This is a sequel to Not Over Til The Paperwork Is In.
It is not necessary to have read the previous story to enjoy this one, but several references will be made back to the events of Not Over... that will not be understood otherwise.

"Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend."
~Proverbs 27:17

Umino Iruka sat hunched over the essays on his desk, one hand scribbling comments in the margins, the other massaging his forehead in an attempt to lessen the tension.

Academy teachers were well acquainted with tension. Even in the best of circumstance, they were pulled in conflicting directions: pleasing the prominent ninja clans, setting civilian parents at ease, juggling the demands of the Education Board, and striving to meet the high expectations of the Konoha Council. The politics surrounding the education of the upcoming ninja generation was enough to wear away at even the toughest of men. For an average, clanless chunin, Iruka handled such pressure rather well.

He quickly learned that the pressure greatly increased when said average, clanless chunin became a convicted felon. The Kage's Pardon saved him from imprisonment, but it did not protect from the tedious, and sometimes torturous, process of a re-evaluation of his role as a teacher: every hour of instruction monitored, every lesson plan reviewed and sometimes, to his chagrin, re-written. It had him on edge. Even simple duties, like grading essays, become tenuous tasks where the slightest error left him open to attack. Iruka knew that, were it not for Tsunade's sympathy to his philosophy of teaching, he would have long been dismissed by his superiors with harsher views of the role of a shinobi.

The chunin paused his writing to clench and unclench his fist. It was a miserable winter night and the change in air pressure from their sudden cold front was causing old pains to flare up. A deep ache in his wrist and knuckles forced him to leave his post in search for some pain killers.

Iruka happened to glance out of his window and noticed a lone figure weaving along the shadows of the deserted street.

In Fire Country, it didn't become extremely frigid during their brief winters, but tonight was certainly cold. The wind wailed mournfully, whipping the tree branches and making it feel much chillier than the actual 35˚F/2˚C read by thermometer.

The inky black sky and the dim flicker of the street light offered little by way of illumination. Iruka peered through the glass, his nose centimeters from the cold pane, to get a better look at the sole wanderer.

The drifter was dressed only in a standard shinobi uniform, with nothing extra to protect against the cold. The way he staggered indicated that the stranger was likely intoxicated. Who knew if he'd actually make it home in that condition? And if he fell asleep outside in this weather, hypothermia was a distinct possiblity.

Iruka sighed. He had a tendency to pick up strays, having been one himself for so much of his life. He couldn't very well leave this sloshed shinobi to his fate. Bracing himself as the frosty wind blasted inside, he opened his door and called out. "Oi! You there!"

The figure stopped. Now Iruka could see that the ninja was a male with untamed, light colored hair. When the man finally turned, the sensei blinked in surprise. "Kakashi-san? What are you doing?"

"Goin' home." The jounin slurred faintly.

"You don't look so good," The chunin noted with concern. The lines of weariness etched around his eyes and the absence of the reek of alcohol suggested that the man was ill, rather than inebriated.

The jounin's normally sleepy gaze drooped even more than usual. "Mission. Tired."

Iruka took this to mean that Kakashi had just returned from a mission and was exhausted. He wasn't sure where the jounin lived, but it probably wasn't in this district. "You're not dressed for the cold. Come in and I'll get you something warm to wear." He paused, reconsidering. "In fact, I'll make some tea. Rest for a while before you go home."

Kakashi's visible eye blinked slowly, but he gave no other sign that he heard him.

"Hurry up," Iruka ordered brusquely, "You're letting all the heat out." He turned back inside without checking to see if Kakashi was following, but the still open door was a clear invitation.

After a moment's consideration, the jounin slowly entered, shutting the door behind him. His shaking hand, the result of both fatigue and cold, made the move clumsier than usual. However, when the jounin sensed something hurtling towards his head, that hand reflexively snapped up to catch the object. A small portion of fleece blanket lay bunched in his fist. The rest continued its descent onto Kakashi's face.

From the other side of the fabric, the chunin's voice could be heard. "You can just relax on the couch while I get the tea started and…" Iruka's sentence trailed off. "You're injured."

Inside, under the brighter lighting, Kakashi's sluggishly bleeding wounds became apparent.

"I should get you to the hospital," the sensei began, worry coloring his voice.

"No." The tone was so firm, it brooked no argument. "It's nothing. I'll sleep it off when I get home."

The sensei raised an eyebrow. He gazed at the man appraisingly before deciding that the wounds indeed weren't terribly serious, by shinobi standards. "Those still need to be treated at least." He pointed at the couch again. "Wait there," he said calmly before disappearing into another room.

Kakashi still wasn't sure what he was doing in this house, but his bone-deep fatigue convinced him to go along with the chunin's suggestion. The couch was comfortable, and he struggled to stay awake and keep up his guard.

Iruka reappeared with a medical kit, handing it to the other man. "You know what to do with this, don't you?"

The jounin shot him a mildly affronted look. Iruka took this to mean 'Of course.'

