Found You

A/N: I have to have some note of pity for Kakashi. The only way he can feel up an Uchiha safely is when it’s sleeping. There is no real update, but I'm putting this up front because it's just not FAIR that all these newbs correct one little typo just to send me to page 3! They're against the KashiSukeness!

Keep an eye on the AU section, as soon I'll be finishing the Prolougue chapter of "The Stage's Avenger" - an Uchihacest Jrock!

Lemon: Well, if masturbation counts... Enjoy it, you perverts. YOSH~!!
Spoilers: For those watching only the English dub-YES
Canon Timeline: Debut of Chuunin Exams
Quota: No longer in USE. But they would be appreciated. Adored. And they inspire me to write the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sasuke's cute little toesies.

~*~ = new chapter / new time/place
~&~ = flashback
~@~ = smut
~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~

Duties and Daydreams

The sting in his eyelids could only be blamed on dawn creeping through the window. Reflexively his sleeping body curled under the blanket enough to cover his head.

And brush his nose on another heartbeat. Lashes crowbar’d their way through the weight of sleep until he was faced with the crown of a plastic medal donned on a pale chest. The chin in his sweat-strung hair moved, heaving a sigh.

“We didn’t get the pillow…” he muttered factually, eyes still heavy with exhaustion.

The sleepy thrum of the voice tickling his nose proved the jounin was equally lethargic. Which wasn’t different from any other day. “You slept just fine without it…”

Maple eyes deadened slightly. Rather than pursue it, Iruka stirred and dared to peek in to the morning-drenched room. He would have twisted to make sure his clothes hadn’t been eaten by the floor. He didn’t get far before the hand on his hip awoke.

“You could have let me shower…”

A dazed icy disk fell on him. “I would have come with you.”

Not doubting him, Iruka said nothing under his blush. For a while longer they stayed like that, toes curling as they brushed the head of the bed. If they had fallen asleep on the other side, sun wouldn’t be carving a new inlet from his skull right about now.

If they had fallen asleep on the other side of the bed, Kakashi wouldn’t have to watch the way the teacher shrieked and sat up, clutching the blanket in white knuckles.

“I’m late! I still have to shower and getbacktomyhouseformyclothesand— you’re so irresponsible!! You have a team meeting today don’t you?!!”

At the idea he might be pushing his predictable lateness, the jounin sat up on his elbow and gave a sigh to clearing his vision on his alarm clock. “It’s just… o-ten-fifteen…” At that his flattened silver bush flopped back to the mattress. “Still half an hour…”

Franticly the chuunin was still squawking and… well, if he had the ponytail in he just might look like a chicken, running about as he did through the room to get his things together. Kakashi had a time, watching the spastic man fall apart at the seams of an unreasonable schedule.

The longer man stretched himself in to the dent of warmth still in his covers, arms folding under his chin and icy gaze sticking out from a snowy thicket of dead hair.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been late before…” A vicious, terrified look from the man jumping in to his boxers near the desk made him blink and rethink the possibility.

Iruka rolled his eyes, having recently learned that the other was not a man that could be made in to doing something he didn’t want to. Admirable for a man; stubborn for a shinobi. A second glance at the clock made his hopping about come to an abrupt halt. Frozen in his half-crouched, leg-off-the-floor position he only gawked at something on the mantle.

Steady thumps of feet stopped, and that’s what made him look over. “Hm…?”

“…You’re so irresponsible…”

“I keep hearing that… I thought I was pretty responsible last night?” Maybe he’d thought wrong… The concept made him scratch his salty cheek.

“How can you do something like that… In front of them?” He looked hurt. But then, that didn’t take much.

Blinking gradually turning his slate eye wider, his head whipped towards the windows, scanning the rooftops and crisp morning beyond.

However, he didn’t see anyone.

“In front of… who…?” he asked slowly, narrowing his eye critically on the wounded man fastening his pants.

“Them.” A finger aimed towards the headboard, Kakashi’s edged gaze following.

Only to make him sweatdrop. “They’re just pictures…”

“It’s the thought that counts!! What if one of them had really been here!?”

“Then they could join in I guess…?”

That earned him an attack in the face by his overused (to his perfect comfort) pillow.

