Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If I don't hear from you within fifteen minutes, I'm calling the police.

Sakura shook her head. She would've laughed had her stomach not been caught in nauseating knots. With another glance at the house across the street—plain, unassuming; either totally not a serial killer's house or definitely one—she responded to Shizune's text with some default answer, her foot tapping an irregular beat on the pavement all the while.

She looked at the house again. The neighborhood where it was situated wasn't terrible, considering its distance from the city center, but it wasn't particularly great either. Two-story, narrow, detached between a row of others, faded white with brown wooden trim and a rail on the second-floor porch made of the same. A few of the railing's posts were split, splintered—chewed, maybe? Probably. She pulled the crumpled newspaper piece out her front pocket for reassurance.

Daily Dog Walker Needed, it read, followed by a local phone number. She'd called it, of course; that was why she was here in the first place. The guy had seemed nice enough on the phone. Maybe a little distracted, but as a grad student working two jobs—possibly three now, or none if she actually did get murdered—it was something she could easily understand, if not entirely dismiss.

The promise of income reminded her to suck it up, take a deep breath, and actually walk to the door, past the wooden fence lining either side of the driveway and the mountains of trash bags on the way up. She knocked, then waited. But she didn't have to wait for long.

Immediately the sound of dogs barking, a chorus of them, made her nearly jump out of her skin. The deepest yelp was the closest to the door, followed by a bunch of yaps a few octaves higher. There was some shuffling—some tough paws sliding against hardwood, and then the door was unlocked and opened. In the doorway stood a tall man about as plain as the house's exterior.

"Hello," he greeted, voice deep and pleasant, a stark contrast to his disconcertingly dark eyes. "You must be Sakura."

"Hi?" she replied dumbly, nervously, because now the serial killer thing seemed like a real possibility. He was a tall man, his hair short and brown like most men wore it these days, but those were about as defining as his features got. Meanwhile, here she was, a young adult female with pink hair and decent enough backstory to generate sympathy when she ended up on tonight's news.

She could only hope they'd pick a good picture of her and not her dreadful high school yearbook photo, the one where her forehead looked like it could safely land an airplane. Her hands twitched against her thighs.

"Well—" The man suddenly lurched to the side, and Sakura saw a huge black dog headbutt his hip. Another dog, much smaller and scruffier, was trying to claw his way around the edge of the door, which was being held mostly closed to prevent them from escaping. "Whoa now, guys, calm down." He laughed a little, quite self-consciously. "It's just the walker."

At the sound of the word walk, she assumed, the dogs went haywire, paws skidding around almost maniacally. The man stepped out of the doorway abruptly, which made Sakura take a giant step back, and then he shut the door behind him with a sigh.

"Sorry about that. I'm not very good at handling them."

Uh oh. Not a good sign. She shifted uncomfortably, her boots scraping against the concrete. "Um, how many are there?"

He had to think about that for a second, counting on his fingers as he did. "Eight."

She blinked and squeaked out an incredulous laugh. "Eight?"

"Uh, yes…?"

"I'm sorry," she said at his perplexed expression. Nervously, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I think I got some of the details confused. When we talked on the phone you made it sound like there were only a few of them."

"Ah." Apparently everything made sense to him now, if she could judge by the way he was slowly nodding, a wry smile on his mouth. "I'm not their owner; just his friend. I'm Yamato, by the way."

She shook his hand. It was rough, covered in hard calluses that were only earned from constant work.

"Haruno Sakura," she replied, then got a little embarrassed because he already knew that. "If you're not the owner, then…?"

"He's at work right now," Yamato supplied, reaching into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts. "Normally he doesn't go so early, but there was a board meeting or something, so he asked me to get you set up."

Sakura blinked again, wondering what kind of businessman living in the city had eight dogs. She took the key Yamato offered her, silver with a cute bone-shaped charm attached to the ring.

Was it…was this a key to the man's house? When she hadn't even met him?

"He wanted me to give you this," he said by way of explanation. "He'd like you to be here sometime between nine and noon every day, except for Monday and Tuesday. Not for the whole three hours, though, because of your schedule—he said you were a student?"

"Uh, yes." She cleared her throat, curling hair behind her ear again. "I'm in medical school. My schedule kind of varies by the day."

Yamato, much to her delight, seemed mildly impressed by this. It put her at ease, if only slightly.

"Of course." The dogs were clawing against the back of the door now, one or two barking for attention. "I'll show you where to refill their food and water, where the leashes are, and who gets which of each. Otherwise, walking them for an hour or so is all there is to it."

"Great," she breathed. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It would be nice, she thought, for her to have one obligation where she didn't have to work her ass off.

He paused awkwardly, shoulders stiff, before remembering himself. "Would you like to meet the dogs?"

"Sure," she agreed, smoothing her palms against her jeans as he unlocked the door. Against her fading better judgment, she followed Yamato inside.

Before she could even think, she was knocked to the ground.

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Her phone buzzed repeatedly in her pocket, so many times now that her thigh was numb. She fumbled to pull it out of her jeans, switching the leashes to one hand and thanking whatever good sense she'd had that her kickboxing classes in undergrad were paying off.

"Yes, Shizune! I'm alive!" Barely! Sakura almost added, feeling her hair stick to the sweat at her temples. It was only early spring, and they'd barely gone half a mile, but her bangs were already curling against her forehead.

"Jesus Christ, I almost got a peptic ulcer. It's been over half an hour!"

Sakura plopped gratefully onto a bench with a resounding sigh. The dogs slowed, curious as to why she'd stopped walking; some didn't notice, which pulled at her arm when they tried to keep going. "Sorry. Really. The guy kind of left me with the dogs once he showed me where their food was, and then I basically had to sprint and strongman my way to the park."

"I understand. I do." A pause. She could hear office phones ringing in the background. "Next time, though, please just try and give me even a little bit of a heads-up."

"I will. We can get beepers or something." She kept her tone light, joking, hoping it would permeate through the receiver. Shizune hadn't been her first choice of emergency contact in this situation, but Sakura had needed someone to know where she was, and there was no way she could trust her roommate with anything that required a sense of urgency—he was probably still asleep, anyway, and he probably wouldn't care enough to do anything if something went awry. Her only other option would have been to call her lab partner, but Hinata was too nice, and they hardly knew each other, and it would have turned into a weird kind of burden that neither of them would be able to shake.

"Sure, yeah." Shizune exhaled deeply. "How are the dogs?"

Sakura decided to leave out the detail of how many there were. "They're cute. A little wild, but they're probably just excited to get out of the house."

Contrary to her description, the dogs had gathered around her feet, some glancing up at her expectantly with shiny, adorable black eyes, some with their heads following the movements of passersby. The biggest one—Bull, if she remembered correctly, the most aptly named of them all—was asleep, a leg resting on top of her boot as he relaxed in the morning sunlight.

"I bet. It's a beautiful day to be at the park."

"Mhmm." She decided to follow Bull's example, reclining against the bench to veg for a few minutes.

It was then that she realized that literally everyone who passed by was staring at her. This was not an exaggeration. Most were thrilled to see a bunch of puppies wagging their tails at them, but many likely thought she was some homeless dog collector. She certainly dressed like one—scuffed men's working boots, jeans with coffee stains and rips at the knee, a shirt so stretched at the collar it almost fell off one shoulder. Not to mention her hair—cropped short at her chin, messy bangs to cover her forehead, bubblegum pink and as fluffy and spiky as the dogs she sat with. Even her sunglasses looked like shit, crooked on one side of her face.

It was probably a good thing she hadn't met her new boss today.

"Listen—I'll let you go now. I've gotta get back, but I'm glad everything worked out."

"I know you are," Sakura replied with a smirk stretching one corner of her mouth. "Thanks for checking up on me."

"That's what I'm here for." She could almost hear Shizune's long-suffering smile through the phone. "Later, Sakura-chan."

"Bye." Her phone went back into her pocket, and then she could finally hold the leashes in both hands. She pushed them up over her wrists so she could finally pet the dogs, really get acquainted with them.

One had hopped up onto the bench with her—it was the beagle, laying on his back. Guruko, the name tag read, his collar a dark hunter green. He seemed sweet and friendly, his paws in the air as his tongue wagged and his ears flopped back against the seat. Sakura scratched his stomach, which he seemed to enjoy.

Another one, the gray one with a tuft of black fur on his head—he was probably mixed with some kind of husky, she guessed—licked at his crotch on the ground beside her. Cute. His silver tag glinted in the sun; Shiba was his name. She tried saying it once to see if he would stop, though the attempt was expectedly unsuccessful.

Akino, she remembered, was the mild-mannered Shiba Inu. He was a beautiful dog, nice and calm, and he wore black goggles. Maybe he was blind or simply hard of seeing in the sunlight, or perhaps they were just a preference of the owner.

Uhei was apparently some kind of greyhound, though his fur was an almost russet color. He was also pretty chill, though he stood at attention, dutifully letting some schoolgirls pat his head when they paused to admire him.

Yamato had warned her about Urushi, the asshole of the group. He was a bit of a yapper with sharp teeth and eyes, but the most trouble he seemed to be stirring up was bruising her wrist where he yanked against his leash, trying to chase after a businessman reading the newspaper.

On top of Bull was a Rottweiler puppy, an unusually tan one who was unusually…not like a stereotypical Rottweiler. Maybe she was just lucky he was a puppy, or perhaps all the movies had painted them in a bad light. Sakura reached over to find his tag—Bisuke; appropriate—but he shied away a bit. She noted that he didn't like to be touched, at least not by her.

And then there was Pakkun, the unspoken leader of the group, which cracked her up considering he was easily the smallest. He was a little brown pug with sleepy eyes, accepting his fate of being doted on by other young students on their way to school.

She scratched at Guruko's belly for another minute before figuring they probably needed to get an actual walk in. With a deep breath, she stood up, bracing herself and rousing them with a "Come on, boys!"

It didn't take much to get them going, but once they started off, she could hardly keep up.

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"You look like shit," came the bored observation from the man on her sofa.

"Thanks, asshole." With a roll of her eyes, she trudged to the fridge, going for the big bottle of water at the front. She downed nearly half of it in three sips. It made her a little bit nauseated in the end, but whatever. "Anyway, leave. I've had too long of a day to deal with you."

"But the championships are on," he stated, not really arguing with her, which meant she couldn't really get mad at him. Not so luckily for Shikamaru, she was always one to rise to the challenge.

"Go buy your own TV!" She stomped a few feet over to the couch and bent over to leer at him. God, her back hurt. "If your parents have enough money to own this place, then I'm sure they can work out some sort of solution for you."

"That also means I can get you evicted." Shikamaru sipped his beer, eyes still on the television. Sakura paid no mind to his empty comment—he wouldn't dare think about it, nor would he put in the effort to do so.

"Not if I flirt with your dad," she sang, pulling at his tangled mess of a ponytail hard enough to induce a pointed frown. "Maybe I'll bake him some cookies, too."

"You can't even cook," he griped, swatting her hand away with a limp arm. "What is it with you and older men, anyway?"

"They're a hell of a lot better to deal with than guys like you." She didn't bring up how barren the romantic and sexual aspects of her life had been since she'd decided to apply for med school, because surely Shikamaru knew—he was in her one-room apartment more often than he was in his own next door, and the walls were thin enough for him to know if she were getting any action. Which she wasn't. Ever. Not even with guys her own age. 

"Hn." His only other response was to point the remote at the television and turn up the volume. A chess tournament. Shikamaru was taking over her room to watch a fucking chess tournament.

"Oh my God. Get out." She swiped the controller from his hand. The screen went black the instant she pressed the power button. "It's past midnight, and I've been working since eight in the morning, and I still need to shower and study and eat, and I'm tired."

By the end of her sentence, the words had become more of a whine than a rant, and Shikamaru closed his eyes and stuck a finger in his ear like he was blocking it all out. "You sure are a buzzkill."

"Imagine having a job, or going to school. Or, you know, a general responsibility to society." She jabbed a finger toward the door, making sure he got the hint. "You'd be one too."

After a long pause complete with the dead stare he usually gave her, he stood up with a sigh, moving at the approximate speed of molasses. He shuffled toward the door in his house slippers and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the waistband of his sweatpants.

"If you happen to turn that back on, let me know who wins." He stuck one in his mouth, probably hoping to tick her off one last time before leaving the room altogether.

At the click of the door closing, Sakura's entire body sagged in relief. Finally she was alone. The first order of business was to peel off her socks, then her jeans, then her shirt and ratty old bra. Then she walked across the small space in just her underwear, heating up the kettle for dinner. Tea and ramen again, it seemed. The irony of her life choices, big and small, had stopped being funny a while ago.

After dinner she took a quick shower, not quite long or hot enough to knead some of the soreness from the day out of her system. Thursdays were always her busiest day of the week, and the dog walking job didn't help anything. She had work from ten to three at the clinic, then her pathology lab from three-thirty to five-thirty, and then her job at the coffee shop from six to midnight. There was hardly enough time for her to get a proper meal in, let alone eat sometimes.

Hair still wet, pajamas half-on, she sank onto her mattress after turning off the lamp on the table beside it. It wasn't a glamorous life, nor was it an easy one, but she was sure one of these days it would pay off. Right then, though, she didn't even have the energy to care whether it did.

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The following week or so passed in the same manner, exactly as it had for over a year now. The only thing different was the addition of her newest job.

The first few days of walking the dogs were…well, they were a little challenging, if Sakura were to admit that to herself. But she was definitely not one to let a bit of frustration get in the way of doing her job properly, even if it meant going through the rest of her day with sweat-kinked hair and clothes covered in dog fur.

Each morning would start off with her letting herself into the house—still weird—to find the dogs already waiting by the door, tongues wagging out of their excited smiles. It was a nice pick-me-up when she had a day of work and class and asshole coworkers and aggravating neighbor-roommates looming over her.

She would quickly make sure they had enough food and water, which they almost always did. Their owner seemed pretty attentive for someone with eight dogs. Not to mention that his house—or at least the glimpses of it she could get in the short periods she was there—was relatively tidy, but that was probably due to how sparsely furnished it was.

Then they would walk about half a mile to the small park, where she would get a can of coffee from the vending machine before letting the dogs lead her down the tree-lined concrete path. She'd finally gotten comfortable enough to listen to music with headphones instead of the people whispering and giggling with interest as she passed. It all made for a very pleasant hour, and the dogs quickly adapted to the routine, even if Urushi and Shiba liked to stray and nip at the ankles of unsuspecting park goers.

This particular Friday, marking her seventh day on the job, was particularly wonderful. Sakura had finished her last exam of the semester and was now on a month-long spring break. An entire month without school. She relished the thought so much that she went to do her dog-walking with a burst of refreshed energy, one that required no caffeine beforehand. It was good thing, too; the nearest machine was out of her favorite coffee anyway.

In the midst of her good mood, she walked the dogs a bit further than she usually did, toward the other end of the park which was lined with a row of shops and buildings, as well as an archway that marked the entrance to a high school up the hill. She figured she'd turn around once they got to it, but no. Oh no.

Her empty stomach, void of a breakfast she'd been too rushed to eat and coffee she couldn't buy, was immediately and almost painfully aware of some delicious smell in the air—something yummy, and warm, and most likely very unhealthy. Of course the dogs were aware of it, too; they practically dragged her in its general direction. She had to yank at their leashes with all her might just to stop them from crossing the street before the signal turned green.

"Hey!" she hissed, arms straining. Even Bull was struggling against her, for crying out loud. "Pakkun!" she tried instead, hoping that if he calmed down, the rest of them would. It usually worked in her favor, but not today.

Sakura looked toward where they were trying to break free and run to, but all she saw was a van—well, it was more like a truck, painted in gray and black that was kind of hard to make out. The only thing that stood out in the mural was a big sun—or moon, maybe; she couldn't tell—as mustard yellow as the sweater she was wearing. There were also big red katakana characters painted over the top half, though she didn't have the chance to read them before the light turned green and the people beside her started walking across the street, which meant the dogs followed, and she barely caught herself from faceplanting in the middle of the crosswalk.

When they made it across the street, she went right for it, mostly because the dogs gave her little choice. It was a food truck with a line of maybe two people in front of the window—it wasn't quite lunch hour for school kids and office workers, so it wasn't busy yet. Before she could even think about it, Sakura went to stand in line, which made the dogs finally stop trying to get away. They pawed pleadingly at her denim shorts instead, scratching pink lines down her legs that she knew would leave marks.

From this close she could see the details of the truck's mural, conveniently painted on both sides. It depicted a city full of tall gray buildings, some of which were half-destroyed by a Godzilla-sized dachshund standing on its hind legs and wreaking havoc with short little arms. The yellow sun she'd noticed first was behind it, making the old-fashioned planes and skyscrapers look like silhouettes. One building was on fire. The big red characters she'd seen before went over her head for a minute, but then she sounded them out in her mind.

Holy shit, she thought, equal parts shocked and baffled. Giant Wieners. It's fucking called Giant Wieners.

"Next," a droll male voice called, and she tore her eyes away to see someone looking at her from the window counter—an old guy with a face mask on, the kind people usually only wore when they were sick. Comforting.

"Me?" she asked, eyes scanning the vicinity for any signs of a health rating. The guy simply nodded and waved his hand downward, beckoning her toward the counter.

"What can I get for you?"

Sakura was momentarily distracted by the fact that despite his shock of gray-white hair, he didn't actually look old at all. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the skin there was a bit on the pale side, but it seemed relatively smooth—no age spots; none of that translucence that came with age. What she could see of his face was a pair of dark eyes with some crow's feet, but otherwise no wrinkles. Huh.

"Oh, uh." She blinked a few times, trying to remember what he'd said. "I don't know."

He casually pointed his pen at the menu beside the window, complete with pictures of every item.

Hot dogs. Of course.

Sakura was sure that the name of the truck came not only from a shitty sense of humor, but also from the sheer multitude of toppings on each hot dog. Some had things like yakisoba or okonomiyaki toppings on them; some were more western, like the one with chili and cheese and onions on top. The best looking one was deep-fried like a corn dog but had pieces of french fries in the batter. She could almost feel her arteries preemptively protesting, but it was cheap and god damn it, she was hungry.

Bull came up beside her when she readjusted the leash handles onto her wrists, and she scratched behind his ears with one hand while pulling some loose cash out of her bag with the other. "I'll take one of the fried potato corn dog thingies."

"Excellent choice," he drawled as she handed him money. The dogs bounced up toward the counter in intervals; Urushi yapped a few times. Sakura sighed, putting on her best weary, delicate damsel smile.

"Is there any way I could get a few extra sausages too? Just plain ones, by themselves?"

"Yeah, sure." He opened the cash register, the clanking so loud she wondered if it was broken.

"How much more do I owe you?" she asked, confused when he handed back the exact amount of change she'd been expecting.

"Don't worry about it." He flapped a nonchalant hand a few times, then leaned over the counter on his elbows. "It's on the house."

This was pleasant, if a bit surprising, news to her ears. But it seemed the man had a soft spot for her companions, who started jumping and barking in excited unison when he looked down at them with a wave. His eyes creased into happy little half-moons.

"Cute dogs."

"Thanks," Sakura replied as she bent down to gingerly pat Guruko and Bisuke into submission, hoping that the other pups would follow suit—though that methodology didn't seem to be working today. "They're not mine, actually. I just walk them."

"Ah, I see." His tone suggested that he wasn't all that interested, just making conversation. "Must be a tough job."

"Nah, not really. I like them." She ran a gentle hand over the smooth curve of Uhei's back, the only still one among them. Good old Uhei, always the most diligent of the bunch. "Though I can't help but wonder why someone would willingly have this many pets. That's a job in itself."

"Hmm." He watched as Pakkun wiggled his tail around. From what she could tell, the man seemed kind of amused, even more so when he raised a peculiarly silver eyebrow at her. "Maybe he's a musher. You know, someone who does dog sledding."

Sakura laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of reverse cat lady."

"Also likely." He nodded sagely, sighing. "The world can be a cruel and unjust place. Perhaps their poor owner is just lonely."

"Or a weirdo." Akino licked at her wrist, which earned him a scratch behind the ears under the strap of his goggles. "Some kind of crazy dog hoarder."

"Now, that's just not fair." He stuck a hand over the counter, which Bull stepped forward to try and paw at. "These dogs look to me like they're from a perfectly loving home."

"Someone's a little defensive," she teased at his deceptively nonchalant tone, arching a brow at him. "I take it you have ones of your own?"

"Who, me?" The man looked up at her. "I'm allergic to dogs."

She could feel her face scrunch. "Oh. That sucks."

"Tell me about it." All of a sudden he stood back up and adjusted his apron, some ratty old black thing. "Wait there for a minute. I'll get your food."

"Okay." She moved everyone to the side, then bent down to give some belly rubs to the dogs. Pakkun still hadn't exactly warmed up to her attention, but maybe he was that way with anyone he didn't know well. The rest of them were a different story—they kept nudging her with their noses or coming to lay in front of her, paws in the air.

A few kids came up asking if they could say hey to the dogs, which she allowed with the friendlier ones (read: not Shiba, who was peeing on one of the food truck's tires). By the time they went on their way, the guy was back at the window.

"Order up." He slid two paper baskets of food toward her, which she took in either hand, leashes on her forearms.

"Thank you. And thanks for the extra stuff, too." Sakura tried not to trip when the dogs all circled around her feet, eyes on the food she was carrying, which positively glistened with fat. She was instantly glad most of it was going to them.

"No problem." He stared at her in a bored sort of way before he smiled at her again, those half-moons making their return. "See you around."

Since her hands were full, Sakura nodded once in polite acknowledgement, and then made her way down the street to find a bench where they could eat.

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"Look who's late," her boss cawed when she finally walked into the acupuncture clinic over half an hour after she was supposed to arrive. The subway was too full, so she'd taken the bus, and that never ended well. "I'm glad you finally decided to show up. It's been a madhouse around here."

Sakura threw a dead look at the empty waiting room, as well as an unoccupied Hidan sitting in her chair behind the front desk, and decided he was being sarcastic. "Yeah. I'm sure you barely made it out with your life."

"Hey, what's with the attitude?" One of his hands smoothed over his gel-slicked hair while the other flicked at the monitor of the desktop computer. "I don't even know how to turn this fucking thing on. I got a bunch of calls from people for appointments and I had to write 'em on my arm instead of punching them into the system."

"How resourceful of you." She took the arm he offered, turning it to look at the inside of his forearm. It took her a minute to spot the things he'd written down among all his other tattoos, and even then they were hardly legible. "Who is 'dusty old fucker'?"

"You know that dude who comes in here all the time? That asshole veteran with all the barbwire tats?"

"Um…are you talking about Kakuzu? Your number one customer?" How she'd made it through so many months at this job she'd never know.

"Whatever." He frowned and his arm, which she was still holding, moved to swipe a thumb near her mouth. Sakura instantly recoiled. "Geez, calm down, princess," he grumbled, staring at the pad of his thumb. "Blood?"

Of course that would be his first assumption. Her eyes rolled accordingly. "Ketchup."

Hidan was immediately offended. "You got snacks and didn't bring me any?!"

"It was my lunch." A hand went to her hip. "I wasn't aware I was supposed to be your errand girl now."

"Depends on what you're getting." He licked the ketchup off his thumb. "Fast food?"

"Yeah." She thought about leaving it at that, but then remembered exactly what she'd eaten. "Actually, you would probably get a kick out of where I went. There's this food truck called Giant Wieners—"

"Aw, fuck, I love that place!" he yelled, even clapping once for effect. "Best goddamn chili dogs on the planet."

"You know it?" It shouldn't have surprised her, but it kind of did. If that location was where the truck normally parked then it was pretty far away from the clinic.

"Hell yeah I do. The guy who owns it used to come in here all the time, so now he gives me shit for free."

"Really?" Hidan seemed proud, probably thinking that she was impressed instead of curious. "Weird. Is he as old as he looks?"

"Are you kidding me?" He slapped a hand on the desk, staring up at her with a cocked eyebrow. "He can't be older than, like, forty at the most. Dude's in insanely good shape. Even better than I am."

She ignored the lascivious twist of his mouth. "Huh. Interesting."

"I know. You wouldn't think that with all that gray hair he's got, but…yeah." His arms crossed over his chest, which was clad in his usual just-tight-enough-to-show-off purple tee. "Actually, he used to come in for some traditional sessions—"

"I'm surprised you can remember that but not someone you see four times a week," she interjected.

"Hey! I'm telling a story here!"

"Okay, okay. Go on."

Sour, he stuck his tongue out at her. "Anyway, like I was saying, he used to come in here for routine TCM. You know, low-key shit. So one day, out of the blue, he calls me up right before closing. And I'm like, 'hey man, what's up?' He tells me it's kind of an emergency, and I'm all like, what the fuck? Here's a guy who just gets tired a lot, maybe some back pain here and there, but nothing serious, y'know?"

Apparently he wanted a response, so he paused until Sakura got the message.

"Oh. Yeah, uh-huh."

"Yeah." Hidan reclined in her chair, crossing one ankle over the opposite leg, and she realized how badly she really, really wanted to sit down. "So get this. He comes in looking totally fine. Maybe kinda sweaty, but no limping or anything. He's carrying this thing in his arms. It's some animal with a leg that got all bent up. I'm like 'hold the fuck up, dude, I don't have a license for that veterinarian shit, I don't wanna get sued.'"

