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The night fell upon Konohagakure, its silken dark veil descending silently over the streets, alleys and roofs, chasing the last flickers of light away from outshining the stars in the sky. The bustling markets, shops and civilian work quarters had closed, leaving the lingering echoes of the day's events wandering alone on the empty streets, them occasionally scattering from the way of the rowdy drinkers and gamblers who ambled their way to their respective establishments of leisure.
Meanwhile, as the lively village settled down for the night, a lone light shone from a lonely window of Hokage's personal quarters. On the other side of the window, surrounded by high bookshelves and scroll cabinets, sat a lone man by a sturdy office desk in his study. A cup of coffee, long ago forgotten, sat on a pile of folders; a row of orange-colored books stood undisturbed on the nearest shelf to the man's left; a pen, held loosely in one pale hand, tapped a nonsensical count of passing seconds against the wooden desk. Not listening to the taps of hushed night that beckoned him to turn his gaze away from what the steel-gray eyes were reading, Hatake Kakashi, the Rokudaime Hokage of Konohagakure, traced the inked lines on papers that were spread on the desk top. The sharp, narrow eyes were tired and yet very stubbornly focused on the sheets of paper, the man's thin-lipped mouth drawn into a displeased line on the pale face.
However, as if sensing the intense stare of the restless shadows around him, the pale hand stopped the pen's tapping and the silver-haired elite lifted his gaze to scoff at his faint reflection on the window glass. There had not been paperwork that had bested Kakashi, whom many still referred to as the nightmare of many administrative nins, and the jounin wasn't about to give in this time, either.
“Why are you up at this hour?”
Although, when it came to confronting his lover over paperwork it was a whole different thing. The addressed Hokage felt a sliver of a smile form on his lips. “Couldn't sleep. Might as well finish some paperwork,” Kakashi said, his observing eyes catching the reflection of a lean male standing in the doorway. The tan skin of the well-muscled arms and strong neck was visible, the stark contrast between the white T-shirt and dark skin tone pleasing the jounin's eye while it traveled downwards, the Hokage taking pleasure in knowing what truly lied underneath the dark sweats that hung low on the other's narrow hips. “I didn't mean to wake you.”
“You sound far too pleased to make me believe that,” Iruka huffed, the tokubetsu jounin quirking a passing smirk at the look he spotted in the other man's sharp eyes. “Like what you see, Rokudaime-sama?”
“I always do when it comes to you,” Kakashi said, flashing a toothy smile at the other man before he let his eyes fall from the enticing view of the Academy's headmaster in order to give an annoyed look at the papers before him.
“What are you working on?” Silently like a shadow they were all trained to be, Iruka appeared by his side, and Kakashi let the other man's presence wash over him as he remained seated by his desk, letting the dark-haired bureaucrat peer over his shoulder at the documents in question.
“Nothing important. Catching up on some late documents.” As he spoke, quietly and calm, Kakashi could feel the other's body heat press against his skin, even beneath the thick sweater he had pulled over his shoulders to fight off the night's chill air. The nonsensical hum that came from Iruka's side was rough from sleep, the small yawn that escaped the tokubetsu tattling about the body's need for rest. “Should I make you some tea-”
“Kakashi.” That one word, even when so calmly spoken, was still enough to make the hairs on Kakashi's neck stand on their ends. “I would appreciate if you could tell me what is the treaty for educational exchange program between all shinobi nations that was due to be signed and sent for approval two weeks ago doing on your desk.”
The tone in the dark-haired headmaster's voice could have sent lesser shinobis hide in the canopy. Kakashi took pride in not belonging to that group, albeit in times like the current moment it was a near thing. “Maa, it's only a confirmation for the first stage for the exchange program. The actual deal is signed and sent already.” The look Kakashi received from the slanted eyes spoke volumes he wasn't sure if he wanted to inspect closer.
“Dodging questions is rude, Hatake-sama.” The dark brown eyes of the tan tokubetsu, almost coal black in the dim table lamp's light, looked straight into the gray eyes of the pale-skinned elite jounin, and time ticked by as the silence stretched between the men.
Then, a weary sigh left the silver-haired Rokudaime, his posture slumping in the seat. “I found this today in a folder where we had our requisition orders.” A pale hand that held the pen made a vague gesture over the scattered papers that covered his desk. “I'm paying for someone else's filing error.” A long sigh was heard, and Kakashi didn't have to look at Iruka to know that the man was pinching his nose, which in turn made his mouth work against the better advice of his brain. “It's not my fault this time.”