Iruka claimed his vest from the floor, setting it on the desktop as he threw on his shirt. When his head peeked through the top he was confronted with a sleepy blue-grey eye and soggy grey grass. It made him think of a lawn freshly coated in ash.

Blink. Blink. Nutty eyes shrank, eyebrows knitting with a twang of anger as he shuffled around the jounin. “I’m late! If Nawa-sensei has to cover for me…!”

A long arm crossed his path, his far shoulder grasped in a hand that gave Kakashi the leverage to twist him about until the teacher’s back was humped in to the cave of the pale form behind him.

“I’m really la--”

“And it might be a while before I can do this again,” the other man noted huskily, his free limb tugging away the hem of the navy shirt to nibble at bruised tan pulse.

With another’s weight tempting him down to the floor again, and his legs tingling with exhaustion. More or less he was hanging on the arm around his chest as he bared the warming sting in his neck. “A-…again…?”

The jounin mused at the note of hopefulness floating through the other’s voice, so he murred against the bruise and received a thankful noise.

“With how busy we are…”

Forced to remember their daunting schedules, Iruka silenced all together and tolerated the contact.

When he tired of gnawing the bruise, Kakashi rested his chin on the man’s shoulder and stared to him with his close, stale blue eye to the scar on his tan nose. “I was saying, before…”

Dark eyes gained their focus on the pathetic shrub and it’s… even more pathetic name scratched in to the clay pot. “Hm…?”

“Last night, I said I’d tell you later.”

Iruka didn’t remember. Then again, at the time, everything was a monstrously warm blur anyhow. He said nothing, numbly leaning in to the frame draped around him.

Getting the distinct feeling that the chuunin was losing interest in being held, the paler man retracted and padded for the doorway. “…You shouldn’t smile like that.”

“Why not?”

As soon as he turned around, he immediately regretted it. With a squeak he threw the image away in the force of looking somewhere else, face heating at the idea that the other had been holding him for a long while in absolutely nothing.

Kakashi only leaned his powerful, barely-rested form against the doorframe like any oversized and overly lazy dog in the middle of the floor. Watching him with a deceptively serious eye.

“You’ve never had to kill anybody. It looks ugly on you.”

With how blunt this guy could be sometimes, Iruka found himself shriveling up in his uniform. Somehow he was cold despite the sex-humid air and the beaming on his shoulder, oblivious to the lower-world’s concerns. For all the times that he had compared one of his student’s hair to that, gilt and without guile and invigorating, he highly doubted Naruto was so unawares to his surroundings.

“…You could say it nicely, you know…” the younger man offered dryly as he collected his vest off the desk.

…He could try anything once. With that reasoning the jounin straightened off the doorjamb, turning in to the hall. “…’You’re not very photogenic when you do that’.”

Forlorn eyes lifted to the doorway, now absent one imposing pale man. Iruka hurried in to his vest, freeing a new tie from one of the pockets and shuffling in to the hall. He was just in time to start down the stairs when he heard the shower running.

“Not even a goodbye,” he grumbled brokenly to himself, angrily pulling on his sandals. It wasn’t long before he was out the door.

~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~*~&~

In some distant way, Kakashi had honestly been wanting the man to join him in the shower. But after a few minutes of being alone with himself, the jounin had concluded he was better off getting to the bridge a few minutes earlier than usual.

That guy… He was so devoted to his job. And some part of him wanted to scold himself until he was blue in the mask for trying to take a person away from their duties. Scold himself for being so…

Selfish. Mindless, even.

He was so… stupid.

His heavy eye came down from the window, settling on the youth that was zippered to his side. Sasuke had been out the entire time he was daydreaming, dozing in a musty air that had been absent of storytelling for the last while.

On his back the Uchiha slept, breathing deep and hair stringy from his fever spells. One of which he must be in now, unless Kakashi was merely imagining the color in the boy’s face.

His icy eye, equally stagnant and no doubt melting in the Konoha heat, went to the other end of the bed. With him sat up as he was the genin was along his ribs to leave him with an armful of ebony. Like this, their toes matched up, peeking through the comforter that was down at their thighs.

…Hn.

Sasuke’s toes were longer than his. The things one notices when they’re…

It might not be the right word. Infatuated?

