Archive of Our Own

"I think you missed the turn," Kakashi Hatake said, carefully folding the highway map along the appropriate seam.

A sigh filled the interior of the Tesla, and Kakashi looked up from his map to watch Professor Iruka Umino lift the edge to glance at the electronic screen above the gearshift.

"Not according to the GPS," Iruka replied.

"Technology lies," Kakashi calmly stated. Stretching his neck, he thought about calling Heather at Glow to check in, but quickly dismissed that as she'd probably fuss. Tell him that she could handle Kakashi's bar just fine, thank you very much, and would he please leave her alone and enjoy himself.

Smiling, Kakashi studied squiggling road lines and then squinted out the window at a sign covered by mossy vines. Big help that was; so good of road maintenance to make driving more challenging. As if the winding back roads with blind curves weren't enough.

"And people misread maps," Iruka pointed out.

Kakashi gasped in mock outrage. "Are you implying that I cannot navigate?"

Iruka smirked, and it showed his dimple, which made Kakashi grin. "Do you remember the time we had that picnic up in New Hampshire?"

Kakashi's grin grew wider. "On the side of the road. In the fall."

"Is that all you remember?" Iruka glanced at him, chocolate eyes warm.

"Hm…now that you mention it, I do seem to recall you tying me to a tree and fucking me 'til I begged for mercy."

Iruka shifted in the seat. "Mmm…and?"

"Hm…lying over you lap for the hour following the fuck while you picked bark out of my ass?"

Iruka laughed, and a blush tinged the dusky skin of his cheeks. Kakashi leaned back, head turned to study Iruka. The aftercare of the tree incident had been oddly enjoyable, really: the professor said the sweetest things when caught up in a mixture of chagrin and pride.

"But then the highway patrol showed up and ruined that game," Kakashi said, smirking.

"Oh God…" Iruka took a hand off the wheel to smooth it over his hair, forehead to ponytail.

Kakashi chuckled. "It all worked out."

"You and your silver tongue."

"I am good with my mouth," Kakashi said humbly, returning to his study of the map.

"You are. And then the officers were good enough to get us back on the main road." Iruka looked pointedly at Kakashi.

"Are you suggesting I got us lost on purpose?"

"Not suggesting. Stating."

"Fine, fine," Kakashi answered. "You caught me. But I swear that's not the case this time, and I really do think we should have turned back at the old, dead tree stump."

"…did you really just say that?"

Kakashi whistled a short funeral march. "Left onto MacIntosh, few miles more into the middle of nowhere, then a right onto Lucifer Way."

Iruka snapped his head to stare incredulously at Kakashi for the half a second it took him to figure out Kakashi was joking. "Lucifer Way, hm?" Iruka said. "Is that off Beelzebub Pike?"

"And runs smack into That Bitch With An Apple Me Do It Lane."

Iruka snorted, slowed down, and did a sweeping turn in the middle of the road. It was four in the afternoon on a Sunday, and Kakashi hadn't seen another car in an hour. He took that as a good omen.

"We're really doing this," Iruka muttered.

"Apparently, Professor."

Iruka's lips tilted up in a smile at the sound of the title. "Can you run me through the legend one more time?" he asked.

"Of course," Kakashi said amiably. "Anything to aid you in your assimilation of facts."

"Just the legend, Kakashi. Hold the sarcasm."

"That's more impossible than the legend, and you know it." Kakashi folded the map to a smaller surface area, and Iruka turned dutifully next to the dead tree stump. It was scorched black across the top, and that made Kakashi swallow.

"Kakashi?"

"Right." He cleared his throat and then spoke in his best bartender storytelling voice. "Once upon a time, the Devil lived in them thar hills. IIruka rolled his eyes at Kakashi's heinous accent, but Kakashi pressed on. "The so-called 'Devil's Mansion' housed not only the fallen angel, himself, but also his mistress. A lovely woman, I'm sure, but not altogether bright."

"You don't say," Iruka said mildly.

"For she decided it'd be a good idea to take a lover while the Devil was out doing whatever the hell he did during the week. Puns intended. Apparently, the Devil was only home on Sundays, and the little woman got bored roaming around a massive house with only her knitting and thoughts of eternal damnation to keep her company."

Iruka shook his head in mock sympathy.

"I know, tragic, yes?" Kakashi sighed. "Anyway, the idiot takes a lover, the Devil figures it out, and dear Lucy catches the poor bastard as he's leaving on his walk of shame back to the farm. The Devil tells the guy that he can have the woman, but they must forever be known as Mr. and Mrs. L. Oh, turn here."

Obeying, Iruka smoothly navigated the car onto another side road. A pasture rolled by the driver's side of the vehicle, and dense woods obscured the view to the right. A rickety wooden fence closed in the wheat-colored grasses, and leaves the color of fire and sunset dipped low over the unlined road. There were no cattle in the field, no houses, no sign of life whatsoever. Kakashi went quiet as the road swept around to the left and they passed by a dead orchard. The trees were scorched black. Kakashi suppressed a shiver, told himself he was being an idiot -- this was his idea, after all. He couldn't very well back out now.

"Go on," Iruka prodded.

"So the guy returns the next night to tell the lucky lady the good news," Kakashi continued, voice quieter. "She seems to take it pretty well, they have a nice dinner, and they head up to the bedroom. But instead of making with the love, the woman makes with the violence and kills her lover."

"Theories as to why?" Iruka asked.

"The escape was no real escape," Kakashi explained. "They'd forever be branded as Mr. and Mrs. Lucifer, and I guess that didn't sit well with her."

"Ah," Iruka said, nodding.

"She kills him, and the Devil shows up."

"Naturally."

"He grabs them both, hauls their asses up to the roof and proceeds to eat them from the inside out, leaving only their skins." Kakashi paused for effect. "Then he feeds the skins to the birds and house cats, and takes off once he's satisfied he's exacted his vengeance."

Iruka shuddered. "And I ask, what are we doing here?"

"We're going to go have dinner and sex in the haunted house to see if we can conjure up the ghosts. Supposedly, every Sunday in October the old manor comes to life with this little slice of macabre theater."

"I repeat: why are we doing this?"

"Because I'm curious. Because it sounds insane even to me." Kakashi paused. "And because I lost a bet to Neji and told him I'd bring back proof."

Iruka shook his head. "You have got to stop playing poker with that kid. You're going to lose your ass, and for the record? That belongs to me."

Kakashi grinned, some of the nerves the story inspired fading with Iruka's banter. "I would never gamble away something you hold so dear, Professor."

With an unimpressed noise, Iruka glanced down at the GPS and slowed for a turn. "Now let's go over what I get for accompanying you as a witness on this idiot quest."

Spine straightening, Kakashi watched the trees crowd in on both sides of the road, branches thick enough to block out the sunlight. "I'm doing dishes for a month."

"Good. And?"

"Cooking dinner every Saturday for two months." Kakashi kept the smile off his face as he felt the familiar tide of love and hate that he had with Iruka's ability to drive an incredibly hard bargain.

"Mmhm…"

Kakashi sighed, put-upon. "And I'm going on the family retreat in December."

"Yes. You are."

"With all of your family. Packed in a cabin. With no escape."

Iruka grinned, eyes on the road, which was getting worse by the minute, tires dipping into potholes and foliage creeping in on both sides of the blacktop.

"That which does not kill you…" Iruka quipped.

"Makes me want to drink heavily."

Iruka's smile turned wicked, and Kakashi watched the transformation from mild-mannered literature professor at Monoshizukanohi University to sadistic top. It took two seconds and stole Kakashi's breath; made his heart pound harder than the idea of a ghostly romantic dinner for four.

"What else did you promise me, Kashi?"

The nickname made Kakashi shiver. "Dunno what you mean, boss."

"Innocent and ignorant does not become you. Try again."

God, that voice. Kakashi twisted and leaned over to kiss his Sir's shoulder, the confines of the electric car making it an easy reach. "I may have agreed to you setting my ass on fire. Again."

Iruka glanced at Kakashi, delight in his eyes. "You did. And you're doing what for me?"

Kakashi chuckled and put a hand on Iruka's arm. "Shaving everything from the neck down?"

