"I don't know what I was supposed to have done," Kakashi says. "Obviously I should've done something, but I honestly couldn't tell you what. If I'd taken him away – a few weeks on the run, then he's back where he was and I'm going nova. I don't see how that would've made anything better."

Hanabi looks at him steadily. "Shouldn't you have killed Orochimaru?"

Kakashi hmms. "Maa, I doubt I would've succeeded." He smirks, an empty expression, like the smile of a scarecrow. "I doubt even you would succeed, and you're far stronger than I've ever been."

"It's not impossible."

"That's a low bar," Kakashi remarks, stretching his arms languidly over the back of the coach. "And it's certainly improbable. I'd probably have just ended up going nova over it. Or if I'd succeeded, hello civil war. Sasuke would still have been sealed, too. Fugaku might've actually strangled him."

Hanabi gives him a rather cynical look. "Do you imagine you rescued him?"

"If Naruto had managed to get him out, the result would be exactly the same. Naruto would've – people would think he'd rescued him."

"I suppose they would." She smiles a hyena smile. It's his favourite. "And Naruto wouldn't even have sacrificed him in the process. He'd have kept the spoils."

"Mmh. Though I suppose they are sacrificing, in a sense." He saw Kushina and Tsunade just after the bombing. Strangely, he's always got along with Kushina. It was Yui he couldn't stand, because it was Yui who'd been chosen. Kushina's earned everything she's got, and Kakashi had never even dreamt, never even fantasised – he wasn't Minato's mate, of course he wasn't, and he was even something approaching all right with that because he was an exorcist and could never want not to be, could never conceive of himself as anything else, and so the very idea would be a fool's game, a statistical anomaly. "Anyway if I hadn't done it, Naruto would've died. God knows Sasuke would never forgive me for that."

"It didn't have to be you handing him over."

Kakashi shrugs, that Sasuke shrug he's picked up somewhere over the years. "If they'd just taken him, it'd be open war. There's no exorcist would stand by for that."

"Ah. And yet here you are, alone and palely loitering."

"Well, maybe it makes sense. Maybe I sinned."

"Is this a confession?"

He smiles back, the empty smile. "Don't forgive me, for I have sinned."

"Isn't it Sasuke you should ask forgiveness? Or at least Naruto, he might give it."

"Hasn't he already had his vengeance, already won? He's got everything I ever wanted."

"The courage of his convictions?"

"Can't say that's something I've been hankering after. Maybe I should've." And now too the truth bleeds out, he's been cut too deeply to keep it inside. "They both love him. Sasuke. Minato."

"Minato, really? You could do better."

Kakashi waves this away. "You never met him when he was who he was supposed to be. He burnt so brightly."

"Before Yui."

"Mmh. Well, it was the last nail in the coffin. So I suppose, yes, until I ruined him."

Hanabi lifts her eyebrows in apparent surprise. "I always thought it was Tsunade who arranged to have her disposed of, once she'd been taken."

"It was. She arranged for it. But you see, that's why Naruto could never forgive me. Not that I think I need his forgiveness, but. I did kill his mother."

Slit her throat with an angel blade.

There had, at that point, not been much left of Yui. She had, in fact, asked him to kill her. It didn't matter, because he would've done it regardless.

That's what Tsunade called him in for, no matter what Minato chooses to believe.

"That seems stupid? You must've known what it would do to Minato."

Kakashi shrugs. "I'd lost him. He was losing himself. I had to have a clean break."

He remembers Naruto screaming, during the divorce, when Naruto's world was being torn apart: If you love someone, you don't just stop. That's not how it works. Love is forever or it isn't love!

Kakashi had been horrified to recognise the truth of it.

There's no breaking away from it at all. Still, you have to try. And the Minato that Kakashi loved, the Minato that Minato was supposed to be, Kakashi has killed.

"Well," Hanabi says. "I need to catch my flight."

"Mission?"

"Yes. I'll speak to you later."

