Chapter Text
Waking up in the hospital was rarely a good thing, particularly when Iruka’s entire body was one big ache and he could feel an IV taped to the inside of his elbow. He was wearing a hospital gown, an arm cast, and little else. Through slightly blurry vision - and whether that was from head trauma or the fact that his glasses were missing, he couldn’t rightly say - Iruka saw that it was still daytime, so not much time had passed since….
Well, wait, he didn’t wear glasses. And he didn’t recognize the stranger at his bedside, either. What had happened to land him here? Was he dead? Or did he just have severe amnesia?
Seriously, who was the man in the chair?
His sudden memory loss should have taken precedent over the man sitting next to him, but Iruka’s brain didn’t have its priorities straight today, which is why he found himself openly gaping, head lolled to his shoulder as he took in the tall, slouched picture of masculine perfection currently reading by his bedside. He had a shock of silvery hair, held back from his face by a simple, black band and gelled up and back with an expert hand. His face was pale and angular, perfection marred only by a single, thin scar that vertically bisected his left eye. He was dressed casually in a simple black turtleneck, the thin yet expensive-looking material tucked into plain black trousers, his slender waist accentuated by a brown leather belt adorned with a brass buckle. His long legs were thrust out in front of him, crossed at the ankle in a pair of sturdy brown boots.
When Iruka managed to focus his eyes on the man’s, they were looking at him, concern and curiosity plain in his greenish grey irises. The book was held loosely in one hand, and he let the arm holding it fall slack at the elbow, his entire attention now directed towards Iruka. He didn’t speak, however, not for a long, uninterrupted moment.
“Uh,” Iruka tried, and his voice cracked with disuse, “Oh, hmm.” He cleared his throat, the knuckle of his index finger pressed to his lips. “Er, sorry, what’s going on?”
Still, the man made no reply. Iruka was too disoriented to be properly frustrated by the handsome, enigmatic stranger. He just wanted an answer, but he figured he would get one in its own time. With a sigh and a cracking of his shoulders, Iruka relaxed back into the flimsy hospital pillow, wincing as he felt a twinge and a pull in the muscles of his lower back.
What the hell had he done to end up in the hospital? And why was there a stranger here with him? He’d been going to get groceries, that he was pretty sure of. His empty stomach was telling him that he hadn’t eaten breakfast, and the store was only a few blocks from his house. Had he fainted, maybe?
He sat there, wondering and listening to the doctors and nurses walking by beyond the curtain that separated his little bed from the rest of the area. He was probably in the emergency room, right? The man next to him kept not saying anything, and eventually he returned to his book. Iruka tried not to be troubled by his silent presence. His head hurt too badly for him to want to worry about things like that.
A nurse eventually peeled back the curtain and walked up to the other side of his bed, carrying a chart. She had a kind face, and when she checked his pulse and removed the IV from his arm, her hands were warm and soft.
“Not too badly hurt, Iruka, although it is a shame about the broken arm. Still, it was a clean break, so you should heal nicely. You don’t have a concussion, but try not to go to sleep before midnight tonight, just to be safe. You’ll be free to go soon. I’m just going to fill a little prescription for you for the discomfort you might feel over the next few weeks.” The nurse talked with an easy assurance and used her hands all the while. She hung her clipboard on the wall while she fiddled with some things on a nearby supply cart. “Make sure to contact your primary care doctor if you have any trouble or concerns with it. Definitely have it checked by the end of the month.”
She turned to face him and smiled. A cloth sling was in her hands, and she gently hung it around Iruka’s neck, slipping his bandaged arm into it, careful not to jostle the aching limb. “I know being struck by a vehicle can be pretty scary. It’s good you had a friend with you. Maybe in the future just pay a little more attention to staying in the crosswalk, hmm?”
