[FIC] Waking Up
Title: Waking Up
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Kakashi, Iruka, Genma, Izumo, Kotetsu
Genre: Romance/Drama? Melodrama?
Rating: R for almost-dub-con, minor violence, and a heavy dose of angst
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. Masashi Kishimoto does, along with whatever other people/entities are along for the ride.
A/N: My Anti-Valentine’s Day contribution. Somebody had to do something about the fluffbunnies running rampant. Because Love is fucked up. Although I couldn’t resist a potentially happy ending. Damn those fluffbunnies, they are insidious.
Summary: Kakashi keeps leaving. And coming back. Until Iruka doesn't care anymore. Genma decides to shake things up.
---
“It’s over.” The words sounded like the end, the finality of them ringing through the small room.
Iruka nodded, sitting on the chair next to the bed, watching Kakashi pace, wearing pants and a mask and nothing else. Not even a shuriken hidden in a waistband. “Okay. It’s over.” He sighed, scrubbing fingers against tired eyes, waiting. It was over, but Kakashi was still there.
And Kakashi kept pacing, muttering to himself. He stopped and looked over at Iruka, watching him. “You’re okay with this?”
“I am. I promise.” Iruka smiled a lopsided smile. “Can I make you breakfast before you leave?”
That word, ‘leave’. It seemed to jolt Kakashi into action, and he was dressed and gone in two minutes, without even a backwards glance.
Iruka closed the window, absently looking at the clock next to the bed. If he slept now, he’d get two hours before he had to be up. Three if he skipped morning exercises. Or he could stay up and finish the papers he’d put off grading when Kakashi arrived.
With another sigh, Iruka turned on the light and began to work.
---
“Here, have another one.” Kotetsu leaned over the table, sloppily pouring another cupful of sake into Iruka’s cup.
They sat on the floor of Genma’s apartment, drinking and talking and pretending to play cards. Iruka finished the drink in three gulps, setting his cup down and pouring for Kotetsu. One more hour and he could leave. Kotetsu would pass out by then, Iruka and Izumo would carry him home, and Genma would shut the door and go to bed.
Except when Iruka got up to help, Izumo shook his head. “He’ll wake up in a few blocks. I think Genma wants to talk to you.”
Then Genma shut the door before Iruka could follow.
Iruka stood there, in the middle of Genma’s living room, staring back at the older man. Watching him carefully as Genma walked around him, senbon bouncing methodically in his mouth. Three times he walked around Iruka, until Iruka couldn’t hold back.
“Something on your mind?”
“He means it this time,” Genma replied, his steady voice completely at odds with the alcohol-flushed face and wild hair. He’d pulled the hitai-ate off almost as soon as they’d started drinking.
Iruka shrugged. “He always means it. Until he doesn’t.”
“Why do you keep going back to him?” Genma hissed, stepping closer.
“I never left. There isn’t any going back if I never left.” Iruka clenched his fists, willing himself back to a calm state. Someone had to be, because Genma wasn’t going to let this go. Not this time.
“Why? Do you feel that makes you the better person?” Genma wasn’t quite shouting, but his arms were twitching in their pockets. “Don’t you even care? Have you so completely frozen yourself that it doesn’t matter whether he’s there or not?”
Iruka flinched, as if slapped. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
“You’re not leaving tonight.”
Now Iruka had something to say, the panic welling up inside of him. “I have to go home, Genma. What if he comes back? What if he needs me? I can’t just abandon him.”
Genma shook his head, senbon drawing a vicious line through the air two inches from Iruka’s face. “Why not? He left. You didn’t. You said so yourself.”
“But if I don’t go home, it will be like I left. He doesn’t have anyone else!” Fists clenched harder as Iruka struggled to keep the panic out of his voice and away from Genma’s ears.
“Pity, Iruka? A charity case? A service to your village? Isn’t he worth more than that?” Genma was right in front of him, senbon gone, and one hand twisting in Iruka’s hair, forcing him to his knees. “You make me sick.”
Genma’s lips were chapped, except for one indentation, worn smooth from the senbon. Iruka didn’t fight, passively accepting the kiss, lips pressed against his, tongue pushing into his mouth. Genma would pull away soon enough, apologize, blame the sake, and then Iruka could escape.
