A/N: There is, apparently, mochi ice cream. The mind boggles.

"I don't like him," Anko said, frowning at Mizuki's retreating back.

Iruka looked up at her in surprise, then glanced toward his best friend. "What? Why not?" He felt defensive, though he had little reason to. But somehow, he always felt defensive about Mizuki.

Anko just shrugged, running her fingers through short black hair. "I don't know. I just don't. He's kind of a freak."

Iruka scowled. "He's my friend."

"He's still a freak," Anko answered with another shrug.

Iruka sat back, arms folded over his chest and textbooks laid out around him. The sun beat down him, too cheerful for the little lover's spat about to happen.

Of course, they hadn't actually had *sex,* so he wasn't sure he could call Anko a lover.

"Anko, he's my friend," Iruka said again, stubborn and showing it.

Anko's eyes flashed. She had a temper, was just as stubborn as he was, and had a full year's age and ninja experience on him. "So you have shitty taste in friends. He's *creepy.*" She reached up, rubbing the curse seal on her neck unconsciously.

Iruka watched the movement, anger boiling in his stomach. He'd had enough problems with Mizuki lately that it was a touchy subject anyway; Anko wasn't helping. "I guess you'd know about creepy," he shot back, before he quite realized what he was saying. "After all, you're the one who followed scary snake-tongue to be a missing ninja--"

"That was different!" Anko nearly shouted.

Iruka continued, "--and there's no one creepier than *him.*"

"What’s your fucking problem?" Anko yelled. "I paid my debt, okay? That bastard--" she gestured at Mizuki, who'd disappeared into the village, "--is just wandering around, free as a bird--"

"He hasn't done anything wrong! He certainly didn't follow his sensei and kill his fellow ninja--"

"It was six months, and I didn't kill anyone!" Anko grabbed her bag, yanked the ties closed, and stood. "You know what? Never mind. Fuck you, Iruka." She started to walk away, stopped, and whipped back. "No, don't fuck you. 'Cause you wouldn't fuck anything, no matter how obvious I am anyway."

Iruka flinched.

"Honestly, I do *not* know what is wrong with you sometimes," she said. "And he--" she jabbed a finger down the road, "is creepy. Mark my words. Someone's going to get hurt, and then--then--" she threw her hands up and marched away.

Iruka watched her go, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Gods," he muttered, trying to quash the desire to throw something.

He and Anko had a rocky relationship at best--she was explosive, which could either be fun or a little intimidating, and she was much more sexually experienced than he was. She pushed, and he was just *uncomfortable,* and he never quite knew what to do with her.

Frustrated, Iruka packed up his books. He could continue studying at home.

By the time he got home, he realized his mistake. It seemed like everyone was there, whether or not they actually lived there anymore. He shut himself in Hanayo's den and tried to ignore the noises outside, wondering how anyone could grow up in a family this big--and conveniently forgetting that he'd lived there for almost seven years.

He spread his books out on the desk and tried to focus, making notes on a scroll of parchment, things he was certain he'd need to remember.

He was never going to be a teacher at this rate. It seemed like he had to pass more exams for this than he had to become a Chuunin.

The door opened.

He ignored it.

Genma and Raidou came in, Raidou hobbling on one crutch.

He ignored them.

"Tani's back from her training mission," Raidou announced to the room at large.

"Great," Iruka muttered. Another person to clog up the house. He also ignored the fact that he was only frustrated about Anko, and tried to believe he was really frustrated at the fact that he couldn't seem to find privacy.

His room in the back somehow didn't occur to him.

"Hey! Hey!" Genma laughed at Raidou from behind Iruka. "Aren't you supposed to be convalescing?"

"Hmm. Convalescing," Raidou said thoughtfully. "Does that mean you're my nurse?"

"Jounin who break their freakin' feet jumping out of trees don't deserve nurses," Genma shot back, laughing.

"*Foot,* not feet," Raidou sniffed. "And I wouldn't have, if you hadn't pushed me."

"Well, I wouldn't have pushed you, if--"

Iruka felt his cheeks turn pink, and clamped both hands over his ears. A bit immature for nineteen, sure, but he wasn't feeling particularly mature at the moment anyway. Besides, they were *old* and they still acted like teenagers. He stared hard at his textbook, not really seeing any of the words.

A moment later, Genma skidded across the desk with a yelp, and all of Iruka's papers and books went tumbling to the floor. He jumped out of his chair just before the binding of a text landed on a rather delicate portion of his anatomy. "Geez, you guys!" he yelled, grabbing a book and slamming it on the desk next to Genma.

