[FIC] When Words Aren't Enough - chapter 2, part II
Iruka sighed tiredly, leaning his forehead against the table. On his right side was an equally drained-looking Raidou and on his left were silently snoring Kotetsu and Izumo, the latter one’s head pillowing against the other man’s shoulder and hood. It was almost midnight and they had been working on almost seven hours without much of a break other than quick visits to toilet and draining large amounts coffee. They had been typing and printing, scissoring and gluing, drawing and painting numerous flyers, three big banners and few dozen small posters for the coming charity event. The large table of the faculty was littered with used mugs, paints, scissors and even a half-eaten sandwich was hidden underneath the pile of unused papers, the smell of cheese still lingering in the air.
“So… hungry…,” Iruka mumbled, not caring if Raidou didn’t catch his words.
The burnt-scarred man startled, though, when the pony-tailed one staggered on to his feet. ‘Going home?’ he asked, watching Iruka to stretch and yawn widely.
‘Yes, but I need to eat before that. Want to come too?’ Iruka asked.
‘Nah, maybe next time; I stay here and wake up these two,’ Raidou said and pointed with his thumb at the slumbering duo, ‘go, we’ll close the place up. Genma and the others can clean this mess tomorrow.’
Iruka nodded, stifling another yawn, before waving his hand as a goodbye.
Raidou cracked his neck, feeling the snapping of his bones. He looked at the sleeping men; Izumo all but snuggling his spike-haired friend and Kotetsu did nothing to stop it, actually relaxing even more. Grinning, Raidou fished his cell phone out of his pocket and memorized the moment for future black-mail.
Two floors downstairs, Iruka walked towards the car, rubbing tiredly his eyes on the way. The only thing he wanted now was warm food, a cold beer, bed and at least eight hours of sleeping. Naruto was sleeping over at Kiba’s house, which meant he wouldn’t have to wake the young boy for the school, but sleep in instead himself. He slid in to the worn but soft seat and started the engine.
Half an hour later Iruka ate happily his pork ramen in a restaurant called Ichiraku. It wasn’t big, only three small tables and few chairs next to the counter, but very cozy place and the food was excellent. The owner, Teuchi-san, had greeted the tan man with a smile, and Ayame-san, his daughter, had half-heartedly scolded Iruka for looking so stressed and not taking care of himself.
Iruka liked the ramen they served very much, and Naruto… Naruto worshipped Ichiraku. The blond boy was doubtlessly their best customer - or Iruka, since he paid the bill more than often.
“How things are going at the Center?” Teuchi asked while scrubbing one of the large pots. Ayame was cleaning the tables somewhere behind the dark-haired man, listening music from her headphones. “I heard that you are planning something different for the annual charity-event. An auction or something similar.”
The scar-nosed man almost suffocated in to the mouthful he was swallowing and ended up coughing violently. The restaurant-owner merely raised his eye-brow, waiting for the other man to catch his breath. Iruka grabbed his glass of water and drank it almost empty, knowing he was blushing and not just because he had almost suffered an embarrassing death by a bunch of noodles and piece of pork.
“Wh-who told you that?” the dark-haired male wheezed.
“Oh, I heard it from Shiranui-san, when he was here last time with Namiashi-san,” Teuchi told, inspecting his hand-work, “he told that you are arranging something bigger than usually later in the evening. Told me also it would be ‘something you don’t want to miss’ and asked me to tell Ayame and her friends to bring lots of money.”
“Great, really great,” Iruka mumbled under his breath, swearing to maim the needle-obsessed man next time he saw him. It was the last thing he needed; a group of single women, barely over twenty and in a rather desperate seek out for a man - not that Ayame was like that, but she occasionally did flirt with Iruka while serving the ramen.
“When it’s going to be?” Teuchi asked, blissfully unaware what kind of event it was going to be.
“At the 27th day,” Iruka told, remembering all the flyers back at the Center, “we’ll start sending the flyers to kids’ homes and sent few of them at the local supermarkets and maybe also in here. If that’s okay?”
“But of course, anything for Konoha.”
“Thank you.”
On his way back to home Iruka grabbed few bottles of beer from the local store - the cashier, a freckle-cheeked young man, dully took his money, eyes more glued to the barely hidden porn-magazine behind the counter, which would have usually made Iruka annoyed, but now he was too tired to care about that. Minutes later he was back home and entered the dark house, placing his jacket on the coat-rack, before switching on few lights on at the living-room and pressed the button of the CD-player. The silence was immediately filled with soft tunes of jazz-music - it wasn’t Iruka’s favorite, but it was ok. He opened one of the beer bottles and took a sip from it, feeling immediately more relaxed.
Sighing, Iruka went to the kitchen to check the mail.
On top of the kitchen counter was a small pile of letters Naruto had kindly brought from the door and he lazily flipped them through before suddenly stopping. It was a small envelope with his name printed on, but it wasn’t like the normal bills he received. Frowning, Iruka took a longer sip from his beer, before turning the letter in his hand and his eyes widened saucer-wide as he saw that the sender was from Sound Inc!?
Second time at that night Iruka almost suffocated. Coughing, he dropped the bottle on the counter. “What the hell?” he wheezed, also the second time, and nearly ripped the envelope into pieces, while opening it.
