Work Text:
Too close, they’re too—
Kakashi was already dropping his bag, reaching unthinkingly for his kunai, his other hand starting to tug up his hitai-ate unbidden, to reveal the eye underneath – he nearly flinched from the shock of it, when the two civilians who had just brushed past him stopped at the market stall and began inspecting the produce and he realized how close he had come to slitting their throats. One of them had touched his shoulder, he realized, gently ushering him out of the way of her elderly companion.
Not the fucking enemy, he tried to force his body to realize. Stand down. He bent to pick up his dropped groceries, even if it was only to avoid standing, stricken, next to his two unwitting near-victims. To catch his breath for a moment as he knelt.
Coming out to the market had been a bad idea. He was still wound too tightly, unused to the crowds after a month of solitude, tracking an S-rank missing-nin through the mountains. His opponent had hit him with a nasty genjutsu as he died, and Kakashi could still feel the lingering tension of it.
But his pantry had been bare when he returned, and somehow the thought of sitting in his empty kitchen eating ration bars in the stale air and thin layer of dust had seemed unbearable.
This had been a mistake, though. Even this early in the morning the market was too crowded, too teeming with life and noise and people, the people he was supposed to protect, yet here he was, standing next to them, and they had nearly been dead by his hand.
[ in your mind’s eye you can see them crumpled to the ground, blood slowly pooling beneath the bodies, everything turning red – their clothes, your hands, the sky, everything red and spinning under the gaze of your sharingan – a vision of what could have been, what almost was, what has been so many times before ]
No, he thought forcefully, not the enemy. And not dead. He was shivering, he noticed absently, despite the heat of the sun.
On another day he might have found it vaguely amusing, that Konoha’s legendary Copy Nin had been frozen by somebody’s grandmother patting him on the arm. Right now, though, all he could think was how close he had come, how easy it would have been. How out of control he was.
Kakashi barely made it into the alley before he yanked down his mask, emptying the meager contents of his stomach with one arm braced heavily on the wall for support as he dry-heaved in the shadows.
His vision narrowed as he took hasty, shallow breaths, and he could feel himself spinning into… Panic, his brain helpfully supplied. This is panicking.
[ leaning against the wall leaves your back open, too easy, they could be behind you at any minute and then what would you do, incapacitated like this, you’re an embarrassment, have to turn around ]
Resting his forehead against the cool brick wall, Kakashi took one last shuddering breath before forcing himself to turn. With his back safely against the wall, he slid to a seat next to his mess.
I should clean that up, he thought absently, knowing he wouldn’t.
“Kakashi-san?” He heard someone call around the corner and cursed under his breath – his hasty retreat from the main street had clearly not been as stealthy as he’d hoped – and with a huff he flipped up onto the nearest roof, hoping his vanishing would be taken for a jounin’s eccentricity rather than the hasty retreat it was.
---
Kakashi found himself at Iruka’s door, although he didn’t exactly remember how or why. His trip across the rooftops had been a blur – he had been too busy fighting down the urge to launch shuriken at anything moving in his field of vision – and he hadn’t paid attention to his path.
I shouldn’t be here, he thought to himself, although his hand had already raised and formed a fist to knock at the door, against his will. He stood, frozen and at war with himself.
[ should have gone home, should have locked yourself up in that cold dusty box until you could breathe normally again, shouldn’t be here, the occasional lunch at Ichiraku’s didn’t mean he had volunteered for this, he could get hurt, he doesn’t need to be dragged into your mess of a life ]
Kakashi didn’t know how long he had stood there, arm raised, when the apartment’s resident finally opened the door. Without his chuunin vest or hitai-ate, Iruka looked casual, comfortable in plain black sweats and a burnt orange sweater.
“Would you like to come in, or are you planning on spending the morning frightening my neighbors?” He didn’t seem startled by Kakashi’s presence, he spoke in the same polite, gentle tone Kakashi had heard used on pre-genin and jounin alike. “I always assumed you would be more the type to break in through my window, somehow,” he said with a wry smile as he stepped back from the door, allowing Kakashi to pass into the apartment.
Kakashi had not been inside before, although he had occasionally walked with Naruto after training to the building. It was a small apartment, unsurprising given Academy salaries, but the warmth of Iruka’s personality had spilled over into the décor and the place felt cozy rather than cramped.
Unlike Kakashi’s own dwelling, a blank grey space that he only ever used to sleep, Iruka’s felt warm, lived in. To the left of the door was a kitchen, its wooden floor scuffed with frequent use. A slightly burnt kettle was steaming on the stove. The fridge was covered with a mix of scribbled children’s drawings, greeting cards, and post-it notes with reminders of groceries to buy and lesson ideas, the last written out in Iruka’s tidy hand.
“Would you like some tea, Kakashi?” If Iruka had been startled by his unexpected visitor, Kakashi couldn’t tell, the teacher wore the same open expression as always, although his eyes seemed darker somehow with concern. After a brief pause Kakashi nodded, suddenly unsure of himself.
