Warning(s): Melancholy Iruka, A-hole Kakashi
Rating: PG-13 (It may go up to M)
Genre: Romance, Angst

A/N: Hello! First time posting for the KakaIru community, but I'm a senior lurker. I just got tired of school and having to write a whole bunch of stuff I didn't really care about. So I decided to finally write a story on my OTP, one that I would want to read had I not wrote it. XP So here's your typical Iruka is feeling low of himself and Kakashi's not being of any help kind of story. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Our Respectful Places

I wait for him to return from his missions, alive if not well, when I’m certain that my existence is but a mere coincidence to him. He is Hatake Kakashi, after all, and I… I’m an academy teacher.

When he eventually strolls in after every mission, I'm relieved yet frightened to see him; despite my conflicting feelings, I wouldn’t mind if he put more effort into his mission reports: his writing is atrocious, barely legible, and there are squiggles of nonsense here, there, and everywhere. He once turned in a report that was soaked in mud and once turned in a report charred through every corner of every page. That would mean he would have had to have been sitting illogically close to a camp fire, a fireplace, or a stove when he wrote it out. He even had the audacity to blame it on his ninken once...! I wanted to tear him out good for that ridiculous lie.

He has no social graces or doesn't care for them, at least. He wanders about the streets of Konoha for hours on end when not training, or visiting the memorial stone, or on a mission, with his head stuck within the pages of dirty novels. He's polite to the extent of patronization and shows just enough respect towards authority so not to be called upon what disrespect he usually gets away with. He's tardy, always tardy...! He doesn't respond to much or many and has this uncanny ability of disappearing during conversations.

But all his social faults are overshadowed by his achievements as a ninja. He's serviced Konoha a great deal and sacrificed much of his youth to the ways of Shinobi. His hard work and accomplishments in ANBU and as a Jounin squad leader are exceptional; his personal life, unknown. He was deprived a childhood, a fact easy to identify if you know what to look for...if you knew who you're looking at. I guess that's the true irony of Hatake Kakashi. No one really sees anything of him, not even a face. His surface quirks, bad habits, and exceptional fighting skills are common knowledge, but no one really knows him. I don't even know him, and I can't help but wish I did.

When he comes in today, tardy as usual, with a crumpled, crinkled mission report and a smile in one visible eye, I'll say, “Good evening, Kakashi-sensei. I hope you made it back in good shape?” I wouldn't dare show my annoyance straight to his face, knowing just how much he intimidates me. I'll grin and bear it, the agony of listening to his low, sultry voice give excuse after excuse of why he was late to turn in another report. Then I'll chuckle, blush, and scratch my nose, because I'm nervous. Why does Hatake Kakashi always make me nervous?

“Ma...? Iruka-sensei? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” I'm fine... I have to stop telling people that. But I can never seem to let go of this facade, this, act of always being happy and well-organized; mentally capable. There are few other ninjas who appear as sane as I. Yet, he asks me this same question every time he comes here. Is it because I'm that obvious? Do I flush red so vividly or give away my discomfort just as easily as a Genin would give away his position? Does he know? I hope he doesn't know... “I'm sure you can't wait to get off your feet and rest, Kakashi-sensei. Hand in your report, please?” I smile, I wait and hide the agony of every single moment, sitting in his presence. I sit and he stands. He's already stronger than me, more skilled, much more important... it's almost as if our physical presence magnify those obvious differences.

I'll always just be that academy Chunin who argued against him before the Chunin exams, the Missions Room worker that's always congenial and polite to incoming reports, or Naruto's academy teacher. I'll always be known as Umino-san, or Iruka-sensei, but never Iruka. I wish he knew me as Iruka. His presence is overbearing and suffocating, because I know I want nothing more than to reach out to him; to be acknowledged by him. But why?

