Title: Roll For Initiative
Characters: Yamato/Kakashi.
Rating: NC-17.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Summary: (Kakashi/Yamato. One-shot. Sequel to Idle Hands.) His theory is that the best way to come to a conclusion is to avoid the conversation.

This one-shot was written for the LJ community 30kisses prompt: # 5; "hey, you know…"

Warning(s): Events from Idle Hands are alluded to, so this may or may not make complete sense if you haven't read that first. Spoilers up to the recent manga chapters. Graphic sex.

Roll For Initiative

Coming home from missions was a hassle.

First, he actually had to drag himself home. The physical strain to do so varied from mission to mission, but thankfully the one he was currently coming back from had been relatively simple. Before re-entering the village he had to do a documents check. Although the guards knew him and he usually received more leeway from them, they often added to the stress of coming home.

After successfully proving that, no, he wasn't going to go on a killing rampage any time soon, came the mission debrief. While a certain former colleague of his skipped out on mission debriefs regularly, he was of the type to attend no matter how tedious he knew they would be. And today's debrief was especially mind numbing.

He tuned in.

"And so you see, on this graph, and this one… that the trajectories…"

He tuned out.

Yamato loved his job. There was no doubt this was what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. The fact that he was a shinobi could be, literally, traced back to his DNA. And while he had met some people who had extensive shinobi lineages who would, quite frankly, rather be working down at the pork stand, he was not one of those people. He did his job without question (when he was asked not to, at least) and used discretion to the best of his abilities. Serving Konoha was his entire life; there was no question that the day the will to live inside of him would be snuffed out would be the moment he would not be able to.

But he wished Tsunade's reforms would touch on the way debriefs were run. Most times he didn't have the time to go home for a quick change and had to sit through them dirty, bloody and in full combat gear. This time was no different. He adjusted the strap to his faceplate, careful to not knock his mask off in the process. Two minutes in and his fingers were itching for something to doodle with. Did they really have to spend so much time rehashing the fact that he had completed his mission successfully?

Yamato blinked slowly.

He was starting to become worried about his reactions. Normally he was attentive, all ears, no wandering thoughts. It was the second time in the past month where he had wanted to be anywhere else but where he was—preferably with a certain former colleague that his mind kept wandering back to. He held back a frustrated sigh and shifted in his seat. Ever since Genma's poker night a little way back his subconscious had taken on a life of its own.

The fact that he and Kakashi, the former colleague, were sort-of involved again did not help him concentrate much, either.

Yamato never understood what went on in Kakashi's head. Not the moment he had met the guy nor the years he had worked beside him. Of course, some things were relatively linear about the guy. But while he had gotten physically close to him, Yamato never felt much of an emotional attachment on Kakashi's side. Which was all the better, Yamato supposed, but it had been frustrating and a little embarrassing when they had first slept together.

Yamato eventually came to realize some things were better kept quiet between them, though. Both of them had enough emotional baggage to sink a ship; neither of them was willing (or ready) at that point in their lives to help the other toss the deadweight overboard. A real relationship would have been near impossible. If attempted, it probably would have been nothing but dysfunctional. Then again, would they have really known a distinction between normal and fucked up?

He hadn't been looking for a long-term relationship anyway and he figured Kakashi wasn't either. While their "relationship" wasn't a cause of shame for either of them, whatever they did together was strictly private and anything public strictly business.

Eventually their paths diverged. Yamato had continued working for ANBU and Kakashi had hung up his mask for a more convenient teacher position (which he didn't actually fulfill until Team 7). Keeping up with casual sex became more difficult with their clashing schedules—Yamato was constantly on rotation and Kakashi wasn't so much anymore—and one day they just decided it was best they put whatever history they had with one another behind them.

While Yamato had never considered Kakashi his lover, years of late-night sex coming to an abrupt halt was, well, rather abrupt. But Yamato was nothing if not a great adapter. No part of his profession was compromised and whatever social life he had never faltered. He never forgot about Kakashi, either, but putting it all on the backburner had been simple. Maybe it was a piece of him that hoped he'd see Kakashi and his ugly mug one day still. Or perhaps it was a testament to the Academy teachers who said that mastering the art of detachment wasn't that difficult to accomplish.

Then Tsunade requested he take over Kakashi's team for the time the man was incapacitated. He knew Kakashi hadn't requested him for the job—he was the only one that could look after Naruto and therefore was the only choice—but he still managed to delude himself into thinking that, maybe, just maybe, Kakashi had. It was a silly thing to think; memories and events he hadn't thought of in a long time popped back into his head. Needless to say, the more time they spent together, the more their tentative friendship was rekindled.

