Not mine. All belongs to Masashi Kishimoto

Iruka's grin was still in place but if you were looking carefully, as Ibiki was, you would see that it had turned a little brittle around the edges. Ibiki leant back against the wall of the mission room and quietly observed the scene taking place between Hatake Kakashi and Umino Iruka.

The Jounin was looking desperately awkward, although a casual observer would have thought he radiated bored self-assurance. Ibiki could not be called a casual observer.

"Maa, Iruka Sensei, I'm flattered, but, ah… I'm currently busy on that front. Appeasing the sexual appetites of my harem of Amazonian sex-goddesses. If I was to add you to the list…well, I'm only one man, I don't think I could handle you as well." The man scratched the back of his head sheepishly and smiled his one-eyed smile. Iruka smiled even harder as the red blush to his features turned even darker.

"No problem, Kakashi-sensei, thank you for you time and, ah, your hard work. I should let you go get some rest now, sorry for keeping you after your mission. I still have work to do here so I had better get on to it." The chuunin bowed deeply, his ponytail swishing over to fall in his eyes for a moment before he rose again.

For that moment, there was a look of intense longing in the Jounin's eyes, as though he wanted to do nothing more than accept the other man's offer, or bury his head in that warm, strong shoulder. However, by the time Iruka had risen, it was gone, another empty smile in its place. For a moment, Ibiki felt the urge to knock some sense into the man. Instead, he continued watching discretely as the grey-haired man smiled again and raised a hand in farewell.

"Later, Iruka-sensei." In a whirl of smoke he was gone.

Ibiki stayed where he was as Iruka scratched his nose and jerked his drooping shoulders back, before going back to his seat at the mission desk. It was already close to midnight, and the room was empty now except for a couple of dozing genin, assigned to messenger duty, and Iruka, still waiting for any returning ninja to hand in their reports. And Ibiki, still quietly standing with a few dozen files clasped in his arms, unseen and undisturbed.

He looked the younger man over carefully. The scarred chuunin had busied himself with some paperwork, of which there was always a plentiful supply, and would have seemed to have taken his rejection with calm dignity, if not for the bright blush that still stained his face. His hands were busy but the brown eyes were distant and filled with what Ibiki interpreted as quiet hurt. Which was odd; there was nothing quiet about this man usually. Whether he was bellowing at some misbehaving delinquent, making his indignation at the state of a mission report known, or making the rafters shake with his laughter at some off-colour joke from Genma, he was never quiet. The man was probably only silent when he slept, and even then, Ibiki postulated, he probably snored fit to wake the dead.

The head of T&I allowed himself only a moment to speculate on another area he suspected Iruka would prove to be wonderfully loud in and how Kakashi had just rejected the future possibility of finding out if his supposition was correct. Not that he would have ever asked the man, of course.

For a moment he was filled with scorn at the cowardice of a man whose bravery he had seen proved countless times. What would he have done if he were in Kakashi's place? With that kind and honorable man, the sort of man one could imagine trusting with many dark secrets and hidden fears, asking him to be his. If he was honest with himself, and Ibiki always was, he knew he would have done exactly the same thing Kakashi had just done. Probably minus the improbable excuses about the demanding concubines that apparently lounged about his apartment.

He and Kakashi were both the same. They had lived far too long alone. They had learned to live with the hard memories and terrible grief that seemed to go hand in hand with the ninja way of life, and had found the strength to carry on, form new bonds of friendship, and find some contentment. But with someone like Iruka, who, if they let him in, would refuse to let them carry those burdens alone, all that hard-earned control would be lost. No, it was best for people like Kakashi, like Ibiki, to remain safely in solitude and contrived contentment.

But still, for a moment, Ibiki wished that it was him Iruka had asked. And that he could have said yes.

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