Chapter Text
The closet was uncomfortably warm, full of the noisy humming of electronics and servers, and out of the way—and thus it was the perfect place to have an early-afternoon meltdown at one’s place of work.
Iruka crouched, his head down, forehead digging into his knees as he sniffled, thick and snotty. The goddamn infernal buzzing from the servers covered up the sounds of his angry crying at the very least. His fists clenched uselessly against the fabric over his knees, in his hair, and at the tops of his dress shoes, painful from the sustained crouch he’d been in for the last ten minutes.
This sucked. Iruka hadn’t cried on the job—any job—since he was under eighteen. But even beyond his upset, overwhelmed tears, what really really sucked was the fact that once he got himself under control he was going to have to go out there, look his staff in the eye, and let them know that their company was throwing their entire department out to dry and—
And then the worst possible thing that could have happened in that moment actually happened: someone entered the closet.
Iruka stayed there, in a pathetic little ball, head down. Some silly instinctual part of him hoped that if he didn’t move, whoever it was would just go away, overwhelmed by sheer awkwardness.
“Um—”
So they were going to try to ask him about it.
“Are you okay?”
The voice didn’t belong to one of Iruka’s staff so he hardly cared about being polite: “No,” he grit out, followed by a heavy sniffle as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, “I’m not fucking okay. Please go away.”
The man’s weight shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, the soles scraping against the concrete. “Um, sure, but what’s wrong?” The voice was louder; the person had crouched to get closer.
People comforting Iruka when crying had always pissed him off. He wanted to be fucking alone, and he’d said as much already.
“Hatake’s cutting funding for Outreach,” Iruka said flatly. In the safe circle of his arms, a tear dripped off the edge of his nose to hit his knee.
There was silence for a moment, and then: “Oh. Yes, I am.”
Iruka looked up. Crouching beside him, impeccable in a full suit and with a Hatake Corp crossbody bag over one shoulder, was the CEO himself. Kakashi Hatake.
Iruka stood up so fast it made him dizzy. As he towered over Hatake for a brief moment before the man could stand up too, Iruka put his hands on his hips and burst out, “Why the hell are you doing this? Do you even have any idea how much—” those hands moved to the space between them, gesturing wildly, “Just how many people we help? With the STEM scholarship program for the city? How many poor kids come for the after-school program at the Hatake building up in Konoha Heights?”
Naruto went to that program after his school closed for the day instead of being let loose out on the streets until his foster parents got home from work, for fuck’s sake.
Iruka was really worked up now, and he jabbed one finger in Hatake’s perfectly unwrinkled chest. “And you’re going to make me go out there and lay off half my staff for what? New furniture for the lobby? Another bureaucrat to pass work around and hide more shit like this in the fiscal year plans?”
Iruka dragged his fingertips down his splotchy cheeks and growled, “Oooh, I am just so mad at you right now.”
Hatake had been standing there motionless, blinking rapidly with his one eye that wasn’t behind an eyepatch, but now he was nodding. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Iruka Umino,” Iruka said sourly.
“Uh-huh. From Outreach. You’re right, one of the directors was planning to cut money to that department and I OK’d it.” Hatake then reached out and put both his hands on Iruka’s shoulders. This close, Hatake’s several inches on Iruka were quite apparent. The man almost always wore a surgical mask or a scarf, but even with his face covered, Iruka could tell he was… smiling?
“It sounds like I had some bad data, though,” Hatake continued. One hand left Iruka’s shoulder to pluck an ironed handkerchief from one of the man’s pockets. He held it out and started to fucking blot Iruka’s cheeks and, suddenly and finally horribly embarrassed at crying in front of the CEO, Iruka snatched it up and scrubbed at his face himself.
“That was a dazzling display of heart, Iruka. Who’s your boss?”
“Nobody,” Iruka groused, sniffling and wiping away the worst of it. “I’m head of Outreach.”
“Oh. Right, you mentioned your staff. That’s good; you’re the right person for the job.”
“...Okay.”
“There you go. Much better.” Hatake put the gross handkerchief back in his pocket. “Not everyone around here actually cares enough to advocate for the company and its people, you know,” Hatake said with another infuriating little eye smile. “I came to get one of the Chidori prototypes, but I’m glad I ran into you. Problems with being the boss, I suppose—I lose sight of how things really are. Are you busy in half an hour?”
