Have You Seen This Man? - Chapter 3
Title: Have You Seen This Man? - Chapter 3
Rating: T
Genre: Romance/Humor
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto. Writing belongs to me.
Summary: Kakashi comes back from a mission, only to find a mask-less picture of himself in the jounin lounge. Now that everyone seems to think they know how he looks, how is he going to find someone that believes otherwise to help him catch the culprit?
Notes: I am beyond ashamed at the time it's taken for me to post this next chapter, especially considering how short it is. Quite simply, RL kicked my butt, and this fic got pushed to the back burner. Cue tears of frustration with the whole thing. I apologize PROFUSELY, and hope all of you haven't given up on me just yet. ^^; Your lovely feedback makes me want to write more! Finally, a huge thank you to my beta, Beasiesgal.
First, Iruka was shell-shocked. He hardly noticed that his feet were taking him straight towards his apartment, not even shivering at the sudden breeze that whipped a few strands of umber from behind his hitai-ate to messily frame his features. It slowly occurred to the chuunin, face burning with shame and anger towards himself, that he'd just made the worst possible mistake to follow up the previous night's worst possible mistake. He'd missed his chance to immediately coming clean to Kakashi, though this fact did probably save him from a messy death for the time being.
From there, Iruka experienced a wild spectrum of emotions, ranging from utter mortification to guilt, then to depraved glee, as his principled side warred with the irrepressibly mischievous one during the short time it took him to get home. It was a messy fight to say the least, the chuunin ultimately ending up with the decidedly twisted, delightful feelings of schadenfreude and accomplishment weighing on his conscience, pushing all other emotions out of the way.
Apparently, this also manifested itself on his face. Iruka didn't even notice the smirk slash grimace of convoluted feelings that had materialized onto his features until someone had come up to worriedly ask him if he was feeling alright. Looking back on that, the chuunin decided that giving a half hysterical laugh probably hadn't been the best thing to do in that particular situation. His reputation would shortly be ending in flames as it was. If he even survived that long. Kakashi was going to kill him when he found out.
While he may have been fuzzy on the details, Iruka was sure that what he'd recently seen was the undeniable proof of his own handiwork. The morning's oddities had come back to haunt him. He'd been picking tape out of his hair for most of the day, the bits and pieces he'd collected rolled into a ball and sitting in his pocket. It had been a baffling mystery up until a few moments ago. Now, the fact that his previous day's clothes had reeked of licorice made perfect sense as well.
Aniseed oil, Iruka's mind supplied without trouble, smelled strongly of licorice and was often used in scent bombs to throw off trackers. It worked best in crowded areas, like the jounin lounge, which would coincide with Anko's earlier words. And, the chuunin personally preferred the scent of aniseed to the other popular alternative, peppermint oil.
Iruka finally made it to his apartment, slamming the door behind him before leaning against it and groaning in despair. He was going to be in for a world of trouble when Kakashi found out, and doubly so when the man realized that the very person who was supposed to be helping to track down the culprit was the culprit. Never mind that Iruka couldn't remember much, if anything, about the previous night. Still, a part of himself couldn't help but be proud. He had, at least for the time being, gotten the best of the Copy Nin. The ramifications caught up with him all at once so that he slid down, back against the door and face in hands.
“Idiot,” he murmured to himself. “I must have a death wish.”
Still, the hint of a smirk tried to creep out onto his face at the thought of the Copy Nin's utter bewilderment at the discovery. It gave him a rush to think that Kakashi would now be singularly devoted to catching whoever had perpetrated such a crime against his person, even if the jounin didn't know that the guilty party was hiding right under his nose. Iruka wondered if these very same thoughts had driven him to carry it out in the first place. He could not deny the simple brilliance of his plan, drunken execution notwithstanding. Getting himself volunteered for detective duty probably hadn't been a part of the scheme, but that could be worked with.
