Disclaimer: I do not own anything mentioned in this story. I do, however, own the story itself. I don't have any money anyway, so if you want to sue me for a burned out lightbulb and some dead flowers, be my guest.
Author's Notes: Well, I've been getting a few messages informing me that I'm making people cry with my other story, 'Seeing Forever'. Though it's supposed to be sad, I really didn't expect to start actually depressing people until much later on. So, for those of you who I am angsting to death with my other story, I present something a bit fluffier to lighten your spirits. This is my version of a Valentine's Day FICA, as I can never make anything short, but it will probably continue on past the fourteenth. Hope you guys like it!
Chapter Notes: This is an AU, yaoi story. Anyone who has problem with either of these things is advised to step away. The story is set in a modern day hybrid of Japan and America (Really, it's set in Japan, but I make a few American culture references and play around with history a bit). It is also set four years ahead of the original Naruto timeline, making Naruto 16, Iruka 27...etc.
5:00 a.m.
Startled awake from an interesting dream involving hot water and lots of sighing, a man throws a death glare at the crowing rooster alarm clock sitting innocently upon his bed side table attempting to wake up his entire block. He makes a scene of violently pressing the 'off' button while reminding himself to kill his orange-clad former student who broke his old alarm clock and thought it would be funny to switch it with this one.
5:30 a.m.
Having finally convinced himself to get up, the man rolls off his mattress and lands face down on the floor. He lies there for a moment before getting up, cursing at the sun for shining so brightly this early in the morning. Stumbling his way to the bathroom, he almost slips on a stray sock he had managed to kick off during the night. Glaring daggers, he rolls the sock into a ball and throws it at the alarm clock muttering something along the lines of "Feel the wrath of my foot odor, damn chicken". He makes it into the bathroom and slams the door closed, stubbing his toe in the process.
6:00 a.m.
The man steps out of the shower humming the off-key tune to an annoying popular song that he doesn't know the words to. He is a little put off at the fact that he has run out of the strawberry shampoo that he enjoys so much and makes a mental note to stop at a drug store and pick up some more later. He towel dries and combs his fruity smelling hair, vowing to write a very angry letter to the composer of the way too catchy song that would not get out of his head.
6:30 a.m.
Feeling a bit less homicidal, the man lets out a deep sigh as he breaths in the tantalizing aroma of the liquid he has suitably dubbed "nectar of the Gods". He reads the morning paper while munching on a small bit of toast and sipping idly at his coffee. He laughs a bit when he reads about Britney Spears being committed into a mental institution. Maybe an angry letter won't be necessary after all.
7:00 a.m.
Now fully clothed and looking less like a frazzled gopher, the man steps outside onto his patio with a bright smile on his face. He waters the few potted plants he's managed to keep alive, puts a bit of seed in the birdfeeder and refills the food dishes he keeps out for the stray neighborhood cats. He chatters a bit to the plants, says hello to the spider building a web on the railing of the patio, and apologizes to the sun for being so rude to it earlier. When he is finished, he says a hurried goodbye to all of his friends, grabs the lunch he prepared earlier and the brown satchel by the front door, slips on his sandals, and steps outside to begin the short walk to the Konoha Privet Academy.
7:30 a.m.
The man now sits on his throne of organized chaos. Surrounded by mountains of paper, he is vigorously scribbling something in red pen on a singled out sheet of said paper. He finishes his writing and moves the paper to a stack on his left, simultaneously picking up another from the stack on his right. He takes a long drink from the mug on the right hand corner of his desk and replaces it in the exact same spot when he is finished. His eyes scan the sheet in front of him and his brow creases in exasperation as he reads the paper. "Mr. T and the Alien Conspiracy? What kind of history report is that?" The man picks up his pen and starts scribbling all over the paper. By the time he is finished, the words originally written can no longer be distinguished from his comments. He heaves a heavy sigh and takes another paper from his right stack.
8:00 a.m.
A few students begin to trickle in to his classroom. Some for homework help, some to catch up on a few more minutes of sleep, and some because they have no where else to go in the mornings. The man greets every one of them with a bright smile and a warm "Good Morning" that is returned by a few of them and blatantly ignored by some others. He beings to write the notes for the day on the whiteboard so the few diligent students he has can copy them down early, and runs to the Teacher's Lounge one last time to refill his coffee mug before the start of the day.
8:30 a.m.
The bell rings and the rest of his class trickles in. He greets them all and does a quick head count, recording the results on an attendance sheet. When everyone is settled, he announces that they will be starting a lesson on fractions. There is a cognitive groan from the class and the man smirks to himself as he begins to explain the material.
9:00 a.m.
There are five students in the front of the room copying notes, two students in the back sleeping, three students pretending to pay attention while thinking about something else, one student looking out the window, one student staring at the girl in front of him, two students passing a note back and forth, three students with their heads down conversing amongst themselves, one student with her nose buried in a book and one student counting the dots on the ceiling tiles. The man pretends not to notice any of this and continues with his lesson. He asks a question of one of the sleeping students in the back and receives a groan and the correct answer in reply. He smiles at the knowledge that three-fourths of his class understood the material so far, and he could easily help to catch the other two up.
9:30 a.m.
The final addition to his class attempts to sneak in unseen through the window. The man catches the movement out of the corner of his eye and says nothing. He allows the child to make it into his seat and believe he had pulled it off before smoothly informing the boy that he would be spending recess inside. The rest of the class laughs and the boy groans. The man continues with his lesson.
10:00 a.m.
The man hands out practice work sheets to his class to formally test their understanding and get a better stand on what he will need to go over the next day. He receives one of the papers back ten minutes later as a spit wad. The mischievous prankster known as Konohamaru will now spend the rest of the day with a nametag on his shirt proudly proclaiming him the "King of Spit".