In her absence he sighs, leaning back. Picks up an old paperback, not sure why he's retuned to it. Never love a wild thing… You can't give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, if you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky.

Kakashi's looking at the ceiling, but he supposes that's close enough.

Never love a wild thing, except that would mean never love, because what else is there that you could possibly give your heart to?

It was… he supposes they started out on fairly equal footing, emotionally, Sasuke and he. But somehow Kakashi lost so much ground, because he wanted Sasuke far less conditionally than Sasuke wanted him. It was Kakashi who rearranged his life around Sasuke, who still bloody owes Neji for trading missions so he could make himself available.

Maybe that's what love is, always wanting more. Except that would mean love means never getting what you want.

Which sounds about right, actually.

Tipsy and tried, it's easy to imagine Sasuke here with him on the couch, where he's been a hundred times. He'd sit at the very edge of it, legs drawn up, forming a bridge over Kakashi's sprawling shins. His little snorts and half-smirks, his sharp poking at Kakashi's knee.

It's even easier to imagine Minato – easier because less painful, because Minato's never been here. It was in Minato's office that Kakashi could curl up, a careful distance away from him. Then it was Minato reaching out, long legs nudging Kakashi and sometimes, on the days that Kakashi could be touched, lying across his lap, trapping him.

Minato's the only one who's ever touched him playfully, with this easy, thoughtless kindness.

He remembers being little, after the first and only time Minato had tickled him, being breathless and clutching Minato's shirt. His own small hand, impotently trying and failing to fist around the beat of Minato's heart. If it stopped, Kakashi would die.

Minato gave no indication of noticing.

That's how it was. This meant nothing to Minato, he was giving Kakashi a miracle like throwing change at a beggar.

Itachi had of course pointed it out, how very convenient Kakashi's tragedy had been for Minato. How being kind to Kakashi when he was little and lost was the best investment Minato ever made. Kakashi understood, even then, that Minato had been able to become Hokage in no small part thanks to commanding a pet exorcist. Minato was of the right bloodline, certainly, but unmated despite being well of age and carrying on with a human woman – without Kakashi, things might have turned out very differently.

Kakashi had known all of this, and hadn't cared. He'd put it to Itachi as doing the world a favour: nobody wants an extremist Hokage, and if not Minato, then it would be a Sabaku.

But really, that hadn't mattered to him. Maybe Minato had been kind to him because he wanted to use him. Maybe Minato had been kind to him because he just wanted to, because he was a kind person or Kakashi had somehow appealed to him, or maybe he felt guilty about Kakashi's parents. Whatever it was, it didn't change how Kakashi loved him.

All the weeks everyone at school spent pulling each other into wardrobes after they'd read Narnia, and how Kakashi wouldn't touch the wall because the failure of the doorway to materialise would be unbearable – and then alone, at home, banging senselessly on the walls, and there was no door, and it was unbearable – and then suddenly the door was here, opening inside him. Minato had opened it.

There wasn't anything he wouldn't have done for Minato, nothing he wouldn't have given him.

But glory fades. Minato faded, worn down by an inglorious world. Being Hokage wasn't like being the king in a fairytale, it was all about compromise and dirty deals and just trying not to let the world go to pieces. And Kakashi always did look down on him for loving Yui, because it wasn't a love that could change the world, wasn't a love that would burn the world before it was denied.

A Minato who would stand by and allow a child to pay for peace, who looked away from Sasuke's hungry broken face, that wasn't the Minato that Kakashi had looked up to and loved as the sun.

Certainly Kakashi too had stood by, but that was different, that was the whole difference – Minato was supposed to be better than that.

xxxxx

"Maybe," Naruto says, biting through a mint because he's never had the patience to just suck them. "Maybe we should cut it off."

They're on a plane, cramped enough that's Sasuke's consented to stretch his legs out across Naruto's lap. Naruto's stroking his shins, slowing thoughtfully on the prosthesis, navy sweatpants bunching up under his palm.

"What."

"Kyuubi could probably grow you an actual foot."

