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Resonance
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It had gotten to the point that a special room was kept in the hospital for him. A special room with a window wide enough that he could escape without injuring himself further by squeezing through a small frame with aching bones and thick bandages.
Iruka had also managed to become one of the few nin, besides the Hokage, to have a telephone in his home. Simply because telephones and answering machines, unlike messenger hawks, didn't agitate Kakashi's aging ninkin and end up causing Pakkun to leap from the couch and break his hip again.
The poor pug hadn't been completely mobile for years, and instead had become resident lapdog and companion to Iruka when Kakashi was on missions.
Pakkun would be the first to admit that things had changed over the years.
Iruka still taught at the academy, still did desk duty every evening. But, laugh lines were visible at the corners of his eyes, as well as what his students called 'Scream Scars' at the edges of his lips. His hair line was receding at the temples and he had a prominent gray streak at the middle of his brow. He blamed this entirely on Kakashi, although Naruto and Konohamaru had a lot to do with it too.
Kakashi himself hadn't so much 'aged', as he'd become 'worn'. 'Like a good book', he would say with a grin, his eye crinkling in those thin lines that got caked with mud, dirt and grime over the course of his missions.
Missions that settled more and more potent unease in the pit of Iruka's stomach.
It was this unease that turned to icy dread when he came home from the market on Saturday, and saw the answering machine blinking.
Kakashi had been due back from a mission the night before, and although it wasn't unusual for the man to take his time returning, this particular mission had seemed sour from the start.
Pakkun looked up from his place on the couch, curled amid a fluffy blanket. "It was Sakura… He's at the hospital."
Iruka nodded and put the milk in the fridge, his insides turning to lead. "How bad is it this time?"
Pakkun sighed; "The message was short."
Iruka nodded, wetted his lips, and promptly teleported directly to the hospital.
Sakura was the first to greet him, knowing the corner of the cafeteria Iruka liked to appear in because it was uncrowded and he was unlikely to teleport in on top of someone or something. Although, there had been that incident five years ago when he'd popped in right on top of a painter, and wound up covered head to foot in light blue paint.
It had taken a good week to wash it all out of his hair.
Sakura had positioned herself on a chair near the corner with a cup of coffee and a grave expression.
Iruka gave her a nod and took the cup when she offered it, catching the strong scent of scotch whiskey wafting from the cup. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, but her expression said one thing; 'You're gonna need it.'
So, he took the seat she motioned to and sipped at his 'coffee', his head whirring as she started listing off Kakashi's injuries.
"He was carried back into the village by two shadow clones… I'm surprised he had enough chakra to manage it, but he seems to be able to pull it out of his ass from time to time."
Iruka spluttered into the coffee, trying not to conjure up mental images of Kakashi's ass… And how much the jounin enjoyed— Well, he'd just better not think about that right now.
"His legs are broken, and I can't heal them with chakra. His bones have become brittle enough as it is from all the chakra healing he's endured in his lifetime. He's not going to like it, but he has to heal naturally this time… I've also prescribed a new medication for his joints and upped the meds for his stomach."
Iruka nodded. Taijutsu, it seemed, broke down the cartilage, especially in those who trained as often as Kakashi did.
Gai-sensei suffered from almost debilitating arthritis now. Iruka felt somewhat sorry for him.
As for his stomach? Well, an injury years before had left Kakashi with about three feet of missing small intestine, and a burn scar in the lining of his stomach the size of a golf ball.
Iruka knew, had always known, that ninja were like shooting stars. They burned their hottest, and brightest when young. And although Iruka didn't consider himself an old man, forty-six wasn't exactly daisy fresh so to speak.
With Kakashi's record, the man had been up for retirement three years before, but, because he was Kakashi, and he was inherently a stubborn ass, he'd declined with a masked grin and a one finger salute.
Iruka cringed inwardly because he just knew exactly what finger Kakashi had shown Hokage-sama when the blonde had suggested his sensei 'take some time off, play chess, or sit in front of a window with a lap blanket and rocking chair or something.'
Despite everything that had happened in the last fifteen years, Naruto was still just so… Iruka could only sigh and rub his temples, counting the gray hairs he pulled out in frustration.
"So, what's the problem then, besides the broken legs?"
Sakura stilled, her lip between her teeth, fingers laced together, tightening and untightening rhythmically.