It was all quite a lot to take in.
“Um? Busy for what?”
Iruka shuffled out of the way as Hatake leaned past him in the small space to grab a special tablet off its place on a shelf, where it had been plugged into that loud, humming server. It definitely wasn’t on the market yet.
“The budget meeting.”
Oh. Iruka straightened, staring with wide eyes at Hatake. He had never been to one of these meetings, because someone who generally oversaw a couple people-facing departments always went in his stead. Like fuck he was going to turn down this opportunity. He could easily reschedule his virtual meeting with a high school guidance counselor for the next day.
“No,” Iruka said, staring Hatake straight in the eye, “I’m not too busy for that.”
“Wonderful.” Hatake nodded at him, at odds with the unfeeling, ruthless CEO Iruka had occasionally seen around the office. “Why don’t you take some time to freshen up and then we’ll go?”
“Erm. Sure.” Self-consciously, Iruka rubbed at his swollen face, but Hatake just continued to eye-smile at him. Iruka left the closet, feeling awkward as hell as he was followed. This closet was in the back of a different department on an entirely different floor and Iruka really had thought he’d be undisturbed…
Hatake waited outside the men’s restroom for him. Iruka stared at himself in the mirror for a long moment. While he was slightly embarrassed… he wasn’t ashamed. Iruka cared about people and that was his greatest strength and had been his entire life. Who gave a shit about the embarrassment of some tears or whatever if he got a chance to keep his department alive? To keep the kids’ programs alive?
He splashed water on his face and took down his hair, running wet fingers through it before tying it back up. Professional. He scowled in the mirror. Determined.
Outreach was hardly the most beloved department at Hatake Corp—obviously—but it was worthy of time and money and care and goddamit Iruka was going to fight for it.
“Thanks for waiting, Mr. Hatake,” Iruka said when he emerged, feeling quite a bit better.
“You can call me Kakashi, it’s fine.”
Refusing to think about the oddness of this situation, Iruka led Kakashi back to his office (the man looked curiously at a framed photo of Iruka with Naruto and some of his friends) and then with a notebook and laptop in hand, Iruka followed Kakashi up to the executive offices. He hardly noticed the curious looks from his own staff, mind whirling with arguments he could make.
Upstairs, Kakashi slipped through the halls and past employees like a ghost. He walked quickly, always managing to catch an empty stretch of hall or pass offices with their doors closed, where no one called out. They reached his office without running into anybody, really, but then were stopped by a man in a vivid green suit.
“Oh!” he boomed, “Which of my Esteemed Colleagues is this?”
After a pause, Iruka said, “Iruka Umino, from Outreach.”
“Wonderful! You do excellent work, Mr. Umino!”
“...Thank you,” Iruka said politely, nodding his head. “You are?”
The man stood and shook Iruka’s hand hard, gripping and shaking with a gusto that Iruka, frankly, was not feeling this soon after ugly-crying in anger in a mysterious closet. “Might Gai! It’s a pleasure!”
They moved past Kakashi’s secretary (and what a man he was) into Kakashi’s office, where Kakashi shut the door after a two-fingered wave to Gai. Then he ignored Iruka entirely as he sat at his computer and started clacking away at the keys.
There was still about five minutes or so before Iruka estimated that they had to leave to catch the budget meeting, so he sat at one of the two chairs opposite Kakashi’s desk and opened his own laptop, getting set up.
He had tons of data that he could use to advocate for his department. There were numbers of kids served, upward trends, statistically significant evidence of real, genuine improvement in the lives of so many kids—this was all just such bullshit!
“You’ll break it like that,” came a dry voice.
Iruka didn’t even look up. With a scowl and continuing to type just as hard as he had before, he asked, “Will that help my case? Show that Outreach is really, really determined?”
Hatake actually chuckled at that. It was a soft little sound. Iruka could hear the amusement in Kakashi’s voice as he answered, “I think you successfully got that across already.”
Iruka peeked at him. Kakashi was watching him, chin in his hand, smiling his odd little eye-smile. He’d taken off his ear-loop mask, Iruka also realized; that smile made his mouth curl up too. He had a dimple on one side, the side opposite a small beauty mark.