Inside of it was a single business card with Sound’s logo printed on it and underneath it was the name Yakushi Kabuto, his phone and fax numbers along with his Sound office’s address. But on the other side, beside his personal address and phone number, was a little message written in a tidy handwriting:
Dear, Umino-san,
I would be pleased to meet you at Butterfly’s 8th September 8 o’clock in the evening. My phone will be on all the time just for your answer.
Sincerely,
Yakushi Kabuto
“You got to be kidding me?!” Iruka continued his disbelieved monologue, the dark-brown eyes wide. He flipped the card over and over, as if making sure that the lines stayed on it and wasn’t some kind of joke. Because it had to be; why on Earth this Kabuto would ask him out for a… dinner? And in Butterfly, one of the most stylish restaurants in whole city.
The memory of Tsunade’s office from only two days ago came back to Iruka’s mind vividly, the silver-haired young man - who had to be at least five years younger than him, for goodness sake! - and the cold, arrogant way he had talked. Iruka remembered the short eye-contact they had shared and the even shorter smile that had perplexed him before he had noticed Kakashi and simply forgotten the man.
How the hell he got my address? Iruka worried, biting his lip in discomfort from knowing that someone so close to Orochimaru had purposely searched for information about him. Turning the business card once again around, Iruka stared at the phone number there, the black numbers glaring straight back at him.
A quick glance from the corner of his eyes confirmed that this wasn’t the best time - it was almost half three in the morning - to call and demand for explanation, so Iruka just threw the card on the table and took the beer with him. He slumped down on the sofa, taking another swig from the bottle and tried to analyze the situation. So, Kabuto wanted to have a dinner with him, but was it meant to be as a date or a simple meeting, the tan man did not know.
Why he’d do this? Iruka groaned, raking his fingers in frustration through the dark hair, undoing it. I don’t think he’s going to talk about Center, but if he is… Grimacing, he took another swig from his beer.
Iruka really had had the intention to go upstairs into his bed, but the warm sensation of alcohol buzzing in his tired system and the softly playing music were too much for his spent body. Yawning, the tan man got in to more comfortable position on the couch, one leg thrown over the backrest, one arm pillowing his head, before allowing his eyes to slid close.
** ** **
A hand was moving over his chest, warm fingertips almost touching the tan skin, leaving ghost-like trails on their wake. He sighed softly, when the hand circled his navel, a blunt nail scratching accidentally - or not - the lower abdominal and the thin line of hair there. From there it moved up, caressing the ridges of muscle and some scars life had carved on his skin. Iruka groaned as a single finger started to tease his left nipple, circling the dusky nub gently but insistently. The other hand tugged roughly the right one, and both of the little nubs hardened in to sensitive beads under the unequal treatment.
Little tingly sensations travelled up and down his body from the touches, stirring Iruka’s arousal from its long lasting slumber. He allowed himself to moan as the warm hands and calloused fingertips moved to explore every part of the tan body; finding the right spots that made him shiver and earning little gasps of pleasure as they teased a sensitive spot between the ribs.
There was a silent hum of appreciation and Iruka felt a hot breath against his face, but he couldn’t see any face in the darkness. Soft hair brushed the scarred cheek, a tip of nose gently nuzzling his face, before lips touched the marred skin on his nose. They moved downwards, meeting Iruka’s own lips and the gentle kiss turned into a crushing one, a demanding tongue sliding inside the tan man’s mouth. Moaning, he allowed the invasion, meeting the assaulting muscle with his own.
The slowly increasing heat lit up into a smoldering fire inside his belly as the hard body settled above him, the flat, naked chest contacting with his own as the long limbs gently embraced him. Iruka could feel how his whole being was filled with need to touch and be touched after so long time. He gasped into the unknown mouth as the other man slowly rolled his narrow hips, the evidence of his arousal pressing against the tan man’s groin.
I-ru-ka…
A single finger drew the marks on his shoulder, making it even more erotic than actually saying his name out loud. Iruka groaned as the long digit continued to move on his skin, writing down most sinfully things that sent electricity down to Iruka’s groin:
I want make you squirm, feel the way this hot body convulses and shudders against my own as you come. I want to mix up that come with my own sweat and cum and spread it all over your and my body, breathe that scent until there aren’t any longer you and me, but only one, only us. I want see your flushing face, how your skin prickles and the way you silently scream my name, when I fuck you hours and hours.
Iruka gasped as the fingers wrote feverishly down the other man’s desires, not able to stop the tension building up in his abdominal. It had been so long since somebody had held his body like this, the pent-up sexual frustration hitting Iruka with everything it got. The hand that hadn’t been touching his shoulder, suddenly grabbed the front of his pants, squeezing, giving enough pressure for the captured erection just to make him fall abruptly from the edge.
With a strangled groan, Iruka woke up. “W-wha - ?” the dark-haired man gasped and instinctively sprang into a sitting position. For few moments Iruka just blinked owlishly in to the darkness, confused about the whole situation. But very soon the lack of another warm body became as oblivious as the wetness inside his pants. “Shit!” he cursed non-ceremoniously, slumping back against the couch, “shit, shitshitshit!”
I did not just have a wet dream! Iruka groaned, rubbing furiously his eyes with his palms. But the tell-tale stickiness and sweat in his groin disproved his wish, and Iruka could feel his cheeks flaring underneath his hands.
