Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Iruka's used to the dullness of the colours of the world around him. He accepted that it's his lot in life a long time ago; being together and happy with a soulmate just wasn't in his fate, not when his soulmate was in ANBU and actively ignoring his existence. Hell, he's surprised he can even still see tints of green and blue and that vibrant red in his vision, and he's certainly already resigned himself to one day losing it all together.

Especially after learning everything there is to know about Hatake Kakashi. Death was his company to keep it seemed, it dragged after him when he didn't want it and one day it'd drag him away, it was inevitable.

But. It still hurts. A lot. A real fucking lot. To have his vision suddenly change back to greys only a few minutes after the man directed him to safety, saving him from having to fight the leader of a terrorist group on his own. Dying.

To have that man risk his life like that in order to protect him— yeah, okay, it wasn't just him being protected, it was Konoha as a whole. But… he didn't have to do it by jumping in and taking the attack meant for him. That just made him think he had been loved, that Kakashi thought of him as  someone to protect, something precious.

Fuck, he has so much anger for his soulmate boiling under his skin.

When he first saw it, that first nauseating and world changing burst of colour, it hadn't even been the first time he'd met the ANBU Hound. No, the first time he met Hound was in Hiruzen's office, during his third visit for afternoon tea and a game of shogi.

They were joking around as they played, Iruka's laughter ringing throughout the room, Hiruzen smiling stupidly fond and terribly amused as Iruka grinned triumphantly, having finally captured a piece, when Hound had materialised out of thin air.

He didn't look much older than Iruka himself; the ANBU agent was scrawny with awkward gangly teenager limbs. Iruka had openly gaped at the sight, no sense of shame, but instead a sense of awe as his eyes studied the figure. His ma had been in ANBU, he recalls her wearing the same uniform, only difference being how she would cover her arms, claiming it was colder in Konoha than Uzushio, she could never warm up properly. He wonders if this agent had met her, if he would be willing to tell him any stories about her. His mind comes to a halt when he sees the wound on his side, a deep inky black liquid inching down, pooling onto the floor. The ANBU didn't even seem to know it was there, despite how heavy the metallic scent of blood was in the air. He remembers his mom had been like that too.

Hiruzen heaved a great and heavy sigh, begrudgingly getting up from his seat to see to Hound’s business and send him off to the hospital.

He returns to Iruka after the ANBU poofs out of sight, somewhat forlornly looking at their game, holding his pipe to his mouth, deep in thought.

“Sandamine?”

“Mhmm, yes Iruka?” he spoke, not looking at him, not quite giving him his full attention, still lost in thought.

“Will the ANBU be alright?”

“Oh, Iruka,” the man says softly, “there's no need to worry about Hound. He's a tough one.”

Iruka hums in acknowledgment, “ma was tough too, but me n’ pa still worried when she got back from a mission,” he says, “sometimes she bled all over the place, not aware she even had a wound until pa went to fix it.” He nervously looks back to their game board and lets the quiet settle around them. He hopes the ANBU had someone like how his ma had his pa to help her when she was hurt.

“Iruka,” Hiruzen says after a while.

“Yeah, Sandamine?” He expectantly looks up at Hiruzen's face, offering him a hopeful smile.

The elder smiles, albeit a bit sadly, “if you see Hound again, please give him a warm smile, as you do for me.”

Iruka finds that to be a bizarre request, but agrees to it. What kind of idiot would dismiss the Hokage’s orders?



That idiot would be Iruka, a couple years later.

Not the Hound request, no, he had given the young man a bright big smile the moment the ANBU flickered into sight.

The problem was that Iruka had been told, explicitly, by Hiruzen himself time and time again, not to practise his more dangerous seals without supervision. And then he had instead turned around and a set off a rather large explosion in the process of disobeying the Hokage.

So Hound of course had found him shortly after the blast, as seemed to be his prerogative in life as of late. He had spent ten minutes reprimanding him about all the ways Iruka was a poor excuse for a shinobi, all the ways he could get other people hurt with his mistakes, all the ways he would never reach chunin because he could never listen to simple instructions.

All the while Iruka smiled back at him.

Which only made him more irate at the situation, “are you truly that stupid? Stop smiling.”

Iruka shook his head, smiling still.

“You're always smiling, you must not have a single brain cell in that head of yours, do you want to get yourself killed, die as a fourteen year old genin, because this is how you do it—”

Which, ouch, Iruka wasn't suicidal. His parents died to keep him alive, he didn't want to make their efforts in vain. And sure he might not have been promoted to chunin yet, but he was studying fuuinjutsu. It was a complicated and delicate skill to learn, thus, the making of a crater in training field four that would have been much bigger had he not thrown barrier tags around it.

And why did Hiruzen want him to be nice to this guy for anyway? He was always berating him and belittling him. He was never nice back! Even if he thought of Hound as a friend, shitty as he is with all their arguments, their near daily interactions have grown on him the way an invasive species takes over an ecosystem. Maybe not as extreme as the mint in his ma's old garden, but close enough, with how he knows nothing about Hound besides his codename, voice, the shape of his silhouette and the few body language cues he's picked up on. Compare it to how it seemed like Hound knew everything about him… He doesn't know who Hound is.

Whatever adrenaline was pumping through him from the excitement seeps away and is replaced with frustration, with failing his objective with his training, with Hound's constant barrage of insults. He feels his cheeks warm up hotly, tears prickling in his eyes as he fights to keep the smile on his face.

“I don't see what the Sandaime sees in you. You should give up on being a shinobi, you're clearly not cut out for it.”

Iruka averts his gaze to the tree line behind Hound.

Hound grabs Iruka's jaws, the sharp claws lightly pinching his skin as he pulls Iruka's attention towards him, “Iruka look at me when I'm talking to you,” the young man hisses, Iruka startles, eyes darting to him at the sound of Hound's genuine frustration. He's suddenly very aware of how out of his depth he is for pissing off an ANBU as a genin, and finds himself looking directly into the ANBU’s eyes up close, one inky dark and the other… vibrant.

Was that… colour? Colour! He was seeing colour!

But as quick as that moment is, Hound pushes him back, jumping away startled, as if Iruka had burned him, scorched him through his gloves. As if he was a danger to avoid.

He sees the vibrant eye, against the paleness of the mask, the same vibrant colour decorating the porcelain. Everything else about the young man remains as dull or deep as before, nothing compared to the wonderful colours of the trees and the sky behind him.

Hound remains shock still. A frown tugs at Iruka's lips, that pesky feeling of— rejection, or abandonment— ah, loneliness comes on like a riptide, constricts in his throat as he watches the ANBU’s complete lack of regard to what has occurred. What this means for them. Iruka could learn to forgive Hound’s insults, sage knows he's learned to forgive Mizuki.

He bites his lips, waiting for some reaction — Hound is older. He's the more experienced one between them, Iruka’s only a genin as they've established, and well, Hound is the ANBU the Hokage trusts the most! He surely would know how what to do now, since Iruka's pretty sure this violates some sort of ANBU code of conduct, and hell if he knows anything else about soulmates besides the story books—

The longer Hound stands there, the tighter his throat becomes, the sense of loneliness choking him. The tears welling in his eyes are now coming from years of ignoring how utterly alone he feels, how now his supposed soulmate, the one person in the world who was supposed to understand him, doesn't even seem to want him. He tightly closes his eyes, forcing himself to blink back the tears, and when he opens them again, Hound is gone.