“Uh…” Iruka gathered his courage. “I am sorry, by the way, that you had to see me in such an… unprofessional state.”
Kakashi’s smile didn’t falter. “Don’t be.”
Disbelieving, Iruka said, “If you say so,” and went back to his charts.
But soon enough Kakashi came around the desk again and Iruka rose with him. As Kakashi slipped his mask back over his ears and pinched the bridge tight around his nose, he said, “Just listen for today. Afterward, we’ll meet back here, and you can give me all of your thoughts. Okay?”
He phrased it like a question, but in this, Iruka could see some of that lethal businessperson leaking out. Kakashi was ordering, not actually asking.
“Understood.”
“Alright, my passionate Outreach manager, let’s get this over with.”
Kakashi’s eye curved up in one last smile and they stepped back out of his office. Then, in front of Gai and Iruka both, it was like Kakashi transformed into a different person. Instead of his comfortable slouch Kakashi suddenly stood tall, back straight. His shoes clicked against the floor in a new way, and he made his way back down the hall, every inch of him the intimidating CEO Iruka had thought him to be.
Wordlessly, Iruka followed.
They passed several people Iruka recognized and some he didn’t, and now everyone seemed to recognize Kakashi. A few folks looked like they wanted to stop him and talk about something, but didn’t quite dare—the guy was kind of scary, actually, and he’d been wiping Iruka’s cheeks with a personal napkin half an hour ago. Kakashi’s gaze was sharp in a way that lacked all the warmth in which he’d been looking at Iruka earlier.
They entered an already-packed conference room. Every head snapped their way and Iruka realized with a jolt of dread that they were late. Perhaps CEOs didn’t have to be present for the icebreakers or welcomes or whatever. Either way, it was certainly uncomfortable, and Iruka tried to look at nothing in particular as he followed Kakashi to the far end of the long table to the single available seat, and—oh, shoot.
But Kakashi put a hand on some exec’s shoulder and murmured something into his ear and then there was an open seat for Iruka at Kakashi’s side. The current presenter had paused for a minute as Kakashi got settled, and with a nod from Kakashi she continued.
Any uncertainty Iruka felt about being here was gone within two minutes. Soon he was angry again, squinting and scowling at the powerpoint on the screen with its promises of ‘investing in us’ and ‘be a WE.’ Kakashi told him to come prepared later with his thoughts—and did Iruka ever have them!
Iruka decided to record the meeting’s audio on his phone, which earned him a brief glance of actual interest from Kakashi before the man went back to his hawk-sharp, emotionless surveying of the presentation. Iruka’s pen felt hot in his hand as he filled his notebook with scribbles, diagrams and notes. It was a constant scratch scratch that seemed loud in the otherwise silent room, save the occasional rustle or cough.
He typed furiously on his laptop too, making virtual post-its with quotes from the presenter or copy and pasting links he meant to show Kakashi afterward. Iruka got angrier and angrier and then when they finally mentioned budget cuts and reallocations it took all he had to bite his tongue and stay silent, to not interrupt this stupid meeting and yell at them all the way he had Hatake earlier that day.
Iruka finished a particularly savage underscoring of the words LEAF HIGH SCHOOL’S GRADUATION RATES!! in a future note to himself to refute their claim that Leaf High hadn’t benefited at all from the hours and hours Iruka’s staff had spent there, when Kakashi’s hand touched his knee under the table.
Iruka stilled it, realizing he had been angrily jiggling his leg up and down hard enough to shake their end of the table. Embarrassed, Iruka gave Kakashi a sheepish look. The man wasn’t looking back, but his hand gave Iruka’s knee a light squeeze, a gentle I understand, even as he stared straight ahead, seeming for all the world like he was made of stone.
One really sorry motherfucker named Danzo from Accounting was really testing the limits of Iruka’s patience. The data he had for Iruka’s department’s expenditures was definitely incorrect, and forgoing all sense of meeting decorum Iruka snapped a phone picture of Danzo and the stupid powerpoint slide right then and there so he wouldn’t forget any of the shitty claims.
Iruka would probably hear about this from one of the assistant or regional directors or whatever later but who cared? Kakashi Hatake of fucking Hatake Corp was on his side, maybe, and so long as his staff kept their jobs and the school programs stayed funded, it hardly mattered.
