Archive of Our Own ^beta

The knock on his window was a surprise, as most things from Tsunade were. A rap against the pane, quick and efficient. 

Teaching and mission desk shifts filled most of Iruka's time from dawn to well past eleven at night. Sundays were his only day off, and he clung to sleep even as the second knock came and every part of his body insisted he wake up and protect himself if needed. Bleary-eyed, he stared at the ANBU crouching on the edge of his windowsill, and, rubbing a hand over his face, sighed. 

There was no reason for the Godaime to summon him, least of all so early in the morning, but Iruka bit back his irritation as he cracked the window open. "Anbu-san," he greeted, a tiredly respectful nod ending his sentence. 

"Chuunin-san." The ANBU returned the nod, their bird mask seeming to smile for them. "Godaime Hokage requests your presence in her office in twenty minutes."

Iruka cut his exhale short. "Has she said what for?" 

"I am unable to share that information."

"Because you can't tell me, or because you don't know?"

The ANBU tilted their head to the side. "Twenty minutes," they said, disappearing in a puff of wind and leaves. Gone as if they had not been crouched on a windowsill outside Iruka's apartment a moment ago.

"Understood," Iruka murmured. 

He wondered, absently, as he made his way to the shower, if all elite shinobi were as strangely maladjusted. 

Kakashi would argue with the use of the word, for as simple a reason as to see Iruka riled-up and annoyed, but that would have not made the observation any less true. Few jounin Iruka had met were what one might call normal. Understandably so, Iruka knew, for it took a certain strangeness to commit to the atrocities of their duties and still remain sane. 

Despite everything, and the gap breached between him and the jounin shinobi because of Naruto, Iruka was glad they didn't always run in the same circles. 

Ill-prepared to leave his home, Iruka pulled on an older uniform and raked his hair back into as neat a ponytail as he could manage, grateful for the hitai-ate hiding most of the stray hairs at his temple. He checked himself once in the mirror and hoped the meeting would be short; short enough that his day wouldn't be wasted and he would have time to catch up on his rest with a large slice of cheesecake and a sweet romance novel, at least. 

Slipping from his apartment building, the ANBU that had awoken him moved from the shadows ANBU were used to hiding in and matched their paces with little effort. 

Iruka glared. "I can make it to Hokage Tower without a security detail," he all but snarled. 

"Apologies, sensei," the ANBU said, dipping their head forward the slightest bit. "My orders are to escort you safely to Godaime Hokage-sama's office. Until then." They gestured vaguely before the two of them, stepping aside to allow the teacher to walk a bit ahead. 

Iruka gritted his teeth. Concern plucked at the back of his mind and he forced himself to not consider the growing list of things that could be wrong, that could call for such urgency. 

Naruto? he thought, and almost stopped in the middle of the pavement. If it were about Naruto, about his own son, surely Tsunade would have found a more sensitive way to summon him. 

They neared the tower and his ANBU guard speeded up, not a single stray eye turned on Iruka as they passed nor a low whisper equal parts gossiping and concerned followed him, and that should have been enough to ease his mind. For, if Naruto were involved in any shape or form, news would have found a way to spread. He fought to shake away the growing fear, yet it niggled at his mind and would not completely leave, even as he neatened his fatigues and readied himself to enter Tsunade's office. 

"Tsunade-sama," Iruka greeted, following in after the ANBU, who announced their arrival and immediately stationed themself near Tsunade's desk. 

Her table, piled high with paperwork Iruka was sure had no right to still be there, made the beginning of a headache throb behind his eyes. She moved aside a stack of papers and rested her elbows on whatever couldn't be pushed aside. 

"Iruka-sensei." She waved at nothing in particular. "Please sit."

He obliged, and the silence dragged on into nearly a minute. "Tsunade-sama—" he began, after neither of them had said anything and the frustration from a disturbed sleep coupled angrily with being called to her office with no explanation. 

Tsunade interrupted with a slice of her hand. "What do you know of Kirigakure, sensei?"

He paused at the question and cut a look around the room. Would she have called him into offices only to prank him? Though it was ridiculous to even think about it, it wasn't completely beyond the realm of the impossible. 

"Kirigakure, the hidden village of the Land of Water?" Tsunade nodded, wordlessly. At her interested silence, Iruka's brow only drew closer together in a confused furrow. He cleared his throat, brought forth to mind everything he taught his classes about the rest of the shinobi world. "The village is currently seeing the leadership of its fifth Mizukage, after the reign of the tyrant, Karatachi Yagura. Despite the strength of their shinobi they have, in recent months, expressed an abject desire for political stability, reform and stronger diplomatic relations with its fellow hidden villages—"

"Your mother was from Kirigakure, and you were born there," Tsunade interjected, "You are as much a citizen of Kirigakure as you are of Konoha, are you not?" 

"Well, yes, but, and with all due respect, Hokage-sama, I don't see the significance of that," Iruka fought not to stumble over his words, the furrow in his brow making itself more known as the minutes past. "I haven't so much as seen the village since I was four years old. Konoha is my home."

"Yes, yes, as it should be." She dismissed his concern with the flick of a hand. "War is brutal, you know this, sensei, and we are all recovering from a particularly devastating one."

"Yes, Hokage-sama."

"The peace we've fostered amongst our neighbouring countries is impermanent at best, and many villages are hesitant to see Konohagakure as allies once again." Tsunade leveled Iruka with a look both intensely appraising and intensely questioning. Her fingers steepled, and she rested her chin on them. "Villages, like Kirigakure."

Iruka swallowed, and he hoped it wasn't as loud as it seemed to his own ears. "What does this have to do with me?" 

"They need to know that they can trust us and that their loyalties won't be misplaced," Tsunade said, the smallest smile in her voice. "They ask for a union between one of theirs and one of ours ."

"A union? You mean—" Iruka moved forward before he could think better of it, his voice rising much the same. 

The ANBU from earlier moved as Iruka did, prepared to defend Tsunade against any enraged attack the chuunin sensei might unleash on her. Unfazed, however, Tsunade gestured them back. 

"Yes, sensei. Marriage. They take great pride in you and your family, and in the man you've become. Your position as Naruto's beloved sensei and caregiver has risen you to almost legendary status in their minds. Kirigakure trusts that a marriage between you and one of Konoha's own would be a blessing for the future of both our villages."

Despite his best attempts to remain composed, Iruka's head bent forward and he bowed in on himself. "There must be a Kiri villager more suited to this than me— somebody of higher class, somebody with stronger ties to the Land of Water?" 

"You were specifically asked for, sensei." Tsunade chuckled. "I had to all but beat the Mizukage back with a broomstick to get you alone before she could preposition you."

"My loyalties are to Konoha," he said, lastly and firmly. 

"And as your loyalties are to Konoha you will do what you must to ensure that it prospers in peace."

"Of course, Hokage-sama." Unthinkingly, he tapped a finger against his thigh. "Do I have a choice?" 

"I'm afraid not." She spoke her apology softly, and though it did not soothe the emotions warring in Iruka's chest, it did allow him a moment of pause, a respite from his immediate anger. "The best I could do is warn you."

He snapped out of his bend, straightened his spine and once again met the Hokage's gaze. His loyalties were with Konoha, Iruka reminded himself, his duty to the village would always come first. 

Yet. He was only twenty-seven, and he had thought that gave him years still to find the love of his life and settle down. It had never occurred to him that his marriage would be arranged for the sake of peace, for the sake of duty. 

It pulled at something in his chest— a knife buried to the hilt in flesh, viciously twisted— to think of the experience he would miss out on, the moment he would never be able to get back. 

"Thank you, Hokage-sama. I am honoured to be chosen," Iruka said, bowing his head slightly forward. Meeting Tsunade's gaze across the table once again, he scratched at the scar cutting across his nose. There was still one question Iruka needed answered, but a roiling in the pit of his stomach warned him he wouldn't like the answer. "I must know," he forced himself, "If I am Kirigakure's choice, who is Konoha's? Who will I be marrying?" 

"Oh, this, too, was Kirigakure's request. Unsurprisingly, really, all things considered. I hoped to address you both at the same time, but." Tsunade spread her hands helplessly and drew her shoulders in a shrug. "Here we are."

The least he could hope for was somebody who respected him. Somebody who Iruka could learn to carve out an amiable existence alongside, if neither a romance nor a friendship. And if it were to be a woman, which Iruka was sure it would be, he promised he would care for her as much as he was able and hoped that his kindness would make up for the passion he could not give her. 