Good thinking on his part, for once. Sakura snorted, moving to sit where his feet had previously been resting on the table.

"And he's like 'oh, please, you gotta save this little guy. I'll do anything!'" Hidan's voice took on a theatrical note which almost made her laugh, though she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "So I made him sign one of those nondisclosure things, and he paid me in cash, and then I went to town on that thing."

"Oh no."

His hands came up to gesticulate in front of him, ignoring her. "I'm talkin' some serious medical shit here. It was this baby Rottweiler, and apparently a delivery scooter clipped it so I had to patch his tiny-ass leg up. But I worked my magic, and an hour later the thing is back to normal, and the guy is all happy, tellin' me to come by his food truck and get whatever I want, no cost. And then he and his dogs all walk out into the sunset, and I'm a motherfuckin' hero."

There was a beat of silence where he threw his hands up, smug, before Sakura finally caught up to what he'd said.

"Hold on a second." She leaned closer to him, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed. "Did you just say his dogs?"

"Aw, come on! Seriously?" he wailed. "You're not gonna say anything about what a badass I am? All that good karma I scored?"

"I'll—Whatever. I'll get to that in a minute. Just answer the question."

Hidan sighed as if the weight of the world was on his impeccably toned shoulders. "Yeah, that's what I said. The dude has dogs. Like, eight of them."

Sakura instantly recalled her encounter at the food truck. The uncontrollable excitement among the dogs. The banter about their owner. The free sausages. The cryptic little see you around thrown in at the end. They all clicked into one big, greasy, embarrassing picture.

"Oh my God," she hissed. "That asshole!"

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Chapter Text

Sakura tried not to think about it. Really, she tried. But it was so hard not to, especially when Hidan had laughed at her until her face was a ripe shade of something between lobster and tomato red.

She was never one to take failure well. And while this wasn't exactly a failure, per se, it made her feel…weird. One-upped, maybe. Her new boss, the owner of all those innocent puppies, a guy she'd basically never even met had one-hundred percent fucked with her, and that left a bad taste in her mouth—one that tasted suspiciously like hot dogs.

For the rest of that entire day, even through her night shift at the coffee shop, she couldn't shake it. Scenarios played in her head like a film reel. Perhaps she would text him and demand to know what his problem was, she thought, but that idea fell flat when she remembered that their only messages to each other were her Everything went well today! along with details of the first day's walk, and his subsequent thx with a puppy emoji and a thumbs-up.

She hadn't even texted him to find out when and where to get her paycheck, or to ask what his name was, for God's sake. There was no way she would confront him over a message. This would have to be done in person.

Visions of her stomping up to that stupid food truck and kicking a dent into the hubcap made her feel a bit better—in fact, they made her smile. But her work schedule wouldn't allow her to make a visit during the hours it would be open for lunch or dinner; and besides, she wasn't even sure the truck would be in the same place. And there was no way she could bring the dogs this time around. They'd been difficult enough to control the first time.

"Sakura," she heard someone say, and she lifted her head from where she'd been staring, likely with a lot of animosity, at the pastry display. She frowned. Those poor sponge cakes didn't deserve her wrath.

Sasuke, her most dreaded coworker, was standing beside her. Uchiha-san, she was supposed to call him since he was the shift manager, but big fuckin' whoop. Just because he looked ridiculously good in his black uniform apron and cap didn't give him the right to be a complete and total butthead.

"Yes?" She wanted to bat her lashes or twirl a piece of hair around her finger simply to get on his nerves, but refrained for the sake of her employment status. Dealing with him almost made her understand why Shikamaru always bothered the shit out of her.

Almost.

"Are you feeling alright?"

She blinked. That was probably the very last thing on Earth she expected him to ask. Sakura looked up at his face—stone cold as usual, and annoyingly handsome—and didn't see the concern, but she could have sworn she'd heard it in his question. At first blush, she was even inclined to feel oddly touched by it.

Her second instinct was to return the question. Maybe he was having a stroke.

"What's wrong? Do I look sick?"

"Not particularly."

"Oh. Okay." She tried to smile instead of scrunching her eyebrows together. It didn't really work. He just stood there, looking down at her impassively enough to make her clear her throat. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though."

"Good." Sasuke's mouth was set into a firm line. "Now that it's been established that you're able to do your job without impediments, you can get back to work instead of idly standing around."

Not a second later, Sakura felt her face flood with hot color. Before she could even formulate a response more eloquent than fuck you, he'd walked off to nitpick at other things around the café. The noticeably empty café. She glanced at her phone—it was only eight on a Friday night; they wouldn't get busy for at least another hour when people would come for dessert and coffee after dinner dates or karaoke, or other fun things she was starting to think she'd never have the time or energy to do.

At least not when she was working for a bunch of complete and utter jackasses.

"Ugh," she growled out loud, stomping over to the register.

"Got your panties in a wad?" Kankuro asked from beside the coffee press. He was leaning against the counter, texting with fast thumbs, his hat on backwards despite their uniform protocol, and somehow she was the one getting chastised. "'Cuz I happen to be an expert in untangling women's underwear."

"Do you think there's a way to set people on fire just by looking at them?" she asked in lieu of acknowledging his usual nastiness. Her fingernails tapped on the counter one by one as she glared across the room at Sasuke, who was taking his sweet time pushing stray chairs back under tables, readjusting the framed wall art.

"Dunno," her other least-favorite coworker snickered. "But it looks like you might spontaneously combust before you figure it out."

"I'm surprised you know what that means," she retorted, careful not to say that Kankuro had impressed her in any way. Not even jokingly. The last time she gave him a backhanded compliment saying that no, come on, he wasn't that ugly, he'd taken it as flirting and tried to ask her out for no less than a month—a very long, annoying, and slightly depressing month, because there was no way the pickings were that slim. Japan was only small in a geographic sense.

"You're not the only one studying science and hypotenuses and shit." A grin spread over his wide mouth. "This about Mr. High-and-Mighty over there?"

"Are you just asking so you can talk about how much you wish you were him?" She busied herself with refilling the whipped cream canisters and checking to see if their chargers were full enough. "Because if that's the case, save your energy for something more productive. Like cleaning toilets."

"Hey now." In her periphery Sakura noticed him dropping his phone into the front pocket of his apron. Which meant he was actually interested in the conversation. Not usually a good thing. "Did you ever stop to think that I'm just looking out for you? My favorite fellow employee?"

She didn't have to look to know that he was flashing what he seemed to think was a winning smile, one that was half serious and half full of crap. Instead she tightly screwed a steel lid onto the dispenser and moved on to another. "I stopped buying that once you took pictures of me bending over to pick up a straw. And then set them as your phone background."

Kankuro snickered. "Hey, love might be blind, but that doesn't mean I am."

All she could manage was a rather exaggerated roll of her eyes. "What time did you say your shift ended again?"

"Same as yours." He slid down the counter to come and stand closer, leaning in with a casually conspiratorial bend to his shoulders. "Which gives us plenty of time to return to the issue at hand."

"Which is…?"

"Sasuke."

This time Sakura did glance at Kankuro, his backwards hat and brown hair, his plain but masculine face and cheshire-cat smile, and she sighed deeply. "Can't I just hate him in peace? I already have to deal with you as it is."

"Come on. I know you're dying to beat his ass. Just go wild on him one time and I won't bother you again."

"Yeah, you won't, because I'll be fired." She put the carton of cream back in the fridge, knocking the door shut with her hip. "Why don't you do it? You seem like you could use an outlet for all that sexual frustration."

"First of all, fuck you. But," he started after a second of consideration, "one reason is that he would probably win, and I don't need a broken nose—it looks bad enough already. And reason two," he continued, holding up the same number of fingers in front of her, "is that it would be, like, five thousand times hotter if you did it."

She smacked his hand away and walked past him. "If you think that's hot, just wait until I ignore you for the next four hours."

Kankuro stood where she left him, pulling his phone out of his pocket with a mild frown. "You know, I like you a lot better when you're PMSing."

That one made her stop. "What?"

He shrugged, tapping away at his phone's keyboard. "You're way more fun when you get hormonal."

Thankfully for him, a group of customers walked in at that very moment, so she didn't have the chance to turn around and clock him in that ugly nose to show him just how fun she could be.

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"Do you think it's too early to get my tubes tied?"

Shizune nearly choked on her beer, eyes wide. "Where'd that come from?"

Sakura pushed her bangs back from her forehead, likely sending the short pieces into a stiff frenzy. "I'm trying to ensure that I never procreate. Not with a man, at least."

With no subtle amount of unease, Shizune put her glass down, which clinked as it tapped the edges of some serving plates. "You're not dating someone, are you?"

"No, thank God." She shoved a piece of chicken karaage in her mouth, chewed it, and washed it down with some of her own beer. It was hard not to be in a pissy mood today—between Sasuke and Kankuro last night, the absence of the dog's owner this morning, and Shikamaru stealing the rest of her strawberry daifuku and sanity, she wasn't sure she could deal with another guy unless it meant knocking his teeth out. Meeting her cousin at the izakaya down the street from her apartment had been an excellent idea. Two beers in and she was already feeling a little better.

"Hmm." Sakura could hear the quiet, relieved chuckle from across the table. "You're not missing out on anything. Trust me. Men are the worst, and they do not get better with age."

"I know." And she did, not just from her own experiences. Shizune's romantic life was not for the faint of heart—and her sex life, with what details she'd gathered from her cousin's half-past-tipsy rants, was monumentally awful. Unfortunately the guys all kept coming back, too, texting her and trying mostly unsuccessfully to woo her into on-again-off-again relationships. Sakura couldn't blame them, really. They knew a good thing when they saw one. Shizune was a catch: pretty, caring, and always put-together.

"You-know-who is still calling me, by the way. I'd block his number, but I don't know if it's worth the effort."

A pink eyebrow raised toward her hairline as she watched Shizune work on an edamame pod. "Don't you even start on that."

"What?" she asked, clearly knowing the answer and already curling in on herself.

"Last time you said the same thing," Sakura said, pointing her chopsticks accusingly, "and then you took him back for two months where all you did was complain about him falling asleep on you after you had sex. And then he made out with that girl at your office Christmas party—the one you invited him to!"

"I remember," Shizune grumbled, stuffing another pod past her lips. "But cut me some slack here. It's hard not to get lonely, you know?" Her voice took on a whiny quality, lips puckered from salt. "Especially when the only guys that want to be with you are total shitbags."

"That is not even true, Shizune. You just…stick with what's familiar. Maybe it's time to branch out."

Though it came out more as a question than a piece of advice, Shizune took the bait, perking up noticeably. "I know; you're right. I just—ugh."

"Come on. Time to block that dumb fucker's number." Sakura made grabby hands across the table, into which Shizune hesitantly placed her phone. "I swear, just from doing this, you'll feel about fifty times better. All your bills will get paid on time and your skin will be clearer than ever. Or something."

"I'll drink to that." Both of them raised their glasses, only to find them a centimeter or two away from empty, and they looked at each other with wide, wicked grins.

"Two bottles of sake, please!" they called simultaneously to the lady behind the counter, then downed the last of their beers.

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"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

One curse for each second she spent sliding on shorts beneath her pajama t-shirt. One for each stair up the subway station exit. One for each block on the way to the dog house. Despite having a three hour window to walk them, Sakura was late. Not to mention one thousand million percent hungover.

She silently rejoiced at the fact that there was no car—or obscene food truck, as the case was—when she arrived at the foot of the driveway. While she'd wanted to rip the owner a new one for making her feel like an idiot, she didn't want him to think her anything less than punctual or good at the job he'd hired her for. Considering how little she remembered from last night, she'd probably humiliated herself enough for a good long while.

The second she approached the door, she frantically tried the knob, then remembered she had to actually unlock it first. She reached into the side pocket of her purse where she usually kept the key, only to find it empty.

Her stomach dropped. Shit.

The rest of her bag was void of any key but her spare apartment key. In her haste, she hadn't even brought her goddamned key ring with her. The pockets of her shorts were empty too. Shit!

A hand flew down the collar of her t-shirt to see if maybe she'd thought to throw it in her bra—it was possible, after all—and that was when the door swung open.

One hand down her shirt and beneath her boob, Sakura looked up to find a man standing in the doorway before her. The food truck guy. The dogs' owner.

Shit indeed.

"Um," she said plainly, blinking at him with wide eyes.

"'Um' yourself," the man replied, his eyelids crinkling amiably. Curiously enough, he was still wearing one of those medical masks, even in his own house. The dogs calmly stood at his feet looking at her with equally smiley expressions. Well, except for Pakkun, who never looked happy, and Urushi, who was kind of a dick anyway.

"I'm—um…" She finally removed her hand from her bra, letting it flop down to her side and hide behind her back. "I forgot my key."

"So I figured." His voice wasn't condescending, but she still felt her face heat up in shame. "Want to come in?"

"Sure," came the automatic response. It was less out of politeness and more out of a need to sit down. Panicked sprinting and hangovers weren't exactly a good combination, especially not when embarrassment made its way into the mix.

Sakura followed him inside, where she immediately smelled food. Something was cooking—it was a rare experience in her own household, but a welcome one now, even if her stomach rolled a little at the scent of melted butter. As the man walked in front of her, she noticed he was holding a spatula, one that Guruko and Bisuke were taking turns attempting to jump up and lick.

They went to the kitchen, which was as plain an affair as the other days she'd seen it: white walls, big shiny black refrigerator, wooden countertops, big deep sink. There was a breakfast bar which separated it from the remarkably empty living room, as well as a wood-topped island in the middle. It was a large, clean space with high ceilings, open to the second floor, but there was little to no decoration save for a peppering of indoor plants throughout.

He took his place at the stove where something sizzled away in a skillet, so Sakura decided to park herself at one of the stools behind the bar.

"Hungry?" With a flick of his wrist, he flipped something that looked like a grilled cheese, then pushed it around with the spatula before heading to the fridge.

"I'm fine, thank you." Her stomach curled again at the thought of melted cheese. No thanks and goodbye. She looked up from where she'd momentarily cradled her head in her palms to find him placing a bottle of sports drink in front of her.

"You look like you could use a frog in the hole, if you ask me."

Sakura blinked at the bored expression in his dark eyes, then sputtered out an "Excuse me?"

"You—have you never heard of a frog in the hole?" From what she could see, he was genuinely perplexed. His head even cocked a little to the side like his dogs were prone to do. "Toast with an egg in the middle?"

"Oh." Her face flushed even more. She was really on a roll here with this whole show-him-who's-boss deal. The man didn't wait for her to say anything else; he walked toward the cabinet to grab a plate. The contents of the skillet—a frog in the hole; surprise, surprise—slid easily onto its surface.

He put the plate in front of her along with a fork, smiling with his eyes. "Best hangover cure I've found yet."

God damnit. The nail in the coffin. There was no way she looked that bad.

"What," she mumbled irritatedly, staring at the perfectly-browned bread in front of her, "chili dogs aren't on the menu today?"

"'Fraid not," he answered without missing a beat. "Truck's in the shop."

Ah, so that was why he was home on a Sunday. She'd figured it was just because she was past the noon curfew.

"I guess it's a good thing you were here." Fork in hand, she poked at the salted egg yolk to find it perfectly soft and runny. Her lips pressed together, not sure if she was hungry or repulsed in her current state. "I can't believe I forgot my key. I can promise you that never happens."

"Don't worry about it." He waved a dismissive hand at her as he swirled a new pat of butter around the pan. "I was surprised you came in the first place."

"I'm never late, either," she said, reaching for the sports drink with a tense hand. The bottle was nice and cold under her fingers; the drink was cool and crisp on her tongue and throat. "Today's just…weird."

"Mm." She watched as he used a drinking glass to make a hole in the bread, then tossed the slice and its middle into the pan. Even for a simple thing, he did each step with such skilled ease. He reached for an egg in the open carton just as her phone buzzed in her purse.

You're out of potato sticks. And bananas, read the text from Shikamaru.

She was tempted to turn off the screen and shove the phone back in its rightful place, but then she saw in the top corner that there were other unread messages. The first was from Shizune, some keyboard smash she'd clearly butt-typed in the taxi home last night, and the second was from Giant Dickwad—something Sakura had so cleverly riffed off the name of the man's business.

u dont have 2 walk pups this a.m. c u wednesday

The text was punctuated by emojis of a dog and a waving hand. Her own hand reached up to smack her steadily aching forehead.

"Aspirin's in the cabinet by the fridge," the guy drawled, sprinkling salt and pepper into the pan.

"I literally just saw your text."

"Oh." She thought he might be smiling beneath the mask. "I was wondering when you'd read it."

Her next sip went down with a scowl. "You know, I'm starting to think that you really get off on messing with people."

"Now, what gave you that idea?" His voice was deep, borderline monotone, and he didn't so much as spare her a glance as he poked around at his toast. It all pissed her off even more, her anger from stewing in embarrassment the last two days now back at full throttle.

"Well, first of all, you lied to me about not owning dogs." Perhaps she was overstepping her boundaries, but he didn't seem too concerned with maintaining a standard boss-employee relationship.

"I didn't say I don't own dogs." He flicked his wrist again, flipping the piece of bread expertly. "I just said I was allergic."

"How am I supposed to believe that when you have eight dogs?" About half of them were scurrying around the kitchen, either trying to get some of her food or some of his. "Not one or two. Eight."

"Ah, you can count. I knew I hired you for a reason."

Sakura had to pinch the bridge of her nose to keep from marching over there and smacking the crap out of him.

"Cabinet by the fridge."

Murmuring sharp words under her breath, she leapt off the stool, socks gliding over the flooring as she stomped over to said cabinet, and yanked it open to find a clear bottle of white aspirin tablets she was starting to desperately need.

As well as two entire shelves full of antihistamines, nasal sprays, and even prednisone, for fuck's sake. No wonder he wore that stupid mask. She felt her eyebrow twitching when she turned to glare at him.

He wasn't even paying attention.

"Okay, you win that round." Sakura's arms crossed over her chest. "But I still don't get it. Why didn't you just tell me who you were when you saw me at the truck?"

"Well," he began in a light tone, pulling another fork from a cup on the counter, "you may not know this, but I'm a very famous man. I need to protect my privacy." He grinned at her again, seemingly innocuous.

"You're ridiculous."

"Maybe." He turned off the stove and stabbed his fork into the center circle of toast. "But most people just call me Kakashi."

Sakura was going to respond with some snarky comment about his parents' shitty sense of humor—because really, who named their kid after a scarecrow, and he definitely looked like one with his patchy black sweater and stained jeans and messy old man hair—but then he pulled down his mask to take a bite of his toast, and oh boy.

Oh man.

He may have looked like a scarecrow, but he was superbly attractive. Not in the conventional way—there was a sleepiness to his half-open eyes, a lazy curve to his mouth, a little bit of crookedness to his bottom teeth—but…whoa. Sakura suddenly felt herself beginning to swoon.

Kakashi raised a casually expectant eyebrow at her.

"Oh, uh." She struggled to collect herself for a solid moment. "I'm Sakura," she finally managed.

"I know," he said. "I was asking if you were finished eating."

"Uh, no?" She was distracted by the way his jaw moved, tried to remind herself that she was mad at him for pulling her leg. "I didn't really eat anything."

"Well, once you're done, come out back." Kakashi whistled, calling the dogs to his side, and walked toward the sliding glass door in the living room, breakfast in hand. "I've got something for you."

Suspicious and thoroughly intrigued, not to mention hoping it was her paycheck, Sakura popped a couple aspirin in her mouth and followed him to the backyard, food neglected on the countertop.

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"Alright." Water rushed over her feet, cool between her toes. "You win again. This is definitely a…surprise."

"I'm full of those, or so I'm told," he practically hummed, lathering up suds in Shiba's wet fur.

Sakura narrowed her eyes, tossing the haphazardly-folded towel from hand to hand. She couldn't quite argue with that. "I didn't say it was a good one."

"Well, I'm full of those too." Bull nudged at his back, earning him a soapy pat between the ears before Kakashi returned to his current efforts. "But for the record, I did give you the easy job."

"How generous of you."

"I could say the same for you, offering to help this poor old…what was it you said? Reverse cat lady?"

She couldn't resist a snort at his monotonous attempt at a sing-songy tone. Or the fact that her participation in this little activity had been his idea first.

"I only agreed because I was curious."

"Hm." He grabbed the hose off the porch, taking it from the puddle it was creating on the concrete surface, and sprayed it on an overeager Shiba. A few of the other dogs tried to join in, too, but Kakashi just tutted at them until they reluctantly stood in the sidelines.

"You're not going to ask what I'm curious about?" Sakura teased, testing the waters. She was interested in what this guy was about, sure, and she knew how to get the answers she was looking for—just not what to expect from them.

"You seem like a pretty direct person. Figured I'd save the effort and wait for you to tell me." He whistled once, sharply. "Shiba." Then he pointed at Sakura, and the dog dutifully sprinted over, shaking himself free of about a gallon of water.

"Thanks, asshole," she practically growled at the dog. She didn't really care that it had gotten on her clothes, but her eyes were a different story. She kind of needed those. Shiba squirmed around none the wiser while she dried him off. "Okay then, first things first: why do you have so many dogs?"

Kakashi didn't say anything for a few seconds; he was too busy trying to get Akino near the water. "Come on, buddy." He even crouched down, patting the ground, and after a minute Akino finally came to him. In the meantime, Shiba had dashed away from Sakura, going to lounge by the big fan Kakashi had set up in the corner of the porch.

He poured a different kind of shampoo onto Akino's back, one that smelled vaguely medicinal. This time he used much slower, easier motions, and the dog relaxed a little.

"Hmm," he continued with the utmost nonchalance, "I just like dogs."

When he didn't elaborate, Sakura just stood there while Bull came to lick at her bare feet. "That's it?"

Kakashi shrugged. Apparently that was it.

"…If you say so." She tucked half-damp hair behind her ears. She could feel how bad it would look once it dried. "What about the food truck, then? That has to have a better story behind it."

"What makes you say that?" he asked, sounding no less than completely disinterested.

"I dunno. It just seems like a pretty important life decision to me. Did you just wake up one morning like 'Oh, huh, I think I'm going to run a food truck'?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Sakura watched as he carefully rinsed off Akino's belly. She could feel her curiosity mounting the same way it did when she was learning something frustrating during labs. "Did you go to culinary school?"

He moved on to the dog's back, letting the soapy water drip down and soak into the floor. "Nope."

"Did you even go to college?" she blurted before she could stop herself. Fortunately for her, he didn't seem to care that she'd asked.

"Yeah."

She narrowed her eyes. "What'd you major in? Shitty conversationalism?"

"Close." At that, she could have sworn she got a smile out of him—but since he'd hardly looked her way since she got outside, she couldn't be sure. "Actually, I got a degree in, uh…what do you call it, uh…"

Sakura waited—kind of impatiently, of course—for him to remember, but who the hell forgot what they majored in?

"Oh. Yeah. Astrophysics."

And if he hadn't surprised her before, he had now.

"Astrophysics," she repeated as if he'd just told her his dogs were sentient balloon animals.

"Mhmm." Kakashi patted a thoroughly rinsed Akino on the butt, directing him toward Sakura. "Careful with him. Just lightly pat him dry."

"You've got to be shitting me."

"Mah, give him a break. He's a sensitive young man. The heat's making his eczema act up." Kakashi simply tapped the ground again, summoning Uhei to stand in the puddle before him. The hose was still running, sending water down the porch and onto Sakura's feet, even after she'd moved to dry Akino off.

"Um, I was talking about the astrophysics." She kind of forgot to keep drying, which meant the dog decided to go ahead and take his rightful place in front of the standing fan. Even from where she was, the fan blew steadily on her legs, cutting through the heat and humidity effortlessly. "You don't really expect me to believe that."

"You don't have to," he said with a shrug, "but it's true."

She stood there until he finally looked at her, dark eyes flat but a little weary. Then he sighed beneath his mask. In a speed that rivaled Shikamaru, Kakashi stood from his crouch, glancing down at Uhei with a sleepy expression.

"Stay," he gently commanded before walking toward a few plastic buckets at the side of the porch, ones full of random things like dog toys, hammers, folded up tarp, old grocery bags. Sakura recalled her original worry from her first day of work—Yamato may not have been a murderer, but Kakashi was a lot stranger, and with all that stuff over there easily within reach…

A dog toy squeaked, and her knees twitched. He rummaged through for long enough that she almost asked what the hell he was doing—but then he procured a piece of paper from the bottom of a dusty pail, letting some old rags and napkins fall onto the ground. He smoothed the crumpled page out against his jeans and proceeded to send it over to her like a frisbee.

Sakura barely caught it, thankfully managing to before it sailed straight to the wet ground. It was a thick kind of paper, the nice kind, even if it was wrinkled to high hell—but the text on it was in English, which took her a second to process, especially since it was in such elaborate font.

"Massa…chussetts…" she sounded out, trying to remember where she'd heard that before. And then it clicked. "Is this…you graduated from fucking MIT?!"

Kakashi went back to washing Uhei like he'd never stopped in the first place. "They normally don't put the 'fucking' in front of it, but yeah."

