Kakashi the Professor Somehow Likes You-oh, and more.

by Writer_Jpg

Summary:

Kakashi finds you cute. You also find him cute.
Dare I say more?

Notes:

Here I am, avoiding responsibilities to write reader shipping once more.

Chapter 1: Coffee Please-and Your Number

You hated the fact that on even the prettiest of Autumn days you found yourself often trapped right in the very coffee shop you normally say you love to work at. Oh, you still do. The customers were generally nice and once you learned their names they would happily keep chattering away as long as you’d let them. Some would spend all day in there working on something in the back corner if you left them alone. It also helped you could swipe the occasional free pastry at least once a day just after they were delivered fresh from the bakery just across the street. It was a dream job anyone would love to have.

You just hated being stuck inside when the weather was so perfect to be anywhere else but there.

The morning rush had come and gone, leaving only a few stragglers tucked into the far corners with a book or device in front of them. It didn’t help that this was the closest cafe between nearby schools making students of all ages a majority of your customers. Today there was only a handful of who you could assume high school students in there with books and papers scattered in front of them. You knew that the university a few miles from this cafe would visit more often if they didn’t have their own cafe right on campus. Not that you were complaining of that either. When exam season hits there’s often more students than space cramming in here and staying all hours of the day. You would take slow days over busy days any time of the week. It often gave you time in between to do other things. Sometimes it’s reading a book you need to take back to the library later that week, other times it’s focusing on whichever hobby you’ve decided to focus on that week. This week it was crocheting a kit you picked up on your way home a few days ago. It was supposed to be coasters shaped like flowers. While your first attempt didn’t exactly go as planned, the current second attempt was going smoother.

It also helped you had a video pulled up with guided instructions spelling it out for you.

Condensation dripped off your iced coffee you made almost an hour ago and soaked the napkin it was on further. Why it was distracting you, you couldn’t say. It just was even as the woman in the video spoke on and you were twisting yarn between your fingers. It was the soaked through napkin that now had your attention. Another fat droplet slid down the side. Abandoning your task without pausing the video, you grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter and set to moving your drink to them. The old one was thrown as were a handful of others used to wipe up the water. This time you set the drink on four napkins instead of one and watched intensely as the next droplet that fell soaked through a little bit. Not as bad as before. Satisfied you turned back to your video and realized it had already moved onto the next and now you couldn’t remember where you had last started.

Maybe crocheting wasn’t for you. None of the hobbies you rotated through would stick too often. Drawing was one you could revisit time and time again, though the mood only struck at random intervals. Crocheting was frustrating to learn, especially with how tender the yarn was and how it would often break or shred apart. The coaster you were working on was better and that had to be a sign you were learning with this hobby. A part of you still hated it and hated learning something new like this, yet you picked up the hook and tugged loose the last knot you were working on. Just as you restarted the video and hooked the loose yarn to pull through did the door suddenly open with a jingle of bells.

‘This isn’t for me.’ This had to be a sign from some kind of higher power. You just weren’t meant to crochet. However, you would stubbornly finish this kit at least since you spent money on it and vow to never touch it again full knowing you would try again in a couple months. Thankfully the dip behind the counter where your phone and supplies were stashed was tucked in and under to make it hard for any approaching customers to see. Thankfully, the man who approached was just shy of the last few inches needed to see over the counter. However, you still had to look up and you found yourself frozen for a moment. He definitely wasn’t a regular. You would remember someone with a silver shine of hair that looked to be edging on white at the edges with a set of darkened gray eyes to match. Despite the nice clothes he wore of a drooping jacket to his calves opened to show the dress pants clipped by suspenders, he looked relaxed. Nothing like anyone else who would come through in those clothes. Most of them in the field of business were overworking themselves into exhaustion with a noticeable slump and shake in their grip. This man was balanced and relaxed enough his eyes were barely open over the cloth mask he had secured over his mouth. With his hands shoved in his pockets and slouching back he looked ready to a lazy stroll down the street.

“I’ve never been in here before,” His voice definitely matched him. You realized your staring must have caught his attention as he spoke with the faintest of crinkles hinting at a smile. Immediately you looked away and over to the menu lighting up just to the side. There were endless drinks the owner had continued to come up with including the ability to customize them further. It was easy to feel overwhelmed when faced with it. So, you tried to match the way he easily carried himself and propped against the counter to get a better view. Not of him, you told yourself, despite being able to see a few buttons of his shirt were undone at the top.

