Because angst is WONDERFUL. I really kinda like how this turned out - the 'flowing' paragraphs were pretty fun to play with.
They were pleasant in public –- sociable, but not overly so. Enough to keep things under wraps. Sure; occasionally, when the kids were out and Iruka was working, Kakashi would lean over the other man's shoulder. Just to see what he was doing, of course. And, of course, -
- Iruka was dependable. He would blush, but continue onwards. Even when Kakashi's breath (and his breathing always sounded odd up close) puffed through his mask and touched Iruka's cheek. Even though the grip on his pen would tighten and his toes would flex and his writing (always so neat) began to look a bit jagged, Iruka was dependable, so, -
- Kakashi counted on that. He counted on getting a reaction out of him. On exercising his skills of subtly –(refined past grace) in a new and wholly entertaining environment. And it was fun. With Iruka, dependability did not equal predictability. Just because he got a reaction didn't mean he knew what it was going to be, but at least he could count on that much because -
- Iruka was safe. He worked with kids. He wasn't a 'real' shinobi - too emotional. Kakashi knew Iruka didn't quite realize how...responsive he was (in so many ways). Every emotion, every feeling Iruka ever had was plastered on his face for any vaguely trained shinobi to read. And that really meant that Iruka was wonderful and safe, but -
- Kakashi was dangerous. Horribly so. He hadn't been ready to become ANBU at age 14. There were some things children shouldn't ever see, let alone do. But no one really cared. And because Kakashi was smart, he hadn't either - after a while. He would simply crush human sentiment and finish the mission. So what if the faces of the dead counted themselves off to him every night? He squashed that too, because he was dangerous and that was why -
- Iruka couldn't last. Iruka made him care again. When he looked into the eyes of a doomed shinobi, and as the blood gushed onto his face, Kakashi felt remorse. Maybe these shinobi - these machines - were men - human - back in their home villages. And this was really why Iruka couldn't last, because -
- Kakashi knew he was slipping. But he didn't care. He didn't care that he was coming home with more scars and more near-misses. He didn't care that Tsunade was angry, or that he was loosing face or that he was changing. He only cared about that smell that was chalk and exasperation and laughter and warm and Iruka. He only cared about the tan skin that felt so good against his and the smiles that always seemed in place. He only cared about keeping Iruka happy and safe and his. He only cared about those small noises Iruka would make when he kissed his neck and how perfectly his back arched during orgasm. He only cared how Iruka would still love him when he came home drenched in blood and how every movement he made was so beautiful and sensual and free. He only cared that he was slipping.
And when he finally slipped for the last time, he cared about that too. Because Iruka lasted; and that was OK.
Comments appreciated!