Chapter 4

Anko cart-wheeled into the room and popped upright in front of his desk.

"Hello," Ibiki said without looking up.

"Second date!" Anko cheered.

Ibiki looked up from his paperwork, a confession in triplicate. "A second date? Already? Don't you want to wait a few days and think it over?"

"Nope!" Anko leaned forward, planting her hands on his desk, and touched their noses together. She grinned. "You might escape. Then I'd have to waste time hunting you down."

"I am so much more athletic in your imagination," Ibiki said.

Anko laughed.

"I'll have you know that while I might be twenty-nine, my joints are eighty," Ibiki said. "I am not up to a hunt, be that as predator or prey."

"Poor Biki." Anko kissed the tip of his nose and straightened. "Where shall we go tonight?"

"You pick," Ibiki said, going back to reading the confession. He was supposed to sign off on whether it was authentic or not, as in, whether or not the accused was actually the perpetrator. So far he found the wording of the confession a little confusing. Tonbo's work tended to be that way. He'd have to talk to Tonbo in person before signing off on it one way or another.

A talk about taking some writing classes might be in order soon, Ibiki mused. This is getting old. True, he'd put up with Tonbo's writing style for years, but he'd expected the man to improve over time.

"Nuh-uh," Anko protested.

"What?" Ibiki glanced up again, concerned. "What is it? What's the problem?"

Anko pouted. "It's your turn to pick tonight. I picked last night."

"Oh. Well…" Ibiki looked away. He'd never heard of a rule of dating that said partners had to switch off, but he supposed it made sense. "Come back later. Give me time to think about it."

"Okay!" Anko bounced out of the room.

Ibiki wondered when she would be back. He felt an unaccustomed sense of pressure. Usually, he knew exactly what to do, or close to it. His job was a comfortable rut in which to sink into. He hadn't quite realized until now that dating Anko meant disrupting the fabric of his life as he knew it.

In a way, he'd embarked on an adventure.

xXx

He didn't see Anko at lunch, which meant she was working hard at cracking her prisoner for the juicy information inside, as per her declaration of intent that morning. It gave him extra time to think. He ended up casting his mind back to what he and his peers would have done as chunin.

When Anko came into his office an hour later to deliver her report on her prisoner, Ibiki was ready. He took the report from her, and then paused.

"A movie," Ibiki said.

"Huh?" Anko looked confused.

"Let's go to a movie," Ibiki said, clarifying. "Dinner and a movie." He hesitated, struck by doubts. "Is that okay?"

Anko hopped onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "That's brilliant!" She smiled at him. "I like it."

Ibiki couldn't tell whether she was telling the truth. But as he scanned her face, he found that her smile was real enough. That was comforting. He smiled back. "Okay. Then what movie do you want to watch?"

Anko made a face. "You pick! You're supposed to be picking these things. Biki…" She squirmed in his lap. "You're supposed to be showing me what you like to do when you want to have fun. So pick a movie that you want to watch."

"I don't know what I want to watch," Ibiki protested. "And anyway, you might not like it."

"So what?" Anko asked.

Ibiki was stymied by that answer.

Anko grinned slyly. "Even if I don't like the movie, I'll still be in a dark room with you, snuggled up in the seat next door. So let's do it. Let's find a movie you want to watch and go to it." She kissed his cheek, and then whispered in his ear, "I won't be above distracting you if I find it boring."

Ibiki flushed. "In a movie theatre? Anko…"

Anko burst out into giggles. "What, Biki?"

"Never mind." Ibiki put on a scowl and looked away.

Anko laughed. "You think I'd…what?" She stroked his cheek, then trailed her fingers down his neck.

"I'm trying to work," Ibiki complained. He could not, absolutely could not, let on how good that felt, or how her fingers lightly brushing against his jaw made his body answer with a surge of warmth.

"Work later."

"Then we can't play later, can we?" Ibiki said, giving her a small smile.

Anko got off of his lap. "Alright…work. But just so you know, Tonbo's confessions are too hard to read because he pulls shifts that are too long, and he needs someone to make him go home at night."

Ibiki blinked. "Advice noted."

Anko waved. "Ja ne." She slipped out the door.

