DISCLAIMER: I do not own or claim to own any of Masashi Kishimoto's characters or settings. I don't make a profit writing this, and no harm was intended.

A/N: And here it is, the final chapter! Again, there was some smexy times in here that I edited down to a more suitable M rating. Thank you all so, so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it!

If Iruka had imagined himself to be unburdened by his confession, then he was a complete idiot.

The problem came when he ran into Kakashi in the most mundane of places - the market, Ichiraku's, the bookstore. His heart would flop like a dying fish in its last throes while his skin seemed to shrink two sizes too small, and often he would be forced to flee like a five-year-old girl in the face of her latest crush. It was beyond ridiculous.

Still, after playing this game of "run from the man you're in love with" for weeks on end, Iruka was never prepared for the times when he saw Kakashi in the mission room. He really couldn't run out on his job, now could he?

So he found himself one afternoon passing out missions and gathering reports while feeling more than a little flustered. His fingers seemed to be made of butter, the scrolls falling from his grasp and reports never making it into his outstretched hand. It was like he had started all over again, and this was his first day on the job.

And there - not helping matters in the slightest - was Kakashi, leaning against the wall, watching Iruka with an expression as decipherable as the face of a stone.

Iruka felt miserable. His cheeks were on fire, and his stomach burbled treacherously. His chest felt so tight he could barely breathe, his emotions like a vice that squeezed his insides. And still Kakashi stared, dark eyes intent. Iruka was barely aware when the next shinobi stepped up for his report.

It was clichéd, Iruka told himself. It was ridiculous to want something just because you'd lost it, to chase after what you'd sent away because someone else showed an interest. And yet, and yet, and yet...

"Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka tore his gaze away from Kakashi, looking up into Kurenai's confused face. "I apologize, Kurenai-san."

A flicker of movement had Iruka glancing back to the corner of the room. He sat up straighter, heart like a jackhammer as Kakashi pushed off the wall, folding his book to tuck it into his pocket as he moved toward the mission desk. His skin felt hot, his gaze locked on Kakashi's as he moved. But when Kakashi reached the desk, he brushed past the ninja standing in Iruka's line, sauntering into the hallway without looking back.

Maybe it was the sway of Kakashi's hips, or the way he held himself, broad shoulders straight instead of their usual slouch. Whatever the reason, Iruka pushed out of his seat, a mumbled excuse thrown in Kurenai's direction as he walked after Kakashi.

The corridor was dark, and eerily quiet save for the sounds of Iruka's sandals against the floor. His blood thrumming in his veins, Iruka moved through the corridor, peeking into open doors to search for Kakashi. He pivoted on his heel, giving up and heading back to the desk when fingers caught his wrist.

"In here, sensei."

Iruka let himself be dragged into an office, too frantic to touch Kakashi to argue. He nearly leapt into Kakashi's arms, fingers yanking at the mask so he could suck and bite at the other man's lips.

Kakashi's nails scraped over Iruka's back, his teeth coming down to nibble at the hollow of Iruka's neck. Impatiently, he shoved at Iruka's flak jacket, barely waiting for the heavy thump of it against the floor before pulling Iruka's shirt over his head.

His hands spread over Iruka's chest, fingertips skating over a shuddering ribcage, a pebbled nipple, pausing to cradle the sides of Iruka's neck.

"I love you," Kakashi whispered, mismatched eyes so focused on Iruka's face that he had to look away.

He felt the wetness of Kakashi's tongue against his his skin, skating over the rope of tendon in his neck.

"Yes," he choked out, his head falling back as fingertips twirled in his hair, tugging gently.

With his free hand, Kakashi reached for Iruka's trousers, fingers wrapping around the waistband. Iruka scooted off the table, lifting his hips to help Kakashi as he dragged the fabric down to Iruka's ankles, waiting through the struggle of kicking them off.

Iruka reached for him, desperate to bury his nose in the skin of Kakashi's neck, to scrape his mark along the pale ridges of his spine.