There was no way. There was literally no way this weirdo hot dog vendor, this oddball dog collector with a business called Giant Wieners, graduated from one of the best schools in the world. One which required him to be an actual genius. Almost on instinct alone, Sakura slung the towel onto the back of a porch chair, then dashed back inside the house to grab her phone from her purse.

The diploma sat on the counter while she opened the internet app. She looked at it to read his full name—Kakashi Hatake, which in Japanese would be Hatake Kakashi, unless Kakashi was his family name…whatever. Since there was likely nobody else with that ridiculous name, any combination would surely bring up the results she was looking for.

It took maybe two seconds to load. The search hatake kakashi mit graduate procured a list of members in his graduating class, about fifteen years earlier—so astoundingly enough, he wasn't making the whole thing up.

But it also brought up a whole other list of articles, ones which came from worldwide news sources.

MIT Student Takes Huge Steps Toward Fusion Technology.

Japanese College Student Discovers Exciting New Prospects for Rocket Engineering.

Student's Theory for Fusion Engines Launches New Age for NASA.

Sakura clicked on one link to find an article full of diagrams of different rockets, followed by huge blocks of texts she could only skim through. Quantum physics…high-density plasma…toroid…containment time…newly patented technology…as theorized by Hatake Kakashi. She stopped there, finding a picture of an expressionless guy with black hair and equally shadowed circles beneath his eyes, though devastatingly good-looking despite his lack of enthusiasm. It was Kakashi, alright—though she wondered when his hair had gone gray, if he was only...hmm. Fifteen years...thirty-seven, maybe?

Not that it was important at the moment, because what the fuck.

"Sakura," Kakashi called through the open door. "You're letting all my cold air out."

"Uh, I think you can afford it, Mr. Big Shot." She went outside anyway, abandoning the lovely indoors for the sticky summer weather again. "Seriously, what the hell are you?"

This particularly amused him—she even heard him chuckle over the sound of the dogs panting, the hose running, and a loud passing car at the front of the house.

"Glad to know I've been reduced to a 'what,' not a 'who.'"

"No, really," she whined, sliding the door closed and stomping over to show him the article. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh, yeah." He chuckled again, dark eyes flitting over the screen. "I think I remember that."

"…You think you remember inventing something for NASA?" She could feel her shirt clinging to her, uncomfortably so, which did nothing to help her ever-mounting frustration. Something was entertaining him and she had the distinct feeling it was her.

"Sure I do. I meant getting that picture taken."

Sakura frowned at his eye smile. "Oh."

"Anyway, it wasn't for them, technically." A slightly sudsy Uhei licked Kakashi on the cheek, right above the top of his mask. "My professor told me to get my designs patented, so I did. And then NASA bought them from me."

"So…what? You're an international prodigy who…who grew up to be some kind of phallus-obsessed food vendor?" Somehow this was all true, but she could hardly even begin to reconcile the man sitting in front of her with someone brilliant enough to do literal rocket science.

"What's wrong with phalluses?" he asked as if reading her thoughts—and if she wasn't mistaken, there was an oddly flirtatious note to it that earned him a push to his shoulder. It would have been far more satisfying if it'd actually set him off balance, but for some reason that wasn't bothering her as much as it normally would have.

"I—ugh."

"Look," he said with evident humor, casually setting down the hose now that Uhei was thoroughly rinsed. "If you help me get these dogs clean, I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Sakura considered this, a hand on her hip, a foot tapping a slow beat in a shallow puddle.

"Deal."

She sauntered over to grab her towel, satisfied because he'd finally agreed to talk, more easily than she would have expected, and she was looking forward to getting a peek behind this curtain.

But as she was swiftly learning with Kakashi, her dignity was thwarted in one fell swoop: not even two seconds after she'd turned around, she found herself completely doused in cold water—her hair, her back, her ass, her clothes, her legs and feet, everything was soaked, and it shocked her so much that she couldn't help but shriek out loud.

"What—" She whipped around, water dripping into her eyes and running far too quickly into her bra and underwear. "What was that for?!"

Her accusation was directed straight at Kakashi, but he wasn't looking at her—instead he was staring owl-eyed at Urushi, who was standing there with the hose in his mouth, water spraying with more force on the side where his teeth dug into the cord.

"Uh," declared Kakashi, scratching at the back of his head as his attention swiveled to her. "Looks like we're gonna need another towel."

.

.

.

This might've been the quickest a guy had ever gotten Sakura wet and out of her clothes, she thought with a derisive snort. Too bad it was only leading to her changing into dry ones.

Kakashi had ushered her up to his room to change and then left her to her own devices, which made her wonder how he treated his usual female guests. Then she reminded herself that she wasn't a female guest, no matter how tempting a concept that was starting to become; she was simply a girl who worked for him, one who had somehow been roped into…sort of…hanging out.

To say today was weird would be an understatement. She'd expected things to go more smoothly in her favor, of course, and she hadn't expected Kakashi to be this odd. Good odd, somehow. The kind of odd that was complex enough to intrigue her. And she certainly hadn't expected that despite how totally fucking impossible it was to squeeze a word out of him, not to mention how much he obviously enjoyed getting on her nerves, she actually didn't hate being around him. Yet.

She considered this as she carefully rummaged through his drawers, finding a large gray t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts with a drawstring. They smelled nice, clean from a crisply scented detergent, and thankfully lacked the faint smell of canine that had soaked into all his other belongings. The clothes drowned her, even though they threatened to stick to her cold, still-damp skin, but that probably wasn't a bad thing given her current lack of undergarments.

God. One of these days she'd get back at that little shit of a dog.

She closed the drawer, surprisingly neat among an equally tidy room; like the rest of the house it was quite minimally decorated. There was a decently sized bed against one wall, the comforter some well-loved quilt folded haphazardly at the foot of the mattress. As with the downstairs living area there were several house plants residing in plain pots, some of which were chipped or cracked in oddly charming ways. The lamps were all mismatched, the curtains were too feminine against the rest of the room, and the only other decorations were stacks of books and a few picture frames on the tables' surfaces.

"Ooh," she cooed to herself, tiptoeing closer to the pictures situated above the dresser, resisting the urge to straighten them where they hung crookedly.

There were several pictures of dogs, which she soon realized to be of the eight he had now when they were puppies. All of them were happy little moments, she could tell; the dogs were wagging their tongues happily or gazing into the camera with sweet eyes. Sakura would never admit how much that made her heart clench and subsequently swell, not when Urushi's was arguably the most precious picture of all.

Passing by a questionable, flashy-looking stack of novels beside the dresser, Sakura went straight for the infinitely more interesting picture by the bedside, picking up the simple silver frame and wiping off dust with the hem of her borrowed shirt.

In the picture a man and woman stood together with a baby held between them, one she could only presume was Kakashi, especially when she took in the handsome features of the father and the crooked, welcoming smile of the mother. Baby Kakashi was adorable, too, but the sight was rather unremarkable compared to what she'd seen during their impromptu psuedo-brunch earlier.

Then there was another picture on the nightstand that she grabbed without even thinking, one of three people in what looked like the backseat of a car. The first person was a dark haired guy, asleep with his head in the lap of the girl in the middle. She was pretty—like, breathtakingly pretty, the kind of beautiful that belonged in fairy tale movies more than real life—with chocolate brown hair and large eyes. Her hand was placed affectionately against the sleeping one's cheek, but her head rested against the shoulder of the man on the other side of her, another dark haired guy, undeniably attractive with a cigarette dangling between his teeth.

Kakashi.

She took in the way his hair was more of a dark gray here than the black she'd seen in the news article, how his arm rested closely behind the woman's head, how they both looked out the window in the exact same direction, how her cheek rested against his chest. It looked like something out of an editorial. Sakura's eyebrow raised toward her hairline as she absorbed all the details, then dropped when she felt a peculiar little whirl somewhere beneath her ribs.

Shit.

"Nice picture, huh?"

Double shit. She nearly dropped the frame at the sound of Kakashi's voice behind her.

"Did it ever occur to you to knock?"

He shrugged, an action she felt more than saw. "Figured you'd be decent by now."

When he reached over her shoulder to pluck the picture from her hand, she felt his chest brush against her back. Oh, man. Hello. And Hidan had said he was in immaculate shape. Interesting.

"What kind of questions might you have about this, I wonder?" His voice was low near her ear and it did strange things to her insides, lighting them up in ways that instantly had her remembering she wasn't wearing any underwear. Oh man, oh man, oh man.

She turned around to face him, arms crossed, as if that would prevent her thoughts from derailing and landing in her mouth. "You don't still smoke, do you? 'Cause with those allergies, you'd pretty much be suffocating yourself."

"Eh, sometimes. Don't really keep track." His eyes were off to the side, staring at the frame in his hand. "One of my friends smokes like a chimney, so I occasionally nab one if the mood strikes."

Sakura snorted at his phrasing. "Which friend? One of those two?"

She watched for any telltale changes in his expression, pretending like she wasn't looking for something specific and pretending like she didn't already know he was the most subtle person on planet Earth. But there was nothing there to lend even a clue.

"Not them. Too good."

Damnit. She wanted to pry so, so badly, but something about the photo and his stance told her she shouldn't. "Is it that guy Yamato?"

"Nope," Kakashi said flatly, though judging by his expression the question had amused him. "Not Yamato. He's too…old-fashioned."

The vision of Yamato's cargo shorts and sandals came to mind, and she laughed. "I kind of got that impression, actually."

"Really now?" He finally looked at her, and okay, he was really close, almost too close when he faced her fully, and he didn't even seem to realize it. She blinked. "I'll tell him you said so."

"Okay," she half-breathed, and then scrambled to collect herself. "I—wait, no, don't do that. He was nice to me, which says a lot considering how much of your crap he probably puts up with."

"I'm flattered." His head cocked to the side just slightly, sleepy eyes staring down at her. "Is that your impression of me?"

Surely he was messing with her. He'd been doing it all afternoon, for God's sake, and she wasn't about to give in. Nor would she acknowledge how hot and fizzy she was getting from his proximity, or how she kind of wished she could peel his mask off with her eyes alone, or how the way he smelled, all clean from face wash and grassy and warm, was dangerously close to turning her on.

She cleared her throat in the most dignified way possible. "Whatever. I'm gonna go put my stuff in the dryer." And then, just to be the polite and gracious guest-slash-employee she was: "Anything you want me to throw in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Kakashi mumbled, and then everything went south. Literally.

It wasn't just the fact that he leaned against her when he replaced the picture frame on the nightstand, or that his arm brushed against hers for a good second. It wasn't just that he removed his sweater right in front of her or that he wore a more fitted t-shirt underneath it, one that stuck to him at the waist and made her die a little on the inside. It wasn't just that when his arms stretched to remove that old-ass sweater, his shirt revealed more than she'd bargained for, further proving Hidan's testimony.

It was more to do with the slightly shy way took off the stupid thing, how he attempted to fold it kinda-sorta when he handed it to her. And it probably had the most to do with his face mask pulling off with it, swaying from one ear like the white flag her brain was currently waving at her ovaries.

He glanced up at her questioningly, probably wondering why she was standing there like an idiot.

And that was when she launched at him.

Her mouth landed on his in a nanosecond; her hands ran up his shoulders and neck and into his hair like it was the last thing she'd ever do. For a few seconds, it felt good—his mouth was soft and hot, and his hair was wonderfully silky thick between her fingers—but then everything fell flat when she realized he wasn't really kissing back.

She leaned backward, loosening her death grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, praying the heat in her hips and stomach and chest wouldn't make its way to her face.

Oh my god. What the hell was she doing?!

Kakashi blinked down at her, and for a second all she could think was that yes, finally she'd gotten a reaction out of him, even if it was the most embarrassing thing to happen to her all day—or week, or year, or maybe even century. 

"Sakura?" he asked, his voice a little strangled, eyes wide.

"Um…" Sakura bit her lip, likely in a similar state. "That was…an accident."

"Oh." It was his turn to clear his throat now. She could feel tension radiating from his spine and filling the inch between them. "Uh, did you…do you want to…do it on purpose?"

"Maybe?" she practically panted, feeling her chest break out in a tremendous wave of goosebumps. "Okay, yeah. I think I do."

He stood there for a moment, and she threw herself at him again, this time finding his mouth ready and pliant against hers, his hands running into her hair and over the shirt of his she was wearing. She did the same to him, pulling at his hair hard enough to draw a sound from the back of his throat that she felt in her knees. It wasn't long before her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her legs coiled around his waist, and then she went at him like a dog in heat, and she couldn't even begin to keep track of what they were doing to each other.

By the time they fell onto the bed, her straddling him and both of them gasping for air, it was safe to say there was no thinking left to do at all.

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Chapter Text

"One more piece of popcorn in my bra and I'm cutting your balls off."

Shikamaru gave Sakura a displeased grimace, considering this, before tossing another half-popped kernel over her v-neck collar and into her cleavage. She just stared at him while sucking at the inside of her cheeks. She could get in, oh, maybe four punches before someone called security.

"Sakura, don't," Ino commanded from between them, reaching with exquisitely manicured fingers to pluck each piece from her shirt. "I've been waiting to see this movie for months, and you two are not going to ruin it for me."

"Tell that to him," Sakura grumbled, letting Ino shove the crumbled popcorn into her mouth to angrily snack on. "He started it with his weird little game of basketboob."

"Okay, yeah, seriously," Ino challenged, suddenly switching gears, "why her boobs? Mine are at least two full cup sizes bigger."

"Let me remind you that the last time I got food within five inches of your clothes, you cut all of my sweatpants into short-shorts."

"Good point." Ino poked his cheek, which was funny because he hated when she did that. "Best Christmas present I ever gave." The teenagers in the row behind them started cracking up at his expense, which made Ino's peachy pink lips curve right into a satisfied grin.

She and Shikamaru continued their back-and-forth all throughout the commercials and the first few previews, wherein Sakura's mind wandered back to where it had been since Sunday…

And then another piece of popcorn landed on her boob.

"I'm going to fucking murder you," she said, making sure Shikamaru heard her, then turned around to the kids behind them. "Did you guys hear that? I want everyone to know I did it."

Ino took one look at their wide, slightly terrified eyes, as well as the other people in the theater who had turned to look on, and started snorting in a very unpretty way. Shikamaru, as usual, looked completely unfazed.

"Quit spacing out," he said plainly. "You never do that. It's freaking me out."

"I was watching the previews!" Sakura insisted, praying the low light of the theater wouldn't give away the shades of pink surely evident on her cheeks. Someone from a few rows up shushed them but she was defending herself, damnit, and that was more important than some shitty trailer for another shitty zombie movie.

"Yeah, alright." He slowly chewed a mouthful of red licorice. "How are you gonna explain the last few days though?"

"I—" Sakura tried not to huff out loud. "I was busy with work."

Ino turned on her now, a shapely brow arched to perfection.

"You're not overworking yourself, are you?" she asked with that pressuring I'm gonna tell your mommy voice, the one that Sakura despised because it made her feel like she was around her aunt Tsunade, the woman who kind of was her mom—the woman who, if she got even a whiff of this conversation, would kick Sakura's ass into next year. Despite the fact that she didn't exactly lead one herself, Tsunade preached a balanced lifestyle, especially when hard work was at the forefront.

"No, I'm not." Sakura glared at Shikamaru. That fucker knew what he was doing getting Ino involved—he'd get whatever information he wanted without doing any of the work. There was no way he was getting anything out of Sakura now.

"You say that," he continued with the utmost blasé attitude, "but you only kicked me out of your place one time this week."

"So? Maybe I was in a good mood." It was weak, she knew, but entirely possible.

"You let me borrow your socks and eat all your watermelon popsicles without complaining."

Someone shushed them again, but Sakura had stopped caring by now. "Weren't those expired?"

"Seriously, Sakura," Ino interrupted in a half-whisper, arms crossed over her chest. "Are you working too much? That's gonna ruin your skin, you know."

"Yeah, and the rest of your body," Shikamaru said, only leveling Sakura with a dry stare when she opened her mouth to stop him. "When you came home on Sunday, you were on your hands and knees, climbing up the stairs because you couldn't walk."

Her entire upper body went red hot. Ino smacked her on the arm, apparently completely scandalized.

"Is it that rude motherfucker? Sasuke? Is he scheduling you too much? Because I'll have a word with him."

She scoffed, voice nearly an octave higher than before. "You just want to fuck him."

"Yes, I do," Ino sighed dreamily, and Sakura mentally patted herself on the back. Deflecting was always a good strategy. "He's gay as hell, though, so I only have half a chance."

"Wait, what? How do you know that?" Sakura was about to question her judgment even further—and what did half mean?—when Shikamaru entered the conversation again.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," he mused around another mouthful of candy, "but you haven't worked any night this week, and you came home two hours earlier than usual on Sunday."

"Sounds like someone's nosy, lazy ass is home too much for their own good," Sakura mocked, leaning over Ino to get in his face a little. "You know, I think this is the most I've ever heard you talk."

But Ino shoved her back by the shoulder, glaring incredulously. "Holy shit, Sakura, did you get fired?"

"No," she growled, trying not to scream for the sake of the ten bucks she'd dropped on this movie ticket. "But I love that that's your first assumption."

Ino ignored the eye roll she was so generously being served. "Then what the hell?"

"I, uh, have the week off." It was pretty much true, anyway, considering her schedule—or lack thereof. Since she hadn't shown up Sunday and had barely managed to get an emergency fill-in in her stead, Sasuke was punishing her by not scheduling her until the following weekend. If she hadn't been so diligent and punctual until now, he probably would have fired her without any sort of notice. Prick.

"Why? That's so random."

Sakura stuffed a humongous handful of gummy worms into her mouth. "Uh…fuh ftore iff….clofed."

"Not true, bitch. I went there yesterday for a skinny vanilla latte!"

This time, a grand total of three people shushed them. The theater was darkening, the lights dimming quickly, and the screen was void of anything for a good few seconds.

"The movie's starting," Sakura dodged, settling into her seat and attempting to swallow her candy in safe increments.

"Oh, nuh-uh, no ma'am. You are not escaping that easily." Ino glared at her, accenting the wing in her eyeliner. "First of all, why aren't you working there this week? You never take time off. You didn't even come on my birthday ski trip in Hokkaido—even though I offered to pay for it, I might add—because you were working."

"I had finals the next week," Sakura whispered back defensively.

"Irrelevant right now. Answer the question."

"I—ugh! I got busy Sunday, and I missed, so my boss didn't schedule me this week, okay?" The opening credits of the movie, all stylized English, were swishing and glittering across the screen; some dark, romantic piece of the score began to play, and she felt the pressure of wrapping up the conversation. Part of it was her not wanting Ino and Shikamaru to know what she'd been doing on Sunday—she was still having trouble accepting it herself—and another part of it was wanting to watch the goddamn movie. Ino wasn't the only one who loved crappy vampire love stories.

"What the fuck? You missed work?" Ino's voice was threatening to go above a whisper. Sakura coiled in on herself. "Did you…I mean, like, did you get robbed or something? Or get shanked? Is that why you couldn't walk?"

At least her instinct was to assume it wasn't actually Sakura's fault. That had to say something positive, at least. "Ino, stop. I'll tell you after the movie."

"Oh, come on, just say it. Then we can shut up and watch." Her hands were on Sakura's arm, pulling it back and forth in pleading motions.

"Oh my God," Sakura hissed. "I was helping my boss. The guy whose dogs I walk. I lost track of time. The end."

"You 'lost track of time'?" Ino asked with a skeptical laugh. "What the hell does that mean? It makes it sound like you hooked up with him or something."

When Sakura, who was scrambling to gather another excuse, didn't immediately deny it, Ino gasped hard enough to pop a lung.

"You did not," she stated, awed, like Sakura had won the lottery or found the cure for cancer. "Oh my God, I was kidding! You dirty bitch!"

This time Sakura shushed her. "Can we talk about this later?!"

"You had sex with your boss!" she squealed, singing the words at what seemed like the top of her lungs. "Oh, this is one for the books. Shikamaru, please tell me you're hearing this. Sakura fucked her boss."

"Uh-huh, I'm hearing it," he said, and Sakura leaned forward to glare daggers at his smug face. Which was strangely visible in the dark. And had a really bright backlight. She glanced up to find a shadowed figure standing at the end of the aisle, flashlight in hand, silver name tag gleaming in the half-brightness.

"So is everyone else in this theater," the theater guy mumbled, unamused. The movie was still playing, the female lead walking through a forest with lots of breathy sound effects. "I'm gonna have to ask you three to be quiet, or to leave."

Ino leaned forward to grab her purse, then tossed Sakura hers, before dragging her and Shikamaru up by the wrists. He groaned in protest, looking like a ragdoll as he got to his feet.

"We'll see ourselves out," Ino declared. "We have more important things to do." Then she let go of Shikamaru to blow a kiss at the guy when she moved toward the stairs in the aisle.

"Sorry," Sakura apologized to the disgruntled man as she was whisked away, but the apology was aimed more at herself than anyone. It was about to be a long night.

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.

.

After bullying Ino into buying Sakura a rather exorbitant gift card for the pizza chain down the street as payback, as well as two pizzas up front, the three of them went back to her apartment to eat them with pasta and wine and to hear her regale them with the fascinating tale of how she managed to jump her boss.

As much as Sakura didn't want to admit it, it felt good to talk about it. The whole thing was so confusing, so out of the blue, and she'd done it so impulsively that she wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

It wasn't as if she hadn't enjoyed the whole experience—no, she'd thoroughly enjoyed it. The first time alone had practically sent her into the twelfth dimension. Then the next several rounds had been equally unreal, enough so that she'd had asked Kakashi what the fuck they taught astrophysics majors. He'd just laughed in that cryptic little way of his, said that it was in fact she who was doing most of the work, and kissed her on the corner of her mouth, which…God. Even thinking about it sent her all aflutter.

It was all so unbelievably good that she wondered why she'd dashed out at the first signs of him falling asleep. She'd been the one to initiate the whole thing, to keep it going for more than a few hours, and then she left as quickly as she'd started it. At first she thought she might have been terrified by the fact that she could possibly have a bit of a crush on him, which was stupid. But what was more worrisome was that he was her boss, for God's sake. He was paying her more for a week than she got at the coffee shop for two. She needed that money so, so badly, and she'd done a swell job of setting herself up for disaster after formally meeting him once.

Once.

"So?" Ino threw her slice of mushroom and spinach onto her plate with a perfunctory flourish. The decorative lantern in the corner made her hair and eyes look orange and a little fiery, which would have been kind of scary if she weren't so pretty. "You might have started it, but you're consenting adults. And clearly he liked it."

"Well," Sakura managed to respond, biting her lip with a bit of secret pride. Ino definitely noticed.

"And you like him, right? So own it."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have to worry about getting a steady income." She knew Ino wouldn't take offense to it. The Yamanakas were old money, and as much as her dad pretended not to, he spoiled the shit out of Ino, who was his only child. She'd recently gotten back from a three-week trip to California, one which likely had little to do with alleged 'job opportunities' and more to do with shopping and music festivals and American guys.

"True. But you slept with him. Not just once, either. You really can't do any more damage than that."

"Ugh." Sakura had to force herself not to faceplant into the pizza on her coffee table. "Why do I do this? The one job I actually enjoy, with a boss I can actually tolerate, and I fuck it up by being a total dumbass."

"Oh, honey, please. I would have done the same thing," Ino said with a mischievous smirk. "If he's as hot and, uh…titillating as you say he is, anyone would have, I'm sure."

Sakura blushed openly. It wasn't even that he was hot, honestly. Even though he really was. She'd only known him for a day and she liked him better than ninety percent of the people she'd met since Ino her freshman year of high school. And okay, sure, he was intriguing—older, smart, sarcastic, animal lover…and if she thought about it, the money he was theoretically hiding from that NASA patent didn't hurt either.

But it was more than that, and she knew it. Maybe it was just a day of delusion talking, or a strange head cold, or maybe she'd been possessed by a succubus. In any case, talking to Kakashi and sleeping with him was the probably the most fun she'd had in a very long while. There was this…feeling she had around him—she hardly knew anything about him, but felt like she'd known him for years, and he was so sleepy and sexy and frustrating to talk to and sort of shy and a hell of a big spoon in bed and oh God, okay, maybe she did have a crush on him. A very, very tiny one that she could easily nip in the bud before it got out of hand.

"He probably does that with every young girl he hires," Shikamaru chimed in from the bean bag chair he was draped over, eyes on the television where some bizarre historical anime was currently playing. She didn't remember getting that channel before. "That's the problem with older men. They lure you guys in when you least suspect it and make you think it was your doing."

"Nice try, but that doesn't make me want to seduce your dad any less," Sakura retorted, gnawing on a piece of alfredo-covered chicken. She really needed some vegetables one of these days. "And anyway, this guy doesn't seem like the type. He's weird, but not, like…creepy."

Ino was eyeing her funnily now. "Have you talked to him since then?"

"No." She shoved her short bangs off her forehead, ignoring the judgmental look she was likely receiving.

"Sakura!" Ino smacked her arm, chastising her for being terrible at one-night stands. Or one-day stands, in this case. "It's Thursday! He probably thinks you died or something!"

