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[KKIR] Modern AU - Teaching Pains Pt10

Part 9

By the time Iruka's out of the shower, Kakashi's almost done arranging the bedcovers.

“Oh, I would've…” Iruka tries to argue, only to fall quiet in the face of Kakashi's look of silent judgment.

The fact he would have gritted his teeth and changed his sheets on his own is very much the reason Kakashi went through the trouble himself. It's not like he would've minded, he's slept in much ranker beds, but Iruka’s look of alarm on his way to the en-suite told him he should probably take pre-emptive measures.

In the adjoining living room, Naruto’s finished preparing the sofa bed, that he opened with suspicious ease some time earlier. Kakashi has an inkling that Iruka's played host to him quite a few times before.

The kid bounds up to the doorframe, holding the sandwich that Iruka barely took a few bites from.

“Are you sure you won't eat it, Iruka-sensei?”

“Nah, go ahead. Just brush your teeth after. You know wher--”

“Under the sink, yeah, yeah, I know,” Naruto whines, letting Iruka shoo him out of the room when he begins spreading crumbs.

Iruka’s ribs must make him regret the motion because the moment Naruto’s turned his back, he catches himself on a bedpost with a hitched hiss. Frankly, it’s a wonder he even got himself into the oversized sleeping shirt he’s wearing. It sticks to his back in soggy patches where he failed to reach and dry himself.

Kakashi adjusts the last pillow and rests in a half-sit on a corner of the bedside table.

“What you did, for Naruto…” he begins saying after a time, only for Iruka to shake his head without meeting his eyes.

“He’s a growing boy. And I’m really not very hungry right now.”

Iruka looks tired, underneath his bashful smile, so Kakashi doesn’t press. But only just.

“Think you’d have a spare toothbrush for me too?”

“You really don’t have to stay, you know,” Iruka replies, ducking his head for a side glance.

And honestly, the aw shucks routine is only as cute as it is short. This particular show is dragging on, as far as Kakashi’s concerned, and to insulting lengths too.

“Let’s try this again: do you want me to leave?”

As if suspecting a trick question, Iruka closes his mouth and keeps his eyes averted.

Kakashi pushes off the table, drawing close enough that he can smell the fresh peppermint scent of the soap Iruka uses. It’s a bit heady, in the way overcompensating masculine soaps tend to be, likely one of the cheaper brands. It makes his nose itch, a bit, but he also thinks he could get used to it. He’d like to.

He braces a hand on the bed until he can catch Iruka’s gaze.

“This isn’t a trap. If you’d rather have your space, I’ll go. I won’t be offended.” He’ll be worried, but he’ll cope. “But if you’re concerned about inconveniencing me, well… That’s never stopped you before, why start now?”

Iruka’s glare is half-hearted at best, tempered as it is with gratitude. He doesn’t manage to keep the scowl for long anyway, and chuckles shortly afterwards with a head tilt of concession.

“At least it’s the weekend, now,” he says with something like a sigh of relief.

Warning bells begin ringing in Kakashi’s mind.

He feels himself frown. “Didn’t the doctor give you time off for a week?”

“It’s not mandatory,” Iruka replies, sounding mildly scandalized at the idea of missing work.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and straightens up.

“You know what? We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow. And because I’m very nice, I won’t even say I told you so.”

The look Iruka sends him speaks volumes as to his belief in Kakashi’s ability to not gloat.

“Scouts honor.” Kakashi raises a hand, palm upfront, as he retreats in backwards steps. “So, about that toothbrush…?”

“You’re not a sc--under the sink,” Iruka replies in a hurried autopilot as Kakashi reaches the bathroom, “no, wait, Kakashi-sensei, come back here, were you a boy scout?”

Getting to shut the door on his incredulous shout is nothing short of delightful. Kakashi’s still snickering to himself even as he rummages through the cabinet. He finds an open family pack of the most garishly colored toothbrushes, and picks the least offensive one, commonly dark blue. Before even getting it in his mouth, he can already feel the stiffness of the bristles.

It’s just sad.

“Oh, Iruka,” he can’t help but mutter to himself, before getting some paste and yielding to his fate.

A knock interrupts him mid rinsing.

“I’ve left a change of clothes and a towel on the doorstep, if you want to freshen up,” Iruka says on the other side of the door. “If you want, I can run your clothes through the washer overnight.”

