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Cutlery clinks off of porcelain plates and hushed conversation comes from every angle, culminating into something like a dull roar in Kakashi’s ears. Though normally he’d literally rather be anywhere else, this fancy family-friend dinner out at one of Konoha’s finest restaurants is completely fine because the man across from him at the table is none other than Umino Iruka.
They’ve had a longstanding, tense…rivalry, of sorts.
Kakashi thought that maybe it would wane after he’d gone off to college in the capital, that Iruka would move on to pester someone his own age while he finished up high school in Kakashi’s absence. He’d returned home, degree in hand and thoughts of graduate school looming ahead in his mind, only to find out that Iruka had gone off to Kumo for an education of his own.
Their years apart apparently hadn’t done much to dull the intensity at all because, for the fifth time since they’d sat down, Iruka’s foot comes down on top of his own, trying to grind his toes into the floor.
So, yes, their rivalry is still clearly intact, but now? Now it feels a little bit different.
Because now , Iruka is…
He’s —
He’s really goddamn hot. Somehow hotter than he’d been before.
Long gone is the scrawny kid comprised of hungry lines and desperate eyes. His cheekbones are still just as high, but his jaw has sharpened, and his scar is still as charming as ever though it seems to span a little wider thanks to Iruka’s growth into adulthood. That brown hair of his still seems to have a bit of a wave to it, a sheen of silky-softness, but it’s finally out of that ever-present ponytail, just thrown half-up into a bun that highlights the length of his neck, the arc of his collarbones. He’s dressed just as begrudgingly formally as Kakashi is, his tie loose and his shirt slightly wrinkled with more than a couple of buttons gaped open at the top.
Kakashi shifts his foot just slightly out of the way in the nick of time, only enough to make their toes graze along the very edge, and has to suppress a shiver.
Because… fuck , he would like to have his little panic about this in peace, but Iruka won’t stop. It’s just like it had always been over the years, Kakshi trying his hardest to ignore him and everyone else, and Iruka taking that like it’s a personal offense. No matter how many times Kakashi sidesteps or gives one-word answers, Iruka will always try to pull some kind of reaction out of him.
“How are you enjoying the food, Kakashi-kun?” his father asks, a knowing glint in his eye as he smiles. “Not too bad for a little village, is it?”
Kakashi’s mouth lifts in a lazy smile, humoring his dad. “Yeah, it’s good.”
Honestly, he hasn’t tasted a single bite. He’s been so busy trying to look indifferent, that he’s forgotten what he’d even ordered in the first place.
Glancing at his plate, he sees a pasta dish filled with different types of seafood, bits of shrimp and mussels and octopus hidden between the noodles. Given the scent, the combination of spices, he’s pretty sure that it’s a dish from Uzushio.
His dad goes back to talking with Iruka’s mother, but Iruka’s father addresses him next:
“So, Kakashi,” Ikkaku says, “How was your master’s program? Iruka here has been considering going for his master's too but hasn’t decided yet on a specific university. I keep telling him that he can get a decent education here. No need to go off to the ends of the world again!”
Huffing a laugh, Kakashi moves his foot out of the way of Iruka’s stomping, and instead says, “Yeah, it was—good. Not bad.” Truthfully, he’d felt woefully under-challenged the entire time he was there, but his father had assured him that that would probably always be the case. Aloud, he muses, “I guess it would depend on the program.”
And that’s — that’s more than he’s offered all night, but he really can’t find it in himself to be rude to the first man that had let Kakashi eat dumplings before dinner when he was only seven.
(Obviously, now he knows that it had been because he’d wanted them and Kakashi had caught him red-handed, but he’d taken the, “Shh, I won’t tell if you won’t,” and the sparkly-eyed wink as an offering of maturity at the time.)
“That’s true,” Ikkaku says, smiling widely — looking so much like Iruka that Kakashi has to look away before he blushes. “Their education program is one of the best in the world, though. Right, Iruka?”
Iruka smiles tightly at his dad and tries to step on Kakashi’s foot yet again. “I’d like to go to a program that offers an exchange. I’d like to see how the other countries educate their young before I start teaching on my own.”
Kakashi feels his brows raise because —
That’s a surprisingly intelligent take.
