Chapter Text
The final term of the school year has been over for five and a half hours, but despite the shots Anko had all but poured down her throat upon their arrival at the bar, Iruka is not yet drunk enough to let go of it. As her friends talk and gossip around a corner table, sharing drinks and stories as the night comes to life around them, she can’t bring herself to join in. The results of her students’ final exams and her disastrous year-end review with Lady Sandaime weight too heavily on her mind.
Once again, she wasted another hour all but begging the Hokage to let her cut Uzumaki Naruto from the academy program. Her reasons were numerous and well-thought out, as free of personal prejudice as they could be. He couldn’t learn at the same pace as his age-mates. The immense power held back by a nearly decade-old seal needs to be looked after by someone with more skill than a desk-jockeying chunin. He would benefit from the individual support of a tutor with broader authority to address both his educational needs and his baser survival needs, which were woefully unfulfilled by the current care system in place. There were dozens of reasons; each one which might have driven an atypical student out of the conventional classroom for the benefit of all involved.
But once again, Sandaime refused her request for reasonable accommodation.
“The education and training of the jinchuriki is paramount to the health and safety of the village.” She said, eyes hidden in the deep shadows below her wide hat, the pipe in her hands glowing orange as she breathed in another lungful of tobacco. “You are the only shinobi I trust with this duty. I am certain you will fulfill your mission. Dismissed.”
Which was frankly an unreasonable amount of pressure to put on just one teacher with barely four years of experience under her belt.
The words of confidence-stroke-command also fail to address the fact that Iruka has a class of twenty-six students total. All twenty-six of whom have their own specialized needs and skills and hopes of becoming full-fledged members of the Hidden Leaf Shinobi Corps by the end of the next year. That number alone would be enough to make Iruka so overwhelmed she sometimes thinks there’s no way she’ll survive another tern. That one of those fledgling shinobi possesses enough inner strength to wipe the village off the map accidentally is enough to make her gag with anxiety every time she wakes up and faces another day of teaching. Six years into the gig, loving her job isn’t enough anymore. She needs help. Structure. Guidance. She worries everyday that she’ll be throwing these kids to the wolves next year; that her failures as a new teacher are going to be the reason they end up dead.
And yet, this is her duty as a shinobi. Her ninja way. She chose it and has the Hokage’s full support. If the Hokage has faith in her, why can’t she have it in herself? Feeling like a failure and a coward, Iruka picks at the damp corners of her beer bottle, peering the sticky layer away with a heavy sigh. This too-obvious tell immediately summons the she-devil known only as Miturashi Anko to her side.
“Hey,” Her voice is mildly annoyed and wildly mischievous as she whispers into Iruka’s ear, just soft enough that it looks like she’s divulging something private; loud enough that more than half the table can hear the exchange. “I’m going to need you to stop worrying about finals, or end-of-term-paperwork, or that kid, or whatever, and start helping me heckle Kurenai.”
Iruka stifles a groan against her hand by feigning a yawn. In retaliation, Anko pinches her side hard enough to make her squirm.
“Fine.” She huffs, glaring down the several inches it takes to reach the other woman’s eyes. Having a best friend in T&I is a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that she always has the best gossip. The curse is that she can tell whenever you’re thinking about anything but exactly what’s happening in front of you, and nine times out of ten, she can guess what’s really on your mind. Blinking her wide eyes and propping her chin on her palms, she loudly asks, “What could we possibly heckle Kurenai about? I’m sure I haven’t heard anything unusual lately.”
“I’m soooo glad you asked!” Anko crows, cheerfully bussing her cheek, which is startling enough to force Iruka to genuinely laugh.
Laughing feels good, as do the echoing smiles of all of her friends turning towards them to hear whatever story Anko is about to share.
It’s for the best that Anko interrupted her spiraling train of thought. The solution to the Problem of Naruto is unlikely to present itself tonight and Iruka is meant to be blowing off steam with her friends. Now is not the time for navel gazing.
As Iruka settles more comfortably into her seat, Anko launches into her story with palpable glee.
“I have it on credibly good authority,” Anko begins, a phrase which means she read it in an official report that she may or may not have been authorized to see, “That Kurenai-san’s last mission went three days overschedule.”
“Oh, but Anko-chan,” Iruka teases, letting her drag out the production. “Everyone knows Kurenai-san’s mission went three days overschedule. She only got back this morning!”
“But what not everyone knows, is that of the four-man squad originally sent out; two returned on time, and only two were late.” Anko continues grandly, “Kurenai and her squad leader deviated from the planned route back home to chase down a potential missing-nin and ended up spending the last two days in the Land of Whirlpools together. Anyone want to take a guess who the jounin mission captain was?”
“Wait,” Iruka blinks, glancing between Anko and their dark-haired companion, who patiently sips at her fruity flavored drink and pretends to ignore them all. “Are you serious? Was it really…?”
“Sarutobi Asuma!” Anko crows before Iruka can finish her guess. The table genuinely gasps, to Anko’s obvious delight. “That’s right, I know spent two entire days holed up with your True Love, lady, so you better start spilling the beans!”
“If you read the report, then you know we pursued the missing-nin for a day and a half before getting caught in bad weather and circling back home.” Kurenai says with a gentle toss of her perfectly disheveled hair. Despite just returning from a mission, her red-painted nails are unchipped and her skin is clear and tastefully painted. She makes looking coiffed and feminine appear so effortless, Iruka’s stomach occasionally gives an unsettled swoop just from looking at her. Even when deeply embarrassed, her cheeks tinge just the faintest red, making it impossible to tell if she’s lying or just bashful.
If she wasn’t so deeply nice, Iruka might hate her.
“But official reports are so dry.” Anko prods, pouting, “All the juicy details get left out. For instance, did your pools ever manage to whirl together?”
Several members of their party groan at the forced innuendo, Iruka among them. Kurenai turns her button nose up at the implication.
“You’ve gotten your anatomy mixed up.” Kurenai deflects easily, “You’re the only one here who likes to whirling pools together.”
“Oooo,” Izumo heckles, face already flush from alcohol for the night. “She’s got you there, Anko-chan!”
“She’s distracting you!” Anko accuses, mouth pursing. “Don’t let her get away with it. Iruka, help!”
“I don’t know.” Iruka demurs, her own cheeks burning for some reason. “She has a point; your metaphors need work.”
