If You Love Until It Hurts

10



Monday morning came and Iruka dragged himself out of bed despite his desire to sleep in. Apparently the healing had taken more toll on him than he initially thought. The Chuunin no longer felt sore – and he was thankful for that – but the lingering fatigue remained. Tsunade had warned him of it, and she had also reassured him that it would pass in the next several days, so he had nothing to worry about.



Yawning and stretching he went about his morning routine, trying not to think about the unavoidable confrontation with Kakashi. Ever since had woken up in the hospital he seen neither hide nor hair of the man, and his initial puzzlement was rapidly turning into annoyance. He knew that he was probably being petty – after all, Kakashi wasn’t obligated to check up on him – but since he had begun to consider the man a friend he had expected a bit more concern. At least his students were safe, as both Tsunade and Sakura reassured him when he first woke up, a reassurance supported by the well-wishing cards and flowers he got from the entire class that was with him in the ryokan.



The Academy didn’t look any different than it did a week ago – the same pastel-coloured building with a large front yard, children rapidly arriving for class. The ones who new him personally greeted him warmly, the others showed respect due to a teacher, and his colleagues grinned at him with obvious relief – a rare display of emotion, and all the more precious for that.



The welcoming was certainly warm enough to somewhat dispel his worries concerning Kakashi, though the confusion remained. When he reached his classroom door he paused, taking a deep breath and surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone noticed him hesitating, but miraculously, the corridor was empty. Finally, he grabbed the handle and pushed, making his way into the room.



Like the rest of the Academy it did not look any different than before. The desks were partially occupied, but the students who were there all ran down and flocked around him, little faces beaming up at him as they talked all at once.



“Are you okay, Iruka-sensei?”

“We were so worried!”

“They wouldn’t let us visit you at the hospital, said you needed to rest!”



Iruka laughed.



“I’m fine, I’m fine, kids. Nothing to worry about. Now, go back to your seats and prepare for the day.”



They nodded, and with uncharacteristic obedience did as they were told – apparently his injury had scared them more than Iruka had anticipated. Finally, he was free and was able to turn his attention to the other adult occupant of the room, who was behind the teacher’s desk and had not moved at all since Iruka came into the room. When he came closer, Kakashi did get up, but his one uncovered eye remained cool and indifferent, so unlike the warmth that had begun to creep in it lately. Iruka felt apprehensive all over again.



“Welcome back, Umino-san.” Kakashi said, his tone level and neutral. There was no warmth there either. Just perfunctory politeness. And… ‘Umino-san? Since when are we back on family name basis?’ Iruka wondered as he struggled to keep his expression calm and not show his hurt and confusion.



“Hatake-san.” He answered, knowing that he couldn’t use a more familiar name if Kakashi was determined to widen the gap between them, at least not in front of the students.



“I am pleased that you’re back to work. Managing your load as well has become bothersome. Do try not to put yourself in situations that will force others to shoulder your burden anymore.” Kakashi still sounded indifferent, even if his words were scolding. Iruka’s mouth went dry, and he risked a glance at the students. Indeed, they too were observing the scene with apt interest. He could feel himself flushing with sudden anger at the thought of being berated before his own students. Kakashi may hold a higher rank, but that did not give him the right to humiliate him like this. Still, he could not be seen openly arguing with a superior. Later, when the children were gone, Iruka intended to give Kakashi a piece of his mind, Jounin or not.



“I will do my best, Hatake-san, not to be shot in the back by people aiming at you again.” He replied politely, and quietly enough so as to the students not to hear what he was saying. Kakashi’s eye widened a fraction at those words, but there was no further reaction. There were a few moments of tense silence before the Jounin hissed:



“Do try to do that, it’ll make both our lives easier.”



Iruka bowed, as he was supposed to, and made that bow just as low as Kakashi was due, and not a fraction more. He felt cold, and angry, and disappointed. The rest of the day did not get any better, unfortunately. They were both tense, and barely exchanged a word beyond the professional conversation. Their dynamic was broken, and the classes suffered for it. Iruka’s temper was growing shorter by the minute, and Kakashi’s seeming indifference confused and hurt the students, who were used to him actually caring about what they did. By the end of the classes it felt like the temperature in the room was beyond frigid. When they were finally done, Iruka bid the Jounin a cool goodbye, gathered his things and left without looking back.



