Christmas with the Hatakes
By: Reggie

December 20th: Christmas Dinner

This was not one of his more brilliant ideas, Iruka decided as he surveyed the charcoaled mess on the counter. While the chuunin could bake like the world was ending tomorrow, cooking was another matter entirely, he was learning. "I'm not so sure we should try again, Anko. I'm running out of chicken."

"Nonsense," the kunoichi grinned beside him. Iruka inwardly shuddered. He'd known Anko long enough to realize that it wasn't a good thing to see that smile. "I'll go buy you more if we run out, but we ARE going to get this right."

"Not at this rate we're not," Iruka frowned again at the assorted messes that had pile around their kitchen, and fanned a little smoke out of his face. "It'll take us until Sayuri is an adult to master this mess."

Anko picked the recipe up off the counter and frowned at it. "We just need to figure out where we're going wrong, that's all. If we follow the recipe, it should be fine."

"The first one you both forgot to put the sauce on," Kakashi piped up, oh so helpfully, from his camp-out spot on the couch. The Jounin was, much to his chagrin, the official taste tester of their attempts—appointed so by Anko after he snickered at her confusion—until the kids got back from taking Sayuri to see the decorations around town. "It's not teriyaki chicken without the teriyaki."

"No, then it's just horribly burnt chicken," Iruka muttered, scratching the back of his head. "We've got the oven set to the right temperature, don't we?"

"It says three hundred and fifty degrees on the paper." Anko shrugged, leaning forward to inspect the appliance. "And the knob says three hundred and fifty, so I can only assume so, unless your temperature is off."

"It was fine when I was baking the other day." Iruka muttered as he started rummaging through the refrigerator, pushing aside a galleon of eggnog to reach the chicken thighs he had put there to defrost.

"At least we know the cooking time is thirty to sixty minutes instead of three to six now," Anko piped up happily. Kakashi made a gagging noise from the couch and muttered something about dyslexic princes.

"That still seems like quite a discrepancy to me. There's a big difference between thirty and sixty minutes." Iruka dropped the package of chicken thighs on the country, ready to start over. "How are the shrimp coming?"

"They're all battered, and the oil seems to be right." Anko grinned, picking up one of the handful of carefully battered shrimp. They'd decided it was best to work in little increments at a time, meaning they could retry several more times before they'd have to go to the store for more ingredients.

"I don't eat battered things!" Kakashi called from the couch. Iruka peered into the living room to find that the Jounin had his arms folded over the dark black t-shirt he was wearing. No one else would know with the mask on, but Iruka knew the older man was pouting.

The chuunin couldn't help smiling, and moved in to the room to kiss his lover on the top of his head. "I know. We won't make you taste the shrimp."

"Well, someone has to," Anko called merrily from the kitchen, and the pair of them could hear the happy crackling of the oil as the shrimp was thrown in.

"I don't know why you think you have to cook, anyway," Kakashi sighed, reaching out to pull the younger man as close as possible. "We could just as easily get a pizza or something."

Iruka shook his head, half-heartedly pulling away. "I want a…a family dinner, that's all. And since you're in no condition to stand and cook, that leaves the task to me."

"It's my leg that's broken, not my hands, I can help." Kakashi snorted. "And we could eat pizza as a family, you know."

Iruka frowned and swallowed, a little thickly. How could he explain to Kakashi that he wanted something that reminded him of his parents, so they and all the others they had lost wouldn't feel so far away? He was sure Kakashi would understand, but it would inevitably lead to more questions about who he was missing. The last thing Iruka wanted to do was look weak in Kakashi's eyes, for missing a baby they hadn't gotten a chance to know.

"This looks done." Anko grinned, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, one fried shrimp in hand. "Here, 'Ruka, taste it."

After a quick inspection, Iruka decided it looked safe and took a bite. It was immediately spat back out. "Ugh! Anko, you have to peel them first!"

"Oh." The kunoichi blinked, staring at the rest of the shrimp in her hand. "Well, that makes sense. Why didn't you tell me that?"

Iruka groaned, covering his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Kakashi started to laugh beside him, before he sat up a little straighter and sniffed. "Is something on fire?"

Anko glanced back over her shoulder and gasped. She dashed in to the kitchen, "oh, hang on, I got it!"

"She knows not to put water on a grease fire, right?" Iruka muttered worriedly. That was the only thing he could think would have caught on fire in there. He stood to follow her, but Kakashi held him fast.

It was probably a good thing he did, too, as there was a yelp from the kitchen as a blast of flame and heat came from the kitchen. Iruka wasn't sure what was on fire now, but he couldn't help freezing in place, eyes wide.

"I got it! Don't call anybody! I can handle it!" Anko called. It was the last thing he heard before he found himself on the roof of a neighboring building. Kakashi, who was latched around his waist, must have transported them there.

The Jounin grinned, motioning to the smoke that was pouring out their kitchen window. "Sure you won't reconsider the pizza idea?"