The sound of water hitting tile echoed softly down the hall as Kakashi hung up and slipped his cell phone back into the front project of his jeans. After a fair amount of bartering with Tsunade's dragon of a secretary – not literally, although she may have been a descendent – he'd managed to get in contact with Tsunade directly only to discover that she didn't have any more information for him.

The TNT mages she hired were the best after Iruka, but they had nothing to work with. They were, at the moment, sorting through reports and trying to dig up previous, similar incidents to develop a physical trail. That kind of legwork took time.

He padded into the bedroom, dogs in tow, and wondered if it would be finished in time. The culprits were likely to vanish after the new moon, and they could very well take the secrets of their spell with them. He chewed on his lip as he sorted through his drawers, pulling out a handful of clothing that was likely to fit Iruka, even if it wasn't his style.

He leaned in and hooked the pile of clothes out with a foot, careful not to cross the threshold with his entire body. Early on in their friendship, the morning after a particularly long night of tracking spell instruction, Kakashi had walked into the bathroom while Iruka was taking a shower, intent on brushing his teeth. He still hadn't heard the end of it.

He tossed the clean clothes in blindly, pulled the door shut again, and headed back to the living room. He scratched Bull behind the ears as he passed and settled down to wait.

He waited and waited.

When the time elapsed was pushing an hour and a half and the shower was still running, Kakashi's concern trampled over his better judgment. Perhaps the magic had burned faster and hotter than Iruka'd thought. Perhaps that light spell had devoured a good chunk of Iruka's magic along with the last of Kakashi's. The first night, he'd found Iruka blue and shivering, huddled on the floor of the shower and unable to move. The scene had dropped icy cold fear into the pit of his stomach, and it was not something he wanted to see repeated. He pressed his ear against the door and knocked, but he couldn't hear anything over the patter of water.

After very little hesitation, he pushed the door open and called out Iruka's name as he went.

The curtain rattled back along its rail, and Iruka practically burst out of the shower, shaking glowing motes of magic from his hand – a side effect of one of his favorite tracking spells. "I found them! Well, not them exactly. I found where they're going to be working the spell - or where they worked it last time, to be precise – but a complex spell like that would require set up and they're not likely to move to a new location every time if they have to do that." He scooped up his phone from the counter, pulled up a map of Konoha, and jabbed his finger at a location on the outskirts of town. "I can't track them, but I can track your magic and see where it's been. It happened right here, and that's bound to be close to their hunting grounds because they're not going to lug unconscious bodies very far and... and... I'm naked again, aren't I?"

The fingers of fear clenched around his heart eased, and Kakashi magnanimously raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Still doing my best not to notice." He hadn't looked up quite fast enough to miss the flush spreading at light speed down Iruka's neck and chest.

"Anyway," Iruka's voice was muffled behind cloth. "We should rally the troops and get this plan in action."

The tendrils of fear locked tight around his heart again. He'd offered token protests during the meeting with Tsunade and had hoped he'd have more of a chance to talk Iruka out of the insane plan. Chances were slim that the mage would kill Iruka – she'd let Kakashi go even when it would have been prudent to murder him and dump him somewhere – but the spell she worked had the possibility to change him for good just as surely as death would have.

"Nothing I can say will change your mind about this, will it?" He asked after a long pause where he considered and discarded a dozen arguments.

"You didn't see your face while I was wielding your spells." Iruka stepped into his line of sight and rested a hand on Kakashi's arm. "Kakashi, I can't imagine functioning without my magic; I don't know how you're doing it, and I don't want you to have to do it any longer than you have to."

"I don't want you to get hurt because of me." The words fell out of his mouth before he'd given them permission – he'd intended to brush the comment off. He hadn't countered it at the time, but having Iruka worry about him still rubbed him the wrong way. He'd been alone and self-sufficient for so long that he'd long since forgotten what it was like to be cared for, outside of his dogs.

Iruka had latched onto his dogs' fanatical devotion to Kakashi and had gleefully enlisted them in nagging Kakashi about everything from getting medical attention to getting a good meal in his belly. He'd wormed his way into Kakashi's life.

As terrifying as it was, Kakashi had gotten somewhat used to Iruka's constant presence in his life, even if he still disliked the fact that, the more Iruka was around, the more often he became entangled in Kakashi's problems. Admitting that out loud, admitting any fear engendered from this strange companionship, would let Iruka even farther in. He scrambled for a way to salvage it and finally said, "Naruto would kill me."