"And?"

"No blindfold, so I have to watch."

Now Iruka shivered with a tiny sound, and Kakashi blew on the professor's neck. "And in exchange we get to go to a haunted house to have a creepy dinner followed by a nice fuck in a haunted, moldy bed and then, if we're lucky, we get to see someone get murdered!" Kakashi sat back in his seat.

Iruka made an affirmative noise. "All the more reason why you had to agree to come with me and my family on a weekend vacation."

"I don't think you want me to draw the parallels there, Sir."

"Draw them all you like in your own head."

Kakashi laughed and then jerked forward as Iruka hit the brakes. "Is that a driveway?"

It took Kakashi a second to see the break in the undergrowth that looked vaguely like a path. A pillar of stone stood next to it, moss and weeds obscuring the marker. "Could be," Kakashi answered. "First one I've seen, so…"

Iruka nodded once and turned the wheel, easing over a ditch and onto dry leaves. At the worst, they'd have to turn around in someone's front yard with a wave of apology. But this felt right, inasmuch as the cold chill running up and down Kakashi's spine could feel anything but unnerving. Kakashi sneered at himself: between Break, Neji, and the military one would think something like Satan's vacation home wouldn't affect him so much.

Branches reached in like claws, and Kakashi winced for the Tesla's paint job as Iruka crept forward. The path veered to the right, and a rock wall grew from the earth, blocking the view momentarily until the car swept around and entered a clearing. Iruka hummed a note of apprehension and stopped.

The house wasn't nearly as large as Kakashi expected, but what it lacked in imposing size it made up for in atmosphere. A square structure made of brick and stone, the house rose tall into the branches of the trees, which had grown up and around the manor in what should have been a lovely canopy. But the trees directly around the house were dead, the branches twisted, gnarled, twigs and sticks, and a thick carpet of brown moss and lichen covered the ground. The glass in the tall windows was broken, vines dug into the brick like probing fingers, and the three chimneys had crumbled away, rock fallen to the forest floor.

Strangely, the front door was intact: large, heavy, with ring knocker and rusted handle. Above the door, some enterprising kid had spray-painted a "666," though that was the only graffiti that Kakashi saw. A pike weathervane stood tall on the roof, and what looked like a hornet's nest wrapped around the base. Off to the side of the house was an old wrought-iron gate encircling a small patch of land: garden or cemetery, Kakashi didn't know.

Wind rustled the trees, the branches scraped against the house with loud scratches of dead wood on shingles, and the hair on the back of Kakashi's neck stood on end.

"Oh. That's not so bad, then," Iruka said softly and climbed out of the car.

Kakashi sputtered and flailed for the door handle. "Well, I'm sure we could move right in," he said, closing the door and watching Iruka go to the tiny trunk. He opened it, removed a canvas bag, and slammed the lid shut.

"Who does own the property?" Iruka asked. He stopped next to the car, head tilted. His short, leather jacket was unzipped to show the brown shirt he wore beneath it, ends tucked into his jeans. His hair, pulled away from his face while it was still wet, curled in its tail, and another breeze rustled soft strands along his hairline.

Wrapping his arms over his chest, Kakashi was glad he opted for the heavy blue sweater, though he wasn't sure it would do a damned bit of good for the kind of chill that plagued him. "Private company," Kakashi answered. "Someone who enjoys owning useless property."

Iruka thought about that, shrugging one shoulder as he walked past Kakashi. "Maybe going to fix it up? Sell?"

Kakashi shook his head, following the professor to the front door and pulling his cell phone from his pants' pocket. "Not happening. Several families have tried to live here over the years, but none of them made it through the month of October. The dinner show was too much." Kakashi snapped pictures of the front of the house, gathering Neji's proof.

"Well, that and the screaming," Iruka said. "Put anyone off their dinner." He reached for the handle, found the door ajar, and pushed it open on utterly silent hinges.

"Why is that creepier than a rusty squeak?" Kakashi whispered.

Pausing, Iruka looked at Kakashi. "We can leave." Dark eyes searched Kakashi's mismatched set, studying.

"Already here," Kakashi said. The combination of adrenaline and Iruka's focused gaze was doing strange things to Kakashi. He didn't know if he wanted to run or slam Iruka into a wall and kiss the professor senseless. Not so shocking that Kakashi liked fear; he'd seen what Iruka could do with a whip, after all. But liking this kind of anxiety intrigued him. Terrified the fuck out of him, too, but Kakashi thought he could handle that. He took a deep breath.

A gentle smile played over Iruka's lips. "You need a safeword for the haunted house game, Kashi?"

Kakashi snorted, rolled his eyes and walked into the foyer like an idiot hell bent on self destruction. At least it was good to be on familiar turf. "Hi, honey, we're home!" he called, unable to help himself. Nothing answered him, and relief dumped into Kakashi's veins. Behind him, Iruka shut the door, coming to stand next to him, looking around while Kakashi's phone clicked and stored images.

A wide staircase led to the upper floor, the risers and banister still solid. Debris of all sorts -- beer bottles, trash, leaves, cigarette butts -- covered the wooden floor and the tattered rugs over it. To Kakashi's surprise, furniture still stood around the entry room: a small table, an empty cabinet, a grandfather clock with the glass facing cracked. Everything was covered in grime and dust, but it was easy to imagine the room in its prime: lit up by the chandelier above their heads.

"Standard floor plan," Iruka said, voice quiet in the gloom.

Kakashi nodded. "Yeah, seems to be. Parlors to the left and right." Kakashi looked and saw the doorways, which were lower than spec height in this day and age. Together, Iruka and Kakashi wandered into the room to the left.

"Kitchen back there?" Iruka pointed at a pocket door that stood partially open in front of them. A bricked-up fireplace was to their right, cloudy windows filtering in evening light on the left. The room was empty except for an ancient, broken-down recliner. Definitely not vintage.

"Yeah, servant's quarters beyond it." Kakashi turned, walking back into the entry. A hallway ran next to the staircase leading toward the back of the house. The room off to the right of the foyer had glass doors: one of them was off its hinges, panels broken and pieces of glass crunching underneath Kakashi's boots.

"Library," Iruka whispered, making Kakashi jump.

"Sorry," Iruka apologized.

Kakashi grunted, eyes narrowing as he walked closer to the room lined in shelves. Two old wingback chairs covered in fabric long gone to decay stood in the room. There were still books covered in dirt, but there was a bong in one corner.

"Kids," Kakashi muttered.

"Yeah. Brats. Breaking into private haunted property." Iruka tsked.

"Hooligans. Infidels." Kakashi winked at Iruka, who just shook his head, indulgent.

"Where's the dining room?"

"Back toward the kitchen, probably," Kakashi said. "Flashlights?"

Nodding, Iruka grabbed two Maglites from the canvas bag, handing one over to Kakashi. Twin beams scanned over the walls that dripped with peeling paper and smelled like mildew. Kakashi led the way down the hallway, trying not to notice the defaced portrait he passed of a woman missing her head. Best to ignore that and the fact that it looked like the paint had been burned off as opposed to scratched with a knife. Cigarette burns, probably…

Right.

The house opened up into a wide room with windows along the back. A narrow staircase led to the upper floors -- for servant access. A hallway led off to the left toward the kitchen. A door stood next to it -- probably down to the basement, a place Kakashi definitely didn't care to explore. Flashlight beams played over the ceiling, and Kakashi hissed a noise to the asshole who'd written, "Help Me" in the muck on the windows.

"That looks promising," Iruka said, sounding entirely too damned calm. Kakashi was ready to come out of his skin, and he solemnly swore to himself that next time he'd just bet his porn collection against Neji's raise as opposed to a damned dare. How childish was that? He quickly swore another oath to himself: he was going to stop mixing alcohol, poker, and Neji into the same evening.

Kakashi scowled and walked over to Iruka, who stood in front of a pair of closed doors that looked far cleaner than the rest of the house.

Taking one more picture, Kakashi shoved the phone back in his pocket. "That's one way of looking at it," he said, tucking the heavy flashlight under his arm as he tried the doorknob. The door opened -- soundlessly -- and the other one swung with it.