Ibiki tried to go back to his paperwork, but he found he was too flustered to concentrate for another five minutes before he could school himself back into Work Mode.

xXx

Dinner was at their favorite restaurant on the edge of town, where they had eaten on their first date. In other words, yesterday. Ibiki was amused to be back, but he couldn't think of anywhere else to go on such short notice, and Anko didn't mind.

While they waited for dinner to be ready, Anko chewed on her beloved dango and drank some tea. Ibiki busied himself with the egg drop soup. Just because he'd had it yesterday didn't make eating it tonight less of a treat.

"Do you like poetry?" Anko asked.

"Not really," Ibiki said.

Anko tilted her head. "Why not?"

Ibiki grimaced, but he actually considered the question. Only because it was Anko asking him. "Too emotional," he said finally.

Anko snorted, and then started giggling. "Too emotional?"

"Yes." Ibiki scanned the menu, wondering what was so funny about his response.

"Give me an example," Anko said.

Ibiki sighed and rolled his eyes, setting his menu down. "Okay. For instance." He cleared his throat and grumbled, "Man's life is a dream, this much we know. It is a house abandoned to butterflies." He gestured. "That's a paraphrase, but you get the idea."

Anko looked at him with wide eyes. "Wow. So you know Sougi."

"I never said I was uncultured, just that I didn't like poetry," Ibiki objected. Sougi was a classical poet.

He scowled. "But here's my point: What asshole dreams of being a butterfly and actually gets confused about whether he is one or not? And how is this something to write about in a poem? It's all nonsense, and when it isn't, it's inane. Poetry is a waste of time." Sougi's poem was about something the philosopher Zhuang Zhi had said. Ibiki remembered just because he had been incensed at the idea of anyone that confused calling himself a philosopher.

"Oh, Biki." Anko smiled at him fondly, resting her chin in her hands. "You're so practical."

"What about you?" Ibiki asked. "Do you like poetry?"

Anko made a face and shook her head, giggling. "No, I hate it."

"Then why did you ask me?" Ibiki protested.

"I wanted to make sure you wouldn't write me any poetry," Anko said innocently. "Romantic people often do that."

Ibiki resisted the urge to smack his forehead. "Order your dango."

Anko glanced down at her plate and saw that it was mostly empty. She waved her hand to get the hostess' attention. "Baachan! More dango, let's go!" She beamed. "And thank you."

The hostess promptly delivered another heaping plate of the rice treat. The older woman teased, "Morino-san, do you not care about the bill your lady friend racks up?"

Ibiki chuckled. "No. I don't, actually."

"Ah." She smiled. "You are very much in love, then." She left with her stately grace, leaving Ibiki to blush.

Anko giggled.

xXx

Dinner went off without a hitch. Anko had beef teriyaki and shrimp, and he had miso soup with red snapper. Their talk consisted mostly of work and jokes about what Anko wanted to do to him as soon as they were alone, met with his equally lighthearted objections.

As soon as they were done eating dinner, they left, since they had a movie to catch.

Anko swung his arm playfully as they walked, their hands joined. "So what film are we going to watch?"

"It's a kung fu film," Ibiki muttered. He wished to god he weren't so self-conscious about this, but he was really expecting mockery for being a ninja who liked kung fu films. I mean, how unrealistic can these films get? Flying through the air without any chakra? And no one could survive a battle with such a crappy taijutsu technique anyway.

"A what?" Anko looked at him, startled.

Ibiki gritted his teeth. "A kung fu film."

"Kung fu? What's that?" Anko asked.

Ibiki almost fell over. "You mean you've never heard of kung fu before?"

Anko shook her head.

"It's like martial arts," Ibiki said. "Kung fu is a corruption of a word that means a skill you work hard to learn. It's like the word 'jutsu'. But in the movies, the kung fu movies, it's about taijutsu like the kind Maito Gai uses. Except it's all fake."

Anko tilted her head. "And you want to see a bunch of guys perform fake taijutsu?"

"Yes," Ibiki said.

"Okay." Anko cheerfully took his arm and led him inside the movie theatre.

xXx

Anko had to be shushed several times by the audience, as she was laughing her head off at the dialogue. Surprisingly, the fight scenes seemed to captivate her. She'd sit forward in her seat, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide.

"Did you like it?" Ibiki asked offhandedly on their way out of the movie theatre.

"Man, that was cool!" Anko hugged him.