Slowly, the tan man dragged himself into the shower upstairs. The soiled underwear and pants flew into the laundry hamper, the shirt and socks falling carelessly on the floor, before Iruka stepped into the shower cubicle. Turning the water temperature into nicely warm, he allowed the water pour over his body. The brown eyes turned to look at the mess in the groin, the whitish cum sticking on to the tan skin. Sighing, Iruka brought his hand and started to scrub it away, grimacing slightly while doing it. It had been almost three or four years, since he’d had a wet dream this bad. Not since he’d noticed that Mizuki was more than just a friend to him, and that had been years ago.
After the last remaining of the white substance disappeared into the sewer, Iruka placed his forehead against the cool tiles, taking a deep breath. This was embarrassing. Of course wet dreams were part of a healthy man’s life, but Iruka knew exactly why he had had one. It was the invitation, the fact that other man wanted to ask him out. His tired unconsciousness had attached it with his interest on Kakashi, and Iruka’s body had reacted in its natural way.
But I didn’t know I was that needy… Iruka groaned in frustration.
When the tan man exited the bathroom, Iruka padded softly in to his bedroom, wearing only a towel around his hips. The alarm clock on his nightstand revealed it was a quarter past six, indicating that he’d been sleeping only few hours, but it was still too early to start the day. Sighing, Iruka fell on his bed, burying his face into the pillow. It didn’t hurt, if he’d shut his eyes for three more hours. Wriggling, the tan man snaked his way under the duvet, wet towel left sloppily on the floor, and closed his eyes again.
And maybe this time I won’t see any “dreams” this time.
At the same moment as Iruka easily fell into sleep again, on the other side of the town, one silver-haired man was waking up.
His internal clock woke Kakashi up almost precisely quarter past six; the right eye cracked open and took in the brightness of the bedroom, while his other senses started to process the surroundings. He felt how the mattress was dipped behind him as one of the bigger dogs had chosen to sleep there and Kakashi recognized Pakkun’s form curled next to his head. Carefully, the pale man sat up, stirring the animals from their sleep; the small pug just glared lazily at the man, while the red and white furred dog rose to greet him, licking at the bare face. Chuckling, Kakashi scratched it behind the ears, giving also a gentle pat on Pakkun’s head, before getting out of the bed.
Warming his muscles with a simple exercise that consisted of stretching and fifty push-ups, Kakashi headed for shower. The rest of the dogs were scattered all around the apartment, but rose to greet their master as the silver-haired man walked out of the bedroom, and Kakashi greeted them back by brushing absentmindedly his fingers through the colorful furs.
The large, top-floor apartment bathed in light as the morning sun shone through the large windows and giving a beautiful view of the city. It was both artificial and real lights that had drawn Kakashi, when he had first time stepped inside- and after seeing the place himself, he had immediately known why Jiraiya had placed such high price-tag on it.
Instead of making the apartment two-storey, the architect of this place had left the living-room and kitchen’s roofs open, making the already spacious rooms even bigger. These two rooms shared the north-side of the apartment with the master bedroom, but that one had its ceiling in the normal height. But instead of cutting the apartment, the architect had made stairs and an empty space above the master bedroom, which now worked as Kakashi’s library and office. There were two bathrooms; the smaller was jointed with the master bedroom, and larger one with bathtub was on the south side of the apartment as well as one guestroom.
Kakashi showered quickly, just rinsing away the sweat and dream from his body and ducking his head underneath the spray for a few seconds. Grabbing a large, blue towel from the rack, the pale man dried himself briskly before folding it back. He then inspected his face from the mirror, fingers feeling the stubble covering the angular jaw. Kakashi didn’t feel like shaving it since it was Saturday and the only thing he actually had to do today was just take the dogs out for a walk. With that cleared, the deaf man walked back to the bedroom, dressing up into a black yukata, but leaving the mask that was attached in to the collar around his neck - it was bit old-fashioned but Kakashi liked it and he had grown used to wear yukatas since childhood.
After the breakfast and feeding the dogs, Kakashi man carried on his morning routine by checking his e-mail - the only important one was a short message from Jiraiya, reminding once again about the dead-line of his article - and then read the morning news. As Kakashi surfed through various articles, his eye caught a headline that made him stop.
Riceland Accepts Sound’s Offer
After a series of bad investments and economic problems, Riceland’s management have taken the offer and decided to sell the sinking firm to Sannin Orochimaru, the founder and sole owner of the Sound Inc. The future of the company and its employees has not been announced yet, but many believe that Riceland will be merged with Sound Inc. like other companies they have purchased these past two years. With this deal Sound Inc. has gotten hold of more markets than any other corporation in past decade and there seems to be no stop for...
Frowning, Kakashi read the rest of the article, creases on his forehead deepening as the journalist continued to tell info about Sound’s road from nothing to one of the world’s most known companies. The one thing that was missing, though, was the little fact that more than 50% of Sound’s incomes were from illegal stuff that nobody else wanted to do, but somebody still had to.
Kakashi knew Orochimaru from his childhood, just like he knew Jiraiya and Tsunade, long before he had even created Sound Inc. For him, the cold man was as threatening as a coiled snake, ready to strike when you least expected it. Just Orochimaru’s presence was enough for Kakashi to break his cool and become reckless and fidgety and he couldn’t even imagine what kind of effect his voice had - Kakashi could only remember a distant echo of the unnerving smoothness that even now made skin go all goose bumps. But after founding his company, the sickly pale man had vanished for many years, before surfacing again as a wealthy, yet brutal tycoon. And now he had his eyes on Konoha, a simple Centre that just “accidentally” happened to be Tsunade’s heart. And where was Tsunade, there was also Jiraiya, Kakashi’s distant relative and godfather and who also happened to be his editor-in-chief. So, when Tsunade had been in trouble, Jiraiya was more than eager give his help, dragging him along in the process.
