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Chapter Text

“How nice of Suzume-san to invite us to her wedding,” Kakashi said, reclining against his seat with a contented look. The afternoon was mild and pleasant, the breeze soft and scented with sakura tree blossoms, and Suzume looked radiant in her cream-white gown.

Iruka gave Kakashi a narrowed look. “She didn’t invite you.”

“Ah, but you invited me to come with you,” Kakashi said. “And isn’t that the same in the end?”

It wasn’t, but Iruka wasn’t going to point it out.

It had been ballsy enough of Suzume not to invite Kakashi to her wedding—they were acquainted, however casually, and he was the Rokudaime, so there was an expectation that a chair would be saved for him at the event. But Suzume had ignored that, just as she was now ignoring the table where Iruka and Kakashi were seated. Iruka couldn’t blame her: Kakashi was dressed in a strange mix of his old uniform and the Hokage attire. Luckily, the hat was missing.

Iruka sipped his champagne, his eyes taking in the pockets of people scattered about the tables. Most of them were civilians and people from the Academy. Suzume didn’t mingle with frontline ninjas much—she had no reason to—and so her connections reflected that. Iruka and Kakashi technically shared their table with some of Suzume and Iruka’s coworkers, but they had all gravitated to other places after finishing their meals.

“How about another round of my Wedding Guessing Game?” Kakashi asked.

“You have the weirdest hobbies,” Iruka muttered into his flute.

“Come on, sensei.” Kakashi nudged him. “It’s fun.”

“I don’t see the point of trying to guess who’ll propose next,” Iruka said. “We don’t even know most people here.”

“We can still make educated guesses,” Kakashi said, eyes sweeping over the room. He pointed at a woman a few tables down. “For example, the lovely lady in the purple gown—judging from how she’s looking at the equally lovely lady in the blue suit sitting to her right, I’d say there are high chances that she’ll propose in a month or two.”

“You can’t know that from just a look!” Iruka said, brow furrowed.

“True enough,” Kakashi acquiesced, then glanced at Iruka, the corner of his eyes crinkling up the way they always did whenever Kakashi smirked under his mask. “However, I happen to have overheard her talking to the caterer and asking for their contact information.”

“Caterers don’t just cater food at weddings,” Iruka said.

“Except”—Kakashi raised a finger—“she asked about their wedding-catering services.”

“Maybe a friend is getting married,” Iruka countered. “Maybe she wants free cake samples.”

“Maybe she wants to get married to the lovely lady in the blue suit.”

Iruka rubbed the bridge of his nose, then looked at Kakashi. “What’ll get you to stop?”

Kakashi’s eye-crinkle increased. The bastard was grinning. “A proposal.”

“Fine.” Iruka grabbed the champagne cork on their table, removed the wire cage, and then discarded the small cap and crumpled the structure into what honestly looked like a wonky bracelet that would have trouble fitting a newborn’s wrist. He offered it to Kakashi. “Will you marry me?”

Kakashi stared at it, then at Iruka. He looked utterly gobsmacked.

It was Iruka’s turn to grin. He tossed the impromptu ring at Kakashi, who caught it effortlessly, gobsmacked and all. “There’s your proposal. Now go get me another drink.”

Chapter Text

Iruka had been avoiding Kakashi for about a week when the I&R Centre blew up. The decision to avoid the Rokudaime had been an entirely conscious one on Iruka’s part, and it stemmed from the fact that things had become awkward between them after Suzume’s wedding.

In his defence, he hadn’t expected Kakashi to take his proposal seriously. And yet, Kakashi had, and he had rambled about duty and dangers for about a minute before Iruka told him he had been joking, at which point Kakashi had proceeded to look like Iruka had banned the Icha Icha books or done something equally heinous. Kakashi’s reactions, when separate, had been confusing enough, but the blubbering and the pouting, when compounded, left Iruka reeling with questions he was too afraid to ask.

So, Iruka had been avoiding Kakashi, and then the brand-new I&R Centre building had blown up—or rather had been blown up by some missing-nin. Iruka wasn’t privy to the particulars since he had been on duty at the time filing mission reports when half a room had collapsed on him. Thus, he had spent the last two days in a light medically-induced coma while Shizune fixed him up.

When he woke up, Kakashi was sitting on his left.

“Iruka,” Kakashi said, leaning forward in his chair. It creaked when he moved, the stiff sort of sound made by a chair that has been uninterruptedly bearing a weight for a prolonged amount of time. “How are you? I’m calling Shizune.”