Iruka wrote and wrote. He annotated and bookmarked and scribbled and scratched so viciously at his notebook he tore it twice.
Righteous indignation had always looked good on Iruka and he wore it well now. The meeting ended after an (at least for Iruka) immensely tense q&a where he had to literally sit on his own hands to avoid raising them and calling out bullshit. But then it was over, and people were spilling out into the hallway, and Kakashi stood and excused himself before anyone could corner him properly.
“I will review everything discussed today and give my thoughts tomorrow,” Kakashi announced to a group of stressed-out looking suits. They all agreed, flattering and ass-kissing Kakashi as he moved towards the exit, Iruka in tow.
On the way back anger made Iruka’s steps quick, and he walked in front of Kakashi, leading the man back to his own office. He scowled and bit his lip, glaring at the elevator display after jabbing the buttons. Behind him, Kakashi was utterly silent, and anyone else hoping to catch the lift with them had been scared off by the force of Kakashi’s utter disinterest.
When the doors closed and it was just them inside, Kakashi leant back against the railing, eye curving up into a happy smile again, and said, “Iruka, you’re hilarious.”
“...What?”
Iruka was in no mood to hear shit like that. He was still imagining Danzo falling down a flight of stairs.
“Ahh.” Kakashi wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “I need more employees like you.”
Incredulous, Iruka asked, “Who embarrass you in meetings?”
“No, who give a shit.”
“Oh.”
Iruka stared at his shoes, suddenly rather shy. He was nothing special. Kakashi’s interest was a bit hard to handle.
It was interesting how a soft-spoken but warm man could turn into stone in the space of a second. Hatake led Iruka back to his office, stopping briefly for a friendly wave to Gai, and then when his office door closed he was Kakashi again. The place was pretty lavish but in the understated-but-definitely-expensive way, and Kakashi sat behind his desk, removing his mask again and leaving him with just the eyepatch.
“Okay, Iruka,” he said, “I’m ready. Show me what you’ve got.”
Iruka launched into his defense. (His counter attack, perhaps?) He spun his laptop around and used visual aids to help as he looked up statistics on the tablet Kakashi let him borrow. His notebook was full of reminders and things to refute directly, and he did so with all the passion ten years of working for this company and the city’s children had instilled in him. Iruka had always talked with his hands, and a few times he even got up, pacing back and forth and gesturing wildly to illustrate his point.
Kakashi watched placidly, nodding and asking direct, pointed questions that proved he was listening. More than that, he was challenging Iruka, not taking him at his word but demanding he prove what he was saying to be true.
And afterward, when Iruka felt he really had made his point, and had proved he and his staff were more valuable to the company and city than a bunch of stuffy suits would know, Kakashi leant back in his chair and said, “Okay, Iruka.”
“Okay?”
“You’ll keep your funding.”
His first thought was Wow, one man shouldn’t have that much power. The second was, Oh my God.
Iruka sat back in his seat, legs having gone to jello.
“In fact, it sounds like you could do a lot more with even a small increase. I’ll work out the details with Budget and get back to you.” Kakashi’s visible eye curved. “Well done. I’m glad to have you as part of the company.”
“I—I, ah.” Iruka stumbled over his words, a little nervous suddenly, a lot humbled. “Well, um, thank you.”
Kakashi grinned, showing a row of perfect white teeth with incredibly sharp canines. “No, thank you.”
The next day passed in a bit of a daze. Iruka greeted his staff in the morning the same as always, even with the floaty feeling. Gekko, Anko, Izumo, Daikoku, Chiaki, Suzume, all his college-aged interns… to think he’d almost lost half of them to ugly lobby furniture and Danzo’s next vacation fund.
Sure enough, there was an email waiting for him in his inbox from Kakashi and Accounting about a proposed bonus for him and his staff come that holiday season, and an increase to their operating budget as well as a large direct donation to their childcare program for teen parents in Konoha’s schools who promised to stick it through and get their diploma…
Iruka almost wept again.