Although that might have not been such bad thing, Kakashi mused, a small smile twisting his lips as he remembered Iruka. The tan man had been interesting and Kakashi hoped to see him at least one more time before the charity event in the end of this month.
After finishing his reading, Kakashi opened few files and set to work, because the last e-mail from Jiraiya was right, the dead-line was closing in.
The silent tapping filled the apartment as the pale fingers moved fluently on the keyboard, creating paragraphs that soon turned into pages as the time flew. In the corner of his eye, Kakashi could see how all his eight dogs climbed the stairs to join him, seven of them slumping down around the desk, while Pakkun obnoxiously climbed on the desk itself and settled next to screen. Kakashi didn’t mind, he was used to it, besides the little pug could be surprisingly stubborn if it decided to do something. Distractedly, the silver-haired man picked the dog up and placed on to his shoulder, before returning back to his typing, while the dog just started to drowse.
After finishing his sketch, Kakashi started to hone his work, deleting lines and writing new ones. He worked almost non-stop for three hours, but was interrupted as the little desk lamp next to the computer screen started to flicker and the dogs suddenly perked up. Bisuke and Guruko where the first ones to run down, their long floppy ears bouncing, while the rest of the dogs followed them. Frowning, the silver-haired man saved his work and rose up, helping Pakkun to keep its balance on the dark-clad shoulder with his hand, using the other to pull the mask on.
Kakashi walked downstairs, shushing the dogs down with a single hand movement. Obediently, they silenced down but kept circling the man as he went to check door-video. The small screen showed that the early visitor was no other than Jiraiya himself. Not actually even surprised, Kakashi just rolled his eye and pressed the button to open the main door. Immediately, the big man stepped in, and the silver-haired man went to make some coffee; a little break wouldn’t be bad, fresh coffee neither. It took only few minutes with the elevator and soon the dogs came to Kakashi, barking and trotting between the kitchen and entrance hall, hearing the door bell that he didn’t.
“Ohayo, Kakashi,” Jiraiya greeted as the silvery head poked out of the door, Pakkun on his shoulder, “sorry for the early visit, but I have the thing you asked for.”
Nodding, Kakashi gave more room for the bigger man, who stepped inside - and got tackled down by a pack of enthusiastic canines. A slight grin lifted the masked lips as he closed the door, passing the pile of dogs and Jiraiya underneath them. Even Pakkun also decided to say ‘hello’ to the older man and jumped from his shoulder to sit on the white mane.
“Coffee,” the masked man informed, trusting Jiraiya to shake his pets away as soon as he had had enough them.
Few minutes later the larger man entered the kitchen, zealous dogs following him, and found fresh coffee waiting on the table. Kakashi was sitting on the other side, a cup of steaming liquid already in his own hand, mask pulled down. Jiraiya sat down and dropped the brown file he was holding on the wooden surface. Taking a sip from the offered caffeine, the large man watched curiously, how one pale hand stretched out, long fingers placing on brown material before slowly pulling it to Kakashi’s side of the table.
Jiraiya scratched the dogs that were now laying underneath the table, next to the men’s feet, while his distantly related nephew flipped through the papers, the dark eye scanning most of them, before closing the file.
‘Thank you,’ Kakashi signed, the mask suddenly covering his face, but Jiraiya wasn’t fazed because of it - he had known the pale brat since he had been in his mother’s womb. ‘What do you want for this?’
‘Glad you asked,’ Jiraiya grinned roguishly, which made the younger man cringe the tiniest bit - Jiraiya could be quite demanding, when people owed him something. ‘Firstly, I want that damned article ready for tomorrow. It’s bad enough that you’re always late from our meetings, but for your work to be late; that harms both my magazine and especially my wallet.’
Kakashi snorted, earning a quick glare from Jiraiya.
‘Secondly, I want you to go shopping with me.’
That earned a bit more reaction from the pale man; both of his eyes snapped wide open, bewilderment written all over his face so that even the mask couldn’t hide it. ‘Excuse me?’ he signed, the silvery brows frowning, ‘did you just use a wrong hand sign?’
‘No. I want you to go shopping with me. Should I say it so that you can read my lips?’ The amused grin stretched the older man’s face as the frown on Kakashi’s increased.
“Why?” the masked man asked curtly, closing the left eye as the bright light he so much liked in his apartment started to make his head throb.
“Why you wanted those papers?” Jiraiya countered back, the smug grin seeming to be stuck on his face, “you know, I can always go to Tsunade and tell her that you’re snooping around her Konoha. I’m sure she would be more than thrilled to help you.”
The silver-haired man huffed at this, focusing his attention on something that was outside the window. He looked calm, but years of observing his unique (read: odd) nephew had made Jiraiya very fluid with Kakashi-language, both vocal and physical. So when he saw the slight twitching in the corner of the visible eye - barely, but it was there - the older man knew that Kakashi was having an internal argument, counting the pros and cons and, most of all, trying to figure out why the hell Jiraiya wanted to go shopping with him. Finally, the dark eye narrowed, a sign that a decision had been made. The younger man turned to look at him and gave a short nod.
‘Great! Now go back to work, and I’ll pick up you and your article tomorrow morning!’
