Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes before we start: This is technically a prequel to my first fic, There's the man I chose, but I'm told this can be read as a standalone, so yay for not having to go back and fix the inconsistencies. Also, slight spoilers because though I've made up Kakashi's past, some parts still coincide with the manga and anime.
And most importantly, huge thanks to my betas, Don Amoeba, Emis, and Jenna, who whipped this puppy into shape. Thanks, you guys. )
L is for the way you look at me.
Kakashi was used to people staring at him. Even before the sharingan, people had stared and whispered, sometimes pointing, although those hands were usually quickly slapped down by anxious parents.
He didn't blame them. Konoha had more than its share of geniuses and prodigies, but graduating at five was still something of an aberration.
In the beginning, he had stared back, daring them to comment. Sometimes they did, and depending on his mood, he'd either terrorize them or make some offhand remarks that cut to the bone. He kept this up until his teacher caught him in the act and forced him to apologize before frog-marching him into an empty alleyway for a lecture filled with disappointment and disapproval.
You can't do that, he said. They're weaker than you. It's your job to protect them. Kakashi shrugged the criticism off, but his teacher continued talking and eventually one comment broke through and struck deep into his shuttered heart. Don't be a bully.
Because his uncle was a bully and though Kakashi could kill him in the blink of an eye and make it look like an accident, his mother had made him promise to be good, to listen.
So he let his mother's older brother, his—for all intents and purposes—only family left in the world, order him around and swore he'd never treat anyone like that. Like the way his uncle had probably treated his mom when they were kids.
Kakashi was nearly ill when he realized how he had been behaving, and it was only willful pride that allowed him to nod and promise he would stop instead of bawling in front of his teacher.
He started ignoring the stares after that. It was hard, but he managed. Mostly.
Then he hit puberty and the stares melted into something else entirely. Curious sidelong glances that made his throat tight and his palms sweat. Heated looks that made him acutely aware of everyone around him, and not as potential targets or allies. Stares that tripped him up during training, something that never ever happened to him, but Obito never looked at him like that before either.
Kakashi waited for Obito to change his mind and when he didn't, cornered him after practice, pulled the mask down and looked right back. It was the first time he didn't mind someone staring. Not if it was accompanied by wide smiles, hesitant touches, and the brightest eyes he would ever see.
Then, in the span of two years, his world fell apart around him, leaving sharp bleeding pieces that plummeted down to crush him.
His teacher, gone. Sacrificed to save them and blindly entrusting his legacy to the seething hate and anger of a decimated village.
Obito, lost. Because of Kakashi's arrogant belief that he could take on anyone and emerge unscathed. And he did. But that luck didn't extend to his friends, to his teammates.
The final blow, he didn't even see coming. When his uncle died years before, and there was no response, not from her or her handler (not that he expected one because he didn't, that would be naïve and childish), he swallowed the pain and told himself she was probably too deep undercover to return to get him.
It wasn't because she was dead. He would know if she were; he would feel it in his heart, in his very soul. But all the same, that night he stopped leaving the light on for her, and the dream of her return faded with the morning rays.
Except she really had been alive this whole time. And Kakashi would later wonder if this was punishment—delayed until it would slice the deepest into already bleeding wounds—for losing faith and not believing when she promised him, always, I'll come back to you, always.
He'd found the scrolls waiting for him when he finally managed to tear himself away from Obito's empty grave and stumble home. They were terrifying in their innocuousness and could almost be mistaken for regular mission summons if not for the white silk ribbons that bound them.
He ripped them open with shaking hands, dreading what he would find but they held no personal effects, not even her dogtags, and only an impersonal apology. We regret to inform you…
It was too much to take along with everything else. Kakashi had cried for the first time in longer than he could remember.
The tears ran down the right side of his face only, though the sharingan throbbed in sympathy pain. It was the alien feel of that eye lodged in his ruined socket, tendrils of someone else's bloodline winding its way into his brain that jerked him back to awareness.
He wiped the tears from his cheek and left the village that night, not returning for over a year.