Iruka tried to say he was all right and there was no need to bother the medical personnel, but his attempt at speaking came out as a shapeless rasp. He watched Kakashi press the call button instead, then gave a slow blink in thanks when the man gently lifted his head and held a glass of water to his lips.

“You scared us,” Kakashi said, his hand deathly-cold against the nape of Iruka’s neck.

“Sorry,” Iruka croaked. “How’s everyone else?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kakashi said, brushing Iruka’s hair out of his face. “And fine, more or less. No fatal casualties, at least.” He dragged his chair closer and sat back down, then crossed his arms onto the bed, careful not to upset the IV line hooked to the crook of Iruka’s elbow. “We caught the missing-nin responsible.”

Before Iruka could comment on that, Shizune entered the room and spent the next ten minutes making sure everything was as it should with Iruka’s healing process. Once she was satisfied, she left after making sure Iruka drank what was left of his water.

The moment the door slid closed behind her, Kakashi turned to Iruka and asked, in a rhetorical tone, “So, why am I here?”

Iruka stared at him, caught wrong-footed. “Because you’re checking up on me?”

Kakashi gave Iruka a pointed look. “Right. I guess I should actually ask you how I’m here.”

Iruka frowned. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Here’s a hint for you: I can’t just waltz into people’s hospital rooms at random,” Kakashi said.

Iruka’s face betrayed him by blushing furiously. “Well, I mean, you’re the Hokage.”

“Iruka,” Kakashi said, his gaze soft in a way that made Iruka want to hide under the covers. “You can’t propose, then say you were joking, and then you almost die and I find out I’m your next-of-kin. How did you even get the paperwork done? I don’t remember signing anything.”

Iruka averted his eyes. “I slipped the form into your paperwork pile one time I stood in for Shizune as your aide,” he confessed. “You don’t really read the things you stamp—which is a huge security risk, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m not getting lectured on that by the man who exploited said security risk,” Kakashi said cheerily, then gently placed a hand over Iruka’s arm, right below the place where the IV was taped in place. He dragged his fingertips over the skin, feather-light, his eyes tracing his own hand’s movements. When he spoke again, the flippance in his tone was gone, leaving tenderness in its wake, “I’m glad you did it.”

Iruka was glad, too.

Chapter Text

The Hokage office was quiet except for the sound of paper getting stamped and pages being flipped. Kakashi was at his desk, skimming over documents before smacking them with the Hokage seal and adding them to the pile of completed paperwork. Iruka was sitting across the desk in a chair Shizune had brought in for him. It had been a bit embarrassing, realising people simply assumed that he would stay in the office long enough to need his own seat, but Iruka wasn’t complaining—he had not only stayed longer than strictly necessary, but he hadn’t even had a good reason to see the Hokage to begin with.

He hadn’t wanted to see the Hokage anyway. He had wanted to see Kakashi.

They were now keeping each other company as they worked, Iruka grading papers and Kakashi inwardly cursing all things political as he valiantly slogged through the ever-increasing piles of papers on and surrounding his desk. It was peaceful, and Iruka fell into an easy rhythm with no effort.

He had thought it might be awkward at first, considering they were still exploring what was between them, but things were going well so far. It was silly, but it made Iruka glad.

“Naruto’s spelling is terrible,” Kakashi muttered, squinting down at a mission scroll.

“You’re supposed to be checking the other pile,” Iruka said.

“I can only take so much politics at once,” Kakashi replied, then stifled a snort and pushed the mission scroll closer to Iruka. “Iruka, look—he spelt ‘seal’ with two Es.”

“Kakashi, I can’t read that,” Iruka said, and mentally patted himself on the back for not blushing. It still felt a bit strange, not using honorifics with each other, but it was certainly nice. “It’s an S-rank.”

Rather than pressing, Kakashi took the scroll back with a disappointed grumble. “I should just give you clearance. All his missions are S-rank these days. At this rate, we’ll never be able to laugh at his spelling together, and I would very much like to do that. It’s a simple pleasure.”

Iruka made a small sound of agreement, but he couldn’t quite keep himself from frowning. It was true that Naruto’s missions had all been high-risk for some time now. On the one hand, Iruka was glad the boy was finally acknowledged by the village, but on the other, he couldn’t help worrying about him. S-rank missions were graded as such for a reason.

