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“It’s --” Kakashi pauses, trying not to let the weighted sigh he looses reveal just how over it he truly is already. “It’s fine, dad, really.”
His dad has some more platitudes, soft encouragements for Kakashi to just stick it out because he won’t know if something will be worth it until he’s seen it through to the end, and he’s just about to open his mouth and reassure his dad that he’s not about to drop out -- or, dropout again -- when his shoulder gets jarred and his phone slips out of his grip. It clatters loudly as it hits the pavement.
Though he can hear his father’s voice, all tinny and distant, Kakashi’s focus is firmly centered on the person who ran into him. Well, the guy’s reddening face, anyway.
His eyes are a deep honey brown that sparkles a rich, almost red when the clouds part for the barest moment. Hmm. No, more like. Chestnut? Mahogany? Russet? It’s a reddish brown that Kakashi’s never seen before. Maybe it’s a trick of the thick-framed lenses, but Kakashi’s pretty sure that those aren’t colored contacts. Who would wear colored contacts and still wear their glasses? That’d be silly.
But then the color is obscured by shimmering unfallen tears and Kakashi realizes that he’s just been silently staring while this guy is apologizing like his life depends on it. The intense focus fades a bit, and Kakashi’s privy to a yellow-gold KU hoodie that mirrors his own green one, jeans, properly laced sneakers. He sees the ruffled ends of a ponytail and leaves dancing on the breeze just past it.
“Oh,” he says.
“-- I swear, I’ll pay you back, I don’t know how yet, but I’ll -- maybe if I switch my ten o’clock class to something an evening class, I can extend my hours at the cafe!”
The guy’s voice is almost as lovely as his eyes, even though it’s uneven from distress. Kakashi would gladly attend his lectures if this guy were the one droning on for three hours instead.
“-- ahh, please say something!” the guy says, hands sliding up to cover his lovely face.
That snaps Kakashi out of his reverie. “What?” he asks. “I -- what?”
“Your phone,” the guy says, half-strangled, “I’m -- trying to figure out how to...pay you...back?”
Kakashi bends to pick it up and dust it off, notes that his dad must’ve hung up, and then stuffs it into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Kakashi says.
“But it’s shattered!”
The guy’s voice is still edging on hysteria, so Kakashi lifts up his hands, splaying his fingers, and tries to project calm. “It was already shattered,” Kakashi says. “So no need to worry about it.”
It’s not quite the truth, but it’s also not like Kakashi doesn’t have the money to pay for a screen replacement. He’d taken a few years off to work after being bored out of his mind with prerequisite classes, and that’s not even to mention his academic scholarships, so it won’t be devastating to his finances the way it seems it would be for this guy.
He uncovers his face and then -- “There is literally a shard of glass on the pavement,” the guy laments.
Maybe Kakashi underestimated the power of those lenses. “Maa, I’m sure that was already there. Really, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine!” the guy says, suddenly vehement. He starts digging into his satchel, sifting through papers and notebooks until he gives a little, “Ah-ha,” and pulls out a business card.
A business card. Kakashi doesn’t even have a business card and he has a business. Maybe he should look into that. Maybe he should hire this guy to do some consulting to find all the ways Kakashi could make his business more business-like.
Although...eh, Kakashi’s pretty happy with the way things are, actually. An extra effort would probably result in extra business and he’s decently busy with the amount of clients he has now.
The business card that he pushes into Kakashi’s chest says, ‘Iruka Umino,’ and, ‘Tutor,’ and, ‘Konoha University Honor Society of Leadership and Success,’ and a few other words and phrases that really only serve to tell Kakashi that this guy -- Iruka -- is a serious nerd. Student. Serious student. More importantly, though, is the series of digits that mean that Kakashi can contact him via phone, email, or even video chat.
Kakashi feels his cheeks heat and when he looks back up, it’s to see the top of Iruka’s head, his ponytail splaying like a dandelion as he bows and --
“Oh, geez, no, hey,” Kakashi says, hands flapping as if to coax Iruka back upright, “Maa, listen, if you really want to pay me just -- how about a coffee?”
