Chapter Text
Iruka is only mildly surprised when he blinks his eyes open against the ache pounding behind them to find a bare face close enough to kiss. He lets his eyes trace along the soft jaw line to the cupid’s bow of thin lips with too big canines peeking out from behind them, and then up along a narrow nose to the scar crossing his eye, and oh.
It's Kakashi.
He still feels decidedly bereft of surprise. Something unnamed and unchecked had been building between them for too long to avoid at this point. He had somewhat seen this coming with the questions about Naruto, the teasing encounters in the mission room, and the unusual effort put into reports lately. Kakashi looks younger in his sleep, and strangely enough more exhausted as well; it makes Iruka remember that they’re barely a year apart in age. He shifts minutely, taking in the tangle of their limbs and the dried evidence along his stomach. Kakashi is a warm weight in his arms, and Iruka finds his thoughts straying to how he could get used to more of this with less alcohol involved as he relaxes into the futon. His memories of last night are unfortunately blurred; he had planned to remember when they finally stopped dancing around each other.
Some moments are returning to him as he gazes over Kakashi’s sleeping form. He remembers agreeing to go bar hopping with the other Desk workers. He remembers running into Kakashi at some place or another. He remembers an offer to help him home on Kakashi’s part, and a less than subtle invitation inside on his own. He remembers Kakashi’s lips against his own with his mask between them then without it then it’s just a dizzying haze of pleasure and pale skin and panted names. He sighs. He had been hoping his memory would be more whole.
One arm is trapped under Kakashi, surprisingly comfortable despite the tingling numbness, while his other hand is threaded in Kakashi’s thick, silvery hair. He carefully removes it, fingers trailing down Kakashi’s neck just to watch him shiver in his sleep at the ticklish caress. He brings the hand up to tame his own locks somewhat, wondering idly where his nearest hair tie might be as he turns to lie supine. He closes his eyes, breathing deep as he drags his hand down his face. Kakashi moves with him, wrapping one long leg over Iruka’s own as he keeps himself close to the other man. Iruka finds himself smiling softly at the cuddling. It’s been a while since he’s had this closeness, and, while he wouldn’t expect it from Kakashi for assumptive reasons, he lets himself enjoy it, turning his face into the pillow as his smile widens.
Kakashi’s eyes are open and watching him when Iruka opens his own again. He doesn’t jolt away like he wants to, simply tenses slightly under the unwavering stare, noting that Kakashi is bizarrely still with only the lazy swirl of the sharingan to catch Iruka’s attention. Discomfort crawls along his spine the longer Kakashi stares, and Iruka thinks to say something, but he doesn’t know what. Kakashi beats him to it anyways.
“I’m...”
It’s murmured low and soft, and Iruka can see several different beginnings of expressions flit across Kakashi’s face. He’s almost painfully expressive without his mask and hitai-ate to hide some of the puzzle pieces. Kakashi’s left eye slides closed, and the discomfort Iruka had felt disappears. It confuses him just as much as the word does, pushes any possible responses further back on his tongue. Kakashi disentangles them with practiced movements, and Iruka suddenly needs to say something when he gathers his clothes together, but there’s still nothing for him to say. Kakashi looks awkward, standing in the middle of Iruka’s bedroom with his clothes piled in long arms and a grimace making his oddly large teeth even more obvious. Iruka wonders if those teeth, that look like they belong more in a dog’s muzzle than a human’s mouth, are the reason he wears the mask when Kakashi turns away.
Kakashi sweeps out of the room, and Iruka feels disappointment weigh him down into the futon under him. He ponders what Kakashi wanted to say. The pipes rattle in the wall as the shower is turned on in his bathroom, and an emotion too akin to hope for comfort swells in his chest. He levers himself out of the bed, fishing a fairly clean yukata off the floor to tie loosely around himself. He treks into the kitchenette of his apartment, going through the motions of preparing coffee while his mind wanders to the jounin using his shower. Iruka’s brow furrows as he tries to remember more of last night, the coffee maker quietly bubbling in the background.
