Work Text:
It was dark outside, early morning on the rise, as Iruka fiddled for his keys. His breath turned to white puffs in the air; he shifted from one foot to another as he tried to get warm. The drive from his apartment wasn’t long by any means, but still long enough to warrant a drive instead of a walk. Of course, the heater in his car had broken.
This was life as Iruka knew it. A few years back when he was unhappy, with a straining full-time job, a toxic relationship, and little time to balance out the bad, Iruka would have taken this as a sign that the day was ruined, and that he alone was responsible for it.
Finally, he found what he was looking for. Iruka unlocked the door and let himself in.
But now, as he flipped the lights on and breathed in the smell of chai, a note of ginger, and, of course, the ground coffee beans clinging to every little nook and cranny, he didn’t mind too much. Because this, he thought, this was worth it all.
“Good morning,” Iruka said into the still-empty space of his own café.
~*~*~
It hadn’t been entirely his idea, opening a coffeeshop. (“Not a coffeeshop, a café maybe?”) He had Tenzou to blame, or, well to thank. Tenzou, who came in through the backdoor, carrying a wicker basket in his arms, and brought lots and lots of dirt and mud in with him.
“Tenzou!” Iruka barked. “Wipe your damn shoes on the doormat before you come in!”
Tenzou looked down but the basket obscured his vision. “I thought I did.” He put the basket down on the only available counter space and pulled off his dark-red beanie. “See, no muddy footprints.”
Within the blink of an eye, Iruka had armed himself with a broom. “Take off your damn boots,” he ordered, pointing at Tenzou with the bushy end of it. “This is a kitchen! It’s a fucking health hazard. If we get closed down who will buy your stuff if not me, huh?”
With a frown bordering on a pout Tenzou walked back to the door and toed of his boots.
“Thank you,” Iruka said with a wary glance at his supplier. But more important – were those dandelions? And elderberries, too? Immediately Iruka brightened. “These look amazing, Tenzou. Where did you get them?” He held up a handful of dandelion buds.
Tenzou shrugged. “Apparently the garden decided it was time for dandelions and I was too busy to pull up the weeds. But Iruka, listen, I had a visitor over the weekend and – “
“The syrup I can make out of these will last me for months. And hopefully that will give Asuma the last push to finally propose to Kurenai so he won’t pester me for lucky charms anymore.” He laughed as he undid the tie of his apron. “Can you believe he still expects her to say no, after all this time?” Iruka slid past the shelf upon whose racks rested jars upon jars of potions and brews. He opened the fridge, the first piece of furniture that had moved into the café’s kitchen, a dusty-rose monstrosity plastered with polaroid pictures of the staff, the café, some customers, the first opening anniversary.
A tiny screech sounded from the inside of the fridge and with a start, Iruka promptly shut it again. “I forgot there was a dragon in there,” he muttered to himself. It was Ino, the florist down the road, who had picked the small creature off a new delivery of antirrhinum (the more common name being snapdragons – the irony wasn’t lost on Iruka), and brought it over to the café because she didn’t know how to deal with dragons.
(“The vet is still closed and I’m sure you’ll handle it!” she had smiled brightly. “Just stick him somewhere cool, I guess. You’re the best!”
Iruka, with flowers in one and a dragon in the other hand, was too astonished to notice that the little fire-breathing monster happily chewed at the end of his braid.)
Iruka exhaled with a stutter. He needed some tea. A big, nice cup of it. “You want some coffee? I’ll take my lunch break with you.”
“Sure,” Tenzou replied but then, with an urgency: “Wait! About the visitor, it’s Ka – “
But Iruka was already entering the front room.
He walked to the counter, about to put a hand on Sakura’s shoulder and inform her of his break, when his eyes caught on the sight of familiar, gloved hands.
Slowly, Iruka lifted his head.
“Iruka,” Kakashi smiled and Iruka’s heart stopped.
~*~*~
“You’re back,” Iruka said. The words seemed foreign on his tongue. The surprise had sent him into a stunned silence, and he couldn’t stop staring at Kakashi.
“I am,” Kakashi grinned. They sat at a table for two near the front window, the late autumn sun shining on the crown of their heads. Iruka reached out and poked Kakashi’s arm with a finger. That seemed to do the trick. “You’re back!” he exclaimed. “How are you? Are you alright? How long are you staying?” Iruka’s face was heating from excitement. But that didn’t last long because more importantly…
Iruka shoved at Kakashi’s arm. “And you didn’t even call or write once!” Iruka scolded him with a frown.