The yellow hood that was pushing his hair flops back down as Iruka looks up, straightens. “Coffee?”
“Yeah,” Kakashi says, “I like coffee. You can just...buy me one. If you’re really that pressed about it.”
“I --” Iruka begins. He looks at the watch on his wrist and frowns, eyes darting over to the Poli Sci building before landing squarely back on Kakashi. “Well, I’m already late so...sure.” He mutters something about getting Izumo or Kotetsu to take notes for him and whips out his phone to shoot off a text, but Kakashi’s too busy grinning and trying not to blush when he realizes that it worked.
“Cool,” he says. Kakashi didn’t want to go to his three-fifteen lecture anyway. “So, you wanna just head to the Caf or…”
“Oh, um,” Iruka says, scratching under the line of his glasses where the rest on his cheek.
The movement draws attention to a scar that spans parallel from eyebrow to eyebrow, just under the rim of his glasses. It’s almost hidden, and Kakashi probably wouldn’t have noticed it had they not been standing so closely.
Kakashi pockets the business card, laying it right against his phone.
“I work at the one on Campus Corner,” Iruka eventually says. “I’m pretty broke, but they’ll let me use my discount there.” He looks much more bashful now that he’s not quite so frantic -- still flustered, but the blush coating his cheeks is...charming.
(He’s definitely wasn’t thinking ‘breathtaking.’ That would be ridiculous; he doesn’t know the guy.)
“Yeah, that’s...cool,” Kakashi says, trying not to facepalm at how repetitive he sounds.
But -- okay, in all honesty, the nerd look is really doing something for him. Iruka looks like he spends every waking moment with his nose buried in his studies, like he raises his hand in class and even has something insightful to say. It’s making him feel weirdly tongue-tied, as if he’s not a grown-ass adult with a job and bills.
Kakashi clears his throat and says, “I’m Kakashi, by the way. Hatake.”
“Iruka Umino,” is the reply, then a wide-eyed look and an actual facepalm. “You already know that -- from the, uh. The card.” He coughs quietly, then his mouth flattens into a thin line, goes downturned at the corners. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I smashed your phone.”
Kakashi waves a hand. “Really, it’s fine.” He smiles and says, “It’s nice to meet you as well,” surprised at just how genuine it both feels and sounds.
Iruka’s smile, when it finally edges hesitantly onto Iruka’s mouth, is -- dammit -- breathtaking.
He turns and Kakashi, hands shoved into the pouch of his hoodie, easily falls into step on Iruka’s left. Now that Iruka has a clear goal in mind, his smile comes a bit easier and he spares only a quick glance at Kakashi to make sure he’s following.
“So, what year are you?” Iruka asks. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around the Poli Sci building before. I feel like I’d remember you.”
Kakashi’s cheeks immediately flush; Iruka would remember seeing him. That has to be a good sign right? Watching Iruka’s face carefully, he says, “Ah, yeah, no. This is my senior year...kind of.”
He isn’t sure how much of the whole dropping out, re-enrolling thing he wants to explain, given that Iruka looks pretty young and way more invested in his studies than Kakashi could ever hope to be. It takes just about everything in him to show up for tests, let alone lectures, and he only ever attends those when participation is part of the grade. He’s perfectly happy to take a zero for any and all attendance points though.
“Hey, me too,” Iruka says, grin coming naturally and shining like the sun, “That’s cool. Is that your major? Political Science?”
“Gods, no,” Kakashi blurts before he can stop himself. “I’m double majoring in English Lit and Marketing.”
“Huh. I guess that’d explain why I’ve never seen you before -- though...what were you doing over here, anyway?” he asks. His tone’s nothing but curious, friendly even.
Kakashi doesn’t know why that makes him nervous.