Iruka, on autopilot, trudged to his shower, still caught up in his thoughts. While he had few qualms about keeping the hoax going for a little bit, he fully planned to either get caught or confess in due time. Hopefully, Kakashi wouldn't hate him too much by then. A small, officious part of him wondered what in seven hells had possessed him to get himself into such a convoluted mess, and why in Kami's name hadn't he just blurted out the truth when he'd had a chance.
Warm water cascaded down, blocking out all sounds beyond the bathroom walls. It did nothing for the persistent, rapid thoughts coursing through Iruka's mind, however. Now that the initial high of getting away with such a huge prank had begun to wear off, the chuunin was starting to feel a bit insecure. He'd gone and gotten himself invited to dinner. With Hatake Kakashi. Worse yet, Iruka's heart wanted to do strange flips in his chest at the very thought of dinner with the jounin, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with his guilt.
Okay, so it definitely didn't. The chuunin frowned into the spray of water, ducking his head under so as to drench his hair and try to drown out the treacherous thoughts. It clung to his neck and cheeks.
He would need to revise his initial plan, to proceed. It didn't help that he couldn't remember what the original plan had been, aside from waiting for the other man to hunt him down. He needed to think of some ways to draw attention away from himself, and he needed to do it before dinner. The chuunin's conscience made another attempt to berate him for preparing to lead Kakashi on in such a way, but again lost out to Iruka's more mischievous side. If the jounin found out too quickly, everything would have been pointless. If things dragged on for too long, there was a possibility, although small, of Kakashi growing disinterested and giving it up altogether. And, he probably wouldn't take the chuunin's confession very well, if that were the case.
Iruka was startled back to reality when the water grew cold. He cursed under his breath, hurriedly twisting the taps to the off position and wondering how much time had passed. The chuunin frowned at his reflection in the mirror as he toweled himself dry. He needed more time to sort things out, or everything was going to fall flat and end up being a total waste. He could not let that happen.
This dinner might not have been under the most ideal of circumstances, but there wasn't much Iruka enjoyed more than a good challenge. Besides, he had wanted to have dinner with Kakashi more than anything for the longest time. He would have to take what he could get, for now.
The only thing that worried him was that the jounin might already be a step ahead of him. This wasn't such a stretch, considering the fact that this was Kakashi. It could all be an elaborate joke; the other man might already know that Iruka was the culprit, and the dinner could be part of a plan to humiliate him in retaliation.
Taking a deep breath to stave off the paranoid thoughts, Iruka sighed ruefully. This was most likely his guilt talking. He couldn't bring himself to believe that Kakashi would be that cruel, at least. Then again, Iruka's own hands weren't very clean either... Not that he'd been trying to be cruel, at the time. Although, Kakashi wouldn't have known that.
But, for now, Iruka had bigger things to worry about. Namely, what the heck he was going to wear. The chuunin ran a hand through his still damp hair, mentally going through the possibilities. It had to fall between casual and dressy, and yet not too obviously thought out. Arousing suspicion this early was not a good idea; he was preparing to go toe to toe with Hatake Kakashi.
~ ~ ~
Kakashi glared at his closet with such ferocity that he wouldn't have been surprised if it were to burst into flames at any moment. "I can't believe this," he muttered under his breath, pacing around. It was why he never did things without a proper plan; what on earth had possessed him to act so rashly as to arrange for a... a date when he literally had almost nothing to wear in his closet?
It wasn't a date, he had to remind himself. There was going to be serious conversation about serious matters. Namely, who the hell had felt that they could humiliate him and get away with it? Hopefully, with the help of Iruka, he would get to the bottom of things in time to salvage some of his dignity. If he could come up with something to put on.
The jounin sighed, ran a hand through his wild hair and looked towards the ceiling as if pleading for assistance. It was already half past six, and he had no idea what in Kami's name he was going to wear. Something told him that his regular uniform probably wouldn't be quite appropriate attire.
"You aren't going to wear your uniform, are you?"
