They'd met during a fight after a football game. The parking lot had been a scene of mass chaos, boys whooping, girls screaming, and fists flying. He'd been shoved from behind, and before he knew it, there was nothing but hands shoving him and him shoving back. Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him out off the melee, and enraged he pulled free of the hand, swearing.
The boy was barely taller than him, all pale hair and lazy eyes. He looked vaguely familiar, the way people do when you pass them every day for years, but never say hello.
"Who the hell are you?"
The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, slouching as though there wasn't a massive brawl five feet away. "Hatake Kakashi."
Kakashi's hands are dipping lower and Iruka flattens himself against the older boy's body, trying to ignore the mewling sound he's making. The sun is shining through the window, heating the small room to nearly unbearable levels, but that doesn't matter. When fingers are touching him like this, making him whine and beg, nothing matters but this and here and now.
After that night, he was painfully aware of each time they passed each other in the halls, through the science wing, past the arts hall. Iruka tried to ignore the brushes of shoulders, the thoughtful eyes. Finally, after weeks of this, he snapped, grabbing the boy's arm to pull him out of the center of the hallway.
"What's your problem? Why do you keep looking at me?"
He looked back at Iruka, impassive. "Wanna fuck?" It was asked nonchalantly, as though asking to borrow a pencil. Iruka's skin burned and he wanted to strangle the boy.
"The hell? I don't even know you-"
"I told you my name, it's Kakashi," Kakashi interrupted smoothly, and Iruka suppressed a scream.
"-and I'm not gay."
"Neither am I. Wanna fuck?" When he grabbed Iruka's arm, dragging him in the direction towards the parking lot, Iruka didn't resist.
Kakashi's sucking on his neck, biting and licking and pulling, and Iruka lets his head roll to the side, opening up his neck to more attention. He can feel sweat on his body, and his hair's hanging limp and wet against his scalp, flopping into his eyes. He hates his hair down, because it reminds him of then, but Kakashi likes to pull it, kiss it, so every time Kakashi drags him into this tiny bedroom he takes the rubberband out of his hair.
They were sitting on Kakashi's porch, watching little kids walk home from the nearby elementary school, and they were pretending they were friends. Kakashi was watching him thoughtfully with those droopy eyes, and Iruka wished he'd never asked the question, that he'd never met the older boy.
"Why?" he asked, stressing the word with a dirty look. Kakashi seemed to actually ponder this for a moment before he gave a boneless shrug.
"Because we're the same."
Iruka's cellphone is ringing and the sound barely penetrates his brain. He tries to ignore it, as does Kakashi, and the phone vibrates across the makeshift table until it falls to the floor. He doesn't want to acknowledge the people calling him, the people who've been trying to convince him to call them 'mother' and 'father' for the past five years. He hates the phone for ringing, for making him remember long hair and dark eyes, gunshots and screams. He doesn't want to remember, can't afford it, so he grabs Kakashi's hair and pulls him forward to kiss him savagely, more biting than kissing.
They were standing in the parking lot, surrounded by cars and kids leaving the school. A girl passed them, keys jangling in her hand, and they unconsciously took a step away from each other.
"Aren't you going to miss the bus?"
Iruka shrugged and looked steadfastly elsewhere.
"You wanna come home with me?"
Iruka started to shrug, then stopped. He glanced at Kakashi, then looked away, nodding. Kakashi pulled out a pair of keys and walked away, moving through the maze of cars. Iruka tugged on the shoulder straps of his backpack and followed, watching Kakashi's feet.
Kakashi's pushing him against the wall and he half-heartedly pushes back. His legs are wrapped around Kakashi's waist and he presses harder against the older boy, mouth falling open when Kakashi jerks forward, the thrust slamming Iruka's shoulders into the wall. It's wonderful, he decides, as Kakashi's fingers wander and Kakashi's tongue licks and Kakashi's eyes stare and everything in this, in the here and the now is Kakashi, and Iruka doesn't have to remember. And, for just a moment, for the first time in years, Iruka's happy.