As horribly cliché as it sounded, he was perfectly happy with Kakashi being back in his life. The man annoyed him (come on, dumping bills on people was not very nice) but he respected Kakashi more than any shinobi he had met before. And sometimes he let Kakashi walk all over him, but most times he wasn't afraid to fight the guy in his own disturbed way.

Then Genma's poker night happened. He'd felt like he was a teenager all over again. He knew that having sex would bring up old feelings (and certain reactions), but just how much it'd affect him… he hadn't really been prepared for it. He didn't know what Kakashi was thinking, or if the man was thinking at all. Was it just a fuck for old time's sake? Yamato had no complaints if that was the case, but keeping his thoughts in order when no decisive conclusions had been reached that night was difficult. He didn't want to get his hopes up. For all he knew Kakashi could have been completely drunk; he was always suspiciously good at hiding it. But at the same time, he didn't want to crush his own hopes either.


He felt like an idiot after a one-night stand. He had the phone number of the other person, he obviously didn't mind engaging in more sex, but he was entirely shaken at the prospect of calling the other party up to discuss the issue. Yamato wasn't sure what that said about his character, but he had a feeling he wasn't the only guy in the world with this issue.


He started at the sight of a hand waving in his face.


The debrief leader huffed. "I said: you're dismissed."

"Oh, right. Thanks."

God damnit. If his spacing out problem went on his record, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

By the time he had managed to drag himself out of the small conference room, the chances of salvaging his blood-drenched pants were next to none. Although the ANBU uniform was still comfortable, he enjoyed his hygiene too much to not go home right away for a quick scrub under the showerhead. A trip to the Laundromat was possibly in order as well, but he wasn't familiar with any twenty-four hours open ones in his area. Or if they actually existed in Konoha, for that matter. With all the blood that stained clothing during the evenings, Yamato was sure they'd get a hefty amount of business.

He slipped through his bedroom window, careful not to leave bloody fingerprints on the windowsill. The last time he had attempted going through the front door he had been accosted by the elderly canasta players next door; they had tried to invite him inside even as he was still covered in dirt and blood. Simply frightening that event was.

For a moment he just stood in the middle of the room; it was good to be alive, to be home, even if it was empty. Everything was dimly illuminated by the moonlight. A faint red glow of his alarm clock told him how late it was. It brought him back a few years, reminding him once again of his predicament: Kakashi. More specifically, Kakashi and him together.

The issue at hand was that he didn't even know if he actually liked Kakashi that way. Anymore, at least. The sex was something he could live with, but if history was going to repeat itself, he knew he'd be miserable. When he was younger, he was willing to take physical gratification over emotional satisfaction. Now he was older, wiser. He had no desire to be trapped in late-night fucks while he went about his day like nothing was bothering him. He'd grown up and out of his emotional troubles. Sure, he wasn't ever going to be completely free of his past, but he had learned that coming to terms with it was easier than burning bridges. He didn't know if Kakashi had come to the same conclusion. He didn't know if they'd ever work and he didn't know why he was so adamant about finding out if they would.

He didn't know if his want for settling the boundaries of their relationship was just lust mixed with nostalgia: the desire for a physical relationship that they once had coupled with the past hitting him over the head because of one night together after years of nothing.

Taking a shower was a respite from all his pondering. Focusing on scrubbing the blood off took up most of his concentration. By the time he stepped out of the bathroom he had nearly forgotten about Kakashi. He held a towel around his hips, standing in the hallway, wondering if he should get something to drink or sleep.

Dehydration won out in the end and he ended up nursing a cool cup of tap water. As he leaned against the counter to face his tiny living room, he realized that that human-shaped shadow sitting on his couch had certainly not been there a minute ago.

"Nice towel."

Yamato frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"…it's all pink and flowery. Very quaint."

"Would it kill you to, hey, you know, knock or something?"

"And miss out on this candid moment? Never."

"Want some water?"

"I'm fine," Kakashi said.

Yamato finished off his glass and placed it on the counter. He would have crossed his arms, but one hand was busy keeping him relatively modest. Not that it really counted for much, as Kakashi had already seen him naked on many occasions, but sometimes it was good to keep one's own decency.

