A/N: Here is Part the First of I Shall Not Want, which is the sequel to What He Wants (on my profile page). Sorry to say that if you haven't read What He Wants, this story probably won't make a lot of sense. (So go read it!) Also, I Shall Not Want is not a happy story. It will hopefully provide satisfaction at the end (which is a LONG way off), but to get there will be something of a trial by fire, at least for me, and probably for anyone reading it as well. If that sounds good to you, let's go!
I really appreciated your commentary all through WHW, and I hope you'll continue to be vocal (so to speak) throughout ISNW. This sequel is not coming nearly as easily as its predecessor, and I've considered just ditching the project more than once, so encouragement and honest critique would be more than welcome. I also promise to be more active in responding to comments, since I am actually posting this here as it's written, not after it's all been finished and posted elsewhere. *hangs head*
Dedicated to my lovely, merciless betas, bronze_tigress, stinky_horowitz and venusian_eye. Also dedicated to skatervalentine, since she made the comment that sparked this whole thing to life in my brain.
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I Shall Not Want
Part 1: The Mask of Dagon
"What the hell does Iruka-sensei see in you, anyway?" Naruto grumbles at Kakashi as he beats a bowlful of eggs into froth.
"He sees his giant dick in him, obviously," Sai replies without any hesitation from where he's sitting at the kitchen table, not even glancing up from his borrowed copy of Icha Icha Tactics. He delicately turns a page.
"Among other things, depending on how kinky he's feeling," Kakashi adds absently, sitting adjacent to Sai, comfortably slouched with his nose stuck in the posthumously published Icha Icha Nuisance. "He's particularly fond of kitchen implements." He flicks a pointed glance at the whisk Naruto is holding.
It is a conversation they've had many times over the past few years, with many modifications designed to cause various degrees of discomfort and disdain in the Jinchuuriki. Naruto has become immune to most of their verbal torment, though, Kakashi reflects sadly, as all they receive for their efforts is a snort of exasperation and a half-hearted "Gross, Kakashi."
"It was so cute when he used to scream and throw things at us, wasn't it?" Sai muses, eyes never leaving the page he's on. Evidently great minds aren't the only kind that think alike. "It's like he's lost all his passion."
Kakashi nods and sighs heavily. "I'll have to tell Guy that Naruto's become devoid of his youthful lust for life. He'll be devastated."
Now Naruto looks disturbed, freezing in the act of grating cheese. "Eh?"
"But don't worry!" Kakashi continues, eye crinkling. "He won't leave you alone, day or night, until he helps you regain all your vernal zeal!"
"Lee would be pleased to assist him with that, I'm sure," Sai adds, smiling beneficently.
"No, wait! I have zeal!" Naruto screams, panicked, dropping the cheese and flailing a little for emphasis. "I have tons of zeal! Just because I choose not to waste it on a couple of perverts who—" Naruto cuts himself off as he notices the pleased smugness in Kakashi's eye.
"Nice, Kakashi," Sai says, chucking the older jounin on the shoulder. Kakashi wonders what book that gesture came from. Sai must have practiced it on mannequins or something; it almost seems natural.
Kakashi smirks, turning back to his book. "Still got it."
"Fuck both of you sideways," Naruto mutters, pouring his egg mixture into a pan. "Here I am making breakfast for you, and all you can do is try to humiliate me."
"It's only because we love you so much, you know," says Kakashi.
Naruto whirls on him, pointing with the dripping whisk. "Stop saying creepy things, damn it!"
"Iruka will spank you with that if you keep dribbling eggs on the floor."
"I said stop!"
The conversation—such as it is—would probably have continued in that vein, but they are interrupted by the arrival of Iruka, who'd had an early meeting with the Hokage that morning. As always, even though they've been together for more than three years now, Kakashi feels a subtle weight lift when Iruka walks into the room. Even if he's only been gone for a few minutes, the difference Iruka's presence makes even in the air Kakashi breathes is almost tangible.
Kakashi stands up to peck Iruka on the cheek, mask already down around his throat—he stopped trying to hide his face from his former students as soon as they honestly stopped caring about seeing it—but he pauses short of his goal when he notices the look on Iruka's face. "What's wrong?"
