Note: Based on a prompt for the KakaIru kink I did on the spur of the moment, a few weeks back. Decided to edit it and post it.

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"You're drunk," Iruka accused.

Anko only grinned back at him. "S'are you. Come on, Ruka… (hic)… It'll be fun…"

Mizuki, off to the side, stared at his teammates with exasperation. "Spin the bottle?" he repeated, and Iruka had to wonder why it was that when else seemed to loosen up when they were tipsy, Mizuki only seemed to shut down. "What are we, twelve?"

"Nooo!" Anko crowed, throwing an arm around him. "We're chuunin!"

Iruka grinned large and wide, feeling a bubble of pride and happiness expand in his chest. A newly minted chuunin for an entire six hours now, the novelty was not going to wear off any time soon.

Tonight, the party to celebrate the newly promoted was going on full swing. His entire genin team had passed (well, Anko had already received her vest a few years earlier, but she didn't count). The combination of open bar, decent music, and no other events planned for the weekend had ensured that the population swelled decently. Soon, the hall was packed with chuunin graduated before, friends of friends, jounin instructors, and a few sneaky genin.

The sake was warm in his belly, he was freshly promoted and it seemed as if all was right in the world. Iruka grinned, throwing an arm around Mizuki and just wishing his friend would relax and have fun every once in awhile.

"Yeah, let's do it!" Iruka said, and bustled off with Anko to wrangle in more participants.

A surprising amount of people were actually game, and soon Iruka found himself sitting in a large circle with ten others, a empty bottle of sake sitting in the middle. Some letch had the bright idea of clearing out a nearby broom closet, and declared she would only play if Spin the Bottle turned into Seven Minutes In Heaven (with batted eyes towards her crush).

That caused a small finger of doubt to wiggle up Iruka spine, but he had, after all, just survived a death-match. Seven awkward minutes with a friend or stranger shouldn't be a big deal.

Anko spun first and whooped loudly as her bottle fell upon another newly promoted; a senbon sucking chuunin named Genma. She practically dragged him into the closet, and when they came out seven minutes later his senbon was gone and they were both grinning like fools.

A few others went (including an odd young green-clad jounin who seemed waaaay too enthusiastic for anyone's comfort. He ended up sharing the closet with an older chuunin named Kurenai.)

Finally, it was Iruka's turn.

That little wiggle of doubt had pretty much turned into a whole host of butterflies now, but he manfully suppressed them and spun the bottle. It twisted around and around and finally settled exactly between Mizuki and the green jounin.

"Um," Iruka said, looking between them – and trying not to see the way Mizuki's eyes lit up – feeling equally sick. "I guess I should spin again…"

Genma's hand was on his shoulder, making him start. "Nah, look again newbie!" Then he pointed and laughed, clapping Iruka hard upon the back. "You got someone, alright!"

"What?" He looked again, not understanding, but then focused past Mizuki and Gai, about ten feet away where a person shaped shadow lounged quietly, reading in the shadows. Iruka caught a glimpse of an orange-covered book, and inwardly recoiled.

"What? No!" he yelped, blushing, although he wasn't sure why. Could he be really worse than Gai?

But no one seemed to be listening. All had followed his gaze and erupted into laughter and catcalls.

Mizuki had turned over his shoulder to look, then glanced back at Iruka with a narrowed glare. Almost as if it was his fault. "Hatake-san isn't playing," he said in a tight, possessive voice that made the hair on the back of Iruka's neck stand up. "Spin again, Iruka."

"Did anyone even ask him?" Anko said, quite reasonably for someone who was as smashed as she was. Then, before Iruka could grab her and force her to sit back down, she stood and dashed over to the masked jounin.

There was too much noise around him and in the party-hall in general to hear what Anko said. Iruka could only watch, frozen, with a drying throat as Anko babbled. Hatake Kakashi thoroughly ignored her, then Anko grabbed him by the elbow and led him – oddly unresisting – to the circle.

Anko's eyes were glinted with a devilish light. "Kakashi-san's playing!" she announced, and proceeded to haul Iruka up with her other hand and push them both to the closet. "Remember, seven minutes, boys! And no locking the door!"

The closet door swung shut, trapping Iruka in with another teen who could easily kill him before he even realized he was going to die.

The seconds seemed to stretch into hours.

Iruka squinted. The only light in the closet came from the crack under the door, but he could see the vague outline of Kakashi, standing slouched against the opposite wall. In fact…

"Are you still reading?" he asked.

"Maa, I was at a good part."

Kakashi's voice was completely disinterested, as if he got thrown into closets with strangers all the time. Then again, Iruka didn't exactly know what went on during A Rank missions. But still…

"If you don't even care, why did you agree to come in?" Iruka snapped. His sense of righteous anger restored his confidence, slightly. He'd rather be annoyed at Kakashi any day than be afraid of him.

A slight rustle of clothing from the other teen. An impression of a shrug.

"Ugh!" Iruka crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the jounin. Well, he supposed it was better than being stuck in here with Mizuki. But still…

He heard the sound of a page turning – How good was Kakashi's sight anyway? How much could he possibly see with that one eye? – Then, "Five minutes, forty seconds left."

Iruka's temper flared again. "So you're counting down now? I'm sorry I'm so boring." And then he did something completely stupid… something he'd never usually he'd do in a million years, except he was slightly judgment impaired, heady with his new promotion, and insulted by Kakashi's frank lack of interest.