While Iruka rummaged for mugs and teabags, Kakashi turned to inspect the rest of the apartment, clenching his fists with the effort of ignoring every instinct telling him never to turn his back on a potential threat.
A large chestnut bookshelf stood at one side of the living room, filled with well-worn paperbacks and an assortment of photographs and other trinkets. He recognized a small snake statue that Anko was fond of giving as a gag gift; it stood as a proud bookend on one of the shelves. A candid photo of Naruto at Ichiraku’s, gesticulating wildly through a story to a fondly laughing Teuchi and Ayame across the counter. Another of Naruto’s first official picture after graduating the academy; his facepaint as ridiculous as Kakashi remembered. As expected, the young blonde was a prevalent presence in the photos cluttering the bookshelf and desk next to it.
But there were others there, too – a much younger Iruka asleep on the Sandaime’s shoulder, three young shinobi that Kakashi could only assume had been Iruka’s genin team, an aged photo of a man and a woman with Iruka’s eyes. He was even surprised to find himself among the faces scattered throughout the room; his picture with Team 7 framed on the teacher’s desk.
The desk itself was small but piled with an assortment of papers and scrolls. A small coffee table in the middle of the room was also stacked with what looked like half-graded essays, lecture notes, and opened textbooks. Next to the coffee table sat a low couch, draped with a knit blanket in a deep red color. One corner of the couch seemed to dip lower than the others – a favorite seat, perhaps?
“Please excuse the mess, as you can see I’m not the most organized when I’m making lesson plans,” Iruka called softly from behind him. This time the flinch was less powerful, and Kakashi was able to stop himself before his traitorous arm reached for the kunai again.
“It’s quite alright, sensei,” Kakashi croaked, voice hoarse with disuse. Before he could say more Iruka was next to him, carrying a small tray with a teapot and two ceramic mugs.
“Please, sit,” Iruka said, setting the tray on top of his notes. He poured tea into each mug, emitting a small, contented sigh upon taking his first sip.
Not poisoned, then, Kakashi thought, watching as Iruka pointedly turned away, intent on studying something on his desk.
Oh, Kakashi realized. He’s letting me drink.
The tea was hot but short of boiling. For once, the it didn’t scald Kakashi’s tongue as he sipped, free of the pressure of having to quickly gulp it down the way he would in public. He tried to pick out some of the spices – cinnamon, he thought, and maybe cardamom too, mixed together with apples – whatever the flavoring, it was autumnal and warm.
As he drank, Kakashi allowed himself to sink into the couch, just a little bit.
He set the mug down on the tray when he had finished, startling Iruka out of whatever he had been reading. “All done?”
“Yes, sensei, thank you.” He felt marginally more human than before, but still on edge, still coiled tight with directionless energy. Yet he couldn’t impose on Iruka any longer. “I should go. I’ve obviously disturbed you in the middle of your work.”
Before Kakashi could finish his sentence Iruka already put his hand up, as if to cut the jounin off, protesting, “no, no, Kakashi, you’ve been no trouble at all.”
Kakashi made to move, but before he could get up Iruka spoke again. “Actually, since you’re here, do you think you could help me with something?”
He knew he should leave, should go back to his apartment and stare at the ceiling until sleep came, but he owed Iruka his help for putting up with him in this state. Besides, Kakashi realized, he didn’t want to leave. Something about this apartment, so well-matched to its owner, was soothing him, gradually silencing his anxious mind. He nodded, and was rewarded with a warm smile from the teacher.
“Excellent,” Iruka said, standing slowly under Kakashi’s intense stare, “I’ve been working on a lesson on stretching, and I’d like to focus on the muscles that would be most tense after a mission. It’s just..” he trailed off, rubbing his scar. “Well, I don’t go out in the field that much these days, so I’m a little unsure…”
Kakashi nodded, following the logic even though he was sure Iruka was still familiar with the aches and pains of a shinobi.
“Maa, sensei, I can help there,” he said, rising from the couch and taking a moment to catalogue the aches and tense spots of his body.
“Let’s see,” Kakashi said, stepping towards Iruka. “Here” – he indicated the place by running his finger across the teacher’s shoulders, “right here” – down his bicep, “here as well” – tracing a line across the top of Iruka’s thigh. He paused. “Also here” – he reached around Iruka’s head and pressed his hand to the back of his neck, where his head met his spine.
Belatedly, he looked down and realized how close he had come to the teacher. Iruka’s face was faintly red.
It would be easy to bring my other hand up and snap someone’s neck from this position, Kakashi mused, then stumbled backwards, repelled by the thought.
[ should have gone home, doesn’t know the danger you’re putting him in, unfair to him ]
“Kakashi,” Iruka started, clapping a hand to the back of his neck as if to replace Kakashi’s, “if I run through some stretches will you tell me if you think they would be effective?”
[ no no no you need to LEAVE, need to get away before you hurt him, you monster ]
Against his better judgement, Kakashi nodded.
