Chapter 4
Iruka fell out of bed.
He barely got an arm under himself in time to avoid smashing his face on the floor. He laid there for a while, wondering what the fuck could possibly have happened to him to make him this sick.
After a long while, Iruka realized he’d had too much to drink the night before at the Hokage Bar. This was much worse than last Saturday, and last Saturday had been bad.
He had the familiar taste of bile in his mouth, the usual sick twisting of his stomach, the crazy loose hair clinging to his face. Iruka pushed himself up to sit against the bed and rubbed at his eyes. He tried to look around his room but found it far too bright. Wincing, Iruka hoisted himself upright and caught a passing glimpse of his nightstand.
Someone had done him multiple kindnesses: a mostly empty Pedialyte drink, the pink-flaked measuring cup of Pepto medicine, and a tipped-over Ibuprofen bottle sat in a disorderly row on his table.
Iruka wasn’t so clever that he prepared for his heavy drinking sessions, even though he knew he probably should at this point. After finally getting his balance, he shuffled out to the hallway and was not at all surprised to see his hangover angels passed out together on his loveseat.
Kotetsu was laid out on the bottom, his spiky hair a wicked mess. His pants were undone and down past his hips, revealing red-and-green plaid boxers. Izumo was sprawled on top of him, his face half-buried in Kotetsu’s open zip-up Konoha College jacket. One of Izumo’s hands was stuck down Kotetsu’s pants, like he’d been taking them off the other man but had passed out before he achieved his goal.
They were so thoroughly unconscious and so obviously in love that Iruka thought about taking a photo to use as a friendly blackmail gift for their next anniversary.
But then he suddenly remembered something from last night.
Iruka was leaning against Kotetsu in their usual booth by the bar, Kotetsu’s dark eyes wide but undeniably deeply interested as he stared back at Iruka. Kotetsu’s hands were firmly gripping the seat and the booth, but Iruka’s fingers had caught Kotetsu’s Konoha College jacket and was toying with the zipper in a slow contemplative manner.
Iruka could hear himself saying to Kotetsu, his voice low, leisured, and amused, “You are very cute, Kotetsu, but it’s not you I want to fuck.”
Iruka flushed from his neck to his ears and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He instantly shoved his back against the door, staring wildly at himself the huge mirror of his bathroom. He looked a total fucking mess: his loose brown hair was stuck every which way, and his embarrassed blush made his tan skin splotchy when combined with the ugly residual effects of alcohol poisoning. He was still in the white T-shirt from the night before – but in a different pair of boxers.
Iruka desperately tried to remember the context of the scene that had sprung to his mind. Where was Izumo when Iruka had…? Iruka hadn’t done that in secret, had he?
But, no, he hadn’t. Iruka could just see Izumo in his mind’s eye, apparently right after he made his lewd comment and finished pawing brazenly at Kotetsu. Izumo had been gawking at him from across the booth, totally flushed from alcohol – or arousal or – both? And then Izumo was stammering, “Iruka – he didn’t mean anything –” Kotetsu had shuddered under Iruka’s hand as Iruka pushed off his chest and shrugged, looking away from both of them, blearily surveying the bar. Iruka had said something offhanded and nasty, something like, “He flirts too much. You should keep him in line,” and Izumo had kicked Kotetsu hard under the table.
Jesus Christ. Of course Kotetsu was a flirt: he’d been a flirt since they started hanging out years ago as undergrads. The man never meant a damn second of it! Iruka knew that, he really knew that. Why would he suddenly be so bothered by Kotetsu now? Why go after him like that?
And then –
Holy shit. Iruka had given a man a blowjob last night.
Oh God. Had he – with Kotetsu? … Izumo? No! Definitely not. Right…?
Iruka pressed his hands hard against his face. He was trying to force the memory out of his head, but he was just stirring up the severe anguish of his hangover. The throbbing pain bouncing between his temples made the whole thing a total horrid disaster. But Jesus, he had to remember –
Wait. Wait a second.