Certainly, his student was something to be intrigued with. Predictable as he could be at times, with his constant determination to improve and his unconfessed rivalry with their blond loudmouth – there were still times the boy perplexed him. Times when Sasuke proved he was still just a boy.

Like now, cradled in his arm and…

“Ah… Hey there.” Kakashi donned a loose-eyed smile, pulling his fingers out of the black mess he had been absently fondling. “Sorry about that.”

The Uchiha said nothing as he blearily stared up to the jounin, pale features stained with his fever and an unrecognizing gloss in his eyes. That much was more apparent with how there was no longer any hair dotting his brow from the man’s sweeping.

“Awake long…?”

“How long was I out…?”

Equally curious, he looked over to the clock. “Mm, couple hours I think…”

The small body against him stirred, but didn’t get very far before dizziness emptied his reserves. He melted back in to Kakashi’s side without a word. His head lolled to the side and he strained his eyes against the bright sky staring back at him.

“You should be good as new by tomorrow, if you take it easy,” he offered drably, knowing full well Sasuke had little interest in taking anything easy. “But I’m guessing…”

“You’re so irresponsible,” cut through the humid air.

Kakashi looked over in an attempt to decipher what that could mean, but he could only pick up the reflection of clouds drifting by on the inky disks that didn’t respond to him.

“Ah…” Scratching at his cheek he chuckled out, “What makes you think that?”

“You leave old milk in your fridge…”

They both toted a sweatdrop in the silence.

Almost defensively he snuffed, cracking open the book in his lap. “A genius ninja doesn’t check the date on a carton before he chugs it?”

Definitely defensive the Uchiha clicked his tongue. “A jounin only looks in his fridge when he’s sick of take-out?”

“I really have no ambition of disclosing my private habits to you.”

“So petting me is a private habit…”

Considering that for a moment, Kakashi turned a page. “You seem to be thinking very hard about that.”

“You’re dodging my question…”

“All I have to do is not tell you. That’s not really dodging.”

The banter was refreshing, but Sasuke still ended up twisting on to his side and proposing his back to the jounin’s hip. Even in the heat he braved tugging the blanket up to his ear, ignoring the kindness the other had for lifting his hand to let the blanket get that far.

There was still one he was now, for all intents, wrapped around and made the impression of resting on his ribs covered in the nightshirt.

Kakashi let him sulk, not feeling any real need to get up. Instead, he thought back to how Sasuke had been when first assigned to him. The Hokage had his own worries about it, and the jounin had been a bit put-off that somehow there was no other teacher available to handle him.

Then again, Kakashi made no great effort to hide the chip on his shoulder. Some small chance to find recompense for his own self-raising.

He really was bad with kids.

“You’re really… weird…” the mass of shuriken-print blanket grumbled.

“Ah… Is that so?” He blinked his grey-blue eye slowly down at the black shrub peeking over the lip of the blanket. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Though the book had originally been meant as a torture device for the boy, he was no compelled to finish it. The plotline was really starting to rock his socks.

…Well, if he wore socks.

So it was a few pages before he looked up at the voice that floated up through the comforter.

“…I don’t like you.”

Kakashi only hummed as he pretended to read, giving his eye something better to do than admit his puzzlement with glancing over.

“I figured.” Sounding offended just wasn’t something he did. Sleepy, well, that was easy. “That’s why you’re here, right?” There was no response, so he attempted reading the page he was on.

Kakashi had a hard time believing what he just heard. His ears were ringing. He…

…He forgot his page number.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re an asshole.”

For once in a long time since he’d been assigned to this kid, his eye sharpened considerably. His voice became something akin to unforgivable, choosing silence to let his jaw clench in the mask. He could go there.

He could be a real asshole and go there. And he decided to, picking up the book and setting it on the headstand. He also decided to ignore the flinch he detected in the covers at his gesture. Given that he had a long arm wrapped around a boy-tender frame, not much escaped him.

Especially not the warmth Sasuke had been hoarding under the blanket. Or the way he twitched when the man rested his newly-freed arm on the other side of the bed, encasing the whole curve of the genin’s spine easily with his own presence. His Top Rookie was effectively trapped with throwing his leg over the curled, knobby pair and securing the hold with his knee on the backs of the other pair.