"Good," the sensei smiled, "Get started on sterilizing and bandaging those wounds. When I'm done in the kitchen I'll take care of the gashes on your back."

In his sluggish mind, Kakashi couldn't recall exactly how it happened, but within the hour, he was treated, bandaged, warm, and fed. When Iruka had offered him the salty, reheated stir-fry left over from his dinner, Kakashi surmised that this could be an attempt to get a look at his face. But the chunin hadn't attempted to catch a glimpse while he ate, instead keeping himself busy with throwing away the used supplies, taking inventory of his medical kit, and jotting down a note to buy more antiseptic.

The jounin wondered at the man's actions, then. He was unused to such attention. Growing up on a battlefield, he had often received medical treatment from others. While it had not been ungentle, it was always detached: quick, efficient, and done with the goal of getting the soldier back on the field as soon as possible. Iruka, on the other hand, invested himself particularly in the copynin's comfort as well, if the fleece blanket, pillows, hot tea, and warm food were any indication.

"Will you make it home all right?" the chunin wondered. "I have a spare bedroom if you'd rather spend the night. I'll have it ready in just a few…"

"Don't trouble yourself, Iruka-san," Kakashi interrupted, uncomfortable with the chunin's inexplicably solicitous behavior. "I've imposed on you enough."

"Not at all," Iruka smiled warmly. "What kind of friend would I be, if I didn't trouble myself over your wellbeing?"

Kakashi faltered at the f-word. That's what this was about? Where did Iruka get off calling them friends? They were little more than acquaintances. The pronouncement was rather presumptuous, practically coming from nowhere.

Then again, he supposed there was the whole defending-him-at-trial thing.

And the maneuvering-to-get-him-pardoned thing.

And the eating-out-together-afterwards thing.

Okay, so perhaps they were past the acquaintance phase. But still…"friend" was a strong word.

"Kakashi-san?" Iruka interrupted his reverie. "Are you all right? Perhaps you should just spend the night."

"Thanks, but I assure you that I am capable of making it to my own home. I'm a jounin, not an academy student."

A slight tint of red appeared across the chunin's face. "Ah, yes, of course. Sorry."

As Kakashi made his way to the door, Iruka fetched thick gloves and a scarf from his dresser. "Here. Borrow these. I can find an extra jacket, if you just wait a bit."

"No, these are fine." Kakashi accepted the items. He was about to leave when a stab of conscience prompted him to say something more. "And thanks," he waved an arm vaguely in the direction of the couch, empty dishes, and cast aside blanket. "For all that."

Iruka grinned. "No problem, Kakashi-san. In fact, you're welcome to stop by again the next time you're coming back from a mission."

"Hm." The jounin blinked, then shrugged noncommittally. He held up the borrowed gloves and scarf. "So when do you want 'em back?"

"You could return them to me tomorrow evening at the Missions Desk." Iruka responded, raising an eyebrow. "You know, while you're turning in your mission report."

Kakashi nodded, purposely not commenting on the not-so-subtle hint to turn his report in on time. "All right. I'll turn them in together." He stepped outside and donned the articles before disappearing into the shadows.

Iruka shut the door after him, sighing inwardly. He wouldn't delude himself by thinking he'd see his winter items again any earlier than next week.

While working on a lesson plan in his study, Iruka heard tapping on his living room window. Mission Room workers commonly sent messages to each other via bird summons, so he was not overly concerned.

He became more concerned when he found, not a crane or pigeon, but Kakashi rapping his knuckles against the glass pane. Deactivating the traps, he hastily opened the window and stepped aside to allow the jounin entry.

Despite Kakashi's blasé response to his offer that first winter night three months ago, he continued to stop by Iruka's home after every mission, except when returning completely unscathed. The jounin never explained why he chose to accept the offer, and the chunin never bothered to question it.

Konoha required academy teachers to study first aid and basic field medicine in order to be prepared for emergencies with students. Thus, Iruka was qualified to properly treat minor injuries. Furthermore, he made sure the Copy Nin was fed and at least a little rested before he went on his way. Kakashi was awkward at first, occasionally snapping when he felt overly coddled, but it eventually evolved into a comfortable routine for the two men.

This time, Kakashi was bleeding profusely from a puncture at his side. Even with one hand pressed firmly over the bandaged wound, dark red liquid still managed to seep through the cloth and between his fingers, dripping freely onto the floor.

"Blood is so hard to get off carpet," Iruka murmured, ruefully glancing at the stains as he led the jounin to the couch. After laying the patient down and cutting away a portion of his shirt, the chunin inspected the wound. The sight of blood hadn't alarmed him, but an inspection of the wound certainly did. "Kakashi-san, this is really deep. We need to get to the hospital."

"No."

It was surprising how strong his voice sounded, despite how weak he must be feeling with the blood loss.

"Look, I can guess that you dislike hospitals, Kakashi-san, but I'm not qualified to handle this type of injury alone. You should…"

"I'm not going to the hospital," the jounin insisted. "If you're uncomfortable, you don't have to treat it; I'll go home and…"

"If you say 'sleep it off,' I'll sever your tongue," The chunin threatened. "You need a medic. This could have pierced an organ, and…"

"It didn't," Kakashi interrupted.

