Naruto fan fic: Crush
Okay, let's see if I can do this. This piece of KakaIru lovey dovey is also posted at my account on ff.net, user name ShaiNeko.
Title: Crush
Naruto is not mine. Happy about that, aren't you?
If he squeezes his fingers any tighter, Kakashi will break the sink. It's not a very good idea, given that he's braced against it with his right foot on the ground and the left on the back of Iruka's thigh.
Iruka nuzzles and licks the sensitive spot behind Kakashi's ear, but the whimper that normally follows the action is missing. Instead, tension sings through Kakashi's muscles. Iruka hears the click of teeth snapping together inside a closed mouth. He frowns and catches sight of Kakashi's hand on the sink, the knuckles white, highlighted with red.
Iruka turns his head, easing his body around until he can see the right eye of the man balanced on his sink. The eye is cold and blank, it stares unblinking at the towel hanging across from it. Now it's Iruka's turn to grow tense, anxiety filling his gut like a serpent. It coils over and against itself until he is on the verge of nauseous. He knows that look.
“Kakashi?” Iruka also knows he can't help.
The eye blinks. Once. Twice. A third becomes a rapid flutter of lashes, Kakashi fighting, maybe? Iruka hesitates, then lays his hand on Kakashi's left knee, the leg still wrapped loosely around him.
“Unh!” A tiny grunt escapes Kakashi and he flings Iruka's hand away. Before Iruka can process the action he finds himself slamming into the wall next to the towel. He blinks, and Kakashi is gone.
He is a ninja. A jounin. Even now (especially now) with his mind in one place and his body another, Kakashi is silence. He moves from tree branch to tree branch, unsure why he is searching for it, but desperate desperate desperate to find the safest place he can. And when he does find a place, high in a tree half smothered with creeping vines, he begins to breathe again.
Kakashi leans his face against the tree, the bark smooth to the tiny bit of exposed skin, yet rough enough to catch the fabric of his mask. The sensation registers enough to make him wonder when he pulled the mask back up. Before he left the bathroom? Before he left Iruka's apartment? Before he slipped over Konoha's walls? It is an ingrained habit, one that is safe, and Kakashi is content to play with the thought for a few moments.
He decides that he probably pulled it up as he crossed Iruka's tiny bathroom.
Kakashi turns his attention to the vine leaves next to his leg. He reaches out to touch one and is distracted by the trembling of his hand. The muscles are aching. 'Oh. The sink.' Kakashi blinks, then draws a ragged breath through the mask. He holds his hands in front of his face, slowly turns the back to palm, then palm to back. His eye creases in a frown and Kakashi begins to yank his gloves off. His fingers are still trembling, making him fumble.
Kakashi finally pulls his fingers free. He wads the gloves together and stuffs them into his weapons pouch and returns to inspecting his hands. Long, slim fingers, the nails kept neatly trimmed except for the left ring finger. He'd snagged it on a shirt and it had torn a bit raggedly.
Kakashi turns his hands over to look again at his palms. His eye travels over the lines that some believe tell your fate and settles on a small white blister. This tiny wound didn't come from a battle. Less than an hour ago, his hand brushed the still hot oven rack in Iruka's kitchen. Iruka. Iruka who had asked him to remove a roasted chicken from the oven.
Kakashi stares at the blister. He wonders why it didn't rupture, the liquid inside rushing out, when he gripped the sink. The liquid would be clear, and he wonders why it isn't red. His palms should be tinted red. There should be a line where his gloves end, a tan line of sorts.
Kakashi stares at the blister. He isn't sure why he feels the need to pop it. Maybe to releases the pressure-pain building at the base of his skull. Kakashi cradles his right hand to his chest and slips his fingers around the blister. He feels the 'pop' more than he hears it. He lets his hand dangle limply for a half second, then swings it over the leaves next to him. Kakashi watches the liquid from inside the blister slide down his fingertip. It hangs suspended for a breath before falling onto a leaf.
The pressure-pain is still there.
Kakashi lets his hand fall into his lap. Thunder rumbles in the distance and the wind smells of rain. Rain nourishes plant. What will the liquid from his blister do? Maybe it won't matter. The storm might destroy the plant. The wind can blow the tree over. The rain can crush the young leaves and fragile blossoms.
The thunder growls this time, lower, angrier, the wind is heavy with the scent of water. The smell is all around his face. The air pressing him against the tree, no, not pressing, crushing him, bearing down against him ans the storm breaks over his head. Water is everywhere, and for one moment the crush of thunder and the water on his skin merge into one horribly familiar sensation.
For that moment, Kakashi is there again. The Land of Waves. Tazuna. Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura. And Zabuza.
The pressure-pain bursts through his mind. The wind and water feed it. Kakashi can't move can't breathe. Zabuza's jutsu has him again and this time there will be no escape.
Crushing him it's crushing him. Kakashi thrashes, desperate to free himself (can't get free can't break this from inside) there is water on his face, in his eyes, his mouth. And it's salty. It's his tears.
No.
Not his.
Iruka reaches around to gently cradle Kakashi's shoulders. He kneels down, leans over Kakashi, so close his tears fall on Kakashi's cheek.
The wind and rain blow gently around them. Iruka is soaked. Kakashi blinks his eye, then wraps his arms around Iruka. The two remain still for a moment, until lightning crackles across the clouds.
“Come on, Kakashi. You're too tired to slice up lightning tonight.” Iruka manages to shove himself tot a standing position without ever quite releasing Kakashi. Kakashi's arms slip down to Iruka's waist, his head against Iruka's hip. “How did you find me?”
Iruka lets his fingers slide through Kakashi's hair, gently petting him while he decides how to answer. “Pakkun.”
Kakashi snorts. “You would have had to bribe him.” He tilts his head to peer up at Iruka, “Is there any chicken left?”
Iruka flushes. “Probably not. But we can get something delivered. If you want.” He brushes strands of wet hair away from Kakashi's eye, then tugs at his shirt. “Up, Kakashi.”
Kakashi remains still, and for a moment Iruka wonders if he will have to carry him back to the warmth of the apartment. His breath catches as Kakashi tightens his grip on Iruka's waist and then uses him as a ladder to help him rise to his feet.
Kakashi leans against Iruka. He listens to the wind, hears the rain sprinkling through the tree leaves above. He draws a deep breath. It is scented with Iruka. Chalk dust. Soap. Coffee. The scent of children that comes from being a teacher.
Iruka rubs his hands along Kakashi's arms. “Ready?” He watches Kakashi blink and then nod.
“Yeah.”
Iruka smiles. “Come on.”
Kakashi and Iruka slip back over the walls.
Notes: Ahem. Yeah. Well, this is actually about a year old. I'd never written Kakashi or Iruka before, let alone together. And I am actually kinda proud of this one. :) So if you like it, please say so. Or if you hate it. Or if you think I'm a babbling idiot. It's all cool.