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Before Naruto, Iruka had been used to loneliness.
He had been an orphan since the tender age of ten and until the blond boy came into his class, sneaking his way into his rueful heart, Iruka had been used to quiet rooms and lifeless apartments. How could he not, when he had been completely alone? His home back then a small room that smelled like wet clothes and cold air, impersonally assigned to a child who was considered old enough to kill, but that no one had cared to ask if he even knew how to prepare a basic meal? How to live?
With ire and sadness swimming in his belly and prickling at his skin, Iruka had learned in the worst way possible how solitude had a tendency to cling to one's bones, and if not fought against regularly, it'd grow teeth— sharp and strong enough to dig in and hollow a skinny child-sized body from the inside.
But those feelings had been too easy to forget, and isn't that such an Iruka thing to do? Move past the pain or at least try to? Because resentment has never been his thing, really, and neither has been prodding at wounds that, even though they are not closed completely, are now old enough, the ache of them becoming a part of him that just feels dulled as if so far away that by the time the ache reaches him, half of the weight has been dropped off on the way up.
So now, sitting in his empty home, a bigger apartment now, one he had chosen, that smelled like ink and tea and himself; the old swirling inside his stomach feels unsettling, almost foreign, and the silence clinging to the air is so heavy it threatens to choke the air right out of his lungs, so quiet it's loud, ringing in his ears.
But Iruka's happy for him, he has to remind himself, watching with a sour taste in his mouth as white snow falls from the darkening sky outside the living room window; Naruto is somewhere in the world with Jiraiya-sama, fighting to make his stubborn dreams come true and learning from a man that even if Iruka doesn't particularly like is the closest Naruto has left of his real family.
Jiraiya is his real godfather, he is someone Naruto's parents had loved and trusted to take care of their precious son.
But… where had Jiraiya been during all those years when Naruto had been alone? Where had he been when Naruto had been forced to make friends with solitude as Iruka had? And after that, when Iruka had found him, a nastily behaved boy that bordered on being a wild animal most of the time? It's not his business, Iruka knows, and he hates that he feels resentment towards the man because he himself has failed Naruto too, and really, Iruka has never been one to feel resentment... but he can't help worrying. Jiraiya-sama is a drunk, a perverted one at that, and Kami knows Naruto doesn't need any more poor influences in his life, nor any more neglect, because is he even eating anything other than ramen? And is Jiraiya making sure he brushes his teeth? Changes his clothes? Gets in the baths? Please, don't let him have any sake or—
He scoffs at himself, stopping that line of thought right away. Naruto is okay, he can take care of himself, he's old enough now. And yeah, maybe Jiraiya-sama isn't the ideal guardian, that's true, but honestly neither is Iruka, and he doubts that the man would hurt Naruto on purpose.
It's just that—
It's Iruka's first Christmas alone after forgetting what being alone means.
It's kind of pathetic, well, actually, it's really pathetic, that he feels this way. It's not like Christmas is a widely celebrated holiday anyway; his family, for example, had never been one to make a big fuss about it. His parents had been active jounin back then, and more often than not, at least one of them had been away on a mission around the date.
But, with Naruto, a bright-eyed, hungry-for-affection child, it had seemed like a good idea to start a tradition: just the two of them, huddling in Iruka's home, sitting under the kotatsu eating ramen, gingerbread cookies and opening presents at midnight (because Naruto doesn't possess the amount of patience required to wait until the next morning or the level of ingenuity to actually believe there's a magical man out there that travels the world in one night to give presents to children.)
Maybe I should have bought a present for him and given it to Jiraiya-sama to hold on until today, Iruka hums a contemplative sound, walking to the kitchen to prepare some tea, but the idea is quickly brushed off with a wry, if not bitter, smile; Jiraiya would probably forget… or keep it for himself. Tch.
He fills the old kettle with water and puts it on top of the already lit burner. The heater is broken so Iruka has resorted to turning on the stoves and the oven to fend off the biting cold of December. It doesn't help that this year winter isn't holding anything back and Iruka has never been one to enjoy this type of weather. His mother had always called him a summer child even when he was born in spring, because as a kid, he had always thrived under the sun; running around the lake, fishing and swimming for hours until his skin turned the color of golden brown caramel, slightly darker dots sprinkling around his cheeks and over his nose.
