Chapter Text
Jiraiya fumbled with the blaring alarm clock on his bedside table, trying to silence it without lifting his head from his pillow. His palm slapped the wood at random, seeking out the offensive sound. With a groan, he forced himself to sit up. He snatched the clock of his nightstand and flipped it over to pry open the back compartment. With a violent shake, the batteries clattered and rolled across the wooden floor. He sighed in relief and fell back against his mattress, carelessly tossing the chunk of plastic to the side. Just as he closed his eyes, the door to his bedroom flew open, casting an offensively bright light directly onto his face. In protest, he picked up his pillow and held it over his head, trying to get a moment’s peace.
“If I’m going to be on time, I have to leave in ten minutes,” he heard his roommate hiss. “I told you yesterday that Tsunade needs me to give her a ride. Ten minutes, Jiraiya, and I’m leaving, with or without you.”
Aggravated, Jiraiya pulled his pillow away and threw it at the door, missing by a wide margin and almost knocking his fishbowl off the top of his dresser. Thank God it had been empty for months. He locked eyes with Orochimaru, who was staring at him with an infuriatingly blank face. “Fine,” he groaned, realizing that his roommate had no plan to leave until he gave verbal confirmation.
“Nine minutes.” The door clicked shut, returning his room to darkness.
Nine minutes. Who does he think he is, anyway? Okay, what day was it? Monday. Definitely Monday. It was the first day of classes. Right. So, he had his fiction seminar. That wasn’t bad; it was his focus, after all. But there was something else, something important that was just out of his mind’s reach.
Whatever it was, if he’d forgotten, it couldn’t be that important.
He pushed himself out of bed and trudged across the room to his closet. Orochimaru had told him that his new wardrobe made him look like a pompous ass, but he had to look the part. He couldn't just show up for his first day of grad school wearing what he did his senior year of undergrad. They’d laugh in his face for wearing a university t-shirt and checkered pyjama pants. Orochimaru had helped him piece together enough outfits for his first week, claiming that any impression Jiraiya made would reflect on him by proxy.
As annoying as his roommate could be, at least he knew how to dress well. The grey button-down seemed a little excessive to Jiraiya, and he eyed the red tie that accompanied it with suspicion. Really, Oro? He was going to class, not giving a…
Oh, fuck .
His lecture. His class . “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” He tried to pull on his pants as he hopped to the bathroom, giving his best effort to multitask. There wasn’t any time to do anything with his unmanageably long, white hair. Wait. He could do the… what did Tsunade call it? He started to gather his hair into a ponytail as he wracked his brain. Guy-something? Dude-bun? Man-bun! Yeah! That thing. Apparently, the ladies were into that right now. If only he didn’t have so much fucking hair . Swearing that he would shave it off, he twisted it until he could tie it off, getting somewhere close to the look he’d seen some of the vegan, tye-dye hippie freshmen sporting.
“Five minutes!” he heard Orochimaru call through his bedroom door.
“I know !” he growled, shoving his toothbrush into his mouth as he tucked his shirt into his pants with his free hand. Around his toothbrush, he mumbled a string of expletives that would make Tsunade’s grandfather faint. He didn’t have time for this, dammit!
Taking nowhere near the appropriate time to thoroughly clean his teeth, he spat and rinsed out the sink. He gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror before rushing back into his bedroom. He threw his backpack over one shoulder, and in one hand he snatched both the tie and his briefcase. Before he left the room, he slipped back into his bathroom to spray on his cologne, not wanting to smell like a swamp in front of his students.
“Two-”
“I’m here,” Jiraiya interrupted Orochimaru’s infernal countdown. “Let’s go.”
“Shoes.” Orochimaru quirked an eyebrow when Jiraiya stopped in his tracks. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
“Shit!” he spat, wrestling his bedroom door open long enough to grab his socks and shoes. He rushed out the front door, shouting “I’ll put them on in the car!”
Orochimaru dug the keys to their house out of his pocket and locked the door behind them. Well, at least he was on time. With a click, the car doors unlocked electronically, and his overzealous roommate threw himself into the passenger’s seat, backpack and all. Orochimaru took the time to put his things in the trunk before climbing into the car. “Seatbelt,” he reminded his companion.
