The Importance of Being Family

PG (occasional language)

So, Konoha doesn't have child protective services. They do have a chronically tardy jounin whose aggravating pug-dog conscience bullies him into tolerating a new room-mate. Or two.

Beta: Thank you very much, Random Flyer!

Chapter 5: Frail—In which Kakashi dislikes being vulnerable and Iruka once again tries to earn Konoha's good Samaritan award.

When Kakashi came to, his mind latched onto the company of a dull, distant, steady beep. He tried to recall his last conscious thoughts…and failed. He also failed to feel as alarmed as he knew that he should be feeling at his failed thought processes. He was even having trouble running through his mental checklists…something about flexing fingers and toes and using chakra to sense others. Only one, well, a couple of problems with that—he couldn't seem to gather the wherewithal to move said fingers and toes and if he couldn't do that then chakra was probably, almost completely, entirely, out of the question. No chakra at all…no, no, no.

He was happy to continue floating calmly wherever it was that he was. Because wherever it was that he was, it was warm, and quiet, and it smelled rather clean, and he was just so sleepy…did he mention it was quiet? It was mostly quiet…just the gentle beeping of the whatever it was wherever it was that he was…and a soft scratching noise. His nose twitched— ink—writing then, implying that a person was present to perform the action. No killer intent, chakra reserves very low, but not sealed and easily accessible. Kakashi flexed his wrists subtly, no physical restraints. Conclusion: regaining consciousness in a non-hostile environment.

Kakashi would have opened his eye, but it was a bit too heavy to bother with at the moment. He was really quite comfortable…except that the fuzzy slowness of his thoughts and the degree of detachment he was feeling from most of his limbs indicated that he was probably on some high quality pain medication. What had he done to get the good stuff?

…That and the firm pressure on his chest was interfering with his breathing and he'd feel a lot better if whatever it was went away...Vaguely, Kakashi realized he was trying to raise a hand to bat the new whatever it was off of his chest. It took a few minutes for all the synapses in his body to properly react, but when they did Kakashi could tell that his hand was colliding with a much larger object than originally anticipated.

Kakashi pondered the oddity, feeling like he was slowly turning over a puzzle-cube in his brain, and, with some disorientation, pushed weakly at the subject of his irritation. His fingers weren't quite cooperating and he couldn't get a solid grip. The weight was too great to be a blanket…and the weight was breathing.

Kakashi reluctantly summoned enough energy to crack open his right eye and raise his head an inch or so to get a visual on the breathing chest weight. His left eye began to tear up as the right was accosted by sudden brightness. He paused a minute to adjust to the light and let the object come into focus. Conclusion: the whatever it was, was small, blond and fuzzy. Kakashi let his head drop back to the pillow, satisfied. Even though he couldn't put an immediate name to the breathing chest weight, at least his subconscious registered it as a non-threat. He let his hand rest wearily on the fuzzy blond whatever it was, too tired to move it elsewhere.

"Good afternoon."

Kakashi thought about ignoring the soft greeting, but ultimately decided to acknowledge the voice, tilting his head toward the sound to the right.

"They said you'd wake up today."

If Kakashi were on less pain medication, he'd probably care about that statement. As it was, another ten minutes passed before he pulled himself together enough to open his eye again and examine his informant.

Iruka was leaning back in a well-worn and unfortunately familiar (to Kakashi, at least) hospital chair, pushed away from the bed and against the wall. Iruka had pulled two other chairs into the room, one on either side of the chūnin. Each was filled with deliberately stacked piles of paper. Iruka himself held a handful of papers he was apparently (judging from the color of the ink) in the middle of grading.

Kakashi gave a low grunt to let the chūnin know that he was paying attention. His mouth felt like cotton and he found himself working his jaw awkwardly.

"The med nin say you're going to be fine, but you shattered your lower right leg and it's going to take a while to heal properly, add that to the chakra exhaustion, and well…" Iruka shrugged and gave the copy ninja a weak smile, gesturing toward the hospital bed. Then he rose, setting the papers he held onto one of the commandeered chairs and mumbling something about getting a nurse before leaving the room.

Kakashi dozed on the edge of consciousness, and started when he realized that Iruka was back in the room and holding out a glass of water.

"The nurse will be here in a minute, but I thought you might want a drink."

Kakashi sluggishly raised an arm out to Iruka, who took it firmly, pulling Kakashi up into more of a sitting position. Kakashi used his other arm to keep Naruto from sliding away—the kid was still fast asleep. He was probably drooling…Kakashi didn't want to look too closely.

Iruka adjusted the bed to support Kakashi at a raised angle as Kakashi sipped absently at the water. Inwardly, Kakashi was wincing that he was in such poor shape as to require this much assistance, but he was also relieved that the chūnin was acting without asking, not forcing the older ninja to verbally acknowledge his current limitations. Kakashi hadn't returned from a mission in such bad shape since those early months after Sensei's death. The resulting long recuperation periods alone in his apartment had motivated him not to go through the experience again.

Iruka settled back to his papers as Kakashi hazily considered the far wall; Naruto's weight a comforting anchor tying his drugged mind to reality. When he felt capable of stringing words together in a coherent sentence, he turned his attention to the preoccupied teacher.

"How long have I been out?"

"Your team brought you in three days ago." Iruka answered distractedly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and smudging ink across his face.

Right. His team. Kakashi vainly tried to remember who was accompanying him on his most recent mission, but his mind only came up with flashes of memories that he couldn't quite bring together successfully. Wherever he'd been, it was cold, snowy…and he had a sense that the mission had gone as off-kilter as some of his more memorable genin team missions. Frustrated with his failing memory, he turned his attention to the only available distraction.

"Why are you here?"

Iruka made a long mark on the paper he was considering and scribbled some commentary before responding to Kakashi's sulky inquiry. "Naruto-kun wouldn't leave."

Kakashi's eyes slid to the child resting against his chest, cradled by Kakashi's left arm and looking unusually peaceful in sleep. And innocent. Strange to think that such a young child was already being trained to be a killer…stranger still to think that Kakashi had already made his own first kill by this age.

"He's been here the whole time you know. He still won't stay with me overnight at my apartment, but we were having dinner at your place when Hokage-sama sent a messenger to notify us you were here, and when we arrived you'd just come out of surgery and Naruto-kun was just so upset when he saw—"

"Stop."

The voice felt alien to Kakashi, and it took him a moment to realize that the surprise etched on the chūnin's face was due to the fact that the words had come from Kakashi himself and not because a third party had interrupted the conversation. Kakashi blinked and focused dimly at his own hand resting on top of a head of yellow hair—such a specific, familiar, painful shade—currently buried in Kakashi's chest. Kakashi was gaining some motor movement (as well as an unpleasant bone-deep ache from his leg) and he clutched tightly at the coarse strands between his fingers.

"Just stop talking."

Iruka, just blinked and nodded once, slowly, before returning his attention to his papers.

Kakashi concentrated on matching the rhythmic beeping of his own unnecessary heart monitor to the rise and fall of his charge's chest, trying desperately to ground himself to the now and not to lose himself in the memories that he fought so hard to keep locked down…when he too had been that terribly small and young and well, not so trusting, but, invested, repeatedly sneaking into hospital rooms he wasn't supposed to be in until another with that same painful shade of yellow hair awoke.

Kakashi blamed the pain medication for his current distress, but he was terrified by the logical part of his brain which told him that the pain medication had nothing to do with the ache in his chest that tightened with each breath taken by the child in his arms.