The Trick Is Not Minding

Chapter Eight

Iruka lay awake on the futon for hours, trying to sort through his confused feelings, knowing they had to discuss the copy-nin’s behavior, and his reaction to it, in the morning and clear the air. The problem was, he had no idea what to say. He was, after all, woefully deficient in the relationship department, having no experience beyond his own detailed fantasies and some surreptitious reading material. And this isn’t even a relationship, he continued to fret, although I wouldn’t mind if it was one . . . but only if it’s what he wanted, and I don’t think he will . . . I mean why would he. I can’t believe I reacted like that, the chuunin’s inner rant continued, worse than some hormonal teenager, and, and, he was going to let me . . . oh ‘kashi, how am I ever going to help you. The chuunin finally gave in to the emotional turmoil thrashing around inside him and wept hot bitter tears, for the copy-nin and himself. Totally exhausted he slept, and if he dreamed, he did not remember it.

Kakashi woke the next morning to the most wonderful smell. He took stock of his surroundings, he was naked, but nothing hurt and he wasn’t sticky . . . perhaps his decision to trust the chuunin was the right one after all. That concluded he rose, stretched, and quickly pulled on the sweat pants and t-shirt he had worn the day before and headed into the kitchen.

He paused in the doorway to take in the sight before him. Iruka was dancing and singing along with the radio, dressed in pajamas and an apron, using the spatula as a microphone in between flipping what appeared to be slices of french toast. The teacher looked so cute, and so very young, his hair streaming unbound over his shoulders and a broad smile on his face. The chorus started and Iruka became particularly animated, shaking his rear exaggeratedly and growling into the ‘microphone’. He spun on his heel, and caught sight of the silently watching copy-nin. Startled, he continued to spin, smacking his hip on the counter and crashing to the floor.

The chuunin sprawled across the kitchen floor, his face a shade of red never before achieved in nature. He cursed himself internally for being so clumsy in front of the one man he desperately wanted to impress. He was startled from his silent self-debasement by a loud, rich laugh. He smiled a genuine smile, embarrassment forgotten, at the sight of the older man’s mirth. He couldn’t remember ever hearing the jounin laugh, apart from a rather sarcastic dry chuckle, and he decided he wanted to hear it more often.

“Have a seat, breakfast’s ready.” the chuunin declared, waving the forgotten spatula in his hand in the general direction of the table. “Do you want coffee or tea?” “Tea please,” the jounin softly replied. A few moments later the chuunin slipped a steaming plate of french toast and a cup of tea in front of the copy-nin. Then he retreated to the kitchen counter once again so Kakashi could eat in privacy.

“Iruka, this is delicious.” he called in to the kitchen. “Thanks,” was the wry reply, “It’s one of the few things I make really well. You’re just lucky it’s breakfast.” “Well, it’s really very good,” the copy-nin replied, “you can feed it to me anytime.” “Let’s see you say that a week from now.” the chuunin quipped back, then both men fell silent, wondering just what this week would bring and where they might be a week from now.

When Kakashi finished eating he pulled up his mask and took his dishes into the kitchen. When he was setting them into the sink, the teacher lightly touched his elbow. The copy-nin turned to face a serious Iruka. “Come into the living room and sit with me, we need to talk.” the chuunin said, then he picked up his coffee and headed in to take a seat on the end of the couch.

The copy-nin warily followed him, opting to sit in a chair, rather than share the couch. “First of all,” Iruka started right in, “I need to apologize to you for last night.” The chuunin blushed brightly in embarrassment as he remembered his behavior the night before. “I am so sorry I reacted the way I did . . . like some horny teenager or something, it’s just, well,” he looked up from where he was twisting his hands in his lap and locked eyes with Kakashi “for me, it’s always been you, and you were really there, and,” his eyes dropped again “I’m so sorry. I need you to know I will never touch you without your permission. Can you forgive me?” By the end the teacher’s voice had dropped to a whisper and he kept his gaze locked on his hands, afraid of what he might see in the jounin’s amazingly expressive eye.

