Disclaimer: It’s quite obvious that I’m not Kishimoto Masashi, so is this blasted disclaimer really necessary? Happy Birthday, Kakashi!

A/N: Since my italics button is acting so DANDY, I had to delete this story too many times just because they wouldn’t show up on FF, so here’s how it goes:

-blah blah- Inner dialect. Capice?

Bedridden Birthday

Hatake Kakashi was not one to nag over subtleties, but the fact that today marked his thirtieth year of life –Christ, I’m that old already?- made everything an exception.

He was sick.

With a fever.

On his own birthday.

Now, normally, on any other day, this minor inconvenience was easy to wave off. So what if he was sick? Goody. No missions for a few days, then. There were surely other things Kakashi should feel free to ponder over aside from his inconvenient ailment, like the dozens of awkward events that he plowed through in simply three decades: his father’s suicide, his first best friend -and his early death-, the sacrifice of his sensei, his career in ANBU, his first and only team of pupils, Team 7, Naruto, Sasuke- and whatever’s become of him-, Sakura…

He was giving himself due cause for concern when he found that he thought of her more often than not as of late. Back when Team 7 was first conceived, before Naruto tapped into his true potential, before Sasuke fell into the abyss of his own ambitions, before Sakura learned how to turn a table into a pile of splinters with the flick of her finger, he was genuinely concerned for her well-being. Kakashi believed that in all honesty, Haruno Sakura just wasn’t cut out for the rugged life of a kunoichi. She was too kind-hearted for her own good, and it often clouded her logic. By the time the Uchiha had turned his back on his home village, she was only capable of pulling off a chuunin-level jutsu for countering genjutsu. As much as he had wanted to take her under his wing personally as he once did with Sasuke and as he did now with Naruto, circumstances didn’t allow him the time to do so. Because of Kakashi’s unintentional neglect, Sakura’s potential remained dormant to the point where she forced herself to take matter into her own hands, hence placing herself under the tutelage of none other than the Fifth Hokage. Now, nearly three years from that day, Sakura was praised in every nook of the Hidden Leaf Village for her prowess in medical ninjutsu. On top of that, the monstrous strength that lay hidden in the depths of her chakra reserves was second to none. She had become a fine kunoichi, an idol for the lowliest of lowly human beings.

And Kakashi had had no part in it.

He heaved a deep, raspy sigh and closed his mismatched eyes. There were plenty of past errors that already clawed at his conscience, yet this one cut just as deep as his failure to bring some light into Sasuke’s sense of judgment. He was supposed to be a shepherd to his flock of developing shinobi. Only one sheep remained under his rod, now. One had left the herd entirely, while the other found a new shepherd with infinitely greener pastures. There were days when thoughts like these would get the better of him, and he doubted whether he really deserved the honorary title of “sensei”. After all, Asuma and Kurenai’s fledglings were still intact and concerning Gai’s group of pupils, the gang was all there.

What did Hatake Kakashi, legendary Copy Ninja of the Hidden Leaf, have to show for his disciples?

He was getting ahead of himself. Of course there were bound to be some deficiencies with some ninja squads. Kakashi well knew that he was no exception; he was the only one left of his old team, after all. What was he pestering on about? It must’ve been his fever getting the better of him.

-It must be getting older.-

Not old. Just older. Thirty was most definitely not the climax of old-geezerness.

But still, there was something so disconcerting about being sick on his own birthday. And he couldn’t forget the undeniable factoid that he lost his only copy of the unreleased “Icha Icha Tactics” yesterday while he was aiding Naruto in his training. Kakashi should’ve been infinitely grateful that he was still alive to witness his thirtieth. The Hidden Leaf Village had buried its fair share of shinobi who didn’t even live to be thirteen. But it was hard to remain humble and dignified when his sinuses were throbbing, and his nostrils were blocked up, and he had no smut to keep him happy, horny and occupied, and it was so damn hot and… he was… whining.

Old.