“Maa, maa, Iruka, I’m sorry,“ Kakashi defended himself but he was too busy with laughing to actually sound sincere. “I didn’t think it was that important to you.”
“Are you kidding me?” Iruka asked. Incredulous. Unbelievable. Sure, things hadn’t exactly been easy around the time Kakashi decided to take the job transfer to Japan, to see some family, and to give himself chance to breathe after his father’s passing, but that didn’t mean that Iruka hadn’t missed his friend. One of his best friends, even.
Iruka scowled out of the window because the alternative would have been sniffling, embarrassingly close to tears. Curse his emotions and curse himself for being an open book.
“It would have been nice to know you’re not dead,” Iruka muttered. But in all honesty, he understood. For he too hadn’t tried to reach out. Not after his break-up with his last ex, an abusive and manipulative asshole, had left him in shambles. But none of that, anymore.
Before Kakashi could open his mouth, Iruka turned back. He tilted his head to the right and mustered Kakashi. It was good to see him. The mop of silver hair still as wild as ever, black mask securely covering half of his face. A speckle of pale, pale freckles dusted his cheeks and Iruka smiled at the image of Kakashi taking strolls at the beach of his birth town, pants rolled up his ankles.
“You look great. You look happy,” Iruka said softly.
Kakashi grinned and Iruka raised an eyebrow.
“I’m looking at you after all.”
Iruka massaged his temple. Apparently, things hadn’t changed a bit. Hatake Kakashi was back and still the cheesiest oddball in the universe.
Iruka took a flustered sip of his tea while Kakashi’s laughter rang through the café.
~*~*~
It turned out that Kakashi was here to stay. While in Japan, he had finished his diploma and was ready to take over the old doctor’s office that his dad had left behind.
Iruka’s life didn’t change much, except that they gained another regular who would come in and get his large Cappuccino with an extra shot of ‘whatever Iruka could give him’ (usually just a potion for better sleep because Kakashi was an insomniac, and if Iruka sometimes put a drop or two into his coffee that would make sure his feet would stay dry on a rainy day, or that would protect him against flea bites when a new furry client came in to see Dr Hatake, Fantastical Veterinarian, then no one needed to know) in the early mornings, right after Iruka opened the café.
Yes, Iruka’s life didn’t change much except that he had gained back a friend that he had missed more than he had realized, who flirted with him so terribly, who made him laugh so hard he cried, and who would tease him endlessly over the latte art that Iruka would leave him in his milk foam.
(“I do that for everyone,” Iruka lied.
“Sure,” Kakashi said, trying his best to sound believable, while the cloudy hearts on his coffee looked back at him.)
One day though, Tenzou called Iruka ‘an idiot who has been mooning over another idiot for years, please, for the love of God, do something or I will’ and Iruka, who had been in blissful denial over his crush, felt his world dangerously teeter to the side.
Things got a little more complicated after that.
~*~*~
A few weeks later, Iruka shouldered the door to the café open, and a red-faced Hinata rushed over to him.
“Iruka, I messed up so badly, I’m sorry, it’s my fault,” she apologized, talking a mile a minute. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she kept bowing to him, and Iruka put a light hand on her shoulder, careful not to startle her.
“Hinata-chan, what’s wrong? What happened?”
“I messed up an order,” Hinata confessed. Tears were welling up in her eyes and Iruka’s heart squeezed with compassion and affection for the teenage girl. She already gave herself such a hard time and he was sure that whatever mistake she had made, it would be easily fixed. As usual.
“I’m sorry, I think I was nervous because you asked me to open the shop and now – “
“Hey, it’s okay. Come on, let’s go to the back,” Iruka tried to soothe the girl’s frazzled nerves and steered her into the kitchen where the oven was busy tinkering whatever new concoction it came up with. “I’ll get you a glass of water. Sit down, please.” He gently pushed Hinata onto a stool and eyed the oven out of the corner of his eyes in a weak attempt to make it behave. Luckily, there were no customers to attend to as the early morning rush had ebbed.
With a glass of water, he turned back to Hinata. “Here. Take tiny sips, slowly.”
During her first week, Iruka had found Hinata having a panic attack, frozen to the staircase that went up to the café’s storage. After, she had apologized profoundly, wanting to quit, but Iruka had persuaded her to stay and try, asking if there were any accommodations she needed.