Iruka chuckled softly, "He'd try."

There was truth behind those words, but not only would Naruto have a problem if something happened to Iruka, but Kakashi wasn't sure that he'd handle it all that well. He could count the number of people he'd let heal him on one hand, and had it been anyone else, he would have actually stopped to think about throwing his magic at them. Not because Asuma, Kurenai, or Gai couldn't handle it, but because his magic was an intimate piece of himself, as evidenced by the dreams it had already treated Iruka to. He simply couldn't imagine sharing that with them. Sharing it with Iruka terrified him, but not as much as it should have.

That fact alone spoke volumes. Kakashi resolutely ignored it and proceeded to distract himself from the fact that he was ignoring it by calling Tsunade.

The plan hinged on having irresistible bait. Iruka lay on the bed in Kakashi's guest room and tried not to remind himself that he had the dubious honor of being said bait. At that particular moment, he wasn't much to write home about when it came to bait. The spells Kakashi had taught him had done a fantastic job in burning Kakashi's magic out of his system, and Iruka looked like himself to magical eyes.

The magic inside him needed a chance to recuperate. Even though Tsunade had managed to summon a handful of mages to support Iruka and his hare-brained scheme, they were all sitting on their thumbs. It must have been a truly exciting assignment: waiting for Iruka to become more desirable as bait.

He lay in the center of the bed and willed sleep to claim him because sitting around waiting for his magic to build back up was akin to watching grass grow or particularly fascinating paint dry. Sleep, thankfully, crept up on him and wrestled him down into haphazard dreams.

Splashes of images filled Iruka's mind, one after the other: interiors and exteriors of places that weren't Konoha, rising mountain spires topped with snow, a rough sand beach bordering a gray, storm-tossed sea, a trashed apartment with a shattered window and harsh, angular script scrawled in blood across the worn carpet. But no matter where he was, there were always people hovering at the edge of his vision, ANBU masks firmly in place to protect their anonymity. The skulking, twisted aura of magic used to kill and maim permeated each scene, and, more often than not, if he tilted his head down, a draped corpse was bleeding anemically onto the ground at his feet.

The necessity of his actions warred with a sick, wrenching in his gut. Despite an intense, infallible conviction that the corpses at his feet had to be stopped at all costs, he felt no satisfaction with the success. Over and over, the scenery changed, but the feelings and the presence of a dead body at his feet did not.

The wave-tossed beach suddenly snapped back into horrible focus. He'd been out; he'd washed his hands of this whole mess, but here he was, the burden of a mask on his face dragging his head down inexorably until he could do nothing but focus on the mage lying dead before him.

He never should have let them talk him into coming back, but he was the only one who'd faced this particular opponent before and while that didn't exactly put him at an advantage, he still had a leg up on the rest of ANBU. Winning was small consolation when the mage's spells had lain open his forearms and several spots along the arch of his cheekbone. Blood slowly seeped from the gashes, but he made no move to wipe it away. His hands were already coated with the mage's blood, so it wouldn't do him any good.

When he turned on his heel and stalked off the beach, the blank faces of the surrounding ANBU followed him. The wind smelled of sea foam and rain while it tugged at his shirt and threw sand against his mask. When he reached the edge of the parking lot, magic flared at his back, and he turned to watch the ANBU setting up illusion spells to hide the blood soaked beach. The Sharingan could see through them, but he pressed a finger to the edge of his eye and sent a spark of magic to turn it off. The ANBU, the corpse, and the blood vanished to be replaced an unmarred expanse of beach. He let the ocean beyond draw his eye.

The waves rose, swelled, and swamped the beach and the parking lot in the truly impossible way only allowed by dreams. He let them rush over him.

When the encompassing darkness cleared, he was standing before an ordinary door, hands still bloody and mask still a heavy weight on his face. The caution-sign yellow mat beneath his feet was turned so it was legible when you were leaving the apartment. It read: "Spell You Later!"

A gift from Naruto, and he thought it was hilarious.

The obnoxious yellow was somehow homey and comforting, a feeling that was entirely in opposition to his presence. He tore the mask from his face, buried it as deeply under his arm as he could as if he could negate the fact that he'd worn it simply by hiding it well enough, and raised a hand to knock. The mage's blood trickled from his clenched hand and spattered on the door. He froze.