He stepped forward, pushed the stupid book away, and leaned up to kiss him.

His lips brushed briefly against cloth. Then he was shoved back, hard. His back hit the opposite wall, breath whooshing from lungs. Kakashi had a grip on both shoulders, thumbs pressing into both sides of Iruka's neck in a very implicit, very direct threat.

Iruka scrabbled for a bare second, before forcing himself back to calm. He could just start screaming for help – he didn't think anyone could take a genius like Kakashi in a fight, but maybe he, Anko, Mizuki and that Genma guy combined could at least distract him and allow Iruka to escape before he was gutted inside out. He opened his mouth to shout –

"What was that for?" Kakashi demanded.

Iruka stopped, his yell dying in his throat before it could find voice. Kakashi didn't sound angry or deadly… just mildly confused. "The kiss?" he asked, still very much aware of jounin's fingers still very close to vital points on his neck.

There was only silence from Kakashi, and Iruka found his mind reeling. What exactly had Anko told him to come in here? "Um… haven't you ever played Seven Minutes in Heaven before?"

"No."

Iruka suddenly felt stupid. And that made him angry. "You idiot!" he hissed. "You read porn all day. Did you think we got shoved in here to fight?"

Kakashi's silence spoke volumes.

"Let go of me!" Iruka snapped. He had heard jounin were all crazy, but thought it was just rumor. How could someone be so dense? He had never been so insulted in his life.

Kakashi's grip relaxed, but he did not let go. Although Iruka couldn't see him, he could feel himself being regarded with a direct sort of intent. Wary, and contemplative, and… Almost hungry. Again, the hair on the back of his neck stood up… but this time it was an almost pleasant sensation.

And Iruka didn't know how he did it – he didn't see any of the shadows in the closet move – but suddenly the jounin was whispering in his ear. "Well in that case we do still have four minutes and seven second left."

"What?" he squeaked, and then squeaked again when his hitai-ate was suddenly shoved down over his eyes. What kind of freak blindfolded someone in an already dark closet?

Iruka's silent question was answered a moment later when masked lips feathered against his again: The same type of person who kisses with a cloth mask on, of course.

Yet for all of his bravado, Kakashi's touch was oddly tentative, less of a question, more like confusion, and when Iruka pressed more firmly back he felt and heard Kakashi take in a quick breath.

Haven't you ever kissed anyone before? Iruka did not ask. Because he already suspected the answer.

This fabled jounin, just a few years older than him, who had probably already been on more missions at this age than Iruka would ever see in his life, hadn't known what a silly kissing game when one came up and hit him. It was… oddly sweet. And a little sad.

Slowly, so as not to trigger any of Kakashi's defenses again, Iruka slid his fingers up and tugged at the edge of the mask. Just enough to hook it to Kakashi's chin so he could gain access to those lips.

Kakashi didn't object, didn't react at all when Iruka pressed his bare lips to his. He seemed frozen in place as if stunned by a paralyzing jutsu.

But the jounin's mouth was soft, the feel not unpleasant at all, and Iruka kissed him again, soft and patient. "Breathe through your nose," he advised, realizing Kakashi was holding his breath. "Makes it easier."

That seemed to jolt the other teen back into action. Iruka heard him inhale, through his nose as he'd been advised, and cautiously, awkwardly, Kakashi mimicked the soft, small kisses Iruka was placing on his lips.

Iruka murmured encouragement. He was clutching Kakashi's shoulders, he realized, and had to stop himself from running his fingers up the back of his neck, through his oddly silver hair. Some instinct told him that sort of touch in a venerable place would be too much, too fast. But Iruka wanted more… wanted to show him more. He opened his mouth slightly to invite him in.

Kakashi did not take advantage, did not seem to know what Iruka was hinting at all, so Iruka boldy took his mouth against his own, showing him instead. He thought he might have heard Kakashi breathe, "… Oh…" And he started to push back.

He's a quick learner, Iruka thought in approval.

He had just thought things were starting to get interesting when Kakashi swiftly withdrew. A rustle of cloth indicated he'd pulled the mask back up. "Twenty seconds left," he muttered, and to Iruka's ears he sounded a little breathless.

Iruka pushed his hitai-ate up again. His eyes, now grown used to the darkness, could easily see Kakashi standing before him, the visible blue eye almost warily.

Iruka sighed, "You don't think they'll give us another seven minutes, do you?" he asked, only half joking.

Some of the tension seemed drain out of Kakashi's long frame. His eye curved up into a smile. "No, but I have a better idea."

Then he suddenly grasped around Iruka, his fingers flying into a seal.

There was a swirl of leaves, a sensation of dropping, and Iruka found himself… standing in a closet again. This time surrounded by a thick forest of brooms and mops and a bucket. There was little space for the two of them, and he was pressed close to Kakashi.

"What…?"

Kakashi smiled again. "I transported us to the closet on the other side of the hall. It should take them awhile to find us."

They'll probably think he dragged me off and killed me, Iruka thought wryly, but he was grinning anyway.

He didn't object when Kakashi pushed his hitai-ate down again, and proceeded to teach him the finer points of Seven Minutes – er—A Half Hour in Heaven.

~ Fin ~