There was just enough moonlight sliding through the window for Iruka to see the scars on Kakashi's shoulder. He traced them absently with lazy fingers. "You became a jounin at the age of twelve, right?" His voice was soft around the edges with sleep. Kakashi grunted in reply, mostly asleep himself. "How many people have seen your face since then?"
The jounin's body tightened like a wire; Iruka felt it immediately, being draped across the slender man's back like a slightly sticky blanket. His hands automatically sought out knots of tension, instictively seeking to soothe.
"I'm sorry." He pressed his nose into the juncture of collar bone and neck, still trying to stroke the tension away with his hands. His curiosity was stealthier than his common sense, particularly on nights like this when he was warm and sated and curled around his lover. He usually managed to stop himself from asking stupid questions before they could ruin things. "You don't have to answer, it's none of my business."
Kakashi shifted beneath him, turning until they were face to face, their bodies fitting together neatly. His eyes were closed but his fingers found the scar across Iruka's face by instinct, tracing it lightly. Iruka kissed the palm of his hand in apology.
His voice was low, and his hands stilled, resting on Iruka's cheekbones. His fingers ticked off the names against Iruka's face. "Tsunade. One healer nin. Sandaime. Three members of the Uchiha clan, all of whom are dead. Yondaime. Rin. Obito." He opened his eyes, the stolen sharingan lost in shadow. "You."
Iruka kissed him, fierce and possessive, trusting his body to say what words could not.
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