"Indeed," Iruka said as they walked into the dining room. A long table took up most of the space. There was another bricked-up fireplace to the left, a massive chandelier dangling crystal fingers was fixed into the ceiling above, and chairs with high backs lined the walls and offered seating. A clock covered in cobweb and two inches of dust stood on the stone mantel, and a sideboard stood sentry along the right wall. Every surface was clear; not clean, but not covered in pizza boxes or ashtrays or any other evidence of humanity.

"Looks a little better for the lack of use," Iruka said.

"Strange people; not eating at the table."

A hand slipped into Kakashi's, squeezed, and let go. "So, what do we do?"

If Kakashi didn't know better, he'd say Iruka was enjoying himself. He gestured to the bag, and Iruka held it out and open. Kakashi retrieved a folder with his notes on the house.

"So organized," Iruka praised, trying not to laugh.

"Hush," Kakashi replied without venom or command. "Old habits." He flipped a page while Iruka walked over to the fireplace, inspecting the clock.

"Here we go. I knew we had to make an offering, just couldn't remember where the devil to put it."

A thump from above their heads made Kakashi's neck snap up and heart beat hard against his breastbone.

"Trees," Iruka said, sure and firm as he shined his light over the ceiling before letting it fall to rest by Kakashi's feet. "But I'd watch the diction."

"Duly noted, boss," Kakashi deadpanned.

Iruka set the bag on the table, got out an electric lantern and light lit up the room a second later. It made Kakashi feel better; made him feel less like someone pulled at his spine as though trying to rend it from his body.

"We put the offering on the table, and then eat our own food."

"I assume the Tupperware container labeled, 'I Feed Dead People' is the appropriate one?" Iruka asked, utterly bemused.

"Didn't want you to get hungry and snack on the wrong thing," Kakashi explained, coming over to join Iruka at the table.

"What is it?" Iruka asked, laughing and holding up the plastic dish.

Kakashi's mouth twisted in a smirk. "Devil's Food Cake."

Both of them paused and then sighed in unison when the house was silent.

"Right," Iruka said, opening the container and setting it down at the head of the table. He pulled out another dish -- "For the Living" read the label -- and began preparing the makeshift meal. "Granola and cold leftovers." Iruka snorted. "Next time I plan the haunted picnic's menu."

"Anything you say, Sir," Kakashi said, smiling and impulsively kissing Iruka's cheek. Containers open and ready, Kakashi pulled back two of the chairs and winced at the scrape of wood on wood. It shrieked through the room, and made Kakashi's breathing pick up a notch.

"Easy," Iruka said softly, grabbing bottled water and plastic silverware. "Eat something. You'll feel better."

Kakashi paused, touched and humbled that Iruka worried for Kakashi despite being in a dilapidated mansion trying to call up ghosts and Satan, and he held the back of Iruka's chair. "There you are, Sir."

"Thank you," Iruka said politely, taking his seat. Kakashi gingerly rested in the chair beside him, glad they'd both thought to face the dining room doors. He shoved his folder back into the canvas bag, spooned up some granola and crunched, thoughtful.

After long moments of silence, Iruka uncapped his water and drank. "When do our hosts arrive?"

"Not sure," Kakashi answered. "Legend's a little hazy on the timeframe. The literature about invoking the spirits just said, 'dinner time.'" Kakashi looked at the clock and saw it had stopped at five minutes to six. He glanced at his watch just in time to see it tick over to 5:55.

"Make a wish," Kakashi whispered.

"Hm?" Iruka asked.

Kakashi didn't answer, and when a steady noise started to intone through the room, he thought at first it was merely his pulse. Iruka's head slowly turned to observe at the clock on the mantel, and they sat in the shattered silence of a suddenly ticking timepiece.

"Do you actually believe in ghosts?" Kakashi whispered.

"No," Iruka answered, voice quiet.

"Me, either." The lie felt heavy on Kakashi's tongue, and every hair on his body stood up when he heard the faintest hint of a woman's laugh. He glanced at Iruka, who was frowning and staring at the doors to the dining room, which were still open.

"But I'm willing to negotiate my disbelief," Kakashi muttered.

"Breathe, Kashi," Iruka said.

"I am breathing," Kakashi hissed. "It's the crazy party guests who don't dig oxygen that worry me." There was another faint tinkling of laughter, and Kakashi peered around the room trying to understand why his eyes told him something had changed in the last fifteen seconds.

"The light," Iruka said. Kakashi looked first at the lamp on the table, saw no difference, and then looked up. He watched in a mix of fascination and fear as the chandelier's bulbs bloomed to brilliance. The clock ticked, the room glowed, the places where their fingers scrubbed away dust on the table gleamed, and Kakashi shivered with chill. Iruka deliberately blew breath it fogged.

"Marcel…" The word wrapped around a high-pitched gale of giggles, swirled through the open doors like an invisible, icy breeze, and a rustle of fabric and soft thud of low heel made Kakashi twist to the left. He expected to see a woman in a gown and curls holding a silk handkerchief to her smiling mouth. Maybe a grand gentleman bowing low over a pale, long-fingered hand to drop lips to knuckles in a way that suggested sex and subservience all at once.

But there was nothing there but rotted wall paper cast in sickly yellow light.

"We should leave," Kakashi said. "I've got all the proof I can stand, I think."

Iruka was silent, eyes tracked something, and Kakashi shifted to watch as dainty footprints appeared on the floor beyond the dining room, turned to enter, and then vanished from Kakashi's line of sight.

"Iruka…"

"This is fascinating," Iruka said. Kakashi watched the crazy man get up, walk around the table, and kneel to touch the formed print of a woman's shoe. He breathed through his mouth, fogging the air, and Kakashi shivered.

Getting a grip on himself and soundly ignoring the maddening ticking of the clock, Kakashi stood, packed up the food, and shoved it into the bag. It was insane to be here, even more nuts to stay, and he needed to get Iruka out of the godforsaken place before something bad happened. It'd be all his fault, after all, and Kakashi couldn't live with that. He muttered unkind things about laughing ghosts and lost bets, and Iruka walked back around the table to stand next to him.

"Kashi," Iruka whispered, and the tone made Kakashi's breath catch. Iruka reached sideways across Kakashi's body to hug him closer, and slid a palm over the back of his neck, and Kakashi stared at the wooden surface of the table while his cock stirred.

"What happens after dinner?" Iruka asked squeezing fingers and thumbs in light massage. It occurred to Kakashi that without the creepy ass house and fancy ghost lighting, this was much like his Sir gently talking Kakashi into getting on the bench or bed or other sturdy surface to begin a Scene. Iruka's patience was saint-like, his careful nature too often Kakashi's undoing, and the voice in his ears and hand on his neck did what they always did: steadied him.

Kakashi met dark eyes that glimmered in the illumination of old chandelier and modern lamp. "She leads her lover upstairs to her bedroom and kills him."

"And we're to manage little deaths instead?" Iruka asked calmly.

"Yeah," Kakashi answered, nodding.

Iruka grinned, toothy and deviant, and his eyelids lowered as he leaned closer to speak against the corner of Kakashi's mouth. "Maybe we should take this upstairs?"

Kakashi made a quiet sound at the echo of the words Iruka used to signal when he wanted to take their make-out session in front of the TV and incorporate leather, wood, and chain into the mix. The light in the room flickered, the temperature began to warm, the clock's ticking grew softer, and the hand at Kakashi's neck squeezed.

The word, "No" got buried beneath the fear of the forbidden.

"Probably," Kakashi answered. He brushed his lips against Iruka's. "Need to get one good shot of the murder scene, after all."

Iruka chuckled. "It'd be prudent," he said solemnly, letting go of Kakashi to pick up the lantern, bag, and flashlight. He shoved the Maglite into the tote and slung it onto his shoulder.

"And we all know I am the very essence of sensible," Kakashi quipped, grabbing the other light and following Iruka out of the room.

"Obviously," Iruka agreed, walking back down the hallway. Kakashi paused this time to see the portrait of the woman: her head and face were back, blond curls spilling over bare shoulders, smile wide and pretty.