That's why, even with the heat of the kitchen, he finds himself wearing the thickest pair of grey sweatpants he owns along with a knitted wool sweater Suzume gifted him as his secret Santa and matching burgundy fuzzy socks. Even his hair is down because ponytails make his ears grow annoyingly cold.
Outside, Iruka can see through the frosted window on top of the sink, the night is already settled, heavy-looking clouds partially blocking the pale moonlight, and snowflakes falling steadily down the freezing air. The roofs and balconies of the buildings around are covered by white blankets that almost shimmer under the yellow glow of the scattered streetlights.
It should be a comforting sight, and in some ways, it is, after all it's a peaceful night; but Iruka can only feel a bittersweet twist inside his chest. By now, Naruto would be bugging him already, asking to decorate the gingerbread cookies that haven't cooled down enough for a coat of icing, sitting restlessly on the counter with his hands gripping at the edge and his legs swinging in the air, occasionally kicking the lower cabinets on accident, earning a warning look or pointed words from Iruka.
And Iruka can picture it perfectly: Naruto's shit-eating grin, his big blue eyes full of mirth waiting impatiently for an opening, for Iruka to turn his back to him and get a chance to steal one of the fresh out of the oven gingerbread shinobi, only to drop it immediately after, hissing like a startled cat at the burn of his fingertips and staring down at the plate holding the offending sweets in betrayal.
But there are no cookies this year, because there is no Naruto, and Iruka will not go through the trouble of baking just for himself or, honestly, anyone else, he's never been good at things related to making any type of food there's no point in following a tradition when the reason why the tradition exists in the first place isn't here with him.
Maybe he should've accepted Anko's invitation after all.
Every year for Christmas, the shinobi available in the village get together in celebration— though he can't help but suspect that it's more out of an excuse to drink than actual festive spirit.
Iruka has never been to one of the parties, but Kakashi has, and as the excellent gossip he is and would never admit to actually being, the jounin has been generous enough to share that Anko's parties only consist of drinking too much cheap, warm sake and committing various acts of public indecency.
So… not really Iruka's scene.
But maybe if he had gone, the longing in his chest would take a step back, alcohol helping to forget that he's missing his s— little brother so dearly it's embarrassing.
"I should get a dog or something, to keep me company," Iruka muses to his empty kitchen.
But a dog is not ideal, not in his small two bedroom apartment, not when he works mornings at the Academy and afternoons at the Mission Desk. A cat maybe, it could work better if he just… Would a fish be enough? They are pretty easy to look after… Is he really trying to replace Naruto with a pet? Gods, it feels as terrible as it sounds.
There's a knock on the door.
Iruka, startling out of his spiraling thoughts, quickly scrambles to get to it, frowning in concern at the possible visitors he could be having on December twenty-fourth at seven pm with snow piling on the streets.
"Who is it?"
"Ho ho ho," it's the only response he gets, but the deadpan, muffled tone is enough for Iruka to open the door, heart skipping a beat in his chest.
A gush of frigid wind sneaks through and into the apartment and Iruka shivers, but instead of being greeted by Kakashi's face, there's a bundle of something green being practically shoved in front of his eyes.
"Wha—?" he tries to ask weakly, stumbling a little backwards.
"I don't know, Tenzo gave it to me and said it's a Christmas thing," Kakashi shrugs, waving the thing in front of his face until Iruka hesitatingly plucks it out of his fingers, revealing the jounin's face buried in a fluffy red scarf instead of his usual cloth mask. "Yo."
It's only then that Iruka realizes with a flutter inside his belly, that Kakashi isn't wearing his usual standard uniform, his shinobi blues replaced by snow boots, black pants and a, very cute, green knitted sweater with the picture of a pug on the front. It's so endearing Iruka can't help but to stare, a stupid, idiotic smile pulling at his lips. His sharingan is also covered with a black eyepatch that definitely does not make him look like a pirate.