“Besides,” Izumo says, leaning over her chair to lay her arm across Kurenai’s shoulders and pull her close, “Give poor Kurenai-san a break. I hope she and Asuma did have steamy, secret whirlpool sex. Every girl deserves that once in a while. Hell, I’d kill for something hot and secretive these days.”
Predictably, the fifth member of their little party gasps, hand fisting over her green-spandex-clad heart.
“You don’t suggest problems in the marital bed, do you!?” She cries out, loud enough to draw the attention of some neighboring tables. “Does Kotetsu-san no longer satisfy your youthful needs!?”
“Hey! Hey, it’s not like that! Keep your voice down, Gai-chan.” Izumo hisses, ducking her head to avoid curious glances. She presses the cool surface of her drink glass, wet with condensation, against her heated cheeks, and quietly admits, “It’s not that things with Ko’ aren’t good. They’ve always been good. He goes down on my like three times a – Ah!” She chokes as she catches herself, coughing mightily before sitting up straight. “Look, I’m not complaining or anything. I love Kotetsu. It’s just that we’ve been together for seven years now. The sex is still good, it’s just never surprising anymore and I don’t know if it ever will be, ya know?”
She blinks over at Gai, who nods seriously for a moment and then says, “Of course. I completely understand.”
Her wide eyes and tight smile clearly convey her absence of understanding more than her words convey the opposite. Four sixths of the table groans. Another night out; another complete swing and a miss for figuring out what Gai’s whole deal is.
“Perhaps,” Gai continues, every muscle in her face stretched to maximize the exposure of her pearly white teeth, “Anko-san could regale us with one of her tales of passionate love to relieve your youthful yearning?”
All eyes turn to Anko, who wilts under the pressure.
“Don’t look at me!” Known widely as a serial non-monogamist with frequently overlapping relationships, Anko can generally be counted on for a good meet-cute or getting together story, but tonight she only throws her arms up in dramatic surrender. “After that last one, I’m swearing off boys and girls for a while. I need some meeee time.” Her dark eyes narrow and she shifts the table’s focus to her left-hand side, “What about you, Iruka-chan? Have you hopped on any good dick lately?”
Iruka’s skin is dark enough that the only one who really knows she’s blushing is her, but she still can’t pull off the demure look like Kurenai, instead nearly full body cringing away from the question.
The truth is that ever since she realized Naruto was never going to pass the term’s final – over six weeks ago – she’d resorted to boning one of the jounin tutors who always hangs around the Academy in a desperately ill-advised attempt to cope with her stress. The sex was barely passable, but Ebisu was at least determined to try to get her off most of the time, which eased the itchy, attention-seeking part of her brain long enough to let her plan out her end-of-term speech to the Sandaime. Not that it had done her any good in the end.
In fact, it probably did her social life some harm, since Ebisu had recently started making the insufferable, banal bids for her time and attention outside of sex that makes her want to claw her own skin off. Asking to sleep over. Inviting her for dinner. Just a few hours, she’d spotted him approaching her classroom with flowers for the end of term and had quickly escaped out the window before their paths could cross.
But she really doesn’t want to unpack any of that in this very public space, so she settles for knocking back the rest of her beer and sighing heavily.
“Honestly?” She says, acutely aware of the extra attention her long pause has accumulated. She chews on her inner lip briefly, before summing up her problems as succinctly as she can manage. “Fuck sex. Sex is stupid!” a
Almost everyone in earshot has a good chuckle at what they assume is her joke, which makes her scowl deepen.
“I’m serious!” She insists, voice rising unexpectedly. For the first time, she considers that she might be more drunk than she initially thought. Still, she barrels on. “Why do we even bother? Men are such shit!”
The interested faces looking back at her, don’t seem particularly convinced.
“Iruka, babe,” Anko says, gesturing broadly with her cocktail glass, “You get more dick than anyone at this table. What are you talking about?”
In truth, Iruka’s not sure what she’s talking about; only that she’s been on the edge of some realization for a while now and six weeks of underwhelming sexual experiences and a hell of a lot of professional stress have broken her down enough to make her slightly willing to talk about it.
“Oh, come on, you guys!” She insists, using her half-empty beer glass for emphasis, “I can’t be the only one who’s figured it out, right? Sex is just – it’s all stupid tricks!” She looks at the blank, expectant faces that stare back at her and sighs. “It’s just…”
She tips her head back, letting her body fall lax and her voice get high and breathy, “’ooh, oh baby, that’s so good. Are you gonna come? Are you gonna come all over me?’” She sits back up with a dissatisfied huff, “And then they do. So what? Who cares! I’ve never had sex with someone and then sat back after and thought, ’Well, that was better than masturbating.’”
She glances around, looking for support, but none is immediately forth coming. A lot of eyes are now on her, drawn from other tables by her brief, but very vocal performance. For the first time all night, even Gai’s silver shadow openly looks at something other than her book. That single, dark eye is heavy lidded, but focused through the dim light of the bar. Something about the intensity of it makes Iruka suppress a shiver, like her body is bracing for a fight. Iruka’s blush spreads below her shirt collar and she hunches over the table to pick more ferociously at the label of her now-empty beer bottle.
“Or maybe it’s just me.” She mutters, trying not to let her bitterness spill out too palpably. For a long time, Iruka rode high on the novelty of being the first of all her friends to try any and everything. First kiss. First date. First to both give and receive head. She was never shy or ashamed about asking for what she wanted, and she aggressively encouraged her friends to do the same. But lately, somewhere around her 23rd birthday, she’s started to feel a creeping sense of unease with it all.
Lately, she thinks she’d kill for nice, but unsurprising sex.
“But then,” Kurenai asks, red eyes stark and almost glowing compared to the dim overhead lighting. “Why do you do it at all?”
Even if she knew for certain, Iruka’s not convinced she’d have the guts to tell this group the honest truth. Not after years of teasing and prodding them all into wanting more, better, best for themselves. Just admitting she’s not entirely happy with what she has is taking all of her remaining mental fortitude. She shrugs as blithely as she can manage, “I keep waiting for some dick to prove its worth the hype.”
“Oh! New game!” Anko announces, swooping in with her usual ease the moment she can tell someone’s turning the corner into genuinely unhappy with the attention on them, “Name and describe the best dick you’ve ever ridden, or take a shot!”
Any tension at the table breaks as they laugh and make suggestive jokes while taking care of the logistics of calling over another round of shots. Conversations ping-pong back and forth across the table gleefully, the night settling in heady around them. Iruka tries to let the current of the conversations buoy her downturned mood, but finds she can’t quite chase the embarrassed heat in her cheeks away.