When he came back, people stared even more. Kakashi let them. He'd paid for his fame with blood and agony; if they wanted to stare at the broken remnants of his life he wasn't going to stop them.
But even after jagged wounds turned to scar tissue and he carved an almost normal life for himself, the stares didn't abate. However, by then, he was beyond caring and didn't notice them anymore.
Until the first time he kissed Iruka. He opened his eyes and Iruka was staring, outright staring at him. It was a knife to the gut, that piercing gaze.
Because looking into those shocked brown eyes, he knew—the same way he knew without Obito having to say a word that his friend wasn't looking for anything serious—that Iruka was in love with him. And the fool didn't even realize it.
Kakashi didn't love him, not yet, but it was close. Because after he'd pulled away and they were both trying to catch their breath, he remembered thinking, I'd do anything if he promises to never stop looking at me that way.
O is for the only one I see.
Kakashi was on a mission.
It was a simple one, straightforward and easy, and he'd already completed the first step (quick trip to the Academy to deliver a message) within minutes of receiving his orders.
Now he was at the pharmacy to pick up supplies. That too was quickly finished and Kakashi wandered out the door, swinging the bag to and fro. This was the most boring mission he'd been on in a while, and that was saying a lot considering one of Team Seven's jobs had been to spray paint individual blades of grass green in time for some Lady's garden party.
Naruto had complained loudly and frequently, incurring the annoyed wrath of both his teammates. Kakashi wondered idly if the boy had managed to scrub the green tint out of his skin yet.
Then, straight out of his green tinged memories and into the eye blinding vision before him, stood Gai. Dramatically posed with one hand on his cocked hip and the other pointing at Kakashi.
"Kakashi," he proclaimed loudly, and paused for dramatic effect.
"Gai," he said in the gap of silence, nodding a greeting, and walked away before the other man could continue.
There were some sputtering and muffled insults as he was leaving, but he'd already stopped paying attention.
Another few streets, a shortcut through an alley, and his mission was almost completed. Besides Gai, other distractions had popped up along the way but, bored as he was, he had a job to do so he ignored them and kept going. He strolled down the street, passing random stores and glancing casually at the ads pasted on their windows. Signs begging him to come inside, to try this, to get half-off on his second pair of sandals, to buy the newest volume of Icha Icha Vio…lence…
Kakashi stopped dead in his tracks, twitching. Mission or porn? Mission or porn?
It couldn't hurt to stay just a few minutes, his traitorous mind whispered. He walked slowly, as if in a daze or pulled by a siren's call, to the bookstore's front window. Yearning fingers stroked the glass separating him from his one true love in the world.
He thought of his mission and felt like crying. Being a shinobi means making tough choices, he reminded himself. We all have to make painful sacrifices.
But sometimes a shinobi's life was just too cruel. He wavered and volume four twinkled up at him, glossy cover promising him anything he wanted if he'd just go in and…
No! He tore his gaze away. Ah, the power of porn. He'd underestimated its hold over him. Straightening, he forced his legs to walk and it was so hard to turn away, but he focused on his duty and heroically forged on.
Then he remembered he was on the publisher's preferred readers list and as such, they would mail him his copy. It was probably waiting for him at home already. He grinned and rushed home, congratulating himself on his foresight.
I am so kick-ass.
He reached his apartment in record time. Tucking his purchases into his pocket, he padded barefoot to his bedroom, hands curled on the back of his neck to warm them.
"Hey," he whispered to the lump huddled in the middle of his bed. There was no response so he ran a warmed finger down the slope of a nose and kissed it. "Wake up, sicky."
"Have you come to end my suffering?" Iruka groaned, burying his face in the pillow.
"Better. I have drugs."
Fever bright eyes snapped to the bottle in his hands. "Gimme," Iruka demanded, grabbing.
"Ah ah ah," Kakashi scolded, pulling it out of reach. "It says here to take with food, so eat first." He plucked the bag his assistant had carried over and opened it, taking out a container of soup.
"Thank you, Pakkun."