The window slid open and a light scuff of shoes came from over Iruka's shoulder, cutting into his somewhat panicked train of thought. 

Tsunade barely blinked, just breathed out a small, "Ah," in greeting as Iruka turned to glare at the intruder, crouching low in the window frame and lazily brushing silver hair out of his eye. 

"Yo," Kakashi greeted, throwing them a sloppy wave before landing gracefully in the middle of the room. 

"You made it," Tsunade deadpanned, sarcastically. "You think the whole world revolves around you, brat?" 

Oh. Iruka's eyes widened, looking between Kakashi, still standing over him, and the Hokage taking the time to curse at Kakashi's perpetual lateness. 

Kakashi slouched, and his hands buried themselves deeper into his pockets. Seemingly oblivious to the pair of eyes trained on him, his eyes curved up into a smile. "It's not my fault that the road of life is so winding, Hokage-sama."

 "Oh," because his mind had since ground to a halt, Iruka said, aloud.

"Huh?" Kakashi's brows raised. "What's going on?" 

Tsunade spread her arms wide, the smile on her face stretched large enough to match. "You two are getting married. Congratulations!"

"Okay."

"That's it, just okay?" Iruka asked, turning to look fully at Kakashi. "No questions, nothing?" 

"I take it it's probably diplomatic? I trust you both." Kakashi raised a pair of thumbs up and cast another curving eye-smile over them. Then he was back on the windowsill, waving a lazy goodbye before disappearing. 

Iruka stared after him, sure a blush was burning across his cheeks. "He was listening in the whole time, wasn't he?" 

"Eh, probably. Never know with that kid." Then she tossed a set of keys across the table, already turning back to her paperwork. "Your apartment is too small for two people, these are for your new house."

"New house? I don't have money for a new house."

"It's fully paid off by the state, sensei. Godaime Muzikage chose it herself, with some important input from me, of course. I'm sure you'll like it just fine." Tsunade smiled at Iruka then, warm, if strained at the corners. "We've also completely covered your current apartment, so don't worry about paying rent or going bankrupt or anything in the meantime."

He had worked, tirelessly, since he was fourteen, possibly slightly younger than that. It struck him, suddenly, that for the first time in almost thirteen years he could afford to have only one job, if he so wanted. 

"Thank you, Hokage-sama." He smiled, forcibly subdued, fighting to reign himself in. The arranged marriage didn't seem so outrageous, Iruka thought, if it meant even the barest financial peace of mind; if it meant he could look after Naruto as Naruto deserved. 

"Yeah, yeah. And I'll keep the brat in line, okay. I'll talk to him alone and make sure he doesn't give you any problems before the wedding."

"When will that be? The wedding, I mean?" 

"Two weeks from now, to allow for a courting period," Tsunade said. "Shizune-san will give you a list of the dinners and meetings you'll have to attend before then."

Tsunade dismissed him and he stood to leave. "Thank you, Hokage-sama," he said, bowing low, because what else could he have possibly done in that moment? 

Surreal— that's how Iruka would describe it to Anko when she accosted him after hearing the news— that his distant ties to another village would lead him to this. And how he figured he would have to explain it to Naruto, that night, over enough bowls of ramen that he would be too distracted and it would not fully sink in until much later. 

He ran his thumb along the edge of the old frame, the picture of his parents on their wedding day heavy in his hands and as well-preserved as could be kept. He sighed. "You'd be so proud," Iruka whispered as he wrapped a thin cloth around the picture, placed it carefully at the top of an almost full box. "Honoured, that our family was chosen for this." 

Somehow, even with each newly uncovered perk, he was finding it hard to feel the same. He had once thought he could love Kakashi, when their lives first began to intertwine and overlap so thoroughly, and his presence was more common than not. 

But he was younger then, foolish. Desperate for love, whatever form it took. 

His living room slid open. Iruka fought to close the box instead of turning around and yelling at the intrusion. 

Loathe to admit it, he recognized the footsteps. If Kakashi wanted to sneak up on him, he would have. At least in this, Iruka could appreciate the man's small, if sideways, consideration.

Eyes settled on him from the doorway, and Iruka busied himself with folding and refolding a pale kimono he hadn't worn in years. "Either stay or go, but you can't just watch me," he said, not sparing a glance Kakashi's way. A man accustomed to stealth and silence, Iruka wouldn't have known Kakashi had moved at all if it weren't for that he lingered at the corner of his eye, running a finger over the spines of Iruka's books. "What do you want?" 

"Maa, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi began, his voice flatly bored in the way so many people had come to find attractive. "If you wanted to get me into bed you could've just asked, you didn't have to go through all this trouble."

Anger swelled in his chest and, just as soon, died. "Is that what you came all this way to say?" he bit out, closing up another box and setting it aside. 

Kakashi shrugged. Loping across the room, he stopped next to Iruka and cast a slow gaze over the scattering of Iruka's things, taking up every inch of the bed. "No." 

"Then?" 

Quiet, he picked up a bright orange hairband and, twirling it around his fingers, raised a questioning eyebrow. It was one Naruto had given him, so happy he had found it on a visit to the market and so excited he spent his sweet allowance on a small pack. Iruka had worn one everyday for months before they went the way of all hairbands and promptly disappeared. 

Not nearly as deft as Kakashi, Iruka extricated the band from the other man's hold and slipped it into his pocket to keep it safe. 

Kakashi hummed. "You're moving out, sensei," he noted. 

It wasn't a question, still, Iruka slowly shook his head. "Not yet, not even allowed to visit right now. I'm just slowly sending things over so it's ready for when I— for when we —" A heat inched across his face. The beginnings of a fierce blush that would colour, in wild pinks, the tops of his cheeks. "When we move in two weeks from now. You should be doing the same."

Kakashi let out a breathy chuckle, his hands deep in his pockets; the image of arrogance. "Already playing the role of diligent husband, I see," he said, as he reached out and tugged at a loose strand of hair, fallen free from Iruka's ponytail. 

Iruka froze with the urge to slap him. 

Fighting to reign himself in, his shoulders squared. The glare he aimed at Kakashi was one that had withered lesser jounin where they stood. "I've suffered your teasing and your mockery all this time, Kakashi, but not now." He stared at a spot just above Kakashi's mask. "Not with this . Not with something as important as this , " he said, sharp and just loud enough that the last memory he'd have of his neighbours wouldn't be a fist banging against the wall and a noise complaint. 

Iruka jabbed a finger at Kakashi's chest, not realizing he was doing so until a hand, cool and calloused, wrapped around his own strong enough to still and hold it firmly between them. 

"Sensei—"

"No. Listen to me." He moved past Kakashi's interjection. The shock of the news and the irritation of his bare acknowledgement over the past two days had built and built and built. It was a wonder, even to him, that he had held in his anger until this far into Kakashi's visit. Tilting his head to better meet Kakashi's gaze, he said, unflinching and louder than intended, "You're not the only one who finds this a less than ideal arrangement! But we do what we have to do for the sake of Konoha, don't we, and as long as we are married I refuse to be pushed around by you."

Kakashi dropped his hand then, and it was only natural that it found its way back into his pocket. Taking a step back, he bowed forward slightly. It was a testament to Kakashi, to how well he was able to control himself, that Iruka couldn't tell if he was being made fun of or not. 

"You're right. About a marriage such as ours," he said, and his voice was flatter than Iruka remembered it sounding. "I cannot be the perfect husband to you. I don't think I can be a very good husband to you either, but if staying out of your way will make you happy in our arrangement, then I will stay out of your way."

"That's not what— Ugh, that's not what I'm saying." Doesn't this man ever listen? 

Iruka scrubbed a hand over his face. Groaned into his palms. 

His anger had always ebbed as smoothly as it flowed. It burned and coiled tight in his chest, fading once set free in a sudden outburst and always leaving him holding onto a dying irritation, an ember of guilt. 

Eyes catching on the clock above Kakashi's head, Iruka started. "It's getting late," he stated, distractedly grabbing a stray jacket and moving past Kakashi to the door. "Naruto will be arriving at the gate soon and I promised I'd be there when he got back."

"You would be there even if you hadn't promised," Kakashi said. To Iruka's ears, barely listening and focusing on trying to gather enough stray coins for dinner at Ichiraku while also trying to find his keys, Kakashi sounded resigned; sounded as if he were holding onto more words than he dared say. 