"You would never take unnecessary risks," Iruka continued, pausing in front of the stairs and startling Kakashi out of his dry-mouthed observation of crappy art. "Special Ops, organized crime management…"

"Crazy talk," Kakashi absently answered. The chandelier over the entryway started to glow, the air went from seasonable to freezing in two heartbeats, and Kakashi made a very unmanly noise as something brushed by him at the mouth of the narrow hallway -- the sound of fabric and smell of perfume making his knees weak.

"Shit," Kakashi gasped.

"You okay?" Iruka asked, coming over to him.

"Sure, sure, just got run over by a horny, murderous ghost. No big deal." Kakashi's heart slammed in his chest; made him feel dizzy. God but he regretting the damned poker game, and wondered why in the hell he'd bargained so hard with Iruka to get the professor to agree to all this.

Kakashi really needed to learn to listen to that quiet voice in the back of his mind that told him Iruka would always come out on the winning side of negotiations and truly, by now, it should stop being such a challenge to see if Kakashi could fucking gain any ground.

"The clock over here is repaired and ticking," Iruka said, and Kakashi got his feet working to follow the professor into the entryway and watched the pendulum in the grandfather clock swing back and forth.

Iruka turned and gave Kakashi a look that made his knees weak for entirely different reasons. "Come on," Iruka encouraged, one foot on the bottom stair. "We should--"

A breeze blew through the house. Kakashi really wanted to blame it on the broken windows next to the front door, and he rubbed his arm against his side to calm the goose bumps. The chandelier above their heads creaked, swaying. The crystals clinked like chimes, the sound slithering down Kakashi's spine. The hinged door into the library swung open, silent, and banged against the wall.

"Marcel…Nous n'avons pas beaucoup de temps!"

The words were loud in the room, made Iruka flinch and fall back against the wall next to the stairs with a sharp exhale. The breeze shifted and dust stirred on the risers as two sets of footsteps made Kakashi's eardrums ache and want to deny they heard anything that his eyes couldn't see.

"How's your French?" Kakashi asked after a second, voice dull.

"Passing," Iruka answered, hand trembling as he shifted the bag higher on his shoulder. "She said something about not having time."

"So you did hear that?"

"Of course," Iruka answered.

Kakashi dearly loved how Iruka said that like it was the most obvious and logical thing in the world. "Still don't believe in ghosts?"

"I may need to revise my theory."

Kakashi snorted.

"Well? Come on." Iruka started up the stairs, but Kakashi didn't follow. He stubbornly planted his feet, and Iruka looked back at him, pausing mid-stride.

"Fireplay, your rules, but I take your ass afterward," Kakashi said.

Iruka pretended to consider that for less than half a second. "Done. Now get up here."

"Anyone ever tell you flexible tops are annoying as fuck?" Kakashi grumbled, trotting to catch up.

"You may have mentioned it," Iruka said.

"So good of me."

"Quite."

Iruka held up the lantern while Kakashi's flashlight searched the second floor landing. A rug with frayed edges covered the middle of an open room that was outlined in doors and a banister railing. At the far end was a bank of windows letting in almost no light, and a door leading onto a balcony was set among them. Kakashi saw where the servant stairs came up against the back wall in a nook with another flight of steps going to the third floor. To their right was a hallway blacker than pitch and to their left was a seating area. A French lounge with stains Kakashi didn't want to contemplate stood next to a stack of milk crates.

A door slammed against a wall like a gunshot, light spilled down the hallway, and Kakashi jumped a mile.

Iruka grunted. "I think that's a sign."

"Always nice to know when the nervous breakdowns are coming." Kakashi breathed hard and fast, and he despised the fact that Iruka didn't even hesitate before heading toward the ghostly glow coming from the room at the end of the darkened tunnel.

"Going toward the light is generally not a good idea," Kakashi pointed out.

"Are you going to complain like this when I've got my cock up your ass?" Iruka asked.

Kakashi almost tripped and didn't know whether to laugh, moan, or bodily carry Iruka out of the house while he explained they could figure out a way to fuck in the damned car. If it'd been anyone else, he would have opted for the third choice, but Iruka seemed intent on seeing this through. Kakashi would tell him that was stupid beyond compare, but he could see Iruka's patient look that would remind Kakashi who wanted to come here in the first place and then linger until Kakashi finally caved.

"May I just say that I hate you, Sir," Kakashi whispered as they crept down the hallway. The walls were covered in more peeling plaster and drooping paper; an oil painting rested on the floor, canvas ripped; the smell of damp decay and sickly perfume filled the air; the sound of heavy breathing and heavier silence was nearly unbearable.

"That's reasonable enough," Iruka replied and Kakashi followed him into a bedroom.

The light had no discernable source that Kakashi could see: the room simply glowed dull yellow. Kakashi observed the room with its broken-down furniture, dark drapes covering windows, and battered floorboards, and then he grabbed Iruka into an embrace as the room swam like tarmac in the desert sun. Iruka gasped in Kakashi's arms as the rotting bedclothes became shiny and new. The canopy over the four-poster unfurled with ribbon and peach cloth. Dust disappeared, mirrors remade themselves, drawers shut with soft clicks, a wash basin righted itself and a bowl appeared on top of it, materializing from nothing.

Something moved in Kakashi's peripheral vision, but when he turned to see it, there was nothing to be found, and just as a woman's low laughter filled the air -- seductive, suggestive, sweet -- the vision vanished. Gone was the luxury leaving only a dark, neglected, abandoned room.

Unable to help himself, Kakashi bent until his forehead rested on Iruka's shoulder. Fingers raked through his thick hair, and sweat started to cool beneath his arms and along his spine. "Remind me…why we're doing this…again?" Kakashi breathed.

"Because you're an adrenaline junkie, and I love a challenge." The answer was quiet but resolute, and Kakashi hugged Iruka tighter.

"Sometimes I hate that you know me so well," Kakashi muttered.

"You understand me, too, you know," Iruka answered, fingertips rubbing at Kakashi's nape.

"We should go, Sir," Kakashi said, words muffled by Iruka's jacket.

Iruka turned in Kakashi's arms, free hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Say the word and we do."

Kakashi shook his head once, lips firmly pressing together. The last time he cried safeword was when Kakashi had been coming down with the flu. In innocence, as the symptoms were mild at that point, he agreed to play, and Iruka restrained him over a bench. The combination of angles and ensuing pain made Kakashi so dizzy that he finally couldn't lift his head, and he managed to rasp, "Scarecrow" right before he passed out. More from fever than anything else - his temperature was 102. To this day, Kakashi wasn't sure if Iruka had been angrier with Kakashi for not saying something sooner or with himself for not noticing Kakashi was sick. Iruka had fussed something awful and waited on Kakashi hand and foot for an entire week.

That happened three years ago.

Since then, there'd been plenty of times when Iruka pushed the envelope with Kakashi. He always asked, they always talked about it, Iruka always gave Kakashi plenty of ways out, and Iruka was also pretty damned good at calling limits for both of them. But gentle pushing was part of how he liked to live and play. Kakashi knew this - recognized it as why it made him an excellent professor and amazing person. If Iruka wasn't the type who pushed, the two of them would never be together.

And, really, it wasn't like Kakashi was passive in the pushing department. He breathed in the smell of haunted house and sighed. "I want to finish this."

Iruka nodded, dark eyes serious. "Even if this is all real, it cannot hurt us," Iruka said.

"Think so?" Kakashi asked.

Iruka tilted his head, backed away, dropped the bag on the floor and put the lantern on a dresser. He smiled at Kakashi. "You've faced far more threatening things in an average Saturday night."

"True," Kakashi replied, coming closer. He watched Iruka remove a plastic painter's tarp from the bag, unfold it, and fling it out to settle over the old bed.

"Besides, I do remember sex being part of this deal."

Kakashi arched an eyebrow. "To conjure the spirits. Yes."

Iruka leveled a look at Kakashi that made his blood flow faster and hotter. "You assume I need a reason to fuck you, Kashi." Iruka smirked and pulled out a blanket. "A place will suffice. Even an odd one."