Ibiki stopped, surprised and pleased, and touched Anko's hair. "Thanks." He looked at her fondly. "You're a great date."

Anko kissed him, full on the lips, and it was even better than the first kiss had been.

Ibiki moaned a little in the back of his throat, and his eyes rolled closed. How could he have missed this, all these years? Why had he tried to? He kissed her back, just starting to get the hang of it when she ended it.

Anko grinned up at him and giggled, blushing. "Biki. We're in a public area. I thought you didn't want to be so public."

"Fuck it," Ibiki said, and pulled her close for a second kiss.

Anko wrapped her arms around his neck and clung on, even after the kiss was over. She pressed her cheek against his chest, seemingly listening to his heartbeat.

Ibiki was breathing slightly harder, and he knew his face was flushed. He imagined his heart rate was a little elevated, too. He wondered how it sounded to Anko. "I love you," he murmured.

Anko nestled her cheek against his chest and let out a small, affectionate giggle. "I love you, too, Biki. Let's go back home and snuggle some more, on the couch. We can watch TV. You say you like that in the evenings."

Ibiki hugged her. "You're right. I do. And that sounds like an excellent idea. Couch snuggles it is."

xXx

They settled down on Ibiki's worn out blue couch. Two people sitting on it taxed the poor sofa into sagging, and Ibiki realized for the first time how well-loved this piece of furniture was. If he planned on spending time in his living room as a couple, then he ought to have his sofa replaced, sooner rather than later.

Anko wrapped his arm around her waist and snuggled against his side, making it almost impossible for him to reach the remote and turn the TV on.

Ibiki stretched for it and finally got it after a couple of tries. He clicked the TV into life with a high-pitched buzz of static and glanced down at the top of Anko's head. "What do you want to watch?"

"I don't care," Anko said. She shifted against him blissfully, making it all too obvious which part of the term 'couch snuggles' was more important to her.

Ibiki smiled at her fondly. "Okay. I'll just turn on my usual program, then. It's some kind of game show. I never really watch it, either. I'm always too tired."

"Mmn," Anko said happily.

Ibiki snorted and changed the channel. "I take it this meets your approval."

"Mm-hmm."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Okay." He set the remote down where he could reach it and reclined into the sagging sofa, getting comfortable himself.

The quiet voice of the game show host asking a contestant a question was a calming buzz in the background of his quiet apartment. After several minutes, between the warmth of Anko's body against his, and the familiar voice of the game show host, Ibiki almost fell asleep.

He was brought out of his half-doze by Anko stroking his arm and clasping his hand. His eyes flickered open. "Hmm?"

"Can I hold your hand?" Anko asked.

Ibiki glanced down at their joined hands and gave her a bemused smile. "You are."

"No, I mean your real hand," Anko said. She stroked his hand. "Without the glove on." She gave him a small, warm smile. "I want to hold the hand underneath."

Ibiki wondered what to say. Discomfort warred with his trust in her, with her obvious affection for him…with his fear that her tolerance would disappear when faced with something truly horrible. "I wear gloves for a reason."

Anko tilted her head at him. She appeared to be thinking seriously. "I'll close my eyes if you want. I just want to touch. I don't have to look…"

Ibiki was surprised and grateful. He didn't know if he could have dealt with her looking at his hands. But just touching…it couldn't be as bad as seeing what had been done to them. He nodded. "I'll take you up on that."

Anko closed her eyes without being asked.

Ibiki pulled off his gloves carefully and tucked them into the right pocket of his leather duster. Then, watching to make sure she didn't open her eyes, he gently cupped her hands in his.

"Oh." Anko shifted slightly at the touch, and smiled. She turned the tables on him, rubbing his hands in hers. "I like the warmth of your hands, Biki. Much better than the gloves."

"But you can't see the TV this way," he teased.

"Don't need to." Anko's smile widened to a grin. "I've already seen a whole movie." She lightly stroked her fingers over his, feeling. "You're very sad, aren't you? About your hands?"

"Yes," Ibiki said quietly. He couldn't explain to her how good it felt to have his hands touched. He touched nothing with his bare hands these days, if he could help it. He even brushed his teeth with his gloves on. Usually, they only came off when he was in bed, and then they went on the nightstand so he could put them back on as soon as he woke up.

Anko gently grasped his right hand and lifted it.