After a long moment of scurrying around his small apartment, caring very little for how disorganized he looked to the other man, simply watching him, Iruka gathered himself. And that ember of guilt, as Iruka caught Kakashi staring blankly up at the ceiling, sparked anew. 

He but back a sigh, and smoothed a hand down the front of his dark yukata. "Kakashi-san." Iruka may have kept his sigh to himself, but he allowed a roll of his eyes and that, if he hadn't completely imagined it, might have brought the smallest smile to Kakashi's face. He continued on, after all, they were supposed to be courting each other. "Would you join Naruto and me for dinner?" he asked, not entirely prepared to accept a no. 

"Ah, that isn't necessary."

"I know. Please join us, I'm sure that Naruto would like to see you again."

"I doubt it," Kakashi said, scratching at the back of his neck, but he fell into step with Iruka and followed him out of his apartment.

They walked in silence to the gate and Iruka had a niggling feeling that, if he weren't so preoccupied, it would have been comfortable. 

He waved when Naruto neared, his excitement at seeing his son after much too long threatening to have him run across the short distance and pull the boy into a tight hug. Instead he held his arms open and Naruto, exhausted from a two week-long mission, fell into Iruka's embrace with a small laugh and an even smaller exhale. 

Naruto squeezed him tight, once, stepping away. "You're starting to look like some of the mother's that come out here," he said around a loud laugh, taking a step back and looking sternly at Iruka before breaking into a wide smile. "Soon you'll bring cookies and stand at the gate even on days I'm not returning from a mission, welcoming shinobi without anybody else to welcome them."

Pulling Naruto into his side, he steered them towards Ichiraku, a gentle smile in his voice. "That's not a bad idea," he mused. And not much different from welcoming shinobi home at the mission desk. 

"It would be a welcome sight, seeing you so soon after a mission, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi, quiet and lingering a step behind them all this time, said. 

A smile curved his eye and, despite himself and how hard he tried to restrain it earlier, Iruka blushed. He swallowed and looked away, hurried his step slightly until the familiar red and white of Ichiraku's sign was in sight. 

Naruto cut himself off, in the midst of a convoluted retelling of the mud-slinging pair of shinobi he had come across, and turned to cast a narrow-eyed gaze over Iruka and Kakashi. "You know, it's nice seeing you and Kakashi-sensei together. You must have been missing me like crazy if it drove you two to actually hang out." He smiled. His grin, wide and lopsided and so close to beaming Iruka's heart hurt just to just to look at it; on the days when he was gone, just to think of it. 

Naruto had always smiled that same way. When the boy was younger— smaller and lonelier and more filled with the kind of fear that came from a life of abandonment— Iruka had wanted to hug him to his chest and offer him every reassurance under the sun. Had wanted to smooth his mess of hair away from his forehead and tell him over and over again that he could be upset and he could be angry and he could be hurt, and even if he weren't so forgiving Iruka wouldn't love him any less. 

He waited for Kakashi to announce their arrangement without thought or care, before he himself could. When it didn't come, Iruka let his breath go, slowly. "Yes, we missed you," he said. Laughing, he tickled Naruto's side. "Don't get a big head about it."

Naruto shoved Iruka's hands away and pouted. "Hey! What'd I ever do to you?" 

They neared Ichiraku and Naruto didn't need more than a nudge before he was racing to the counter and ordering more food than any one person could normally eat. Iruka smiled and beside him Kakashi chuckled, almost inaudibly so. 

"He's a hard kid not to miss," Kakashi said, scratching at the back of his head and focusing his gaze somewhere at the middle of Iruka's forehead. 

"I'll make sure to tell him." 

He was off active duty until after the wedding, the Godaime Mizukage had insisted. His hitai-ate and fatigues home and his hair out of its usual high ponytail to rest against his shoulder in a loose plait, thick strands curling and framing his face, he felt more civilian than he knew he should. But Kakashi's unmoving presence was enough to remind him that he wasn't. 

"Are you okay?" voice low, Kakashi bent towards him and asked. 

A low sigh escaping him, Iruka tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "About what I said. Earlier." He gestured without direction. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that our union would be… less than joyous. Or less of an honour."

A fair eyebrow raised, whether in question or surprise, it was unclear. A flicker of something Iruka couldn't name warred behind Kakashi's eye. "Don't apologize. You were right, sensei, about everything." His head inclined. "This is less than ideal for me, too." 

He shook his head and his smile, though hidden, felt awfully devoid of any warmth, of any emotion at all. 

Iruka wanted to cup his face in his hands and tell him that whatever it was— whatever was racing through his mind and twisting his face into something not so placid— it would be alright. 

"Kakashi-san—" He had to fight to keep his hands at his sides. 

"Goodnight, sensei. I'll see you tomorrow for dinner." Kakashi dipped his head in a slow nod, his eye curving up in his infamous smile. "Tell Naruto I'm happy he came home safe."

He was gone before Iruka could say another word. There was that feeling again, settling in the pit of his stomach and insisting that there was more Kakashi wanted to say, even when he took his seat next to Naruto and fell comfortably into a meal interjected by animated conversation. 

Iruka leaned in the kitchen doorway. Sipping on a cup of tea, he watched Naruto as the boy sprawled on the sofa, half watching an old game show and half playing with a small toy he had brought back with him from Suna. 

His apartment, once Naruto had filled up every inch of the small space, never did feel quite the same in his absence. It was lonely, Iruka supposed, lonelier than before the boy entered his life. 

A chill ghosted across his skin and Iruka, pulling his cardigan tighter around himself, pushed away from the wall.

"Hey," he said, moving Naruto's legs off the couch and curling up beside him. He smoothed long blond locks away from Naruto's forehead and laughed, softly, when Naruto huffed and swatted his hand away. "Are you watching this? I want to talk to you."

Naruto hummed. "I already watched this episode. That tall guy with the green hair ends up gambling on the bonus round and losing half the money."

"If only your memory was that good while you were at school," Iruka sighed, turning down the TV's volume. They hadn't spoken much during lunch, Naruto too occupied with eating as much as he could and Iruka too plagued by fragile thoughts of Kakashi. "How was your mission?" he asked, turning to better face him. 

"Good. Kinda tiring, though." Naruto raised his shoulders in a shrug. "Bushy Br— uh, Gai-sensei was around. I think he'd just finished his mission when he helped me out with mine. Oh! He said I'm filled with a strong and youthful spirit that makes me endearing." 

"And what did you say?" 

"I didn't know what he meant so I just said thank you, 'cause it sounded like a compliment."

Iruka nodded approvingly. "It was. I'm glad that you don't always forget the manners I taught you."

"I try my best," he said, sheepishly, his eyes distractedly flitting over Iruka's shoulder. "You'd tell me if something strange was going on, wouldn't you?" 

"Strange?" Iruka repeated. He ran his fingers through Naruto's hair and internally cursed himself at not having a better response. 

"Yeah, strange. I went to debrief with the Hokage after lunch and she kept giving me these weird looks. Shizune-san, too." Naruto scratched at his chin. "And she said something weird too… Uh… She said… She said that we'll need to look into getting me fitted for a new suit. Why would I need a new suit?"

Iruka patted Naruto's head once and sighed, pulling his hand back to scratch at the scar across his nose. "What would you say if I said I was getting married?" 

"You're not even dating anyone." Naruto scoffed. The moment paused, then he turned a wide-eyed look on Iruka. "Are you?" 

"No. No. No, I'm not. How do I say this?" He scrubbed at his face and breathed the last part into his hands, hoped that his frustrations were inaudible at best. 

A warm hand landed on his, was gentle in tugging it from covering his face. "Dad?" Naruto broached, surprisingly soft and heartachingly cautious.

His love for Naruto knew no bounds and his heart swelled at the look of worry etching itself into the boy's brow. He allowed a small smile. "I'm okay," he said, and hoped it was reassurance enough, for Naruto tried to carry the whole world on his shoulders and Iruka knew that little, that almost nothing, truly eased the pain of the weight on his heart. 

"Okay." But he didn't sound convinced. 

Iruka patted Naruto's hand once. "You know that—" He paused. Readied himself to start again with a deep breath. "You know that my parents were both proud Konoha shinobi. My father was born in Konoha and, though my mother spent most of her life in the village, she was born and raised to the age of a toddler in Kirigakure, much like me."

