Chapter Text
Tsunade tweaks an adjustment to the seals on his head after a few days, and it makes him so ridiculously tired that he sleeps fourteen hours every night for a week. He doesn't have an episode the entire time but he's not sure it's worth it. At his insistence that he'd rather be an invalid than sleep for fifty percent of his life, she undoes the change, and the very next day Pakkun warns him to lie down quickly while he's making dinner. Needless to say he's still not allowed to do anything of substance, not yet, and he's starting to go crazy from the inactivity. Woefully he considers that this sort of boredom is going to be his life for the next little while. Or forever, if Tsunade can't fix him. He can get a different job, as surely he can do whatever he wants inside the village. Intelligence or the barrier team or T&I or something similar, something behind a desk with strict hours and proximity to a medic at all times. But he can't leave the village, and he can't take missions, so he really doesn't see the point.
Three more days go by in this sort of listless, in between fashion. Every day he gets up and makes a meal despite having little to no appetite, if only because his medication makes him sick on an empty stomach. Then he heads to the training grounds with one of his summons to babysit him, and he does as much of his regime as he can manage. He's far too exhausted to do the full scope of exercises that he knows he should be doing to keep himself fit, but he keeps losing count of his reps and it starts to get on his nerves. The headache isn't helping. In the middle of this three day span, Tsunade says his tenketsu aren't healing at the rate she'd like but there's very little he can do about it. He's warned against using ninjutsu and especially his sharingan, even during training, which he hadn't been doing much of anyway. Every other time he's dared to open his left eye it gives him a headache so bad he has to lie down for several hours until it calms. So he settles on a handful of rounds of taijutsu each day, and calls it good enough. Tenzo spars with him once, since he happens to be in the village again in between missions. Kakashi isn't in the best shape and it's obvious that Tenzo has to go easy on him, but he says nothing about it. Afterwards they don't bother getting lunch because Kakashi doesn't feel like eating, but they do lie in the grass on the side of the hill at the river embankment and watch people mill around the edge of the village. It's the tail end of spring, and the morning chill dissipates enough by the middle of the day that it's starting to get uncomfortably warm. Forecasts are already calling for yet another scorching summer.
On the fourth day, he has one more episode with the usual warning signs - tingling in his arms and legs, a sudden and foreboding anxiety, an increase in heart rate, Pakkun's gruff bark of warning to drop what he's doing, et cetera. He lies down on the floor until it passes and he's lucid enough to stand up and haul himself back to the hospital. Sakura gives him a once over and Tsunade asks him a few more questions while she takes another somewhat fretful look at the seals she put on his head. But she has nothing substantial to say or do, and he's again sent home.
His other symptoms outside of his episodes don't get better. Even once Tsunade reverses the change she made and his sleep schedule returns to normal, he's lethargic in a way that's hard to shake. He finds himself sprawling on the couch for a nap every afternoon, and considering he used to be able to go days without proper rest it's unnerving to lose so much of his day because he's spending it asleep. His mind feels as if it's constantly enveloped in a thin haze that makes it hard to think at times. He's not forgetful per se, but he'll admit to a noticeable increase in the number of times he walks into a room and doesn't know why he entered it. Losing words mid-sentence sometimes, mistaking the names of places and having to be reminded of them, having less confidence than he'd like in people's names. His head nearly always hurts, anywhere from a very mild tension headache to a full blown, aura-inducing, debilitating migraine on the worst days. The latter isn't as common, but it's more than he really likes. And he would swear that his vision is no longer quite so sharp, not even in his left eye, on the very rare occasion he decides to use it. It's not promising, still having these lingering symptoms, and despite the frequency of his episodes being ultimately reduced his other issues only feel worse and not better. But there's really nothing he can do, besides wait for Tsunade to have better ideas. So as much as he hates the stagnant inactivity, he persists.
On yet another countless, uneventful day that week where he hasn't left his house much except for trips to the hospital, late in the evening there's a knock on his front door. Kakashi is surprised to see who stands there when he answers.