Naruto looks up from where he's sliding the first omelet onto a plate, concerned. Sai lowers his book, raising a brow.
Iruka chuckles a little as he shakes his head. There's no humor in it. He has a white-knuckled grip on the strap of the knapsack he's carrying. Kakashi can't remember ever seeing that bag before.
"Baby?" Kakashi can't help slipping into endearments when he's anxious, at least for Iruka and the pack. It used to annoy Iruka, but now he ignores it. Kakashi's grateful, because he would rather not focus on censoring himself when he's worried.
Iruka sits down heavily at the kitchen table next to Sai, putting the bag in front of him. "Tsunade-san…she finally did it," he mutters, rubbing his hands over his face, scrubbing at his eyes a little. "I'm a tokubetsu jounin now. Incendiary specialist."
Kakashi's chest clenches. Naruto turns off the stove and leans against it, arms crossed, head hanging. Even Sai puts his book down and tries to manufacture an appropriately sympathetic look. He's better at social graces than he was a few years ago, but every now and then it's like the computer of his brain has trouble finding the appropriate response in its databanks, and the blank confusion is visible on his face. It's one of the things Kakashi has come to like about Sai, that feeling that the man is an anthropologist from a distant planet, come to Earth to study alien customs which are often baffling. Kakashi feels like that himself, quite often.
Kakashi sits down beside his partner and puts a hand on his wrist. "How long can you stay at the Academy?" he asks.
"My replacement starts tomorrow," Iruka says, baring his teeth.
"Just like that?" Naruto says. His voice is low, outraged.
"Tsunade-san held off as long as she could—"
"Don't defend that old hag! She knows what it means to you to be able to stay on at the Academy!" Naruto cuts in, clenching his fists and looking like he wants to march up to the Tower and punch Tsunade's face in. Kakashi can relate, but it's just not a good idea for so many reasons.
"Naruto," Iruka warns, "if I can accept this, you can accept it."
"Can you accept it, Iruka-san?" Sai asks quietly. It's just what Kakashi was thinking, but he wouldn't have asked in front of the others. He wonders if Iruka will answer Sai honestly.
Another humorless chuckle—Kakashi really hates the sound of those—and another grimace. "Eventually, Sai. I knew this was coming. Tsunade-san has to appoint whoever she can to the highest positions available, even if they aren't the best people for the job. She warned me that I would have to be considered."
"But how can she just take away something you loved, just like that?!" Naruto hollers. "I mean, you always wanted to stay at the Academy more than anything! She knows what teaching means to you—"
"We all know," Kakashi growls, seeing the grief behind Iruka's stoicism threatening to emerge as Naruto goes on, "so you can stop rubbing it in, Naruto. It's done."
Naruto looks like Kakashi just slapped him across the face, then turns and noisily resumes making breakfast, slamming everything around more than strictly necessary. Kakashi really appreciates it when the kid understands he needs to shut up about something. It doesn't happen often.
Which isn't to say that Kakashi isn't just as outraged about the Hokage's decision to promote Iruka away from a position he practically lived for. He's just a lot better at compartmentalizing. And he also knows Tsunade didn't want to do it, beat herself up about Iruka in particular, though he's not the only one she's had to screw over in the restructuring of Konoha's upper levels. Between Pain coming to town—devastating their already depleted ranks—and Danzou's nearly-successful revolution, the survivors have had hell to pay, just for Konoha to be able to hang on to its status as a ninja power by the skin of its teeth.
"What's in the bag?" Kakashi asks, to change the subject, and to watch Iruka's reaction.
Apparently he picked the wrong topic, because Iruka tenses and grits his teeth noticeably. "I'll tell you later," he says, and effects his own change of subject. "How's the new series coming, Sai?"
"The roofscapes? I'm rather pleased with them, Iruka-san, although the egg tempera is much harder to mix than ink. And it dries and hardens so quickly that..."
Kakashi, who—barring anything Icha Icha—is something of a Philistine, tunes out their conversation. He contemplates his partner's almost invisibly distraught countenance while he waits for Naruto to finish their breakfast.
