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Iruka tightened his ponytail determination, plastered to his face as he donned his apron and prepared to head into battle. Today was the day he would at last get to impress Asuma, with his home, his life, and his happiness. Tonight would be his first dinner party in the teacher’s new home, and it had to be perfect.
The chill in the air and changing leaves had solidified the strategy (plan): a delicious home-cooked meal with his closest friends and family, an enjoyable evening of chatting, and then curling into the comfort of his partner, reveling in a job well done. He could do this; Iruka was a grown adult, all he had to make was a simple soup. That is all that was left; everyone else would bring the sides. He was not going to let a little soup be his defeat.
Iruka pushed up his sleeves, inhaled through his nose, and exhaled through his mouth, completely emptying his lungs before lugging two huge stock pots onto the counter and a crate of Kabocha into the kitchen. Music hung in the air, the lights glowed warmly, as he glided a finger over the recipe. Iruka carefully chopped each squash in half, breaking through the tough exterior with care. On the last chop, however, the rounded gourd slid, and Iruka felt the knife graze his hand. The reaction was instant; shinobi skills were activated quickly, he secured the sharp object, cleared the contaminated food, and applied immediate pressure.
Iruka cursed under his breath. Feet rapidly carried him to the sink to assess the damage. A glance told him all he needed to know. In all honesty, it was not his worst kitchen-related injury. Iruka swiftly turned on the tap, running cold water over the oozing wound while he reached for the first aid kit with his free hand.
A small bandage should do nicely, and then he would be back on his way to preparing a warm and cozy meal for the ones he most loved, the small family he had pieced together. But Iruka needed to hurry, Kakashi was out with Team 7 for only so long, and Iruka could only give them so many menial tasks before Naruto would get bored, and the errands could devolve into bickering amongst the children. Surely his plan would go just so, after all, he made lesson plans for a living; he only needed Kakashi out of the house long enough to get the soup simmering,
With deep conviction, Iruka hastily wrapped his hand and went back to chopping, carefully skinning the Kabocha, setting out all of his seasoning, stocks, and cream in an orderly fashion. Each ingredient was precisely measured, and every tool was prepared for when the time was right.
Iruka was in good spirits, humming along to the cheerful tune of The Monster Mash as the pain in his hand dulled, and the piles of chopped kabocha grew.
The last step before moving to the actual ‘cooking’ was chopping onions.
Iruka was practically at the finish line. An easy success…
The moment Iruka began chopping those damned onions, the prickling feeling behind his eyes began. Iruka started to blink furiously. An onion was not going to take out a well-trained shinobi; the instructor had survived a lifetime of pranks, smoke bombs, and other suspicious aerosols. Surely he could manage a few dozen onions.
When the first tear rolled down the teacher’s cheek, it had devastating effects, and once one escaped Iruka’s fortifications, many more were soon to follow; the dam burst. Red eyes and cascading tears were Iruka’s fate as he chopped onion after onion.
And yet he persisted.
At last, the prep was complete, and Iruka could dump his accumulated bounty into the heating pots. The teacher quickly wiped his eyes on a fresh kitchen towel and waited for the next steps, carefully seasoning and monitoring the massive pots. First, he sauteed the onions, quickly adding the kabocha and chicken broth.
He waited a bit, and then another bit, gently poking and testing the kabocha until the squash was perfectly soft.
Now, the part that made him the most uneasy, using the immersion blender, a tool he had recently purchased for this very event. Iruka readied himself as much as he could; he pushed up his slipping sleeves and rose onto his tiptoes before placing the immersion blender in the first massive pot. It went smoothly, with no hiccups.
A major relief
“ Ha! Cooking isn’t so hard,” Iruka chuckled in triumph. With his newly found master chef confidence, he dipped the immersion blender into the second pot of soup.
And as it always goes, when a shinobi is at their most confident, disaster strikes.
In an instant, hot puree was flying, boiling puree splashing on Iruka’s exposed skin. He instinctively released the handle in shock and pain, the device continuing to fling more hot projectiles.
Teacher brain finally kicked back in after a few moments. Iruka leaped to control the situation with scalded limbs, but before he could, the other resident of his house made himself known. Kakashi gracefully leaped into action with swift and agile movements, holding one hand out to Iruka to halt his progress toward the pot.
“Kakashi,” Iruka said, shock and embarrassment slamming into him.
Kakashi turned to Iruka with a horrified look in his eyes.
“Go to the sink and run some cold water.” His voice was cool and collected; however, there was a note of something else. Something that Iruka couldn’t quite identify.
Iruka wants to protest, but stops mid-word as he is hit with burning pain ripping through his hands and arms.
Water rushed over Iruka’s burns. Iruka sighed in relief. A cool balm to the pain, as Kakshi added the final ingredients and returned the lids to the soup pots.
Gentle hands lightly grasped Iruka’s left wrist as Kakashi appeared behind him.
“Are you alright?” Kakashi asked, a furrow appearing as he looked over the previous bandages, irritated eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and now burn-covered hands and forearms.
