Chapter Text
It was a casual Saturday morning, so casual that there was nothing written on the calendar whiteboard stuck on the fridge, surrounded by bills and souvenir magnets. Iruka decided to take it slow today, as he did every time he got a free day, no errands, no overtime at the mission desk and no worksheets overdue for grading.
Dragging the floor cushion beneath him into place, the off-duty teacher sat down and enjoyed his morning ritual of tea and toast. The jasmine tea warm and fragrant, the eggs fried just enough for the edges to crisp up, leaving the yolk jammy and buttery. Just as he set his cup down, a half-dried leaf from the table plant had fallen into his tea.
Sighing, he fished the leaf out with two fingers and studied it carefully, trying to remember the name of the plant and when was the last time he watered it and had it always been here all this time, withering away.
This nameless (forgotten) plant, like all of Iruka’s other plants, was a gift.
Somehow, someway, Iruka had tricked people into thinking that he’s good with plants. Sure, it was a sensible deduction, considering how he was a teacher and teachers were supposed to be nurturing and caring. Unfortunately for Iruka, such qualities didn’t quite transfer to his plant-caring capabilities. A fact that he became well aware of the moment he killed the classroom’s pet cactus in the span of 2 weeks, silently replacing it with a somewhat convincing plastic replica in the hopes that no one would give him yet another plant to kill.
The plastic cactus might have been too convincing, and Iruka could do nothing but watch as his collection of half-dead plants grew with each occasion that went by. A scarlet orchid from Kurenai for his birthday, a small, supposedly “low maintenance” jade plant from Naruto, peace lilies from Anko on teacher’s day and a fancy bonsai from Asuma that he’s honestly afraid to touch sometimes.
He didn’t quite know how to break it to them that all the plants they gifted him were barely holding on and that it’s a miracle they still had leaves to shed on his balcony. But the thought of that was just too mean and maybe a hobby as calm and peaceful as gardening would be good for him. For now, he would just have to suffer through the learning curve of when to water, how to water, and if his water was laced with some malicious plant-killing jutsu.
He looked to the calendar. The bi-monthly drinking party was happening again, this time with Lady Tsunade.
—
Sunday evening, all the teachers gathered in the same restaurant that they go to every time, a nice big place with enough staff to tend to everyone and enough sake to fill a small lake. Iruka spotted a rare face in the crowd today, next to Lady Tsunade was Hatake Kakashi, the jounin teacher who took over teaching Naruto after he graduated from the academy.
Iruka could hold himself to a good amount of liquor but he would never dare to compare himself to Godaime, nobody would. Maybe that’s why he was so impressed to see Kakashi match her pace, his speed immaculate as he turned his head, pulled his mask and down the shot all in a flash. Lady Tsunade, probably also pleased at that, poured the jounin shot after shot as their drinking slowly turned into a competition no one could forecast.
After the 4th empty bottle of sake, Shizune was going around with an empty chopstick holder, circling the room asking for folded napkins and chopstick wraps with what seemed to be Kakashi and Tsunade’s names scribbled on them. Iruka heard Asuma chuckle beside him, waving the torn corner of a napkin:
“As powerful as Kakashi of the Sharingan is, he’s no use against Lady Tsunade’s metabolism”, he laughed, face clearly flushed red with alcohol.
“Ehh”, Kurenai chimed in, wavy brown hair spread on Asuma’s left shoulder “but doesn’t he always have something up his sleeve? A person with a thousand jutsus must have something that makes him tolerate alcohol more right?” red rouge smeared on the paper as she kissed the chopstick wrap goodluck and waved Shizune to their little corner.
“What’s your call, Iruka-sensei?” They both turned to him.
Iruka looked over his shoulder, Kakashi and Tsunade were clinking their glasses together with a slight shake in their hands, no waver in their chakra that he could detect and a flush spread from ear to ear, the colour so intense he could see it on Kakashi’s mostly covered face.
It seemed that Gai had said something ridiculous, which made Tsunade throw her head back laughing and smacking the flushed jounin on the back, his expression one of great tolerance, but the wrinkle on his nose indicated that he was entertained nonetheless.
Iruka would say it’s a cute expression, but who would call a man nearing his 30s cute? Instead, he grabbed a pen and wrote down Ka-ka-shi on a chopstick wrap, folding the wrapper in half so that the fish design wouldn’t be covered and wrote his name next to it. Something of a good luck charm for himself.
“See, Iruka-sensei gets me”, Kurenai smirked.
“And you’ll both regret it”, Asuma declared, his hand idly twirling a lock of Kurenai’s hair, which made Iruka wonder if they even know they’re dating.
“Shouldn’t we be cheering for the underdog?” he said, knowing Kakashi was the furthest thing from an underdog, but he might as well be when he’s up against Lady Tsunade.
Shizune grinned, swiftly collected their votes and said, “Lady Tsunade wouldn’t hold it against you.”
—
“Kakashi-sensei, do you have your keys?”
.
.
.
Iruka wasn’t entirely sure how he got to this point. The last thing he remembered was the room breaking out in both cheer and cries when Kakashi finally slammed his head on the table, dropping the sake in his hand as Lady Tsunade emerged victorious and finally called for the bill instead of another bottle of sake.
