The door was latched, but not locked. Ryouma dropped his bucket in the entry-way and pitched his trousers at the overflowing basket by the wall. The light was dim, the TV black. It took him a moment to make sense of the long, lean shape sprawled over his bed, and the tiny yellow-haired puddle on top.

They'd waited, after all.

Fallen asleep waiting, which was bizarrely endearing.

And they'd been busy before that, apparently. Last week's dishes were clean and out of the sink, drying on the tiny draining board. The clothes he'd left on the floor were piled in the basket, the videos back on their shelf, the armor stacked neatly beside the dusted weapons chest. Even the empty bowl was set carefully in the broad windowsill, where a stray foot couldn't knock it over.

Kakashi had an arm curled over Naruto's back, rising and falling lightly with the boy's deep breaths. His masked chin had slumped to his shoulder; ruffled grey hair hid his good eye. He didn't look much like a legend, even a teenage one.

He didn't look much like a bastard, either. He looked mostly like a kid, worn out from looking after the world.

Ryouma could be grateful for the bare feet, now. He stole soundlessly across the carpet to the closet, eased the door open, sorted out trunks and loose knit pants. He was wrestling into a tee-shirt when the bed creaked behind him.

"Tousaki?" Kakashi murmured, blurry-voiced. "Y'smell like flowers."

"Better than rot," Ryouma said softly. He tugged his tee-shirt down, closed the closet door, and crossed back to the bedside. Kakashi hadn't lifted his head; Ryouma couldn't tell if his eye was open, or if that was merely a gleam of light from the window.

Ryouma said, "Go back to sleep. I'll clear out for a while."

Kakashi dragged his free hand up to rub the heel of his palm against his eye. "Mn — what?" His voice was still rough with sleep. "Don't b'stupid. It's your apartment."

"It's in place of the fruit basket," Ryouma said. "I might still send the flowers, though. Tulips?"

"Daffodils," Kakashi said, to Ryouma's immense delight. Then his brain appeared to catch up with his mouth; he pulled his hand down, and blinked. "What?"

"Explanations cost extra," Ryouma said smugly. "Daffodils. I'll remember. Go to sleep, Kakashi. I got three days already. I'll last a few hours more."

Kakashi shook his head stubbornly, grey hair fanning on the navy pillow. He slid Naruto off his chest and sat carefully up, then eased the boy down into the warm little nest of blankets and pillows they'd made. "You need sleep, too," he said. "You're still building your reserves back up." He rubbed his face and blinked again, lashes hazy against his pale slice of cheek, as if he were trying to grasp a thought just out of reach. "There was something I was supposed to do."