A/N:

L- I was first introduced to this idea while eating ramen with a friend. She was possessed by the Ramen Gods and blessed with visions of her KakaSaku ship. Honestly, the chicken stock probably just went to her head, but nonetheless she began to spout crazy nonsense about Kakashi's days as "Hokage".

L -Have you ever noticed how If take out the "a" in between "Kak" and "Saku" it sounds like…

A - *immature giggles*

Hokage's Office...

Ominous clicking echoed throughout the esteemed Hokage's office. It was 3am. The "responsible" and "serious" leader of Konoha was slaving away at his keyboard (thank Kami-sama for technology). Perspiration traced the profile of his nose and was absorbed by the soft, yet pragmatically elastic, mask.

The gentle blue glow of the laptop monitor illuminated his face, frowning in profound concentration. At one point, it seemed like the Hokage had reached into his desk drawers to rummage for something. With a quiet, "Ahhh…," our favourite little pervert pulled out his trusty Icha Icha Tactics.

The cover was worn, the pages dog-eared, and a suspicious brown stain made the last few pages illegible—the dangers of being a shinobi.

He peered into the little book, determination gracing his only exposed features. If only he could find his favorite scene…

"…"

"…"

"Yessss…"

A mischievous grin stretched the fabric of his mask. There was an evil glint to his eye. Finding the words and inspiration he was looking for, Hatake Kakashi looked back at the laptop screen, thumb in between the pages he typing continued, periodically interrupted by Kakashi peering back and forth between the text in the book and the words on the screen.

At Dawn...

'Temari was especially troublesome this morning,' thought Shikamaru, already rubbing out the creases between his eyebrows to stave off the incoming headache.

Working as the Hokage's personal assistant (read: babysitter) and tactical advisor was even more troublesome, but the Will of Fire, or rather the two most important women of his life (Temari and Yoshino) would not let Shikamaru watch the clouds all day. It was either this job or moping around at home with the memories of the war that still haunted him.

To darken his already dismal disposition, the coffee machine in the break room was replaced with a brand-new highly expensive espresso machine with many levers and buttons for Kami-knows-what. Even with an IQ over 200, Shikamaru could not for the life of him figure out how to operate the damn machine. 'Gotta love technology,' he brooded.

This was turning out to be one of those mornings. Resigned to his fate, Shikamaru left the breakroom coffee-less and bone-weary. Posture slumped, he dragged his feet up the stairs in a dejected manner.

Every room he passed, emitted the lovely scent of ground coffee beans. He almost paused, the urge for caffeine was pretty high up there, but the inclination to see people's raised eyebrows as he asked for help with the Orochimaru-spawned-coffee machine was non-existent.

On his way to desk, Shikamaru heard the baffling sound of typing coming from the Hokage's office.

'...What's the hell?' Shikamaru worried to himself, the intruder alert set off. He was sure, that someone was going through the Hokage's confidential files, because there is no way in heaven and hell that Kakashi would willingly enter the confines of his office at 6:00 in the morning.

He pulled out a kunai and suppressed his chakra. The fact that he didn't notice anyone's presence in the office earlier was a testament to his caffeine-starved brain. Fighting off the exhaustion, he snuck carefully across the hall. The loyal and ever reliable ANBU guarding the room should have dealt with the infiltrator.

Their absence could mean many things,the worst possible scenario being that they were dead and the deadbeat of a Hokage would not show up until three hours later (where he hides, to this day no one knows).

He approached the mahogany doors. The pineapple-haired shinobi concentrated a minute amount of chakra into his right ear and delicately leaned it against the door, just barely grazing the wood.

The sound of clacking keys was now magnified, along with other sounds, like the gentle and off-putting masculine giggles behind the door.

Shikamaru wasn't so sure at this point that the intruder was shifting through the Hokage's private files, but rather his stash of pirated erotica. Now that was a disturbing thought.

'Not a very good ninja if he doesn't use a silencing jutsu of some sort,' he surmised,

'or get so easily distracted by softcore written porn.'

