Title: Timing
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Shota, mopiness
Pairing: KakaSasu
Summary: The wagons roll past, and Kakashi watches them go, until the day he feels compelled to visit the blue carnival.
A/N: Just getting my sea legs back, so to speak.

When he was a very young child, a carnival passed through town. From their apartment--then in the center of town, an upper floor, a large space for a happy family, he could watch the carts roll past. Their roofs were vibrant blue. His mother wouldn't let him go down to watch from the sidewalk, and certainly not go to the carnival itself, once they set up, a little ways outside of the city.

Kakashi pressed his small forehead against cool glass and sighed, and watched the blue rectangles roll past.

This carnival returned once more the week of her funeral a year later, and this time his eyes tracked them past the inside of the cemetery, enclosed by a high, frightening wrought iron fence, his father's grip on his shoulder feeling like cold, rusted metal itself.

The blue carnival didn't return; the Leaf severed ties with the country they traveled from, and that was that.

......

Kakashi, staring down at steaming hot ramen and feeling remarkably unable to stomach any food at the memories of bright blue paint, is startled by a loud exclamation from the boy wearing loud orange, and he lifts his head, glancing at where Naruto points.

The familiar (reminisced on many times) wagons, the paint now faded and cracked, like he his. The children are excited. (Two thirds of them. The last, stoic, as always.) He presses his lips thinly together and pushes his bowl away, standing. Desperate, giddy, eager pleas, repeated until the words blur, as though they are made more genuine, more convincing, the more they're said, though the opposite is true. And he promises. If they push themselves. After they work, they may play. Though the promise twists his stomach. The quiet one watches him calmly, the other two rejoice, and he stuffs his hands deep in his pockets, pacing away from the small shop.

......

The carnival is old. Weathered. Seen better days. He missed his chance. It could have been fun, could have created lasting memories but instead he has nothing but a quiet cemetery and a tightening grip clamping down on his shoulder. He waves his hand and banishes them to go their separate directions, to leave him alone, but Sasuke doesn't scatter like the other two. He's looking more solemn than usual.

He's never been to something like this before.

He doesn't know what to do.

And neither does Kakashi.

They wander, together, both frowning, though Kakashi hides his frowns beneath fabric. There are families, happy, and couples, happy, and Kakashi wonders what it would be like to have such a life. He can hardly imagine.

His name is uttered by a quiet, reserved voice, and Kakashi realizes belatedly that Sasuke's been trying to get his attention.

"Can we go?" A wide, dark pair of eyes heavy as they gaze up at him. He nods.

......

They should have said farewell and split up and gone to lonely homes to await tomorrow, but instead Kakashi extends a silent and subtle and slightly wary invitation for Sasuke to follow, an invitation expressed only through quiet stares and gestures, and accepted only by the smallest nod. Sitting at a flurorescent lit kitchen table with tea warming his hands but not his mind, he continues his silence, waiting for Sasuke to speak. Waiting for an explanation, maybe. Why did you actually come? Why do we always seem to watch each other? Why does a child make Kakashi feel such a flutter in his chest? (Or is it because Sasuke is a child?) Kakashi needs answers, and he has none within him, and so he waits for Sasuke to offer some.

"I had always wanted to go to a carnival or circus, but my father thought they were a waste of money and time." An answer, to a question Kakashi hadn't really been asking himself.

"It wasn't really so good, though," Sasuke murmurs, sipping at his tea.

"Would have been nicer if we could have gone as kids," Kakashi shrugs. Too tired now, too jaded, to appreciate such a thing, lacking the childlike intrigue of sparkling blue eyes. And Sasuke's the same as him. Not really a child at all. Kakashi leans his cheek on his palm, sighing.

"You can't feel the right emotions once it's too late," Sasuke speaks, watching his tea with enrapt attention to avoid staring at Kakashi.

"I suppose not." And Kakashi wonders, if it's too late for him to feel the happiness of those families, those couples. He's young, in the broad scheme of things, but he knows himself and he can predict how it will all unfurl. Too wrapped up in his job, his duty, to pay attention to anything but, and he's bound to die one of these days. Probably soon.

Sasuke's feet don't touch the ground, and he's thinking similar thoughts. Afraid he'll never be able to trust anyone else.

"You should go," Kakashi points out. Sasuke should. This is grossly inappropriate, and Kakashi knows that, but yet can't really bring himself to care. Kakashi never had the personality to be a teacher, and so he has trouble abiding by the ethics teachers are supposed to.

"Should I?" Sasuke echoes, taking another long drink of tea, sounding entirely unconcerned.

"Probably." Kakashi leans across the small table, brushing away several stray strands of hair. At this time of day, Sasuke doesn't look so perfectly composed as he usually does. It's somehow endearing, humanizing. Kakashi thinks of a blue caravan rolling past him, slipping away, and he presses clothed lips gently to Sasuke's, trying to be cautious, though the whole thing is wreckless anyway.

Kakashi, satisfied by the stillness, the simpleness of the slight physical contact, is startled when it ends. And Kakashi worries, lost in the silence of his own apartment, eyebrows furrowed. Mistakes, he's tired of making them. Sasuke's breath feels so warm. And then slim fingers replace the moist air, gripping the edge of the mask and peeling it down before a hesitant, slightly shaky kiss is offered to his bare lips, and Kakashi can't help but return the offering.

Too old for carnivals, and tired of watching the wagons fade into the distance, they share a quiet moment, captured at just the right time, for once, able to feel the perfect emotion.