Warnings for whole series: a little language, a smattering of violence, implied past character death, alcohol, and angst.

diary.

pt. 4

by vernajast

kakashi x iruka

Kakashi noticed it for the first time when Asuma asked him what he got up to in his off-time lately, and he tersely mumbled, "Reading," and kept walking.

He noticed it when he walked past the academy on his way home from the mission room even though he lived on the opposite side of town and when he considered stopping to have ramen at Ichiraku to appease a sudden turn toward the sentimental.

It was evident in the way he couldn't stop going to the chuunin's apartment, couldn't stop watching him. On his way home from missions, he found himself wondering what Iruka did 'today.'

It took all of six months after stealing into Iruka's apartment, into his life, for Kakashi to notice he had fallen in love with a dead man.

Amidst Obito's snorting giggles, he had to admit that it was far too typical.

This is my life. Laugh, if you must, Obito, but you started it.
Yes, blame me. I can't exactly defend myself, after all. But I only said it would be interesting.
And was it?
Absolutely!

The silver-haired shinobi made an appeasing noise, a soft hum of grudging agreement, and nodded, gazing at the young man on the computer screen.

"-and I took him out for ramen again; he hasn't gotten enough in his bank account yet to take proper care of himself. Naruto's a really good kid, I know that now, and I'm so proud of the progress he's made. I don't just mean as a shinobi, either. I remember when his smiles were just so...so empty. But now they're real, genuine, and he has a goal. I'm really glad I gave him a chance to-"

Kakashi was entertained for a while. He would pretend Iruka was waiting for him at the end of the day, ready to rub his feet after the long run from Suna or treat his sprained ankle with soothing words and touches, sparring, teasing. It was too easy to imagine what it might have been like, too easy to close his eyes and imagine Iruka's hand on him when he was in the shower or lying in the chuunin's bed, a warm shinobi body pressed against his own.

It was too easy.

It was.

And then it was over.

That night-a night he would never forget no matter how often he begged for it to just be a mistake, all of it, a dream-that night began with a death.

Kakashi held her in his arms, watched her life slip away, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Hatake Kakashi didn't like to feel useless. And Obito recorded every moment of her death, every moment the Sharingan was exposed, because Kakashi couldn't turn it off, couldn't un-see the things that he was witnessing. The enemy cut down civilian and shinobi with equal violence, without regard to age or innocence. No, he could never un-see, erase, those images.

When he reached the Leaf village, it was well past midnight and the streets were mostly deserted. His tired, hunched body stumbled through his home without guidance, and he never did figure out how he managed to make it to the hospital instead of heading straight to his apartment to collapse. Tsunade herself looked him over, citing some promise to his dead sensei to look out for 'the brat.' The gash in his side required ten stitches on top of her healing techniques, and he stared at the ceiling through the whole ordeal with far too much detachment.

When he left, his torso was wrapped like a mummy in gauze. Like something dead. Obito warned him not to be morbid, but even the voice of his constant conscience betrayed the tremors that still occasionally wracked his body as he tried to make his way home without drawing too much attention.

Home, as it turned out, was Iruka's apartment, and Kakashi didn't mind trashing the bloody remains of his uniform for one of the chuunin's t-shirts. He settled down on the bed as if it were his own and whispered, "I'm back," before starting the next video on the list.

You're sick, you know that?
Probably.

Iruka spent a few minutes setting up the camera, and Kakashi's eye followed the graceful motions, wondering vaguely why he hadn't ever paid attention when he had the chance, when he could have swept Iruka off his feet with a flash of his smile and a few well-placed compliments.

The chuunin slumped into his usual chair and seemed to consider his words before he spoke:

"I hate Hatake Kakashi."

TBC