Having enough of standing tense with bated breath, the Hokage's assistant swiftly swung the door closest to him open and let it hit the wall with a 'bang' the moment he finally laid his eyes on the "intruder."

To his immense shock and immediate irritation, Shikamaru gaped at the occupant of the Hokage's chair—the Hokage himself. Being so early in the morning, it was quite the sight for his eyes, but he had started to wish he not come upon this scene in the first place. 'Twas a very ugly thing.

Kakashi was twittering and disturbingly giggling to himself. Shikamaru perused the Hokage's visage from top to bottom: gravity-defying silver spikes, bloodshot eyes that did not blink (only twitch), and silver "whiskers" that poked out of the stretchy material of his mask.

One of his hands was typing and the other was below desk-level gripping something— Shikamaru let his mind go completely blank.

After rebooting, which took twice as long, because he was without his daily cup of java, Shikamaru settled on asking one question (or two) before his mind could come to more conclusions,

"Uhh… H-Hokage-sama, with all due respect, what the hell are you doing here? Now?"

In a flurry of rapid clicks, slammed drawers, and a painful series of cracks indicating a spine going back into alignment, Kakashi leaned back into chair with arms crossed, radiating an air of badly feigned nonchalance.

"Ahh... Shikamaru-chan. How wonderful to see your pineapple head in the morning. And as to your question(s), I am the Hokage, with many duties to fulfil and am required in odd hours of the day."

Shikamaru squinted, knowing better than to believe the placating words that came out of the Hatake's mouth. Or any words for that matter, unless it was life lessons on friendship, because that was some moving shit.

A staring/glaring match ensued.

As according to custom, Shikamaru, when encountering resistance, deflated and looked away crossing his arms, "Troublesome old poofter…"

Kakashi blinked.

The Nara, already in a bad mood, decided someone more experienced with ornery Hokages should handle Kakashi. After all, he had better things to do, like filing paperwork or cloud gazing or feeding deer on the Nara property... or making sure that that crazy religious Akatsuki bastard had not got out from his hole.

"Oh and Shikamaru-chan, could you please get me a coffee, made with lots of milk and love?"

"..."

Sakura was just finishing giving one ninja ten stitches. Though ninja were usually fierce warriors on the battlefield, they were also notorious for their psychological fear of all things that were simultaneously pointy and sterilized.

Frustrated, Sakura debated skipping over the annoying process of threading together her skittish patient's skin, instead jumping straight into medical ninjustu, but this particular patient was a recurring customer. She had a bone to pick with this guy.

It was not as much the fact that he'd been coming in daily for the past three weeks with minor injuries, but more the fact that someone Kami-knows-where made him a chunin when he couldn't even avoid stabbing himself with his own kunai (including vital arteries).

She lost count how many times the man came in clutching a bleeding ligament while overdramatically whining in misery.

Sakura had become concerned the third time he came in with the same wound and wasted her precious time giving him lessons on how to hold kunai properly (read: not by the fucking pointy bit).

A - Never make me look up stitches ever again.

Snipping the last suture thread with sanitized scissors, Sakura had no time to reach before the chunin leaped off the examination table and dashed for the door. Freedom at last!

"Not. So. Fast. Shinji-kun."

With a saccharine smile, she managed to intercept him before he could make his escape. Grabbing him by the scruff of his collar, Sakura hauled him back, a lecture forming on her lips.

Steering towards the loudest wing in the Konoha Hospital, because only Sakura had the ability to 'nag' with that much volume, Shikamaru only spared a nod to some of his fellow shinobi as he passed them.

The tunnel vision had begun to set in with his exhaustion as his head throbbed painfully. Shikamaru neared the room from which he could clearly hear Sakura's voice.

"... AND THE NEXT TIME YOU RUN INTO A FUCKING KUNAI…"

Shikamaru didn't bother to knock on the door—no one would hear it anyway—sliding it open without a pause in his step.

"...DON'T FUCKING COME CRYING TO ME, I SURE AS HELL WON'T PATCH IT UP!"

Silence.

Shikamaru took in the shaking forms of both occupants of the room. Sakura was pink in the face, with a visible vein pulsing on her forehead. The chunin, whose name was lost on him, looked as if he were two seconds away from pissing his trousers.