By the time coffee is finished, the shower has shut off, and Iruka pours two mugs, carrying them both back to his bedroom. Kakashi is nowhere to be seen when he gets there. Instead the window is slid open, curtain haphazardly pushed aside to let autumnal air billow in. Iruka sighs because he doesn’t know what he was expecting. He chugs his own cup, setting the other one on his night table as he ignores his stinging taste buds.
Iruka feels better after his own shower. He feels clean and fresh without spunk caked on his stomach, and has decide that the unfinished sentence was nothing to worry himself. Kakashi must have known that he was going to leave after his shower, and didn’t want to do awkward goodbyes before his walk-of-shame. He must have been about to say leaving, but didn’t want to start any weird morning after conversations. This conclusion doesn’t make Iruka feel any better about the way he shuts the window with more force than is necessary or the cooling mug of coffee still sitting on his night table. He ignores it and the small pit in his stomach, spending the rest of his sunday lounging around his apartment with a borrowed novel he had told Kotetsu he would start two months ago.
Iruka’s week is fairly uneventful until friday rolls around.
His pre-genin are a handful as usual, but a handful he’s used to. They’re rowdy with excitement after he tells them they’ll start a hands-on unit with traps the next day, but docile while he reviews the last unit. As a reward for their good behavior he takes them outside at the end of the lesson, using leftover time to exemplify one of the most simplistic traps he teaches. The student’s all crowd behind him, and he hold his arm out to keep them at bay, listening as they all hold their breath. Pause. He sends a kunai flying seemingly at nothing, but there is the tiniest twang as a line of wire is snipped. A handful of shuriken are sent flying into a tree slightly distanced from them, yet close enough for the his class to jump, and the children behind him explode into cheers.
“That’s so cool!”
“Amazing, Iruka-sensei!”
“Wow!”
“What made it go off?!”
Among the chorus of so cools the school bell is rung. The children immediately group up to walk home, still whispering excitedly about what the next class day held. Iruka belatedly calls out a dismissal and a farewell after them as they leave. A few of the children wave back at him while the others are too caught up in their own little worlds. He lets out a breath while he walks across to the tree full of shuriken. He swiftly digs them out of the bark, replacing them in the pack on his waist, and smearing a natural salve onto the divots left in the tree. He smiles at his handiwork, heading back up to his classroom promptly to pack up for his shift at the Desk.
Asuma intercepts him on his way, “Are you coming out with us tonight?”
“You know I have shift tonight. Besides—”
“No harm in asking,” Asuma asserted, and Iruka continued regardless.
“Besides, last weekend was plenty of fun for me.”
“I’m sure it was.” He smirks, giving Iruka a short salute. “Have a good afternoon, Iruka-sensei.” Iruka’s lips purse in exasperation as he watches the jounin flicker away without another word.
He shakes his head to himself, pondering Asuma’s teasing tone lightly as he walks to the teacher’s breakroom. He pours himself some tea, tucking in with his cup as Suzume and Aburame walk in, gossiping to each other. Suzume’s hawk like eyes settle on him immediately, Iruka barely suppresses a shudder under her attention. He watches out of his periphery as she whispers something to Aburame, who’s mouth drops open while he openly stares at Iruka. Iruka looks at them then, causing Aburame to hurriedly busy himself with preparing a cup of tea for Suzume and himself.
“Afternoon, Suzume-sensei, Aburame-sensei. Are you doing well?” Aburame says a quiet hello, while Suzume slides into the seat across from Iruka. Her eyes sharpen at his curious tone, lips twitching into a smirk.
“I am, Iruka-sensei. You see I heard the most interesting thing this morning, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s true.” Iruka simply raises an eyebrow at her, prompting her to continue as he takes another sip of his tea.“I heard that you fucked a jounin last weekend. The copy-nin, actually. Kakashi Hatake.” Iruka prided himself on not choking at her wording. Suddenly, Asuma’s parting tease and the odd words of various other teachers throughout the week make sense, and Iruka realizes that everyone at the bar that weekend saw him leave with Kakashi, which would be everyone since all the shinobi frequented the same place every weekend, The Rope and Hook. He can’t help but wonder how many of those people assumed they had slept together.
Well, you did sleep together, so it’s a warranted assumption, a voice in his head reminds him snidely. But they don’t need to know that, he thinks back.