He couldn't will himself to rap on the door. His past had no business tangling with his present. The TNT assignments sometimes tackled less-than-savory mages, and he had seen the look of grim satisfaction on Iruka's face once the trap was sprung. His actions were certainly more sanctioned than those mages Iruka trapped, but that didn't make them any more palatable. If he had his way, his time and actions in ANBU would remain with ANBU forever.

But buried secrets fester, and as much as he wanted to keep those cards close to his chest, he would have given anything for that door to fly open, for his past to be forced from him, for someone the shoulder the burden of who he was and what he'd done.

The door remained firmly shut, and he turned from it and vanished into the darkness.

Iruka sat up, sleep forgotten, and tried to shake the dregs of the dream from his mind. It was strange to think of himself in the third person, stranger still to get a personal window into Kakashi's mind.

Ambient light from the city outside spilled in through unshuttered windows, lighting just enough of a path that Iruka could pick his way through the unfamiliar house to the master suite where he'd showered only a few hours earlier. He slipped through the door, and his eyes fell on the multitude of lumps on Kakashi's bed. He heard a couple of half-hearted thumps from wagging tails and crossed the intervening space quickly, running his hand over a back there and a head here before he settled on the edge of the bed.

At least Kakashi looked like he was fast asleep. Iruka wasn't sure – he'd learned not to go with his first assumptions – but he didn't particularly care. It was certainly easier to chide him for being boneheaded when he at least appeared to be asleep, but he was going to have to hear the words when he was awake at some point. "You idiot," Iruka sighed, "You should have knocked. We all have skeletons, you know. I'm not going to judge you for doing what you had to."

Urushi whined and nudged at Iruka's hand until he was rewarded with a good scratch under his chin.

"He's an idiot."

"We know," the dogs chorused back.

OOOOOOO

The communication spell was a comfort – at least he knew someone was listening and could summon the cavalry if need be – but also intensely annoying. His left ear was filled with barely intelligible muttering, and it was making it hard to look convincingly alone when he kept wanting to hiss, "Shut up!" to no one in particular. As it was, he ducked his head against the drizzling rain, ignored the scattered people hustling past him. Thanks to the Sharingan, he was warned just in time to step quickly to one side to avoid the spray thrown up by a passing car. It wasn't all bad, but there were enough people and activity going on around him, that his stomach protested the use of the eye as he walked. His stomach could shove it; if he was put in the same immobilization spell Kakashi had been in, he wouldn't be able to pull off the eye patch. He could have kept his eye closed, but he'd take any warning he could get that he was about to be jumped.

Two streets up, and Kakashi had cut into a narrow alley to shorten his trip across the city. As an ex-ANBU and battle mage, it hadn't occurred to him to avoid the seedier parts of the city that began just off this road. Most people recognized the mages of Konoha on sight, and Kakashi's reputation usually preceded him.

Iruka cut into the dank, trash-strewn alley. The wind whipped up a couple of plastic bags around his ankles. He was rapidly approaching the point where Kakashi had been taken but saw no sign of anyone.

A motorcycle roared past on the main road, and when Iruka turned toward the sound, the faintest flicker of black within the darker shadows beneath a fire escape caught the corner of his eye. It took every ounce of practiced innocence to keep the fact that he'd spotted it from showing on his face. It took even more effort to suppress his sense of self-preservation enough to turn his back on it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in what some people called paranoia. Those people were idiots. That reaction was highly honed from years of not being the dominant predator on the planet, and only morons ignored the warning.

Iruka gritted his teeth, resolutely kept his gaze forward, and was rewarded with a strike on the back of the head that made the world swim. To add insult to injury, the blow came from behind and so the Sharingan did him no good.

Rough rock dug into his cheek when he woke. He peeled his eyes open, only to be met with an expanse of rock filling his vision. All he could make out was an arc of symbols in front of him – the suppression spell Kakashi had warned him about. A brief wriggle and a suffocating weight between his shoulders proved that it was as well-cast as he'd been told.

A voice behind him said, "He's moving."

Iruka fought down a sense of déjà vu from something that hadn't actually happened to him and swore mentally. He was on his stomach, facing the wrong way, and he could see little more than if they'd bothered to blindfold him. So far the plan was spectacularly unsuccessful.