“What’s wrong?” Kakashi asked.

Iruka snapped himself out of it and smiled. “Oh, nothing, just thinking.”

“About?”

Iruka’s smile wavered, but he decided to tell Kakashi—the man may be an elite ninja and Konoha’s Rokudaime, but he wouldn’t think less of Iruka just because of his fretting tendencies. What was more, Kakashi was well-aware of them already. “I’m worried about Naruto. He’s been taking nothing but S-ranks lately, and I know he’s got the talent for them even if he’s still technically a genin, but…”

He trailed off, fiddling with the corner of a student’s paper before looking back up. Kakashi was nodding, his expression nothing but sympathetic. “I know what you mean. I’m concerned, too. Been thinking he might burn out if he keeps going like this, so I gave him a boring diplomatic mission in Suna so he can hang out with Gaara and relax for a few weeks.”

Iruka stared at him. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Kakashi said, his tone casual.

It was no secret that Kakashi made Iruka feel warm. Right now, he felt as though the corners of his soul were melting. He smiled, soft and true this time around. “Thank you.”

Kakashi blushed and rolled the scroll back up. “You’re very welcome, sensei.”

Chapter Text

When Iruka and Kakashi began staying over at each other’s places, Iruka had assumed, perhaps a bit presumptuously, that Kakashi would be the one having nightmares, and Iruka would be the one doing the comforting. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption—due to his profession, Iruka hadn’t seen much action as a ninja, so nightmares weren’t a recurring thing with him. Such mental peace hadn’t been achieved easily, and it wasn’t watertight, but it rarely deserted him. Kakashi, however, had lived through enough trauma that it was a miracle the man could sleep at all.

So, it came as a surprise when it was Iruka who woke up from a strange dream where shadows were chasing him—demon claws and fuma shuriken and pale snakes as he fled through rubble and fire and colossal paws—by way of a pillow gently landing on his face.

“Blugh,” he said, then pulled it off and squinted around.

The bedroom Kakashi called his own now that he lived in the Hokage Residence was about as large as Iruka’s flat. The difference in scale meant it took Iruka a moment to notice that Kakashi was standing all the way over in the bedroom doorway. He looked sleep-tousled but sharp-eyed.

Iruka thought about the nightmare—the chaos, the cacophony—and then about how cool and quiet Kakashi’s room was in comparison. There were no shadows here, no echoes or wounds or blood, only the moonlight streaming in and bathing Kakashi in a pale glow. His presence, solid and real and giving, measured up against the gaping absences in Iruka’s dreams that took and then left him, was enough to slow Iruka’s heartbeat back down. Kakashi gave shape to what was formless, grounding Iruka in the present and reminding him of all the hard lessons he had had to learn in order to get where he was. It should have been raw, but it was only soothing.

“Hey, you,” Kakashi said.

“Hey,” Iruka said, rubbing an eye. Then, after a pause, “I, um—I was dreaming.”

Kakashi hummed, shifting his weight ever-so-slightly, and Iruka understood it for the question it was. He patted the empty space next to him, and Kakashi left the doorway to join him in bed. The large wooden frame barely creaked with the preciseness of his movements as he laid down, and Iruka frowned.

“You don’t have to be so careful,” he said, rolling onto his side to mirror Kakashi’s position.

Kakashi hummed again, reaching out with a pinky and lightly touching the back of Iruka’s hand. The contact was almost too much, the ticklish sensation of the gentle brush sending a jolt up Iruka’s arm. His hand twitched, but he didn’t move away; instead, he clutched at Kakashi’s fingers when the slim hand began to retreat.

“No,” Iruka said. “Stay.”

“All right, sensei,” Kakashi murmured.

Chapter Text

The last weekend before summer began, Kakashi suggested that they spend it at the Hatake Compound. Iruka hid his surprise at the suggestion, instead agreeing with a smile and helping pack for their short holiday. He wasn’t even sure in what state they would find the ancient home, but he kept his reservations to himself.

It was still early in the morning when they got there, hand-in-hand and with a medium-sized scroll slung over each of their backs. A quick glance around made Iruka realise that Kakashi had kept the place warded and sealed, so it was mostly just a little bit dusty and stuffy. Opening all sliding doors and letting the late-spring air waft through the rooms while they did a little sweeping and dusting largely took care of it.