"Probably," Sasuke repeats dryly.

"He managed my hand, he should be able to do a foot."

"No."

"Hmm, but…"

"If you attempt anything of the kind, I will consider it an attack and respond accordingly."

Naruto grins, showing off his canines. "I can take you."

Sasuke's haughty expression doesn't change. "I allowed you to regrow your hand. Should I decide that you can't be trusted with it, I might revisit that decision." And there's nothing joking about this, nothing negotiable.

"Sasuke…"

"Not now."

"Ah," Naruto agrees, because this is obviously turning into a private conversation.

He picks it up again once they've landed, and are alone, after Naruto's settled who's going to stay up north and who's going to return to the capital. Sasuke doesn't have anything to pack, and neither really does Naruto, so he's taken the opportunity to sneak up to Sasuke's room, deciding that they'll remain here overnight and get everything organised, before leaving early in the morning.

Just a gesture towards Sasuke's leg, and Sasuke's on the same page immediately.

He says with some impatience, "You can't fix me, Naruto."

"I'm not trying to. You don't need fixing. It's just – it's just a waste, it's not like you wanted him to take it, and now you can have it back!"

"No, I can't. There's no having it back."

"But I could –"

"It's in a jar in Kabuto's office, it's dead, I've outgrown it. It's done." He breathes out deeply, through his nose. "This is none of your business. You don't have a say what I do with my body."

"I feel what you do with it," Naruto says. Standing close but not touching, drugged on the warmth from Sasuke's body. "I care what you do with it. But I don't decide, I get that. I'd just," and he leans his forehead against the back of Sasuke's neck, "like to do something. I couldn't, when he did it, I just watched, and then all the time I was gone, and I never managed to fucking do anything, and I – I just need to."

"I chose to run away," Sasuke says, turning around. "You didn't make me. I knew what the stakes were."

Naruto nods. "I just – I just really hate it."

He just visited Genma, and Tsunade's seen to him by now, the evaluation is finalised – Genma's crippled for life, because Sasuke was in a bad mood.

Still all Naruto wants is to step closer, to have more of Sasuke. He's inside Sasuke's actual soul and he still wants more, he will never be sated.

Basic self-respect, he thinks, common decency. They're nothing, weighed against Sasuke.

There's the constant nightmare of being away from him, of Sasuke outside his reach: of Naruto useless and worthless, another bystander as Sasuke's life is torn to shreds. You can't help me, Naruto. You can't even help yourself.

His hands grow steady when he puts them on Sasuke's hips, over the low waistband of his sweatpants. Naruto's sweatpants, actually, since nobody's got around to getting Sasuke any clothes of his own.

He swallows as Sasuke gives him a considering look, putting his hand on Naruto's chest. Naruto's heart jumps towards it, and Sasuke smirks, giving him a push. Naruto goes willingly, letting his knees buckle against the edge of Sasuke's bed.

Sasuke does like him like this, Sasuke's always got off on Naruto's obsession with him – if he stepped forward now, in between Naruto's knees, he wouldn't be resigned. He wouldn't have ulterior motives.

But he stays where he is. "My foot's gone. Having Kyuubi's replacement wouldn't be any better than having Orochimaru's."

Because Kyuubi, to Sasuke's mind, isn't any more dependable than Orochimaru.

Orochimaru was there, when Naruto wasn't.

"Mmh," Naruto manages to say. "I guess, to be fair – if Kyuubi did grow you a leg, a flesh and blood foot, you'd break it anyway. If you, if you used it like you use the prosthesis, it'd be gone very quickly."

Sasuke can't disagree with him, but clearly isn't prepared to agree either.

"Let's try it out," Naruto says. "Sparring. Okay?"

The incident with Mami already made it clear that Sasuke's eager to test out Kyuubi's abilities. A playmatch or two with Naruto will be a great opportunity.

And Naruto would love it so, so much: beyond the desire to fight and share, he wants to see it confirmed, have it confirmed for both of them, that Sasuke heals now, that it wouldn't even matter if he lost his other leg because he'd have a new one at once.