"I know all this," Naruto whined.

"It makes me a citizen of one village as much as a citizen of the other, and places me in a… unique… position to ensure that Konoha and Kiri are as closely united as possible." Iruka met Naruto's eye and nodded once, slowly. He hoped he could get across the nature of his circumstances without having to say anything, but Naruto just stared back at him, waited. Iruka had introduced Naruto to boyfriends in the past, but that's all they had been: boyfriends. None of them had unnaturally graduated from acquaintance to lover with barely a spared word, none of them had ever been a fiancé or a prospective husband, and none of them had been Kakashi. He cupped Naruto's cheek in his hand and smiled, he could feel the sadness of the curve even if he couldn't see it. "I'm getting married," he said, and Naruto stiffened. "I'm getting married to Kakashi-sensei."

Naruto blinked up at him, wordless, a hundred different emotions chancing themselves across his face. "What!?" he exclaimed, jerking forward. "You just said you weren't dating anyone and now you're saying you're gonna marry that pervert."

"It's— Naruto, please, calm down." Iruka reached for Naruto's shoulders; Naruto stared back at him, confused. "I know you think I've been sneaking around and lying to you, but I haven't. I would never lie to you. Kakashi-san and I aren't dating, or seeing each other, or anything— This is a purely diplomatic decision made by Godaime Hokage and Godaime Mizukage to ensure that, if a new threat were to appear in the future, our villages are bound to assist each other by more than just paper. Do you understand?"

Naruto flailed. He searched Iruka's face for a long minute, then let himself fall into his father's outstretched arms. "But there must be someone else?" he pressed, almost desperate. "You can't marry him, Dad, you can't. He's just gonna ignore you for his stupid pervy books and make your life a nightmare. More than he already does."

"I thought you liked him."

"Yeah, I do like him. Just not as your husband."

His heart clenched. "There's nobody else. Kirigakure respects my family name and the connection I have to them and to Konoha. More than that, I think, they admire my bond to you and the life we've carved out for ourselves despite everything. Godaime Mizukage seems to think that mine and Kakashi-san's marriage will be more than a necessary bond, that it will be a blessing," he said, absently smoothing Naruto's hair. "I'm honoured to have been chosen and I… I'm honoured to wed into a family as prominent as the Hatake one. He may not be the best man but he is not a cruel or heartless man. In this situation, Naruto, he is better than we could have asked for." 

"But—" 

He placed a kiss to Naruto's messy head of hair. "My sweet boy," he spoke, and his voice was muffled, barely audible. "I've come to peace with the arrangement and the life that he and I can have together as husbands. He's odd and infuriating and, even though we might never love each other, I trust that he'll be a good addition to our family."

Naruto tilted his head up. Eyes narrowed, he watched Iruka's face and tried to find the right thing to say. "I don't have to change my surname and call him 'Dad' or 'Papa' or anything, do I? I like being an Umino. I don't think I can stand being a Hatake."

Konohagakure, for a village with an exceedingly high rate of orphaned children, had an adoption system that was infuriating, complicated and somewhat outdated. Weeks of paperwork and meetings deemed redundant and pointless after the sudden appearance of a new rule, an overlooked step now crucial turning the process into months, into almost a full year, and for all Iruka could have danced when he heard their application had been accepted, a deep guilt tugged at his heart. 

Umino Naruto , the first time Iruka had heard it he had held a hand to his heart and laughed. He looked at Naruto and thought, not for the first time, oh, you're really my boy, you're really my son. 

But his surname was the only connection Naruto had to a family he would never know. Naruto had been forced into the life he lived and Iruka never wanted to force him into another, so when the agency had told him, in no uncertain terms, that Naruto could either be an Uzumaki or an Umino but not both, the bud of joy that had flowered in his chest wilted. 

He knew Naruto loved him as much as he loved Naruto, but Iruka had never heard him express it so plainly. Looking down, meeting clear blue eyes, Iruka swallowed back tears. "You don't have to call him anything that you don't want to call him, okay?" he said. A moment passed where he waited for Naruto's nod, slow but there nonetheless. "I don't know about a lot of things yet, there's still dinners and meetings to be had with both Godaime. If we don't join our names, it's most likely that I'll take his. Since Hatake is more renowned than Umino."

Naruto hummed, resting his head against Iruka's chest once again. 

"You're what, almost sixteen now?" Iruka considered aloud. "Maybe… Maybe even if I have to change my surname, you won't have to change yours." 

He shook his head, adamant. "I don't want to have a different surname from you. I'll change it if you change yours, but I won't not have my name connected to yours."

And there was that clench in his heart again, the sting of tears. "We'll make it work, okay, Naruto," he said, voice soft. 

"We always do." He quietened and Iruka thought he'd fallen asleep, but he moved slightly away from Iruka and looked thinkingly up at him. "Who else besides me and the Godaime know?" 

"Well, of course, myself and Kakashi-san." Iruka laughed, loudly, and only louder at Naruto's pointed glare. He breathed in and composed himself once again. "Shizune-san and the ANBU who'd been present at the meeting, too, but nobody else. Tsunade-sama said that there'll be a formal announcement in both Konoha and Kiri at the same time, after Mei-sama arrives and we've had dinner together."

"We?" Naruto asked, dubiously. 

"Yes, we, that's you included. Which means tomorrow I'm trimming your hair and if you even think of leaving my sight I'll make sure you never see another bowl of ramen in your life."

"Understood, understood. Geez, you really are turning into one of those mothers that wait at the gates."

Letting out a low huff of a laugh, Iruka flicked Naruto on the shoulder. "I love you, you know that, right?" he said, smiling down at him. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and this marriage isn't going to change anything."

A bright blush flooded Naruto's face. He looked away. Trying and failing to hide his large smile, he rubbed at his arm and muttered, "You're getting sentimental in your old age."

"Hey!"

"But—! I love you, too!" Naruto laughed, dodging the cushion aimed at his head. He shielded his face with his arms until Iruka ceased attacking his side. He peeked out from between his arms. "I love you and I know you said not to worry, but if that perv doesn't treat you well I'll beat him up myself."

He had never once thought he deserved Naruto in his life. This boy who was like sunshine; like love and kindness in human form. He'd been so young and so afraid; of hurting Naruto more than he had already been hurt, of failing Naruto as every other adult had failed Naruto, of doing more bad than good. 

Slowly, he stood, and he could feel his age in the way his back was starting to pull when he moved to suddenly, and he ruffled Naruto's hair. "Okay, okay, my little Shinobi," he said, pulling his hair into a loose bun as he made his way to the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I thought I'd try my hand at miso soup and eggplant. Apparently that sensei of yours likes it."

Naruto groaned, but he shuffled behind. "Eggplant. Eeugh."  

Last night, Iruka had only been half joking when he'd warned Naruto about not leaving his sight. 

A full hour had gone into wrangling the knots from Naruto's hair, complaining the whole time that Naruto was too old to have somebody else do it for him, and once, yelling loud enough that his neighbour came around to ask if everything was alright, finding what could best be described as the remnants of a birds nest meet wild blond hair. "How?" he asked, clutching it hard enough to snap, and thrusting his hand right in front of Naruto's face. "HOW!" 

And after another hour devoted to washing Naruto's hair and trimming it into something not as long, something less voracious, Iruka was only too happy to press a coin into Naruto's palm and send him out the door, with a smile and orders to eat something and be back by five. 

It was fifteen minutes to that time now, and Iruka didn't doubt that the boy would be late. Very late. Running a comb through his hair, shining and falling in familiar gentle curls around his shoulders, Iruka sighed. How he was going to manage with both Naruto and Kakashi's lax sense of timeliness, he didn't quite know. 

He stared at himself, the mirror ornately framed and one he'd salvaged from the ruins of his family home. 

Tracing his eyes over the ridge of his nose, the line of his jaw, he pouted, unsure of the most flattering way to style his hair. 

His outfit had been planned before he'd fallen asleep. But, before he'd been a young father, he'd been a man juggling more jobs than he could manage and if he'd ever been to a dinner as important or fancy as this one would be, he couldn't recall, and he feared the impression he would make on the Mizukage. 

Absently, he combed the hair away from his face and wondered: would Kakashi prefer it in its usual style, or bound at his nape, or loose and framing his face? Or, maybe, he'd like it half-pulled into a topknot, half flowing down Iruka's back. 