Genma flinched, laughing, and fell over the side nearest the wall. "Ow," he said from the floor. His legs twitched, then stilled. "Um, I'm stuck. A little help here?"

"I dunno, I broke my *foot,*" Raidou said with a smirk. "I might not be able to help you up."

"Oh, you help me *up* all the time," Genma answered, somehow the leer unmistakable even from behind the desk. "I was wondering if you could get me unstuck, though."

Iruka grabbed more books, stacking them on top of each other with barely controlled movements. "Would you two cut it out? I think I liked you better when you weren't sleeping together!"

Genma started to laugh. "We'll be sure to keep that in mind!"

"And you're old!" Iruka snapped, feeling mean.

Genma was wriggling out from behind the desk; he stopped, peering up at Raidou. "You know, he's right. You *are* old. One of the oldest ninja I know, that's for sure. Maybe you can't help me--" his eyebrows waggled, "--*up* anymore."

Raidou looked affronted. Iruka did his best to ignore both of them, gathering papers and trying to grab his pencil from where it had rolled under Hanayo's sewing machine.

"Oh, you want me to get you up? I think I can do that, still," Raidou was saying, pacing slowly toward Genma. "And I'm not *old.* I'm not even thirty."

"I dunno," Genma said dubiously. "We might have to curtail some of your extracurricular activities . . ."

Raidou lowered himself to the floor, edging toward where Genma sat. "You think so, huh? That would be your loss, you know . . ."

Iruka's face turned a much brighter red. He snatched his pencil, stuffed it into his ponytail, quickly scooped up his books and notes, and fled toward the door. "How long are you going to be here?" he shot over his shoulder.

Genma said something, but the words were muffled. Iruka didn't want to know why. He left the room without looking back.

Ichiro was in the hall, wandering toward the sewing room.

"Don't go in there," Iruka muttered. "*They're* in there."

Ichiro stopped with a scowl. "Man, I liked it better when they were on missions all the time. Can't we go back to war?"

Iruka nodded his agreement and headed for his bedroom.

**

He had to be prepared to write a paper in two days--two days!--with no idea what it would be on, and he felt totally unready.

It didn't help that he'd found out just that day that Mizuki was entering to be a teacher, too. Mizuki was a better ninja than Iruka was; they both knew it. If there was only one position open, Mizuki was a shoo-in.

Iruka dropped his pencil on his tiny writing desk and laid his head on his arms, dejected. He'd gotten to be Genin because of his teammates. He'd made Chuunin by the skin of his teeth. He'd been hospitalized three times on his first three missions, each time with serious injuries. There was no way they were going to let him be a teacher.

Iruka stared at the scrolls scattered around his desk and the floor. He wanted it so badly he could *taste* it, and he was never, ever going to get it. Not if Mizuki was trying, too.

Someone knocked at his door, and he glanced up without moving. "Yeah?"

"You have a guest," Hanayo, Raidou's mother and his foster mother, said through the wood.

Iruka straightened up, standing with a wince. He hadn't realized he'd been sitting so uncomfortably. He shook his leg out, then hobbled to the door--his leg was still half asleep--and opened it.

Anko stood just behind Iruka's foster mother, looking awkward.

Hanayo stepped back to let the girl in, and Iruka smiled his thanks. He started to close the door behind Anko, only to have Hanayo stop him. She smiled pleasantly. "We'll just leave this open, shall we?"

He could have argued that he was nineteen, and knew better than to have sex in her house anyway. He didn't bother, though. Iruka just nodded and left the door open.

Hanayo left.

Anko stood, staring hard at her feet. "I'm off on a mission later today," she said finally. "Something stupid. But I didn't want to leave things the way they were."

Iruka nodded, staring at her feet, too. Easier than looking at her face.

Anko took a deep breath. "Look, Iruka, I'm sorry I stormed off like that."

He cringed. "I said some really terrible things. I'm sorry, too," he murmured, guilt hitting him like the blunt end of a kunai.

Anko nodded, but didn't move. "I know you don't want to hear this," she said slowly, "but I'm going to tell you anyway. There's something wrong with Mizuki."

Iruka's jaw set. "He's been through a lot."

Anko gave a jerky shrug. "Maybe he has. There's still something wrong with him."

Iruka stepped away, folding his arms over his chest and still not looking up. "He's my friend. He's been my friend since my parents died, and we've been through a lot together."

Anko just nodded; he could see it out of the corner of his eye. "Sometimes, though, it's time to move on. Orochimaru was my sensei, and--"

Iruka's eyes snapped, and he glared at Anko. "Mizuki isn't like Orochimaru," he nearly snarled.