"Please," he whispered, his back arching when Kakashi reached beneath him. "Please, Kakashi, please."

Kakashi groaned, his eyes dark, the lightest stain of a blush on his pale cheeks. "Anything you say, sensei."

"What about Yamato?" Iruka asked the next morning, knuckling his eye sleepily.

"Tenzo?" Kakashi laughed from behind him, a little yip of a sound that made Iruka grin like a dork. Affectionately, Kakashi reached out, wrapping a curl of Iruka's dark hair around a long, slender finger. "Tenzo and I are just friends. He's a great shinobi, and I respect him a lot, but that's really all."

"Oh." The answer made Iruka feel ridiculous - of course they were only friends. There had never been any reason to think otherwise. He pressed his face against Kakashi's neck to hide his embarrassment.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're sexy when you're jealous?"

"No," Iruka said, sitting back. He narrowed his eyes at Kakashi. "I might be cute when I'm mildly jealous, but believe me, Kakashi-san: I'm lethal when I'm pissed off."

Kakashi laughed again, loud and carefree, and Iruka towed his face down to kiss his smiling lips, thinking to himself that he could never get enough of that sound.

Maybe giving in wasn't such a terrible thing.

TWENTY EIGHT

Iruka stood over his parents' graves, the flowers he held in his hands trembling in the afternoon breeze. From somewhere behind him, someone was humming, a tuneless song that came and went with the wind.

It had been three years since his last visit, and though he hadn't made the trek to the memorial stone, Iruka had spent many nights whispering little prayers to his mother and father. He'd unpacked a few of their pictures, ignoring Kakashi's jibes about "cute little Himitsu." But today, he had felt the pull of the graveyard more than ever before, his heart full of nostalgia and the aching need to talk to his parents.

Bending down, he separated the peonies he clutched tightly in his fist, placing half of them on his mother's stone and the other half on his father's. Squaring his shoulders, he took a shaky breath.

"I met someone," he whispered to the ground, imagining that somehow the earth could soak up his voice. "He's...an absolute idiot - certainly not someone you'd have chosen for me, Mama. But he's also kind and smart, and he makes me laugh so much...I love him."

Even now, after having said the word more than once to Kakashi himself, it sounded bizarre to his own ears. But then, that was the horror of love - reducing a man to an idiotic mess of proclamations.

"I know you both would have liked him," Iruka went on, emotion lumping in his throat. "Papa, he's a warrior, the strongest ninja I've ever met. He's honorable, too."

Iruka paused, his mind casting back to the night before.

He pictured the papers Kakashi had handed him, his hand trembling lightly as Iruka looked them over, the words "domestic" and "partnership" dancing in front of his eyes like something out of a dream.

"I can't promise you I'll be here forever," Kakashi had said earnestly, "but I can promise you that if I'm not here, it will be because I'm no longer alive."

"I think," Iruka said to his parents, feeling his cheeks flush, "I think I'm going to keep him. And Papa," he added, his voice cracking, "I think I finally understand you."

He thought of Naruto, the strange little jinchuuriki who had somehow battled his way into Iruka's affections despite his hesitancies. He thought of how angry he'd been when Kakashi had gone against him, nominating Naruto for the chuunin exams, even when Iruka contested him publicly.

"Iruka," Kakashi had whispered to Iruka's back that evening as they lay in bed. "Do you remember what you said to me? About being unable to fight against the kyuubi? Don't you think Naruto should be given the opportunity you were denied?"

He'd broken down then, wishing more than anything that he could see his own father and apologize for letting his anger get the best of him, for not seeing that it had been love that drove his father's decision.

"I'm sorry that I didn't understand you then," he said to the earth, bowing deeply. Then, he straightened, brushing off his pants. "I just wanted you both to know that I'm happy, and to thank you for protecting me."

Swiping at his eyes, Iruka glanced back at the headstones one last time before traipsing down the hill to where Kakashi waited for him, his hand outstretched.