A/N: Why have a military force full of kids when they can't even stay up past 9? For all my stories, all characters are aged ten_plus years in their twenties; the already adults (Anko, Kurenai, Asuma, Kabuto) would be in their 30s.
Ships That Make No Sense
Dozu and Hinata
The birds could be organizing a symphony, the sun could be shining like a diamond, and Naruto could have become Hokage. And he wouldn't care. Waking up, he didn't know if it was a Monday or a Sunday, a winter or a summer day. The curtains in the room were drawn shut, thankfully shielding the occupant in the room from an early morning. Though it was apparent that something...was missing.
After the few fits of tossing and turning in a cold bed that didn't help him back to a longing darkness, he succumbed to the early hours, rising in bed like a slasher villain. Finally, giving the room more than a once over.
His old and worn haori that was usually draped over the desk was not where it should have been. Glancing at the empty space on the bed, Dosu realized that his partner had stolen the warmth and comfort usually there when not on the odd out-of-town mission for a genin. No wonder he woke up. It didn't take long to put two and two together.
No, he did not bother putting on a shirt or bother with the usual uneven symmetry of gauze to cover his look. He was just not in the mood for any of that today.
Going down the stairs and sitting across the table in the fairly colorful kitchen area, he gave his best "Good Guy, Bad Guy" look. Today, it was the Bad Guy. Across the table, his partner was blushing. She was also wearing the haori. Not being a morning person, he didn't know how to deal with the sudden betrayal. His partner was a thief. But he was a shinobi, and this was a crime scene; he did the best he could in the given situation.
Standing across from her, purposefully averting his gaze, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her hair was now a striking shade of crimson red. He settled on the scenery. He settled on his senses.
The room smelled like a bakery. Sugar, flour, and cinnamon with cut strawberries. She had added kiwi and blueberries to a cake, he noted, staring at the offending desert between them. He was allergic to blueberries, so there was only a slice. He didn't like to think about the last time. A cloud of steam was coming from the cup she held close in her hands, which was obscured by the oversized jacket. His oversized jacket. He looked under the table, ignoring the squeak he got in return. She was wearing those penguin slippers from last Christmas. It was winter then, much too early for any of this nonsense.
He felt like a snake, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed and forget about this whole thing.
As he fixed her with his one remaining eye, she remained oblivious, transfixed by something apparently much more interesting outside the window. It was almost as if she was watching the greatest show on Earth, complete with acrobats and clowns, rather than simply staring blankly at a tree. "I'm going back to sleep. And I'm taking that with me."
"Th-that...is comfy..."
He didn't waver. "And something I need to sleep."
"...I'll sleep next to...you."
The words were so quiet, and she exchanged the cup for fiddling with her hands. "Now?" he really was tired and just wanted to go back to bed.
"It's morning."
Dosu was suddenly very aware of the morning. The cold morning, the incessant chirping of the birds, and the sun all at the same time. He pulled a clawed hand away from the sunlight, hitting the wooden black table as if he were a vampire. He yawned in the most uncharacteristic way someone from his side of life could. And she was staring. He looked away.
Forget it. He'd take as much as everything from her as payment for the jacket.
He reached the same clawed hand across the sunlight her way. He tried his best not to hiss at the poor limb that felt like it was baking from a lack of cover. And to make matters worse, he might have...activated his chakra, the sun glinting off the now sparkling arm. She stared as he did, wondering what kind of weirdo she was dealing with.
He stopped abruptly, causing her to hold her breath, as if she were in a horror movie, waiting for the killer to make his move. He tapped his oversized nails on the surface, watching as she nearly fell out of her chair, grabbing the back of the wall when the chair was on its last two legs. He couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
Grabbing the silvered fork near the almost-falling Hyuga heiress, he enjoyed the sound as it carved even lines in the table with a smile.
As fortune would have it, the one thing he detested the most was the long strawberry adorning the top of the cake. Despite his strong dislike, he couldn't help but admit that was the star of the show. He begrudgingly took a bite, and before he knew it, he was converted. It was a victory for the strawberry and a defeat for his taste buds.
"...Sleep in your own room tonight," he said between chews, "going to bed...don't knock, don't bother me."
Getting the extra blanket from her room was not a problem. He was a shinobi.