Written for Christmas, for Aozora.

In some ways, Iruka was very much a child. It probably came from teaching little children day in and day out. So, it was with no surprise that Kakashi found Iruka standing outside, bare feet in the wet grass, hands clasped tightly, space between his palms.

"What're you doing?" Kakashi asked, and he rested his head on Iruka's shoulders, looking at the teacher's hands. Iruka breathed out, then in, and cracked his hands open.

"Fireflies," Iruka said needlessly, and the insect slipped from between Iruka's hands. Kakashi watched as the spot of light moved away, hovering low on the ground.

"Fireflies?" Kakashi asked, and he lifted his head. Iruka nodded, and stepped away from Kakashi, leaning up on his toes, catching another firefly in his hands.

"Fireflies."

And when Iruka held his hands close to his chest, cradling them, fingers barely spread to watch the glint of light, Kakashi had never loved him more.

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