Mokume-gane

Title: Mokume-gane
Author: Kiterie
Recipient: rutheatsu
Rating: PG 13
Pairing(s): KakashixIruka
Summary: Long missions are hard to deal with, but do routines keep the shinobi at home from falling apart or do even routines lose their effect after awhile? Kakashi brightens Iruka's otherwise dull day so what does he do when the man is gone? Based on fav.me/d2x3g5k
Contains <warnings]: MUCH FLUFF! ^.^ and a few cuss words
Word Count: 1700
Author's Notes: I have looked at this picture and read the comments regarding it a million times by now and I keep coming back to one thing... it's the light that this picture displays that everyone loves. It's what I always come back to too. The story I decided to write is intended to reflect that. LeAnn Rimes song 'You Light Up My Life' totally popped in my head while I was writing it and I busted up laughing then my beta said the same thing. XP Betaed by the wonderful Athame, Morgainedeshone, Micah, and TricksterLiv.  About the title: The name was borrowed from one type of pattern created in the forging of swords and other edged weapons. I liked the idea of it because it's an unbroken random pattern formed from forging metal so it seemed to fit with shinobi and the routines that would make up their lives. plus there are some really pretty colors that you can get with the right metals that make me think of a sunset.

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The late afternoon sun streamed in through the open window, making the polished wood floor of the shinobi academy classroom glow a warm orange. Clean blackboards shone, and the empty student tables glittered where nicks and dents, caused by years of careless children, caught the light.

Iruka shuffled the papers on his desk, mechanically sorting them into stacks. Routine long ingrained the process so that it took next to none of his attention. Sighing, he tugged on the dark brown hair of his ponytail, tightening it, and leaned back in his chair. He stretched, rolled his head and shoulders to get the kinks worked out and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. His fingers rubbed over the long scar that cut a near perfect line across it and his tan cheeks. None of the actions were anything more than patterned routine.

That was the problem, of course. Routines kept you moving, kept you busy, but that was it. After a while, the days blurred together, dragging on and out like one endless, boring march. You drudged through it not because you had to or needed to or wanted to, but because that's simply what you did. It didn't matter how bright the sun or day seemed to everyone else, when you were stuck in a routine it was just another day.

Warm, red light filtered through his eyelids and Iruka sighed. A shadow passed across the window, breaking the redness with the briefest darker shade that was never quite black even in actual darkness. Opening his eyes, Iruka blinked and glanced out the window.

Nothing. The window stood as empty as the school yard beyond it.

"The heat must be getting to me. I should know better than to sit in the sun." He shook his head and stood up. Grabbing his bag from beside the desk, he set it in his chair and started loading it up with various things before heading out the door.

Shadows stretched across the hallway and he let his eyes slide from one to the next, some part of his brain looking for a pattern that wasn't there. Even when he stepped outside under the trees and the buildings, he could feel the distraction drawing him into its little mind game. Not just with shadows but with dark blue uniforms and puffy green vests so like his own. None of them were right, though. None had the right creases in them caused by a very specific slouch, and the blue never came up past the chin to cover the person's face. White tufts caught his eye for half a second before he realized it was simply some girl's hat. Bits of orange and red and green caught his eye next, and he growled irritably when the realization of exactly what he was looking for hit him.

'I am not bored. I am not bored. I am not bored.' Iruka repeated the chant in his head as though it would change the reality if he just said it enough. He wasn't used to being bored. He had plenty of work and hobbies and friends. Which was still true. He had a stack of papers left to grade, books to read, his painting of the little dango shop for Anko's birthday to finish and half a dozen invitations to 'go out and celebrate his temporary single life'. None of which he had any intention of doing because he'd tried doing them the night before and the night before that and even the one before that. They were all as interesting as watching paint dry; in one case literally so because Kurenai had co-opted his help in painting her kitchen.

Pushing the red fabric hanging from the awning of the noodle shop aside, Iruka stepped inside. He smiled, because it was the polite thing to do and not because he actually felt any particular enthusiasm or joy right at that particular moment. "Hello, Ayame."

"Hello, Iruka-san." She smiled back at him with the mirth his expression lacked.

He smiled a little more honestly and sat down. "One pork ramen, please."

She nodded and set about getting his food. Setting it in front of him, she disappeared to the back to finish whatever work she had left.