“It’s a lot, but there’s no hurry. If you don’t like whatever you order I can always make you something else.” Not that you were supposed to give free drinks. But this was a very attractive man and it wasn’t everyday that a very attractive man came through those doors. If you were a braver person you might write a corny line on his cup with your number. You were, in fact, not that brave. Despite this, his gaze traveled back to you and this time he was watching you. Considering half of his face was covered and his eyes weren’t overly expressive you couldn’t tell at all what he could be feeling. That detail made you more nervous than you normally are when dealing with a customer. Again, it didn’t help that he was very attractive.

‘Pull that hand out so I can see if there’s a ring.’ Not that it would stop your thoughts on him. It just meant you wouldn’t be so hypothetically bold to not say something to him. In your mind you do, spilling out all the creative lines and words with a wink just to see if you could fluster him. Under his gaze you offered a more nervous smile and he finally looked away. One palm was starting to sweat where you were clenching your fist so hard from nerves. That was when you took note of how your heart beat was bouncing back and forth as though trying to escape from the cell of your ribs. Subtly, you wiped your hand on your pants.

“What do you like?” Again, that voice. Even if he wasn’t attractive his voice was nice enough you could listen to him speak all day. Hell, let him talk about taxes for all he cared about and you’d gladly sit through it. Read a dictionary and you’d ask him to repeat it again and again. He was looking at you and you felt when your mind scrambled and put itself back together again.

“Caramel,” You were quick to say. Realizing how not specific at all that was, you quickly added; “Hot or cold. I like the caramel latte. Since it’s cold out, you might like it hot…” You trailed off. His gaze was surprisingly intimidating. Even hooded with what you could mistake as boredom, it made you nervous. The man nodded suddenly.

“Hot caramel latte, then.” Both of his hands came out and he flicked the coat back to reach into a back pocket. Just as he brought his wallet up, he spoke yet again. “24 ounces. Name’s Kakashi.”

“Kakashi,” You said it back when you picked up a cup. Sounding it out you tried to spell it out and hoped it was right. Kakashi didn’t hesitate to slide a few extra bills into the tip jar when you took the amount owed, which you thanked him for. He nodded and slid aside to rest on one of the stools.

Right at the counter.

Oh, you’ve had customers watch you prepare drinks before. Regulars would gladly sit there and talk about their mornings or evenings while they watched you brew and dress their drink to their taste. Even students would sit there and use you as a distraction to avoid studying. You’ve never felt nervous under their eyes. Yet, when Kakashi held his gaze on you, cheek propped up in his hand while leaning onto the counter, you felt pressured. Not just the regular pressure of working while being watched. It was a pressure as if this was your first time brewing coffee ever. It reminded you of your first day when the owner had watched you without a word. You wouldn’t dare look back when you set the quad shots of espresso to brew. You walked the length to fetch the caramel syrup and drizzle and took note his gaze followed. Is this was a bird felt like when being watched by a house cat? No wonder mice scurried in fear whenever they were caught. You’d do the same if you had to face a gaze like this everyday. You heard a click, but you couldn’t find the courage to look back and see if it was him or not.

“How long have you worked here?” When he spoke it came out of nowhere and you squirted more syrup than you meant to. Either he didn’t notice or chose to not acknowledge it.

“Over a year.” You said. To be polite-or that’s what you told yourself-you glanced back over your shoulder. Polite eye contact and nothing more. Except, that gaze locking with yours froze you to the spot. Even as the espresso shots started to drip into the cups you didn’t look away. “I’ve..uh, well, you know- I’ve never seen you before-do you work nearby?” Smooth. So smooth, in fact, that his face curled up into an amused smile under the mask. How you knew it was amusement? The way his eyes crinkled and he tilted his head a little further.

“At the university. I’m a professor-history.” He said knowing already what you were opening your mouth to ask. This confused you, however, and you broke the gaze to focus on getting his drink together.

“Isn’t there a cafe on campus?” Not that you were complaining that he came all the way out here. It just didn’t make logical sense in your mind. You wouldn’t have come out so far just for a cup you could have easily gotten on campus. Then again, you didn’t know. It could even be the worst. It was popular for sure since you were constantly seeing pictures students posted on social media of it. That didn’t mean the drinks were above any other place. Kakashi let out the softest, breathiest laugh and you hated that it startled your heart into a skip.

“We do,” He drawled out and averted his gaze to the windows. Outside the cafe life was slowing down before the afternoon rush, people briskly moving past without even glancing. A few did, yet they didn’t stop either. “They always mess up my order. A friend of mine, Iruka-“ The way he said his name was fond and he looked down before back at you. “He recommended this place. Bragged on it all morning until I said I’d come by.”

