There was an uncharacteristic bounce to Kakashi's trademark slouch as he made his way to the mission room. Iruka was on duty, he knew, he'd checked. And today was Day One of Mission tease, tempt, take the rise out of, and generally have as much fun as is humanly possible (well short of that, he abruptly reminded himself) with the sweet-faced sensei. Anything and everything was fair game (except that, of course) because in seven days time it would be over. Done, finis, finito, c'est terminé, the end, hasta la vista baby. And until then he fully intended to enjoy every single moment of it.

Iruka was at the desk with Genma. Were those two joined at the hip when they were in this place? He remembered what Iruka had said about Genma's open invitation and a thin tendril of something, not jealousy, he most certainly wasn't jealous of the uber-cool and way-to-sexy-for-his-own-good senbon sucker, but something, stirred uneasily in his insides.

Iruka was on a mission too. And he didn't even have to be particularly discrete. He shot Genma a scathing look, it wasn't as if everyone present didn't already know about his… oh, but how he despised the term... crush.

He looked up as he recognized the familiar, if somewhat jauntier than normal, footfalls, a faint blush colouring his cheekbones.

"Good afternoon Kakashi-san."

Kakashi duly noted the rosy tinge on his mission's face. It caused another tendril, of something much more pleasant, to tickle his insides. And he hadn't even said a word… yet. He leaned forward onto the desk so that the two little bells at his belt tinked softly as they met its front edge.

Iruka's cheeks turned fuscia.

Anko, who was no doubt there to pick over the latest gossip (didn't that woman ever have work of her own to do?), picked up on the tension in an instant. She turned from Kurenai, her fellow gossiper, to face them. One eyebrow already raised in anticipation.

Now if those two women had stopped talking, this had to be good.

Everyone else in the mission room, which just happened to be half the shinobi in Konoha, fell silent too.

Kakashi ignored them all. He smiled broadly. Wide enough to be sure that it would show through his mask.

"Iruka sensei, I have something for you. It's right here in my, ah, pants."

Iruka's cheeks turned puce.

Kakashi pointed his lips into something closer to a pout, and wriggled as he wrestled a mission scroll from his pocket, making the bells jingle.

"Ah but you look disappointed. Not what you were hoping for?"

Iruka's cheeks turned crimson.

Kurenai looked from the mortified chuunin to her reprehensible fellow jounin. "Kakashi! What the…?"

Kakashi dismissed her with a wave. "Oh don't worry about Iruka-sensei. He's just trying to get his hands on my ding-a-ling. Right Sensei?"

Iruka's cheeks turned scarlet.

Unhooking one of the bells from his belt, Kakashi brought it up to eye level and jingled it in Iruka's face. "Perhaps we could meet up for dinner. Meet you at my place? Eight?"

Iruka was saved from the need to invent yet more vibrant names to describe the colour of his complexion, by a distinctive elderly voice booming deep and low from a hidden inner chamber.

"Iruka! You can refile these? Now."

As Iruka scurried away to attend the paperwork needs of his Hokage, Kakashi curved his eye into a wolfish grin, if one eye by itself can count as wolfish, and fairly prowled out of the room.

The ever inquisitative Anko strolled over to the ever knowledgeable Genma, and whispered, "What the hell is that all about?

She received a knowing wink. "Iruka and Kakashi? Looks like our sweet little Sensei's hooked himself a live one. Finally."

"But Iruka? And Kakashi? It will never last."

"I damn well hope not. But stand in line Mitarashi, Rai and me's got fist dibs on the rebound. I bet Iruka's a regular firecracker in bed. Hell he's a firecracker just sitting in a chair. I bet he's a whole damn pyrotechnic display in bed, especially when he thinks he's got something to prove."

Anko swatted him on the head. "Shirunai, you're drooling. And anyway I don't think I'm exactly his type."

"True, but you know as well as I do that most gay men will have sex with a woman if that's what's available, just as most straight men will have sex with another man if that's what's available."

"Yeah, and some men gay or straight, will have sex with farmyard animals if they're what's available."