If it wasn’t such a sturdy grapple, it might have actually been a hug. A cuddle, even. That idea gave a musical jest to his voice tearing in to the boy’s senses through his ear.

“Well, I am the Copy Ninja. Guess I’m getting it from somewhere…”

It was either that or the fact he was pressed – snugly, might it be added – in to a fidgeting rump. Sure, Sasuke was attempting to make escape and, from the heat that poured off his neck and trickled through the fibers of the other’s mask, he must be absolutely furious.

His masked nose was tickled by the frequency at which the boy snarled.

But Kakashi had noticed a long time back that the Uchiha was perpetually in some level of anger. Unless he was being… just… Sasuke. Not Konoha’s last Uchiha, or this year’s Top Rookie – or Itachi’s little Avenger.

“Let me go!!” The pubescent screech in his otherwise flawless, collected tenor was an added bonus.

With his good eye the jounin could see the way his student was clawing at the edge of the sheets with his only free arm, the other one pinned under their combined weight. Squirmed against, like that, with the tiny, straining grunts and short-tempered growls tickling the silver hairs on the back of his neck as sweat-tarnished onyx was scattered across his sheets to hide all but a fleck of rose-hued cheek. Kakashi found himself closing his eye as he nestled his face in to the back of the little white neck. It wasn’t like he had to try very hard to keep them like this.

It was just a brutal effort not sounding like he enjoyed it every time the body under him twisted suddenly and collided with his boxer-wrapped hips.

The realization dropped ice past his waistband, but didn’t do very much to quell him. Under him the boy was just short of exploding like a noosed cat. And he didn’t exactly have a six-foot pole to handle that.

Kakashi let go just in time to send the youth toppling from the bed and sprawling on the floor. If not… retreating backwards until his back hit the handles of the desk drawer. Scowling destroyed any of his wincing as he threw a smoldering glare to the silver-headed man whom only sat up on his elbow.

They exchanged a silent moment, until the man concluded that the ice was melting much too quickly for his liking.

“You remember what I told you? About girls liking cute things?”

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed as he detected the weakened structure of the other’s voice. His lip curled as he spat, “What about it.”

“You’re doing that pouting thing again,” he announced as he aimed a finger to the boy’s face, which responded by contorting to the sourest of his sour expressions.

The trash bin at the foot of the desk had intended to collide with the jounin’s head. And deep down, the Uchiha had been praying that, like Naruto’s escapade with the chalkboard eraser, the man would be too slack to bother avoiding it.

He was sorely disappointed and clicked his tongue when the man inched towards the foot of the bed, leaning over with a weary, “Yare, yare.” Behind him there was a crash of steel wastebasket, spilling its contents of a lone trash ball and a q-tip in to the sheets.

His bare feet connected with the floor, in no particular hurry to put his full weight to them. As comical as it sounded, he didn’t want to get lightheaded from his blood being so disoriented.

“Clean that up huh? I’m going to take a shower.”

Kakashi scratched the back of his neck as he carefully slid off the bed, slinking in to the hall as the genin continued to brood on the floor. There was a goodbye wave, and then he could hear the bathroom door close.

“…Bastard.”

Did that guy get some kick out of tormenting him? Verbally smarting him like that?

Well, I am the Copy Ninja. Guess I’m getting it from somewhere…

…Was he really like that? He had always figured himself to just be disinterested and reclusive.

A snort. Like he really had to analyze himself! Sasuke unglued himself from the floor, approaching the bed. He didn’t get very far before he blinked, looking back to where he had been sitting.

Did he… sit in a wet spot?

There was a thud in the hall, making him jump. Then he hurried to the source of the sound, only getting to the bathroom door.

Knuckles formed, lifting his hand when the spit of the showerhead coming to life on the other side told him not to worry. In some manner of defeat Sasuke scowled to the door, hand dropping to his side and exceeding the bottom edge of his briefs.

Self-conscious, as if Kakashi had kawarimi’d with something in the bathroom and was going to surprise him, he pawed at the dampness on the rear of his underwear.

Nothing happened. No ‘ohiyo’ or ‘were you worried about me?’ sounding behind him.

