Chapter Text
This wasn't one of the things Iruka could possibly have foreseen.
Nothing like the almost gymnasium disaster of '08; Naruto's first grade class orchestrating to fill the swimming pool with cooked noodles and raw pasta and Iruka only managing to stop them because of the giggling coming from Naruto's room the night before, Sakura and him squealing into their hands as they bent over plans drawn in crude crayon.
Nor was it like the boyfriend incident of '11 when Naruto threw Iruka's car door open and declared, before even seating himself fully or buckling himself in, that he was "madly, stupidly in love" with the student who had transferred in early that week– the one with the badly dyed red hair and the eyeshadow thicker than three fingers rimming both his eyes, the one who'd been moved from district to district due to circumstances not even the teachers were privy to, the one who went strictly by his first name and nothing else, Iruka asked Naruto, gripping the steering wheel impossibly tighter as his twelve-year old nodded sharply.
And it was definitely– definitely– unlike like what had happened halfway through tenth grade. When Iruka had to drag Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke down from the top of a water tower, so drunk on cheap alcohol and high on what Iruka recognised all too easily as weed, that he could barely get a coherent story out of the three of them. How he even found them was a mystery, frantic in his driving around the city with only Naruto's slurred, "I love you so much, Dad! I wish you could see… I wish you could see how pretty the city is from up here!" to guide him.
No. This… This was nothing like any of those moments, but Iruka found himself crossing his arms over his chest and forcing in giant nondescript breaths as he counted slowly down from ten.
"What d'ya think?" Naruto asked, arms spread wide and presenting himself like he was in second grade again and forgot his show-and-tell.
He smiled, wide and crooked and so expectant, and Iruka let out every irritation in one long, low breath. "It looks good," he said, smiling when the anxiety drained from Naruto's eyes and his smile strained less at the corners and fell into something easy, something pleased. Dropping his arms to his sides, Iruka took a step forward. "It suits you," he concluded, inspecting Naruto from up close.
"Really?"
"Mm hmm." And he nodded. "It really does." Because it did, even if the half-black half-neon green dye-job had made Iruka instinctively want to glare and, possibly, too, start throwing things around the room the moment Naruto walked through to the kitchen and stopped before him, prodding his arm until he looked up from his piles and piles of papers.
Naruto jumped and threw his arms around Iruka, ecstatic as he reeled him in for a hug. "Thank you!" he yelled in Iruka's ear before pulling away. "I wasn't sure about it, y'know, like, after I got it done," he admitted sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head, "I thought maybe I was doing too much. But… you really, really think it suits me?"
"Yes, I really really really think it suits you. And what's wrong with doing too much anyway?" He shrugged, kicking the chair beside him out and running a hand through Naruto's hair as he fell into the seat. "Hmm. It's still pretty damp, and it's still got that salon-fresh look. After dinner, I can style and set it for you, if you want."
Naruto side-eyed the papers, now abandoned. "What about your work."
"You remember the shit your fifth-grade history class wrote?" Iruka quirked an eyebrow and capped his red pen. Biting back a small laugh, Naruto nodded, and Iruka leaned forward on his elbows to share, in a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, this is much much worse."
Iruka stood. Stretching, body tangled in so many knots from the hours spent on his feet, he decided he was one-hundred percent not in the mood to cook tonight.
"Naruto," he said, calling the boy's attention away from what looked like twenty different simultaneous chats on about three different apps, "Order something for dinner while I put my work away, will you?"
"Uh… Sure." It would be Ichiraku's again; Naruto enjoyed their ramen too much to actually give any other place a chance.
He eyed the green and black, now falling over Naruto's face as he pretended to search through his contacts for a different restaurant. Iruka sighed. Maybe it was growing on him; Naruto kept touching the edges of the fresh trim and sneaking selfies; he loved it, it was undoubtable. For how nervous he was about whether he could pull it off, he loved it.
Iruka could learn to love it, too. Afterall, it made his son happy. What kind of father would he be if the things that made his son happy– these simple, harmless things– didn't make him happy, too?
Fighting to balance the armfuls of crappily done homework, Iruka gently ruffled Naruto's hair. He swatted him away of course, but Naruto's grin was as wide and as bright as it always was. And, for that, Iruka figured he could let it go.
"Do you think Sasuke'll like it?" Naruto blurted, peering at his reflection in the visor mirror. He messed with the strands and tugged and re-tugged at his hair, just for it to fall exactly as it had before.
Iruka unbuckled. They were early. The elementary school Iruka taught at and Naruto's high school were next door to each other, nearly part of the same complex, and Naruto had long since accustomed himself to arriving a few minutes before most of his peers.