Iruka doesn't say hello. He doesn't say anything, he steps inside and Kakashi moves out of the way to let him in. He's no longer using a crutch, though he favors his right leg when he walks. The stub of his arm is hidden by the long sleeve of his shirt, and some of his short hair is pulled into a tiny ponytail to keep it away from his neck. His expression is the sort of neutral that's less impassive and more of an attempt to hide a frown when Kakashi shuts the front door after him. Iruka has never been in Kakashi's apartment. His eyes dart around the small room as he takes in the somewhat minimal furnishing and sparse decor. Every time they ever had sex it was at Iruka's place. He's had no reason to come here and he's never dropped by unannounced like this, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he wants.
"Are you busy?" He asks. Kakashi shrugs.
"No," he says. Which is also, inversely, an answer to the question Iruka didn't ask. But the monosyllabic response is the only prompting needed.
Iruka puts a hand to his chest and walks them four steps into the room until he can sit on the couch and drag Kakashi down on top of him to make him straddle his lap. Briefly Kakashi considers that their usual positions might not work any longer because Iruka only has one arm. But his tenacity doesn't fail to impress, as it never has, and when Iruka leans in to press their mouths together it's with a force that lacks none of its usual heat.
Iruka's hand tucks under Kakashi's shirt, tugging it off and tossing it to the floor. Kakashi takes Iruka's shirt by the hem and drags it over his head, exposing the planes of his chest and stomach, the line of his collarbone, the lingering curse seal atop his ribs that Tsunade was not able to remove, and his- his stub of an arm, wrapped in compression bandages to protect the undoubtedly sensitive skin of the wound closed over what remains of the bone. Kakashi pointedly doesn't stare, not that Iruka gives him a lot of time to do so between the hand that pinches his nipple or the hot mouth against his or the knee pressing between his legs. Under his tongue, Kakashi can feel the smallest of divots in Iruka's lower lip from the split that didn't heal quite so well, and beneath his hands, which he spreads carefully across Iruka's back, he can feel the patchwork scars that now litter the entire expanse between his shoulder blades. Kakashi keeps his touch light as he absently wanders, but Iruka makes a noise of frustration and then a sudden grab for his head to yank him back by his hair, baring his throat and pressing teeth against the sensitive skin.
"Stop it. I don't need you to be gentle with me." As if to emphasize this point, or maybe goad him into returning the favor, he closes his fingers around Kakashi's throat. His thumb rests at the small hollow above Kakashi's sternum that would cut off his air if he were to press down just a little harder. "I want it to hurt."
The thing is that Kakashi gets it. Unflinchingly, transparently, he understands. Iruka doesn't really want anything right now, he needs to be distracted from his grief and the last few weeks of his life in general - and how convenient that Kakashi is willing to drop what he's doing and entertain a quick fuck at any given moment, right? But not usually like this. Iruka likes it rough, sure. Kakashi is no stranger to walking home with bruises on his thighs or a crescent row of teeth on his neck or a stiffness in his legs that makes it ache to climb stairs the following day. Iruka likes to be in control. Maybe not in every aspect of his life but definitely in the bedroom, and at this point Kakashi isn't ashamed to admit he likes to be tossed around by him. But Iruka is far from the only person Kakashi has ever slept with, and he understands that there are very few vices that work so thoroughly as a good hard fuck when you're so upset over something that you can no longer operate. It's way easier to power through your day with an array of bruises and sore muscles than it is with a hangover, which is why sex is more popular as a coping mechanism than alcohol or recreational drugs, the latter of which is barely even allowed to shinobi at all.
Iruka has just never asked for it to hurt. If this were anyone else, Kakashi wouldn't have whatever this reservation is. If he were anyone else then they'd have no problem either, and undoubtedly Iruka can leave here right now, go down to the nearest bar, and find someone willing to take him home and fuck him into next week with no questions asks. But Iruka came here. He came to Kakashi's house when he could have gone to anyone else, when he could have gone to no one at all, and Kakashi isn't sure whether to be pleased with or ashamed by this understanding. That Iruka wants him badly enough to be desperate for it. Or worse, that Iruka maybe doesn't really want him for any other reason.
