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The grounds of the Hatake compound were large and well-maintained even though Kakashi didn’t live here full time anymore. There were only three buildings inside the compound walls, all traditional single-storey affairs, but behind them was a large lawn edged with trees, and there was a traditional garden at the back, complete with a pond that had once held koi but now was home only to frogs and water lilies. From where they were currently sitting on the lawn, Iruka could make out the shape of the small stone bridge in the dusk and hear the trickle of water, interrupted by the occasional quiet tap of the bamboo fountain.
Kakashi had offered to bring a blanket outside for them to sit on, but Iruka preferred to sit on the grass, which tickled his bare calves. He was wearing a yukata because Kakashi had remarked more than once at the festival last week that he’d looked good in it, and he was conscious now of the way Kakashi’s eyes lingered on him as he gazed around the garden. Paper lanterns hung from the trees or sat suspended in small barriers that floated in the air – one of Iruka’s own seal designs although he hadn’t known what Kakashi wanted them for when he’d asked for them. The sun had set a short while ago, and although the western sky was still pale and the few wispy clouds streaked with fading pink, the orange glow from the lamps was the main source of light in the rapidly darkening evening.
“It’s beautiful,” Iruka said softly. “You didn’t have to do all this just for me.”
Kakashi brushed a hand through Iruka’s loose hair, his fingers ghosting over Iruka’s neck and making his skin tingle.
“All I did was light a few lanterns,” he said.
“And cook a three course meal.”
“I like spoiling you,” Kakashi said, massaging Iruka’s scalp. “Besides, what’s the point of owning a fancy place like this if I don’t use it to impress cute guys?”
Iruka raised an eyebrow. “Cute guys plural, huh?”
“Did I forget to mention the other five guys I’ve been seeing?”
Iruka snorted and punched him lightly on the arm. “You wish you had five other boyfriends.”
Kakashi’s arm dropped to Iruka’s waist and curled around him. “Not really. Where would I find the time? Nah, you’ll have to do.”
“You really know how to flatter a guy.”
“Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen,” Kakashi said in the all-knowing tone of a man who’d read the entire Icha Icha series ten times through, and Iruka laughed.
He hadn’t pegged Kakashi for a romantic when they’d first started dating, almost a whole year ago now, but while Kakashi wasn’t one for big romantic gestures he was very good at the quieter style of romance that Iruka had fallen so hard for. He’d bring small gifts back from missions to other towns – packets of earthy loose tea, a calligraphy brush and small glass bottles of ink – and when Iruka was having a rough week he’d show up in the evening to cook Iruka dinner and massage the tension out of his shoulders. Sometimes Iruka worried he didn’t do enough in return.
Kakashi flicked a hand suddenly at something unseen in the air.
“I wish I could have done something about the mosquitos,” he said. “I hope I’m worth losing a little blood for.”
Iruka heard the whine of a mosquito near his own ear and aimed a stern look in its general direction. It ignored him, and he had to smack it away from his bare arm.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I might be able to do something about them.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Maybe. No promises.” He stood up. “I need something from the house. I’ll be quick.”
“Since you’re going,” Kakashi said, “there’s a bottle of sake in the fridge. Want to bring it out?”
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“On a school night?” Kakashi put a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Iruka. Would I do such a thing?”
Iruka put a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Kakashi grinned and gave Iruka a look that seemed to sizzle through his yukata. “It was worth the hangover.”
It had been, but Iruka wasn’t going to admit that so he turned and headed towards the house and if the low laughter that followed him made him shiver, well, he just wouldn’t admit to that either.
In the house, Iruka collected some chakra paper and a fountain pen from his overnight bag, then grabbed the bottle of sake and two shot glasses and took them back outside. It was true night now, and only the glow of the paper lanterns lit the way back across the lawn. The compound had few neighbours, being so close to the village wall, and it was quiet apart from the chirping of the cicadas. A warm breeze fluttered Iruka’s hair against his throat, and he breathed in the scent of orange blossom and jasmine.