"You're a keen observer of the obvious, aren't you, Pakkun?" Kakashi turned and glared at the amount of amusement evident in the pug's voice. "To answer your question, no. If I were going to wear my uniform, do you really think I'd be standing in front of my closet that is full of uniforms for half an hour, deliberating it?" Actually, he'd been about to grab one and be done with it, but there was no way he would be admitting that now.
Pakkun gave the doggy approximation of a gruff chuckle. “I certainly hope not, boss. Then again, you never know with you...” Kakashi shot him a glare, but the pug went on. “So this chuunin really has you flustered, huh?"
"..." Flustered was safe enough to admit to, the jounin thought, except he couldn't decide on just what was flustering him. Not Iruka... No, it was the prank. This was a crime against his person. People had been laughing, as he walked down the street. Laughing! He opened his mouth to whip out a snide remark, but was interrupted.
"Yep, I thought so."
If Kakashi hadn't known better, he would have sworn that Pakkun was smirking in an entirely too suspicious and knowing way. As it was, the jounin was too distracted to give note to his dog's possibly odd behavior. "Are you going to sit there making sarcastic comments all night, or are you going to help me?"
"If helping you means you get out of that towel and into some clothes faster," Pakkun deadpanned, stretching from where he sat on the bed. “Maybe you should call the others to help, boss. I had no idea you were so inexperienced with dates.”
Kakashi made a strangled noise, at this. “It's not a date, Pakkun.”
Pakkun, for his part, had the gall to look incredulous and smug at the same time.
~ ~ ~
In the end, Iruka settled for some low slung jeans and a button up, collared shirt. He left the first two buttons undone to make it look more casual and didn't bother at all with a hair tie. This was possibly a bold move, but he'd take anything that would distract Kakashi even just a little bit. He looked more young, at least, with his hair down. Well, vulnerable, Anko had put it, which had to count for something. Hopefully it would make him look.... innocent. This particular outfit looked better with loose hair anyways, the chuunin thought. The shirt was a deep red in color, embroidered over the front in gold thread that formed interesting curling patterns.
The chuunin glanced at his watch, anxious. It was only five till seven, and this was Kakashi, so there might still be a good wait. Iruka idly wondered if he really should expect the other man to show up around nine. The up side to this was that he would have extra time to go over his tactics for not getting caught within the first twenty-four hours.
Half an hour later left the chuunin utterly without remorse for his actions. Kakashi had definitely deserved to be pranked, if just to be taught a good lesson. Never mind that the prank had nothing to do with the jounin's chronic lateness. Still, Iruka grew more impatient and nervous as the minutes passed by. He calmed himself by plotting out his strategy; how he would divert suspicion away from himself, in ways that would keep Kakashi too occupied to become suspicious.
Iruka glanced at his watch, pacing around a bit. “What's wrong with me?” he muttered, taking a deep breath. Anxious thoughts assaulted him once again, and he couldn't help but give voice to his worries. “What if he never shows up at all? What if he's laughing somewhere because this was all a huge joke and I fell for it? He didn't give the restaurant name or anything...”
Three sharp raps pulled the chuunin from his impromptu reverie. Iruka bolted for the door with shinobi speed and nearly tripped over his low table for his troubles. The chuunin took a moment to compose himself before casually opening the door, a calm smile pasted across his features. “Kakashi-san. Please come in. Or, if you'd like to head out right away...”
Iruka's eyes travelled of their own accord, taking in Kakashi's lean frame before the chuunin forced himself to look elsewhere. He couldn't help it; the man looked too good in civvies. The chuunin began to blush despite himself, straining to keep his chakra even and calm. He would never live it down if his emotions started leaking all over the place.
Kakashi hadn't answered, so the chuunin tried again. He tried not to think of the other man's outfit and how perfectly it suited him; from the thin, silver collared shirt, to the dark wash jeans. “So you came after all,” Iruka breathed. How he could hold his ground in the missions room and give Kakashi a piece of his mind any day of the week, and yet stand before the same man and fight not to quiver like a leaf because they were going on a friendly dinner date together was beyond him. It might have had something to do with the man's hitai-ate being absent, Iruka mused. Kakashi had combed his hair so that it hid his left eye completely.