Hinata complied and although her face was still flushed, her breathing seemed to relax and after downing half the glass she let out a long exhale. With her eyes fixed onto her lap, she said: “I’m sorry, Iruka.”
He took in her form, the apron that was dusty with flour and dust from the coffee grinder. He hadn’t hired Hinata out of some misplaced sense of pity – no, she was good at the job. “Hinata, it’s okay, I promise you. Tell me what happened.”
Her fingers clenched around the glass. “I – I opened the café at six-thirty, like you said, and at first it was fine. I was fine. It…” She hiccupped, nervously. “It was a slow morning. But when more people were coming in I got anxious and my hands were shaking, so making the coffee, the tea, getting the orders ready…” Iruka nodded her on when she faltered. “It took me a little longer. The customer at the counter was, he was in a rush, and I wasn’t quick enough and he kept making comments, about me, and I just wanted him to leave,” she sniffed and Iruka breathed through the familiar anger.
“But then, out of nowhere, Ka– … Kakashi-san was there and stepped up to the counter, and he smiled at me, and then told the other customer whether…” A weak laugh tumbled out of Hinata’s throat and she wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “Whether he was done making a fool out of himself, or if he wanted to take it outside. And he had Bull with him, too.”
Iruka’s gaze softened. Something warm settled in the space behind his ribcage and made itself at home.
“The customer left with his coffee then. I was so thankful but embarrassed and ashamed that I hadn’t stood up for myself because y – you told me to do so, and I was thinking that I just keep making a mess of things, and suddenly I was handing cup of something of to Kakashi-san and I have no idea what I put in it!”
“Wait,” Iruka blinked. His mind was still not over the way Hinata constantly put herself down but the last part had him confused. “Was it coffee?”
She nodded, quickly. “But I also grabbed something from the shelf. The shelf for the magical shots, and when I realized I tried to look for the bottle I had used but I couldn’t remember and now everything’s – “ She broke off with a gasp. “Such a mess! I always do this, do everything wrong. I’m so sorry, Iruka. If it’s only a potion like Sweater Weather, or Sunny Sunflower but what if it’s something else? Kakashi-san had already left by the time I realized my mistake.”
The oven gave a high whistle, startling both of them, before beginning to hum Edvard Grieg’s Hall of the Mountain King. In B minor.
“Oh shut it, you!” Iruka snapped at the oven. He didn’t need his treats and pastries to taste like melodrama today. With a frown, he looked back to Hinata. “Sorry. This stupid oven. Anyway, where were we…” He took the glass out of Hinata’s hands and placed it on the counter, next to the drying rosebuds Iruka had been working into his tea blends. “Hinata, would you believe me if I told you that this has happened to me a million times? Well, maybe not a million,” he corrected as he ran his hands under the sink, and dried them off with an embroidered towel, “But it has happened enough. You’re not a machine, and I don’t expect you to be. And as to Kakashi-san,” he said, squashing the giddy feeling at saying his name back to where it came from (to Hell, Iruka guessed), and held his chin up high. “I’m sure he’ll manage.”
Hinata’s eyes widened and Iruka quickly added: “I’ll check up on him, don’t worry. But for now… how would you like a cup of tea, Hinata-chan?”
~*~*~
Iruka knocked on Kakashi’s apartment door.
He heard claws scratch against the hardwood flooring as the dogs made a mad scramble out of getting to the door before their owner. And while Kakashi’s dogs were more than enthusiastic to let Iruka in, they couldn’t exactly open the door. As opposed to Kakashi, who was taking his sweet time, he imagined, slouching around his apartment.
Iruka sighed and shifted his weight from one foot to another. He had even gotten coffee for the bastard! Just for him to be late in his own home. Well, he wasn’t technically late because Iruka hadn’t told him they were meeting, but his point stood!
Just as he was about to orchestrate his own version of AC/DC’s Hell’s Bells with the instrument being Kakashi’s doorbell, he heard Kakashi’s voice drawing near.
“No, Shiba, get off me – I swear to God, Pakkun, can’t you get them to behave for once? Heel! And sit back!”
Iruka smiled at the image of Kakashi talking to his dogs as if they understood every single of his words, and that was how Kakashi caught him when the door finally opened. Smiling stupidly, at Kakashi, two cups of coffee in hand.