Anko held up her hands placatingly. "Sometimes there comes a point when it's time to move on," she said again.

"That's not your decision to make," Iruka muttered. She couldn't control who he was friends with; he didn't ask her to stop seeing *her* friends.

Anko dropped her hands, shoving them into her pockets. "No. But I already left one person I loved, because what he was doing was wrong. I'm not going to go down with you because you can't do the same."

Iruka stared, astounded. "So, what?" he asked disbelievingly. "This is a him or you thing? I have to choose, now?"

Anko just stared at him.

Iruka laughed, as if he were ready to pass it all off as a joke--even though he knew it wasn't. He stared. "Mizuki has been my friend, sometimes my only friend, for *years,*" he said finally. "I'm not going to . . . to stop just because you don't like him."

Anko nodded slowly. "Okay." She leaned in, brushing a kiss across his cheek, then stepped back toward the door.

"That's it?" Iruka nearly squeaked. This couldn't mean what he thought it meant. Could it?

Anko just looked at him. Then she shrugged, and left.

Iruka stared at the empty doorway for a long moment.

She's just broken up with him. Anko had broken up with him, over Mizuki. Iruka sat down heavily at his desk, looking at nothing.

His first serious girlfriend, and she'd broken up with him over his best friend.

A shadow darkened the doorway, and Iruka looked up hopefully, thinking it might be Anko. Maybe she'd changed her mind, and--it was only Hanayo, though, looking concerned. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

Iruka rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Yeah," he muttered. "It's okay." Anko had broken up with him. He sighed as if the weight of the world had pushed out the air. "I'm going to go see Hayate," he said after a minute. "I probably won't be home for dinner."

Hanayo nodded, stepping back as he gathered up his books, scrolls, and notes, and stuffed them into his bag. Then he slung it over his shoulder and trudged out of the house.

**

"Who needs women, anyway?" Hayate asked, gesturing expansively with his beer.

Iruka laughed, shot back whatever the bartender had put in front of him--he'd stopped asking what they were--and coughed. Hayate snickered drunkenly, pounding Iruka's back.

"Women are superflu--supperufa--snuffleupa--extra things we don't need!" Hayate said loudly. "I mean, you gotcher guy friends to hang out with, and . . . um . . ." he stopped, looking at his empty glass as if it was terribly confusing. "Pornography!" he yelled cheerfully.

Iruka giggled madly into his folded arms. He pushed up off the bar, nearly tipped over backward, grabbed hold of Hayate to steady himself and crashed into the other man's shoulder. "You are my best-est-est-est-est-est--" he had to stop and untangle his tongue, apparently unable to move on from the 'est'es. "My best friend ever," he managed at last.

"I know," Hayate grinned. "Tarbender!" He blinked, frowned, giggled, and said, "Bartender! Another round for me, the bestest friend ever, and my bestest friend!"

"Break-ups notwithstanding," the bartender said, plucking Hayate's glass out of his madly flailing hand, "I think you've both had enough for the night."

Hayate leaned across the bar confidentially. Iruka went with him, mostly because he was still leaning against Hayate's chest and shoulders. "But his girlfrien' broke up with him," Hayate said in a loud, spittle-filled whisper. Then Hayate flung himself backward, arms in the air. "An' I'm his friend, so I'm gettin' him shitfaced!" he yelled happily.

Iruka laughed and fell over. Somehow, the ground didn't seem as painful as it did when he was sober.

Hayate was leaning over, peering down at him from high, high above. "Maaaaaaaan." He began to snicker. "You just fell outta your *chair.* Aren't you supposed to be a nin-ja?"

Iruka was too busy laughing to answer.

"Come on!" Hayate yelled, spinning free of his stool, feet landing precariously close to Iruka's head. "I have more drinks at my place! And guy friends! And porn!"

"You have porn?" Iruka laughed, feeling his face turn bright red.

"I do," Hayate answered, tripping over Iruka and crashing against a nearby table. "Sorry," he whispered to the patrons there. "I stole it from my brother."

Iruka grabbed Hayate's leg--the only thing stable he could find--and started climbing up the boy's body. Eventually, he was upright. He stared at Hayate, noses nearly touching. "You're swaying," Iruka said solemnly.

"No, man," Hayate said. "It's the room."

"Oh," Iruka breathed. They staggered toward the door, bouncing off tables as the things moved into their path.

"This is a jutsu," Hayate said hoarsely, "so they can make people think they're drunker than they are."