Iruka hears a poorly stifled giggle from Aburame, and knows he’s been quiet for too long to salvage his privacy. He sighs, and Suzume lets out a triumphant sounding noise.
“Who I take home is no one’s business but my own.” He tries, but Suzume just snorts.
“Not when you’re all over them before you even get out of the bar.”
Iruka’s eyebrows meet his hairline, “What?”
“Anko told me you pinned Kakashi to the door with, and I quote, surprising grace for someone who had that many shots, end quote, before attempting to get a hand down his pants.” That little voice in Iruka’s head cackles again, sounding suspiciously like Anko. A mortified flush pinks his cheeks as he vividly remembers the feeling of Kakashi’s leg hitchiing over his hip as he pinned the man to the wall, except the blurry wall in his memory cleared to look more like the tell-tale paneling inside of the Rope and Hook. Okay. It seems his invitation inside was a little more public than he originally thought. No wonder everyone’s been teasing him. He glances around, casually making sure he had everything before standing.
“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a shift at the Desk.” Suzume just gives him a look as if to say this isn’t over as he deposits his teacup in the sink, escaping the room and his own embarrassment.
He arrives at the tower without further incident, taking his place besides Fuyano, a much older chunin who works almost as often as Iruka. Fuyano gives him a slow nod and a small smile, which Iruka returns as shinobi begin lining up to turn in their reports with the start of the shift. He unrolls the first report handed to him, glancing over it for less than a second before giving the jounin in front of him an unimpressed look. All of the fixes are simple, and won’t create a problem in the filing so he doesn’t bother with a full blown rant.
“Thank you for your work,” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, and the shinobi gives him an arrogant smile, turning to leave when Iruka speaks again with his tone plenty loud in the small room. “But be sure to ask my pre-genin to help you next time you attempt to write a report, I’m sure they’d be happy to help you fix your mistakes.” The jounin’s smirk falls, embarrassment flushing his cheeks just barely as he leaves even quicker, now. Iruka hears Fuyano chuckle next to him as he accepts the next report with a welcoming smile, falling easily into routine.
The next few hours pass in much the same manner with Iruka efficiently cutting down arrogant shinobi, sending some away to rewrite their reports, and reassuring those who weren’t sure if they’d done it correctly. It went as smoothly as usual, shift passing quickly until a brand new tokubetsu jounin unceremoniously dropped a something in front of him with a wet plop. Iruka’s hand twitched, and he could feel Seri and Kaki’s eyes on him from down the Desk. Fuyano just continued working, though a tiny, amused smile had wormed its way onto his face.
“What is this?”
“My report.” Iruka’s breath hisses out between teeth clenched in a futile attempt to keep calm. The tokujou cocks his head, smirk widening. “I would think even a chunin would know that, especially one who sees them so often since you work the mission room instead of the field.”
The room grows deadly still as the tokujou laughs, and Iruka feels his shoulders pull tight with anger. He rises slowly, and the jounin’s smile falters, his laugh fading awkwardly as Iruka’s blazing eyes are level with his own now.
“Rewrite this!”
“Why?” There’s a barely there quiver in his voice as he reflexively straightens his posture in the face of a threat.
Iruka’s hand twitches again where it’s settled on his hip, “Because it is completely soaked through with water!”
“S-so?”
That stutter is the show of weakness Iruka wanted. He carefully picks up the sodden report scroll, flinging it forward too quickly for the shinobi to catch. A flush of satisfaction cascades down Iruka’s spine as it flattens to his flak vest with a wet smack.