The noise coming from the communication spell rose to a torrent until one voice broke over the others. "...know it's not going to work. We should get him out of there."

It sounded like Kurenai. He snorted into the fine layer of dirt covering the rough-hewn floor and thought furiously at them, "Give me a chance." If luck were on his side tonight, the suppression circle wouldn't affect the communication spell because the magic had already been in place. Regardless of whether or not they heard him, he had little time. He coughed into the dirt again and called out, "Please."

The voices behind him faltered.

"Please! I...I can't breath. It," he let his breath hitch in simulated pain. "Please, it hurts."

"We didn't hurt you," the woman said it as if enough conviction would make it true. "Be quiet. This won't take long, and then you'll be free to go."

"Please, it's my rib. I broke it two days ago." He could feel that conviction wavering. Given how they'd behaved, he highly doubted these two were murders, and he truly doubted that either of them wanted their targets to suffer. Had they been stealing magic from full-fledged mages, there would have been a rash of reports about it.

"If he broke his rib, lying on it would hurt," the boy pointed out.

"I'm not going to break the suppression spell," she hissed back. "He'll survive until we're finished."

"You don't have to break it," Iruka called out, muffling a sob of false pain in the ground. "Just turn me over." Having broken a rib or two in his time, he knew that wouldn't stop the pain entirely, but it would make it more bearable.

"That'd be okay, right?"

"He'll see us."

"But you could wipe his memory. He's in pain. We shouldn't leave him there in pain."

There was a long, decisive silence, and then tendrils of magic wrapped around his arms and unceremoniously flipped him over. He grunted and gritted his teeth as if riding out a swell of pain. In reality, he was hoping he hadn't gone deaf from the shout of triumph in his ear.

Ambience wasn't strictly necessary for any spell, but that didn't stop a great number of mages from relying heavily on the right setting to help them focus. The cavern Iruka found himself in could have been featured in any B-movie right down to the multitude of candles that cast shifting, riotous shadows across the walls.

Most people who didn't hang around with mages came to the conclusion that mages were either luddites or that they felt that a certain air was expected and were all too happy to comply. They were partly correct – no spell actually needed candles just like no spell needed complex inscriptions or chants; people needed that. Magic was never easy to control, and the trappings that mages added into their spells were all in the name of focus and control. Simple spells typically had no additional hoo-hah around them.

This was not a simple spell.

Besides the candles set out in a rough ellipse surrounding all three of them, the floor was veritably carpeted in line after line of twisting symbols. One set snaked across the floor to form a figure eight that encircled first Iruka and then the young boy on the far end. A spar jutted from the center and blossomed into a triple of ring of inscriptions. The mage stood directly in the center, her arms loose by her side, and her head bowed. After taking a deep breath, she began to chant.

He craned his head to get a good look at the myriad of inscriptions on the floor around him even as his ears catalogued every syllable issuing from her mouth. His head felt like it was going to burst from the influx of information, and his eye ached from the stress it was putting on the Sharingan. Regardless, he could feel the knowledge growing in his brain and knew he was getting what he needed.

The whole room thronged with magic, the inescapable hum practically vibrating his teeth. Her voice rose to a crescendo, heading towards the end of the chant with a triumphant shout. He had what he needed – the means to control the spell nestled safely in the back of his brain – now he just needed to figure out how to get her to stop.

Even through the sweltering miasma of the mage's magic, Iruka could feel a sudden lance of power, formidable and precise. It pinned him to the floor just as surely as the suppression spell had even though it wasn't aimed at him and ricocheted off on of the columns supporting the roof.

The column shuddered and gave way, spilling rock and debris across the floor. Some of the fragments followed paths that wholly defied the laws of physics such that the rubble missed all of the humans in the room entirely. It did not, however, miss the spell components. A fist-sized chunk smashed into one set of etched inscriptions and obliterated several of the key characters at the heart of it. Another knocked over one of the candles that the mage had been using to help her focus and weave her magic.

Any sane mage would have abandoned the spell at this point. With this level of complication, any variation in the set-up could have dire consequences, but she was too deeply ensconced at this point to even notice the havoc going on around her.

"Chiyo!" The boy's voice was panicked. He may not have been a mage, but he knew the danger she was putting herself in.