They sneak down to the basement training facilities, and it's unbelievably brutal.

The show matches in Rock were so much about holding back, about winning without breaking anyone. Bonding with Sasuke easily doubled his magic, and there hasn't been much time to get used to it, he's had to focus so much on holding it in. Sasuke leaves no room for such considerations.

There's some mutual hesitation at first, because Sasuke isn't used to anyone healing from what he considers death wounds and Naruto isn't used to Sasuke healing from them, but it evaporates very quickly.

Sasuke's visibly unfamiliar with Kyuubi's strength, a strength that could power through concrete and steel, could lift lorries and throw them, but speed has always come naturally to him. Most shifters have a maximum speed dictated less by how fast their body can actually move, and more by how fast their brain can process input. In Sasuke's case, this turns out be very, very fast.

Naruto gives up on keeping track of him visually, switching over to rely on sound and smell.

This becomes much trickier when Sasuke goes from using himself as a projectile to firing energy. Naruto rolls out of the way and breaks through a wall, Kyuubi's power turned traitor, bent to Sasuke's will: condensed into bullets and hunting Naruto across the floor.

It's a different way of thinking about energy. Naruto visualises it as part of himself, coating his skin, turning into tails and ears attached to his physical body. Sasuke thinks of energy as incorporeal, as something he channels into the world.

He gets up behind Sasuke, sweeps a tail over Sasuke, letting it materialise, become physical, when it's already bisecting Sasuke's stomach.

But pain doesn't stop Sasuke, it never has. He moves closer, impaling himself further, and kicks Naruto away, splintering bones and organs.

Naruto rolls to his feet and rushes him.

He loses track of how long they keep going. If they'd been human, they would've died, what – twenty times? Thirty? Naruto's panting now and aching, Kyuubi's energy focussed on attacking and healing critical wounds, with nothing to spare for numbing the pain.

Sasuke's too fast, Naruto needs to get in closer, swoop in from a better angle – if he could just get in over him, if he – maybe he could.

He pulls at Sasuke's power, and with the bond so strong now and the seal across his stomach, it's child's play to coat the soles of his feet in it. They burn, a bit, but they carry him into the air.

He runs four metres through pure air, and then drops himself like a bomb on top of Sasuke.

"I win."

Sasuke glares up at him without responding, but he's not getting anywhere. Naruto's sitting across his thighs, keeping him from kicking or rolling, locking Sasuke's arms above his head.

Eventually, as their panting eases, he responds to Naruto's grin, a corner of his mouth twitching upward. He moves his arm a bit, not struggling anymore but signalling for Naruto to let go.

He doesn't use his released arm to force Naruto off, though. He liberates a knife from somewhere under his shirt, and cuts a thin line from Naruto's elbow to his palm. Kyuubi's too spent to heal it, so the shallow cut remains, bleeding all over them. Until Sasuke puts his hand on Naruto arm, drags his finger along the cut, and it closes under his touch.

Naruto's stare at him is apparently a question, because Sasuke's scoff turns into a slow, dark smirk. He tilts his head back a little, neck stretched. "To the victor go the spoils."

Sasuke does like that Naruto's sturdy, that he won't be taken away by a careless injury. He could never have respected Naruto if Naruto had never been able to come out on top. Naruto's fangs ache, and still he ruins the mood. "Do you like it more," he whispers, a little hoarse, "that you can hurt me or that you can heal me?"

Sasuke looks away without answering. Only now does Naruto realise that they're not alone anymore, that people have been watching.

Rationally that's probably a good thing, Sasuke thinks of it as a good thing – shifters seeing Naruto vastly improved by the bond, and seeing Sasuke being useful too. Seeing, most importantly of all, Naruto winning, even if it's only a play fight. Emotionally, their presence is more of an intrusion.