They were engaged after all, he reasoned, finishing the topknot with a flourish and then pulling it loose, unhappy, it made sense to want to appeal to him; to want to please him. 

Iruka blushed when he caught himself and gave his reflection a stern glare. "Pull yourself together," he ordered. Nothing good could come of falling for him again. 

Naruto had left and Iruka had arranged himself into the best kimono he had, one bought for a special occasion and never used. He didn't for a second doubt that Kakashi would put as little effort into his own outfit as usual. 

The front door opened with a slam. Naruto yelled, "Home!" and filled the apartment with his noise. The sound of sandals being hurriedly kicked off in the passage carried through the living room, to Iruka's room. It didn't matter how often Iruka asked him to place them neatly, he always threw them off before running to the kitchen or flopping on the couch.

"Naruto!" Iruka called out the door, as heavy footsteps ran past his room, "If we leave even one minute after six, I swear. You won't even see dessert."

Naruto backpedaled, poked his head into the room. "Sorry I'm late. I saw Lee and Gai-sensei sparring and stopped to watch. They're weird but they're so cool!" 

"I'm happy you had a good afternoon, you can spar with them tomorrow if you want. I'm sure Gai-sensei won't mind. Now. Even one minute," he reiterated, pointedly raising a finger. "I ran your bath already. Make sure to wash behind your ears—" 

"You don't have to tell me that, I'm not a little kid," whining, Naruto narrowed his eyes.

"After your bath change into the yukata I left on your bed. You don't wear one often, so come to me if you need help putting it on. Or if you need help with your hair."

"Can't I just wear this?" 

"No." 

"But—" 

Iruka pinched the bridge of his nose. "You can't have dinner with the Hokage and the Mizukage and wear the same outfit they've seen you in over a hundred times."

"Is it at least orange?" Naruto frowned. 

He shook his head, sadly. "Tell you what, you get done in time and wear the yukata and I'll sneak you my dessert too, okay. Promise." 

Naruto held out a thumbs up. His eyes so comically wide, Iruka had to hide his laugh in his palm. "Promise? I'll be ready in half the time!" he declared, then dashed off to the bathroom. 

Chuckling, he fixed his eyes on himself and once again picked up his comb. 

The clutter of things falling and a soft "Damn" echoed down the hall from the bathroom and Iruka shook his head, fond. He had taken to calling Naruto his baby hurricane, when Naruto was smaller and much less able to control the spread of his arms and the direction his legs went when he threw himself around their apartment in all the excitement of a twelve-year-old. 

He should bring the nickname back, Iruka thought, letting his hair fall to his shoulders once again. 

"All this effort," he whispered, shaking his head. 

A soft tap came from over his shoulder, and Iruka stiffened. The last time somebody had knocked on his window it had been an ANBU. Forgive him, if he wasn't too fond of that sound. 

The tapping came again, a steady rhythm. Insistent, subtly so, and in that way all too familiar. Iruka's mouth quirked at the corners, despite himself; oh, completely despite himself. But only a shadow flitting away from the window caught Iruka's eye, and where he had expected to see Kakashi crouched, head tilted in that curious way of his, lay a bronze hair pin on his windowsill. 

It was warm against his skin, as if held in Kakashi's hand and only let go to place in Iruka's own. "Thank you," he whispered, a fierce blush on his face as he studied the pin, knowing that the jounin, wherever he was, would hear him. 

A small smile sneaked its way across his face. He secured the pin in his hair. 

"Stop that," Iruka said, for what felt like the hundredth time. Again, Naruto's hands strayed to his collar and Iruka swatted them away. "Stop fidgeting."

His yukata was a deep blue striped with white. Iruka laughed when he'd seen it, folded in the market, so much like a favourite he'd had when he was about Naruto's age. 

Naruto grumbled under his breath, "No promises," and crossed his arms over his chest.

It was easy to forget, with all he withstood and all that he carried on his shoulders, that he was very much still a teenager. Iruka bumped his shoulder into Naruto's and smiled. "Extra dessert," he sang. "Extra dessert."

Turning a corner into the quieter district surrounding Hokage Tower, Iruka spotted first the awning adorning Kozue's entrance, second, the man leaning against the restaurant's wall.

Iruka waved, and Kakashi moved himself into their path. 

Neither Naruto nor Iruka had expected him to dress up for the evening. A black eyepatch covered his left eye and he'd foregone the flak vest completely. With no hitai-ate in place, silver hair fell over most of his face. This was as relaxed as Kakashi could allow himself to be, Iruka supposed. 

He made a soft tch sound as his eyes roamed over Kakashi's outfit, but he didn't really mind it. 

"Hey, Kakashi-sensei," Naruto narrowed his eyes and said, chilly. 

"Yo." Kakashi raised a hand. "Gai said you did very well on your mission."

Naruto beamed. "He did? Wait, is he going to talk to everyone about it now?" 

"You'll have to challenge him to get him to stop. We're all very proud."

"I don't want to walk around the village on my hands," Naruto mumbled, scratching at his cheek, an embarrassed red cutting across his face. 

Iruka pressed a hand into the middle of his back. "Why don't you check out the buffet before Tsunade-sama arrives," he suggested. 

The words were barely out of his mouth before the boy shot him a grateful smile and slipped through the doors of the restaurant, letting out the thick aroma of cooking food and reminding Iruka how hungry he really was.

He kept his eyes trained on the door, watched it swing close. "You ask after him?" 

"I like to know how he's doing. It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." Iruka snapped his eyes to Kakashi's face. "For a long time it was only me, keeping count of milestones and wanting to know how he was progressing. It's good that there's others."

"I do care, sensei."

"I know you do." He brushed a hand slowly down one sleeve, fiddled at the end. "You wouldn't have done half the things you did if you didn't care about them."

They stood like that for a moment. Quiet, neither looking at the other. 

"You look well, sensei," Kakashi said softly, fingers hovering an inch away from the pin holding Iruka's hair in place. 

Careful, as always, he had dressed himself in deep yellows layered over lighter ones. A touch of sunlight against the deep brown of his skin, Iruka knew it made him even more eye-catching, more impressive; made it even harder to look away. "Thank you," he said, meeting Kakashi's eyes. A light blush dusted his cheeks, he could feel it; it couldn't be helped. "It's a beautiful gift. Very thoughtful."

"Maa, you think?" 

"Yes. I also think that if someone were to gift me something so beautiful they should at least not be a coward about it."

At that, Kakashi laughed. "Isn't half of romance the mystery?" 

" Icha Icha is rotting your brain." Iruka scoffed. "Or, has long since rotted your brain." 

Kakashi offered Iruka his arm and, albeit reluctantly, Iruka took it. He paused in the doorway and bent to Iruka's ear. "You really do look well, sensei, if I should say so myself."

His skin burned where Kakashi's breath had ghosted against it. 

Naruto's voice, loud in the restaurant empty except for their party, rang out around them as he enthusiastically answered both Godaime's questions, and Iruka barely had time to compose himself before he was being steered into the big hug Terumi Mei offered to both him and Kakashi. 

Dinner passed faster than Iruka expected it would. Tsunade and Kakashi had managed to snag a bottle of liquor off the wait staff and drank while they traded bored looks the whole time, while Iruka balanced engaging Mei in wedding plans and making sure Naruto didn't break anything trying to keep himself entertained. 

Iruka asked for the extra dessert he had promised and Naruto cheered, overjoyed and preoccupied for a full five minutes as he wolfed down both plates of daifuku. Then wolfed down the third that Kakashi sneaked around the back of Iruka's chair. 

The clock struck eleven and exhaustion, an unwanted visitor in the home of his body, settled heavy in Iruka's bones. The Mizukage stood and he was grateful both for the dinner ending and for the fact that he had no classes the next morning. 

He wasn't as young as he used to be, it was clear. 

"It was wonderful to spend some time with you," she said, pulling Naruto into a strong hug before clasping Kakashi and Iruka's hands in turn. "I knew you were the perfect choice, sensei, and I'm glad to yet again be proven right. It is an honour to Kirigakure to have you as one of us, as it will be an honour to your husband to have the privilege of wedding you." 

She shared a glance with Tsunade and, upon her nod, smiled them a gentle dismissal. 