"Hey hey, Anko! I explained all about that, remember?"

"Mmm, right whatever. Careful, he's coming back."

Iruka kicked the door wide and stepped through with an armful of scrolls.

Genma sauntered over and, most helpfully, closed the door behind him. "So Ruka-babe, 'bout you and Kashi…"

Iruka opened his mouth to issue a standard denial, and then closed it again. He was ninja enough to recognize a golden opportunity when it accosted him in the face. Neither he nor Kakashi had said anything about outside assistance. He just had to get the bell, by whatever means necessary.

"Oh it's just a little game. Kakashi gave me the challenge he gives his gennins, to take one of those bells from him. I thought it might be fun, you know, take the great Copy Nin down a peg or two?"

He smiled a sweetly innocent smile. "It's not as if I'll lose any face if I can't. No one else has ever done it."

A conspiratorial glance flashed around the room.

"Iruka-sensei… we're in."

The doors and windows were sealed with jutsus and, within moments, the mission room had become the command centre where plots were being plotted and schemes schemed that would make a plan to infiltrate Rain Country in the wet season seem like a walk in the park.

Now Hatake Kakashi was a ninja, and not just any ninja, one of the best. And as such he was acutely aware of his personal space, and in particular, any violations thereof. So… in a village of fellow ninjas, he was surprised, (to say the least) to find his personal space suddenly reduced to the space actually occupied by his… well, person.

Normally other people would pass him by at a respectable safe distance. And, given his formidable reputation, that usually meant on the far side of the street at the very least. But this evening it was as if he was invisible. Or, even more unlikely, harmless. Highly trained shinobi were actually brushing right past him, coming in actual physical contact with him. And… on several of these occasions he had been distinctly aware of hands fluttering lightly over his uniform, around the lower edge of his jacket.

Even once he'd taken to the rooftops it was no better. It seemed as if every single one was instantly 'also occupied' the moment he set foot on it, by ninjas sufficiently visually impaired to bump into him. And ninja's just do not bump into each other. As even the youngest academy student could tell you, dozens of them at a time could swarm through the tree tops. Each landing with elegance and precision on different branches of the same tree, with the same instinctive unspoken understanding that allows flocks of birds to fly in tight formations without getting in each other's way.

It didn't take a genius to realize that something was up.

He had about four hours to waste before his 'date' with Iruka. Four hours to sort out this disturbing conundrum so that he'd be able to relax and enjoy it to the full. So he sat at a table outside a mostly civilian café, sipping his glass of ice-water and ignoring the muddy espresso that he'd felt obliged to buy in order to get it. His nerves were quite jangled enough already, thank you very much.

A jounin kunoichi he barely knew was approaching from behind, about fifty yards away. She stepped under the shade of the umbrella at his table and moved on. Kakashi spread his hand over the faint handprint she'd left at his waist. Now normally he wouldn't be inclined to discourage women from groping him, at least not friendly women. But this was just odd.

He leaned forward and tracked little swirly patterns on the table top in the puddle of condensation that had gathered around his glass as he gathered his thoughts. The waitress caught his vacant stare and came to refill it. He twitched away just a smidgen, only to realize that she'd made no attempt to get closer.

Aha! So it was just the ninjas.

Using his wet fingertip he mapped out the pattern of all the other little touches he's been subjected to in the past hour. They formed a rough band somewhere between the top of his hipbones and the bottom of his ribs. Surely if the pervs had just been trying to cop a feel they could aim a bit better than that. It was almost as if they were reaching for his belt.

His belt with his bells attached.

Why Iruka-sensei, you sneaky little bastard.

So the teacher had sicced every ninja in Konoha on him. His lips twitched into a smile under his mask. He felt distinctly flattered, Iruka was playing for keeps. Pity he couldn't let him win. Could he? He clamped a hand over his covered eye as a forbidden memory flashed through his brain. Iruka arching his back beneath him, gripping the lower rail of the headboard on a narrow bed to brace himself, as he pounded… Time to leave.

He dropped a couple of crumpled banknotes on the table and teleported home.