You knew Iruka by name considering he was one of your number one early morning customers. Always smiling and always speaking about some of his students, both complaining and bragging on the same breath, he was a joy to serve. It helped that he was cute in a strangely boyish way despite him definitely being older. He taught English, specifically classes on essay writing. Every so often he’d come in with a laptop and stacks of paper he made funny faces at. You wouldn’t have thought of Kakashi being one of Iruka’s friends, yet the more you put them together in your mind it started to piece together for sure.

“Iruka might be our number one customer.” It was your time to speak of him fondly. Kakashi’s eyes never glanced away even when pink started to dust your cheeks despite trying to fight it down. When you caught his gaze as you turned around, coffee in hand, that pink turned into the beginnings of a flamboyant red. “Here, hope you like it-if you want something else I can fix it, or if you want something added, or another shot-“

He laughed. A light, soft laugh that made his mask bulge just slightly and his eyes close. Yeah, your face was definitely red now, there was no denying it. Slowly he reached out to take the cup from your hand and those fingertips ghosted the length of your fingers the entire way down. You pulled your arm back before he’d take notice of the goosebumps starting to form. Then you realized something. Kakashi in his mysterious mask nearly covering his entire face, would have to tug it down to taste the drink. Or so you thought as he stood suddenly.

“See you tomorrow?”

“You didn’t even…” You trailed off in confusion. Kakashi brought it up to the mask and sniffed lightly and did that hidden grin that wrinkled his mask.

“It smells good, so I’ll assume it’s good. If not, I’ll try something else tomorrow.” The way he said it sounded so confident. Something you weren’t in that moment. Still, you nodded and held up your hand to wave.

“Tomorrow, then.” You agreed and smiled. Kakashi stared for a moment longer before holding up his hand and simply saying ‘bye-bye’. Then he turned and without a care in the world strolled leisurely out. That same relaxed posture he wore coming in decorated him as he left and you couldn’t help but watch him go until he was around the corner and finally out of sight. Your sigh was both disappointed and nerve-wracking. The anxiety from being watched so thoroughly, and embarrassing yourself in front of him, still tingled in the back of your head. You shook your head and looked down to find your crocheting supplies once more. Fiddling with something would help to calm your nerves. However, when you looked down you noticed a small piece of paper no bigger than your palm balancing right on the edge.

‘Shit, did he forget something?’ Immediately you felt worry it could be something important. Something the professor might need for any of his afternoon classes. Several possibilities ran through your mind as you picked it up and opened it.

None of your possibilities were correct.

There were numbers scrawled in a messy handwriting with a caption just below it. Your mind required a moment to realize the amount of numbers written out was perfect for a phone number. His number. Kakashi’s number. Blinking in shock, you looked it over as if to make sure there was nothing else on it before reading right under the numbers. And yeah, your face had to be neon in how hot it felt when the words on the bottom finally clicked.

‘Text me. Or call me. You’re nice and endearing when you get embarrassed. Iruka also talks about you a lot. Seems everything he’s said is true.’

Your heart stuttered, your hands started to sweat, and you felt something mixing between anxiety and excitement trying to crawl up your throat. One part of you wanted to throw your hands up and cheer. The other part wanted to throw the note away and pretend you never saw it. Considering he’d be back tomorrow and would know you just didn’t text him that idea seemed like a trap more than a tactic. You’d have to face him tomorrow regardless of your choice. Or sooner if you actually, well, messaged him. What would you say?

‘Hi, you’re cute.’ You didn’t even see his face, how could you even say that?

‘Tell me about history.’ You never paid attention in school. If you’d had a teacher like him you probably would have paid more attention.

‘How’s Iruka?’ Isn’t it rude to ask a man who called you endearing about another man? Considering how fond he seemed of Iruka you didn’t think he’d complain. Much, at least.

‘Did you enjoy the coffee?’ You were about to write this off as another boring idea until you realized it was the safest message you could send. You’d make sure he knew it was you, then you could ask him about it. Then….then something. Hopefully he could carry the conversation somewhere considering you weren’t confident you could. Oh, you could talk about the weather, about upcoming holidays, and about college work all day, but you’d be bored out of your mind. Considering how often he had to deal with that layer of small talk you’d assume he would be too. But what were safe topics to use? Favorite colors, if he liked reading-or any hobby actually. What else?