“Gathering insight from other cultures is a great way to learn how to collaborate with all types of people,” Sarutobi Hiruzen says from the opposite end of the table. Next to him, Asuma rolls his eyes, but is quickly cowed by his mother’s glare across from him. “It’s the mark of a great educator, I’d say.”
Iruka perks up a bit at that and starts chattering at the old man.
Kakashi sighs, glad for a bit of reprieve from the world’s most painful game of footsie, and finally takes a moment to see what his dish is all about. He sips dutifully at his wine while tucking away his desire for a cold beer, eats his food, and pretends to listen.
*
“Kakashi?” Sakumo calls from the other end of the house.
Sighing, Kakashi shuts his laptop and hefts himself up out of bed, glad to have a break from his fruitless job searching. As he makes his way through the house, he’s privy to the sound of his dad’s old school music and the way he hums along, so horribly out-of-tune. He’ll take it though; it’s much better than the alternative.
He finds his dad in the back of the house, in his little art nook, half-covered in paint as he stipples it onto the canvas in front of him.
“You called?” he drawls over the volume of the music, eyeing the meld of greens into blues; they’re either going to be trees or water, but he’s not yet sure. He shuffles closer, leaning in over his dad’s back to get a closer look. “That supposed to be the trees outside?”
“Mm, no,” Sakumo says, scratching at his chin and transferring a few specs of blue onto his skin. “The sea.” He grins and then knocks his head into Kakashi’s. “Speaking of which…can you take that container back to the Umino for me? Kohari said that she and Ikkaku would be heading out some time today and I wanted to make sure to get it over before they left.”
For as much as Kakashi wants to sigh, he’s not going to disrupt his father’s creative flow with an argument. Besides, the school break should be just about over, right? Chances are, Iruka’s halfway back to Kumo now.
“Sure,” Kakashi says, squeezing his dad’s shoulder in a hug. He doesn’t get mad when he only absently pats him before getting right back to his painting; there were times where he might’ve but now he’s just happy to see him out of bed and moving. “I’ll try to be back in time to make dinner, but…well, you know how they are.”
Sakumo huffs a laugh, his mouth pulling up on one side. “Don’t sweat it, kid. I’ve got a couple of years on you; I do know how to feed myself, you know?”
“Yeah, sure,” Kakashi says, tugging at his dad’s hair before darting out of reach and down the hall with a laugh. “I’ll believe that when I see it!”
“It’s on the counter,” is all Sakumo calls back, but Kakashi can hear the laughter in his voice.
Sure enough, there’s a washed and dried reusable container sitting on the counter, a sealed card set on top with a little doodle of a sea creatures. Kakashi gathers it all up and sets it into his satchel before grabbing his keys from the hook beside the door; he slips his shoes on in the genkan, and then heads out.
The Uminos live just a few streets away, but the Hatake men have no shame about hacking life to make it easier to bear; he takes the car, yawning periodically as he manuevers down the block and around the corner.
Their house is a little smaller than average — definitely not as huge as the compounds housing the Sarutobi or Hyūga Clans — but modest, and immaculately landscaped thanks to Ikkaku’s vigilant care.
Kakashi finds him outside, sitting on the porch with a beer and a book.
Ikkaku waves as Kakashi hops out of the car, not even bothering to lock it. “Hey, kid!” he calls, “How’s it going?”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, Kakashi grins and says, “Hello, Ikkaku-san. I’m well. How are you?”
“Very good; just enjoying my very first day on vacation,” he replies, holding up his book to show Kakashi its spine. “I definitely recommend this one, though it’s probably a bit trashy for your tastes.”
“Hah!” As if Kakashi doesn’t read Icha Icha in his spare time. He scrubs at the back of his head, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Dad gave me a container to return to you all,” he says, trying not to just throw it at the man and run in the opposite direction when he makes out music coming from the direction of Iruka’s room.
“Ah,” Ikkaku says, waving him off, “Better leave it with Kohari. She should be inside getting ready.”
But, as soon as Kakashi makes toward the door, Kohari’s exiting, purse in hand and a bag slung over her shoulder. “Oh, Kakashi-kun!” she says, pausing to press a kiss to his cheek, “Iruka should be in his room.” But before Kakashi can open his mouth to vehemently deny that he came here to see him , she’s breezing on by, addressing her husband with an, “Ikkaku, come on! We’re already late.”
