So, this story is kind of a palet cleanser for me. It's going to have a relaxed update schedule, but I hope you'll still enjoy it and follow it through!

Oh, and also, my sister's cat has something to say:

"SDXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

ftgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg"

...so yeah. There's that.

Weeks went by, and every other day, Iruka would stop by the hospital and visit Kakashi. In the beginning, it had still felt a bit awkward, but as long as Kakashi didn't seem to mind or make any indication that he thought it was weird, this was one pleasure Iruka refused to deny himself. Becoming a foster father fresh out of the university, there were so many things in life he had missed out on, and now that Naruto was well into his teens, he decided it was time to allow himself to be a little self-indulgent.

The long-haired man made his way through the sterile halls carrying two bags of Chinese take-out. Hot vapor oozed from the containers from the bags, making his knuckles humid and sticky. His heart fluttered in his chest when he spotted the door to Kakashi's room. He could feel his anticipation rise and his heart always tended to leap a little out of control whenever he was about to see Kakashi again.

Kakashi had been in and out of the ICU for the first two weeks in varying states of awareness, but after three weeks he seemed to be doing well. At least he looked a lot better, plugged into fewer machines, and the bandages weren't as thickly layered anymore. Both his legs were still caged in the large external fixation devices, propped up on thick fluffy pillows. The sight of the swollen, discolored legs with screws drilled into bruised skin had made Iruka a bit nauseous at the start, but he was getting more used to the morbid sight.

The two teachers had fallen into a habit these last few weeks. Iruka would come by and bring food a few times a week, which Kakashi was always appreciative of. According to Kakashi, hospital food did more damage than it did good, and he wouldn't even feed it to that fat cat that had been on the roof the day he got hurt. Iruka would eat his meal, while Kakashi waited patiently, only eating a small piece when Iruka was distracted, to Iruka's growing frustration.

He had yet to see him without that cursed mask, and the moment to ask about it never seemed right.

Their conversations mostly revolved around their occupations as teachers and everyday life, with Iruka doing most of the talking. Unsurprisingly, Kakashi was more of a listener. That was why Iruka was slightly startled when Kakashi asked him about Naruto, after a brief comment about how Iruka had recently celebrated his twenty-ninth birthday on one of his usual dinner visits.

"So, what's your relation to the kid, if you don't mind me asking?" Kakashi asked curiously, a disarming gaze sent in the other's direction. Iruka had noticed that Kakashi often shied away from making eye contact but in this rare moment, his attention was solely focused on Iruka.

Surprised, Iruka nearly choked on his meal and dropped his chopsticks on the floor. Kakashi took a moment to elaborate further while Iruka picked them back up and struggled to swallow a mouthful of rice.

"I just figured... If you're only twenty-nine, that would have made you what... thirteen, fourteen when he was born?"

Finally able to swallow the sticky mass, Iruka cleared his throat before he spoke. "You're right, we're not actually related. He's my foster kid. I met him when he started primary school," Iruka explained, attentively assessing Kakashi's response. He was propped up by several pillows on the bed, still not strong enough to keep himself up. A single charcoal eye stared half-lidded at him, expressing that he was done being a conversationalist and had gone back to listening.

"I was fresh out of uni, they were the first class I ever taught," Iruka continued. A crooked smile tugged at his thin lips. "Naruto was kind of a troublemaker. He would frustrate the other teachers out of their minds. At some point, there was actually a draw at the teacher's lounge. Whoever pulled the shortest straw, would have to teach the class."

Kakashi quirked an eyebrow. "And that was you, huh?"

Iruka opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself with a perplexed expression. "Well, actually... I'm not sure . I was new, and the moment I made my pick, everyone just collectively decided mine had to be the shortest one. I only had the second pick." Iruka rubbed his neck sheepishly.

A quiet hum drew out for a moment. Only as it started to waver, Iruka finally recognized it as Kakashi's laugh, the hospital-gown-covered chest pulsating rhythmically.

"Is my misery amusing you?" Iruka asked cheekily, placing a light slap at Kakashi's blanket-covered side.

"Yes, actually. I can't imagine anyone else being bullied into losing a bet, and ending up with a foster son because of it," Kakashi chuckled good-natured.

Iruka flushed deep red, sinking into his chair. "That's not-" he started to argue, but something in Kakashi's demeanor made him pause. He realized that he was actually joking with him, and he couldn't remember the blazè man doing that before. At least not if he discredited the times Kakashi had been too high on painkillers and muscle relaxers to know what he was doing and saying. So he softened a bit and smiled shyly.

"I guess," he muttered bashfully instead. "But that didn't happen for another year, and was not on a bet!" Iruka pointed a warning finger towards Kakashi to state his point. "We just kinda bonded. I spent so many hours after school alone with him in detention, and eventually, he opened up about what was going on, and how he was feeling. I mean, I knew that his parents were dead and that he was being moved between foster homes every few months, but during that time, I really got to know him. The school had meetings with the CPS and the ever-changing foster parents now and then, and the number of times I heard them refer to him as problematic , or challenging ... it just infuriated me so much. It was like they were immune to the fact that the kid was suffering, or had forgotten that this was a child that was faced with debilitating rejection and disappointment every time he was moved... So, I applied to take him in, and fortunately, it was granted. And that's... pretty much the story. He's lived with me for almost nine years now."

The short silence that followed felt like hours to Iruka. He really wanted to know how Kakashi would respond. Maybe it had been too much too soon? At least he hadn't started rambling about how he related to the child and how their situations were similar to some extent-

"You're a really good person."