Kakashi had decided, a year or so ago, that bringing Naruto vegetables that he was most likely not even eating was just not enough, so he taught the kid to cook real food in an attempt to get him more interested in balancing his diet himself. Sai being such a curious alien anthropologist, and also almost pathologically intrigued by his teammates and anything they learned, insisted that Kakashi teach him as well. Somehow that ended up with the four of them—Kakashi, Iruka, Sai and Naruto—taking turns cooking breakfast for each other every weekday. Occasionally they dine at Naruto's or Sai's, but since Kakashi and Iruka's apartment has the best kitchen—six-burner gas stove with grill, giant 3-door fridge, a small steam table, an oven big enough to roast a boar and all the heavy crockery, copper and stainless steel pots, pans and utensils any professional chef could wish for—four days out of five that's where they eat.
Kakashi's étudiant de cuisine is currently slamming omelets down on the table, not being at all careful that the food stays entirely on the plates. Iruka doesn't even yell at him for getting grease on the tablecloth. Kakashi wants to kick the boys out so they can have some privacy, but Iruka won't like that, and Kakashi is even more keen than usual to refrain from doing anything Iruka won't like.
Conversation throughout the meal is subdued, Naruto's usual ebullience only marginally represented in the way he attacks his food, like he's in a concentration camp and the only way to keep his meal from being stolen from him is to hide it in his stomach. Having survived eight months in one of Water's camps, back in the day, Kakashi is familiar with that kind of hunted hunger. It comes from the Bijuu, not Naruto, he is certain. When the gusto and the love are absent from the act of eating, as they are today, Kakashi finds that even more obvious.
Kakashi can joke about Naruto's 'vernal zeal' all he likes, but that protects the Jinchuuriki within and without, better than any armor or jutsu. When there's a pall on Naruto, the world is dimmer than a solar eclipse.
But a pall on Iruka...Kakashi can't abide that. Not for a minute, not for a second. Not that he can do anything to alleviate it, besides irritate him. And not even that, today, he finds, as Iruka is completely oblivious to all his usual petty irksomeness. Talking with his mouth full, poking the disturbingly listless Naruto with his chopsticks, reciting filthy passages from Icha Icha with Sai, even stealing one of Iruka's chopsticks and cleaning his ear with the unused end before putting it back in front of him garner nothing more than a faint flash of annoyance. And a rather severe punch in the arm from Naruto that he doesn't bother to dodge, figuring the kid needs to release a little aggression. It's obvious he's planning to have words with Tsunade later, so it's better he gets it out of his system now. Not that any amount of tension release is going to stop him from letting her have it; that's just his way.
Finally breakfast is over, and Sai bows and takes his leave, pale, polite and distant, though his smile is somehow still warm. Kakashi wraps an arm around Naruto's shoulders as he walks him to the door, while Iruka swiftly cleans the dishes. Iruka has dishwashing down to either an art or a science; it never takes him more than seven minutes no matter how many dishes there are or how much burnt-on food seems to be bonding molecularly with the surfaces. Kakashi calls him the 'dishwash-nin' when he feels like being roughed up a little.
"You'll take care of Iruka-sensei, right?" Naruto asks worriedly.
Kakashi is a little insulted that Naruto would have any doubts about that. "He can take care of himself," he says, just to be spiteful, though it is true.
Naruto narrows his bright eyes. "Every ninja can take care of himself," he retorts, "even if they need someone else and don't have anyone. Iruka-sensei has you, so you better look after him, is all I'm saying."
Kakashi relents, squeezing his arm tight around the blond's shoulders. "You don't even need to ask, you know. If he's unhappy, I'm unhappy. That's how it works. I'll do my best to make this easier for him, but..." His eye darkens. "These next few weeks are going to be really hard, Naruto. He'll need you too, you know."
"Of course I know that! I'll be here, it's just I'm not...you know. Sleeping with him and stuff." His cheeks pinken a little, and his expression makes Kakashi think of someone trying not to picture their parents screwing.
"You'd better not be," Kakashi mock-growls.
"So use your special couple-ways to cheer him up a lot," Naruto continues.
"'Special couple-ways'?"
"I don't know. Let him use the whisk on you or something."
