It's not like Iruka is enjoying this; it's not like he's having the time of his life and all his dreams have come true – quite the opposite, really. But from the way Kakashi-san looks at him and Kakashi-san's annoyance lies in the pit of his stomach like something cold, indigestible and acidic, Iruka can tell that the jounin does not believe that.
No, Kakashi-san seems to feel that somehow Iruka is to blame for all this, and thanks to their shiny new emotional bond, Iruka gets the message loud and clear.
They're both tense, sitting in Tsunade-sama's office, going over the details of their last fateful mission together again and again, describing their enemy's jutsu over and over, and every time Iruka hesitates to rethink his answers, he feels the needle prick of Kakashi-san's irritation. It makes him angry, which in turn makes Kakashi-san angry and, feeding on itself, their shared anger rises inside of them until Iruka thinks he must be visibly pulsing with it by now.
Looking at Kakashi-san, you wouldn't be able to tell, though. He's sitting in his chair, arms folded across his chest, reclining against the backrest, his pose offensively slouchy– were he one of Iruka's students, Iruka would have told him to sit up straight. As it is, Iruka just grits his teeth to contain the outburst that is building within him.
Later, when they figure out that they can't be more than a few meters away from each other, Iruka is almost beyond caring. He is the one who keeps trying to leave, taking one step after the other, bravely, stubbornly, until the pounding in his temples is strong enough to bring him to knees.
Kakashi-san helps him up then, and for the first time Iruka feels, under all the exasperation, a tiny smattering of concern like a whiff of sweetness in the air.
The next day, Tsunade-sama tells them that there is nothing to do but wait, which is exactly what they have been doing and now, with no other choice, continue to do. In Iruka's apartment where Kakashi-san lounges on the couch and shamelessly raids Iruka's fridge whenever he feels like it. They do nothing except annoy each other with their existence. Iruka finds that he can't grade papers with Kakashi-san's seemingly ever present boredom filling his head like so many balls of cotton, and Kakashi-san gets irritated every time Iruka tries to get anything done that involves moving around the apartment.
In the end, out of sheer desperation, Iruka suggests going to the training fields for a spar. He knows he hasn't got much of a chance against a jounin like Kakashi-san, but he has reached a point where he prefers getting beat up to sitting around, twiddling his thumbs and feeling uncomfortable, double-uncomfortable.
There is, however, someone else on training ground one, someone loud and green, and when Kakashi-san sees that person, there is a little jolt of something. Iruka feels it, distinct like a raindrop hitting the back of his neck.
"We should probably—" Kakashi-san starts to say, with a hint of unease, not in his voice but definitely in him.
Strange, Iruka thinks and then, suddenly, Gai-san is right in front of them.
Kakashi-san ends up sparring with Gai-san instead, for which Iruka is endlessly grateful. He gets to lie in the grass, while Kakashi-san keeps Gai-san busy without straying too far away from Iruka.
It's confusing to Iruka that Kakashi-san hasn't told Gai-san about their predicament, that it wasn't the first thing he said. True, technically the information is classified, but Gai-san is Kakashi-san's friend. Before, Iruka wasn't all that sure about their relationship – he's often seen Kakashi-san ignore and dismiss Gai-san – now, though…
He can feel Kakashi-san's elation. It courses through his body, wildly, like a heap of dead, dried-out leaves being picked up by a gust of wind. It's Gai-san who does that Kakashi-san, Iruka has no doubt about that, and this realization surprises him as much as it fills him with unexpected warmth.
For the first time since the incident, Iruka can relax.
It doesn't last. After the sparring session, when Iruka and Kakashi-san go ʻhomeʼ - and Iruka has a hard time applying that term to any place that he has to share with Kakashi-san – Kakashi-san's resentment is almost palpable. It feels as if, with every step, Iruka runs into a solid wall of grim determination. Kakashi-san is trying to block him out, but they already know that this doesn't work. It only gives Iruka a headache. He can still feel Kakashi-san's nervous suspicion, and that splinter of embarrassment, buried among everything else.
I won't tell him, Iruka wants to say, I would never.
He wonders if Kakashi-san can pick up on his sympathy, on the guilt that gnaws on him. Probably.
Iruka knows he's blushing, remembering that warmth and happiness flooding him. He feels like a thief, an intruder, but he can't help it. Just like he can't help thinking about Gai-san's smile.
Don't, Iruka tells himself firmly. Stop. Those were only Kakashi-san's feelings…
Iruka closes his eyes for a second. Take a breath.
There's a throbbing in his temples, faint but growing stronger as if a herd of wild horses is heading his way. Iruka's eyes snap open. He has to hurry. He's fallen behind.
Kakashi-san strides away, far ahead of him, hands in his pockets, back unusually straight, rigid with concentration, with the effort to keep his emotions bottled up.
There's a shard of mortification lodged inside Iruka's chest now, and he cannot tell which one of them it belongs to.
Maybe, at this point, it doesn't even matter anymore.