Disclaimer: I own nothing

Rating: PG-13-ish

Chapter 3/?

Summary: my attempt at an aggressive Iruka and shy Kakashi. Iruka tries to seduce Kakashi, but it isn't easy.

Constructive criticism is welcome, as always.

Role Reversal

Ch.3

Kakashi could tell without opening his eyes that he was not in his own bed. First of all, the smell was all wrong. His bed was cool and fresh; there was a bite to it. It smelled like the outdoors right after a rainstorm. This bed smelled much…warmer. More like sunshine. Hot, crisp sunshine on a grassy field. That was it.

Stirring slightly, Kakashi also noticed the sheets were wrong. These sheets were softer than his own, probably some kind of flannel. He surreptitiously ran a finger across them. Yes, even the thread count was wrong.

And he had a headache, a throbbing, pounding, headache that radiated pain throughout his skull. Opening his eyes would be a bitch, bit why delay the inevitable?

Slowly, Kakashi opened his eyes, squinted against the harsh light, and looked into a pair of warm brown eyes.

"Morning Kakashi." Iurka purred, pushing his messy, unbound hair back from his forehead.

Suddenly last night's events came flooding back to Kakashi.

Warm tan hands everywhere, tugging at clothing…sweat slicked skin sliding across his…a hot, wet mouth surrounding his aching erection, velvet tongue swirling around his hardened flesh…

Kakashi shook his head, clearing his mind of the images, his face and ears flushing pink.

Iruka leaned in, voice husky, "Remembering anything good?" he whispered.

Then the realization hit Kakashi.

"Oh shit. You broke it. You ruined it."

He abruptly sat up, throwing the covers off, ignoring Iruka's cry of protest. Hiding his face behind his hand, he rummaged through the clothing littering the floor and roughly pulled on a pair of pants. In the back of his mind, a voice was yelling at him.

"You selfish ass, you've put him in danger, he's going to die now. Die like the others. It's all your fault, stupid, stupid, stupid…"

"Kakashi!" Iruka's sharp voice cut across Kakashi's jumbled, agonized thoughts.

"Kakashi." Iruka repeated, his voice softening. "What's wrong?"

Kakashi stood there, one trembling hand covering his face, and violently shook his head. The nasty voice at the back of his head was chanting, "Sensei, Rin, Obito, Tak-"

"Kakashi, tell me, talk to me damnit!"

"I can't!" Kakashi shouted, "You'll die!"

"What? Kakashi-" But Kakashi ignored Iruka. Grabbing his shirt, he jumped out the open window.

Iruka sprang up and rushed to the window. Leaning out, he could barely make out Kakashi as he ran across the rooftops.

Iruka rested his aching head on the windowsill, biting his lip and staring at the ground.

"Fuck." He spat viciously, filling that one word with his anger and confusion.

Kakashi sprinted up the tree, carefully controlling the chakra in the soles of his feet. Once he was twenty feet up, he leapt off the tree, the wind whistling through his hair as he flipped twice before landing, cat-like, on all fours. One leg buckled, and Kakashi glanced back, glaring at the weights strapped to his legs.

With a lithe spring, he leapt up and sprinted down the field. He let fly three kunai, they thudded into the straw dummies at the end of the field, one where the heart should be, the other two hitting the neck and eye.

Once he was five feet away from the dummy, Kakashi leapt up, one spinning kick taking the head clean off, and then slammed his fist into the chest; it fell with a crash.

Kakashi stopped, and stood, doubled over and gasping for breath. Sweat ran down his face, stinging as it trickled into his eye. Irritably, he shook his head, droplets flying. Looking up, he scanned the field, observing his work. Fifteen or so dummies lay strewn across the field, all had kunai or shuriken embedded in their chest and neck, their heads were also nearby, kunai studded their eyes.

Kakashi stretched, trying to loosen the stitch in his side. Slowly, he walked to his bag. Unstrapping the weights, he unceremoniously dumped them by his bag with a grimace. Grabbing a water bottle, he gulped down the contents. His mask was soggy with sweat and clung to his face. Frowning, he pulled it down, and then pulled off his shirt and threw it aside. It landed with a wet splat.

He sat down, and leaned forward to touch his toes, wincing as tired muscles protested. Pain. Pain was good; it would take his mind of things.

Three hours ago, he had gotten home, shaken and upset. He had immediately gone to bed, curled into a ball and pulled the blankets over his head. But after an hour of silence, alone with his thoughts, Kakashi couldn't stand it anymore. Getting up, he had downed a handful of painkillers for his hangover, and then went out to sweat time away.

Kakashi leaned back on his elbows, closing his eyes and let the sun beat down on him. Taking in a deep breath, the smell of hot sunshine on grass surrounded him. It smelled like Iruka's bed. Iurka…

Iruka had one of the biggest grins. It stretched nearly ear to ear, white teeth glinting, cheeks and eyes crinkled. That smile was a full blast of emotion, completely uninhibited.

Kakashi softly smiled, remembering that grin. It was so similar to Takumi when he grinned.

"I bet he wasn't grinning when they cut him open was he? When they crushed his hands, ripped out his tongue…" the nasty voice at the edge of his mind whispered.

Kakashi's eyes snapped open, and he sat bolt upright, tension coiled tight around his spine.

"Damn it, I can't forget……"

Kakashi stood up, muscles trembling slightly. The tension wound tighter and tighter, twisting in his stomach.

Finally, Kakashi could stand it no more, with a wordless cry; he activated two chidori and ran full tilt to the edge of the woods. Blue-white energy crackled around each fist as he sprinted up the length of an ancient tree. Jumping off, he spun around, and brought both fists crashing into the tree. Both chidori cut through the weathered wood like a hot knife through butter.

Kakashi slid down the tree, his fall somewhat slowed by his attack. Chips and splinters flew in his face and bounced off his chest. At the bottom, he drew his hands out of the smoking, ruined tree. The air was filled with the harsh scent of smoke and a faint, sharp tang of ozone.

Kakashi unclenched his fists and winced. Glancing down, he sighed and pulled a couple of splinters out of his hands. Drained, he walked back to his bag. Grabbing his shirt, he ripped the mask out with a kunai and put it on.

Gathering all of his equipment, he slowly limped back home.