Naughty Naughty Sensei
Iruka stood in front of an apartment on the jounin bachelors' block, wondering what the hell Hatake Kakashi would want to talk to him about; it wasn't as if they were bosom buddies. They'd had a few drinks together, but that was in a group of other shinobi. Kakashi sometimes sat beside him and they would talk about random things; Iruka liked the way his mind worked, quick, hard and kind of dirty all at once. Actually, Iruka liked the rest of him a lot, but Kakashi was so far out of his league that Iruka just didn't give it a second thought. That was probably his best trait, his practicality, and Iruka tried to hone it daily into a wise pragmatism that had been the mainstay of the Third.
He shrugged and then knocked on the door quickly, hoping that whatever it was didn't take too long; he was just coming from the Mission Room and had papers in his bag to take home and grade. Tomorrow would be a long day, too, because he had a new set of pre-genin coming in and they were always excitable.
Kakashi opened his door fairly quickly and gave Iruka a Look. It was the same Look he had been giving him recently: intent and so heavy that it seemed to drag marks into Iruka's skin, sinking even into his blood. It made Iruka feel hot and cold at the same time, as if Kakashi was using the Sharingan to influence his nerve-endings. That was impossible (hopefully; Iruka wasn't sure of all the abilities of that eye), but that didn't negate the fact that recently, Sharingan no Kakashi was looking at Iruka as if he was something delectable to eat.
"Thank you for taking the time to come, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi finally greeted him in polite tones, and Iruka shook himself out of a sudden fantasy that had Kakashi welcoming him in a very different manner, some way involving slipping lips and bumping hips. "I hope it isn't too much trouble?"
"No, Kakashi-san," Iruka said with a smile, stepping inside at Kakashi's indication and removing his shoes. "No trouble at all."
A lie, of course; Iruka had quite a lot of things to do, but he had already acknowledged to himself that he had a particular weakness for Kakashi. At first, he had thought that maybe his 'thing' was blond or light-haired men, but then that set of criteria had expanded to include: men with masks, men with Sharingan, men with grey shocks of hair , men who cared for Naruto, men who were brave and hot and kind of flippant and sometimes disgustingly harsh, but mostly actually very kind.
So Iruka's list of crushes consisted of only one name; he could live with that. When he had come to that realization, he had tried at first to think of ways to get close to the CopyNin, to maybe worm himself near with excuses of checking up on Naruto, but he couldn't bring himself to do that. It was kind of hopeless, anyway. Kakashi was always on some mission, and when he was in Konoha, he was either locked up in his jounin-flat or puttering around the Hatake compound; Iruka had heard that he was fixing it up to either rent it out or lease it to the Inuzaka clan, which lived on the compound next to it and always required space for their pack of dogs.
Iruka looked around Kakashi's apartment with interest; the individual spaces of jounin residences were slightly larger than the chuunin and some genin. Iruka himself was lucky to live nearer the civilian area, in his parents' apartment. He actually had two bedrooms himself, although one was filled with Naruto's crap for whenever he was in Konoha and wanted to visit. He went past the small kitchen sink and shelves on one side, the bathroom facilities on the other and entered into the main living room with its hardwood floor. Kakashi's short table was piled high with rumpled scrolls that he cleared quickly, motioning to Iruka to have a seat.
Sinking down and crossing his legs, Iruka glanced around, noticing that the bedroom door was ajar; he could see the edges of a bed, neatly made. Beside the bedroom door was a small table, and Iruka burned to go over and look at the framed photographs atop the wooden surface.
"Would you like some tea?" Kakashi asked from the tiny kitchen and Iruka turned to look at him, nodding and smiling. Kakashi regarded him for a few beats too long and Iruka struggled with the heated sensation going through his body. Kakashi broke off their locked gaze and turned around; Iruka could hear the sound of porcelain against wood before Kakashi turned around and came forward with a tray.
"Let me help," Iruka offered, shifting to get to his feet.
"I think I can manage," Kakashi said mildly and bent at the waist to set the tray on the table, then sank down with enviable, languid grace. His visible eye curved at Iruka. "Now, sensei, shall we?"