Iruka set the bottle of sake down on the grass then wiped the condensation from his fingers before smoothing out a piece of chakra paper and regarding it thoughtfully.
“Don’t tell me,” Kakashi said, twisting the cap off the sake bottle and pouring them each a glass. “You’re going to catch every mosquito in its own tiny barrier seal.”
“Good guess but no. Though I’m sure it would be very amusing to watch me try.”
He leant down closer to the paper, his hair falling forwards, and then looked up as the light grew brighter. One of the floating lanterns had drifted closer. He flashed a smile of thanks at Kakashi and then drew the first slow stroke on the paper before pausing to consider the next one.
Kakashi watched him as he worked, sipping the sake and letting a comfortable silence hang between them. The pen scratched quietly over the paper as Iruka drew, each stroke beautiful in its precision, here thick and dark, there narrow and light, the pen tilting with practised ease in his hand and gliding without a single smudge across the white paper. When he was done, he tilted his head, unconscious of the gesture, and looked at it appraisingly one last time before giving the ink a few seconds to dry.
“It is a barrier,” Kakashi said. He was still watching, and Iruka knew he could read the basic symbol of the seal if not the nuances.
“It is, but with a modification,” Iruka said. “I haven’t tried this before so let’s see if it works.”
He touched the pad of a finger to the seal and trickled his chakra into it. A barrier curved up around them, and Iruka reached out to touch it. It felt gossamer-thin, and it gave under his fingers but didn’t break. He could still feel the slight breeze against his cheek and couldn’t tell if it was lighter than before.
“There,” he said with satisfaction. “A mosquito net.”
Kakashi also touched the barrier and jerked back when he felt the texture. Then he brushed it again with his fingers, very softly.
“This is different,” he said.
“Yeah, the total opposite of what a barrier is meant to be,” Iruka said. He finally lifted his sake glass and drained it in a mouthful, the cold alcohol hitting the back of his throat, refreshing but with a sting. “A regular barrier would be way too stuffy with the humidity. There’s just not enough air flow. But this should keep out any unwanted bugs without cooking us.”
Kakashi poured him another glass of sake. “I’d never have thought of that.”
“That’s why I’m the seals master and not you.”
Kakashi snorted but didn’t argue. They clinked glasses and drank another shot of sake. Above them the plump globe of the moon was rising, and Iruka settled against Kakashi’s side and tilted his head back against his shoulder to watch a misty cloud drift under it, moon and cloud both a hair’s breadth and a million miles apart. Kakashi wrapped an arm around him, holding him close, and Iruka felt a deep sense of contentment.
“What are you thinking?” Kakashi murmured. His lips, cool from the sake, brushed against Iruka’s jaw.
“Oh, you know, planning my next homework assignment, wondering if peaches will be on sale at the supermarket tomorrow.” He tilted his head to meet Kakashi’s eye and grinned. “Definitely not thinking about you.”
Kakashi laid a hand on his thigh and stroked a finger up under the hem of the yukata. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s because I’m lying.”
This time Kakashi kissed him on the lips, and Iruka slid a hand up over his chest and snaked it round to the back of his neck, playing with the soft hair at the nape. He let Kakashi press him gently down onto the grass, his knee bumping against the damp sake bottle, and the warmth curling inside him had nothing to do with the balmy night air. A breeze flickered the candle flames in the lanterns, and Iruka breathed in the warm, blossom-scented air and tasted sake on Kakashi’s tongue. If there was a more perfect place in the world right now then he would still rather be here.
He whispered what he’d really been thinking into Kakashi’s ear. Kakashi traced Iruka’s cheekbone with the gentlest brush of a finger, gazing down at him as though he’d never seen anything so precious, and if Iruka could only bottle that look he’d keep it somewhere so safe that it would belong to him forever. Beyond the barrier, the song of the cicadas had become a background noise, unheard, and so they didn’t drown out Kakashi’s answer, murmured so softly against Iruka’s lips.
“I love you too.”