Kakashi is surprised into laughing aloud. Naruto rarely says anything perverted about guys, but when he does it never fails to thoroughly amuse Kakashi. "Oh, those ways. You're right; he's really never happier than after I get that giant black vibrator an—mph." Naruto claps a hand tightly over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut.
"Please shut up, Kakashi," he whines.
Kakashi licks his hand, and Naruto wipes it on Kakashi's cheek, shoving harder than necessary. Kakashi's arm is still around his shoulders, and he shrugs it off lightly, turning to leave. He pauses in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder, hesitant.
"Nn?" Kakashi inquires.
"Kakashi-sensei..."
It's been a long time since Naruto's addressed him that way. Iruka has always remained '-sensei', but dropping Kakashi's title was like a rite of passage for Naruto, a sort of coming of age. Kakashi never begrudged him that, and Naruto's a jounin now anyway. Hell, Naruto surpassed him when the kid was still a genin. Even so, he can't deny a bit of nostalgia at the suffix. "Yes, Naruto-kun?" he teases.
Naruto ignores him. "If you were in Iruka-sensei's place...I'd be saying these same things to him, you know."
Kakashi is taken aback, unwillingly touched. For Naruto to want Kakashi to be taken care of seems completely bizarre. "You'd be telling him to screw me into blissful oblivion, too? I'm moved," he says, to hide that he really is.
Instead of getting irritated and hammering his point into unmistakable obviousness, as though Kakashi is too thick to read what passes for subtlety in the blond, thus negating all deeper meaning, Naruto lowers his eyes, and then reaches out and squeezes Kakashi's bicep gently. "See you tomorrow morning," is all he says, and calls out a farewell to Iruka before turning to the door again.
Kakashi is thoroughly disturbed by this display of affection. Naruto just gets better and better at reading him, and he doesn't like it. Only Iruka should know him so well. Maybe he should have kept his face hidden after all.
He remembers something just as the door is closing behind the blond, and he pushes the door open. "Naruto!"
The kid looks back, eyebrows raised.
"Um...given the situation, I really think you should stop calling Iruka 'Sensei'," he says. "I think it will just make it more difficult for him."
Naruto turns and crosses his arms. "But...won't it make it even worse if I start acting differently? He's been 'Iruka-sensei' ever since I met him. I mean, it might hurt worse if I drop the honorific."
"I know. I've always called him 'Sensei', too. It might be a habit that won't break, but I think we should try, for his sake. I'd rather we tried on our own before he asks us to stop because he doesn't think he 'deserves' to be called 'Sensei' anymore, or something—you know how he gets."
Naruto winces. "Yeah, I see what you mean. I'll do my best."
"Thanks."
Finally the door is shut, and Kakashi is alone in the house with Iruka. He knows there is something else Iruka needs to tell him, something he didn't want to or couldn't say in front of Sai and Naruto. It is hard to tell how bad the news will be, considering how bad the news he's already revealed is.
Iruka joins him in the living room, his hands still red and moist-looking from the dish water. Knowing that his partner will have to leave for his last day at the Academy soon, Kakashi doesn't beat around the bush. "What else do you have to tell me?"
Iruka isn't surprised, as Kakashi wouldn't have been either. Sometimes it seems they are close enough to control each other's thoughts. The proximity is not always desirable, but it cuts through a lot of bullshit.
His partner is obviously gathering his thoughts, trying to figure out how to begin, and Kakashi notes his eyes flicking to the kitchen. The mystery bag is still on the table in there, he recalls.
"Does it have something to do with that bag you brought home?" he asks.
Iruka nods, sorrow in every line of his face and body. "Yeah."
Ah, the familiar oily glove of dread. Time for the first line of defense. "What, do you have your collection of shrunken heads in there? Because I've always known you had to have one somewhere. You're too level-headed for an old ninja."
Iruka doesn't even smile, which would make Kakashi frown if he were more prone to advertising that kind of concern on his face. He knows Iruka can see the frown there even if its shape isn't on his lips, anyway.
"Iruka?"
His partner sighs, looking like he would rather be eating rotten snails than having this conversation. Kakashi's tempted to just open the bag and save Iruka the anguish, but that seems too much like something a pushy housewife would do.