They spoke over mundane topics; Iruka faltered only once, when he realized that Kakashi had served him in delicate white teacups emblazoned with the Hatake family symbol: a dark stylized field of rice, caught neatly in a grey circle. Iruka paused in his opinion of teaching mentally-based jutsu to a certain age-range and blinked at the delicate mon, before Kakashi distracted him with another question. Kakashi's attention seemed to waver now and again, though. Sometimes, he seemed to go into his own mind for a bit, distant and a little cool; Iruka would be torn between confusion, disappointment and a familiar sense of resignation because, for some reason, Kakashi was being nice to him and Iruka just couldn't help being boring.
"I'd like to show you something," Kakashi said during an awkward pause, when Iruka was about to ask him if there was a particular reason for requesting this visit. "If you don't mind."
"No, of course not," Iruka murmured and Kakashi nodded once, getting up and going into his room. He rolled out a large, square object and Iruka exclaimed in surprise. "A television!"
"Yes, it is." Kakashi gave him a sidelong look as he placed it against the wall and went back inside his room.
Iruka got up and went over to it, touching the frame. "I saw these when I studied in the capital! Wonderful things, you know. Oh," he breathed when Kakashi came out with a cardboard box placed atop a rectangular shape. "Is that a--"
"VCR," Kakashi grunted and placed his load on the floor. He pushed the box to one side and Iruka hovered over him curiously as he connected the VCR to the television with quick, sure movements. Then, he stood up and considered the long wires escaping from the back of both devices.
"How are you going to get them to work?" Iruka asked. "They have electrical wiring in the capital, but we only have chakra-lines to power the buildings here, and there are no outlets."
"I might be able to get around that," Kakashi told him and twisted his fingers through some hand-seals. Bright blue light erupted in his palms and Kakashi stared at it until it diminished obediently. Then, he let it go. Iruka watched, wide-eyed, as the ball of blue lightning floated over to the wires and attached itself, fluctuating in regular pulses. Kakashi pressed a button on the television and it hummed to life, the screen lightening to a fuzzy background.
Iruka couldn't help himself; he clapped his hands in delight, like a child, and Kakashi seemed a little taken-aback by his enthusiasm.
"It'll only last for a few hours," Kakashi finally said, but his tone was indulgent. "But it should be enough." He rummaged through the cardboard box, taking out sheaves of paper filled with notes written in a cramped hand. There were a few books as well, some travel-guides and one Shinobi Guide to Gay Sex that had Iruka's eyebrows climbing up on his forehead.
"Whose... things are these?" he finally ventured.
Kakashi answered, "Jiraiya's," in a detached manner, but Iruka could hear the world of memories and loss living in that name. "He bequeathed all these to me. Ideas for more Icha Icha novels, and some... research guides."
"Research," Iruka repeated in faint disbelief. "So... are you going to continue the series for Gama Sannin-sama, then?"
"Maybe. Ah, here it is."
Iruka opened his mouth to ask what it was and what it had to do with him, when he saw the title of the tape that Kakashi had pulled out of his box. His mouth remained open, but no breath seemed to escape him. His mouth was as dry as firewood.
"I have many of these, but I watch this one a lot," Kakashi was saying with some satisfaction, but Iruka couldn't move. That... that tape. No one in Konoha should even know about that tape. "Jiraiya was always on the road, so he picked up a lot of unusual things," Kakashi continued as if he had read Iruka's mind. He slanted a quick glance up at Iruka with the tape in one gloved hand, eye dark. Iruka felt panic begin to blow up in him like a bubble as Kakashi switched on the VCR, poked the tape into the slot and pressed the button with the green arrow.
The VCR gave a series of self-important clicks, and the screen of the television resolved itself into unsure lines. These went away just before a title wavered into sight: Naughty, Naughty Teacher.
No, part of Iruka's mind screamed, as the the title-screen faded into a view of an office, or, at least a room that was supposed to be one. A man was sitting at the table, a large sweaty person who was apparently the principal of a high school. The door opened and a young man with dark hair in a neat braid down his back stepped inside.
"Oh god," Iruka heard himself whisper as he saw his younger self go through the stilted script of a new teacher trying to hold onto his job in the school, and the principal suggesting ways in which he could, ahem, work his way up.
How young and foolish and dishonourable he had been then.
*
He had been seventeen at the time, just a chuunin and still jittery about life. He had begged the Third permission to go into the capital and increase his knowledge-base as a teacher. He really wanted to become a teacher; that had been Iruka's dream ever since he had found out that he could explain things to his classmates more quickly and thoroughly than their sensei, and he felt that he could become a good teacher by studying to be one, to understand the best ways of imparting information... something that had not been done in their village before. Most sensei simply taught what they knew, but some simply weren't good at it, even though they were excellent shinobi otherwise.
