[Naruto] Snakedance-- Kabuto/Anko-ish.
Title: Snakedance
Pairing: Kabuto -> Anko, though it you want to read Orochimaru/Anko and Orochimaru/Kabuto into it, don't let me stop you.
Words: ~1,200
Genre: Drama, introspection.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None, really. This takes place slightly before and during the chuunin exams.
Dedication: erisabesu requested this pairing, and though I didn't get to real smut I do believe that I am hooked.
Other Notes: This was fun! What a fascinating pairing! I will certainly have to do more sometime.
Crossposted.
Mitarashi Anko is everything he is not.
She’s sucking the sticky remnants off of a dango skewer and humming under her breath when they pass in the street; he’s carrying a paper sack loaded with medical supplies and from the corner of his eyes he watches the way her pink lips curl and pull at the sliver of bamboo pursed between them.
He thinks of the sweetness of her dirty mouth and wonders what her sensei taught her.
Her long jacket unfurls in the breeze, drifting out behind her, and the edge of it licks at his knees as they pass; she doesn’t even notice.
She’s older than him and confident, she’s of higher rank. She’s dangerous and inelegant, hot-blooded and beautiful and crass, and she doesn’t see him, she doesn’t see him looking at her.
Kabuto knows that he could make her notice him. He wonders what it would be like to make a woman like that bleed, he wonders if she’d enjoy it.
He resettles his glasses on the bridge of his nose and keeps walking.
Orochimaru told him to keep a low profile.
It wouldn’t do to make a scene.
Yakushi Kabuto is nothing to her.
He’s entering the village as she’s leaving it; she’s on assignment and still she slows for a heartbeat as she bolts past him, as a curiosity shoots through her mind, bright and brief, as to what he was doing out at the gate by himself without teammates or commander, this no-talent genin who never passed the exams and yet every year tried again.
He’s only five years her junior and he’s going nowhere.
The morning sun slides over his glasses, throwing brilliant barbs of light like supernova stars into her eyes.
He’s sweet-tongued and gentle-handed, not completely incompetent at medical ninjutsu, better than he seems, she thinks. He’s perhaps not a fighter despite being long-limbed and lithe, he’s careless in an artful way that reminds her of better ninja, his soft smiles are as queer as the ones that curve the lips of her snakes.
And now he’s caught in her gaze, his dark eyes visible again behind transparent lenses, his dark eyes wide as he takes in the sight of her charging past.
She remembers the story of fighting at Bellflower Pass and of the boy that was brought back to Konoha like a spoil of war.
We will kill you and we will take your children, we will make your own sons your enemy, Orochimaru had said when the rumor reached them- that was fifteen years ago, a lifetime ago- and he’d tossed his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed and Anko had squirmed at the sound of it.
She doesn’t know why she thinks of Orochimaru now.
She pushes her mission to the fore of her thoughts.
No distractions now.
Kabuto shares all information with Orochimaru-sama, but since the Sannin does not ask of those chosen to supervise the exams Kabuto smiles and does not volunteer the name of the second proctor.
He does not wish to spoil the surprise of their reunion.
Anko does not forget or dismiss her questions, but neither does she ask anyone else what a lone genin was doing unaccompanied outside of the village jurisdiction.
Intelligence and discretion were two crucial traits that had enabled her to survive her sensei’s training.
He is not sure whether he admires Anko, or if he despises her.
Kabuto observes the way she holds the clipboard when he calls out his retirement from the game- no need to continue playing, not with the Master in attendance, his sharp eyes gleaming as he stares hungrily at his newest pet, the Uchiha- and he wants to laugh.
He understands what’s going on and she does not.
Orochimaru stands five feet from his own sensei and nine from his previous student, ignoring both of them as they stand and discuss his subordinate's low status and uninteresting achievements.
She’s murmuring his name and stats, and Kabuto watches her mouth forming the syllables of his name. He can tell that she’s confused as to why he’s quitting now, this far into the exams. He’s never passed, failed six straight times, and yet he’s ducking out though he’s no green rookie and could still stand a chance if he was smart and lucky.
He reminds himself that she is something Orochimaru cast aside, unwanted, and garbage is to be despised.
She doesn’t see him, and she can’t understand.