There was something about the way Iruka's mouth moved when he said the word "fuck" that just did it for Kakashi, and he was absolutely sure Iruka said the word on purpose any time he wanted something. Smirking, Kakashi helped Iruka spread the blanket, nerves still jangling, but the tasks and talking encouraged him to forget that seconds ago ghostly giggling accompanied an illusion that Kakashi would swear was real in any court of law.

Staring at the bed, Kakashi heard Iruka get something else from the bag and step over to Kakashi with a sigh. Iruka wrapped his arms around Kakashi and pressed himself along the length of Kakashi's body. "Tell me you don't find this thrilling, and I'll believe you," Iruka whispered.

Kakashi said nothing, the warm press of Iruka making it hard to think. He glanced around the room, shivered, and clutched at one of Iruka's hands. Half of him wanted anything Iruka desired. The other half recalled his notes and envisioned scenarios of what could happen to men who screwed like teenagers on the scene of an ancient crime in a house surrounded by burnt trees.

"Less…thrilling…more…worrisome," Kakashi admitted.

"Thinking too much?" Iruka's hands pushed up the sweater and t-shirt Kakashi wore and stroked over the hard lines of Kakashi's abs.

"Or not enough, and that's not helping." Kakashi closed his eyes. Self-imposed darkness helped Kakashi forget where he was and focus on the way Iruka's fingers tracked upward to find and gently caress Kakashi's nipples.

"No, definitely not helping," Kakashi whispered, head going back and throat working in a swallow.

"You wanted to come here?" Iruka made it a question.

"Yeah…" The fingers pinched and plucked, now, and Kakashi turned his head toward Iruka, lips seeking and finding skin and cheek pressing into leather.

Iruka tilted his head to give Kakashi access to his throat. "You want to stay?"

"Yeah…" Iruka's voice had a mesmerizing lilt that Kakashi loved. It could calm him down, work him up, could do all kinds of things.

"Because you're curious?"

"I am," Kakashi said, not sure if he was or not, but what mattered more to him was sliding his hands to grasp Iruka's legs and ass. Iruka was hard beneath his jeans, and Kakashi ground back into him. Iruka made a quiet sound in Kakashi's ear; the kind Iruka made on purpose to show Kakashi he liked something. Iruka was actually nearly silent in bed, but he knew how to use his voice to his advantage.

"Because you want to please me?"

"I always want to please you…" Kakashi said, honest with his eyes closed and only his Sir and the dead people to hear him.

Iruka hummed an approving sound, and he pull-pushed at Kakashi until they were face to face. Kakashi grabbed a handful of Iruka's ass, ground him against Kakashi's thigh, and their lips met in a solid, slick kiss. Worry and fear went on the backburner, better sense went out the window, and Kakashi's tongue danced with Iruka's -- hands grasping at the leather of the jacket and Iruka's backside -- until Iruka broke the kiss, breathless. Kakashi mouthed down his neck, gently sucking skin, and there was nothing better in the world than provoking Iruka to make that little hiccoughing sound.

"Mm. You know I love you, Kashi?"

Kakashi shivered at the old trigger -- the sentiment and the nickname in the form of a question. How many games had they played because Iruka had figured out what worked to get them both what they wanted? Kakashi was brilliant, but when it came to his weaknesses, he was lost. And ever since Iruka had found him years ago, Kakashi depended on Iruka to know where they were, where they were going, and how to get there.

"Yes," Kakashi answered, teeth nibbling on Iruka's neck. It earned him a fast breath through Iruka's nose, and Kakashi smiled against skin. "And I love you, too."

"And you trust me?" Sure hands hugged Kakashi close, and he sighed, smell of leather and Iruka filling his nose.

"I trust you."

"And you want me?"

Kakashi rolled them together, and Iruka grunted, gripping Kakashi's sweater in one fist.

"I want you," Kakashi answered.

"You want to let me do what I like to you tonight, Kashi?"

"Fuck yes," Kakashi husked, breathing harder and feeling too hot under his clothes. Moments ago he would have told anyone that getting hard in these circumstances would be a challenge. But as Iruka slid one hand into Kakashi's hair, wrapping it around his fingers and pulling at the scalp, Kakashi gasped and filled. Iruka held him there: Kakashi bent slightly so Iruka could speak into his ear.

"So you'll suck me. Get me good and hard for you?"

"Yes, Sir," Kakashi whispered, already tasting Iruka on his tongue and wanting it.

"You'll undress so I can see all of you? Your skin by the glow of the lantern will be beautiful."

"…yes, Sir…" Being beautiful in Iruka's eyes made Kakashi's body want to tense and twist, but he fought the urge to struggle. Reality started to slip, the voice filling Kakashi's head; he let it, gave himself permission to get rolled by Iruka's questions, pattern, dance.

Iruka traced the shell of Kakashi's ear with his tongue, and he pressed himself against Kakashi's leg and hip. "Then I'm going to get you on your knees on the bed, blindfold you so all you can feel and hear is me. I'm going to bend you forward, cheek to blanket, and bind your arms in gloves behind your back."

Kakashi whimpered, and his lips parted. The hold in his hair tightened, and Kakashi sighed into the pain.

"…so all you can do is take what I give you," Iruka finished. "And I'm going to give it to you slow. The kind of fuck you love to hate, Kashi."

Kakashi's eyes rolled behind their lids, and he hugged Iruka tighter. He felt a smile against his ear.

"Take you 'til your legs shake, your skin's pink, and your cock aches."

"God, yes…Sir…" The hand in Kakashi's hair squeezed until it rung a gasp from him and then let go. Immediately, Kakashi's mouth covered and lapped at Iruka's skin, kissing hard over the pulse point with the exact right amount of teeth he knew Iruka loved.

Iruka's breathing skipped, a groan slid from his lips -- soft and airy -- and his hands scrabbled at Kakashi's fly. Reluctantly, Kakashi let go to yank off his sweater and shirt, barely getting clear before Iruka's mouth found Kakashi's nipple and bit wide around it, tongue teasing. Kakashi grunted and grabbed the back of Iruka's neck and shoulder while he toed out of his shoes, soles scraping across the floor as he kicked them out of the way. Iruka let go of his nipple and knelt to help Kakashi out of his jeans and boxers, both of them breathing harder as they worked in unison to get skin uncovered.

Chuckling softly, Iruka took the sweater and jeans and carefully put the clothes in the bag. By the time Iruka turned back around, Kakashi was on his knees, and he didn't care about the feel of old rug under his joints; didn't mind the dankness of the room or the breeze that made him shiver as it hit skin warmed by want. Kakashi reached and slipped his fingers under the waist of Iruka's pants, yanked Iruka closer, undid the button of the fly, and leaned forward to lower the zipper with his teeth. The trembling that earned Kakashi and the way hands instantly wrapped in his hair were more real than any spirit or legend.

"Forget the ghosts," Kakashi murmured as he pulled out Iruka's cock. "Give me this…"

"Ooh," Iruka sighed as Kakashi suckled Iruka's into his mouth. "H-happily…Kashi…"

Kakashi'd seen and dealt with a lot of dicks in his life, and he could speak with authority that Iruka's was perfect. Just long enough, just wide enough, straight and true and when it'd been a while or when he let Kakashi work him over with mouth, hands, or anything else allowed, Iruka's cock curved upward toward his flat stomach and begged to be licked, stroked, ridden. Kakashi loved the color - dusky tan, deep red at the head -- and the taste made Kakashi hum and seek the slit with the tip of his tongue. He dove, lapped, and bobbed lower, one hand slipping down to steady the base and aid his mouth.

Iruka panted, soft sounds of urgency toning his breath, and his hands pet through Kakashi's hair gently before gripping and holding. Kakashi made a helpless noise at the warning, and then Iruka pistoned his hips into Kakashi's mouth.

"Kashi…nnngh…" Iruka stuttered a soft cry and fucked Kakashi's face with two long strokes, and on the second one, Iruka stayed immersed in Kakashi's throat. Kakashi's hands flexed, his lungs fought for air that didn't come, and his eyes formed tears as he fought his own body's reflexes and held them in check.