She recalled the way she'd literally collapsed out of the taxi she took home, how Hidan had had to make a house call just to help her stand up properly.

"Uh, I kind of did."

"Not what I mean, you big slut. You need to call him. Or at least text him."

"Okay, but, like…he knows I'm alive, at least." Sakura shifted around, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands. "I've walked his dogs for the last two days. And yesterday I forgot to put the water glass I used in his sink."

"Yeah, because that's such a good indicator of anything." She rolled her eyes and took a big gulp of wine. "If you're really worried about your job, you should at least shoot him a what's-up text. At the very least, he'll appreciate it—and if he's as nice a dude as you seem to think he is, he'll show you some mercy." Her lips curved into that signature up-to-no-good smirk after a moment of thinking. "Even more so if you were good in bed."

The tips of Sakura's ears burned without her permission. "This is so stupid."

"Yeah, just a little," Shikamaru drawled with his eyes on the television. She hurled a chunk of pizza crust at him which he caught and ate with surprising grace.

"Don't you and your hand have date with your dick this evening?" Ino batted her lashes, chock full of sugary sweetness.

"Already on it," he replied with his mouth full, and then they both threw pizza at him. Ino's slice hit his face with the tiniest smacking noise that instantly made Sakura snort.

"Nasty ass."

Ino had another laugh at Shikamaru's expense and took a sip of wine, but she wasted no time returning to the point.

"You need to talk to him, Sakura," she said. "I get that you're embarrassed, and maybe in some distant realm of the universe you should be. But you and I both know that Tsunade didn't raise a pussy."

Sakura considered all of this, taking in her oversized sweater and Hello Kitty pajama pants, her untamable fluff of bubblegum hair, the pouty set to her mouth, and realized she looked like the child—or pussy, as Ino had so eloquently put it—that she was starting to feel like. That wouldn't do. It was time to own up to her actions, even if it meant looking like more of a dumbass than she already did. She exhaled deeply, heavily.

"I hate when you're right." She raised her glass toward Ino, who subsequently clinked it with her own and smiled as victoriously and effortlessly as ever.

"I know you do."

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Hi, Kakashi. I was

Backspace.

Hi, this is Sakura. I wanted

Backspace.

Hey. Your dogs are doing well but that's not why I'm texting

Backspace.

Good evening, sir. It's your dog walker with the bomb-ass p

Instant backspace, preferably before finishing and accidentally pressing 'send.'

It's Sakura. Just wanted to apologize for my apparently uncontrollable sexual urges. Hope I didn't traumatize you into firing me.

Backspace, this time with a sigh.

I know it's been like four days since I even thought to contact you after something so bizarrely Not Me, but can we do that again?

Delete, delete, delete.

"Ugh." Sakura threw her phone down on the mattress beside her with a clumsy hand. "Ughhhhh. Why is this so hard." She'd been laying in the dark for an hour trying to formulate something to send Kakashi, but nothing seemed quite right. Unfortunately, Google wasn't very helpful in the way of how-tos for apologizing to your boss after fucking him, running away, and ultimately making everything ten thousand times more awkward than it ever had to be.

Suddenly she heard the unmistakable sound of a message sending.

Sakura's breath caught painfully in her windpipe, making her stomach convulse, and she picked up the phone with a careful hand. No, no, no, no…

In her haste to get the thing away from her, her phone had betrayed her—maybe it had been her fingers, or her pillow, or even just the forces of evil themselves, but they'd managed to type and send Kakashi two simple emojis: the sparkle one followed by a fried shrimp. She sighed so hard it almost hurt, hating that her first thought was thank God it wasn't the eggplant.

"Okay." She sucked in a steadying breath. "Okay. This is fine."

Perhaps he wouldn't see the message, she thought with a warped, relieved sort of smile, nodding to herself. And if he did, he'd probably disregard it because it was silly and meaningless. And if he did regard it, it would probably be with a question mark and only a question mark, one which would likely encompass his feelings on the entire situation, and she could disregard his message until she had her own thoughts and feelings on the entire situation together, and—

Her phone buzzed softly in her hand. Biting her entire lower lip and part of her chin, she lifted the screen into view once more, only to see that Kakashi had responded.

It hadn't even been two minutes since her text. A giddy thought occurred to her—he could be sitting in his own dark bedroom, getting ready to sleep, texting her with a really weird smile on his face. He could have been waiting to hear from her. What an idea. Sakura had to refrain from slapping herself as her grin slowly, hesitantly grew wider.

But then it rapidly disappeared when she tried to decipher his text.

Kakashi had sent her a little emoji combo of his own: the salsa-dancing woman followed by the poodle, followed by a peace sign. Hmm.

Woman…dog…peace sign.

Huh. Sakura was a woman. And she walked his dogs.

"Oh God," she groaned under her breath, mashing her entire face into a pillow. Was he peace-outing her? Like, actually firing her? "Fuck. Fuck."

Or, she thought, grasping desperately for an alternative—maybe he was making some kind of innuendo. That seemed likely. He was a man, for one, and he made a lot of wiener jokes, and he had all those porny-looking books in his room, and they'd had sex. Again: likely. So the woman and dog meant the woman who walked his dogs, meaning Sakura, and then the peace sign…fingers? Did he…did he want to…finger her?

Her face went hot in an instant. How she wished Ino were still here and not across town, dead asleep from residual jet lag. She thought about calling her and facing the wrath that came with interrupting her beauty sleep, but there was no way she would answer. Apparently this was one Sakura would have to conquer alone, even if her mind was pulling her in approximately twelve different directions.

She had no idea what she expected out of him or what she herself truly wanted out of this entire ordeal. The gross, gooey part of her was telling her to flirt with him, to call him, to let him know how much she'd enjoyed Sunday, to find out if he liked it as much as she had, then see if it all led to the perfect movie ending with a cliched pop song and some scenic view. The horny bitch in her was also telling her to flirt with him, to see if he wanted to go another few rounds without worrying about her employment status.

The logical side of her, however—which usually happened to be the dominant one—cared more right now about keeping her job.

She quickly decided to send back a clap emoji with the prayer hands, hoping to emulate a pleasepleasepleasepleaseIcanexplain vibe no matter his intentions. Then she waited for the telltale ellipses bubble that would show he was typing something back.

She didn't have to wait much longer. It appeared no more than thirty seconds later. The animated way the thing moved sent her heart into the base of her throat, even more so when the message came through.

It was all emojis again: saxophone, dancing ghost, top hat, sunglasses.

"O…kay." Sakura stared at the message for a while. The strangeness she'd originally witnessed with Kakashi—basically everything he'd said and done before her lady parts gave her rose-colored glasses—started to trickle toward the front of her mind, and she realized the text probably wasn't meant to make sense.

That, or he was messing with her. She narrowed her eyes at that dumb ghost emoji, its tongue out all happy and cute. Then she made the executive decision to send Kakashi back a side-eyeing face, a hot dog, and a knife. Surely that would be unambiguous. The thought made her smile despite the insane grip her teeth had on her bottom lip.

Her room was nearly silent and dark as she awaited Kakashi's response; the only light came from the faint glow of her alarm clock, set to wake up in time to walk the dogs, and from the dim white halo of her phone screen. The only sounds were her air conditioner, which was running on a setting not much cooler than the temperature outside, and her heartbeat, which she could feel in her collarbones and hear against her pillow. All of this nonsense had her feeling like she was waiting for Christmas morning.

She gasped when he responded a minute later, smiling unabashedly. "This is fucking ridiculous."

He'd sent her a kissy face, the one with the heart on it. What a tart, she thought, retreating into her pillow and trying to imagine Kakashi sending her a fucking kissy face. He was probably reclining on his bed, wearing some patchy old clothes, smirking with that lopsided humor of his. She told herself the mental image was not attractive or adorable in any way.

Because it was late and her inhibitions were lower, she also told herself, and not because she was enjoying the gratification of getting him to respond so quickly, she sent him a non-emoji message.

Wyd

Simple and to the point, and definitely something Ino would wring her neck for. She would say that it was the type of thing a guy would send, not coy or playful or enticing in any way. But Sakura had proven herself to be rather direct, and Kakashi, for whatever reason, seemed to bring out her impulsive side.

She'd just started to recall a few of the, uh…finer details from Sunday when her phone buzzed again.

had 2 google that.

Sakura laughed a bit, air escaping her nose in a funny little rhythm, before another text came through:

food prep 4 2moro…wyd?

She barely even thought about what she was typing before sending one back.

Sleep prep for tonight. Lol. Got any frogs in holes?

It was stupid. She regretted it the second it sent, even if it did make her toes curl in anticipation of what he might respond with. Her covers suddenly felt too warm and heavy so she discarded them around her knees and rolled onto her stomach, letting her feet kick slowly and aimlessly through the air.

not 2nite sadly. if u want 1 u'll have 2 come by truck :)

The butterflies in her stomach chose that moment to whirl into a frenzy. She could almost hear Kakashi saying it, that subtle flirty note creeping in near the end of the sentence.

Darn, she typed, tamping down a dopey giggle. I was hoping to enjoy one in the comfort of your home. She stopped, thinking that was being too forward, and then decided to add I've been wondering if they taste better without the hangover.

It still felt somewhat forward, but whatever. As Ino had pointed out, she couldn't do much worse than she'd already done. She had to force herself not to chew on the tips of her fingernails while she waited.

would b happy 2 enlighten u, he replied soon after. just name the time

So he was putting the ball in her court. Despite the fact that it could be a subtle nod to her fleeing on Sunday, she chose to see it as a positive thing. Especially since he was inviting her back to his house in the first place. And he clearly, maybe, he could tell she was the type who liked to name the time.

She was formulating a response in her head, had her thumbs poised to write it, but was promptly stopped by something popping up on her screen.

Shizune was calling. After ten o'clock at night.

Unless the two of them were together, Shizune was hardly ever awake at this time. The phone vibrated hard against Sakura's palm, startling her a bit as she stared at the contact photo, the ringtone blaring in the silence. She swiped immediately to answer it.

"Are you okay?"

"Sakura-chan," Shizune nearly sobbed into the phone, immediately bringing Sakura up to a crouch, limbs locked as if ready to pounce. She could hear loud noises in the background—maybe it was people or music or both, but it was loud. "Remember how, um…remember when I blocked you-know-who's number?"

Oh no. Sakura stood up fully now, a bit disoriented in the darkness of her room. "Where are you? Is he there?"

"Um…yeah…" She sounded vaguely out of breath; Sakura assumed she was on the verge of tears. "Can you come here? I'm at that bar near the subway station—"

Sakura was already out the door, keys and purse in hand and Shikamaru's house slippers halfway on her feet. "Do not move, Shizune." Her feet thwacked hard against the stairs, then the pavement as she dashed down the road, avoiding trashcans and scooters like an Olympian clearing hurdles. "Do not move. Don't look at him, don't touch him, don't even think about his stupid ass. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Well…okay." Shizune sighed into the phone. "I'm sorry."

"What?" She herself was starting to sound out of breath. With no help from the dim lamps on her street, the night was dark, and she barely managed not to step on a broken bottle that had rolled out of someone's garbage. "Don't be sorry. It's not your fault." She was almost to the main road now—she could see the taillights of cars and the sign from the convenience store on the corner—and then it would be another minute and a half before she got to the subway.

"Yeah, it is."

Great. Sakura nearly growled under her breath, though she refused to slow her pace. "Just—don't move. Alright?" She promptly ended the call, shoving her phone into her bag and continuing toward the street ahead of her.

"I hate men," she grumbled to herself, her feet leadening into stomps as they braved the concrete through the thin soles of her slippers. It would have been nice to have boots or even flip flops at the moment, she thought with a lamenting sigh of an exhale, but a situation like this called for urgency and nothing else—except maybe a little adrenaline and pure, unbridled rage.

This ex of Shizune's had caused so much trouble for the both of them at this point that Sakura was feeling less inclined to hold onto that particular quality. Her cousin's fault or not, the guy was a piece of shit, and a black eye or concussion would be all too easily and happily given. Sakura's knuckles cracked where they held her bag's strap as she sprinted around the corner, then dashed past a group of businessmen on their way home and a weary-looking waitress smoking outside a cafe.

"Urgh." Sakura just knew that fucker had stirred some shit up and made Shizune think she'd started it. It was just like whatever pervy old men Shikamaru was talking about before. "Stupid fucking asshole. I hate men." The wind blew her bangs off her face and was cool against her face, which was flushed more from anger than exertion. She sucked in a great breath, stopped at the crosswalk when she realized the light was red, and then couldn't hold it in anymore, so she didn't. "I HATE MEN!"

Except Kakashi, her mind whispered with a conspiratorial poke at her frontal lobe. Then, with a bit more of her true, stubborn-as-shit inner self involved, she thought: Maybe.

The light turned green, and all other thoughts fell to the wayside—as did the few fearful men who'd been waiting near her.

"Girl, me too!" the waitress called, and even though Sakura took off sprinting, she managed a wave of solidarity above her head all the way across the street.

.

.

.

"Right there?"

"Mmm. Yeah. Wait, no—down a little—yeah."

"Hn. Watch this."

"Oh. Oh hell yes." Deep sigh. "Is there any way you can do it harder than that?"

"Yeah, if you want me to break your leg."

"Go for it."

"If you say so."

"I do—oh my—fuuuuck."

"Quit moaning and shit or I'll stick a needle in your ass cheek."

Sakura let her head loll back onto the face cushion of Hidan's work bench. She could feel all of his silver rings pinching her skin as he massaged the back of her leg, but she couldn't possibly have cared less. For all the other things he lacked, the dude knew his shit when it came to therapy—of the physical variety, at least.

"Feel that?" He flicked the back of her knee where her hamstring was—or where it used to be before it had unraveled and transcended toward a heavenly plane of existence. "I'm the master of loosening that shit up."

"I'm not gonna argue with that," she breathed, trying not to fall asleep on the table. "I don't think I've ever been this relaxed in my entire life."

"Yeah, that's not sayin' a lot. You're kind of a tightass."

Sakura snorted. The sound of his footprints leaving the room was accentuated by the soles of his heavy combat boots. "Not anymore, thanks to you."

"No offense, princess, but that's not something I can work on. That's a kink you gotta work out on your own time." She heard his keys jingle. If he started trying to juggle them and broke another vase…she shivered, remembering the stitches she'd had to give him on this very table. The ones he'd requested to have without anesthetic because 'pain was a good thing.' She promptly slid off the table, adjusting the skirt of her dress, trying not to pout from the loss of her brief nirvana.

"Speaking of time," she half-sang, gliding into the waiting room and hoping to distract him from his whims, "thanks for helping me out the last few days. I was surprised that you cared about my wellbeing enough to literally get me back on my feet."

"I actually don't care, so don't worry about it." Hidan grinned pridefully, twirling his key ring around his middle finger. "You can pay me back with lunch. And a beer or something. I've been bored as shit since you went all space cadet this week."

She chose not to acknowledge that last part. "I'm not buying you alcohol when you still have two appointments left this afternoon."

His tongue poked out between his teeth. She wondered briefly if it was pierced—he'd never stuck his whole tongue out before. Maybe that was a good thing.

"See what I mean? Tightass."

Sakura rolled her eyes hard enough to threaten a headache. "And here I thought you didn't want to get sued."

"Whatever." He ran a hand through his gelled hair, pushing it off the elaborate tattoo on his neck. "Tightass."

Her old, flat sneaker tapped against the floor five separate times before she realized he wasn't going to stop thinking it was funny.

"Are we eating or not?"

A twinkle came to Hidan's russet-brown stare, which worried Sakura.

"Yeah," he said. "I know just the place."

.

.

.

When they came up to it around fifteen minutes later—after a terrifying ride through town on his motorcycle, no less, and an equally terrifying parking job in some sketchy garage a few blocks down—Sakura promptly turned from the crowd waiting for the light to change and stormed away. Why she ever tried to deal with Hidan, especially outside of work, was a mystery to her.

"What's wrong with here?" he called from his vantage point over the heads of people who weren't super tall and muscular like him, knowing exactly what the fuck was wrong with it.

"I literally hate you," she yelled back, brows low and cross over her eyes. "I hope your hot dog gives you diarrhea so you can't acupuncture your way out of suffering."

People were staring as they walked past. Most were laughing. Hidan was positively cackling. Sakura didn't care.

"Hey, spitfire, come back here!" He leaned against the light post with his typical haughty posture as she turned to keep moving away. "There are other restaurants around here, you know!"

"Then pick one!" She whirled around, accidentally body-checking an innocent woman. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry."

The woman told her it was fine and went on her merry way, but Sakura could barely hear so much over the sound of Hidan's wicked laughter. Fuck, she hated men.

Her eyes drifted across the road to where the Giant Wieners truck was situated so unassumingly against the sidewalk, a rather long line of all kinds of people trailing in front of the buildings where it was parked. Kakashi was in there. She felt her fingers twitch, flexing her palms.

"Can we just—go?" She finally took it upon herself to march over to Hidan and physically drag him down their side of the block. Away from the truck. It felt weirdly similar to trying to get Bull to move in the direction she wanted, though Bull was infinitely sweeter than Hidan. "I want healthy food anyway, not…street stuff."

His arm reached over her shoulder to point somewhere not far ahead. "There's a vegetarian place. D'you think they have alcohol?"

"They better," she mumbled under her breath, which only made Hidan laugh again.

It wasn't until she'd calmed down, had a beer in her boss's stead, and was deep in her bowl of daikon and carrot salad that he dared to broach the elephant in the room.

"So," he began, chopsticks poised like he was about to play a game of Operation.

"No." Sakura ate a decent portion of the tofu from her soup.

"Don't I have a right to know?" His voice was a squawk in the calm interior of the restaurant. She could hear the metal of his rings tapping against the table's glass surface. "I'm basically the only reason you can walk right now!"

"This is true. But the pain today was worse than the other days, and it happened for an entirely unrelated reason."

She went about rearranging the shreds of nori over the rice in her bowl and only looked at him when he remained silent, finding a highly expectant, almost childlike expression on his face.

"Which is…?" Tap, tap, tap.

"I kind of, um...roundhouse kicked my cousin's ex into a brick wall." Calmly, she ate another delicate spoonful of silken tofu. It was smooth and mild on her tongue, a refreshing change from all the greasy junk and coffee she'd been ingesting over the last few weeks. Er, months. She cleared her throat. "I think I pulled the muscle because it was a double kick."

Hidan was still as stone across from her, the unusual color of his eyes and their unyielding stare making her fidget in her seat.

"What?"

"I can't tell if my current boner is from being a little scared of you or from being impressed."

Sakura scowled, specifically at the word current. "For your sake, it better be neither."

He smirked in his devilish way, shoving an entire piece of inarizushi into his mouth with his fingers. "What'd the fucker do? Not that your wrath is hard to earn."

Her scowl deepened. She crossed her arms over her chest, spoon resting against her chin. "He did stuff he wasn't supposed to. The end." On the list of Things She Really Didn't Want to Talk About, this ranked higher than anything else. In every possible respect, last night hadn't gone in quite the direction she'd been hoping.

"Fair enough." He continued to chew his food, partly with an open mouth, which was gross. "Tell me about the Giant Wieners dude, then."

She tried to ignore how her heart leapt into her throat. "Fine." She touched the spoon to her chin a few times, wondering where to start and trying not to think about why she was telling any of this to Hidan in the first place. "Well…let's just say his dogs aren't the reason I called you to my house on Sunday."

Hidan clapped. "Hah! Knew it."

"...Did you."

"No, but whatever." Despite the fact that he still had rice in his mouth, he shoved another whole tofu packet in there. "So what was it? You beat the shit out of him?"

"No," she sighed, too exasperated to dance around it anymore. "I had sex with him."

"Well, shit." It was kind of hard to understand what he'd said with a full mouth. "No wonder."

"No wonder?" Their server stepped forward to refill her water. "Thank you."

The server smiled politely, retreating before Hidan could ask for a third round of the dish he'd ordered.

"No wonder you couldn't move!" His hand smacked the table, rattling the plates. "I told you the dude's in fucking awesome shape." His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned salaciously. Sakura prayed it was only to get mushroom pieces off his gums. "And I mean…knowing your temper and the bangin' muscular condition your legs are in, I bet you could fucking murder someone in the sack."

"I'm going to take mercy on you this once and stop you there." She'd offer to give him a double roundhouse kick, but knowing him it would definitely backfire on her.

"Yeah, yeah." He finally swallowed his food. "Tightass."

"You're paying for lunch." She punctuated her command with a big bite of fresh, crisp salad and another spoonful of soup.

"Okay, tightass." He dipped a finger into the sauce on his plate and swirled it around. "Keep going."

"Hold on. Ugh." A bit of broth dripped onto the lap of her dress, though thankfully on the dark part of the black-and-white plaid. She dabbed the spot with her napkin anyway. "Anyway, I don't know what else you want to know. It's not that interesting."

"Lies," Hidan practically sang. He wasn't wrong. "First things first: is his wiener giant?"

Sakura put her utensils down and just stared at him. She wasn't expecting him to relent, of course, but when he started crossing his eyes, she couldn't hold her expression very well and had to hold back a laugh instead. "Next question."

"Daaamn." Hidan sucked the soy sauce off his pinkie finger, then held it up by his face. "That small?"

As much as she tried not to, she blushed. Ridiculous. She was in school to be a medical professional. "God. No. It's, um…above average." She tucked her hair behind her ears, smoothing her bangs back in the same direction. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Don't get all demure on me now, princess. I want all the deets."

"What are you, fourteen? And why do you want to know so much?"

"'Cause I know this guy." He shrugged, his broad shoulders stretching his too-fitted shirt across his chest. She could see the words castigo corpus meum peeking out from the underside of his forearm, tattooed over the tanned skin in some bold gothic font. "And 'cause it's funny."

"You're so weird."

He dipped his fingers back in sauce—she'd have to remind him to wash his hands before those appointments later on. "Tell me something I don't know. Like the dirt on this dude. Just start from the beginning."

"Oh my God, okay." Sakura sighed. "Well…after the first time I met him—you know, at his truck…I dunno." She raked her fingernails over the skin behind her ear. "I went over there later than I was supposed to, and he was there because his truck was in the shop, and we started talking, and he got me to help him wash his dogs. And then my clothes got all wet, so he told me to change into some of his…and then…I don't really know what came over me. I just pounced on him, and he went with it."

"Waiwaiwait. So you're telling me that you started it? Not him?"

She just bit her lip, unsure of everything all over again, and nodded. Hidan whistled loud enough to alert the whole restaurant.

"Damn. I'm impressed."

A snort left her nose at light speed. "I'm not sure that's a positive thing."

"If it sounds like a porno, then it's probably a good thing." Hidan leaned closer, thoroughly intrigued. "So then what?"

"I left. That's when you came to my house." She sighed again, far more sharply this time. "I don't know. I'm so tired of talking and thinking about it." Her hands scrubbed over her eyes—thankfully she hadn't put on makeup, she remembered at the last second—and then smoothed hard over her hair. "I just want—ugh. I don't even know what I want."

He nodded, eyebrows converging in an exaggerated expression of sage wisdom. "Women are powerless to good dick."

"Ugh," she groaned, fully regretting that she'd started talking about all of this again. She needed Ino, not Hidan, for crying out loud. "I don't know what to do."

"Did you quit?" he asked, arms still crossed contemplatively across his chest. As contemplatively as he was capable of, at least.

"No." She sat up straight, realizing that she'd been slouching. "I really, really need the money that I'm supposed to make from the dogwalking, so I was waiting to see if he fired me first."

"Well shit, bitch, have you even talked to him?" Hidan scoffed, even when Sakura glared daggers at him.

"Here." She dug her phone out from her purse, unlocked it, and chucked it across the table, feeling a little satisfied when it thumped him in the nose. "See for yourself, asshole."

Hidan held it like it was a time bomb, pinching the sides of the phone with his fingertips, all the while sporting a pinched brow.

"Right. I forgot you're allergic to technology," Sakura deadpanned, snatching it back and finding the thread of messages between her and Kakashi. "Take it." When Hidan hesitated, she rolled her eyes and literally put the phone in his hand. For someone so unbelievably brash and devil-may-care, he sure picked the dumbest things to get weird about.

At first she didn't really give a crap about what his thoughts were on the situation. But as he read, his expression went from curious to confused, then amused with raised eyebrows and a smirk; then it crunched back into confusion, and she definitely wanted to know why.

"What?"

"Why'd you text him back this morning instead of last night?" His thumb swiped up and down the screen. "Did you fall asleep or something?"

"Oh." Sakura relaxed a bit. "That's when I had to go and kick that guy in the face."

"Emergency situation, huh? What are you, Catwoman?" He flashed his teeth at her, wiggling his eyebrows at the same time, and she moved to snatch her phone back. "No! Quit! I'm lookin' at something!"

"Then hurry up and look!" She sank back in her seat with an irritated pout.

"Fine!" He looked back to the screen, concentrating hard. "I mean…I dunno, dude. It looks like you're just a pretty shitty texter."

"What? No I'm not. I still texted him back!"

"Yeah, but like…" The big ring on his middle finger tapped against the table in an offbeat, distracted way. "You're kind of a dick, I guess."

