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Training Kakashi: Peace Offerings by Rieka

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Story notes: [Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or related trademarks and I do not profit from this story.]

It's holiday spirit, TK-style. XD
Training Kakashi

Training Kakashi.
Side Story: Peace Offerings.


It was a sweater.

Kakashi blinked at the bundle of wool and then looked from it to the prissy Chuunin his lover happened to call best friend, back and forth again for the longest moment. Midori had crossed her arms over her chest and was scowling at him darkly in a way that screamed ‘well!? Say something!’. Kakashi looked down at, apparently, his new sweater and blinked again.

Some times, it’s better to go along with simple things. The very basics.

“Huh?”

Midori rolled her eyes.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘thanks’,” the Medic Nin said acridly, still looking like she’d been forced to suck on a lemon. “And, if you want to be particularly complacent, add ‘Midori-chan’ to it.”

“I wouldn’t call you ‘Midori-chan’ even if Ibiki tortured me to, the village safety depended on it or my own life was at stake.” Kakashi arched an eyebrow when the glare equivalent to a poison tipped kunai was thrown in his direction. “But still, thank you.”

Midori snorted. She really, really, really didn’t like Kakashi. At all. But Iruka, for some unholy reason, was completely, helplessly enamored with the idiot and there wasn’t any indication she would get rid of him any soon. And, as much as she loathed admitting it, Kakashi made Iruka happy, which made Midori… content, in turn. So she’d knitted the idiot a sweater for the sake of keeping her annoying, whining best friend quiet.

It wasn’t like she wanted to like Kakashi. Kakashi was… was…

Well, it was the principle of the damn thing. Kakashi and Midori were not supposed to like each other; it was one of those fundamental rules in the universe that kept it from spinning out of control. They managed to get along a bit on the rough side, but besides the snide snarking here and there, that was it. They didn’t even threaten each other… anymore… all that much… yeah.

“I don’t like you.” Midori sniffed, still looking like a tantrum-throwing brat. “You’re an asshole and an idiot and I swear I’ll rip out your intestines and strangle you with them if you ever hurt Iruka.”

“Fun. I’m only waiting for Iruka to wake up and decide he’s not your friend anymore so that I can properly express how much I don’t like you.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

Iruka popped his head through the doorway, his sixth sense alerting him of a potential explosion. He looked at his lover and his best friend warily as they stood facing each other in tense silence. The party in the living room was on full blast – Genma was drunk off his ass and Ibiki was trying to flee Anko’s not so subtle advances – with all those end-of-year decorations and drinks and stuff.

“Everything’s good here?” The teacher asked suspiciously, giving the sudden innocent-looking faces a doubtful look.

“Sure, ‘Ruka!” Midori smiled widely and brightly, tone falsely cheerful. “I was just giving Kakashi-kun his present, that’s all!”

“Yup,” the Jounin’s visible eye arched into a chirpy crescent. “It’s all nice and lovely here.”

Iruka wasn’t buying that, at all.

“Um, sure.” He jerked his head to point back form where he’d come from and grinned the horrible, trauma-inducing grin that announced the world he was feeling devious. “C’mon, Ibiki is being molested, you can’t miss the show.”

“After you, Midori-chan.” Kakashi’s voice was dripping sweetness as he motioned the Chuunin to go ahead.

“Why, thank you,” Midori returned the gesture and walked out of the room before Kakashi, but forgot all about annoying bastards and how to gut them when she caught sight of Ibiki’s pleading look. Grinning sadistically, Midori went to enjoy the show, and completely ignored Kakashi’s last token glare.

Kakashi started wearing his new purple sweater often, but not because he liked it or it was comfy or it complimented his body built well or anything. It was just to irritate Midori. Right.

Because Kakashi really didn’t like her. At all.

It was a matter of principles, and no flimsy peace offering would ever change that.

Ever.

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