That seems to shake Iruka out of his daze, who steps aside to make room. "Not at all. Please, come in."

"Thank you for having me."

While Kakashi goes through the motions of leaving his shoes at the genkan, Iruka retreats to turn off the gas stove in the kitchen space. The tangy smell of miso wafts inside, along with the overwhelming saltiness of cheap store-bought dashi stock, but neither manages to cover the overwhelming bitterness of burnt meat and oil in the air. An open window in the corner is slowly cycling out any remaining smoke.

On the countertop, a gutted bag of onions has spread its contents nearly all the way to an empty styrofoam tray and its crumpled wrapping. A cutting board and its knife await tidying, bloody juices staining the wood. And across the floor lies a lone, curled potato peel.

"Sorry about the mess..." Iruka says, sounding genuinely ashamed to be in a lived-in kitchen.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one interrupting your meal."

Iruka's mouth twists in a shape that's more wince than grin. "I wish. Nowhere near the meal stage yet." He looks at the contents of a pan at the back end of the stovetop and sighs. "And I won't be. If I'm entirely honest I was about to call it a day. Just... crack an egg to eat with rice and that's it." He casts another dejected look at the results of his efforts before meeting Kakashi's gaze with a sheepish smile, like he's inviting Kakashi to mock along. "I should just give up on cooking, I think. Ichiraku's ramen hasn't failed me thus far, after all."

Kakashi doesn't take the invitation. He keeps a polite distance as he darts a glance over Iruka's shoulder. Nothing to it. It's just a burnt meal.

He pinches his chin as if in consideration. "Uh. I can't say I've known you to back down from a challenge before."

That gets a bark of laughter out of Iruka. "Yes, well. We all have our limits," he says, seemingly fatalistic, but Kakashi can see that his words have ticked him somehow. Iruka, Kakashi knows, isn't quite so much competitive as always desperately willing to prove himself.

It was probably unfair of Kakashi to even allow the suggestion that he become Kakashi's spouse. Could Iruka ever have refused? knowing the stakes? being who he is?

And is there any point pondering all that when their options are so narrow and the point of no return’s so near?

Ever resilient against matters of moping, Iruka shakes himself out of his culinary bout of angst. "Enough about that, what gives?" he asks. He pauses; visibly rewinds at the familiarity. "I mean, what are you doing here?" Screws his eyes shut in a flash of self-recrimination that it might sound accusing. Clears his throat. "I mean: what brings you here?"

There's a tipping point where entertainment becomes cruelty so Kakashi puts Iruka out of his misery before they reach that.

He brandishes two movie tickets. "A new adaptation of Icha Icha. I believe you enjoyed Paradise, yes?"

In the span of a few seconds, Iruka's brows go through a wide variety of angles. "Enjoyed is a bit of an--" he starts to argue. Kakashi smiles placidly and Iruka's whole face scrunches on a begrudging confession. "Oh fine, I liked it."

"I know."

The kitchen is no cleaner than when they first started talking but the worst of the smell of burning has gone. Iruka gives his surroundings a questioning glance.

"Well, I haven't eaten yet. How long do we have?"

Kakashi moves to glance at the position of the sun outside. "Should have a bit over an hour." While Iruka nods and starts going through his fridge and tidying his space, Kakashi leans back against the counter, watching his comings and goings. "I wanted to check on you before we went, discuss how you've been handling things. I didn't account for your mealtime. That..." was a sore miscalculation on Kakashi's part, and uncharacteristic too. "--is my mistake."

What did he think was going to happen? Dinner and a movie?

Apparently that's what he's getting because Iruka finishes emptying the burnt pan in a nearby trashcan, fits it at the base of the stack of dirty dishes in his sink, and then weighs up his carton of eggs in Kakashi's direction.

"Do you want some? I make no promises but my omelettes are usually edible."

Well... Kakashi's eaten from Gai's first attempts in the kitchen and survived.

"Sure."

Between the dashi broth and his five eggs, Iruka scrounges up a basic omelet and even finds some reasonably fresh scallions in his fridge to chop as topings. There's little to be done about the saltiness of the broth without watering the taste out of it but the egg texture turns out surprisingly soft and just moist enough to flavor each of the bowls of rice it's served on top of. Iruka spends part of the meal staring resolutely down at his dish, which Kakashi would have teased him about if they didn't have a schedule to keep to and more pressing matters to discuss.

"So, how have you been faring?"

"I think it's going well." Iruka chews on some rice while he thinks it through. "People were surprised at first but they seem to believe it.” He speaks with his mouth half-full with the practice of someone who knows his way around avoiding mangling his words, and even offers an amused, albeit small, smile. "It's definitely the talk of the village. I've been getting many congratulations."

Kakashi hums through a mouthful himself, chewing slowly to give Iruka space to elaborate if he feels like it. That seems to be the right choice because straggling hairs, dark circles under his eyes and all, Iruka's face brightens again as he carries on.

"Even the kids tried to ask about the whole thing, actually. Gave them a surprise test and told them whomever got the best grade would get to ask me one single question. And when Kari aced her test and asked me if she could ask her question now--"

"Ah."

"--Yep. I told her she just did, and that someone else may get a shot at asking me a question next time."

"Very devious, sensei. How are you at poker?"

Iruka laughs, pushing some more rice into his mouth. "Absolute shit."

"Or so you would want me to believe," Kakashi drawls, waiting for him to finish eating. He watches Iruka chase around a last piece of omelette then bring the bowl to his mouth for the dregs. His skin has regained some color and he appears more settled than when Kakashi invited himself in, but he's still unusually worn out. "You look tired."

The observation doesn't seem to land as casually as Kakashi intended. Iruka rubs the back of his neck with a bark of laughter that's a bit too loud for comfort.

When Kakashi fails to smile along, he deflates. "It hasn't been easy. I'm sorry."

There's only the sheepish wince of a genuine apology, but Kakashi lets his stare linger for a moment. Then he sets down his empty bowl and places his chopsticks across.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sensei." He slaps his two palms together and bows. "Thank you for the meal."

Iruka hastily bows in return, like he's taken aback by even this much, like he won't admit to how much of himself he is actually giving, which is baffling enough that Kakashi doesn't give him time to argue.

"You spoke very highly of me, when you accepted this arrangement. I hope you know I feel the same."

In the many times Kakashi has seen Iruka blush, few if any have been as quick setting and as bright as this one. Even his eyes have opened wide, his chopsticks held in a clenched hold. "You--You do? But I--That is to say--"

Kakashi cuts through the stammers. "Iruka-sensei. Only someone who embodies the Will of Fire could pass it on the way that you do. You have always been generous to Konoha. And most importantly you care, about her, about its people. And what you're doing, it matters. The fact that it's you doing it matters. A lot. As does your well-being."

"Oh."

For a moment, Iruka appears frozen in place, motionless but for the rise of his hard breathing chest. His expression is a study in contrasts, if contrasts could ever be this foggy.