Hello, whoever you are that's reading this. If you have been following me for a while you will have noticed that the last update was April 1st. Relatively speaking, that's a veeeery long time. Especially if you're wanting for the resolve for a cliffhanger (which this wasn't. Really.) I apologize for the wait. When life gives you lemons etc etc. Since April I have been busy making lemonade. Yup. Thank you all for your nice reviews and encouragement! It truly means the world to know that people appreciate what I do.

Naruto

Air lost, thoughts forgotten and bygone. He sat down. What on earth had he done? He stared at the door, and it felt a bit like he had just been reminiscing up until then. As if what had used to be his life divided; and now, as he turned his head backwards he realized he'd changed his mind.

I can't do this.

He searched for his mind with both hands but found nothing, only a depravity that he didn't want to see didn't want to know and did not want to find. What would people think? What would they say about him?

Kakashi

There were no wrongs, and no rights. Kakashi went back to doing nothing, wary and joyous, abashed and sacrilegious. Going about his daily life as if he had a right to. He'd been avoiding the Hokage's office because really, what could he say?

I'm sorry I did that. But he wasn't.

He knew he had started it but he had no idea of how he'd gotten there, could tell where he was on the map but not which turn he'd taken to end up where he had ended up. He'd never meant to seduce him, he thought, and cringed at the word. That was what he'd done (was it?) and then he felt like washing his hands of the whole ordeal. He was a little enchanted, maybe. He liked him, and that was that. Liked him a bit too much for his own good, but Kakashi could live like that.

He had to live like that.

Naruto must have been able to deal without him because he didn't get any new jobs. When his former teacher colleagues inquired about all his free time he shrugged. Who was he to try and shed light over the inner workings of the young (too young!) Hokage? People mentioned Naruto's name and it felt like falling off a cliff, being drowned in currents in a foreign land. They mentioned his name, three vowels slung out in the air; he tried to pretend like nothing, let his facial features settle into a polite, non-descriptive air of I'm listening that assured the one speaking that he was indeed paying attention but nothing else. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that he should back off, file the incident under "stupid" and never think of it again.

He tried he tried he tried-

Meeting, and they were in a big room. The sand-colored walls were high and created echoes, casting blame on anyone daring to speak that should not be speaking. The filthy morning light, marred by insisting grains of dust that were twirling around, slumped itself across the gathered men and women, all high-ranking officers and personnel that despite their official achievements looked torn up straight out of a bed. The day itself went on with eyes half closed, not ready for any kind of unbeknown activity. Naruto looked affected by the early morning hour as well, when he sat down it wasn't with his usual silent grumble, but it was with a longing, a finally that made his movements wanton of respite. The floor was somewhat like a bed, and he sighed. He brought one of his hands up to his face to rub the invisible gravel out of his eyes but stopped himself, his brain coming up to speed on who and where he was. He put the hand in his lap again and instead blinked haphazardly, looking like an owl. Kakashi felt like laughing, looked away to stop himself. There was maybe twenty people in the room, Shikamaru at the front, in charge. He looked at Naruto with an impious expression, doubtful of his boss' motivation. Not being able to stand the sight of the drowsy Hokage anymore, he straightened up and cleared his throat.

"All right, this is about the upcoming trip to Suna-…"

Kakashi didn't know why he'd been called there, he doubted he would tag along on the trip. Naruto didn't want him there. Or if he did he hadn't made any moves to show it. Not that it was his job to do so. Kakashi wondered if he should have done anything, said anything, talked to him. But when he thought a bit further a gnawing made itself known, because he wasn't sure he'd know what to say. The situation called for a sorry, demanded that someone took responsibility and steered them off course. He didn't want to be the one who did that, because if there was any chance, the slightest chance that Naruto felt like he did, then he didn't want to make him think that he regretted it. Because he didn't.

Shikamaru went through the information quickly, giving the most important bits. They would be leaving with a small but forceful entourage, everyone being experienced fighters and guards. Whoever pulled the strings weren't taking any chances. Not that Kakashi complained. The attack had made it awfully clear how easy it was to find cracks in the security, how easy it was to get sloppy and naive, and always think the best of people. Naruto was an expert at that, so he was glad to see that there were some more jaded people in the bunch.

A couple of minutes later Nara was done and started assigning people to groups and Kakashi half-heartedly started moving towards the exit. Shikamarus now so stern voice cut through the crowd, "Kakashi-sensei, over here."