They stared at each other for a moment before Kakashi’s surprise morphed into a grin, hidden behind his mask but still so palpable to Iruka as if they were sharing their own private language. Iruka willed himself to press his lips together and not blush at how easy he was to figure out, goddammit, and thrust one of the cups at Kakashi’s chest.
Dumbfounded, Kakashi took it. Their fingers didn’t brush, but it was a close deal. “Thank… you…?” Kakashi asked, visibly stumped now.
“You’re welcome,” Iruka said and leaned a little to the left, catching a glimpse of at least a two curious dogs who were definitely not heel-ing and sit-ting. His lips curled up in an amused smile. “Can I come in?”
“Uh,” Kakashi floundered. One of his hands came up to scratch at the back of his head, and he sneaked a glance at the hallway behind him as if considering whether he could let Iruka in with a good conscience. Honestly, it was adorable.
Iruka tried not to laugh. “Kakashi?”
Kakashi’s head whipped back around. “Yes! Sure, yes, come in.”
He toed of his shoes and trailed after Kakashi, passing the dogs whose snouts were peaking forward through the almost-closed door to the living room. The tell-tale sound of a tail thumping on a floor in excitement echoed their footsteps.
“It was nice of you to stick up for Hinata-chan this morning,” Iruka began. Kakashi motioned to the kitchen table next to the window. A little cactus on the windowsill eyed Iruka curiously as there were two fake googly eyes glued to it.
“Maa, it was nothing,” Kakashi said as he pulled his chair back and settled down. Iruka’s eyes were stuck on the forest green of Kakashi’s sweater. It looked soft and worn-out, and hugged his arms nicely, and made him look utterly domestic with the turtleneck cut and –
What the hell! Iruka cleared his throat. He had business to take care. Focus.
“It wasn’t nothing. But I also don’t want to praise you to the skies because it was the decent thing to do.” He caught the quiver of a smile on Kakashi’s face and continued quickly. “I’m here because Hinata-chan told me she made a mistake with your order this morning and I wanted to see if you’re alright.”
Kakashi thought hard, his brow furrowing it a little. Iruka wanted to run a finger over his forehead and smooth the lines out. This was terrible. He shouldn’t have come here.
Kakashi shrugged. “I think I’m fine.”
“Nothing weird has happened to you today? Are you more tired? More awake? Having more luck than usual? Or did your coffee taste any different?” Iruka’s brain was wringing itself with all the possibilities. One time he had accidentally spilled a liquid spell that he was experimenting on and could only talk by singing for a week straight. And Iruka wasn’t exactly a talented singer.
A hand reached out and touched his. “I’m pretty sure I’m fine, Iruka. Don’t the spells usually wear off after a day or two anyway?”
Iruka nodded, a little distracted by how warm Kakashi was. It was true. Iruka didn’t sell spells that changed entire lifetimes. Not only were they morally ambiguous, but they were also usually too dangerous, too. His mind provided a certain memory where one of his terrible exes had tried to convince him to… well. Iruka shook his head against the thought. Some of the stuff that had happened in that relationship wasn’t particularly easy to put into words.
“The nightmare spells, for example. They help, but usually only for one night. That’s why I get my daily fix,” Kakashi grinned from ear to ear.
“And here I thought you were coming to see me,” Iruka said with an eyeroll before catching himself.
Kakashi’s eyes might have went wide but Iruka’s must have looked like straight-up saucers.
“Iruka,” Kakashi started. Oh no. Oh no. His voice sounded gentle. “You don’t really think I come in every morning just because I like the coffee?”
Iruka’s eyes were closed as he willed his furious blush to go away.
“Drinking too much coffee can cause a latte health problems, you know,” Kakashi said.
Iruka, in the middle of a sip, started coughing. “Did you just – “
“But there’s this one barista who’s not only brewtiful but also a mugnificent person all-around,”
“Kakashi!” Iruka yelled while trying to hide his face behind his own takeaway cup, coughs still there.
“It’s true. And to be honest, he keeps me and my attitude grounded.”
Iruka groaned.
“As in grinding coffee beans, you know?”
“I know! Gods, why are you so terrible?” Iruka asked and glanced at Kakashi through a gap between his fingers. At least his cheeks were a little pink above the bastard’s mask, too.
Kakashi hummed. If Iruka didn’t know better, he would say Kakashi was satisfied with himself. But Iruka did know better and therefore could ascertain that Kakashi was extremely satisfied with himself.