"Are you sure?" He asks. Iruka does what Kakashi expects him to do and grows frustrated at his lack of immediate cooperation. He's dumped off Iruka's lap as he pushes away from the couch.
"Yes. And if you won't then I'll find someone who will."
Fuck, he knows he will, and regardless of anything else Kakashi doesn't like the idea of Iruka acting out of grief with someone he doesnt trust quite as much. Because if anyone else like that existed then most certainly he would have gone to them instead. Iruka gets one step across the room before Kakashi makes up his mind. He stands and follows after him, and underneath the flush to Iruka's face there's an obvious and expectant glare. And Kakashi, more than anything, has always lived to serve.
He surges into Iruka's space and spins him around by the shoulder, grabbing his arm to pin it against his back and march him down the hall towards the bedroom. He puts a hand to Iruka's waist when he stumbles and kicks the door closed behind him as they enter the room, shoving him towards the bed and kicking off his own sweats and underwear. Iruka undresses and tosses his clothes onto the ground, but Kakashi picks up his slacks from off the floor as he's struck with an idea. Unceremoniously he climbs across the mattress over top of Iruka's naked body and grabs him by the wrist, dragging him roughly a few inches closer to the headboard to fasten his only remaining arm above his head with his own clothes. He digs around in his nightstand until he finds the bottle of lube, and then he sits back, resting between Iruka's parted legs to watch him struggle to flick the stray hair out of his face when it sticks to his already sweaty skin.
He certainly could be gentler when he shoves Iruka's knees towards his chest and presses in two fingers at once. Iruka bites back a groan at the less-than-elegant preparation, something more appropriate for a tryst in the back alley of a grimy bar or a quiet fuck at camp on a low-stakes mission. Part of him almost decides to forgo the request for this to be rough all together - until he watches the way that Iruka's shoulders relax instead of tense, how his legs spread instead of contracting, and how when he closes his eyes it isn't in pain, but relief. A relief Kakashi understands all too well. A relief of the mind and not just the body, to have a weight so far removed from the front of your concerns that you can momentarily forget about anything that isn't right in front of you or happening to you right this very second. That's the only thing he needs right now, and Kakashi finds himself more than willing to give it to him. So not for the first time, and gods know it won't be the last, he caves in the face of Iruka's wants.
The fucking Kakashi gives him is rough. He draws it out as long as possible but Iruka takes it just as good as he dishes it out, even if he usually prefers to lead. Kakashi might consider his stamina fairly substantial but he doesn't think he can be blamed if Iruka unconsciously puts a bit of a strain on how long he's able to last. Iruka keeps his fist clenched as he pulls at the restraint, and what remains of his other arm writhes at his side as if he still had a hand with which to find purchase, the bandages beginning to loosen and spool underneath of him. His short hair starts coming out of the hair tie and sticks to his face and his ears, sweat gathering in the dips of his skin and sliding down his temples to land on the sheets beneath his head. Kakashi pulls out only long enough to flip him onto his front for a better angle, tucking Iruka's knees beneath his stomach to bare his ass, and he moans loudly and obscenely into the pillow as Kakashi pushes his head down while finding a rhythm he can stick to. With every tilt of his hips he drags out another throaty noise until Iruka is a sobbing mess, babbling incoherent pleas not to stop, to go faster, or harder, more.
Kakashi runs a sweaty palm across Iruka's back, freely touching his bare skin and the sensitive new scar tissue since Iruka is unable to swat his hand away at the gesture, feeling the puckered edges of the freshly healed wounds and the warped intersections created as they overlap. He yanks the tie out of Iruka's short hair and takes as much of it as he can in his fist, pulling up his head to free the sound of his voice to the room, and Kakashi runs his tongue up the side of Iruka's neck before sinking his teeth into the dense muscle of his shoulder to bite back the noises coming out of his own mouth. Maybe like this he can understand why Iruka prefers to fuck with the lights on - the sight beneath him would be a real shame to miss. If he were to make more than a flippant attempt to employ the eidetic properties of a certain ocular jutsu he happens to have in his possession, well, Iruka has never minded him the habit in the past, and some things are definitely worth the headache.
