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“Iruka-sensei! It’s an emergency!” Naruto said urgently, and Iruka’s brows rose, but he opened the door wider and ushered Naruto inside.
“All right; what is it?” Iruka asked, ruffling Naruto’s hair and closing the door behind him.
“Gaara’s birthday!”
Iruka frowned. “. . .is an emergency?” he asked gently.
Naruto shook his head, hands tangled together as he fidgeted. “No, no, it’s- good. I have a present for him.” He nodded rapidly, and Iruka nodded back, smiling. “Iruka-sensei Gaara has never had a birthday cake.” he said earnestly.
Iruka nodded again. “A serious issue.” he agreed, though if he remembered his foreign studies correctly it was likely not entirely due to neglect; birthday cakes were not a tradition in Kaze no Kuni. “Would you like help to go and buy-”
“I want to make him a cake!” Naruto interrupted, and Iruka stilled.
“Ah. . .” Iruka hesitated. While his first impulse was that it was a very sweet thought, he knew Naruto - and he knew Naruto could not bake a cake. He was also putting together a concerning suspicion as to what had brought Naruto here with this emergency.
Iruka could not bake a cake either.
“You have to help me, please Iruka-sensei!” Naruto begged, catching hold of his arm.
“I . . . may not be the best to help you with this, Naruto.” Iruka said gently, clasping one of his wrists but not pushing him to let go. “And if his birthday is tomorrow. . .”
Naruto’s expression caught somewhere between panicky and mulish, but Iruka attempted, all the same, to persuade him to let Iruka help him find a bakery and buy a cake instead. It would no doubt have a better result, even if Iruka could have helped him with the baking.
Naruto, of course, wouldn’t hear of the idea, heart set on making something for Gaara with his own hands. Iruka smothered a sigh. He couldn’t be too surprised at that.
“I’m sorry, Naruto,” Iruka offered, shaking his head, “but I-”
“Tadaima.”
Iruka looked up, smiling reflexively at the sight of Kakashi perched in the window, hopping lightly down to the floor. He eyed them, cocking his head, his fringe falling further across his hitai-ate with the movement. “Something wrong?”
“Naruto has an emergency.” Iruka said, a thought sparking. He squeezed Naruto’s wrist reassuringly. “I can’t help him with it, but perhaps you can.”
Kakashi made a curious noise, slouching closer.
“Kaka-sensei?” Naruto asked, looking between them with clear disbelief.
Iruka snorted, shaking his head. “Yes, Kakashi.” he said firmly, giving Naruto a disapproving look for his tone.
“What sort of emergency would that be?” Kakashi asked curiously, sliding around Iruka and looking down at Naruto, hooking his chin over Iruka’s shoulder.
“It’s Gaara’s birthday tomorrow.” Iruka said, and Kakashi voiced a soft sound of puzzlement. “Naruto has discovered that he has never had a birthday cake, and is determined to remedy the lack.”
Kakashi acknowledged that with a low rumble that thrummed pleasantly through Iruka from where his lover was pressed against his back.
“Naruto would like to bake him a birthday cake.” Iruka finished, and felt Kakashi tense.
“Ah. . .”
“How could Kaka-sensei help?” Naruto asked, pouting dramatically. “Iruka-senseiii, you said you’d help me with anything!”
“I did.” Iruka said, shoulders slumping. He had promised Naruto that he could always come to Iruka for anything - but why had he had to come to Iruka for this? Kakashi’s knuckles rubbed comfortingly against his spine at the small of his back, and he took a breath. “And I meant it, Naruto, I would - and I will - help you with anything, always. But I cannot bake. And Kakashi can.”
Kakashi voiced his alarm with a stifled sound Iruka only heard because Kakashi’s mouth was almost against his neck.
“Really?” Naruto asked with naked hope, and Kakashi sighed silently, his breath fluttering warmly against Iruka’s neck.
“Yes. Very well.” Iruka praised, and Kakashi demurred in an almost-mumble. “Honey? Would you help Naruto make a birthday cake for his friend?” he asked, and felt the resignation settle on his lover.
“Please?” Naruto asked in a small voice.
“Of course, baby.” Kakashi nuzzled Iruka’s jaw, straightening and pulling away. “All right, brat.” Kakashi braced his hands on his hips, looking down at Naruto, who drew himself up hurriedly, shoulders back.
Iruka had to smother laughter, heart squeezing. Naruto might kick and yell and insult Kakashi, but Iruka still thought it was adorable how hard he would also try to impress Kakashi.
“I can’t teach you to bake by tomorrow, but I can help you make a cake for your friend with your own hands, if it’s that important to you.” Kakashi advised as they moved towards the kitchen together, Kakashi’s hand settling between Naruto’s shoulder blades. “What does he like?”
“Spicy things!” Naruto said immediately, then paused, only for Kakashi to nudge him onwards. “That doesn’t really help with a cake though. Um.”
“Maa, we can work with that.” Kakashi said, shooing Naruto into the kitchen. “Don’t give me that look, who knows how to bake?”
Naruto made an apologetic sound and Kakashi huffed, pushing him out of sight across the kitchen. Iruka followed after them and peeked in, catching Kakashi taking down a heavy stoneware bowl from a high cupboard as he said something about a butter-cinnamon swirl cake and some kind of frosting Iruka didn’t immediately recognise by name.
Not that Iruka was terribly good with that sort of thing.
“We’re gonna bake, Iruka-sensei!” Naruto said excitedly as Kakashi laid out an entire counter full of tools and ingredients. Iruka was faintly surprised they had all been in their kitchen already.