"Ohhhhh," Iruka said wisely. The wall leapt out at him as he went through the door, and he lurched to one side to avoid it. Hayate yelped as he hit the frame on the other side. "Careful!" Iruka laughed.

"Someone shoved me," Hayate mumbled, twisting to look around suspiciously.

Iruka staggered, feet refusing to move fast enough to keep him upright as he followed Hayate's motion.

"Do you boys need a ride?" the bartender called.

"We're good!" Hayate answered cheerfully, with another gaily flung arm. "I just live down there!" Hayate turned toward the door, dragging Iruka forward again. Then he turned back to the bartender. Iruka tried to swing with him, but plopped to his bottom on the floor. "On the second leve--" Hayate stopped and looked down. "What are you doing down there?"

Iruka shrugged. "Y'know, the floor doesn't move as much when you sit on it."

"'Course not," Hayate scoffed. "That's 'cause you're holding it down."

There was a flaw in that logic, but Iruka couldn't bring himself to care. He held his arm up without looking, and a moment later felt strong fingers grab him and haul him upward. He smiled sloppily at Hayate. "Thanks."

Hayate grinned back, swayed forward, and regained his balance. "No problem, scar-face." He swayed forward again, and this time bumped foreheads. He giggled and planted a wet kiss on Iruka's nose. "There. All better."

Iruka snorted and rubbed at it with the back of his wrist. "Gross. You slobbered on me."

"Did not," Hayate said indignantly as they headed down the sidewalk, leaving the square of light from the bar.

"Nu-huh," Iruka mumbled. He rubbed his lips, which were curiously numb, then looked as his fingers as if they held the answer. His fingers blurred with each of his steps. "Now I'm never gonna have sex," he said mournfully.

"Because I slobbered on you?" Hayate asked.

"Because Anko broke up with me!"

"Anko wasn't going to have sex with you, anyway," Hayate said airily. "She'd've cutcher balls off!"

"Nu-uh," Iruka defended. "She wanted to, and I said no."

Hayate stopped. Iruka kept moving, then realized his arm was linked through Hayate's when he was almost tugged off his feet. "Seriously?" Hayate asked. "Are you dumb?"

Iruka giggled. "Yeah."

Hayate shook his head and started walking again. "Well, you'll just have to settle for porn like everyone else."

"You're obsessed, man," Iruka mumbled, rubbing his lips again. He pursed them and blew air, trying to make them vibrate. It didn't work. He tried again. It still didn't work.

"Porn-og-raphy is a man's -- best -- friend!" Hayate sang loudly, pulling them both to a stop.

Iruka looked at him, one eye closed as if the world might spin slightly less. "You *are* obsessed."

Hayate giggled, fiddling with keys. After a moment he got the door open, and they staggered inside and toward the stairs. Navigating the stairs was significantly more difficult than navigating the door; eventually, laughing so hard he could barely see, Iruka decided the best way was to go up them on his hands and knees. Hayate stood at the top, cheering. Once there, Iruka lifted both arms victoriously, then sagged back against the wall. Hayate leaned close, a finger on the tip of Iruka's nose. "When you grow up, you'll make a great Inuzuka dog."

Iruka laughed, then practically fell inside as Hayate opened the door. He staggered to the couch and collapsed onto his stomach, feet hanging off.

"Want beer?" Hayate called.

Iruka groaned.

"Sake?"

Iruka giggled. "No moooooorrrrrre . . ." He shifted, cracking one eye in time to see Hayate dancing over, hopping from one stockinged foot to the other, then both feet together. He paused, wiggled his butt, and hopped twice more, singing something under his breath the whole time. He flopped to the couch, narrowly missing Iruka's head, then slid to the floor, a bottle in each hand.

"One for you," he sing-songed, "and one for me!"

Iruka took his and peered at it. "Wassinside?"

"Sake!"

The sober part of his mind--the very, *very* tiny part--told him he was already going to regret this in the morning, and he should stop now. The rest of him thought sake sounded like a great idea. "You got cups?" he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"Broke 'em," Hayate chirped.

Iruka shrugged and took a swallow straight from the bottle. His eyes watered. "We're gonna get alcohol poisoning," he said solemnly.

Hayate lifted his bottle, striking for Iruka's and missing completely. "That's the idea!" He lifted both arms happily. "Yay for breaking up!"

Iruka laughed and looked at him, head flopping sideways. "Yay?"

"Yeah." Hayate grinned up. "So we can get shitfaced!" He chugged more sake, then coughed for several moments, eyes watering.