"So," he said awkwardly. He wasn't in the mood to play host and he was still a little sore over the fact that he wanted the bastard but didn't at the same time. Although now would have been a perfect time to bring up his grievances, the panicked part of his brain told him to avoid bringing anything up at any cost.

"You missed poker night a few weeks in a row," was Kakashi's casual reply.

Yamato didn't know if that was an allusion to something definitely not poker or not. With the Copy Ninja, he could never tell. His eyes shifted away from Kakashi anyway.

"Sometimes I like to do a little thing called 'work'."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Yamato sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. "I give up."

"What?" Kakashi sounded a hint curious now.

"You break into my apartment, toss innuendos around and expect me to bite. Normally I'm all up for it, but right now? I want to sleep."

He stopped himself before he really got on a roll. "Just go home."

There was a long, awkward pause after he said that. Yamato wasn't worried about hurting Kakashi's feelings—they both had said much worse to one another before. But he was worried about his shot with the guy. Being sarcastic probably didn't help salvage his floundering chances, but there was only so much he could put up with so late in the evening. Either way, he didn't want to talk about them right now, but he wasn't sure what to say to convey that. "Get the hell out," seemed to solve all his problems till he was ready to face whatever it was that rational part of his brain told him to face.

Besides, whatever they'd say would just get convoluted.

The both of them weren't very good expressers of genuine emotion.

"Tenzou," Kakashi said; he sounded almost pained. "I… think we need to talk."

The irrational and rational sides of him battled it out, a grimace crossing his face at the prospect of having to figure this out. He slouched a little, the counter digging into his lower back. A cross-punch for the rational and he said, "Right now?"

"I have a mission tomorrow," Kakashi sighed, "and I'd like to get this settled."

Yamato swallowed. Why was it that he felt more nervous now than when he had to battle it out with a group of hungry mountain lions earlier that week? "Can we define 'this' first?"

Kakashi's hands flexed. "You and me."

"Doing… what?"

Kakashi turned his head away, "What we've always done…?"

"Sempai, I… look, um." He scratched his cheek. "This is a lot harder than I though it would be."

Kakashi stood up slowly, regarding him with a look Yamato couldn't really place. "You know I'm not good with… feelings."

Yamato smiled faintly. "Yeah, you sure know how to fuck them around."

Kakashi tilted his head to the side. "When we were younger I—"

"You were younger. So was I."

"I'm still—"

"An idiot? Yes. But I forgive you."

Kakashi laughed. He was tense, more tense than he had been their entire encounter. It was hard to read his body language and Yamato knew that when you could, either he was baiting you or something was really up. He hadn't noticed before, but Kakashi's mask was barely hanging off his chin; his lips were pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. For some reason this put Yamato at ease—the both of them were interested in the outcome of their discussion. And Kakashi's choice to lower his mask showed trust, vulnerability, even if it was subconscious.

"I'm not a big fan of uncertainty."

Yamato nodded. "So what happened after Genma's party…?"

Beating around the bush was painfully frustrating, but it saved him the trouble of stepping up and displaying his emotions first. Saying that he wanted a crack at a relationship, more than just sex this time, was something he didn't want to throw out there without some sort of hint that Kakashi felt the same way.

"I don't know. What did you think?"

Yamato should have known he'd evade the question. "I thought it was… good."

"Good? Just good."


"That's worse."


"Oh? In what way?"

"In the sex kind of way, I think."

They paused for a moment. Yamato laughed; Kakashi grinned. They were slowly descending into familiar territory once more. And as much as Yamato wanted to prevent sexually-driven interactions, that nasty heap of nostalgia was back and fighting for its life. He wanted Kakashi, he just didn't want to shame of a double-standard relationship: sex without the prospect of future emotional closeness was not a cross he wanted to bear a second time around. He knew—thought—Kakashi wanted him as well, but the aspects of his attraction were still unknown to him.

Yamato frowned once again. And maybe he'd never know. Lack of communication had killed them before, but maybe this time around some sort of whacky compromise could be achieved.

Stepping into a relationship with Kakashi was probably the most uncertain thing he'd ever have to do, socially at least. Missions required intelligence, if he considered this a life mission, but it was hard for anyone to capture the method to the madness that was Kakashi's.

The grin had faded from Kakashi's face, but he was no longer tensed up. "We're not really talking about 'this' anymore, are we?"

Yamato blinked. "No, but I'd appreciate you taking your hand off my towel."

"Sorry, it sort of slipped."

"And you missed your target by a few centimeters."

"See, you say these things and…"

"Look, I'm just as confused as you are."