“Just give me a damned minute. Let me get my shoes on. Just go ahead.” Jiraiya was tugging his ridiculously vibrant, geometric dress socks up over his ankles.
“ Seatbelt .”
“Okay, Mom .” The belt clicked into place, and, satisfied, Orochimaru started the car and pulled out of their driveway. “Why do we need to get Tsunade, anyway?”
“Her transmission died.”
“Can’t she just get a new one?”
“They’re expensive, and she’s so far in debt that not even Kakuzu will give her a loan.”
Jiraiya let out a low whistle as he fastened his shoelaces. “That’s bad.”
Orochimaru glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, unable to stay silent any longer. “What is that ridiculous thing you’ve done with your hair?”
“It’s a man-bun,” Jiraiya informed him proudly, grinning as he pointed to his head. “Tsuna says the ladies are really into guys with long hair. You should wear yours like this, sometime, Oro.”
The driver snorted in disdain. “No, thank you. It makes you look like a coffee shop ‘writer,’” he put air quotes around the word with one hand, which he momentarily took off the steering wheel, “who spends his money on overpriced pot and then can’t afford to eat.”
“That’s an incredibly specific, apt description.”
Unwilling to take his eyes off the road, Orochimaru let his tone of voice do the threatening for him. “I swear to God, if I find out from Zetsu that you gave him your rent money…”
“Come on,” Jiraiya groaned. “Have a little faith in me, okay? I’ll be good. I promise.”
He’d heard that one too many times to put any stock into his words. Orochimaru sighed in response, praying to whatever higher power may be that he would make it through the semester without killing his roommate. A left turn took them into an apartment complex, where they were momentarily stopped by an electronic gate. He rolled down his window and punched in a code, smacking the box on the side before the gate lifted up and out of the way for them. He left the window down, calling out of it when he stopped in front of the office building. “Tsuna!”
Tsunade looked up from her phone, realizing that they’d finally arrived. She crossed the street and knocked on the trunk of the car, which popped open with the push of a button. Her bags joined Orochimaru’s, and she slid into the back, taking the middle seat so that she could see both Jiraiya and Orochimaru. She clapped Orochimaru on the shoulder. “Thanks again, Oro. You’re the best.”
Orochimaru hummed his response, not wanting to seem overly proud by agreeing with her. He made a loop around one of the buildings and exited the complex, turning back onto the main road. “Is there a reason you’re in scrubs?” he asked,trying to make conversation.
“Yeah. We’re jumping right in with Anatomy and Physiology. Don’t worry; I packed a change of clothes to change into before I teach. I don’t want to go in reeking of formaldehyde.”
“Yeah, nothing like the smell of preserved, dead shit to win over the class,” Jiraiya joked, earning him a slap on the arm.
“What the hell did you do to your head?” Tsunade demanded, poking at his hair. Orochimaru bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Offended, both of Jiraiya’s hands went to touch his hair. “It’s a man-bun. Remember? You said I’d look good in one?”
“Was I drunk ?” she joked. Seeing the look on Jiraiya’s face, she added, “No, it looks good, I promise.”
“Liar,” he accused, and she didn’t correct him. He didn’t have anyone to blame but himself, and he knew it. Oh, well, maybe the freshmen would think he was cool because of it. Not that having a bunch of eighteen-year-olds thinking he’s cool would do him much good, but it might win him a few points in the classroom. He turned around in his seat to look at Tsunade when he asked, “Why don’t you just ask your Gramps for the money to fix your car?”
She rolled her eyes, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “I don’t want him knowing about my ‘habit.’ He can’t keep a secret to save his life, and Grandma’d beat my ass into next week if she found out I caught the ‘gambling bug’ from him.” When Jiraiya looked at her in disbelief, she clarified, “That’s what she calls it.”
Jiraiya had met Mito once, when he attended Tsunade’s Thanksgiving dinner his sophomore year. The red-headed woman was clearly the matriarch of the family, keeping her husband in line with as little as a glare. She was terrifying, and Jiraiya said ‘Ma’am’ more times that one night than he had in his life up until that point. He wouldn’t be caught dead on the wrong side of her wrath. “Makes sense.”
