Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make any money from Naruto. All characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
Theme: 03. Light
Note: Beta'd by Kita.
Summary: He felt weightless, his mind a foggy vagueness caused by an incredible high.
Cloud Nine
General. Humour. G.
Kakashi x Iruka
-o-
Iruka stood in a stranger's bathroom, using a stranger's toothbrush to brush his teeth. He was humming quietly—brush up and down and all around—and his own debauched reflection was staring back at him. With a cheeky grin he stuck out his tongue and resumed scrubbing.
He couldn't explain the mood he was in or the feeling that seemed to set his every nerve alight. It had to be what people meant when they referred to clouds. On a cloud, head in the clouds, cloud nine… a foggy vagueness caused by an incredible high.
He spat into the basin, turned on the tap and rinsed his mouth.
His entire body felt warm, almost as though he would combust at any moment, and yet there was a numbness thrumming through him; disbelief, incredibility and uncertainty all warring beneath his skin.
Cloud nine… he mused. It sounded nice, it felt nice.
Absently Iruka stretched across the towel rack and grabbed up a facecloth. He dabbed the toothpaste from his mouth and chin, gaze lingering on his own image before gradually slipping to the reflected open doorway.
If people felt good when they were on cloud nine, then he was on cloud ten. He wasn't just good, this whole ordeal wasn't just nice… in all his eighteen years he'd never felt so completely featherbrained. He wasn't sure what this was, a one-time thing or something more, but standing there half-naked whilst once again staring at his own reflection, he wasn't sure he particularly cared.
Cloud nine, cloud ten—sweet Kami, so long as he did that thing with his tongue again Iruka felt fairly confident he wouldn't care about anything else ever again. Except maybe for that thing he did with his hips.
Oh… Iruka bit his lip to stop the whimper. He'd be limping for days after this, no doubt leaving a great impression amongst the other sensei during his first week as a student-teacher.
"What are you thinking about?" Two lithe arms wrapped around his torso and tugged him back against the speaker's muscular chest.
Iruka blushed. "The academy."
There was a silent pause, one stormy grey eye regarding his reflection in the mirror. "Kinky."
"Pervert."
A hum of assent. "Come back to bed."
"I have classes tomorrow." Iruka's stomach fluttered.
If this was supposed to be a one-night stand, shouldn't the man be making up some excuse to be rid of him by now? He was an expert at excuses after all. Granted, not the most believable ones, even as ingenious as they were, but still. Wasn't the general consensus for a one-night stand that it only last… one night?
"Call in sick," a mouth latched onto his bare shoulder.
"I—I," Iruka groaned. "You already marked the other side," he breathlessly complained.
"Mm…"
"It'll bruise…"
"Good," the mouth slowly began moving up, along his neck and down his jaw.
"…classes." Iruka made one final token protest, his fingers tangling in the others mussed silver hair.
He felt his body tugged more firmly back against the warm chest behind him, before being slowly turned and nudged towards the bedroom.
"Tell them you got lost on the path of life."
Iruka turned himself in the other's arms, a needy sound making its way from his throat. "Okay."
Forget cloud nine, ten, or whatever; he was already in heaven.