The debris had not broken the circle around Iruka – whoever had been controlling it had clearly worried about the risks of getting it close to him without injuring him. He couldn't move, and, although he'd listened carefully to Kakashi's explanation of the finer points of using magic inside a suppression circle before he'd started this whole thing, he still wouldn't have much control over any magic he used that way.

In the long run, it didn't matter. If the mage didn't stop, she was likely to kill herself, Iruka, and anyone unlucky enough to be standing within 100 feet of the epicenter.

Iruka was out of time. He needed to distract her badly enough that she faltered and stopped. He scooped up as much as he could of the magic rioting around inside him and threw it into the oldest spell he could remember learning, one that was so ingrained that he didn't even really think of it as a spell anymore but rather just a useful tool that he could turn on and off at will. He turned his head so that he could focus on the mage standing at the center of the chamber and whispered, "Light."

Burning, golden light flooded the room, highlighting every harsh edge and divot in the rock walls. With all of Iruka's and Kakashi's magic behind it, it did a fair impersonation of a small star dropped into the center of the room. Unable to cover his eyes, Iruka squeezed them shut in an effort that only mitigated the blinding light, but didn't cut it out entirely. Shouts erupted from the room's other occupants, and the magic that had been steadily building faltered.

The light hadn't hurt, but the magic loosed by the mage when she lost her concentration certainly had. The release of rampant magic had fractured the floor, and the slab underneath Iruka had tilted wildly. He slid down it until his feet slammed into the still competent stone at the bottom. At least the fractures had broken the suppression circle. As soon as he caught his breath, he'd get himself out of here.

He heard footsteps on the floor behind him, a scuffle, and then someone landed on the rock above him. Strong hand slipped under his arms and started to drag him backwards. As soon as he got his feet underneath him, he helped as much as he could even though his shoes kept slipping on the angled rock. He gasped, "I'm okay. I'm okay," but only started to believe it once he was on level ground again.

The hand righted him and spun him around, and he found himself staring into Kakashi's bloodless face. The fear that played around Kakashi's eyes was almost more unnerving than the rest of the events. Iruka opened his mouth to say something more reassuring.

Kakashi cut him off by pulling Iruka tightly to his chest, fingers clutching at the back of Iruka's shirt. He buried his head in Iruka's shoulder and just held onto him in pure desperation.

Caught by surprise, Iruka fumbled with what to do with his hands for a moment, finally settling one on the nape of Kakashi's neck and wrapping the other around his back. "Hey. Hey," he repeated when Kakashi didn't seem to take any notice that he was speaking. "I'm okay."

They stood like that until Kakashi's shaking had subsided. Just from the dreams, Iruka could recognize the fear that boiled through him: fear of losing another person, of losing another constant in his life, of having to decide again whether it was worth it to let someone in when the next possibility for companionship came along.

Fear of loss was a terrible thing to combat – no reassurances could be 100% guaranteed – but Iruka had news that would at least help. He nudged Kakashi's head with his shoulder until Kakashi finally looked up at him, and he grinned triumphantly. "I got it."

In the aftermath, neither the mage nor the boy had put up a fight against the ANBU who had rushed in to capture them, too shaken by the explosive end to the spell to even consider running. Both were captured and pulled in for interrogation.

Kakashi and Iruka passed the interrogation room on their way to Tsunade's office, but they were too desperate to get Kakashi's magic restored to do much more than glance in briefly before going to meet Tsunade. The spell to unravel Kakashi's magic from Iruka couldn't be cast by either of the two people involved in the transfer, so Iruka had taught it to Tsunade, and they'd both trusted to her vast experience and skill to safely restore Kakashi's magic. The final result had been a mixture of the spell Iruka'd copied, commonplace healing magic, and some of Tsunade's own unique brand of magic thrown in for good measure. It left them feeling a little singed, but more-or-less back to normal, and a rudimentary check of their systems confirmed that it had worked properly.

Had Kakashi and Iruka not had to enlist Tsunade's help to help set everything right between them and their magic, they wouldn't have gotten a first-hand look at the mage who'd almost torn Kakashi's life apart. At her insistence, they'd followed her down the hall after the spell was complete and found themselves on the backside of a two-way mirror.