The dog wagged his tail once and plopped down on the rug to sleep.
"I'm not hungry," Iruka griped. "Just give me the medicine."
"No." Kakashi grinned. "You should know the importance of following instructions. What kind of teacher are you?" he asked, shaking his head.
"The kind who's going to kick your ass if you don't give me those drugs right now," Iruka growled, the effect somewhat ruined by his congested voice. He threw the blankets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Ooooo, naked, Kakashi's mind giggled happily. Yum.
In his understandable distraction, Iruka snatched the medicine from Kakashi's slack grip.
"Predictable," Iruka taunted and broke the seal on the bottle. The smirk immediately vanished. "Bastard," he snapped, throwing the empty bottle at Kakashi's head.
He caught it neatly and shook it, rattling the pills still inside. "Na, Iruka, maybe if you'd eaten, you wouldn't have been so addlebrained to miss such an obvious genjutsu."
Iruka howled, diving for him. Kakashi grinned and sidestepped the attack, sweeping him up and dumping him on the bed. He braced himself over the squirming figure and beamed at his scowling face.
"Are you going to behave or do I get to spank you?"
Iruka tried to knee him in the balls. "Someone's cranky," Kakashi observed and pinched him on the ass.
In the ensuing fight, Kakashi managed to get in two good gropes, one open mouthed kiss, a decent head start on what would be a spectacular love-bite, and get halfway undressed before Iruka came to his senses and punched him in the eye.
"Ow," he said mildly, rolling off onto his back, and watched Iruka pounce on the pills. "You never show that much enthusiasm for me," he complained.
"You aren't made up of mind altering substances." Iruka pointed out, swallowing the pills dry. He crawled back into bed, flopped heavily on Kakashi and kissed the corner of his eye. "Sorry. Thank you. Sleepy," he mumbled into his neck, already drowsing.
"You're welcome," Kakashi answered, watching him drift into sleep. When his breathing deepened, Kakashi lifted a hand to cover Iruka's ear—it wouldn't do to wake him—and called softly, "Hey, Pakkun. Pakkun, wake up."
The dog whined and jumped onto the bed, droopy faced and blinking sad little dog eyes.
"Go get the mail," he ordered since he couldn't get up. Wiggling until the arm Iruka was lying on was free, he rubbed his hands in anticipatory glee. Porn in one hand, Iruka in the other. Life was great.
Pakkun returned and dumped a pile of bills and take-out menus on him. No book.
Kakashi blinked in stunned disbelief and sighed. "The things I sacrifice for you," he whispered to Iruka's slumbering face and settled in for a long, boring wait. As soon as Iruka was awake, he'd be out of here so fast…
There was a rustle of paper and a heavy weight smacked him in the face. Kakashi pulled it off impatiently. What? His eyes widened. Was this? It was!
He cradled Icha Icha Violence, Volume Four: Hana and Yuki's Wet and Wild Hot Springs Adventure, to his chest and grinned into Iruka's amused eyes.
"The things I put up with for you," Iruka whispered, smiling sweetly at him.
It was then that Kakashi should have realized he was in trouble; when not even the Icha Icha girls in all his imagined fantasies could hold a candle to that smile.
V is very very extraordinary.
The note read:
Sorry not here to meet you. Hope mission went well. Have emergency meeting at Academy, will probably last all night. Again. If reading this, please bring food and/or kill me? Thank you!
Followed by a doodle of what he assumed was Iruka, surrounded by books and scrolls, crying and waving tiny fists in the air.
He returned the note to the table with a disappointed sigh. I had plans for tonight too, he pouted. But work was work, and Iruka took his job seriously.
A quick rummage through the kitchen uncovered some leftovers and plain white rice. He eyed the former warily; he knew he hadn't made whatever that slimy mess was. Cracking the lid open, he took a cautious sniff and instantly tossed the whole container into the trash, gagging.
And Iruka had the nerve to lecture Naruto on his eating habits? Nothing natural should smell or look like that! How the hell has he survived this long on his own cooking? Kakashi wondered as he searched for an open restaurant.
