JBMcDragon (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jbmcdragon) wrote,@ 2006-10-22 13:24:00 |
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Title: Former Lives
Author: JBMcDragon
Status: Nearly complete
Rating: R for violence and language
Summary: The sequel to The Kakashi Mission. Things are not perfect in any relationship, but even Kakashi knows something really isn't right in theirs.
Author's notes: First, many thanks to my beautiful and charming beta,darksideofstorm. Yay, Dark! Also, I will update once a week.
Second: I'm melding the anime fillers from right after Naruto left with the manga, because that's how I wrote The Kakashi Mission and it makes sense to stick to the timeline. ;) My meld is that most of the filler things happened, just without Naruto there. If you haven't seen them, the references Iruka makes about Mizuki are that Mizuki, in the fillers, was put in prison after the scroll thing, broke out, tried to get to Orochimaru, tried to kill Iruka when Iruka went to stop him, said nasty evil things like, "I never liked you" and "I always hated you", and then died. :)
Third: For those of you enjoying the Bathroom Mirror series, please remember that IT ISN'T CANNON! It doesn't actually happen in this universe, 'kay? Kay.
Fourth: This is a sequel to The Kakashi Mission. I'd recommend reading that first.
Former Lives 1/9-ish
Prologue
Now
"Iruka-sensei."
Iruka flinched and looked up. He shivered in the corner of his cell, arms wrapped around his legs. The voice was familiar. The coolness was not. "Kakashi," he said softly. Everything hit, threatening to overwhelm him. He focused on breathing.
Kakashi stood outside, hands carefully nonchalant in his pockets. Iruka could still read the strain; the tightness around the man's single visible eye, the stiff line of his shoulders, the hips that canted too much to be really comfortable.
"Why?" Kakashi murmured.
Iruka couldn't look at the other man. He stared at the stone floor instead. "I don't know." He shivered again, but couldn't tell if it was from actual cold or the illusory jutsu they'd sentenced him with. His grip tightened on his legs. He could feel Kakashi there, watching him behind layers and layers of masks. "I looked at him and . . . and I heard my parents screaming." He laughed, but stopped when he heard how broken it sounded. The world swam, and he blinked back tears. He wouldn't cry about this. He didn't deserve to cry about this. "Funny, though, because my mother died in the hospital. She didn't scream." He didn't want to think about it. He couldn’t stop. "How is Naruto?" he asked softly.
"Jiraiya and he left the village again this morning," Kakashi said after a quiet moment. "He thinks he got food poisoning."
Some of the tension left Iruka. Naruto wouldn't hate him.
Tears swam in his eyes at the thought. He buried his face in his knees, trying to hide them. Skin that wasn't really injured screamed a protest as phantom pain shuddered through him.
"Do you understand what happened?" Kakashi asked, his voice oddly soft. Like speaking to a small child, Iruka thought.
Iruka nodded miserably. He knew they had tested him for jutsu, just like he knew they hadn't found it. Just like he knew he'd tried to kill Naruto.
If they had found it, if he had been that lucky, he wouldn’t have been sentenced.
He shivered again. His own voice seemed to echo through the cellblock, screaming and screaming.
He deserved it. He'd known what would happen even when he turned himself in.
He shivered against the stone.
Cloth slid against metal bars, fingers dragging down through filth as Kakashi knelt. "Ibiki and Shizune think that . . . that maybe you've been under too much stress."
Iruka wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.
"That with the anniversary of the fox and your parents' death, maybe it was just too much. They said it was probably a psychotic break. As long as you continue to show stability--"
Iruka laughed, nearly hysterical. He wiped his face on his sleeve and wrapped his arms around his head, curling tighter. "They aren't going to let me out," he said into the crooks of his elbows. "They aren't going to let me near my students again."
There was a noise like air blown between lips, and suddenly Kakashi was there, next to him. "Not right away," the man said. "But these things happen."
"To Chuunin?" Iruka snapped bitterly.
Kakashi was silent for a long moment. "Not often," he said at last. "Usually ANBU. Jounin. But also to people who've been through war."
Iruka didn't point out that the wars had ended. That if he was going to snap and try to kill Naruto, it should have happened already.
He didn't have to point it out. They both knew.
He'd tried to kill Naruto.
Tears gathered again. He pressed his face harder into his arms. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn't. Not here. Not for this. Not out of some misplaced self-pity--
"You can leave here, under ANBU guard," Kakashi said softly.
A hand feathered down onto his shoulder. Iruka flinched. It didn't move.
"The guard's only temporary. Just to make sure--" Kakashi stopped.
"I don't try to kill anyone else?" Iruka mumbled into his arms. A thumb rubbed along his bicep.
They remained sitting, quiet. Kakashi's thumb kept drifting, small circles over dirty cloth. Eventually, Iruka took a deep breath and looked up. "So where's my guard?" he asked finally, trying to summon a smile. It wobbled and dropped away.
He'd tried to kill Naruto. He hated himself.
Kakashi tipped his head, eye closing in an arc.
"Oh," Iruka said. He looked at the man's shoulder where he knew the tattoo lay, swirling darkly over pale skin, hidden by a shirt. "Thank you," he whispered.
Kakashi said nothing. He stood, grabbing one of Iruka's wrists and pulling him to his feet. "Let's get you home," he said, and started out of cell.
Iruka refused to limp. It had only been an illusion. He had deserved every second of it.
He'd tried to kill Naruto.
Chapter One
Then
Kakashi knew he was neurotic. There was no doubt in his mind about the extent of his neuroses. It didn't bother him too much; people seemed to accept them these days. He'd learned his friends--and there was a new concept--weren't going to run just because he didn't let them in his apartment, and Iruka--aside from the occasionally flung weapon--put up with him remarkably well.