A low groan reverberated in Kakashi's ears, and he got to suck in a choked gasp as Iruka pulled out only to pant through his nose when Iruka went down in front of Kakashi and kissed him. The undiluted want in the way Iruka's lips and tongue slid over and with Kakashi's made him clutch hard at his Sir's back, grip leather and nip at his mouth with increasingly desperate noises. When those sounds were met with quieter ones from Iruka, impossibly deeper kisses, and a hand that squeezed Kakashi's bare ass before scratching blunt nails near the cleft, Kakashi tore away and gritted a guttural cry.

"Sir…please…" Kakashi swallowed as lips found his neck -- bit and marked -- and Iruka made no move to get up or do anything else. Kakashi gulped a handful of shaking breaths and clarified without prompt: "Please get me on the bed, please bind and blind me, and please for the love of God, fuck. Me."

"Good boy," Iruka muttered, the words wrapped in a sigh and almost unintelligible. He shifted to kiss Kakashi: a hard mesh of lip and press of teeth. "Bed. Knees." Another kiss and a gaze made of molten black magic. "With your back to me. Now."

Iruka rarely ever needed to demand twice. Kakashi stood, spun, and clamored onto the blanket, plastic crinkling under it. He heard Iruka get out of his jacket, and Kakashi rested on hands and knees, crawling forward when he felt Iruka get on the bed behind him. Kakashi rose up when he felt a hand caress down his back, and Iruka's touch shifted to pet over Kakashi's torso as they kneeled together. Kakashi blinked, saw them reflected in a shattered mirror and shuddered.

"You've no idea how much I want you," Iruka murmured softly, letting go of Kakashi. A second later and a blindfold pressed over Kakashi's eyes, the strap settling at the back of his head, and it made him reach behind him with both arms to hold Iruka firmly against Kakashi's back. Iruka's cock pressed into Kakashi's ass cheek; made them both gasp.

"How much, Sir?" Kakashi whispered. The telling sound of tearing packaging made Kakashi tense and breathe harder as Iruka made space between them. The professor grunted over the sound of unrolling latex on skin.

"Enough that touching myself at all feels dangerous," Iruka answered in a husky voice that made Kakashi's shoulders rock in a shiver. "So much that I don't know who should be begging whom." Fingers stroked up Kakashi's sides, nails dragging and making Kakashi breathe faster. "Enough to make me want to savor you and at the same time want to break my word and take you fast and hard."

Kakashi's head rolled from side to side against Iruka's shoulder, and when warm hands guided him away from Iruka's body, Kakashi fell forward without a second's hesitation. He turned and pressed his cheek against the soft blanket that smelled like their detergent and home, and Kakashi balanced his weight so he could bring his arms behind his back, heels of his palms touching.

"That's it, baby," Iruka said, hands petting Kakashi's back and triceps. A firm grip caught Kakashi's wrists, taking some of the strain, and Kakashi melted against the blanket at all points of contact. He knew exactly what was coming, and he wanted it so badly only the comfort of knowing Iruka would be good to his word kept Kakashi sane.

"I love watching the muscles play when you give like that," Iruka praised, voice quiet and reverent. Kakashi didn't answer -- couldn't find the words -- but he straighten his hands into blades when he felt svelte leather brush against his arms. Iruka shifted his grip and worked to get the restraint into place. The gloves, as Kakashi thought of them, were made of two long sheaths sewn together to allow give between them. The bottom fit like one large mitten over Kakashi's hands, and the top stopped almost at Kakashi's shoulders, the width of leather connecting the two sleeves widening from one end to the other. Iruka had made these for Kakashi, and they were simple, black, and entirely functional in design.

Kakashi laced his fingers together within the confines of the gloves and sighed as he let the leather pull to restrain him as he loosened his arms as much as he could. "Feels good, Sir," Kakashi said, and frowned beneath the blindfold as he felt the mattress move with Iruka's weight.

"Sir?" Kakashi managed to ask before his breath caught hard when Iruka spread his cheeks and a hot, slick, wet tongue probed and licked at his entrance. Kakashi froze with a strangled sound, and Iruka hummed in delight and pushed his tongue along the rim of flexing muscle.

"Oh, god," Kakashi cried, trying not to thrash and feeling Iruka's fingers dig in to cheeks and hip to brace and hold Kakashi still.

Around them, the house rumbled as though with thunder, the bed vibrated on the floorboards, and Kakashi thoroughly didn't give a shit as Iruka's tongue slipped within him and set up a rhythm obviously meant to drive Kakashi mad. Warm, moist breath blew against Kakashi's ass, teeth caught and dragged on skin, and Kakashi called out, voice unfettered in its tones of need.

"Sir, motherfuck, Sir, please…"

Iruka's tongue withdrew, and he blew chilly wind over Kakashi's wet asshole, waiting.

Kakashi writhed, cursed the air black beneath his breath, and widened his knees for more balance. "Please…don't tease me like…that…Sir, I…I…"

A chuckle made Kakashi's heart try to stop, and he groaned in hatred and pleasure when Iruka's tongue lapped entrance, taint, and the back of Kakashi's balls.

"Nnngh," Kakashi choked, suddenly so hard he felt his pulse thrum in his dick like a reminder of relief not even in sight. He was dying for friction when Iruka resumed his slow tongue work; aching for the feeling of something larger, firmer, and more satisfying as Iruka tormented Kakashi's nuts with gentle brushes of fingers and knuckles, and he made noises oscillating between demand and whine by the time Iruka got tired of the game.

Kakashi started to speak -- to figure out how to form the right syllables that would sound like a plea barely masked behind command -- when Iruka bit Kakashi on the ass and made him bark a vowel of shock and pain that dissolved into a moan.

"Very pretty," Iruka said. "Open and fluttering…waiting for me."

Slick sounds told Kakashi that Iruka lubed up his cock, and Kakashi rocked back, pushing his ass toward Iruka.

"Oh, now…that's what I like to see, baby…begging with your body when your voice won't work."

Kakashi grunted in response, wanting to say that he'd beg any way Sir wanted if Sir would just--

"Ah--!" Kakashi gasped, emphatic and piercing, as Iruka's cock nudged against him and pushed inside without preamble. "Ooooh…fuck me, yes…" Kakashi rasped, last word a hiss when Iruka pulled out and pushed just as slowly back in, and Kakahis' lungs resumed their frenetic work in the split second before a palm smacked the side of Kakashi's ass. His back arched, his cock jumped and screamed for attention, and Kakashi choked on a surprised yelp.

Iruka stilled, Kakashi panted, and finally his brain kicked around enough logic and memory to make his mouth work. "Sir," Kakashi corrected himself. "Fuck me, Sir…"

"With pleasure, Kashi…" Iruka rumbled, and his fingers pulled Kakashi back as he sank deeply within Kakashi's body before pivoting his hips and retreating again.

"Oh shit," Kakashi gasped. "Oh…oh-oh!"

Iruka fucked him slow and deep, pace never wavering, and Kakashi's jaw and mouth went slack, lips dry as he panted, trapped in place by the gloves, the position, and Iruka's hands and cock. He flexed his arms when the pivot against his prostate made starbursts flare behind Kakashi's eyelids, and the leather stretched and held. Kakashi fucking loved that as much as he detested it, but Iruka stroked his back along his spine, and Kakashi didn't care anymore. Distantly, he heard a ticking sound, barely audible over the rushed breathing of both men and the steady smack of bodies.

After an age, Kakashi finally heard the little gasps spilling from Iruka's mouth that made him tremble in some crazy combination of submission, protectiveness, and unrestrained heat. "Sir…please help me come…please let me…" Kakashi's voice was rough and strained, and Iruka moaned -- long and true -- and yanked Kakashi back for a thrust that dragged over Kakashi's prostate and made him tense, curl, and let go of an explosive exhale.

"Shit!" Kakashi hissed through gritted teeth, need and desperation rising in a spiral. His insides clenched, made both men fumble, and Kakashi keened a cry.

"Tell me… what you need," Iruka commanded, voice slurred and working hard between breaths.