Iruka was dumbstruck as the nurse left the room. He’d been hit by a car? Suddenly, he remembered a screeching of breaks and a blinding white light. He didn’t remember being hit, but he remembered the sensation of falling. He couldn’t remember crossing the street, either. It was a patchwork of a memory. Going to the store, a gorgeous summer day, screeching and the light, then falling, and now this.
Honestly, it was probably for the best that he didn’t remember everything. Still, it unnerved him to think that there could be no warning of something like that, such a dangerous, life-threatening occurrence to have happened out of nowhere. He liked to think of himself as pretty in-shape, if not exactly an athlete, so the car must’ve come on pretty fast for him to have no time to react, to jump out of the way.
Finally, the stranger made sound. A small sound, the clearing of his throat, but then he said, “You feel okay?” in a smooth, sonorous tone. He sounded like a shot of bourbon, smoking and sexual, and Iruka felt the pit of his stomach clench, just a little bit.
“Hard to say,” he responded. It was the truth.
“They gave you some serious stuff.”
This was probably true, if he’d had to have a broken bone set. He didn’t remember any of that, either, which spoke to either the severity of the impact or the quality of the painkillers.
“Well, it’s wearing off.”
That was true, too. Iruka was aware of a thousand small aches that he knew would only grow worse as the minutes ticked by and whatever had been in his IV worked its way out of him. He wasn’t looking forward to the rest of his day, especially because he probably hadn’t succeeded in getting his groceries, and now he didn’t feel so much like returning to the store.
The man stood and stretched lean, muscular arms over his head, the book still gripped between two fingers. It had a bright orange cover, and it disappeared in a flash as he tucked it deftly into the back pocket of his pants. “Give you a ride home?”
Iruka looked down at himself. “I don’t have a better option. You got me here?”
The man nodded. “Least I could do.”
“Well, thanks.”
Now, it was officially awkward. Iruka was talking to his savior, not just some random, but he still didn’t know his name. How do you introduce yourself to someone who evidently scraped you off the side of the road?
The nurse returned with Iruka’s clothing in a cloth bag and tucked a little yellow bottle of marked pills into it before placing it at the foot of his bed. “You’ll have to visit the desk to sign your discharge paperwork yet, but you’re good to go, Iruka.”
Iruka watched her leave, then turned his eyes to the stranger. “I, uh, need to get changed.”
The man ambled out. “Take your time. I’ll meet you at the desk.” Before he slipped past the curtain, he tossed a two-fingered salute over his shoulder.
Iruka watched him leave, his thoughts trending more towards lechery than gratitude as his eyes tracked the movement of the man’s toned backside. He shook his head to clear his thoughts totally on reflex, then winced as his head reminded him that he’d been hit by a goddamn car. He slipped out of the hospital gown and into his clothes, maneuvering awkwardly around his bandaged arm. The cast was ungainly and cumbersome, but Iruka managed eventually. He’d been wearing a t-shirt and jeans which were only a little worse for wear, but his watch face was hopelessly broken, which was a shame. It had been a gift from his little brother Naruto, but now it probably wasn’t even worth fixing.
Iruka shuffled out of the little curtained room and into the hallway, the plastic bag with his pills dangling from his good hand. He shuffled up to what he presumed was the front desk, where the stranger was chatting with the petite, young desk attendant. Her high ponytail bobbed cutely as she nodded her head at him, and Iruka silently mourned his own ponytail. He’d never be able to get a hair elastic in with one hand. As it stood, his hair was hanging loosely around his face and would start to annoy him any moment now.
Things were shaping up to be a pretty awful day, actually. Cue annoyance.
“Hey,” Iruka said as he sidled up to the stranger, then addressed the young woman. “I need to sign my discharge forms.”
She produced a clipboard and a pen for him. “Just your name and information on that bottom line, sir.”
Iruka took it clumsily with his left hand, then signed his name sloppily before staring hopelessly at the lines for his address, phone number, and other relevant information.
“Need help?”