Kakashi remained sitting behind the desk for a few moments, watching his retreating back and finally allowing himself to wince when the door slammed shut and he remained alone in the deserted classroom. He looked down and noticed that his hands were shaking, so he buried them between his knees. A scream bubbled up in his chest and he gritted his teeth to contain it. This was the right path. He was doing the right thing, for Iruka, for the students, and for himself. Getting attached to either of them had almost got the Chuunin killed, and who knows what would’ve happened to the children if he hadn’t been able to destroy the attackers. He remembered his shock when he saw the crimson flower blooming on Iruka’s shirt, his confused, then empty expression as he lost consciousness. He hadn’t felt such rage, such despair since the day Minato died, but at least this time he had been able to get his hands on the culprits. The satisfaction he felt when he tore them apart still lingered.



Kakashi looked to the empty seat next to him and sighed. He never wanted to see Iruka’s face like that again – slack and empty. He would much rather see it angry and bitter. At least then he’d know that the Chuunin would be safe. If only it didn’t hurt so much to realize that loss.



‘This is your own fault.’ He reminded himself bitterly. ‘You allowed yourself to become attached to this man, and you know what happens to people you become attached to!’



Angrily he got up and gathered his own things before leaving the classroom. Indeed, he only had himself to blame for this disaster. Faces flashed in his mind – his father, Obito, Rin… Sensei. All dead because of him, because of his failure to protect them. He could not allow this to happen again.



As he walked back to his apartment he was struck with a sense of familiarity – how many times he had taken the same road, knowing that he was alone? He had been content, or at the very least, resigned to the situation before. Now he was alone again, and somehow it hurt more than it did before. That brief taste of companionship, friendship even, had opened old wounds that had never fully healed to begin with and now Kakashi had to figure out how to close them again. He would succeed, of course. He always did.



After he closed and locked the door of his apartment he headed to the kitchen, opened his fridge and discovered that the only thing he had left were some cold noodles – leftover from breakfast. Or maybe yesterday’s lunch. It occurred to Kakashi that recently he wasn’t keeping much track how often and how much he ate, which really wasn’t right – he was a weapon, and his duty required that he kept himself in top condition. And yet, right now, he couldn’t care less. He couldn’t stomach much food anyway – every time he closed his eyes he saw Iruka, smiling at him from across the table, and then there was blood, blood, blood. So much blood. Lately that mental image dominated the others that usually haunted him – his father’s body, curled up in a pool of his own blood, Obito’s mangled face as the rocks pressed down on him, Minato, barely recognizable, and yet still wrapped around the dead body of his wife. The last memory burned almost as much as the image of Iruka did, despite all the years that had passed. The grief, the pain and the shame seemed to be still the same.



Kakashi’s stomach churned despite the meager dinner but he ignored it and headed for the shower. He set the water on cold and slid under the spray, gritting his teeth to stop them from chattering. Cold water was preferable to the memories a hot shower would bring.



By the time he was finished with showering Kakashi’s lips had almost turned blue and he was shivering violently. Still, the cold also brought a blessed numbness – he was too tired and too sluggish to think, to remember. He dried himself as best as he could and then curled up under the covers of his bed, pulling them over his head and closing his eyes. The newfound warmth lulled him to sleep



The Pet was kneeling on the floor in the middle of the bedroom, his wrists and ankles tied with a single rope connecting them and forcing his back and shoulders to remain upright, with head bowed low in submission, knees slightly apart. He wasn’t sure how long he had remained in that position, but it had been long enough for the pain of the cramps to go away and for numbness to settle in. There was no noise, no indication that there was someone else in the room with him. Maybe the Master had really left, as he’d said he’d do if the Pet displeased him, or he was completely masking his chakra and was simply sitting on the bed behind him. He did not try to twist his head to check. It did not matter whether his Master was there or not – all that mattered was for the Pet to obey. The oppressive silence in the room was broken only by the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall – “tic-toc-tic-toc-tic…” - a pervasive, unsettling sound, especially for one who was supposed to sit still and be quiet.



The Pet’s single uncovered eye was firmly trained on the tatami floor visible between his naked knees, examining the minute details of the straw weave. He had stared at it for so long that he could probably draw it with his eyes closed if he tried.



