A/N: 'Ask Me' was meant to be a one-shot, honest! But I had more than a few people beg me for Kakashi's view (I don't think they're content with one-sided), and I liked the idea so much I decided to give it a shot. Partly, I wanted to show that Iruka is only lying about things that Kakashi always does, except for the eye one and the having a family, to hopefully make his seem a little less possessively jealous.

For those wondering, I'm giving Kakashi a severe form of deuteranomly. If you want to know more about it, I suggest looking it up. It's interesting.

If I...
By: Reggie

Sakura told him, every time they ran into each other, that Iruka-sensei was good for him. She maintained that he seemed to smile more after she'd seen them at lunch together, and that he read his porn less when Iruka-sensei was around. And this may have been true, he hadn't really noticed, but he had observed one phenomenon he could not explain. He could not, physically could not, lie to Iruka-sensei.

Not that he hadn't tried! It was an almost daily struggle to tell Iruka something, anything, that wasn't true. It was just that his mouth and his brain seemed to momentarily lose their connection around Iruka, for some scientifically unexplainable reason.

It started out stupid and simple. He'd shown up late for lunch with Iruka the very first day, after their confrontation on the practice field. Iruka had simply asked him why. Kakashi opened his mouth, ready to prepare his ridiculous excuse about an experimental jutsu that had made all the clocks in his apartment stop, only to have the truth tumble out. He'd been debating whether or not to bring ear plugs with him as he was scared Iruka was going to start yelling at him again.

Instead of getting upset, the Chuunin had just laughed. Kakashi had been furious with himself, and confused about the momentary lapse. Normally, he could lie to anyone, easily, and it was unlike his mouth to go on its own like that. He had, however, dismissed it as a momentary fluke.

A few weeks later, Iruka had wanted to know why he was always late to meet Team Seven. The explanation of his daily trips to the memorial stone and been projectile word-vomited out of his mouth—completely involuntary, no assent from his brain. He'd been furious with himself for revealing such a closely guarded secret, but the look on the Chuunin's face had quieted him. It wasn't disgust or pity, and it took Kakashi a moment to recognize. It was understanding.

Iruka had told him that he visited starting at nine Saturday morning and didn't leave until late, every week, and suddenly Kakashi didn't mind the lapse as much because he thought that maybe this was somebody who could finally get it.

They were nearly constantly fighting, often times in that childish way where hurtful things were used deliberately as weapons that mature adults in a—relationship?—should never use. But one or the other of them always apologized, and Kakashi found he was always relieved to have the Chuunin back because it was so refreshing to tell the truth sometimes.

Like when Sakura had wished him happy birthday, and Iruka had been insulted that Kakashi hadn't told him it was his birthday. The whole story of his father, of Minato-sensei playing along when Kakashi had started telling people his birthday was two days later than it really was, came spilling out. He'd never told anyone about this one, probably the biggest lie of his life, because everyone that absolutely needed to know always had before.

And Iruka hadn't said anything about it, except that he owed Kakashi a birthday present.

After Naruto had left, they had been discussing colors. Iruka told Kakashi that his favorite color was yellow, because it reminded him of sunshine. Kakashi had pulled out Icha Icha with a grin, pointed, and said that the cover was his favorite color. When Iruka had groaned and half-laughed, the Jounin felt the need to explain, for whatever reason, that his favorite color used to be green. But over the years the color had started to fade for him, along with red and purple, until the whole world was a shade of yellow, peach, or blue. Except for Icha Icha, which was such a painfully bright orange that he could figure out that that's what it was.

Almost immediately he'd regretted saying it. Admitting to being colorblind could easily cost him his job as a Shinobi. Almost as if reading his mind, Iruka had shrugged and simply stated that if Kakashi had survived this long that way he would probably continue to do so.

As far as Kakashi knew, Iruka had never told anyone about his handicap.

He was so used to telling Iruka the truth by now that Kakashi no longer bothered coming up with lies. Any question the Chuunin asked, and he never asked many, Kakashi would answer without hesitation. He never felt ashamed, either, when Iruka would hear him lying about the same thing to someone else later. Because Iruka was special, and Kakashi hoped the Chuunin understood that. No one else knew as much about the infamous Copy-Ninja as Iruka did, and Kakashi didn't know why but this seemed important.

Somewhere along the way, Iruka with his easy smiles, his understanding, his silent strength had become more important in Kakashi's life than any thing else. Because as long as Iruka was there and really knew him, the Jounin didn't have to be alone anymore. Wasn't alone anymore. Now that he had that he couldn't go back to being so totally isolated, but he knew that no one else could make him say the things Iruka did.

And Kakashi dreaded the day that Iruka would ask, he was sure he would eventually, what Kakashi felt about him. Because Kakashi didn't know if Iruka was interested in men, and he didn't know how strong Iruka's feelings were about himself, either. But he loved the Chuunin, everything about him, and never could lie to him.