Iruka blinks again in surprise, the complete shock from his vanishing soulmate stopping his crying completely. Utterly perplexed, he stares at where Hound had stood, and finds himself… awed by the colour of the sky and the trees and all the other little colours around him. With this distraction, the whereabouts of Hound, the one who gave him this precious sight, was no longer all that important. He knows he'll be back, he always comes back after they fight. Iruka decides they'll figure it out when he does.



By the next time he meets Hound's eyes, he's accomplished a lot. He's learned his colours, figured out his seals, and incidentally mastered the basics while he was at it. Finally got the promotion to chunin, somehow became a prominent figure in keeping the hokage tower running smoothly, got a job teaching and instilling the will of fire into the minds of the next generation of shinobi. Mostly because he doesn't like the idea of children needlessly dying, so he wants to make sure they're ready for the merciless world they're going into. He learned that fact about himself in one of the worst ways imaginable, nearly killing himself and others with his weakness.

He's even come to have a favourite student, even if he resolutely told himself he wouldn't when he started teaching. But, there's something about Uzumaki Naruto that draws his attention and makes him, against his better judgement, focus on him. He had been apprehensive initially, after all the monster that killed his parents was locked away inside the boy. But after a few classes, it was relatively easy to see he was just a child. A child that kinda reminded him of himself at that age, causing a rukous, trying to get laughter to fill the void of loneliness. But unlike him, Naruto had a defined goal he was working towards: always seemed determined, unwilling to give up even after repeated, constant failure.

Hiruzen hadn't been too impressed when he added Positivity to his classroom’s report cards. Especially after seeing that the only A under the subject had been given to Naruto. But, Hiruzen’s blank stare had been worth it to see Naruto's cheeky grin lighting up the Ichiraku stall.

Protecting children from harm was actually part of his job description now, he even needed a verbal and a chakra signed agreement that he would do everything in his power to protect them from danger. This typically meant stray practice kunais and such. He didn't expect it to include jumping in head first into the trajectory of a fuma-shuriken directed towards a scared little boy— towards Naruto. He hadn't really given it a second thought. One second Mizuki, one of his closest friends, had been winding up to throw, and the next, the weapon was lodged in his back, and he's sobbing and bleeding all over Naruto's shocked face, feeling relieved and gutted that this had been the way the night had gone.

So a lot has happened since Hound disappeared, it's been quite literally years since they last interacted— eight or nine, he wasn't really counting after the first one. He still had his colours, so he knew he wasn't dead: he just clearly didn't want Iruka as his soulmate. Especially with the colours having faded to a dull, vague suggestion colour once existed, with the lack of eye contact or feelings or something being the cause, he's sure. He doesn't have the time or energy to worry about the technicalities, and dig through the archives and library to read up on it.

Some days he wished he never even had a soulmate. Some days, he manages to convince himself he's always seen the world in faded colours. It works until he remembers his parents, and his memories of them remain in black and white.

It's after saving Naruto, after hearing Hiruzen chide him for being so self sacrificing, when he's lying on his stomach in his hospital room, with a very low dosage of drugs in his system, medical nin being too amazing at their work so that his back injury is only tender. Too tender to do much besides lie there and think. He thinks about how blind he'd been to Mizuki’s true colours, now in hindsight, it was all glaringly obvious. He thinks about Naruto and how funny his teary and snotty face looked after the medi-nin showed up alarmed by the extent of Iruka's injuries. How over the moon the kid had been after Iruka tied his own hitaiate around the boy’s forehead. He thinks of the morbid irony that he, a village bound chunin teacher, had nearly died before his ANBU soulmate did.

He hears the crack of the window opening, feels the cold night air rush against his skin, and then all too suddenly Hound’s mask is back in his face, as close as he had been the moment they discovered their connection.

Iruka blinks in astonishment, seeing that vibrant red eye once more, surprised that it's not a faded pink like most reds appeared these days.

“What are you doing here Iruka?”

Iruka balks at the man, thoroughly baffled to see him, let alone hear him, “what are you doing here Hound?” He can't be a figment of his imagination, he’s getting goosebumps from the chill drifting in through the window.

Hound flinches back a bit, once again scorched by Iruka without even properly touching him. But this time the man remains, feet firmly in place.

“The colours dimmed considerably. I thought you were dying.”

Iruka continues to stare at the man, brows furrowing, trying to understand why Hound was even here now if he was so worried about fading colours. “I took a fuma shuriken to my back,” he tries to gesture to the room they're in, the position he's in, but all he manages is quirking his head to the side a bit.

The vibrant red eye disappears for a second, as if Iruka's words break some sort of jutsu. Then the mask vanishes from view, and then the man's entire body.

If he listens hard enough, he can hear the ever careful shuffle of paper, so he suspects Hound went to read his charts on the clipboard at the end of his bed. He wonders if that's one of his talents, to understand the terms and decode doctor scrawls.

But it remains quiet for some time after that. He's sure Hound hadn't vanished again, figuring the man would have at least closed the window after himself. But he can't be sure the man didn't just poof away either.

“Iruka look—” Hound’s voice breaks the silence, rounding back to stand in front of him.

“If you lecture me now, I'm just going to fall asleep.”

“I—”

“You were,” Iruka can't help smiling now, this whole thing is so silly, he might be dreaming this up with the help of the drugs, “I can hear it in your voice.”

Hound scoffs. Or laughs. Hard to tell the difference without seeing him, catching the visual body language cues he picked up on when they used to be in regular contact with another. Which had been extremely difficult, with Hound’s work ethic. Other ANBU let themselves loosen up a little, but Hound remained silent and still until Iruka would provoke him. He wonders if this meeting was sorta like that; he's disobeying some rule, one that Hound only knew of, so that Hound had to come and reprimand him for it like old times.

Hound’s mask comes into view again and the man remains silent. The vibrant red eye is gone, hidden behind his eyelid, in the shadows cast by the mask. But the other one, the inky black one, it’s staring intently at him.

Without the vibrant eye to distract him, Iruka notices how dishevelled the man looks. He has that post mission air about him, clothes dirty and torn, some dried blood stains the fabric, the skin on his arms gleaming with sweat; if Iruka focuses, he can catch a whiff of body odour ripe from over exertion. Had he just arrived back to the village? Passed through the gate, heard Kotetsu and Izumo gossiping about Iruka and rushed here? Had Hiruzen mentioned what had happened after Hound gave his report?

He notices it's been a minute, and that Hound hasn't stopped staring. Which, is very unnerving, to be aware he's the sole focus of an ANBU. His soulmate at that, so… intimately like this, he's more used to there being at least several feet between them. His face begins to warm, and he's sure it's gone a bit red from the embarrassment of the heavy attention. His eyes furrow, feeling a bit indignant from it, his lips curl into a frown, what are you gonna do Hound, just stare at me all night?

A tiny flicker of killing intent pulsates through the room.

He blinks, startled by how unexpected it is, and finds Hound gone when he opens his eyes. The window clacks shut seconds after, before he can even open his mouth to ask Hound why he was suddenly overcome with the urge to kill.