Lowering his hands slowly, Iruka stared at himself in the mirror.
He had spotted Kakashi Hatake from across the bar.
Kakashi was sitting in the farthest back corner of the Hokage Tower, his shock of silver hair crazy beautiful in the low lighting.
And Iruka had declared, “That’s the guy I want to fuck.”
Then he had deserted his two friends, worked his way through the crowd, and directly approached Kakashi. He could just barely remember Gai and another man at the table; Gai had been very excited to see him, but he had pushed Kakashi to go with Iruka too.
Iruka had dragged Kakashi outside the bar… and down by the laundry service he used? Iruka had stopped at the alleyway between Mr. Bee’s Dry Cleaning and Ramen Ichiraku. And he had –
Oh. Oh, no.
Iruka looked down at his hands and shakily brought his fingers to his face.
Inglorious to be sure, but, wow, yes, he definitely smelled like leather and sex. And both scents belonged to Kakashi Hatake.
Iruka threw himself into the shower. As he tore off his clothing, suddenly dousing himself in cold water, Iruka realized all too horribly that he had definitely jerked off and changed boxers last night but had not cleaned himself thoroughly enough. He couldn’t contain the insane flush of embarrassment that engulfed him, and the cold water didn’t do a damn thing to tamper his mortification. He proceeded to clean himself with the obsessive franticness of a madman.
He could not believe himself.
His first time since Mizuki was with the man who had reminded him of his shitty ex-boyfriend.
Iruka felt ridiculously sick, and he knew it wasn’t just the awful hangover. He couldn’t fathom what his drunk self had been thinking. Kakashi Hatake had been so so rude to him…
Oh God, wait, he had said that to Kakashi, hadn’t he?
Iruka froze in place in the shower. He had told Kakashi he was rude – and Kakashi had laughed in clear agreement with him? And… Iruka also told Kakashi he was mean, causing Kakashi to go very still under his hands as he caressed Kakashi’s leather jacket.
And then Iruka had said he wanted to kiss him. He’d admitted he wanted to kiss Kakashi.
Once he understood the initial context, Iruka definitely remembered what happened next: he and Kakashi had made out like hormone-crazed teenagers. His hand involuntarily went to his lips; he found them swollen and bruised after particularly hard kissing. His fingers drifted to the back of his head to his neck where Kakashi had held him possessively, desperately.
Oh… Kakashi had felt him up. He had groped Iruka’s chest, clearly wanting Iruka’s shirt out of the way, impatiently seeking bare skin.
Iruka stared down at himself. He was having a hard time understanding why he couldn’t remember seeing much of his time with Kakashi, although he was easily able to conjure how everything had felt.
Because Kakashi had said to close his eyes – and Iruka had done it right away, obediently.
Iruka couldn’t believe it but somehow he was blushing even harder at the realization of his easy and instant consent. For his earlier proclaimed desire of wanting to fuck Kakashi, he had apparently become rather submissive when the moment had arisen between the two of them.
Jesus. He was the one who suggested the blowjob, wasn’t he?
Iruka laughed suddenly, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ceiling. That sounded about right. He remembered feeling Kakashi stiffen against him, obviously unprepared for the request, and then Iruka had begged him in a delicate whisper…
… using Kakashi’s first name for the first time.
He laughed harder, covering half his face with his hand. Oh, yeah. That made sense. It seemed so fitting that he would figure out Kakashi Hatake – just who the man really was under the whole asshole façade – and then decide – well, now I totally should drag him to a private location and seduce him and suck his cock and –
Iruka abruptly paused in his laughter as he made one final realization: Kakashi had called him pretty. No… Not just that. I am so fucking desperate to kiss you again. You are so fucking pretty.
And something else – what was it? – Iruka blinked, staring blankly at the shower wall.