Kakashi doesn’t get an opportunity to reply. Soft steps retreat and he hears Iruka start a conversation with Naruto in the next room.

On top of the towel, he also finds a washcloth. The events catching up with him in a wave of exhaustion, he only bothers with a quick rinse more than an actual scrub before slipping into Iruka’s clothes. The drawstrings need tugging so the trousers don’t hang quite so low, but once adjusted they make for a comfortable fit. It’s a good thing they’re so evenly matched in height and build.

Though he replaces the eyepatch, he considers the mask he’s worn all day, then the fresh one in a pocket of his coat hanging by the entrance, and decides to go without. The smells of Iruka’s apartment aren’t too strong overall. He can manage.

If anything, they already feel familiar.

As expected, he finds Naruto and Iruka confiding in a low voice at the tiny dining table tucked against the half-wall of the kitchen. Kakashi’s not looking to interrupt but Iruka looks up before he can slip away, and anyway since it’s an option he could do with some clean clothes in the morning.

He lifts the bundle in his hand then feeds it to the washing machine that Iruka points to.

At the table, a sullen looking Naruto is pressing his thumb to the crumbs left in his plate, and then licking them off his finger. When Iruka leaves for a glass of water and a dose of painkiller, Kakashi approaches.

“You doing okay?”

Naruto shrugs, hunching over himself with it.

“Convincing,” Kakashi says wryly.

Unusually non-confrontational, Naruto doesn’t look up even when he mutters his reply. “He got hurt because of me. Iruka-sensei did.”

“Yeah, he did,” Kakashi agrees simply while they watch Iruka finish rinsing his glass. After a beat, Naruto finally meets his eyes, so Kakashi gives him a smile in return. “And he’d do it again. To protect you.”

For a moment, Naruto looks stricken. Kakashi remains calm in the face of it and, with nothing to feed back into, the turmoil passes. Naruto gives a brave little nod afterwards.

“Alright, hand over your plate,” Iruka says through the passthrough.

He tries to reach over the little counter only to realize just how narrow the pain has made his range of motion. To his credit, he doesn’t make a noise, though his eye twitches.

Naruto and Kakashi exchange a look. Then the kid nods once more, resolute, and clambers down his chair.

“I’ll do it, Iruka-sensei. You get some rest.”

The look Iruka sends Kakashi reminds him Iruka has thoughts about which way an adult-child caretaking relationship should go, but he doesn’t argue. He thanks Naruto, ruffles his hair, reminds him to brush his teeth, and retreats to the bedroom.

Kakashi pats Naruto on the head once his cleaned plate is drying on the rack.

“Come on, I’ll finish tidying. Go, take care of your teeth, since Iruka-sensei’s so worried about them.”

“I only got a cavity once!”

Catching the remaining crumbs with a sponge and pushing the chairs back under the table is quick work, but Kakashi feels off kilter, a nervous jitter running under his skin, so he finds a couple more tasks to justify lingering while he collects himself. When he emerges, Naruto is already on the couch, typing away at his chipped smartphone. He scrambles to hide the lit screen under the covers with a guilty wince.

Kakashi smiles to himself and doesn't mention it. He figures the consequences in the morning will be as good a teacher as any scolding.

The warm glow of Iruka's bedside lamp guides his steps back to the bedroom. He sets down a glass of fresh water on the table along with a packet of the pills left on the kitchen counter, and slips into the opposite side of where Iruka's lying stiff and silent.

“Not usually a back sleeper, hm?”

Iruka's huff of laughter is a bit choked but nonetheless genuine. “I don't know which is more likely to keep me awake, that or the pain.”

“Been there. My sympathies.” They lie quietly for nearly a minute, then: “do you sleep with the light on?”

“Ah, no, let me--” Iruka begins saying, but Kakashi reaches over to turn it off before Iruka does something stupid like move on his bruised side and fumble for the switch.

It brings them closer, the line of Iruka’s arm pressing warmth against Kakashi’s chest, a gentle weight that feels alive and safe and so tantalizingly within easy reach. The urge to linger is strong. Kakashi beats a hasty retreat before he's drawn to brushing touches he can’t deny.

“Thank you,” Iruka murmurs once he's settled back. His voice is rough, almost inquisitive.

Kakashi doesn’t think right now’s the time to consider what the question might be. “Don't mention it.”

“For your help today, I mean.”

“Then really don’t mention it.”

Iruka doesn’t press.