He walked there, obediently, followed the orders. There was a small group of people waiting for him, and Naruto was amongst them. He was grateful for his mask, it felt as if he was grimacing but it might have only been a fraud, brought on by his restless state. Shikamaru turned to the people gathered, six people.

"You'll be the ones in closest proximity to the Hokage."

The ground did that thing again where it quaked beneath Kakashis feet out of sheer discomfort of the subject breached. A taut denial flew through his mind, an obtuse "When did I agree to this?" that he did not dare to voice.

"The rest of us can only do so much. You are the last line of defense." At his advisor's words Naruto looked down at the floor, at his feet, bowing his head under the weight of responsibilities he caused the others. As if sorry. Kakashi felt like telling him to stop, to raise his head. That they were here because they wanted to and not because they had been forced. He wanted to talk to him, he realized. To tell him that he meant a lot, if not to himself, if he didn't allow himself to say that, then he could at least tell him how much he mattered to the others. To all of them. Radiant and unyielding, he brought them all together. People swerved in his presence like moths to a flame, burning all too brightly, brilliantly clear. Naruto looked like usual, fine liquid movements, sharpened. The crumbling blue eyes looked in turn on whoever was speaking, following them with a finite focus, a demand for words that made sense and followed a clear line. He still looked dead-beat tired despite knowing that his job did not allow him such luxury.

He hadn't heard a word of what Shikamaru had said, had a faint memory of nodding at the right places. When the group disbanded he only had one thought in mind; "How are you?" he asked the only person still remaining.

Naruto gaped silent for half a second, doubting. "I'm good." Pause. Seemingly trying to decide which way to go through the minefield they both had left behind. "It's-, I'm good. How are you?" He asked instead, bouncing the impersonal question back to him. When had they ever been polite enough for small talk? When had words ever meant that little to them, to be able to use them as filling in a hotpot? Words only there to create something out of nothing.

"I'm fine," Kakashi said, and it tasted like vinegar. Sour, acidic to make him purse his lips.

Narutos mouth formed a line, a polite recognition of his state and the end of their conversation. Kakashi would not bother him and he let him go, went to take a look at the mission roster instead, to busy his hands.

A great raft had come in between. He wasn't sure how to overcome it, wasn't sure it was in his powers to.

Naruto

When he saw Kakashi approaching he felt both proud and terrified at the same time, a brain-mangling elation of watching you watching me that only ended as he came to stand before him.

Tell me. He needed to hear it, something. Anything. The last couple of days he'd started to wonder if he had made the whole thing up, if someone had struck him upside the head and he'd started to hallucinate. Things hung in the balance, if someone asked him he would say both yes and no. He knew from the bottom of his stomach that if Kakashi tipped the balance, he would fall. Headfirst and like the idiot he was, he'd fall into it. Welcoming his demise as if he'd never done anything else in his whole life.

Kakashi didn't. Like the true, immobile rock he sometimes seemed to be, he did nothing. He asked him how he was, of all things. Naruto told him he was fine and it was only a lie for some parts of his life. He was a fine shinobi, he was a fine dancer when he was drunk, he was a fine neighbor and gods willing he'd be a fine Hokage some day too. But was he, himself, fine? No.

Say something! Do something!

Because he didn't dare doing it himself. His sensei looked mildly at him, apparently oblivious to any kinds of debauchery that Narutos mind could conjure up. He tried hammering in the meaning of that word, sensei, into his mind since it unarguably had taken on a new meaning. Two new meanings, twelve new meanings. Soft breaths, leading hands, pliant...

Kakashi said goodbye and Naruto felt like gaping but instead watched his back as he walked away. It hadn't meant anything to him, Kakashi, since he was able to function, and normally at that. Naruto joined a new conversation and saw their mouths move but only felt like a path being trampled upon; everyone intent on leaving.

He decided that he didn't need him, no.

He had to need him less, was not allowed to turn after the one so savagely beating the air out of his lungs. The one who made endearments come crawling out of his mouth and staying there like uninvited guests. Kakashi was everything that was right with the world and subsequently everything that was wrong with it as well. It made him angry, this nonsensical importance that so abruptly caused his life to stand ajar.

The autumn trudged on, not caring about hands and toes that protested. The air was nippy, clearly out to get him. It felt like someone had pinched his cheeks and Naruto slunk into the little shabby restaurant on the corner, seeking salvation from the things he could not control. He saw team ten and sat down by their table, making Hinata blush deeply and Shino sit up straighter.

"Yo, Naruto. What's up?" Kiba crowed as a way of greeting.

He smiled, finally felt at ease. "I'm good. You?"

