I used to have some kind of odd read order up here. I've decided to leave it as is and let you read them as written. They aren't in chronological order that way, but one does lead to the next, giving hints. I like them like this. My apologies to those who find it confusing. I appreciate you sticking with me. This is a darker story, though I believe it has a happy ending (maybe?). Any questions raised in one chapter will likely be answered in the next, but if you have anything you'd like to know, feel free to ask, as that inspires new chapters. :D Special thanks to "MrsHatake" on LJ/dA for the prompts that inspired this one-shot and the subsequent chapters.

This chapter, Only Silence, was a standalone one-shot. And then questions got asked, and I had to try and answer them. And the rest of the series was born. Prompts were 'cup,' 'thirst,' 'cradle,' 'darkness,' 'threat.' Thanks, thanks. I hope you enjoy it. vj

Kakashi, 25, ANBU; Iruka, 22, chuunin (teacher/takes missions).

There is a war, a fourth shinobi war, going on. All shinobi are on active duty or on call.

A sob from the bedroll across the fire drew Kakashi's attention away from the shapes of the clouds and branches above him. He flinched at the noise.

"Iruka is never mission sex."

Kakashi knew it. Genma had harped on it enough while he lazed about the house they shared with Raidou, Izumo, and Kotetsu, watching him pack his gear on the pretense of helping.

"Iruka is never, ever mission sex, and don't you fucking forget it, Shi-chan." He'd clicked his senbon against his back teeth, knowing it would set Kakashi's nerves on edge.

The silver-haired jounin smirked, his eye returning to the patterns of dark and light in the trees. He recalled yanking Genma's senbon out of the man's mouth and tossing it into the nearby doorframe. "I'll remember it properly when you can remember not to call me Shi-chan."

"You know you love it, bastard."

Kakashi stopped the memory before the goodbye sex could start. At least Raidou returned tomorrow and Genma wouldn't be alone in the house for long.

Another sob pulled his focus back to the hunched shape curled just inside the fire's guttering light. Iruka wasn't weak--far from it--but the boy he'd killed today, a Cloud genin...

The boy had been barely twelve-years-old, if that. There'd been shuriken flying, a rogue kunai...It was the first time Kakashi had seen Iruka fight and he was astonished to find the sensei's chakra snaking out across the battlefield, gaging the movements of the enemy, then relying on the basic moves he taught at the academy to dispatch the Cloud nin efficiently. Kakashi had paused in his own defense to witness the graceful moves as Iruka ducked, threw, dodged, spun, and threw again. The kunai hit with well-practiced, deadly accuracy, and both opponents fell before the Leaf chuunin had even seen their faces.

He hadn't broken there, during the battle. Instead, after it was all over, he'd whispered a barely audible, "Let's go," before taking Kakashi's arm for support. To his shame, Kakashi had felt an oddly pleasant stirring in him at the contact and held fast to the other nin lest he lose that feeling. It seemed to be something akin to awe, maybe mixed with a little lust, though that was probably just a side-effect of the fight. Kakashi reveled in battle and the way his heart was beating, coupled with the scent of sweat and determination pouring off the sensei...it was intoxicating. On reflex, he recalled that he had actually pulled Iruka closer, wrapping his arm around the chuunin's waist to steady his faltering step and glancing down in time to catch a bright blush spreading across his cheeks.

They'd shared tea in a pair of tin cups Kakashi carried in his belt pouch and the jounin had taken the time to examine the younger man for injuries. Not just the physical kind. He'd seen the way Iruka froze when he leaned over the body far too small to be a chuunin like his fellows. He recognized that look, an expression he hadn't witnessed in fifteen years. He noticed a strain beneath the smooth lines of his face, the scar, the enigmatic eyes.

A third sob had Kakashi out of bed and beside the other man before he knew he'd moved. "Ne, Iruka? Iruka..."

A grunt from beneath the blanket was quickly followed by muttering, "Are we already that familiar, Kakashi? Are you sure you want to sit so close to a murderer?" Iruka shuffled a bit beneath the blankets, turning to face his temporary partner. He looked up into Kakashi's single, exposed eye. The lost expression tugged at memories Kakashi felt were better left alone. It was what he found so intriguing about Iruka--the effect he had on others--but that look was one he had never expected to see in those eyes. He reached out, rough fingers grazing across the teacher's smooth, tan cheek.