Even this was part of his routine, but a more empty part. In the last year and half, he'd discovered how much he truly hated eating alone. Naruto's bright smile had been well worth having an empty wallet. It was a routine he had loved, a routine that had been broken with Naruto's absence and filled again by a certain obnoxious jounin's presence. Moments like this, when he sat alone again, made the vacancies in his life that much more obvious. He wondered for a moment why he came here when they did that, but he knew the answer was as simple as why he did everything else that he did. It was a part of his day. He also knew it was easier than going home to an empty house.

The pans clanged together as Ayame washed them and hung them up, the sounding ringing clearly from the back. It broke the silence with it's sharp 'tings' of metal on metal.

Iruka closed his eyes and sipped his soup, trying to ignore the sound. It was different, but not that different, from another he and every other shinobi knew too well. Worry tightened in his gut, and he finished the bowl off faster than was really healthy. Pulling out several bills, he tucked them under his bowl and left.

He didn't have work at the mission desk, despite his offer to take Genma's shift, because in the last two weeks people had become annoyingly interested in keeping their shifts. He'd managed to get a few shifts, all from Anko, who seemed to be the only person left who valued her free time.

Dust and leaves blew across the street, his feet kicking up more. He stared, watching it puff and swirl and dance in the air. Not paying mind to where his feet carried him, Iruka drifted through the market place. Wandering aimlessly wasn't any better than routine, but his motivation was lacking enough and he didn't have the energy to bother caring that he wasn't even sure where he was going.

"How long's it been?"

"Two weeks."

"How does he keep smiling?"

"Denial."

"I hear he hasn't even cried."

"He doesn't look well."

"I know; did you see how dark the circles under his eyes are getting?"

As soft as they were, their voices carried to his ears, and he knew they were talking about him without even looking up. The whispering was new, not a part of the routine. At least not a part they'd ever let him overhear. He'd seen the way they looked at him though, pitying him. It wasn't worth his time to correct them, though, so he didn't. If they had bothered to ask him, he might have explained that two weeks late wasn't dead--it was a complication, a delay.

The sleepless nights weren't because he was worried, they were because he was half asleep most of the day and so it made it hard to do so at night. His disinterest had nothing to do with their false belief that he was depressed, it was because people weren't always as interesting as they liked to believe, and being overly-nice to him simply amplified that. He would have explained all of it, but they never asked so he never bothered.

The voices faded behind him, and Iruka turned from the streets, following the path that lead along the cliff face. It was quiet, which seemed to match his mood, his day, the last two months of his life. By the time he reached the top, the lack of sound was unbearably loud. He could feel his muscles twitch under his skin from the tension of it, and it occurred to him that it was probably a mistake to have left the village, to have sought out the silence he despised with such a passion right then.

Staring out over the village, Iruka screamed, a completely unintelligible sound meant only to break the silence and ease his frustration at it. It didn't.

"Mah... I know I'm late but was that really necessary," a voice behind him drawled.

Iruka jumped at the sound. Spinning around, he stared.

Kakashi waltzed over, shedding bits of his white ANBU armor along the way.

His eyes scanned over the lanky figure, searching for any sign of injury. There was none, and a knot in his stomach relinquished it's tight grip, relief washing over him in a dizzying wave.

Stopping in front of Iruka, Kakashi pulled the mask down to his chin and wrapped an arm around him.

"Damn you," Iruka whispered before Kakashi could say anything. He slid his own arm around Kakashi's shoulder and smiled. "You have no idea how boring my world is without you." Everything instantly seemed brighter with Kakashi home. The fading light of the sun as it set in all its brilliance, that moments before had gone unnoticed by him, seemed far more stunning casting its colors on Kakashi's skin and hair. It seemed to radiate off of him in a way that he hadn't noticed before, and he wondered how he'd ever missed it when the warmth of it filled him so entirely.

"I'll take it you missed me then?" Kakashi teased, brushing a hand across Iruka's cheek.

Iruka laughed, the sound came out as shaky as he felt inside. "More than you can imagine. I even missed that stupid book of yours for fuck's sake."

"That is what it's for," Kakashi chuckled. "And, I can read you some of it if you missed it that much."

"Would you shut up and fucking kiss me already?" Iruka growled, still grinning happily.

Kakashi flashed Iruka a smile and tilted his head to do exactly that. "Only because you asked so nicely," he whispered and then promptly caught Iruka's lips with his own.

-End-