“I—”
“Sorry, kid,” Ikkaku says, squeezing at Kakashi’s shoulder as he bypasses him too. “Mind taking my stuff inside for me? Kohari’ll kill me if I make her any later.” He presses the book and the glass into Kakashi’s chest. “I won’t tell if you finish that beer off for me.”
And, well…
If he has to talk to Iruka, then a little bit of beer won’t make it any worse.
As the Umino adults leave in a whirlwind, Kakashi faces the front door and heaves a sigh. He hits the bell and waits.
And waits.
…And waits.
He presses the bell again, and again, and again, because what the fuck, Kakashi knows he’s in there, he can’t just —
The door’s yanked open with a testy little, “Can I help you ?” that reveals Iruka’s flushed face, his expression screwed up in anger before it switches quickly to surprise. “Oh.”
“Yo,” Kakashi says, lifting a few of his fingers in greeting from where they’re clasped around Ikkaku’s (now-drained) beer glass. “Let me in. I need to put this shit down.”
“‘How are you doing this fine day, Iruka-san?’” Iruka imitates, “Oh, I’m quite well, thank you for asking, Kakashi-san. How about yourself?”
Kakashi rolls his eyes. “We’ve known each other far too long for all of that,” he says, “We just saw each other last weekend, so why would I ask you how you are?”
“Sometimes, I wonder about you,” Iruka drawls, his expression going flat. He sighs and then steps aside. “How did such a nice man somehow contribute to your creation?”
Kakashi strolls in and heads straight for the kitchen, long past anything more enthused than a muttered, “Pardon the intrusion,” as he slips his shoes off in the genkan. It’s a little weird that Iruka isn’t following him through the house, but Kakashi’s probably been here more recently than he has, and more frequently too.
Thanks to their collective parents’ lifelong friendship, it’s been a long-standing tradition of the Umino, Hatake, and Sarutobi families to gather on Friday nights for dinner. They’ll switch from one host to the next, forever and ever until the end of eternity.
So, fancy dinner last weekend for the Sarutobi, and this weekend, everyone would pile over to the Hatake Estate to sit around a fire pit for some yakitori and beer. The following weekend, Kakashi would undoubtedly be back in this house yet again, sneaking dumplings before dinner with Ikkaku and chugging beers with Kohari.
The Umino family is somehow even more casual than the Hatake, after all.
“You don’t have to act like you found manners out in Kumo,” Kakashi calls over his shoulder. He rolls up his sleeves and then brings the glass over to the sink, setting the book and the card on the table as he goes. He fills the sink with water, squirts in some soap, and starts collecting mugs and plates piled up on the counter to add to the soapy water as it fills. “I know you a little better than that.”
“You do, huh?” Iruka says, his voice low and…teasing?
Kakashi glances over as Iruka hops up to sit on the counter next to the sink.
“What’s my favorite color?” Iruka asks. “My favorite animal?”
“Red,” Kakashi answers, scrubbing at the beer glass before putting it into the other side of the sink to be rinsed. “Rabbit.”
Iruka’s silent long enough that Kakashi’s brow furrows as he glances over again, but— it’s like he’s frozen, his eyes just a bit wide and his plush lips cracked slightly open. He blushes when he realizes Kakashi’s caught him staring and then clears his throat, looking away.
“Yours is green,” he says, “And you love dogs.”
Kakashi—well, now he gets it. His heart gives a funny little clench, like he’s actually pleased that Iruka’s remembered something so…trivial. He feels a smile slide onto his mouth. “Yep,” he says, scrubbing at a plate with some kind of sauce crusted on, “Hasn’t changed.”
“No,” Iruka agrees. “Not at all, has it?”
“Most things,” Kakashi says, nodding. He puts the plate into the other side of the sink. “Though some have changed.”
“Says you,” Iruka says around a snort, “How’d you get even lankier ?”
Kakashi picks up another mug, probably from Kohari’s morning coffee. “How’d you finally grow a few centimeters?” he shoots back. After scrubbing it too, he sets it down on top of the plate and then fishes around in the water for the other bowl.
“How’d you— get so…handsome?” Iruka says, his confidence wavering halfway through.
Kakashi, though—Kakashi freezes, wondering if he’d heard right and —
He drops the bowl into the sudsy water, splashing the both of them out of their surprise.
