Kakashi looked up from his doodling at a knock on his door. "Come in," he mumbled, even though he knew the person at the door would come in even if he didn't beckon him. He knew the footsteps just by hearing them – the slow, unhurried pace of them, and the near silence that only comes from years of having to try to keep it that way.
Sure enough, a head of blonde hair peeked in through the door, and the rest soon followed. In stepped the school principal, a tall man with spiky blonde hair. Bangs hung on either side of his face in front of his ears. His bright blue eyes shone with a fondness Kakashi had never really understood, but always appreciated, and his smile split his face cheerfully.
"Kiiro Yondaime," Kakashi acknowledged, a small smile on his own face.
"Busy as ever, Kakashi-kun," Kiiro said, laughing as he came to stand by the silver haired soldier-turned-professor.
Kakashi glanced down at his picture, a small progression of stick drawings spread out across blank sheet of paper. "But of course," he said, going back to his doodles. He didn't feel any need to actually look at Kiiro when they were having a conversation. And it wasn't out of any disrespect. They were just too casual for that. He'd known Kiiro since he was nine, after all.
"So," Kakashi began, when it seemed Kiiro didn't have anything to say, "what is it exactly that brings you to my corner of our quaint little learning establishment?"
Kiiro smiled innocently. "What, I'm not allowed to check on my favorite little scarecrow?" Kakashi's eye twitched, but he didn't say anything. He knew better than to make a fuss about nicknames, because that would only encourage the man, who was ten years his senior, though he didn't look it. And he certainly didn't act it. Really, people called him insufferable? Ten minutes with the unleashed, hyperactive wrath of the seemingly bipolar blonde, and they'd be humming a different tune he'd bet.
But it seemed that Kakashi was the only one that got the full force of his jolly nature. He could try to find some deeper meaning to it, but he'd satisfy himself with one very simple explanation: of all the people in the world he had to pick from, Kiiro just like annoying Kakashi the best.
He wasn't entirely a nuisance though. He enjoyed their conversations. It was…different, talking to someone who knows you as well as Kiiro knew him. He knew the darkness Kakashi was capable of, and yet he could still smile and joke with him like he was just a normal guy, while all the while accepting the fact that he wasn't. Honestly, Kakashi doubted he would ever be that close to anyone else in his entire life.
Not that he wasn't holding onto a few hopes about a certain chocolate haired sensei…Kakashi sighed. Not like that would ever happen.
"You have that look on your face," Kiiro noted quietly, his tone surprisingly serious.
Kakashi quickly shook himself. "What look?"
Kiiro frowned. "That one where you're thinking about something you want, and then telling yourself you can never have it."
Kakashi just stared at Kiiro for a second. It's like he knows… he thought, eyebrow twitching of its own accord.
As he gaped, a hand found its way into his hair. He couldn't help the slight duck he gave, on instinct, but Kiiro just smiled and ruffled his hair. "I think," he began, eyes filled with wisdom that Kakashi didn't think someone only thirty four should have, "that you'd be surprised how much is in your grasp if you'd only be brave enough to reach for it."
With that, the hand left his hair, and Kiiro left the room, leaving Kakashi to stare blankly at the door through which he had retreated. No matter how long he'd known the guy, Kakashi decided he would never understand him. One second he was less mature than that kid Naruto, and the next he was spouting sage philosophical advice on Kakashi's life choices.
"Weird," Kakashi muttered, shaking his head and going back to his drawing. As he did, he couldn't help but focus on the wall separating him from the one who he admired. If he listened, which he did, he could make out the gentle teacher's lecture, and, he noted with some satisfaction, complete silence from the class.
Smiling to himself, he started again on the drawing, scrawling the pencil across the page with detached interest. Occasionally he would glance at his watch, checking the time which no one seemed to think he cared about. This time he did care about, though, because in thirty minutes it was lunch time.
Was he hungry?
No.
So then why did lunch time matter?
Well, it wasn't the activity so much as the company. Kakashi, since the very beginning of the year, had been eating lunch with none other than a one Iruka-sensei. Granted there were often others in the room, but Iruka was always there, so Kakashi could tolerate the mild intrusion. Thirty more minutes now…