But in the renewed silence, the mattress shifts minutely on his side with a slow gathering of tension. What felt like the tired weight of a healing body begins to turn into the sharp pressure of a coiled spring, until Kakashi’s driven to look up in concern. Iruka’s profile is a dark shape in a sea of darker shapes. From experience, Kakashis knows it won’t be long before his own eye get used to the street light sneaking past the slats of the roller shutters.

By the time he’s able to see the length of Iruka's lowered eyelashes and the furrow of his brows, Iruka's still giving no signs of winding down.

“Come on, out with it.”

“What?”

“Talk to me.”

“We can't sleep if we're talking.”

“Can’t sleep with you fretting.”

“I’m not--” Iruka argues, and for a moment it’s like his spark is back and Kakashi feels ignited in victory. Then Iruka cuts himself off and breathes out tiredly. “I’m sorry. I don't mean to disturb you.”

Kakashi doesn't want to argue, so he merely hums and repeats:

“Talk to me.”

Iruka's pillow rustles as he turns his face away. “I should have seen it coming.”

Kakashi can’t say he’s surprised by this turn in the conversation.

“Nobody saw it coming.”

“Nobody knows Mizuki like I do.” Iruka’s pause is pained in a way that has nothing to do with his bruises. “Or thought I did.”

“Ah. So that's it, then?”

“And I should have been more aware of Naruto’s struggles. I should have helped him, so he wouldn't feel like--”

His muscles are pulled tight to the point of shaking. His ribs must be killing him for it.

“Naruto fucked up,” Kakashi says bluntly.

“Naruto’s a k--”

“Naruto’s a kid, yeah, and he fucked up. And as his teacher, sure, maybe you could’ve seen this coming. But you’re not the ones who pushed a bookcase or wielded a knife. Attacking a child, trying to kill a friend: Mizuki's scum. I don't know why you’re trying so hard to shoulder the blame, here.”

He looks to the ceiling once he’s done, waiting for Iruka to take in the words. Joke’s on him though, because he’s the one feeling tense all over, now. He tries to find comfort in the knowledge that Mizuki's in the hands of none other than Morino Ibiki, of all people, and probably enjoying none of that company. It helps a bit.

On the bed, Iruka angles his face back towards him.

“I thought you were upset with me. You said we needed to talk.”

Kakashi frowns. “No? I asked you t--”

“By text. You said we should talk.”

Of all things. It feels like years ago. And it also makes so much sense, in light of recent events.

“Ah. That. Mizuki gave me a friendly warning, earlier in the day. Said you resented losing to me and were spreading rumors as revenge.”

“I--what?!” Iruka nearly yelps.

He casts a wary look at the open door in case the sound alerted Naruto, but the shadows in the living room remain motionless.

“I didn't buy it. Well, not entirely,” Kakashi says, though Iruka's look of alarm tells him that, albeit honest, the correction isn’t exactly reassuring. “But I also didn't realize it was so urgent. I thought we could deal with it on our own time.”

“What rumors?” Iruka asks tightly.

“He didn't say. But he heavily implied it was related to the students, and insisted that I shouldn't interact with them until it’s all sorted out.”

“And you believed that?!”

Kakashi pulls a hand from under the covers to rub the back of his neck. “Our coworkers were giving me very strange looks, I didn't know what to make of it.” He feels Iruka freeze against the mattress, likely in a new loop of self-recrimination, and tries to fix it. “Didn't stop me from answering Naruto's call, anyway, especially when I saw your text. I’m just sorry it took me so long.”

Iruka lets out a strangled, humorless chuckle. “Please, please don't apologize. What a mess. Fuck.”

A muffled gasp sounds from the living room.

“Stop eavesdropping, Naruto, and go to sleep,” Iruka whisper-shouts, causing Kakashi to bite his lips against a laugh at the resulting meep.

It's like all that rising pressure was never there.

In the semi-dark of the bedroom, they share a look, and he watches Iruka's eyes soften as they roam over his face, taking in Kakashi's crow's feet and the narrow bridge of his nose and further down the mole at the corner of his mouth that so often goes covered.

Before Iruka can try and thank him again, Kakashi moves in to softly bump him on the shoulder with his forehead. “Top five scariest moments of my life,” he confesses in a murmur against Iruka’s arm. At Iruka's mildly incredulous hum, he adds: “Maybe ten. I’ve had an eventful life.”