Sakura glanced in the Nara's direction, only just then realizing she had more company.

But a second was all it took, and Shinji, the second village idiot (Naruto being the first), had the motivation he needed to Shunshin his ass out of there (coincidently the first time he ever got it right). Sakura looked back to glare at the spot of his departure.

"You'd be one hell of an instructor, Sakura," Shikamaru observed.

Sakura blanched and rebuked him, "That's if I don't kill the genin with poison on the first day."

"Hmph."

"Shikamaru, my shift just ended. I'm pretty sure that you could get Shizune to help you, she told me herself that she's having a slow day. She'd be more than happy to assist," Sakura tried to be polite. At this point she would gladly sleep on the examination table.

Weighing the pros and cons of telling her the truth of the situation—that he found the Hokage doing nefarious things in his office and simply did not have the necessary amount of fucks to willingly babysit the Hokage this early in the morning—Shikamaru chose to twist the truth.

He didn't want to be the next village imbecile that incited Sakura's wrath. "I need your immediate assistance, it's a matter of the Hokage's psychological health and wellbeing."

"Whaaa —"

"—He's in his office—"

"—He's bloody well entitled to! He's the bleeding Hokage!," the pink-haired medic had no patience for a diplomatic approach.

"Woman, would you let me finish? "

Sakura's nose twitched and she crossed her arms.

"It looked to me that Kakashi entered his office earlier in the morning and is still there now."

Reading her expression of annoyance and the 'so what?' in her eyes, Shikamaru proceeded to utter utter blasphemy:

"He's actually doing work … willingly…"

The statement managed to shock Sakura into full consciousness. "Orochimaru's-white-pasty-ass! It's the equivalent of Tsunade winning at gambling… This is dire Shikamaru."

The aforementioned genius internally breathed a sigh of relief, 'Clouds, here I come.'

Continuing the ruse, "Can you be discreet about this? I'd rather this not get out."

Sakura only cast a scathing "I'm a doctor, you doorknob" glare in his direction before she really took a good look at the perpetually lazy pineapple. Finally, her medic tendencies kicked in,"Shikamaru, you look like shit. I know about your caffeine addiction from Ino, so maybe you should go to the breakroom…"

He sighed, "There's nothing to feed the addiction."

"Nothing to … Ohhh...," Sakura started to grin, "I can show you how to operate the—"

Shikamaru's face reddened as he cut her off, "Don't bother, just deal with Kakashi."

Later that morning…

If the Hokage's office represented the economical and military stability of the village, well then, uhh, to put it lightly: Konoha was doomed.

The morning sunlight entered the office through tall windows that no one took to cleaning in a long time. This was evident by the wispy streaks that Kakashi's summons left when their wet noses came too close to the glass (at least this meant they were healthy). Naruto's disappointing (Did the manchild learn nothing?) attempts at ambushing the "scarecrow" were also chronicled with some residual greasy handprints.

The tiled floor had seen better days—currently it sported many hairline cracks, mouldy grout, dirty pawprints, and some small drops of blood.

The desk, inherited from the buxom Hokage herself, was in a sorry state from all the times someone obviously suicidal or masochistic stoked Tsunade's ire.

Utterly bland, the circular walls were a drab beige color of peeling paint, and any picture frames situated on it were either crooked or suspiciously devoid of any decoration.

On those particularly annoying mornings where Kakashi was bombarded with paperwork or any kind of social interaction, he fondly watched the paint peel ever so slowly off the concrete. To anyone that listened, he claimed that it inspired him.

Although to what, no one was certain, but they had their suspicions.

Helping the Hokage in his voyeurism, ahem, spying, no wait, wait, I mean surveying, was Mr. Ukki. A happy tree, he sat next to the windows, his beautiful viridian foliage reminded Kakashi of a former student's eyes…

Internally shaking himself off, Kakashi looked away from the plant's leaves to the real deal: Sakura's eyes. Speaking of which, they were very pretty—pretty angry that is.