Sakura bristled, sitting upright once more. "You guess? What does that mean?"

"Well, for starters, you can't flirt for shit."

Her face flushed more than it needed to. "I—fine. I can take that. But—"

"And you didn't treat this dude right. Look at this." One purple-painted nail pointed at her screen. "Homie gives you an opening for some nookie, or even just to hang out, and you pretty much ignore him. Then," he continued when she tried to interrupt him, "shh. Then the next thing you hit him with is a text, the next morning, asking if you can pick up your paycheck."

"What's so bad about that?" Sakura could feel a pinch in her chest. Damnit. She should have just waited for Ino. She knew better by now.

"That's cold as hell! What the fuck!" Their server whipped around to face them from several feet away, clearly alarmed. Sakura apologized with a frantic wave. "C'mon. You can't tell me you didn't know that was a dick move."

"I didn't!" she hissed. She really hadn't, and now that feeling she hated was creeping back into her bones—the one she hated so much but was experiencing more lately than she ever had. Embarrassment. "I just thought it might be convenient for the both of us. He could finally pay me, and if he wanted to fire me, he could tell me while I was there…"

Hidan was dumbfounded. "Seriously?! This guy was not gonna frickin' fire you, kid. Look at those little cartoon thingies." He flicked her phone screen where the dancing ghost text sat so innocuously. "Those things are basically an invitation to get nasty delivered on a goddamn silver platter. Or just to keep talking, even. And he literally invited you to do shit with him, but you didn't respond except to get paid. You probably, like, hurt his feelings or some shit."

She blinked, stomach dropping at his words.

"Hurt his feelings?" The image of Kakashi, so incredibly blasé and relaxed, even in the throes of whatever happened on Sunday, came to mind. "I don't know, Hidan. He didn't seem that worried about it." She thought about it for another few seconds. "And he didn't text me all week. Not until I accidentally sent him something. To me, that pretty much screams 'not worried about it.'"

"You didn't text him either, and look at you, tightass." Hidan threw his hands up, nearly smacking a passing customer in the side. "Just sayin'."

Unfortunately, he was onto something. Sakura had been thinking about it all week, day in and day out, only taking enough breaks to come up for air. Despite taking very un-Sakura measures to try and avoid the consequences, she'd been secretly wondering if he was thinking about it too, what he thought about the whole thing. And about her.

She glanced at the text conversation, pushing hair off her face as she read. The emojis were like hieroglyphics she could no longer make sense of. After Kakashi's just name the time text, she'd had to go find Shizune and stay with her most of the night. It wasn't until Sakura had woken up to walk the dogs that she remembered the unanswered message. In the haze of lingering sleepiness, she'd thought that asking to come pick up her paycheck was a good idea: again, he could fire her if he wanted to, and if he didn't, she could at least properly apologize to him for Sunday.

And if neither of those happened…well, she didn't let herself think that far.

Can I come get my paycheck today? she'd asked almost twelve hours after his text.

sure, he'd responded about twenty minutes later. b back after 4

Only now was Sakura realizing that there were no emojis, none of the playfulness that had been there last night. Maybe she really had offended him.

Honestly, she thought, rationalizing, he could've been busy with work when he sent the text. Or maybe he'd forgotten to send a thumbs-up or a puppy or a kissy face or…or whatever it was he did. But her gut was telling her otherwise, and now she felt like the worst person in the world.

"Awesome," she mumbled. "This is just awesome."

Hidan was finishing off her food when she looked up, tattooed fingers practically shoveling the salad into his mouth. "Dude, go talk to him. He's literally right down the street."

"No," she immediately protested. "I'm already going to talk to him later. He's working."

"True." Hidan shrugged, twisting his mouth into a strange frown. "Plus, you gotta come back to the clinic anyway. I think the credit card machine's acting fucky."

"I'm guessing you forgot to turn it on again." She exhaled heavily, grabbing her purse and standing up. "Go ahead and get the check. I'll wait outside."

"Aye aye, captain," Hidan replied around a mouthful of food, saluting her with his chopsticks and flinging rice across the floor of the restaurant. By then, Sakura was already on her way out the door.

Her dress billowed in the warm spring air when she stepped outside; the restaurant's wind chimes tinkled softly above her head as a breeze passed, one that brushed her neck and lifted her hair upward. It smelled like gasoline and grease, the fast food kind. She stared down the street in the direction the wind was coming from, seeing that yellow truck and its big red katakana stick out like a sore thumb among plain buildings and passing cars.

Her heart beat hard at the sight. Maybe she wasn't going over there to speak to Kakashi now, but she was going to talk with him. And when she did, she would figure this mess out once and for all.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

"No."

She threw her cherry-patterned shirt on the bed, finding it ever-so-slightly too suggestive in the current situation.

"No."

Then went the tea-length skirt Shizune gave her for Christmas last year.

"No."

"Really?" Sakura asked out of mild disappointment. This was her favorite sweater, red and cozy and pilled at the elbows.

"Yeah," Shikamaru replied from his vantage point on the floor, ponytail askew where it laid against the carpet. "If you're gonna wear a sweater, find one that doesn't look like it's been used as a bar mop."

When she chucked the offending garment at him, he let it land on top of his head, accepting it with the collectedness of a meditating monk. Apparently he'd gotten used to her throwing random shit at him all the time. She'd have to find a way to keep him on his toes again.

"How's this one?" The blue sweater was hanging in her closet where she'd forgotten about its soft shade of turquoise; the sleeves were long enough to inch past her wrists, and the whole thing fit loosely, where the neck reveal the tops of her collarbones and the sleeves drape over her arms in a breezy sort of way. She didn't have to try it on to remember how cute it was, though she wondered why she always opted for her more raggedy sweaters instead.

"Better." Shikamaru closed his eyes, meaning her search was complete. Finally. "What are you gonna wear with it?"

"Probably just shorts." Sakura headed over to her small vanity, finding a pair of denim shorts on the back of the chair. "It's kind of hot today. Also, if I wear a skirt, it might ride up under this shirt and make it look like I don't have anything on, which…yeah."

"Hn." A hint of a smile was on his mouth. "Yeah."

"Yeah." She quickly changed into the outfit, not caring that she had a guest. She'd already changed into a clean bra and underwear, so the rest was inconsequential—if any man were harmless, it was definitely Shikamaru. "Do you think makeup will make it look like I'm trying too hard?"

He didn't move, which meant he was probably shrugging in spirit. "Depends on what you're trying for."

Her shorts slid on nicely, though they were a bit tighter than usual from the dryer cycle at Shizune's a few days ago. She wiggled around a little, praying all that ramen last semester wasn't finally taking its toll, and sighed once they buttoned properly. "Good point. I'll let you know when I find out."

"Well," he drawled, "whatever you do, I'm watching the shogi finals in here tonight."

"Fine." Sakura stared hard at the very basic amount of makeup she kept, how it was scattered haphazardly across the surface of the vanity. Then she reached for her blush brush and kneeled in front of the mirror. A little touching up never hurt anybody.

"'Fine'?" One eye cracked open to look at her with skepticism. "Guess I shouldn't wait up for you, then."

"I," she declared, buffing the brush over the apples of her cheeks, "am not telling you anything. Ever. You love gossip more than anyone I've ever met." The level of peachy pink color on her face was perfect, nice and natural against her pale freckles and pastel hair. She turned to each side a bit, marveling at how much better she looked with a bit of a flush. "You're like a friggin' old lady."

"Did you say something?"

She glanced over to find him in the same position, eyes closed again. Perfect. Fingers poised, she aimed her brush at him and sent it at him like a dart, but he cracked his eye open at the last second and caught the thing. "Damnit!"

Shikamaru smirked for a moment, and then his eye caught Sakura's head. "You gonna fix that?"

Her hands went straight to her scalp. "Fix what?"

"It looks like someone sat on it."

"How the—why—" Sakura turned back to the mirror, finding her hair flat. Probably from all the nervous touching and smoothing she'd done to it today. She raked her fingers through it, waved her hands all around in it, but it still looked…well, like someone sat on it. Adorable. "Ugh."

With two rubber bands, she put her hair into short pigtails at the her neck, which was kind of stupid-looking, but better than before. A hair scarf, one she only used on lazy days around the house—when she had them, of course—was tied in a bow on the drawer handle next to her. If she tried, she could make it look cute.

Short as they were, she secured her bangs away from her face with the scarf, twisted it, looped it around, then tied it in a lopsided bow on top of her head. They looked like miniature floral bunny ears.

"Huh," she breathed. "I'm…not entirely sure that I don't look like an eight-year-old."

"If you didn't have the scarf, you would." A slight yawn drew out his words. "But you don't. Looks nice."

Compliments from Shikamaru were rare, and often half-hearted, but she would take what she could get. "Really?"

"Yeah." Another yawn, longer this time. "Perfect for luring in old creeps."

His eyes fell closed again, which gave Sakura a great opportunity to stand up and step on his stomach. She smiled when he let out a loud wheeze of a cough.

"I'm putting on mascara and then I'm leaving." And then, just for him—and, okay, kind of for her too—she said: "Don't wait up for me."

He snorted and barely shook his head against the floor. "Women."

She might have stepped on him one more time for good measure, but she was in too much of a hurry to really notice.

.

.

.

It was after six o'clock in the evening by the time she got to Kakashi's. She'd wanted to get there closer to four, but the subways had been so cramped after work that it took her forever to actually board one, and then Tsunade called when she got home, which meant she'd had to put up with all kinds of questions about her next semester of medical school. Then Shikamaru came over to tell her the rent was due, which she asked to pay once she got her dogwalking money, to which he'd replied with some bullshit about how he was now entitled to eat the rest of her leftover curry rice until she did pay. Then she'd cursed him and his insane metabolism and shitty, lazy logic, flung curry rice all over her dress trying to throw the container at him, and ultimately ended up in this...rather cute outfit, actually, after emptying out her closet.

She was nervous as hell walking up that driveway, especially when she saw an oldish silver SUV parked by the empty trashcans. The truck wasn't there, which for the first time made her wonder if the garage in the vacant building across the street was Kakashi's. The lights were on inside his house, though the curtains in the front window were drawn, and even as pale and sheer as they were she couldn't see more than the lamp by the window. If other people were here, she might as well hightail it.

Sakura huffed, realizing how silly she was being. No longer was she worried about Kakashi firing her, thanks to Hidan's bizarrely sound analysis. She was more worried that she'd upset him by being careless—but, of course, she wouldn't know that for sure until she actually talked to the man.

With a deep breath, she reached up to knock on the door instead of letting herself in. It was only polite, after all.

The first thing she heard was one of the dogs barking—based on its gruffness, it was probably Pakkun giving notice of her arrival. Then Bull's deep one answered, heading closer to the door.

"I've got it!" came a human voice from the other side of the door. A distinctly feminine voice. Sakura stiffened, back going straight as the door was opened not seconds later.

It took a second to make sure the dogs weren't getting out, but once the door swung open, it revealed a woman several inches taller than Sakura, not to mention a few years older. Her first thought was that the woman was undoubtedly attractive; her eyes and hair were dark and wild, her glossy lips smiled confidently in greeting, her t-shirt and jeans fit perfectly over a very curvy figure. There was a bottle of beer in her hand, half-empty. Music was playing further inside the house, something on the slower side, and the sound of glasses clinking together traveled all the way to where they were standing.

Oh no. Sakura felt her stomach lurch. Here came karma to bite her in the ass.

"Hi," the woman chirped, thumbing the neck of her bottle. Pakkun trotted up beside her feet, likely wondering why his dog walker was here for the second time today. "Can I help you?"

The way she said it almost made Sakura blush, and she wasn't really sure why. "Um, I'm here to see Kakashi?"

An eyebrow arched on the woman's face, and then her face lit up in an unexpectedly mischievous way.

"Ah," she said, regarding Sakura more closely now. "He didn't say anything about you joining us."

Us? Her stomach lurched again. Us?!

"Anko," called another female voice from inside the house, and the woman turned around, revealing an equally attractive, rather svelte woman with long black hair and a short white dress. "Who is it?"

Her voice sounded like a late-night commercial for a sex hotline. Sakura almost hightailed it right then and there, partly because this obviously was the wrongest possible time to be here, and partly because she was becoming increasingly worried that she'd stumbled into some kind of threesome that she had no intention of making a foursome.

"Kakashi has a visitor," the first one replied in a way that did nothing to ease Sakura's rapidly growing discomfort. The second woman looked surprised as she glanced in their direction and came to the door, stepping around Pakkun to gracefully extend a hand toward Sakura.

"Hello." Her tone was gentle, welcoming, as were her unusually bright eyes. "I'm Yuuhi Kurenai. This is my friend, Mitarashi Anko."

Sakura tried not to stare at her cleavage when she returned her handshake. "Haruno Sakura." She cleared her throat. "Is, um…is Kakashi here?"

"He's out back." Kurenai explained with a smile. Her lips and nails were berry red, and Anko's short, shiny manicure was a jade green—quite a contrast to Sakura's own bare, bitten-down nails and chapstick. "Would you like to come in and have a drink?"

"I…" A chorus of male laughter sounded from the approximate area of the kitchen, and all she could think was oh God, there are more people. But Kakashi was here, and he was expecting her, and she was here, so she might as well get it over with, orgy or not. "Okay. Sure."

"Great." Kurenai guided Anko, who was still grinning with a peculiar twist to her mouth, back toward the inside of the house, which allowed Sakura room to enter and remove her shoes.

She felt pretty small in between these women, especially since Kurenai was tall and probably owned those wedge heels by the door, ones that clicked in that sexy, authoritative way she'd always dreamed of mastering. Alas, she herself was much more of a sneaker kind of girl—or sandals, in tonight's case. Her hair was also short, in pigtails, while these two had long, beautiful hair which was so effortlessly styled. Had it not been for Anko's relatively simple outfit, she would have felt severely underdressed.

As they approached the kitchen, she could hear the men talking—at least one of them was making sound effects, and then there was another raucous chorus of deep, genuine laughter. There were six packs of beer all over the island, as well as full grocery bags and a bottle of wine or two.

This was a party. A gathering. A get-together. A party. Why the hell hadn't Kakashi told her she'd be walking in on this?!

"Beer or wine?" Anko asked, leaning a rounded hip against the counter as if she lived here.

"Wine, I guess?" Sakura said distractedly, glancing into the open living room to find three large men sitting around there, beers in hand, chatting animatedly.

The one in the recliner was like a grizzly bear; his hair was thick, his sideburns blended into his beard, and his arms were tan and covered in even more hair. Oddly enough, the two other guys had no hair at all. One's head was as bald and shiny as a cue ball, though it had all these dimples and scars on it, and he looked mean as hell. The other looked like he'd shaved his head and seemed a bit menacing himself.

Sakura resisted the urge to gulp like people did in cartoons. "Where'd you say he was again?"

"Oh, he's out grilling in the backyard, being his usual hermit self." Anko's nails tapped against the counter while her other hand rested on her hip. That smile of hers was still in place. "So how do you guys know each other?"

"Anko," Kurenai teased with a breezy laugh. "She just got here. Save the interrogation for later."

"I'm just asking!" She pulled the cork out of a bottle with a resounding pop, pouring a glass full of red wine. "Sorry, hon," she said to Sakura. "I'm only curious because Kakashi never invites other people over." She moved the glass around on the counter, swirling its contents languidly. "The last time someone new came to one of these things, it was Baki—and that was, what, four years ago?"

"Two," her friend corrected, taking the glass and handing it to Sakura, then placing a hand against her back. "Let's head outside, shall we?"

Sakura followed the guiding weight of Kurenai's hand, feeling strange and totally out of place. It was like she'd never been in this house before. The only dog she could spot in the house was Bull, who was asleep in the corner where someone had set up a speaker. All three of those big dudes were sitting so casually in Kakashi's armchair and on his cruddy leather sofa, the TV on a soccer game without the sound on so the music wouldn't be interfered with. It felt weird, so intensely opposite of the calm quiet she'd experienced at this house until now. But then again, she barely knew anything about Kakashi. It was hardly her place to speculate about any of it—even if she wanted to really, really badly.

"Who's this?" the bear man asked as she and Kurenai passed, voice every bit as manly as he appeared. The other two men had quit chatting to gaze upon her with unbidden curiosity. She tried really hard not to glare back.

"She's Kakashi's guest," Kurenai calmly informed, the essence of a polite and polished host. All of the guys looked pretty astonished, exchanging glances where they sat. The dimply cue ball one even whistled.

"That's a first," he said with ribbing sort of scoff. "Welcome."

"Um, thanks," she murmured in return.

The two of them kept walking, leaving the other three to talk about her in not-so-low whispers. Sakura's stomach fluttered in equal parts anxiousness, confusion, and irritation. She didn't like it. Any of it.

Before she even slid the porch door open, she could see Kakashi's figure through her own reflection on the glass. He was standing out there with one of the dogs at his feet. Her whole body went hot at the sight—it was like she hadn't seen him in a year and like she'd just left his bedroom on Sunday all at once. Kurenai, of course, noticed none of this.

"Hey," she called in that unrealistically sexy voice of hers, standing in the open doorway. Warm air flowed instantly into the house. "Someone's here to see you."

Kakashi glanced up at her with an inquisitive brow. Then his eyes landed on Sakura.

She froze.

He blinked, standing there for several long seconds. Then he raised his hand to wave, even though he was holding tongs with a raw piece of steak in them.

She eventually waved back, feeling uncannily similar to the one time in high school when she'd snuck out for a party and threw up all over Tsunade's living room carpet when she got home. Not only was the feeling due to the sense of impending doom, but also because of the slowly stirring nausea at the pit of her stomach. She probably would have done well without that beer at lunch, or the wine she'd already managed to guzzle half of.

"I'll give you some privacy," Kurenai said softly, sensing the atmosphere. She even guided Sakura outside and shut the door behind her, effectively sealing out all noise from the inside.

And then there were two.

The backyard was quiet and humid, especially with the heat emanating from the charcoal. Dusk had fallen, casting a faded pink hue onto whatever dim daylight remained. Kakashi stood beside the grill, his hair the same color as the smoke billowing out of it, shoulders slouched as casually as ever.

"Yo," he said as he watched her with sleepy eyes. One of his medical masks was securely in place, effectively obscuring anything she could read off him.

"Hi," Sakura responded a bit too quickly. Her voice was almost at squeak level. She was still on the porch, an inch away from the door, hands clutching her wine glass for dear life. "Sorry I crashed your party."

He paused for a moment and then beckoned her closer, the same way he had when she came to his truck for the first time. "Can't hear you. Food's talking."

Sakura shuffled closer, feet heavy as lead as she stepped down onto the wood patio. It was warm with residual heat from baking in the sun all day. It was strange to see Kakashi in person, even if it had only been five days since she'd last seen him. She'd spent so much time thinking about him between then and now that it was almost like she had made the whole thing up just to drive herself nuts.

His sleeves were rolled up on his elbows—a dark, thick sweater, still, despite the heat creeping too early into spring—as he expertly maneuvered half-moons of kabocha squash, peppers, and loudly sizzling pork-wrapped okra around the grill. It smelled so mouthwateringly savory and delicious that she kind of wished she were staying.

"What were you saying?" he asked once she was only two or three feet away. His eyes were on the food now. Damnit.

"Oh." She cleared her throat and set her glass down. "Just, um…I didn't mean to crash your party."

"Ah." He flipped a piece of squash, perfectly browned and blistered. "No problem. It's not really a party."

Sakura waited for him to elaborate. He didn't. She resisted the very strong urge to clear her throat again, instead opting to stand at the end of the grill so she could face him.

"Actually, they just got here," he said the second she opened her mouth to speak. His eyes smiled briefly. "Bit of a surprise."

She didn't know what she was going to say before, so she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "What do you mean?"

His free hand came up to scratch at the side of his mask. "They, uh, like to drop in every now and then. Usually unannounced."

It was a sort of odd explanation, but it made the tight coil inside her chest unwrap a good bit. If they'd come here as a surprise, it was no wonder he hadn't texted her to let her know. She'd only been here for a few minutes and she already felt bombarded. Perhaps he did too.

"Why are you out here by yourself?" Her voice was a bit lighter than before, less direct and sharp from nerves.

"I'm not." He pointed with his elbow toward the decent plot of grass behind him. Shiba, Guruko, and Bisuke were play-fighting, jumping and rolling around without a care in the world. Akino stood at attention by Kakashi's feet, hoping for a piece of whatever was cooking; Urushi, surprisingly enough, was sleeping near the porch fan next to Uhei. "They're keeping me company. So are you."

She kind of hated that she couldn't pick up anything from his tone. No indicators of whether he hated her guts or if she'd offended him of even if he didn't care. Nothing.

"Look," Sakura began, pulling her sleeves over her fingers. "I really just came here for one thing. I wanted—"

The sound of a loud, rusty squeal followed by a huge thump interrupted her. It startled her so badly, in fact, that she gasped, and she craned her neck around Kakashi to see someone entering the backyard through some secret door in the fence. It was a guy in a plain green shirt and cargo shorts. 

"Yo, Yamato," Kakashi called without even moving an inch. Yamato closed the gate before he headed toward the patio with grocery bags and a friendly smile.

"Hey," he called back. "I brought some corn. Asuma's lucky he caught me before I walked over here." He set the bags down on the old wooden picnic table, then wiped at his brow with the back of his arm. He was breathing a little noticeably, some tiny sweat stains dotting his chest and collar. "It's a bit warm today to be standing by a fire, don't you think?"

"Mah, it'll cool down once it gets darker." Kakashi twirled the tongs around his fingers, then handed them to his friend. "Keep an eye on these. I'll be right back."

Yamato took them with a full laugh, a very dad kind of laugh. Sakura supposed the dorky sandals and the baseball cap he was wearing didn't help that comparison.

"I haven't been here for a minute and you already…oh, hello, Sakura-san."

"Hi," she replied, following after Kakashi. "Long time no see."

He waved at her and laughed again, this time with nervous edge, likely wondering why they were leaving him out here so suddenly. Either that or he was terrible at grilling. Or maybe...no, she shouldn't wonder how much shit Kakashi had talked about her, that was...

"Where are we going?" she asked Kakashi, though there weren't many places to go with that many people on the main floor. She saw everyone huddled around the glass doors, watching the two of them and dispersing once they saw them headed for the house. What was the big freaking deal?

"My room," he said plainly.

Oh. 

.

.

.

His bedroom was exactly like she remembered: minimalist, mismatched, but neat. His bed was made somewhat haphazardly. Or he'd just laid on top of it for a while and rumpled it up. She wondered, with a very obvious flush to her cheeks, if he'd changed the sheets since the last time she was up here. He really should have—there was a very good chance she'd torn them. Meaning a one-hundred percent chance. She purposefully unglued her eyes from the wrinkled comforter.

Kakashi was rummaging around in the attached bathroom—why the bathroom would be where he kept his money, she wasn't sure—when all of a sudden she heard: "Aha."

He walked back into the room, bare feet padding gently against the hardwood, almost silently. In his hands was a stack of bills that he rifled through with a slick thumb. How did he do that so quickly?

"Here." He smiled at her with his eyes and handed her a sizable stack of them, which she pocketed with a bit of disbelief. Looking at the money, she was really, really glad he didn't fire her. But still. There were more important items to discuss.

"Thanks," Sakura said meekly, ashamed about the whole thing, and especially about this. "Now that that's over with, I need to talk to you."

His eye smile dropped, leaving him blinking. "Hm?"

Judging by his facial expression—even though there was very little to go by—and the general vibe, he hadn't expected that. God, now she seriously felt like an asshole. Thoughts whirled around in her head like they were on a spin cycle, or a broken roller coaster, or like they were trapped in a tornado. Sakura perched herself on the edge of his mattress, rubbing at the tops of her legs to see if she could just get a fucking grip.

"Everything okay?"

If he had to ask, she must have looked borderline hysterical. "I'm trying to remember what I wanted to say. Hold on."

She could feel the hesitant dip in the mattress when he sat down beside her, a large gap between them. Her pulse hammered. Christ, woman, spit it the hell out!

"Okay. So." She clapped her hands, setting her fingertips against her lips. "The first thing I wanted to say is that I'm sorry about Sunday. I genuinely just…do not know what got into me."

There was a small beat in which he showed no signs of responding—but then again, she wasn't looking at him, so it wasn't like she could tell anyway. She chanced a glance in her periphery and saw that he was in a similar pose: hands in lap, eyes on floor, shoulders hunched. Though in true Kakashi fashion, or as true as she knew it to be, he wasn't tense like she was. No, he was sitting quite comfortably compared to her. This fucking guy.

"What part?" he asked more lightly than she would have expected.

"What?"

"What part of Sunday are you sorry about?"

She stared at him openly, brows knitting together on her forehead. Was he high? Was that how he stayed so infinitely still and mellow and…and weird? He sounded like he had just asked her about the chance of rain tomorrow.

"Uh…" Despite his tone, his question was a loaded one. She could hear Hidan's voice in the back of her head telling her to be more considerate—in so many words—but she wasn't really sure how to respond. "All of it? I guess? I don't know. Mostly the abrupt departure, but…"

It was quiet for another minute. Seconds ticked by, each one bating her breath until it lodged like something solid in her windpipe. And then he chuckled. Chuckled.