Iruka giggled and slid to the floor. Slowly, his body sagged sideways until he was sprawled against Hayate. He stared out at the little table, closed one eye, and caught sight of something underneath it. He reached out. It took him three tries to get his hand under the table, but finally his fingers closed on paper and he tugged. A magazine slid out.

Hayate started to laugh, sounding half-embarrassed. "That's porn."

Iruka let it fall open, one eye still closed. His face turned beet red, and his eyebrows shot up--but only momentarily, as that required too much coordination. "Hayate! This is--is--erotica!" His world bumped up and down as the ribs he was sprawled against convulsed with laugher.

"Noooooo! It's porn!"

Iruka twisted, rolling against a narrow chest until he could look up at Hayate. Hayate was red, too. "You're a pervert," he said solemnly.

Hayate's blush deepened. "I know!" he answered cheerfully. Then Hayate leaned close, dark hair falling around their faces. "You know Kakashi?" he whispered loudly.

Iruka nodded.

"He has a whole *box* of porn."

"Nu-uh!" Iruka said. "He's a genius!"

Hayate giggled, eyes closed, nose squinched. His forehead bumped Iruka's. "I know! But he does!"

"Says who?" Iruka's eyes crossed, trying to focus on Hayate while he was so close.

"I overheard Asuma telling Gai--"

"Oh, stop," Iruka laughed. "That doesn't count!"

"He's probably got a room full of it," Hayate laughed. "A house full!" He flopped back, head falling onto the couch. "Yessss. A whole *mansion.*" He raised his bottle again. The contents sloshed precariously. "A whole clan residence dedicated to porn!" he yelled.

Iruka ignored Hayate, looking at the magazine again. He turned the pages slowly, peering at every picture with a mix of disbelief and a total inability to avert his eyes. "Have you ever done this?" he asked, holding it up.

Hayate took it, bringing it closer to his face. He laughed. "No. I would!" he added loudly. Then he deflated. "But no."

When Hayate didn't give the magazine back, Iruka wiggled his way up. He brought his bottle to his lips, missed, banged his teeth, managed to slosh liquid into his mouth, and swallowed. "Have you had sex at all?" Iruka asked after a little bit.

"Uh huh," Hayate said absently. He turned a page. "Woo! Look at *that!*"

Iruka giggled, embarrassed. He hid his face against Hayate's shirt, then shifted slightly so he could see. Blood was edging slowly downward, despite--or maybe because--of the alcohol. "Who'd you have sex with?"

Hayate shrugged; Iruka could feel the movement through his whole body. "A girl."

Iruka breathed slowly, Hayate's scent curling around him. It was a good scent. Safe, and comforting. "I had sex," he said after a minute.

"Not with Anko!" Hayate laughed.

Iruka grinned. "No. But I did."

"And?"

Iruka stopped, suddenly uncomfortable. "I didn't like it."

Hayate twisted; Iruka guessed the other boy was looking at him. "Why not?"

Iruka shrugged, regretting bringing it up. He pointed at the magazine. "Have you ever done that?"

"You can't give a blowjob to a girl!" Hayate laughed.

Iruka blushed. "Well, you sorta can."

"Yeah, I guess. But I haven't." He turned the page. They were silent. "You should have sex!" Hayate announced. "I mean, where you like it! Who do you want to have sex with?"

All the blood trailing slowly downward shot back up into his face. "Hayate!"

"Well, why haven't you had sex yet? You're cute," Hayate said, a sulk entering his voice.

Iruka laughed and wiggled around again, until he was more even with Hayate. "I have a scar," he said, and nearly poked himself in the eye pointing it out.

Hayate only giggled. "Like it matters." He tipped closer, planting another wet kiss on Iruka's nose. "Better."

"You're drooling on me again," Iruka mumbled, wiping at his face.

Hayate went back to the magazine, turning pages.

Iruka's blood was equally split between heading downward and filling his face. Still, he couldn't quite manage to look away from the glossy pages. "Whoa," he murmured, bringing his knees up at something extra explicit.

Hayate stopped there. "Yeah." He stared for a long time. "We should find you a new girlfriend."

"From there?" Iruka laughed.

Hayate's whole body shivered with giggles. "No! But you deserve a girlfriend, if that's what you want!"

Iruka was still laughing. He calmed slowly. "I'm not--I don't . . ." he frowned, unsure what he was trying to say. He wasn't something, because otherwise he'd have had more than two whole girlfriends in his lifetime. "There must be something wrong with me," he muttered finally. "'M dirty or something."

"I don't think you're dirty," Hayate said, frowning at the magazine. He shook his head firmly, straight hair flying. "You're not dirty. You're--" he looked up, then down again, cheeks turning pink. "You're real nice." He sighed mournfully, fingers drifting over the pages. "I think you're real nice." The last words were quiet.