Nothing a cold shower couldn't take care of. A couple of cold showers, a few chapters of Icha Icha, and a little manual relief…

Iruka strolled home in the gathering darkness with an air of self satisfied… self satisfaction. The final hour of his shift at the mission desk had been quiet. In fact other than Genma's persistent blatherings, which he didn't count since he routinely tuned them out anyway, it had been silent. Not surprising, since apart from the two of them the mission room had been empty.

He was, to be honest, just a little disappointed than no one had appeared at the desk with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin and a pair of little brass bells. But Konoha shinobi were the best, surely it wouldn't take them very much longer to score his prize for him.

And what a prize. He had hoped to have them in his possession by the time he had to meet Kakashi. It would have made the evening so much more fun. Oh well, there was more than one way to nail a jounin, and to get nailed by one too for that matter. But first things first, what to wear?

Half an hour later he was seated on his bed next to a heap of rejected garments… everything he owned. It wasn't fair. He just didn't have the build to dress up well, at least not as well as he needed to to ensnare this particular prey. Tight and sexy was the obvious way to go, but tight didn't work on him. It was the scrawny guys like Kakashi and the muscular ones like Raidou that looked good in tight clothes. He was way too average, they just made him look as if he was trying too hard. Of course baggy could look sexy too. But somehow loose clothes always made him feel shapeless and, well, baggy.

Swallowing his pride he put everything away then went to ask Genma for help. He always looked sexy.

Kakashi's internal alarm warned him that it was seven thirty. Ok, time to get ready. Well he certainly didn't need a shower. His extremities had only just defrosted from his most recent chilly dousing. He snapped his novel closed, placed a tender kiss on its cover and set it aside. What to wear? He opened his closet and raked his eyes over the seventeen identical uniforms that were hanging there.

He reached for one of the cleanest ones, easy to choose. Unless… his eye caught the three old uniforms in the back that were not identical to the others, that were, in fact, quite distinctly… different. Why not? Iruka was sure to be dressed to the nines. The least he could do was reciprocate. And it was sure to get him at least one ferocious blush, maybe even a stutter.

Iruka knocked on the apartment door. And waited. He smoothed out Genma's too sheer silk shirt and adjusted Raidou's too loose hip hugger pants. He felt like a pimp. At least he'd succeeded in insisting that they leave his hair alone. He did have the right place didn't he? After all he was dressed kind of… (his brain picked through assorted adjectives and finally rejected slutty in favour of the more modest racy)… he wouldn't want to run into a parent by mistake. He'd got Kakashi's address from the files in the mission room, one of the perks of working there, but he wouldn't put it past the man to have moved and not updated his paperwork. When did he ever do paperwork on time?

After the exact length of time needed to stretch Iruka's nerves to 'strung out in agitation', but just shy of 'give up and go home', the door opened to reveal Kakashi in ANBU blacks. Without even the small merciful camouflage that the customary armour and weaponry would provide.

Wow… as in WOW!

Frankly those leather pants left nothing, but nothing, to the imagination. Kakashi might as well have been wearing black spray paint. The only splash of colour in the whole outfit was the pair of golden bells clipped to a wide black belt that was resting low across his narrow hipbones.

"K..Kakashi-sensei."

Iruka tried, really tried, to look at Kakashi's face.

"See something you like down there Sensei? Do they swing as I walk? The bells that is."

The heat from Iruka's blush could have been used to toast marshmallows. "A..ah yes, n..no.. th..that is that outfit, i..it looks good on you."

A blush and a stutter. A good one too, 8.5 on the Blusher scale easy. "Well, you coming in or shall I come out?"

He was being invited in? Iruka cursed himself a silent curse. He should have asked around, surely someone knew a jutsu that would give him a burst of power long enough to pounce on and ravish a jounin. After that he didn't care if he died, it would be a very happy death.

"Um, let's just get going."

Under the circumstances walking might help to keep his blood a little more evenly distributed around his body.