“You thought I wouldn't.” Kakashi's visible eye crinkled. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.
“N-no! I just, ah... Well, you're famous for being late, that's all... And, well... I thought...” Iruka trailed off, which caused Kakashi to raise a brow and take a step closer. This did nothing for the chuunin's nervousness; he could clearly see how Kakashi's shirt clung to the man, silken material leaving very little to the imagination. Iruka swallowed, trying very hard to keep some semblance of composure. It should not be this hard to keep himself from picturing Kakashi divested of the shirt and jeans, he thought. Possibly, even being in the vicinity of Kakashi made one think more perversely. Perversion no jutsu, that had to be it. It probably followed Kakashi wherever he went, the smug bastard. The plan. Think of the plan.
“Yes?”
“Well, it was awfully silly of me, but... I thought, ah, that you might have set this up as a joke or... something.” Good. This was good. Iruka rubbed at his facial scar, trying his best to look timid and unsuspicious. It helped that he had been worrying about it, though now that he took into consideration what Kakashi was wearing, it was pretty much a moot point. Still, the chuunin found it rather difficult to meet the jounin's eyes. Or eye, rather, and the triangle of uncovered flesh that was all anyone ever saw of Kakashi. Underneath his silver top, Kakashi must have been wearing a silken tank with a mask attached.
“A joke? Iruka-sensei, I can't see doing something cruel like that to you, or anyone else for that matter. You really thought that?”
“Not anymore,” Iruka breathed out, genuine relief coloring his features and melting his uncertain frown into a radiant, if small, smile.
“Ah, good. I am not above teasing, but I wouldn't ever do something like that, sensei.”
A pang of guilt hit the chuunin square in the chest, and Iruka did his best to shove it away. He was going to confess to Kakashi; it was just a matter of when. This was enough to appease his conscience for the time being. “Ah... So... where are we going to discuss this culprit, then?”
“You mean, where are we going to have dinner, right? I don't know about you, but I don't solve mysteries well on an empty stomach...” Kakashi's stomach took this moment to growl loudly. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head before taking a step back and out into the cool night air.
Iruka began to shiver just as soon as they were far away enough from his apartment to go back for a jacket. He hadn't expected it to be this cold out, and found himself wondering just where Kakashi was leading them.
“Cold, Sensei?”
“Iruka,” the tanned chuunin spoke up, trying his best to be blase. “And just a bit, but I'll manage,” he added, smiling. Really, the butterflies were worse than the cold. He might not able to eat at all, at this rate.
“Pardon?”
“You, ah... You can just call me Iruka. If you like.”
“Aww, Ruka-ru, I'm honored!”
Iruka's blush flared up immediately as he all but choked in shock, eyes wide, stopping in the middle of the street. “W-what!” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Have you been talking to Anko?”
Kakashi just laughed, entirely unrepentant. “Maa, not more than usual, no... It's just a nickname. You can pick one for me if it makes you feel better.” Kakashi winked, which only caused Iruka's blush to grow. The chuunin wondered if Kakashi had a personal quota to fill or something.
“Ah, no, Kakashi-san is just fine.” Iruka fought the urge to roll his eyes, even as the butterflies flared up again. He preoccupied himself by trying to guess at the restaurant Kakashi had in mind.
“Suit yourself, then, Ru. But, call me Kakashi.”
Iruka wrinkled his nose, but refrained from making any objections to it. Doing so would just encourage the man. Kakashi was nothing if not eccentric, the chuunin thought in a half fond, half exasperated way. “Alright... Kakashi.”
Kakashi simply smiled under his mask. Iruka could tell because of the way the fabric pulled just so and the sudden onslaught of butterflies against his ribcage. He idly wondered just who was playing who, redoubling his efforts to appear mostly nonchalant.