It’s only when the next round appears on the table that Iruka realizes why.
“Oh, boo, Hatake.” Anko scowls across the table, “You could at least try to play the game.”
“I did.” Hatake Kakashi says, placing an empty shot glass down on the table. Below the line of her mask, Iruka could swear her tongue darts out to lick her lower lip. “I took a shot.”
“Boo.” Anko repeats, before turning to her next victim. “Kurenai – best dick: go!”
Iruka finds herself staring at the empty cup, rim-down on the table, and the small pool of liquid and gathers beneath it, while Kurenai crafts her prim response. Fingers half-hidden behind word leather gloves suddenly eclipse her line of sight, flexing around the small cup. Startled, Iruka glances up only to meet that same gaze from earlier.
The storm-grey of Kakashi’s only visible eye is mesmerizing and weighty when all its attention is fixed on one subject. Iruka is alarmed and embarrassed to realize the subject is currently her. Her cheeks heat even more intensely and she looks away in a hurry. Talking about sex with her friends has never embarrassed her, but talking about it in front of a super-elite jounin like Hatake? That feels different.
Recently pulled from black-ops – if the rumors are true – it’s hard to imagine someone as prestigious as Kakashi settling for anything less than excellent sex. By all reports, she rarely submits herself to the typical routines and bonding exercises of her fellow jounin. How much must she regret getting dragged into this mixed-rank free for all, only to be forced to listen to the tales of Iruka’s pathetic, juvenile attempts at hooking up.
Somehow the effect of that stare is made worse by the fact that Kakashi is still in full kit, from the forehead protector dropped low over her mysterious eye, to the weapon’s pouch strapped over her bandaged leg. She could be summoned on a mission at a moment’s notice and would only need to expend a little chakra to burn off the evening’s alcohol before being ready to hit the road. Even Gai, the other member of the group dedicated to being mission-ready, had made concessions for the evening by letting her long, thick hair out of its usual plait and brushing it out until it practically glowed.
In contrast, Iruka fully committed to a going-out look when getting ready for tonight; wearing a low-cut top and miniskirt basically designed to get men to try to grab her ass, and painting her slightly-over-regulation nails bright pink. The choice had felt bold and purposeful just an hour ago. Now she feels self-conscious and silly.
Moments before the self-conciousness can swell enough to make her snap and demand Hatake keep her eye to herself, the game swings around to her again.
“Well?” Anko says, “Name and describe it, Iruka-chan.”
Iruka slams down the shot placed in front of her and stands abruptly, “I’m dancing tonight. Is anyone else coming?”
“Hell yes!” Anko cheers, immediately abandoning the game to grab the hand Iruka holds out to her, “I’ve been waiting for this all week. Hey, hey! We’re both happy, sexy singles tonight, Iruka; We should close this place down!”
“This is why we’re friends.” Iruka grins, leading the way with a blinding smile plastered across her face. “We’re always on the same page!”
The bar does not technically have a dance floor, but it has a great sound system, and the staff never scolds anyone for shoving tables out of the way and sweatily grinding against each other as long as everyone keeps drinking and tipping. “The bar” isn’t even technically a bar. Liquor licenses are hard to secure in Konoha and drinking in public is supposed to be restricted to specific districts and establishments. “The bar” gets shut down every few months by Konoha police only to reappear weeks later with a new location and an entirely new staff. Knowledge of its location and hours is passed through an informal gossip network which also helps keep the civilian population out, making it a favorite of many shinobi looking to make drunken fools of themselves without lowering the village’s general estimation of the shinobi corps.
And they do make fools of themselves; Anko and Iruka are no exceptions. Shinobi training can make you fast and strong and agile, but it does not give one the gift of rhythm. They sway and thrust and swing wildly, barely managing to keep time with the music. They move across the dance floor in tantric sync, passing from one partner to the next and then back into one another’s orbits to laugh and jump and hold hands together.
Iruka wants to lose herself in the sweaty beat of it all the way she has many nights before, but it takes real effort to turn off her impulse to find a fit, sweaty body and glue herself to it. Expending that effort takes her out of the bubbly, floating space she usually embraces while dancing. Instead of falling into the rhythm, Iruka finds herself dwelling even more on all the competing concerns clambering for space in her brain. The fact that she might really fail the one person who’s looked out for her since her parents passed; The possibility that she’s an unfit teacher, not capable of producing effective shinobi; The idea that something unknowable is wrong with her sex life. It's all a bit much even with several drinks fuzzing her brain and numbing her extremities.
After an uncertain number of songs and passing minutes, sweaty and still plagued with her internal monologue, Iruka tucks close to Anko and bellows, “Bathroom!” in her ear.
“I’ll go with you!” Anko hollers back, just as loud. It’s still almost impossible to hear over the pounding bass.
Instead of destroying her voice trying to be heard, Iruka emphatically signs that Anko should keep dancing and promises to be back in two minutes. A little reluctantly, Anko lets her go, swaying slightly in time to music and Iruka retreats into the crowd. In just a few steps, they are separated by the crowd.
The bathroom is dingy, but clean-ish and well-lit by flickering, blue tinted overhead lights. It’s not cold exactly, but it’s leagues cooler than the hot press of bodies on the dance floor and the sweat on Iruka’s neck and chest immediately begins to chill her. She pees for the sake of it – hovering over the toilet seat – and tries not to feel like her life is becoming threadbare thin before she’s even finished a quarter of it.
She washes her hands with cold water and then splashes a handful of it over her heated cheeks and forehead. Finally, in the quiet, liminal space of the empty bathroom, she lets herself put words to the private thoughts she’s been avoiding.
It’s not just that the sex she gets in her casual hookups isn’t really any good. Good isn’t what she’s looking for; she likes the chase and the conclusion; the satisfaction of wanting something and feeling wanted in return. The actual act of sex has never mattered to her as much as the thrill of having someone’s undivided attention, even if it’s only for a few moments. The new itching, aching growing thing inside her is something else than wanting sex. It’s much more insidious.
She’s jealous. Jealous of her friends and their relationships; the way they all seem to know what they want and how easily they seem to be finding it. Izumo and Kotetsu, who’ve been together practically from birth and took to dating like baby otters take to the sea. Kurenai and her budding, bubbly new thing with Asuma. Even Anko and her string of overlapping, intersecting relationships may take breaks between big flings, but always seems pleased wherever she lands at the moment.