Wiping at his eye with the back of his hand, Kakashi echoes Iruka’s earlier, “Says you.”
Again they both freeze, and this time, Kakashi feels his cheeks heat.
“Are you flirting with me?” Kakashi asks, blinking at his soapy hands before rinsing them off, reaching for the handtowel that Iruka holds.
But rather than hand it to him, Iruka hops down from the counter and comes in close. “Maybe,” Iruka says, shrugging as if to belay the way his hands shake and his cheeks go incrementally darker. He raises the towel to Kakashi’s left eye and rubs gently over it, wipes the soapy water from his lashes. When he asks, “Is that okay?” his voice is low and dark and — gods, so sexy.
Kakashi nods, lifting his hand to wrap around Iruka’s wrist, tugging the towel and his hand down just slightly. A beat passes, and then another where they just stand there, staring at one another’s blushing face.
All at once, though, the tension snaps —
— They come together, hands and lips and tongue and teeth and nails. Kakashi can’t get enough, he can’t possibly have enough of him in his hands, in his mouth, in his heart—
Iruka’s hands cast just as eagerly over his body, grasping and stroking and pinching, while Kakashi busies himself with trying to map every single one of Iruka’s teeth, the ridges of his palate and the tastebuds on his tongue. Somehow, Kakashi’s hips find Iruka’s and Iruka moans into his mouth, kissing him more desperately, more frantically.
“Fuck,” Iruka pulls away to breathe, “Is this real?”
Kakashi nods, unable to tear his gaze from Iruka’s bitten-red mouth. “Fuck.”
He gnaws on Iruka’s lower lip, holding him as his knees wobble and his eyelids flicker all before he surges into Kakashi yet again. He’s so much stronger than Kakashi would’ve thought, his body firm, so solid beneath his hands.
Iruka sighs into the kiss as Kakashi grasps at his thighs and, taking the hint, he jumps into Kakashi’s arms so that he can spin around and carry him down the hall to his bedroom. “Fuck,” Iruka breathes into his ear, “Fuck. I was — ah , jacking off when you—buzzed the door like an asshole. Don’t laugh at my room.”
“Why would I laugh at your room?” Kakashi asks as he kicks at the door until it opens. “I’ve seen it a million times.”
Granted, that was for stilted “playdates” when their parents had wanted to drink in peace. Asuma and Kakashi would hog the video game console while Iruka buzzed around them like a pesky fly, begging for attention.
This is a little different.
“God, I can’t believe you got so hot,” Kakashi blurts, shifting his hands up to knead at Iruka’s thick ass before dropping him on the bed. He can’t dial down the intensity of his stare when Iruka bounces, his tented erection finally bared to Kakashi’s eyes. “Can I suck your dick?”
“I don’t know, can you ?” Iruka retorts — squealing out a laugh when Kakashi grabs him by the ankle and tugs him back towards the edge of the mattress. “Oh, shit!”
Kakashi doesn’t take the affront to his grammar lightly, because casual language being colloquially accepted still counts, he’s a little too focused on tugging at Iruka’s sweatpants to speak. Especially not when Iruka’s laughing and gasping, wriggling his hips to help Kakashi along.
“Fuck, yeah,” he says, his eyes on Kakashi’s hands as they wrap around Iruka’s gloriously hard erection. “Let me do you after.”
Kakashi wants to say, “No promises,” but suddenly his mouth is preoccupied with singeing kisses into Iruka’s thighs, the side of his shaft, and the very tip of his cock. Iruka’s cock is so hard, so thick , and has a tiny curve that would fit so snugly in Kakashi’s throat. He can’t wait to find out.
“Oh, god,” Iruka groans, his head falling back against his patterned sheets as Kakashi laves over the head, flickering the tip of his tongue over Iruka’s frenulum before sucking over it just lightly. “ Fuuuuck .”
Humming, Kakashi softens his jaw and sucks a bit harshly at the head before opening his throat and dropping his wet mouth over Iruka’s entire dick.
Iruka all but screams, audible over the music that’s still playing loudly from a dock housing Iruka’s phone on the bedside table. He thrashes his head back and forth over the sheets and scrabbles at Kakashi’s head with clenching fingers. “Oh, fuck,” he says, “Oh, fuck , Kakashi—Kakashi—oh, my god, where’d you fucking learn this?”