-Who am I kidding? Might as well lounge in a rocking chair while I plan my retirement party and wait for a geriatrics specialist to tuck me in.-

He spoke too soon. His illness had not toned down his sharp hearing in the smallest fraction. He clearly registered the turning of his lock, the creak of his apartment door, and the clicking of boot heels. His clogged nostrils miraculously picked up the smell of raspberry perfume.

-Oh dear.-

His geriatrics specialist had arrived.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“Damn, I was hoping I’d catch you while you were asleep,” Sakura muttered as she leaned against his doorframe, her mischievous smirk slowly diminishing.

“You mean while I’m vulnerable to any demasking attempts?” Kakashi briskly inquired.

Why he was wearing the stupid thing even in sickness was beyond her. “Some things can’t be helped, old man.”

Ouch. “I’m thirty, Sakura. I’m not that old…”

“Of course you aren’t. You’re as young as you feel, Kakashi.”

“And supposing I feel like hammered crap?”

She frowned slightly at his query. “Well, I guess that can damper one’s sense of inner age, then. That bad, huh?”

“What are you doing here?” After his recent bout of deep thinking, Kakashi really wasn’t comfortable seeing her right now.

“Forgotten my current occupation already? You really are getting old,” she chuckled as her amused smirk returned. “I figured I’d lighten your spirits on this jovial morning and help you feel better. Also, I volunteered to retrieve any and all of your birthday presents since you’re in no condition to do so, so I’ll be commuting back and forth anyway.”

“You’re making me sound like a wounded calf before wolves,” Kakashi deadpanned. Apparently, falling ill was giving others a chance to poke and prod at him without him being any the wiser. And he wasn’t relishing in it at all.

“Well you do have a fever, you know.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Doc? Heal me.” Kakashi had bestowed the affectionate nickname on his former pupil a while back. She wasn’t very receptive of it, though.

“Why bother? A fever is a mosquito bite in comparison to trying to reattach both an arm and a leg all in one shift.”

He winced and made no attempt to hide it. The truth behind her logic was mind-blowing. He had it made in contrast to whichever poor soul out there almost lost his or her arm and leg for life.

Whining yet again.

“Besides,” she continued in an uppity tone, “perseverance is good for your soul, I assure you. You have any pots somewhere?”

Kakashi was no cook, but still, kitchen accessories were a must in any household. A ninja always needed to be prepared, after all. “Drawer on the sink’s left. Why?”

“’Cause you’re getting a taste of my specialty minestrone soup, and you will eat it, birthday boy or not.”

“I’m not hungry, Sakura.”

“Well, that’s a damn shame.” Kakashi couldn’t but grimace at the fact that the sixteen-year old was starting to sound so much like Tsunade. “Most broths used for soups and stews contain enzymes which help raise the potency of white-blood cells that fight off bacteria. This is a medic’s order, Hatake, which means you have no say in the matter. You’re having soup and that’s that.”

“It’s still my birthday,” Kakashi retorted defensively.

She clicked her tongue against the inside of her cheek in aggravation. Stubborn, old jackass…

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t alter the fact that you’re the one who’s stuck in bed with a fever and not me. So, pooh-pooh on you, Kakashi.” With that, she spun violently on her heel and headed towards the kitchen.

As he listened to the clamor of stainless steel in the kitchen, Kakashi relaxed his features slightly and buried his burning face in his hands. He had just been sitting on the cusp of one of Sakura’s destructive tantrums and the utter annihilation of the entire complex in which his apartment was located. And people wondered why he never liked being in the hospital. Medics were just so freaking impossible to argue with, what with that philosophy they followed that they needed to be in control at all times during intense crisis. But what the hell kind of crisis was this? It was just a fever, damn it! She said it herself!

Whining again.

