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My hand dipped down to my holster of… flowers.

…

What the fuck. So long as I didn’t have a tophat.

He was finishing the last few bites when his roommate loudly sighed and rolled over onto her back, wiggling so that her feet dangled over the arm of the sofa. His eyes were attracted to the movement, but he averted them when he realized how far her shirt had ridden up when she'd changed positions. Not that it was inappropriate, it was just, more skin than he was used to seeing exposed by her and admiring how smooth and tan and—nrgghh.

He twitched, and then realized he'd stopped eating his sandwich because of the distraction and quickly finished the job. Not a teenager, he reminded himself, beginning to consider asking Tsunade for a true vacation where he could go and work off whatever build-up of hormones he seemed to be suffering from lately. It's ridiculous to get that distracted by a little bit of skin. He risked a glance at the couch, and really long legs, he spun around with a gulp to wash his dishes with more force than necessary.

As he was rinsing his dirty plate in the sink, Naruto finally broke the silence. "Ka-ka-shi," came the low croon (and since when had he been close to describing the way Naruto spoke as sultry?). He gave a grunt of acknowledgment.

"Are these positions really possible?" Her tone was calm, curious, sincere.

Kakashi found himself answering automatically, "What positions?" He tried to recall the last assignment he'd given her, whether it had been a new sealing text, or maybe she got hold of one of the scrolls I checked out for Sakura or Sasuke? I do think there was some taijutsu in at least two of those.

"The ones in this book." Naruto drawled, thumping it against the back of the couch. "I know you like these a lot, but they just don't all seem physically comfortable. I mean, if I tried to bend that way I think it'd probably hurt, and I'm pretty flexible. I guess I could always just try it and see."

Kakashi frowned as he turned to see whatever the blond was musing about, and that's when his eye caught sight of the familiar orange cover and his brain. Just. Broke.

Because.

No. Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no.

What he actually emitted was best described as a hybrid of a frog's croak and the last cry of desperation from a dying man.