He’d asked if Kakashi wanted to fuck him on his knees. And Kakashi had said… yes. But more than that – Kakashi had said… he would fuck Iruka however Iruka wanted… whenever Iruka wanted.
Iruka found himself sitting down in the shower, wholly unbothered by the cold water crashing down on his nude form. None of those answers seemed like the frantic hate-sex that he had first considered their encounter in the alleyway to be.
Why tell Iruka he was pretty – not just that, but so fucking pretty? And why not just say ‘Yeah, of course I’d fuck you on your knees, now get back to sucking my cock’?
Why say – whatever you want?
He was staring at the drain swirling with his stray hair and the cold water when Iruka realized that he must have left Kakashi alone in the alleyway after giving him the blowjob. He must have returned to Kotetsu and Izumo, and they must have brought him home. He couldn’t remember what he told them – but he could recall that he had been smiling wide when he came back to the bar, like a cat who had successfully caught prey and was proudly parading after his kill.
Iruka turned off the shower and dried himself off with a towel, his mind becoming increasingly busy with newer and more confusing thoughts. He walked vacantly to his bedroom, dressing in loose comfortable clothing, before he wandered back out the living room, unsure what he should be doing or thinking.
Izumo was sitting up, forcing his hair back into place over the ride side of his face. He gave Iruka an immediate and knowing smirk when he spotted him in the hallway. “So…” Izumo mused aloud, staring straight at Iruka, who froze at the intensity of his friend’s look. “Was that the ‘complete asshole’ that got you so upset last week?”
Iruka shrunk back against the wall across from the loveseat. He found he couldn’t tear his gaze from Izumo’s, but he managed to say quietly, unbearably embarrassed, “Yeah, that was him.”
Kotetsu stretched out on the loveseat, running a hand through his dark hair. More of his chiseled chest and stomach were exposed, but Iruka was much more concerned with the malicious expression spreading across his friend’s face. Flashing a grin at Iruka, Kotetsu practically purred, “Do you remember what you said to us when you came back?”
Iruka covered his face with both hands and mumbled, feeling physically pained, “No…”
Both of his friends laughed at his embarrassed response. Kotetsu audibly got up off the loveseat, fixing his pants, and came to stand in front of Iruka. He patted Iruka’s shoulder amiably and proclaimed while holding back laughter, “You said, and I quote, ‘Okay, so this time he fucked my mouth, but, I swear to God, I’m getting that ass.’”
Iruka slumped down the wall and tried not to die.
**
Avoiding Kakashi was extremely easy on Sunday and Monday, but Tuesday presented real challenges: Iruka found himself arriving fantastically early and practically hiding in the woods before he jumped out and dragged his group of elementary school kids away on a prolonged hike around the lake. He was determined to avoid Gai, too, which was its own hellish adventure because Gai was like the fucking sun – brilliant, burning, and everywhere at once.
But he managed it somehow. He found himself lurking in the woods like a serial killer for more than an hour after the schoolchildren had left. He took a late bus home, never once seeing Gai or Kakashi, and he thanked God every second for his luck.
Wednesday went well, too. He flew to class and ran home, never getting a glimpse of either man.
Fortunately, Izumo and Kotetsu had no problem hanging out at his apartment instead of visiting their favorite haunt, the Hokage Tower. Of course, they teased him relentlessly at every opportunity, but it was worth it not to have to face his very physical, literal demons so soon.
His luck ran out on Thursday, but it was Gai, not Kakashi, who found him first.
Iruka was putting a band-aid on the knee of a little dark-haired nine-year-old when he heard Gai behind him, proclaiming in an enthusiastic voice, “Iruka-sensei is so kind to the weak and wounded!” The girl giggled more at Gai’s loudness than his words, and then she scrambled away, too embarrassed to stay the center of attention.
Iruka slowly turned around, initially unable to meet Gai’s passionate gaze. “Oh, Gai-sensei,” he mumbled, inexplicably finding himself blushing a little. “How are you doing today?”