A hand suddenly caressed the back of his neck and he jumped despite his training. The hand suddenly grabbed him and tightened to keep him in place, although it wasn’t necessary – he had already got himself under control.



“Discipline, Pet.” Master’s soft voice came from behind him as he chided him gently. The Pet said nothing. He wasn’t to speak unless specifically asked something. “I’m going to have to punish this infraction later.” The Master continued thoughtfully, even if there was no anger in his words. He almost never got angry with his Pet, at least not in this setting. But then again, outside these rooms he was not a Pet. At least, he wasn’t allowed to be, no matter how much he begged. The hand on the back of his neck tightened further before releasing him completely and the graceful if callused fingers slowly slid down, tracing the ridges of his spine. The hand splayed between his shoulderblades and the Pet hissed as they caressed the welts on his skin, result of an earlier session. Each welt was lovingly traced and he shuddered at the sensation – it stung, it burned, and he loved every moment of it. A soft, wet tongue followed the fingers and the younger man gritted his teeth in an attempt to stay silent. He wasn’t supposed to make any sound when Master played with him – it had been one of the earliest rules established between them. In here, the Pet was a toy, a doll, an object to be used, and he was supposed to behave like one. Sometimes, if he really pleased Master, he would give him permission to moan, but that rarely happened. Teeth nipped his abused skin and the Pet’s eyes welled up.



“I love the way you taste, Pet.” Master said quietly and his warm, moist breath caressed his skin, soothing the sting of his belt and his teeth. He dragged his nails over his flesh, sending a new, hot flash of pain through his system, and despite the uncomfortable position and the exhaustion, he began to harden. He closed his eye and the tears finally spilled down his flushed cheeks. The hands became gentle again, and he heard a soft chuckle coming from behind as the feather-light touch dusted over his sides, then slid further down to his behind, cupping the taut muscle and squeezing. The Pet could not contain his gasp when Master did that – if his back was covered in welts than his ass was probably cherry read from Master’s earlier treatment. There it was again, that soft, musical laughter.



“Such a responsive pet you are.” Tender lips pressed against the Pet’s neck and gently kissed and mouthed his throbbing carotid. The contrast between the tender, loving kisses and the cruel hands squeezing his abused behind only aroused him further as he tilted his head to the side to give Master a better access. He was completely helpless in his clutches, tied up, aroused, his limbs heavy and numb from the long period spent in the same position. He wouldn’t be able to move even if he wanted to. The only thing still holding him upright was Master’s grip and the rope connecting his wrists to his ankles. When the fingers dipped lower and pressed against his perineum, tugging and playing with the tiny metal loop he found there the Pet began to tremble.



The hand around his middle moved up and wrapped around his throat, tightening just enough remind him that he could cut off all air if the Master wanted to. As if the Pet needed any reminder who was in charge. Still, he went completely limp in that grip, allowed it to manhandle him like a doll, allowed himself to feel, to experience without thinking, completely isolating himself from the outside world. It was the most liberating experience in his entire life.



The hand around his throat turned his face to the side and soft lips covered his own in a gentle kiss. The Pet eagerly opened his mouth and let his Master’s tongue in, eagerly suckling on the wet, agile intruder. His eyes still closed, he let the man devour him, offering no resistance when the hand around his throat tightened further. His cock was already hard and leaking against his flat belly, and fingers playing with the piercing on his perineum had moved to tease the spongy flesh of his tip. The Master pulled away from the kiss and the Pet sighed unhappily, his eyelids fluttering when he finally opened his eyes to look at him pleadingly. He had been expecting the familiar face with cerulean eyes and a crown of golden hair, but in his place there was another, with mocha skin, a thin scar over his elegant nose and dark, burning eyes. Iruka smiled at him and a pair of slick fingers slid mercilessly into him, pressing against his prostate. Kakashi let out a broken whimper and came, still looking into those smoldering dark eyes.



Kakashi woke up with a start, shivering in remembered pleasure, even if his mind was in turmoil. There was wetness against his chest and belly, probably staining the sheets. That hadn’t happened in years, he thought idly as he tried to recollect himself. He shivered as he pushed the blanket away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He needed to clean himself, and then probably to change the sheets. Embarrassment washed over him, and not just because he had come in his sleep. After today, he had assumed that he would be able to just go back to his previous life, as lonely and bland as he had been, but the Chuunin had proved him wrong again.