It’s said frantically, like Iruka’s trying to distract himself from coming, so Kakashi recedes, replacing his mouth with a lazily stroking hand. “Undergrad, actually,” he says. “Frat parties are terrifying, but one of the bros found out I didn’t have a gag reflex when he challenged me to a chugging contest.”
“What the fuck,” Iruka says, “Seriously?”
Kakashi shrugs and kisses at the head of Iruka’s cock. “Yeah.”
“Oh, my god,” Iruka says again, his hands twining deeper into Kakashi’s hair, scraping at his scalp. “Your mouth feels— hah — so good. Can I fuck it? Please?”
The lewd question makes Kakashi shiver. He nods. “You don’t have to be too careful, either,” he says, “I can hold my breath pretty well too.”
Again, Iruka says, “What the fuck,” but doesn’t hesitate to move his hips, to hump shallowly into Kakashi’s mouth and over his tongue in a leisurely pace. Kakashi moans, because Iruka — he’s leaking all over the place, the clear fluid slick and delicious over Kakashi’s tongue. He lets it gather in his mouth and uses it as lube to force his face deeper on Iruka’s cock as he opens his throat. “ Kakashi !”
Kakashi hums, tightening his lips as best he can around the thick length of Iruka’s shaft. With a scratch of pubes pressing into his nose, Kakashi swallows, letting his throat massage Iruka’s entire cock before sliding back, keeping the suction of his lips tight. At least until he pulls off with a loud popping noise.
“I meant that you could fuck my throat,” Kakashi says in a rasp. He doesn’t at all hide the challenging gleam in his eye as he says, “So do it.”
Iruka’s mouth pulls in a smirk, a dimple popping in his cheek. “You’re such a shit ,” he says, laughing, “Can’t believe I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”
“Big talk for someone not doing much,” Kakashi goads.
It works, though, so he can’t feel too childish. Iruka’s long since brought that out in him, and hopefully he will for a long time still.
Iruka hitches his hips up, holding Kakashi’s head still with two firm hands. He goes just a little faster, popping into Kakashi’s throat just a touch harder, like he’s still hesitant or maybe — maybe, just trying not to blow his load too quickly.
The thought makes Kakashi smirk, which presses his teeth along Iruka’s shaft— which makes Iruka shudder and groan, gasp and hiss, but not stop . If anything, he fucks Kakashi’s face a bit more frantically, finally giving him exactly what he wants.
Because who needs to breathe when instead they could have a throatful of cock and Iruka’s clean, earthy scent in their nose? Not Kakashi. Not now and not ever. Not if he can hold Iruka like this, so intimately inside of him.
He hums again, glad that Iruka keeps plugging his mouth up over and over again and preventing sappy words from escaping. Drool and precum make the slide slick and Kakashi can’t stop moaning, can’t stop rutting against Iruka’s mattress with the thought that he finally, finally had the guy exactly where he wanted him.
Iruka breaks off into another shattered moan and frantically says, “I’m gonna — I’m gonna—!” in warning, but Kakashi’s throat is already so open, so relaxed, so ready for him. He squeezes harder at Iruka’s hips and closes his eyes in shaking bliss as Iruka starts to fill him up, flexing his throat around the twitching length. The friction in both his throat and against his cock is too much to bear, and Kakashi, for the first time in a long time, finds himself spilling into his pants against the mattress.
Iruka keeps groaning long after Kakashi’s pulled off of him and licked him clean, both of them twitching and spent, but satisfied. One hand stays twined in Kakashi’s hair, petting through the coarse strands as Kakashi pants against his thigh, alternating between gnawing and kissing the bouncy skin.
“That was a long time coming,” Iruka says, smiling softly down at Kakashi’s face. “You’re really pretty when you come.”
Kakashi snorts against Iruka’s thigh. “Says you,” he says yet again before pressing another kiss into Iruka’s thigh. “Can’t wait to see it again.”
He tucks his smile against Iruka’s skin, but doesn’t miss the playful way Iruka tugs at his hair.
*
Kakashi curses under his breath, pulling over to the side of the road with the intention of turning right back around. That fucking container is still in his bag. He'd forgotten to drop it off.
At least he can say, with confidence, that Iruka probably won’t mind to see him this time.