Turning in his seat, Iruka looked at him. Thoughtful. He pushed away the urge to hold a finger to his chin. "Yes," he said, not much deliberation needed. "You could go bald and paint your scalp bright yellow and Sasuke would still think you look handsome."
A blush rising on his face, noticeable for being much darker than the faint pink he had dusted across his cheeks and nose, Naruto bit the inside of his lip and rolled his eyes. " Dad. Don't say it like that. "
"Hey, I'm just being honest." Iruka reached across the small space between them and brushed some of Naruto's hair aside, only for it to fall back, as if never moved. A small smile on his lips, he said, "You look great, Naruto, I promise."
"Thanks, Dad. And you look… not as old as you could look."
Iruka barked a short laugh. "Thank you for trying."
"You're welcome." Naruto offered a mocked bow. "I'm doing my worst."
God, he loved Naruto so much; had loved him since the year he'd wound up in Iruka's first-grade class and tried to sneak out every second period to feed the frogs crumbs from his lunch. He'd been orphaned young, had bounced from one bad foster home to another to another, Iruka found out from gossiping with Yamato over coffee and lunch, and through it all he was still the kindest, most caring child Iruka had ever met.
Iruka couldn't imagine his world without Naruto in it. He didn't want to; it simply made no sense.
Grabbing his satchel from where it lay haphazardly settled on the car floor and stepping out, he shooed Naruto from his seat. "Don't forget to turn in your literature assignment today. I don't want another call from Hatake-sensei, in fact I'd quite like to avoid talking to that man for a good few weeks," he said, neatening his tie and adjusting the strap of his bag. "Understood?"
Naruto raised his hand in salute. "Understood," he responded, as lazily as he was leaning against the hood of the car. "You know… I think he might just like talking to you."
Iruka huffed a shallow laugh. "You're being ridiculous," he said, hoping to shut the whole conversation down. Because Iruka knew Kakashi Hatake, and he knew men like Kakashi Hatake, and at the end of the day they weren't men who liked you or men you dated and brought home to your children. They were men you nodded coolly at and refused to talk to more than was needed; they were men who fucked you in the back of their car and showed up at your door a week later with an apology bottle of wine and a strip of condoms tucked in their back pocket.
They were men for Iruka to think about, fleetingly, and then scoff at how ridiculous being a single father was making him.
"I don't think I am. He doesn't call the other parents as much as he calls you."
"You're basically failing his class."
"So is Kiba."
"Kiba's parents aren't fellow educators, however I am. Maybe he thinks I can get on the same level as him; that we can understand each other."
"I still think he just likes talking to you."
At that indignation, Iruka chuckled. "You mean riling me up until I get so angry I feel like slapping him across the face."
Naruto pushed away from the car, shrugged. "Maybe he's into that. Like, you know, it could be a weird kink thing."
"Please," Iruka begged. "Please, never let me hear those words coming from your mouth ever again."
"Sorry, sorry, just thinking aloud."
"Yeah, well stop that. And stop thinking about it altogether, it's not important or something for you to worry about, okay?" Naruto fidgeted with his backpack and looked up at him, unblinking. "Okay?" Iruka repeated, forcefulness tugging slightly at the word.
Rolling his eyes, Naruto nodded. "Okay."
Sighing, Iruka did as he always did before they parted ways, he hugged Naruto and placed a kiss on his temple. He didn't care that he was sixteen, seventeen by Autumn, and, at the age where most boys avoided public affection from their fathers as if avoiding the plague itself, Naruto didn't seem to care either.
Where Iruka had prepared himself for Naruto to turn twelve and the hugs to become fleeting things, and then all too soon distant memories, Naruto only hugged him back tighter.
"Stay safe," Iruka said, as he always said, pulling away from Naruto and easing the creases from the arms of Naruto's jacket.
"I will. Don't drink the coffee if Shizune-sensei is making it." Naruto laughed. He'd sat through enough afternoons of Iruka clutching at his stomach and complaining that he should have trusted his gut that it tasted too weird, even for a staffroom brew.
Iruka grimaced. "I won't. And remember, if you need anything I'm hardly ten minutes away."
"Yeah, I know." He cast one last smile Iruka's way and turned, waving his arms in exaggerated arcs as he caught sight of Neji and Hinata Hyuga. He was growing so fast, Iruka didn't doubt that soon Naruto would be looking down at him.
Iruka watched him for a long moment.
And he waited, as he waited every morning, for Naruto to stumble to a stop, spin on his heel and mouth "Bye, Dad!" as if they wouldn't be seeing each other again in mere hours. He returned it, smiling and waving, and waited for Naruto to envelope his friends in a rough hug before heading in to work.