Iruka did a double-take. The blush blossomed on his cheeks once again, spreading across his nose and making the tips of his ears warm. A glowing fluttering coiled in his stomach. A sensation he didn't remember the last time he had but was in no way unwelcomed. "Thank you," he croaked earnestly. The butterflies grew to the size of flying lizards, making him want to giggle into his hands the way Sakura would whenever Sasuke asked to borrow a pencil from her.

Then, he noticed that Kakashi wasn't looking at him anymore. Instead, he faced the window. The beams of the sun made his ivory skin illuminate beautifully. Even the angry scar that ran through his eye and down his cheek looked stunning in the afternoon sun. Yet, as celestial as he appeared, he looked wistful, and Iruka wondered what it was that made him so sad. Not just now- it seemed to be almost all the time, even when he smiled. He wanted to ask, but something inside him told him that he wouldn't get a truthful answer anyway. However, his own honesty had to account for something, right? Iruka figured that asking about the nearly constant melancholy was a bit much this early into their friendship, but there were still tons of questions he wanted to ask him- but where to even start?

"Kakashi, how did you lose your eye?" ( Well, he guessed that was as bad a start as any). Iruka was unsure what he expected after that. Kakashi might get angry and refuse to talk to him anymore or ignore the question altogether. After a few moments, Kakashi turned back around to face him. Again, their eyes locked, if only for a brief second.

"Oh, yeah, I guess I didn't tell you about that, did I? It just didn't seem appropriate in front of the kids." The silver-haired drew out an elongated sigh, scratching at his unruly mane. "Some guys attacked me years ago. One of them had a knife and lashed out, splicing my face open." The last part was said with a low chuckle, but Iruka didn't miss the dark clouds in his remaining eye. It clearly hurt him to even mention, and he wondered what more it was to the story. But it didn't feel right to pry right now.

"My scar is from a knife too," he offered instead. Kakashi's head shot up, interest clearly peeked. "All through," Iruka drawled, subconsciously rubbing the bridge of his nose, "mine was less of an assault as it was a stupid five-year-old that didn't take his parent's warnings about running with sharp objects seriously."

A pang of guilt for the comparison threatened to settle in Iruka's stomach, but he was quickly distracted by the thrilling sound of a genuine laugh.

"You really are a sadist, aren't you? Taking so much pleasure in the misfortune of others," Iruka growled half-heartedly as the chuckles carried out, but couldn't help but smile all the same.

"I'm sorry," Kakashi managed between hicks. "I'm sure it was a really dramatic experience, but it just sounds really sweet." His hand was clutching at his side, trying to stifle the pain that shot through his back with each contraction of his muscles. Iruka wanted to tell him to take it easy, but the wave of relief and the pure happiness he felt from the other teacher's reaction made him want to hold onto it as long as possible. With the amount of pain Kakashi felt every day already, he knew he probably needed this, even if it aggravated that pain for a few moments.

So, Iruka decided it was better to agree. "I was pretty sweet back then."

As Kakashi calmed down, winching a little as his breathing evened out, his head seemed to dig deeper into the stack of pillows. He looked tired, but his expressive eye still smiled. "You're still a very sweet man, Iruka," he said pointedly. "Not many people would hang around in a hospital to keep a grump like me company. Especially when they hardly even know me." As an afterthought, he diffidently added, "well, maybe it would have made even less sense if you really did know me, actually."

Still a little dazed from being called sweet, Iruka forcefully shook himself out of his stupor. "What? N-no. I enjoy spending time with you."

"So, you're not doing it out of guilt or something stupid like that? 'cause it's fine, I won't make you-"

"Stop that," Iruka interrupted sternly, self-consciously recognizing his stern teacher-voice. "That's not it at all. Or, it might have been, in the beginning, but I wouldn't still be here after several weeks if I didn't like spending time with you. At least not after the meeting we had with your school after the accident. We were bombarded with questions about your well-being from the other teachers. They were worried sick about you."

Kakashi seemed to go a little rigid after the last comment. Even with half of his face veiled with a surgical mask, Iruka recognized that he was frowning.

"You have a lot of people that love you very much," Iruka insisted, daring himself to lean a bit closer, resting a hand at Kakashi's cold underarm. He felt the silver-haired twitch under his touch, instinctively wanting to pull away from his warm hands, but Iruka was determined not to let go. Something told him that this was good for Kakashi, even if he also understood that the other man was very touch-averse.

"I know," Kakashi murmured in a whisper, his eye not averting from the tan covering his own creamy skin.

"And especially the one I met here a few weeks ago. Gai. He was the first to approach me after the meeting," Iruka added in a peculiar tone.

"Did he cry?" Kakashi asked knowingly, smirking despite himself.

"A lot," Iruka dead-panned. "I'm not sure if love is a sufficient word with that one."

"We've known each other for a long time, and he's my best friend. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve like that. I guess it's nice to always know what someone is thinking."

Iruka smiled knowingly, understanding what Kakashi was actually saying; 'I'm sorry that I'm not as open as other people. Just give me some time. '

Because Iruka knew. He had already been through this with several of his students. Children that tried their best, but didn't understand just what they had to tell the world for them to understand where they were coming from, or, what they wanted to tell it in the first place.

Some kids needed patience, others needed kindness. Some of them needed their actions and words to be read between the lines to get to a point where they could enfold entirely. Kakashi was all over the place; needing a little bit (or a lot) of everything. He was shy, reluctant, stubborn, and scared. But in the end, he probably just wanted the same that everybody else did, even if he hadn't figured out just how to ask for it.

He needed to be seen and heard. Loved for who he was; an assurance that he didn't need to be more than he could handle. And from what Iruka could see, he already had that all around him. But nobody had broken that thick skin yet.

The disbelieving and rejected person that truly didn't believe that anybody could care for him.

...Iruka didn't know if he was the man to do that yet, but he sure as hell wanted to give it a try.