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The Last Time	By : MuseMistress Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 927 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Last Time
- 1
The Last Time
Summary- Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d ever realized how hard it was for Iruka to do all the taking. He was such a gentleman about it all, always kissing him goodbye when he left.

Warnings- Sexual references. No real sex. So sue me.

AN- This is a drabble written for yaoi-is-my-antidrug as promised after she correctly guessed the mistake in continuity I made while writing December. She requested an IrukaGenma drabble as a reward for being such an astute reader, not to mention avid fan.
Voila. . .
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The first thing Iruka didn’t expect that morning was breakfast. Cereal, muffins, juice, and coffee. Nothing fancy, but there it was, waiting for him at the kitchen table. He figured that the coffee was just routine, as Genma had to know by know that he didn’t like the overly strong brew.

Iruka was not a morning person. His charges at the academy could attest to that, as well as a few unfortunate coworkers. Mornings would undoubtedly be easier if he just drank the coffee just to get some caffeine in his body, but he resisted the bitter liquid until the bitter end, match for match. Let Genma have his coffee. He much preferred waking up to hands teasing him out of sleep, calloused palms working small circles into his skin.

That was another thing he didn’t expect, back when they first started seeing each other; Genma had gentle hands. Iruka didn’t know exactly what it was that made Genma treat him like some sort of porcelain doll in bed, but they’d had more than a few clashes over the subject, most of which ended up progressing from verbal lashings to physicality. Iruka wasn’t shy about using his first to articulate his position and Genma always fought back when put into a corner. Genma fought everything, down to the point where any semblance of a civilized fight dissolved into the use of teeth and lips and nails, giving Iruka just what he wanted in the first place.

Iruka liked getting what he wanted. It rarely ever happened outside the closed circle of their relationship, which made him think that maybe he was actually losing to something Genma had contrived, although he never bothered to ask. No need to shatter the illusion as far as he was concerned. As long as he had soft hands in the mornings and hard hands in the nights, then he was satisfied.

Yawning wide as he padded into the kitchen and around the inordinate amount of clutter, Genma waved half-heartedly and sank into the chair across from Iruka, toes curling and uncurling as his head slumped forward into his left hand, eyes drooping in renewed sleepiness.

Genma wasn’t a morning person either. Iruka discovered that after the second night.

“Almost stubbed my toes on those damn boxes earlier,” Genma grumbled as his other hand reached for the coffee pot. The other continued to support his head. “Need to put that shit away.”

Iruka responded by sliding a muffin across the table. Genma grunted in thanks.

They ate in silence, the loudest sound the smacking of lips as Genma chewed on his blueberry muffin. Genma loved anything and everything made with blueberries. It took Iruka a while to figure that one out. He didn’t blame inattention. He’d strived to learn as much about Genma as he could from the beginning, which might or might not have been the wisest of ideas. That all depended on where they chose to cite the beginning. Iruka often chose the time they played pool in the back room of Damascus bar, the first night they ever spoke. Genma chose the first time they had sex. Also in the backroom of Damascus. Iruka’s version gave them an extra year of time, but still not enough. One night a week just wasn’t enough to know every single little thing about a person.

So they were accustomed to the quiet, at breakfast or otherwise. How long had their relationship been a secret? Iruka wondered as he watched Genma chew. One year? Two? And who’s fault was it, really? His? Genma’s? Neither?

Still, Iruka liked the sound of Genma’s voice. He liked hearing it as they talked over dinner and as they argued over a movie. He liked the way he said his name when they had sex, soft and scratchy like the hands that raked over his back. Iruka didn’t need lips if he could hear his voice said like that.

Genma finished his muffin by dunking the last piece of it into his coffee, popping it into his mouth only to be washed down with more coffee. He stretched and slouched in his chair, fingers tapping in his lap, toes flexing. He always flexed his fingers and toes when he was agitated. “No changing your mind, right?” Another curl of his toes. “You’re good?”

Iruka looked back up from where he’d been staring at the empty muffin wrapper, meeting Genma’s eyes. Brown, like his. Anxious.

He nodded briefly, surprised by exactly how little guilt he felt. “Yeah. I’m good.” He made up his mind. He made up his mind years ago, only he’d just realized that a couple of days ago. “Everything's good, now.”

Iruka heard more than saw the relief flood into Genma’s body, that light rush of exhaled air signaling the abrupt exit of tension. “Good. You can unpack your stuff then. After breakfast.”

“And a shower,” Iruka said, wrinkling his nose as he noted the stain on Genma’s t-shirt. “You wore that yesterday.”

Genma sniffed the shirt curiously. “Did I? Doesn’t smell any different than usual.”

Iruka chose to occupy himself with a muffin instead of answering, going for the bran instead of the blueberry. Genma laughed, standing up and scratching his stomach idly. “I’m gonna go take a shower. I’ll help you when I get back.” He planted a quick kiss on the top of Iruka’s head before shuffling back out of the kitchen, past the boxes that held all of Iruka’s belongings. He’d left everything that wasn’t his back at the apartment, the hotplate, the towels, the dogs. The dogs he would miss.

He put aside the bran muffin as the first wave of regret rolled over him. Leaving a note probably wasn’t the best way to do this, but he didn’t know what else to do. How else to make it stop. They’d never even had a fight he could go on, no angry words to repeat and throw in his face.

Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d ever realized how hard it was for Iruka to do all the taking. He was such a gentleman about it all, always kissing him goodbye when he left. He made love where Iruka made war. That had to have been it from the beginning.

Not for the last time, Iruka wondered how Kakashi would take the note. Genma would scream and fling expletives, hunt him down until he explained. Would Kakashi come looking for him? Or would he just sigh and revel in the comfort that he knew it was coming, resigning himself to the same old same old and giving Iruka exactly what he wanted?

Would he miss the way Iruka said his name?

The sound of running water reached his ears from down the hall. Genma probably left the bathroom door open again. Iruka stood up, feeling his back crack as he did. He collected the trash on the table, the empty muffin wrapper and his partially finished bran muffin. Both of them ended up in the trash.

One of them was being cheated. He just wasn’t sure who.
Fin
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End AN- I’m incapable of writing happy anything!!!!! Why can’t I write some goddamned fluff?

If you like the somewhat depressing drabble above, I may consider turning this into a collection, since I feel that I need (fluffy, maybe?) drabble writing practice. Leave requests for pairings (or not pairings) and if you want something specific included in the drabble in a review if you’d like to see more. But remember, I have the right to decline a pairing if I so choose.

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The Last Time