The stranger took the pen from his hands and began to write as Iruka blushingly dictated to him. Great, now his would-be hero knew his age and address. Today just got better and better. Iruka was a little embarrassed at his age and totally embarrassed by his address. He didn’t really live in a great neighborhood, but he lived alone and couldn’t really afford better on his teacher’s salary. It wasn’t the look he was going for when meeting cute strangers, although Iruka was pretty sure there were more important considerations in this circumstance than whether the other man swung his way.
They left the hospital together and emerged into the bright, hot sun of the afternoon. Iruka’s skin was hot in an instant, and it was only then that the strangeness of the other man’s black turtleneck and slacks fully hit him. He was dressed like it was a blustery fall day in the dead of summer, and the mysteries only piled up when he hit his keyfob and a gleaming black, obviously expensive SUV lit up in the parking lot.
Dressed oddly if not well, doesn’t say much, clearly wealthy. What had he been doing driving around Iruka’s neighborhood?
Iruka hopped up into the passenger seat and was greeted with pleasantly cool air. The air conditioning had been running, and the car was seemingly climate-controlled. It was even a little chilly, which seemed to be entirely for the benefit of its overdressed owner.
“Where to?” the man asked.
“You saw my address.”
“Yeah, but I’m not trying to be weird about it.”
The stranger cracked a smile, and Iruka found him even a little charming, then. He was charmed enough to feel comfortable asking some questions, at least, and after Iruka had given him basic directions into his neighborhood, he said, “I’m Iruka, by the way.”
“I know,” the man said. His eyes roamed the road somewhat boredly, his one hand lax on the wheel while the other touched at the side of his hair. He produced a pair of dark sunglasses from the center console and slipped them on.
Iruka’s brows furrowed. “You’re generally supposed to offer your name when someone gives you theirs.”
“Is that what I’m supposed to do?” the stranger asked, smiling a cocky little grin. “Fine,” he relented, “Kakashi.”
“Kakashi,” Iruka repeated, “Okay, Kakashi, how did I get hit by a car, exactly?”
Kakashi looked sidelong at him. “You don’t remember?”
Iruka shook his head, and again, he winced. “Not much. I know I was going to the store, but I don’t remember being hit.”
“You were coming back from the store,” he corrected joylessly, “Your, ah, your groceries didn’t make it, I’m afraid.”
“Well, shit.”
“Want me to drop you there?”
Iruka tried to shrug, but his shoulder hurt too much. He settled for a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll probably just spend the money to get some delivered. Somehow, I don’t feel like returning to the scene of the crime.”
Kakashi’s face was blank except for the subtle twitch of his right eyelid. He let Iruka’s comment stand in silence for a moment before saying, a little hesitantly, “Ah, well, maybe I can treat you to some take-out?”
Iruka’s brow furrowed. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Well, maybe I want to.”
“Why would you want to?” he pressed.
Kakashi’s gaze flitted to his briefly, then returned to the road. “You deserve something, at least, after the day you’ve had.”
Iruka couldn’t help but agree, but it really didn’t solve his problem. “Seriously, I don’t want you to go to more trouble for me. You’ve already done too much.” The words stuck awkwardly in his throat, but he felt they needed to be said. “I’ve ruined enough of your day already.”
Again, Kakashi was silent as his eyelid twitched again. Iruka wondered if it was a permanent tick. He swallowed the urge to continue apologizing for something that was, ultimately, completely out of his control and settled for staring out the window until Kakashi asked for the more detailed directions to his house once they reached his neighborhood.
Iruka lived in what relators referred to as the “up and coming” part of town, which was to say, you could shop at Lululemon half a mile down the road and drink $12 beers, but half a mile in the other direction and you’d find the hottest place to buy heroin in the city and junkies shooting up at bus stops. Some found it charming, and on a good day, Iruka tried to take pride in living in the more authentic part of town, but most days, he wanted to be on a whole separate planet from his neighbors, let alone the same street. Kakashi’s boat of a vehicle with its gleaming, silver grill and custom 22 inch rims stood out like something far worse than a sore thumb, and Iruka let himself be terrified for a moment that his well-meaning savior would have his car stolen to reward his good deeds.