He figured his neuroses gave him *charm.* (He'd only said that to Iruka once. The man had laughed until tears ran down his face.)
And, despite--or maybe because of--his neuroses, he was a damn good ninja. One of the best, if he did say so himself--which he did. Sometimes repeatedly.
When his neuroses didn't drive annoying people away, his porn usually did. His newest trick was to mark passages and mumble about 'trying that tonight.' He was, of course, kidding.
Mostly.
Kakashi glared at the copy of Icha Icha Paradise sitting on Iruka's nightstand--where he'd left it, hoping the younger man might pick it up and look--and wondered how his porn could have lied to him so effectively.
He was going to have a talk with Jiraiya about that.
Iruka walked out of the bathroom and froze. Kakashi scrubbed at the back of his head, sending his hair out in all new directions.
"Would you stop looking so forlorn?" Iruka said, the words somewhere between a snap and a sigh. He padded from the bathroom to the dresser, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair dripped, sending water down the indent of his spine. Kakashi watched a drop slide slowly down past the broad ribcage, linger a moment between two dimples above the towel, and then soak into the terrycloth. He was jealous of the damn water droplet. Stupid water droplet.
He'd expected Iruka to veto the threesome. And, to be honest, the fuzzy handcuffs. And the camera.
He hadn't really expected Iruka to get annoyed and veto sex altogether.
Iruka dropped the towel to step into pants. Kakashi glared at it.
Sex had been good, when they'd started seeing each other. They'd both fumbled occasionally, sometimes worse than others, and it had taken time to sort out signals and figure out what spots to hit. That, Kakashi had expected.
But two months into the relationship, and Iruka was *still* jumpy. He hadn't expected that.
He blamed it on a sad lack of porn in the man's life. It made sense. Kakashi had porn and he was confident, and Iruka didn't have porn, and wasn't confident. It was the only difference Kakashi could see.
Iruka's blushing had been deliriously cute at first. But Kakashi stopped teasing when Iruka stopped sleeping over. Apparently, Iruka didn't feel it was cute at all. The stuttering had been the same, as had the inability to say words any dirtier than 'penis.' It hadn't seemed like a big deal, but when it came down to saying where to touch and what felt good, it became difficult when half the vocabulary was gone.
Kakashi had assumed Iruka was just shy, and it would take time for him to relax.
Time was passing.
"You're going to burn a hole in that," Iruka said hesitantly.
Kakashi glanced up at him. Then he forced himself to relax, pushing up to his feet. He sauntered over to Iruka, sliding his hands around the other man's waist and pulling him closer.
Iruka was already dressed for the day, but that was expected. Kakashi wore sleeping pants and not much else--it was his day off. He'd even left the mask on the nightstand in the hopes it would make Iruka happier, though he was itching to put it on. "Stay home," he said, already knowing what the answer would be.
Iruka laughed and pushed at his chest. "Kakashi--"
"I know, I know," Kakashi sighed melodramatically. He nuzzled the sensitive spot behind Iruka's earlobe. He breathed, feeling the man shiver against him. If he'd realized before what a reaction *breathing* could get, he'd have stopped wearing his mask at eleven years old.
"Kakashi," Iruka said again, softer this time.
Kakashi pressed, and Iruka fell back. He kept walking, slowly, guiding the Chuunin's feet with his own until Iruka was flush against the wall. "I could come see you later," Kakashi murmured.
"Sure," Iruka agreed.
"Lunch break?"
Iruka nodded against him.
Kakashi nipped at his ear, trailing his tongue along the shell. "We could lock the door. I could bring you a change of pants . . ."
He felt Iruka stiffen slightly, felt the heat from the man's face going red. "Kakashi--"
"I know, I know," Kakashi sighed, and stepped back. He would have glared, but it took too much energy. He looked vaguely annoyed and very bored, instead. "It's not--" he waved a hand negligently. "The right thing to do, or proper, or somesuch."
Now Iruka was looking frustrated. Maybe he shouldn't go see the man at lunch. If Iruka was already annoyed with him, they’d probably just end up fighting.
"I have to go," Iruka said, walking stiffly to the closet and yanking out his Chuunin vest. He scraped his hair up into its customary ponytail, pulling a band from around his wrist and whipping it through quickly.
Kakashi stared at Icha Icha Paradise. From the corner of his eye, he saw Iruka leave the bedroom. A moment later, the front door closed.
"Damn," Kakashi muttered.
**
"Damn you, Genma!" Iruka bellowed, grabbing the wad of paper the Special Jounin had thrown at him. He bolted up from his chair, anger flooding him, and hurled the paper back at the ninja.
Genma ducked. It bounced off the wall.
"Stop fucking throwing things at me!" Iruka shouted.
Genma stared at him warily. "Uh," the man said, "okay."
Iruka collapsed into his chair again, elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed with his outburst. "It's not you." He sensed Genma draw close, felt the desk move as the man sat on it.
"So . . . what's wrong?" Genma asked slowly.
Iruka rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. How much could he say? How much without incriminating Kakashi, or being utterly humiliated?
"Boyfriend trouble?" Genma asked finally.
Iruka nodded and kicked back, slouching down in his chair.
That bastard hadn't even come to lunch. Not that Iruka had really been expecting it. Kakashi was phenomenally good at avoiding any and all conflict, which didn't help anything.
"Does this have anything to do with Kakashi asking Kurenai about flavors of lube?"
Iruka paled and looked up. "He *what?*"
Genma grinned. His senbon stuck up jauntily. "I made that up. But it does have to do with something like that, doesn't it?"