Kakashi quickly shut the lid of his laptop. Blankly looking at Sakura all the while, he nonchalantly shuffled the papers on his desk, discreetly hiding the Icha Icha Tactics in the mound of paperwork.

Kakashi wondered how he didn't notice any shinobi dropping off the paperwork on his desk.

Sensing a spike of chakra, the Hokage quickly redirected his gaze and worries back on the pinkette. He sweatdropped.

Sakura's increasing ire was belied by her crossed arms shifting to her classic hands-on-hips position. She was even leaning forward...shit.

"Mahh, mahh Sakura-chan…"

"Don't you start that placating crap with me old man…"

"Ooof. What happened to those starstruck genin who worshipped the ground I walked on?"

"We grew up." Here Sakura raised an eyebrow and glanced at the not so discretely hidden book, "You had better not have been reading porn, Kakashi."

The guilty party raised a palm to his chest, "Sakura-chan, how can you insinuate such hurtful words against your kind and respectable leader? And with such familiarity, tsk tsk. I ought to give you a D-ranked mission for such an offence."

After a second's brow tick, Sakura's face slowly tilted to the side (much like Pakkun's was prone to do) with a little self-assured, seductive grin (okay, not like Pakkun) .

Kakashi mentally backpedaled as to what could have inspired such a change. He was expecting the woman to punch him, nag a bit, and leave, not this…this… Damn it, she was coming closer.

"So unimaginative, Kakashi. And here I was thinking, a man so thoroughly read in that genre of literature would stir up a much more exciting punishment…"

'Dear Kami-sama.' It was as if Kakashi was caught in one of his fantasies, so he tried pinching himself on the arm. It didn't work.

By this point Sakura was close enough to put her hand on the abused spot of his arm. "This isn't a dream." Kakashi opened his mouth. "—This isn't a genjutsu either," then softly, "This is real."

The flummoxed man gulped audibly as Sakura's hand lightly ran up his arm to his shoulder and across to his shoulder blades as she circled behind him. She was out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.

"This might surprise you Kakashi-sensei, but I'm also fond of the series."

Sakura used her other hand to grip Kakashi's chin to stop him turning to question her.

"No, no, no. Shikamaru tells me you've been so busy running this village. So dedicated, coming in first thing in the morning.

"Why don't you let me lead for a little bit, nehh Ka-ka-shi?" Sakura came to the other side of Kakashi, grabbed his Hokage hat off the floor, and put it on her head.

"While I'm at it, how 'bout I read you some lines from the book too?"

Kakashi, red-cheeked and thoroughly alarmed started and tried to stop Sakura from reaching the book. The pink-haired vixen cut in between him and his desk, leaning against the edge.

"Mahh, mahh Kakashi. So bad at listening to directions—"

"—Sakura, stop this. The door's unlocked and anyone can come in and see—"

"—What, Kakashi. I thought you didn't live by stuffy social quos. Anyway, I've got what I wanted."

"Nani?" Kakashi started to panic, 'What if the she was filming this? Maybe it was blackmail. Shit, shit, shit. Sakura might have grown into an independent jonin, but many still saw her as his former student.

'Crap. If Tsunade found out he was putting moves on her beloved former apprentice, she'd string him up by his balls from the carved rocky spikes of the 4th Hokage's hair…'

Distracted by the various painful scenarios, Kakashi failed to notice ('Most powerful shinobi in the village, my ass,' thought Sakura) the kunoichi stealing away with both his laptop and erotica until she shunshin'ed halfway across the village to her home.

Knowing that the Hokage would die before letting his porn get away from him, Sakura sat down on her living room couch, fired up the laptop, entered "nakama_or_scum" as the password, and proceeded to read Kakashi's Icha Icha smutty fanfiction to pass the time.

Hopefully by the time she finished, Kakashi would arrive to continue what they started in the office… undisturbed by Genma's heavy breathing behind the mahogany doors..

Few minutes later…

"BAKA-SENSEI! YOU FORGOT YOUR OXFORD COMMAS!"

"Mahh, mahh my little fiery minx. You should save your breath for what I'm going to do to you. But please feel free to call me Sensei."

"Hentai."