"He's killing himself, Iruka-sensei… Completely exhausting himself like this just…" She sighed and tried to speak with a detached medical voice, but at the same time she couldn't. Kakashi was her sensei, and she cared for him deeply. She hated seeing him like this and knowing that the damage it caused was only going to get worse. "He's burnt himself out, sensei… I give him five, six more high class missions like this one, before he comes back a corpse."
"He's only forty-seven, Sakura, Tsunade-sama was almost s—"
"Yes, but Tsunade-sama didn't completely drain her chakra every mission. Kakashi-sensei's pathways are terribly-terribly scarred. He would never admit to this, but I can tell he has to expend much more effort than he should to pull off some of his stunts, and it gets worse every time." She bowed her head, rubbing at the dot on her forehead, the final Jutsu Tsunade had taught her, as if drawing patience and strength from it. "I can't stand by with a clear conscience and let Kakashi-sensei slowly kill himself… Maybe if he'd been more cautious when he was younger it wouldn't be this bad. Hell, if he'd just stop using the Sharingan I wouldn't be so worried! I told him, I said; 'Kakashi-sensei, you're going to end up dead because of this thing.' But he won't let me do anything about it! He's so stubborn!"
Iruka knew, and he felt himself smiling fondly. "Yes, but if he wasn't, he wouldn't be Kakashi, now would he."
Sakura sighed, remembering the pained look on Kakashi's face when she'd told him flat out; It was either stay on active duty, or keep the Sharingan. He'd smiled, one of those pinched, hollow, masked smiles she was so used to and she'd been unable to argue further. He'd rather die.
Glancing up, and seeing the unguarded look of worry on Iruka's face, Sakura felt herself deflate.
"Okay, Iruka-sensei… I'll take you to him now."
He finished the 'coffee' wincing because it was now cold, and stood. His stomach feeling warm from the alcohol, but never let it be said that Umino Iruka didn't have spectacular alcohol tolerance.
As they passed the nurses' station he snagged a butterscotch candy from a little bowl, and popped it into his mouth to mask the scent, and followed Sakura to that sectioned off room that had become like a second home to his lover.
"Maaa, Iruka-senseiiii!" He whined, and Iruka was willing to bet he would have flailed had he been able to move. "Tell her to fix my legs so I can go home!"
"Kakashi, you got yourself into this, you're just going to have to live with it." Iruka stepped to his side and pressed a chaste kiss to the jounin's clammy forehead.
It didn't matter how badly he was hurt, or how sick he was, Kakashi wouldn't show it. The only time he had was almost a decade beforehand on a mission that had left him stumbling into Konoha literally holding his own guts in his hands. Nobody was sure how he'd managed to make it that far practically disemboweled, but, like Sakura had said, Kakashi had a way of pulling chakra out of his ass, and having just enough to make it home before he collapsed.
Iruka still had nightmares about that day, could still hear his lover's screams.
And try to ignore it he might, but the toll of Kakashi's loyalty was catching up to him.
"But, Sensei, it's Saturday! You always let me pick a scene from Icha-Icha on Saturdays!"
"Kakashi, in your condition the only Icha-Icha scene you're gonna get is Chapter twenty of 'Magic', do you understand?"
Kakashi looked incredulous, if it was possible for a single eye and a sweaty brow to look incredulous; "You mean when the evil djinn put them all under that sleeping spell so he could steal the princess!" He whined; "Iruka, that's no fun at all!"
Sakura rolled her eyes; "I have to finish my rounds now, Iruka-sensei… Try to keep him occupied and… Please, PLEASE try to remember this is a hospital, and if you absolutely HAVE to do something, please lock the door…"
Kakashi grinned; "I told you she hadn't forgotten about that—"
"Sensei!" She growled, face heating up as she left the room.
Iruka smiled after her and with a sigh turned back to Kakashi, his expression falling to deep concern.
The older man's face was pulled into a grimace beneath his mask, eyes shut tightly, left taped closed.
"Are you alright, Kashi?"
He grunted noncommittally, but Iruka could practically feel the pain himself and he framed masked cheeks with his hands. "Want a blow-job to take your mind off of it?"
Despite the chuckle and the sliver of iris Iruka caught between cracked lids, Kakashi gave his head an infinitesimal shake.