“You know,” Iruka's voice, rough and yet smooth enough to give molten honey a run for its money, spoke next to the pale ear, sending warm tremors course all around the seated Hokage's body. “I admire you, both as a capable shinobi and as a dependable man, and I respect you as my superior commander as well as my companion, but sometimes you make me wonder when it comes to you and paperwork.” The tan hands, deft and swift like any shinobi's, smoothed their way over Kakashi's shoulders before settling crossed over the jounin's darkly clothed chest. “I could say that it's karma when you're now the one who has to suffer from others' soddy micro managing skills, but since I have no intention to spend my nights alone and then deal with your crankiness in the mornings, as cute as you are when scowling at the eggs, I can give you a demonstration on how you can prevent this from happening in the future.”
Despite himself, Kakashi let a tired chuckle leave him as he could hear the poorly hidden smugness in Iruka's hushed words. He had to hand that barb to the former Mission Room tyrant, since undoubtedly he had been one of the many said sad sods causing the former desk chuunin's severe sleep-deprivation back in the days when Uzumaki Naruto was still a name spoken with whispers among many. He let his pale fingers rub his temple before nodding his consent. “Alright. Show me, then.”
Seated still, he observed how one tan hand, its gestures confident in a way that spoke of a routine, reached over the unfinished documents to pick up a wooden stamp from its holder, its handle of polished wood gleaming in the soft light. The nimble fingers that had handled flesh, metal and jutsu twirled the stamp in the air, catching the interest of the gray eyes, while the other bronze-skinned hand gently took a hold of the jounin's chin, strong fingers idly rubbing against the forming stubble in a way that sent a flush of heat coil low in Kakashi's stomach.
“This here is the Rokudaime Hokage's personal stamp with his own insignia. It's a stamp that has the highest value in an official document, even surpassing the Council's seal if needed so,” the mouth of the tokubetsu, the full lips curled in a smile that showed a row of teeth, spoke quietly next to a fair-skinned ear, the measured words caressing the sensitive areas with the warm breath they were spoken with, “The Hokage's stamp is the ultimate sign of either approval or denial when it comes to official certificates, treaties, trade deals and promotion letters.” The spoken stamp was held firmly in the tan hand, the small office instrument tilted towards the light so that both of the men saw the carefully carved lines that curved over the wood's surface, the feeble light catching onto the nicks and gutters cut into the fibers. What Kakashi was increasingly more focused on, however, was the way the fingers belonging to the hand not dangling the stamp had made their way to his mouth, caressing his dry and chapped lips like one would the freshest peach. “It is made so that it is impossible to forge, a wonderful little thing that had been designed and carved by the finest craftsmen of a bordering village. Yet, do you know what is the best thing I like about this stamp?”
Knowing that the dark-haired devil could very well hear his uneven breathing, Kakashi cleared his throat and risked a look at their reflection in the window across the desk, meeting the look in his lover's eyes. “What would that be, Umino-san?” A shuddering breath ghosted across the skin of his neck, and he knew it wasn't only him who was affected by the present situation.
The drowsiness in Iruka's eyes had been replaced with intentions darker than the voice that once more spoke next to the jounin's ear. “It isn't afraid of serving the one wielding it, Rokudaime-sama.” With practiced ease, the tan hand flicked the stamp into a proper hold, pressed it against the pasty block of blood-red pigment that only Konoha's leaders were privileged to use and then a thump was heard when Kakashi's insignia was put on the awaiting document. However, as the stamp went down to meet its target, Kakashi's mind snapped into another dimension of time and space when he felt a pair of lush lips press against his cheek; warm, moist and promising things that made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. As quick as they had been there, though, the lips were gone from his burning skin, as was the gentle hand from holding his chin. Then, the same hand took a hold of his own, and he felt a press of body-warm wood on his palm. After a beat, he registered that the stamp he had only a moment ago seen in a very different light than usual was now in his hold instead of Iruka's.
“I advise that you turn this demonstration into practice, Hokage-sama, the quicker the better for the village,” he heard the smooth, warm baritone tease by the door as he numbly felt his sense of reality sharpen its focus both on the small wooden stamp grasped in his hand and the embarrassingly aching burn in his pants. “I'll see you in bed, Kakashi.” From the reflection, Kakashi spied his lover leave him by his desk, the superior commander of Konoha's shinobi forces feeling like a foolish genin who had not only tripped on the trigger wire but also made sure to spring the trap it was connected to.
On that note, a slow smile that was tinted with a hint of affection spread on the rarely seen lips, and the jounin, a man who was on a path to finding inner peace with his demons, looked into the darkened night and let out a huff of laughter filled with sentiments that only the lurking shadows were present to catch.
Yet, as he put the small wooden stamp in its rightful place, clicked off the light and chased the twilight in the horizon with his sharp eyes, Kakashi, a man who had outlived his time, knew that they had been heard by the tokubetsu with dark brown eyes and confident hands.