But Iruka isn't satisfied after one round. Once Kakashi is thoroughly spent and their sweat cools as they lie in a heap, the post-orgasm exhaustion hasn't even fully cleared before he feels a wandering touch trail down his stomach as Iruka licks into his open mouth, apparently satisfied with his once-in-a-blue-moon forfeiture of control for the evening and taking it back immediately. If he was any more dexterous with only one hand then Kakashi would surely be paying dearly for his previous stunt, for tying Iruka's only good arm to the bed post. But having only half of the usual amount of fingers doesn't stop him in the slightest from wringing out Kakashi's second orgasm a little too easily. Iruka works him open with clear impatience and wraps a hand around him tight enough to stop him from coming immediately, but neither of them last longer than a few minutes. Iruka collapses against Kakashi's back once he's come for the second time, and Kakashi suppresses a shudder when Iruka finally pulls out and lays down at his side.
He falls asleep for at least a few minutes, though he's not sure how long exactly since someone's underwear is draped over the alarm clock on the bedside table. He wakes lying under the crook of Iruka's elbow, cheek pressed against his ribs as Iruka's arm circles his neck like a heavy collar. Ffor a long time, neither of them say anything at all. If Iruka's hand wasn't absently petting across his chest, Kakashi would think he's asleep. Again he has a thought he's had almost every time they have sex. Maybe especially after this time in particular.
"Iruka," he says quietly. Iruka makes a small noise in attention before Kakashi continues. "I think we shouldn't do this anymore."
"...you don't want to fuck anymore," Iruka says. It isn't a question. Maybe a statement of slight disbelief. Because really, Kakashi would have to be kind of insane to give up such a good thing.
"That's, well- that's not really what I mean," Kakashi says.
Iruka curls his hand and drags his nails down Kakashi's sternum, his touch intentionally light as if to ask the warning question of 'are you sure about that?' Then he exhales like he's disappointed. Kakashi imagines it's a sound he makes quite often at the Academy to his adolescent students.
"You've always been pretty insistent that you like doing this."
"I do like it," Kakashi is sure to tell him. "Fuck, I like it a lot."
"Then what's your problem?"
Kakashi tries to consider his reply carefully.
The problem is that what he doesn't want is for this to be the only thing they have. What he wouldn't want to happen is for Iruka to die tomorrow or the next day or the next year or whenever, and for the only thing they were to one another to be just two people that slept together and nothing else. But they don't have the type of relationship where Kakashi feels comfortable admitting that out loud. He's not even sure whether he'd call them friends, not like he would other people in his life. Not when he knows that the relationship they do have is physical in nature, and both of them take a great deal of comfort out of one another, albeit for vastly different reasons. Iruka comes back to him because Kakashi is good for a reliable, discrete night in bed, and after so many years of sleeping together they've gotten used to and feel safe in one another's company. Kakashi, on the other hand, he lets Iruka have whatever he wants because he loves him far too much to ever consider turning him away or telling him no. And he's never felt brave enough to ask for more, but he knows that if he doesn't eventually get this off his chest it's going to stay trapped behind his teeth forever.
"Because all we ever do is have sex," he says. "That's it."
"Yeah, and it's great." Iruka snorts an inelegant laugh. "More than great. Gods, you're the best fuck I've ever had. You want to stop doing this for what?"
In other circumstances Kakashi might take pride in this statement, because it's the exact same thought he's had about Iruka, too. Right now it only serves to underline his point.
"I don't want to stop," Kakashi says, trying to be patient. "But maybe I don't want only this."
"Well what do you want, then?" Iruka asks, somewhat harshly, the mirth in his tone quickly subsiding as Kakashi continues to push. "What do you think I want? I don't know how you expect us to be friends after sleeping together for so long. Or are you talking about a relationship? Why are you asking me this all of the sudden?"