"You look adorable," he says before cowardice can claim his tongue, and they both blame the pink-toned flushes on their faces to the weather, "but I'm not gonna kiss you."
Because you don't want me to. Do you want me to? I want to.
"Huh?" Kakashi seems genuinely confused, or well, as confused as he can look.
(Iruka wants to believe he has gotten better at reading the quarter of his exposed face.)
Does he really not know…?
"Mistletoe," Iruka explains waving the green bundle and then pulling Kakashi inside after a new wave of cold air sneaks under his sweater and sends a shiver down his spine, "if two people stand under it, they er… have to kiss."
Kakashi makes a choked sound and then huffs, probably vowing to make Tenzo's life even more miserable from now on. Iruka closes the door, finally winning the battle against the winter air, and Kakashi bends down to untie the laces of his boots before stepping out of them.
"Maa sensei, I'm offended you'd think I'd use such cheap tactics."
Iruka's snort is equal parts loud and embarrassing. "Yeah, right," he mutters, eyeing the plastic bags hanging from Kakashi's other hand, "what are you doing here anyway?"
Kakashi turns to him and gives him the look, the one he makes where his eye widens and his chin tilts upwards, the one that makes a groan bubble up Iruka's throat from the depths of his chest. It's the look that announces the theatrics before the circus arrives.
"I venture through the unrelenting winter weather that is threatening to freeze my balls off—"
"Don't be vulgar!" Iruka interrupts, blushing and throwing the mistletoe to the jounin's head. The green bundle hits and bounces off his unruly silver hair.
"—to have a nice Christmas dinner with my favorite sensei and that's all I get?" Kakashi continues dramatically, and Iruka tries very hard not to blush, "what are you doing here anyway? Wow, I am deeply wounded. Maybe I should take all the ingredients I so kindly purchased to prepare delicious ramen somewhere someone else will appreciate it properly."
He makes a show of bending down to fetch his boots.
"No, stay!" Iruka sputters, a little too loud, "I'm like… really hungry."
It's not a lie, technically.
Sure, the main reason he wants Kakashi to stay is because he is stupidly and disgustingly in love with him (embarrassing), but also, Kakashi's ramen is so fucking good Iruka sometimes has dreams where he eats bowl after bowl, salivating over that miso broth that's always perfectly balanced, just salty enough to accompany the flavors of the noodles and vegetables. And he is lonely hungry.
Back in the kitchen, the kettle is whistling terrifyingly loud, startling both of them into action. Iruka flies into the room, hurriedly turning the stove off and sighing in relief. He had completely forgotten about his tea.
"Well… since it seems like your cooking skills haven't improved," Kakashi drawls with what sounds like a smirk, setting the bags on the counter and dodging the elbow Iruka throws to his ribs. "I guess I can do you a favor and stay."
Why is he like this? Iruka asks himself in what, inside his head, sounds like a very pathetic whine, the vein in his forehead feels like it's two seconds away from throbbing. "You know what? Actually, I think I'd rather—"
"Ah pa pa pa pa..." Kakashi interrupts, pointing at him with his index finger and bringing out the cutting board from the lower cabinet like he lives in Iruka's apartment, "no, no, sensei. You've already asked me to stay. No take backsies."
Hearing the words "no take backsies" come out from Kakashi Hatake's mouth feels like a slap to his face; Iruka's brain is so shocked that he can swear it stops working for a few seconds, trying to comprehend that yes, Kakashi had really said that, to him, in his house, in real life.
"Are you high?"
"Are you high?" Kakashi retorts without missing a beat.
Nope. No. He's not doing this. There's a certain amount of Kakashi-related bullshit Iruka has gotten used to dealing with over the years, and this? This is the limit.
"Did you bring sake, at least?" he asks instead, because if this is how Kakashi is going to be, then he's going to need a drink.
Kakashi doesn't reply, he simply digs into one of the bags and dramatically presents him with a bottle of... actually really nice sake. Iruka is surprised to see it's the expensive good stuff that doesn't need to be warm to stomach, the type he's had only a couple of times on important meetings with rich people.