Meanwhile, Iruka finds hookups with ease, but it never changes the fact that she’s lonely. Casual sex isn’t filling that void of attention-seeking need inside her anymore, not even in the moments when it’s happening. But every time she thinks about settling down with one of those mediocre, nondescript hookups and imagines what that would look like, her mind’s eye is hazy and dissatisfied. She can’t picture any of those men in the corners of her life, filling up space in her apartment or bandwidth in her already busy mind.
But if I don’t want what I have and I can’t imagine what would feel right, how will I ever find it? She frets silently. Am I broken somehow? A normal person can tell what’s lacking in their life, can’t they? They don’t just walk around with a void and no name for it. Am I void-person?
She sighs sharply and shakes her head to clear the anxious, self-pitying thoughts away.
“Get it together, Umino.” She scolds her reflection, which looks back at her with the big, stupid doe eyes of a child. “Have sex if you want; don’t have sex; nobody gives a fuck but you. You’re supposed to be celebrating, not having a pity party. For once in your life, just relax and have fun.”
At the end of the little speech, she doesn’t feel better, exactly, but she does manage to peel her fingers off the edge of the sink and drag her feet towards the door, determined to go back to the bar and replace the alcohol she sweat out on the dance floor with something potent enough to get her out of her own head.
She reaches for the door handle only to have it open on its own at the last second. With no time to halt her forward momentum, she careens into a solid, warm mass that lets out a tiny, underwhelmed, “Oof.”
“Ah!” She squeaks as she stumbles backward. A shinobi-quick arm darts out and keeps her from falling entirely on her ass. The arm is covered in standard-issue navy and the hand is wearing a fingerless leather glove. Iruka curses inwardly at her inability to look anything but a fool in front of this particular jounin and gasps out. “Sorry, Kakashi-san!”
The hand releases her arm as soon as she’s steady and Iruka shuffles to the side in a hurry, making space for Kakashi to enter the room. Instead of stepping around her, though, Kakashi puts one hand on the door frame and leans heavily against it, effectively holding the door open and blocking any attempt Iruka might have made to leave while managing to appear as though she’s merely lounging in place. Just behind her, music from the dance floor spills into the narrow hallway that lead to the bathroom, filling the small space with fizzy, buzzing rhythm.
“Maa, Iruka-sensei is so formal.” She says blithely, heavy-lidded eye tracking up and down Iruka’s body, assessing. “I ran into you, didn’t I? What’re you apologizing for?”
“Oh, uh,” Iruka adjusts her ponytail, feeling awkward and unable to move her gaze from the length of Kakashi’s arm where it stretches in front of her. She’s acutely aware that if Hatake doesn’t want to let her out, she has no chance of getting through. It’s an unnerving thought that should chill her, but instead makes her face and stomach burn with uncommon heat. “Sorry, uh, wait – I mean – Can I help you with something, Kakashi-san?”
She drags her eyes up to the jounin’s face and immediately realizes she’s made a terrible mistake. No longer distant or cold, Kakashi’s single-eyed gaze is intent, seeming to swallow Iruka up into it. She gulps self-consciously and watches Kakashi’s eye track the subtle movement of her mouth and throat. A slow blink gives her a single moment of respite, before Kakashi is talking again.
“That depends,” She says, raising the arm she’s not leaning on and pressing her fingertips to the warm, flushed skin on Iruka’s wide brow, “Have you had too much to drink?”
The feeling of Kakashi’s calloused fingertips is so shocking, it takes Iruka a second to process the question. Indignant, her eyes narrow and flares her nostrils.
“No.” She snaps, straightening her spine and shoulders and glaring at Kakashi’s scrutiny. “I know my limits, Kakashi-san.”
Kakashi’s eye squeezes gently closed as if in a smile. From this close, however, Iruka can see that the muscles beneath the mask don’t twitch. She drops her hand, letting the fingertips just barely graze the line of Iruka’s cheek and jaw on the way down. The sensation of it – so soft it’s hardly noticeable – makes Iruka’s head spin and any thoughts of fake smiles scatter.
“Glad to hear it.” She says in response. The cadence of her voice is the same, lazy drawl it always is, but it rubs Iruka wrong in this scenario, unable to tell if she’s being fake or too sincere.
Either way, Iruka thinks to herself, how much she drinks is none of Kakashi-san’s business either way. So what’s the deal?
Flush with annoyance, Iruka huffs out, “Well, thanks for the save,” and moves to step around Kakashi.
With the same speed and assurance as before, Kakashi’s other arm flashes out and her palm lands flat against the far door jamb, finally and completely blocking Iruka’s path, arms stretched across the open expanse of the door. The teacher just barely manages to contain a gasp and has to grab at the door herself to keep from falling backwards a second time.
“Kakashi, what the hell?” She demands, face red and heart racing.
“Gai and I had a challenge earlier today. I lost.” Kakashi comments as mildly as she might discuss the weather, with no obvious indication that she’s heard Iruka speak. “We’re tied now. I hate that. Trouble is that Gai’s latest challenge is one I can’t do alone.”
“Huh?” Iruka gapes, holding her spine ramrod straight to avoid wilting under the intensity of Kakashi’s focus. “What do you mean?”
“Gai is under the impression that you deserve better than what you’ve been getting, Sensei.” Kakashi continues and it’s still unclear if she’s been listening to Iruka at all. Her face, impossibly close, seems to take up all of Iruka’s field of vision. “She challenged me to give you what you deserve.”
“Ah- you mean!” Iruka’s face, already the hottest it’s ever been, only seems to get hotter as she realizes the meaning of Kakashi’s little monologue. She takes a hasty step back, adjusting her ponytail ferociously out of a force of nervous habit. “You wouldn’t have sex with me in a public bathroom just to win a challenge.”
It’s a weak assertion, one she can only back up with a half-nervous, half-hopeful chuckle. The truth is, she has no idea what Kakashi would or wouldn’t do in public except read porn and complete an absurd number of push-ups. Until five seconds ago, she hadn’t even known for certain that Kakashi was gay.
To her limited relief, Kakashi leans back a hair’s breadth. Her shoulders shake slightly, indicating silent laughter, and her eye crinkles once again, “Mah,” She concedes, “I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t have sex in a public bathroom only to win a challenge against Gai.”