‘Screw it.’ And you decided that would be a problem for future you. So, with mind hesitation being squashed under your rush of confidence that wouldn’t linger, you pulled your phone from your pocket and quickly punched the number. Then you opened up your messenger and began to type. You had limited time to be bold before you chickened out, so you worked fast and sent the message without really reading over it.

‘Hey, I hope this was meant for me. Ah, coffee shop. Found it on the counter and I assumed. And how’s your coffee?’

You had signed your name at the bottom and watched when the checks to show it delivered flashed blue, meaning he had read it within seconds. When three dots appeared you closed your eyes and shoved the phone into your pocket, just in time for another customer to come in. Someone you sort of knew, but they always ordered different things. Your smile was practiced when you greeted them and you fought hard to pretend you didn’t feel when your phone buzzed against you.

Chapter 2: Socializing Is Hard

Notes:

This series will have smaller chapters than what I would normally write, more so as a small challenge to myself to not get carried away writing for each snippet. Anyways, hope you find some joy in a midlife crisis.

You wanted to lie and say you were an expert in conversation. Most of the time you were. Managing to hold conversations with some of the most insufferable people badgering you over coffee definitely qualified you as an expert. However, you were humbly reminded on the late, cool evening as you were waiting for the bus to arrive. It was only yesterday you had spoken to Kakashi himself. Hell, it was only yesterday you had messaged him. But it was still today when you hadn’t responded. Not that his response was wrong in any way. It was a simple response; ‘the coffee was very good’. It left it open for a conversation to be started in any way. You could have messaged him about the weather. You could have asked how his work day was going. You could have even asked him how Iruka was doing. Anything.

‘He could have too.’ That was a line of reasoning that, despite being immature even in your eyes, you clung to. Kakashi could have messaged you, but why should he have? He had replied, therefore it should have been your time to respond. When you didn’t he really didn’t have a reason to carry on the conversation, right? You couldn’t blame him that you were too nervous to type a response, constantly deleting whatever you had tried to come up with. But you could blame yourself in the fact you would possibly have to face him the next day; as to say, today. As per most of your mornings when you opened, you spent most of your time focusing on the pastries to be prepared. Considering they were given out for free at the end of the day (instead of trashing them like many places) it left you starting over. Not that you would mind. Baking was a bonus of your morning as it gave you mindless tasks you’ve memorized by this point to keep busy. With the bonus of being able to turn on any station of music you’d like you might as well be on vacation.

Of course, that illusion would shatter the moment you flipped the sign over and the morning rush swarmed you. A second face would be there to help you handle the worst of it, right up until lunch when they would slink into the back to handle the clean up prior to their leaving. The rush, while difficult in the heat of things, was a welcomed distraction that kept your mind focused on your job and not a man. You had to focus on the drinks, the specific orders, the small talk that made them feel like you were actually paying attention to them. Every ‘good morning how are you’ and ‘I hope your day goes great’ blended into every face that came across the counter. Every ‘thank you’ for the change tossed into the tip jar. You didn’t even notice when it started to slow down until you were left without a soul at the counter. Caught up on drinks and baked goods and even wiping off all the counters and tables, you realized then that the rush had finally ended.

As usual, this would be when that fresh face snuck out once the dishes were caught up, leaving you alone until the next face would show up to relieve you. At times you didn’t talk, just waved or offered muttered pleasantries when they would pass by. Sometimes they’d lean beside you and start up talking. During those moments you’d make you both up some drinks and eat on some of the left over pastries in a mockery of a ‘break’. Today was a day they decided to talk. The person who slipped up next to you was a polite face; pale with the faintest traces of smudged remains of purple shadow lining his eyes. Traditionally, you would call him a pretty man. Young, rather fit for the job he had, soft in the face, with deep brown eyes to almost match his dusty brown hair. ‘Kankuro’ was printed on his name tag, tucked into the breast pocket of his shirt. He slumped next to you on the counter and sighed out of his nose.

“Too much for you?” You asked. His offended scoff was followed by a narrow of eyes that you couldn’t take serious. Laying on his arms like he was he looked boyish and sweet. Nothing to match the sound he made or the depth of his voice when he spoke.

“Course not, just…” He started. Kankuro turned and let his cheek rest on one out-stretched arm to look at you. “It’s boring. Repetitive. You ever feel like that?”