** ** ** ** **
A/:Damnit, I had to cut this in to two posts. Btw, is Kakashi too non-real while he’s deaf and partly blind? (I say partly, because he can still see with his left eye)
Edit: (5.6.2011 as in June) This and the first part of chapter two has been edited. *sighs* Almost three years and no end yet. -_-
- Senna-chan
“So… hungry…,” Iruka mumbled, not caring if Raidou didn’t catch his words.
The burnt-scarred man startled, though, when the pony-tailed one staggered on to his feet. ‘Going home?’ he asked, watching Iruka to stretch and yawn widely.
‘Yes, but I need to eat before that. Want to come too?’ Iruka asked.
‘Nah, maybe next time; I stay here and wake up these two,’ Raidou said and pointed with his thumb at the slumbering duo, ‘go, we’ll close the place up. Genma and the others can clean this mess tomorrow.’
Iruka nodded, stifling another yawn, before waving his hand as a goodbye.
Raidou cracked his neck, feeling the snapping of his bones. He looked at the sleeping men; Izumo all but snuggling his spike-haired friend and Kotetsu did nothing to stop it, actually relaxing even more. Grinning, Raidou fished his cell phone out of his pocket and memorized the moment for future black-mail.
Two floors downstairs, Iruka walked towards the car, rubbing tiredly his eyes on the way. The only thing he wanted now was warm food, a cold beer, bed and at least eight hours of sleeping. Naruto was sleeping over at Kiba’s house, which meant he wouldn’t have to wake the young boy for the school, but sleep in instead himself. He slid in to the worn but soft seat and started the engine.
Half an hour later Iruka ate happily his pork ramen in a restaurant called Ichiraku. It wasn’t big, only three small tables and few chairs next to the counter, but very cozy place and the food was excellent. The owner, Teuchi-san, had greeted the tan man with a smile, and Ayame-san, his daughter, had half-heartedly scolded Iruka for looking so stressed and not taking care of himself.
Iruka liked the ramen they served very much, and Naruto… Naruto worshipped Ichiraku. The blond boy was doubtlessly their best customer - or Iruka, since he paid the bill more than often.
“How things are going at the Center?” Teuchi asked while scrubbing one of the large pots. Ayame was cleaning the tables somewhere behind the dark-haired man, listening music from her headphones. “I heard that you are planning something different for the annual charity-event. An auction or something similar.”
The scar-nosed man almost suffocated in to the mouthful he was swallowing and ended up coughing violently. The restaurant-owner merely raised his eye-brow, waiting for the other man to catch his breath. Iruka grabbed his glass of water and drank it almost empty, knowing he was blushing and not just because he had almost suffered an embarrassing death by a bunch of noodles and piece of pork.
“Wh-who told you that?” the dark-haired male wheezed.
“Oh, I heard it from Shiranui-san, when he was here last time with Namiashi-san,” Teuchi told, inspecting his hand-work, “he told that you are arranging something bigger than usually later in the evening. Told me also it would be ‘something you don’t want to miss’ and asked me to tell Ayame and her friends to bring lots of money.”
“Great, really great,” Iruka mumbled under his breath, swearing to maim the needle-obsessed man next time he saw him. It was the last thing he needed; a group of single women, barely over twenty and in a rather desperate seek out for a man - not that Ayame was like that, but she occasionally did flirt with Iruka while serving the ramen.
“When it’s going to be?” Teuchi asked, blissfully unaware what kind of event it was going to be.
“At the 27th day,” Iruka told, remembering all the flyers back at the Center, “we’ll start sending the flyers to kids’ homes and sent few of them at the local supermarkets and maybe also in here. If that’s okay?”
“But of course, anything for Konoha.”
“Thank you.”
On his way back to home Iruka grabbed few bottles of beer from the local store - the cashier, a freckle-cheeked young man, dully took his money, eyes more glued to the barely hidden porn-magazine behind the counter, which would have usually made Iruka annoyed, but now he was too tired to care about that. Minutes later he was back home and entered the dark house, placing his jacket on the coat-rack, before switching on few lights on at the living-room and pressed the button of the CD-player. The silence was immediately filled with soft tunes of jazz-music - it wasn’t Iruka’s favorite, but it was ok. He opened one of the beer bottles and took a sip from it, feeling immediately more relaxed.
Sighing, Iruka went to the kitchen to check the mail.
On top of the kitchen counter was a small pile of letters Naruto had kindly brought from the door and he lazily flipped them through before suddenly stopping. It was a small envelope with his name printed on, but it wasn’t like the normal bills he received. Frowning, Iruka took a longer sip from his beer, before turning the letter in his hand and his eyes widened saucer-wide as he saw that the sender was from Sound Inc!?
Second time at that night Iruka almost suffocated. Coughing, he dropped the bottle on the counter. “What the hell?” he wheezed, also the second time, and nearly ripped the envelope into pieces, while opening it.
Inside of it was a single business card with Sound’s logo printed on it and underneath it was the name Yakushi Kabuto, his phone and fax numbers along with his Sound office’s address. But on the other side, beside his personal address and phone number, was a little message written in a tidy handwriting:
Dear, Umino-san,
I would be pleased to meet you at Butterfly’s 8th September 8 o’clock in the evening. My phone will be on all the time just for your answer.