Kakashi balked. "Who said I was confused?"

"I assumed we were confused," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"We were beating around the bush. Still are, actually. But there's a big difference between that and confused."


"Just so we're clear: I'm really tempted to kiss you right now."

"I'd like that, but I'd rather know if this is going to be a short-term, middle of the night kind of thing."

Kakashi paused. "Do you want that?"

"No. I think a long-term, middle of the day thing would be a nice change."

"Separate apartments?"

"You're getting ahead of yourself. And I don't think we could live with one another."

"Why not?"

"We've only been talking for a few minutes now and I'm already frustrated with you."

Before Yamato really had a chance to react, Kakashi pressed himself up against him, both of his hands running up along Yamato's sides. Thankfully, the Copy Ninja didn't say anything witty, but he supplemented his silence with a smug smirk that said, Still frustrated?

Yamato swallowed thickly; he felt his body react to the touches already. A part of him told him to hold back, that "normal couples" didn't usually start their relationships without their clothes on.

But then again, waiting was highly overrated.

He leaned forwards to press his lips against Kakashi's; his free hand came up to grip at Kakashi's hair, tugging at the strands and pulling the man closer to him. The pressure was just what he needed, what he wanted—the way Kakashi tilted his head indicated he felt exactly the same. The warmth between them was licking at his exposed skin, making him shudder, grip Kakashi tighter. It'd definitely been too long since their last encounter.

He opened his mouth and Kakashi dipped his tongue in teasingly. He shivered at the sensation, moved his head to a better angle, kissed, sucked, moaned; sexual frustration that had been building up a few weeks prior was beginning to compound. Only a few minutes in and he was already beginning to breathe hard. How he had ever lasted several years without Kakashi (his touch, his body, his lips) was almost an insane idea, now that he was nearly rock-hard and finally feeling everything he had missed.

He gasped, pulling back with his lips parted a fraction, keeping up with the sensations as well as he could manage. It felt so good to feel Kakashi up against him, slowly rolling his hips into his. Yamato's hand, previously occupied with holding the towel in place, slid under Kakashi's shirt and around his waist, finally settling on his lower back. The man had always been particularly sensitive in that area and a few choice touches had Kakashi grinding into Yamato's stomach.

"Oh god, Tenzou…"

Yamato bit his lip, hissing a breath through clenched teeth. Hearing Kakashi gasping and panting softly next to his ear, groaning out his name, made his groin tighten almost painfully; it had always been his biggest turn-on, to know that he could affect Kakashi this way.

Kakashi kissed Yamato's neck, still moving his hips in time with the other's. "Top or bottom?"

"Ah, oh!… no condoms—no lube, either."

Kakashi pulled back for a moment and reached deep into his pockets. Yamato clenched his eyes shut at the sudden lack of stimulation; it was a lot more painful than he remembered it being.

"Now, I hate to seem like I planned this," said Kakashi, "but don't think I walk around with a pack of condoms and a bottle of lube in my back pocket."

"Wouldn't hold it against you if you did." Yamato didn't care if Kakashi walked around with an elephant in his back pocket at this point. He was fully aware that Kakashi was capable of disrobing himself, but the moment seemed to call for more direct action. He reached down and untied Kakashi's pants, thankful to whoever invented such simple outerwear. His hands were deceptively steady; his heart was pumping fast, every nerve in his body ready to react.

Kakashi yanked his pants down after Yamato finished with the tie and kicked them behind himself; they landed underneath the coffee table. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere to the left. "I reiterate: top or bottom?"

Yamato ran his tongue over his bottom lip and turned around, gripping the edge of the counter tightly. "It's been a while."

Kakashi pressed his chest up against Yamato's back, one arm snaking across his front while his other hand traveled down the middle of Yamato's stomach. Yamato shivered involuntarily at the touch, anticipating its destination with a frustrated roll of his hips. Kakashi's pressed his palm into Yamato's lower abdomen, fingers barely ghosting across the erection that was just a hint lower. Yamato braced himself against the counter, trying to hold back the urge to just grab Kakashi's hand and lead it to where he wanted it. Patience he had in plenty, but sometimes Kakashi got ridiculous with his teasing. Every time Yamato tried to voice his opinions Kakashi'd take his time kissing the nape of Yamato's neck, biting down gently at his most sensitive spots.

