Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Rating: T (amazingly).
A/N: Keeping up with the New Year's resolution. Story #2 for the month of January.
Drink Slave
A quiet evening in Yamanaka Ino's apartment. The windows are open. A veil of golden sunset beams into the room, paired with a pleasant summer breeze. The couple sits together on the couch. Kiba's sprawled over ninety-five percent of the couch; Ino sits tucked into the other five percent. Akamaru is curled at their feet. Their much-beloved television program goes to commercial.
"Hey, babe?" Kiba asks, innocence in his tone. He nudges his better half with his foot. "Mind getting me another glass of water?"
She rolls her eyes, knocks his stupid foot away. "Get it yourself."
"Please?"
Ino hates how he has intoned a plea into the word. She refuses to look at him. "No. Get it yourself." She will be firm. She will not give in. "Your legs work perfectly fine."
Kiba shifts on the couch to throw his arms around Ino, who struggles in his grip. He has her by surprise, gripped in a bear hug. Lovingly he rubs his forehead against the side of her head. "Pretty please? Please."
"Kiba! Stop!" she squeals. She already knows struggling is useless. "Knock it off! I am not your drink slave!"
Attempting to break free, she plants her hands in his shoulders and pries their scrunched bodies apart. Now she faces him. He continues to nuzzle her, his hands on her sides, tickling her. Akamaru sees the play. He hops up from his position on the floor and comes to nuzzle and lick both her and Kiba. Ino is in a confusion of white fur and laughter and slobber and strong arms.
"Please? Please?"
Ino can take no more. "Fine! Fine. I'll get you water."
Immediately, Kiba relents. "Thank you. I love you forever, drink slave." He flops backwards on the couch with a stupid smirk sliding over his face. Akamaru takes a few more licks at her before he, too, collapses to the floor.
"That's not even funny." Annoyed, Ino stands. She really wants to be angry, but can't with the laughter bubbling inside her.
"It is a little."
When she flashes him a look, he blows a kiss at her. Whatever. She lets him have the last word. It's important to her to return before the show starts again, anyway. As she pours the water into Kiba's glass, she wonders how he always gets his way. And she can't help but smile that he knows her too well.
A/N: I did some very unscientific calculations. Seems I need at least four stories per month to meet my end-of-the-year goal of 100 posted stories. The offerings will probably be humble and coarse. Sorry. But a story is a story, no matter how big, no matter how small. Cheers. (Also, huzzah to Dr. Seuss.)