He found a tiny all-night shop, dim and sleepy in the quiet winter night, and checked his wallet before scanning the menu. There was more money in it than he expected, until he recalled the new table he'd bought for the apartment and how Iruka had threatened to sneak the money back to him when Kakashi had refused to let him pay.
While he waited for the food, he thought about his situation. The table hadn't been the only new addition. Most of Kakashi's belongings were squirreled away somewhere in Iruka's apartment since he practically lived there now.
However, he had the nagging suspicion that Iruka still didn't know what was going on. Though, oblivious or not, he knew Iruka cared about him. It was evident in his actions and words.
In the way he smiled when Kakashi did something so simple it wasn't even worth thinking about, but which Iruka found thoughtful. In the way he knew not to push when Kakashi would wake in the middle of the night with screams choking him. And how he wouldn't blame the jounin the next morning when he woke to an empty bed after he'd fallen asleep with Kakashi's desperate arms bruisingly tight around him.
They all had their demons—literally in Iruka's case—and Kakashi knew it was pointless to brood over them, but knowing and doing were completely separate things. For too long, guilt and regret had been his constant companions, and he couldn't fathom unburdening himself anytime soon, if ever.
The voices of his old teachers swirled up in cheery counsel. You have to make the most of your life while you have it. Live today like it's your last, and other optimistic dribble because Kakashi knew the real reasons to get up in the morning were selfish ones; you did it for your own goals, your own happiness, your foolish belief that today would be different.
Only lately it was more like his reasons were for Iruka's happiness because Kakashi found himself doing stupid, sappy, lame things to see that smile on his face. It wasn't even hard. A kiss good morning, his favorite meal after a long day, spending the whole day with him without the mask on.
It was so easy, too easy, to know what Iruka wanted. It required only the smallest amount of effort; it was barely a challenge.
Kakashi wasn't complaining. Absolutely not. But sometimes he wondered if Iruka knew him half as well as he knew the chuunin, if Iruka took the time to notice the little details about him, or even the huge glaring ones because Kakashi wasn't exactly hiding his quirks and eccentricities.
Oh, he knew enough to not pry into Kakashi's past, but that wasn't so much tactful consideration as a simple consequence of living in a village that earned most of its money in the trafficking of lives; it was uncouth to the point of social taboo to dig up old memories when every shinobi had missions they would rather forget.
The important question was, did Iruka know the things that mattered: his hopes, his dreams? Did he understand Kakashi, even just a little? Kakashi wasn't so sure.
The food arrived and Kakashi took it, grateful for a distraction.
He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew Iruka wanted him and shouldn't that be enough? To know that someone loved him? Did it really matter if there wasn't more to Iruka than met the eye even if Kakashi had been so very certain?
The Academy was eerily quiet; he let the whisper of his steps echo as he walked through dark halls towards the single doorway, dimly outlined. He didn't think he had taken that long getting the food, but it was possible the meeting had ended early.
"Iruka?" he called as he entered the classroom.
"You're late."
"Ah," he chuckled, "I didn't know there was…" he trailed off, voice sticking in a suddenly dry throat.
Iruka was casually sprawled in his chair, flak jacket off, sleeves rolled halfway up, booted feet propped on his desk. He brushed unbound hair off his face and cold hazel eyes glared at Kakashi from behind thin wire frames.
Kakashi swallowed hard. Iruka looked like one of his more imaginative fantasies come to life, but he also looked incredibly, gloriously angry. Kakashi tried a placating smile, wondering what he'd done wrong, and when that failed, stared in awe as Iruka rose fluidly to his feet in deliberately graceful movements.
The glasses slipped slightly, but Iruka didn't adjust them, only tilted them further down and looked over the frames at Kakashi with a coolly measuring gaze and a condescendingly raised eyebrow.
Kakashi cleared his throat. "Iruka?" he asked, puzzled at the cold reception and odd behavior.