Iruka knocked shoulders with Kakashi. A sign of comfort or maybe as a way to lighten the mood; he wasn’t sure. “Yeah, I am just peachy.” His face betrayed him in this moment with a wince as Kakashi brushed one of the burns higher up on his forearms.
“Take off your shirt,” Kakashi said as he rifled through the still-open first aid kit.
Iruka splutted, “Absolutely not! We are in the kitchen. What if one of our guests arrives early? What if Asuma arrives early?”
Kakashi sighed fondly as he quickly walked over to lock the door and close the kitchen curtain. “Better? Or would you prefer to soak the sleeves of your dinner party shirt?” Kakashi asked, raising an eyebrow.”
Iruka blushed at his presumptuousness, simply grumbling out, “Can you help me avoid the burns?”
Kakashi's demeanor changed, less tense, more light, as Iruka allowed the other man to care for his injuries.
“You scared me,” Kakashi admitted as he gently untied the apron, laying it carefully on the counter, followed by Iruka’s shirt.
“ I am sorry,” Iruka hesitated, “but really it is not that big of a deal. I know it looks bad, but it is just a few cooking injuries. You come home all the time with much worse!”
Kakashi hummed in acknowledgment at the truth of what his partner had said. The jounin carefully placed burn ointment on Iruka’s arms, each movement purposeful and with a gentleness not many were privileged to.
“Where are the kids?” Iruka prompted, trying to lighten the mood, “I was sure they would be barging in here with you.”
“Gai has offered to set up the genin teams out in the forest,” Kakashi snorts, doing air quotations, “for a spooky campout.”
Iruka warmed at Kakashi’s hidden fondness for his great rival.
“But he will be back for the dinner, yes?”
Kakashi nodded, “But based on what I am seeing, it looks like you are feeding all of the shinobi of Konoha and not just our close friends.”
Iruka puffed his chest up, “You never know, maybe someone will want leftovers, if they don’t eat ot all, I am sure I can send some over to Naruto.”
“He is a black hole.” Kakashi chimed in.
Iruka winced when Kakashi checked one of the nastier burns, and silence fell softly over them again.
In the end, Iruka begrudgingly took up the position of supervisor as Kakashi finished the soup preparation and kitchen clean-up. Iruka had tried to help a few more times throughout, but he was quickly shooed away.
Kakashi got this way sometimes, all soft and protective, and to be honest, Iruka found it sweet. Kakashi continued checking on the soup and then began to set the table without complaint. Each time he passed, giving Iruka soft looks, or fiddling with a bandage, or brushing his fingers over Iruka’s now untied hair.
‘Be my taste tester?” Kakashi beckoned before he lifted the spoon to Iruka’s lips, steam pouring upward in bountiful swirts. Iruka tried the soup with delight. It was delicious. Even better than he had expected. “You look lovely, you know.” The spoon was returned to its dish gently, with Kakashi’s gaze lingering on Iruka.
Iruka was caught off guard by that statement, quickly blushing, but not breaking their gaze. Iruka stepped in closer, “It is delicious.”
“ I tried,” Kakashi leaned closer with a small exhale.
Iruka stepped back playfully as Kakashi lowered his mask. “Well, I should hope so, it's my soup after all.” Kakashi followed, fingers brushing Iruka’s face now.
“Do I get any credit for my contributions, sensei?” Kakashi asked.
Iruka grinned, “ I guess a reward could be claimed.”
Kakashi's lips had just brushed Iruka’s as a knock was heard.
“Hello? Is anyone home?” The knock echoed louder, “ Iruka, it’s me, Asuma! I know I came early, but can’t a brother get the early access tour?”
Iruka pulled away, to be charmed by Kakashi, trying to pull him back in. One more knock and Iruka had finally untangled himself from himself for Kakashi’s winding limbs.
The door was thrown open to a large figure who was beaming, “Hey there, Iruka! You look a little mussed, already enjoying domestic life?” Asuma laughed.
“Shut up! Don’t even act like you are any better!” Iruka retorted. Now they were both grinning.
“Hey Saratobi, can I take that for you?” Kakashi slid in, hands reaching for the dish under Asuma’s arm.
‘Thanks, nice place you got here.” Asuma nodded approvingly. “ Nice wards too,” He clapped Iruka on the back.
The trio chatted, lounged, Asuma sharing all his most embarrassing stories of Iruka, before at last a blessed knock once more made itself known.
“ We have actual guests now, so cut it out,” Iruka pointed a stern finger at Asuma. The man snorted as Iruka threw open the door once more. Next, Anko and Ibiki, poking fun at his injuries, arrived shortly after by Kurenai, Yamato, and Gai, and last but not least, Kotetsu and Izumo with the sake.
The house was full, warm, and filled with all the people Kakashi and Iruka had both individually and jointly drawn into their circle over the years. The night drew on and on, stomachs full, energy high, and laughter filled the house and poured out into the cool night’s air.
Wounds would heal and embarrassment fade, but tonight was worth it. Despite the kabocha squash soup disaster,the sweetness would always linger.