"What?" It was said on the edge of laugh now, an incredulous one at that.

"Ah, nothing really." He crossed his legs, an ankle resting on its opposite thigh. "You did leave pretty abruptly, huh."

"Yeah," she said, but it came out more like a question. This felt startlingly similar to their pre-everything conversation on Sunday and she could feel herself getting frustrated. It didn't help that she was already on edge.

"No need to apologize." Kakashi smiled at her with his eyes. "...I understand."

Wait. "Understand what?"

"If you...feel it was a mistake. Sunday."

Her stomach dropped like a boulder. He'd asked what part she was apologizing for.

Oh, god...maybe...?

Just say it. Just fucking—

"The only mistake was...was on my part. Seriously. I feel—so awful for leaving without saying anything. Because I—it...I had a nice time before that. I'm really not sure what came over me. I'm normally so cool with sex stuff. I'm..." Oh my god, stop talking!

Her pulse was beating so hard in her throat it felt like it would push her eyes out of her head. Kakashi seemed to think for a moment, and waiting for the verdict felt like waiting for a terminal diagnosis.

"That's, ah, that's good to know." He cleared his throat behind his mask. "I had a nice time, too. All in all, it wasn't a bad day."

"I'd like to think it was more than just not bad," Sakura snorted, tripping over herself with unbidden relief, speaking without even thinking. "I think I had more sex Sunday than I have in my entire life."

She shut her mouth just in time to see Kakashi blink at her, a pink flush rising over the part of his face that his mask covered. Oops. Did her heart just skip a beat? Or twelve? She fussed with one of her pigtails.

He cleared his throat again. "To be fair, you're still...in your prime." His eyes went up toward the ceiling, as if he were thinking hard. "Proportionally speaking, if the same applied to me…that'd be pretty sad, hmm?"

She bit down a sudden smile, letting her teeth grasp her bottom lip. "Does it?"

"Dunno. It definitely applies in dog years."

Sakura's smile grew so much wider, slipping past the barrier of her teeth, and she pushed his arm. Their eyes met for a second. Here came uncharted territory. Time to try and swim in it.

"You and your dogs," she half-whispered with a shake of her head.

"Me and my dogs." The faux lamenting in his sigh made it sound more fond than anything. "Just the nine of us."

Another push to his arm, and then a little giggle bubbled out of her, one that had significantly less nervous tension in it. She ended up laying back on the bed on autopilot, knitting her fingers where they lay on her stomach, and let out a sigh of her own.

"Speaking of the dogs…" Sakura waited until he turned slightly and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Just for the record, I'm not fired, am I?"

This seemed to perplex him again. "Uh…not that I've heard, no."

"Thank God," she breathed, closing her eyes in relief that resonated on levels she could only begin to recognize. "'Cause I really love those pups. Even Urushi."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, now." Sakura immediately opened her eyes again to see Kakashi reclining on the bed a safe distance away from her, resting on one elbow with his chin in his palm. "I still have to run this by Pakkun. He's the man of the house."

She snorted. "Fingers crossed, then. I don't think he likes me very much. That bacon treat I gave him this morning better earn me some points."

"Ah, yes. The bacon treat." Kakashi sagely nodded. "He told me about that."

"Did he now?"

"Mhmm." He looked at her, and she tried her best not to squirm, to keep the easy expression she hoped was on her face. "Don't worry, though. He likes you. He just comes off as a bit curmudgeonly until he knows what the situation is."

"He told you this too?"

"Sure did."

She laughed, a full and true sound. "You are…ridiculous."

The lines around his eyes creased. "You know, he told me you'd say that."

Her shoulders settled further into the mattress as she crossed her arms. "What else does he tell you? The secrets of the universe? Astrophysical equations?" A snicker. "Who's really a good boy?"

"No, no. Pakkun's a discreet one, believe it or not." Kakashi shifted the tiniest bit, and suddenly she could clearly smell the charcoal smoke in his hair and sweater, heady and toasty and warm. It was nice. Really nice. "He mostly just offers his opinions."

"On what, brands of dog food?" Sakura joked around the dryness growing in her mouth and throat. Was it just her, or had he moved closer?

He shrugged with his free shoulder, quickly dissolving that thought. "People, too. He said you were, and I quote, 'cute.'"

A scoff left her mouth the second his eyes smiled at her as full-of-shit as she was starting to understand he was. "Yeah. Okay. He just likes me for my bacon treats."

The smile fell, though something good still lingered in his dark eyes when he glanced down at her once more. "He said he likes the way your shampoo smells, too."

She was going to sift through the front of her mind for a retort—joking about his dog wasn't a hard topic to navigate. In fact, she was feeling pretty proud of herself in light of Hidan's criticism. But then Kakashi's free hand slid hesitantly over his quilt to brush a finger through the end of her pigtail. The gesture was so quick and playful, gone in a flash, but it made everything click.

Oh.

They weren't talking about his pug, were they?

Well, for starters, she almost heard Hidan's voice squawk, you can't flirt for shit. Her pulse thrummed heavy in her neck.

I'm an idiot.

Sakura stared up at Kakashi. He was definitely closer now, though she wasn't sure whether he had moved toward her on purpose. God, she wanted to yank that mask off his face so badly, wanted to see if there was a lopsided smile hiding beneath there that would tell her whatever answer she was looking for. In the midst of the thought she reached a hand away from her chest and up toward his face, fingers poised to pull that loop out from behind his ear and reveal that sleepy expression in all its glory: the slightly crooked bottom teeth, the wry curve of his mouth…

"I think—"

"YYYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The door, which had been halfway opened, was now rattling where it hit the wall. Sakura lurched forward into a sitting position when Kakashi turned swiftly to face the offender. Then she heard him sigh.

"Do you have to break something every time you come over?"

"My friend! Forgive me!" responded the guy in a grand bellow, leg still in the air from kicking. He looked like an asparagus standing in the doorway—he was wearing one of those green, skin-tight biking outfits with a green-and-black helmet. He had the best tan, the whitest teeth, and the worst eyebrows she'd ever seen. "I did not realize you were accompanied by a guest!"

Sakura could feel her entire face scrunch. Who the hell were these people?

"Yeah, well." Kakashi lifted himself off the bed at a snail's pace, sliding his hands in his pockets once he was on his feet. "Tell that to the drywall."

The man laughed heartily, loud enough to fill the room and make Sakura wince. "Ha! The bonds of friendship are far stronger than such trivial pursuits!" He stepped toward them, eyes directly on her. "How do you do? I'm Maito Gai!"

"Haruno Sakura," she murmured back, words drawn out in trepidation. He growled a yell that sent her leaning away from him.

"What a beautiful name! And for such—"

"Gai."

"Oh, but Kakashi! I'm simply giving credit where—"

"Gai."

"Fine, fine!" He grinned, the essence of unfazed. He even gave them an enthusiastic thumbs up. "Well, I came to tell you that I bear excellent news from the world of competitive disco. You're looking at the number-three solo freestyler in the world!"

"Only number three?" Kakashi asked with a teasing edge just as Sakura thought there's such a thing as competitive disco? And people actually do it?

"Ahhh, Kakashi!" he shrieked. "This is just the beginning! You're not the only one with international success!" Another deep, energetic laugh, almost on the level of a guffaw. "Now if you'll excuse me, it seems I've forgotten my manners—I'll leave you two lovebirds to your conversation."

He sprinted out of the room and to the stairs, yelling "DISCO FEVER!", clomping down them at an alarmingly fast rate to join the laughter and noise and music on the main floor. What his oblivious green ass didn't realize is that he'd halted the entire conversation in its tracks—whatever the two of them were building toward had instantly dissipated, leaving Sakura feeling floundering and frustrated all over again. Her heart was still beating hard in her chest as she watched Kakashi scrub a hand through his fluffy silver hair.

"Guess it's time to do damage control." He faced her, one of his eyes creased into a half-moon.

"I think I should go," Sakura said. There was a foreign note in her voice that made it come out more quietly than usual. She wanted to do some fucking damage control here, but there were too many goddamn people here to even try. If there was one thing Sakura really, really hated, it was not feeling in control.

"Oh. You sure?" He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "I know the guy that lives here. He makes a pretty mean yakiniku spread."

"Oh, so Pakkun can cook now?" she snorted, getting off the bed.

"Absolutely. He also does my taxes."

The weirdest giggle rose in her throat. "Chill." She paused, fixing the scarf in her hair. "Actually, don't do that. You might flatline if you got any more mellow."

"That's not a bad idea." He put his hand back in his pocket, leaving his hair kind of disheveled. Sakura felt her stomach clench. "Might get me out of this little soirée."

"Why do you let them just come in and take over?" Her and her fat mouth. It sounded so mean. Judgmental. But it came from a place of understanding. She thought about how Shikamaru always came in and messed with all her shit, acted like he owned the place, and how she only put up with it because it took less energy than physically kicking him out. It annoyed the living hell out of her.

"Hm?" The look on his face was so irritatingly neutral. His blood pressure was probably nonexistent.

"I just mean, like…it's not really fair, I guess?" There was a huge likeliness that she was overstepping her bounds. She seemed to do that a lot with him. Unfortunately her curiosity won out every time. "They come here without any warning, then make you cook for them while they hang out and mess up your place. That doesn't seem very thoughtful."

Kakashi shrugged. "Eh. Maybe, maybe not."

The answer was simple enough to turn Sakura's face pink. She really needed to keep her mouth shut. Especially around him. Why did she keep ruining perfectly good conversations with him by putting her nose where it didn't belong?

"Sorry." She ran a sleeve-covered palm against her brow and shook her head. "That really was none of my business."

"No worries. That's probably how it looks, but they mean well." He gave her the laziest wink she'd ever witnessed. "In any case, I get free beer."

"True."

"Mah, don't feel bad." His hand was on her shoulder now, and the contact shot straight down her spine. "Come downstairs for a while. They'll tell you what you want to know."

On another day, she would have laughed at that—he probably had no idea how much she did want to know. About everything. His friends, his pictures, his dogs, him. But then again, Kakashi had pinned her from their first real conversation as being direct and had probably realized just how incapable she was at holding her tongue. So maybe he did know.

But what struck her the most about his offer that he was clearly asking her to stay. Despite how much of bumbling idiot asshole she'd been since the last time she saw him, he wanted her to stay. Something told her he wouldn't have offered if he didn't feel like keeping her around.

"Okay," she said before leading them out of the room, deciding not to remind him that his hand was still on her shoulder.

.

.

.

Once Kakashi had introduced her to everyone before they all ate, and once Yamato—of all people—had privately caught her up on a little bit of friend history and gossip, she could name them all without a problem.

Yamato himself she'd already met twice now and felt comfortable around. He was kind and easy to get along with, and surprisingly open as well. She noticed again that he had a tendency to be self-deprecating and a little awkward, but it was really endearing. He and Kakashi had been neighbors for years—hence entering through the backyard earlier—but had known each other since they were teenagers. He didn't explain how, which left Sakura dying to know, but he was kind of on a roll with this whole gossip thing—enough so that she wondered vaguely if anyone ever actually talked to him at these things, or if he simply lacked discretion. Likely a bit of both.

Kurenai and Anko she'd met first tonight, of course. They were both nurses, though Kurenai worked in the obstetrics ward and Anko in the neuro-ICU, and were friends since nursing school despite having gone to the same high school. Given the funny-catty way they spoke to each other, Sakura sensed that one of those popularity contests or a guy had gotten between them until they grew old enough to bond over it.

The bear man was Kurenai's husband, Asuma. Sakura got a good vibe from him—he seemed like a nice guy, like the type of person who gave good hugs and didn't judge easily. Yamato told her that Asuma was Kakashi's childhood friend and worked as middle school gym coach, so that probably had a lot to do with it. He and his wife were a very attractive couple and had a very natural, easy relationship. At least from what she could tell. It was nice to see. And Sakura would never admit that she was the tiniest bit relieved that Kurenai wasn't single.

Anyway.

The bald dudes weren't quite as scary as they'd come across upon first impression. They were almost like twin brothers or just really, really close friends. Cue ball man was Ibiki, who was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, and shaved head man was Baki, who was wearing a Metallica shirt. They were both security guards, were neighbors, and had met Kakashi by being frequent customers at his food truck. The two of them still freaked her out a little. Yamato chuckled out loud when she said as much.

Speaking of freaking her out, Gai was the one that required the most explanation. He was a personal trainer, which was exceptionally appropriate, and he also competed in triathlons, races, charity events, and, most oddly, disco competitions. Apparently he and Kakashi had known each other since birth since their dads were friends, but they never really liked each other—Kakashi's father wanted him to play sports, so Gai would go out for the other team out of spite, trying to beat him; Kakashi would get really good grades, so Gai would study his ass off trying to keep up, even though he always got barely-passing grades. According to Yamato, the two of them had always hung out, mostly per Gai's insistence on maintaining their weird rivalry, but they hadn't become true friends until Kakashi returned home from college.

Something in Yamato's voice when he relayed the last part made Sakura immensely intrigued, but the guys called him over to the back porch just before she could ask for the details. Ugh, men.

"Hey, Sakura-chan!" Anko called, waving her fingers one by one as she sat atop the picnic table. Even in the darkness of the evening, her skin was glowing, flushed just a little from the beer she'd been drinking. "Come hang out with us."

"-chan?" Sakura grumbled, walking from her spot in the backyard over to her and Kurenai anyway. Her butt was damp from the grass. "What's up?"

"We want to talk to you about medical school." She gestured to the seat next to her feet, in front of which some leftover pieces of grilled steak with lemon juice and salt were waiting to be snatched up by the dogs. Sakura took a seat and decided to eat it for them, even when Guruko and Shiba came padding toward the table.

"So, what field of medicine are you studying?" Kurenai took a graceful sip of wine. Somehow her lipstick was still perfectly intact.

"I'm hoping to become a neurosurgeon." Absentmindedly, she reached out to scratch behind Shiba's ears. "Um, brains are cool."

"Cruel, but cool," Anko agreed, smirking. "How much longer do you have?"

"One more semester of school, and then I start my residency." She was so excited to start, too. She'd piled on classes until last semester just to get ahead and start early, though she'd had to slow her roll so she could earn enough money for tuition. It would be so unbelievably taxing, especially since Tsunade was the chief of medicine at the hospital her school sent all their residents to, but it would be so satisfying and worth the hard work.

"Good for you, girl. I can't imagine how much work you must be doing." Anko clinked her bottle against Sakura's wine glass—a fresh one which she was actually drinking this time. "The ICU alone is fucking brutal."

"Uh, seriously, you should be the one getting kudos here. If the stories I've heard and the pictures have been any indication, I've really and truly got my work cut out for me." Guruko hopped onto the bench and into her lap, curling up close to her stomach. "How long have you been a nurse?"

And the conversation flowed easily from there. Anko and Kurenai both shared the details of their career, and all of them exchanged both horror stories and quality anecdotes from days on the job. Sakura couldn't remember the last time she'd talked about her future field of expertise so much; it was an extremely refreshing experience to discuss it with people who were not only genuinely interested, but knew all the insides and outs, the terminology and atmosphere that came with medical work. She'd almost forgotten where she was by the time they'd moved on to talk about Kurenai's three children.

"If you ever need a babysitter, I'm your woman," Sakura said after listening to the story of how her daughters had tried to dye each other's hair with pink lemonade. "If I can handle eight dogs, I'm pretty confident I can handle a few children."

Kurenai's laugh was easy, breezy, and yes, beautiful. "They'll love you, I'm sure. My youngest is a bit of a diva, but she's also very sweet when she wants to be. She'll probably worship you for your hair alone."

Sakura smiled. It wouldn't be the first time a kid had been fascinated with her hair color. But then she remembered the comment Kakashi had made about her shampoo, and her face started burning.

"I wish she liked me," Anko playfully griped. "Only Mirai puts up with me."

"That's only because you bribe her with milk bread," Kurenai replied in a sing-songy voice. "You know they're a little scared of you. Miki asked me once if you were a witch."

A loud clap sounded by Sakura's ear. "Hah! God, I remember that!"

While the two woman continued their lighthearted chat, Sakura chanced a glance up to where the guys were all gathered at the house. Some were inside watching the game; others were sitting on the porch in shitty old outdoor chairs. Kakashi was lounging in one of them beside Asuma; both of them were smoking while they listened to Baki explain something. Asuma must've been his chain-smoking friend, the one she'd asked about the last time she was here—it was a wonder that a sort-of-athlete married to a nurse hadn't quit by now, but Sakura couldn't do much about it.

And with what she was seeing, she wouldn't do much about it.

Kakashi's mask was off, first of all, and he had his thumb set absently against his bottom lip, the cigarette poised close to his face between his pointer and middle fingers. The end burned and glowed orange in the semi-darkness. His eyes looked like they were about to fall closed any minute. When he brought the cigarette back to his mouth, he took a slow drag, sucking in his cheeks just enough to accentuate his excellent bone structure. She had to repress a dreamy sigh when he blew the smoke out in long plumes. Jesus. It was no wonder those things could kill people, she thought wryly, but she could also feel the heat rising up her neck again.

Suddenly, as if she'd called his name, he looked directly at her, and she just barely managed to hold back a yelp of surprise. She instantly darted her eyes back to the dog in her lap.

"You know, it's a lot less obvious if you don't look away," Anko said, clearly amused.

"What is?" If she turned any pinker at this point she'd morph into a flamingo.

"Your crush on him," the woman sang quietly, teasingly, poking one of Sakura's too-flushed cheeks. "It's adorable."

If she'd sounded even a bit patronizing, Sakura would have punched her in the face, but thankfully for her it seemed pretty genuine. "I do not—" She exhaled helplessly, hiding her face in her hands. "Okay. I do." And then, after a long pause and a groan: "Fuck."

She felt a hand on her shoulder—Kurenai, who had no small amount of humor in her voice. "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"We haven't been," Sakura responded swiftly out of defensiveness. "I just walk his dogs."

"Ah, I see." Anko slid down beside her. "But I have to admit—it seems like you guys are already involved."

She had good reason to be surprised, now that Sakura thought about it—when Kakashi introduced her to all of them, he'd simply said this is Sakura, not my dog walker Sakura, or my friend Sakura, or this violent dog-loving freak I picked up off the street named Sakura, or Sakura, the girl that fucked me hard enough to make lesser men die. He was so vague that it had made it sound…well, not vague.

"No," she mumbled. "Not really. Er, kind of. I have no idea what's going on."

"Tell us! We can help you! Right, Kurenai?"

"Does she look like someone who wants to talk about it?" Kurenai responded in that understanding, good-humored way all good moms possessed.

Perhaps it was hypocritical, but Sakura really didn't want to talk about it. Mostly for Kakashi's sake. It was high time she was more considerate of him. She didn't want to put them on any more of a bumpy road than she already had, so she kept her mouth shut, locking it with a deadbolt.

"Okay, well. Let me just say this." Anko's fingernails tapped against the wooden table. "You're cute and have a huge crush on him. And clearly he likes you. No, no, hear me out." She smiled genuinely, though there was a playfully arched brow. "He invited you over on a Friday night. And he asked you to stay, even though we were here. And he took the time to introduce you to each one of us. Kakashi doesn't do that stuff."

"You're sure he's not just being polite?" Sakura asked skeptically, though all that came to mind was their conversation in his room earlier. Her heart stuttered. And maybe fluttered a little too.

"Oh, I'm sure. He barely makes exceptions like that for us."

"What Anko's trying to say is not that Kakashi is a rude person," Kurenai interjected, placing a hand on Sakura's arm. "Not at all. It's more that he's very…difficult to get to know on a personal level, so it's pretty significant when he lets someone in. Even in small ways."

"Yeah, no, I didn't mean he was an asshole or anything." Anko let out a laugh at his expense, throwing dark hair over her shoulder. "He's actually pretty sweet, if you can believe it. You see how he treats his dogs—and he lets us come and hang around even if it's mostly just to check up on him."

Sakura's radar pinged. "Check up on him?"

"Just because he's alone a lot," Kurenai said, almost too quickly. "He's incredibly introverted, so he tends to prefer it that way, which means we usually come here instead of dragging him to our places."

Her smile was meant to smooth things over, Sakura could tell. Now wasn't the time to ask, though.

But what they said made sense. Kakashi was introverted. He sought escapes at this party left and right: going outside to cook while everyone stayed inside; going up to his room to talk privately; sitting quietly the edge of the group as he listened to his friends chat, not participating but still present. And he was sweet—sure, he was rife with a rather powerful form of sarcasm, but he'd never once said anything mean or condescending or hurtful despite the callous way she'd handled the last week. He bathed and handled his dogs with meticulous, specialized care; he made sure his friends had everything they needed before he ate his own food; he'd given Sakura personal space and heard her out when she wanted to apologize earlier, then told her there was nothing to apologize for.

Even though she hardly knew him, she could tell Kakashi was a good man. A mysterious one, but a good one. And she liked him.

A lot.

Her eyes drifted back his way and found him already looking at her. It sent a thrill through her system—at first, he seemed so blank and unaffected by anything, but then she noticed the tiniest lift to his mouth. Even more so when she took Anko's advice and held his gaze, offering a smile. She just hoped she didn't look as shy as she felt.

"You know, I think it's getting kind of late."

"I," Kurenai responded to her friend, "was just about to say the same thing." She tipped back the rest of her wine, finishing the glass with an elegant flourish.

"Wait, you guys are leaving?" Sakura turned back to them, blinking to clear her head.

"Yep. But you got this," Anko whispered with a grin, tightening the knot in Sakura's scarf before patting her head and standing up to leave. "Thank me later, babycakes."

Kurenai stood up too and smoothed her dress out over her waist. "It was lovely to meet you, Sakura. We'll be in touch." Before she walked away, she leaned over her shoulder to say, "And I'm rooting for you."

And then with a single squeeze to her shoulder, the two women were off as quickly as they'd announced their departure, saying their goodbyes to Kakashi and retrieving the men they'd brought along. Sakura marveled at their perceptiveness, their tactfulness, and how inherent each trait was in both of them, how at ease and polished they were even in such a casual environment.

Guruko whined in her lap, looking up at her with big puppy eyes. She scratched between his ears.

"Do you think that's something that you get when you're older?" she asked, only sort of kidding. The dog's head flopped to one side. "I mean, do you think I'll ever be like that?"

He stared at her for a moment more before laying back down, head on her thigh. She hummed to herself as she smoothed a hand over his glossy fur.

I guess only time will tell.

.

.

.

It took a good while to get everyone out of the house, but once they left, everything finally settled into a palpable calm. The lamps created warm light around the house now that it was deeper into the night. Crickets chirped softly outside, the dogs were asleep on the living room furniture, and the only other sound in the house was the gentle clinking of whatever dishes were left on the counter as Sakura helped Kakashi load them into his gigantic sink.

His guests had helped with much of the cleanup: Asuma took all the trash out while the baldies did the dishes, and Yamato had cleaned off the grill while the ladies packed up the unopened beers and leftover vegetables. They'd left after some lighthearted residual conversation and goodbye hugs. Sakura was genuinely pleased that they had all proven her wrong and all, but she was so, so, so glad that she and Kakashi were finally alone, that she could finally talk to him without any noise or interruptions or cracked drywall.

She glanced over at Kakashi, who had been pretty silent since the end of the whole get-together. He was wearing pretty much the same thing, if not the exact same thing he'd been wearing the last time she was with him, and he looked so comfortable here in this kitchen, in his house. The conversation she'd had outside rang in her ears—when she saw how much he belonged here, how distinctly his this place was, it was no wonder they all wanted to be here.

"You were right about your friends," she said as she placed the last stray utensil on the stack of used plates. "They do mean well."

"So you've seen the light," he drawled, somewhat teasing. He turned on the sink and rolled his sleeves up, then handed her a rag. "I'll wash, you dry."

"I feel like this is starting to become a theme," she giggled, then hopped up onto the wooden countertops to sit with her legs crossed like a pretzel. The smell of dish soap swirled through the air; little droplets of water misted outward and landed on the inch of counter bordering the sink.

"Only if you get wet again," he said distractedly, and then stopped. Color rose on his face fast—since he wasn't wearing a mask, she saw it spread all the way up his neck and ears and over his cheeks. It was distressingly attractive.

"Oh my God." She burst out laughing even though she was feeling hot.

The sound of him clearing his voice was loud enough to be heard over the running faucet. "Uh. Anyway." Suds began to run off the sponge he was lathering over a plate. "Kurenai and Anko seemed to like you."

Sakura took in his half-slouch, his fading blush, and the way his thick gray hair fell over an impassive brow. Was he just making conversation, or...? Hmm.

"Yeah, we got along great. We mostly talked about medical stuff." She feigned nonchalance. "Oh, and about you."

He handed her a plate. "No wonder they left so soon."

She dried it off in circular motions, letting one foot fall out of her pose to nudge him in the side. "Give yourself a little more credit. You're kind of an enigma."

Another plate, delivered this time with an arched eyebrow. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"They said you weren't an asshole, in case you were wondering."

"That was nice of them."

Sakura stacked the clean plates beside her, watching the soap whirl down the drain. "And that you're really introverted."