…He was being ignored.

This guy was the only one that ever dared such an action on a regular basis. When everyone else recognized him and compared him, the jounin always ended up… dismissing him.

Sasuke went back to the bedroom, hunting down his shorts and stepping in to them. It was when he was at his zipper that he paused, blinking at the lightly decorated headstand.

White fingers closed around a wooden frame, lifting the picture up for closer inspection.

“…He looks like Naruto…”

It occurred to him that he couldn’t merely ask about the people in the photograph – especially after he identified the white-haired twerp on the right.

He already had an answer on who those people were, for the most part.

The names of all my friends are here.

~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~

Grey, heat-matted fluff smacked the door as he sent the back of his head against it, heaving a long sigh. His face fell in to an open hand, the other scrabbling for the doorknob to twist the lock.

“I’ve gotta be… so messed up…”

He couldn’t breathe, nose chilling in the evaporation of being freed from his mask. It was enough, wearing a sleeveless tee that had a tight neck. Usually, even as temperate as Konoha was he still got cold easily. Now, he was absolutely sweltering. In a blink it was all tugged over his head, crumpling on the plastic flooring.

Around his hips was a sticky bane, settling his thumbs in to the waistband of his boxers. Conclusively he felt… disturbing. His eye burned at cracking open, but he had to assess the damage with more than just what he felt. Seeing it made his face redden.

There, on his perfectly innocent leaf-print boxers was a stain of premature excitement. Furious, he calculated what to… do with himself.

What was punishment enough for being aroused by the flailings of your student?

Soap in your mouth? A spanking?

Letting them beat the shit out of you if you told them?

Footsteps surfaced in the stair hall.

Before he could think, he was standing under the freezing sputter of the showerhead as surprised as he was to be there. If only to spare the floor from an onslaught of towels later he pulled the curtain shut.

Eventually, as he grew acclimated to water he gradually turned to the hotter spectrum he gave his… disturbance another look. Now his arousal was being weighed down by his soaked undershorts and he was allowed to share a very private moment with it.

With Usagiki-san.

“I guess that’s your type, huh…”

He heaved a sigh through his nose, pulling the fabric away with as much care as the mint slip-cover of a new novel of his super-best series, relieved by the wet slop of the boxers around his ankles.

Much too tall for his own good his head always exceeded the top of the shower, but his cheeks gained moisture from the steam that bombarded his throat as he stared numbly at the fixtures. He could feel the cold prickle of heated water running over his scars, and he bit down a moan as his head fell with gracious warmth dripping down from between his legs.

The best thing to do in a situation he would feel depraved for indulging would be to ignore it.

Aha. Right. Ignore something like this… Shinobi had to be calm, collected, and unaffected by their predicaments. But he had to question how healthy that was.

And, what? Pressing himself on a twelve-year-old – or even thinking about it, was healthier?

Kakashi had noticed a long time back that the Uchiha was perpetually in some level of anger. Unless he was being… just… Sasuke. Unless he was asleep and subtracted of his hitai-ate. Unless he was being a dinner guest in an older man’s house whom he somehow confided in, rather than being a student in a teacher’s home and seeking advice or counseling.

His picture-perfect Top Rookie flew in snapshot through his mind’s eye, head inching lower and lower. If it were on a scale, his left hand supported the ideals that his pupil was something innocently seeking his comfort and silent stability as it supported him on the tiled wall.

That side was horrifically light compared to his right hand, weighed down in the need for immediate satisfaction. Already he was grinding his jaw as he recognized his palm closing around a more than semi-erection. The water kept sending random jolts of pleasure rippling up his spine. If he was going to focus, and get further than just peeling salted skin away from his hood, he was going to need his distance.

In the turn water came rushing over his back, much better than overwhelming his front and his arousal. He could think about it, now. He wasn’t going to masturbate to his student.

And wasn’t this kind of thing for kid’s Sasuke’s age, anyway? Not someone as old as himself.

Guts boiled and dropped their contents in to the meat cased by his hand at the idea. There were still pieces missing from what could be a very delicious picture of the Uchiha committing the same act.

Maybe even, right here, in his apartment. In his shower. With his feet, right there and smaller than his own.