Finally Iruka speaks, crossing his arms and looking at the floor, tension hunching his shoulders. "You know that mission to Sand you're going on in two weeks?" he says, his voice casual even if his words are not.
Icy needles painfully freeze Kakashi's blood. "You can't know about that," he says flatly, as the dread-glove seizes his guts. "Not unless..."
He storms to the kitchen table, quick as mercury, wrenches open the bag and lifts out the ugly white mask that he knew would have to be there, but would have given several vital organs not to have found.
"I've been assigned to your team," Iruka says quietly.
Kakashi remains staring at the mask, not speaking. The part of his mind that isn't occupied with preventing an explosion is trying to figure out what animal the mask is supposed to represent. Its painted eyes are buggy and widely spaced, and there are a series of stylized grooves where the mouth should be. It's definitely not a dolphin, at least.
"My ANBU name is Dagon," Iruka adds, with the telepathy of intimacy.
'Dagon'. Kakashi searches his memory and comes up with both an ancient half-fish god, and a legendary sentient deep-sea anthropoid. ANBU names just keep getting weirder and weirder, lately. "So they kept to the whole 'sea creature' theme. Nice of them to make you feel right at home like that."
"Kakashi--"
"This is not going to happen, Iruka. This is not happening. I'd rather kill you than have you as an ANBU under my command." Kakashi's bones turn watery with a wretched self-hatred and a loathing for his Hokage that makes his stomach lurch.
Iruka grits his teeth and casts a despairing glance at the clock on the wall across the room. "I hate to say this right now, but I have to leave. I'm going to be late for my last day. We can talk about killing me when I get home later, okay?"
Kakashi's hand clenches hard around the mask. "Right." Swallowing all his disagreeable emotions, he stalks lightly to his partner and embraces him loosely with one arm—unconsciously holding the mask as far away from Iruka's body as he can—and kisses him gently. His throat is full of unkindness that wants to be unleashed and vented on whomever it can reach, but instead the words "Have a good day" somehow eke from his throat. Astonishingly, though the sentiment as he's used to it is generally meaningless, it sounds sincere.
"I'll try," Iruka answers on a shaky exhalation.
"Do you want me to bring you lunch?"
"No, I'll get something in the refectory with...with the kids."
Kakashi is unequivocally aware that Iruka is not going to have a good day. It's possible that his partner will not have another good day for the rest of his life, which will undoubtedly not be a very long time, considering. Kakashi's hand clenches the porcelain face hard enough that he's probably giving himself bruises.
He conjures up a smile from somewhere that neither of them believes is anything more than a snarl in a lip tuxedo, but Iruka accepts it anyway, probably only because he doesn't want to be late. He doesn't bother trying to respond, just grabs his things and heads outside.
The thunk of the shutting door is like a coffin lid closing.
Turning back to the kitchen table, Kakashi catches his reflection in the mirror beside the entrance to the hallway. He passes it all the time without giving it a second thought, but now it snares all his attention. He never realized that the slightly smoked glass housed such a hideous, sinister creature. Long, spider-jointed limbs; a thin, cruel, acidic mouth; bristling, demented chevelure of ancient grey; one eye a dark and soulless silver and the other a bright demon-eagle red, visage hard and indifferent to suffering, whether experienced or brought on by itself or others. This horrific creature in the mirror...something like this is what Iruka will become. It is inevitable. Kakashi isn't self-ignorant enough to think ANBU alone will do the job, though, oh no. Kakashi has already forced his corrupted soul on Iruka. No matter how even-tempered and kind Iruka remains, the transformation is already partially complete. Perhaps that is a blessing in disguise; the metamorphosis will be easier.
Kakashi swings his arm in a hard arc, wrenching his fist open to allow the mask to spin free. It smashes hard into the dim mirror, which shatters apart with a thundering crack, but does not explode into a powdery miasma as he'd hoped. Presumably that would have taken more chakra.
The shards of silvery glass rain down lightly on the completely unbroken, unblemished face of the mask of Dagon. Kakashi crosses the room and kneels down in front of it, heedless of the glass biting into his shins and knees, and contemplates his partner's new alter-ego for a long time.