Kakashi’s touch was so gentle, so tender, as though they’d never fought at all. His words were soft and sweet, encouraging and calming. But did he really mean it? Or was he just pitying him? “—I’m sorry,” he murmured, head ducking in obvious shame.
"…It’s alright." Kakashi’s words fell, softening with his reverie of the night before. His free hand slid and gathered along his middle as he unfastened the constricting flak jacket he’d saw fit to nap in before he returned his attention to Iruka, his lone eye shaped in something guarded before it warmed.
The hurt lingered—but what did it matter? The ordeal was over. He simply wanted to put it behind them.
'For the better, really.' Kakashi mused silently, allowing the thought to drift from him as he gently pulled his captive hand closer, studying the hand within his grasp with an attentive glance.
"You were just stressed, Iruka—I understand."