Disclaimer- I don't own Naruto.

Hehe~part three of my Ibiki phase. Just a little IbiAnko I wrote. A little sappy at the end, but I liked writing it!

Enjoy!


He stomped down the hallway, his thick black boots making loud clomps on the rough floor. His large hands were balled in the pockets of his long, black leather trench-coat and he was sending out enough chakra to warn any competent ninja that he was in a foul, foul, mood. His black eyes glinted with anger and he radiated pure fury.

He knew how angry he looked and slowed down his steps so they were only making soft noises on the concrete. This more silent version was ever more terrifying than before, and all genin and chunin that caught his gaze shrank back quickly.

He slammed the door to his office, sitting down angrily on his chair, facing a large pile of paperwork. He brought his fists down on the table.

"I hate her." he grunted loudly.

"Hate who?"

His head whipped around to glare at the door. "What do you want, Inoichi?"

Inoichi slouched against the now-open door, his long blonde hair frazzled and dishevelled. He looked incredibly tired, and Ibiki knew he must look the same, minus the hair.

"You finish interrogating those Cloud ninja?" asked Ibiki, drumming his gloved fingers against his desk.

"All twelve of them, you jerk."

Ibiki snorted. "I had sixteen prisoners to torture. It took less than two hours."

"And let me guess- the paperwork took twice as long."

"You have no idea."

Ibiki cradled his head in his hands when Inoichi started laughing. Ibiki concentrated on the wood that his desk was made of. He stared unblinkingly at the grain while Inoichi regained his composure.

"So, who do you hate?"

"Who who do you think?"

Inoichi plopped himself down on the rarely used chair across from Ibiki, crossing his legs and sighing deeply.

"Anko again?"

Ibiki rubbed his face, resisting the urge to stretch his eyelids like a kid only because Inoichi was there.

"Yes."

"What did she want this time?" Inoichi leaned forward, as eager to hear the gossip as his daughter would be. His green eyes were focused on Ibiki's, who was getting annoyed with Inoichi.

"Nothing important."

"Man, it's got you in a depression. It's serious."

Ibiki stared at the wall instead of the desk. It was a horrible beige color, but it was more welcome than Inoichi's bemused expression.

"She asked me out on a date." he mumbled shamefacedly, hoping his face wasn't too red. Red and tan were an odd combination, and it certainly didn't look any better on his scarred mug.

Inoichi's eyes widened, and it was almost worth the look of shock on his face. "She asked you?"

Ibiki wholly agreed. "I know! What could she possibly see in me?"

"What did you say?" asked Inoichi.

"Huh?"

"Did you say yes?"

Ibiki face turned undoubtedly redder. "I was confused and in shock and I didn't know what to say, so I said…so I said yes."

Inoichi crowed in triumph. "You have a date! Maybe you two will end up like me and the old lady, with a kid to boot."

Ibiki stared at him in horror. "Get out of my office."

Inoichi ignored Ibiki, one of the very people who did so and one of two who did so more than once. Anko was the other.

Inoichi swung his ponytail like a woman (but don't tell him that) and asked, "If you're worried, answer me this: has she seen your head?"

Ibiki scowled at him. It was an unspoken, but very important rule in T&I that you never brought up Ibiki's scars unless he mentioned them first. Ibiki had obviously not mentioned his scars, and Inoichi caught the look he was being sent.

"Hey, sorry, man, but I have a point to make."

Ibiki rolled his eyes. "Yes, she's seen my head." he hissed.

"Well, then, if she still wants to go out with you after seeing that disaster, date her!"

"What a nice way to put my disfiguring marks of my prolonged imprisonment and torture," remarked Ibiki dryly. "Stay out of my love life."

"As long as you go on the date, sure."

And that was how Ibiki ended up in a restaurant with the possibly-psychopathic snake-obsessed woman that he may or may not have had a crush on as a fourteen year old. He had spent much too long in the mirror for a six-foot-three man with the bulk and disposition of a bull, and had decided on wearing his trench-coat with a white dress shirt and black pants, along with his ever-present bandanna headband. No one could blame him, of course.

He shuffled into the diner, wishing for all the world that he had said no. Anko was dressed in a little black dress that looked just about as dusty as the majority of his outfit, and he suppressed a smile.

He sat in a booth across from her and she grinned. "Hey, Ibiki."

"Hello."

His purple hair was twisted in a complicated hairstyle that made her eyes stand out and his heart beat fast. He knew he wasn't anything special to look at, even when his head and the rest of him were covered. In fact, he wasn't oblivious to the fact many considered all of him, including his face, to be avoided. Why would someone as beautiful as her want to spend time with him? His gloved hands folded together in frustration.

