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Silence envelops the village in a tight ring. Hot from the midday sun and tense, like a bowstring ready to shoot, and just as dangerous to the senses. The birds fall silent, the insects do not chirp, and the overwhelming, deafening silence falls in a huge wave. It knocks the air out of lungs, stuffs ears, and makes heart flutter in fear.
Iruka nervously taps his fingers on the box of documents, just to somehow defuse this silence, which is becoming harder to bear. The thud becomes something alien and almost frightening and freezes in the air with vibrations, which is why Iruka quickly stops making it. He involuntarily winces and shrugs his shoulders, but this does not help to shake off the unpleasant feeling of dull expectation and sticky panic, which has not yet completely engulfed, but is insidiously approaching all residents of Konoha from behind, slowly and inevitably. Iruka walks past small groups of Shinobi of three or four people and greets them with a nod of his head: no one dares to say the words out loud, as if this would be the most terrible offense, as if silence would get angry and something bad would happen. Partly, Iruka understands this. He catches the general anxiety by the tail on his outstretched hand and feels it with every cell of his body, and despite all his attempts to abstract himself as much as possible, his defenses are slowly losing ground, which he hates the most. He wants to rid everyone of anxiety, but instead succumbs along it with everyone else.
Iruka grips the box more comfortably and enters a small wooden house, which has recently serves as his refuge. Iruka can't call it home, at least because his apartment is still alive in his memory, with all its cracks in the putty, flies outside the window and memories. The apartment, which, along with the entire village, was destroyed so much that there was nothing left but ruins, rubble and dusty shot. Iruka only regrets the photo of his parents, which remained buried there, the only one he has left, except for the small yellowed and half-erased photo card that he carries in his vest pocket all his life.
It's not a bad house. It is bright because it is small, and the sun's rays illuminate and warm the whole room completely. It has two and a half rooms: a bedroom leading into the kitchen, and a bathroom. It's almost a luxury, considering that someone is still completely homeless while construction is underway. Iruka isn't complaining, should he?
He puts the boxes on a small table near the wall and goes to the window, tiredly pressing his forehead against the glass and closing his eyes. Silence does not let go of its merciless clutches, but only presses harder in its embrace. Iruka feels his rapid heartbeat and touches his chest with his palm, as if this will help calm him down. He grimaces again, angry with himself, forces himself not to think about anything and takes a few steady deep breaths. His chest calms down a little, and Iruka opens his eyes.
His window overlooks the construction site, and a pile of planks blocks half of his view, but a forest is visible from behind them. Now there are kids playing near these boards, they're still very young, about six or seven years old. They fight with sticks like katanas, and sometimes they throw small pebbles and leaves at each other, run around the boards, hide and scare each other, every now and then suddenly jumping out. Their laughter and shouts are barely audible, even though the distance between them and Iruka is less than six meters. The sound of their voices is muffled, as if coming from under the water column. Iruka smiles faintly, and it feels a little easier.
Children are the only ones who do not succumb to general despondency. They don't understand or notice how adults, as if under the control of genjutsu, freeze tensely, shudder and reach for shuriken at the slightest extraneous sound. How they flock to the liaison headquarters, overwhelming fear, and greedily absorb any bits of information, because ignorance is their worst enemy. The expectation of dispelling this ignorance is driving everyone crazy, but not the most harmless, bright and radiant little pregenins. They are full of faith in themselves and their village, enjoying every second, and every second something new and beautiful is born in their little heads. Iruka can scold and get angry at his students as much as he wants, but he is ready to give his life for each of them, as well as for every child in Konoha. He remembers how the Sandaime first told him about the Will of Fire, and his eyes involuntarily water when he looks at these children and sees a bright flame emerging in them.
Children don't feel war. Iruka would give everything he has so that they would never feel it, if only it were possible. He himself was lucky to be born when the Third Shinobi World War had already come to an end, and he hardly remembered what happened then. Even the first post-war years were almost not imprinted in his memory. But Iruka remembers the destruction of Konoha by the Nine Tails, and it's enough to make his heart sink in fear at the thought of how much more terrible the new war will be and how much blood it will shed. He himself is unlikely to be sent to the front line, if at all, he won't be taken into the main actions until the critical moment, but this is not what worries him most. Three reasons. Children — let them stay in the safety of the village, protected by all means, but they will still be traumatized. Many of them will become orphaned and lose everything before they can find it, because no matter what anyone says, children are just children, not Shinobi or soldiers. Naruto — even though Iruka does not doubt his abilities and strength, especially after he saved Konoha and all the residents recognized him as a hero, concern for him did not leave him. And the last reason is Kakashi Hatake.
