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Forgetting in the Rain

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Iruka cursed the weather as he walked home. He had forgotten to bring an umbrella that morning because it honestly hadn't looked like there would be a torrential downpour by the time the academy let out. The sun was shining, a warm wind swept through that made it feel like the early weeks of summer. Of course hours later, the sky told a different story with dark clouds appearing out of nowhere. The thunder started and Iruka was screwed, the bitter wind slicing through him, and the rain soaking through his uniform.

It wasn't turning out to be a very good week for Iruka. Five days prior, Kakashi left for a mission with them squabbling over something silly. He couldn't remember now what their fight was about, but it made him regret that the last words he had said before Kakashi left had been words of anger. If they indeed became the last words he said to Kakashi...he'd...he'd never forgive himself. Of course it wasn't conducive to think like that. Kakashi was a genius and could take care of himself. But Iruka also knew that every mission posed unforeseen risks and obstacles. There was a very real chance Kakashi could get hurt and that little voice of fear and doubt was hard to silence.

For every wet step he took, he prayed that Kakashi would come back to him safe.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts, and hunched in on himself, he didn't see the person until he collided with them.

Flinging arms out to steady himself against the impact, Iruka apologized profusely before he lifted his head and was met with a close up of mismatched eyes.

"Kakashi," he breathed out, the rain drowning his voice into a whisper.

Kakashi moved in closer to him and Iruka felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the way Kakashi was looking at him in that moment – a silent, hungry, intense gaze.

Kakashi pushed him gently into the alley, his gaze not relenting. Iruka dared to lift his arms and hook them around Kakashi's neck; something – a weird, dark vibe – had taken hold of Kakashi to the point that Iruka didn't know how to tread around the other man. This thing between them was still new, still fresh, with many areas yet to be explored and encountered. He had always gotten Kakashi a day or so after his missions, and not – as Iruka suspected – mere hours after he walked through the gates back into Konoha.

Iruka licked his lips, the rain still on them, a bit salty and warm.

When the kiss came, it wasn't the gentle, provoking sort of kiss they had shared before but something…wild and uncontrollable. Kakashi drove into his mouth, not asking permission but demanding and forceful.

Kakashi's cold fingers slipped under his flak vest and Iruka was a mix of hot and cold; he couldn't stop blushing at the thought of having sex in public. True, there was hardly anyone out right now in the rain, but they lived in a shinobi village where the unexpected happened all the time and he was pretty sure that if he wanted his dignity in tact, he should push Kakashi away and put a stop to everything, even if the everything was so very good after five lonely days spent worrying. He really, really should do something beside just…he groaned when Kakashi slipped a leg between Iruka's thighs and Iruka could feel Kakashi's hardness against him. They rubbed against each other there on the wall. Kakashi unzipped Iruka's pants and took his cock out. And Iruka, Iruka had missed his touch for five whole days and it wasn't long before he was coming all over Kakashi's hand, and going limp in his arms. But Kakashi's strong hold on him kept him from crumbling to the dirty pavement. They stood there, holding each other, the rain falling around them and soaking them, but they didn't care.

~*~

After wards, when they were both dry and in bed, Iruka kissed him softly as an apology – even though it didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, not if Iruka couldn't remember the argument - and whispered "welcome home" against the shell of his ear. And Kakashi turned and buried his face in Iruka's neck, a contented sigh that was meant to be an apology too, a reply that everything was forgiven and forgotten and left in the dust.