With his longer, adorable toes curling as he pulled at himself. Even, oblivious to Kakashi’s voyeuristic glee in standing behind him. Or maybe, in that forceful, grudging Uchiha way of his, keep vicious eye contact and keep him from looking down until it was too late.

Silver-laced forehead thupped the steam-chilled wall as he gasped, threatening to buckle under the blinding pleasure that blotted out the same ecstatic moment in his imaginary partner’s face.

I’m just… Iruka, when the hitai-ate’s off.

Carefully the jounin sat his dizzy self on his heels, his look to the substance dribbling down the wall between bored and angry.

Somehow, he could empathize with how the Uchiha didn’t pity himself, but scolded himself a little more now.

This was… pathetic.

Rationalizing his disgusting behavior that a twelve-year-old genin under his care was different from a twelve-year-old angst queen seeking his camaraderie.

His snowy eye widened with focus when pink ribbons added in to the mess, hurrying it to the outcropping of the tub. Glancing up he saw blood on the higher tiles, and immediately he made a swipe at his forehead. The pads of his fingers were coated, and for it he sighed.

That little shit was violent on any plain of existence.

When he had enough sense in his legs he rose, flicking the showerhead in the direction of the far wall to send the sundries of his orgasm down the drain.

If he got out now, he might have to confront a confused boy in the hall. In his sexual isolation he wasn’t sure if he called out or not. Easily, his neighbors could excuse the noise as the woes of a mission.

No… Sasuke was smarter than that. Innocent, but smarter. Definitely the boy would know what he had been doing.

Wouldn’t trust the same space ever again.

Would hate him…

But he didn’t feel like hanging around and actually washing himself just to bide time. With a sigh he reached out and turned the water off. When he stood in front of the mirror, on the tiny rug he smoothed the watersmoke from the glass and inspected the gash on his forehead.

It wasn’t that bad. And, at his luck, it could easily hide under his headband. Defeatedly he pulled the mirror open and retrieved the bandage kit, working on that as he drip-dried on his little manilla rug.

This had to stop. Not that anything had really started. After all, he very easily could have made a Kage Bunshin turn in to Sasuke and—

He didn’t even want to go there. He just wanted to get the cut taken care of, get his shirt and mask back on, and get his dandelion-yellow towel around his hips.

Remembering why he wasn’t going out in his boxers, he stared in to the bottom of the tub.

Genuinely he considered burning the evidence. Maybe he was just… too lenient, on himself. One hand settled on the edge of the tub as he reached in to fetch his boxers. Standing, he wrung them out, then hung them over the shower rail.

That would just have to be the end of it. But what to tell his student…

It was bad enough he couldn’t come up with very good excuses when he confronted the group every day.

Now his conscience actually depended on it and he was in a personal static field that left him filling a glass from the sink on auto-pilot. Drying silver straw landed on the door and he winced from his new make-shift bandage. A grumble, unlocking the door and stepping out; he wasn’t used to locking things for his privacy.

What if Sasuke had had another stomach-attack…? –He would have broken in regardless of the man’s rare need for privacy.

By the time he turned in to the bedroom he was once again his distant, dopey-eyed self. It didn’t last long, blinking in mild astonishment at the freshly-made bed and the fact no one was in it.

The fit-dented wastebasket was accompanying his desk, keeping prisoners of a lone paper ball and a q-tip.

His slate eye narrowed at the headstand, approaching it and distinctly remembering that wasn’t the grain he had aligned his photos with. The trashy romance novel was missing.

Well, that was inevitable.

“Ukki-san,” he sing-songed, eye smiling to the plant as he started to tip the glass over the plant’s soil. “I didn’t forget you today.”

A blink, easing the glass back before it could swamp and nourish the shrimpy excuse of a hedge.

The water dish was still damp, and behind it was a sun-warmed spritz bottle, sitting atop a washcloth that had cleaned the dust off wax-coated leaves. And the dirt was tossed with a buried, plastic teaspoon that valiantly stood atop a tiny protrusion of dead leaf-litter stomped in there to recycle.

Damn it.

He felt worse than guilty, now. But, it proved the Uchiha really was a bit of a neat-freak.