The Copy Ninja is undoubtedly strong and smart enough to put him in a commanding role. Iruka has no doubt that the Fifth will decide to make him the captain of the unit, after all, he is the best fit for it. But Kakashi had been through a war before, and he wasn't Naruto to make promises to come back and not die until he achieved his dream. Kakashi has little faith in the Will of Fire, but he believes that it gives strength to others. He always wants to protect everyone— everyone except himself, and Iruka can't help but worry that he just needs something that will give him strength in the most difficult moments. Kakashi doesn't believe in talismans, but if Iruka had his way, he would have hung them all over him.
War is about fear, pain, blood, despair, and death. War is something that should never happen, but always does. Konoha is full of rumors, and everyone already knows that there will be a war, even if they don't know all the details and details. Paradoxically, no one has given them an exact answer yet, but everyone feels it. It hangs in the air with a dry, vibrating tension, touching everyone by all the strings of their soul and body, which is why everyone is silent, immersed in their dark thoughts and afraid to smile or take an extra breath.
Iruka is afraid too.
He hears other people talking about Kakashi's return, and is incredibly glad that he returned alive, but is afraid of what he will tell him. Iruka is not looking for Kakashi because he does not want to interfere and because he knows that if necessary, he will come by himself. And he always comes. Iruka is just waiting.
He waits for the second day, and does not sleep for the fourth, but strangely enough, fatigue does not even respond to him, at least he does not feel it. On the night of the third day waiting, he doesn't sleep either, waiting for Kakashi, but this time it's different: Iruka feels like he's coming today. He doesn't know what to do, so he starts cooking dinner, although he doubts it's a good idea at twelve in the morning.
He's almost finished tinkering with the stove when he hears the door open and close, and his hands shake and his heart skips a beat. Iruka freezes in place, holding a bottle of water in his hands, and just stands there, feeling a small tremor that he doesn't even try to stop.
"Kakashi?" he calls in a hoarse voice, without asking: knows it's him. There are footsteps that Iruka still doesn't turn around to, and then strong arms wrap around his waist, pressing him against someone's body, and his chin falls on his shoulder. Iruka shudders, and the heart starts beating really fast. He drops the water bottle on the table, turns around in his arms, and wraps his arms around Kakashi's neck in response. It takes a few seconds before hot, dry lips press into his with greedy hunger, and Kakashi forces Iruka to retreat to the table, pressing his whole body against it. Kakashi kisses for a long time and feverishly, but there is no passion at all in this — only tender longing and starved despair. Iruka runs his hand through his hair and squeezes it lightly, and then strokes it carefully, passing soft gray strands between his fingers. He gets lost in the sensations, and it takes him a moment to realize when they stop kissing, and Kakashi just hugs him, pressing cheek to cheek.
Absently stroking the back of Kakashi's head and trying to catch his breath, Iruka immediately realizes that something is wrong, simply because Kakashi is never like this at normal times. He, a big fan of reading, looked like one difficult, but by no means a closed book, and Iruka had learned to read it a long time ago. However, Iruka, not knowing exactly what is driving him, decides not to ask and not to bother him with questions even more. He hugs Kakashi's back.
"Are you going to have dinner?" Iruka asks quietly, absently stroking his shoulder blades and staring at the wall behind him.
Kakashi is silent for a while, and the thought creeps into Iruka that he has already fallen asleep, like this, on someone's shoulder. But then Kakashi sighs noisily, reluctantly, rubs his cheek lightly against Iruka's cheek, and then pulls away, out of habit tucking strands of brown hair behind his ear.
"Yeah," he exhales tiredly and stretches, crunching his bones. "But I'm going to take a shower first."