“Ah, well -- Jiraiya had me drop something off for one of the TAs,” Kakashi explains. He doesn’t mention that it was probably the man’s phone number, or that it was in exchange for an advanced copy of his newest book. Questionable ethics make academia go round, and all. “Normally, I stick to the Liberal Arts building.”
Iruka nods and gives an, “Ah, that explains it,” before pushing his slipping glasses back up his nose.
Cute, Kakashi thinks. What a nerd.
They’re nearing Campus Corner, walking quite a bit faster than his usual lackadaisical pace because Iruka strides a lot like he’s a man on a mission. Kakashi wonders if this is how he always is or if he’s still just that off-kilter from the phone mishap. He has his right hand looped around the crossbody strap of his satchel and the other comfortably resting on the top of his bag. When Kakashi looks at him again, Iruka’s looking back, smiling.
“What about you?” Kakashi asks, eyes wide, caught. “What’s your major?”
“Education, actually,” Iruka answers. “Minoring in Poli Sci.”
Kakashi’s brows rise. “That’s an interesting combination,” he says. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”
Iruka reaches the door first, holds it open and waits patiently while Kakashi meanders past and into Campus Corner Cafe. “No, actually,” he says, scratching beside his nose as he gives a nervous little laugh, “I -- it’s kind of a long story.”
The cafe is surprisingly empty -- but, then again, it’s far removed from the quad and it is a Friday afternoon, after all. Most students are either in a lecture or already pregaming for their wild night out.
Kakashi gestures to a corner table and says, “I’ve got the time, if you do.”
Once the coffee order is in, Kakashi learns three things about Iruka:
One, he apparently has a brother named Naruto who texts him incessantly. Iruka’s mostly fond and even-tempered about it, but after the fifth jarringly loud vibration of his phone across the table, he frowns and says, “I’m so sorry, but if I don’t answer this, he’ll keep calling until I do.”
Of course, Kakashi just waves a hand and tells him, “Go right ahead.”
Two, he’s not only a full-time student and a part-time barista, but he’s also the chapter president of KU’s Honor Society. On top of that, he even volunteers. He had been in the middle of a story about Naruto -- his little brother from the Big Brothers Big Sisters of Konoha -- when the kid had called.
And three, he’s like...really, really nerdy. It’s devastating. Kakashi feels like he’s seconds away from combusting just watching Iruka talk on the phone to his brother, but he’d glimpsed a color-coded block schedule on the screen before it started ringing.
How is Kakashi supposed to resist that?
As Iruka returns, he tucks his phone into the pocket of his hoodie and smiles apologetically. Apparently he’d picked up their coffees from the counter while he was at it, because he sets Kakashi’s down in front of him and immediately takes a scalding sip from his own.
“Sorry about that,” he says as he sits back down, “Naruto means well, but -- hah, he got worried when I told him I was having a coffee with someone and not in class. Apparently it’s ‘grossly out of character’ and ‘setting a terrible example’ for him. As if he wasn’t skipping out of his last class of the day to call me in the first place.” He huffs a sigh, but a fond smile creeps right back on his face. “Anyway -- I feel like I’ve been monopolizing the conversation.”
Kakashi can’t help but grin. “I can’t tell you how much I don’t mind. Like at all,” he confesses, rubbing at the back of his neck, feeling the fever-heat beneath his hand. “You’re...interesting.”
Iruka blinks three times in quick succession as he slowly processes the words. The implications. “You…? What?”
“I like to listen,” Kakashi says. He doesn’t fidget, not exactly, but he does tap a finger against the little cardboard sleeve keeping the coffee from burning his hands. “People tell stories even when they don’t mean to. I like learning them, putting them together, figuring out the important pieces that comprise the whole.” He looks up, trying to quell the anxious flutters in his chest as he takes in Iruka’s blushing cheeks, the small open circle of his plush mouth. “Yours makes me want to know more.”
A tiny squeak leaves Iruka’s mouth and he covers his face with his hands again.