-Crap.-

This better be the best damn bowl of minestrone he ever had.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

“Alright, I’ll do you this favor for yelling at you earlier,” Sakura began softly as she set a tray complete with a cup of green tea, a bowl of minestrone, and a large spoon gently on Kakashi’s lap. “I’m going to go and gather up some more of your presents from everyone, so I won’t be ogling you while you try to eat your soup in peace. Consider yourself blessed that I haven’t ripped off that mask of yours yet.” That blasted smirk was back again. “Sit tight, and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she called out as she left his bedroom.

“Take your time, Doc,” Kakashi responded in the loudest tone he could muster in his current state, and with that, the door to his apartment quietly clicked and closed.

He really was at a lost as to why Sakura was so persistent in regards to taking care of him. It wasn’t like this blasted fever was making him keel at Death’s doorstep. Still, he noticed that she always tended to be the first to step in when Naruto needed new bandages, or when Sai presented a goose egg on his cheek that needed healing- that poor kid was never going to learn that the majority of the female species doesn’t appreciate being called ‘hag’. He noticed her hand would start twitching if she didn’t tend to a cut or a wound on one of her teammates right away.

As awkward as her constant presence was, Kakashi didn’t mind it in the least bit.

First scanning the window, then his doorway, then his window again for good measure, he slowly peeled his mask off and raised his spoon to his lips. Instantly, the warm, smooth broth trickled down his gritty throat and settled snuggly into his quaking belly.

Minestrone never tasted so heavenly.

The entire bowl was wiped clean in record timing and he made quick work of his green tea. Setting aside the tray on his nightstand, he groped for his mask. No sooner had he set the fabric over the bridge of his nose, his nurse-for-the-day came stumbling in, presents tucked in her arms, under her chin, and even balanced on her head.

“They really went all out for you, old man!” Sakura wheezed out as she dumped the mountain of gifts by the foot of her sensei’s bed. “Phew! I take it the minestrone was tolerable?” she inquired, her index finger pointed at his vacant tray.

“Never tasted anything better, Doc.” His smile was evident, even under the anonymity of his mask. He noticed her cheeks tinged with pink for a brief moment before she leaned back and popped every vertebrae of her spine with an echoing crack.

“Ouch.”

“No kidding,” he gasped out as she reached for his tray and disappeared through the doorway. She returned later with her hands empty and a slight smile on her face. “Shall we begin?”

“Please don’t tell me there’s going to be more.” His temples were throbbing at the sight of the pile of presents that towered his bedside.

“I think I managed to gather the brunt of it, but there could always be more. Might as well count your blessings for now, Kakashi.”

Count his blessings, huh? He could manage that…

He spent the whole morning in bed- a luxury in the shinobi world-, had no dire missions that commanded his attention, and he was being catered to by the most highly revered- and the most captivating- medic nin in the country. At no extra cost whatsoever.

Hatake Kakashi was a blessed man indeed.

She handed him a small box wrapped in green foil, and with that, they began.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

What a weird little celebration this was turning out to be.

For starters, his first present was a bottle of sake from none other than the Fifth herself. Sakura noted dryly that she probably couldn’t get off her inebriated ass long enough to get him a decent present, but Kakashi took it all in good stride. Tsunade had a village to maintain, so such a last minute pitch-in was understandable. He was some caught off guard to find a platter of dango from Asuma and Kurenai. Interesting. Kakashi, for whatever reason, couldn’t quash the ill-mannered butterflies that fluttered in his gut when he stumbled upon Gai’s present.

No wonder. Beneath the smiley face gift-wrapping, he found a set of two jump ropes and a strongly worded letter discreetly requesting a challenge at double-dutch so as to even the score between them. Kakashi didn’t even attempt to bar back the look of mortification that crept onto his face, just as Sakura didn’t hold back in her fit of gut-wrenching laughter. Gai’s imagination knew no bounds, apparently.

Next was a pack of senbon from Genma- typical-, a vase of marigolds and five vouchers for free ramen from “Your Chums at Ichiraku”, a banzai tree from Yamato, an ink painting of his old squad from Sai- Sakura explained that she had told him about Kakashi’s genin days, so that’s where Sai found his muse.