Iruka relaxes a little and smiles faintly, nodding. He regains his homely appearance, and gently pushes Kakashi's shoulder towards the bathroom.
"Of course. I'll set it for you. Hurry up if you don't want the rice to get cold."
Kakashi grumbles something half-jokingly, grunting tiredly, but leaves, and silence falls on Iruka again, from which his hands begin to shake. He presses his palms together, trying to stop trembling, and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing pulse and calm the dark veil that covers his thoughts. The stability in his legs weakens a little, but he manages to set Kakashi's dinner, after which he sinks heavily into a chair on the opposite side. Iruka clings to the barely discernible sound of the water and freezes, listening to it in a way he has never listened to any melody. This sound absorbs everything else, restoring the lost calm and comfort, and Iruka is lost in time. His head is as empty as it is in this room, except for the echo of splashing.
He shudders and blinks several times, as if from a dream, when the sound suddenly stops. Kakashi appears in the kitchen some time later, still in the same Shinobi uniform, only without a vest. Iruka makes eye contact with him, and something inside him cringes with pity, and he really hopes it doesn't show on his face, because Kakashi can't stand that. He is serious, but at the same time he looks tired, and there is something subtle in his gaze-wistful, something that pierces through the arteries and leaves him gasping. They only look at each other for a few seconds, but it's enough to make Iruka feel weak.
Kakashi doesn't even have a hint of a smile on his face, although he seems to really want it to be. He looks, and Iruka realizes that Kakashi knows that Iruka is aware of the war. He has a lot to say, but he doesn't say anything and just sits down at the table, looking down at his plate.
"My gentle one," flashes through his head, and Iruka has to turn away so as not to burst into tears shamefully at the table, like a five—year-old. He clenches his hands into fists and bites his lip until it hurts. "What's the matter with you? Get it together, little rag, you're blowing your nose here.… Are you sure you're a Shinobi?" — Iruka is angry at himself, but the sadness from this does not go away, continuing to torment his already anxious heart almost mockingly. He would never voice this thought, as well as thousands of other similar thoughts that were spinning in his head every time of waiting Kakashi and when this expectation ended with a long-awaited meeting. Kakashi will never know about this, simply because it's not the way they do it, and Iruka doesn't want to stand out and give him an extra reason for awkward banter.
Kakashi asks a series of ordinary questions, the essence of which does not reach Iruka, even though he gives him the same ordinary answers. The words are dry and brittle, hardly shaking the rough, dense silence in which Iruka is drowning. Fake ones, they both know that, set just to distract themselves. Kakashi asks them for Iruka to think about something else a little bit, and for himself a little bit, because it's unbearable to see Iruka trying to pull himself together.
When Kakashi finishes with his dinner, Iruka stands by the window again. Crossing his arms over his chest, he peers into the darkness of the night and watches how the weak wind plays in the grass with the red reflections of the light from the lamps, making the shadows dance. Kakashi approaches from behind — Iruka feels it — and freezes a few steps away, also looking out the window. Iruka tries to catch his reflection, but it's pretty bad, because the light coming from a small candle on the table is weak and fluctuates all the time.
"I'll be the commander of the Third Division," Kakashi says softly, still not moving or looking at Iruka. The meaning of the words doesn't sink in immediately, but when it does, he involuntarily squeezes his forearms so that his nails dig into his skin. This is not a shock at all — Iruka is ready for this. And yet, the confirmation of one's own rightness is not at all encouraging now. He would give anything if Kakashi's words turned out to be a stupid, cruel, unfunny joke, but Kakashi is absolutely serious and even seems to be a little disappointed by it himself. Iruka bites his trembling lip and pulls a smile.
"Congratulations. They knew who to choose. These people are in good hands." The voice, like stranger's, trembles and weakens by the end of the sentence, but Iruka doesn't seem to notice it. But Kakashi notices: he winces and turns Iruka around rather roughly by his shoulder. Something is splashing in the only visible eye, something darker than the black abyss of the iris, but this does not frighten Iruka, but only saddens him more. Kakashi must be too, because he's getting soft and tired again, and his grip on shoulder is loosening as he lightly strokes the warm swarthy skin with his thumb.