Still he stands up with a grin bright as victory, reaching down to pull Sasuke to his feet.

xxxxx

Sasuke was tender with him once, in the sharp and stunted way of a child who's never been shown tenderness untainted by violence. It had, to be honest, taken Kakashi some time to understand that tenderness was what it was.

The cliché things – how Sasuke slept curled tight in his arms, his habit of hiding his face in Kakashi's chest, the consistent stealing of Kakashi's shirts and subtly angling himself to lean in Kakashi's direction – were not tenderness. They were learnt behaviours, a sort of subconsciously made emotional payment for renting someone's attention and care. Sasuke's confused and bad-tempered attempts to be close to him in a more honest way, that was tenderness. Leaving his school things around, bringing painkillers once when Kakashi had a fever. The way he'd stay sometimes, antsy in stillness, when all the words had run out and he didn't want to leave.

Sometimes his fingers would stiffen on Kakashi's skin, caught in some breathless intensity.

It ceased a long time, what feels like a long time, before Kakashi traded him away to settle his depts. It was a gradual thing, really: Sasuke never expected Kakashi to stand up for him, to be any kind of hero, and so there was never even a clearcut betrayal to look to as an explanation, an excuse. Kakashi just wasn't good enough. Well, that's life. He wasn't good enough for his parents, wasn't good enough for Minato, and he's not good enough for Sasuke.

He rolls over in bed, restless and heavy with insomnia. Still always thinks too much at night. Scrolls through his messages, and Orochimaru's sent him something.

The cliché things that weren't tenderness, Kakashi doesn't think Sasuke did them consciously – doesn't think Sasuke could do them consciously – and so blinks now, his chest full of ashes, at a photo from what must be Rock. Naruto's hand possessive around the nape of Sasuke's neck, and it's not a particularly large hand but its weight is palpable. This is how Sasuke could look around Orochimaru, how Orochimaru made him look in public settings, if Kakashi ever saw it.

He bet the most valuable thing he had, and he lost.

Is this what you dreamt for him? Orochimaru writes.

Kakashi doesn't bother replying. He's never dreamt for Sasuke, who can dream for himself, and dreams darker than… Kakashi still carries the memory in his hands of Sasuke small and soaked and snippy, clinging to him in that lake outside the Uchiha summer residence, which he realises sometimes pollutes his perception. Perhaps all this time he was just looking for something underneath all the hatred and darkness, something innocent and wounded, something that wanted safety, love, happiness.

Looking for weaknesses, in other words. It's what he's trained himself to do.

He was doing it the year Sasuke turned fourteen, idling away an evening at a peace celebration in honour of the armistice agreements that had ended with Sasuke given away.

He realised he couldn't be entirely sober, because Sasuke apparently noticed him looking. He also realised Sasuke couldn't be entirely sober, because Sasuke reacted by walking over and sitting down next to him.

He's forgotten what they said, this strange evening when Sasuke was – was he fourteen? He might actually still have been thirteen – and smirking up at him with the full cheeks of someone younger and the hollow eyes of someone much older. But they must have said something, because shortly afterwards they were outside. Kakashi's coat was open, stretched around the both of them. Again he remembered that summer day, after the boat tipped over, when Sasuke climbed up his side.

Sasuke said something about Kakashi looking at him like – and Kakashi had frozen there, because he knew whom he'd been comparing himself to, ogling a fucking child – but Sasuke didn't say Orochimaru. Sasuke said, like Neji. And he'd breathed out, he could breathe again, because Neji wasn't sick, Neji was just a repressed kid staring longingly at another kid.

He thought how at least Mikoto and Fugaku weren't concerned with the Old Testament laws. Neji on the other hand had better learn to be subtle about yearning for other boys, because Hiashi Hyuuga most certainly was.

He dragged a fingertip along the slope of Sasuke's nose. "You're cold."

"We could go inside."

"Maa." He looked up at the sky, dirty clouds and light pollution, because looking at Sasuke was inadvisable. "I don't know that I can stomach another speech."

Sasuke placed his hand on Kakashi's ribs. "I meant we could go upstairs."

