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On a fine, sunny morning, after weeks of preparation for this day, another string of thoughts, thoughts that were not his own, drifted into his brain. He did not curse at his luck. It was to be expected, honestly.
“God damn it,” he thought, “this project is worth half of my grade in this class, do you need to read that now? At this hour?”
(They had discovered they lived in the same time zone completely on accident a couple years ago, his friend cursing daylight savings and flight schedules.)
“Maah, teach, it just came out. No time like the present.” His mind mate was not considerate in the least. “I thought you didn’t care about this sort of thing.”
Well, no, he didn’t, but with the frazzled mind he was carrying as of late, thanks to his devout preparations for this final project, it would only lead to disaster to let those thoughts echo. All these long weeks of hard work, tossed if he didn’t keep his composure. “Please,” he nearly begs, “not today.” Maybe later - he really hoped his friend didn’t hear that second thought.
(He probably did, they seemed to catch onto each other’s sexual thoughts easily, the explanation most books had on the subject were that those thoughts were intense, so they were the easiest to share.)
There was a pleasant, if not slightly startling silence, and Iruka takes it and runs. He only has a handful of hours until this class was over forever, and he was growing ecstatic at the prospect of not getting distracted, which was very common with his soul mate’s rambling thoughts. They were very expressive.
Not an hour later, while riding the morning transit did the commentary resume. Rude.
“I’m not reading, I’m writing.”
“Oh like that’s any better. Honestly, Mr. Author.”
(The bond, while very loose and flexible when it came to what kind of thoughts would pass through it, did not share any, in not zero, nouns. So they came to use nicknames when they were knee high to grasshoppers. Names would change with the times, their current ones for what they plan to do with their lives.)
Iruka sighed, which sounded more like a helpless groan featuring the chorus of five hundred of hell’s tormented souls to be perfectly honest. It was just his luck to be paired with a shameless fan of erotica.
He had thirty minutes until the presentation. Maybe Mr.Author wouldn’t think too… passionately about his writing. He held that prayer with loose hope.
He just didn’t have the luck.
So after twenty minutes of what seemed to be an acceptable amount of not thinking at all, Iruka had fallen into a sense of ease, he could do it. He was doing it. Mr. Author wasn’t going to distract him with his dirty writings, he wasn’t going to fall victim to them, and he wasn’t going to fail this class.
He didn’t hear the soft mumbling of contemplation in the back of his head.
Ten minutes after this, after just starting his presentation, he notices a murmur in the back of his head. He forges on, intent to ignore it and talk about the nonsense he didn’t particularly give a damn about.
The longer he focuses solely on speaking, the louder the murmur becomes. It’s getting difficult to concentrate and geeze, is it getting hot in here.
"Stop,” he pleads as he turns to face the board, taking a moment to bring up the next point.
“I’m just doing my job, Teach. Nothing wrong with that.”
And then the concept of pinning down a teacher to ravage him over his classroom desk races, sings through Iruka’s head and he only sees red.
“I swear to god-” he starts and immediately freezes. He spoke that aloud. Panic, he flushes red and whips his head at the professor. The man just gives him a knowing look, and it seems like he understands and will let it slide, but it doesn’t stop it from being so embarrassing.
He hears a soft chuckle ring in his mind, and that’s the end of that.
The rest of the presentation goes without a hitch, and despite that hiccup, he thinks he’s made more than a passing grade, and he should be glad, but the stupid concept his soul mate sent him is bouncing around in his head and it’s only making him upset.
He beelines to the washroom, to splash water over his face. He stares into his reflection, glaring.
“I fucking hate you.”
“Aw, I love you too honey bun.”
"Fuck me,” he groans exasperated, throwing his head up and dragging his hands over his face. It just really wasn’t worth it.
“That’s the plan.”
He stays quiet at that, and if his face feels warmer than what he intended for it to be when he left the room, he doesn’t let that slip.
He does slip however, when he catches the figure of a shifty, strange looking man leaning against a wall in the lobby. His hair looks so scratchy and grey, covers an eye, which doesn’t help getting a good look at the man’s face because he’s wearing a mask. He’s wearing a black track suit that should have been burned years ago, and Iruka feels insulted just by being in the same room as him. But none of that is why Iruka slips.