Somehow the whole thing brings to mind the times when he accepted Hatake Kakashi's mission reports. The times they aren't sloppy and he's not yelling at the man that his nine year old students could do better. But when the man awkwardly stands around until Iruka brings his attention to him, only for the jounin to immediately jump out the window behind Iruka's seat. Same sort of manners and wildly confusing behaviour. Their eyes never meet in any interaction between them, making the jounin seem uncharacteristically shy.

He chuckles softly, if Hatake Kakashi was Hound, he'd give every one of his ramen dinners to Naruto. It'd be just his luck to be matched with such a lazy man with too many horrible rumours about him. And all those monikers! Friend-killer not used so much anymore, more of a whisper from childhood memories. But Cold Blooded Kakashi, Copy Cat Nin were still used, with most preferring to use Kakashi of the Sharingan, for his supposedly stolen Uchiha eye.

Iruka has seen it in action once. Saw how the vibrant red of the eye contrasted the man's dark one, and the chirping blue electricity dancing erractitaly in his hand. He remembers the man's flick of killing intent and his stone cold gaze. Iruka had stepped away, knowing he was in danger.

Ah.

Hatake Kakashi was Hound. His soulmate.

It's so obvious, he's ashamed to have not noticed it before. But. He supposes he's never had to string thoughts together about the ANBU captain and the lazy jounin, two wildly different personas of man.

Well, at least he can actually document the discovery now and carry on with his life, never get put on a mission with the man again. Protocol said to do it as soon as you discovered it, but the secrecy of ANBU had made that difficult. Remembering the mission they had been on together, Iruka wonders if Hound had made note of it, he must have, he was all about rules and regulations. Hatake Kakashi must have had a separate file, where the information, that crucial little detail never got transferred to.

He scowls, it would have probably saved them a lot of trouble. Maybe.

When he's discharged from the hospital, he's not too surprised to find the colours have faded significantly, not that he saw many beyond the deep red of the sharingan, and how brightly Naruto sits against the backdrop of the utterly drab hospital room. But he's still mildly disappointed that a few minutes of eye contact wasn't enough to keep the world around him full. Not that he particularly wants to see his soulmate again, he's more than sure any chance of a civil relationship was beyond repair at this point. Not that he's disappointed, he's well used to it by now; knowing shouldn't change anything.

But, it isn't all bad, Asuma meets up with him and walks with him through the doors, accompanying him on his way to the tower. They have casual conversation, catching up, until they pass by the academy, quiet with all the graduates on break until they meet their jounin sensei. Asuma shamelessly inquires about his own students, wanting a cheat sheet for his new genin team.

Iruka indulges the man, telling him the basics as they climb through the Hokage tower to Hiruzen's office. He's laughing as he regales Asuma about what Shikamaru and Choji would get up to together as they pass through the office doors, stopping abruptly when his eyes find Hatake Kakashi standing in the room. Twice in one week, after nine years of not seeing each other, was this some sort of cruel joke?

“Oh, I didn't think you were busy—” the ANBU guards had let them walk on in. The secretary even said he was free.

Hiruzen shakes the ash from his pipe, “I'm not,” ignoring the figure standing next to his desk, that's sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Well, I've deposited Iruka as requested, job well done I’d say, seeya later,” Asuma waves and he's gone through the doors once more, leaving Iruka in the middle of this strange scene. Both of the men staring at him expectantly, like he might do something interesting.

Which. Had been half his intention on getting here. The other being a final review of the genin teams, approving the match ups as ordered, when he was lying in a hospital bed.

“Ah, before we start,” he says, stepping up to the desk, adamantly ignoring the other man in the room as much as Hiruzen had been, “I'd like to add Hatake Kakashi as my next of kin and be listed as my soulmate.” If the man in question wouldn't do anything about their bond, the least they could do was follow protocol and document it. At the very most, they wouldn't ever get put on a mission together again and have a repeat of the last one.

The reaction to his request is stupidly quiet. Like any sudden movements might startle the man to his right into a frenzy, jump out the window and become a missing nin. Hiruzen's tired gaze suggests as much.

His face feels warm, getting embarrassed by his thoughtless choice to bring this up immediately, and steadily gets warmer the longer the silence drags on, as their eyes continue to bore holes into him. His eyebrows furrow as he struggles to keep a level head and polite smile under their shocked expressions, irritation starting to settle in his blood.

Hiruzen seems to collect himself first; Iruka won't dare to look at his soulmate, he's not sure it'd be a nice expression, even if all he could see was one third of the man's face.

“Why next of kin?”

“He snuck into my hospital room the other night, concerned for my health. This way, he'll be among the first to know if anything happens.” Never mind the fact Hound was probably out on a mission when Mizuki had stirred up trouble. If he had been in the village, he might have found Iruka first, as he had done in the past, and saved everyone some grief.

The elder hums, “anything else before we start?” he asks unphased.

“If agreeable, add me to his next of kin as well, I know he's been in the hospital since we first discovered we were soulmates.”

Hiruzen nods, his lips turning up at the corner in a coy grin, “typically only spouses get that privilege when ANBU agents are hospitalised, even when they're no longer in the corps. Too much threat potential. Though, I think I can make an exception for this particular case.” He takes a drag from his pipe, “is that all?”

Iruka nods. Mildly confused by the implication that apparently Hound, Hatake Kakashi was no longer in ANBU. He'd just seen him all geared up, dirty from returning from a mission just the other night.

“To business then,” Hiruzen pulls out a folder, opens it up, “you've agreed on everything we've set up for the genin teams so far. Nothing you want to change.”

Iruka nods again, Asuma would love the dynamic of the next ino-shika-cho trio, the three of them would keep him on his toes with their intellect. Kurenai was new to him, but she seemed patient enough for Shino, Hinata and Kiba, and expected the three of them to rub off on another under her leadership. The other students and jounin were fitted together well, but they didn't inspire as much excitement for the results.

“As for Team Seven, with Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura and Uzumaki Naruto, I've decided on Hatake Kakashi to be their jounin leader, and will not require your input on this decision.”

Iruka pauses. Then why tell him about it? Why make this meeting necessary in the first place? He stares at Hiruzen, feeling as if he's been doused with cold water. He senses the jounin on his right tensing up.

“I understand,” he forces out, “is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

“No. Do you have any further questions?” Hiruzen subtly nods his hat towards the man that they've both been ignoring.

Iruka turns to face him head on, and admirably doesn't react to how much brighter everything gets upon making eye contact — is Hatake blushing? The man's cheeks were so red and his visible eye looked so big. Was he nervous? The absurdity of that concept takes him off kilter so aggressively, he's rendered speechless.

“How did you know it was me?” the man asks, the typical lazy drawl of his voice lost in a sense of urgency.

Iruka scowls a little, openly glowering, insulted— the man's question all but out right confirming he's been avoiding him, hiding from him all this time, “you must think me to be pretty dull. It's not hard to piece together information when it's blatant,” he gestures to the man.

Kakashi opens his mouth to speak, the fabric of his mask stretching to imply as much, but Iruka cuts him off, “you have one red eye, Hound had one red eye when we discovered we were soulmates. And just now, and back at the hospital, the colours brightened when our eyes met,” Iruka lists, his temper flaring with each word, “and have you ever looked at your hair, do you even comb it.”

