, brown, colorful and vibrant, saying they were the same. Iruka of no importance was saying he was the same as Hatake Kakashi, ninja prodigy.
Kakashi gave a light laugh and smiled. "I suppose we are."
Iruka nodded and ate a few more bite of stir fry before stopping and frowning. "Take off your mask and eat."
Kakashi gave a shrug. "I'll take it home and eat it. I'm not hungry now."
"Stir fry is best eaten hot, and it doesn't taste as good after you reheat it. Go ahead and eat it now," Iruka prompted.
"Then turn around." Kakashi felt his lips quirk up, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled this widely.
Iruka pouted. "That's rude. This is my house, and I can sit where and how I want."
"You just want to see my face," Kakashi challenged with a clack of chopsticks. He felt suddenly alive. More alive than he'd felt in years.
"So what if I do?" Iruka asked. "I mean, all ninja have scars so if you're terribly disfigured it won't bother me a bit. I've probably seen worse."
Kakashi raised and eyebrow. His mouth moved, and the sudden injection of life Iruka had given him made him careless. "If I do then you have to give me something."
"'Kay, that's fair," Iruka popped another mouthful of stir-fry into his mouth and chewed while he waited for Kakashi to name his terms.
"You have to kiss me," Kakashi began. He saw Iruka's face become a little puzzled and his lips open to form the word 'okay'. "On the lips." Kakashi had nothing to lose. If Iruka said no he got to keep his mask on. If Iruka said yes than maybe Kakashi could steal some of Iruka's color.
Iruka put his head on sideways and made a thoughtful face. "All right, I guess you gotta take you mask off for that, huh?"
Kakashi's heart leapt and he slipped his fingers under his mask. "No backing out once my mask's off," He warned.
Iruka stuck out his tongue. "Oh c'mon, your face can't look that bad!" Kakashi felt himself grin again, and he pulled his mask down. He felt suddenly naked and vulnerable. Iruka's eyes traveled up and down Kakashi's face, taking everything in with the curiosity of a child.
"Your face is so normal it's kinda disappointing," Iruka said with a lopsided smile. Kakashi rolled his eye and waited. Iuruka leaned forward over his stir fry, and paused, stance unsure. Kakashi rose up and finished the movement. He wasn't sure either, but as soon as his lips touched Iruka's he was very sure.
Iruka tasted like stir fry, which was pretty good after all, and he tasted bright. Maybe Kakashi imagined it, but Iruka's lips tasted like all the things Kakashi wasn't. Young, vibrant, living, innocent, still trying to make things right in the world. Kakashi never wanted that kiss to end. He wanted a million more like it. He wanted. He wanted. He wanted.
It broke. Kakashi sat back. Iruka sat back. Iruka absently touched his lips, and he was blushing. Kakashi took a huge bite of his stir-fry, and he knew he was blushing. He didn't care. The rainbow boy had just given him a little color, and he wanted to keep it as long as he could.
A/N: I've always been more interested in the realationship between and younger Kakashi and Iruka. 'Tis something of a drabble, but there could be more attatched to the theme of kakashi wanting for his color/Irukaness. Dunno yet. Hope You've enjoyed.