Authors: Kiki (Hey-Diddle-Diddle) and WinterOfOurDiscontent

Genre: Humor/Romance

Rating: PG-13/T

Summary: When Kakashi's injured, Iruka reads him his favorite book. Full of not-so-subtle innuendos and cross dressers, with a dash of pirates and ships on the side.

Italics are the conversations between Kakashi and Iruka, by the way.

The authors are not responsible for any pirate lingo which may result from the reading of this fic.

!-!-!

"And ramen!" Fishcake piped up, from somewhere to the side of Dolphin. "We should get some ramen!"

Scarecrow looked down gravely at the young blond. "Actually, Fishcake, you'll need to go register with the Union of Cabin Boys. They're very picky about that sort of thing."

Dolphin glanced at Fishcake, then at Scarecrow. "The cabin boys have a union? What for?"

The pirate captain found Dolphin's naivety strangely endearing. It made him want to teach him everything he knew. Everything. Leer. Wink wink, nudge nudge. "...they're a group of young, nubile males forced to spend months at sea with older men who haven't seen a woman in quite a while." he finally explained.

"Ah, of course. Makes-" Dolphin swallowed. "Makes perfect sense." And he not so subtly positioned himself between Fishcake and the pirate captain. All for Fishcake's safety, of course. "And you? Are you...lonely?"

Scarecrow leered at Dolphin. "With you to keep me company every night, how could I be?" he said, in a low, suggestive voice.

Dolphin stared at Scarecrow's adam's apple, watched it bob up and down. Up. Down. Up- Oh, yes. Cue blushing. Dolphin glanced up at Scarecrow's face, above the mask, and blushed. He then remembered some of the noises Scarecrow made while dreaming, and blushed even brighter. "Well, that's- Umm, that's good, because you wouldn't want to anger the union." Yup. It was all for the good of Fishcake. What a selfless Dolphin.

With the help of the dogs, they managed to safely dock the ship at one of the many public ports.

"Erm... Captain Scarecrow?" Dolphin asked hesitantly, as they made their way into the rough town of --Uvnt. Scarecrow, however, didn't immediately respond, as he was busy muttering "29-B" under his breath in an effort to remember where he'd parked. "Captain Scarecrow?" Dolphin repeated, attaching himself to Scarecrow's arm.

"Twenty-nine... eh? Yes?"

"Captain Scarecrow," Dolphin continued, looked up at Scarecrow from a height difference of an entire 1.23 inches, "where are we going?"

"Well, my crew will take care of the supplies..." Their highly skilled noses and puppy dog eyes made them naturals at bargaining.

Dolphin blinked, nodded, and clung to Scarecrow's sculpted arm as the dread pirate captain steered them around photo groups of pirates and tourists. "Then what are we going to do?"

"Go drinki... err... head to the tavern to hear the latest news."

Dolphin nodded again, amazed at Scarecrow's...amazingness. He just felt so safe with Scarecrow, in spite of the man being a pirate who'd killed off the entire crew of the ship Dolphin had been on... Maybe this was what they called love? As they passed a particularly rough looking group of tourists, he clung even tighter to Scarecrow's arm, shivering slightly in spite of the long, shapeless shirt he was wearing over his usual fishnet and leather pants getup. Captain Scarecrow had somehow miraculously found it before they'd docked, and had insisted Dplphin wear it, lest he get cold. Scarecrow was such a caring captain, and took very good care of his crew, Dolphin decided.

"Here we are," Scarecrow said proudly, standing in front of a seedy tavern.

Dolphin looked up at the sign hanging lopsidedly from a post. "Ye Olde Randomme Taverne...?" he read questioningly. "And we're going to get information here?"

"Of course," Scarecrow said breezily, leading Dolphin into the tavern.

Ye Olde Randome Taverne had originally been Pete's Bar, a slightly downmarket but reasonably clean and well-lit place where piratical types could gather. At least, until the tourism hit, when they'd been forced to remodel. Now it was a dark, smoke-filled pit of a room. It was now a favorite tourist trap, mostly because there was always the chance to sit next to a pirate and, for a small fee extra, to be pillaged/plundered by a pirate, all within the ease and comfort of the bar. And the restrooms were clean, too.

Dolphin looked around thoughtfully, sidestepping a current pillage/plunder deal at Scarecrow's behest. "It's very- Very piratical." Nodnod.

Scarecrow led Dolphin to the bar where an old man was standing, wiping a dirty glass with a dirty rag. "One Keel'haul, rare, and an order of Shiver-me-Timbers." Scarecrow looked at Dolphin, lifting one pale, slender, carefully sculpted eyebrow. "What do you want?"

"Err... water?" Dolphin practically squeaked. "...and maybe an order of mozzarella sticks?"

Scarecrow looked back at the questionable character behind the bar, an old sea dog known as Salty Pete. "Make it a double on everything, and throw in a Salty Sea, too."

"Aye aye, Cap'n," Salty Pete said, scribbling on a piece of raggedy map. "Two Keel'im'deads, two orders of sticks, an' a water!" he bellowed towards the back.