They took turns admitting and then began speaking about Shino's promotion, which finally had rendered him the sought-after jounin title. Not that he seemed particularly interested in it or even surprised. Kiba looked at him with an expression telling of both skepticism and a nurtured valiancy. He turned to Naruto who had just gotten his food, a plate of steaming beef. There were also some vegetables but he paid them no mind as he started eating.

Kiba went on, "No one knows what he did to pass. He refuses to tell me."

The man in question shrugged, a smugness apparent in his tone. "Nothing special."

Inuzuka growled, sounding like his long-haired companion. "Come on, why won't you tell me?"

Naruto happened to know exactly what he'd done but didn't think it wise to share that fact. He had some more beef. The glasses reflected the shine from the lights above as Shino turned his chin up. "It's the principle of the thing."

"I'm not gonna steal your roaches if that's what you're worried about."

A sneer thick enough to be cut with a knife. Naruto almost felt like waving his chopsticks in front of Kiba's annoyed face, to see if he would catch it.

"They're not roaches-"

The izakaya was filled with people. The holidays weren't too far away and an expectancy was in the air like snow, making it heavy to breathe. The little barbequeue on the tables made wisps of smoke rise up, making it look like the tiny place was under a kind of infestation, an attack. He hadn't been there since the jounin-ceremony, and his memories were a bit fuzzy. He remembered eating and drinking, and distinctly not talking to Kakashi. He felt silly and returned to his food, glad that the others weren't able to read his mind.

"Naruto?"

He heard his name mentioned, looked up. They were quiet, waiting for him. He swallowed down the last of his food, put the chopsticks on his now clean slate and reached for his water glass. He held his hand there, asked "What?" before gulping its cool contents down.

"You were staring into space," Kiba said, making it sound like a mystical act, as if he'd been on the verge of attaining the answers of time and space.

"I was?" Naruto asked, unaware.

"I get it. You were probably thinking about that fancy trip you're going on, and all the bigshots that you'll meet."

He had clearly missed something. "Huh?" It finally clicked which trip he was talking about. "Oh, I don't think it will be-"

Kiba patted him on the back, which felt more like being beaten with a club than any gesture of comfort ever should. "Don't worry Naruto. You'll always be the village idiot to me."

The next time he saw Kakashi it was winter. Time had passed, enough for words having become cemented and impossible to break loose.

"B-rank," Naruto said and held out a scroll. "Shouldn't be any problems."

Don't have any problems.

Kakashi took it from him, nodded. "I'll do my best."

Naruto thought of his answer as a downright mockery of truth, because Kakashi always did his best. Except for maybe arriving in time, but that was momentary and could be forgiven. Not that he intended to.

The silver-haired man returned two days later, looking pleased and without any visible injuries. The box he placed on the desk should not have caused as much history as it had, but now it was captured, brought to him. The claw-fingered hand let go of the golden container, pushed it towards him, further in on the desk. The same hand then came to rest on a hip next to a waistline, a figure that Naruto would never admit to peering at. Kakashi seemed younger, had a light, carefree way about him. He smelled of arrogance, of timid success and a job well done. The scanty ANBU uniform only served to add to the impression. All the operatives donned it despite the cold. Either there was some kind of secret spy technique that Naruto had not been filled in on or they simply didn't care that they were cold. Maybe they moved to stay warm. In the pale beat of the ceiling lights the shadows on Kakashis skin became harsh and self-serving, carving out muscles and contours.

Naruto put one hand on the box, his fingers drummed on its side, a hazy rhythm without meaning. "You did it," he stated. He had crossed a lot of lines during his time as Hokage, but congratulating Kakashi (-sensei sensei sensei) on completing a lowly B-rank would come off more as an insult that any praise he could ever piece together regarding it.

"Mou," Kakashi said and he shouldn't be allowed to utter anything in that voice, that luring sloppy tone that set the Hokages teeth on edge. "Naruto." His name, breathed, sounding like drunken bites. "Have a little faith." The pauses. The pauses. Between the words there was a stream of never-ending excuses, of time that could have been put to better use. Space that turned into something filthy by his smell and stance.

Naruto looked at him. Glared at the one on the other side of the desk.

Stay there.

Come here.

"I'm-, uh." Naruto said.

Kakashi blinked, the white mask atop his head like it was carved out of stone and would remain there, no matter what. "I should go shower," he said, like it was natural, as if that was a normal thing to tell the Hokage and he seemed to realize his peculiar verbal dance a second later. He added; "Gotta write that report too."

Naruto nodded. "Yeah." He knew his bodyguard was staring at them, decided to be brisk before something awful happened. "That's a good idea."