Iruka returned to glowering at the desk. "Yes. No. I don't know." He rubbed his eyes again, just so he wouldn’t have to look at Genma. "He wants to try things," he mumbled from behind his hands, "and I'm just not . . . it's *embarrassing.*"
Genma was quiet. "It's okay to say no," he said after a bit.
Iruka dropped his hands and stared morosely at his knees. "I know. But I feel like I'm saying 'no' all the time, and some things aren't even all that unusual and then I just start saying no to everything because I’m annoyed and--" he stopped, catching himself mid-sentence. He smiled apologetically up at Genma, who was leaning with one hip on the desk. "Sorry. I didn't mean to rant at you."
Genma smiled sympathetically. "Seems like you need someone to rant at. Come on." He slapped at Iruka's shoulder, standing. "I'll take you to lunch. I'll eat, you rant."
Iruka almost said no, but Genma was already leaving, the 'back in an hour' sign held in one hand.
Outside the mission office door, though, Iruka clammed up. He was already vaguely embarrassed about what he had said, and couldn't imagine talking where others might overhear them. He let Genma carry the conversation all the way to a nearby café, and was relieved when the Special Jounin got their food to go.
They ended up in a park nearby, away from sensitive ears.
"Okay," Genma said without any ado, plopping himself down under a tree. "What kinds of things does he want to do?"
Iruka felt himself turn red. "We don't have to talk about this," he mumbled into his cardboard container. He opened it up and started eating noodles with great determination.
"C'mon, Iruka-Senseeiiii," Genma said, grinning. "What, does he want you to dress up like Tsunade and--"
Iruka almost choked on his noodles. Genma laughed.
"So already we have progress!" Genma crowed. "No Tsunade. Good to know. What else? Give me some details!"
Iruka felt himself turn bright red again. "It's just . . . things." He couldn't bring himself to say any of them. Genma was going to think they were weird perverts--more than they already were--and that would be unbearable.
"C'mon," Genma goaded. "Can't be that bad."
Iruka just shook his head and focused on eating. He could feel Genma's eyes on him, curious and thoughtful all at once.
"Didn't you ever talk about this stuff growing up?" Genma asked finally. "Everyone's kinda embarrassed by it, but you talk anyway. Makes you feel--" he waved his chopsticks around, "--normal, or something. You realize all those things you're dealing with are things everyone else is dealing with, too."
Iruka gave him a dirty look from under his brows. "I'm pretty sure teenagers don't discuss handcuffs or lube flavors," he muttered.
Genma snorted. "You would be surprised. I'll never forget the day Raidou announced he hadn't had sex with a man and a woman at the same time yet. He'd had too much to drink." His eyes unfocused, and his tone grew thoughtful. "I was even more surprised that it worked as a pick-up line . . ."
Iruka laughed and shook his head.
"Now c'mon," Genma said, sprawling out on one elbow. "Spill."
Iruka stirred his noodles, as if something else might miraculously appear. "I don't know," he muttered finally. "He--he wants to *do* things and . . . I just . . . " he stopped, face burning. "What if it doesn't work? Or it's stupid? Or we do it wrong?"
"Well, if it doesn't work or it's stupid, you won't do it again," Genma laughed. "And if you do it wrong--that gives you an excuse to practice until you can do it right!"
Iruka looked at him dubiously.
Genma grinned. "Really! Come on, Iruka," he laughed. "Sex is ridiculous. It's not like you can do it wrong, anyway."
Iruka glared at the grass and stabbed his noodles without looking. "I'm just not good at this," he muttered unhappily.
"Talking?"
He kept glaring.
Genma moved closer. "Wait--sex? You're not good at sex?" There was a beat of silence, and then Genma barked a laugh. "Iruka, that's hardwired. If you just go with things, it's not possible to be *bad* at sex."
Iruka glared some more.
The grin faded from the air between them. "Shit, are you *serious*?" Genma asked after a minute.
Iruka thought he might die from the blush that rose into his face. He should never have spoken to anyone about this.
"Hey." Genma poked him with the toe of his boot. "Has *Kakashi* said something--?"
"No," Iruka muttered. He twirled up the last of the noodles and ate them, snapping his teeth closed with frustration. "You can tell, though," he said around food. "Sometimes he just . . ." The image hit, being woken from sleep by Kakashi over him, sliding and half desperate, back from a mission. A toe-curling orgasm and then--
Kakashi going off to shower, or snuggling into sleep, not even hard.
He had no idea how to say any of that to Genma. The words themselves were embarrassing, much less the image they conjured.
But Genma was waiting.
"Sometimes he just . . . doesn’t . . ." Iruka chewed on his lip. "Nevermind."
He made the mistake of glancing up. Genma was still waiting.
Iruka ducked his head again. "I mean, he'll get in late and he'll--" he *couldn't* say 'give me a handjob.' Iruka skipped it entirely and went straight to, "--So I'll--" 'come' was crude and 'orgasm' was clumsy. He blushed and gestured vaguely with his chopsticks. "--But he won't and then he's asleep or something--"
"If I understand what you're saying," Genma said slowly, looking somewhat confused, "that sounds like *Kakashi's* problem."
"No, no," Iruka hurried to correct. "It's only after missions. He's tired. It's not that he *can't*--ah--" 'get it up' seemed wrong to say, somehow. He skipped that part, too. "--It's just that he doesn't--" Iruka realized what the end of his sentence was. It drove home everything he'd been saying. He deflated. "He doesn't *want* to."
"After a mission?" Genma asked slowly.
Iruka nodded. He picked up another box and opened it, peering inside.
"Have you asked him about it?"