But Genma didn’t pull away, his mouth hot and hard against Iruka’s, pressing closer and closer until Iruka was bent backwards on the floor with Genma’s knee between his legs. Iruka felt something inside his body, twisting and writhing, something he hadn’t felt for a long time.
He panicked, arms trying to push Genma away, body twisting to free his legs. He turned his head, crying out, “Stop, Genma! Don’t! No!” But Genma didn’t stop, his arm snaking under Iruka’s body, hips grinding up and down until Iruka was dizzy. He was fighting back now, tearing at Genma’s hair, fists flailing, trying to push back, to get away. He had to get away.
A hand thrust down, into his pants, bypassing briefs to slide against skin, fingers kneading into the muscle of his hip. Iruka bucked, arching his neck, trying to slither away. “Stop!”
Tears gathered in his eyes, spilled down the corners, winding their way back into his hair. Iruka twisted again, but always Genma’s mouth found his. The hitai-ate made a dull clunk on the wood floor as it fell, and Iruka’s hair was spilling around his face. “Stop, Genma, I have to go. He might be there.” Iruka didn’t recognize his voice, the pleading tone completely foreign to him.
“Tell me you love him,” Genma growled, unzipping Iruka’s vest with a hard tug.
Iruka couldn’t breathe, sobs pushing their way out of his chest, stealing his voice. No matter how tightly he closed his eyes, the tears escaped. “Have to go,” he gasped, twisting again.
Genma pressed his mouth to Iruka’s jaw, teeth nipping at the skin just below his ear. “Tell me you love him!”
“No! I don’t love him!” Iruka froze, unwilling to believe he’d answered.
“Did you ever love him?” Genma demanded, hand slithering under Iruka’s shirt, calluses forcing sparks up and down Iruka’s spine.
Iruka choked, shaking his head as he felt something inside his body crack, then shatter. “No!”
He stopped fighting, all of his energy seeping out of his body. He curled up, sobbing as he hadn’t done since his parents had been killed. He didn’t realize Genma had pulled back until his knees met his forehead. How long he lay there, on Genma’s floor, crying, he didn’t know.
“Iruka.”
Iruka pulled himself more tightly into a ball. That voice shouldn’t be there.
“So. You never loved me.”
“No,” Iruka whispered through the shudders, shaking his head. He opened his eyes, barely able to see Kakashi standing there, uniform torn, specks of blood or mud or both in his hair. “Kakashi -“
Kakashi shook his head, and then he was gone. Out another window, into the night.
Iruka lay there, staring at the spot where Kakashi had been, blood pulsing in his ears. Trying to catch his breath and force that truth back behind a wall. He could catch up to Kakashi, he could explain…
Until he was pulled roughly from the floor, back onto his knees, staring up into Genma’s face. Angry eyes stared down at him. “Don’t freeze up again.”
Iruka collapsed forward, head hitting Genma’s collarbone as the tears returned, faster. There wasn’t any going back, not this time. He felt arms around him, comforting, encouraging, and he pushed closer, clinging to Genma’s vest as everything he’d never felt the past five years rushed out, wave after wave of choking howls battering his body and soul.
He couldn’t talk, couldn’t even whisper when Genma picked him up and laid him on a bed, pulled his clothes off, and climbed in behind him. Arms held him as he fell asleep, still trying to catch his breath.
---
When Iruka woke up, Genma was in his kitchen. They didn’t talk about the night before, not at first. Not until Iruka was showered and dressed, his throat soothed by miso soup and hot tea.
“You’re good for him,” Genma said finally.
“Then why?”
“He’s not good for you.” Genma looked down at his cup, twirling it in his fingers, before he looked up and stared directly into Iruka’s eyes. “But he could be.”
Iruka shrugged and looked away. “A bit late for that now.”
“That’s up to you.”
Genma sat at his table, listening to the rain. He gave Iruka ten minutes to get home before he stood and opened the window to his balcony.
Kakashi stood there, hands in pockets, hunched against the wall under the eaves.
“Are you ready?” Genma asked, his voice harsh.
Sliding down into a crouch, Kakashi shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Then stay away from him until you are.”
Kakashi glanced up at him, then back out across the village. “Last night… Did you…”
“Does it matter?” Genma couldn’t keep the smirk off of his face, marred by a single bruise high on his cheekbone.
“No. I guess it doesn’t,” Kakashi sighed, shrugging.
Genma slammed the window shut, vowing next time he would.
[END]