Where was he, anyway…? Kakashi shuffled from the room and approached the railing, looking down to the second floor. For it, he could only heave a sigh.

There was only one pair of sandals at the door.

~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~

Yeah. This was best for the both of them.

They both had jobs to do. Letting their personal lives cross in to their little chats over work was something inexperienced lovers did.

Long ago Kakashi had concluded they weren’t lovers.

He reported at this aisle, after every mission, to confirm that.

And to keep Iruka from coming to his house to ask the same questions that ultimately coincided with what he had to do anyway.

“Well, you already know, Iruka-sensei, that Uchiha Sasuke is with him. Naruto sees him as a rival, so it’s a little difficult…”

Stoic and detached, hands in his pockets and restraining his urge to grin at the way Iruka’s features lit up with delight.

And pretending not to notice how the man didn’t make such a face with him. It… pleased him to know that this guy wasn’t taking it personally. That he could really be a ninja and simply do his job.

His own eye turned up in a smile. “But he’s really improving thanks to that. He’ll reach your level, the level of the man he respects, in no time.”

They both shared a smile over that, Iruka’s lips quirking around, “That’s good to hear.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Hokage removed his pipe to speak, taking a silent head-count of the jounin and deciding it was adequate to start. “I called you all here for a reason. But you should know why you’re here, given who is here.”

Kakashi had watched most of the people here become real ninja through this ritual. Now, teachers themselves, there was only one real conclusion. He was only surprised by how fast time flew by, now that he understood the dramas of being a teacher, himself.

“So it’s that time of the year already?”

“So have you already reported this to the other countries? I’ve already seen a few in this village.”

Kurenai took a step forward. “So? When is it?”

Sarutobi put the pipe back to his lips, regarding the lot of them. “One week from now.”

A slow blink. “That’s sudden.” Even the freshest genin had only been registered ninja of Konoha for less than five months.

His group had only been ninjas for less than five months.

“I will make the official announcement seven days from now. The first of July will begin the Chuunin Selection Exam.” He pulled away the pipe to let another plume of scented smoke bump in to the lip of his hat.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Now that the exam will be starting soon, those who are in charge of new genin, step forward.”

It was a formality, that all jounin currently assigned as teachers to genin be present. That explained why Kakashi was here. And this round’s examiners. Iruka had declined, but he had passed genin this season and that made it necessary.

“Kakashi, Kurenai, Asuma. Are there any genin you wish to enter in to the exam among the ones you teach?”

Dark eyes narrowed at the ridiculousness. He knew exactly who those teachers had the chance of submitting – and not a one of those students was close to ready, from what he had gotten in the mission reports.

Rescuing cats and fetching groceries wasn’t what chuunin did.

“As you all know, any genin who has completed a minimum of eight missions is eligible with your recommendations. Of course, it’s normal for those who have completed twice as many to be more suited.”

There’s no point in asking. It’s too early for them.

There was no doubt in Iruka’s mind that Naruto’s unpredictable, but phenomenally effective Orioke no Jutsu would not fend off genin that were absolutely determined to pass.

“We’ll start with you, Kakashi.”

And besides, that guy had no doubt boasted about Naruto’s improvement just to make him happy.

…He bit the inside of his cheek; Kakashi didn’t do nice things for people for the simple sake of it.

“From the 7th squad that I lead, I nominate Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, and Haruno Sakura under the name Hatake Kakashi.”

As soon as that man’s voice had come in to the air Iruka heard nothing but white noise. He didn’t need to hear, to watch the Hokage nod respectively, and twice more as his eyes shifted from one jounin to the next.

Panic shivered in him and turned his fingers cold, quickly balling them in to fists. Whispers surfaced amidst the examiners.

Sarutobi was about to reach for the permission slips when he found himself stepping up. “Wait! Please let me speak, Hokage-sama!”

That irritation that had stabbed at his temple, he realized, had been from more than just sniffing soap that day. There was a miniscule roll in his pale eye as he glanced over his shoulder.

It was polite for that man to be here.

He wasn’t an examiner, and he wasn’t a genin-sensei.

He had… no right, being here.

“Excuse me for interfering, but the nine who had their names called were students of mine at the academy.”