Kakashi kept all his touches light and Yamato found himself being swept under the sensations once again. Each stroke of Kakashi's hand, each bit of pressure against his sensitive neck, made it harder to concentrate on standing, on anything really; except, maybe, that he wanted more.

He moaned, tilting his head to the side to receive another string of kisses. "Kakashi, come on…"

Suddenly, or maybe it wasn't quick enough, Kakashi's hand was gripping his cock and pumping slowly. He gasped, caught off guard by the quick flare of pleasure. His hips came up and his abdomen flexed. He tried rocking on the balls of his feet to keep the motions going, encouraging Kakashi to continue. Considering they were about the same height and that he had a slightly higher muscle mass than the Copy Ninja, Yamato was surprised they didn't stumble backwards.

"That's, yeah, really nice," he panted, brow furrowing as Kakashi ran a thumb over the head of his cock. Two more slow pumps later and Kakashi stepped away to place a palm between Yamato's shoulder blades. He groaned at the loss of sensation but bent forwards anyway. He placed a forearm on the countertop, another hand still holding on to the edge of the counter. Kakashi tapped Yamato's legs apart with his foot.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Yamato panted, staring straight down at the countertop. The anticipation was absolutely horrible, but it felt so good at the same time. The heat at his back, Kakashi's heavy breathing, the distinct smell of sweat and sex; he tipped his head down, feeling himself begin to shake at the prospect of Kakashi pounding into him, head thrown back and groaning his name.

Kakashi gripped Yamato's hip, "You okay? Relax."

"Yeah," was the only coherent thing he thought to say. He took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to relax.

Kakashi pressed one finger into him slowly. "You sure?"

He let out a shuddering breath and looked over his shoulder with a deep-set frown, "Yes!"

Kakashi slid out and not too soon was pressing back in. Yamato felt his cock flag at the initial penetration, but soon recovered once he found himself finally fully relaxing. Getting back into the habit of sex was a little awkward, especially with the strange position they were in, but soon he found himself rocking back without any hesitation. Kakashi's fingers at his hips flexed and fluttered against his skin, setting the pace. Yamato groaned a little more loudly than he would have liked at a particularly pleasurable thrust, but moving his hips a little faster only made Kakashi grip his hips tighter, keeping control of their pace and movements the whole while.

Yamato licked his lips, squinting at the countertop. Not having his way was frustrating and he didn't know why Kakashi seemed set on going at it like a pendulum. The man had kept the pace relatively slow, even as his breathing turned shallow and rapid.

"You are… allowed to— oh!"

A sudden thrust cut off his next few words; his mouth parted and he pressed his forehead against his arm, wondering why he hadn't demanded this type of treatment before. The wave of pleasure melted away all too soon and he rolled his hips back, just to try and feel it again.

"Keep going," he groaned, almost desperate for the sharp pang of pleasure to return.

Kakashi reached around, now thrusting in a jerky pattern, to pump Yamato's cock once more. Yamato hissed out a breath between his teeth. The tension was building, his entire body trying to keep with holding itself up while not compromising his jerky movements. He clenched his eyes shut, rolling and grinding his hips. Spots began to dance in his vision—or maybe they danced behind his eyelids, were his eyes open? He bit his lips, groaned and gasped.

"Kakashi—" his warning was left short as his body tensed up. His mouth opened but he didn't know if he was saying anything and, if he was, it probably wasn't anything coherent. All he could see was white and all he could hear was the blood pounding in his eardrums. Everything but the sensations that were rapid-firing across his nerves dimmed around him. Even the harsh groan behind him he barely registered.

He panted for a few moments, still bent over as Kakashi disposed of the condom. Bits of sound flooded back to him after a few seconds—the squeak of the linoleum tile, Kakashi's harsh breathing.

He snapped upright. "Fuck! The counter!"

Kakashi yawned before he had the decency to wince, "The towel's right there."

"I'm not wiping it off with my towel!"

"Well, whatever. Remind me on to not eat here again. Ever."

"Ugh, gross. Hey—where the hell are you going?"

"Bedroom?" Kakashi pointed down the hallway. "Sleep?"

Yamato frowned. "Now I remember why I dubbed you the One-Shot Wonder."

"Pretend I said a witty response, completely throttled your argument and convinced you to follow me to the bedroom."

Yamato did. He settled down next to Kakashi, snatching the good pillow for himself before Kakashi could nab it.

"We still need to talk," he said, finally feeling the lull of physical release.

"If it's over waffles, I think I will agree."


Special thanks to blakkmollie, again, for being an amazing beta.