Kakashi

He woke up early Saturday morning, fell out of bed for no reason other than wanting to move. After staring sightlessly at the down-trodden apartment wall for some time he decided to make breakfast. He walked to the kitchen, scratching his belly, shuddering at the cold that existed for the sole reason of making the whole world uncomfortable and barren, wrecked. The fridge made no attempt to feed him but he balanced away two eggs and a galvanized cheese. The other apartments were quiet and he dimmed his movements, placing them in cotton to minimize the sound.

As soon as they landed on the hot surface the light yellow mixture started sizzling, thickening. The sound reminded him of fire, of trees being set ablaze in the hope of driving out unwanted things, either animals or humans or disease. Through the window he could see the pale morning sky, uninviting, prepared to crack down on him with hissing, eating winds, should he dare stick even a toe outside the door. He shuffled the eggs down on a plate by the counter, put the frying pan on the stove, turned the handle inwards to avoid it catching onto anything and falling to the floor. Not that it had ever happened but he had a feeling that if it were to fall down, it would prove troublesome.

He ate standing up, his mind pleasantly empty and lacking of demands. He rinsed the plate off, apologizing to his neighbors for the rattle it created in the pipes, and then turned around. He looked for a distraction, for a point to his day and it chewed on him when he couldn't come up with anything. To kill some time and make himself worth spending the rest of the day indoors, he put on warmer clothes, making sure they wouldn't be too warm, and then went to find Gai.

The good thing about Gai, Kakashi thought, was that he didn't ask any questions about his sudden appearance at an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning.

"My rival!" he crooned, stopping in the middle of his stretching regime. The luscious green spandex seemed more cheerful than usual and stood in stark opposition against the crushed winter-colored houses around them. He smiled then, as if seeing Kakashi with his hair on end was the best news ever since the invention of conveyor belt sushi.

"Going for a run?" Kakashi offered helpfully, asking and telling at the same time.

He'd stopped stretching by then and straightened up. "Of course," he said, peered at the streets headed west. "First to the main gate?"

He didn't have time to think after that as they set off at a high pace, content with the idea of burning out their muscles. There was no snow, only icy winds angrily kicking them along. It didn't mean he necessarily minded them, per se. He was content with struggling a little, to feel the outside of his pants lean against his legs, staining the skin with cold. After a bout of races, which had Gai as winner most of the time, he vowed to exercise more. Not that he wasn't in shape, but that Gai was in better shape annoyed him. Instead he won the eventual grudge match in rock, paper, scissors. Also, he was considerably better at running up flat surfaces, for some reason. His father surely would have thought of a reason, an explanation.

Later that day, when he gave home from the run that had evolved and ate up all the hours until lunch, he took a quick shower and then sat down in the sofa. He wasn't particularly inclined to do anything at all besides reading his book, but after opening the first page and seeing the bare-legged contents he shut it again. He hadn't known his father very well before he died, and he mistrusted everything he heard about his father after the incident. Adults lied, that was his firm belief, after finding Sakumo on the carpet in their livingroom. Not half a day earlier he'd told him he was fine. That it would be okay. His father lied, and had killed himself. Kakashi wondered sometimes if Sakumo had hoped to clear away some of the shame that he'd unwittingly brought home for his son. Indeed, none of the previous blame fell on his tiny shoulders, no one claimed responsibility for his fathers actions. They had no demands of him, of his time. The conversations died down when he entered a room, gazes averted and he had wondered if that was how life would be from now on.

Adults lied, and so when they told him about his father, without being asked of course, since that was how they functioned, they all assured him that Sakumo had been a good friend, a fierce fighter, a true shinobi. He had never seen his father do anything that could be described as fierce or savagely. The other kids used to stare at him because his father was the white fang of Konoha. They seemed to think that would render Kakashi violent, as if violence was hereditary and passed on by his father, moved from one son to the next. His father was always calm, and that infuriated him. The last weeks of Sakumos life the other nin had taken to slinging comments or pure curses under their breath, as if the gods wouldn't hear or judge as long as they said it quietly enough. His father had never responded to any of it; simply went on with his business, pretending not to hear, left them to their own means. He'd left them to fend for themselves in a world that spat him back out after he tried salvaging it.

What stung wasn't the loss of his father, it was that it had been his choice. He had left him, his son, alone.

You were good at that, Kakashi thought, sinking back into the sofa. At leaving.

Downstairs someone started a vacuum cleaner, maybe fed up with the sound of his thoughts.

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