Because there's nothing quite as eye opening as the death of someone you know to really force you to define what else you are or aren't comfortable with losing. Or maybe because he already has enough ghosts, living and dead alike, and the last thing he needs is one more person to join all the others he has so far failed. Or because the first time that Iruka decided to seek him out at all since they returned to the village was to ask for sex, and that's not the reason Kakashi wants to have as to why Iruka might come looking for him. And because he can sense a pattern developing, one that's already been happening for years but now has the opportunity to get worse, for Iruka to close himself off and to start avoiding Kakashi entirely unless it's for moments of physical comfort and nothing else. And what he doesn't want is to look back in another five years and wonder whether this was his opportunity to change things between them, and have to live with the regret of not having taken it.
But what he decides to say is, "I'm tired of finding out that I wasted what was right in front of me. Because I waited too long to do anything about it."
"Why?" Iruka asks. His tone is neutral, decidedly impartial, though he tightens his arm around Kakashi's neck as if to threaten his honesty in the following question. "Because that's already happened? Because Genma died before you got around to having this conversation with him instead?"
Kakashi's stunned silence is too telling. All this time and he doesn't know why he was convinced that Iruka had no idea about how often Kakashi slept with his best friend. Maybe because it sounds really awful when you say it like that. But Iruka isn't even wrong. Kakashi does, very deeply so, regret that Genma's death has left him with the glaring sting of a wasted friendship and a dozen questions he never had the courtesy to ask. He can say what he wants about his intentions with Iruka right now and what they have ever been in the past, but like it or not, Kakashi has never furthered their relationship beyond someone good for a fuck every few weeks.
"Yes," Kakashi says simply. "And I don't want it to happen with anyone else."
Iruka is silent for a few tense moments. His hand absently traces across Kakashi's chest and stomach while he considers his reply. Kakashi tries not to tense as the feather light touch skims over his ribs. The silence grows heavy until Iruka finally speaks up.
"Did you love him?" He asks quietly.
And Kakashi wants to say, Not the way that I love you.
"I could have," he says instead. And that's really the most painful part. The answer isn't even a yes or a no. The answer is that he never made the attempt to try properly. Iruka pauses for a long time. Kakashi wonders if he's said the wrong thing, but even without being as blatant as he could have been there's really no misconstruing his intentions any longer.
"What do you imagine happening instead?" Iruka eventually asks. His tone is a little more soft. "You think it would be different if you and I were... if this was more than just a sex thing between us? When I die, would it hurt less if we'd been friends instead?"
Like many other things Iruka has said across the years of their not-friendship, Kakashi understands where his head's at. Because there was a long period of his own life, after he'd lost almost everyone who meant something to him, where he avoided making friendships or furthering the ones he already had, solely out of fear. Companionship and love seemed like a waste of time when his only examples of their conclusion was to be left with the gaping reminder of that person's death, when their lives were inevitably taken from him by the world that they live in. So for years, he didn't seek out any more opportunities to experience that hurt again. The friends he had, he ignored. He barely spoke even when spoken to. In his head this was the safest option. With nothing and no one to lose, he couldn't hurt any more. But in that safety of having no one to lose, he of course had no one. Tenzo and Gai were among the first to successfully draw him out of this period of self-destruction. Looking back he now knows that no one ever really gave up on him, but he definitely gave up on them for several years. And with perspective he can easily say that it's not better to be alone just to save yourself the chance at heartache.
So he gets it, of course. Iruka's sentiment - his fear, even if he doesn't really display that he's afraid, Kakashi can tell. Iruka is in the same place he was before, an isolating sense of loneliness that eats away at your ability to entertain friendships, or relationships, or love. Iruka lost his parents as well as countless friends and mentors in the nine-tails attack, he's suffered Mizuki's betrayal and Hiruzen's demise, he says goodbye to his comrades and former students at the desk and knows that not all of them will return, and every day he suffers the fear of Naruto's questionable safety. And now his best friend is dead, and he considers himself to blame for it. Kakashi doesn't know if Iruka has ever really had a significant other, or a lover, but it's easy to empathize with the idea that he doesn't want one. Not when it's clear, given their lives and livelihood, how that would most likely end up. As a rule, very few shinobi die in their own bed.