A little past their usual lunchtime, they were settled in the engawa overlooking the main courtyard, sipping chilled sake and chatting about nothing in particular. The Hatake Compound boasted a smaller house than other clans, but Iruka thought of it as cosy rather than cramped. It felt like a place where one could lean into a lover’s side and cuddle as the overgrown grass swayed with the breeze.

Which was exactly what Iruka did. Kakashi made a pleased little sound at the increased proximity, looping an arm around Iruka’s waist as he bussed Iruka’s cheek, lips wet and cold from the sake.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Iruka said.

“Don’t mention it, sensei.” Kakashi pressed a kiss to Iruka’s temple. “Thanks for coming.”

It was perhaps a bit odd of them to thank each other for something that should’ve been a given after a few months of dating, but Iruka wasn’t about to take anything for granted, and apparently neither was Kakashi. Iruka suspected that this mixture of care and gratitude was what made their relationship not only work but also thrive—it wasn’t just about whatever chemistry existed between them.

They stayed in the engawa for a while, basking in the sunlight, trading soft looks and touches as they conversed until the sake grew too hot for such a warm day. They retreated inside, carrying their sake dishes and the half-full bottle. Once they were done putting everything away, Kakashi tugged at the hem of Iruka’s shirt.

“Iruka,” he said, voice pitched low. “Come with me for a second.”

Iruka followed Kakashi down a corridor and into a room that looked like it might have been an office at some point. There were cabinets and bookcases built into the walls, old wards against prying eyes carved into their surfaces. Iruka ghosted a hand over one of the symbols—it was exquisite in its intricacy, and he couldn’t help wondering if one of Kakashi’s ancestors had engraved it or if they had commissioned a fūinjutsu master to design and apply it. Either way, Iruka was impressed.

“That one’s cool,” Kakashi said, hooking his chin over Iruka’s shoulder. “But I’ve got a cooler one over here.”

Iruka let himself be guided to a tatami mat in a corner of the room. Kakashi knelt down and gestured for Iruka to do the same, then flicked his hands through a series of seals. Once he finished, he pressed both hands to it and, after a quiet hum of chakra settling, moved the mat aside. This exposed a floor panel that Kakashi also unlocked, this time going through a different series of hand signs, and then pulled open to reveal a secret compartment. A scroll sat inside, large enough to fit snugly in a vertical position and tall enough that Iruka suspected it would probably reach his neck when lifted out.

As though reading Iruka’s thoughts, Kakashi said, “Some help? It’s almost as tall as you.”

Between the two of them, they had the scroll out and lying on the floor after a minute of careful maneuvering. It wasn’t just big—it was also very heavy, no doubt in part due to the added weight of all the chakra signatures Iruka could sense bound to the paper.

“What’s this?” he asked, eyes darting over it.

There were no telltale signs, no hints as to what kind of scroll it might be.

“Summons contract,” Kakashi explained, tone hushed, almost reverent. “It’s been in my clan for generations. From time out of mind, beasts and humans alike have been invited by the pack’s alpha to add their chakra signatures to it. Doing so makes you an official part of the pack.”

Kakashi didn’t say ‘part of the family,’ but he didn’t have to.

“Who’s the pack’s alpha now?” Iruka asked, pretending it wasn’t obvious.

Kakashi gave him a small smile. “Me.”

Iruka smiled back. “And if you wanted to add someone to the contract, would you need your ninken’s approval?”

“Not really, but it’s polite to ask,” Kakashi said, then bit his thumb. A drop of blood welled up, and he let it drip onto the blank round surface holding the scroll’s ornate latch closed. It fizzled and a complex seal became visible. “And I already asked. Pakkun says they all like you very much.”

The scroll unfurled, and Kakashi caught it before it went rolling out of the room. There were no recognisable signatures at first glance—only the bloody imprints of paws and thumbs. Iruka scanned the patch of scroll whose contents were on display, trying to guess which mark was Kakashi’s. He found it at the bottom, a small thumbpad that was about as big as an adult’s ring finger. He reached to touch it, then thought better of it and didn’t.

“Tiny,” Iruka said.

“I was young,” Kakashi said. He lifted his thumb toward Iruka. “Want to join the dogpile?”

Iruka laughed. “Yes!” He offered his dominant hand. “Do I just bite my thumb?”

Kakashi took his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I can get a kunai.”

