Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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The light coming from the bulb above the bar is yellow and bright, and when Kakashi and Anko's raise their glasses to it, it is cut into a thousand facets scintillating through the alcohol, turning the ugly brown of pond water left sitting for far too long. The alcohol tastes about like that when he throws it back; stale and algae ridden. This bar isn't one of the better ones, and their drinks aren't either. ANBU wages aren't particularly high.

Ice clinks softly as Kakashi rests the glass back on the counter, followed a moment later by the louder clunk of Anko slamming her glass down with a satisfied grunt. The world is murky, and the steady beat of music and conversation droning in the background make Kakashi's head throb. His hand idly plays with the empty glass, the condensation making the glass slippery under his fingers as he spins it slowly on its lip, tracing an unsteady spiral across the counter that threatens to derail at any moment.

Anko leans back in her seat and with casual disinterest flicks the top of his glass, sending it toppling and the ice inside skittering. Kakashi swats at her hand and tries as best as he can to scoop the ice back into the glass. It is harder than it should be, fatigue and alcohol sending tremors down his hands and the ice not cooperating in the slightest, slipping between his fingers. He is finally able to herd it the edge of the counter, where, with a kind of vague cunning he plans on letting if fall unto his outstretched hand.

Anko is either faster or less drunk than he is, and her hand flickers out to catch the ice just as it goes over the edge. She slips the ice into her mouth before he can blink (or wink. With only one eye uncovered it can be hard to tell at times) and sends him an grin, sliding her lips back and holding the ice with her teeth as if sticking out her tongue. He ignores her, and instead gestures with an unsteady hand for the barman to refill his glass. That's what he needs. More alcohol.

"Aww, c'mon Kakashi." She drawls in a voice that is tinged with alcohol but still manages its normal sarcasm. "No one died on this one. That's better than last time."

The barman refills his glass and Kakashi quaffs it without hesitation. The alcohol is stronger this time, clawing and scratching its way down his throat like an angry cat. "No one on our side."

"Which is the only side that counts." Anko rolls her eyes, kicks back the remaining ice in her glass, and signals the barman for more. The ice crunches between her teeth when she speaks. "If you're going to be like that, then warn me now so I can make my exit while I can still walk straight."

They are not the only two shinobi in the bar, but they are the only two sitting by themselves. The seats in a ten foot radius around them are abandoned, and whenever a new customer walks in they are careful to keep to that cordon. Idly, and vaguely, Kakashi wonders when that had started. "Everyone thinks that their side is the only one that counts."

"And in every case it's true. You over think things."

"And you don't think at all."

Anko shrugs, not looking overly bothered by the notion. "That's the trick, isn't it?"

The barman refills both their glasses. They hold them up the light and clink them together.

"Damn. This never gets old."

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