And Kakashi did look at him then, which was a mistake. The moment sat heavy and silent on his shoulders, everything frozen around the warmth of Sasuke's hand.

Sasuke lifted an eyebrow, his mouth curling into a strange shape. "It's not like I'm a virgin. You know."

And so they could talk about that now, acknowledge it as simple reality, and it felt like a kind of forgiveness.

His own eyebrows quirked upwards, in question. He tilted Sasuke's face up, and couldn't read his expression. Kissed him, also in question, or it began as a question, and it was – it was a thin, smirking mouth with a lot of teeth, and it was everything he'd ever dreamt.

Sasuke kept his eyes open, staring at him, and there was still that trust, that impossible belief in him. A reflection of himself that he could stand to look at, for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Upstairs, you said?"

That was no excuse, but where else would Sasuke go? He was no longer the kind of boy who could be taken home safely.

So they sneaked up the stairs, past Itachi and Orochimaru and Sasuke's parents, who'd failed perhaps worse than Kakashi's own. It didn't matter, for these few moments it didn't matter, because he felt young and made new with this sudden return of hope.

His room was nothing remarkable, a fancy hotel room like any other, but it became different and special when Sasuke locked the door behind them.

In retrospect this isn't a good memory, because in retrospect Kakashi can tell how businesslike Sasuke was about undressing. His shirt was off in a matter of seconds, and even so he made sure to catch the light, showed himself off from the most flattering angles.

In the moment he was mostly grateful that while Sasuke was still so short he could hardly put his arms around Kakashi's neck without standing on tiptoe, he clearly knew what he was doing. Indeed, was possibly more sexually experienced than Kakashi himself. And God, he was beautiful.

He dropped to his knees like it was nothing, his hands a hovering heat against Kakashi's zipper. This too was undone fast, trousers and underwear pulled down, and Sasuke started sucking him off right there on the floor. Clearly did know what he was doing, trying out an astonishing number of different approaches within the first thirty seconds to evaluate what Kakashi liked. How much teeth he should use, where to put his tongue, what sorts of sounds to make – moaning, slurping, breathy little sighs. He focussed on the tip, hands working the rest of Kakashi's length, brushing against his balls before apparently realising Kakashi didn't particularly like that. Then he was deep in Sasuke's throat, grabbing for something – for Sasuke – to steady himself. Not much later, Sasuke swallowed without missing a beat, unperturbed by Kakashi's fingers in his hair.

He pulled Sasuke to his feet after the most efficient blowjob of his life, and Sasuke's thin lips were swollen now, wet and pink. They parted easily for Kakashi's tongue, and Sasuke smirked up at him. "Not done yet?"

"No," Kakashi said, tugging Sasuke closer and towards the bed. "Stay."

Sasuke relaxed into him then, face pressed hidden against Kakashi's chest, arms tight around his waist, sneaking up under his shirt.

"Hey." Kakashi picked him up, chest tight with this desperate warmth that came when Sasuke placed his hand on it and then didn't dissipate. Carried him the few stumbling steps necessary to sit him down on the bed. Sunk to his knees on the floor, pulling the sheet up around Sasuke. "Okay?"

Sasuke snorted impatiently. "You're overreacting."

"You don't have to do anything," Kakashi said, trying to coordinate fingering Sasuke's hair behind his ear and pulling up his own trousers. "You've slept over before. It's fine. Just stay with me."

"You're being ridiculous," Sasuke told him, dry now and composed. "Was I such a disappointment?"

Kakashi lifted an eyebrow, touched Sasuke's face. "Disappointingly quick, possibly."

"Then come to bed."

"Hmm." He stepped out of his shoes and dress pants, and then decided to get rid off the shirt too because he looked ridiculous standing around in boxers and a fancy button down. Finally he crawled into bed next to Sasuke, and now that he'd been allowed to touch again it seemed so natural to put his arm around him, he didn't think before he did it. Dragged his hand up and down Sasuke's back, fingertips skimming across his spine.