“No, it’s fine,” Iruka said. He was no stranger to seals that required blood to work, and one didn’t always have a sharp object at hand to facilitate things. He tickled Kakashi’s chin before retrieving his hand, prompting a small gigglesnort from Konoha’s Rokudaime, and then bit his thumb. Blood broke the surface of tanned skin through the small wound, a perfect red dot awaiting its fate.

Iruka smeared it over his thumbpad with his index finger, then offered his hand to Kakashi again, who held his wrist gently and wordlessly instructed him where to leave his imprint on the scroll. The old parchment was dry and stiff under Iruka’s fingers, and it accepted his offering of blood and chakra greedily.

When Iruka pulled back, he felt a sudden warmth wash over him—all the other signatures in the scroll, life forces past and present, welcoming him home. He hadn’t expected that. He blinked at Kakashi, and Kakashi’s smile was radiant.

“How about meeting the rest of the pack now?” he asked.

“I already know your dogs,” Iruka said, pressing a hand to his chest. His heart felt too full, though he thought he could get used to that. He smiled back. “But I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Halfway through summer, Kakashi had to leave the comfort of Konoha and attend a summit in Kirigakure. Diplomatic missions of this kind were not out of the ordinary, but this one would be longer than usual due to the fact that all Kages were attending.

Kakashi was getting a bit of separation anxiety over it. The morning he was scheduled to leave, he held Iruka close, already half an hour late, and Iruka got swallowed up by the white Hokage robes as Kakashi clung to him.

Iruka patted Kakashi’s back. “You’ll be back before you know it.”

Kakashi made a sceptical sound against Iruka’s neck.

“And they’ve got modern phones there,” Iruka added. “You can call me when you’re done with your meetings, and we can talk before bed. And we can write each other.”

Kakashi made a slightly more agreeable sound, but he didn’t let go.

“I’ll miss our four-month anniversary,” Kakashi muttered.

Iruka sighed. “Stop calling the attack on the I&R Centre our anniversary.”

“But, honey,” Kakashi whined, “I’m your next-of-kin.”

Iruka rolled his eyes. He glanced at the clock someone had hung up in Kakashi’s living room in an attempt to make him be more punctual. If things kept going like this, Kakashi would be a full hour late, and people would blame Iruka, and they would be sort of right—he had a hard time kicking Kakashi out the door most days, but knowing that they would be apart for a few weeks made it even more difficult.

Iruka couldn’t even use his own work as a reason to get them going—the Academy would be closed for another month, and the fact that his schedule wouldn’t keep him too busy to miss Kakashi was yet another deterrent when it came to doing what he must and sending Kakashi off.

He could always get more shifts at the Mission Desk, Iruka supposed. Kakashi would probably not object to the idea, now that mission assignments had gone back to being handled from the Academy after the I&R Centre blew up. Kakashi had argued it was safer, and while his thinking was a bit flawed in Iruka’s opinion, the record was on Kakashi’s side.

Still, there would be a lot of hours Iruka would spend puttering around his flat, which now felt small in comparison to Kakashi’s place, tempted to just stay at Kakashi’s home but avoiding using the spare key in his possession because being there on his own only made his absence more acute.

“You’ll be back soon,” Iruka said, this time with less conviction.

Kakashi took a deep breath and squeezed Iruka tightly, then let go of him and stepped back. Iruka could discern the slight moue even though Kakashi’s mask was already up.

“Can you say something very schmoopy and romantic as farewell,” Kakashi asked, eyes large and pleading, “for me to think back on while I’m missing you during my trip?”

Iruka huffed a chuckle, then stroked Kakashi’s cheek. “You make me smile.”

“Kind of half-assed, but I’ll take it,” Kakashi said, then blocked Iruka’s smack to his arm. “Oy!”

“Have a safe trip, Kakashi-sama,” Iruka said sweetly, then pushed and laughed at Kakashi until the man finally gave up, donned his wide hat, and went on his way. Iruka watched him go, waving every time Kakashi turned back to check if Iruka was still leaning against the entrance. He felt like the dutiful wife and didn’t mind it one bit—at least until Kakashi flickered out of sight and Iruka was left alone in the morning sun.

Chapter Text

Kakashi returned from his diplomatic trip a week before classes started. As such, he dumped all his responsibilities on Tsunade and claimed he was clinging to Iruka until summer break ended. Iruka, for his part, barely put up a token fight every morning when Kakashi hit snooze before going back to cuddling him. He was only human, after all, and he had just spent a little over a month separated from the man he called his.