Hiruzen laughs, hiding it behind a cough when Iruka whips his head towards him.

“Mah, sensei, no need to get so riled up,” his eye crinkles up in a smile, waving his hands to placate him, “it was only an innocent question.”

The response makes him feel a bit embarrassed for his hostile reaction. His quick temper does him no good when he feels insulted while in civil company, standing in front of the Hokage and one of Konoha’s most notable shinobi. Seeing the latter's face, he can't really help himself, with all those terrible mission reports he's tried to hand in. That's what he'll say if Hiruzen asks later. No need to confess he's pissed off about missing nine years getting to know his soulmate and suddenly he has the information to properly document the discovery, gets to see him twice, more than he has in a decade , and will probably never ever connect with him in any meaningful way. He should be okay with this!

“Forgive me Hatake-san,” Iruka amends, “I've been under a lot of stress, I hope you can understand,” and bows at his hip, eyes facing the floor.

“No need for that,” Kakashi says, “please stand. And please, call me Kakashi.”

He lifts his head and finds the man's expression looking rather nervous. A look he strangely finds endearing, with only the one eye visible on his whole face.

“Kakashi-sensei then,” Iruka says, remembering how this man will be teaching Naruto. And Sakura and Sasuke.

“Mah, I wouldn't say that quite yet, Team Seven hasn't passed my graduation test.”

Iruka glances over to Hiruzen, who's decided the plant in the corner of the room is much more interesting. There was a reason for Kakashi to be their jounin instructor if Iruka wasn't allowed to find fault in it. And he's willing to bet that same reason will allow Team Seven to pass the test.

“They might surprise you.”

“Maybe,” this time, the smile he receives feels rather genuine in nature.

The room grows quiet after that, an awkward silence threatening to choke him out. He's not sure what to say or how to leave the room without it looking like he's rushing to escape. Fleeing from a battlefield like a deserter. Like all his training has been erased just from having a single conversation.

“Well,” he begins turning to Hiruzen to say goodbye.

“I'm off then, seeya around.”

When he looks back towards Kakashi, he's found the man has vanished, briefly catching the sight of a foot leaping off the windowsill in his peripheral. A thought comes to mind to catch hold of it and drag him back in to give him a piece of his mind. But that's just his ire still swirling around in his head, he pushes it down.

“Don't mind him,” Hiruzen says, “he's just awkward. Never had many friends.”

Iruka stares out the window, he had thought Hound to have been a friend before. Even though he wasn't very nice all the time. Most of the time.

The irritation under his skin comes to a boil, and he wonders if Hatake Kakashi would hear him if he yelled out the window.

“If he wants us together in any form, he has to make an effort to at least appear interested.”

It's two weeks since nine of his graduates were promoted to genin when he and Naruto finally get to share a meal at Ichiraku's together without the rest of Team Seven tagging along.

The first time Team Seven had joined him at Ichiraku's had been after their first mission as a team. Iruka had been eating alone, mildly dejected that Naruto wasn't going to be available much anymore to share meals with, only to choke on his drink as Naruto screeches out his name, bounding into the stall to land on the stool next to him, grinning wildly.

Iruka immediately matches the kid's enthusiasm, smiling, overjoyed to see him, and turned to watch as three more bodies amble in with various degrees of interest in being here. Sakura a bit shy as she greets him, sliding onto the next seat, Sasuke politely greeting him, but still trying to appear indifferent as he climbed onto the seat next to hers, and Hatake Kakashi looking rather out of sorts waving his hand in a lazy salute as he nearly slumped onto his seat. Iruka takes in the sight of all of them, fascinated to see them here, and finds them all in the same state of exhaustion; their clothes filthy with debris and grass stains sticking to the fabric.

“Did you guys have a busy day?” Iruka asks, perhaps a bit too enthusiastic for their mood. He flicks a sticky twig off Naruto's shoulder.

They unanimously groan in agreement, to which Iruka laughs loudly, raising his glass in cheers, “thank you for your hard work everyone!”

He politely ignores the way Kakashi's eye seems to focus on him as he laughs at Naruto's complaints about the day he's had. They're the only ones speaking, of course he has his attention.

Teuchi loudly thanks them for their hard work as he places their orders onto the table, and the five of them quietly eat their meal, contemplative about the day. In no time at all the silence breaks for Naruto and Sasuke's quiet bickering, which drags along Sakura and soon enough, both Kakashi and Iruka are getting included in the conversation, the lot of them yelling and laughing.

It had been so lively and bright, the highlight of his week.

Tonight, days after that encounter and many like it, it's just himself and Naruto, like the old days when Naruto was still his trouble making student.

Their conversation starts like usual, inquiring about each other's day (“Aaahhhhh it was so boring, all we did was harvest vegetables!” “Well I doubt you'd fare better in the tower, it was a very slow day.”), how the rest of Team Seven was doing (“Sakura-chan is really smart eh he, Sasuke is still annoying and I don't know how Kakashi-sensei was allowed to be a teacher, he sucks at it.”), how Konohamaru was doing with an actual teacher (“Don't say that about Ebisu-sensei, that's rude. But Konohamaru made some friends. The three of them together aren't as bad as you were though.”), the weather, and so forth as the evening went on.

“Do you think Kakashi-sensei wears his hitaiate over his eye like that because he doesn't see colour in that eye?”

Iruka nearly swallows his noodles down the wrong hole, he coughs, the question completely unexpected. He slowly turns his head to look at Naruto, “why do you ask?” Does Naruto… not know of Kakashi's sharingan eye? Never heard whispers from villagers talking about the man as they walked through the streets — does he even know what a sharingan is? Not even when he's on the same team as Uchiha Sasuke? Has he failed as a teacher — no, no, Naruto must have not been paying attention to the lesson on the clans inhabiting Konoha. He's still failed but not to the extent, well, maybe more than—

Naruto slurps his noodles, completely oblivious to Iruka's inner turmoil, “because, I don't see much colour either. Like it's in spots. Really annoying,” He takes another mouthful, barely swallowing before continuing, “Sakura-chan said she had a similar sort of thing: Ino showed her blue, I showed her yellow, but she didn't get to see red until Sasuke finally looked her in the eyes the other day.

“I think that means me ‘n Sakura are both Sasuke's soulmates, maybe he was colour blind in one eye like Kakashi-sensei.”

Huh. He should tread carefully here, “are you upset about that?”

Naruto folds his arms in thought, “It’s fine? But not really? They both get full colour, and I'm still left out. The colours are in splotches right, like my Hokage Mountain paint job! I can see the rainbow, but then everything around it is grey, all boring. It’s kinda…”

“Ah. Worrisome.”

“Yeah!” Naruto agrees, “like, what if I don't meet the other people, what if I never see more than I have right now. It's a drag.”

Iruka grins, his time getting into trouble with Shikamaru had rubbed off on him a bit.

“Ah, can you see colour Iruka-sensei? I'm sorry if it sounds like I'm bragging or whatever, I don't mean to make you feel—”

Iruka cuts him off with a laugh, “yes, yes, I can see colours.” Dimly. But Naruto doesn't need to know that.