When the preliminary third exam begins, those not participating in the duels retire to watch from the balcony that runs the full length of the room.
She leans against the railing, her heavy breasts squashed against her forearms, and a little smile flicks about her lips.
She watches the kids fight and he watches her over the tops of his glasses.
When the Hyuuga girl is injured, Anko straightens up and leaves for the back rooms and he finally sees an opportunity.
“Mitarashi Anko-san,” he says and she jerks around to look at him, caught off guard.
Her eyes narrow as she takes in his smile. “You don’t belong here,” she says. “This place is off limits.”
“Is it?” His voice is very, very mild, and he pushes his glasses into place as he continues, still smiling. “I’ve been watching you for a while. I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you.”
“Oh?” Anko lifts her brows, disbelieving and warily curious.
Careful, careful…like handling a tripwire, like negotiating with a snake. She could draw blood before he even blinks, and he does not doubt her willingness to do so.
Kabuto closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. It was so rare that he spoke his mind that he found it tiring. “Yes,” he says then, and when he looks at her again his expression is muted, soft and true.
“Somehow, you were able to learn to live without Orochimaru-sama. I, regretfully, find that is something which may not be possible for me.”
Surprise slowly floods her pale hazel eyes, filling them up so that they open wide, wider than he thinks is possible…
Kabuto wants to fight her, he wants to fuck her, he wants to see if he can still taste or feel Orochimaru inside of her, but his Master would not appreciate any disruption of his plans. He’s said too much already.
…and then, in an instant, kunai are flying toward his face.
The bunshin pops out of existence.
Kabuto smiles to himself when she comes back out onto the balcony some while later.
Her fists are balled in the pockets of her jacket and she stalks into the room with the long-legged stride of a furious wildcat and, no, she doesn’t stop near the Sandaime to speak with him about what just occurred and Kabuto is oddly pleased with that.
She’s loud and brash and loyal to Konoha, but she understands intimacy.
When she raises her turbulent eyes to his across the room and glares, Kabuto smiles and waves.
Anko draws her thumb across her own throat in a quick, subtle message, then mouths at him, Later.
He nods, still smiling.
He looks forward to it.
Pairing: Kabuto -> Anko, though it you want to read Orochimaru/Anko and Orochimaru/Kabuto into it, don't let me stop you.
Words: ~1,200
Genre: Drama, introspection.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None, really. This takes place slightly before and during the chuunin exams.
Dedication: erisabesu requested this pairing, and though I didn't get to real smut I do believe that I am hooked.
Other Notes: This was fun! What a fascinating pairing! I will certainly have to do more sometime.
Crossposted.
Mitarashi Anko is everything he is not.
She’s sucking the sticky remnants off of a dango skewer and humming under her breath when they pass in the street; he’s carrying a paper sack loaded with medical supplies and from the corner of his eyes he watches the way her pink lips curl and pull at the sliver of bamboo pursed between them.
He thinks of the sweetness of her dirty mouth and wonders what her sensei taught her.
Her long jacket unfurls in the breeze, drifting out behind her, and the edge of it licks at his knees as they pass; she doesn’t even notice.
She’s older than him and confident, she’s of higher rank. She’s dangerous and inelegant, hot-blooded and beautiful and crass, and she doesn’t see him, she doesn’t see him looking at her.
Kabuto knows that he could make her notice him. He wonders what it would be like to make a woman like that bleed, he wonders if she’d enjoy it.
He resettles his glasses on the bridge of his nose and keeps walking.
Orochimaru told him to keep a low profile.
It wouldn’t do to make a scene.
Yakushi Kabuto is nothing to her.
He’s entering the village as she’s leaving it; she’s on assignment and still she slows for a heartbeat as she bolts past him, as a curiosity shoots through her mind, bright and brief, as to what he was doing out at the gate by himself without teammates or commander, this no-talent genin who never passed the exams and yet every year tried again.
He’s only five years her junior and he’s going nowhere.
The morning sun slides over his glasses, throwing brilliant barbs of light like supernova stars into her eyes.
He’s sweet-tongued and gentle-handed, not completely incompetent at medical ninjutsu, better than he seems, she thinks. He’s perhaps not a fighter despite being long-limbed and lithe, he’s careless in an artful way that reminds her of better ninja, his soft smiles are as queer as the ones that curve the lips of her snakes.
