Chapter Text
“How nice of Suzume-san to invite us to her wedding,” Kakashi said, reclining against his seat with a contented look. The afternoon was mild and pleasant, the breeze soft and scented with sakura tree blossoms, and Suzume looked radiant in her cream-white gown.
Iruka gave Kakashi a narrowed look. “She didn’t invite you.”
“Ah, but you invited me to come with you,” Kakashi said. “And isn’t that the same in the end?”
It wasn’t, but Iruka wasn’t going to point it out.
It had been ballsy enough of Suzume not to invite Kakashi to her wedding—they were acquainted, however casually, and he was the Rokudaime, so there was an expectation that a chair would be saved for him at the event. But Suzume had ignored that, just as she was now ignoring the table where Iruka and Kakashi were seated. Iruka couldn’t blame her: Kakashi was dressed in a strange mix of his old uniform and the Hokage attire. Luckily, the hat was missing.
Iruka sipped his champagne, his eyes taking in the pockets of people scattered about the tables. Most of them were civilians and people from the Academy. Suzume didn’t mingle with frontline ninjas much—she had no reason to—and so her connections reflected that. Iruka and Kakashi technically shared their table with some of Suzume and Iruka’s coworkers, but they had all gravitated to other places after finishing their meals.
“How about another round of my Wedding Guessing Game?” Kakashi asked.
“You have the weirdest hobbies,” Iruka muttered into his flute.
“Come on, sensei.” Kakashi nudged him. “It’s fun.”
“I don’t see the point of trying to guess who’ll propose next,” Iruka said. “We don’t even know most people here.”
“We can still make educated guesses,” Kakashi said, eyes sweeping over the room. He pointed at a woman a few tables down. “For example, the lovely lady in the purple gown—judging from how she’s looking at the equally lovely lady in the blue suit sitting to her right, I’d say there are high chances that she’ll propose in a month or two.”
“You can’t know that from just a look!” Iruka said, brow furrowed.
“True enough,” Kakashi acquiesced, then glanced at Iruka, the corner of his eyes crinkling up the way they always did whenever Kakashi smirked under his mask. “However, I happen to have overheard her talking to the caterer and asking for their contact information.”
“Caterers don’t just cater food at weddings,” Iruka said.
“Except”—Kakashi raised a finger—“she asked about their wedding-catering services.”
“Maybe a friend is getting married,” Iruka countered. “Maybe she wants free cake samples.”
“Maybe she wants to get married to the lovely lady in the blue suit.”
Iruka rubbed the bridge of his nose, then looked at Kakashi. “What’ll get you to stop?”
Kakashi’s eye-crinkle increased. The bastard was grinning. “A proposal.”
“Fine.” Iruka grabbed the champagne cork on their table, removed the wire cage, and then discarded the small cap and crumpled the structure into what honestly looked like a wonky bracelet that would have trouble fitting a newborn’s wrist. He offered it to Kakashi. “Will you marry me?”
Kakashi stared at it, then at Iruka. He looked utterly gobsmacked.
It was Iruka’s turn to grin. He tossed the impromptu ring at Kakashi, who caught it effortlessly, gobsmacked and all. “There’s your proposal. Now go get me another drink.”