Surprisingly enough, Iruka was the more sexually charged of the two. Kakashi mused in secret, that he constantly had to read Icha-Icha, and other 'X' rated novels, just so he could keep up with his lover.
"Ten years ago, I'd have taken you up on that offer… Maybe even asked for a little 'Castaway' Chapter Nineteen."
Iruka chuckled.
Being with Kakashi made it intrinsically impossible to NOT read the Icha-Icha series. And as funny as Kakashi's obsession with the rather clichéd sex scenes was, the real sex these scenes inspired was often worth the effort and 'stigma' that came with the bright orange and green covers. Because no matter who topped or bottomed in those instances, Kakashi was always at his most comically passionate during them.
They'd often joked that, if ever Kakashi decided to give up the life of a shinobi, he'd make a hell of a female porn star. From all the open mouthed gasps and husky groans he released when Iruka was in charge, the chuunin was lucky he was able to keep a straight face.
"Ten years ago, Kakashi, I would have called you a pervert and thrown something at your head for suggesting something like that in public."
"Yes, but I was able to wear down your prudish resolve, wasn't I! Icha-Icha prevails! I am never wrong when it comes to such things!"
Iruka found himself stroking damp silver hair, smiling sadly at the state of his lover's body. The trembling, and spasms of overused, injured muscles. The barely audible whines of pain escaping with each breath.
"Iruka-sensei… Why are you looking at me like that, I'm fine," He pressed his chin to his chest and looked down at himself. Arms limp and useless, body bandaged, legs in casts.
"If this is 'fine' I'd hate to see your idea of 'not fine'."
"Maa, Iruka, you've seen that already, plenty of times… More times than I would have liked…"
They lapsed into silence, Iruka feeling nostalgic and frightened because there was no denying it now. Kakashi was too near broken to safely continue.
He'd lived longer than anyone had expected, had more success than anyone could have imagined. He'd had his highs, and also his terribly lows. Struck from his lofty shelf by friend and foe alike.
"Iruka… Ru, don't cry. Please, don't cry, I'm OK… Just-just a little busted up. I'll be OK in a few days, you'll see!"
Iruka felt his lip quivering as he stroked his lover's hair, eyes no longer trying to hold back the tide of emotion, of need and longing.
"Ruka…"
"Please." He sucked in a quivering breath; "Please, Kashi… You-you can't keep doing this to yourself. You're supposed to grow to be an old man and sit on the porch with me. Help me chase Naruto and Hinata's brats around, and then help me chase their brats, and their brats' brats…" He sobbed quietly, burying his face in Kakashi's hair, and breathing in the scent of sweat and antiseptic. "You're too young to burn yourself out like this… Please. Please don't leave me alone."
Kakashi was silent, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly, trying not to loose tears of his own from the sheer agony in Iruka's voice.
"I'm not asking you to give up the Sharingan, I could never ask you to do that… Not after you've told me why. And I hate myself for asking you to quit— But, dammit, you're mine… You're MINE, and I can't loose you."
His voice dissolved after that, and he just sat there, rocking the man he loved back and forth as if he never intended to let him ago.
"'Ru—"
"I-I'll do any scene from any book every night for the rest of my life if you'll just please- PLEASE stop! I love you, and I-I can't loose you, Kakashi. I can't."
Iruka felt a hand on his neck, tangling in his hair, and he gnawed on his lip to silence himself.
"I… I'll stop." A whisper, nothing more than a breath in the shell of his ear; "Ru, I'll stop."
Relief. Such utter, blissful relief washed over him, and Iruka went limp, letting Kakashi's numb fingers pet over his hair, rubbing at his neck with loose, exhausted fingers.
"And as much as I— As I appreciate the thought," He smiled into Iruka's crown, wondering if it was possible that he loved this man even more now than he had just yesterday. "I don't think I could do Icha-Icha every night anymore… I look forward to Saturdays, because I can use the energy I've saved back through the week… Every night?" He chuckled; "Do you want to take out a permanent lease on this room?"
"You're acting like you're an old man," Iruka smiled.
"I'm not old… But I'm not in my twenties anymore… I've already outlived my Sensei, and my father. In fact, I think I'm officially the only Hatake in the past hundred years to live past forty…"
"Yes, and you're going to live to be the only Hatake to live more than a hundred years, do you hear me?"
"Only a hundred?"
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