Any momentary relief that flew through Iruka’s system is immediately flooded by a fresh wave of panic, when Kakashi suddenly swoops in twice as close as before. Her gloved fingers brush a stray strand of hair behind Iruka’s ear and she whispers, low and close enough that Iruka can feel the breath of every word exhaled, “But I’d do it to prove that sex with me is better than masturbating.”
“Hah!” The burst of sound that escapes Iruka is neither a cry or a laugh, but a bursting exhale that leaps from her lungs and into the open air between them. She immediately slaps her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. Her complexion may never recover from this. “I- I- “ She stutters helplessly, speaking through her fingers, scrambling for a reason to say no.
Or a reason to say yes.
“I’ve never been with…” She hesitates, choking on the final words.
Kakashi’s gaze flickers over Iruka’s fingers, skimming the edges of her hot-pink nails, then meets Iruka’s eyes again, “That much is apparent.”
Iruka doesn’t know what Kakashi has against nail polish; if it’s a shinobi thing or a feminine thing or just some personal vendetta, but her blithe, judgmental tone is enough to nearly spark Iruka off.
“You’re the one coming onto me.” Iruka throws her hands up, “You could at least make an effort to make yourself appealing!”
In an instant, Kakashi’s presence seems to halve. Her arms fold and her hip leans languidly against the door, suddenly leaving plenty of space for Iruka to step through the door and back into normal, civilized society.
“Mah, come on, Sensei.” Kakashi says. Her hair flops to one side of her head as she tilts it, smiling a crooked smile that can be seen clearly in outline through the mask. “Give me a chance. I promise I’ll be good for you.”
Oh that – that’s mean. That’s awful. The eager, playful tone and forty-five-degree head-tilt sparks every aw, puppy instinct in Iruka’s soft, stupid heart. Which also leaves her vulnerable to the moment Kakashi’s eye blinks open again, pupil blown open and promising, and says, “I’ll take care of everything. You just have to relax and have fun.”
Oh, fuck it, Iruka thinks.
“Fine.” She huffs, rolling her eyes, “Give me your best shot.”
The last syllable has barely left her mouth and Kakashi is already surging against her. Calloused hands grasp her face; dry, chapped lips move over her own. Iruka barely has time to register that the mask is out of the way, because she’s too busy gasping into the sensation because. Wow. That was fast.
When Iruka’s lips part, so do Kakashi’s, but she doesn’t force her way in like Iruka expects. The kiss stays dry, but fierce. Their breathes mingle. Kakashi’s teeth catch and worry her lower lip occasionally and each time the sensation scatters sparks down Iruka’s spine. As they kiss, Kakashi pushes Iruka deeper into the bathroom. The door shuts behind them, muffling the noises from the bar and dance floor to just a thumping base and occasional bursts of shouting or laughter.
Iruka lets herself be walked backward to the far stall with no protest, only groaning in annoyance when Kakashi refuses to give her tongue even after Iruka sweeps over her lips. Instead, the infuriating jounin trails hot, damp kisses down her jaw and neck meanwhile her hands – once so firmly pressed against the door – are much more liberal with their attentions. Iruka’s dress feels paper thin everywhere Kakashi’s strong hands cup and smooth over her.
The door to the back stall slams open with a metallic thud and Kakashi leaves Iruka gasping against the wall while she quickly shuts and locks the door. It’s only when she turns around that Iruka finally gets the first glimpse of her face. Iruka can’t help but drink it in even as Kakashi half-freezes in place.
There is a scar, but nothing like the rumors say. It’s a clean, well-healed silver line that begins just above the corner of Kakashi’s lip and disappears beneath the jounin’s forehead protector. Everything else about the face should be unremarkable. Straight, thin lips. A long and slightly wide nose. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut through enemy lines. And yet Iruka can’t shake the feeling that it’s the most striking face she’s ever seen.
Lips stretching in a smile that reveals pearly teeth and slightly oversized canines, Kakashi chuckles nervously.
“Everything okay, Sensei?” She asks, as if there’s a world in which Iruka is even mildly disappointed by what she’s seeing.
Instead of answering with words, Iruka takes her turn to lunge forward, pressing Kakashi against the closed door and dragging her tongue along slim line of those half-parted lips. The jounin makes a surprised, but happy sound, and finally opens up for her. The kisses that follow are wet and messy, everything Iruka’s been waiting for. Kakashi’s tongue slips absently along her own, while Iruka sets about cataloging the shape and feel of every one of her teeth.
In theory and so far in practice, there isn’t really a tangible difference between this and the hundreds of other filthy make out sessions Iruka’s had in her life. With Kakashi’s blocky tactical vest in the way, it isn’t even obvious that the body Iruka presses herself against is different from any other one she’s felt before. This realization creates an urgent, pressing need that blooms through her whole body. Iruka needs more. She wants to feel the shape of Kakashi’s body, the soft curves and hard planes of her. She wants to know if it will feel different than all the times she’s pressed herself against a man and felt disappointed. She thinks it might. She needs to know right now.
In an effort to get at what she wants, Iruka begins to tug wildly at the vest; the hem, the shoulder, whatever she can grab without pulling away from Kakashi’s delightful, clever mouth. Eventually, she manages to work a hand between them and grab the zipper which has remained fully closed all night.
Finally catching onto what Iruka’s getting at, Kakashi suddenly stops her. One hand catches her wrist and then slips up to wind their fingers together. The other forearm comes between them, crossing over the top of Iruka’s chest and pushing her back until their positions are reversed. Now Iruka’s the one with her back to the wall and Kakashi holds her there firmly, half an arm’s length between them.
“Woah, there, Sensei,” Kakashi says. Her eye shines in the low light, and her breath comes fast from between swollen lips. “I’m supposed to be the one doing the work.”
Iruka bites her lip, annoyed, but very turned on. She glares, “Then you’d better get on with it, shouldn’t you?”
Kakashi’s eye briefly widens. Her tongue darts out once, a sweeping curve Iruka can’t help but salivate over. Then, using a handful of wavy brown hair to drag Iruka’s head to the side, she latches viciously onto the space below Iruka’s ear where her neck joins with her jaw.
“Oh.” She gasps, fingers threading through Kakashi’s coarse, silver hair as the jounin begins to suck with intent. “N-no marks.”
Obediently, Kakashi eases the pressure, but doesn’t stop laving Iruka’s neck with attention. With patience and seriousness, she works her way down Iruka’s neck and chest, liberal with teeth and tongue. At Iruka’s collarbone, she pauses to nip and suck at the thin flesh, lingering like there’s nothing else on her mind.