Sincerely,
Yakushi Kabuto
“You got to be kidding me?!” Iruka continued his disbelieved monologue, the dark-brown eyes wide. He flipped the card over and over, as if making sure that the lines stayed on it and wasn’t some kind of joke. Because it had to be; why on Earth this Kabuto would ask him out for a… dinner? And in Butterfly, one of the most stylish restaurants in whole city.
The memory of Tsunade’s office from only two days ago came back to Iruka’s mind vividly, the silver-haired young man - who had to be at least five years younger than him, for goodness sake! - and the cold, arrogant way he had talked. Iruka remembered the short eye-contact they had shared and the even shorter smile that had perplexed him before he had noticed Kakashi and simply forgotten the man.
How the hell he got my address? Iruka worried, biting his lip in discomfort from knowing that someone so close to Orochimaru had purposely searched for information about him. Turning the business card once again around, Iruka stared at the phone number there, the black numbers glaring straight back at him.
A quick glance from the corner of his eyes confirmed that this wasn’t the best time - it was almost half three in the morning - to call and demand for explanation, so Iruka just threw the card on the table and took the beer with him. He slumped down on the sofa, taking another swig from the bottle and tried to analyze the situation. So, Kabuto wanted to have a dinner with him, but was it meant to be as a date or a simple meeting, the tan man did not know.
Why he’d do this? Iruka groaned, raking his fingers in frustration through the dark hair, undoing it. I don’t think he’s going to talk about Center, but if he is… Grimacing, he took another swig from his beer.
Iruka really had had the intention to go upstairs into his bed, but the warm sensation of alcohol buzzing in his tired system and the softly playing music were too much for his spent body. Yawning, the tan man got in to more comfortable position on the couch, one leg thrown over the backrest, one arm pillowing his head, before allowing his eyes to slid close.
** ** **
A hand was moving over his chest, warm fingertips almost touching the tan skin, leaving ghost-like trails on their wake. He sighed softly, when the hand circled his navel, a blunt nail scratching accidentally - or not - the lower abdominal and the thin line of hair there. From there it moved up, caressing the ridges of muscle and some scars life had carved on his skin. Iruka groaned as a single finger started to tease his left nipple, circling the dusky nub gently but insistently. The other hand tugged roughly the right one, and both of the little nubs hardened in to sensitive beads under the unequal treatment.
Little tingly sensations travelled up and down his body from the touches, stirring Iruka’s arousal from its long lasting slumber. He allowed himself to moan as the warm hands and calloused fingertips moved to explore every part of the tan body; finding the right spots that made him shiver and earning little gasps of pleasure as they teased a sensitive spot between the ribs.
There was a silent hum of appreciation and Iruka felt a hot breath against his face, but he couldn’t see any face in the darkness. Soft hair brushed the scarred cheek, a tip of nose gently nuzzling his face, before lips touched the marred skin on his nose. They moved downwards, meeting Iruka’s own lips and the gentle kiss turned into a crushing one, a demanding tongue sliding inside the tan man’s mouth. Moaning, he allowed the invasion, meeting the assaulting muscle with his own.
The slowly increasing heat lit up into a smoldering fire inside his belly as the hard body settled above him, the flat, naked chest contacting with his own as the long limbs gently embraced him. Iruka could feel how his whole being was filled with need to touch and be touched after so long time. He gasped into the unknown mouth as the other man slowly rolled his narrow hips, the evidence of his arousal pressing against the tan man’s groin.
I-ru-ka…
A single finger drew the marks on his shoulder, making it even more erotic than actually saying his name out loud. Iruka groaned as the long digit continued to move on his skin, writing down most sinfully things that sent electricity down to Iruka’s groin:
I want make you squirm, feel the way this hot body convulses and shudders against my own as you come. I want to mix up that come with my own sweat and cum and spread it all over your and my body, breathe that scent until there aren’t any longer you and me, but only one, only us. I want see your flushing face, how your skin prickles and the way you silently scream my name, when I fuck you hours and hours.
Iruka gasped as the fingers wrote feverishly down the other man’s desires, not able to stop the tension building up in his abdominal. It had been so long since somebody had held his body like this, the pent-up sexual frustration hitting Iruka with everything it got. The hand that hadn’t been touching his shoulder, suddenly grabbed the front of his pants, squeezing, giving enough pressure for the captured erection just to make him fall abruptly from the edge.
With a strangled groan, Iruka woke up. “W-wha - ?” the dark-haired man gasped and instinctively sprang into a sitting position. For few moments Iruka just blinked owlishly in to the darkness, confused about the whole situation. But very soon the lack of another warm body became as oblivious as the wetness inside his pants. “Shit!” he cursed non-ceremoniously, slumping back against the couch, “shit, shitshitshit!”
I did not just have a wet dream! Iruka groaned, rubbing furiously his eyes with his palms. But the tell-tale stickiness and sweat in his groin disproved his wish, and Iruka could feel his cheeks flaring underneath his hands.
Slowly, the tan man dragged himself into the shower upstairs. The soiled underwear and pants flew into the laundry hamper, the shirt and socks falling carelessly on the floor, before Iruka stepped into the shower cubicle. Turning the water temperature into nicely warm, he allowed the water pour over his body. The brown eyes turned to look at the mess in the groin, the whitish cum sticking on to the tan skin. Sighing, Iruka brought his hand and started to scrub it away, grimacing slightly while doing it. It had been almost three or four years, since he’d had a wet dream this bad. Not since he’d noticed that Mizuki was more than just a friend to him, and that had been years ago.