Kakashi had no idea how to reply. Nothing in his experience prepared him for this. He wanted permission . . . why? After considering it for a moment he decided the reason really didn’t matter, now he knew what the game was and some of the rules, he would please the chuunin and then maybe he could understand why he whispered to him so sweetly last night, especially since he hadn’t known what the teacher wanted and had left the man to satisfy himself. Hmm, permission . . . he could do that.

“There is nothing to forgive Iruka.” he said as he rose and moved to join the chuunin on the couch, “I am in your debt, of course you have my permission to use me as you see fit, it’s the least I can do.” The jounin ran his hand firmly up Iruka’s leg, squeezing his rising erection. The teacher’s eyes went wide, momentarily befuddled as all the blood in his brain rushed south at once. Even though every cell in his body was screaming at him to just stop arguing for once in his damn life and enjoy, he forced himself to remove the copy-nin’s hand from the straining tent in his pants.

“Listen to me, please, Kakashi. It’s obvious I want you, I can’t hide that. But I don’t want you unless you want me just as much. I won’t settle for anything else. But if you ever do feel that way, well, let’s just say I’d be more than willing.” With that the chuunin blushed cherry red yet again.

The copy-nin went very still. He didn’t know how to react to the teacher’s heartfelt proclamation. He posed the only question he could formulate in his befuddled state, “Why?” “Why what?” Iruka replied. “Why everything, why me, why do you care, why are you doing this, why aren’t you disgusted by me . . . why are you being nice?” the copy-nin’s voice so soft and sad the chuunin had to strain to hear it.

Tears rose unbidden in Iruka’s eyes at the raw pain in that soft lonely voice, and he fumbled for the words to convey how he really felt in a way the jounin could understand. “I don’t exactly know how to describe it. The best I can come up with is that your happiness is more important to me than anything . . . even my own. How could I not help you. How could I ever be disgusted with someone so strong, especially when he’s suffered so much. How could I not care for you.” Impulsively the teacher pulled the copy-nin into a gentle hug, trying to convey all the love and protectiveness he felt through the gesture.

Kakashi flinched when the teacher wrapped his arms around him and pulled him forward. He froze, unsure of what to do, then gradually relaxed into the warm affection that the chuunin exuded. He snuggled into Iruka’s chest, breathing in his clean scent and reveling in this moment of tender acceptance. “You know,” Iruka whispered, “you can tell me anything, I won’t think less of you. If anything, everything I learn only makes me admire you more. So, if you ever want to talk about anything, get it off your chest, you can.” he clumsily rocked the two of them back and forth, and they sat there, silently rocking and enjoying each other’s warmth for several minutes.

Finally they slowed to a stop. Kakashi extracted his limbs and stood, saying “I’m going back to sleep.” before he turned and headed into the bedroom. Iruka headed into the kitchen to wash the breakfast dishes, feeling relatively pleased with the course of their discussion. It went better than I thought it would, he mused.

The chuunin was so caught up in his replay of the morning’s events that he almost missed the form that appeared in the middle of his kitchen. Before he even knew who it was he had a kunai at their throat, desperate to protect Kakashi at all costs. “Genma,” he cried “what are you doing jutsuing into my apartment? I could have gutted you.” “You wish, Iruka-kun.” the senbon-sucking jounin retorted, “What’s going on with you, you haven’t been at the Academy or the mission de-eeeeessskkkkkkk!” Genma’s question trailed off into a shriek of terror as he found himself inches away from death at the hands of the famous copy-nin.

The tokubetsu jounin’s eyes darted from one man to the other. “Oh ho ho, I see why you’ve been conspicuously absent Iruka-kun.” The chuunin blushed bright red at the suggestive comment and tried to protest. “No, Genma, it’s not the way it looks.” The copy-nin didn’t help matters when he chimed in “Iruka, do you want me to kill him?” “No, but he needs to swear he won’t breath a word about this to anyone.” “Oh I swear, not a word.” Genma quickly replied, and Kakashi reluctantly let him go. The special jounin immediately disappeared in a swirl of leaves. Iruka looked up and sighed, now things were guaranteed to get more complicated.