Iruka blushed. "You do?"

Hayate nodded.

"Girls don't."

Hayate swallowed audibly. "Well--well they're wrong. You are." He looked up, bit his lip, ducked his head, grinned, and leaned forward.

Iruka leaned backward slightly, but not fast enough. Lips touched his. Carefully, if a little drunkenly. Then Hayate pulled away, and looked back down at the magazine as if nothing had happened.

Iruka stared.

Hayate didn't look up.

His lips were still tingling. He touched them, rubbed his fingers over them, felt the funny shiver of skin over skin. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hayate looking at him again.

Iruka waited for the same dread that normally accompanied Mizuki's advances.

Nothing happened. He reached forward, grabbed his bottle, drank, and set it back down on the table with a solid thunk. Then he glanced down at the magazine.

They flipped the pages silently. Iruka kept rubbing his fingers against his mouth. He'd realize what he was doing, drop his hand, then moments later realize he was doing it again.

With every page they turned there were more pictures, intensely erotic. The world swam surreally. His flesh prickled, and he caught sight of Hayate rubbing his hands on his thighs. He copied the motion, toes curling against the carpet, shivers threading through his skin.

"You want--I mean, I could--" Hayate stopped, blushing. Then he giggled again, and leaned toward Iruka.

Iruka didn't pull away. He swallowed, eyes fixed on the magazine, feeling breath against his neck. Then lips. And a tongue.

It felt really, really good. He laughed nervously. Hayate returned it. The world spun and bubbled, sensation prickling along his skin, nerves humming just under his flesh. It smelled like Hayate, safe and comfortable, and fingers trailed along his skin, under his clothes . . .

He closed his eyes and listened to the breathing, his and Hayate's, a little ragged, catching here, breaking there. Skin over skin and everything sending shivers zipping down his spine. Iruka laughed shakily and slid his hand under Hayate's shirt. The man hummed and shifted, practically in Iruka's lap, blunt fingers and easy smiles and the occasional drunken laugh.

Iruka thought he heard Hayate singing again, but couldn't be certain. He was too drunk, and things were--if a little unsure--too nice. He giggled, hiccupped, and kissed Hayate back.

**

He had been kidnapped, bashed upside the head, tied, gagged with dog crap, and left for dead.

Or he had one hell of a hangover.

Iruka tried to bury his head under his arms, realized that wasn't going to work, and cracked open an eye. He was lying on the floor. He cracked his eye a little wider.

It was thundering.

No, wait. That was a shower.

Iruka frowned and braved sitting up far enough to look around.

He *was* on the floor. Specifically, he was wedged between the couch and the table, a blanket wrapped around his legs.

*Naked.*

Suddenly, his head hurt a lot more. He was sticky, sweating slightly from the sunlight streaming in the window. And itchy; like at some point, sweat had dried before he'd washed it off.

He glanced down, turned beet red, and looked away. Make that sweat and *something else* had dried before he'd washed it off.

Hayate had taken him drinking.

Which meant that this was Hayate's apartment.

Which meant that was Hayate in the shower.

Which meant he'd had *sex* with *Hayate.*

Suddenly, he remembered a lot more than he really wanted to.

Shoving his hangover to the back of his mind--easier than it should have been, which made him suspect he was actually still drunk--Iruka grabbed for his clothes and started yanking them on.

He couldn't find his damn underwear.

Cursing softly, he dragged his pants on and left the underwear. He could get more. Reasonably decent, he bolted for the door.

**

"Hey, Iruka," Raidou said from the doorway. Genma looked up, not so much curious as willing to use any distraction to get out of his paperwork. Who would have guessed that jumping out of a tree and breaking a foot would cause so much hassle? And Genma would certainly never have expected to hear himself saying that if he didn't hit that target with that dart, he'd fill out all Raidou's forms himself.

And if he had expected to hear himself say that, he wouldn't have expected Raidou to cheat and trip him up with a crutch at the last moment. It had stunned him enough that he hadn't even been able to correct his aim before the dart was gone.

Sneaky bastard Jounin.

"Hi, Raidou," Iruka was saying. At the sound of the young man's voice, wavering and faint, Genma looked up seriously.

"You sick, kid?" he asked around his senbon.

Iruka smiled, which almost made him look worse. "Uh, late night."

Genma relaxed, smirking. "Oh, yeah. Kumade said he saw you and Hayate at the bar last night. I take it you stayed out?"

Iruka nodded and looked miserable. "Anko dumped me."