Most of the council had been doubtful about sending a chuunin out of the village for such an undertaking, but the Third had been intrigued with the idea. Sandaime had managed to convince the others by pointing out that Iruka had a sharp mind that was primed for learning and could be sent to the capital's top educational institute. He would return to teach other sensei, thereby increasing the quality of their education. The Third himself had given him some money, since Iruka's meagre inheritance and chuunin-pay would be swallowed up by tuition and dispatched Iruka on his way with exhortations to do his best and make his village proud.
Proud; sure, if by proud the Sandaime meant that Iruka should act like an impressionable idiot, fall into a fast, loose crowd and spend his extra money very fast and very loosely. If that's what the Third had meant, then the village should give him a damned medal. It had been a lack of rent and hunger that had driven him to take that stripping job at first, convinced by one of his so-called new friends. Iruka's flexibility had been quite an asset and then... and then those few movies had given him enough funds to carry him through the rest of his education and return home to bury the memory of his shame. If nothing, the experience had taught him humility and given him a sense of empathy for those who fell outside of society's norms. Also, it had made Iruka a veritable paragon of money-management; he even took care of Naruto's accounts.
He had been so sure that no one would ever find out; his scar had been hidden by some strange powder that a woman had wiped onto his face (the camera-man had complained that the amount of chakra that an extremely frazzled Iruka had put out during a transformation jutsu had spoiled some film, so they had had to scrap that plan) and his hair had been very long, almost down to the curve of his bottom. He had been fairly unrecognisable, even to himself.
*
...which didn't explain why he was frozen inside Sharingan no Kakashi's apartment, watching his younger self slurp around another man's cock. The 'principal' was leaning against the side of his desk, one hand resting almost gently against the side of the young teacher's head. As the younger Iruka took the man deeper, the principal wrapped a lock of long hair around his fist and clenched tightly, fucking into those stretched, reddened lips.
"Ah." Kakashi's low voice barely broke through Iruka's mental crash-and-burn. He was still sitting on the floor, legs casually crossed as he leaned slightly forward. "This part..." and he exhaled as the man pulled out and stripes of come flashed across the teacher's mouth and chin.
Kakashi was turning again, but Iruka couldn't stand any more of it, couldn't bear to see the glint of accusation in Kakashi's eye; he went through seals desperately, and teleported home in a puff of distressed smoke.
*
He was a mess at school the following day; at least the new pre-genin had no idea of what Iruka-sensei was normally like, so they were fairly easy to handle. He would have to be firmer with them in a few days or so, but not when the majority of his mind was still shuddering with shame; and of all the people to find out, it would have had to have been Kakashi.
"Iruka-sensei, there's a man at the door," one of his children piped up eagerly in his last session and Iruka clenched the edge of his table as Kakashi stepped inside his classroom.
"Welcome, Hatake-san," he managed to say very calmly and the students buzzed with excitement. He heard a few of them whisper Sharingan!, but his eyes were fixed on Kakashi's deceptively embarrassed expression, eye arched in a sweet curve.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said and Iruka could feel his own level of coolness increase in the eyes of the children, just because one of the most amazing shinobi in Konoha was speaking to him so respectfully. "But I thought you had dismissed your class already. I would like to speak with you, if you don't mind."
"I was just about to," Iruka answered and tried to relax his fingers from their deathly grip on his furniture.
"I will wait outside, sensei." Kakashi nodded at the students, who sat up a little straighter under his regard, trying to look like little balls of brilliance and not the stubborn hellions they'd morph into in a couple of weeks. Iruka gave them their homework and because he was a teacher, and a very shrewd one at that, he said, "And make sure that you do your best. Kakashi-san was at the top of his class when he was at your level, because he did all his homework."
He had no idea if Kakashi had been such a model-student or not, but the children took this as the Hokage-truth, talking excitedly as they slipped out of class. Iruka composed himself, taking time to erase the board and neaten the desk and shelves.
"I didn't do all my homework, you know," Kakashi drawled from behind him and Iruka closed his eyes briefly.