They walked up to the brick two-story rowhouse that Iruka called home, and he rammed his key into the deadbolt lock to let them in. Whereas the outside of his home was nothing to brag about, Iruka’s mortification was assuaged with the knowledge that he was a creative interior decorator. What little money in his budget he’d spent on decor, he’d stretched to create a very pleasant living space. A sizeable couch in a tasteful burgundy fabric, a modest flatscreen on a colorful, upcycled stand found on trash day, and a sprawling, woven rug dominated his living space. Above them hung dozens of leafy, flowering plants that reached down towards the ground, and the ones that Iruka didn’t keep trimmed formed a waterfall of greenery that mingled with the orb-like paper lanterns that gave the room a soft, casual lighting, necessary at all hours due to the towering three-story buildings across the street that blocked light from entering his first floor.
Kakashi followed him inside and remained standing, the vines of a pothos playing with his hair as he bent his neck to look at his phone. “Nice place,” he said off-handedly.
“Thanks.” Iruka took the compliment, figuring Kakashi for a man of few words and allowing himself to be satisfied the man was speaking at all. “Make yourself at home, I guess, if you insist on staying for lunch.”
“You like China House?” he asked, still looking at his phone.
Iruka wandered over to the television stand and attempted to light a candle. Using his left hand was tricky, but he managed it without singeing his thumbnail off. One of the blessings of being a former smoker was he’d always be pretty dexterous with gas station lighters, no matter how shitty and broken they may be.
“China House is fine,” he said, “I’ll eat some lo mein, I guess.”
“You’re probably not hungry, but you should eat something,” Kakashi said, “It’s not good to take pills on an empty stomach.”
Iruka had set the plastic bag from the hospital down on the couch, and he went back to look at what they’d given him. He didn’t really know anything about pain medication, but he probably wouldn’t end up taking any unless things got really bad for him. He sat down on the couch and let out a heavy sigh. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he hit his favorite spot, but now he felt his eyelids grow heavy as he struggled to think of something to say back to Kakashi. He was probably being a terrible host, but hadn’t Kakashi insisted on coming in? Or had it just been to drive him home?
He woke up to the thick, salty smell of chinese food and Kakashi sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating plain rice from a paper takeout box. He looked over at Iruka when he stirred and stretched, and then he said, in a tone that didn’t betray any emotion, “Yours is probably still hot.”
“How long was I asleep?” Iruka asked, feeling the clog of drowsiness in his throat. He yawned and, on reflex, tried to move his hand to cover it, and yelped as pain shot down his broken arm.
Kakashi remained still as a stone, his mouth set, but his eyes were full of concern as he watched Iruka gingerly move his left hand to touch his right shoulder. Iruka’s arm was throbbing violently, and he suddenly wasn’t so certain about whether or not he’d take the pills.
“A little over an hour, not long,” Kakashi finally said, and then he stood up and joined Iruka on the couch. He picked up the takeout bag and retrieved Iruka’s lo mein for him, opening it and handing him a pair of chopsticks.
Iruka fumbled with them clumsily, feeling foolish and embarrassed in front of this near-stranger, who was looking perfectly at ease in his home in spite of the awkward circumstances. His hands clutched the chopsticks tightly as he tried to bring the tips together to pinch a stem of broccoli from the box.
“Can I help?”
Iruka looked up and flushed as he realized how close Kakashi had become. They were nearly shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, and Kakashi was looking at him warmly, head bent close to capture his eyes. Gingerly, he took the chopstips from Iruka’s hand, and with his long, nimble fingers, brought a helping of noodles to Iruka’s lips.