Scarecrow sat and motioned for Dolphin to the do the same. Dolphin scrutinized the barstools doubtfully, then painfully sat on the stool. "This place is...nice," Dolphin said lamely.

"They sell t-shirts," Scarecrow noted helpfully. "And mugs."

"Do they?" Dolphin asked curiously, perking up a bit. "What kind of mugs? Coffee mugs? My last one got broken by Fishcake, and--"

It was while Dolphin was explaining, in great detail, the mishap involving Fishcake, a small aquarium, and Dolphin's unfortunate coffee mug, that the fight began. It went like this: Unbeknownst to Dolphin, but knownst to Scarecrow... who was such an awesome dread pirate captain that he could keep one eye on Dolphin, another on his surroundings, and still only have one visible... There was a terrible incident afoot. A terrible wind abrewing. A terrible fight amustering.

There was, to be frank, a wrong order. And the lack of pickles is entirely too terrible a thing to comprehend.

The Patron was not to be appeased, even when offered a coupon good for twenty percent off his next meal. Nor was he appeased when offered a free Little Schooner's Meal, nor when Salty Pete threw in an extra order of Shiver-me-Timbers. The Patron wasn't even appeased when he got a new hat in the Little Schooner's Meal. Tension in the bar skyrocketed as the other patrons awaited the outcome. The room was silent, except for the occasional sound of a camera flash. Finally, Salty Pete could take no more. Smashing a bottle he kept underneath the bar for just such an occasion, he indicated to The Patron that his presence in the tavernne was no longer welcome.

That was when the storm ran, broke, and finished mustering. In short, The Patron took a swing at Salty Pete, who took a swing back at The Patron, who then took a swing at Tourist #3. So it began.

"And then I told him that of course the fish--" Dolphin was cheerfully saying, waving a mozzeralla stick for emphasis. Scarecrow nodded, one eye still entranced with an eating Dolphin, the other eye watching the fight with growing concern.

Of course, no pirate worth his peg leg will sit out a barfight. So as soon as they'd flipped coins to determine which side they were fighting on, several more tables worth of customers had joined the fray.

One of these patrons (we'll call him Pirate #4) had the misfortune of landing on/breaking the counter Scarecrow and Dolphin were sitting at, making the first casualty of the fight some innocent mozzarella sticks. Dolphin looked down at the destroyed mozzarella sticks, at the gooey cheese sliding sluggishly onto the floor, at the crisp outer shells, broken and trampled. Dolphin looked down at those poor mozzarella sticks, clutching his half-eaten stick in his hand. Alas. He couldn't let their deaths be in vain. Those innocent mozzarella sticks, who had existed only to bring joy and, arguably, some form of sustenance to tavernne goers.

Dolphin let fall his mozzarella stick, standing up from his stool.

"That," he bellowed, in a voice known and feared by a great many Fishcakes the world over, "is it."

A nearby pirate looked at Dolphin, screamed a very rough and rugged "AAARGH!" and punched Dolphin in the face.

!-!-!

Meanwhile, in a less commercial part of town, Fishcake had gotten hopelessly lost. It was while he was wandering around, completely confused, that he ran into a boy of exceeding beauty. Skin pale as snow, long hair black as night, lips red as the red, red rose. Sadly, we do mean "ran into."

Both of them fell to the ground.

The ground was very happy. The boys, less so.

Snow Whi-- We mean, the beautiful boy glared at Fishcake, got to his feet, glared at Fishcake, brushed himself off, and glared at Fishcake some more.

"Hey!" Fishcake said as he got up and, not to be outdone, brushed himself off as well. Only better.

"What do you want?" the boy asked brusquely, in a very brusque manner.

"An apology, to start with. Bastard."

"As though someone with your low intelligence would understand an apology. Idiot."

"Jerkface."

"Loser."

"Asshole."

"...this is a waste of my time." The boy brushed past Fishcake, flipping his hair just so. A bird flew overhead, the wind blew, and somewhere a violin played.

"Hey, you!" Fishcake said, as he was both unwilling to let such an insult go, and had run out of rude things to call the boy. "Since you hit me, make yourself useful and tell me where the hell the cabin boy's union is!"

The boy turned very white, very tragic eyes on Fishcake. "I don't see what the point would be. You'll never succeed, because you're a loser, and you'll always be a loser. It's fate."

It took Fishcake a minute to work the statement, with its multiple clauses, all the way through. But what Fishcake lacked in intelligence, finesse, and tact, he more than made up for in determination and an unholy ability to inhale ramen. Neither of these "gifts" have anything to do with right now, of course, but it's the principle of the thing. So he grabbed the boy's arm, the boy sent him careening through a wall, and to make a long story short, lives were changed. Many lives. The lives of men, women, and children, forever changed, no longer trapped in the vicious cycle of destiny and fate, fate and destiny.

And neither boy's shirt would ever be the same, either. Nor their pants. But, uh, that's a different story, too.

"How come side characters are getting some action in before the main ones?"

"He's probably building up the suspense. He is a genius."

"At killing people. Hey... maybe that's what he's trying to do with these stories... they're actually intended as some sort of weapon."

!-!-!

AN: ./evil cackling/