"He says he's tired," Iruka muttered. He poked at the contents of the box--something stir fried with lots of cabbage--and took a little bite.
"He could just be *tired,*" Genma said.
Iruka kept poking at the cabbage.
Genma nudged him with his boot again. "Is he interested in you on a fairly regular basis other than that?"
"Yeah," Iruka mumbled. These questions were at least easier. He didn't need sexual vocabulary.
"Then I think it's a safe bet to say he's just rebalancing after missions. A lot of ninja go kinda funny. Be glad his kink runs to bringing you off rather than rough sex or something."
Iruka glared at the cabbage. He dug and found a carrot. "Yeah," he mumbled again. Genma didn't get it. He couldn't explain it, either. It was just a feeling. A look. Something like that.
"Have you talked to Kakashi about any of this?" Genma asked after a bit.
Iruka's blush flared again. "No." He knew he should. He'd been trying to convince himself of that for a month, while their sex life went steadily downhill.
He didn't want his suspicions confirmed, though.
"Hey."
He looked up.
"You're not bad at sex." Genma grinned. "It's not possible."
Iruka offered a smile in return, then stuffed the chopsticks into the cabbage stir-fry and set it down. "Yeah. Thanks for the lunch and the rant," he said, feeling marginally better. He pushed to his feet, leaving the leftovers with Genma. "I'll talk to Kakashi."
It was a lie. He knew it, and suspected Genma knew it as well. But they both pretended he would talk to Kakashi, and after another minute of small talk Iruka headed back to work.
The office was big and lonely. Iruka flopped in his seat and stared at the pile of scrolls on his desk.
He knew everyone in the village, and didn't have anyone to talk to about these things. He frowned and tightened his ponytail, getting back to work. At least Genma was willing to listen.
**
When Iruka got home it was to an empty apartment; not too unusual since Kakashi had his own.
There was a note with his mail, though. It read simply,
Have mission. 3 days.
And was signed with a chicken scratch "henohenomoheji."
Iruka muttered unhappily beneath his breath and tossed the mail on the table, putting tea on to boil before beginning to sort.
It was phenomenal, how much junk he got. Most of it went into the trash bin; a few things he set aside, and one scroll was hot to the touch. He spent a good ten minutes looking it over, trying to figure out who it was from and what it was for.
He didn't recognize the kanji, the address, or the name. Misdelievered, or for Kakashi. Twice in the last few months ANBU had sent something to Iruka that they didn't want traced. Iruka put the scroll aside to hand over when Kakashi returned, then glared at the inside of his fridge until he realized food wasn't, in fact, going to materialize.
Then he grabbed his jacket and went to buy something.
Five minutes later, he raced back, turned the tea water off, and went back out again.
**
Several years before
"I--I don't know . . ." Iruka said uncertainly, face bright red. "They might still be around."
"They're not around," Mizuki laughed. "C'mon, Iruka." He grinned, pressing closer. Iruka took a step back and found himself against a wall. Mizuki shifted, grinding their hips together, and Iruka's face went brighter red.
Despite how nice it felt, he couldn’t get the memory of nearly being caught making out in a tree from his mind. They were on a mission, and those weren't friendly ninja. It was rather a libido dampener. "Mizuki," he said reprovingly, and pushed the other boy away.
Mizuki looked more than slightly annoyed. "Fine," he muttered, stepping back.
Iruka watched him for a bit, and then headed to a window. The hut was tiny, abandoned, and probably one of the places the ninja would look if they found it. They needed to resupply and move on.
"Fuck, Iruka, you slobbered on me," Mizuki muttered.
Iruka jumped and looked back. "What?" he yelped.
Mizuki rolled his eyes. "Kissing you is like being swallowed whole. You don't have to use that much spit, you know." He grinned, laughing, and waggled his tongue.
Iruka laughed uncomfortably. Funny, sure. Embarrassing.
"Seriously, though," Mizuki said, stuffing rations into his bag. "Take it from a friend; when you're making out, don't be so random with your hands."
". . . Random?" Iruka asked hesitantly.
"Yeah. Like one minute you're petting here, the next there. It's like screwing a spaz."
Iruka winced. "Oh."
"I mean, I'm not trying to be nasty. Just . . ." Mizuki shrugged. "Well, I'm your friend so I wouldn't stop. I'd help you get better at it. But, man, you start fucking someone like that . . ." the other Chuunin smirked. "Let's just say you need some practice."
Iruka felt a little ill. "Oh," he said again.
Mizuki walked up, slinging his pack over his shoulders and snapping it in place. He slapped rations against Iruka's chest, and Iruka grabbed for them automatically.
"Look, don't feel bad. At least you know you suck at screwing around. Now you can work on it, right?" Mizuki grinned.
Iruka smiled weakly back. He'd never been so humiliated in his life. Then he shook himself, glaring at Mizuki. "Man, you're being an ass," he snapped. "I'm not a bad lay."
"Yeah, okay, whatever," Mizuki snorted. "Didn't Anko like, make out with you once and then never again? Actions speak louder than words . . ."
"She was drunk!" Iruka nearly yelled, stung by the truth.
"Hey, hey, don't get touchy," Mizuki said, backing away with his hands up. "I'm just pointing it out so you can work on it. Some people just aren't good at sex. Don't feel bad. Know your limitations and work within them. Get good at something and then just. . . don't try too many things."
"Shit, Mizuki, stop being a dickhead," Iruka snapped, hurt, storming out of the hut.
"Jeez, okay, I'm sorry," Mizuki muttered from behind him. "I was just trying to help. If I'd known you were going to get all *defensive* about it . . ."