When he entered the bathroom he finally took a look at himself in the mirror, noticing the dark circle under his uncovered eye, the tiny crow’s feet wrinkles at its end, the sad, tense expression of his mouth. The come was already drying on his stomach and thighs and he wet a towel, then cleaned himself with barely contained distaste. Obviously, things weren’t going to go back as they were before, at least not as quickly as he had hoped. No matter. He just had to work harder for it. Kakashi threw the towel in the laundry basket, then went back to change the sheets, and then finally went to bed. He slept little, and was plagued by dreams he did not wish to recall in the morning.



The following day was just as torturous as the last – he deliberately behaved like a complete asshole towards Iruka and pointedly ignored the students, and when he didn’t he was flat out cold and unnecessarily harsh with them. Thankfully, the Chuunin seemed to be buying into his deception, because his own demeanor had become cool and withdrawn. The rest of the instructors seemed to sense the distance between them and adopted a similar cool demeanor towards him, which wasn’t unexpected, even if it was still painful. They were all still unfailingly polite – as he was as well – but there was no more warmth there. He hadn’t expected to miss the camaraderie that had begun to develop between all of them, despite their difficult start. Once again he was an outsider, and this time it was all of his own doing, carefully calculated and meticulously executed. If it were a mission, he would’ve been proud of himself.



A week later Kakashi was sitting at the end of the long sofa by the window in the teacher’s room, pointedly flipping through one of Jiraiya’s books and ignoring everyone else when the door opened and a young Chuunin came in, carrying a sealed folder. Iruka, who up to that moment had been standing by the window chatting quietly with one of their colleagues and ignoring Kakashi just as pointedly, walked up to him and greeted him, then accepted the sealed folder. When the young man left, he broke the seal and took out a sheet of paper covered in small, fine print.



“Well?” the man who had been chatting with Iruka asked “What is it?”



“A message from the Hokage to all of us.” Iruka explained thoughtfully as he went through the contents of the letter. “In a week the Feudal lord will visit us, along with some of the lesser nobles. Tsunade-sama wishes us to prepare our students for a demonstration for the guests – they are, after all, the next generation of warriors this village has to offer”



“And here I thought that the Chuunin exam was enough of a circus for the nobles.” Kakashi said from behind his book. He did not look up, but he could feel everyone’s cool eyes turning and focusing on him with obvious distaste. He repressed the urge to wince and reminded himself that this was necessary.



“These are the Hokage’s orders, Hatake-san.” Iruka’s voice was silky-smooth and frigidly cold. “Our opinion on the matter is irrelevant, we’re here to obey.”



The hint was quite obvious – Kakashi was included in that “we” despite their apparent dislike of the fact. Finally, he closed the book and looked at Iruka, ignoring all the other disapproving stares.



“I take it that you want me to train the students in some more advanced, flashy techniques that will impress our future investors?”



“That would be good.” Iruka conceded, though the almost openly hostile expression did not leave his face.



He was right, of course, and whatever personal issues there were between them couldn’t get in the way of their work. Finally, he nodded and tucked the book in his pocket.



“We better get started then. A week is not nearly enough time to prepare children to do some the things I have in mind, so we’ll have to push them, and hard.”



Iruka frowned at him, but did not object.



For everyone the next several days were pretty much a blur. The students chosen to participate in their little demonstration were to come in the early morning and went home when it was almost dark, bruised and exhausted but determined to make their instructors proud.



Iruka and Kakashi, forced by the circumstances, fell into a familiar rhythm of teaching, even if the coolness between them remained. At least Kakashi seemed focused on the students most of the time and he had no time to make snide little comments that made Iruka grit his teeth and remind himself that he could not, in fact, wring his neck.



For a while, everything actually went well – they were bright children and learned quickly, especially considering the kind of jutsu Kakashi was teaching them – flashy but not too complex for their still fledging abilities, something to impress the ignorant visitors so that everyone would be happy in the end.