"Iruka," he calls softly, but doesn't say anything else, leaving Iruka wondering if he wanted to say anything at all, or if it was a momentary need to say his name. Iruka lowered his head down, no longer feeling the strength to look at his face. The callused palm disappears from his shoulder, and Kakashi sighs heavily. "Let's go to bed. It's late."
He turns around and says softly over his shoulder: "I'll leave again in the morning.
Then he goes into a part of the bedroom, hiding around a bend. Iruka stands there for a few seconds, staring after him. He tries to collect his thoughts, but his chest feels painfully tight when he tries the thought of waking up alone in the morning. "Kakashi, did you come to me even though we only have a few hours?"
When he entered the bedroom, Kakashi is already in bed. He's not wearing any outerwear, and he's got his arms folded under his head, staring at the ceiling. Barely noticing Iruka, he beckons him with his hand, and Iruka obediently comes. He lies down next to him and immediately finds himself in a dense warm ring of strong arms. Iruka snuggles against his broad chest and buries his face in his neck, closing his eyes, greedily inhaling the familiar scent he has missed. A lock of Kakashi's hands clasps behind his back, and a sharp chin rests on top of his head, but Iruka smiles blissfully, feeling Kakashi relax, and his breathing becomes deep and even.
Iruka briefly touches his collarbone with her lips — it can't even be called a kiss, just a light, almost weightless touch. His eyelids are trembling, but he doesn't open them, afraid that it will be harder to restrain himself. Kakashi strokes his back with his fingers, almost imperceptibly, monotonously, mesmerizingly, but more to calm himself than Iruka, to feel that he is near. Iruka understands this and clings even tighter. He really want to hide Kakashi somewhere inside his heart, under the protection of bones and chakra, hide Kakashi from the whole world and protect him to the last drop of blood, succumb to the selfish desire to leave Kakashi only to himself and fight with anyone who dares to challenge this decision. Iruka is ashamed of such thoughts, and not at all because he is so selfish — he is willing to accept that — but because Kakashi is the protector of this world himself, and the last thing he needs is the protection of someone like Iruka. He's ashamed because he can't be shoulder to shoulder with Kakashi, on equal terms, because he knows he's much weaker. But Kakashi still needs protection, like the most ordinary person in the most ordinary care. Iruka is ready to tear himself to pieces, just to be a reliable support for him.
Kakashi is a case where the darkness doesn't scare, even though it tries very hard. Iruka always feels it, but at the same time understands that it can be tamed. But most importantly, he understands that he wants to tame it. And Kakashi kind of lets him. Just a little bit. Even if not all of it. Iruka will wait as long as it takes.
He's just afraid that it's not enough for Kakashi. That Kakashi wouldn't be waiting.
Iruka had never been afraid of what Kakashi was exposing, like chained dogs being put out to guard a house. Iruka was afraid of what Kakashi was hiding. What was hidden behind the long unreadable stares, the minutes of silence between them, the nightmares and hours spent at the sink with the faucet on, the endless dangerous missions, avoiding friends, visiting cemeteries and solitary walks to nowhere when no one can find him. Behind the faint smiles, in those rare moments when Kakashi takes off his mask, behind the vows to die protecting his friends, behind the sharp, quick, desperate kisses and the nights — as sharp as if they were saying goodbye. Behind carefully concealed fears. Behind everything that is so securely guarded by live barbed wire that separates the Copying Shinobi from Kakashi Hatake.
Iruka just hopes to someday occupy a significant enough place in his life to be a compelling reason to always come home. Iruka wants Kakashi to know about this.
He thinks about the war and, to his horror, can imagine thousands of ways their story could end before it even started. It's scary because it really can happen, and now Iruka is fully aware of it, almost feels it. Because he knows that Kakashi has seen enough shit to just not want to come back, in the sense of not trying to get out of any ass just to survive. Kakashi is not Naruto. Iruka is not sure if he has a goal that he wants to achieve, and is afraid that this goal may turn out to be not to return.
Actually, Naruto might be one of the reasons. Just because he's like a stain, like an eternal reminder that Kakashi failed once—even wrongly, more than once. Kakashi is attached to him in a special way, painful but healing at the same time, and Iruka is not sure if he will be the reason that will make Kakashi think that it is better to leave the future to the young.