Kakashi, holding the door for Naruto to pass through, offered Iruka his arm again. Tired, he tilted his head to smile up at the other man, and slid a hand into the crook of his elbow. "Thank you," he murmured, holding in a yawn. 

Naruto fell back in step with them. "So," he began, looking pointedly at them. "You're really doing this." It wasn't a question, but the furrow of his brow almost made it seem like one. 

"Yes." Kakashi nodded sharply. "Do you have any objections?" 

He scratched at the back of his head and shrugged. "I guess I don't. I mean, I can't really have any, either, so, I guess it's okay."

"Good," Kakashi said. 

Iruka reached out with his free hand and rubbed soothing circles into Naruto's arm, not pausing until the hard line of his shoulders softened. Letting out a low breath, the boy relaxed under the touch; Naruto smiled, and he looked like a little kid again. 

Iruka's heart panged at the sight. 

They neared his and Naruto's apartment building, the light left on in the bathroom visible from the ground. Kakashi breathed out a laugh at the sight of it. It was low, a hushed thing for nobody's ears but theirs, strangely intimate. 

Leaning into each other's sides as Naruto walked ahead of them, they'd fallen into a comfortable quiet broken by lines of conversation that didn't work hard to follow themselves through to any sensible end. 

Comfortable and peaceful, in a way Iruka never would have expected. 

And if he was surprised to realize that Kakashi had walked them the whole way home, Iruka fought hard not to show it too much. 

"Say goodnight," Iruka said, standing by the door and holding onto Naruto's shoulder to keep him from running off to bed. 

"Goodnight, Kakashi-sensei!" Naruto yelled. Irritable, as always when he crossed the line from too tired to exhausted. Iruka let him go and smiled when Naruto hugged him before making his way to his room. 

Iruka watched him stumble down the passage and through his bedroom door, reminding himself to check in on the boy and make sure his clothes weren't thrown all over his floor. 

Beside him, Kakashi rocked on the balls of his feet. "You're good with him," unprompted, he said. Clearing his throat, he looked away, dragged his eye over the pictures stuck to the fridge and the framed photographs adorning the walls, and refuse to meet Iruka's. "You're a good father, sensei."

Call me Iruka, he wanted to say, because he wanted to hear how his name sounded falling from Kakashi's mouth. "I try my best," he shrugged and said instead. 

Underneath Kakashi's mask, Iruka was sure he saw the faint outline of a  smile, a minute curve of lips that Iruka couldn't even be sure was actually there. Could easily have been a trick of his eye. 

Lounging in the doorway, Kakashi shrugged. "Ah, don't we all."

"Do you." Iruka paused and scratched at his scar. "Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?" 

"No need, sensei. Goodnight."

He turned to leave but, hand snaking out and tightening around his wrist, Iruka kept Kakashi in place. He wasn't stupid. If Kakashi really wanted to break free, he would have. 

Instead, he twisted in the hold. Perked an eyebrow at Iruka. 

"We're supposed to be courting, remember. Tsunade-sama's orders." Iruka swallowed, eyes latched onto the space between Kakashi's eyes. He forced a soft chuckle. "You can't court me if you keep running off."

Kakashi peeled Iruka's fingers back one at a time, slow, skin cool against Iruka's. He didn't meet Iruka's gaze and he didn't smile, but he held Iruka's hand and drew delicate circles into the palm with his thumb. "Iruka-sensei," he began, slowly. And the silence drew stretched for so long, Iruka thought he was simply going to leave and leave the sentence hanging with his exit. "I don't know what you want."

"What?" Iruka started, slightly. 

"I don't know what you want. I don't know what you want me to do or what you want me to be."

"I…" Iruka inhaled and looked up.  "I don't know either."

The loss of Kakashi's hand from around his was jarring. Iruka itched to reach out again, to grab onto the hands now disappearing into pockets and curl them around his as they talked. 

He was just touch-starved, he argued, too many years of lovers gone as soon as morning came and rushed touches left him hungry for any that sung of the barest care. Kakashi cast a slow glance over him, and Iruka knew it wasn't that. 

Kakashi scratched at the side of his head and let out a low breath. "It's an honour to marry you, Mizukage-sama was right, you know. I want to be a good husband to you and a good— A good stepfather to Naruto. I want to be someone who you, in turn, are honoured to marry, but I don't know how." He looked sharply to the ceiling. "I don't know what you want. "

"Oh, Kakashi." And Iruka took a step towards him. Slowly, slowly enough the other man would be able to move out of the way if he so desired, Iruka held Kakashi's jaw in the tips of his fingers. "I am honoured to marry you," he said, voice as gentle as the press of his hands. "I don't know what you'll be like as a husband, and neither of us can promise an easy, simple life together, but I know that you're a good man. If I was to marry anyone, I'm glad that it's you."

Kakashi's head bowed. Hair fell in his face and hid him from view.  

"Kakashi…?" A cautious venture. 

Strong hands curled around Iruka's wrists and pulled them carefully away. "Thank you, sensei. I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Stay," Iruka whispered before he could stop himself. Anyone could see that Kakashi needed to not be left alone. "Have tea with me, or read your stupid book while I grade papers. Just. Just stay, Kakashi, please."

He dropped his forehead against Iruka's. His eyes were closed but Iruka knew if Kakashi were to open them he would be accosted by a grey much like steel. "Maybe another time," and he sighed, "Iruka."

The sound of his name shot right through his heart. "Please."

Kakashi nodded. Iruka smiled, under the weight of his body so close to his and the sheer heat where their skin touched. 

"Tea?" he asked, reaching around Kakashi to close the front door. 

But as soon as he had extricated himself from Kakashi's hold, Kakashi's hand settled comfortably at his shoulder. 

Iruka pushed away the jumble of his emotions, the confusion of his thoughts, and lead them to the small kitchen. 

Waking as the sun did, after a sleep much too short and to the sound of Naruto's snores finding their way down the passage, Iruka pressed his palms against his eyes. Breathed out slowly. 

The sofa, when Iruka dragged himself to make a pot of coffee, was empty. 

When Kakashi had left, Iruka didn't know. But he had neatly folded the blanket Iruka had given him the night before and pushed the window almost completely closed behind him. 

"Okay," Iruka murmured, tapping at the counter as he pressed his forehead against a cupboard and waited for the water to boil. Last night had been strange and, between making sure Naruto slept peacefully and Kakashi was comfortable, he'd had no time to think about any of it. It stung, he realized, to wake up and find him gone. "Okay," he repeated, softly. "It's fine."

It was fine. It was. He poured a generous cup of coffee and insisted that he wasn't bothered. 

What did he care about the habits and whereabouts of the strange man? Except, last night, Kakashi had leaned in close as they spoke, well past midnight and so taken by each other's company that their tea had grown cold; except, his fingers had lingered along the inside of Iruka's wrist when they parted and his gaze had not strayed from Iruka's eyes, from the curve of his mouth, as they said goodnight. 

And whatever Iruka was starting to feel— this attraction, this need to touch him and be touched by him— Iruka knew he wasn't the only one. 

He sighed. He always expected more, that's what tended to get him hurt. 

He sat down at the kitchen table and a spot of colour, standing out amongst the deep browns and oranges he favoured, caught his attention. Okay, he thought, biting at his bottom lip as he unfolded it. Okay. 

Kakashi's familiar scrawl greeted him and he felt a warmth spreading through his chest. Thank you for the tea, the small piece of paper, tucked underneath his salt shaker, read. And Iruka could hear the jounin's voice, filling the room and curling delicately around him; could feel the heat of his hands against his skin. 

Thank you for the tea. Iruka reread the note and reread it again, traveling his eyes over the words and digging his teeth into his cheek to stop his smile from overtaking his face at the some gesture. 

Tsunade and Mei would be announcing the wedding today. At the ceremony, Iruka would see him then. 

A smile alighting on his lips, Iruka pulled his hair into a loose plait and began preparing Naruto's breakfast. 

He kept Naruto by his side, well-behaved and quiet with promises of miso ramen. 

A crowd gathered around Hokage Tower, on edge. The air crackled with their anticipation; Iruka could taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

He smiled and he waved and he waited, but Kakashi did not come. 

He made dinner and watched the clock, went to bed with the window cracked open in silent invitation. Went for fittings and had long discussions with Tsunade and Shizune about how exactly he wanted the wedding. 

Every minute of his days were packed with activity. The weekend came, and he had not so much as caught a glimpse of Kakashi. 