Instead, he channeled his emotion into work, like he always did. He met with that guidance counselor he had to reschedule, and he had 1 on 1 meetings with most of his staff to check in. The original budget plans he’d seen that had given him a minor breakdown in the closet had been for managers only, so none of his staff were worried at all about anything. He couldn’t wait to let them know the good news as soon as the revised budget went live.
Getting on Kakashi Hatake’s good side despite being a giant fucking mess had been unbelievably lucky. Throughout the day Iruka’s thoughts drifted to Kakashi a few times. The guy was weird for sure, fairly chill and kind so long as hardly anyone else was around. When in an official CEO capacity though the dude was as cold as ice.
But then, just before one p.m, Iruka’s work messenger gave a soft ding. Have you eaten?
It was from Hatake.
Iruka thought of the sad, squashed onigiri and crumpled bag of chips in his briefcase. Confused, he sent back: No
Can I treat you to lunch? We can talk more?
Iruka sat up straight in his seat. Oh Hell Yeah. He responded with a polite yes, that sounds nice, thank you. When?
They agreed to meet in about half an hour. While normally Iruka was vehemently against working lunches (work-life balance was important!), he felt he could make an exception this one time for the head of the entire company. He grabbed his notebook and laptop and went all the way up to Kakashi’s office. Up here the carpet felt softer under his feet, the offices themselves were bigger and nicer, and the loud sounds of the street felt far away.
Kakashi’s door was closed, and Gai told him with a wide grin that the man was finishing up a conference call. “How are you, Iruka?” Gai boomed.
“Good! Kakashi did my department a big favor yesterday—so I’m actually really, really good.”
“That’s Kakashi for you.” Gai almost seemed to sparkle. “He’s a big softie under there, but you already know that, don’t you?”
Iruka thought of the way Kakashi had comforted him, in his odd way, when Iruka was upset. “Yeah, I think I do. Have you been his secretary for a long time?”
Puffing out his chest, Gai answered, “Only since the beginning! We have been friends since childhood. I always told him that wherever he goes, I was going to follow—and I did!”
Iruka smiled. “That’s really nice, Gai. I’m glad he has you.”
Clutching an overdramatic hand to his chest, Gai gasped, “Your empathy knows no bounds, Iruka. Kakashi told me as much but to see it myself! You really are a boon to this company and planet!”
“Ohhh…” Iruka turned away, hideously awkward, scratching at the scar over his nose even as his face erupted into a hot blush. He’d heard Kakashi’s very protective secretary-slash-assistant was a weird guy, but…
Thankfully Kakashi emerged from his office to save him. He glanced between them. “What’d you do to make Iruka uncomfortable?”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” Iruka tried to argue, just as Gai said, “I complimented him on his endless reserves of kindness!”
“Oh.” Kakashi shrugged. “Okay. Gai, I’ll bring you something back.”
“Right!” Gai gave them both a big thumbs-up as they left.
Iruka was quiet as they walked, suddenly shy. It didn’t help that Kakashi’s good humor vanished as soon as they turned away from Gai, and he strode down the hallway scary as hell. It was strange to barely know someone and also know that they had a persona they wore at work like a mask. That mask came off once again when outside in the fresh air. Out here Kakashi still looked a cut above everyone else they passed on the street with his vivid silver hair and neatly-pressed suit, but he walked comfortably and with his hands in his pockets.
“Thanks for humoring me,” he said.
“Oh, it’s fine. I mean, you’re the one treating me, so I should be thanking you.”
Kakashi shook his head. “It’s my pleasure. Really. A lunch is a small price to pay to pick the brain of the Iruka Umino.”
At that, Iruka had to laugh. They navigated easily over potholes in the sidewalk and the crowds, headed nowhere in particular. “What! I bet you didn’t even know who I was before yesterday. Not that I blame you, of course; you probably have too many employees to know every single one.”
“I recognized your name, at the very least. Vaguely. I do get updates about the various departments from the assistant directors pretty regularly. And I did hear about a glowing performance review of yours from last year.”
“Really?” Iruka dragged his gaze over from a ramen shop he’d been staring at across the street, admiring the delicious-looking soft-boiled egg on their big promotional poster.
“Really. Is that where you’d like to eat?”
“Oh! Ah, no, it’s fine—whatever you’d like, you’re the one treating me—”
“Let’s go.”