Not when Naruto’s eyes shine so brightly at him in awe, wanting to know more, “have I met them, who are they—”

Movement behind Naruto, out in the street takes his attention, alert for some drunkard wandering by who had some funny idea, only to blink in surprise as a gloved hand parts the stall’s curtain and a familiar face pops through it, immediately making eye contact with him.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka blinks, surprised by the sudden warmth to the colours in the ramen stall.

“Iruka-sensei,” Kakashi greets, eyes crinkling up in a smile, “Naruto.”

“Gah!” Naruto shrieks, “Kakashi-sensei?! Who invited you here! I've seen you all day, go away will ya!”

“Maa, can't a man go out to eat delicious ramen,” he sits down right next to Naruto, who gapes at the audacity and leans his body towards Iruka, so far off the stool, he might as well be sitting in his lap.

So he pulls him up and sits the boy on his leg. It's something of a bad idea, very impulsive, Naruto is too old for this, so he's rather heavy, his leg is going to be so numb, and they might break the stool altogether.

But Naruto settles down in a funny way, eyes wide and weirdly quiet and Iruka finds himself overcome with fondness, so he decides it's a good idea, “there,” he stage whispers, grinning wildly, “Kakashi-sensei has to get through me to bother you.”

Naruto laughs, cackles more like, and Iruka steals a glance towards the man and finds him looking at them, almost fondly. Iruka fights a blush at the concept, blaming the heat wafting from behind the counter.

Naruto demands a third bowl as Kakashi orders his own. Teuchi politely ignores their embarrassing seating arrangement as he serves the meals. Or he doesn't, as he chuckles quietly as he turns away, much to Iruka's embarrassment.

They manage civil conversation with Kakashi, with mostly Iruka asking the questions; about his day, how he thinks about Team Seven's progress so far, the weather and so forth. Kakashi's answers are short, somewhat clipped and to the point, despite his relaxed manner of speech. He doesn't waste time talking.

Which feels like a bit of a loss, Iruka's heard many long rants from the man back before they learned they were soulmates. He knows Kakashi can talk if he's interested in the subject matter; that he likes to describe things to the very last detail. And this, hearing him give short answers, it kinda feels like he's never going to be interested in this whole being soulmates thing. That he doesn't want Iruka to get to know him even as coworkers. But. Iruka's known this as fact for nearly nine years, give or take. It shouldn't bother him anymore.

Once they've finished and paid for, Naruto jumps off Iruka's leg with a bang that has Iruka reeling from how hard his thigh digs into the cushion and jams against the sharp steel support of the seat.

“Naruto,” Kakashi calls, “be more careful.”

Iruka waves him off, eyes blown wide as he tries to deal with the pain, “no need to worry.”

Kakashi watches him, his one eye conveying an overwhelming sense of doubt at Iruka's affirmation.

“I'm not delicate, you know.”

Kakashi seems to frown. Which deepens tremendously when Iruka hisses from how badly his leg stings, eyebrows raising in worry as his eye grows wide, hands raising but held awkwardly as if he doesn't know what to do with them.

“Eh, sorry sensei…” Naruto apologises, looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his head.

Iruka shakes his head, “not the worst pain I've ever felt,” he manages through a wheeze.

“What's that then?” Naruto asks, head tilting.

Iruka catches Kakashi's hand reaching over as if to try to chastise him for being rude, and Iruka laughs a little, “never accept a homebrew from the Sarutobi's.”

Both Naruto and Kakashi pause at that, utterly baffled by the answer.

“You'll wake up with a headache that feels like Uchiha Marada and Senju Hashirama are fighting right inside your skull.”

“Oh.” Naruto says, still utterly confused, “who’re they again?”

Kakashi's bark of laughter sorta makes up for him intruding on their get-together.

“Which way ‘you headed?” Kakashi asks a moment later, and if Iruka didn't know better, and he didn't, he'd say his voice sounded terribly fond, that one eye was terribly soft. And Iruka, weak to vulnerable expressions as he is, might have answered, allowed the soulmate who didn't want him to accompany him on his walk—

“I'm walking him home!” Naruto shouts, aggressively pointing at the man, daring to try something.

Kakashi looks puzzled from the response for a brief moment, before he smiles, eye crinkling, “ah, I see, I'll let you two go then. Good night Naruto, Iruka-sensei.” And the man bows slightly, nearly indistinguishable from his slouch, turns so his back is facing them, and walks away before either of them can reply.

Iruka politely bows his head after the retreating figure, and then nods to Naruto, together they walk through the quiet streets. Iruka politely ignores the feeling that someone's watching him. It's just probably the ANBU guard they have on Naruto.

“Kakashi-sensei's pretty weird, huh,” Naruto grumbles.

“That's rude,” Iruka replies, “I've been told he's just awkward.”

“Isn't that rude to say too?” Naruto squints up at him in disbelief.

“The Hokage himself told me it, so I wouldn't say so,” Iruka winks, and snickers at Naruto's immediate cackling.

“No way the old man said that!”

“He did, he did!” Iruka laughs.

When they settle down, Naruto lists off all the weird and annoying things his jounin instructor does, as if Iruka hadn't been listening the first dozen times. He could probably recite it word for word before Naruto got the chance to speak.

“Just give him time,” Iruka suggests after the boy finishes his rant with a heavy sigh that reminds Iruka of Hiruzen.

“He's already always late, how much more time can I give him,” Naruto is exasperated by the idea, his eyes almost bulging out in frustration.

Iruka chuckles, shakes his head, “I mean, Naruto, that he's not used to having to teach, he just tended to be team captain on B and A rank missions. Lead his teammates into danger, where everyone on the team knows what they're doing, what their strengths and weaknesses are, how they can best be of use for the team.”

He had known what he was doing when he was assigned to join the man's team as the fuuinjutsu specialist. It only went south because an unexplored, unknown weakness in Iruka appeared in the thick of it.

“You three are his first genin cell he's ever taken on, every other team he's been assigned never passed his test. I imagine he's probably out of his depth with the three of you being so inexperienced and young and tiny and squishy looking.”

“I'm not squishy!”

Iruka pinches and pulls on Naruto's cheek, “oh yeah, and what's this.”

Naruto bristles indignantly. Iruka lets go and chuckles, half paying attention to Naruto’s grumbling. They settle back into a comfortable silence and Iruka frowns, they're still being watched.

“Hey, I wonder who Kakashi-sensei’s soulmate is if he's gotta cover up the other eye all the time.”

Iruka trips.

Naruto startles a little, “ah, is your leg still hurting? I'm really sorry about that!”

“Oh, no, Naruto I'm fine,” he says, “I just,” he flounders for a second, “didn't expect you to say that.”

“Eh, we were talking about it earlier.”

“Ah, yeah, we were.”

Somehow, the feeling that they're being watched feels much closer than before. ANBU guards were much more nosey than he remembers.

“Instead of asking me about it, have you asked him yourself?”

“Yeah, but he's a real ass—”

“Naruto.”

“What! It's true! He sits there, looking as if he's thinking of what to say for a really long time, only to make that dumb smile and tell us no!”

Iruka suddenly didn't feel like chastising Naruto for his word choice: he would use ass and much stronger words to describe the man for his behaviour. He'd once asked him to fix something on a report, and he'd gotten the exact same response. He's glad Naruto seems to have taken it better than he had, because when Kakashi said that to him, the return reports office had become a battlefield that the Hokage himself had to swoop in to settle. Childish, the man had chastised them both. He wonders if Hiruzen had been aware Iruka was soulmate at the time. Kakashi certainly didn't act like you'd expect.