When Iruka had been younger, so much younger and so small he barely reached his father's knee, he looked forward to the moments between baths and bedtime when his mother would call him to sit at her lap and let her nimble fingers would wrap around a comb and untangle the knots from his hair. 

"Goodnight, Dad," Naruto mumbled, throwing a tired wave into the room as he slouched over to his own. "No training or missions tomorrow. Don't wake me up early."

"Goodnight," he called back. Most likely, the boy would fall asleep with his lamp on, Iruka put the last test away and made a mental note to check in an hour. 

It was years since anyone else had done it for him, and years, too, since the nightly ritual made him ache for what he had lost. 

And though very few of his lovers weren't fascinated by his hair, none of them cared for the hour before bed he put into caring for it; none of them so much as patted him lightly on the shoulder and asked him to hurry up and finish. 

Before his week of absence— his disappearance without a single word— Iruka thought Kakashi would care. 

He silently fumed, stewed in the irritation he'd restrained and checked since the day of the announcement. Now, moonlight shining through his window and candlelight flickering over his dark skin, Iruka sat in front of his mirror and rubbed the tension out of his creased brow. 

Of course, Kakashi hadn't shown. It was almost painfully pathetic that he was surprised, that he was hurt. Iruka began pulling pins out of his hair, chiding himself as he frowned at his reflection; he should have known better. 

"Sensei."

Inwardly, Iruka startled, his back tensing the slightest bit at the sudden appearance of that voice, deep; soothing, like waves lapping against the shore. The window slid open and he hadn't heard it, hadn't sensed the man slipping into his bedroom as comfortably as if it were his own and, though surprised, Iruka was proud to have not jumped.  

Eyes trained on his mirror, he continued slowly pulling pins from his mess of brown curls and relishing in their muted clink! as they fell against the dresser. "You missed the announcement ceremony." Clink! His voice, cool, had brought rooms of pregenin and jounin alike to a terrified standstill.

"Aah, yes, I did." Kakashi scratched at the nape of his neck. 

"It's been a week."

"Hm."

"I waited for you, but you didn't come. Oh, were you lost on the path of life again?" 

"No." He neared Iruka and then Iruka did turn to spare him the barest look, and noticed the neatly wrapped parcel he had brought with him. "But I came to apologize."

Iruka huffed. "The great Copy Nin, apologizing, who would've thought?" His voice dry as leaves in Autumn. 

"I saw you standing up there with Tsunade-sama. I wanted to come to you, but I couldn't." Kakashi set the parcel on the dresser. "I'm sorry."

His anger drained out of him. So quickly that he might never have felt any anger at all. 

Iruka sighed. Curious, he met Kakashi's eye. "What is it?" 

"Strawberry cheesecake," Kakashi said, his eye curving up into its familiar smile. 

"You're forgiven." He hummed. "For now."

"May I." Kakashi gestured to the bench on which Iruka sat.

He waited for Iruka's nod and took the seat, close, side pressed to side. Iruka breathed in and he could smell Kakashi's perfume, that scent that was half from hours training in forests and half from spending too much time with his ninken. 

It went to Iruka's head, embarrassingly intoxicating. 

Hands fighting to be steady under Kakashi's watchful gaze, he pulled his yukata to cover more of his bare chest and reached up to take out the rest of his pins. 

"Please," Kakashi said, stopping Iruka's hands halfway to his head, "Let me."

Iruka narrowed his eyes. A moment passed as he considered the offer, he wanted nothing more than to feel those calloused hands on him for as long as he could, whenever he could. 

And was growing tired of doing and undoing his own hair. The ponytail he usually wore was better suited to his lifestyle, but it was far less impressive. And that's what Iruka wanted to be when Kakashi saw him: impressive. 

He hummed his approval.

Kakashi stood and Iruka missed him as soon as he was gone, smiled mutedly at the return of his warmth at Iruka's back. 

They were silent. The clink! clink! clink! accompanying their quiet breathing and the sight of more and more of Iruka's natural curls falling free to frame his face. 

Nobody but Naruto and Anko had seen him with his hair open in months. Years, if he was honest. His last relationship had been brief, his partner more concerned with getting off than learning every inch of Iruka in the way Iruka had wanted. 

Kakashi pulled another pin free and exhaled a short laugh. 

Iruka's eyes fell closed less than five minutes in. Kakashi's hands were strong and careful in running through his hair, never pulling. "What?" he asked, looking up at Kakashi and just as quickly looking away. "Oh," he breathed, startled at the sight of lips a jarring shade of pale pink and a chin marked by a dark beauty spot that Iruka wanted to kiss. 

"Yes," Kakashi said, falsely innocent, twirling a strand of Iruka's hair around his finger and tucking it behind Iruka's ear. 

His fingertips brushed against Iruka's jaw, trailed over his neck and slid into his mostly undone hair. Nobody had ever touched him this tenderly before, as if he were made to be touched like this; made to be loved. 

If this was Kakashi further apologizing, Iruka would be both fool and completely unable to not accept. 

"You can look, sensei," Kakashi said. 

But Iruka kept his eyes trained firmly on his dresser, for fear that if he looked at Kakashi's bare face properly he would abandon all decorum and throw himself into his arms, kiss him breathless. 

"Iruka," he choked out, "I'm not your sensei, call me Iruka."

A cool hand cupped Iruka's chin and gently, oh so gently, tilted his head up. "You can look at me, Iruka" Kakashi whispered. 

Iruka looked at him. Purposefully slow as he took in all of his bare face; as he glided his eyes over the faint scar running through his lip under the sharingan, at the lines around his mouth and the dimple caressing his cheek, at the smile that was so overwhelmingly beautiful Iruka couldn't help but stare. 

He hovered a hand over Kakashi's beauty spot, touched it lightly before trailing his touch along a laugh line and along the edge of his mouth. "You're." Iruka swallowed. "You're very handsome," he managed, and then laughed, once and disbelieving, "I'm a lucky man."

"So am I."

Hands on his face, Iruka swallowed. "Make time for me," he said, thickly. 

"What?" 

"You asked me what I wanted from you. I want you to make time for me."

"Whatever you want," Kakashi murmured. 

"And I don't want you to leave for a week without telling me anything. I—" He paused. "I worry about you."

Kakashi's visible eye widened the smallest bit, almost imperceptible. Iruka would have missed it if he hadn't known what to look for. "Anything else?" he asked, his lazy drawl on a side of strained Iruka had never heard before. 

And the way Kakashi was looking at him, Iruka felt bold. "Yes." He nodded, once. "Will you kiss me?" 

"Let me finish your hair first."

"You're horrible," Iruka huffed. 

Laughing, Kakashi pulled Iruka to rest against him as he made steady work of undoing the rest of Iruka's hair. 

Warmth flooded the room and curled its hands around his heart, made itself at home in the middle of his chest. 

Again, his eyes slipped shut almost of their own accord. "I could get used to this," he whispered, smiling blindly up at Kakashi. 

"I promise that as your husband I'll massage you whenever you want."

"Better quit being a shinobi now, then," Iruka said. "I'll have you know I'm very high maintenance."

This was his, he thought. He could live the rest of his life like this, being nothing but so tenderly cared for by Kakashi. 

And he would, Iruka remembered. He would spend the rest of like this. 

Kakashi bent over Iruka, then, and pressed a slow kiss to the line creasing his brow. "I worry about you, too," he whispered; lips moving against Iruka's forehead, unmasked breath gliding over Iruka's skin. 

Clink! The last pin fell to the table and Iruka reached around him and fisted his hands in Kakashi's flak vest. A grin cut across his face and he allowed himself to be manhandled, let out a long breath when he was pulled to sit beside Iruka and his back hit against the table. 

"Are you hurt?" Iruka asked, pausing. 

"No, just surprised." Kakashi tangled his hand in Iruka's hair. "You're very eager."

"I've wanted this for a long time."

"How long?" 

Shaking his head, Iruka said, "No. It's too embarrassing. Just kiss me already."

"Please. Tell me how long."

His eyes snapped to Kakashi's face. "From before the chuunin exams. You were different and I… was intrigued. Naruto was also fond of so few people back then, but he was fond of you, it made me see you as more than just my kid's hot sensei."

"Hot sensei?" 

Iruka leaned forward and planted a light kiss to Kakashi's chin. "Mm hm. Very hot sensei."