"Really, sensei, I should ask you the same. I'm the murderer here. You've been known to say so yourself." Instead of recoiling, Kakashi nearly gasped as Iruka nuzzled his cheek into the jounin's gloved hand. Kakashi's thumb traced the furrowed, faded scar across the bridge of Iruka's nose as his opposite hand slid to the loose, tousled hair and tangling into the long strands. Iruka hummed into Kakashi's palm as the jounin rubbed his scalp with strong, agile fingers.

Again, something stirred in Kakashi, deep in his gut, and he bit hard on the inside of his cheek. The familiar coppery thickness of blood filled his senses as he grasped at some semblance of control, but Genma's words faded from his mind even as he recalled them.

"Iruka is never mission sex."

Kakashi bent toward the man, hooking a finger into his mask and pulling it down, pressing taut lips against Iruka's mouth before opening. His tongue slipped through the chuunin's gasp.

For a moment--one blessed, beautiful moment--Iruka kissed him back. The weight of the day, the battle, the war, the death...all of it seemed to be flowing out of the younger man and Kakashi drank it up, lapping at the heated tongue and breath and life of the other, unable to quench the sudden, unsuspected thirst for the essence of what made Iruka...Iruka.

And then he found himself thrown back, shoved away from Iruka and halfway across the clearing. The chuunin crouched in a fighting stance, watching the Copy-nin intently. Glaring. Angry.

Kakashi's brow furrowed in confusion, but Iruka cut him off before he could speak. "You think...I'm just...You can just...I don't do that!! Not with people like you! Stay the hell away from me!"

"But you need to release those emotions, sensei," he tried matter-of-factly. His head was still a little fuzzy from being thrown, a little drunk from lust and his own need to cleanse his soul. Somehow, it had seemed like Iruka was the answer, maybe even the cure..."Otherwise, you might--"

"Dammit, no!" With a glare that obviously meant the conversation was over, Iruka dropped to his bedroll and resumed his huddled spot beneath the blanket. Kakashi watched him for a beat longer before returning to his side of the fire. He's just a chuunin, after all. Wouldn't even be on this mission if we weren't so shorthanded. Damned war. Surveillance mission, my ass. It's like they knew we were coming. Gods, he's beautiful when he fights...

The last thought brought a melancholy smile to the now masked face of the Copy-nin. He pictured Iruka's face as he spun amidst the Cloud ninja, and lost himself in the glinting steel of the sensei's dark eyes. Abruptly, the face changed to the sodden, defeated man who had bent over the prone body of the Cloud genin, desperately searching for any sign of life. His expression cracked a little when he found none, and further when he traced his hand across the boy's cheek and trailed gentle fingers over the bright blue eyes, pressing them closed before rigor could set in.

Kakashi knew that look. He'd recognized it before, but pushed the thoughts aside. Now, alone in his bedroll, far from sleep, he couldn't escape. The dead, cold look in the man's eyes...it was just like his. It had been their last mission together, though neither knew it at the time...

Kakashi, 15, ANBU; Minato, 25/27, jounin.

All evening, his sensei had been quiet and still. His usually bright blue eyes were flat, cold, taking no heat from the fire at which he'd been staring. Kakashi couldn't read the expression and, finally, gave up, burrowing into his blankets and hoping Minato-sensei did the same soon enough.

He lay there in the dark for a long time, listening for movement, for evidence that the blond had gone to bed, but heard nothing. He silently mourned for the man. Killing wasn't in Minato's nature, but he was so good at it...The pair spent most of their time on the font lines at the border nearest Rock Country. They did more killing than either cared to remember.

But this was the first time in all their years together that Kakashi had seen Minato so close to breaking, so bereft.

The teenager sighed and rolled over, putting his back toward the fire. He finally heard his sensei shuffling to stand and was relieved that the man had decided to get some rest. But Minato wasn't moving toward his own bedroll. The silver-haired boy stiffened and grew very still when he felt a hand drift over his back, from between his shoulder blades to his tailbone in one slow, fluid motion. He couldn't believe the blond, the object of his secret obsession, at whom he'd been stealing glances for four years...he was touching him.

Minato did it again with more pressure, forcing a reaction from Kakashi's body. The boy wriggled under the hand, flipping around to face his sensei and peering up into eyes he knew could undo him in an instant. But the spark wasn't there, the life. Minato's eyes were as empty as the eye Kakashi often found staring back at him from the mirror. The penetrating gaze was wrong in every sense and he felt himself pull back emotionally, running from Minato. From the...the wrongness of it all.

Without a word, Minato pressed Kakashi's back flat to the ground, a searing palm on each of the young ANBU's exposed shoulders. Kakashi denied it to himself, but when Minato saw the boy's mental retreat and the face went slack, the blond's face fell even further. Losing the last of himself. Becoming stone.