Iruka hunched his shoulders and kept moving.
*******************
Author: JBMcDragon
Status: Nearly complete
Rating: R for violence and language
Summary: The sequel to The Kakashi Mission. Things are not perfect in any relationship, but even Kakashi knows something really isn't right in theirs.
Author's notes: First, many thanks to my beautiful and charming beta,
darksideofstorm. Yay, Dark! Also, I will update once a week.Second: I'm melding the anime fillers from right after Naruto left with the manga, because that's how I wrote The Kakashi Mission and it makes sense to stick to the timeline. ;) My meld is that most of the filler things happened, just without Naruto there. If you haven't seen them, the references Iruka makes about Mizuki are that Mizuki, in the fillers, was put in prison after the scroll thing, broke out, tried to get to Orochimaru, tried to kill Iruka when Iruka went to stop him, said nasty evil things like, "I never liked you" and "I always hated you", and then died. :)
Third: For those of you enjoying the Bathroom Mirror series, please remember that IT ISN'T CANNON! It doesn't actually happen in this universe, 'kay? Kay.
Fourth: This is a sequel to The Kakashi Mission. I'd recommend reading that first.
Former Lives 1/9-ish
Prologue
Now
"Iruka-sensei."
Iruka flinched and looked up. He shivered in the corner of his cell, arms wrapped around his legs. The voice was familiar. The coolness was not. "Kakashi," he said softly. Everything hit, threatening to overwhelm him. He focused on breathing.
Kakashi stood outside, hands carefully nonchalant in his pockets. Iruka could still read the strain; the tightness around the man's single visible eye, the stiff line of his shoulders, the hips that canted too much to be really comfortable.
"Why?" Kakashi murmured.
Iruka couldn't look at the other man. He stared at the stone floor instead. "I don't know." He shivered again, but couldn't tell if it was from actual cold or the illusory jutsu they'd sentenced him with. His grip tightened on his legs. He could feel Kakashi there, watching him behind layers and layers of masks. "I looked at him and . . . and I heard my parents screaming." He laughed, but stopped when he heard how broken it sounded. The world swam, and he blinked back tears. He wouldn't cry about this. He didn't deserve to cry about this. "Funny, though, because my mother died in the hospital. She didn't scream." He didn't want to think about it. He couldn’t stop. "How is Naruto?" he asked softly.
"Jiraiya and he left the village again this morning," Kakashi said after a quiet moment. "He thinks he got food poisoning."
Some of the tension left Iruka. Naruto wouldn't hate him.
Tears swam in his eyes at the thought. He buried his face in his knees, trying to hide them. Skin that wasn't really injured screamed a protest as phantom pain shuddered through him.
"Do you understand what happened?" Kakashi asked, his voice oddly soft. Like speaking to a small child, Iruka thought.
Iruka nodded miserably. He knew they had tested him for jutsu, just like he knew they hadn't found it. Just like he knew he'd tried to kill Naruto.
If they had found it, if he had been that lucky, he wouldn’t have been sentenced.
He shivered again. His own voice seemed to echo through the cellblock, screaming and screaming.
He deserved it. He'd known what would happen even when he turned himself in.
He shivered against the stone.
Cloth slid against metal bars, fingers dragging down through filth as Kakashi knelt. "Ibiki and Shizune think that . . . that maybe you've been under too much stress."
Iruka wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream.
"That with the anniversary of the fox and your parents' death, maybe it was just too much. They said it was probably a psychotic break. As long as you continue to show stability--"
Iruka laughed, nearly hysterical. He wiped his face on his sleeve and wrapped his arms around his head, curling tighter. "They aren't going to let me out," he said into the crooks of his elbows. "They aren't going to let me near my students again."
There was a noise like air blown between lips, and suddenly Kakashi was there, next to him. "Not right away," the man said. "But these things happen."
"To Chuunin?" Iruka snapped bitterly.
Kakashi was silent for a long moment. "Not often," he said at last. "Usually ANBU. Jounin. But also to people who've been through war."
Iruka didn't point out that the wars had ended. That if he was going to snap and try to kill Naruto, it should have happened already.
He didn't have to point it out. They both knew.
He'd tried to kill Naruto.
Tears gathered again. He pressed his face harder into his arms. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn't. Not here. Not for this. Not out of some misplaced self-pity--
"You can leave here, under ANBU guard," Kakashi said softly.
A hand feathered down onto his shoulder. Iruka flinched. It didn't move.
"The guard's only temporary. Just to make sure--" Kakashi stopped.
"I don't try to kill anyone else?" Iruka mumbled into his arms. A thumb rubbed along his bicep.
They remained sitting, quiet. Kakashi's thumb kept drifting, small circles over dirty cloth. Eventually, Iruka took a deep breath and looked up. "So where's my guard?" he asked finally, trying to summon a smile. It wobbled and dropped away.
He'd tried to kill Naruto. He hated himself.
Kakashi tipped his head, eye closing in an arc.
"Oh," Iruka said. He looked at the man's shoulder where he knew the tattoo lay, swirling darkly over pale skin, hidden by a shirt. "Thank you," he whispered.
Kakashi said nothing. He stood, grabbing one of Iruka's wrists and pulling him to his feet. "Let's get you home," he said, and started out of cell.
Iruka refused to limp. It had only been an illusion. He had deserved every second of it.
He'd tried to kill Naruto.
Chapter One
Then
Kakashi knew he was neurotic. There was no doubt in his mind about the extent of his neuroses. It didn't bother him too much; people seemed to accept them these days. He'd learned his friends--and there was a new concept--weren't going to run just because he didn't let them in his apartment, and Iruka--aside from the occasionally flung weapon--put up with him remarkably well.
