Chapter Text
The last thing he had expected to hear at the bar was how Umino Iruka had had a favorite ANBU, and it had been Hound.
Standing at the memorial stone, Kakashi stared at the names he had long since memorized the places of, the etchings worn down by time, and he hesitated. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. How was he supposed to explain this, tell them he had a date, tell them he was –
How did someone living explain moving on to the dead?
“Sensei,” he started, his hands wringing together. “He’s a great guy. He’s the one I was telling you about, the one I wrote those mission reports for. The…” he hesitated again, dropping his gaze to the ground. “The bad ones. I know Kushina-san would have yelled about them, but it seemed like the only way to get his attention. Apparently, I caught it years ago. You might have met him, actually. Possibly. He’d have been younger, then,” he sighed. “About twelve when you died.”
Kakashi stared at the ground for a moment longer, then dared to look up, as if he might find his teacher staring at him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
‘Do you think I’m surprised?’ he could almost hear it in the man’s voice, echoing in his head. ‘You had me and Kushina as a blueprint to follow. Finding someone strong-willed like her shouldn’t be a surprise, Kakashi.’ His teacher would have followed the words with a pat to his shoulder and a laugh, he knew he would have.
With a deep breath, Kakashi nodded.
‘Kakashi,’ a voice that sounded like Kushina’s sighed, a ghostly imitation of her hand on his shoulder nudging at him. ‘Don’t be late. Not for this.’
He glanced at the other names, his hands curling up. Even in his head, even when he knew it wasn’t real, he couldn’t bring himself to try and speak to them. Not after everything that had happened. Not after what had happened, after what he had done. Rin and Obito stayed silent in his head, judging and staring, and that was what took up the most time on the days he could afford it. After he had been forced to retire from ANBU, he had spent his free time staring at their names, wondering if there was anything he could do to even begin to make it right.
He could try, however. He had time.
“Obito…” Kakashi started, the name feeling clumsy on his tongue. “I’m sorry.” It was a pittance, a grain of sand in the face of everything that had happened, but it felt like a start. “Rin, I’m so sorry.”
Their names were rusted, old and broken, unspoken for years outside of his head.
But it was like pulling off a bandage. Sometimes you had to bleed to heal. Kakashi bowed his head, lapsing into silence, before he looked at the sky. “I have to go,” he murmured to the stone. “I cannot be late for this.” He closed his eye for a moment, took a deep breath, then walked away.
Umino Iruka’s apartment was small enough to be comfortable, he knew now, but not small enough to be cramped and claustrophobic. He’d been allowed inside, allowed to see the man with his hair down and his cheeks flushed from drinking. Iruka had turned away when Kakashi had pulled his mask down, and he hadn’t peeked even once. His favorite ANBU had been Hound, as Kakashi had found out so abruptly at the bar, and he’d focused his pranks on him for that reason.
They had been circling around each other for years.
It made their early animosity almost funny, actually. Without knowing it, Iruka had gone from Hound being his favorite to almost hating Kakashi for a while.
Kakashi found himself in front of the apartment, suddenly, his feet having carried him there. As if, now that he had permission and knew where to go, his body would always find the way. When he knocked, Iruka opened the door in less than a minute, smiling when he saw Kakashi. Excited, Kakashi’s mind filled in. He seemed excited that Kakashi was there. It hadn’t just been a poor decision made by a drunken man.
“I figured we could go to Ichiraku.” Iruka stepped outside, standing next to Kakashi. He was warm, not just in temperature but in presence. “If that’s okay.”
That was part of why Kakashi had tried to get his attention.
“It’s okay,” Kakashi answered, remembering that he had to speak. “I like Ichiraku.” He stayed at Iruka’s side as they walked, kept in time with him, and made himself purposefully not match his breathing. That would have been a step too far, a touch too much, and he wanted Iruka to like this. To like him.
He had liked Hound. He had seen some of Kakashi’s worst behaviors and oddest times, and he had still liked him.
Back when Kakashi had been a by-the-book rule follower and had never strayed from that path. What if he had only liked Hound because of that? What if he didn’t like Kakashi now because he was so different? What if—
“Hatake-san,” Iruka stopped, turning to him. He had put them into an alley, blocking Kakashi from view. “I can tell when someone is panicking. A useful skill with my students, one I had not thought I would have to use with you.” He tilted his head, studying as much of Kakashi’s face as he could see. “Is everything alright?”
“Did you only like Hound because he followed the rules?”
Iruka paused, his face going blank, before his expression crinkled into a smile and he laughed so hard he snorted. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
“…Yes.”
“I liked Hound because he gave as good as he got.” Iruka’s grin was sharp at the edges. “He was solid in his beliefs, and he refused to back down. He saw it as a game of sorts, it seemed, rather than as an attack as some of the other ANBU did. He never once dragged me before the Hokage and demanded I be punished for my pranks.” His expression softened. “And…And it seemed as if he understood what it was like to be lonely, too.”
Kakashi stared at him, his cheeks heating up. “…He did see it as a game,” he confirmed. “A strategy game. One in which he needed to understand what you were doing if he wanted to avoid your next trap.”
“He only managed that a few times,” Iruka’s grin sharpened again, just for a second.
“He did,” Kakashi chuckled. “But he enjoyed the planning.”
They had been two lonely children, both trying to adjust to empty spaces in their worlds. Children who were no longer children, not allowed to be children, who had just wanted someone to see them and the way they needed someone. They had found each other in some way, and Kakashi felt relief washing away his panic.
He had always just captured Iruka and made him clean up the aftermath of his pranks.
Dragging him in front of the Hokage had felt like an overreaction to some paint on a statue or some feathers and stickiness. Iruka never permanently damaged anything or anyone, just their pride. If he had an ANBU off-guard and trapped, they deserved it for getting caught.
“New plan,” Iruka murmured. “We’re going to get groceries and go back to my apartment. I can’t cook much, but I know I can at least make dinner for us.”
“Ah, Umino-san, I—”
“When someone panics like you were, it’s best not to shove them in front of a crowd.” Iruka shook his head, his eyes bright. His smile was soft. “And I don’t imagine you would like to feel like you’re being watched. I can manage some rice and vegetables and maybe some curry, if that’s okay?”
“I like eggplant,” Kakashi offered after a minute, his cheeks burning.
Iruka nodded. “I can cook eggplant.” He took a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s go get groceries for dinner.”
Kakashi followed along, his heart pounding in his chest for reasons other than the panic attack he’d been brewing.
Umino Iruka was, in fact, his favorite.
It might be a little bit of a problem.
Less of one now that Iruka knew he wanted to be with him, honestly.
If he needed help with cooking dinner, Kakashi could provide it. If he wanted conversation while cooking, Kakashi would speak and make himself sound like a normal person. He would do just about anything for Iruka, he decided, because Iruka made him want to. Perhaps a little early- only their first date- but he did not care.
Besotted, Kakashi followed along.