Despite this, Kakashi disagrees with the sentiment on principle. Because he's lived through and come out of what he now understands was a terrible and debilitating depression of loneliness, self-imposed only by adherence to his own rules of avoidance in order to protect within himself that which he considered fragile - his heart, and his capacity for love. And ever since he realized that the answer was never to avoid everyone he cares about, it's not to say that he hasn't suffered losses that exist only because he decided to participate in those acquaintanceships or friendships. He certainly has. Members of the squads he's served on, friends and allies and acquaintances alike that he's gotten to know over the years, who are now dead. People like Genma. And the others' deaths will hurt when they happen. He knows he'll grieve fiercely when news of Tenzo's or Gai's death comes back to him one day. But if Iruka were to die tomorrow, mostly what he fears he would feel is simply regret, for not trying harder to make attempts to know him better.
Kakashi, of course, has no idea how to articulate this in a manner that might be in any way convincing. For him it was never a string of words that helped pull him out of his rut. It was the deliberate and continued support of those closest to him, making sure he understood that he was seen and heard even when he didn't want to be, that he was appreciated and he was missed and most importantly that he was loved. Maybe it won't work for Iruka in the same way, but it's the only thing he knows to try.
"It wouldn't hurt less," he says carefully. "But the effort is worth it."
Iruka removes his arm, still wrapped around Kakashi's neck, to scrub across his own face.
"Kakashi, I can't afford to be more than just fuck-buddies with you," he says blatantly. "This is supposed to be easy, okay? Don't make this hard."
Kakashi concedes in light of his obvious frustration, and for now, he lets the matter go. Iruka rolls out of bed to take a shower without another word on the subject. Kakashi sighs and gets up to take off the topsheet, tossing it in the corner to join the dirty laundry he's had plenty of time and not enough care to deal with. The bathroom door is left open so he helps himself to wiping down with a wet rag and finding some clean clothes to put on. But Iruka pokes his head out from behind the curtain when Kakashi enters, tugs him into the tiny stall, and pushes him down to kneel on the floor for round three. Iruka's second favorite thing after having sex with the lights on is getting a blow job in the shower. Kakashi always walks away with his skin red and warm from how scalding Iruka likes the water.
He expects Iruka to make himself scarce after this, and he towel dries his hair out on the balcony while he smokes a cigarette. Most likely he'll head back to his own apartment shortly. Kakashi tucks a new topsheet on the bed and unfolds the comforter from where it landed in a heap, and is surprised when Iruka comes back into the room as he's lying down in the dark. Hair damp and still smelling like smoke, Iruka climbs in after him without a word, despite that Kakashi can count on one hand the number of times either of them have stayed the night in each other's company after having sex. But he's got no arguments if Iruka wants to avail himself of his bed, or his person. Kakashi isn't sure if he'd call this afterglow, but it's definitely nice. It's maybe nicer than it should be. He detects a certain element of being thrown a bone for having voiced his quickly dismissed opinions, a sort of 'I might have shot you down but I'll sleep in the same bed as you' air, if you will. But it's still nice. Beggars can't be choosers.
Iruka lies down behind him so they're back to chest, and is asleep within minutes. The stump of his left arm is squished between them and his right hand tucks tightly around Kakashi's waist, almost like an embrace. He lets it be the comfort he wishes it really was as he drifts off to sleep, thoroughly exhausted by the entire evening.
The sun hasn't even touched the horizon when Iruka climbs out of bed, making very little effort to be quiet. Not that it would matter - Kakashi wakes on a hair-trigger and will not likely go back to sleep. Iruka pilfers around in Kakashi's dresser until he finds a change of clothes to put on, and just like that, the front door shuts behind him as he departs. Kakashi has no idea where he's going or if he's got somewhere to be. He doesn't know what Iruka gets up to these days when it seems like he doesn't occupy the desk any longer, nor has he gone back to the Academy just yet. Kakashi has to be at the hospital early this morning anyway, so it's just as well that Iruka's already left. Tsunade wants to 'try something' with the seal on his head, and he has no reason not to let her experiment.