"Sit down and shut up," Iruka snapped. When Kakashi stayed frozen in confusion, he stalked over—Kakashi's brain melted a bit in appreciation—and shoved the jounin down, hard, on one of the long student tables.
"Well?" demanded Iruka, slapping his hands on the table on either side of Kakashi, effectively trapping him. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked, leaning directly into his personal space, eyes flashing dangerously.
Kakashi would have knocked him out and carried his possessed body to the Fifth herself if he hadn't spotted just the tiniest hint of doubt lurking in Iruka's eyes.
And then Kakashi cursed himself for nearly letting this opportunity slip from his grasp.
"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again," he said, meek, and did his best to look ashamed.
The barely perceptible tension immediately left Iruka's body as he smirked. "I'm afraid sorry's not going to be enough this time," he whispered cruelly, leaning closer, and Kakashi jumped slightly as teeth nipped his earlobe. "You need to be taught a lesson."
He didn't need to feign the shiver that ran through him at the words and the soft, dark promises they held.
"Strip," Iruka ordered. "And get on your knees."
Kakashi hastened to obey, grinning all the while.
So maybe he was wrong about Iruka not knowing him. And if this pleasant surprise was any indication, he was a fool for assuming he knew everything about Iruka.
E is even more than anyone that you adore can.
By now, Kakashi knew better than to think he had sole possession of Iruka's heart.
Iruka was a shinobi so he loved his village and everyone in it. He also was a teacher so he loved his students, one more than any other though he persisted in believing he didn't play favorites, even if Naruto was Kakashi's student now.
As the seasons changed, Kakashi learned that Iruka loved a great deal of insignificant things as well: sleeping in on cold winter days, running through piles of fallen leaves, taking Naruto out for snowball fights.
Playing let's warm chilly feet and hands on Kakashi and see what funny noises will result. Kakashi did not squeak; it was a manly cry of surprise.
Of course, because Kakashi was himself and it was his nature, he also noted which sexual acts Iruka loved best. Kakashi had an arsenal of sexual knowledge to draw from, and after The Classroom Incident, suddenly things listed under "Don't try–will be withheld sex for a week" or "For use after blackmail only" were now fair game.
Not that Iruka let him run them through a crash course in kinky sex like Kakashi had suggested; Iruka had his limits after all. But that just made Kakashi want him more, because now he knew that under the proper teacher persona lurked a sexual appetite to match his own. It was only a matter of drawing it out, and Kakashi loved a challenge.
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on his frustration levels for the day, so did Iruka. It soon became a sort of competition: who could make who blush and squirm more without giving the game away to an unsuspecting audience.
Kakashi nearly always won, hands down. But the fact that Iruka was even willing to play his game with him made Kakashi wish the other man had some secret perversion or fetish that he could fulfill in return. Iruka didn't, naturally. So Kakashi simply went through every sexual technique he knew and paid attention to which ones made Iruka gasp his name like it was a prayer.
He could honestly say he had the time of his life conducting this experiment.
Iruka preferred to receive, which wasn't such a surprise but, much to Kakashi's amused delight, he was a demanding bottom. A fact which was abundantly clear when Kakashi, on the rare occasions when he didn't meet Iruka's standards or during the much more common instances when he teased Iruka past his limits, would find himself suddenly flat on his back and held down until Iruka brought them both to completion.
Afterwards, the apologies would flow: Sorry, sorry. I can't believe I just used you like that. Please let me make it up to you when all the while a wicked twinkle shone in his eyes.
Kakashi occasionally wondered just who was the kinkier one.
They both liked it best in the morning, early, just after dawn, when neither of them had to be anywhere and they could take their time.
Iruka liked it when Kakashi went down on him, but- generous soul that he was- he enjoyed returning the favor more.
He loved it when Kakashi would spend hours just kissing him, on the mouth, along his neck and collarbone, in every secret niche his body had to offer. Though he needed a bit more coaxing on the subject of rimming, and Kakashi, being the persuasive soul he was, made a very convincing argument.