He shrugged, pouring sudsy water out of a wine glass. "So to speak."

She took it from him and her fingers brushed his for a split second. Her stomach jumped, so she chose to watch herself dry the inside of the glass, how the water soaked into the cloth. "They, um…they also said that you like me."

His pause was so slight that she almost wondered if she'd imagined it.

"Huh."

He kept on cleaning, handing her a plate once it was thoroughly white again, and she took it with a bit of hesitance. "Well, do you?"

"It depends," he mused, turning off the sink and wiping his hands on his sweater. Then he turned to her, leaning a hip against the sink with a hand placed beside her leg, his eyes darker in the low light. "What do you think?"

Was it a trick question? Or did he really want to know? She couldn't tell. Her heart was pounding, and her leg moved just a bit to the left, enough so that she could feel his thumb against the side.

"I—"

The back door opened with a slam, one that jolted the dogs awake into a barking frenzy, paws skidding over the floor as they roared at the intruder.

"KAKASHI!" a thunderous voice boomed. Gai. "Have you seen my helmet anywhere? Safety is paramount!"

Kakashi froze. The distance between them grew at such a swift pace that Sakura immediately became more irritated than she'd been the whole week. Not once, but twice this obnoxious fucking guy had come between her and a resolution to this catastrophe.

"Oh my fucking God," she shouted when she saw him enter the house. "Get out!"

Gai's bushy eyebrows knit together in shock. "Is something wrong, my young friend?"

"Yes! You're—you're—" She couldn't find the word, so she chose the first one that came to mind: "You're cockblocking me!"

Gai's eyes grew the size of saucers. Kakashi coughed. The dogs stopped barking.

Shit.

"Uh," Kakashi began flatly. "I think it's on the sofa. Under Bull."

"Ah," Gai replied awkwardly, turning to retrieve his helmet where it was wedged beneath the dog. He waved it above his head. "Indeed. I'll…"

"Yeah. See you."

Sakura wanted to melt into the counter and then run onto the floor, even more so when the door closed behind Gai and Kakashi side-eyed her curiously. She covered her face with her hands before she could register any other weird looks he might give her. They were so warm that it was uncomfortable.

"That was not what I meant to say," she said, voice muffled by her palms.

"Freudian slip?" There was enough humor in his voice that she groaned out of shame.

"I feel like I do that a lot around you."

"What?" Oh, so now he was amused. Of course. She huffed out a sigh.

"Fuck up our conversations by opening my huge, stupid mouth." Her back curled to let her make herself smaller, hopefully tiny enough to dissolve into thin air. But suddenly his hands, cool from washing dishes, were on her wrists, trying to pry hers off her face. She didn't budge.

"Let me see something," he said, running a thumb over the back of her hand. That did it—she let him put her hands in her lap and glanced up at him, and his sleepy eyes roamed the lower part of her face for a few seconds. "Hmm. Looks fine to me."

"Stooop." She smacked him lightly on the arm. "I'm serious. And I'm frustrated as hell. I keep getting interrupted."

"Is that the word you were looking for?" He smiled from one side of his mouth, just a little, and she had to use all her power not to lean forward and kiss him—even if he was messing with her.

"Kakashi."

"Okay, okay. Understood." He put his hands up in a half-assed surrender, which was a problem because the gesture removed them from her own. "Go ahead. I won't say anything until you're finished."

"Good." She looked down to where hers were still tangled in her lap, gathering the words before taking a deep, collecting breath.

"So, like I said earlier," she started, "I'm sorry for what happened on Sunday, because I have no idea what got into me and I never do this kind of thing. Ever." Her leg bounced beneath the hands that were keeping it in place. "And I felt just a tiny bit better when Kurenai and Anko made it sound like you don't really do that kind of stuff either—you know, the whole…" She whirled her hands around, trying to pull the phrase from the air. "Casual hookup? Thing? I guess that's what it's called. But that's not the point right now."

As promised, Kakashi didn't say anything. She didn't even look at his face, worrying that she'd lose her train of thought if she started wondering what he was thinking.

"I was a total dick for jumping you all of a sudden, and then doing…what we did all day, and then leaving once you fell asleep. It was really cowardly of me, and I felt like shit about it all week." She sucked in a deep breath and let it go. "And then I felt even more like shit because I was trying to deny the fact that I have a humongous crush on you, so I was too nervous to text you, which is weird for me because I normally just face things head-on. And then I didn't even take your feelings into account when I was texting you, especially when I forgot to text you back, and I felt like such a jackass when Hidan told me that I probably hurt your feelings by making you think I was avoiding you and just wanted money. So I came here to apologize, but there were too many people, and even though I'm really happy I talked to your friends, the only thing I wanted to do all week was...talk to you."

Her fingers twisted together hard, knotting over each other at strange angles. "I'm sorry. And I know I've only really known you for a few days, but somehow, I just...I think I really, really like you. So…yeah."

There was a moment of silence where she tried to remembered what had just exited her mouth. She felt like she'd said everything she came to say, even if it was a babbling mess. She dared to glance up at Kakashi.

He was scratching at the back of his neck, eyes elsewhere.

"Is there anything else?" he asked, looking at her and then looking away.

Oh god. Her stomach dropped like she'd stepped off the edge of a cliff. Was he embarrassed?

"No." Her voice was strained. "Actually, yes. I…kind of…I wanted to know your thoughts on the whole situation."

"My thoughts?" He said the words like he was repeating something from another language. Sakura nodded slowly.

"Yeah. Like—what you were thinking about all of this. And don't sugarcoat it."

Based on the tension in his stance, Kakashi still didn't seem to get it. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead before it fell perfectly back into disheveled place.

"Hmm. Well. I…had a...good time last weekend, obviously." Now he was definitely embarrassed. "I figured you regretted it, though, so I tried to give you some space."

Of course, Sakura thought, chest squeezing terribly with guilt all her own, remembering his hesitance in the bedroom earlier.

"But," he continued after a moment, smiling with creasing eyes, "I'm glad you came today."

She dared to feel alleviated by that.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He leaned a bit closer, inspecting her face. God, he smelled so good. "Now, what else?"

Sakura shifted. Her emotions were going haywire, all caught in chaos in her head. She wanted to ask more, but she'd said her piece, and she didn't want to push him if that was all he had to say about it.

"I think I said everything."

He actually looking at her now, dead in the eyes, which made her spine go straight.

"Are you sure? I'm still listening." 

She managed a small smile.

"Yeah. That's all." She nodded, pulling her sleeves up over her fingers. "I'm sure."

"Okay."

She wasn't expecting him to kiss her, so when he put a hand on the curve of her shoulder and gently brought her forward to do just that, her eyes flew wide open—but it wasn't even two seconds before she responded fittingly, closing her eyes, letting her mouth move with his, his lips soft and insistent against hers. Yes.

His hair was just as soft as she remembered, softer than any of his dogs, and she let her fingers run through it slowly, nails raking over his scalp. She let her legs fall from the counter before wrapping them around his hips, scooting herself forward so that she could get even closer, could pull his head down to breathe him in and taste the tobacco on his tongue.

Kakashi made a noise in the back of his throat, low and humming. Then he pulled her closer.

Apparently there was no more talking to be done, and she'd never been more glad for it. 

.

.

.

When she returned home that night—that morning, more accurately—Shikamaru was still in her apartment, watching the tournament on her sofa as promised. She couldn't possibly have found it in her to care. Everything felt golden and rosy, even if a lot of that was in big part to her decorative lantern.

"I'm not waiting up, just to be clear," he grumbled, voice thick with a lack of sleep. Sakura dropped her purse in the kitchen, then walked over the the couch and plopped on top of him, laying down so her hair was in his face and her feet were on his shins. "What the"—he blew his lips out—"what the hell?"

She sighed. "I think your dad's officially off the market for me, Shikamaru."

"Oh." He thought about this for a minute, and then with more emphasis: "Oh. Okay. It's about time."

"Yeah," Sakura said, deciding to fall asleep on him. "It is."

.

.

.

Chapter Text

Ah, Saturday. Beautiful, wonderful, perfect Saturday. The sun shone through the dated glass blocks on her shower wall, making them look like some kind of glittering crystal. Birds were perched on buildings outside, chirping happily as she enjoyed a warm, wonderful mug of coffee on her sofa sans pseudo-roommate. Her clothes smelled fresh as daisies, even if they were just a pair of running shorts and an old t-shirt. The weather was deliciously crisp on her walk to the subway station, and there was even a seat next to a nice old lady once she stepped on board a noticeably uncrowded train.

On this particular weekend morning, Sakura felt remarkably well-rested. She could sense how much lighter she felt as she jogged up the stairs of the subway exit near Kakashi's neighborhood, as she walked through the streets and up the slight incline to meet the dogs at his house, and as she unlocked the door and tiptoed inside, hoping to catch their owner unawares.

The second she was inside, as usual, every single one of the puppies found her in the hallway, tags jingling merrily and paws slipping over the floor as they trotted toward her. She bent down to greet them individually.

"Good morning, babies," she sang gently, hugging a droopy-faced Bull when he nosed her on the hip and offering Pakkun her palm to lick. Urushi was bounding restlessly around her knees, so she let him roll over and scratched at his belly. Bisuke didn't like to be touched by her still, so she smiled at him. "Where's your dad?" She picked up Guruko so he could lick her face, then pet Shiba on the back a few times, then scratched behind Akino's ears before she let them all follow her into the rest of the house.

The kitchen was spotless save for the dishes still stacked in the sink. Sakura bit her lip, smiling coyly, though she did wonder if he'd eaten breakfast before heading to work. Unless, of course, he was still asleep…

She tiptoed up the stairs, listening closely to see if she could maybe hear him breathing. She'd left late last night—while he was awake this time, and after letting him drive her home since the subways had stopped running—and it was the weekend, so there was a good chance of him sleeping in. The dogs didn't try to follow her up the staircase, which she noticed for the first time, and she wondered if he'd trained them not to. Whatever it was, it made it a lot easier to sneak up on him.

She glided on down the wooden floors of the hall and toward the bedroom, then whipped her head around the open doorframe once she was in position against the wall.

Unfortunately all that greeted her was a perfectly made bed and an empty bathroom.

"Boo," she pouted, traipsing back down the stairs. "Guess it's time for a walk."

Even though she was mumbling to herself, Shiba started jumping around her legs once she'd made it back down, and a few of the others enthusiastically joined in, tags clinking as they all panted in unison.

"Okay, okay." She giggled when Bisuke yipped at her. "I'm going." They all crowded her on the way to where Kakashi kept their things.

It was a room by the laundry room, one big enough for her to assume that its original purpose was to be used as a bedroom. Inside was a perfectly organized cabinet for their leashes, individual baskets for their toys, and what looked like seasonal collars—there were ones with Christmas and Halloween themed designs, as well as ones for different festivals. All of their food was labeled; each dog had their own set of bowls, and some had certain medicine or their own treats set aside. It wasn't a surprise that Kakashi cared so much about his dogs. Not at all. But now that she was getting to know him, it put things into context, and she found herself grinning at the tiniest things—his scratchy handwriting, his attention to detail, the array of costumes and pillows he'd picked out for each dog.

Once she made sure the one or two empty bowls had been filled, she opened the cabinet where the leashes hung and stopped short. There was a piece of paper hanging smack dab in the middle of them, stuck to the handle of Bull's leash.

"Huh," she breathed, taking the paw-shaped paper between her fingers to read.

since you have a history of not reading my text messages, here's a note for you. call me when you and the dogs get back.

It was signed with a henohenomoheji, too. She snorted, pulling her phone out of her purse to call him, putting it on speaker so she could get the pups ready to go.

"Yo," he answered on the third ring. The inside of the cabinet made his voice echo and sound much louder than he'd probably actually said it. So perfunctory, she thought with a healthy amount of sarcasm. But it wasn't like she was expecting a good morning or hello, beautiful or anything like that. No, that would be silly.

"I got your note," she called back, clipping leashes onto Shiba and Pakkun simultaneously. "Looks like someone was feeling sassy this morning."

She heard him chuckle even though there were a lot of hissing, clattering noises in the background. "Just covering all my bases."

Her lips pressed together, trying not to smile. "Are you working right now?"

"Mhmm. A bit slow today, but it's still early." Something beeped. "How are the dogs?"

"Cute and adorable." Akino was nuzzling his nose into her hand as she put on his leash. His goggles were a bit askew, so she gently righted them.

"As can only be expected." He sounded mildly put-upon, though it was only to be facetious, she was sure. "I'm assuming you haven't taken them out yet."

She stood up straight and squinted at where the phone sat by the dry food. "How do you know that?"

"Well," he mused, "after I left the house, I realized there was no way you'd wait to call after seeing the note."

"Why not?"

"Because." More clanging noises rang out, and all she could imagine was a spatula hitting a flattop grill. "First of all, as you pointed out, I made a sassy comment." Now she imagined one of those lazy-ass smiles. "Secondly, you don't mess around."

The casual tone of his voice, purely observational, made her actually…kind of pleased. And it didn't make it sound like an insult as it would've sounded coming from anyone else she knew. She wasn't going to let him have it that easily, though.

"You sure are confident. What makes you think you're right?" She tried to sound as flirty as she could herding eight separate leashes onto her arms—which, granted, wasn't very much.

"Like I said: I'm learning." There was a smile in his voice, Sakura was positive. "How are you this morning?"

She let herself smile back now, mouth curving and teeth running over her bottom lip. "I'm great, actually. How are you, Kakashi?"

"Just lovely."

Sakura was glad she'd taken it off speaker and that her phone was wedged between her ear and shoulder—she was able heard the words in all their marvelous, super-chill, deep-voiced glory. If the dogs weren't rearing to go, she might have even allowed for a sigh.

"I'll finish up here and be back at the house in an hour."

"Wait, really? Why?"

"Oh, I, uh…thought we could run some errands." A pause. "If you wanted to, of course."

If she'd had a free hand, she would have smacked herself in the face. "No, I'm sorry. I definitely want to. I just meant…what about work?"

"Ah." The humor was back in his voice. "The perks of being your own boss."

She'd been referring more to the potential cuts on his paycheck, but then she remembered that not everyone in the world had to worry about hourly wages and pinching pennies. Especially not former rocket scientists. "Oh, yeah. True. I'll see you soon, then?"

There was a small moment of silence before he responded.

"Yeah," he said with an odd tone, almost like he'd just remembered something. "Soon, then."

.

.

.

Kakashi had a car, which was an experience in and of itself.

There was first the question of why he had both the car and the food truck, which Sakura had asked no less than five seconds after stepping into the garage across the street last night. He'd answered her with a simple explanation:

"Court mandated."

She'd gaped at him. "Um, should I be worried?"

Then he'd eye-smiled so unassumingly. "Let's just say Gai, food trucks, and drag racing aren't a good mix."

Apparently Gai's and his competitions had never stopped being a thing. The most he ended up explaining about the situation was that because of a race they'd done at four in the morning, wherein both of them ended up in the hospital, he now wasn't allowed to take the food truck anywhere out of a two-and-a-half kilometer radius from his house. That explained why he was usually in this area, she realized.

And then he'd topped off the recap with a short statement: "But the silver lining here is that I won."

Sakura had just stared at him until he guided her into the passenger side of his creaky, squeaky, ugly van—which took a lot of convincing to get into until he explained that he drove it for the cargo space. Not only for his dogs, but for stocking up on food and supplies, which was what they were doing this morning.

She put her feet up on the scuffed dashboard, stuck her arm out the window to feel the thick breeze move in waves. It ruffled her hair and tickled at her neck while they rode through town. She glanced over at Kakashi in his old sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up toward his elbows as he kept a loose hold on the steering wheel, the surgical mask and sunglasses he wore, and the way his hair fluttered against his forehead. If his clothes weren't fraying at the edges and his posture were a bit better, he probably could have been mistaken for a celebrity.

"See something you like?" He used his palm to move the wheel as they slowly turned the corner. She wiggled her toes against her sandals and grinned without even realizing it.

"Nope." She popped the p on the end of the word. "I'm, um…just wondering what the hell kind of music this is."

"How dare you," Kakashi said in the flattest possible tone. "This is a classic."

It was something in English, something that sounded very eighties, but she wasn't sure she'd ever heard it. After a moment he started humming the tune lower than it was being sung, and Sakura decided right then and there that she wouldn't complain about his music choices ever again.

"Do you sing?" she asked after a minute, absently curling her wrist through the air out the window. The answer would likely be a negative, though she crossed her fingers and hoped for the opposite.

"Not if I can help it," he mumbled. "Pakkun sings, though. Opera." The humming immediately resumed once the words were out.

"Never would've guessed. He looks more a conductor type." Her gaze fell to the backseat where Pakkun stood on all fours, looking out the window as best as he could from such a low vantage point.

"He gets that a lot. But I'll have you know that 'Pakkun' is short for 'Pavarotti-kun.'"

Sakura snorted.

"Shut up." Before he could say anything else, she said, "Remind me why we only brought him again?"

"Ah, yes. It's a big day for him." Kakashi looked at her briefly. "We're going to see his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Was he speaking in metaphors again? One of her eyebrows rose along with her heart rate.

"Mhmm. Shiromaru." He lowered his voice into a mock whisper, as if they were a pair of gossiping old ladies. "She's an older woman. Very scandalous."

"Ohhh," Sakura cooed. No metaphors. Unless she was Pakkun in this situation.

Probably best to stop while she was ahead.

"Where does she live?"

"Around the corner." He gestured vaguely to somewhere up the street, so she chose to focus on their surroundings and see if she could figure out exactly where they were headed. They were in a quieter area already, one with a bunch of small apartment buildings and attached houses, none of them more than two or three floors; all of them had charming little window boxes full of flowers and bins for recycling sitting out front. Considering its narrowness and the small amount of people and pets in the road, this seemed more like a street for walking than driving. Was Shiromaru a stray? One of the two dogs lounging by the popsicle fridge outside the corner store?

Kakashi turned said corner before he pulled the van into a driveway it barely fit into, one situated in front of a house with several wind chimes and lines of colorful string lights hung in the open window. Rock music was wafting out with the scent of whatever was cooking. As they idled there, she could already smell something yummy, something rich and warm and satisfying…and strangely familiar.

"We won't be here long. She's, uh, not a big fan of lingering." He turned off the car. "But she doesn't bite."

Her feet slipped down from their perch near the windshield. "Are you still talking about the dog, or…?"

"Well, her too, but—"

A hard squealing noise interrupted him. "You comin' in or not?"

They both looked over to find a woman standing in the front doorway, apron on and big wooden spoon in hand as she waited expectantly. Her hair was short and brown and halfway permed, and she had on full makeup, lipstick and all, but was still in a nightgown. Sakura liked her already: in several ways, this woman's appearance and general demeanor reminded her of Tsunade.

"Yup." Kakashi, all liquid calm as usual, got out of the car at a lethargic pace, then slid open the back door to let Pakkun hop out as well. Following suit, Sakura let the two of them get to the door first to greet this mystery lady.

"Looks like you brought the party with you." She used the sauce-covered spoon to guide Pakkun inside the house. "Go on, kid."

Pakkun sneezed at her and trotted inside at his own pace, which made Kakashi chuckle.

"And you," she said, pointing the spoon at him now, "are not supposed to be here until five. What's the rush, huh?"

An eye smile graced the upper half of his face. "I was so excited to see you that I simply couldn't wait."

She rolled her eyes with a grimace. "Yeah, okay. I think you're getting me confused with this one." Now she looked at Sakura in slightly friendlier manner. "What's your name, sweetie?"

She felt like anything but a sweetie in this woman's presence, but: "Haruno Sakura. I'm—"

"Kakashi-kun's girlfriend, I'm guessing. Come on in." She even stepped outside to make way for her and Kakashi to go in at the same time. "I'm Inuzuka Tsume. Basically the reason this little shit gets any business."

"Nice to meet you." Sakura was going to try and stammer her way through an explanation—it was probably way too soon for a label like that, especially for someone as emotionally reserved as Kakashi—but he put an arm around her shoulders in this very unthinking way, and the words kept themselves at bay in her head where they probably belonged. The two of them walked inside and slipped off their shoes.

"She's only half-right," Kakashi stage-whispered so that Tsume would hear. "She does most of the cooking, but I have all the charm."

Her arm found its way around his lean, solid waist. She relished seeing him in a moment like this, so much looser and more comfortable then he'd been the night before. It was really cute. So cute, in fact, that she couldn't help but wrinkle her nose and smile up at him even though he wasn't looking.

"Keep telling yourself that, Kakashi-kun," she teased back.

"Yeah. 'Charm' my ass," Tsume scoffed. "The only time I find you charming is when I get the receipt for your deposits."

"Mah, give a working man a break."

Sakura laughed out of politeness. Interesting. Were they business partners or what? She wanted to ask, but then they stepped into the kitchen, and she lost her whole train of thought.

Save for the sheer amount of dogs, this was the complete antithesis of Kakashi's house. The floor tiles were mismatched from several patching jobs; the counter was cluttered full of cookbooks and bags of chips and dog food and dishes; there were huge pots on the stove with sauce dripping over, baking onto the sides and surrounding surfaces. There were at least four big golden retrievers lying in various positions around the dinner table by the front window, all of whom jumped up at their entrance.

"Speaking of deposits…" Tsume continued, walking to the stove. Despite their evident curiosity at the new arrivals—Sakura especially—the dogs all followed her over there, lingering at her feet dutifully. Or perhaps they were trying to taste whatever she was stirring.

"Monday," Kakashi responded simply. "Promise."

"Ah, fine. I trust you." She stirred the other pot. Just by the way her arm flexed Sakura could tell that this was more than soup. And then that rich, spicy smell pinpointed itself in her memory—it couldn't have been anything other than chili.

"I'd do it today, but the bank's already closed…" He scratched at his neck. "Brought those expense reports, though. The ones from January."

"Thank God for that. My accountant's been bouncing off the walls without 'em."

"Mm."

Tsume turned, and the dogs turned with her, their precious shiny eyes landing on Sakura. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

"I'm alright," she replied. She'd actually eaten breakfast this morning, which was kind of a first. "Thank you, though."

"Suit yourself." The woman tossed a rag onto the counter, looking to Kakashi with her piercing eyes. "I want to see if these need more cumin before I hand them off to you, so go ahead and give her the grand tour."

"That's code for 'get the hell out,'" he explained to Sakura with an eye smile. His arm was solid on her shoulders, guiding her out of the kitchen and toward the hallway. "Let's go see if we can find Pakkun, shall we?"

"'Kay." She felt like she could agree to anything he asked right now. There was a newness to all of this—something about the way the morning light filtered into this stranger's cozy, eclectic house, one that was so clearly familiar to him, and the echo of good classic rock through the halls had Sakura slipping into an inexplicable lightness; some soft, malleable thing that left her willing to explore whatever came her way today. She was starting to think learning about Kakashi was her new favorite thing.

They passed a bunch of family pictures hanging on the wall as they made their way into the living room—most of which were of dogs, much like Kakashi's own house, though some were of people who could only be Tsume's children given the similarities in their hair and facial features. The den was a small room crammed to the brim with furniture for both animals and humans, tables and cabinets and plush old chairs gathered there in abundance. On the sofa was someone whose feet poked over the edge of one armrest. Sakura pointed in question, raising a brow at Kakashi.

"Oh, yeah." He seemed to smirk beneath his mask. "Morning, Kiba."

The only response was a deep rip of a snore. Sakura laughed a bit, peering over the back to see this Kiba. What she found did not disappoint: he was a tall boy with light brown skin and dark brown hair, the same one from a few of the pictures in the hallway. There was some kind of makeup smeared all over his face along with a bunch of red kiss marks on one cheek. He was snoring open-mouthed with a hand on his naked chest, wearing Spider-man boxers and using a towel as a blanket. He was in excellent shape, Sakura noted with appreciation as her eyes momentarily traced the definition in his stomach muscles, though he was no Kakashi. Unlike her preferred party, however, Kiba had something she would only expect from a person like Hidan: nipple piercings.

"Oh my god," she whispered loudly, glancing back at Kakashi. "Who is this guy? I think he's wearing body glitter."

"Tsume's son." He put his arm back on her shoulder, trying to gently pry her away. "Might not want to wake him up. He's probably still drunk, and he's also pretty well-versed in sexual harassment."

"Wait a second! I've never seen nipple piercings up close! You at least have to let me take a look."

Kakashi wasn't quite as enthralled. "Suit yourself, but I'm just saying: not a great idea. You could always ask Anko instead."

The suspicious glare made its way to her face before she'd even had the thought to make it. "She has them?"

"Mhmm. If she'd stayed for two more beers last night, she probably would've flashed you."

Either he was being perfectly casual about this or a little too casual. "So…you've seen them?"

"Uh-huh."

Sakura bit her lip. Anko's extremely curvaceous figure came to mind, and she'd be stupid not to be jealous of someone like that. Someone who was sexy and confident and much closer to his age than she was. And then she recalled that Anko was single, and so comfortable in Kakashi's house, and kept asking after him…and then she'd left early…was it under a pretense of letting Sakura have him? 

"Did you two sleep together?" she mumbled, feeling very young again. Especially when Kakashi reacted with a deep, true confusion, evident in the way his dark silver eyebrows furrowed together.