“If it’s a problem, I can chip in for gas,” she offered, looking to Orochimaru.
“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed with a wave of his hand before pulling into the parking lot. “You’ve covered us, before. And you’re on our way.”
Tsunade leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks.”
“Hey, what about me?” Jiraiya demanded, obviously pouting.
“Not a chance in hell, Man-bun,” she snickered. Before he could complain, she slipped out of the parked car and joined Orochimaru around back at the trunk. The pair took their bags from the car, and Jiraiya wasn’t far behind. “Okay,” she changed the conversation, using her serious tone of voice. “What’s the schedule?”
“It’s eleven, now,” Orochimaru informed her, looking at his wristwatch. “I’m going to the Dean’s office, then I teach Intro to Biology at noon. All in all, I should be done by four, class included.”
“I have class in fifteen,” Tsunade gnawed her bottom lip as she thought, looking at the tree overhead. “Then, I teach at two. An hour and a half… so, three-thirty for me.”
“Same, here,” Jiraiya agreed. “Class, then teaching at two, I mean.”
“So, we meet back here at four? Three-thirty at the earliest?” Orochimaru suggested.
“Sounds good to me.” Jiraiya set his briefcase down and popped his collar so that he could tie his tie, which he’d completely forgotten about on the ride over. Tsunade watched him struggle for a solid minute before taking over for him, completing the task in just a few seconds. Wishing one-another luck, the trio parted ways, hurrying off to their respective schools.
The way that the classroom went deathly silent when Jiraiya entered sent a shiver down his spine. Roughly twenty sets of eyes were fixed on him, judging and assessing him. There was only one word for it: creepy. He could hear his own footsteps as he crossed the front of the room, and he pulled a stack of papers out of his briefcase when he reached his desk. He coughed once, trying to break the silence, but the sound only echoed back at him.
He approached a student on the first row and handed him the stack of papers. “Take one and pass it,” he instructed, his voice sounding foreign. Trying not to look awkward, he stepped up to the board and wrote his name. “Welcome to Intro to Creative Writing. I’m Jiraiya, and I’ll be your instructor this semester. I’m a grad student, so no ‘Doctor,” no ‘Mister.’ Okay?”
Apparently the question seemed rhetorical, because he wasn’t given any response. “I’m not going to go over the syllabus with you. If you’re in a class to write, I assume you can read.” He laughed lightly at his own joke, and he was the only one. Oh, God, he was dying up here, wasn’t he? Was Tsunade having this much trouble right now? “So, don’t worry, we’re not going to go around the room and introduce ourselves. I’ll give you guys ten minutes to ask me whatever you want about me, get it out of your system, then we can move on to the class. Sound good?”
A relatively boring-looking blonde guy in the middle of the room raised his hand, and Jiraiya pointed at him. “Is your hair naturally white? Do you dye it, or are you, like, really old with a lot of plastic surgery?”
Jiraiya quirked an eyebrow, resisting the urge to shake his head. “It’s always been white, and I’m twenty-four. Trust me, this is all natural.” He gestured at himself with a grin, finally earning a bout of laughter from his students. That was good, right? It didn’t sound forced to him. They hadn’t laughed earlier, but they would have if they felt obligated, wouldn’t they? To his surprise, a few more hands went up around the room. Apparently the blonde kid broke the tension.
“Uh, you.” Jiraiya pointed at a girl with black hair who sat in the far back corner.
“Are you qualified to teach?” she asked with obvious skepticism.
“According to President Senju, I am.”
“So, are man-buns professional now, or…?”
“Not a damned clue.”
“Wait, we can swear in here?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“What made you decide to be a graduate professor?”
“I need to eat, and my roommate’s plan on how to get me to pay rent was much less appealing.”
“Are you single?”
This was the first question that gave him pause. “Um….” This definitely was against his contract with the school. Torn between his job and wanting his students to like him, he settled for a single-syllable answer. “Yes.” He coughed into his hand, fumbling to change the subject from his relatively non-existent romantic life to the subject he was supposed to teach. “Okay, can anyone tell me the basic components of plot?”
