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It’s hard, watching them.
Iruka’s feisty, but he’s sweet, too. When they return from ANBU missions, the chūnin’s there, waiting for Kakashi. Day or night, rain or shine, summer heat or winter cold, the sensei’s always waiting, he’s always willing, he’s always accepting. Physical pain seems so little compared to the ache in Tenzo’s chest, the lump in his throat, the sting in his eyes. He stupidly always makes sure Kakashi gets home, because there are times when he hasn’t made it, and Tenzo knows the consequences, having seen them first-hand the next day. He’s not bothered by Iruka’s furious tears – nor Kakashi’s pale-faced shame – but rather the ill discomfort that haunts the two.
They’re suddenly less themselves, less happy, less alive.
It’s as if Kakashi’s delay reminds them he’s going to die one day… far away from Iruka.
So Tenzo always reunites them.
Sometimes Kakashi’s unconscious when Tenzo brings his senpai to Iruka. They both maneuver him into his and Iruka’s bed, where he sinks deep into recovery, silver hair tussled, arms askew.
Iruka easily shows just how sweet he is. Obviously, his little touches mean nothing; he doesn’t mean anything by them. The chūnin is just being nice, letting his hand linger on Tenzo’s ANBU armguard in silent gratitude. They’ve both got dark eyes, but Iruka has a shimmering warmth to his gaze that Tenzo covets, both wanting it for himself and wanting it to be directed at him. They do this dance once, twice, a half-dozen times. Kakashi’s pushing himself hard: he’s trying to keep the other ANBU alive, he’s striving to save every shinobi, he’s fighting for Tenzo, too.
Kakashi’s asleep, the healing jutsu repairing burns, as Iruka guides Tenzo into the living room. He’s so gentle, it’s antithetical to ANBU, he would die so messily so quickly. But his body is well-defined, his muscles refined, and Tenzo has no difficulty imagining the chūnin naked.
He wonders if they switch roles.
If Iruka fucks Kakashi.
Rarely. Sometimes. All the time.
Or is it Kakashi slowly thrusting, shallowly, smiling, as Iruka reels in bliss and begs for more?
Iruka’s hand is on his armguard again, and he means nothing by it, just like always. Tenzo’s waiting for his dismissal, which is something he does when Kakashi passes out like this. Although Iruka is not the next-in-line in terms of ANBU hierarchy, he certainly seems like it. The sickly-sweet attitude is deceptive: Iruka has made Kakashi cry and bleed and run home.
Not once. No. Several times.
Tenzo doesn’t realize he’s staring into Iruka’s eyes until the other nin scratches at his facial scar. It’s a bit alarming: only then does Tenzo realize that he’s exhausted and completely spaced out. Clearly he makes an odd expression because Iruka suddenly scrutinizes him so intensely that it rightfully triggers shinobi training and Tenzo is half out the door, one sandal stepping outside.
But Iruka’s hand is clenching Tenzo’s forearm with the severity of a decently-ranked shinobi.
Looking back at him, the alarm rises up through Tenzo’s nerves into his bewildered brain.
“Stay the night,” Iruka offers, forcibly keeping eye contact.
Before he can shake his head no, the chūnin is drawing him back inside and closing the door. The motions are far too familiar: this is how Iruka manhandles Kakashi when senpai is tired. Considering Kakashi himself has not and cannot disobey Iruka, the only option is surrender, and so Tenzo relinquishes his rank and instruction and soundlessly submits to the sensei.
He feels like he’s watching from a thousand miles away as Iruka removes his ANBU attire. Blood stains – even wet ones – don’t bother the chūnin. Neither do open wounds or scars.
Instead Iruka’s pulling Tenzo into the bathroom and cleaning his sore, bruised body.
They find a cut from a kunai on the back of Tenzo’s knee. Without saying anything, Iruka heals the injury. Even though he’s not a medic-nin, and his healing jutsu skills are rudimentary, Iruka pours his soul along with the chakra. Unexpected heat fills Tenzo as the blood is washed away and the sliced skin stitches back together. He’s been wounded at Kakashi and Iruka’s apartment before, but no one ever proposed healing him… maybe because he’s always quick to leave.
Iruka offers Kakashi’s clothing… a set of pajamas.
Tenzo doesn’t want to accept them. He’s accepting too much. He starts to say as much.
Sweetness does not describe the scolding insistence heavy in Iruka’s gaze. Consequentially Tenzo finds himself nodding and dressing in the couple’s bedroom, and then he’s just standing there, waiting for something, anything at all.
He doesn’t understand at first when Iruka pulls him closer to the bed, where Kakashi is curled off on one side with his cloth mask slipped down his nose. They’re all suddenly very close to each other, even if Kakashi is absolutely asleep, their high-ranked mission all murder and mayhem.
The ache – it’s back.
Tenzo starts to say, no, I need to go.
Staring intently at him, Iruka interrupts him, sharp as shuriken: “We already talked about it. You should stay after missions. We don’t want you to be alone.”
Tenzo is looking at Kakashi, willing the man to wake up.
Yet it’s Iruka who comforts him, placing a calloused hand on Tenzo’s forearm and gazing up into his eyes like the affection inside is meant just for him. His voice is lowered as he pleads, hope turning his tenor brittle, “Stay with us. We’ll treat you well.”
Somehow… somehow it’s the right thing to say.
The bed isn’t made for three people, but Tenzo’s in the middle, Iruka’s resting his face on Tenzo’s shoulder, and the two of them press together, if only because of the limited space, but…
But it’s Kakashi who solidifies the scene. He stirs, stretches slightly, and scans the bedroom, finally catching single-sight of Tenzo beside him. The silver eyebrow hikes upwards, and, under the mask, the line of Kakashi’s lips raise into a smile. His arm moves under the sheets, then encircles Tenzo’s waist, and Kakashi softly nuzzles into Tenzo’s other shoulder, and…
Suddenly it’s not so hard, watching them.
He likes watching them… Kakashi and Iruka… as they sleep curled up against him.
His heart feels full.