The blond head dipped down, nipping the edge of Kakashi's mask and dragging it down with his teeth. Fear flared in the pit of Kakashi's stomach just before Minato's mouth engulfed his own.

Our first kiss, and it's like this. It was empty as Minato's eyes, or so Kakashi convinced himself--had to convince himself. Because if he let himself believe it meant anything, that this was anything more than mission sex, it would hurt so much more when he realized he was wrong, when life carried on, when Minato acted like they hadn't...like he didn't...

Minato's hands on Kakashi's cock halted all thought as his body reacted violently to the contact. His hips bucked and rolled into the touch and he felt the rush of heat and pressure as his arousal made itself known. Kakashi's heart leapt up into his throat when he felt a hand on his ass, prompting his hips to lift. Minato slid Kakashi's pants and boxers down his hips to his knees and further, negotiating the boy's feet out of the ends and leaving him exposed in the moonlight. Even as he felt immensly vulnerable, he craved more. He wanted to be bare in front of Minato in every sense and know what the man saw and felt. But the eyes that would have shown him were dark and clouded mirrors, made so by too much time and too much blood.

A desperate hand clung to Kakashi's armor, yanking at the straps and ripping it away. They were back in Fire country, a safe distance away from any threat, and there was no fear of attack, so Kakashi let it go, helping himself to removing the skin tight sleeveless shirt and his mask. A yelp escaped his tight lips when Minato's thumb found his nipple and rolled it around, pinching slightly, twisting. A callused hand ran across the expanse of Kakashi's pale, hairless chest, tracing the contours of muscles and the scars that pitted the landscape of his body.

Kakashi's resolve collapsed. He let himself believe it was real. He let the emotion that clogged his throat fly free and gasped out the name of the man above him. He sacrificed a piece of himself to the night with that single word, betraying years of silent suffering and need and his body trembled at Minato's answering moan that rang low and heavy in the darkness.

The blond shifted to crouch between Kakashi's legs, leaning forward and recapturing the boy's lips. One hand trailed along Kakashi's ass while the other fished around for something in his jounin vest pocket. A pop-click preceded the alien sensation of a slicked finger slipping inside of him, gently prodding, sliding in and out. It was soon joined by a second and the feeling was indescribable, not because of what it was, but who. Kakashi sought to move against the other's hand, pressing the fingers deeper, harder, faster. Gasping against Minato's mouth as he kissed him, tangling their tongues and lips and beings together in an effort to become one.

The fingers withdrew and the emptiness that overtook him was instantly replaced by frantic need and fear as the man's hardened cock pressed into him. Minato waited until the moment Kakashi's breath hitched to shove his tongue deeper, filling the teenager's mouth completely as he buried himself to the hilt, and Kakashi slammed his eyes shut, thinking he would go mad. He couldn't contain himself and Minato at once.

With sudden clarity, Kakashi realized he'd been tricked into letting it mean more than it was and he only felt so hungry and needful because he'd allowed it to happen. The boy that was "Kakashi" withdrew again, pulling back within himself, dissociating from the noise and commotion of Minato fucking him into oblivion. He'd wanted it for so long. The golden locks that tickled his forehead with each thrust. The rosy cheeks. The...the eyes. The spark had not returned and Kakashi feared it might be permanently lost if he stopped this now, if he kept Minato from finding his outlet.

He'd been having mission sex since he was ten. It's nothing. It seemed Minato had already known what was common knowledge amongst ANBU: Kakashi was always mission sex.

He hated it.

He hated himself for letting it happen.

He trembled on the edge of maddening pleasure as Minato drove into him.

The electric tang of blood as he bit his tongue helped offset the anguished, strangled cry he felt escape his chest as he came hard across their stomachs. But it didn't spare his heart from breaking when Minato came just after, without a sound, the blond head falling limply to the boy's chest.

Both heaved and shook with exertion and the forgotten need for oxygen.

At the edge of sleep, Kakashi sensed Minato's withdrawal. From the sounds he was hearing, he pictured Minato removing his shirt and using it to clean them both, wadding it up and shoving it into his pack after retrieving a new one. He was sure Minato would return to his own bedroll, only to be surprised when his sensei crawled into bed with him. An arm snaked beneath his shoulders, another crossed his chest, and Minato cradled to boy to him, stroking the silver head, planting kisses in his hair and "mmmm"-ing gently. Kakashi spared a moment to commit the feeling to memory before giving himself over to sleep.