When he gives up pretending that he might be able to go back to bed for another hour before he has to leave, he gets up and finally starts a load of laundry and then makes the smallest, most calorically dense breakfast he can manage so his medication doesn't make him ill. It feels silly to put on his uniform just to go to the hospital when they're probably going to make him change into the awful paper gowns anyway, but dressing in civilian attire would really make him feel even more down and out than he already is, somehow. He wears everything except the vest and hitai-ate, and rolls up to his usual hospital room only twenty minutes late. Tsunade leans against the wall talking to someone standing in front of the window who he really didn't expect to see again so soon.
Iruka, of all people, stands at her left, dressed to a T in his own uniform instead of whatever clean clothes he stole from Kakashi's wardrobe not even an hour prior. You'd have no clue they spent the better part of the previous evening fucking each other stupid just by looking at him now, not with the somewhat unimpressed stare Iruka levels across the room like Kakashi just interrupted them in the middle of a meeting.
"Ah, Kakashi," Tsunade says as he enters. Iruka goes back to flipping through the half dozen open files on the table in the corner - Tsunade's notes and research on his condition. Kakashi sits down on the edge of the bed. "You're late, needless to say."
"Got a bit lost."
Iruka rolls his eyes and Tsunade ignores him.
"I've decided to formally bring on Iruka as a specialist to help deal with you," she says.
"Deal with me," Kakashi repeats. Iruka replies without looking up.
"Tsunade-sama thinks I may be able to help reduce the frequency of your episodes."
"You aren't a medic," Kakashi says, mostly a statement of confusion. In honesty though he's got no idea what Iruka is or does. He was working towards promotion to tokubetsu, maybe this has something to do with his specialization. Kakashi's response maybe comes across a little harshly because Tsunade frowns and pushes away from the window.
"Your very unique type of brain damage has been temporarily helped by the seals I placed on your big head," she says as a matter of fact. "And Iruka happens to be the best seals specialist we've had on the roster since Minato was alive."
"Oh."
Iruka rolls his eyes again and approaches the bed. "Turn around and hold still," he says.
"Maa, sensei, you could at least buy me dinner first," Kakashi teases, entirely deadpan, and is rewarded with a pinch on the back of his arm as he turns and sits cross legged.
"I'm not going to make any adjustments yet," Iruka says, ignoring his remark. "Just getting a feel for what Tsunade-sama has already put in place, to see what I have to work with."
Iruka puts a palm on his neck and slides it up into his hairline, the same place it usually rests when Iruka is holding him face down against the mattress. Kakashi tries not to shudder.
"Never heard of a one armed seals-master," he says. The tease comes to him before he can think better of it but he regrets the attempt at levity as soon as it leaves his mouth. Iruka, though, only pauses briefly as he considers how to respond.
"And some lightning nature you are," he says. "Nearly getting electrocuted to death by your own affinity."
Kakashi huffs in amusement and Iruka steps in close to press his palm firmly against Kakashi's head.
"Tell me if this hurts," Iruka says in slight warning. Then Kakashi feels him push a small amount of chakra into his fingers, and there's the familiar pulse as Tsunade's seals activate.
Tsunade, while being a sannin and a master medi-nin in her own right, is not truly a fūinjutsu specialist. The best that the village has had to offer recently has been Jiraiya, though of course, he's been absent the last two years and change galavanting across the countryside with his new protege, and he maybe no longer counts. The fact that Tsunade is willing to bring Iruka in for this either means that he is secretly insanely skilled in the art, or that Tsunade is frighteningly desperate for help. Kakashi isn't sure which answer he dislikes more, because if Iruka's specialization is in fūinjutsu and Kakashi somehow never managed to notice or find that out, he's going to feel like a dick. On the other hand, if Tsunade is getting desperate enough to bring in amatuer help then she's running out of ideas. And Kakashi is not exactly much closer to being fit for duty once again. So he grits his teeth as Iruka prods around in the patchwork, invisible seals applied against his scalp which tendril down into his brain to do - well, whatever it is it's doing to stop his seizures from being so frequent.
