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It always started the same way, with a knock that came too late to be casual. Iruka had just settled into bed, reading glasses slipping down his nose, a paperback balanced open on his chest. The sound made him sigh as he marked his place and set the book aside. He didn’t even need to check the clock to know who it was.
He opened the door to find Kakashi standing there, hood pulled up, hair sticking out in tufts that looked more tired than stylish. He didn’t say anything right away, just offered a quiet, crooked half smile.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Iruka asked.
Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking away. “Something like that.”
The faint scent of unsettled omega, sharp around the edges, restless, it drifted between them. Iruka stepped back wordlessly, holding the door open. “Come in.”
Kakashi toed off his shoes, the picture of sheepishness. “You were reading.”
“I usually am, unless there’s papers to work on.”
Kakashi hummed, the sound small. He didn’t need to ask permission; Iruka just followed the familiar pattern, making sure there was space in the bed, straightening the covers. Kakashi’s scent always seemed to fill the room quickly, cool at first then softer once he started to relax.
They weren’t a couple. They didn’t talk about why this kept happening. Iruka had stopped trying to name it months ago.
When Kakashi couldn’t settle to nest before a heat, when even his own apartment, full of blankets and scented things, wasn’t enough, he came here. He never asked for anything beyond warmth. And Iruka, who understood how rare it was for Kakashi to reach out at all, didn’t ask questions.
Now, as Kakashi slipped under the covers, Iruka leaned against the headboard again, book in one hand, the other arm automatically curving around Kakashi’s shoulders. They both figured that one out accidentally and have used the comforting gesture ever since.
The omega didn’t hesitate. He pressed in close, tucking himself into Iruka’s side with quiet efficiency, like muscle memory. His forehead brushed Iruka’s collarbone, a steady, deep inhale followed by a steady exhale.
For a while, the only sounds were rain outside and the faint rustle of pages. Iruka felt Kakashi’s breathing start to even out, slow and deep.
“Long day?” Iruka asked, voice low enough not to disturb him if he’d already drifted off.
Kakashi mumbled something unintelligible, probably a yes.
Iruka smiled lightly, eyes flicking down to the mess of silver hair against his shoulder. There was something disarming about seeing Kakashi like this, stripped of all his usual deflection and calm, just quiet and tired, seeking warmth.
“I thought you liked your nest.” Iruka murmured.
Kakashi’s voice came out muffled. “Doesn’t smell right lately.”
“Too clean?”
“Too empty.”
That last word hit softly but landed deep. Iruka’s chest tightened but he didn’t press. Instead, he set his book down again and adjusted his arm, letting Kakashi settle more fully against him.
The shift drew a soft, involuntary sound from Kakashi, a sigh halfway between contentment and exhaustion. He buried his face closer to Iruka’s neck, the edge of his scent smoothing into something calm, gentle, almost lazy.
Iruka’s hand found his shoulder, tracing slow circles through the fabric of Kakashi’s hoodie. “Better?”
“Mm.” Kakashi’s voice was already going slack with sleep. “You always smell warm.”
Iruka chuckled quietly. “That’s a new one.”
“‘S’true.”
“Not complaining.”
Silence again, save for the rain. Iruka leaned back, watching the city lights flicker faintly through the blinds. He knew Kakashi would never admit it outright, that the unsettled feeling before a heat wasn’t something he could easily soothe alone.
Most omegas built nests full of blankets, scents and personal comforts. Kakashi did that too, Iruka had seen it once, half by accident, when he’d dropped by to return a book. But from what he could gather, Kakashi’s space had felt too neat, too impersonal. Everything folded, nothing worn in. Maybe that was why he came here. Iruka’s apartment always smelled faintly of soap, paper and tea..and apparently, warmth.
He glanced down again. Kakashi was fully relaxed now, mouth slightly open, one arm draped loosely over Iruka’s stomach. He looked younger when he slept, all the tension smoothed away. Iruka exhaled softly. There were things he wanted to say, things that sat heavy in his chest whenever nights like this happened but he never did. Kakashi wasn’t ready for that kind of talk. And Iruka, well..he was willing to wait.
After all, patience was something he’d always been good at.
He reached for the book again with his free hand, careful not to jostle his sleeping friend. Reading like this wasn’t the most comfortable position but he didn’t mind. Every now and then Kakashi shifted, nuzzling closer and sighing, once even murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like “comfortable.”
Iruka’s heart tugged a little at that. It wasn’t love, not yet, maybe not ever if Kakashi wasn’t ready for it, but it was something honest, something steady.
Around two in the morning, Kakashi stirred, blinking sleepily up at him. “You’re still awake?”
“Habit.” Iruka smiled. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Maybe.” Kakashi’s voice was rough from sleep, a little embarrassed. He shifted again, pressing his face back against Iruka’s shoulder. “You should turn off the light.”
“Can you sleep with it on?”
“‘M’already asleep.” Kakashi muttered.
Iruka laughed under his breath and reached over to switch off the lamp before he shifted one last time to lay out flat on his back. Darkness settled, soft and quiet. The rain outside had stopped, leaving only the distant hum of traffic. Kakashi’s breathing evened out again almost immediately and Iruka lay still, letting the calm soak through him.
He could feel the faint rhythm of Kakashi’s heartbeat against his ribs, the warmth of his body slowly chasing away the last of the night’s chill. It should have been awkward, an unspoken ritual between friends that looked too much like something more, but it wasn’t.
It was simple. Familiar.
And when Kakashi’s fingers curled slightly against his side, Iruka let his hand rest over them, thumb brushing in quiet reassurance, delicately tracing along his wrist and along his forearm.
Maybe someday Kakashi would talk about it, maybe he’d never need to. For now, Iruka just held him closer, the room steeped in quiet, shared scent and borrowed warmth.