And now he’s caught in her gaze, his dark eyes visible again behind transparent lenses, his dark eyes wide as he takes in the sight of her charging past.
She remembers the story of fighting at Bellflower Pass and of the boy that was brought back to Konoha like a spoil of war.
We will kill you and we will take your children, we will make your own sons your enemy, Orochimaru had said when the rumor reached them- that was fifteen years ago, a lifetime ago- and he’d tossed his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed and Anko had squirmed at the sound of it.
She doesn’t know why she thinks of Orochimaru now.
She pushes her mission to the fore of her thoughts.
No distractions now.
Kabuto shares all information with Orochimaru-sama, but since the Sannin does not ask of those chosen to supervise the exams Kabuto smiles and does not volunteer the name of the second proctor.
He does not wish to spoil the surprise of their reunion.
Anko does not forget or dismiss her questions, but neither does she ask anyone else what a lone genin was doing unaccompanied outside of the village jurisdiction.
Intelligence and discretion were two crucial traits that had enabled her to survive her sensei’s training.
He is not sure whether he admires Anko, or if he despises her.
Kabuto observes the way she holds the clipboard when he calls out his retirement from the game- no need to continue playing, not with the Master in attendance, his sharp eyes gleaming as he stares hungrily at his newest pet, the Uchiha- and he wants to laugh.
He understands what’s going on and she does not.
Orochimaru stands five feet from his own sensei and nine from his previous student, ignoring both of them as they stand and discuss his subordinate's low status and uninteresting achievements.
She’s murmuring his name and stats, and Kabuto watches her mouth forming the syllables of his name. He can tell that she’s confused as to why he’s quitting now, this far into the exams. He’s never passed, failed six straight times, and yet he’s ducking out though he’s no green rookie and could still stand a chance if he was smart and lucky.
He reminds himself that she is something Orochimaru cast aside, unwanted, and garbage is to be despised.
She doesn’t see him, and she can’t understand.
When the preliminary third exam begins, those not participating in the duels retire to watch from the balcony that runs the full length of the room.
She leans against the railing, her heavy breasts squashed against her forearms, and a little smile flicks about her lips.
She watches the kids fight and he watches her over the tops of his glasses.
When the Hyuuga girl is injured, Anko straightens up and leaves for the back rooms and he finally sees an opportunity.
“Mitarashi Anko-san,” he says and she jerks around to look at him, caught off guard.
Her eyes narrow as she takes in his smile. “You don’t belong here,” she says. “This place is off limits.”
“Is it?” His voice is very, very mild, and he pushes his glasses into place as he continues, still smiling. “I’ve been watching you for a while. I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you.”
“Oh?” Anko lifts her brows, disbelieving and warily curious.
Careful, careful…like handling a tripwire, like negotiating with a snake. She could draw blood before he even blinks, and he does not doubt her willingness to do so.
Kabuto closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. It was so rare that he spoke his mind that he found it tiring. “Yes,” he says then, and when he looks at her again his expression is muted, soft and true.
“Somehow, you were able to learn to live without Orochimaru-sama. I, regretfully, find that is something which may not be possible for me.”
Surprise slowly floods her pale hazel eyes, filling them up so that they open wide, wider than he thinks is possible…
Kabuto wants to fight her, he wants to fuck her, he wants to see if he can still taste or feel Orochimaru inside of her, but his Master would not appreciate any disruption of his plans. He’s said too much already.
…and then, in an instant, kunai are flying toward his face.
The bunshin pops out of existence.
Kabuto smiles to himself when she comes back out onto the balcony some while later.
Her fists are balled in the pockets of her jacket and she stalks into the room with the long-legged stride of a furious wildcat and, no, she doesn’t stop near the Sandaime to speak with him about what just occurred and Kabuto is oddly pleased with that.
She’s loud and brash and loyal to Konoha, but she understands intimacy.
When she raises her turbulent eyes to his across the room and glares, Kabuto smiles and waves.
Anko draws her thumb across her own throat in a quick, subtle message, then mouths at him, Later.
He nods, still smiling.
He looks forward to it.