"Your touch," Kakashi gasped, squirming in the bindings, sweat soaking his skin and dampening the blanket. His cock and balls ached, throbbed with each thrust Iruka put to him, and Kakashi begged: "Stroke me, Sir…please…"

Iruka shifted, and when his hand got in proximity to Kakashi's cock -- brushed his hip and thigh -- Kakashi panted in fits and starts. Hot fingers encircled him, smeared him wet with pre-cum, and stroked in time to a rocking thrust.

"Oooh, God…ooh, Sir…oh yeah, please…Say I can come, Christ, say I can…please…"

The bed shook again, and that confused Kakashi. There was something trying to swim above the cresting tide of pleasure to screech a warning, but Iruka began to stroke Kakashi faster and the world went white.

"Kashi…" Iruka gasped. "Oh, baby…oh shit…" Iruka sounded helpless, and Kakashi sobbed an incoherent plea.

Iruka sucked breath between his teeth and spoke in a rush: "Oh fuck...come, Kashi, come now…"

Iruka barely managed to say the last word before Kakashi's cock swelled, his entire body tensed, flexed, and then he was coming -- thankfully, blissfully, dazedly coming -- spilling over Iruka's fist and onto the blanket in waves that lapped in pleasure and left contentment in their wake. Kakashi met his release in silence and shuddering breaths, and Iruka met his with a groaning sob that sent ripples through Kakashi's insides; made him want to cry and kiss and curl up with Iruka and sleep for a year.

"…damn," Iruka said, hunched over Kakashi's back.

"Mmph," Kakashi agreed.

They barely moved for moments that filled ages until at long last Kakashi felt Iruka swallow against his back and bound arms. Kakashi's shoulders burned, his neck ached, and his knees felt weak, but like hell if he was going to complain about any of it. He waited with his eyes closed behind the blindfold until Iruka shifted, sighed, and Kakashi shivered as Iruka slipped from his body.

"Let me help you lie down," Iruka said in his reserved voice.

Nodding, Kakashi let Iruka ease him onto the mattress, careful of his straining shoulders. "Gloves," Iruka warned, and Kakashi braced as Iruka began to unroll the leather down his arms. When the sleeves came free, Kakashi's shoulders fell to the mattress, and he groaned as they protested the movement. Iruka smoothed Kakashi's sweaty hair away from his face, and the blindfold came off, and Kakashi lay with his eyes closed.

A warm body covered Kakashi's sweaty skin, and Iruka kissed his cheek. "You're incredible, Kashi."

"Of course I am, Sir," Kakashi answered, but his voice was a thready whisper.

Iruka chuckled, kissed Kakashi's neck, and held him until Kakashi made a soft sound and turned his head. Iruka claimed his mouth in a gentle slide of lips, and finally moved away to clean up. Cursing quietly, Kakashi rolled onto his back. For the life of him, Kakashi couldn't muster the momentum to get up or to get dressed. He rested while Iruka put away toys, disposed of the condom in a plastic bag he'd apparently brought for that purpose, and Kakashi wiggled his toes still covered in their socks. The chill in the air made him shiver, and Iruka stepped back over to the bed, knees bumping into Kakashi's.

"How do you feel?" Iruka asked, putting Kakashi's clothing down on the blanket.

Kakashi grunted and sat up, wrapping his arms around Iruka and resting his forehead against Iruka's chest.

"That good, hm?" Iruka asked, rubbing at Kakashi's shoulders.

"Oooh, that's nice…" Kakashi sighed. "And I'm fine. Did we wake the dead do you think?"

Iruka made a chuffing sound. "I think it's storming outside and the thunder shook the house, but other than that…" He shrugged.

"Mm…" Kakashi looked up and smiled at Iruka. "Thank you," he said.

Iruka bent down and kissed Kakashi, slow and sweet. "You're welcome."

"I should probably get--" Kakashi cut off mid-sentence, went rigid.

"Kashi?"

Standing behind Iruka was a creature in a black ball gown that shredded to tatters along the bottom. The bodice was ripped, revealing sickly gray skin mottled with death and rot, and the woman's shoulders were burned to red, charred flesh. Her angular face was surrounded by limp, blond curls and slimy black ribbons. Her eyes were made of the darkest nights and bloody around the corneas. The woman's expression contorted to feral glee when she saw that Kakashi watched. Her mouth grinned and stretched, showing two rows of blackened, pointed, teeth, and it kept pulling inhumanly wide: a hungry, drooling maw that nearly reached her ears.

The world slowed with adrenaline, the thing raised her hands, showing rotten nails filed to dripping claws, and Kakashi grabbed Iruka, turned, and flung them down onto the blanket with his back to the creature and his lover beneath him. He grunted when something cold struck him -- like a whip dipped in ice water -- and he curled protectively around Iruka.

"Kakashi, what are -- holy Christ what is that?"

The house didn't shake this time: it rocked like an earthquake threatened to make it crumble into the bowels of the earth. Kakashi slammed a foot against a post of the bed to brace them both, and he roared when freezing, slippery hands wrapped around his throat, sound evaporating when the claws began to squeeze.

Fighting the panic his lungs tried to raise when they didn't get air, Kakashi reached back, grabbed the thing behind him and rolled again, pinning the creature under him on the bed. He used momentum and all the force he could muster to slam the back of his head into the thing's face.

It screamed.

Kakashi did it again just to get the thing to shut up and stop deafening him, and he fell through air and hit blanket when the thing vanished. Kakashi sucked in a deep breath and coughed. The house stopped shaking but the room went nuts: the bed above him flickered old, new, old. A clock chimed and stopped. From somewhere in the house came the sound of breaking glass, and Kakashi grunted when his clothes hit him in the chest. Iruka scrambled upright with a panicky gaze, and immediately Kakashi started dressing in a hurry.

"Is she coming back?" Iruka asked, bag over his shoulder, lantern in one hand for light and Mag in the other for a weapon. He tossed the remaining flashlight to Kakashi.

"Probably," Kakashi said, forcing his foot into a shoe. He had no idea what the rules were for embodied spirits, but he thought their luck wasn't ready to turn just yet. He grabbed the blanket, stuffed it in the bag, and gripped Iruka's wrist to pull him toward the door. Kakashi skidded to a halt, and Iruka rammed into him from behind.

The hag blocked the way, small feet in rotting slippers set wide, shoulders raised like hackles, and her head twitched to the left and then the right far faster than any human's anatomy could allow. The mouth opened again in a gaping black hole. "Vous ne pouvez pas me laisser…"

"You can't leave me," Iruka translated in a hushed whisper.

"Oh yea of little faith," Kakashi replied, hand squeezing the heavy Maglite. He'd never beaten an evil spirit to a second death with a flashlight, but he was willing to give it a go.

The house trembled, and both Kakashi and Iruka crouched for balance. Kakashi put himself between the creature and Iruka. The room flickered from past to present with speed that made Kakashi's stomach heave. He ignored the seasick sensation, eyes on the hag.

The bitch's mouth closed, twisted, and her lips spread into the grin again. In a blink, the thing was right in front of Kakashi, looking up at him with eyes that bled black from the corners and shone with inhumanity.

"Don't you want me, kind sir?" the thing asked, mouth not moving to form the words. They were just there. Kakashi saw ruptured veins, bleeding gums, missing clumps of hair, and the smell that surrounded them was open grave and rotting eggs.

"Sorry, babe," Kakashi said levelly. "I suck cock."

Kakashi swung the Maglite and struck the thing square in the temple. It stumbled to the side, screaming again. Kakashi saw movement to his left, registered that glass shards were launching into the air. He spun, putting his back to the danger, yanked hard enough on Iruka to make bones pop and slung Iruka ahead of Kakashi and out the doorway. Kakashi leaped after Iruka, and felt the glass miss his skin by fractions of inches; heard pointed ends embed in the wall and doorframe with heavy thuds.

"Go, go, go!" Kakashi yelled, and something flew out of the bedroom and hit Kakashi in the back. He grunted and kept going, quickly assessing that he could move his legs and arms without issue, and concluded that whatever hit him didn't do irreparable damage.

Iruka ran down the hallway and screamed when the fucking oil painting launched itself at his head. Kakashi barely made it in time to thrust his arm out and take the brunt of the impact, and saw the briefest flashes of a screaming woman on canvas before he flung the thing away from them. Iruka lurched down the hallway, finding his feet and stride, and dodged to the side with a creative curse as the lounge in the entryway scraped across the floor with dizzying speed.