The icy disk feigning disinterest chilled considerably. He really is too nice. The Hokage could veto our recommendations. He already knows those kids…

Once again, it seemed Iruka had failed his expectations. Fingers played around a ball of lint in his pocket as he waited. Just maybe, the chuunin teacher could redeem himself. This was ninja business – not a chance for Iruka to show how much he loved his students.

His former students, at that. Damn, this guy was nosey.

“Every one of them is talented – but it’s too early! They need more experience before they enter the exam!”

Kakashi turned to him with an analytical, pointed drawl. “I was six years younger than Naruto when I became a chuunin.” Age had nothing to do with it.

The teacher stamped his foot, turning hardened eyes on him. “Naruto’s different from you! Are you trying to ruin him?” People died in this exam. It was ridiculous for this guy to think Naruto was somehow ready to confront that fact! And Sakura, for that matter!

Sasuke, though…

…Was that why he was doing it? Because they both knew Kakashi would receive the ass-chewing of a lifetime from him if he didn’t get to participate?

“They always complain during important missions,” he admitted dully, for once not teetering his gaze around the room for something worth his time. “Putting them in to a dangerous situation might be interesting.”

Like going up against one of the Mist’s Seven Swordsmen wasn’t dangerous or interesting enough.

This guy… could really piss him off. After hearing about how they had been attacked on their way through that mission and the jounin had consciously neglected the inadequacy of his team – he was going to pull something like this?

“Ruining them could be interesting, too…”

Iruka’s eyes widened, color falling out of his face as his fist quaked. “What did you say…?”

…Damn. This guy really didn’t have a sense of humor when it came to them. It confirmed Kakashi’s suspicions, that this man really had no life outside of his job. He was almost obsessed about keeping his students safe and happy. “That was a joke.”

The teacher noticed that he didn’t have a very apologetic tone. He was about to curse at him when the other continued, pinning him with a glare that dissolved their special treatment of each other.

“Iruka-sensei, I understand what you’re saying. You must be upset as well, but…”

That woman, who hadn’t been a jounin much longer than his students had been genin thought it a point to step in.

“Kakashi, stop.”

In the back, Gai and his magnificent, gorgeous brows were narrowed with analysis at his eternal RIVAL.

It wasn’t like Kakashi to be so… cruel, with someone. He had known the man for years, and this kind of outburst was unheard of among his jounin peers. Until now he had been convinced that the Copy Ninja was trying to contend and prove how great a teacher he was, prove their rivalry since he knew Gai was also entering his team this season.

Now…

He had given Iruka the chance to notice. To remind him that Naruto was a fellow ninja of Konoha and no longer the runty dead-last and prankster of Iruka’s classroom. Naruto was as capable of being killed on any mission as anyone in that room.

And once again, the disappointment and aggravation was in the fact Iruka was trying so hard.

“Don’t interfere! They are no longer your students. They’re my subordinates, now.”

Back in the rows, Gai had to smirk a little. It seemed his rival was possessive of his first team. That was good. It meant that he wouldn’t knowingly endanger them if he didn’t believe in them.

YOSH~! That meant he had taken his advice seriously!!

Though, Kakashi could always be better with his words. Those children weren’t tools of war. They were Kakashi’s responsibility. Thick eyelashes closed together as he internally grinned. Apparently, this guy didn’t know anything about Hatake Kakashi.

“But the chuunin exam is also known as the…” His deteriorating argument didn’t get very far before he was interrupted.

“Iruka. I understand your argument.”

“Hokage-sama,” he pleaded, fists falling apart. Sarutobi wasn’t opposing this… His heart fell.

“So, we’ll put the rookies through a special preliminary exam.”

All around them the examiners said nothing. This wasn’t their business. Privately, many had their doubts that the rookies were ready, too.

Unlike their fellow chuunin who replied with a dumbstruck, “Preliminary exam?”

They didn’t dare confront the Hokage’s confidence or decision to allow the nominations.

Everyone in that room now had relatively the same eyes as the lone one Kakashi grievously carried on the man.

Iruka had exceeded his invitation, and still the Hokage chose to amuse him. Times like this, the jounin worried about how considerate the old man could be. Making sure everyone was happy and consoled.

And made sure Iruka understood for himself that these children weren’t his students, anymore.