"You— where did you get that?" Iruka knows he's a cheap bastard.
Kakashi takes one of the knives from the drawers before dignifying Iruka with a look that he doesn't like at all. "Tsunade gave it to me."
Ha! So Hell is freezing over right now.
"You mean you stole it from Tsunade," Iruka deadpans, before the words really sink in and his body tenses up immediately.
They're so dead.
Iruka looks around, feeling paranoid all of the sudden. If Tsunade has somehow heard the words out of his mouth, they'll surely have a team of ANBU officials knocking down his front door in less than five minutes.
"Calm down, Iruka, I didn't steal it from her," Kakashi chuckles, and he sounds genuine, so Iruka lets his shoulders relax again, "Shizune's the one that stole it, I simply took it from her."
So maybe Iruka had spoken too soon. Because this is the limit.
On a brighter note though, he isn't scared anymore, because if Tsunade doesn't send anyone to assassinate them, Iruka's gonna take matters into his own hands.
"Let me help!" Iruka whines for the fifteenth time, only to be shot down again.
"Nope."
"C'mon, you know I hate feeling useless!" he insists, stepping on his tiptoes to look over Kakashi's shoulder, where he's deftly chopping up vegetables on the cutting board. "Besides you're my guest, so I should be the one cooking."
The jounin snorts and shoots him a very amused look from over his shoulder before saying, "I know you probably won't believe this, but I actually don't have a death wish, Iruka."
Doubtful, but not the point.
"My cooking is not that bad!" Iruka gapes for a few seconds and then snaps, too heatedly right next to Kakashi's ear, making him flinch slightly. Oops. "I made you that bento once for that mission, remember? It was good."
"Yeah well, only a child could fuck up Onigirazu."
Blood rushes to his cheeks so quickly he feels lightheaded. Why does Iruka even like this man? He's ridiculous. They're both ridiculous.
"Nghhh… I hate you," he groans, dropping his forehead defeatedly against Kakashi's firm back without thinking.
Kakashi, out of surprise or nervousness, goes still for a moment, and that's when Iruka realizes what he's done.
He almost shoots back up, embarrassment flooding his body in crushing waves, but then Kakashi's muscles go lax, shoulders shaking slightly with quiet laughter and he leans back a little towards the contact. Iruka allows himself to let out the breath he had been unconsciously holding.
This is good, he almost purrs, like a touch-starved cat. Kakashi's body is warm and steady, and Iruka can't help but to indulge in his body heat, pressing his nose to the softness of the jounin's sweater and inhaling a little, memorizing the way he smells like soap and fresh air.
It's a very nice smell. Familiar and comforting.
"If you wanna help so much then you'll do the dishes," the jounin informs him, his deep voice vibrating in his chest and reverberating against Iruka's forehead.
"Ugh, fine." he mutters, feigning annoyance, but still makes no effort to step away from the jounin, wondering if he can stay like this forever.
The soup is bubbling on the stove, but neither of them is paying attention.
Iruka finds it funny that he's sitting on the counter like Naruto does, one of his hands grasping the edge while the other holds the stick of celery he's munching on like a rabbit. Kakashi leans his hips against the sink, standing next to him and leaning a little towards him. He's laughing quietly, snorting every now and then as Iruka spills with gory details the story of when he had caught Genma with his pants down a few years ago after Anko had convinced him that if he showed his dick to the full moon in April, it'd get bigger.
"There are way too many stories of Genma with his pants down," Kakashi huffs, shaking his head, "Raidou should buy him a belt... like, a special belt that'd work like those horrible dog collars and it'd shock him whenever he tries to unbuckle it."
"Oh my God," Iruka sputters, throwing his head back and laughing for real.
Kakashi chuckles next to him, his stare feeling a little too heavy before promptly turning around to check on the food. Iruka follows his movements with his eyes, gaze trailing the way the muscles of Kakashi's forearm shift as he stirs the pot, he's pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows to avoid getting them dirty, and Iruka can't seem to get enough of the milky expanse of skin, eyeing as discreetly as possible whenever he has a chance.