"Kakashi-san," he started, but he found himself being pressed against the board, a warm, hard body moulded against his back. He threw his weight back, reflexively trying to dislodge the other man, but Kakashi grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the board.
"Why did you run?" Kakashi's voice was low. Iruka shook his head, still trying to escape and Kakashi made a noise of annoyance. "Stop that. I'm trying to tell you something--"
"Please don't bring up my.... my mistakes," Iruka gritted out, twisting one wrist free and thrusting his elbow in the direction of Kakashi's stomach. Kakashi slipped back out of the blow and Iruka spun around, staring at him as he perched on the chair.
"Just listen to me," Kakashi griped and then rolled his eye. "Are you always this stubborn?"
"...yes?" Suddenly very tired, Iruka leaned against the eraser-ledge and did not look up at Kakashi; he was exhausted after spending the night berating himself over how foolish he had been. "Kakashi, please--"
"Do you know how many times I've watched you?" Kakashi cut, voice harsh, and Iruka blinked at the floor. "Many times, sensei. Ever since I got that series, I've had it nearly memorized. Every noise you made, every position you've twisted into." He tilted his head. "I can't stop watching you. Unhealthy, I know, but at least the first step to curing yourself is admitting you have a problem. I'm not sure I want to be cured, though."
Iruka's face was flaming. "Why? and.. h-how? How did you know it was me?"
Kakashi made a movement that Iruka could see out of the corner of his eye and he ventured a full glance. Kakashi was tapping the metallic plate of his slanted forehead-protector with one long pale finger. "I didn't really notice at first," Kakashi murmured. "And even Jiraiya said that you looked familiar, but he couldn't recall who you might be. One day, I watched with the Sharingan... to memorize it--"
"Memorize... my goodness," Iruka whispered and Kakashi stepped closer.
"Yes. And I saw your chakra. It was very low, as if you were suppressing it, but it was there, and I've seen it before. I know what your chakra is like, Iruka, and after I got over my shock that the prim little chuunin-sensei that yelled at me so long ago had a tongue capable of more... sensual things, I watched you over and over again."
"What I did--"
"We've all done things that we are ashamed of," Kakashi declared. "You're no less of a good teacher, a good shinobi, because of that."
Iruka was shaking his head, trembling even as Kakashi stepped right into his space, warmth radiating from his taller, leaner frame. "I'm not that person," Iruka told him. "You've been watching a... a bad memory all this time."
"Have I?" Kakashi pressed right against him now and Iruka couldn't help that a little moan escaped him as he felt a hard hot length against his thigh. "Have I?" Kakashi repeated in his ear. "I don't think it's bad at all. And I've been watching a chuunin-sensei as well, you know. I might be addicted to porn, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the reality."
Iruka snapped his head up, breathing hard but Kakashi had taken a step back; cold air seemed to flood the space between them. Kakashi's gaze was burning into his and Iruka bit his lip; Kakashi's gaze flicked to his mouth as he did so, and suddenly, he smiled.
"Iruka," he said in a more normal tone, sounding more like the lazy Copy-nin and less like someone who was gagging for Iruka in the most astounding and unbelievable way. "Let me put it this way: I'm obsessed with the Naughty Teacher on the screen, yes. I'll admit that. But I prefer to have the real Naughty teacher and because I don't like to share, I'd like to have him all to myself. Do you understand now?"
Iruka nodded, and swallowed hard at the look of sheer want that Kakashi directed at him.
"Alright," Kakashi said softly. "We can try this again. Please come to my place again for tea this weekend, any time that's convenient... and this time, I would like to make our own movie, if that's alright with you. The Sharingan records everything, as you might know."
"I know. And that's more than fine with me," Iruka heard himself say, using a sultry voice that seemed to hit Kakashi like a kunai; a fine tremor passed through his body before Kakashi obviously exerted his iron-will and it went away.
"Alright," Kakashi told him tightly and turned to stalk out of the room. "By the way, Iruka-sensei," he called out as he was almost at the door. "Can you still do that thing with your teeth and the ribbon?"
"I can do it with two ribbons," Iruka answered and smiled weakly at the incredulous gaze Kakashi sent him over his shoulder; his secret didn't seem to weigh so heavily on his mind any more. "I'll remember to show you."
"Make sure you do." Kakashi saluted and then he was gone. Iruka squared his shoulders and gathered his books and papers quickly; it was the weekend... and he had a movie to prepare for.
fin