I'm a bit surprised he even remembers my name. “Eh, Iruka-sensei, I hope you don't mind but... on my way back to the village, my scroll came lose and hit a tree. A tree branch did this.” He lifts the report and I stare in disbelief, noting that it's not just any crinkled and crumpled mission report, but a crinkled and crumpled mission report sliced in half, right down the middle. Either the fates desire that Kakashi must never hand in a perfect report, or I simply have bad luck, being here every time he arrives to turn it in. Or maybe he's doing this on purpose. Perhaps it's all three reasons.

When he wants to be, Hatake Kakashi can be very vindictive. I've seen the way he treats those that are of lower rank; in particular, myself at times. Sometimes he goes out of his way to remind me how different in skill and strength we are. It's always very subtle and polite, but the conceit is so thick that he has nearby Shinobi laughing at my expense. This is why I question his reasons, his excuses, and have to wonder why he always comes to me when there are others he could hand in his mission report to.

“Kakashi-sensei...!” But I'm rendered utterly speechless this time, more than usual and I don't know why. What do you say when someone tries to hand in something as foul as that? My outburst has caught the attention of my co-workers and other Jounins and Chunins in a room that grows steadily quite. “Kakashi-sensei, how on earth am I supposed to decipher this?”

He shrugs, “You have to admit... I've handed in worse, haven't I?” There's a pause and then a roar of laughter from most in the room, and a few chuckles grow into cackles when everyone has put two and two together. All the attention is unwanted on my part. I remember when I was younger, all I ever wanted was attention, because I was alone and no one cared about me, but it was moments like this that reminded me of those retched years when I was an academy student, the class clown and dead last. People laughed much like they laughed now, at me and not with me, but it was easier to pretend back then than now. So I cower into my chair, unable to control the heat spreading across my tan cheeks, making the scar across my nose more prominent.

Kakashi, though, doesn't smile with his eye or even laugh. I'd actually feel better if he'd make some sort of movement; he looks bored, staring at me with his hand outstretched, holding out that despicable report for me to accept. It's not as if I've ever declined before.

“I'll do what I can, but I don't think the Hokage would approve of this, Kakashi-sensei,” I say timidly. My fingers fumble to grab both parts of the same report, which actually does have dry mud on it. I guess I needed a closer look to identify Kakashi's signature marksmanship. “Thank you for your contribution to the village,” I smile weakly. I can't stare at him now, not when he stares back at me with such intensity it hurts. There's no smile, fake or otherwise; just a blank expression and a weary eye upon his face. He's either very tired or unbelievably bored with my presence.

“Maa... anytime.” He turns and waves lazily as he leaves. The crowds of Shinobi coming in from late night arrivals step aside for his departure, almost as if he's royalty and to stand too close to him would be detrimental mistake. I watch him leave, of course. I can never stare at him enough and for as long as I can. There will never be a moment in history where the two of us are shacked together on a mission. We don't share the same friends or habitually visit the same sights. It's funny how much and yet how little I know about Hatake Kakashi, but most of what I've learned was for Naruto's sake.

With Naruto gone, he and I have nothing in common.

Except mission reports: he turns them in and I evaluate them. That's our relationship and a strained one at that. I'll be here for a few more hours, because of his report, even though my shift is supposed to end in five minutes. After all, despite how trivial and meaningless my position tends to be, I take great pride in my work. I'm not turning this in to Tsunade-sama until I've rewritten it myself.

Alright, this is no shit. I'm heavily in love with bands now, and Supernatural. I blame my friend Sarah-- she knows what she's done to me!!! But I'm lovin' every second of it, which makes my new obsessions worse.

So far, I've been drooling over Panic at the Disco, and The Cab. Honestly, when PatD first came out, I thought they were good but they never really interested me. But now I'm all over them. The Cab is just awesome, and I'm in love with Cash , so that only heightens my obsession. 

All in all, I feel pretty good, while I obsess over Cobra Starship right now. XP

DAMN YOU SARAHHHHH!!!!!