He figured his neuroses gave him *charm.* (He'd only said that to Iruka once. The man had laughed until tears ran down his face.)
And, despite--or maybe because of--his neuroses, he was a damn good ninja. One of the best, if he did say so himself--which he did. Sometimes repeatedly.
When his neuroses didn't drive annoying people away, his porn usually did. His newest trick was to mark passages and mumble about 'trying that tonight.' He was, of course, kidding.
Mostly.
Kakashi glared at the copy of Icha Icha Paradise sitting on Iruka's nightstand--where he'd left it, hoping the younger man might pick it up and look--and wondered how his porn could have lied to him so effectively.
He was going to have a talk with Jiraiya about that.
Iruka walked out of the bathroom and froze. Kakashi scrubbed at the back of his head, sending his hair out in all new directions.
"Would you stop looking so forlorn?" Iruka said, the words somewhere between a snap and a sigh. He padded from the bathroom to the dresser, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair dripped, sending water down the indent of his spine. Kakashi watched a drop slide slowly down past the broad ribcage, linger a moment between two dimples above the towel, and then soak into the terrycloth. He was jealous of the damn water droplet. Stupid water droplet.
He'd expected Iruka to veto the threesome. And, to be honest, the fuzzy handcuffs. And the camera.
He hadn't really expected Iruka to get annoyed and veto sex altogether.
Iruka dropped the towel to step into pants. Kakashi glared at it.
Sex had been good, when they'd started seeing each other. They'd both fumbled occasionally, sometimes worse than others, and it had taken time to sort out signals and figure out what spots to hit. That, Kakashi had expected.
But two months into the relationship, and Iruka was *still* jumpy. He hadn't expected that.
He blamed it on a sad lack of porn in the man's life. It made sense. Kakashi had porn and he was confident, and Iruka didn't have porn, and wasn't confident. It was the only difference Kakashi could see.
Iruka's blushing had been deliriously cute at first. But Kakashi stopped teasing when Iruka stopped sleeping over. Apparently, Iruka didn't feel it was cute at all. The stuttering had been the same, as had the inability to say words any dirtier than 'penis.' It hadn't seemed like a big deal, but when it came down to saying where to touch and what felt good, it became difficult when half the vocabulary was gone.
Kakashi had assumed Iruka was just shy, and it would take time for him to relax.
Time was passing.
"You're going to burn a hole in that," Iruka said hesitantly.
Kakashi glanced up at him. Then he forced himself to relax, pushing up to his feet. He sauntered over to Iruka, sliding his hands around the other man's waist and pulling him closer.
Iruka was already dressed for the day, but that was expected. Kakashi wore sleeping pants and not much else--it was his day off. He'd even left the mask on the nightstand in the hopes it would make Iruka happier, though he was itching to put it on. "Stay home," he said, already knowing what the answer would be.
Iruka laughed and pushed at his chest. "Kakashi--"
"I know, I know," Kakashi sighed melodramatically. He nuzzled the sensitive spot behind Iruka's earlobe. He breathed, feeling the man shiver against him. If he'd realized before what a reaction *breathing* could get, he'd have stopped wearing his mask at eleven years old.
"Kakashi," Iruka said again, softer this time.
Kakashi pressed, and Iruka fell back. He kept walking, slowly, guiding the Chuunin's feet with his own until Iruka was flush against the wall. "I could come see you later," Kakashi murmured.
"Sure," Iruka agreed.
"Lunch break?"
Iruka nodded against him.
Kakashi nipped at his ear, trailing his tongue along the shell. "We could lock the door. I could bring you a change of pants . . ."
He felt Iruka stiffen slightly, felt the heat from the man's face going red. "Kakashi--"
"I know, I know," Kakashi sighed, and stepped back. He would have glared, but it took too much energy. He looked vaguely annoyed and very bored, instead. "It's not--" he waved a hand negligently. "The right thing to do, or proper, or somesuch."
Now Iruka was looking frustrated. Maybe he shouldn't go see the man at lunch. If Iruka was already annoyed with him, they’d probably just end up fighting.
"I have to go," Iruka said, walking stiffly to the closet and yanking out his Chuunin vest. He scraped his hair up into its customary ponytail, pulling a band from around his wrist and whipping it through quickly.
Kakashi stared at Icha Icha Paradise. From the corner of his eye, he saw Iruka leave the bedroom. A moment later, the front door closed.
"Damn," Kakashi muttered.
**
"Damn you, Genma!" Iruka bellowed, grabbing the wad of paper the Special Jounin had thrown at him. He bolted up from his chair, anger flooding him, and hurled the paper back at the ninja.
Genma ducked. It bounced off the wall.
"Stop fucking throwing things at me!" Iruka shouted.
Genma stared at him warily. "Uh," the man said, "okay."
Iruka collapsed into his chair again, elbows on the table and his head in his hands. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed with his outburst. "It's not you." He sensed Genma draw close, felt the desk move as the man sat on it.
"So . . . what's wrong?" Genma asked slowly.
Iruka rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. How much could he say? How much without incriminating Kakashi, or being utterly humiliated?
"Boyfriend trouble?" Genma asked finally.
Iruka nodded and kicked back, slouching down in his chair.
That bastard hadn't even come to lunch. Not that Iruka had really been expecting it. Kakashi was phenomenally good at avoiding any and all conflict, which didn't help anything.
"Does this have anything to do with Kakashi asking Kurenai about flavors of lube?"
Iruka paled and looked up. "He *what?*"
Genma grinned. His senbon stuck up jauntily. "I made that up. But it does have to do with something like that, doesn't it?"