His stomach clenched. He closed his eyes, instinctively afraid, and was startled by the feeling of warm softness against his tender skin. Ibiki's eyes snapped open.

Anko was kissing his fingers.

Ibiki swallowed, hard, to keep from making a noise. He was choking inside. In spite of his control, he felt his breath flutter in his chest. He shook his head slightly, breathed in through his nose, and told himself he was not going to cry.

Anko gently turned his hand, kissing her way down to his palm. Then she cupped his hand against her cheek. His scarred, awful hand against her pristine cheek.

Ibiki squeezed his eyes shut tightly. "Humiliating. They humiliated me." He hadn't meant to speak, but the words just tumbled out. He wished he could take them back. His chin was trembling.

Thoughts tumbled over themselves. "I can never – never touch another human being without…forcing someone to touch what they did to me." Ibiki tensed, expecting Anko to draw back, to feel her leaving him.

Anko cupped his hand against her cheek more firmly. "Biki, Biki…you think too much about this stuff." She sounded concerned for him. "I don't think about that stuff when I hold your hand." Her fingers stroked over his damaged knuckles. "This is just Biki's hand." She added sadly, "If I could fix it, I would…but I love your hand anyway. It belongs to you. I love your hands."

Biki felt the pain and fear holding him back break. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, sobs wrenching themselves free from his chest. He buried his face against her shoulder and cried. It was painful. His body jerked with every sob, it killed his throat, rubbing his throat raw with every sound, and yet it felt so good.

"Anko…"

She held him, rocking him gently, able to hold up his full weight without any trouble at all. That was a reminder of her status as a kunoichi. He'd never felt more glad. She could protect him with her strength. He couldn't break her. And he needed the support.

"I had so much nerve damage. It was impossible to move my hands. It took the best medical minds in Konoha to fix me up again. I thought I'd never feel. I'd never feel another thing again, with my hands. But I was wrong…and I took so much therapy to get where I am today; I can feel, I can write, I can hold cups and wash dishes and brush my teeth…fold laundry…But my hands. My hands." Ibiki wished that he could make her understand. Words were inadequate to convey the anguish he felt. "They're so scarred."

"I'm sorry, Biki." Anko kissed his cheek. "I asked about your face, but I never asked about your hands. You did have a reaction to being tortured. You hid your hands."

Ibiki swallowed, trembling. "I can't stand them. I can't stand for you to look at them. Please, don't. Say you won't."

"I'll never look at your hands unless you want me to," Anko said firmly. "I love you."

Ibiki squeezed his eyes shut against another round of tears. It didn't work. They welled up and rolled down his cheeks anyway. "Oh, god…I love you, too. We're not going too fast, are we?"

"Too fast?" Anko sounded startled.

"You're not going to get burned out and leave, are you?" Ibiki asked. He knew it was pathetic, but he didn't think he could stand that. He'd withstood countless tortures, but someone offering him such compassion and then leaving was not one of them.

"Biki-chan…" Anko's voice turned slyly teasing. "I've been stalking you for years."

Ibiki laughed through his tears and thought he could finally stop crying, if that were true.

Anko poked the tip of his nose lightly. "It took forever to get you to notice me."

"I was a little involved," Ibiki said.

"In what?" Anko asked. "Work?"

Ibiki let out another laugh. "In being unwanted. Sorry." He breathed in with a sniffle and knew unequivocally that he had to get up and blow his nose. He took his gloves out of his pocket and pulled them on. He touched her hand to signal the change.

Anko opened her eyes. She looked at him with a steady, serious gaze. "Well, I want you. I want you so bad I would kill for you."

An ache in Ibiki's chest that he never thought would get any better suddenly melted away, easing his pain. He was startled; it had hurt far worse than he had ever noticed. "I would kill for you," Ibiki said quietly. "Every day."

Then, to his embarrassment, he had to sniffle.

Anko giggled. "Biki-chan, I think you need to blow your nose." She hopped up before he could protest and brought back some napkins from the kitchen.

Ibiki made quick work of them.

She kissed his cheek. Then she plopped back down on the sofa and held him.

He wondered if he could ever explain just how healing her words were for him; more than that, his belief in her sincerity. He realized he could never live without such support. With her by his side, insisting on his worth, he had only now begun to live again.