“So I will not accept it! Any shinobi worth a damn would understand that paperwork, as tedious as it may be, is just as important as field work. Regardless of rank, no one would believe that garbage you put on my desk was a report because actually attempting to turn in such trash is beyond disrespectful. Also, remember that even though I’m not a mission-slut like some, I am still an active and fully capable shinobi.” He raises his voice with finality, staring down the shocked jounin. He weakly glances to the other desk workers. Fuyano doesn’t even look up at him, while Kaki gives him a piteous frown, and Seri’s not even hiding her giggles behind a hand. His eyes settle on Iruka again, barely suppressing a flinch at the fury in Iruka’s glare. Iruka just hands him a blank report scroll with pen, and motions to the far corner of the room when he tries to mumble out a semblance of a response. The room watches as he politely settles with his back against the wall, shoulders hunched in embarrassment and a soaked mess of rice paper still stuck to his chest, but Iruka turns back to his work. He’s surprised to come eyes to eye with Kakashi, that warm grey sparkling with unconcealed mirth. Something strange tumbles around in his stomach at the sight of the man; the same thing he felt when he finally cleaned up the cold coffee on his nightstand; it leaves Iruka more than a bit off balance.
“Kakashi-san, I didn’t know you were on a mission.” He narrows his eyes at the elder.
“I wasn’t. I’m just here to see you, Iruka-sensei.”
“Are you?” Iruka blinks once, then three more times for good measure.
“Mm, I wanted to know if you were going out tonight.”
“And why would you want to know that?” Iruka questions, beginning to mess around with some of the scrolls on the desk to portray nonchalance.
Kakashi straightens nearly imperceptibly, “Just wondering. I had such a good time with you last weekend, so,” He adds the rest under his breath, sentence trailing off, and stance relaxing as he leans closer to Iruka. The amusement in Kakashi’s eye darkens into what could be nothing other than thinly veiled lust, and Iruka gets flashes of flushed shoulders, and dark marks he knows he left on pale skin. Iruka thinks back to Kakashi abruptly leaving the morning after they’d slept together, and decides to play with the other.
“I’m sure you are.” He lets his tone slip to exasperation as he rolls his eyes, motioning the chunin in line behind Kakashi to come forward. They scoot around him with as wide a birth as possible before handing their scroll over.
Kakashi looks a bit taken aback, “Uh?” he mumbles, as Iruka assesses the scroll and thanks the chunin before motioning the next person forward.
Iruka flickers his eyes imperceptibly to meet Kakashi's after he’s waited through five more shinobi turning in their reports. Iruka takes pity on him, freehand rapidly tapping out the signal for yes on the desk as his other hand takes another report. They lock eyes again after he deems the report acceptable, and Iruka finds himself combating a smirk when Kakashi straightens his sagging shoulders. He could feel the room’s attention still on them, clearly interested by Kakashi’s boldness and eager to see if Iruka responds, but he was sure that no one had been looking for anything unspoken. “Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?”
Kakashi’s smile turns his cheeks up and causes his eye to clench shut as he bids Iruka goodbye. Iruka watches him leave, puzzling out whether the light blush riding high on his one visible ear is a trick of the light or not. Iruka peeks around Fuyano when he hears his own name only to see Seri and Kaki’s head dipped together like they’re scheming. Iruka frowns, pointedly ignoring them as he continues his shift. His thoughts stray to Kakashi, and that subtle blush, but he shakes it out of his head in an attempt to focus on his work. Once his fellow chunin quit their obvious gossiping, Iruka is able to distract his mind from the jounin. He falls into the familiar rhythm of reading, and sorting, and ranting, working mostly on muscle memory as the afternoon wears into the night. When he glances to the clock to see less than ten minutes left in his shift, excitement springs to the forefront of his mind along with half-remembered memories of his last “date” with Kakashi.
I can’t remember last time very well, but I don’t think we did anything very date-like, and I doubt we will this time. I do like talking with him, even if we barely do, but that isn’t his intention for tonight at all. I don’t mind. Especially if we skip to dessert like we did last time, Iruka is suddenly struck by the memory of the lust in Kakashi’s eyes when he suggested dinner. Which I’m sure we will. Iruka is taken up by flashes of flushed bright ears and chapped lips and loud moans for an instant, but Fuyano snaps him from his thoughts with a tap to his shoulder.
“I’ll finish up here if you want to head out early.”
“I appreciate that, Fuyano-san, but there’s no need.” Iruka cedes the A rank bin to Fuyano’s gentle hands as the elder shoots him a meaningful, exceedingly knowing look, scooping up the S rank bin on his way to the filing room. He calls a thanks at Fuyano’s retreating form, ignoring the perceptive smirk pulling his wrinkled face as he rounds the corner.