One result Kakashi discovered purely by accident, and only because he didn't like to share as he never did learn to play nice with others. He was sucking his way up Iruka's back, pausing to press a hot wet kiss to the large scar running parallel to his spine, and hissed, "He wasn't worthy of you," before surging up to bite the back of Iruka's neck and taking him until he screamed.
He stopped the experiment after that. When he realized it had become more about his needs than Iruka's.
Unlike Iruka, Kakashi knew exactly what his own kinks were, knew precisely what got him off and which ones worked best. He loosely ranked them from ordinary mind-blowing to death by orgasm.
However, the sight and feel of Iruka twisting in his hands as he arched and pleaded, and never once tried to stop Kakashi even when he knew he was being possessively marked, effectively collapsed Kakashi's preferences hierarchy into just… Iruka.
He thought it was appropriately fitting that his heart realized it was in love during the middle of sex.
As for Iruka's heart, Kakashi knew he loved a lot of people and a lot of things. If he never actually said he loved Kakashi, well, it wasn't as though Kakashi had ever told him either.
Though it should have hurt to know he didn't stand alone and foremost in Iruka's heart, Kakashi was philosophical about such matters. He owned an enormous part of Iruka's heart and that was good enough for him.
But, sometimes, when it was just the two of them and everything was quiet, he could fool himself into believing Iruka was his alone. When Iruka planned whole days of things for them to do even though neither of them had the time.
Or when he agreed to let Kakashi blindfold him though he was pale and couldn't look him in the eyes; Kakashi withdrew his request, realizing too late how badly he had blundered. Iruka's fists were clenched and he still wouldn't meet Kakashi's eyes so, in a detached voice that couldn't quite mask the lingering pain, Kakashi shared the memory of the first time he'd been captured and tortured.
Iruka listened with wide eyes and a distraught expression. When Kakashi finished, Iruka blinked rapidly, grabbed him in a painfully tight embrace, and explained the story behind the blindfold and why he freezes every time Kakashi touches any part near his wrists when they're together.
It was times like those when their lives were stripped bare and raw before each other that Kakashi could believe he was the most important to Iruka.
But if he really thought about it, it was probably better they didn't have an all-consuming, obsessive love for each other. People did terrible, moronic, incredible things for love and they were both too scarred from old hurts to manage the depth of blinding, passionate feelings love seemed to call for.
Though that didn't stop Kakashi from knowing that if Iruka asked it of him, he'd give him his heart, wholly, completely. But Iruka never would, and that was probably why Kakashi gave it to him anyway.
Love, it's all that I can give to you.
Iruka was fidgeting again. Kakashi slipped his hand between the twisting fingers and squeezed them gently. He wondered when Iruka would finally tell him what was wrong. He'd been biting his lip and shooting Kakashi nervous glances for days now.
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
Oh, Iruka. Kakashi resisted the urge to slap him on the back of the head and grinned instead.
He didn't bother hiding it because though Iruka had learned to read his expressions through the mask, he was currently staring holes into the ground and not looking at Kakashi at all.
He kissed him on the cheek, made some excuse and took off running. Iruka wasn't stupid, just a bit dim concerning affairs of the heart; he'd eventually figure it out. And in the meantime, Kakashi needed to stock up on supplies if he was going to make the most of the guilt Iruka was sure to suffer from when he realized they'd been in love this whole time.
-End
AN: First off, thank you to everyone who read my first fic and reviewed. The comments were very nice and helpful and encouraging, but mostly they made me smile so, thanks. You guys say the sweetest things. )
For those curious about Iruka fantasy #11, sorry, gonna have to ask you to use your imaginations there, because if I tried to write it, you'd only laugh. Really. Although, I can tell you the visual I had in my mind when I wrote it involved sex toys and a three-way with a Kakashi double. Perv it up to your satisfaction if this isn't kinky enough for you. ;)
So, about this fic, what do you think? Liked it, hated it? Can't answer through all the sap and cheese? Let me hear it, peoples, and thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. :)
One last thing: segment titles come from Natalie Cole's L.O.V.E. There are other versions, but I like hers best.