Man, he's so whipped.
Gross.
"Maybe he should start wearing one of those things Gai has going on," Iruka says and it's too far because Kakashi visibly shivers.
"Maa that's it, enough imagery for tonight or I'm gonna have nightmares." He shakes his head a little too forcefully, as if to physically push the thought away.
Iruka snorts. Gai looks good in spandex, as weird as the fashion choice might be. Maybe because they're all used to seeing him in the weird outfit so it's not an unusual sight anymore, but also because he's all muscular and handsome, so he can pull it off. Genma on the other hand, would look absolutely ridiculous.
He steals another glimpse of Kakashi, worrying the celery between his teeth. The jounin looks down at the pot, there's a slight frown settling between his eyebrows, but his stance is relaxed. Something bubbles inside Iruka's chest.
Kakashi looks good like this, in his apartment, wearing casual clothes and cooking dinner, moving about freely because he's familiar with the layout and where Iruka keeps things around.
He looks like he belongs here, next to Iruka.
The realization makes him feel a little choked up.
After their… argument, about the chunin exams, their relationship had certainly progressed, going from polite acquaintances to tentative friends, until one night, after the whole Sasuke-left-the-village mess, Iruka had found Kakashi sitting alone at one of the small shinobi bars looking absolutely miserable, and somehow they had ended up spending most of the night sitting together, silently finding comfort in each other's presence, both of their chests filled with guilt and sorrow. Iruka had understood and Iruka had cared, and apparently that's all Kakashi had needed.
Now that Naruto is away too, and Sakura is under Tsunade's wing, Kakashi's gone back to taking missions again like a regular active shinobi, but whenever he's around and not wrecking shit with Gai as one of their challenges, he swings by and spends time with him, whether by dropping by the Academy around lunchtime or passing through the Mission Desk, usually with a disastrous report in hand— Iruka suspects he does that on purpose because he secretly likes when he yells at him. They have dinner sometimes too, usually at Ichiraku's or at Iruka's apartment.
It's... nice. Especially because Iruka knows Kakashi puts effort on their social interactions, talking about this and that and making stupid jokes to rile the chunin up.
Kakashi must know that Iruka feels lonely now and so he tries to keep him company. Kakashi understands and he cares too.
"You okay, sensei?"
"Huh?" Iruka blinks, meeting Kakashi's concerned frown.
"You were staring at me with a weird look on your face."
"Oh, yeah, uhm no, I'm okay," Iruka stammers, shaking away the mist in his head, "I'm just… uh surprised that you're here."
"I'm surprised I'm here too."
"What do you mean?" the brunet frowns.
"I'm usually away for missions around this time of year."
Iruka nods, in understanding.
"This time don't get me wrong, I'm… glad you're here," he says, looking away in an attempt to hide the blossoming flush in his cheeks and ignoring the way his heart is beating a little too loud inside his ears.
His gaze lands on the fridge behind Kakashi without meaning to.
There's a picture there, or well, various pictures, but one in particular keeps whispering his name. It's the one of Team Seven, right before everything, chubby cheeks and wide eyes, adhered to the white surface of the old refrigerator with a kunai-shaped magnet, placed strategically to cover Kakashi's face because Naruto thought it was hilarious. (And it is, especially when Kakashi comes over and sees it, because he always rolls his eyes and whines like a little kid until he annoys Iruka into being kicked out.)
The thing in his stomach returns in full force, growing hands and squeezing his heart, too. They had been so young, the three of them, so full of hope and ambition back then it makes Iruka feel miserable. They had failed them, Kakashi and him, and the whole village too.
One way or another, all of them had been unjustifiably failed.
And Gods, Iruka misses them so bad.
The jounin follows his gaze with a slight frown and his shoulders slump with a heavy sigh before he turns to Iruka again, stepping closer until they're almost nose to nose.
Iruka freezes, unable to avoid Kakashi's eye, his breath gets stuck in his throat and his hand drops the celery in order to grab onto the edge of the counter. From here, he can see everything that makes his heart rush; Kakashi's long eyelashes and fair eyebrows, the dented texture of the skin that cuts down his hidden eye, the way his single exposed eye is almost half-lidded, the iris so dark it's hard to tell where his pupil begins.