Iruka opened his mouth, and his blush deepend. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him! Bad enough to have to lean on this stranger’s kindness for a ride to the hospital, but then he’d even taken him home, bought him food, and was feeding him?! The only thing keeping Iruka from leaping out of his skin from shame was the fact that this stranger was almost otherworldly in his handsomeness, and if Iruka was going to die of embarrassment today, he may as well get his money’s worth before he goes.
Kakashi fed him another bite, and then he snuck one for himself. “Mmm,” he hummed, “Can’t beat China House, honestly. The name’s deceiving. You’d think it’d be bad.”
“You’ve ordered them before?”
“Yeah.”
Something didn’t add up, but Iruka’s mind was too addled to figure out what the missing piece was. “Do you live around here or something?”
An uncertain pause, and then, “No, I, uh, I’m sometimes in the neighborhood, though.”
“More,” Iruka said boldly and tilted his chin up, waiting for the chopsticks to raise to his mouth.
The corner of Kakashi’s mouth quirked up in a half-smile, and then he stole another bite. “You know, your place is really nice, considering.”
“Considering?” Iruka nudged his chin up a few more times, hoping it conveyed his impatience.
Kakashi obediently fed him another bite. “Considering how terrible most of the places around here are. Gentrification hasn’t made it to this block yet, but you’re doing well for yourself.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a gentrifier.”
“You’re the right age for it.”
Ah, his age. Iruka fought down the blush. He had much worse things to be embarrassed about now than the fact that he was barely twenty-one. “Yes, but you have to have money to gentrify a place.”
“Too true. Kind of bold for you to live alone in a place like this.”
“What makes you think I live alone?” Iruka challenged, and now the first twinge of fear crept into him. Kakashi was right. It was dangerous to be alone in the city no matter what, but to live in this part of town without so much as a dog to guard you was, as he put it, a bold move. What was more dangerous, perhaps, was letting a stranger into your home without knowing more than his first name.
“One pair of shoes by the door,” Kakashi said hollowly, “One coat on the hook. No footsteps upstairs.” He shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
Iruka couldn’t think of a convincing lie. “No. I used to live with my little brother, but he’s away for the summer now.”
“Where does he go?”
“He stays with a friend up north where the weather isn’t so insufferable.” Iruka didn’t know why he was over-explaining this to Kakashi, but somehow, it felt good to talk about it. He didn’t have many friends that he talked to anymore, mostly just other teachers, and he didn’t really keep in contact with coworkers over the summer breaks. “It’s good for him to get out of the city, I think. The friend lives on a farm, and Naruto helps out.”
“That’s good for a kid,” Kakashi agreed, “Living here can make kids weird.”
Iruka snorted at that. It was true. “Must be lack of oxygen.”
Kakashi brought another bite to his lips, but Iruka shook his head. “I think I’m done for now.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Iruka insisted, “And listen, while I maintain you really didn’t have to do all of this, I really appreciate that you did.”
“It was the least I could do.”
“You keep saying stuff like that, but it’s not true. You’re a stranger. You technically didn’t have to do anything.” Iruka rolled his eyes and looked sidelong at Kakashi as he sunk down a little further into the couch, wiggling into its comfort. “It’s not like you hit me or anything.”
The look on Kakashi’s face was positively damning. Up until now, he’d maintained a good poker face, but the look in his eyes was like an open book to Iruka, who suddenly bolted up from the couch fast enough to white out his vision and make his head spin. “You hit me?!”
Kakashi was up like a shot, his hands on Iruka’s shoulders to steady him, but Iruka batted him away and took a step backwards. “Why didn’t you say anything?!”
Kakashi held his hands up, but he followed the retreating Iruka. “It never seemed like a good time. You tell me, when I was supposed to admit it?”
“Your car is a tank, how am I alive?”
“I wasn’t going fast.”
“You hit me with your car!”
“It was an accident. I’m so sorry.”
Iruka’s back hit his front door. “Shit.”