He can say whatever he wants, but he will remain sensitive and vulnerable on certain topics.
Iruka really wants to tell him about his love — although the word "love" is by definition too small to describe all his feelings — and about everything in the world that is so important to him, but it takes so much time, which they simply do not have. In the end, it's just stupid, because for Shinobi, love is actually something from the category of fairy tales, but Iruka feels overwhelmed by it, and he desperately wants to share at least some of it with Kakashi. Because it's really important — for him.
Iruka thinks about waking up alone in his cold and too empty bed in the morning, because Kakashi, damn them, was appointed commander of the Third Division. He thinks and realizes that he can't just let him go like that. Just fall asleep together and wake up alone.
When Kakashi unlocks the ring from his hands and rolls over onto his back, Iruka lies on his shoulder and puts his palm on Kakashi's chest. He feels the steady beating of his heart, and for a while becomes mesmerized by it. But the thought of spending their last night together, maybe, just by falling asleep, haunts him. Iruka runs his palm over his stomach, and then lifts up and catches Kakashi's lips with his own. He responds immediately, as if he's prepared for this turn of events—he must have been thinking the same thing—and caresses Iruka's mouth with his tongue, sucking lightly on his lips. It's sticky and wet, but they don't pull away even when Iruka sits on top of him.
Kakashi's hands rest on Iruka's lower back, rising higher to his shoulder blades, then falling lower again, but then they move to his hips and squeeze, as if holding him in place. Iruka loses his rhythm and accidentally bites Kakashi's lip, exhaling sharply. With one glance, he apologizes and kisses briefly, lightly touching the wounded place with the tip of his tongue, but Kakashi does not pay attention, only reaches out to resume the kisses. Iruka rests his palm on the pillow next to his head and shifts slightly, sitting on top of Kakashi, slightly, as if trying to figure out how it is. The fabric of the uniform pants is soft and obedient, it does not cause any discomfort, so Iruka continues to move, this time a little slower, sensually, with pressure. Kakashi groans into the kiss, and his hands tighten on Iruka's pants. It takes him a few minutes to normalize his breathing as much as possible, and Iruka, spellbound, catches his quiet, choked sighs with his lips. His heart is beating faster with joy and pleasure— the silence, for the first time in days, finally recedes completely and is filled only with Kakashi.
His cock tightens a little and now rests against Iruka's ass, which makes him mumble and nuzzle Kakashi's neck, feverishly touching the thin pale skin with his lips. With kisses, Iruka goes down to his chest, leaves a couple on his nipples, after which he straightens up, resting his palms on his chest. Kakashi catches his wrists and then tries to pull off his sweatshirt, but Iruka takes it off himself, throwing it aside. Then warm, callused palms begin to explore his body, while Iruka continues to move back and forth from above. Downstairs, it's hot to the point of trembling and weak knees, thankfully Iruka is sitting. He bites his lip, but it doesn't help him breathe more evenly.
They never talk during sex, as if any word could destroy their privacy and shatter the bond they've built, which is stupid, but it's still spinning in their head. When they make love, Iruka fully feels Kakashi on all planes — mentally, physically, his every movement, every breath, every heartbeat, thought, drop of sweat running down his shoulder — everywhere and completely with him. This feeling inspires and touches every chord of the soul, and Iruka knows that Kakashi also feels it at such moments, and from this knowledge the feeling of complete unification is amplified several times. They don't talk, but they understand each other anyway, even when their intercourse is not gentle and sensual, as it is now, but rough and fast, when they fuck, as is customary among Shinobi — dirty and vulgar — and, undoubtedly, there is a big difference between making love and fucking, but for Iruka, both options are fine, because it's Kakashi.
Iruka will wake up alone tomorrow, so now he gets up on his knees and pulls down Kakashi's pants in one motion, taking his hardened cock in his hand. Hot flesh is seductive and beautiful in its own way. Iruka licks his lips and pulls away for a moment: it takes him a few minutes to take off his own pants. He bends down to Kakashi's face and kisses him again, claiming possession, greedily bites his lips and licks them, ruffling the gray hair he so fall for. His fingers get tangled in the bandage, and Iruka pulls it off, throwing it on the bedside table, hugs Kakashi's face with his palms. Strong hands, now almost unbearable burning, stroke his back, and under these touches Iruka is melting. Kakashi is close and approachable, excited and excited, with flushed cheeks. Iruka feels like he wants it here and now, but they both know it's going to be different than just a quickie.