With that, Kakashi stepped into the crosswalk. Every bit of him oozed a comfortable confidence; it was easy for Iruka to hurry behind him. “Do you like ramen?” Iruka asked, scratching at his scar. “You sure it’s okay?”
“I’ve never been here,” was Kakashi’s non-answer. He held the door open for Iruka, and Iruka thanked him, flustered, as they stepped inside.
There weren’t tables, just a long line of stools at a wooden bar-style counter. Iruka’s arms, knees and elbows suddenly seemed unbearably unwieldy as he knocked them all into Kakashi by accident as they got situated.
Calm down, he told himself, immediately downing a glass of complimentary ice water. He’d never really been one to get intimidated by wealth or power, so being so… nervous around Kakashi wasn’t something he was used to. A personal lunch with the CEO wasn’t something that happened every day.
What if he said something wrong and got himself fired? What if he said something right and somehow nabbed another great budget increase for his team? It was a dizzying amount of pressure. Iruka set his laptop bag down within easy reach for when Kakashi inevitably wanted to talk shop.
“What do you recommend, Iruka?”
Iruka snapped out of the nervous rehearsing inside his head to look at Kakashi, who was intently studying the menu. As he trailed one finger down the laminate Iruka noticed his clean and manicured fingertips. Kakashi really screamed wealth in a hundred tiny ways, even without him shoving bills in Iruka’s face or anything quite as gauche.
But the dude didn’t know the fine delights of not-instant ramen!?
“So, I’ve never been here before either,” Iruka said in a rush, “But good bowls might be this one, or this one, or this one—and look, here’s the list of extra toppings you can get. Honestly, if the nitamago is as good as the one pictured outside then you definitely have to get that if you like eggs. Wait, are you a vegetarian? And do you like spicy things?”
Iruka backed off, realizing he’d gotten too into Kakashi’s space in his ramen-fueled excitement. Kakashi looked delighted though, smiling that curvy eye smile, his body language open and pleased.
“Not a vegetarian, although I very rarely eat red meat, and I prefer less spicy, although some is fine.”
“Okay,” Iruka said, “Get this one. And if you’re really hungry, the extra noodles.”
Iruka was far too polite to order extra noodles on Kakashi’s dime, no matter how rich the guy was, but he couldn’t resist the canned corn and extra egg. Iruka placed both their orders and the to-go one for Gai, smiling widely and chatting comfortably with the chef despite his initial nervousness about eating with Kakashi. And then, as they waited for their food, Iruka turned to Kakashi with a small bit of dread: it was time to get to work.
“So, tell me about yourself, Iruka,” Kakashi said. He lowered his surgical mask for a moment to take a long sip of the green tea he’d asked Iruka to order.
Iruka had been expecting a question about work performance or something. He frowned, tilting his head, and Kakashi elaborated, “Your hobbies? Other than advocating for your team?”
“That’s literally all I do,” Iruka said, stone-faced.
Kakashi’s eyebrow rose sky high and they stared at each other for a long moment. Then Iruka’s poker face broke (it was surprisingly easy to mess with Kakashi).
“Uh,” he said, tapping the bridge of his nose as he thought, looking shyly down at the countertop, “I… like movies? Well, the experience of going to a movie, not the movies themselves so much. There’s a kid I know that I bring to the movies once or twice a month. Getting him popcorn, the big screen, all of that—he has a great time. But other than that, hm… I bike to work? Sometimes I go for rides on the weekend. I like…” he went pink, “Board games, and extreme sports, I guess?” Kakashi did not need to know about how he and Izumo, who he’d gotten close with after Izumo was hired by Hatake Corp and joined his team, sometimes went out of town to go to events in their competitive Missions Desk tournaments, a board game that Iruka loved an embarrassing amount.
Kakashi hummed. “Skateboarding? Things like that?”
“Oh, uh, I have one, but I’m no good. That kid I mentioned, he likes to go to the skate park, so I got one in an attempt to, you know, bond with him. Mostly he just laughs at me. I’m much, much better on snow.”
“Snowboarding,” Kakashi said with a low whistle that blew out the inside of his face mask a bit. “Very cool. What’s his name?”
“The kid?”
“Mm.”