Gai clearly struck a pose, which forced Iruka look up at him. He was doing his usual thumbs up – this time quite close to Iruka’s face – and his radiant grin was ridiculously infectious. “Truly joyful!” Gai declared, throwing a theatrical wink at Iruka. “I am so happy to see you again. I was worried you might have died!”
Iruka stared at him for a long moment before asking slowly, “What do you mean?”
Gai lowered his arm, which he rested instantly on his hip, looking out towards the parking lot like a noble stone statue of a general leading troops into battle. “You were so inebriated on Saturday – and then I did not see you Tuesday with the children! I thought to myself, what a terrible loss for the world, if Iruka-sensei has died!”
Iruka winced, but he was soon laughing in embarrassment. “Oh, no,” he admitted quickly. “I was here. Just in the back by the lake.”
Gai looked at Iruka more seriously. His pose lessened as his expression turned increasingly reflective. “Were you –” Gai began to ask, but then he stopped himself so abruptly and forcefully that Iruka heard his teeth colliding as he shut his mouth. He stared at Iruka with big intense black eyes before he nodded far too mechanically and said in a truly strange voice, “It is good you are alive, Iruka-sensei. I will see you on Saturday!”
As Iruka watched, Gai’s face went pink, and he stammered, “Here. I will see you here at the Recreation Center on Saturday, this Saturday.”
And then Gai pivoted hard on one foot and ran back to his team on the soccer field.
Iruka stared after his friend, feeling very much like their interaction had gone both incredibly well and horribly wrong. He returned to his students rather distracted, finishing out the hour before heading to the bus-stop at a frantic but confused pace. He didn’t catch sight of Kakashi, but he assumed that the man was around. He saw Naruto trailing after Sasuke and Sakura off in the distance, but the kids didn’t notice him, being far too obsessed with each other.
A small disconcerting part of Iruka wanted to see and maybe even seek out Kakashi at the Rec Center, but instead he got on the bus and avoided looking out the window.
It was Friday when he discovered that Kakashi was done playing games.
He was about to enter Hiruzen Hall for his Friday afternoon class when he felt a familiar hand enclose around his bicep – at the nearly the same place and time as the Friday before.
Iruka looked sharply up and found Kakashi Hatake looking down at him with one intense black eye, the rest of his face covered by his usual soft blue mask and the darker headband half-containing his unruly silver hair. Iruka’s heart jumped right into his throat, and he blinked several times, inordinately more startled than he should have been. He pulled back slightly, quickly, and Kakashi dropped his arm straightaway, but the man didn’t leave him, instead closing in further on him. Iruka instinctively backed away, not wanting to be crowded, but Kakashi was intent on staying in his personal space. He glanced around and spotted the smoker’s alcove that Kakashi had dragged him into last time, heading there in record time.
He turned around and saw Kakashi had followed him, practically on his heels. The man was as tall and lean and pretty as ever: he was wearing his usual black leather jacket and tight blue jeans, but this time his high-top Converses were a bright scarlet-red color. His silver hair and blue mask and headband were much the same, too: strange but refined, suiting him perfectly.
Kakashi looked a bit more tired than what Iruka remembered him ever appearing. His shoulders were bunched defensively; his hands were not in his jeans pockets but his jacket pockets. Before Iruka could say anything, Kakashi demanded flatly, his visible eye narrowing but still locked on Iruka, “What was that about?”
For some reason, Iruka responded instantly, “What was what?”
He definitely knew what Kakashi was referencing, but Iruka snapped out the first thing that came to mind, and he stuck with it, staring steadfast and unblinking right back at Kakashi.
In contrast, Kakashi’s eye widened, and he brought his head back, as if wanting to look at Iruka better. He seemed to scrutinize Iruka for a moment before he clarified slowly, “Saturday night.” He paused then added in an even tone, “You and me.”