And it’s maddening because it’s working. A week ago – a day ago – Iruka would have insisted she thought foreplay was boring, just a waste of time before you got the main show. Now she’s so turned on she could scream from just a little necking. Maybe it’s the novelty. She wonders. Or maybe Kakashi’s using some kind of sexy, perverted jutsu she learned in those filthy books of hers.
Just the thought of Kakashi looking at her from across a table with a page full of lesbian erotica in front of her is enough to send a fresh wave of desire shuddering through Iruka. As if sensing her heightened sensitivity, Kakashi finally moves on from her collar bone and continues the journey down her chest.
She follows the neckline of Iruka’s low-cut top across the swell of her breasts and down into the displayed cleavage before dropping to one knee to get and roughly shoving Iruka’s shirt up and out of the way, exposing her stomach and chest to the cold air. Then she pauses. Staring. Long enough that Iruka’s face gets hot again and she wants to squirm. Her eyes track up and stick to the ceiling, bracing for whatever might be coming her way.
Her breasts are held up by a sturdy, but fairly nondescript black pushup bra. Her stomach – soft and gently rounded from a life of office work – is covered by a stretch of mesh armor that’s more decorative than practical. She wonders if Kakashi – with her thousand handstand laps around the village and rigorously controlled physique – is disappointed by what she sees.
The pause ends with Kakashi shoving her headband up, nearly knocking it off entirely, and revealing her blood red sharingan with its black tomoe spinning around the pupil.
“Fuck,” She curses, softly but with feeling. “I always knew you were hiding perfect breasts under that fucking uniform.”
“Ah,” Iruka gasps out her relief and then her embarrassment. This is where she’d normally demure, not liking to think much about her body during sex. She’s barely a C-cup. The bra is doing a lot of heavy lifting in terms of fullness and symmetry. They’re hardly perfect even on their best day. “I’m only-”
“Perfect.” Kakashi cuts her off, almost without hearing. The tone leaves no room for argument. Neither does the way her eyelid snaps closed again just before Kakashi plunges her face into the valley between Iruka’s breasts. She kisses and licks and sucks with finesse, skimming her way across the sensitive tops of Iruka’s heaving chest without leaving a single mark. Iruka can only gasp and try to hold on through the assault. Her fingers find their way into that wiry, wild hair, and cling hard enough it must hurt, but this only seems to encourage Kakashi further.
It would all be so perfect – if not perfectly overwhelming – except that at some point all Iruka can think about is how desperately she needs some friction, any friction, down below.
She finally resorts to using her hold on Kakashi’s hair to push her lower, insistently. Kakashi drops at the touch, kissing and licking her way down the smooth mound of Iruka’s belly before finally settling between her legs, Iruka’s stance slipping wider to accommodate her
“Ooooh.” Iruka groans when the warm, dry heel of Kakashi’s palm slips up her thigh to press against her center. She doesn’t know when Kakashi removed her gloves and doesn’t care, just ruts against the pressure as hard as she can. Kakashi rucks up her skirt with one hand, revealing her black cotton underwear, and presses open kisses to the top of her thighs.
“You smell so incredible, Iruka.” She says, blinking up through her sparse, silver eyelashes, as if she’s the one who needs to be begging for something. “Can I eat you out?”
It takes all of Iruka’s focus to manage a shaky, but coherent reply, “Y-yeah.”
Instantly, Kakashi’s palm is replaced by the flat of her tongue and Iruka loses her mind as it slowly drags up the line of her sex, maddeningly still over her underwear but so hot she can’t help but roll her hips in time with the motion. For the first time in her life, she fully forgets to control her voice and her breathing. The sounds that escape her when she manages to drag enough air into her lungs aren’t high, cute, or sexy. They’re low and charged, demanding more.
Kakashi gives her more. After a few moments of light teasing, warming her up, Kakashi encourages her to drape her left leg over her shoulder, giving her better access to the things Iruka most deeply wants her to touch. Underwear shoved to the side, the thick, confident muscle of Kakashi’s tongue navigates her folds, finding and circling the bundle of nerves at the top of Iruka’s sex.
“Oh, fuck!” Iruka gasps, thighs spasming as she tries to keep herself standing up on just one leg. Instinctively, she squirms away from the almost unbearable sensation, but Kakashi’s hand presses her hip to the wall, keeping her pinned in place.
Kakashi’s other hand, still gloved in warm, worn leather, is busy as well. It palms her thigh and buttocks, tracing nonsense patterns on her skin. In increments, Iruka begins to acclimate to the onslaught of sensation, relaxing into the easy, confident hold Kakashi has on her. As she does, she realizes her grip on Kakashi’s hair must be painful and slowly forces herself to ease. Instead of clenching, she threads her fingers between the strands and gently runs the flat of her fingers against the abused scalp.
“Ka- ka- shi-.” She exhales, massaging away, despite the shakiness in her fingers, “You’ve been so good, Kakashi.”
The most incredible thing happens in response. Kakashi pulls back, just slightly, and pants out her shock, lower lip trembling. And Iruka can feel it against the folds of her sex. Kakashi’s usually hidden expression is made intimately, plainly familiar even with her eyes closed.
“Hah.” Kakashi exhales her reaction against Iruka’s cunt.
Iruka gasps, eyes rolling back. Her grip shifts again, no longer clenching, but now pushing and pleading for Kakashi to continue. “That’s it! You’re so good, Kakashi – ah!”
Kakashi redoubles her efforts, tongue and lips working hard against Iruka’s clit, as if to hide the trembling in her own body. Iruka loses track of things again when Kakashi’s ungloved hand slips between her legs and a long, narrow finger presses into her center. Iruka shudders and nearly comes apart on the spot. But she’s stubborn and she’s not ready for this to be over yet, so she clenches down on the intrusion with the slick muscles of her inner walls and breathes hard through her nose. Kakashi pauses her assault on Iruka’s clit, turning to press a knowing, wicked smile against Iruka’s inner thigh.
“Smug.” Iruka scolds between breaths, flicking the jounin’s exposed ear.
Kakashi glances up through her lashes again, eye sparkling and mouth shiny with sweat and slick fluid. Iruka’s stomach gives another, fantastic spasm at the sight and she valiantly holds back the tide, squeezing herself hard against the intrusion of Kakashi’s fingers.