After the last remaining of the white substance disappeared into the sewer, Iruka placed his forehead against the cool tiles, taking a deep breath. This was embarrassing. Of course wet dreams were part of a healthy man’s life, but Iruka knew exactly why he had had one. It was the invitation, the fact that other man wanted to ask him out. His tired unconsciousness had attached it with his interest on Kakashi, and Iruka’s body had reacted in its natural way.
But I didn’t know I was that needy… Iruka groaned in frustration.
When the tan man exited the bathroom, Iruka padded softly in to his bedroom, wearing only a towel around his hips. The alarm clock on his nightstand revealed it was a quarter past six, indicating that he’d been sleeping only few hours, but it was still too early to start the day. Sighing, Iruka fell on his bed, burying his face into the pillow. It didn’t hurt, if he’d shut his eyes for three more hours. Wriggling, the tan man snaked his way under the duvet, wet towel left sloppily on the floor, and closed his eyes again.
And maybe this time I won’t see any “dreams” this time.
At the same moment as Iruka easily fell into sleep again, on the other side of the town, one silver-haired man was waking up.
His internal clock woke Kakashi up almost precisely quarter past six; the right eye cracked open and took in the brightness of the bedroom, while his other senses started to process the surroundings. He felt how the mattress was dipped behind him as one of the bigger dogs had chosen to sleep there and Kakashi recognized Pakkun’s form curled next to his head. Carefully, the pale man sat up, stirring the animals from their sleep; the small pug just glared lazily at the man, while the red and white furred dog rose to greet him, licking at the bare face. Chuckling, Kakashi scratched it behind the ears, giving also a gentle pat on Pakkun’s head, before getting out of the bed.
Warming his muscles with a simple exercise that consisted of stretching and fifty push-ups, Kakashi headed for shower. The rest of the dogs were scattered all around the apartment, but rose to greet their master as the silver-haired man walked out of the bedroom, and Kakashi greeted them back by brushing absentmindedly his fingers through the colorful furs.
The large, top-floor apartment bathed in light as the morning sun shone through the large windows and giving a beautiful view of the city. It was both artificial and real lights that had drawn Kakashi, when he had first time stepped inside- and after seeing the place himself, he had immediately known why Jiraiya had placed such high price-tag on it.
Instead of making the apartment two-storey, the architect of this place had left the living-room and kitchen’s roofs open, making the already spacious rooms even bigger. These two rooms shared the north-side of the apartment with the master bedroom, but that one had its ceiling in the normal height. But instead of cutting the apartment, the architect had made stairs and an empty space above the master bedroom, which now worked as Kakashi’s library and office. There were two bathrooms; the smaller was jointed with the master bedroom, and larger one with bathtub was on the south side of the apartment as well as one guestroom.
Kakashi showered quickly, just rinsing away the sweat and dream from his body and ducking his head underneath the spray for a few seconds. Grabbing a large, blue towel from the rack, the pale man dried himself briskly before folding it back. He then inspected his face from the mirror, fingers feeling the stubble covering the angular jaw. Kakashi didn’t feel like shaving it since it was Saturday and the only thing he actually had to do today was just take the dogs out for a walk. With that cleared, the deaf man walked back to the bedroom, dressing up into a black yukata, but leaving the mask that was attached in to the collar around his neck - it was bit old-fashioned but Kakashi liked it and he had grown used to wear yukatas since childhood.
After the breakfast and feeding the dogs, Kakashi man carried on his morning routine by checking his e-mail - the only important one was a short message from Jiraiya, reminding once again about the dead-line of his article - and then read the morning news. As Kakashi surfed through various articles, his eye caught a headline that made him stop.
Riceland Accepts Sound’s Offer
After a series of bad investments and economic problems, Riceland’s management have taken the offer and decided to sell the sinking firm to Sannin Orochimaru, the founder and sole owner of the Sound Inc. The future of the company and its employees has not been announced yet, but many believe that Riceland will be merged with Sound Inc. like other companies they have purchased these past two years. With this deal Sound Inc. has gotten hold of more markets than any other corporation in past decade and there seems to be no stop for...
Frowning, Kakashi read the rest of the article, creases on his forehead deepening as the journalist continued to tell info about Sound’s road from nothing to one of the world’s most known companies. The one thing that was missing, though, was the little fact that more than 50% of Sound’s incomes were from illegal stuff that nobody else wanted to do, but somebody still had to.
Kakashi knew Orochimaru from his childhood, just like he knew Jiraiya and Tsunade, long before he had even created Sound Inc. For him, the cold man was as threatening as a coiled snake, ready to strike when you least expected it. Just Orochimaru’s presence was enough for Kakashi to break his cool and become reckless and fidgety and he couldn’t even imagine what kind of effect his voice had - Kakashi could only remember a distant echo of the unnerving smoothness that even now made skin go all goose bumps. But after founding his company, the sickly pale man had vanished for many years, before surfacing again as a wealthy, yet brutal tycoon. And now he had his eyes on Konoha, a simple Centre that just “accidentally” happened to be Tsunade’s heart. And where was Tsunade, there was also Jiraiya, Kakashi’s distant relative and godfather and who also happened to be his editor-in-chief. So, when Tsunade had been in trouble, Jiraiya was more than eager give his help, dragging him along in the process.