The room slowly dispersed as Genma and Hayate went around collecting the losing bets.
“We should really make Kakashi go to these more often, I might be able to get an early retirement.”, Asuma nudged Kurenai, pocketing the crumbled bills in his pocket.
“Then he had better win next time!” she huffed.
“Tough luck, eh?” Genma said, senbon between his teeth as he gestured towards Iruka.
“Let’s hope this doesn’t become a habit though”, Iruka sighed, feeling how his wallet just got a bit thinner.
Soon enough, he had said his goodbyes to Asuma and Kurenai as they got up and left together, saying something about how it wouldn’t be safe for Kurenai to go back alone this late for a truly poor excuse.
Despite the hot summer, the nights in Konoha have always welcomed fresh breeze. He'll take a nice walk home under the moon and hope that whatever amount of liquor he held back today will save him from a hangover in class tomorrow.
“Iruka-sensei!”, he knew it was Gai’s voice without turning around, something in the way he delivers his lines distinctly recognizable.
“I am so very sorry to ask you this favour!” he stopped mid-way to turn and slap Kakashi around a little bit, just enough to keep the man awake as Yamato slumped on top of him. Iruka could see where this was going, however strange of an arrangement it was.
“Yes?”
“You see, my rival here has overdone himself tonight, a truly commendable feat despite the result!”
“Yes…”
“And it would be my honour to carry him back. But as you can see I have another predicament…”, when Iruka looked over to Yamato again, he was already fast asleep on top of a half-asleep Kakashi.
“I understand,” he smiled, “I’ll make sure he gets home safely.”
Gai smiled back at him, all gums and teeth and sparkles as he declared, “Well then! I’ll leave him in your capable hands, Iruka-sensei! Good night!”
Just like that, Gai walked away with Yamato slung across his shoulder like a sack of rice, disappearing into the streets.
Iruka’s peaceful plan of a wind-down walk is sabotaged, but he’s not particularly annoyed. After all, he’s had his fair share of dragging people back home from outings like this, nothing new, well, except the fact that he’s carrying Kakashi out of all people back.
Maybe the little amount of interaction he’s had with the jounin left a good impression that he can be trusted. Maybe he should feel flattered, even, to be able to have Kakashi hanging on his left shoulder muttering jumbled forms of “Sorry” and saying “Don’t be” in response.
For the amount of liquor he’d taken in, Kakashi was surprisingly sober, he could walk in a semi-straight line, and his words weren’t intelligible, making him not half as bad as the people Iruka had had to carry back home before.
The last memorable interaction he had with Kakashi was when he stumbled upon him having lunch with Asuma and Kurenai, in which he nodded and gave a polite smile as the jounin nodded in return. And now, he was standing in front of said teacher’s apartment, silver hair tickling his neck with an arm swung over his shoulder for the extra balance as he searched his pockets.
“Sorry you had to take such a long detour,” the limp figure said, voice all slow and sleepy and Iruka didn’t know how to feel, “it’s embarrassing, really, making you take me back like this,” on second thought, maybe he didn’t want to know.
“I’ll treat you to something good yeah, please remind me,” Kakashi finally got a hold of his keys and Iruka almost audibly sighed, reaching a hand to pull down the neck of his standard uniform, feeling his face flush up from the alcohol still left in his system or the fact that they’re not in open air anymore.
The door opened with a click, and Kakashi pushed through the entrance, almost tripping over himself trying to get his sandals off before he decided it wasn’t worth the trouble and immediately jumped for the bed before Iruka could even utter a word.
“I’ll be fine now. You can help yourself to some water in the kitchen if you want, it’s to your right.”, he muttered, face already sunk deep into the cushions.
“Sorry for intruding.”
Iruka found himself quietly kneeling in front of the bed, working only with the hallway’s fluorescent light that spilt into the room to carefully take off the jounin’s sandals and place them neatly by the entrance.
He didn’t go to the kitchen for water; it felt rude to intrude any further, and his place was not so far away after all. But he did catch a glance of Kakashi’s windowsill that lay above the bed, it was hard to miss the bright shades of green crowded next to one another, beneath the leaves, an ashtray, framed photos and a small plate of half-eaten sweets.
A mental image came into Iruka’s mind, of Kakashi on his windowsill, ankles crossed as he tapped a cigarette out of its packet, blowing puffs of smoke out the window as he reached for something sweet, the taste rubbing off the bitter tobacco on his tongue and melting to his touch. Small potted plants surrounded him, sitting where the sun would shine brightest.
It was a strangely calming thought, a curious one that Iruka shook off as he turned on his heel, minding himself to close the door slowly so as not to wake the drunken teacher up.
“Iruka-sensei”
Iruka blinked, as if he had never heard his own name before.
“G’night.”
He heard a thump on the mattress.
“Good night.” A slight tug on his lips as the words escaped him.
The door closed with a click, and Iruka made his way back. He can still take it slow, the street lights still flickering and moonlight still shining. Something in the wind was slightly sweet, and, strangely enough, he couldn't quite put a finger on it.