Genma's eyes narrowed. There was something else going on. He could feel it. Iruka's hands were shoved in his pockets, but Genma could see the shadow of his fingers moving inside them. The roll of his shoulders screamed anxiety, and Iruka was refusing to look at Raidou.

"Hey, Raidou, if I'm going to do your bastard-ass paperwork, you can at least get me some mochi ice cream," Genma said.

"Huh? What? You lost that bet fair and square!" Raidou protested instantly.

"Mochi, asshole!" Genma yelled.

"It's all the way across the village, and I'm on crutches!"

"Crutch, singular, and--*mochi!*" Genma threw his pen at the Jounin.

Raidou ducked and gave Genma a look that clearly translated to, "You've lost your fucking mind, but you're a good lay so I'll do it."

Muttering to himself, Raidou turned and headed out.

Iruka melted slowly to the couch, pulling his hands out of his pockets and cradling his head in them.

"What's wrong?" Genma asked.

"Hangover," Iruka groaned.

Genma smiled ruefully and stood, heading into the kitchen. "Go to the bathroom. Don't barf on my floor. I'll bring you the world's best hangover cure."

Wordlessly, Iruka did as he was told.

Genma threw together his concoction, made out of desperation when he'd had too many Konoha's Beautiful Green Beasts the night before, and headed to the bathroom.

If the real problem was a hangover, he'd eat his socks.

Okay, maybe not *his* socks--they'd each been worn at least three times since the last washing--but he'd eat Raidou's socks.

Iruka was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, shoulders hunched protectively around his ears. Genma handed him the drink, watched him drink it, counted to ten, and politely looked away while Iruka vomited into the toilet.

"What was *in* that?" Iruka wailed, snatching the cup of water Genma offered.

"Don't ask unless you want to barf again. Bet you feel better though, don't you?" Genma answered cheerfully. "Now, what's really wrong? And before you say 'nothing,' may I remind you that I just sent a man on crutches all the way across the village for mochi ice cream just to get him out of the house for you?"

"Crutch," Iruka corrected grumpily.

Genma just stared, chewing lightly on his senbon.

Iruka wiped his face off with a wet washcloth and, without looking up, murmured, "I had sex with Hayate."

If it had been anyone else, Genma would have laughed. Instead, he settled one hip against the counter and considered what to do next. "What happened?" he asked finally.

"I don't know!" Iruka wailed. "There was beer, and sake, and *shots,* and . . . and pornography--" even the word made him turn pink, "--and the next thing I knew we were having sex!"

Genma nodded wordlessly. Seemed like the high points had been hit; alcohol, porn, and two hormonal boys. Genma really, really hoped that was all that had happened. He'd hate to have to break Hayate's kneecaps. The kid had potential. Besides which, if Genma hadn't been happily in a relationship, he would have spent a lot of time thinking about how very hot Hayate was.

"Why don't you shower," Genma said after a minute, "and come out when you're done? I'll get you some clean clothes."

"Thanks," Iruka mumbled, head hanging.

Genma left the bathroom, a frown tipping his senbon down. He got sweat pants and a T-shirt, waited until the water started, then knocked briefly and poked his head in. "Clothes on the sink," he called, and popped back out again.

Then he headed to the kitchen to make morning-after food. In his experience things always seemed worse on an empty stomach, and Iruka was growing--his stomach was always empty.

Eventually, Iruka came out, wet hair hanging around his shoulders and soaking the collar of his shirt. Genma glanced at him.

Obviously, Hayate had taste. Not that Genma was going to do anything about it, but he knew attractive people when he saw them. Hayate had taste.

He finished scrambling eggs, put them on a plate, and handed them to Iruka with two pieces of toast. "Eat," he said simply. Genma glanced at the boy's shaking hands and dilated pupils, and breathed a laugh. "You might get more toast, too. It'll help soak up the rest of the alcohol."

He waited until they were sitting at the table, Genma leaning back on his hands and Iruka digging into his food, before he eased into the conversation. "So, how much did you have to drink last night?"

Iruka grimaced. "I don't even know."

"Do you remember last night?"

The boy hesitated. "Most of it."

Genma snorted a laugh. Well, there was his answer. Iruka had had way, way too much to drink. 'Most of it.' "All right, continue. You got back to Hayate's place, I assume?"

Iruka nodded, skin beginning to redden again. "He had this erotic magazine, and . . . geez, I don't even know how it happened."