The jounin opens her wide, enticing mouth in a gasp and looks like she’s about to say something when they are suddenly interrupted.
The bathroom door opens with a BANG as it hits the far wall. The only thing that prevents both of them from jumping out of their skin is years of intensive training. Instead, they both reach for weapons which only Kakashi has on hand. Luckily, she stops herself from actually palming a kunai just seconds before the sound of her opening her weapons pouch would have given them away.
Despite being generally out of breath and out of their minds, Kakashi and Iruka both make an effort to slow their heartbeats and breathe as silently as possible. If the person who entered is a shinobi with any possession of her faculties left, they’re basically caught already, but there’s a slight chance this is an employee or – better – even a civilian patron.
A stall opens and they both listen to the intruder begin to pee while exchanging shocked, relieved glances. If it was one of their friends, they certainly would have been called out by now. If it was a shinobi, they were choosing not to say anything. Hopefully, it’s a civilian who didn’t know any better.
Then Kakashi’s smile turns mischievous and Iruka blanches, fearing for her sanity.
She almost lets out a groan when Kakashi’s finger eases out of her center, so slowly it makes no noise despite the wet, tight heat trying to keep her in place. She holds it back by biting her lip until she tastes blood. Then Kakashi gets to her feet without so much as a crinkle of mesh armor or whisper of fabric. Each movement perfectly economical and utterly captivating. Iruka uses twice as much effort just to get her slightly numb, unsupported foot back down on the ground. At full height, Kakashi barely has an inch on Iruka and yet when she leans in close, Iruka feels like she’s staring up a mountain face, all but leaning in herself, eyes flicking closed, anticipation swelling.
Nothing happens, except the woman in the other stalls unrolling some toilet paper. Iruka’s breath hitches silently, her eyes flutter open in confusion.
Kakashi watches her with a dark, lidded eye, pupil blown wide. But she doesn’t press her advantage. Her eyebrow quirks ever so slightly and Iruka realizes it’s a question. She can turn her head, demure until they don’t have an audience. Kakashi won’t do anything else without her go-ahead.
Iruka closes the gap swiftly. Their mouths meet, achingly slow and open to one another. Iruka has to bite back another groan at the taste of herself in someone else’s mouth. Bitter and musky and not something she remembers ever experiencing before. They can’t rush things now. Every movement a careful negotiation to prevent any sound escaping. Iruka runs the tip of her tongue along the back of Kakashi’s straight, even teeth and relishes the way her breathing quickens in response. Kakashi gnaws at her bottom lip in retaliation, slowly dragging her sharp incisors against the swollen flesh until Iruka’s eyes slip closed and her hips roll against nothing, arousal still sparking throughout her body.
It feels like ages before the other woman washes her hands and leaves the bathroom, though it can’t have been more than two or three minutes.
Iruka groans loudly as the door swings shut again.
“Bastard woman,” She accuses, nipping Kakashi’s jaw with her teeth. “Awful.”
“Sensei is so mean.” Kakashi pouts dramatically. “I just wanted to tide you over.”
Iruka rolls her eyes, “Sure, you did.”
“So? Ready to admit it?”
“Admit what?” Iruka asks, eyebrows raising.
“Sex with me is better than masturbating.” Kakashi says, face open and expectantly smug. “I’ve proven it. Admit it.”
“Oh, but Kakashi,” Iruka replies, batting her long eyelashes coyly, and smiling her own mischievous smile. “You haven’t even managed to make me come.”
The effect is instantaneous. Kakashi is over her – the lines of their bodies pressed flat together, their mouths locked in yet another heaving, messy kiss – and then she’s inside her. Two fingers down to the last knuckle. Iruka’s wet enough to take the intrusion easily, but it’s so different from the slow, easy teasing of before that she can’t help but squeal and twist, which only drives them deeper in.
Kakashi is no longer interested in gentle teasing. Iruka’s set her challenge, and Kakashi is determined to finish it – and her – off quickly. Unlike the fingering Iruka has received in the past, Kakashi doesn’t attempt to thrust into her at all. Once her fingers are fully seated, she switches to firm, steady scissoring and the occasional gentle curl, dragging the calloused pads of her fingers down the sensitive walls of Iruka’s cunt.
It leaves Iruka shuddering and spasming, unable to do anything but pant into the wet kisses Kakashi keeps pressing against her mouth and rut against the wiry strength of her arm. It’s so good. So firm and steady. But it’s not enough.
“Ka- ka- shi- ,” She tries to explain, tries to beg, between the sharp spikes of pleasure. “I need – I need…”
Kakashi shushes her, presses soothing kisses to her neck and chest, while her devilish hand continues its work. “It’s okay, Iruka.” She murmurs between kisses. “Give it to me. I want you to come.”
“I need!” Iruka gasps again, tears suddenly welling up in the corners of her eyes as her brain keeps scattering the words every time she tries to explain. “Please!”
“I know,” Kakashi promises, another kiss to the shell of her ear. “I’ve got you.”
And then her thumb presses hard against Iruka’s clit at the same time her fingers drag once more down the walls and it finally starts.
The first rolling tremble happens exactly where Kakashi’s thumb sits over her clit and spreads up into the pooling heat of her belly. Iruka’s voice gives out at the waves begin to roll through her body, forcing her head and shoulders back, mouth open in a silent shout. Her legs and stomach tremble; Kakashi leans weight on her hip to keep her upright. Deep inside, Iruka’s cunt flutters around the fingers, whose motions have gentled but not stopped entirely despite already turning Iruka into a whimpering, sweating mess. The thumb on her clit continues circling with steady, even pressure long passed the point Iruka normally would have stopped touching herself.
“Ka- ka- shiii.” She whines as the sensations become overwhelming, verging on painful.
“You’re doing so well.” Kakashi praises sweetly in her ear. “Relax. Don’t stop now.”
Despite herself, Iruka shudders at the praise and finds herself obeying, unclenching muscles she hadn’t even felt seize up during the initial wave of her orgasm. The result is that more of her weight is held up by Kakashi, who slowly increases the pressure inside her once again.
And that must be it, Iruka hopes, because another wave of pleasure sweeps through her body. Less intense, but deeper and pulsing. Her legs tremble and she has to pitch herself forward against Kakashi’s wiry frame to keep from toppling over.
Kakashi agrees she’s at her limit, because her movements slow and then stop and then – with a slick pop – her fingers slip free of Iruka’s sex. Her wandering hands come to rest on Iruka’s hips, continuing to take most of her weight.