The man is reading his soulmates favourite novel. There was no mistake, that gaudy orange could be none other than that erotic trash that would filter in every now and then.
And it doesn’t bring on a rage, not in the slightest. His anger towards it has washed away, and only a trickling amusement remains. His frown rises, and a smirk quickly lets out little bubbles of giggles, and soon, he is clutching his sides as his body shudders with laughter. It’s really so silly to be mad about it, he thinks to himself, looking up with tears in his eyes to catch the gaze of the strange man, who must think he’s insane.
Only, when that happens, his mind freezes.
“Shit, he’s fucking cute,” is the only sound he can hear.
And then an audible click, like something’s being unlocked.
He tests the weight, “Mr. Author.”
He’s sure the moment shifts his weight forward, the same moment he witnesses the intimate shock showing miraculously in his one eye, the moment fills him with such a dreadful hope.
“Teach?"
Iruka strides over to him, the man holding his arms out as if anticipating a lovers embrace.
An embrace that doesn’t happen, as Iruka smacks the man over the head with his binder of notes.
“That was really fucking rude! I can’t believe you actually did that oh my god you-”
His rant is cut short as the man catches his shoulders and turns his head towards his. The mask is pulled down and there’s a coy smile playing on his features, eye glistening with mischief.
“Forgive me?”
Alright, Iruka will and can forgive him, for all of that, what he just saw just then, but hell if he’s gonna let it slide that easy. He tries his best to scowl, but honestly, it’s a vain attempt because it feels more like an amused pout.
“You treat me to lunch and you tell me your name and take me back to your place, then maybe I’ll consider it.” He quickly adds, “or we could go back to mine, either is fine.”
“Sounds like an acceptable plan for the evening,” the man nods, smile never leaving his face. Looking at it only hurts Iruka. He pulls at the stray hairs and tucks them behind his ear, a sudden wave of nervousness that incites a warmer smile from his soul mate.
The man bends slightly, better to align their mouths and Iruka knows what’s going to come and he isn’t quite sure he’s ready.
“Kissing you right now would feel weird if I don’t know your name,” so he blurts, receiving a chuckle in response.
“Kakashi Hatake. Tell me your name, please, so I can kiss you senseless already.” Kakashi’s hands have traveled south, and are resting on Iruka’s waist, gently pulling them closer.
“Well since you asked so eloquently,” he grins at his silly use of diction, “my name is Iruka Umino, and you, Kakashi, deserve a reward,” and lifts his feet a little to catch the man’s mouth with his.
(They’ve shared millions of thoughts over the years, late at night, over the endless possibilities on where and how their first kiss will be like. None of those thoughts really match up to the real thing.)
When they pull back, Iruka’s hit with a sudden realization. “This isn’t a chance meeting,” he’d be accusing if he weren’t so damn happy.
“Iruka, you know that I’m just not a literary genius,” Kakashi’s smile is too proud of himself, and Iruka will pointedly ignore the fluttering in his stomach when his name rolls out of Kakashi’s mouth, “I’m also a math genius, computer genius, sex genius-”
“Ok, ok, I get it stop,” he loses his fight to not grin, and shows his teeth in pure bliss at their meeting.
Kakashi stares a little too long at Iruka, who’s face has become on par with the sun with out bright and warm and how it’s radiating. It leaves him speechless and full of love and so much adoration, just awestruck with Iruka’s twinkling eyes and the crinkles in his smile, how fond he looks. Kakashi fumbles over his words, he’s trying to explain that he took the quote-unquote hints Iruka has been leaving around for the past several weeks, leading him to a handful of places that could have what Iruka’s final class project inside. It was simple, really.
Iruka laughs at that and Kakashi finds himself instantly comparing the sound to that of musical chimes, something light and pleasant to the ear. He steals a kiss to his cheek.
“Isn’t that, cheating fate?” Iruka ponders, smile still on his face. Clearly fond.
“Not if it were fate that I’d cheat fate,” Kakashi sing songs as he walks Iruka to his car.
“I must be incredibly lucky then,” Iruka sings along, laughing at his own joke.