Iruka's hand finds his over the cover, just long enough for a short squeeze. He stays close, even after the release. All it takes to return the gesture is a gentle crawl of Kakashi’s hand, until his fingers land on Iruka's wrist and they curl down the pillow of his thumb.

It’s not long, following that, until they fall asleep.

Their morning starts somewhere just past ten, which considering the circumstances Kakashi finds to be way too early. But there’s inescapable light coming from the window, Naruto’s loudly fighting the couch back into a folded shape over there, and most importantly Iruka’s lying suspiciously still by his side, so Kakashi pulls up with a groan and a crack of his joints.

As promised, he doesn’t gloat. He helps Iruka sit and hands him the now lukewarm glass of water along with the right amount of painkillers. They did this dance once already in the middle of the night so Iruka doesn’t argue too much this time. Good. It’s not like Kakashi would have fought him over it--he’s a firm believer in letting people learn from their own mistakes--but also, he’d rather Iruka not be in pain.

Unsurprisingly, the cold bruises make getting up hell. Kakashi and Naruto help Iruka move about until he finally concedes to wait on the couch for the painkillers to kick in. Unable to play the proper host, he keeps giving Kakashi looks of deep mortification even as he directs him to hang his clothes on the heated towel rack of the bathroom, and then owns up to a badly supplied pantry.

There are eggs, though, and some old miso paste and soy sauce. Kakashi whips them up an easy omelet, which Naruto dives into with gusto and Iruka does find it in himself to eat over half the portion that Kakashi put in his plate. He considers it a success.

Somewhere past eleven, Daikoku comes to pick Naruto. He and Iruka exchange a few very serious words about Naruto needing support from someone who won’t let him self-incriminate to the police, the importance of which Iruka manages to stress well enough that even the ever carefree Daikoku-sensei agrees with a solemn nod. Naruto leaves with the sort of brave face that means he’ll probably bawl for part of the car ride.

After closing the door behind them, Kakashi’s completely unsurprised to find Iruka’s own eyes looking suspiciously shiny.

“Really, you two…” he mutters to himself, picking the dishes to wash them. At Iruka’s horrified whine, he casts back a pointed look. “Do you want me to just leave you with dirty dishes? Because I will do it, if you insist. I don’t take any particular pleasure in washing them.”

He watches Iruka weigh the pros and cons in the balance of his ego and concede with a dejected wave of his hand towards the sink.

Afterwards, an internet search guides Kakashi to a corner shop a two minutes walk past the nearest pharmacy. Iruka seems resigned enough that he barely even winces at the sight of Kakashi marching back with three bags of food.

In the most poorly equipped kitchen Kakashi has been given to cook since his college years, he still scrounges up a few easy meals for Iruka to warm up over the next couple of days.

“Yeah, yeah, I did get you some instant ramen, just in case. Though you could try the noodles with some of the broth I made, as a healthier compromise.”

Iruka gives him such a sharp and impenetrable look that Kakashi has to turn away until his own responding blush abates.

By mid afternoon, he’s out of excuses to linger. Iruka has food, he has medicine, he has an ice pack, all he now needs is time and rest that Kakashi has no way of actively providing. And even though he’d love to simply stay and keep a silent company, he’s also aware he was never exactly invited.

He thinks they both need space to process, too.

Iruka insists on walking him to the door, waiting on the step of the genkan while Kakashi pulls on his shoes and adjusts his mask.

“This is it, then,” Kakashi says, knowing even as he speaks that it sounds just as trite as he’s feeling awkward.

Iruka steps down and pulls him into a clumsy hug.

He can’t lift his arms too far, and Kakashi doesn’t want to risk bumping against his ribs. If asked, that will be his defense for the way he wraps his arms around Iruka’s shoulders and hides his face against his neck. Keeping the hold light and gentle takes all of his willpower.

He greets the weight of Iruka’s arms around his waist with a shuddery sigh.

“If you need anything, call me, alright?” he whispers against his shoulder.

“I will,” Iruka replies, which Kakashi already understands to be a lie, and one that he can’t even resent, really. He knows Iruka takes pride in being self-reliant.

But the offer’s there, and it was heard, so it’s all that matters. It has to be.

“I mean it,” he can’t help but stress anyway, pulling back.

“I know.”

Kakashi’s glad for the eyepatch, now slightly damp. The left was always his crybaby eye.

#kakairu #kkir #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #naruto #fic : naruto #my scrawl

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