“I'm thinking though,” Naruto announces, pulling Iruka from his sudden flashback, “whoever they are, they gotta be pretty special if he wants to forget he's got another one to meet.”

Iruka. Doesn't know how to react to that. “That's a… creative theory,” he tries. Because, it is, for someone who doesn't know the truth of the matter, with the sharingan being perpetually in use, needing a creative way to be turned off. That the eye wasn't even his own to begin with. But. He's Kakashi's soulmate. And the idea that Naruto could dare think that person to be special in Kakashi's opinion…

“Sakura came up with it actually, Sasuke called us idiots after I said it was a smart idea. Wonder what his problem was…”

Ah. Sasuke had probably heard rumours of a stolen sharingan and probably pieced it together. “He might not like talking about other people's soulmates. It's gossip, a taboo for some traditional folks.”

Naruto hums, tilting his head in confusion, “but we're talking about it, aren't we being rude too?”

“Very.”

Naruto guffaws. Iruka snickers, they enjoy the silence some more.

“Hey, uh, Iruka-sensei,” the boy starts, voice unsure, which baffles Iruka, “would it be too much trouble if I stay at your place tonight? The hot water tank is busted again and—”

“Yeah,” Iruka assures, wishing he spoke faster, before Naruto had the chance to explain himself, before he could get the idea that he needed any reason, any excuse, to wedge himself into his life, “you're welcome any time Naruto.” He hopes that the boy understands.

Naruto doesn't turn to him, but Iruka can feel the smile radiating off his face, he can hear it in his voice as he thanks him.

They walk the rest of the way back to his apartment in silence. The feeling of being watched finally leaves once they make it to his door, he looks behind him, wondering if it actually was an ANBU or his imagination. He shrugs and starts disarming his wards.

“Oh! you never said if I knew who your soulmate was!”

Iruka chokes, covers the sound with a laugh, jamming the key into the doorknob, “it's not that big a deal!”

“I told you I had Sakura and Sasuke as mine! Be fair will ya!”

Iruka hums, “I'll tell you if my soulmate is comfortable with it being known, how ‘bout that?” Like hell he'll actually ask Kakashi if he could tell Naruto about their sad soulmate story. He'd rather take the whole thing to his grave.

But, Naruto is appeased by the answer, and after they take off their shoes, announce their return, Naruto skips off into the bathroom and Iruka sets about to find some clean clothes for him to wear. Once dug up from the bottom of his drawers, he knocks on the bathroom door, telling him where the clothes are, and turns around, walking back into his bedroom to figure out the sleeping arrangements. A futon could easily be placed down, but he could as just as easily stuff his bed frame into a scroll and lay down two futons.

Eh, he shrugs, it'd be more fun with him also on the floor. Like a slumber party.

When Naruto emerges from the bathroom, he loudly announces he's put his clothes in the wash, wandering into the bedroom to find Iruka. He pauses, shocked by the two futons on the floor.

“Is this alright?” Iruka asks, suddenly unsure if he's made the right decision.

“No it's,” Naruto's voice is small, and Iruka thinks he's definitely made a mistake, mind rushing to solve his error. But then Naruto turns to him, smiling sheepishly, eyes crinkled upwards, as a shy smile brightens his face, “eh he, it's nice actually.”

And Iruka smiles back just as warmly.

They turn off the lights and settle into their beds, wishing another a good night.

But it's too exciting for either of them, Iruka muses, Naruto keeps fidgeting, and Iruka can't settle down much either, mind racing.

“Iruka-sensei?” Naruto tries to whisper.

Chuckling softly, he quietly responds, “yes Naruto?”

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

“You can stay anytime.”

He's quiet for a minute, “I'm glad it's just not my soulmates who can… ya know.”

And Iruka feels his heart clench, tears threatening to spill out from the admission, understanding all too well what he's trying to say, “yeah,” he agrees, “it's nice.”





The week after Team Seven ventures off to the Land of Waves, Iruka spends each night awake until dawn, worrying about them. He finds some ancient soldier pills hidden away in his cupboards and they're the only reason he manages to exist as a person and not wither away under the weight of how much concern occupies his mind.

Well. His worries are mostly exclusively just about Naruto. It's been weeks since he keyed Naruto’s chakra into his frankly, stupidly complicated wards, so the boy could easily come and go as he liked. And that ended up becoming most if not all the time Iruka was home; they'd eat breakfast together, relax in the evening together, fall asleep in the same room together. It was like having a family again, and Iruka covets the concept like a fire eats up the charcoal in the belly of a stove; warm and intense and consuming his very being. He doesn't want to see Naruto go. Especially because he knows the kid has nearly no self preservation skills (he vehemently ignores how he might have further influenced that by example), even after two months under Kakashi's guidance.

Now he knows the jounin mentors weren't miracle workers. He's pretty sure Gai was in his second year of his mentorship and Asuma’s last group of genin took four years before they all graduated to chunin. He himself, by no fault of his own, took a while as well. The process takes time! And it doesn't help that Team Seven are getting impatient with Kakashi's lackadaisical approach with their training. Even Iruka's kinda insulted by it.

Not that it warranted the kids harassing Hiruzen into getting a C rank they're not really ready for, no.

And, well. Naruto was a cuddler when he slept, he'd discovered, and would entangle anyone nearby in a death grip of limbs. He was fine with it, slept like the dead unless he needed to relieve his bladder. But if Naruto slept next to Sasuke or Sakura... that would only end in bloodshed. Kakashi would probably gently push him away, too awkward for it— but, maybe he'd simply suffer through it because it was awkward either way.

Not to mention everything else that could go wrong. A simple trip could break an ankle! They weren't accustomed to such long walks, they could over exert themselves! They could forage in the forest and forget Iruka's lessons on edible plants and get food poisoning! Naruto could go fishing and end up swallowed by a fish instead!

His colours had been gradually growing brighter by the time they left, from all the pleasant meetups at Ichiraku's and the Hokage tower, so he had briefly panicked when they dimmed considerably. Something had happened to Kakashi. And if Kakashi was in danger, the kids were in much more danger. It did not help that they didn't come back when they were due.

His worry didn't even ease up when they received word from Kakashi that things went south but were taken care of. The C rank turning into an A— they were much too inexperienced for that! Only children! What if the kids didn't bounce back from this experience?

After arriving for his scheduled tea with Hiruzen, the old man had taken one look at him and said, “you look terrible,” straight to his face! And he supposedly knocked him unconscious with a swift press to the pressure point on his neck, because the next thing Iruka knew, the windows outside suggested it was well past dinner, the sky fading into twilight, and a blanket had been thrown over his shoulders.

And that Kakashi was standing there, watching him, hand holding onto his hitaiate, as if to move it.

Groggy from the first good sleep he's had in a while, his first reaction is relief, and he thinks he sleepily mentions it aloud. His second reaction is to jump to his feet in a flurry, face hot from being caught sleeping, in the Hokage's office of all places, and his zero filter admittance, “Kakashi-sensei!” He nearly shouts, “welcome back! Thank you for your hard work!” And bows heavy in his frantic state.