Last among the pile of well wishes and congratulations from former acquaintances from ANBU and friends in other villages was Naruto’s present. Sakura bit her lip in anticipation. Naruto didn’t requisition a reputation as a master prankster for nothing.

Kakashi’s onyx eye twitched.

The wrapping paper gave way to seven- no wait, eight watches and a bright-green kitchen clock.

What was the meaning of this?

The answer came as soon as Sakura freed herself long enough from another fit of hearty sniggers to hand him the card that came with the gift.

Let’s see you come up with an excuse for being late now, you old fart.

“Why, you cheeky little bastard…”

“You really-” Sakura wheezed between chuckles, “-really have to give him kudos for originality though, Kakashi.”

“I’ll give him something for it,” he muttered darkly. As soon as his sinuses cleared up, the ungrateful little turd was gonna get it. He spends half a week training the kid’s chakra manipulation and this is the thanks he gets…

“If you want, I’ll see if I missed anyone on my last go,” Sakura requested.

Come to think of it, there was one person who had failed to present him anything material-wise. Kakashi sent a questioning eye her way. It didn’t take her long to decipher his intentions.

“Ah. I suppose I should dispatch something on my end then.”

“You don’t have to, you know. I think you’ve garnered enough of my good graces for one day.”

“Perhaps…” Sakura dug her hand into her weapon pouch and felt around. “You owe me big for all this, old man. Not only did I make you lunch and round up all your presents, this son of a bitch took me three hours of sifting through the training grounds to find.” And on that note, she placed a familiar item in his palms.

It took him a while for his eyes to register the words “Icha Icha Tactics” on the front cover.

He could die of fever a satisfied man. His dearly departed porn was back in its rightful place: before his eyes for his twisted reading pleasure.

Before he could stop himself, his hand found its way to the base of Sakura’s skull and pushed her upper body flush against his in gratitude.

“You’re a true live saver, Doc.”

Sakura had never been too fond of the aliases she had garnered over the years. ‘Forehead girl’ brought back painful memories of her insecurity that she felt no need to relive anytime soon. ‘Hag’ was a gigantic no-no every woman’s book, so those foolish enough to dub her so paid dearly.

‘Doc’ was a bit different though. While it felt like it was a bit demeaning on her occupation as a medic, there were friendly intentions behind it. And, she’d never admit this openly, but the fact that Kakashi had named her so was a bit… heart-warming, if she had to speak so boldly. As often as she liked to deny it, it didn’t changed the heat that circulated in her blood whenever Kakashi found an opportunity to utilize his title for her. It disturbed her, yet brightened her thoughts all in one.

It scared her a bit, as well. She was half his age, for cripes sake.

And now she found herself pressed against the warmth of his chest and the quickening beat of his heart.

She’d let this one go, just this once.

“Anytime, Kakashi.”

Much to his dismay, he was incapable of prying his eyes away from her porcelain face. The same could be said for the hand that remained in her hair. This was bad, bad, bad… He knew he should have sought help when he started thinking about her more often, when he started worrying about his minute role in her progress as a ninja and as a human being, when he started noting that only her hair smelled like raspberries; the rest of her smelled of rich shea butter.

-Oh, shit.-

“Kakashi?” Sakura noticed his breathing had become uneven.

He needed to give this situation a complete 180, now.

His hand still wouldn’t move.

God damn it.

“Is something wrong?”

Something was indeed wrong. He was growing way too fond of the pink-haired medic, that’s what. He had to stop this.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura perked up in surprise. “What for?”

Yes, what indeed.

-Sorry for agreeing to let you take care of me? Sorry for wanting you close by today of all days? Sorry for feeling like I could walk on the sky right about now?-

There was something he wanted to get off his chest. This opportunity wouldn’t present itself again, he concluded. Now was a good time to clear things up and hopefully cover up this… whatever it was.

He sighed, rustled his fingers through her silky tresses, and began.