10:30 a.m.
The man dismisses his class for a short recess and stalks over to Konohamaru's desk. He places the massacred red paper in front of him and informs the boy that he will be re-writing the paper or he fails history; no questions asked. After ten minutes of watching the boy look sullenly out the window, the man lets him go out for recess.
11:00 a.m.
Class is back in session and the man is now attempting to teach a group of ten-year-olds the finer points of correctly writing a sentence. There is a disrupting snickering sound coming from the back corner of the room. He pauses in his lesson and takes a short trip to the back to find a small group of students chuckling over a very lewd drawing proclaiming him a "Grammar Nazi". He confiscates the drawing and spends the next fifteen minutes explaining, in as much detail the children will understand, exactly why it is inappropriate and quite nasty to refer to anyone as a "Nazi". The class goes quiet and stays that way for the rest of the lesson. The man tucks the drawing inside one of his privet folders. However rude, it is quite funny. Maybe he will show it to his friends later.
12:00 p.m.
The English lesson ends and the History lesson begins. Since the class seemed so interested earlier, the man decides to deviate from the planned curriculum and talk more about the war. He holds the full attention from the class for the entire lesson, even Konohamaru seems captivated. Since they had such a good session, he dismisses them ten minutes early for lunch and gives everyone a break from assignments.
1:00 p.m.
The man sits in the teacher's lounge nibbling a bit on his sandwich and reading a novel he brought from home. He is greeted by a few of his colleagues and he responds always with a polite smile and a brief "Hello". A few of them stay to chat for a few minutes before returning to their tasks at hand. He wonders if any of them even know his first name.
1:30 p.m.
The students file back inside and the man explains that they will be breaking into teams to create paper mache' volcanoes. The class cheers and the project starts off without a hitch. Twenty minutes later, Konohamaru has managed to glue himself both to his desk and to another student. The janitor is called and he quickly comes with a solution to loosen up the glue. The man instructs Konohamaru on the proper use of glue before setting him back to work.
2:00 p.m.
The class finishes the first part of their project and sets them on the back shelves of the room to dry. The man decides that he should re-explain volcano mechanics to the students so they better understand what they are doing.
3:00 p.m.
The man gives the class half an hour of free study time to get started on their work. Everything is mostly quiet and the man is glad the school day is almost over.
3:30 p.m.
Class is dismissed and the students rush out the door, eager for their freedom. The man is surprised to see Konohamaru standing at his desk offering him a sheet of paper. He accepts it reluctantly and the child immediately dashes out the door to catch up with his friends. The man scans the paper to find an almost legible and cohesive report on the World War II lesson they covered that day. He smiles to himself and remembers why he became a teacher.
4:30 p.m.
After organizing his classroom and getting together his lesson plans, the man finally makes his way out of the school. He bids farewell to everyone he passes along the way and is rewarded with a few smiles and a few "See you tomorrow's". One other teacher that he had grown fond of even went as far to ask if he had any plans for the evening. The man walked away with a ten-watt smile on his face.
5:00 p.m.
The man arrives at the drug store intent on purchasing his shampoo. He runs into a parent of one of his students and spends a few minutes making idle chit-chat with him before remembering he has somewhere to be and quickly running off to pay for his items.
6:00 p.m.
He arrives at the ramen bar to find a bright orange lump of flesh sitting on a stool and waiting for him. He is greeted with a bright smile to rival his own and an enthusiastic tackle-hug around his middle. He laughs ands pries the teenager off of him, sitting down on the stool and ordering for them both. He listens to the boy babble on about school, his friends and his new job. Eventually, the topic of his social life comes up and the boy once again asks him if he has found anyone to "Hook up" with yet. He tells him no and that it's really none of his business what his ex-teacher does in his free time. He also does his best to explain to the boy that he didn't need anyone else in his life. The boy just snorts and orders another bowl of ramen.
7:30 p.m.
The man says goodbye to his favorite student and leaves the ramen bar with his wallet noticeably lighter. He begins the walk home thinking about how much grading he needed to get done, the dishes in the sink that need cleaning, and the pile of laundry in the corner of his bedroom that was threatening to become a biohazard. He most definitely was not thinking about anything Naruto had said to him.
8:00 p.m.
The man walks into his one bedroom apartment, washes his dishes, sorts the laundry to be cleaned in the morning and finishes the grading he started earlier that day.
8:30 p.m.
The man changes into his pajamas, brushes his teeth, and pulls his hair out of the immaculate ponytail he keeps it tied in. He walks outside to the patio and briefly tells his friends about his day before re-filling the food dishes and bidding them goodnight. He walks over to his bed, setting his obnoxious alarm clock for five o' clock the next morning, and snuggles beneath the covers.
9:00 p.m.
Umino Iruka lies awake in bed, convincing himself that he is happy with his solitary life and that he doesn't need anyone else to make him happy. He rolls over in his bed, drifting off to sleep as he recalls the feeling of warm hands on his skin, a shock of wet, white hair, and the pleasured sigh of contentment he once heard on the other's lips. He was doing just fine on his own, thank you very much.
End Notes: It's fluff, I swear! This chapter was just there to gain a bit of insight on sad little Iruka-kun's life. Not a pretty picture. The actual story (and fun stuff) begins next chapter. Hope I was able to make you chuckle a bit at least, even if the chapter did end on a bit of a sad note.
Hope to see you guys in further chapters, feel free to drop me a line.
Thanks for reading!
The Friendly Neighborhood Psycho
P.S.- I know that Japan and Germany were allied during WWII. We'll pretend that even though they were allied, they're still not very fond of the Nazi's. (I don't know if this true or not, I've never met anyone from Japan)