"Ibiki, are you there?"

She was close in his face, and he blinked rapidly. Damn it, she was doing this on purpose! He could smell her perfume and could see the soft curves of his face, the moistness of her lips…

"Seriously, what the hell, man?"

"Sorry." he said. Unbeknownst to him, his voice sounded like melted chocolate running over sandpaper. She shivered.

"Are you going to order dinner or what?" she scowled.

He did so, and he stayed silent, ignoring the fact her pretty eyes were shooting daggers at him. Just to make sure this night wasn't too bad, he ordered some vodka. He didn't have any idea where vodka came from, but it was a strong enough drink to make him happy.

"Why did you ask me here?" he asked finally.

"What?" she replied, confused.

"Why would you ask me here unless you want something?" His face remained impassive, but inside his mind was churning. He was the best at psycho-analyzing people in the entire village, so why couldn't he figure out what she was thinking?

"You don't think I would invite you out just to be with you?"

"No." he admitted.

Anko stretched her hands behind her back, giving Ibiki a splendid view of her breasts that he did his best to ignore. "You have a very low self-esteem."

"Does that really surprise you?"

Their food arrived, and they ate, Ibiki making sure to stay away from foods that would mess with his medication. Anko didn't comment when he avoided eating hardly any red meat and he didn't comment when she didn't touch the utensils and ate with her hands.

"I don't have an ulterior motive," said Anko softly. "You must not know any good women."

He snorted. That was an understatement.

"Why do you hate yourself?"

Another understatement. "Several reasons. My chosen profession, for one."

Anko leaned across the table and put a finger on his lips, shocking him into silence. "I think of that as dirtying your hands so someone more innocent doesn't have to do it."

"That's a very kind way of putting it." he whispered, his voice low in his throat.

His could feel the softness of her finger on his dry lips and he cleared his throat awkwardly. She smiled. "You may look imposing, but you're really just a big bear, huh?"

His eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"Well, you kind of resemble a big bear, ya'know?"

He chuckled. "I guess I see it."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to see where the conversation was headed but failing. He tapped a half-eaten piece of bread with disinterest.

"So, you asked me out for my company?"

"Yeah. I like your company. You don't mince words and you don't treat me differently than other jonin."

"Why would I? I don't care about your past or anyone else's who's loyal to the Leaf. It would be hypocritical of me to care about past crimes."

"That's what I like about you. I also like that you don't treat me like an object, like other ninja do."

His fingers curled into fists. He really needed to break that habit. "While we're being honest, I like that you don't piss your pants when I walk in the room and you never flinched when you saw my scars. Maybe you were hiding it, but it made me feel better."

They fell silent for a long minute before Anko started laughing quietly. "Wow, I guess I'm being pretty tame tonight, huh?"

"Don't worry, I'm not really in the mood for roping any snakes."

She laughed some more and he gave her a small smile.

"I'm not with dinner," announced Anko. "Want to order some ice cream?"

"I suppose."

They called the waiter over, who scurried off as soon as he got their order. Both ninja were infamous for their dispositions.

After they ate their ice cream Ibiki set his hands on the table. Anko reached for them and he barely flinched when she started sliding his gloves off.

"I'll warn you- they're pretty bad."

"Who cares?"

She ran her fingers over his scarred, thick hands. She felt each and every ridge on his hand, each and every slight bend where his fingers had been broken. The palm of his hand was permanently calloused and thin marks of former self-mutilation ran across them.

"I see them as a testimony of your bravery, and each one as a record of a moment of your life. To me, scars are treasures and something to be loved, just like you."

No one had ever said that to him before. He though no one ever would. "I think you have scars too, Anko. Scars we can't see. I think we both have them. Are they the same way? Are they treasures?"

Her heavy-lidded eyes gazed at him. "Yes."

"I thought you'd say that. You'd be a treasure either way, though."

They looked at each other, the scarred woman and the scarred man. They both realized how corny they were being and laughed. Yes, even Ibiki. She twirled the spoon around in the empty ice cream bowl.

"Do you think we could give our relationship a try? Scars, though treasures, aren't so easily ignored. They're painful." His gravelly voice was sending chills down Anko's spine. She met his dark eyes.

"They're better when you've got someone to share them with." smiled Anko, and he stared into the melted chocolate that were her eyes.

So he acted on impulse for the first time he could remember and kissed her, his un-gloved hands on her shoulders.

"You're a good kisser."

He smiled. "I think we can try this out."

"Really? Cool. I hoped you'd say that."

He scarred mug stretched in a wide smile. "I should've known."


I worked hard to add more desription, because I feel that's my greatest weakness. What did you think? Please review!