Chapter Text
Iruka's eye twitched, when his youngest son clenched his lips tight for the upteenth time, refusing to take the spoon into his mouth.
"Come on, Yuu-chan," Iruka sighed, asking him pleading voice. The boy wiggled in his seat, shaking his little head. Chuunin put the spoon into the little bowl, slumping his shoulders with resigantion.
"Oh, boy..."
"Mama, look!" Iruka turned his eyes to the other boy, sitting beside his brother. "Taka ate soup!"
His smiled kindly at his son. "You did good, Takashi."
Yuuto slammed his small hand onto the surface of his high chair. "Mama!"
Iruka turned his attention back to the younger boy. "What is it, Yuuto?"
Pouting, the boy waved his hands energetically.
"Tell me what you want, Yuu-chan." Iruka held down the urge to smile at child's puffed cheeks. The boy exhaled a large portion of air, a few bubbles forming in the corner of his mouth.
"Yuu... Yuu... sup!"
"You want to eat soup?" Iruka asked, pretending to be confused.
"Es!" Yuuto exclaimed loudly.
"But you weren't eating soup, Yuu-chan," the chuunin spoke calmly, showing the small bowl to the boy, "it's oatmeal."
"Yuu meal!" Yuuto furrowed strongly and opened his mouth widely. Iruka smiled and fed him a spoon full of his meal.
"That's it, Yuu-chan," he smiled, palcing another spoons in boy's mouth, "good boy."
The lunch was passing in pleasant atmosphere, both boys eating their food portions.
"Taka ate lunch!" Takashi smiled widely, pointing at his empty plate.
"Unch!" Yuuto waved the soon in his hands. Iruka smiled, patting their heads simultaneously.
"You did good, boys," he spoke kindly, "you deserve a praise."
Iruka gently wiped their faces off of the lunch remnants, and took them out of their high chairs. He held Yuuto closely to his chest, took Takashi's hand and slowly moved towards to the living room. The three of them sat on the fluffy carpet, surrounded by a fort made of pillows, playing with each other.
"Dada!" Takashi exclaimed suddenly, looking over Iruka's shoulder, no longer interested in colorful blocks. Iruka rolled his eyes, turning around to face the door's direction. Takashi exclaimed happily, when Kakashi crossed the entrance to the room.
"I'm home." He spoke calmly.
"Welcome home, Kakashi-sensei."
The jounin snorted shortly, walking towards the trio. "I'm pretty sure there are better ways to call your spouse."
"Oh?" Iruka raised his eyebrow, letting his older son take a fist full of his hair into his mouth. "Are there really?"
"How should I know."
Iruka looked into Kakashi's tired eyes, reaching to cup his masked cheek. Kakashi nuzzled into Iruka's touch, observing his son curiously.
"Does my hair taste good?" Iruka laughed, not even bothering to take his hair away from the child.
"It probably tastes like choclate," Kakashi replied with amused voice.
"What kind of nonsense is that," Iruka titled his head, looking at his partner, "how can my hair taste like chocolate."
"It's simple, Iruka sensei," Kakashi brushed Iruka's hair, three pairs of identical brown eyes observing him attentively, "you are my chocolate."