---
Running through the stretches had helped, Kakashi reflected. He didn’t feel as aimless with the task to focus him, and some of the lingering tension from the mission had started to fall away. He rarely stretched so thoroughly after a mission, despite the scolding it earned him from every medic he knew.
And Iruka had kept up a steady murmur throughout, a combination of guiding the stretching, asking Kakashi’s opinion, and thoughtful notes to himself on what his students might struggle with.
Afterwards, Iruka had looked over and asked for one more favor – “do you think you could just sit there while I work through my lecture? Sometimes having a person there really helps me think, for some reason, and I’ve been having a hard time with this one.”
Kakashi had nodded, and Iruka had smiled, joking,“there’s not even a quiz at the end of this one. And I promise not to yell if you fall asleep.”
As the teacher had launched into a murmured explanation of why stretching was essential to maintain healthy chakra pathways, Kakashi suddenly felt everything catch up with him; all the exhaustion of the previous month washing over him. But, sinking into unconsciousness, Kakashi could feel the morning’s tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by the scent of cinnamon and a low, steady voice beside him.
And if Kakashi half-woke to a hand running through his hair, well, that was alright. Iruka wouldn’t let him come to any harm.
---
Kakashi drifted back into consciousness slowly, pulled by the smell of coffee brewing. He watched the afternoon sunlight filter in from his place on the couch, under the thick red blanket that was just as warm as it looked.
He thought about the morning again. How carefully Iruka had controlled his body – Kakashi couldn’t remember a single sudden movement. How measured and even he had kept his voice. How he had made sure to let Kakashi see him drink the tea he offered. His lack of reaction even when Kakashi unexpectedly entered his personal space, something that ordinarily would have elicited a scolding or possibly a smack across the back of the head. Had he known…?
Kakashi eyed the lesson plans still spread out across the coffee table suspiciously. The next week’s lessons lay before him: chakra control, then a history lesson followed by target practice and an introduction to clone jutsus. Not a single mention of stretching the whole week. Sneaky, sensei, he thought, nose twitching with amusement.
“Ah,” Iruka murmured sheepishly from the entry to the kitchen, “I meant to tidy up before you woke.”
Even unexpected, Iruka’s voice didn’t startle him; Kakashi didn’t need to fight the urge to strike out. All his frenzied, tightly wound energy from earlier was gone. But he still felt a lingering awkwardness – had still put Iruka in a dangerous situation. He looked the teacher over, assessing him, taking in the taut line of his shoulders, the slight frown.
“Is it always like that?” Iruka asked, concern flitting across his face.
“No,” Kakashi responded. “There was genjutsu involved. It released upon the target’s death but there were… aftereffects.” Clearheaded again, he could see the signs of it throughout the morning – the nagging tension that had been inescapable just hours before, he realized, may have been his own anxieties but they had been amplified by whatever lingering mental trick the missing-nin had played. “Either way, thank you. And please accept my apologies for disturbing your morning.”
Iruka lowered himself on the couch next to where Kakashi sat. “It was no problem, Kakashi,” he said, eyes open and earnest. “You don’t make it as a teacher without learning how to recognize and defuse stress. Although you’re a little harder to read than a pre-genin,” he murmured, humor dancing in his eyes.
Kakashi chuckled. “On the contrary, sensei, I think you read me very well. And you…” he trailed off, suddenly uncertain again. “You helped. Thank you.”
Iruka’s mouth quirked up at that. “Well,” he said suddenly, “consider this an open invitation, then. You’re welcome whenever you’d like.”
Kakashi paused, taken aback by the teacher’s generosity, and it seemed to give Iruka time to take in the offer he had just made to someone who, despite the morning’s events, he really didn’t know that well. His blush deepened, but Iruka remained firm.
“I mean it, Kakashi. Even if the genjutsu was an unusual circumstance, the Hokage has been running all of the jounin ragged lately with the staff shortage. You need to decompress sometimes, and if this is somewhere you can do that then you’re more than welcome. I know what those barracks you all live in look like, and that’s no place to relax,” he said, slipping into the lecturing tone Kakashi was used to hearing at the mission desk.
Iruka was clearly expecting some type of resistance, but Kakashi simply inclined his head. He was unexpectedly relieved that Iruka hadn’t taken back his offer, the thought of being able to come back to this warm, welcoming home was… comforting. It was enough.
As he turned to go, Kakashi raised his hand in a lazy wave, calling over his shoulder, “you know, sensei, I hear stretching is important before certain activities too. Maybe we can work on that lesson sometime as well.” He smiled under his mask at Iruka’s indignant huff, feeling much more himself at getting a rise out of the teacher. As Iruka took in a breath, doubtless to shout at him for real this time, Kakashi quickly formed a hand seal and was gone, leaving a puff of air in his wake.
Next time, he thought, cheerily imagining Iruka’s scowl as he listened to muffled shouting from his position on the teacher’s roof, I’ll have to come in through the window.