He's so beautiful that Iruka might start crying.
"I'm glad I'm here, too," Kakashi says, cheekbone rising in a smile Iruka can't see.
He doesn't reach out, doesn't touch him, just stands there, too close to be a friendly distance, and Iruka doesn't dare to move either, breath fluttering out of his lungs unsteadily.
But it's enough, like this, to feel Kakashi's body heat, to revel on the sensation being this close means: a high Iruka knows damn well he can reach with him and only him, his hammering heart is proof enough.
"Naruto's gonna be okay, Iruka, so you should stop worrying so much," Kakashi murmurs, voice soft and warm like he's never heard before.
Iruka can't hold back a scoff. "It's easy to say, but I can't help it. I worry about everything all the time."
"I know, and you can come back to doing that later," the jounin smirks, or Iruka guesses he does, "but right now you're with me; don't you know it's bad manners to overthink in front of your guests?"
Iruka blinks, the gears in his mind whirring in an attempt to process his words before he lets out the most embarrassing bark of surprised laughter. "Who raised you?"
"A village that does her children wrong," Kakashi replies, without missing a beat, and this time Iruka doesn't even attempt to stop a snort.
Because yeah, that's a fucking understatement.
They both smile, and Iruka shakes his head lightly. Because for all their bantering and the acting of pushing each other's buttons, in a lot of ways, they're the same.
"Now if you're finished moping and ruining our cheerful Christmas spirit, go set the table. The food will be ready in a minute."
Jumping down the counter, Iruka snickers, finishing the last of the forgotten celery. "Yes, Kakashi-senpai," he drawls, smiling toothily at the jounin.
Kakashi blushes a deep crimson color and Iruka can't help but feel like it's a reward for something he can't quite put his finger on.
They sit side by side by the kotatsu, the distance between their bodies is big enough for them to comfortably look at each other, but they're still close enough their knees brush every time either one of them shifts in place. Iruka basks in it for a little too long.
"Sake?" Kakashi waves the bottle in front of his eyes.
"Yes, please."
The food looks and smells so good Iruka's mouth is watering.
"You're so polite when you're hungry... it's kinda cute," Kakashi chuckles, pouring the sake and earning himself an elbow to the ribs.
"Shut up," Iruka grumbles, cheeks burning as he grudgingly picks up his chopsticks. "This looks so good, I'm starving."
"Itadakimasu."
Kakashi takes the scarf off.
And oh wow, that looks so good too. Iruka chokes on his noodles, quickly diverting his gaze.
He's seen Kakashi's face before, little glimpses here and there, between meals and what not, but out of respect he's always looked away before he could like, actually see anything for too long. Iruka can recall white skin and pink lips, but no other defining feature that would allow him to recognise Kakashi in a crowd if he were to keep the mask off.
"Are you okay, sensei?" The concern is fake, Iruka can tell by the strain in the jounin's voice that he's holding back a chuckle.
"Shut up!" the brunet coughs, too flustered to function like a proper human being.
Because Kakashi has a beauty mark. A beautiful, sexy mole in the corner of his bottom lip near his chin. And Iruka saw it. And now his heart it's gonna beat out of his chest.
"You can look, you know, it's no big deal."
But it is a big deal, because if it weren't, Kakashi wouldn't even bother to use the mask in the first place; so this means Kakashi likes him enough to reveal his secret, Kakashi trusts him enough to let Iruka be one of the very few people in the village that has seen his beautiful, goddamn perfect face.
And how can he be so handsome? It's almost obscene. Why is life so unfair that this man gets to—
Kakashi hums, "I can see the smoke coming out of your head," he taps Iruka's temple before lowering his touch all the way down his jaw. With long and rough fingers, he coaxes the brunet to look at him.
But he can't do it. Iruka can't look at him. His heart is beating too fast and too loud, and his face is so hot the skin will probably melt away. He tilts his head down and Kakashi's thumb catches on the corner of his lips and that makes things a hundred times more overwhelming. The jounin laughs and now it's even worse.