So, they devoted Iruka’s last week of holidays to lounging around their flats. They spent most of their time in Iruka’s place, and didn’t really go out unless groceries were needed. Kakashi insisted on sending a clone to do the shopping most times, a particular brand of ninja laziness that Iruka had never indulged in before but which he now found more and more appealing by the day.

Staying in bed with Kakashi was just better than buying vegetables.

Two days before Iruka’s return to the Academy, however, he woke up alone in bed, weird shuffling noises and Kakashi’s muttered curses reaching him from the living area. Iruka squinted at the bedroom door, left slightly ajar, and wondered if getting up was worth it. After a moment—and another muffled swear—, he decided that it was always better to prevent than to cure.

He dragged himself out of bed with a sigh and made his way to the living room. Kakashi was trying to balance a boxy TV set onto Iruka’s low bookcase, several thick cables sprouting from its back and waiting to be plugged into outlets Iruka’s flat did not have.

“Kakashi?” Iruka asked.

“Hey,” Kakashi grunted, trying to get the slightly-too-large gadget to fit onto the slightly-too-narrow surface. “Little help?”

After they were done maneuvering the TV set onto the bookcase, which now was far enough from the wall to let the TV rest on top of it without overbalancing, Kakashi lowered his mask and pecked Iruka on the cheek.

“Good morning, my handsomely competent man.”

“I am that, it’s true,” Iruka said, then gestured at the television. “What’s all this for?”

Kakashi’s eyes sparkled. “There’s a new Icha Icha episode airing today.”

Iruka pressed his lips together, then burst out laughing.

“You’re hurting my feelings,” Kakashi drawled, most of his attention already back on the TV set—he was trying to figure out how the cables worked. “You’re so mean to your Hokage.”

“The meanest,” Iruka said, walking into his narrow kitchenette. He poured himself some coffee—still warm—and returned to the living room. “Didn’t you say the series had ended?”

“Yeah,” Kakashi said.

He reached for a box that Iruka hadn’t previously noticed and opened it. Inside sat several batteries, each about as large as a can of beer. Iruka tilted his head. So that was where Kakashi was going to plug the TV into. Mystery solved, he headed for the old daybed pushed against the shared wall with his bedroom.

“It’s a crossover with another series,” Kakashi continued. Just as Iruka was sitting down, he asked, “Hey, can you give me a hand? Do you know how to do this?”

Kakashi gestured at the batteries and the TV set. Iruka stared at him, then left his mug on the low table between them and went to crouch down next to Kakashi’s technological mess. It took a bit of trial and error, but Iruka managed to get things up and running. And with time to spare, according to Kakashi. With that done, they sat down to a late breakfast around the kotatsu.

“Where did you get the telly, by the way?” Iruka asked.

“I borrowed it from Gai without his knowledge,” Kakashi said, then stuffed half a tamagoyaki into his mouth. With some difficulty, he added, “I’ll give it back tomorrow. Also, look.”

He pulled a small rectangular object from the batteries’ box and passed it to Iruka.

“A remote?” Iruka asked. “Isn’t this telly too old to have one of these?”

Kakashi hummed in thought. “Maybe? I have no idea, really.”

“Well,” Iruka said, then pressed the power button. The TV flickered on with a crotchety whirr, then settled, though a faint static buzz could still be heard. “Ah, there’s some interference.”

Iruka threw Kakashi an apologetic look. His flat wasn’t in the best part of town when it came to things like broadcast signals. He flipped the channel and noticed that this one had a clearer image. He perked up, flipping through a few more channels. Some looked better than others, but he liked to think that the image was getting clearer in general. He kept flipping.

“Stop switching channels, you’re making me dizzy,” Kakashi said, rubbing his eyes.

“Switching?” Iruka gave him a funny look.

“Yes, switching channels, stop it.”

“You don’t call that switching. It’s flipping or… flipping.”

“What do you know?” Kakashi asked, laughing. “You don’t even own a TV.”

“Well, you don’t, either. At least I used to own one.”

“Yeah? When?”

Iruka pursed his lips. “When I was five. But it still counts!”

“It sure does,” Kakashi chortled.

Iruka lobbed his onigiri’s nori strip at him. “You’re so mean to me.”

Kakashi grinned. “The meanest.”