Iruka returned to glowering at the desk. "Yes. No. I don't know." He rubbed his eyes again, just so he wouldn’t have to look at Genma. "He wants to try things," he mumbled from behind his hands, "and I'm just not . . . it's *embarrassing.*"
Genma was quiet. "It's okay to say no," he said after a bit.
Iruka dropped his hands and stared morosely at his knees. "I know. But I feel like I'm saying 'no' all the time, and some things aren't even all that unusual and then I just start saying no to everything because I’m annoyed and--" he stopped, catching himself mid-sentence. He smiled apologetically up at Genma, who was leaning with one hip on the desk. "Sorry. I didn't mean to rant at you."
Genma smiled sympathetically. "Seems like you need someone to rant at. Come on." He slapped at Iruka's shoulder, standing. "I'll take you to lunch. I'll eat, you rant."
Iruka almost said no, but Genma was already leaving, the 'back in an hour' sign held in one hand.
Outside the mission office door, though, Iruka clammed up. He was already vaguely embarrassed about what he had said, and couldn't imagine talking where others might overhear them. He let Genma carry the conversation all the way to a nearby café, and was relieved when the Special Jounin got their food to go.
They ended up in a park nearby, away from sensitive ears.
"Okay," Genma said without any ado, plopping himself down under a tree. "What kinds of things does he want to do?"
Iruka felt himself turn red. "We don't have to talk about this," he mumbled into his cardboard container. He opened it up and started eating noodles with great determination.
"C'mon, Iruka-Senseeiiii," Genma said, grinning. "What, does he want you to dress up like Tsunade and--"
Iruka almost choked on his noodles. Genma laughed.
"So already we have progress!" Genma crowed. "No Tsunade. Good to know. What else? Give me some details!"
Iruka felt himself turn bright red again. "It's just . . . things." He couldn't bring himself to say any of them. Genma was going to think they were weird perverts--more than they already were--and that would be unbearable.
"C'mon," Genma goaded. "Can't be that bad."
Iruka just shook his head and focused on eating. He could feel Genma's eyes on him, curious and thoughtful all at once.
"Didn't you ever talk about this stuff growing up?" Genma asked finally. "Everyone's kinda embarrassed by it, but you talk anyway. Makes you feel--" he waved his chopsticks around, "--normal, or something. You realize all those things you're dealing with are things everyone else is dealing with, too."
Iruka gave him a dirty look from under his brows. "I'm pretty sure teenagers don't discuss handcuffs or lube flavors," he muttered.
Genma snorted. "You would be surprised. I'll never forget the day Raidou announced he hadn't had sex with a man and a woman at the same time yet. He'd had too much to drink." His eyes unfocused, and his tone grew thoughtful. "I was even more surprised that it worked as a pick-up line . . ."
Iruka laughed and shook his head.
"Now c'mon," Genma said, sprawling out on one elbow. "Spill."
Iruka stirred his noodles, as if something else might miraculously appear. "I don't know," he muttered finally. "He--he wants to *do* things and . . . I just . . . " he stopped, face burning. "What if it doesn't work? Or it's stupid? Or we do it wrong?"
"Well, if it doesn't work or it's stupid, you won't do it again," Genma laughed. "And if you do it wrong--that gives you an excuse to practice until you can do it right!"
Iruka looked at him dubiously.
Genma grinned. "Really! Come on, Iruka," he laughed. "Sex is ridiculous. It's not like you can do it wrong, anyway."
Iruka glared at the grass and stabbed his noodles without looking. "I'm just not good at this," he muttered unhappily.
"Talking?"
He kept glaring.
Genma moved closer. "Wait--sex? You're not good at sex?" There was a beat of silence, and then Genma barked a laugh. "Iruka, that's hardwired. If you just go with things, it's not possible to be *bad* at sex."
Iruka glared some more.
The grin faded from the air between them. "Shit, are you *serious*?" Genma asked after a minute.
Iruka thought he might die from the blush that rose into his face. He should never have spoken to anyone about this.
"Hey." Genma poked him with the toe of his boot. "Has *Kakashi* said something--?"
"No," Iruka muttered. He twirled up the last of the noodles and ate them, snapping his teeth closed with frustration. "You can tell, though," he said around food. "Sometimes he just . . ." The image hit, being woken from sleep by Kakashi over him, sliding and half desperate, back from a mission. A toe-curling orgasm and then--
Kakashi going off to shower, or snuggling into sleep, not even hard.
He had no idea how to say any of that to Genma. The words themselves were embarrassing, much less the image they conjured.
But Genma was waiting.
"Sometimes he just . . . doesn’t . . ." Iruka chewed on his lip. "Nevermind."
He made the mistake of glancing up. Genma was still waiting.
Iruka ducked his head again. "I mean, he'll get in late and he'll--" he *couldn't* say 'give me a handjob.' Iruka skipped it entirely and went straight to, "--So I'll--" 'come' was crude and 'orgasm' was clumsy. He blushed and gestured vaguely with his chopsticks. "--But he won't and then he's asleep or something--"
"If I understand what you're saying," Genma said slowly, looking somewhat confused, "that sounds like *Kakashi's* problem."
"No, no," Iruka hurried to correct. "It's only after missions. He's tired. It's not that he *can't*--ah--" 'get it up' seemed wrong to say, somehow. He skipped that part, too. "--It's just that he doesn't--" Iruka realized what the end of his sentence was. It drove home everything he'd been saying. He deflated. "He doesn't *want* to."
"After a mission?" Genma asked slowly.
Iruka nodded. He picked up another box and opened it, peering inside.
"Have you asked him about it?"