“Focus.” Kakashi reprimanded lightly, and Naruto jumped, spinning to face him immediately. Kakashi talked him through what they were going to do, answering his questions with studied patience. Iruka couldn’t quite help himself and asked a few himself.
Eventually, setting Naruto to measuring flour, Kakashi turned towards Iruka. “You, out.” he ordered, and Iruka raised both eyebrows, crossing his arms. Kakashi didn’t twitch. “I’m not dealing with both of you asking endless questions. He’s learning, you’re just going to distract him.” he added quietly. “You can make yourself useful and go get the cream for the frosting while you’re at it.”
“Ah. All right.” Iruka agreed, nodding, and listened to Kakashi’s instructions.
“Don’t you have tests to grade for tomorrow, too?” Kakashi reminded, and Iruka winced, having somehow forgotten that.
“Right. I’ll run out to the shop and then leave you to it and work on those.” Iruka said with a sigh.
“Thank you.” Kakashi kissed his cheek, a familiar brush of soft, tough fabric with a puff of warm breath behind it. “Naruto that is not how you measure butter!” he barked, crossing the kitchen in two quick strides, and Iruka ducked out.
He kept to his word and left Kakashi and Naruto alone in the kitchen, trying to focus on his stack of grading instead. It was occasionally difficult, particularly when his concentration was occasionally broken by somewhat alarming noises.
He recognised the clatter of a pan across the floor, and the hollow thunk of a bowl on the counter, but the muted, loud foompf was . . . a mystery.
Still, he had work to do, and Kakashi had asked him not to interrupt. Iruka stayed where he was, falling into a rhythm with a little more work, the background noise of Kakashi and Naruto in the kitchen settling into something he could tune out. It actually startled him a little when Naruto emerged from the kitchen, Kakashi shadowing him, carrying a large container with a pale brown frosted cake inside.
“Thanks, Kaka-sensei!” Naruto said, hugging Kakashi around the middle as he hurriedly shifted the cake out of the way. He brought one hand up to pat Naruto’s back, offering the cake to him as he stepped back.
“Maa . . . of course, Naruto.” Kakashi said, dipping his head. Naruto grinned, then looked over at Iruka.
“Thanks Iruka-sensei! Bye!” Naruto waved, then took the cake and trotted out the door.
Iruka rose from the low table in front of the couch, leaving his mostly finished stacks of grading there. “We have a cake carrier?” he asked, glancing towards the door, then back up at Kakashi.
Kakashi snorted. “Do you ever look in our cabinets beyond getting a mug for your coffee?” he asked dryly, and Iruka considered for a moment, then stuck his tongue out at his lover.
He was only a little surprised when Kakashi kissed him, mask down this time, and hummed appreciatively, hands settling on Kakashi’s hips. He nuzzled Kakashi as their lips parted, wrinkling his nose and resisting the tickling urge to sneeze as he took a breath that smelled thickly of sugar and cinnamon.
“So how did it go?” Iruka asked, brows raised. “I saw the cake, but was Naruto successful in, ah, making a special cake for Gaara himself?”
Kakashi hummed, stepping back, and Iruka followed. “I don’t think he could bake one on his own, but . . . he did all right, with help. Eventually.” he said after a moment. “It was exhausting.” he added dryly.
“Our kitchen looks like a zen garden exploded in it.” Iruka observed, looking over Kakashi’s shoulder. “Less the rake. Probably.”
“It’s cinnamon.” Kakashi said, not budging. “And you’re cleaning it.”
Iruka hummed, pursing his lips. That . . . was fair. Kakashi had been working with Naruto in it all day, trying to teach him how to bake and somehow turning out what had looked like a perfectly respectable birthday cake, and while Iruka knew Kakashi would have done it in a heartbeat if Naruto had asked him directly, it had been at Iruka’s request.
“Though I’m pretty sure Gaara would actually eat sand if Naruto gave it to him.” Kakashi added dryly.
“Even Naruto isn’t that bad.” Iruka scolded, crossing his arms.
Kakashi’s visible eyebrow rose. Iruka tipped his chin up. Kakashi leaned in, bracing his forearm on the doorframe by Iruka’s head. “Who has been arguing with him over what can and cannot be put into cake?” he asked pointedly. “Who used to have to replace the milk in his fridge so he wouldn’t drink it after it started to thicken?”
“All right, all right, maybe he is that bad. Almost.” Iruka capitulated. He’d fed Naruto for years, if not the same way Kakashi had - nor so sneakily - he could . . . admit that Naruto’s judgement when it came to what was safely edible was perhaps not always the best. “I’m sure Gaara will be happy regardless.” he said, smiling slightly.
“No doubt. But it should be acceptable.” Kakashi shrugged. “I’m sure Naruto will tell you how it goes.”
Iruka nodded, hands finding their way to his lover’s sides, sliding up from his hips. Kakashi relaxed a little more, beginning to smile, pulling slightly crooked by the scar that just reached his upper lip.
“I’m not cooking dinner today.” Kakashi added, his free hand trailing over Iruka’s forearm.
He laughed. “Fair. Do you want to go pick something up for dinner while I get started cleaning up in there?” He nodded past Kakashi at the mess in the kitchen. “Or would you rather go out to eat?”
“I’ll bring something back.” Kakashi said, shaking his head. He pulled Iruka into another soft kiss, and he wound Kakashi into a firm embrace, smiling against his mouth as he moaned quietly, melting into Iruka’s arms.