Teaching meant that no day actually dragged. He'd been assigned a fifth grade class this year, and since Yayoi Miyazaki had resigned at the beginning of January, Iruka was juggling far more classes than he was used to having on his schedule.
Not that he didn't enjoy it. His sixth graders seemed to love him; nodding and communicating and listening attentively during lessons. And his fifth graders… well… they had some interesting ideas about Japanese history that Iruka could only describe as coming from too many badly scripted and even worse researched American TV shows. Iruka often diverted from his lesson plan to talk with them, to reach into the meat of where their ideas came from.
He enjoyed his work, wholeheartedly. But he could still enjoy something and admit it was exhausting, could still admit that by the last period he was impatiently waiting for the bell and daydreaming about a long, hot shower and his bed. His warm, soft, welcoming bed.
"You need to rest," Yamato said, resting his head on Iruka's shoulder and peering over his shoulder as he slipped files and new assignments amongst the old ones.
The bell had rung through the school, inviting the scraping back of chairs and the rush of dozens of children only too excited to head home.
The last of the stragglers left the class, shouting a quick, "See you tomorrow, Iruka-sensei!" as she ran to catch up with her friends.
Iruka huffed, but he didn't nudge Yamato away. "What makes you say that? The bags under my eyes or the fact that I have a sixteen year old who's most likely going to send me spiralling to an early midlife crisis?"
"'Early'?"
"Shut up." Iruka laughed, and then he did nudge Yamato away. "I've got to fetch Naruto. What do you want?"
"I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all. I imagine you're pretty stressed with how much more you've got on your plate right now, so I'm doing what a good friend who cares very much about you does, I'm checking in. You're good, right?"
Iruka shrugged his bag back on. Laying a hand gently on the round of Yamato's shoulder, his lips slid into a warm smile of their own accord. "I appreciate you looking out for me. I mean, sure , the weekend can't get here fast enough, but I'm good."
"Good. Good. That's great," Yamato returned the smile. "Well, don't let me keep you. I wouldn't want to be the reason Naruto misses his afternoon snack."
Iruka exhaled another short laugh.
He had transferred in three years ago, and Yamato had been both the first person to welcome him and the first friend he made; as close as he got to the other teachers, he would always be closer to Yamato.
"I owe you dinner," he said, already across the room and halfway out the door, because Yamato was right, nobody wanted to be around a Naruto who had missed his afternoon snack. "Just say when you're free and we can have you around. Bye, Yams."
And he was out, Yamato's voice echoing a goodbye down the hall after him.
Naruto, when he spotted him, was leaning across Sasuke like a house trusting all its weight on its last load-bearing column. And for all Sasuke tried to act nonchalant, Iruka could see the blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. A sweet painting of the skin reminding him of his own youth, his own first love.
Someday they'd figure it out, Iruka thought. He'd been singing that same song for probably the past five years.
"My dad's here," standing at the edge of the parking lot, Iruka heard Naruto say, loud and jittering with pent up excitement. He disentangled himself from around Sasuke, and Iruka kept a smile to himself when Sasuke held Naruto in a loose hug.
Maybe they were figuring it out right now, Iruka considered, slipping his hands into his pockets. But Naruto ducked his head and dropped a delicate kiss to Sasuke's cheek, so maybe they already had figured it out and Iruka was just wildly out of the loop.
He didn't mind finding out last, if he was honest. Though Sasuke would be Naruto's first boyfriend that Iruka not only liked enough to acknowledge, but loved and cared for deeply; if they were dating, and he was sure they were now, it was a long time comin, and Iruka would have to forcibly stop himself from crying loud tears of joy.
"So, anything you want to tell me," he asked, after he slid behind the driver's wheel and popped his and Naruto's bags on the backseat.
"Huh? Oh." Naruto blushed. He fiddled with his seatbelt. "Hatake-sensei was going to give you another call but I told him you said to stop doing that, so he wants to talk to you tomorrow after school."
Iruka felt like hitting his head against the steering wheel. Goodbye , he thought, goodbye to running home after the bell and taking a much deserved nap. Hatake could drag meetings until they were so painfully long Iruka seriously considered getting up and leaving. "Did he say why?" Iruka asked.
Shaking his head, Naruto mumbled something barely intelligible. "Dunno," he murmured, withering away from Iruka's glare.
"Okay. Anything else?"
Rubbing his fingers against the shorter hair touching the back of his neck, Naruto blushed again, far brighter than that morning. "Sasuke, mmm. Sasuke really liked the hairstyle."
So they were figuring it out; he hid a triumphant smile behind an equally as glad one. "See, of course he did, Naru! I'm really happy. Now if only I didn't have to see this teacher of yours tomorrow."