[Naruto] Sorry-I'm-late Drabble
Happy birthday, hello_scorpling! I hope you have a very very good birthday and it is followed by a very very good year.
However, I'm very very behind on your birthday fic. D<
So here's a crappy sorry-I'm-late drabble I wrote so you'll forgive me and know I haven't conveniently forgotten about fic what fic. It's Ino centric and sucky.
Curls of smoke were unfurling from the long, thin cylinder loosely held between Ino’s elegant fingers. She tilted her head back, leaning her neck against the cool sheet. The fabric rumpled softly, tickling the back and the sides of her throat as she gave a deep sigh that made dark stars blink behind her closed eyelids.
A muffled noise jarred the whoozy harmony drumming between her ears. She opened her eyes.
Chouji was standing in the doorway, looking down at her with an undreadable expression, half grim, half thoroughly disgusted, half possibly something else.
Ino directed him her most winning smile.
“Chouji!” she exclaimed in a raspy voice. She neglected to frown at the accidental throatiness. She was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to, but surely no one, least of all Chouji, would complain about such a greeting.
Chouji ignored her and turned half way back, calling into the corridor, “I found her. Shikamaru, can you please cime here a minute?”
And Shikamaru was there too. It was truly an auspicious day, Ino estimated.
“In my room, of course,” Shikamaru grumbled more audibly as his steps grew closer. “What’s she doing in my-”
He cut himself off as his head, preceded by its pineapple ponytail, poked through the doorway, which had been vacated by Chouji. Otherwise neither his head nor his ponytail, all pineapple though it was, could have gone through Chouji’s chest. Few things Ino knew of could go through Chouji’s chest. It was one of its best aspects. For instance, Ino’s head couldn’t; and Shikamaru’s piece of eye-gouging weaponry posing as hairdo couldn’t either.
At this point she became aware of Chouji talking again.
“You left them laying around again,” Chouji said.
Ino grinned happily, if a little blearily.
“You know Ino can’t take those things,” Chouji said.
She brilliantly waved the cigarette at them, in case they missed the point. She hadn’t had any trouble finding it; it’d been with its sisters in clear view on Shika’s bedside table. Shika’s essentials were always on the bedside table; cigarettes, tiny shuriken earrings, snacks, condoms, blackmail material.
“They’re from Temari,” Chouji said.
Temari was someone exceptional, Ino daydreamed. She loved Temari.
“Temari,” Chouji said.
Ino smiled at them again.
“Er,” Shikamaru said.
However, I'm very very behind on your birthday fic. D<
So here's a crappy sorry-I'm-late drabble I wrote so you'll forgive me and know I haven't conveniently forgotten about fic what fic. It's Ino centric and sucky.
Curls of smoke were unfurling from the long, thin cylinder loosely held between Ino’s elegant fingers. She tilted her head back, leaning her neck against the cool sheet. The fabric rumpled softly, tickling the back and the sides of her throat as she gave a deep sigh that made dark stars blink behind her closed eyelids.
A muffled noise jarred the whoozy harmony drumming between her ears. She opened her eyes.
Chouji was standing in the doorway, looking down at her with an undreadable expression, half grim, half thoroughly disgusted, half possibly something else.
Ino directed him her most winning smile.
“Chouji!” she exclaimed in a raspy voice. She neglected to frown at the accidental throatiness. She was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to, but surely no one, least of all Chouji, would complain about such a greeting.
Chouji ignored her and turned half way back, calling into the corridor, “I found her. Shikamaru, can you please cime here a minute?”
And Shikamaru was there too. It was truly an auspicious day, Ino estimated.
“In my room, of course,” Shikamaru grumbled more audibly as his steps grew closer. “What’s she doing in my-”
He cut himself off as his head, preceded by its pineapple ponytail, poked through the doorway, which had been vacated by Chouji. Otherwise neither his head nor his ponytail, all pineapple though it was, could have gone through Chouji’s chest. Few things Ino knew of could go through Chouji’s chest. It was one of its best aspects. For instance, Ino’s head couldn’t; and Shikamaru’s piece of eye-gouging weaponry posing as hairdo couldn’t either.
At this point she became aware of Chouji talking again.
“You left them laying around again,” Chouji said.
Ino grinned happily, if a little blearily.
“You know Ino can’t take those things,” Chouji said.
She brilliantly waved the cigarette at them, in case they missed the point. She hadn’t had any trouble finding it; it’d been with its sisters in clear view on Shika’s bedside table. Shika’s essentials were always on the bedside table; cigarettes, tiny shuriken earrings, snacks, condoms, blackmail material.
“They’re from Temari,” Chouji said.
Temari was someone exceptional, Ino daydreamed. She loved Temari.
“Temari,” Chouji said.
Ino smiled at them again.
“Er,” Shikamaru said.