Genma wondered if you could faint from a blush. "Nothing wrong with that," he said simply, and wondered when he'd become the sex advisor. Probably after he and Iruka had had too much to drink at Raidou's birthday party last year, and started comparing emotional scars. Raidou had already told Genma about the molestation that had put Iruka with them, but Iruka hadn't known that, so had told him again. In turn, Genma had told the kid about the cutting that took the form of sex. One thing led to another, and suddenly Genma was the one Iruka went to when he had something he was too embarrassed--or ashamed--to tell anyone else.

Genma dragged his mind back to the present. He smiled slightly, watching the younger ninja carefully cut his food. "I don't think you need to dice scrambled eggs," he said wryly.

"Fuck off," Iruka muttered, and continued with his stalling tactic.

"All right, so you were looking at a porno mag together, and . . . who started?" Genma asked. He remained carefully casual, not wanting to give Iruka any reason to clam up.

Iruka blushed--more--and rubbed his scar. "Hayate kissed me. But that was all. He stopped. Well, except then he started again, and . . ." he dropped the fork and pulled up his knees, burying his face in his hands. "I just let him," he mumbled from behind his hands.

"'Let him'?" Genma echoed. "You make it sound like you didn't want to."

Iruka shook his head. "I mean--yes. No. It felt good at the time!" he said, confusion and frustration lashing out at Genma.

Genma nodded. "That’s good."

The anger died, as Genma knew it would. If he didn't rise to the bait, there was no point in being defensive.

Iruka looped his hands around his knees and stared morosely at his food. Genma noticed that, somehow, the kid had managed to eat most of it. "Does this make me gay?"

Genma snorted. "It makes you stupid and horny when drunk. Welcome to the male condition." Now that he knew nothing more than typical teenage idiocy had happened--and he didn't have to break pretty Hayate's kneecaps--the whole situation was rather amusing.

"But what if I am gay?" Iruka paled and looked up. "What if I'm a pedophile?"

Genma's smirk vanished, and he sat up quickly. "Hey, hey, kid, be sane here. You're not a pedophile."

"I could be," Iruka said, eyes faraway. "I have the typical background, and I want to be a teacher--"

Genma snapped his fingers under Iruka's nose. The boy jumped and focused. "Do you want to be a teacher because you dream of touching little kid's privates?" he snapped. "Or because--" he paused, suddenly realizing that he had *no idea* why anyone would want to lock themselves in a building for hours on end with a horde of little nose-pickers. But he was a ninja, and recovered quickly. "--you're good at teaching, and good with kids?"

Iruka looked at him, pained. "I--I--" he took a deep breath, and his chakra--erratic and shifting--suddenly settled. "I don't dream of touching children."

"Then you're not a pedophile," Genma said. "As for being gay--do you *ever* look at guys and think they're hot?" Genma was certain of the answer to that one. Iruka was one of the straightest people he knew.

But Iruka frowned as if he'd asked for the Hokage's hat size, rubbing the scar across his nose, and then up between his eyes. "I . . . I don't think so . . ."

"Well, then stop freaking out," Genma said easily, settling back on his hands again.

Iruka sat in silence for a time. "What am I going to say to Hayate?"

Genma shrugged. "What did you say this morning?"

Iruka blushed. "I left while he was in the shower."

Genma laughed softly. "Of course. Well, that one I can't help you with. But you'd probably better say something to him, or he's gonna feel pretty awful."

Iruka sighed and nodded, looking miserable. "I know."

"And, hey, now you can brag you've 'experimented,'" Genma pointed out with a grin.

Iruka cringed. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"What about Raidou?" Genma asked.

Iruka hesitated. "Yeah, okay, him."

"Hanayo?"

"If you have to," Iruka muttered.

"Akeno?"

Iruka shot him a glare at the mention of his younger foster brother. "Now you're just being an ass."

"You think I only started just now?" Genma laughed. "You really haven't been paying attention."

Iruka glared at him some more, pushing to his feet. "I should head home."

"Yeah. Drink some water, take some aspirin, and try to sleep. When you stop being drunk, you're going to have one hell of a hangover."

"I'm not drunk," Iruka said stiffly, then promptly bashed his shin on the edge of the couch.

"Uh huh."

"I'm not," Iruka snapped, rubbing his leg. "Anyone could have done that."

"Sure. Ninja run into inanimate objects all the time," Genma deadpanned.

Iruka glared.

The door opened, and Raidou hobbled in, looking nothing if not grouchy. "I got mochi ice cream," he muttered, tossing it toward Genma.

Genma caught it and peered at the label. "Aw, man. You know I hate this brand."

"I am so fucking going to kick your ass," Raidou muttered.

Genma laughed, and watched Iruka escape in the ensuing ruckus.

********************

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