Kakashi smiles in that way of his that crinkles his eye, like he's laughing, “thank you sensei, but please don't bow that low.”

Iruka straightens his spine immediately, and begins to fidget. Terribly embarrassed to be here. That Hiruzen just left him in here. That Kakashi found him in here. The suggestion that Kakashi and Hiruzen had a meeting in here while he was conked out— that Kakashi had stayed behind, after Hiruzen had left. That this might be the first time he's been alone with his soulmate in months, years even.

“Naruto's looking for you,” Kakashi says, oblivious to Iruka's fretting. “He was excited to tell you everything that happened. Wouldn't stop talking about you the whole way back.”

“So… it wasn't bad, then?”

Kakashi sighs, plops down onto the couch opposite him, and looks up to meet Iruka's eyes, “truthfully?”

Iruka nods, remembering Hiruzen telling him the news about their team being delayed, how wrong the mission intel had been, but not the details as to why it happened.

“We ran into some missing nin and got caught up in a gang dispute.”

Iruka feels his eyes widen and his breath hitch. His worry shifting into anger beneath his skin, simmering in his veins.

“Ah— no,” Kakashi sits up straighter in his seat, looking serious for once, “sensei, they're fine. Minor injuries. Unexpected things just kept happening due to a poor mission summary from the client. They're ok. Don't worry.”

Iruka collapses back into the chair he had been asleep on, “that's all I've been doing since you four left the village,” he rubs his face and sighs, the anger evaporating, “I'm not used to people leaving the village anymore.”

People like the members of Team Seven. He's resigned himself to it, working both at the main reception room and report returns office, he sees all sorts of people filter through, all sorts leave the village, coming back one way or another. He's always worried to see former students come up to his desk, if they'll come back with a completed mission report for him to sign off on. He should be used to it.

Looking back at Kakashi, he finds for once, he can't place his expression. It's hardened, his eyebrows furrowed in focus, and Iruka can't determine why. He thinks it's a bit familiar, from years ago when they had been on that one mission together… “is everything alright?”

Kakashi slouches forward, his head hanging between his shoulders, facing the floor, quiet for a moment. He looks up, eye bright with a determined look, “It wasn't great, sensei. Was a bit like the mission we both were on.”

Iruka makes a sound of acknowledgement. He doesn't really want to think of that. But the implications, the admission alone says it was difficult; teammates getting injured, death, a situation that didn't have any immediate positive outcomes. Iruka clasps his fingers together over his lap, digesting the words. It was heavy, but he doubts Naruto would share any of it until later, after he's talked about the fun stuff.

He bows his head, “thank you for telling me. And for bringing them back safely.”

“Mah, just doing my duty—”

“Yes, but,” Iruka cuts him off, feeling a bit determined all of a sudden, “you have my gratitude for getting them through it in one piece. It must have been tough, and that's all the reason I need.”

Kakashi seems to falter a bit at that, “there's no need—”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka presses, leaning forward, fire in his veins as he locks his eyes on the man, he smiles, “you deserve it. I mean it. You brought them home, I couldn't be more grateful to you.”

The man seems to shrink in on himself under the pressure of being thanked. Odd. After a minute he nods, “I get it sensei, no need to say it anymore,” and the smile he gives Iruka, while only being just his one upturned eye, feels cold and fake. A heavier mask than the one covering half his face already.

Iruka nods in agreement, taken aback by how Kakashi didn't want— was uncomfortable with the gratitude for keeping kids alive.

Silence stretches between them after that. Uncomfortable enough that Iruka rushes to stand and excuses himself to leave.

“Ah, well I, we, should really get going.” The sky outside has turned a deep inky blue, the only ones left in the tower at this hour were nightshift clerks and maybe a shinobi trudging back from a mission.

Kakashi rises to his feet, nonchalant as if he didn't just get weird about being told thank you. “He's probably at your house. Naruto I mean. He said he'd be waiting for you there,” he blabbers, “so, um, could I accompany you on your walk home?”

Iruka stares at the man, Hound, Hatake Kakashi jounin instructor for Team Seven, the man of a thousand jutsus, his soulmate, and feels utterly lost as to what to do. He'd love to. He really would. But. Never once has this man offered himself like this to Iruka. Never once had he been even interested in Iruka. And allowing this, whatever happens between them is sure to just blow up in his face later.

“You're not— there's no obligation for you to accept just because we're—”

Iruka's weak. So damn weak. He hears the acknowledgement from Kakashi's lips that they're soulmates and he caves in on himself. “Ah, sorry, it would be nice, please,” Iruka looks at the man, watches his nervous flush recede into a genuine smile. Happy. It's jarring to witness.

The man nods to the door, and Iruka cracks a joke about how the windows are right there, and Kakashi's laugh puts a smile on his face that he can't pull off.

Not even after they exit through the main doors, walk through the streets, making small talk about Naruto and his antics, listening to Kakashi’s weary sigh as Iruka recounts some of the boy's attempted pranks in the classroom, what he'd catch him doing. Kakashi saying nothing Naruto could do could be worse than whatever Iruka would come up with. And Iruka stupidly feels a sense of pride that Kakashi remembers that.

After Kakashi drops him off at his door, after Naruto excitedly regales him what had happened on the mission, after they're tucked into their futons and he can hear the boy's quiet snores that he allows himself to swear: Fuck.



When Hiruzen calls for a teachers meeting, it's a wonderfully sunny afternoon at the height of summer. He suspects it's to do with the upcoming chunin exams, as he's already had a few genin come through to drop off reports, excitedly talking about the amount of foreigners they've spotted inside the walls. He's annoyed that Konoha, this year's host, seems to be the last to prepare, but he's just a desk jockey chunin, an academy teacher, what does he know about anything.

He's still staring out the window, watching the messenger bird circle in the sky when Kakashi appears in the office to drop off his team's mission report. Iruka smiles at him on impulse, as much as he'd rather keep it strictly professional between them, he's a very weak man and it's stupidly easy to enjoy Kakashi’s company. He politely ignores the look his coworkers give him for actually being pleasant to the damned menace.

He had been rather apprehensive about Kakashi writing Team Seven's reports at first; after so many shifts in the jounin report office receiving the man's horrendous reports, he hadn't held much hope that the reports he'd write for his genin team would fare much better. But, colour him surprised to find each report written so well he wants to use them as examples. Frame them up on the wall. Tear Kakashi's headshot off the bulletin board in the staff room that warns people of his atrocious reports. Not that he would. The man was still a jounin, he'd go back to solo missions eventually.

The first report he had accepted left him speechless. Kakashi looked pleased with himself, which made it all the more embarrassing when he thanked Kakashi for his hard work without a fuss. The kids had tagged along and were utterly confused by the atmosphere. “Are all report submissions this weird?” Naruto had asked, to which Kotetsu had whistled and replied, “only when it's Kakashi submitting a report to Iruka.”

But this afternoon is pleasant, aside from the meeting he has to attend once his shift ends in half an hour. His colours are vibrant all around, and while he wants to remain acquaintances at best, he hopes Kakashi would at least want them to keep the colours too. There's a few shinobi loitering around the room, he can hear cicadas buzzing in the distance, and Kakashi is handing him another exemplary report for the mission his team took that morning. Everything's pretty nice.

“Thank you for your hard work Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka nods and begins filing it away.