“I’ve hardly been a part of your development, both physically and mentally, since we first met four years ago. As far as I know, I didn’t teach you anything personal past the tree-climbing exercise in the Hidden Mist. I… This has been popping up for a while now. I can’t help but feel that perhaps I wasn’t the sensei I was supposed to be. Only now have I started training Naruto, and… you and I have never trained together at all, Sakura. And you don’t need reminding as to what happened to…” He stopped, swallowed a build up of saliva in his throat. “The point is, Sakura, I should have taken my responsibilities whole-heartedly. I was a sensei to Sasuke and a guide to Naruto. All I’ve ever been to you, however, is a bystanding, lazy, perverted old man. I’m sorry, Sakura. I’m… I really am sorry…” he ended with a whisper.

Sakura stared blankly at him with her jaw agape. It was true that she felt somewhat stung at times at her former sensei’s negligence, but she couldn’t hold anything against him. He was an elite jonin, a person who was constantly called for by others, so he couldn’t sacrifice all of his personal time to his pupils, let alone to her. It was this understanding that spurred her to approach the Hokage with the request for apprenticeship. She knew that her hand wasn’t going to be held forever, but this insecure, self-forsaken man before her thought differently. He cast an unnecessary weight on his own shoulders and not once let himself live his errors down.

She wanted to cry so badly, simply sit and weep in submission to his deep shame. As much as she wanted to, she knew that waterworks, even if they were genuine, wouldn’t provide him with any aid. She would have to respond the way her current master did.

With some good old-fashioned sarcasm.

“You’re thirty, Hatake Kakashi, not dead,” she murmured against his shirt in irritation.

His mismatched eyes widened.

“You have plenty of time to make up for this. We all do. Why do you think we’re still reaching for Sasuke?”

With a sigh, he pondered this. Perseverance was what drove her and Naruto to their last breaths for their lost teammate, the knowledge that as long as they were still alive, they had a chance, they still had time…

That’s when it hit him.

Sakura didn’t just drop by out of courtesy, or just because of professional concern for his health.

Her real reason, her hidden present was…

… she was making up for lost time. For both of them.

“Come here, you sick dog.” She wrapped her lithe arms about his torso gingerly. After a moment of bewilderment, he reflexively responded in kind.

He felt a heat rising on his face that he just couldn’t connect with his ailment.

“Thank you,” he breathed into her cropped hair.

Sakura had to bite back to urge to squeal in ecstasy right now; she had other plans.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook yet, Hatake. According to your on sight, we have some making up to do,” she commanded as she jabbed her pointer finger into his pectoral for good measure.

“Any ideas, Doc?”

“I’m free this coming Tuesday at noon. Practice Area 3. And I expect you to make good use of your eight watches and one clock. Don’t be so naïve as to believe I’m still not curious as to what’s under that damn mask. It’s coming off one way or another.”

“Well, aren’t you just full of yourself?”

“Can’t be helped, old man,” she hoisted herself off his chest, slipped off his bed and headed towards his door, though not before sending him one last glance over his shoulder.

“Besides, not a whole lot of people can say they’ve been trained by Hatake Kakashi himself.”

He could smile at this now. “No, I suppose not.”

Her lightened eyes shone clearly in the faint lighting of his apartment.

“Enjoy your porn, old man.” And with that, she closed the door behind her, the smell of raspberries wafting in her wake.

He chuckled slightly as he removed his mask and recapped his day.

The minestrone soup ever made, a heap of presents, a weight taken off his shoulders, a chance for some much-needed atonement, and the scent of raspberries in his apartment.

As he pulled the covers up over his chin, Hatake Kakashi inwardly prayed that he would catch a fever once again, same time next year.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Yes, I know.

This isn’t Yakusoku.

But you start throwing tomatoes at your monitor, let me just ask this:

What kind of KakaSaku fangirl would I be if I didn’t write this?

Happy Belated Birthday, Kakashi!

Sayaka-sama