Iruka's inspection drags on for nearly ten minutes, which Kakashi counts against the clock on the wall as he times his inhales and exhales by the ticking second hand. Sometimes Iruka speaks up to ask her a question about the seal's application or abilities, strings of jargon that Kakashi has heard being said before but doesn't truly understand. A bit of a headache develops behind his eyes at Iruka's sustained interference and chakra touching him so directly. Eventually he lets go, though in the absence of whatever he was doing the small headache immediately blossoms into a full-blown migraine. Kakashi grunts in pained surprise and leans forward to dig the heels of his palms into his eyes, and Iruka curses under his breath.
"Damn it, sorry, I was trying to avoid that," he says. His voice is sharp like the point of a blade as he quickly puts his hand against Kakashi's forehead. Then there's another, more concentrated pulse of chakra, and the pain recedes away from the front of his face but remains, much less intense, in the back of his skull. Despite Iruka just perusing for today, Kakashi is already drained and tired. He flops down in a huff against the bed.
"That's some solid handywork, Tsunade-sama," Iruka says. Kakashi scrubs at his face and Iruka gives him a hardy pat on the shoulder as he goes to talk to her. "What you did with the tiering seems to be really effective."
"It would be more effective, but I had no choice but to tone it down," she replies. "I tried upping the response rate and I think I nearly put him in a coma for a few days."
Whatever that means must be why he couldn't stay awake for more than ten hours at a time last week. Go figure. The lights overhead are bright in his eyes and he covers his face with his arm.
"Hmm... that's unfortunate," Iruka says. "Have you thought about adding a third seal, to handle the overlap?"
"I have," Tsunade says. "But I didn't want to overcomplicate it when I'm not confident I won't short-circuit him the rest of the way. Which is why you're here."
"I'll try my best not to do that," Iruka says. "If you don't mind, I'd like to take your notes with me. I've a few ideas I'll workshop."
"By all means. I'll have Shizune pull you the rest of the files." She glances at the clock on the wall with a scowl and heads towards the door. "I have to run but let's talk about this more tomorrow. I'd like to see what you have in mind. Meet me at oh-eight-hundred in my office."
"Yes, ma'am," Iruka says with a polite nod, and Tsunade exits the room. Kakashi peeks out from under his arm when Iruka remains behind. The silence that stays in her absence is a bit awkward. He addresses the elephant in the room.
"I didn't know you were a fūinjutsu specialist," he says.
"Why would you?" Iruka asks, not unkindly. He collects the files from the bedside table and stacks them into a neat pile to take with him.
"We've been on missions together," Kakashi says. "I've seen you use seals before and I know you're handy with them. I didn't know you were an expert."
"I'm only an expert as of recently," Iruka says. "Way after the last time we went on a mission together. Handy is all I've ever been until the last year or so, when I got serious about learning."
"Who's training you?"
"The library," Iruka replies with a shrug.
"The library," Kakashi repeats in slight disbelief. "You're self taught out of the library? And you became a specialist like that?"
"Yeah. Didn't you become chuunin at like, six years old?" Iruka counters defensively. "I know you didn't go to the Academy. Some people are just gifted. I'm good at this. Konoha has a lot of shit in the archives if you know what to look for. It's sad to let all this knowledge go to waste."
Kakashi sits up to reply to this but grunts when the motion sends a fresh ache through his skull and makes his heartbeat throb behind his head. Iruka sees his discomfort and approaches the bed again, gesturing for Kakashi to turn and face him so he can help. Kakashi sits on the edge of the bed and Iruka cups the back of his head. The pulse of chakra he releases from his palm is much smaller and slower than before, and Kakashi's headache practically melts away entirely. He blows out a relieved exhale and Iruka lets him go.
"I'll let you know when I've come up with something," he says.
Then he gathers the files under his arm, and he exits without a backwards glance. For some reason Kakashi feels like he doesn't breathe easy until Iruka leaves the room.