Kakashi shifted half a step left, taking more of Ryouma's weight against his shoulder. His muscles trembled quietly, protesting the strain of carrying Tsume and bracing the taller ninja after everything he'd asked from them recently. He told them to shut up and stop whining.

Ryouma was smiling. Tsume was about as relaxed as it was possible for a person to be. For a head-rush second, Kakashi nearly staggered under his own relief. He caught himself before he moved--or worse; dropped anyone--and took a breath.

Then he rubbed his thumb gently over Tsume's shoulder, feeling muscle fade into bone. "You," he said quietly, "are insane. Very, very insane. But I appreciate the sentiment."

He glanced left, letting the sharingan slide closed, and memorized the curve of Ryouma's mouth with his own eye. "And you are a special kind of crazy if you think we dragged you all the way home to leave you in the ground," he said, letting the shimmer of a smile flicker behind his mask.

He really needed to get them both on the bed before someone fell over. But for an odd little moment, Kakashi let himself stand and hold up them up. Tsume was warm and sleepy against his chest. Ryouma was solid and strong against his shoulder. It was nice; a breath snatched in the middle of chaos.

He tilted his head and pressed his face against Ryouma's neck, catching scent through the cloth of his mask. Still upset, but not quite so bad. There was a splash of sunshine threading through the acid-toned hurt. "Get on the bed," he mumbled, speaking into skin, "so I can hand Tsume to you. If you could manage that before my arms snap off, that'd be peachy."