Kakashi doesn't reply, which is fine, he just doesn't talk much. If at all. Which is fine, Iruka doesn't talk much either unless prompted. And well. He hadn't seen much of Naruto since they'd gotten back from their trip abroad. On the nights he spent at Iruka's, he'd be first to wake and first to sleep. Some nights he'd just return to his own apartment, leaving a gaping hole in Iruka's whole routine. They never even get to meet up at Ichiraku's anymore.

He's maybe seen Naruto for more than five minutes in the last week. He misses him.

So he's prompted to ask Kakashi, “how's our little hellion?” He glances his eyes up, “is he getting along with his teammates?”

Kakashi nervously adverts his eye, a flush of red scorching the visible skin of his cheek, “he’s getting there,” he trails off.

Iruka suspects he's a bit embarrassed about his answer. That it's going worse than he's letting on.

“Your team has been pretty busy lately,” Iruka can't help but to feel nervous now too, scratching at his scar, “Naruto hasn't had the time to get together with me, I can't help but to worry about him.”

Kakashi looks at him, focused in a way that makes Iruka's cheeks get warmer. “You know how it is Iruka-sensei,” he hangs his head, sighing, “he’s on a team with Sasuke, and the two of them are like dogs, always snapping and snarling at each other.”

Iruka nods, they've pretty much always been like that.

“But it keeps him on his toes,” Kakashi straightens up. “He's developing pretty quickly, wanting to catch up to his hero…” he trails off, eye staring up at the ceiling as if thinking, teasing, before he looks back at Iruka, smiling, “you.”

Iruka doesn't really believe his ears. Hatake Kakashi, his soulmate, saying that to him? Was he under a genjutsu? But, it's quite a lovely thing to hear, even for how unbelievable it is. He can't stop the smile from forming on his lips, from taking over his whole face as he feels utterly warmed by the concept. He probably wouldn't, even if he tried. “Really?” He asks, laughing a little from the unexpectedness of it.

Kakashi hums, a little noise of agreement, and Iruka has to look at him then. His eye is wide and there's a rather deep red blush dusting his face, reaching to the tip of his ear. Was that an embarrassing to say? He laughs, jovially, absolutely delighted, “don't tell me you're embarrassed now!”

Kakashi only gets more flustered, face boiling red like an octopus, which gets Iruka laughing harder, “you read erotica in public! And saying that—” he bursts into another fit of giggles, laughter shaking him as tears bud in his eyes. When he settles, his smile is stretched across his face, looking utterly pleased, “sorry, sorry, forgive me, I didn't mean to make fun of you like that.” He knows he doesn't look apologetic in the slightest.

“It was nice,” Kakashi nods.

Iruka scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion at the response, but happily hums in agreement, smiling still. Weird jounin behaviour wasn't going to ruin his mood. “Well,” he begins, “thank you for the report, and your kind words. I shouldn't keep you any longer.”

He figures Kakashi will take the cue that he's free to go, utter a goodbye and leave. Probably in a swish of leaves and smoke. Maybe he'd use the door this time.

“You're going to the meeting, yeah?” He asks instead.

Iruka nods, surprised that Kakashi won't take the out Iruka's giving him, but still warmed by the kind words, his smile might not ever come off again, “after my shift. Only about fifteen minutes left.”

“We— ah, would you like to walk with me? To it, after your shift.”

There's something about the way Kakashi awkwardly speaks sometimes, that fondness easily overcomes him and he feels his smile might grow too big for his face. It's utterly foolish of him, but he nods, “if you don't mind waiting.”

“Good,” the man says simply. Another weird response. He stands there a moment, seemingly lost with what to do with himself before deciding to sit on the couch closest to the entrance, and pulls out his Icha Icha to read.

Iruka scoffs, rolling his eyes, finding himself more amused by the predictable behaviour than anything.

There isn't really much left to do, so he finds himself studying the weird jounin as he tidies up, excusing how rude it is as practising his intelligence gathering skills. The man has his blind side towards him, with his good eye aligned for a clear line of sight towards the doorway. He's crossed his legs to get comfortable, appear relaxed and Iruka would assume it had his posture not seemed so stiff. He notes the volume Kakashi's chosen to read is Violence, and that for the last ten minutes, Kakashi has not actually flipped a single page. Like he's just doing this whole thing for appearances sake. Peculiar.

He stands, makes his way to file away some papers into some folders on the shelf behind Kakashi. The man shifts with Iruka's close proximity, but makes no effort to move. Iruka turns, standing just so he's directly behind him.

Kakashi tilts his head back and looks up at him, the crown of his head nearly landing on Iruka's stomach. The sight, the closeness, has butterflies doing backflips and somersaults as energetically as pregenin in his gut. He flicks his eyes away from Kakashi’s, and finds himself looking at the open pages of the man's reading material. Page twenty-six.

“Ready to go?” Kakashi asks, his cheek dusting a little pink as he stares up at Iruka.

“I just have to go to the staff room to clock out,” Iruka nods, leading the way, with Kakashi getting to his feet and quietly trailing after him.

He clocks out, and the two of them walk the halls towards the meeting room at a relaxed pace. Kakashi still hasn't tucked his novel away, but Iruka can't find much fault in it, he's pretty sure Kakashi still hadn't flipped a single page.

“Did you have fun?”

Iruka blinks, “pardon?”

“When you were spying on me just now.” There's a hint of amusement in his voice and Iruka wants to die at the embarrassment of getting caught.

“I wasn't spying, it was more like observing.” A strange animal that's not usually seen in such a habitat.

“Stealthy observation. Almost didn't notice it.”

“I'm sure my chunin level skills aren't that impressive, Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka laughs.

“Mah, sensei, where did you learn to take compliments?”

Iruka rolls his eyes, as if Kakashi was one to talk.

The man hums, “well, tell me, what did you observe?”

“You positioned yourself with a clear exit strategy, blind side towards the only other bodies in the room. You tried to appear relaxed, but you were much too stiff,” Iruka replies, eyeing the little book, licking his lips before darting his hand and snatching it out of the man's grasp. “And,” he eyes the page number, “yep, still on twenty-six. You weren't even reading this.”

When he looks back to Kakashi, he has to stop. The man is red, so red, eye wide and he's frozen still. He might even be perspiring.

“Was I wrong?” He tilts his head.

The man still doesn't react. Iruka looks back to the book, scanning the text, bracing himself to find a steamy romance scene these novels were known for, but only finds the hero struggling to communicate with the love interest. Kakashi snatches it back before he can read much else.

“It's not that,” he says, stuffing the book into one of his utility pockets hastily, “you were pretty good at your observations.”

“Only pretty good?”

“Just because I hadn't turned the page, doesn't mean I wasn't reading,” Kakashi's eye upturns as he smiles, and Iruka fights his own smile with a scowl.

“Fair point,” Iruka replies.

“I was also—”

“Iruka! Kakashi-sensei!” Izumo calls out, “the meeting will be starting soon,” he calls out before

darting through the door. 

Iruka turns to Kakashi, offering an apologetic smile that their conversation had been cut short, “you can tell me later?”

Kakashi nods, his visible cheek turning a bit red, “sure, sensei.”

Happy to have an excuse to talk to Kakashi again later, he leads them through the door the meeting was being held in.