“Naruto,” Iruka gushed, already reaching for his phone for a picture. “I met him at work, actually! A few years back he was at the orphanage up on 9th, way way in northeast—not sure if you know, but we did a lot of work with them coinciding with the release of the Lampi model, because of all it could do with touch screens and little fingers. He was only six, and he was a ‘problem kid,’ but I was a lot more hands-on back then compared to now so we spent a lot of time together. He’s got a foster family now but they kind of… suck? So he goes to the Konoha Heights after-school program that I was telling you about yesterday. But because I don’t get to see him as much anymore, we meet up outside of work hours. He’s like my…” Iruka frowned, although his expression morphed again into a smile as their food arrived. Kid, he wanted to say. “Little brother, I think? Something like that. Wow, this looks great.”
Kakashi had nodded his head encouragingly at the photos Iruka showed him of him and Naruto with their helmets and pads on at the skate park, and another of them at a dog park, sitting on a picnic blanket and eating lunch.
Belatedly, Iruka winced. “Sorry, I can really go on when people ask me about Naruto. What about you, what do you like to do?”
Iruka watched with a bit of dread as Kakashi neatly removed and folded his face mask before breaking his chopsticks and taking a first bite. Kakashi hummed thoughtfully as he chewed, and then he gave a thumbs-up, mouth too full to speak.
The ramen was good indeed. They ate in silence for a moment, both of them mixing and stirring or adding hot chili oil (Iruka) or sipping some more tea (Kakashi).
Then Kakashi dabbed politely at his mouth with a napkin and said, “I travel, when I can, and I read, but mostly I take care of my dogs. It seems Naruto likes dogs.”
“Yeah, we both do. How many do you have?”
“Eight,” Kakashi answered, and Iruka nearly choked to death on his damn nitamago.
“Whaaa—?”
Kakashi was already whipping out his phone though, and it was a personal one, not the work phone. The lockscreen was eight dogs ranging from a really huge one to a cute little puppy and Iruka nearly pressed his nose to the screen as he said several times, “Oh my god.”
Eight names was a lot to remember all at once, but Iruka tried. The easiest to remember was Bull, a dog so big it looked like it could swallow his tiny Naruto whole. Amazing.
He told Kakashi as much. “Amazing. I didn’t take you for a dog person.”
Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He seemed a little self-conscious about being watched while he ate so Iruka tried to not look over at him too much. “Why is that?”
How to say this without coming across as rude… “Well, you’re very put together. You have a neat appearance. And your hands.” Iruka wiggled his fingers between them, in the hot steam from his bowl. “Very, uh, clean.”
More than that, Kakashi had long and rather thin fingers, but they still looked quite strong. His middle finger on his right hand had a sizeable callus though, likely from a tablet stylus or pen. They were good hands.
Kakashi chuckled quietly. “I appreciate you saying that, but you should see me after I give them their baths.”
“I can’t imagine,” Iruka said. That had to be at least as chaotic as getting Naruto to take one a few years back.
The rest of their meal passed with some more discussion of Kakashi’s dogs, relaxed and easy. Kakashi finished his bowl first and waited patiently as Iruka finished his own. But all good things had to end, and Iruka checked the time on his phone with a frown. “I should get back.”
“Alas.” Kakashi turned to him, affixing his mask. Iruka wanted to ask about the mask thing, but was much too polite to. “So you do.”
True to his word, Kakashi paid the bill without even looking at the cost. What a different life Kakashi must lead, Iruka thought, as they gathered their things and left the restaurant.
“You know,” Iruka said, securing his laptop bag strap over his shoulder, “I thought you wanted to talk about work. I was prepared to take notes and everything.”
He grinned at himself, but Kakashi did not find it quite so funny: “What? No. I just wanted to talk.”
“Oh.” The sincerity in Kakashi’s tone made Iruka pause. The CEO wanting to talk to him didn’t make logical sense. “Um. That’s fine, yeah. Thanks for inviting me along. And paying.”
Winter had Konoha in its icy grip, and Iruka could feel the warmth coming off Kakashi’s tall frame as they walked the rest of the way back to work. They departed in the lobby, Kakashi having gone cold and stony again.
Iruka’s stomach was full and despite his initial nervousness, the lunch with Hatake had gone just fine.
Huh.
Who would have thought?