Tsunade breathed in the scent of coffee and books as she stood in line for a much needed dose of caffeine. She usually didn’t pay much attention to the chatter of the students scattered around the coffee shop, but Jiraiya’s name caught her attention.
“No, Kurenai, you don’t understand, this guy was gorgeous. Like, no one who’s teaching should be that hot. Here, I took a picture of him while he wasn’t looking.”
“You know that’s called being a creeper, right Anko?”
“LIke you wouldn’t have. Just look at him.”
“That's your teacher? Hot damn.”
“Right? Told you he was gorgeous. I’d hit that.”
“You’d do better to hit the books,” her friend scolded.
“If I hit that maybe I wouldn’t have to!” The first girl laughed. Tsunade gritted her teeth. Apparently Jiraiya had made some sort of an impression on his class. Some logical part of Tsunade knew that she shouldn’t be bothered by their chatter, but it really pissed her off. Didn’t they have any respect for Jiraiya? It had only been one day! What could he possibly have done? Other than looking like… What did that girl say? A modern gift from the Greek gods? What did that even mean? Tsunade snorted as she mixed two creamers and one sugar into her coffee. Whatever intro to art history class they were taking was obviously failing them. And they seemed to think Jiraiya was this super cool character, when really he was the world’s biggest dweeb. Served them right for treating him like eye candy. Hopefully they would write something other than glowing descriptions of Jiraiya’s physique for their damn creative writing class. Tsunade moved away from the crowded cafe, determined to find a quiet spot to study until it was time to meet Orochimaru.
“So you seem to have made an impression on your students, Jiraiya, ” Tsunade said, sliding into her seat in the middle.
“I did?” Jiraiya asked, shifting slightly to look at her. “How do you know? Really, I felt like the whole class was awkward as hell.”
“Don’t worry, they weren’t listening to what you were saying.” Jiraiya’s face fell.
“They weren’t?”
“Well, not this particular girl,” Tsunade amended. “She was too busy taking stalker pictures of you to show her friends later.” Jiraiya winced.
“Lovely. What did she look like?” He asked.
“Jiraiya, no!” Tsunade hissed. “You had better not be thinking what I think you’re thinking! You’d lose your job! It’s practically illegal! And illegal harmless-illegal like some of the things we’ve done, or Oro’s weed brownies, this could totally ruin your life!”
“What are you talking about?” Jiraiya asked, frowning in confusion.
“Promise me, Jiraiya, promise me that you will not date a student, or sleep with a student, or do anything with a student!”
“Oh my god, Tsunade, you’re more of a pervert than I am! I didn’t want to know what she looked like so I could hit on her! They’re babies! Barely 18, most of them. Oh my god. I don’t want to give her any ammunition, got it?” He dragged a hand down his face in frustration.
“Is that really what you think about me?” He asked. Tsunade had the grace to look ashamed.
“No,” she said, refusing to look at Jiraiya. “ I just got mad, then worried, and took it out on you.”
“It’s all right,” he said, “I can handle it.”
“If you’re quite done,” Orochimaru said, “can we please remember the rule about not yelling in my car?”
“Sorry, Oro,” Tsunade said. “It won’t happen again.”
“That is a bold-faced lie, but thank you,” Orochimaru said. “This is your stop.” They watched until Tsunade made it to her apartment, then Orochimaru put the car in reverse. Jiraiya still slumped in his seat, radiating dejection.
“It’s all right,” Orochimaru said awkwardly. “One of mine straight-up asked if I was free this weekend.”
“What?!” Jiraiya yelled, staring at Orochimaru wide-eyed.
“You’re yelling,” Orochimaru reminded him.
“What,” Jiraiya repeated more quietly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“And face Tsunade’s wrath?” Orochimaru asked, quirking an eyebrow. “No, thank you.”
“She probably wouldn’t have yelled at you,” Jiraiya pouted. “She thinks you have better judgement than I do.”
“I wonder why,” Orochimaru said, rolling his eyes.