Chapter Text

It was early in the evening when they saw the last of the guests off. Surprising no one, the members of Team 7 had stayed until the very end, waving and smiling and blowing kisses at the birthday boy on their way out. Kakashi had giggled and blown kisses right back, which had made Naruto’s expression turn nauseated just as Kakashi shut the door on his face.

And just like that, blessed silence descended upon the Hokage Residence.

“Let’s never throw you a birthday party ever again,” Iruka said.

Kakashi stepped up from the genkan, tugging down his mask to let Iruka see the soft curve of his smile. “This was your idea.”

“Well, it was a terrible one. The universe can’t handle that many elite jōnin together. Or Gai and you in the same room for more than two hours. Or Naruto and Sai trying to sneak sips of plum wine. Or—”

“I get it. You’re very right. Let’s not do this ever again,” Kakashi said, cupping Iruka’s cheeks and pressing their foreheads together. “But we can celebrate yours, right?”

“If we don’t celebrate my birthday, I will depose you.”

Kakashi sniggered, pulling back. “You would, too.”

“Believe it,” Iruka said, imitating Naruto’s fist-pump, and they laughed on their way to the living room.

Which, in all honesty, was a mess. People had used every surface remotely horizontal available to set down their plates, cutlery, glasses—seriously, would it kill them to use the damn coasters? But ninjas weren’t tidy unless they had to, and considering that Kakashi had been the first one to set a glass down on a chair like it was completely acceptable, the bar for their guests had plummeted below ground level after that.

Iruka began piling up plates and sorting cutlery into an empty snack bowl, and Kakashi began incinerating every crumpled napkin he found. He pretended not to be doing that whenever Iruka looked his way, but the slightly charred smell and the wisps of smoke curling up from his fingers didn’t just happen for no reason. Still, Iruka let him. He didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“I’ve got this covered,” Iruka said, gesturing at the table. “Can you tidy up the sofa?”

Kakashi hummed, casting the sitting area a pensive look. “Which one?”

“All of them, you lazy bastard.”

“You kiss your Hokage with that mouth?” Kakashi asked.

“Yes,” Iruka smirked at him, “and he likes it.”

Kakashi giggled behind a hand, twin spots of colour tinting his cheeks, and retreated to regroup by the sofas. Iruka’s heart tried to speed up, but he kept his breathing even and inoffensive. Everything was under control. It wouldn’t do, showing his hand too soon. He could be patient—he had been an excellent prankster for a reason as a teen.

Iruka turned back to his own task, piling and sorting, and did his best to act as though he wasn’t following Kakashi’s every movement. He assumed he must be somewhat successful if Kakashi hadn’t yet asked him why he was so nervous.

Then Kakashi said, “Oh, someone lost a ring,” sounding as though he was watching paint dry, and Iruka’s heart just about called it quits right then and there. “Iruka, do you know whose it is?”

Iruka set down the plate he was holding very gently. He looked over at where Kakashi was holding the ring up—a plain gold band glinting under the light bulbs. Kakashi was very good at deception and misdirection, but Iruka knew him, and he knew him better than anyone. He knew when to tell if Kakashi was lying.

Kakashi had absolutely no idea.

Iruka cleared his throat before asking, “Have you checked the engraving?”

Kakashi blinked. “The what?”

“The engraving. It looks like an engagement ring, so it might have one.”

“Engagement rings have those?” Kakashi asked, peering at the engraving on the inside.

“Some do,” Iruka said, and then went as still as Kakashi had. He could see the words Kakashi was staring at as clearly as if they had been burnt into his retinas.

Next-of-Kin.

Kakashi continued staring at the ring for one long moment, then looked up at Iruka and said, “Please tell me you're not joking this time.”

Iruka blushed. “That’s an actual gold ring, Kakashi. Do you think I would blow my meagre teacher salary on a joke?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Kakashi said, giving a slow blink. “I think I’m panicking.”

“Why are you panicking? I just proposed for real. You should be happy. Now I’m panicking.” Iruka took a steadying breath and moved closer to where Kakashi was, leaving a sofa between them. “Okay, look, I know less than a year isn’t much,” Technically, it was less than half a year: they had only been dating a little over five months, assuming one agreed with Kakashi on the date of their anniversary, “but you—you make me smile, and I know I smile a lot, but with you, I smile”—Iruka touched his chest—“here. So, er, um. Yes. Marry me. Please.”

Kakashi stared at him for a moment, looking utterly gobsmacked.

And then his face broke into a radiant smile, and he vaulted over the sofa with a squeal.