Kakashi’s worried that he’s overstepped, that he’s made Iruka uncomfortable or creeped him out, but --
“Is that -- I’m sorry,” Iruka says for the millionth time after unburying his face, “but are you...flirting with me? That was weirdly romantic and I’m -- well, I’m not great at picking up on cues.”
A half-shrug and a mostly-hidden smile don’t quite betray Kakashi’s feelings. “It doesn’t have to be flirting -- if you don’t want it to be.”
They’re effectively opposites of one another, yet strangely complimentary. Light versus dark, type-A versus lazy. Kakashi wears his green hood up and Iruka wears his yellow one down, reflecting his open body language as much as his emotive personality. Kakashi barely had the energy to put on joggers today, but Iruka’s wearing straight-leg, dark-wash jeans that cling to his thighs.
Maybe they’re a bit too different for Iruka’s tastes. Maybe his interest hasn’t been piqued at all.
Kakashi slips his mask down under his chin and takes the very first sip of his coffee. He’d let Iruka order for him and apparently, the guy had known Kakashi was a man of simple tastes: it’s a medium-dark roast, rounded and just balanced enough that the sweetness doesn’t outweigh the bitterness by more than a small margin.
Iruka, apparently, appreciates Kakashi appreciating his coffee. He’s watching with baited breath.
Quirking a silver brow, Kakashi licks a stray droplet of coffee from his bottom lip and says, “No pressure either way, of course.”
Rather than answer, Iruka takes his glasses off, squinting down at them as he uses the bottom hem of his hoodie to finally swipe the face-palm smudges away. He’s frowning, brows furrowed, and looks like he truly can’t see a damn thing. “I --” he says, replacing them on the bridge of his nose. Then he squints again at Kakashi’s face, eyes somewhere around his mouth. “Oh, gods, it’s real.”
“What?” Kakashi’s head quirks with his confusion, a habit he’s never been able to break.
“I thought that your, um. Beauty mark,” he says, waving a hand indelicately towards Kakashi’s face, “Was a speck on my glasses, but nope. You’re actually just...that attractive.”
Kakashi smirks, delighted, and it morphs into a toothy smile when it makes Iruka groan, bracing his forehead against his palms. With his elbows on the table and his gaze now firmly on his coffee, Iruka looks a little bit like he’s having a crisis. “Is that okay?”
“I can’t believe I broke your phone and you’re hitting on me. You --” he says with another flippant wave, “-- are hitting on me.” This wave is more in the direction of himself. And truly, the yellow-gold hoodie makes his brown skin glow from the contrast, the thick frames make his eyes pop, and even his hands are cute when they’re flailing. “I must’ve hit my head getting out of bed this morning.”
A laugh bursts out of Kakashi before he can help it. He’s still grinning when Iruka looks up at him.
“Hmm. That would explain why you’re a guy who just so happens to be exactly my type.” He takes another considering sip of his coffee. “Although...would a shared hallucination become a delusion by default?”
“Only if we both believe it’s reality,” Iruka says, punctuating the statement by pushing his glasses up.
“...do you want to believe, Iruka?” Kakashi asks, cheeks pinkening in time with the rapid beat of his heart.
“I --” Iruka just barely gets out the syllable before he jolts, his phone lighting up the front pocket of his hoodie once again. He pulls it out and this time it’s not a phone call, but an alarm -- one of the many that dictates Iruka’s day. He clears his throat and, to Kakashi’s surprise, slides the phone across the tabletop, says, steeled with confidence, “Yes, I suppose I do. But I have to get to my tutoring session. If you don’t mind giving me your number, I’d be glad to...get to learn your story, too.”
Kakashi sees his smile reflected in Iruka’s eyes.
“Cool,” he says. He reaches for the phone, types in his number, and then happily shoots a lazy wave as Iruka gives a slight, blushing bow and then rushes away.
Iruka’s ponytail flutters with the autumn breeze and Kakashi doesn’t take his eyes off of it until it disappears as a speck in the distance, heart thudding wildly all the while.