Title: Five Bad Habits of Gekkou Hayate
Rating: T
Pairing: Gekkou Hayate/Uzuki Yuugao
Word Count: 746
Warning/s: Canon pairing, with mentions of sex.
Summary: Five things Yuugao wishes Hayate wouldn't do.
Notes: This is a challenge/gift-fic, written for Nezuko, who plays the Hayate to my Yuugao at the marvelous RPG Revanche. She gave me, as a challenge, the summary listed above—and then proceeded to take my challenge and write a story that took my breath away. I can't hope to compare to its bittersweet beauty, so I've taken a more lighthearted approach to their romance—but I hope she, and you, like it anyway.

1. Yuugao admits, freely and without reservation, that she's a picky eater. There are quite a few things she won't even touch, much less nibble at; even at twenty, she still goes blank and very still at the mention of eggplant. Fish are bad enough, but shellfish are far worse; anything involving fungi might as well be poison. She doesn't like new things; she deals with enough unpleasant surprises in her life as an ANBU and a kunoichi of Konoha, and on the whole she thinks discovering that there're mushrooms in your dinner rates rather worse than discovering that your next mission has a survival rate of less than 50. That's still half a chance, after all, but the mushrooms are there to stay.

So she really, really wishes that Hayate would stop trying to sneak them in.

2. Being tidy is not a bad thing. Being compulsive about it might be, but as far as she knows there's nothing compulsive about color-coding one's clothing, or organizing books alphabetically by author and subject. It's efficient, really; there's no rushed searching for that kunai pouch you thought you left beneath the stack of clothes on the couch, or panicking because you didn't realize you were down to your last pair of underwear and don't have time to do laundry. Everything has a place, and everything is in its place.

Except when Hayate comes over, kicking his sandals off against the door, slinging his vest over the couch, tossing his shirt to the floor on his way to her bed. By that point she's usually too occupied with getting the rest of his clothes off to worry about where he disposes of hers, but every morning she takes great care to collect them all, fold them, and stack them neatly in the laundry bin.

He never seems to get the hint.

3. Her bathroom door doesn't have a lock. This is reasonable, as it's a sliding door and a one-woman apartment, but Yuugao has begun to think about installing one. She has nothing against Hayate seeing her naked when she intends him to--it is, after all, an obligatory and occasionally amusing prelude to rather more interesting things--but wandering in to watch one's lover shower is not sexy, no matter what Hayate says. He must be hanging around Kakashi-senpai a bit too much if he thinks her shampoo-filled wet hair is arousing, and she really wishes he'd stop.

Or at least stop asking if he can join her. (She never should have given in that time in Rain Country...)

4. He's very good about professional conduct, usually. When they're in uniform, they're ANBU; they're faceless and emotionless and quite possibly soulless, if you get into the metaphysics of it. He's the captain of squad four, and he's very good at it; Yuugao is quite certain his leadership is the biggest reason she and Shou and Ryouma have survived so long together on his team. Even in the briefing rooms at HQ, he conducts their briefings with a straight face and the serious, slight frown she's always wanted (but never dared) to kiss away.

Then he dismisses them, and as Shou and Ryouma head out, and she lingers to ask one more question, he gallantly ushers her ahead. And never fails to take the chance to steal a pinch.

Yuugao really wishes he'd find some other way to prove he's still faster than she.

5. She's far beyond lucky, she knows, to have him. He understands her as no one else has; he sees her as warrior and woman in a way no one else will, and he loves her both, with the mask and without. He's calm and gentle and caring; he's a brilliant swordsman, a fine squad captain, a dedicated shinobi. He loves her, and she can't help but marvel at it, wondering what he sees in her, what she can give him, why out of all the options who threw themselves at his feet he chose her, who asked only for kenjutsu lessons.

Sometimes, when his gods-blessed hands slip from rubbing the tense muscles of her back and shoulders to caress down her sides and lower, and when his casual conversation drops to tantalizing words whispered in her ear, she wishes he'd just give up the pretence and ask straight out. But the backrubs and the inevitable follow-through are both the best she's ever had, and she knows she's getting the better end of the deal.