Kakashi took a step back, seemingly mollified now that Iruka was braced against something and not teetering precariously around the room. “I want to make it up to you. I feel awful about it. Your groceries, your arm,” he trailed off and raised both hands to the back of his head, elbows pressed forward as he inhaled deeply. “Seriously, I really owe you.”
“You seriously do,” Iruka repeated. His vision was finally clearing, and the room had returned to a stationary position. He took a step forward and lurched back towards the couch. Kakashi shot his arms out and helped him down, and Iruka didn’t have the strength to prevent him. “You owe me so bad, dude.”
“Just tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.” Kakashi sat down next to him, and though his hands had left his body, Iruka could feel the lingering heat from his touch. “I’ll get you anything you want.”
Iruka thought about making a joke about getting him a new arm, but he didn’t feel like being shitty to Kakashi, not really. He was shocked, sure, but it explained why Kakashi was hovering around him so attentively. A worse person would have just dumped him at the hospital, their obligation fulfilled, or left him at the scene to die. Kakashi had made sure he was okay and wanted to make it up to him, so either he was really scared Iruka would sue him, or he genuinely felt bad for the accident.
“I need time to think about it,” Iruka said finally, “Anything I want is a tall order.”
“Anything,” Kakashi repeated, “More than lunch, at least.”
“Way more than a lunch. A hundred lunches would be a start,” Iruka joked, and when Kakashi cracked a smile, that made him feel a little better.
“You want a car? New furniture?” Kakashi asked, “I’ll pay your rent. I’ll get you a dog.”
“Whoa, that’s suddenly a lot more than some lunches. Exactly how rich are you?”
“As far as you’re concerned, I’m your fairy godfather.”
Iruka considered this. The day had just been so strange, he didn’t really know where to begin with Kakashi’s offer. Actually, wait, he did. “I want groceries.”
“Groceries?” Kakashi repeated, nonplussed. “I’m offering you a lot more than some groceries.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need a car. I need groceries,” Iruka reasoned.
Kakashi laughed, then, and it was an incredible sound, rich and deep. “Fine, you’ll have your groceries, but I don’t think I can consider the debt paid with that.”
“Well, we’ve got time to think about it.” Iruka could feel the tiredness creeping back into him, and he stifled a yawn. “Today’s been terrible, even if I did get a new friend out of the deal. You let me think about it, yeah?”
Something in Kakashi’s posture shifted at the mention of the word “friend”. The individual pieces were almost imperceptible: his shoulders dropped half an inch, his forehead wrinkles smoothed, and his eyes seemed to open a fraction wider. Suddenly, he seemed more vulnerable, less of a mysterious entity and more of a, well, of a person.
“Yeah, you think about it,” he said, then, “Can I help you up to bed?”
“Please.”
Kakashi guided him up the narrow stairs to the second floor. There were three rooms total: two bedrooms and a bathroom. The first room he used as a home office when Naruto wasn’t living there, and the second was where he slept. A simple double mattress suspended on a cheap but sturdy bedframe sat underneath a lone window, flanked by a tall stereo system on one side and a nightstand on the other. His humidifier chugged away happily on the stand, while about a dozen dirty coffee mugs littered the tops of the stereo speakers. The room wasn’t as lovingly furnished as the living room, but it still held quite a bit of personality. Deep burgundy tapestries hung from the walls, giving the space a warm, cozy feeling. Iruka liked his bedroom to be as cave-like as possible, especially when he was nursing migraines from his students, which was more often than not.
He laid down on the bed and sighed into its comfort, wrapping the duvet around himself and letting his head hit the pillow. He balanced his broken arm on his chest and let the tension drift out of his upper back. “I can’t believe what a day it’s been.”
“And not even half over,” Kakashi joked, but Iruka could hear the guilt in the forced-upbeat tone. He wasn’t terribly concerned with assuaging said guilt, however, because Kakashi really ought to learn to be more careful.
Whatever Kakashi decided to do now was out of Iruka’s hands, as he could feel the dark comfort of his room pulling him into a trance and down, down into the darkness of sleep.