“I mean…it’s a job.” You enjoyed this compared to some other options in the area. Considering you were elbow deep into the city, there weren’t many options that didn’t limit down to retail, factory, or low paying pity work. While this fell into retail, most people that came into a coffee shop of this nature were in too much of a rush or without a care to pick as many fights as you’d expect. That and you’ve learned just how to manipulate the words to avoid someone cursing you out at 7 AM. Kankuro shrugged.

“Yeah, but…My sis got into uni, right? She was working in the mall-Leaf Mall, yeah?” You nodded. “Made less than us, but got a ton of discounts. Me and Gaara-my brother, would go there to see her a lot. Now she’s doing clinicals for this degree and she’s making more than about anyone else I know. It has me thinking,” He trailed off and sat up, having finally slumped himself into one of the stools at the counter. You mimicked him after glancing to the door and checking on the few in there. Most of the rush often took their drinks to go leaving an emptiness that stood out.

“Congrats,” You couldn’t ever recall saying anything about his sister. You honestly couldn’t remember he had a sister considering how rare your conversations were. “On your sis,” You clarified and he smiled a little.

“Thanks, but it has me thinking. We’re just here. We don’t have a degree to run the place or to even find a better job-something we might want to do. Like, I’ve always been interested in art.”

“Like…painting?” Kankuro shook his head.

“Puppets. I like wood carving a lot, never thought about making it a job or ever looking at a degree for it, but…you know, what if there’s a chance out there? Something I could do that I want to do, not just ‘cause it’s convenient.” You nodded absently, though without commitment. That is, until he turned his eyes right back to you and said; “What do you want to do?”

“Huh?” You blinked. He repeated the question again, yet you didn’t listen that time. He was staring at you. A stare you could feel even as your mind disconnected from this conversation to take a leisurely stroll with the question. What did you want to do? Well, that wasn’t really a question you’ve had the luxury to look into over the last few years. You’ve had hobbies. You’ve enjoyed doing things in life aside from making coffee and small talk. But did you enjoy something enough to want to pursue it?

‘Drawing?’ You liked to draw. You used to finger paint as a child up until you learned how to handle brushes. Then you carried over painting to sketchbooks, then to digital, then to the occasional piece you’d work on whenever you happened to have the time. You didn’t dedicate time to it like you used to. There were just moments you ended up with the pen or brush in hand and a thought to leap off of. Reading is a hobby, but you weren’t a fast enough reader to justify trying to be a critique of some kind. Or a reviewer. By the time you would have down two books, there would be three more in the series you’d have to review. Animal facts fascinated you to no end. Plants and the proper way to help them prosper and utilize them in your daily life lingered in your mind. There were so many things in your mind that you could almost imagine yourself focusing on, yet nothing you would commit to. That is, until the familiar flash of Iruka’s face came to mind.

A professor. He, like the other ‘he who isn’t to be thought of’, was a professor. From the sounds of it, and how well he carried conversations and bragged on the students he taught, he was a very good one. When you went through school, you had found you enjoyed learning. More than learning, you enjoyed being that person the other kids in class would ask questions about the homework. You enjoyed being fought over for group projects. And more than anything, once you got into high school you found you enjoyed tutoring others. It wasn’t that you felt superior knowing more than who you were to be teaching, but it was the ability to teach. The ability to pass on knowledge. You and Iruka had toyed with the idea of you posting to tutor local school children. On your off days you could meet with them here or even the library and just…teach. Iruka had often mentioned it was what he started to doing once he graduated. He would always slide it into the conversation to explain his path to teaching.

‘I hope his day is going well.’ The stray thought made you smile, then you snuffed it out when you remembered the place, the time, and the staring. Kankuro was still staring.

“Teaching.” You finally said. At first you thought saying it aloud would make you cringe. It felt weird to want to be a teacher of some kind, or so you had grown up thinking. Especially growing up in a public school system and over hearing what was said about said teachers, it was a good deterrent from chasing such a position. Yet, you didn’t cringe. You didn’t feel shame or anything when you said it. If anything, you felt the strangest level of relief. Kankuro’s eyebrows rose.

“Really?” He asked. You were thankful it was more curiosity than anything mocking.

“Yeah…I mean, it’s not the greatest dream to shout from the rooftops, but…I think teaching is something I’d enjoy. It’s…teaching itself, you know? Being paid to talk about a subject you genuinely enjoy and teach others on it? That sounds like a dream. Same way as being a dinosaur lover and getting paid to touch their bones.”

“Makes sense. Didn’t take you for the teaching type.” Kankuro said. His eyes turned last second, giving you no time to react when you heard behind you-

“I wouldn’t have either.”

Kakashi.