Sasuke reached out, traced the scar that wound itself around the lower half of Kakashi's face and under his jaw. Most people didn't. He'd been told it looked painful, this simmering presence of actual evil caught just under his skin.

He leaned over and kissed Sasuke. It was a simple movement but it uncurled something inside him, unleashed it.

"Let me," he said, and Sasuke did. It was with a sort of dumb wonder that he kept touching, wanting to touch everywhere, reach every part of Sasuke.

It was impossible to say if he'd never expected to or on the contrary had always expected to eventually go to bed with Sasuke – Itachi's baby brother, off limits in every possible way and a million miles away from anyone else he'd ever touched. Sasuke was nothing like convenient acquaintances or smiling strangers, even less like the prostitutes that Kakashi tended to prefer. It was more honest with them. You pay money, renting a body to masturbate in: you don't put yourself up for the bet that someone might care for you.

They were naked and grinding by the time he nudged Sasuke, suggesting they roll over, roll Sasuke on top.

Sasuke shook his head. "This is fine. This is good."

He sort of stiffened just as Kakashi pushed in. And maybe it meant he didn't want it, but it didn't have to mean that. It wasn't like Kakashi had never got fucked, wasn't as if Kakashi didn't know it could take a little getting used to. And Sasuke did get into it as they kept moving. He was essentially facing Kakashi's chest, Kakashi had to bend like a hunchback to be able to kiss him, but God it was good, it was – everything he'd ever dreamt.

Everything he'd never dared to dream, with Sasuke curled into him afterwards.

Kakashi said things then, things he had no right to say. "I did know, I didn't let myself think about it but of course I knew, I would've known if I'd let myself. I didn't want to believe Itachi would do it, but of course I understood really…"

Blankness crept like hoar frost over Sasuke's face. He maybe tried to get up but couldn't, fell back onto the pillows and Kakashi's arm, and so had to stay. Maybe had to stay. He might not – Kakashi couldn't be certain that he'd meant to leave. "You followed orders," he said evenly.

"I did," Kakashi whispered, and could not stop himself, words bleeding out as though from a death wound. Truth was such an alien concept, but it was here now and unstoppable, and he understood it couldn't set him free but he couldn't cage it anymore. "I chose the mission, I chose the mission over you, I have no excuses…"

"No need for excuses."

"I was wrong, I will never do that again."

"Who made the call?"

Only now there was silence. Now, he couldn't speak.

"You chose the mission over me and now you choose them over me."

"Does it matter?" Kakashi said desperately, because he couldn't tell Sasuke this. "It's complicated. It's – it won't make anything better."

"We said no excuses."

"Yes," he said, right into Sasuke's shoulder. "It wasn't me. You already know who was involved. Your parents. Itachi."

"Oh," Sasuke said, and so maybe Kakashi had told him after all. "Itachi too."

Then in the morning, Sasuke pushing away the blankets, small and scrawny in the pale light. He was already dressed, already leaving, when he said, "This never happened."

Kakashi remained lounging in the bed. "Obviously."

For the first time since that horrifying midnight conversation Sasuke looked something other than blank. He looked like he'd been slapped.

That was when Kakashi knew Sasuke still believed in him in spite of everything, and so of course after that he could never stay away.

He could remember, dimly, a time when Sasuke was still nothing more than a little boy just like a hundred thousand other little boys, and Kakashi had no need of him. When Kakashi had been nothing more to Sasuke than an adult like a hundred thousand other adults, and Sasuke had no need of him.

But, as he'd read aloud to Naruto those many years ago, from one of the stories Naruto didn't actually much like, once you tame someone, then you need each other. Then Sasuke was unique to him in all the world.

Kakashi had been very patient. He had sat down a little distance away, and looked at Sasuke out of the corner of his eye, and he had said nothing. Words, after all, are the source of misunderstandings. But he had sat a little closer, every day…

Now he sits alone looking at the ceiling, because Sasuke was never as tame as anyone supposed.