In the morning, not unexpectedly, he awoke alone. Minato stood across the fire from him, stabbing at the logs and stoking the flames. Two quail roasted at the center: breakfast. The blond smiled when he noticed the boy was awake, but Kakashi couldn't return it. Minato frowned and circled the fire, crouching down in front of the teenager. "Good morning, Kashi-kun." He reached out and caressed the side of Kakashi's face, but as reassuring as the gesture was surely meant to be, it felt wrong to pretend that there was suddenly something between them. That it had meant anything to the man.

Kakashi kept his eye carefully neutral lest he betray the pain he felt as he watched Minato's merry gaze roam over his features in open admiration. "Kashi-kun, are you okay? I mean, okay okay?"

"I'm fine." The stale words had the intended effect as Minato stood, still frowning...and something more. Kakashi denied that it was despair he saw in the man's eyes as the blond backed away. He watched Minato wander around to the other side of the fire, that look stark in his mind.

Kakashi dressed without a word. They ate without a word. They completed the last half-day of traveling without a word.

There was nothing to say.

At the gate, Kakashi split from his sensei, immediately heading toward his tiny bachelor apartment, ignoring the blond who was calling his name as he sped away. He couldn't stand the way Minato looked at him. He couldn't stand the way Minato was forcing himself to pretend.

He hadn't known it would be their last mission together, though his sensei probably had.

When news of his appointment as Hokage filtered through the village, Kakashi tried to see him, but he was refused outright. He tried again the next afternoon. The morning after that. Eventually, he went out on a mission with other ANBU, and then another, and another, and before he knew it, the weeks had become months.

In early October, he visited the monument, tracing his fingers along "Uchiha Obito" and "Hagane Rin". He told them what had happened, how much he loved Minato, how empty he felt, how lost. Rin gasped and cried out, "Oh, Kakashi!" Obito grunted, muttering, "And you thought I was the idiot?" His head shot up, searching for the source of the voices, but there was no one and Kakashi wondered, not for the first time, if he was going crazy. If so, he blamed Minato. Snow flurries began to fall and he vowed he would find a way to corner the blond, to get answers and understand before the next snowfall.

But there had been another mission.

And then the demon fox appeared.

Kakashi woke with a start, surprised he'd drifted off at all. It was still night and, by the new position of the celestial bodies overhead, he guessed only three hours had passed. He sat up slowly and stretched, disheartened at the sound of cracking joints and the burn of many small pangs. Twenty years of sleeping on the fucking ground, he thought, rolling his eye in the dark, though no one could see.

By the even breathing across the clearing, he could tell that Iruka had finally fallen asleep, though occasional gasps and mumbling made him wonder if the sensei was having a nightmare. With a muttered, "who doesn't," Kakashi rolled over and tried to get comfortable.

He was nearly asleep once more when Iruka cried out and the sound of it made his blood run cold. "Kakashi!"

By the man's side in an instant, his tiredness forgotten, Kakashi peered at Iruka through the darkness, half of his mind watching for further signs of distress, the other half running through every scenario in which Iruka would call for him like that--in desperation and fear.

He spent nearly five minutes hovering there, trapped by inaction, before Obito's voice rumbled through his head--"And you thought I was the idiot?"--and another five minutes weighing the chances that it would backfire on him, before finally giving up and easing himself down onto Iruka's bedroll. Gently, so as not to wake the sleeping nin, he slipped his arm beneath Iruka's neck and shifted him over until his head was resting on Kakashi's chest. Kakashi wrapped his arms around the chuunin, stroking his long, dark hair and taking in his scent. He was sure there was nothing more naturally right in the universe than what he was doing just then.

Iruka's eyes opened slightly, the lids still heavy in sleep, and he smiled at Kakashi, raising an inquisitive brow. "Whatcha doin?" he mumbled into the jounin's chest and Kakashi grinned, pulling down his mask. Iruka's eyes widened and the hint of a blush, visible in the moonlight, rose in the sensei's cheeks. Kakashi suddenly understood what Genma had been trying to say. Iruka wasn't mission sex. Or detachment. Or emptiness. Not like they were.

Leaning down to rub his bare cheek into Iruka's hair, Kakashi guessed Minato hadn't been either.

And himself? He really was an idiot, he was sure, but he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

The man lying in his arms deserved better, better than him. And he deserved to smile and blush like that for as long as life would allow it. Something in the man's smile was able to loosen the cords around Kakashi's heart--cords tied tight by loneliness and guilt--and he silently vowed to make him smile as often as he could from then on.

Into Iruka's hair, he whispered, "You were having nightmares. Go back to sleep. It's okay, now."

And really, it was.