They sauntered through the streets of Konoha, with Iruka glancing up from the pavement, and towards his companion, as often as he dared. Kakashi was wearing a typical ANBU shirt, which bared his shoulders and arms, and made Iruka's mouth swim with saliva, but no gloves. He wasn't wearing a headband either. His hair was swept down over his sharingan rakishly, but he was still baring about twice as much skin as usual above his black mask. Such beautiful skin, Iruka's fingers itched to stroke it, to pull down that hated mask and feast his eyes on the rest of Kakashi's features. The man was art.

Kakashi steered Iruka under every street lamp. That shirt looked much better on him than it ever had on Genma. His dusky nipples were clearly visible through the pale blue fabric, and the linen pants (Raidou's?) were droopy enough for him to see a streak of dark hair through it below his navel. Ah Sensei, if only…

Iruka was caught by surprise when Kakashi stopped in front of an arched oaken door with a stylized chicken carved above a leaded window. La Gallina. He'd passed by the restaurant a few times, it was in a prime area in the most upscale part of town and hard to miss. And it had an unsurpassed reputation. He had even considered going there once, to celebrate when he'd been appointed as a chuunin sensei at the academy. Even if it would mean blowing a week's wages on a single meal. But in the end, however embarrassing as it was for a shinobi to admit it, he'd been intimidated.

Well maybe not that embarrassing. Those poker faced waiters in their long black aprons would give Ibiki and his minions a run for their money any day. And anyway, his French wasn't that good. He hadn't been willing to risk wasting all that money on something he wasn't sure he'd like.

"Ah Hatake-sama, I have your usual table waiting." From his emphasis on that last word Iruka got the distinct impression that his dinner companion had the balls to keep even the maitre d' at a place like this hanging around.

They were led to a corner table and the maitre d' was rewarded with a smile that would have kept Iruka high on endorphins for a week, even through the mask. Then he was gone and a waiter in his place with speed and efficiency that made Iruka wonder if he hadn't mastered the art of substitution jutsus.

Kakashi scanned the menu quickly and conversed with the waiter in a soft rolling language that flowed off his tongue like quicksilver.

Iruka listened entranced. "Kakashi–san, you speak French?"

"Er, oh yeah. Kinda taught myself. From books, you know, the classics. Jiraiya gave me the first one when I was a little kid. 'Claudine á l'école'. Worked my own way up from there to 'L'histoire d'O'."

"Oh."

Yeah, O. She got up to some stuff I can tell you. Worth learning the whole freaking language just for that one scene of her and the young chick in the bathtub.

Oh. Iruka was distinctly sure he'd missed something. He was also almost as sure that he was just as glad.

The waiter, who was still hovering with more than a hint of menace, took Kakashi's menu and gave Iruka a look that would have withered stone. Apparently Kakashi had already ordered, in with all that jabber somewhere.

He felt heat rising to his face yet again. "Ah, I'll have the same. Thanks." He just hoped he hadn't ordered snails.

The waiter took his menu and turned on his heel with a bland, "Merci monsieur."

As they settled in to wait and make small talk, Iruka studied the various trajectories between the table and the bells, the wall and the bells, the crystal chandelier hanging in the centre of the room and the bells… Oh the hell with the bells. He looked at Kakashi looking at him, he had Kakashi here and now, he was going to enjoy it and worry about them later.

There were still six more days.

Suddenly Kakashi's eye was distracted from his beautiful sensei by a lithe shiver of slender flesh and dark hair, over in the far corner of the room.

Hayate. The last person he'd broken his 'no dating men' rule for, and the only one on that list still breathing.

He let his lips twist into a rueful smile. Just as well, he'd sooner be dumped for a pretty pair of tits than go to another funeral any day.

"Excuse me Iruka-sensei, be right back." He handed him the wine list. "Get anything you like, but not for me." He gave him a knowing wink. "I never get caught with the same trick twice."

Hayate looked older, with dark shadows under his eyes. "Been a long time Swordsman, a couple of years now."

Hayate's pale face became radiant with a welcoming smile. Gods but he was beautiful. "Kakashi-kun! Yes three, almost four."