The mage, Chiyo, sat at a wide metal table with handcuffs that both suppressed her magic and kept her from running looped around her wrists and through a metal ring set in the table's edge. She was talking rapidly. "We weren't taking anything that would be noticed! Their abilities were simple – like finding something that they were looking for right next to them instead of where they'd left it. They didn't even know they had magic. We promised that we wouldn't steal from anyone who would miss it, but then time was running out and...," she paused, her face twisting unhappily. "He's dying!"

He was, in fact, dying. He had a small bit of magical talent – not enough to become a true mage, but enough that, when his body had started to reject his magic, he began to fall apart from the inside out. The spell that Chiyo had been attempting was a form of transplant. Something had gone rotten in his magic, and the only way to fix it was to replace it. But that did mean tearing every last shred of his magic from him and scouring every nook and cranny clean of the last wisp of his original magic, which took an inordinate amount of power.

As she had amassed the magic, Chiyo had barricaded it tightly within the boy, waiting for the right moment to let the dam break and to let the magic flow freely through him. With the spirit of rebirth from the new moon boosting the stockpile of power and with the addition of Kakashi's and Iruka's, Chiyo might have had just enough power to accomplish it.

Tsunade listened to the description and justification calmly until the end and pressed her fingers to the spot just between her eyebrows as if to suppress a massive headache. Then she informed Chiyo that she knew of the disease, and had they just come to her in the first place, she could have healed it outright instead of having to deal with this mess.

Luckily for Chiyo, the magic could be returned or she would have faced jail time. As it was, she found herself forced into a job at Tsunade's right hand where every action could be monitored and corrected if need be. Although the road to hell might be paved with them, having good intentions did make a difference.

Iruka crossed his arms and shifted away from the mirror. "She's lucky. It's not the right thing to do, but she could have had a lot worse reasons for it."

Kakashi made an assenting noise in the back of his throat.

"It's amazing how many of us there are out there who don't know that there's a support network they can rely on. Either of us would have gone to Tsunade," Iruka chuckled. "We did go to Tsunade. But it must be hard, trying to handle these things on her own." After a long moment of silence, he turned and raised an eyebrow at Kakashi.

"Very subtle."

"Thank you. I was doing my best." He strode away from the mirror and towards the door leading outside, checking once to see if Kakashi had followed him and then saying quietly. "I know it's not how you wanted me to find out. I don't think you ever wanted me to find out, but I know now, and it hasn't made me look at you any differently. So don't," Iruka waved a hand expressively, "Sulk out on my doorstep in the rain. You're going to get the cops called, and I'm going to have to listen to you complain when you get pneumonia. Come in and let me help. My door is always open, and I don't want you to push me away."

It was significantly more than he'd intended to say, but he was glad the words were out there once he'd finished. He had a sneaking suspicion that, given the slightest bit of wiggle room, Kakashi would misinterpret what he said and would convince himself that Iruka really didn't want to help him. He met Kakashi's gaze fully, just to reinforce it, and said, "I mean it."

Behind the mask, Kakashi opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, emotions stampeding across the exposed half of his face. For a moment, he looked as though he was going to blurt something out, and then he dove across the intervening space, caught Iruka's face between his hands, and pressed a desperate kiss to his lips. One hand dropped to loop under Iruka's arm, tearing cloth away from Kakashi's face as it went, and settled in between Iruka's shoulder blades, pulling him inexorably closer.

"You...you..." Iruka flailed verbally when they broke apart before simply discarding the sentence and trying something new. "In those dreams, I was feeling everything you were. You'd think I would have noticed something like that."

"It's a bit of a recent development."

"How recent?" He didn't think that Kakashi was one to confuse gratitude with attraction, but who knew what kind of euphoria getting his magic back could induce.

"Possibly when I rescued you from your shower and saw such a lovely view of your..."

"Fishes." Iruka interrupted and then clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Guess it doesn't work anymore."

"Somehow, that's more annoying." Kakashi tapped a long finger on his chin and looked Iruka up and down. "I guess there's no accounting for taste."

"Excuse me, you are lucky to have me."

"I know." The serious words hung in the air between them, driving heat up Iruka's cheeks. Then Kakashi's eyes flashed wickedly; he leaned in and whispered against the cusp of Iruka's ear. "I've seen you naked."

Iruka glowered at Kakashi's retreating back, already conjuring up ideas for how to even the playing field on that count. He'd been inside Kakashi's mind for the last week after all, and he was fairly certain Kakashi wouldn't mind.

FIN

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!