Kakashi chuckled under his breath and tilted his head down for Iruka to better capture his lips. The first kiss was slow, undeniably gentle. Neither of them rushing or pushing for more than what was readily being given, simply enjoying the lack of distance between them and sinking into the feel of mouths moving against each other, of hands dancing over skin and splaying in hair. 

Gentle, and not at all what Iruka would have expected from Kakashi. He wanted more and more, he wanted to drink the other man in and never leave his embrace. 

The moment stretched and they parted, but they didn't stray too far away. "Chuunin exams," Kakashi said, dragging his eyes away from Iruka's mouth to his dark brown eyes. He tangles his fingers further in Iruka's hair. "I always thought you were attractive. Whatever people say about me, I'm not blind, Iruka, and I was enamored by you. Very few people stand up to me the way you did at the exams— Ngh. The way you always do. I think I've been in love with you ever since."

His hands tightened around Kakashi's forearms. "In love with me?" he whispered.

"Don't say it back." Kakashi avoided his searching eyes. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Look at me. Kakashi, please look at me." His heart swelled and he wanted to see every inch of Kakashi's face, or as much of his face as Kakashi would allow him. Kakashi obliged and, gods, Iruka could look at him forever. "I love you, too." Voice so soft, yet he couldn't bare to speak above the barest whisper for fear of shattering whatever had settled around them. 

Kakashi pulled him in for a kiss, as slow the first but so much more explorative. 

Candles flickered around them, danced and painted their skin in deep oranges and deeper reds. Iruka's sleeve fell away from his shoulder and he burned at Kakashi's feather-light touch running over the bare skin; burned at the tender caress of this man. 

"Say it again," Kakashi said, against his mouth. 

"I love you, too," Iruka whispered. And then he was being pulled close, and the rest of his words were lost in another kiss, and another, and another. 

Time warped around them. Minutes passed or hours did, it slipped like sand through fingers and might not have mattered at all. 

All Iruka knew was Kakashi; kissing him almost desperately, teasing him with gentle jokes and even gentler touches

All Iruka wanted to know was Kakashi. He wanted to exist like this forever. 

His love bloomed in his chest, one flower after another after another. He couldn't contain it even if he tried. 

"Marry me," Iruka said softly, mouth on Kakashi's mouth, hands tracing infinite circles onto Kakashi's hands. He could feel Kakashi on his lips, could still taste him on his tongue. 

And it was intimate, and it was intoxicatingly beyond anything he had ever experienced. 

Kakashi leaned back against the dresser, a crooked smile playing on his face. Iruka wanted to kiss him again. "We're already getting married."

"No." He rested his hand on the curve of Kakashi's shoulder, rubbed ridiculous shapes into his arm and ached to touch his skin as Kakashi was touching his. "That was because we had to, but now. Now, I want to."

"How bold."

Iruka sneered. "Stop teasing."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I want to marry you too." A grin on his face, Kakashi slid a hand under Iruka's collar and dusted fingers over chest, over the rise of a collarbone. He curled his grip loosely around the back of Iruka's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, this time so slow and filled with every silent promise of love days might have passed and neither would have minded; would have even known. "I want to marry you, too."

Silence, interjected by hushed giggles, filled the room. And Iruka had never felt more at ease in his entire life. 

Iruka woke when the sun did. Strong arms encircled him and kept him close when he tried to leave the bed. "You're awake?" 

Kakashi hummed into the curve of his neck. The shape of his smile etching itself into Iruka's skin. 

"Don't go," Kakashi murmured, sleepy and adorable. "It's so early."

"If I don't make breakfast, Naruto just eats anything he can get his hands on."

"But it's so early." Snuggling closer, Kakashi tightened his arms around Iruka's waist. "And I'm so cold. Don't you want to warm me up, sensei?" 

It felt right, their legs tangled together under the blankets and Iruka wearing the shirt Kakashi had discarded the night before. Waking up clinging to each other in the same bed and greeting each other with lazy kisses that went nowhere. 

As if they had been doing this their entire lives; as they might have done if they hadn't spent so many years skirting around conversations and keeping away from each other. 

Iruka wriggled out of the bed. Slipping his fingers between Kakashi's he tugged. "Come on," he urged, laughing and waggling his eyebrows. "You can kiss the cook while he works."

And that's how Naruto found them: porridge on the stove and Iruka laughing up into Kakashi's mouth as Kakashi caged him against the counter and kissed him as if they had nothing but time on their side. 

"Aw, c'mon!" Naruto threw up his hands and exclaimed. "You said you weren't dating!" 

Iruka wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and slipped away from Kakashi, fingers gliding over Kakashi's stomach as he moved to stand in front of Naruto. "We… weren't… Are you okay with this?" he asked, quietly. 

"He's still a perv," Naruto grumbled. Quickly, so quickly, his frown melted into a smile. "But you look happy. So I guess I don't mind that much."

"Good." Iruka pulled Naruto into a tight hug. And, then, just for Naruto, he whispered, "Thank you."

Kakashi and Iruka dished out three bowls of porridge while Naruto took to making the tea. They worked around each other easily and when Kakashi went to help Naruto, Iruka felt a sweet pang in his heart. 

This was right. Kakashi kissed the corner of his mouth as he passed and Iruka beamed.

He was happy. 

"You are okay with this, aren't you?" Iruka asked Naruto, two nights before the wedding as they flipped through channels in search of a not half-bad movie while Kakashi was in the bathroom. 

Naruto shrugged. "Yeah, I am. I thought he'd be an asshole—" 

"Language!" 

"I thought he'd be a creepy pervert but he's not. And… The way he smiles at you it's not like any of your other boyfriends smiled at you, it's like he can't help it. It's weird." Naruto laughed. 

"You know that creepy pervert isn't really any better than asshole, " Iruka said, narrowing his eyes at Naruto and holding in a laugh. 

"I'm trying!" 

Wiping his hands on his pants, Kakashi entered the lounge then. He squeezed in the space between Iruka and the arm of the sofa, and it was all too natural for Iruka to let himself be pulled into his side and settle under the weight of the arm slung over his shoulders. 

Naruto pulled the thin blanket over them all and offered the popcorn bowl to Iruka without looking. "I hope you like fantasy romance with samurai," he said, "Because that's what we're watching."

"Anything's good," Kakashi answered, fingers raking slow lines through Iruka's hair and opening his mouth to accept the piece of popcorn Iruka offered him. 

Married, Iruka thought, shifting as close to Kakashi as he could. He was going to marry Kakashi Hatake, and gods, more than anything in the world, did he want to. 

The wedding was a more intimate affair than Iruka had expected. Six rows flanked either side of the aisle, familiar aid unfamiliar faces and Naruto, the only one Iruka's eyes had really sought out in the crowd, bawling into tissues that Lee kept passing him. 

Cherry blossoms bloomed in the trees arching over the linen-wrapped chairs and the flower sprinkled aisle, vined around as many surfaces as they could be vined around. 

Sakura had walked into his room that morning and, hands as steady as Iruka expected, she held back her tears as, unprompted, she braided the light pink flowers into his hair. "I can't believe you two are getting married!" she exclaimed, working diligently despite the wet sheen of her eyes and the wail in her voice. "We've wanted this for so long! Ino owes me so much money!" 

Iruka had huffed a laugh into his hand. 

Now standing beside Kakashi, he cast a look over strangers from Kirigakure and family and friends who'd supported him through the darkest of times, and he wondered how many people had wanted this same thing. 

Kakashi's gaze didn't stray from Iruka the entire time. The deep yellow and gold kimono he wore was a gift from Terumi Mei herself, it lay like silk against his body, and shone gorgeously off his skin. He was mesmerizing, more so next to the dark green and black outfit Kakashi had been gifted. 

When they turned to each to finally, finally, kiss, after so long of standing so near without being allowed to touch, Iruka smirked. "You look well, sensei," he said. 

Kakashi's eye curved. "You too." 

Iruka was gentle in cupping his chin, and even gentler in placing a kiss to the masked jut of his lips. It was chaste, and Iruka promised to make it up to him later. 

Naruto blew his nose loudly, and Kakashi laughed against Iruka's mouth. "Every day you are more beautiful than the last," he said, just for Iruka's ears. "I'm a very lucky man."

He wiped a tear away from his eye, dropped his head against Kakashi's chest and smiled. Iruka was happy, and he was overflowing with it.