I do not own Naruto.

Fic-gift for Chibirisuchan. She wanted happy. I tried my best.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

Team Eight gathered at the large Hyuuga complex, the boys shamelessly gawking at the strange things that populated this place. No laughter gathering in the halls and wafting aroma of food being prepared wasn't coming at them deliciously. Kurenai had been prepared but even she felt out place in this place so lacking in the Christmas spirit.

The main dinner was awkward, all white eyes, stiff faces and half-way decent food. Kiba was scolded more than once for abandoning his utensils in exchange for his more tactile hands. Shino ate much as he did anything else—silent as a grave, with the occasional snort of amusement whenever Kiba got disapproving stares from the Hyuuga members. Hinata ate slowly, as if she couldn't figure out quite how to eat this food. Kurenai gave her small approving smiles whenever she managed to glance up. The girl always looked lost when she did so, as she'd forgotten there were others in the room. Kurenai tried her best to start some polite conversation before realizing there was no way to brush off their less-than-subtle dissatisfaction. To some of the family members she was just as a bad as Kiba.

But later, in a small homely room in which the sounds of running water could be heard through the partially opened door and the scent of roses and pastries assaulted their noses, Team Eight found their own joy. Amidst the rowdy yips of laughter from Kiba, the huffs of delight from Shino, the polite giggles verging on real mirth from Hinata and the loud chuckles from Kurenai, they forgot the miserable time they'd had at dinner and forgot about clans and stupid expectations and just had a Merry Christmas.

Team Ten met at the Yamanaka flower shop, all grins and half-shielded excitement. Inside the festivities were just beginning, full of hefty Akimichi woman sharing large mugs filled to the brim with lanky, lazy men; blonde, busty females arm wrestling with large men with kind faces; and women with wrinkles etched around their mouths and in the corners of their eyes scolding men far taller than them, but their height didn't hide their looks of dread.

Asuma shared a cigarette with a Nara as Akimichis and Yamanakas looked on reproachfully. Shikamaru pretended to look bored as his father told him of the time that he and his team were forced to take hallucinogens in the Country of the Cloud. Ino fled to the kitchen to make cookies with Momma Akimichi, the largest and most motherly female ever imaginable. Chouji pretended to be annoyed when little cousins of the three clans came and poked at his . . . excess stores of energy.

Christmas morn found Team Ten still there, either sprawled on the floor with a stump of a cigarette inches from his mouth, or curled up with familiar teammates on the couch in the back room.

The Sand Siblings didn't celebrate the foreign holiday of Christmas, and hence did nothing more exciting than a game of cards.

Occasionally Temari and Kankurou would let Gaara win on purpose. This wasn't anything new to the family, as they'd been taught to indulge Gaara since his birth. The only difference was than now they did it not out of fear, but out of the desire to see his face light up in watered down delight.

They didn't need Christmas to be a family.

Team Gai found themselves training on December 25th, a session at the insistence of their sensei, although none of Gai and Lee found themselves looking forward to it. Their day was lacking in food and company but in their furious desire to compete—which was a trait the whole team unfortunately shared—they completely forgot about pies and mistletoe and ho ho ho. It was all lightning fast chakra strikes and kunai aimed with intense precision and quick, graceful movements. They left the turkey to those that enjoyed that sort of thing just as others left the vigorous training to them.

The only green was the spandex Lee and Gai wore, the only red the occasional spilled blood, the only white Neji's pupils as he launched another attack. And yet, when they went to get dinner sore, exhausted and bruised, they all agree they'd never had a more enjoyable Christmas.

Team Seven went Christmas shopping at the last minute, rushing from shop to shop for perfect gifts. Gifts for a loved one and gifts for a good friend; gifts for a teacher and gifts for a student. The exchange took place late at night, the exhaustion obvious in their labored breathing and furrowed brows. There was no such thing as family for the males, but Sakura knew better than to leave them to return to the cold chill of silent apartments on a day like this.

The Haruno household was small, but cheery. Her parents looked old and worn, like clay stretched too far for too long, but Christmas brightened everything, even sadness and fatigue. Sasuke, Naruto and Kakashi were welcomed in, but not without looks of slight fear and apprehension. They weren't sure how their daughter could face to be a fourth wheel in this team of immense strength, and couldn't see that she wasn't out of place with them at all.

Naruto stuffed his face and thanks Sakura's mother, and food flew out as he did so. Sasuke covered up his laughter with a coughing fit and followed suit much more neatly and with more sophistication. Kakashi complimented her simply, but her cheeks flushed anyway. Sakura comforted her slightly irate father afterwards.

Gifts were opened and Sakura squealed at each one equally, Naruto grinned at the fact he got anything at all, Sasuke didn't let anything show on his face, and Kakashi smiled after opening each one. Despite these seemingly typical reactions, Sakura secretly placed the three presents gently on her dresser afterwards, Naruto never ate the ramen that they got him (and never threw it out despite the smell that accumulated), Sasuke's hands shook as he unwrapped them, and Kakashi's grateful smiles reached his eyes.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight
Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Make the Yule-tide gay,
From now on, our troubles will be miles away.