Iruka's long hair acts as a very efficient curtain, spilling over the sides of his face and hiding his violently blushing cheeks. He inwardly thanks the Gods for making the decision to wear it down today.
"Is that your Christmas gift? Showing me your face?" he tries to mock, but it falls miserably flat; his voice wavers, clearly too affected to make it sound like teasing.
"No, my Christmas gift was actually the mistletoe."
Iruka's head shoots up automatically. "You knew what it meant!" he yells accusingly before realizing that Kakashi's naked face is right there.
"Of course I know what mistletoe means, Iruka. I don't live in a cave."
"You could, for all I know!" Iruka shoves the jounin's hand off his face, but doesn't push him away. "Good thing I threw at your head, then."
"Oh?" Kakashi asks, arching his eyebrows and smirking in a way that can only mean bad news.
His expressions are infinitely better without the mask covering the lower half of his face, so much that Iruka will probably mourn when he wears it again.
His mouth is wide and expressive, lips thin and pink, sharp incisors poking out slightly, the chunin never thought he'd find someone's teeth attractive, but here he is, fawning over Kakashi Hatake's canines.
Iruka's head spins.
Kakashi's hand reaches under the kotatsu and then he holds up his arm, dangling the damned bundle of mistletoe above their heads.
How did that even get there?
"Pucker up, sensei," he says, leaning over him.
Iruka lets out an undignified squak as he throws himself backwards to avoid Kakashi's mouth, his back hitting the floor with a muffled thump. Kakashi cackles, laughing louder than the brunet has ever heard him, and Iruka's face burns with embarrassment, his temper snapping like a tight cord.
"You—!" He's on the jounin in the blink of an eye, his body collapsing against Kakashi's in a mess of tangled legs and arms.
But Kakashi is more balanced, his reflexes quickly saving his back from hitting the floor, his elbow supporting both of their weights while his other arm wraps itself around Iruka's middle. The mistletoe flies in the air and lands somewhere away from them, but Iruka doesn't even notice, too busy feeling Kakashi's breath fall against his lips, their faces so close together their noses brush against each other.
Kakashi's laughter dies down, his body stops vibrating against Iruka's ribs, but his smile doesn't fade; it morphs into something better instead, something softer and sweeter, less mocking. And this one is even more attractive. How can that be even possible?
If one of them leans in with just a small tip to their jaws, they'll be kissing, the knowledge burns hotly inside his navel, but Iruka can't bring himself to do it; his hands are shaking a little over Kakashi's shoulders and his eyes are fluttering open and closed with nerves. Kakashi's stare is hot, too knowing, and it only makes Iruka feel even more agitated than before.
As expected, Kakashi is the one to move. His hand, the one holding Iruka over him, slides up the chunin's back and his fingers wrap around his nape, burying themselves in his long hair. His grip is firm enough to tilt Iruka's head sideways, away from his own face, and before he can realize what's happening, he finds his nose squeezing against Kakashi's shoulder, into the soft fabric of his cute sweater.
Kakashi's hugging him.
Kakashi is hugging him.
Then, Iruka's arms tighten and that's it.
They're hugging each other.
A pleased hum starts in his throat, the heat of their bodies and the shape of their limbs are somehow the perfect remedy. Their embrace is like everything they do together, familiar and comforting, understanding and surprisingly delightful.
Iruka can't bring himself to care about the way Kakashi's bony hips are digging against his stomach, he can't bring himself to care about the way his heart is hammering inside his chest, so hard the jounin can probably feel it too; because right there, at that moment, he feels as the teeth digging at his bones disappear, the swirling in his stomach settling down into something warmer, more comforting. And as simple as that, Iruka can breathe again.
When Kakashi sighs, his mouth parting next to the brunet's ear, and he says quietly just for the two of them to hear, "I'm here with you now," the words feel unnecessary, stating the obvious.
Because Iruka knows now, and that's all he had needed.
A reminder.
Loneliness is no longer a friend of mine.