A/N: Hey, all. Good news. I actually have the next few chapters outlined already, so there may be a little bit better of an update schedule. Also, the people that read Paper, Rock, Scissors are whooping your butts in the fanart department. XD
Important: For those of you wondering how in the hell Tsunade and Itachi could have become a couple, it's actually a fascinating story. And it's being posted as a series of scattered oneshots, which will begin posting tonight. ;) Check out "Her Boots", if you're interested.
Thank you all for sticking with the story. I wanted to get this out for all of you, even though it's finals week. To Yaoi's Bitch, thanks for the wishes. I think I might be passing. x3 Jelp, bless you for understanding. Mina, at the point in the story, he'd sobered up a little, and he was fairly disturbed by the prospect of being disappointed again. I hope that helps. Zerofangirl, I'm glad you enjoy the story so much, even moreso that you don't wave the sharp thingies at me. And Mukina, it's hiding from youuuu. To everyone else who reviewed, COOKIES FOR ALL!
-Onward!
The Sitter
Part Nine: Couch, in Kodak
-As a general response to 'cute', deny everything.-
Naruto's return home was a lot less 'Sex and the City' and a lot more 'Watch for Condoms'. He was fairly certain he'd overheard his would-be mother telling the silver-haired bane of his mental health that he was officially sexiled, but Iruka was Iruka.
If Kakashi had worked the lead out of his ass and done a suitable bit of ass kissing (both literal and figurative in ways that Naruto could never unsee), the royal proclamation may well have been overturned.
In which case, Naruto really should be watching what he touched, because said proclamation may have been overturned enthusiastically in any number of places around the apartment. Hoping for a condom was a 'best case scenario' kind of thing, as Naruto generally tried to leave his shoes by the front door, where Iruka liked them.
Then again, no matter how much mystery dirt Naruto tracked in, Iruka never could stay mad at him for long. If anything could be said for his foster father, it would be that he had done well for himself when it came to finding a partner.
Approaching the couch which had earlier been proclaimed Kakashi's place of banishment, Naruto stood on tiptoe, peeking over the back to see if the dragon was indeed slumbering in his own well-stuffed Siberia.
And yes indeed, there he was.
Naruto smirked, feeling his chest fill with the vindictive satisfaction of the avenged juvenile as he took in the sight of his foster father's sleeping form. Kakashi was twisted into an awkward position, his arms folding the decorative throw pillow that had been lobbed oh-so-lovingly launched at his head earlier into what passed for neck support, and his hips and knees were bent up in an attempt to fit onto the couch.
Simply put, he looked uncomfortable.
And it was with that in mind that Naruto's sudden vindictive amusement dissolved, leaving him to deflate like a popped children's balloon. One of the obnoxious ones with the scary faces. The ones that no one was ever sorry to see flying out of reach and into the troposphere or meeting their scrappy demise at the end of a needle.
He felt like a tool.
Naruto sighed and bit his lip, looking back up at the scrunched-up figure on the couch through his bangs, the way he had done since childhood. This was the 'Daddy, I'm sorry' look. The sincere one. The same one he'd had when he found out what 'adopted' meant in grade school and when he'd landed himself in detention for fighting some homophobic idiot in middle.
Once upon a time, he'd come home with a few droopy little flowers he'd picked on the way home—often mixed with a few pretty weeds. He remembered, vaguely, a time when his parents had been unable to stay angry because he'd grabbed hold of some poison oak during his little apology harvest.
This time, no flowers or weeds or sudden ailments to offer in apology, he looked around for anything to make his father just a little bit more comfortable.
By the time he padded back in with the big, warm blanket lovingly worn from years of 'family cuddling', Kakashi was waiting for him, eyes surprisingly clear for someone so fresh from sleep and quick to check him over for any visible injury. Really, the man could be an insensitive idiot, sometimes, but Naruto had no doubt that he would have broken the legs of any number of childhood bullies, had Iruka not kept an eye on him.
When his analysis led him to the old blanket, his eyes grew notably softer.
'Family cuddling' had been a sad little euphemism, employed primarily for Naruto's benefit. His parents had been young when Kakashi had entered the bitter undertaking that was gaining custody of Naruto. Fresh from school and still learning, still growing up themselves.
They had worked themselves near to the bone, trying to earn enough money to keep themselves alive and in-custody, and central heating had been a luxury that they just couldn't afford in such unstable times. So they had managed to find a few soft bargain blankets and sew them together with messy stitches and no small amount of punctured fingers. All so they could huddle together in the colder months, in that crappy old apartment, drinking lukewarm water chocolate and talking about utter nonsense.
They were young and stupid, certainly, but no one could ever say that they were anything short of heroes when it came to caring for their child. Their child. That was constant. What had once been a reasonably fulfilling college relationship had become a family. A strange one, but a constant one, nonetheless.
Naruto had once used that same, shoddily-stitched blanket to present them with his piggy bank so they could get real 'married people' rings, like the other mommies and daddies had.
And where other caretakers may have downplayed his childish offering, his had gingerly taken the thing, siphoned the savings from the bottom and into an old, salvaged water cooler, and let him help decorate and label the 'Married People' jug. And when the thing finally filled up, supplemented by the much more stable incomes present a few years later, they had made good on their promise.
Best money Naruto ever spent.
When Kakashi's gaze swept back to Naruto's expression, he forewent any standard greeting and went straight for arching his eyebrow.
Expecting.
Typical.
Tonight, Naruto didn't mind so much.
He smiled, shifting the blanket in his arms for a better grip, "Hi, dad."
Kakashi answered with a little quirk of his lips, and the blonde tossed one edge of the blanket up and over the older man, letting it drape from the back of the couch as he took a seat. He shifted a little while his father watched patiently, situating himself with his back resting against the frame, effectively covering them both as he wrapped the other edge of the cloth around himself.
Naruto sighed, muscles relaxingwhen he felt the man's fingers start combing through his hair, gentle and comforting after long years of practice. He didn't even bristle at that last little trace of smugness that found its way in when Kakashi drawled, "Get any?"
Couldn't bring himself to do so much as growl. Hell, as long as he kept up the petting, Naruto was fairly certain the man could sell his kidney on Craigslist, and he wouldn't care.
"Mmm...Less talk-y, more scratch-y."
Kakashi chuckled at that, a deep, genuine sound that Naruto had absolutely loved ferreting out of him as he grew up. Still loved it now. Maybe the man did have his good points, after all...
Naruto fell asleep leaning against the couch, Kakashi's hands still running through soft blonde hair as one of them—it was impossible to be quite sure who—hummed some absent tune, low and quiet.
Certain of his solitude, Kakashi leaned a bit to press a kiss to his son's crown.
It amazed him still when he managed to do something right.
He sighed, partly out of relief and partly out of general contentment with his life, and relaxed against the backboard, still absently stroking.
He wasn't expecting the sudden kiss pressed against his cheek, and blinked owlishly (or as close as Kakashi could come) at his partner. The smile that met him was worth a million pillows to the head. Contagious, too.
"He had a good time?" Iruka asked, lowering his voice to avoid disturbing the sleeping blonde.
"Mm."
A soft laugh, then, "Starting tomorrow, your bed privileges are reinstated."
"Mmmm."
Iruka rolled his eyes, still unable to stop smiling, and took a moment to look at his lover. Not to examine, not to undress, just to look.
He liked what he saw.
Another kiss, this time to the lips, and a devilish little wink.
"I'm going to go get my camera."
A/N: To the people who said 'hell with this' at the long-ass Author's note at the beginning. ItaTsu explanation series. "Her Boots". Read it, bitches. :P Keep the love coming, if you please. :)