"He says he's tired," Iruka muttered. He poked at the contents of the box--something stir fried with lots of cabbage--and took a little bite.
"He could just be *tired,*" Genma said.
Iruka kept poking at the cabbage.
Genma nudged him with his boot again. "Is he interested in you on a fairly regular basis other than that?"
"Yeah," Iruka mumbled. These questions were at least easier. He didn't need sexual vocabulary.
"Then I think it's a safe bet to say he's just rebalancing after missions. A lot of ninja go kinda funny. Be glad his kink runs to bringing you off rather than rough sex or something."
Iruka glared at the cabbage. He dug and found a carrot. "Yeah," he mumbled again. Genma didn't get it. He couldn't explain it, either. It was just a feeling. A look. Something like that.
"Have you talked to Kakashi about any of this?" Genma asked after a bit.
Iruka's blush flared again. "No." He knew he should. He'd been trying to convince himself of that for a month, while their sex life went steadily downhill.
He didn't want his suspicions confirmed, though.
"Hey."
He looked up.
"You're not bad at sex." Genma grinned. "It's not possible."
Iruka offered a smile in return, then stuffed the chopsticks into the cabbage stir-fry and set it down. "Yeah. Thanks for the lunch and the rant," he said, feeling marginally better. He pushed to his feet, leaving the leftovers with Genma. "I'll talk to Kakashi."
It was a lie. He knew it, and suspected Genma knew it as well. But they both pretended he would talk to Kakashi, and after another minute of small talk Iruka headed back to work.
The office was big and lonely. Iruka flopped in his seat and stared at the pile of scrolls on his desk.
He knew everyone in the village, and didn't have anyone to talk to about these things. He frowned and tightened his ponytail, getting back to work. At least Genma was willing to listen.
**
When Iruka got home it was to an empty apartment; not too unusual since Kakashi had his own.
There was a note with his mail, though. It read simply,
Have mission. 3 days.
And was signed with a chicken scratch "henohenomoheji."
Iruka muttered unhappily beneath his breath and tossed the mail on the table, putting tea on to boil before beginning to sort.
It was phenomenal, how much junk he got. Most of it went into the trash bin; a few things he set aside, and one scroll was hot to the touch. He spent a good ten minutes looking it over, trying to figure out who it was from and what it was for.
He didn't recognize the kanji, the address, or the name. Misdelievered, or for Kakashi. Twice in the last few months ANBU had sent something to Iruka that they didn't want traced. Iruka put the scroll aside to hand over when Kakashi returned, then glared at the inside of his fridge until he realized food wasn't, in fact, going to materialize.
Then he grabbed his jacket and went to buy something.
Five minutes later, he raced back, turned the tea water off, and went back out again.
**
Several years before
"I--I don't know . . ." Iruka said uncertainly, face bright red. "They might still be around."
"They're not around," Mizuki laughed. "C'mon, Iruka." He grinned, pressing closer. Iruka took a step back and found himself against a wall. Mizuki shifted, grinding their hips together, and Iruka's face went brighter red.
Despite how nice it felt, he couldn’t get the memory of nearly being caught making out in a tree from his mind. They were on a mission, and those weren't friendly ninja. It was rather a libido dampener. "Mizuki," he said reprovingly, and pushed the other boy away.
Mizuki looked more than slightly annoyed. "Fine," he muttered, stepping back.
Iruka watched him for a bit, and then headed to a window. The hut was tiny, abandoned, and probably one of the places the ninja would look if they found it. They needed to resupply and move on.
"Fuck, Iruka, you slobbered on me," Mizuki muttered.
Iruka jumped and looked back. "What?" he yelped.
Mizuki rolled his eyes. "Kissing you is like being swallowed whole. You don't have to use that much spit, you know." He grinned, laughing, and waggled his tongue.
Iruka laughed uncomfortably. Funny, sure. Embarrassing.
"Seriously, though," Mizuki said, stuffing rations into his bag. "Take it from a friend; when you're making out, don't be so random with your hands."
". . . Random?" Iruka asked hesitantly.
"Yeah. Like one minute you're petting here, the next there. It's like screwing a spaz."
Iruka winced. "Oh."
"I mean, I'm not trying to be nasty. Just . . ." Mizuki shrugged. "Well, I'm your friend so I wouldn't stop. I'd help you get better at it. But, man, you start fucking someone like that . . ." the other Chuunin smirked. "Let's just say you need some practice."
Iruka felt a little ill. "Oh," he said again.
Mizuki walked up, slinging his pack over his shoulders and snapping it in place. He slapped rations against Iruka's chest, and Iruka grabbed for them automatically.
"Look, don't feel bad. At least you know you suck at screwing around. Now you can work on it, right?" Mizuki grinned.
Iruka smiled weakly back. He'd never been so humiliated in his life. Then he shook himself, glaring at Mizuki. "Man, you're being an ass," he snapped. "I'm not a bad lay."
"Yeah, okay, whatever," Mizuki snorted. "Didn't Anko like, make out with you once and then never again? Actions speak louder than words . . ."
"She was drunk!" Iruka nearly yelled, stung by the truth.
"Hey, hey, don't get touchy," Mizuki said, backing away with his hands up. "I'm just pointing it out so you can work on it. Some people just aren't good at sex. Don't feel bad. Know your limitations and work within them. Get good at something and then just. . . don't try too many things."
"Shit, Mizuki, stop being a dickhead," Iruka snapped, hurt, storming out of the hut.
"Jeez, okay, I'm sorry," Mizuki muttered from behind him. "I was just trying to help. If I'd known you were going to get all *defensive* about it . . ."
Iruka hunched his shoulders and kept moving.
*******************