Although that might have not been such bad thing, Kakashi mused, a small smile twisting his lips as he remembered Iruka. The tan man had been interesting and Kakashi hoped to see him at least one more time before the charity event in the end of this month.
After finishing his reading, Kakashi opened few files and set to work, because the last e-mail from Jiraiya was right, the dead-line was closing in.
The silent tapping filled the apartment as the pale fingers moved fluently on the keyboard, creating paragraphs that soon turned into pages as the time flew. In the corner of his eye, Kakashi could see how all his eight dogs climbed the stairs to join him, seven of them slumping down around the desk, while Pakkun obnoxiously climbed on the desk itself and settled next to screen. Kakashi didn’t mind, he was used to it, besides the little pug could be surprisingly stubborn if it decided to do something. Distractedly, the silver-haired man picked the dog up and placed on to his shoulder, before returning back to his typing, while the dog just started to drowse.
After finishing his sketch, Kakashi started to hone his work, deleting lines and writing new ones. He worked almost non-stop for three hours, but was interrupted as the little desk lamp next to the computer screen started to flicker and the dogs suddenly perked up. Bisuke and Guruko where the first ones to run down, their long floppy ears bouncing, while the rest of the dogs followed them. Frowning, the silver-haired man saved his work and rose up, helping Pakkun to keep its balance on the dark-clad shoulder with his hand, using the other to pull the mask on.
Kakashi walked downstairs, shushing the dogs down with a single hand movement. Obediently, they silenced down but kept circling the man as he went to check door-video. The small screen showed that the early visitor was no other than Jiraiya himself. Not actually even surprised, Kakashi just rolled his eye and pressed the button to open the main door. Immediately, the big man stepped in, and the silver-haired man went to make some coffee; a little break wouldn’t be bad, fresh coffee neither. It took only few minutes with the elevator and soon the dogs came to Kakashi, barking and trotting between the kitchen and entrance hall, hearing the door bell that he didn’t.
“Ohayo, Kakashi,” Jiraiya greeted as the silvery head poked out of the door, Pakkun on his shoulder, “sorry for the early visit, but I have the thing you asked for.”
Nodding, Kakashi gave more room for the bigger man, who stepped inside - and got tackled down by a pack of enthusiastic canines. A slight grin lifted the masked lips as he closed the door, passing the pile of dogs and Jiraiya underneath them. Even Pakkun also decided to say ‘hello’ to the older man and jumped from his shoulder to sit on the white mane.
“Coffee,” the masked man informed, trusting Jiraiya to shake his pets away as soon as he had had enough them.
Few minutes later the larger man entered the kitchen, zealous dogs following him, and found fresh coffee waiting on the table. Kakashi was sitting on the other side, a cup of steaming liquid already in his own hand, mask pulled down. Jiraiya sat down and dropped the brown file he was holding on the wooden surface. Taking a sip from the offered caffeine, the large man watched curiously, how one pale hand stretched out, long fingers placing on brown material before slowly pulling it to Kakashi’s side of the table.
Jiraiya scratched the dogs that were now laying underneath the table, next to the men’s feet, while his distantly related nephew flipped through the papers, the dark eye scanning most of them, before closing the file.
‘Thank you,’ Kakashi signed, the mask suddenly covering his face, but Jiraiya wasn’t fazed because of it - he had known the pale brat since he had been in his mother’s womb. ‘What do you want for this?’
‘Glad you asked,’ Jiraiya grinned roguishly, which made the younger man cringe the tiniest bit - Jiraiya could be quite demanding, when people owed him something. ‘Firstly, I want that damned article ready for tomorrow. It’s bad enough that you’re always late from our meetings, but for your work to be late; that harms both my magazine and especially my wallet.’
Kakashi snorted, earning a quick glare from Jiraiya.
‘Secondly, I want you to go shopping with me.’
That earned a bit more reaction from the pale man; both of his eyes snapped wide open, bewilderment written all over his face so that even the mask couldn’t hide it. ‘Excuse me?’ he signed, the silvery brows frowning, ‘did you just use a wrong hand sign?’
‘No. I want you to go shopping with me. Should I say it so that you can read my lips?’ The amused grin stretched the older man’s face as the frown on Kakashi’s increased.
“Why?” the masked man asked curtly, closing the left eye as the bright light he so much liked in his apartment started to make his head throb.
“Why you wanted those papers?” Jiraiya countered back, the smug grin seeming to be stuck on his face, “you know, I can always go to Tsunade and tell her that you’re snooping around her Konoha. I’m sure she would be more than thrilled to help you.”
The silver-haired man huffed at this, focusing his attention on something that was outside the window. He looked calm, but years of observing his unique (read: odd) nephew had made Jiraiya very fluid with Kakashi-language, both vocal and physical. So when he saw the slight twitching in the corner of the visible eye - barely, but it was there - the older man knew that Kakashi was having an internal argument, counting the pros and cons and, most of all, trying to figure out why the hell Jiraiya wanted to go shopping with him. Finally, the dark eye narrowed, a sign that a decision had been made. The younger man turned to look at him and gave a short nod.
‘Great! Now go back to work, and I’ll pick up you and your article tomorrow morning!’
** ** ** ** **
A/:Damnit, I had to cut this in to two posts. Btw, is Kakashi too non-real while he’s deaf and partly blind? (I say partly, because he can still see with his left eye)
Edit: (5.6.2011 as in June) This and the first part of chapter two has been edited. *sighs* Almost three years and no end yet. -_-
- Senna-chan