Kakashi pulls the elastic band off Iruka's hair, and the dark strands fly across his face and shoulders, forcing him to pull away to straighten them. Kakashi doesn't hide the Sharingan anymore — Iruka catches a red pupil, usually a little scary, but not now, and smiles easily, running the tip of his tongue over his lips. Kakashi takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, but decides to give in. Leaning over him, Iruka fumbles in the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of lube, while Kakashi squeezes his thighs to white marks and teases with his fingers, circling the most interesting places. Iruka returns to his seat and, blushing slightly, puts the bottle in his hand, after which he bends down again, burying his face in his shoulder. Kakashi exhales loudly, and his free hand clenches impulsively on his hip, but Iruka knows that he has understood what is being asked of him.
Kakashi's hand creeps between their bellies, lightly touching and tickling, and touches the inside of his thigh. The fingers gently touch the thin skin and rise higher, which makes Iruka shudder and exhale sharply. The lube is slightly cool compared to their heated bodies, but it warms up quickly when Kakashi begins to gently stroke his anus with the pads of his fingers. Iruka jerks his head up, gasps, clutching Kakashi's shoulders with his nails, while Kakashi strokes his intimate place, whispering something to himself and, it seems, completely unable to see anything in front of him. His hot, moist lips leave a kiss on Iruka's shoulder. Fingers penetrate the warm narrow hole, slowly and sensually moving inside. Iruka closes his eyes, and a groan escapes from his chest. He presses himself into Kakashi's body, grabbing the hair at the back of his head with one hand, now more than ever feeling how close Kakashi is.
Kakashi stretches him long and sensitively, causing goosebumps all over his body. Time loses all meaning, and all that remains is to lie trembling on top of Kakashi, exposing himself to his skillful, dexterous fingers and moaning somewhere in his shoulder. His cock is tense almost to the point of pain, and Iruka thinks that's enough for him to cum. For months, he and Kakashi hadn't been able to be alone for more than a few miserable minutes, and during those months, Iruka had been doing nothing but work. His body melted like ice cream under the sun, from the feeling of strong hands, hot lips and attentively gentle gaze. Kakashi likes to leave Iruka unarmed in front of him.
When it gets empty and cold inside, Iruka bites his lip to the stars in his eyes and hums, feeling Kakashi stroking his back. But after a few seconds, Iruka pulls away, feeling the heat flood his face. He holds Kakashi's gaze without looking away, and he takes his cock in his hand again. Kakashi is also all red, his eyes are darker than usual, and he shudders violently when Iruka sits down, closing his eyes and breathing quickly, directing his cock into himself. He makes a few awkward movements, but it's uncomfortable — Kakashi sees it perfectly well, so, trying to stop the complete shutdown of the mind, he gently stops it. Clutching Iruka by the waist, Kakashi turns them both around, puts a pillow under his lower back and hangs over him.
Iruka covers his mouth with his hand, and his knees shake, as if he suppresses trying to bring them together but continues to lie down. Kakashi exhales, still making futile attempts to stay sane, and slowly enters. A guttural moan escapes his lips, and Iruka arches up, gasping, and thrusts harder. Kakashi pauses, squeezing his hips in a fit of passion and stroking his entire body, then almost lies on top of him, kissing his neck, removes Iruka's disheveled long dark hair from his face and, holding it slightly, begins to move. Iruka is trembling, feverishly clinging to Kakashi's back, breathing very fast and seems ready to go crazy from the proximity and enveloping warmth. The pillow under the lower back helps to take and keep the most comfortable position without discomfort for the back and at the same time facilitates Kakashi's task. Iruka feels him inside, blushing, then remembers his pose and blushes even more. It's all too close, hot and humid.