Iruka mostly kept to himself during these lessons, offering advice to those who were falling behind and encouraging them to work even harder to achieve the required results. He knew most of these techniques himself, however, he preferred to allow Kakashi to do the actual academic part, choosing to provide moral support above all else, especially in the aftermath of his rather public falling out with the Jounin. Over two weeks had passed since that day and the children still looked at them apprehensively, their confusion obvious on their little faces. In the past months they had got used to Kakashi and Iruka acting warmly and friendly to each other and this sudden, unexplained change affected them deeply. Things had got a little better since Tsunade’s orders arrived, they were too busy to glare at each other, but the silence remained. Iruka was beginning to suspect that at least some of the students had got in their heads that it was somehow their fault and believed that if they impressed Kakashi enough he’d revert back to his previous behaviour. It was a naïve notion, but it did make them work harder, faster, eager to please their instructors, so he said nothing.



On Sunday evening, after the last student trudged out of the training area behind the Academy Iruka left Kakashi with a cool “goodbye” and returned in the main building to get his things and head home. They were all exhausted, and having to work and train the students throughout the weekend to prepare them for the demonstration tomorrow hadn’t helped at all.



Much to his surprise, however, he found Genma once against sprawled on the sofa in the Teacher’s room. The Jounin had removed his flack jacket and sported a nasty-looking bruise on his cheek, but otherwise he looked good.



“Genma!” Iruka exclaimed, his mood improving considerably at the sight of his friend. “You’re back! When did you return?” he eyed the bruise on his cheek “Did the mission go well?”



“This morning.” The older man replied with a lazy smile “And yes, it went well, mostly.” He examined the Chuunin from head to toe before remarking “I heard about your adventures while I was gone.” His grin disappeared. “I am glad you’re okay now.”



Iruka gave him a tired little smile.



“Yes, I’m okay. Thank you.”



“I also heard that Hatake was acting like an ass.” Genma continued breezily. “Is that why you looked like someone drowned your kitten when you came in?”



Iruka couldn’t help but snicker a little at the mental image of his own expression.



“I had a difficult few days.” He admitted and went to sit down next to Genma, leaning back against the sofa. A strong hand sneaked around his shoulders and pulled him closer until his head was pillowed against the Jounin’s body. Iruka closed his eyes in bliss. “I’m glad you’re back.”



“Mmm. I’m glad I am back too, believe me.”



Soft lips pressed against Iruka’s mouth and he sighed into the kiss before responding in kind, his hand fisting in Genma’s shirt and pulling him even closer. He needed this – the older man was his friend, not his lover, but unlike Kakashi, who had been giving him mixed signals for months now, Genma was stable, straightforward and reliable. He needed stable right now.



The kiss deepened further and a strong hand came to rest on his hip, gently massaging the muscle there before curling over his thigh and Iruka shifted to give the man better access.



The sound of the door opening made them both freeze and look up, meeting Kakashi’s single uncovered eye. The Jounin looked… actually Iruka wasn’t sure how he looked, the mask covering his expression completely, but there was something in his gaze, something so primal and terrifying and then incredibly sad that it gave the Chuunin a pause.



They all just stood there for a few long, tense, silent moments before Kakashi first regained his composure.



“I apologize for interrupting.” He said neutrally. Then he turned on his heel and left without looking back.



Iruka considered running after him and then firmly rejected the idea – he was too damn proud to do that and he didn’t owe Kakashi any explanation about his personal life. Whatever the thing that had developed between them in the past months was now gone and the older man had himself to thank for that.



When he turned to Genma he noticed that his friend was scowling at the now closed door.



“He’s never heard of knocking, I guess.” The man muttered irritably before turning to Iruka again. “So, dinner?”



Iruka sighed unhappily.



“Just dinner, I’m afraid.” Genma looked like a disappointed puppy at those words and frankly, Iruka felt the same. “Tomorrow the students and I… and Kakashi-san have to present ourselves before our exalted guests and give them a demonstration. I need to rest tonight.”



Finally, the older man nodded in understanding.



“Come on then. My treat.”



Kakashi stood hidden in the shadows of a dark alley facing the Academy entrance, watching as Iruka exited the building, followed by the tall Jounin who threw an arm around his shoulders once again as they headed down the street. They were smiling and speaking animatedly, Iruka laughing at something Genma said to him, the sound of his laughter happy and carefree. When he leaned closer into the embrace Kakashi looked away and swallowed past the lump in his throat. He felt like such a monumental fool.