Wow, that long.

The younger man looked as if he wanted to move closer, but he didn't. "I heard, about the challenge. The one with Iruka-sensei. You should let him you know."

Kakashi cocked his head to one side. "Let him take my bells?"

They looked each other over in silence neither awkward nor expectant just… quiet. Then a slender arm, pure corded muscle and controlled power, reached out. It pulled back at Kakashi's flinch.

"Let him love you."

The smile left Hayate's lips but stayed firmly fixed around his eyes. "Iruka's the real thing you know. He can give you everything you've ever wanted."

Ah but Hayate-kun, you were everything I ever wanted. "Thanks for the advice Auntie H, but he's a chuunin."

Hayate's hand was still hovering. He let it land and gave a gentle squeeze. "Maybe, but he'd be good for you. He's made of some pretty good stuff. He must be, he's been through a shit load and still came out sane."

Pretty good stuff huh? Coming from you who was spun from dreams and laughter and the cruel cuts of a blade slaughtering its way through sunlit air. "You know him?"

"Yeah, from the academy, we were in the same class. Although to be honest he was a bit of an ass back then, but he got it all out of his system soon enough."

"Really? I'll have to check up on that."

Hayate's dark eyes opened wide. "Don't you dare, or at least keep me out of it. He'd kill me if he found out that I'd let on."

Now that seemed unlikely. When he'd first joined ANBU, at sixteen, Hayate had already been silent death with a silver blade. "Him? Kill you?"

"Oh yes you'd better believe it. Got a temper that one."

Mmm. "You here with…"

"Yuugao? Yeah. Come on over, she'd love to meet you."

There was no change in Kakashi's expression or posture, but he suddenly seemed frosted with ice.

Hayate's shoulders slumped. "Kakashi, I told you from the start that I couldn't promise to give up women."

No, you gave up me instead.

The ice cracked into a frosty smile. "True 'nuff, you did that."

"Look, go and get Iruka, we'll make it a double date.

Kakashi's expression softened. "Couldn't do that. The kid's been looking forward to getting me on his own. Did you get a look at the get-up he's wearing?"

The younger jounin took a long moment to track his eyes up and down Kakashi's skin tight clothing. "Hi Pot, I'd like you to meet Kettle…"

He staggered back under a gentle shove. "Get back to your lady love before she gets jealous. And tell her from me to stop being greedy and let you sleep at night once in a while. You look tired."

"Yeah. Take care of yourself too Kakashi-kun, and remember what I said about Iruka."

Kakashi scratched the back of his head. "Right, used to be a bit of an ass and he's got a foul temper."

Hayate shoved him back, "Jerk." then melted away into the dimly lit room as silently as he'd appeared.

Kakashi went into the restroom and hastily checked that his eye was sufficiently covered before ghosting back to Iruka, who was already sipping red wine.

The first course arrived a moment later.

Soup.

Iruka let out a silent breath. Good, no snails.

The waiter snatched Iruka's napkin and flipped it open over his lap in a single move. He took a step behind Kakashi, napkin in hand. Kakashi flicked the bells out of his reach and into his other hand. He brought them up into plain sight and arched his eye into a smile. Kotetsu dropped the henge and skulked back to the kitchen to untie the real waiter.

Well it had been worth a try.

However, it wasn't a total waste, Iruka noticed that the waiter treated him with quite a bit more respect when he reappeared, only slightly disheveled. Apparently he caught on fast, at least when it came to Konoha chuunins.

And the soup was beyond delicious, some kind of seafood with shreds of golden mushrooms. There were no chopsticks so Iruka followed Kakashi's lead and painstakingly scooped it up with the spoon to drink it, one glorious mouthful at a time.

The main course wasn't snails either. It was, to Iruka's delight, duck. A sculpture of legs and slices of breast, perfectly roasted and poised in a puddle of ruby red sauce, surrounded by little stacks of perfect miniature vegetables. Exquisite.