As they approach the peak, Iruka doesn't have any logical thoughts left in his head at all. He wants to say something so that Kakashi understands how good he feels with him — now and in general — and that Iruka will do anything for him, but instead of words, only confused moans and hot sighs come out of his mouth. All that remains are the feelings: burning lips exploring the neck and face and leaving short wet kisses on them, the warmth and friction of the body from above, soft strokes on top of the head and just mind-blowing heat below. For a few more beautiful long minutes, only feelings remain, and everything gets confused and darkens before his eyes. A wave of orgasm hits suddenly, like an electric shock, and for a while there is only nothing filled with pleasure.
When Iruka takes a deep breath, the first thing he feels is the weight of Kakashi's body pressing against him. This is by no means uncomfortable, rather the opposite. Iruka absentmindedly runs her fingers through his soft gray hair and smiles slightly at something special lodged in his chest. He feels the searing breath on his shoulder and the beating of Kakashi's heart in his chest. The memory of the cursed tomorrow, tomorrow without Kakashi, makes him very sad. Iruka hugs him, burying his face in his shoulder.
"Kakashi..."
Kakashi mumbles something unintelligibly and moves slightly, rubbing his cheek against Iruka's cheek. Iruka holds his breath for a few seconds, debating whether to say what he wants to say and trying to calm his pulse.
"I'll be waiting for you. So that… Come back."
Kakashi freezes, and Iruka freezes too. Kakashi lifts himself up slightly, propping himself on his elbows, and Iruka has time to notice how the surprise on his face is replaced by an almost frightening seriousness. He doesn't say anything, just stares, as if trying to see the answer to some unanswered question in Iruka, and Iruka just blinks, suddenly afraid of his own boldness, and nervously tries to smile, gently touching his cheek with his fingertips. A sigh escapes Kakashi's lips, he suddenly gets up, crawls to the side and sits on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs to the floor. Iruka's heart is about to stop. A chilling fear spreads through his veins that he has just ruined everything, and he simply freezes with his hand raised, like a stone statue.
"I... I shouldn't have said that? .."
Kakashi flinches and turns around, grabbing his hand.
"Iruka! You..." The grip on his wrist tightens, but Kakashi doesn't say anything else. Iruka gets up too, and only after he gets a little closer does he notice that he is trembling slightly. There's something big, desperate, and tender in those dark eyes, and Iruka groans, touching his shoulder, trying to figure out if it's worth following the boundaries, but Kakashi responds quite obviously, pulling him sharply into his bear hug. Iruka is drowning in them, hugging them back with all his might, knowing that Kakashi needs it now. So it's important to him after all. It's important that Iruka waits for him.
"Will you?" Kakashi mutters softly, as if to himself, as if calculating this idea on faith. Iruka clings to his chest, trying to infect his mind with confidence and support — with what he can give him.
"I will," Iruka answers just as quietly, and then releases him from his embrace and covers his face with his hands, forcing him to look at himself. He straightens his gray locks, studies his eyes first, then his lips, and whispers into them again: "I will."
They don't kiss. They just freeze in the tangle of bodies, a millimeter from each other's faces, and just hold on to each other.
"You have nothing to do," Kakashi says, playing with his hair and twisting it around his fingers like ribbons. "Inventor."
"Nothing," Iruka agrees, gently stroking his face with his thumbs. And he reminds his, giving his a short kiss on the nose, "You have to get up early tomorrow."
Kakashi nods absently. And he pulls them both back onto the bed, still hugging them. He throws a blanket over his with one hand and wraps himself in it to make Iruka more comfortable. Warmth and comfort quickly attract drowsiness, and Iruka feels completely exhausted, and fatigue suddenly covers his head. The way he wants to sleep, he no longer has the strength to open his eyes, and he gives up, gradually sinking into the abyss of an immense but attractive abyss, wrapped in the softness of a blanket and the hot beating of Kakashi's heart under his ear.
"When I get back, things will be different for us, Iruka."
Iruka doesn't answer, just fidgets in place, getting comfortable in Kakashi's arms. Tomorrow morning, before even the sun has touched the horizon, the bed will be empty and it will become unbearably cold. There's not much time left before dawn—maybe a couple of hours? Tomorrow, the war will start, with Kakashi at the head. Tomorrow, but for now, it's still today, and for now, Kakashi is here, and that's enough to fall asleep peacefully.