"And how would you know?" Iruka threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Trust me, I know." There was no uncertainty in the jounin's voice. "This isn't life threatening, so long as the bleeding stops."

"I don't care. You're going to the hospital whether you like it or not!" With this proclamation, Iruka stood and attempted to pull the man up.

Kakashi resisted. "No. I'm not." His eye narrowed into a glare, daring him to contradict.

Iruka stopped to assess the situation. Clearly, even in his weakened state, forcing the jounin to go anywhere against his will would be a struggle. The bleeding desperately needed to be brought under control, and a struggle would aggravate his wounds, making matters worse. Iruka conceded this battle.

"You're worse than a child," he grumbled, applying pressure to the wound and directed healing chakra to the area. Iruka never was able to heal anything but minor wounds using chakra alone, but hopefully he could stem the tide of blood.

After several daunting minutes, the bleeding was under control. The built-up tension left his shoulders. "All right, now for the blood pill and stitches," Iruka sighed in relief as he retrieved the needed items from his medical kit.

Kakashi noticed, amidst the supplies for treating various ailments, one small pouch filled with lollipops. How teeth-rotting crystallized sugar on a stick qualified as a medical item was beyond him.

Iruka stitched and bandaged the wound, then turned his attention to the less pressing injuries. The Copy Nin was sporting an impressive array of bruises and light burns.

Once he was finished, Iruka sat back and sighed. "That ought to do it." Then he glanced at the wall clock, eyes widening in alarm. "I'm late for my shift at the Missions Desk!"

"Then I should get going." Kakashi began to sit up.

Iruka pushed him back, eliciting a pained grunt from the injured man. "Don't move or the stitches will tear," he ordered. "You stay here and rest. I'll be back in a few hours."

Without waiting for a response, the chunin gathered up his paperwork, set them back down with a scowl at the bloodstains he left on them, darted into the bathroom to wash his hands, re-gathered the papers, and promptly left, activating his traps with a flare of chakra as he did so. All this was done in a burst of speed that one rarely saw a ninja use except on the battlefield.

All that energy wasted, merely because he was late. Kakashi stared at the ceiling thoughtfully. Slowly, the realization pierced through the haze of pain he'd kept hidden from the chunnin.

Iruka had just left him alone in his home.

Of course, the jounin could break into the apartment if he chose. He had done so before, to find information for the trial. But this was different. The chunin had willingly, of his own volition, allowed Kakashi to remain in his apartment entirely unattended. Iruka apparently extended his trust as haphazardly as he did his friendship. That being the case, Kakashi decided it would probably be best to keep close to the sensei. To make sure no one takes advantage of his naivety, of course.

"Oi, where's Iruka?" Kotetsu grumbled. "My shift ended forty minutes ago."

"It's not like him to be late," Iwashi noted, having taken Izumo's place at the scheduled time. "Something must have come up."

A group of genin, there to pick up a new mission with their jounin sensei, perked up in alarm. "Something bad happened to Iruka-sensei?" one preteen exclaimed worriedly.

Iwashi waved his hands, "No, no, that's not what I said. Only that, if Iruka-san is late, he must have a good reason."

"Maybe he's sick," the young girl fretted.

"Maybe he's hurt," another speculated.

"Maybe he spotted an enemy infiltrator and is even now engaged in a life or death struggle to capture the adversary and protect the village!" exclaimed the genin with an overactive imagination.

"Don't be ridiculous," their jounin sensei scoffed. He tucked their mission scroll into his vest and strode toward the doorway. "Now let's go protect the village by unclogging some rain gutters."

The door to the mission room swung open and a blood-soaked figure slammed into the jounin sensei, sending them both sprawling on the ground. The other turned out to be Iruka, clothes stained with Kakashi's blood, and groaning from the hard fall he'd taken.

"Oh no! Iruka-sensei's dying!" The imaginative genin shrieked, dissolving into a fit of hysterical tears.

The chunin attempted to explain that he was, in fact, not dying, but the other two genin paid no heed as they cried out for a medic.

The shinobi who were turning in their mission reports instantly spread out to search the area and secure the perimeter. The chunin workers began hastily securing open documents and throwing up wards to protect against attack.

The mission room was in an upset by the time Tsunade rushed in, having heard the commotion from her office. "What is going on here?" She demanded, her voice piercing through the din.

Everyone in the room stilled, not quite sure themselves what was going on, and not wanting to anger their Hokage by admitting it.

Iruka stood and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "It's my fault, Tsunade-sama. I was late to my shift."

Their leader let her amber eyes trail along Iruka's clothing, taking in the blood stains that had gotten the younger ones in a panic. "I'd like to speak to you in my office, Iruka-san."

"Yes, ma'am." He ducked his head in a polite bow and followed.

The mission room regained order, as everyone went back to what they'd been doing.

"And I guess I'm still stuck here," Kotetsu sighed, dropping his head into his hands.