The intensity of Kakashi’s single-eyed gaze was unsettling; Iruka felt absolutely seen and totally transparent. He could feel a blush saturate his scarred cheeks. He resettled his books against his chest and forced himself to survive eye contact with the other man.
Iruka imagined this exact conversation might happen, and he had planned a few different responses, but, looking up at Kakashi’s fierce and mostly hidden expression, he found himself explaining in a short, clipped fashion: “We were drunk, and we made a mistake. Now excuse me.”
He made it about two steps away before Kakashi’s hand was on his arm again, but this time Iruka was not having it. He stopped in place. Without looking back, Iruka warned tightly, “You need to let me go, now.”
He could see Kakashi’s gloved hand shift in surprise on his arm and then disappear behind him. Iruka relaxed instinctively. He could still remember all the times that Mizuki had grabbed him aggressively, and fuck it if he was going to let that start happening again with yet another man. He gave an irritated sigh while shaking his head before he went into Hiruzen Hall, leaving Kakashi alone behind him yet again.
Iruka only lasted forty-five minutes into his three-hour grad-level class before he felt immense and suffocating guilt start to smother him. He barely heard the professor after that; he was instead replaying his own words to Kakashi over and over in his head.
Had it really been a mistake? Iruka had been very, very drunk, certainly, and Kakashi, too, but… He hadn’t accidentally pursued Kakashi. It wasn’t as if Iruka had picked a random man out of the crowd and dragged him away to an even more random location. He’d been cognizant enough to push Kotetsu away, to find and lead Kakashi out of the bar, to walk back to the Hokage Tower alone. Iruka had even chosen the alleyway because he knew that no one frequented that alleyway on Saturday nights: he’d walked by it often enough the last year to know it was always empty and half-lit and out of the sight of cars.
Based on what he remembered of the night – and what Kotetsu and Izumo told him – he had targeted Kakashi from start to finish. Sure, Kakashi had consented at every step, but Iruka had been the one who asked to kiss him… he had begged to suck Kakashi’s cock.
He repressed a frustrated groan, growing afraid that his professor would notice how distracted he was, but Iruka knew he was done. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the rest of class. When they finally made it to the halfway break, Iruka apologized to his dear professor, claiming sudden illness. He slipped away into the early afternoon, uncertain where he was going but knowing he couldn’t stay in the classroom anymore.
He looked worriedly at the smoker’s alcove, almost expecting Kakashi to still be there, but the man was understandably gone. Iruka brushed a hand over his face: he was fucking up this thing every step of the way. But, then again, Kakashi was so unpredictable, and he could fluster Iruka far too easily… except when Iruka was drunk, and then apparently the tables turned.
Walking aimlessly across campus, Iruka finally decided he would have to do the very last thing he wanted to do: he texted Gai, asking for Kakashi’s number.
Iruka nearly slammed into a bike rack when he received Gai’s response.
I am sorry, Iruka-sensei, but I cannot share Kakashi’s information.
Iruka stared, both amazed and crushed, at his phone. He wondered if there was a different invisible end to Gai’s sentence --- I cannot share Kakashi’s information… with you.
He suddenly felt very stupid and embarrassed and yet again like he wanted to die.
The bus ride home was chilly and depressing. When he made it back to his apartment, Iruka tried to melt into his loveseat. He changed into pajamas at some point, if only because he suddenly hated everything about himself, and fuck, he was going to at least feel physically comfortable while he committed himself to self-loathing. Iruka contemplated dinner – or ice cream – or alcohol – and ultimately decided on nothing at all, resolving to stare emptily at his laptop, watching animal documentaries on Netflix voiced-over by a lovely older British gentleman.
When he heard a knock on his door, Iruka naturally assumed it was Kotetsu and Izumo dropping by unannounced, and he opened the door wide, already moving aside to let his friends inside.
Instead, Iruka looked up to find Kakashi Hatake staring at him from the top of his staircase.