“I don’t even like coffee,” Iruka murmured.
“That may be your only fault,” Kakashi said and when Iruka looked up at him, he had just finished pulling down his mask to take a sip. It wasn’t the first time he had seen Kakashi without a mask but usually never like this… this confrontational, and he stared and stared and wondered how much more ridiculous his life could get.
He asked himself why it had been so hard for him, right from the beginning, from the first day that Kakashi had walked into his café, then left for almost two years, came back again… right up till now, to accept that Kakashi liked him and that, even worse, Iruka liked him back? The answer to this wasn’t short. The answer to this had layers upon layers – maybe even multiple answers to a single question were applicable (Iruka had studied to become a teacher). Time passed, and the more obvious it became that Kakashi wasn’t just interested in a fling, that he might be in for the same thing that Iruka secretly wanted, the more scared Iruka was. The more defensive he became. And he loathed himself for it.
“I don’t think – “ he started when the silence became a little too heavy for him. “I don’t think I’m exactly an easy person to date.”
Something brushed against his ankle under the table. At first he thought it was Kakashi, but when he looked down there was a pug staring back at him. Not just a pug, it was Pakkun. The first of Kakashi’s dogs he had met. With the handkerchief tied around his neck and the droopy eyes. He didn’t rub against Iruka’s leg like a cat maybe would, just bumped his head against it once.
Meanwhile, Kakashi tilted his head from left to right, pondering. “Maybe that’s not for you to decide. I mean, you have never dated yourself, have you?”
That prompted Iruka to actually face Kakashi again. This silly, silly man.
“You know what I mean,” Iruka said. “I have baggage. But I do – “ he swallowed. Why was this so hard? Why did this feel as if he was taking a knife to his own chest, laying himself bare?
He studied Kakashi’s expression, the smart upturn of his lips, the scar that remained untouched by the little flush. His hair seemed as unruly as ever, some strands surely obscuring Kakashi’s view but his eyes – they were still fixed on Iruka. As if to say, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.
Iruka sighed.
“I do like you, Kakashi,” he murmured and ran his fingers across the bridge of his nose. “But it’s kind of terrifying to admit.”
He startled when Kakashi got up from his chair and tugged at Iruka’s hands, beckoning him to get up. “What are you – “ Iruka asked but didn’t get as far when Kakashi pulled him into a hug.
At first Iruka didn’t move, too stunned, with his arms at his sides unsure of what to do. Here he was after having essentially confessed his feelings for a man he hadn’t allowed himself to pine after (but still did, of course. He might know some magic, but even Iruka wasn’t bulletproof) for months and now stood in his embrace.
Slowly, Iruka snuck his arms around Kakashi’s waist and let his head drop against his shoulders. They were almost the same height but a different build, a small detail Iruka couldn’t get out of his head.
He buried his nose deeper in Kakashi’s sweater.
“You are pretty terrifying, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever met a person with a temper like yours. And I mean that as a compliment.”
“You sure know how to give one,” Iruka snorted. His heart was fluttering against his ribs and he was overcome with the sudden need to urge all the words in his head out of his mouth. “Kakashi, I’m serious. I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. But all my relationships have gone to shit and if we try this and it doesn’t work out, you’ll leave,” Iruka babbled. “And I… I don’t want you to leave.”
Kakashi moved and caused Iruka to lift his head.
“I don’t have any intention of leaving,” Kakashi said. He looked sheepish. “I’m kind of a little bit past ‘like’, actually.”
Iruka barely managed to contain his gasp but in the reflection of Kakashi’s grey eyes he saw his surprise mirrored before he buried his burning face in Kakashi’s turtleneck.
“Okay,” he muffled into it.
Kakashi gave a nervous laugh. “Okay?”
He dug his fingers into the holes of the knit-pattern. “Let’s get coffee sometime.”
Kakashi pulled his head back and looked at Iruka for a long while without saying anything. Iruka only snuck a glance at him from where he was still hiding.
“Coffee for me, tea for you?” Kakashi asked. The question was weightier than one would have assumed.
Iruka nodded. “I know a café down the block. It’s supposed to be pretty good.”
Kakashi’s laugh sounded lighter this time. “I’ve heard the owner is a real catch.”
“Careful, I don’t think he’s available.”
When Kakashi kissed him, he tasted like coffee. Iruka didn’t mind.