Simply Begin: Epilogue

It was the longest night of the year when Iruka ran home after having been away for over two months, on a mission that felt like it was never going to end. He had been with Genma long enough by now that he knew his longer-than-expected absence would be treated with care but not panic, and that the rush he felt getting home was for his own sake only. Still, he hurried, making Kotetsu and Izumo tease him gently and finally give up and let themselves be left behind.

He stumbled in to find Genma sitting at the kitchen table with Raidou, not surprisingly, playing cards. From the sounds of it, he was still trying to talk Raidou into teaching him the game he played with Iruka, and Raidou was still refusing. The two looked up in unison at the scar-faced young Chuunin who stood in the kitchen doorway, his ponytail damp and limp, but standing as if every tendon in his body were wound too tight. The older of the two stood first, walking up and patting his young friend on the shoulder. "Good to see you home, Iruka-kun," he said quietly, and then waved his hand at Genma who was still seated. "I'm going to take off now."

Genma merely nodded, not moving from his seat at the table. "I missed you," he said simply, spitting out his senbon so that it hit the wall.

Iruka nodded back. "I missed you too." And then they both moved at once, knocking the table out of their way, wrapping strong arms around each other as if to never let go. Their lips met in a kiss so full of longing that Iruka thought his heart would burst, and he didn't pull away until he absolutely had to come up for air. "I'm glad you're here, I spent all evening wondering if you would be out of the village when I got here, and how I would survive it if you were."

Light eyes danced, and Genma grinned. "Silly boy, you'd survive without me a little longer if you had to, I'm not that special."

"You have no idea," said Iruka reverently, laying his head on Genma's shoulder and simply holding on. He didn't know how to explain how he had missed the man, how he had slept alone for longer than a night or two for the first time in over a year and a half, how he had pulled out the good luck token Genma had given him for his birthday a million times and kissed it.

Genma smiled at him again, and whispered. "Don't think I don't know what you mean, Ruka-kun. My house is empty without your laughter, no matter how many friends I invite over. No new photos are taken for the albums, and no new games are invented, no plans are made. I go on missions, collect the gossip, make my reports, hold my parties, but I feel as if perhaps I'm not truly breathing. It's not just that I look at your picture and touch myself, not just that I miss you in my bed, your skin against mine, but that I miss you in my life, your voice, the way your cute little nose crinkles up, your strange mix of innocence and cunning, the way you challenge me at every turn. Don't think I don't know that I'm in love with you, or you with me." He kissed the top of Iruka's head tenderly, rubbing soothingly at Iruka's back as he did so.

Iruka melted then, the tension finally gone, and let himself relax into his lover's arms. "You've never said so before," he said softly.

Genma sighed. "I want everything in the world for you, a perfect life that can't exist, a dream romance that I can't give you. It's not easy to say the words, to admit to a love that is imperfect, to offer up a flawed heart and hope it is accepted."

Iruka's looked up then, his dark eyes sparkling, and on his face he wore that mischievous grin that Genma knew so well. "I warned you quite a while ago that I would steal your heart, you remember."

And suddenly Genma did remember, the day Iruka had started working on the now-intricate network of traps in his home, when Iruka had taken what the boy called his first "real" kiss. So many things had happened since then, so many days of easy friendship, passionate loving, and quiet contentment that Genma thought he had forgotten how it had all started. "I should have heeded your warning then, my sweet Ruka, because it's in your hands now, and I fear there's no getting it back."

And Iruka smiled, and kissed him again, and whispered, "It's okay, Gen-chan, you have mine in exchange, now and forever, in one way or another, always some part of my being that belongs only to you."

Then there were no words, only touch, only breath, only time spinning away into the darkness. The tangible things they would have later to remember this time: the photo albums, the journals, the various tokens exchanged over the years, the traps, the shared secrets, were nothing next to the simple gift of love, which might change form time and again over the years, but not die. Because one must begin simply, however it will end.