Kakashi hardly noticed the flavours of his own food, he was getting much more pleasure from watching Iruka eat in any case. So he'd been right in assuming that an academy chuunin wouldn't have had the opportunity to enjoy really good French food. And it had been so much fun spoiling him. He decided that he must do it again before the week was up.

Next time he'd order snails.

Their waiter cleared the table and set down two smaller menus with, what looked to Iruka like a deferential bow, but maybe that was the effect of the wine. It was potent stuff and he had polished off nearly two thirds of the bottle. He pushed a menu towards Kakashi, eyes wide and full of hope.

"Would you like some dessert? I should offer you something, after this wonderful meal."

Kakashi rested his chin on the backs of his hands. Yes Sensei, as a matter of fact I can think of something I'd like. Maybe I would have too, if Hayate hadn't shown up to remind me… But he's a jounin, damn good one too. No way I'll take a risk like that with you my lovely chuunin.

"No, I'll just get some coffee. But feel free, still my treat, and their crème brulée is exceptional."

Iruka passed on dessert and ordered coffee too. He didn't normally eat this late, and the moon was out, and in his current tipsy state he knew Kakashi would walk him home, and he lived all the way over on the far side of the village. He couldn't wait.

Kakashi signed for the meal. Iruka was beyond impressed that the jounin had an account at a place like this, but he had been curious about where he might have stashed his wallet in those clothes. On the other hand he had no doubt at all that there must be a surprising number of weapons tucked God knows where.

The walk home was magical. A three-quarter moon hung in the sky like a silver lantern. The crisp air was filled with the night sounds of sandals on cobbles from their fellow ninjas as they drifted to and from various watering holes, distant snatches of music, crickets hissing and chirrupping from the trees, all punctuated by the occasional barking dog.

Kakashi listened to Iruka's happy chatter. Little intimate details about his classes and his students, about nights like this when his father had walked him home from visiting his shinobi friends, sworn to secrecy not to tell his mother that he's been given his own small cup of sake. Kakashi added a word here and there, an innuendo, a tease, just to help the flow along. Iruka's sparkle, his tongue loosened by alcohol, was infectious. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good.

All too soon they fetched up outside Iruka's apartment. They stood outside the door, neither willing to say goodbye, nor quite sure how.

Kakashi scratched the back of his hair. "Well I suppose I…"

Iruka lunged.

In a reflex born from almost a lifetime of missions, Kakashi slapped his hands over his bells. But that hadn't been where the other man was aiming. His mask was down, Iruka's arms were round his neck and they were welded together in a searing hot kiss. Iruka tasted of wine and coffee and passion distilled to a potency just this side of lethal. His hard body and harder cock pressed against him with enough force to stamp an imprint on his leather clothes.

The husky burr to his voice hinted at lust that even the Icha Icha series wouldn't dare to contemplate.

"Kakashi, please please come in. You've been dancing that body in front of me all evening, and then there's the wine. And God I'm sooo horny. You can't go away and leave me like this, you just can't. It's too cruel."

Kakashi flipped the hair away from his other eye, Obito's eye, and stepped back to take a long hard look.

It was true. Iruka was clearly in acute distress. And it was all his fault. Ok, so he hadn't touched him, not even once, that goodnight kiss had been all Iruka. But there were other ways of leading on, and he was well aware that he'd teased the poor man to within an inch of his breaking point, and he'd been the one to suggest the wine. And… as he'd been reminding himself all evening, Iruka was a chuunin, he didn't have his iron control.

"Ok, but just this once. And it's just sex, it doesn't change anything between us."

Iruka fell on him and started planting tiny kisses on any skin he could reach. "Thank you thank you, I love you."

Relief spread through Iruka's whole being and almost smothered the tiny smirk lurking in the back of his brain. He was right, letting himself get stoked up like this had been worth the risk. Kakashi wouldn't leave a fellow Konoha shinobi to suffer. But just sex? He didn't think so… at least not if he had anything to do with it.

0000000000000

Yes, cruel cut of doom. I'll leave what happens next to your pervy imaginations.

And BTW, from what I've heard L'histoire d'O is the racy French novel that gave racy French novels their reputation.