Kakashi spun to dodge the flying furniture and saw that the creature stood in the doorway to the bedroom, red light illuminating her from behind. Her neck was stretched impossibly long, her mouth open and unhinged, green tongue lolling out to flop against her chin. Black rivulets ran from her eyes in streams that spilled to the floor, and she flung herself at the invisible bars that blocked her and stopped her from giving chase.

"YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME HERE WITH HIM! I'LL KILL YOU!"

The roar made Kakashi grind his teeth, Iruka bellowed over the din, and Kakashi dove to knock the Iruka to the floor just as a piece of broken window flew over them. Kakashi rolled them toward the stairs, taking Iruka and the bag along for the ride, and Iruka struggled to his knees. Kakashi had a split second to see Iruka's face set in a mask of fear and rage, arm up to block his head. A breeze kicked up to blow debris and dirt and sound around them in a whirlwind, and Kakashi started to grab Iruka -- reached for him -- but Iruka shoved Kakashi and yelled down the hallway:

"By the power of God our Almighty Lord I condemn you to your fate and command you to let us pass. The Power of Christ compels you!"

Kakashi's eyes went wide, and he watched the creature flash in and out of reality, still howling. The wind blew harder, the house rocked with a jarring lurch that was enough to make the banister rail twist, but the makeshift weaponry stopped flying.

"Yeah, what he said," Kakashi muttered, grabbed Iruka, and hauled him to his feet and toward the stairs. He wanted to get down them before the entire manor collapsed on their heads.

Kakashi glanced over his shoulder to make sure they nothing followed them, and he ran into Iruka stopped on the stairs. Iruka slid off the step, almost fell, but Kakashi's reflexes were good enough to grapple him into the wall and hold him up.

"The fuck?" Kakashi cried over the noise of ripping floorboards, branches breaking on the roof, screaming spirits, and his own thudding heart and ringing ears.

Iruka pointed, Kakashi jerked his head toward the front door, and everything stopped.

There was a collective thump as small items picked up by the wind hit the floor. The remaining library door creaked, fell, and glass shattered. In the silence that followed, Iruka and Kakashi panted in lung-bursting gasps, and stared at the entryway with wide eyes.

A man leaned against the front door, one knee bent so the bottom of his black boot rested on the wood. He wore fitted tan pants tucked into the tops of the boots, a loose shirt with an embroidered black vest over it, and his hair was long, dark, and curly. In his hands he held a knife and a peach, and while Kakashi and Iruka watched, the stranger cut into the fruit, spilling juice on the floor. He cut a slice, raised it to his lips, and sucked at the nectar before pulling the morsel into his mouth.

The sound of weeping reached Kakashi's ears, and he flinched. He jerked to look back and saw nothing except broken milk crates against the gnarled banister rails.

"Mon Seigneur, aie pitié…"

"Oh, no mercy tonight, my sweet." The man's voice entered Kakashi's ears, flew down his spine, tightened his gut and made his anus contract. He'd faced drill sergeants, war, bombs, tragedy, death, the mob, and a score of other things both horrifying and soul-rending in his life, but the sound of that voice made Kakashi want to curl into a ball and cry for his mother's arms.

And an evil part of his mind -- a dark part kept well-hidden by the light of day -- whispered that the comfort he sought could only be found in the embrace of the man who inspired the terror driving him to find it.

Kakashi's knees trembled as the stranger kicked off the door and cut another slice of peach. He popped it into his mouth and started up the stairs. Trying to silence his labored breathing, Kakashi barred an arm over Iruka and slithered across Iruka until he stood between the nightmare on the steps and the love of Kakashi's life. Iruka gasped and Kakashi felt his body shake with the sobs. If Kakashi wanted to run simultaneously to and from this beast in man form, then Iruka probably felt the same draw. Kakashi leaned hard against Iruka, found the his wrist, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Kakashi had always known he'd die for Iruka; but at that moment, the truth solidified into common knowledge.

The man ascended the stairs without seeming to notice them at all, and Kakashi found he couldn't quite look at the stranger. Kakashi's eyes kept sliding off shoulders and clothing to the wall, step, railing, or anywhere else other than the man himself.

The footsteps paused, Kakashi stopped breathing and tensed, and behind him, Iruka rested his forehead on Kakashi's back.

"Run along now my pretty fools. You've played your part. And rather well, at that." The man huffed a laugh and inclined his head to one side. Kakashi focused on the steps and tried not to see the red-gleamed gaze that made him want to look.

"Such interesting games in which you partake. One wonders how you'd play…with me…"

Kakashi kept his mouth shut, closed his eyes, and finally the man chuckled and went on his way. As soon as he heard footfalls on the second floor landing, Kakashi fled down the stairs, dragging Iruka with him. Kakashi knew he caught Iruka more than once, knew when he reached for the front door the handle was hot against his palm, knew that Iruka struggled to get control. But it wasn't until chilly night air hit his skin that Kakashi truly came back to his senses, opened his eyes, and held Iruka while they both breathed sighs of relief on the free side of the manor. The gate on the cemetery garden creaked in the light breeze, open and swinging, and the skeleton branches clacked together above their heads. Kakashi hugged Iruka tightly, ignoring the way his head hurt and back felt raw, and gradually Iruka stopped trembling.

By mutual silent agreement, they finally separated and walked fast to the car, arms around one another. The bag went into the trunk, Kakashi got behind the steering wheel, Iruka slammed the passenger door, and Kakashi navigated the Tesla away from the damned home and back onto side roads. He broke every speed limit for ten miles until they found the main highway, and only then did Kakashi slow down.

Once headlights passed over them and they were surrounded by plenty of signs of normal humanity, Kakashi glanced over at Iruka, who pressed himself firmly back against the seat and headrest. Kakashi reached over to take his hand.

Iruka jumped, flashed a chagrined look at Kakashi, and sighed. "I'm going to kill Neji," he said, resolute.

Kakashi managed a strained laugh. "Not if I get to him first." He picked up Iruka's hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed the knuckles.

"Kashi," Iruka began, voice small. "That man back there…was that…"

"No," Kakashi answered, firm in his resolve to make sure the professor got over this nightmare. "Just a ghost."

Iruka stared at Kakashi's profile for a long time before he finally nodded.

"Hey, what was all that 'Power of Christ' stuff back there?" Kakashi asked.

"Something my grandmother taught me to say in the face of evil," Iruka answered.

"Huh," Kakashi grunted, trying hard to keep his voice level and soothing. Iruka was beginning to calm down and find ground, and Kakashi wanted to help him. "Pretty sweet talking, Professor."

Iruka gave him a wan smile. "Thanks for saving my life."

Kakashi snorted. "Nothing like a little flying glass and ghostly claw marks up the back to make our sex life more interesting."

"Lean forward," Iruka ordered, and Kakashi set up the cruise control as he shifted toward the steering wheel. Iruka put his hand up the back of Kakashi's shirt, and he winced when questing fingers found tender spots.

"Skin's not broken," Iruka whispered. "Burned, I think…"

"I'm fine," Kakashi said, leaning back and grabbing Iruka's hand again. He kissed the inner wrist this time. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you'll do to me with your torches."

"Damn straight," Iruka teased back, a little weakly but he still did it. Kakashi said nothing for a long moment, and Iruka reached to hold Kakashi's hand with both of his.

"Everything's all right, Iruka. Just a bad night we can laugh about over beers with our friends."

"Sounds like a plan," Iruka replied. "But Kakashi?"

"Hm?"

"You ever bid a dare against Neji again, and I'll put you in stocks for a month."

Kakashi grinned. The GPS spoke up and told them to turn left at the next light, and Kakashi slowed down. He knew it'd take a while to get over this crazy night, but they'd been through worse and would handle it together. Kakashi had utter faith in that; utter faith in them.

Turning the car onto the appropriate street, Kakashi headed toward home. "Whatever you say, Sir."

Iruka sighed, settled in the seat with his hands still holding Kakashi's, and closed his eyes.

/fine