Title: Cure for the Common Cold
Fandom/Community: Naruto / kakasakudrabble
Characters: Kakashi, Sakura, Naruto
Pairing: KakaSaku
Rating: PG-13
Word of the Week: Gift (open word/writer's choice)

Author Notes: Happy Birthday, Kakashi! Well, seeing as yesterday was Kakashi's birthday, I'm doing a little shuffling to the order of my drabbles. After trying to muse over the next word ("Word 6, curiosity"), I realized that I could not manage to work anything that I really wanted to into the plotline. Word 10 was an open word, or "writer's choice", and so I am sliding it into place so that I can do my original idea for the Birthday!Kakashi fic I wanted.

This is also for my mother, who never gets sick, and is utterly miserable at the moment with a terrible head and chest cold.

ShipperTrish – Hah, this is actually a pretty funny coincidence. I read your stories on the KakaSaku Archive long before I had ever decided to actually start writing KakaSaku. I just find it slightly amusing, seeing as I thought your material was very well written and I liked it. It really brought a smile to my face to see somebody else that I thought was such a good writer talking to me about how you liked my stories. I really appreciate it.


"But Sakura-chaaaaaan!" he whined, sticking out his lower lip, as though he were twelve-years old again and could make her feel bad simply by pouting. She couldn't help but giggle, biting her lip to keep the smile from her face. "It's Kakashi-sensei's birthday! We get to hang-out with him! In a bar! With his friends!"

Sakura blew her nose—into a tissue that felt more like a rock than cloth—which was pinker than her hair.

She was curled against four large, feathery pillows; her coral-coloured comforter was fluffed up around her. Sakura figured she looked like crap for the most part. Her hair was currently pulled up into a high ponytail and she was cuddled into an oversized hoodie of Naruto's, immersed in her bed. She hadn't bothered putting pants on when Naruto came.

Sniffling, she grinned. "Naruto, we've hung out with them all before. Really, it's no fun when you're sick. I feel all mopey and tired and disgusting. I wanna stay home and drink soup and read romance novels."

Naruto sighed, head dropping a little. "Okaay, Sakura-chan," he resigned, disappointed. "What do you want me to tell everybody?"

"I don't know," she muttered sarcastically, "I'm sick? It's the truth, no reason to make something up. Tell Ino I'm sorry I couldn't come and help her pick out an outfit; tell Kakashi happy birthday for me and I'm sorry I couldn't come."

She felt the heat spread through her gut as she spoke his name.

It was those types of feelings that made her almost glad she wasn't feeling up to going tonight. It was hard enough o see him every time she had to treat his wounds or send him a message from the Hokage. She was lucky that Team Seven wasn't an actual team anymore as much as a close-nit group of friends who would die for each other. If she had to see him everyday for practice training she might have exploded.

"Take my gift for me, would ya?" Sakura asked, more an instruction than a question, after extricating herself from the boy's hug. 'It's on the coffee table."

"What'd you get him?"

Sakura rolled her eyes. "Favor from Jiraiya; I helped him out so Tsunade wouldn't fry his ass. He gave me one of the limited edition Icha Icha books: Icha Icha Heaven. It was the prototype he first wrote and sent in before he got the publishing contract; he rewrote Heaven and made Paradise. There are only four finished copies in existence."

"No fair" Naruto whined. "Your gifts are always better than mine."

She knew her gift was amazing; but she didn't want to rub it in, so she smiled for Naruto's sake. "I'm sure he'll love whatever you give him."

She waved as he left the apartment; she could hear the door click behind him. Instantly, she submersed herself fully in the full-sized bed, tugging the ribbon from her hair and letting it fan her face. She snuggled deeply into hoodie, smiling indulgently as her nose sunk beneath the cloth. Naruto must have been using cologne when he wore it; it smelled slightly spicy.

Comforted in the warmth of the bed and the deep masculine scent it still contained, she blew her nose one final time before falling into a slightly restful sleep.

She was awakened, however, to a dark room and a figure crouching over her, knees on either side of her sleeping form.

Sakura screamed and flinging her arms at the shadow.

"Calm down, Sakura-chan," the figure whispered playfully, catching her hands easily and pinning them at her side. "I thought you were sick? You don't look very sick."

She took a deep breath, staring with wide green eyes at the shadow, a familiar feeling washing over her as she heard his slow, drawling voice. He was so utterly close to her; she almost felt the air being sucked from her lungs. She opened her mouth, trying to get back the voice that had been driven from her body. She could barely see his face, the room was so dark now—it had to be late—merely the outline of his jaw and his hair.

"Kakashi?" Sakura struggled against his hands, which still held her wrists. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to thank you for the gift you sent with Naruto," he said calmly, merely leaning over her. "But I think I need to start thanking for another gift." His lone gray eye twinkled darkly in the black room.

She almost wanted to struggle. "Huh?"

"You're all gift-wrapped for me."

She instantly started arguing, attempting to rebel against the warmth that reddened her already flushed features. "No, this is one of Naruto's—!" She trailed off, her mouth slightly open, when Kakashi started chuckling.

"Actually," he murmured, leaning down and trailing his masked nose along her jaw; it couldn't be healthy for her heart to beat this fast. "It's one of mine. Can't imagine how it got here." One of her hands was released as his hand rose to his face, but she didn't move. It had to be a dream. It was dark enough that she couldn't really get a good look at his face as his mask pooled around his neck. Her hand lifted and brushed across smooth, masculine features that felt good beneath her palm.

He turned his head to the side and pressed his lips against the inside of her wrist.

Suddenly, Sakura didn't feel sick anymore.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming."

The man leaned forward and pressed his lips chastely against her own, and she whimpered, closing her eyes rapidly. He smirked against her, and she was surprised by how much that tiny movement turned her on. "Does it feel like a dream?" She would have replied, but he was kissing her again. His hands slid deftly, massaging, up her sides under the hoodie.

"What are you doing?"

"It's my birthday, Sakura-chan," he whispered, almost gleefully. "I want to unwrap my present."