“Oh.” Iruka trembles differently now, suddenly clenching on nothing and shivering all over. “I think I might be a lesbian.”
A burst of laughter escapes Kakashi that startles both of them. She clears her voice, cheeks heating, and caustically adds, “You don’t say.”
“Shut up.” Iruka hisses, silencing her with a teeth-chattering kiss. “This is an epiphany.”
“Well, then I’m glad I freed you from the mundanity of heterosexual intercourse.” Kakashi quips as soon as she gets her own mouth back. Her smile twists, “Now, admit it.”
Iruka sighs, rolls her eyes, “Fine. Sex with you is better than masturbating. Happy?”
“Very!” Kakashi practically glows and leans into to capture Iruka’s lips in what can only be describe as a victory kiss. Iruka surrenders to it, happily. They linger there in the bathroom stall in an unnamed bar at the ass-end of Konoha, trading lazy, smiling kisses for longer than Iruka would care to admit. Only when she’s sure her legs are stable again and will be able to stand on her own, does Iruka attempt to talk again.
With some difficultly, she separates from Kakashi’s mouth.
“Do you want -?” She gasps, gesturing vaguely down the line of Kakashi’s body, still hidden beneath layers of uniform. “I mean, could I… do anything for you?”
“That’s sweet, Sensei.” Kakashi murmurs, her smug smile firmly back in place as she snatches a wandering wrist out of the air. “But I’m not letting these anywhere inside of me.”
“Hey,” Iruka huffs, “Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I’ll be bad.”
Before she can get too worked up, Kakashi hushes her by pressing a series of soft, wet kisses to the pads of her fingers.
“Of course not, Sensei; I’m sure you’re a quick study.” The jounin reassures her, only slightly condescending. “However, as hot as these are, I don’t want them anywhere near my soft, squishy bits.”
“Oh.” Iruka sighs as Kakashi uses the tip of her tongue to trace one long, shaped, and painted nail. When she noticed Kakashi’s disapproval before, she’d assumed it was some sort of anti-feminine prejudice. The logistical issues never occurred to her, although they are plain now. Chewing harshly on her lower lip, Iruka’s dark eyes dart away and she asks, “Then… could I go down on you?”
Kakashi huffs a surprised laugh, then presses quick kisses to her nose, lower lip, and chin, before leaning in to mutter in her ear, “As much as I appreciate your dedication to reciprocity… I don’t really get off on the thrill of exposure, Sensei.”
“And I do!” Iruka jerks back, catching the shell of Kakashi’s ear between her teeth and biting down hard enough to make the jounin squeak.
Still, the silver-haired ninja reels back and pins her with a look that silently says “APPARENTLY.”
Iruka demurs again and looks away. Well, she hadn’t exactly made the case that she was against it today.
“Well, then,” She asks, looking back at the jounin through the thick line of her eye lashes, “You could take me home with you.”
For effect, she tugs helplessly at Kakashi’s sleeve and lets her lips fall into a graceful pout; really pulling out all the stops. Thankfully, Kakashi has the good sense to react appropriately for once in her life. Her fine, pale cheekbones tinge with bright red interest and her eyes dilate as she stares at the full expanse of Iruka’s mouth.
Darting her tongue across her lips, Iruka lets her chest heave as she darkly promises, “Please? I’ll do whatever you like. I’ll be so good for you.”
The echoing of Kakashi’s earlier words seems to have an effect, just not the one Iruka was hoping for, because the jounin suddenly disengages from her space, pressing back against the far wall and chewing on her lip, face bright red. Iruka deflates a little.
Of course, Kakashi had said this was a challenge about bringing her pleasure. The jounin hadn’t invited Iruka to participate in the activities in any meaningful way and actively resisted becoming a subject of interest herself. Iruka realizes she’s really pushing things with her request and braces for a swift, possibly brutal rejection.
“…Okay.” Kakashi mutters, arms crossed firmly across her chest.
“What?” Iruka gasps, legs getting wobbly all over again.
“Okay.” Kakashi repeats, with more certainty. “I’ll take you to my place. We can sneak out the back door.”
“O-oh-kay.” Iruka exhales in relief. Then shakes her head wildly. “Wait. No. I have to tell Anko before I go.”
“Are you kidding?” Kakashi asks, paling, “Why?”
“We never leave a first location without giving each other a name or address.” Iruka informs her, regretful but certain.
Kakashi is still sheet-white. “You couldn’t skip it this one time?”
“Nope.” Iruka says with deep conviction. “We can’t have a repeat of April 21st.”
“Do I want to know?”
“You definitely do not.” Iruka tells her, then hesitates. “Is that okay? She won’t tell anyone if I ask her not to. We can keep this between us.”
“Ugh,” Kakashi groans, running a gloved hand through her wild hair. “Fine. But I’m standing far away when you tell her.”
“Agreed.” Iruka laughs, slinking forward and wrapping her arms around the Copy Nin’s narrow shoulders. When this gesture is hesitantly returned, she grins and loudly busses a kiss to the other woman’s temple. This has the unspeakably delightful result of causing Kakashi to squirm and turn six shades darker, blood pooling in her cheeks.
Magnanimously, Iruka does not comment on this, just holds the reaction close to her heart. They separate and begin the awkward work of cleaning up. Iruka has to straighten basically every scrap of clothing on her. Kakashi’s uniform is untouched, but her hair is a wild mess no matter how many times she combs her fingers through it.
Outside of the stall, Kakashi rinses out her mouth and washes her face thoroughly before pulling her mask back up over her nose and cheeks bones, the scared-happy expression on her face hidden away from the world. Iruka runs a damp paper towel between her legs, hoping to prevent her thighs from sticking together with every step. They step back to assess one another.
“Well,” Kakashi says, scratching the back of her head, “This is probably as good as we’re going to get.”
“They should all be drunk by now,” Iruka says, voice filled with tentative hope. “Maybe no one will notice?”
“Assuming they have no sense of smell left.” Kakashi agrees tonelessly. “Ah, well, nothing for it. Why don’t you take the lead, Sensei? I’ll see you at the door.”
“Sounds good.” Iruka nods and take several, firm steps away before pausing with one hand on the door, “Two minutes?” She confirms, casting her a glance back.
“Two minutes.” Kakashi agrees, eye crinkling.
With a steadying sigh, Iruka pushes through the door and back into the pulsing, trancing mass of the bar.