"Me and Anko?" He blinked. "Why would we?"

"I dunno. Because she's hot? And cool? And kind of scary…but in a sexy way?" She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to channel his blasé attitude and failing.

"I can't exactly argue with that," Kakashi said dryly, humoring her. "But no, we haven't. She's been a very good friend to me, so that's one reason, but I'm also not her type."

Somehow she doubted that. Physically speaking, at the very least, Kakashi wasn't exactly a niche kind of attractive.

After she didn't say anything, he put a hand by his mouth and leaned in. "She likes women, Sakura."

"Oh." And then, with much more feeling behind it: "Wait—she does?"

"Yup. I'm surprised you didn't notice." He stood up at his full height again—well, as much as he could with his slight, automatic slouch. "She told me before they left that she'd been laying it on a little thick."

"Laying what on?" It was her turn to blink. "Hold up. She was flirting with me?! I didn't even realize!"

"Are you disappointed?" Now he was definitely amused, the fucker.

"Yes!" Her face was starting to turn pink, she could feel it. "I would have been…well. Extremely flattered." Her blush deepened when his eyes met hers.

"Should I be worried?" he mused, tone smooth and lilting. "First you come in here ogling Kiba, a much younger and more strapping man than I, all while trying to fondle his chest. And then I find out your own naïveté just barely saved me from losing your affections to my very scary, very sexy friend. I have to say, I'm feeling a little insecure."

Sakura snorted lightly, mostly for his benefit. "If you wanted your chest fondled, all you had to do was ask."

What she could see of his face took on a strange look. "I'll, uh...keep that in mind."

"Go fondle somewhere else," someone else chimed in, rasping heavily. It was Kiba, who shifted around on the sofa, eyes scrunched closed. "Whoever you are. Tryin' to fuckin' sleep here."

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Sakura giggled.

This time she let Kakashi guide her away and out of the room, moving toward a dim hallway out of the sunlight that streamed through the windows. They passed an open bedroom on the way down the hall, the sheets rumpled and pillows askew on the bed within, and then a laundry room covered in piles of unwashed laundry. There was a calm to this messiness that made the whole house feel so lived-in and cozy, like a childhood friend or favorite cousin's home. She smiled to herself, thinking of the years she'd spent in Tsunade's similarly disheveled household.

"You're lucky he's falling back asleep," he said once they were out of earshot. "He would have found you particularly…enticing."

"Really? Damn, I'm killin' it lately, huh?" If only those bitches who used to make fun of her forehead could see her now.

"Looks like it."

She stopped walking and smiled, tugging on his hand to stop him too when he continued walking. He looked to her with question.

"Do you find me particularly enticing?" she asked quietly, drawing him closer. His skin was warm where it touched hers. The feeling of his hands sliding along her waist was more than welcome.

"Hmm." There was an animated note to his hum. "I'd say there's a good chance."

Sakura stood on her tiptoes to remove his mask and plant a big smooch on his lips. God, he was irresistible.

"You know, last night…"

"Mm?"

"You never actually said whether or not you liked me."

He didn't react much except to place his palms against the curve of her lower back. "I believe I did." He leaned down to bridge the gap in their heights, letting his nose brush against hers. She could smell the clean scent of his face wash, feel the warmth of his breath. "Several times, if I'm remembering right."

Another smooch covered the delighted resurgence of her flush. "Oho, look who's flirting now." Her hands found the back of his neck, soft and smooth. "Can I ask you something?"

Kakashi chuckled faintly and she could feel it in his chest. It may or may not have turned her on a little bit.

"Is it whether or not I like you?" His sleepy gaze met her alert one, curious and extremely attractive. Scoldingly as she could, she tugged at the hair that rested between her fingers.

"That too, you butthead. But no. It's…um…are you really feeling insecure?"

A sort of deflating wave passed through him, one that barely showed in his shoulders.

"If I say yes, will you fondle my chest?"

"Just answer the question," Sakura whined, tugging his hair once more, but more gently this time.

"Sakura." He leaned his forehead against hers, more out of exasperation than intimacy. "Considering it's the—third?…Technically the third day of this new and…remarkably strange thing we have going, I think it's a bit early to start worrying."

"Yeah, but…" She could tell he was patiently waiting for her to finish, so she tried to find the words. "I'm a worrier. Clearly."

His mouth curved into a lopsided, defibrillating smile, a little self-conscious at the edges. Sweet baby Jesus. Maybe they were only three days in, but she had the distinct feeling she'd never get tired of seeing that.

"Hopefully there will be plenty of time for that later." His hands pulled her closer by her waist. She could feel his abdomen against her stomach, all firm and lean, and felt like she was melting. "You should enjoy me as much as you can before you realize you like my friends better than me. Or that I'm too lazy in bed. Or that my emotional baggage is too heavy to carry."

Sakura, as usual, couldn't tell if he was joking, though it sounded like he was. He'd dipped his head toward her neck enough where she couldn't see his expression.

Her mouth twisted down to one side. She really wanted to get down to the meat of it all—or the bone, more like, since she knew herself. She'd always, always been the type to overthink, much to her detriment. But today was going so well, for once with them…and she loved seeing Kakashi feel free enough to flirt and touch her effortlessly, and to imply that he wasn't going anywhere. Yet. And that could be reassuring enough.

"It's a good thing I have strong arms, then," she whispered into his ear, allowing for a smirky smile.

His chin met her shoulder. "You do. I thought you were going to choke me out last weekend."

Another wave of heat seeped into her cheeks. He wasn't too far off. "I can do it now, if you want."

"Uh, maybe that should wait until we get back to my place," Kakashi said, voice a bit tight now.

Bingo.

"Maybe," she replied. "I guess we could always just play with Pakkun instead. I'm pretty sure I saw him in that dark, quiet, empty bedroom over there…"

And by the time she saw the pink spreading over Kakashi's face, she'd already pulled him halfway through its door.

.

.

.

Sakura snorted again, loud enough to be heard over whatever eighties song was playing in the van.

"C'mon, Sakura," Kakashi voiced from his spot in the driver's seat, shoulders hunched toward the steering wheel. "It's bad enough already."

Now she really couldn't hold back—her whole body shook with laughter, giggles pitched up high and nose scrunching enough to close her eyes.

"Sorry, but—" She had to stop to laugh again. "I've never seen someone try to spank a grown man before. Not in, like, a mom way, at least. God."

"As I said before: Tsume doesn't like lingering. So I'd imagine she doesn't enjoy seeing her business partner make out with a stranger on her bed."

"Kakashi, I was literally leaving a hickey on your chest while your hands were in my bra."

The flush that crept up his neck and ears was beyond satisfying. "Well."

Her giggle rose in her throat again, rivaling a squeak by the time she could speak again.

"I'm gonna assume I'm officially uninvited from any future chili pick-ups?"

"I'm the one who invited you, so…hmm, not likely." They slowed to a stop at a red light and he turned to face her, a deceptively innocent smile already creasing his eyelids. "Next time, we'll just have to use Kiba's room."

.

.

.

The hiccup with Tsume aside, the remainder of their afternoon was pretty close to perfect. It was almost like whatever corny—entertaining, of course, but corny nonetheless—rom-coms Sakura had been deluding over all week. Not only was the weather still absolutely gorgeous, but they took advantage of it by walking through the park she always took the dogs to, heading to the open market to shop for fresh dinner ingredients, and eating lunch at a cute restaurant with lots of outdoor seating.

Not that Pakkun was high maintenance, but since they'd left him at the Inuzuka household to spend more time with the elusive Shiromaru, it gave her and Kakashi some quality time together. It was the first time they'd been completely alone since they met, she realized, and when she relayed as much to him he simply chuckled.

"If we asked the dogs nicely, they'd probably give us some privacy."

She pushed his arm playfully. "You are such a smartass."

He smiled at her, totally innocuous. "I've been called worse."

Sakura's eyes rolled as she tucked her hair behind her ears. The light breeze had been tousling it throughout their time outside and now it was a mess, but thankfully her companion didn't seem to mind. Probably because he'd had a part in making it look the way it did.

"Wait, though. Is that why they never go upstairs?" She took a big sip of her ice water, watching his neutral expression for any signs of giveaways. As if he had any.

"Nope. That's just a side effect of my allergies. Figured I needed one room that wasn't covered in fur." He shrugged, turning his fork absentmindedly around in deft fingers. It was so hot.

"What's the constantly-made-up bed a side effect of?" she asked, trying to suppress a smile at his expense.

"Hmm." His dark eyes flicked down to the utensil in his hand. "That's mostly because I fall asleep on the sofa every night."

"Oh. Geez." Fighting allergies, my ass. The pups probably fell asleep right on top of him too. "No wonder your back is so bad," she blurted without thinking.

He raised a brow, waiting for her to elaborate. The way the sunlight slanted into his eyes made them look gray instead of almost-black, and for a second she forgot what she was going to say.

"I, um." Sakura took another sip of water. "One of my jobs is at an acupuncture clinic you used to go to. My boss is basically the reason I knew you ran the food truck."

"Ah," he nodded in a wise, sort of amused manner, eyes twinkling with recognition. "That explains your shirt, then."

She glanced down at her outfit, realizing that she was indeed wearing the shirt Hidan had given her that one time he spilled cherry soda all over her good blouse. Technically he'd only loaned it to her, but it was so roomy and comfortable that there was never a chance he would get it back. It was a faded heather gray shirt with a logo in the middle: a yin and yang symbol was in the center, two acupuncture needles in an x behind it like a skull and crossbones. The name of his clinic encircled the design in bold font—Perfect Pricks.

"Yep. I guess it does." She crossed her legs pensively. "I'm starting to think I should thank Hidan. If he hadn't told me about you when I mentioned stopping by, I might not've had enough inertia left from being mad at you to jump your bones."

"And here I was thinking it was simply my natural charms doing all the work." Kakashi said dryly, eye-smiling at her. "How sad."

Her only response was to stick her tongue out at him and then eat a big bite of cheesecake. He didn't need to know he was partly right.

Sad as it may be, he didn't seem too upset when less than an hour later they pulled over and started getting frisky. She really did need to thank Hidan, she thought as Kakashi's palm slid over the bare curve of her waist—though it would have to be in the most subtle, gracious way she could muster. The last thing she needed was Hidan knowing any more details of her sex life, especially when it related to something as outrageous as Giant Wieners. Or that she and Kakashi were about to get it on in his van while they were parked outside some sketchy warehouse.

She ran her teeth over his earlobe again, reveling in how little pressure it took to make his breathing increase. They'd barely been at it for three minutes this time, but she'd already reduced him to quiet, shallow breaths. His hands were loose, searching, touching the skin beneath her shirt like he couldn't currently manage otherwise.

"I think you like when I'm on top," she whispered, hoping her little morsel of smugness didn't filter too much into her tone. Kakashi sighed as her lips brushed his ear.

"I think," he replied very, very lowly, "that's already been established."

Still trying to play it cool, are we? Sakura slipped a hand beneath the hem of his sweater, running her hand along the rises and dips of his abdomen, feeling the muscles jump ever so slightly beneath her touch. She kissed slowly along his jaw while her hand trailed up, up, all the way up to his chest.

"You know, I kinda got interrupted earlier. I had, like, at least ten more hickeys to leave here before I was done."

He was going to say something, but it apparently fizzled out when she let her fingers move over his nipple. Suddenly his face and neck both washed with color, the pale skin flushing in what seemed like an instant. She heard him clear his throat.

"We should, uh…" His voice faded when she did it again, this time with more pressure. Her teeth found her lip and grabbed on hard when his breath hitched.

"Oh my God," Sakura muttered with an incredulous half-grin. "You did not tell me you liked that."

"Liked what?" he said, a bit rough around the edges, feigning his usual casual demeanor. The grin on her face instantly grew.

"I can't believe you have a thing for getting your nipples touched." Her voice was shaky with laughter. "No wonder you got so bothered about Kiba. I feel like I just opened a treasure chest. No pun intended."

Kakashi looked at her with lidded, rather unamused eyes, but his blush gave everything away. God, was she grateful for that blush—without it, she would probably never know a single thing he was thinking. She usually didn't, of course, if the last few days were any indication, and honestly she never would have pegged someone so laid back to be so shy and easily embarrassed when it came to affection. But that was the opposite of a problem in her book. At that moment, it might have been her favorite thing about him.

Besides his chest, of course.

"Don't be embarrassed," she told him lightly, holding back another giggle. "I think it's sexy."

He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose. "You really can't—"

Sakura cut him off with a kiss, readjusting her position to get closer. Her hands were still on his chest, pressing gently into the muscles; she moved her knees where they sat on either side of his thighs to try and get her lap closer to his. When she moved, his hand absently followed her butt, which—

"AH!" she yelled on impulse, turning around to see her ass pressing against the center of the steering wheel. The horn honked for a few seconds until she found enough room to move away from it, though it was just barely enough. Kakashi simply blinked a few times, which made her snort into a fit of laughs. "Of course."

He started to move his hands away from her, pulling her shirt down to its rightful place over her hips.

"Okay, there is no way that just killed the whole mood." She tried to maneuver his wrists and guide his hands back to their rightful place on her ass, but he did his best to pull away. "Kakashi. Seriously?"

"You didn't kill the mood." His free hand pointed toward the passenger side of the car. "That did."

Eyes following the direction of his finger, she noticed the door of the creepy warehouse they were parked next to opening. Out walked a tall guy in a backwards hat and tank top and basketball shorts. The dude gave a very familiar wave, arm falling just a bit when he noticed they were…indisposed at the moment. Clearly he could see that Sakura was straddling the driver of the van, but for all their sakes she hoped he maybe hadn't noticed that Kakashi's sweater was pushed up to his neck.

"Who the hell is that?" Reluctantly, she climbed off, landing in her seat and observing their intruder. She was throbbing with need—not a horrible amount, but enough to make her hate this wifebeater-wearing weenie for cockblocking her right off the bat.

Kakashi slowly adjusted his clothes. "One of the mechanics I work with."

The look she gave him was probably comically scandalized, but she didn't care.

"Um, you're telling me we didn't just pull over here because you were consumed with lust or something?" She whipped her head around. The guy was coming toward the car at a very hesitant pace. "Could these people see us the entire time?"

"No. Promise." He ran a hand through his disheveled old man hair and secured his mask over his ears. "But to be fair, you came at me the second I put the car in park. I was powerless to stop you."

The foot of hers that was resting on his thigh came up to nudge his shoulder. "Powerless my ass. I've barely been able to keep your hands off my boobs all day."

"Says the one who's been after my boobs all day. I'm really starting to feel like a piece of meat here, Sakura."

"Do I need to have a go at your nips again?" Her foot nudged into his shoulder, moving back down to his chest area. "I give a mean purple nurple. Just ask my neighbor."

Just as he was starting to look suspiciously into it, there was a knock on her window. Kakashi waved the guy off before Sakura could turn around, then cleared his throat, pocketing the car keys in his cupholder.

"Come on. This won't take long." He opened the door just barely and glanced at her over his shoulder, eye-smiling where she could see it. "Then we can discuss your offer."

She couldn't help but smile. Really, truly, he was unbelievable.

"Zabuza," Kakashi greeted as she slid out of the car. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Can't complain." The dude started walking back toward the warehouse and they followed him into the gigantic garage door, just one of many in this row. God, this place really was sketchy, like something out of a zombie apocalypse movie. If Kakashi hadn't known this place were here, Sakura never would have guessed—the rest of the buildings looked completely empty and the van was the only car in the lot.

"Are we about to get murdered?" she mumbled to Kakashi, who was much more relaxed beside her.

"Nah," the guy, Zabuza, called from a few feet in front of them. "I mean, not unless you want to. We got plenty of tools and fire 'n' shit."

"No thanks. I'd rather die where someone could find my body." Why did every guy she met lately look like someone Ino would pick up at a crappy metal concert?

"I think that's the fundamental opposite of what most murderers go for, but alright." The guy smirked. "Guess we'll have to hold off for today."

Kakashi chuckled to himself, putting a gentle hand on her back like it hadn't been on her butt two minutes ago.

"Temporary relocation," he explained in a murmur. "Their other shop closed, so they're here until they find a better spot."

"Ah," she said, though as always, she was curious. Did they get robbed? Vandalized? Foreclosed on? Did they go out of business? Or maybe they'd been bought out by a developer, but that seemed highly unlikely given the place they were stuck in now. Perhaps someone would drop a hint before they left.

The inside of the warehouse—thankfully for her increasing sense of uneasiness—looked like any normal mechanic's garage. There were cars lifted into various positions for work, some with the tires or bumpers taken off. There was only one other person here that she could see, hidden beneath a car with his legs sticking out, but they just strolled past him without so much as a word. They passed an old car with pinstripes on the side and arrived at the opposite wall of the warehouse. And what was situated there was the absolute last thing Sakura expected or wanted to see.

Shizune's ex-boyfriend, unmistakable fucker that he was, sat on a stool by a makeshift desk, wearing a grease-covered mechanic's outfit. His stupid bandana was keeping his hair back—hair that was longer than both hers and her cousin's, no less—and he had gauze pads taped to his cheek and a pen in his mouth while he looked at some sort of legal pad. Sakura's heart clutched in surprise that quickly boiled into rage.

"Yo, Genma," Kakashi announced in monotone, leaning forward to catch his hand in a sort of automatic high-five-handshake thing that guys always did.

"Hey, man," the asshole returned, lifted his face to look at Kakashi. Sakura could see the ugly mottled bruise on the side of his face where his shittily-patched bandages hadn't covered. "How's it hangin'? You here for that order?"

"Yup." Kakashi paused, gesturing vaguely to his own visage. "What, uh…"

"Oh." Genma waved it off, doing that snarly smile thing he always did when he was trying to be funny. "Got too drunk and a little fight happened. No biggie." He glanced in Sakura's direction, more at her legs than her face. Fucking scumbag. "More importantly, who's this—"

His voice cut itself off once his eyes landed on her face—or, more specifically, her hair. Sakura couldn't move. If she did, she would probably launch at him and start clawing his face animal kingdom style.

"This is Sakura," Kakashi said plainly, either noting the tiny blip and deciding to roll with it, or not detecting it in the first place. She couldn't tell which one was more likely. "She's my...doctor. Er, my dogwalker. My—"

"Bathroom," she interrupted, jaw locked. Genma was staring at her with an unreadable expression. "Where's the bathroom? I'm going…to pee really quick."

"I'll, uh, show you to it." He looked to Kakashi once he'd given Sakura enough seconds to deny him the opportunity. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna grab that battery while I'm back there."

"Okay."

She knew Kakashi was looking at her now, likely wondering what had so visibly set her off, but she couldn't look back at him without spilling something. Ugh. Today had been the smoothest sailing to date, and if she said anything to him, it would likely crumble the delicate, fun, beautiful thing they'd had going today.

You will not ruin this for me.

The weight of his perpetually half-open eyes did not go unnoticed as she went with Genma to a hallway at the side of the garage. Her legs moved like they weren't her own, stiff and weird and hard to walk on. 

The second they were out of sight, she turned on him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she spat, her voice a hiss of a whisper over whatever bullshit oldies song was playing on the shop radio. He put his hands on his hips and leered at her, grimacing.

"My job," he replied. His voice was much calmer than his body language should allow, and she wished he would get mad. Part of her wanted a fight. "And I could ask you the same thing."

"I thought you were an investigator or whatever." Her back hit the wall and she crossed her arms. "Unless you lied about that too."

"I didn't lie about it. Shit happened and now here I am." Genma frowned as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "What are you doing here? And how do you know Kakashi?"

"That's none of your business." Now he rolled his eyes, which were the same strange hazel-brown as ever, even in this poorly lit area.

"Yeah, it is. He's one of my best friends." he remarked in a drawl. Her stomach plummeted at this news. What the fuck? How?! "You always do that, you know? You wanna get every detail of someone else's shit, but then you clam up when someone tries to return the favor."

"Some details are more important than others," she hissed. "Like what happens when Shizune isn't looking."

"And some adults have complicated relationships, Sakura-chan. You might not know what that's like given your track record."

Her insides sank again. "Don't patronize me. And don't act like you know me."

"Sweetheart, I've known you for over three years now." He placed his palm against the bandages on his cheek, patting for effect. "Half of one of which you've spent beating the hell out of me. I know enough."

Sakura was furious to say the least. She didn't want him here. There was this awful feeling seeping all throughout her, like she was a sandcastle and Genma was the big surprise wave that threatened to turn her into an ugly lump of muddy beach. You will not ruin this for me. He'd ruined enough for Shizune already.

"Yeah, well. I know you too." Her chin jutted out, tilting up toward him in defiance. "You hate taking responsibility for your actions, blame everyone else for the shit you pull, and you're a commitment-phobic jackass who hurts good women because you can't keep it in your pants."

"Alright, alright, you win. Jesus. Happy now?" His hands slid into his pockets. "What are you so pissed about this time?"

"Good question. Hm. I don't know. Maybe you fucking my cousin in the bathroom of some shithole bar."

He sighed, frustrated.

"Sakura. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I didn't force her to meet me. She came because she wanted to." Another sigh. "It was mutual. And we didn't—"

"Mutual?" She huffed hard enough to hurt. "Yeah, you mean you just wanted a chance take advantage of her vulnerability, you gigantic asshole."

His jaw flexed at the corners. Sakura couldn't believe she used to think he was any kind of sweet or good-looking or upstanding or suitable for Shizune. She couldn't even stand to look at him now. Kicking him in the face, though, she certainly didn't have a problem with. Her foot twitched almost giddily.

"You might think you know what you're talking about, but you don't." His voice had gotten low and disturbingly still. He was so much less concerned about all of this than he needed to be, in Sakura's humble opinion. "I can guarantee you that you don't."

"Yeah, okay." A bark of a laugh left her mouth. Her stomach felt like it was filled with wet cement. Wet sand. "Is that why she calls me crying to come and get her every time she sees you?"

If the way his mouth twisted was anything to judge, that one clearly hurt. Good. "She called you this time because she drank too much and got sick. And yeah, maybe she regretted kissing me, but I think she was more upset that I turned her down."

"Oh, that's rich." Her eyes were going to roll out of her head at this rate, which would probably be preferable to talking with him right now. "Somehow I really doubt that's what happened. God, if you weren't so full of it, you'd probably have a much easier time going and fucking yourself."

"Agh, geez. Look," he said curtly, "say what you want, but you're forgetting one important thing about all this."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Her body leaned forward, balancing on her toes. Anger was rolling through her in waves of palpable heat.

"Okay, actually, there're two things." Genma looked down at her. "You're not the only one who cares about her, first of all. But more importantly—and despite whatever your whole mama bear instinct tells you—none of what she does is your decision to make. It's hers."

Adrenaline seeped through her veins, trickled into her saliva. She felt nauseous and so, so ready to kick his ass. 

He leaned in further, smelling like oil, eyes dark beneath his eyebrows. "None of this is your business, no matter how much you wish it were."

Oh, that's it.

"I hate you." Her teeth gnawed at the inside of her lip. She lowered her voice to match his. "I really do. And if you don't leave her alone, I'll kick you so fucking hard that your stomach drops out of your ass."

Genma smirked humorlessly, putting the end of his stupid pen back in his mouth. "I'd love to see—"

"All good over here?"

Both of them turned to see Kakashi standing at the end of the hall, standing there with an eye smile. Something was off about it. Unsettling, even.

Shit.

Only then did she realize what the situation looked like: she was backed into the wall, Genma leaning closely over her while she got in his face. It probably looked like he'd cornered her or something.

"I'm fine," she mumbled, stepping away. This needed to be diffused before—before Kakashi got the wrong idea, or either of them had to explain, or this turned into the gigantic mess it had the potential to be. "He was just…asking me about his bruise."

"Ah." The weird smile fell, thank God. "What's the verdict?"

Sakura swallowed, praying she wasn't being as obvious as she felt. "He's fine for now, but he got lucky. Could have been much worse." At least that was true. With a saccharine sweet expression, she turned back to Genma. "You should probably be more careful, especially when you're drinking."

All Genma did was stare back, eyes set dead on her face. "Yeah, you're right. But I guess some people need to learn more self-control." He sent a good-natured shrug Kakashi's way, missing the way Sakura's fists clenched at her sides. "What can you do, y'know?"

There was an exceptionally awkward moment where no one said anything.

Kakashi definitely knew something was off, at least by Sakura's notoriously shitty calculations. Either that or it was her own anger radiating from her core that was making her self-aware to the point of a few seconds feeling like minutes. Whatever it was, she scrambled to break the tension. Hopefully it would dissolve and take Genma right along with it.

"I hate to rush you, but can we go soon?" She strolled over to where Kakashi stood at the hallway entrance. "Doctor Haruno needs some caffeine, stat."

"Sure." He was eyeing her inquisitively. Immediately, desperately, she decided to pull her trump card.

"I was also thinking, that, um…we should discuss that offer from earlier."

His eyes stayed the same dark, roaming way they were, though she could tell his mouth was forming the beginnings of a crooked grin beneath that mask. And that alone made her feel greatly relieved—maybe this wasn't hopeless just yet.

"Oh, of course." His gaze lingered for a second before flickering over to Genma once again. "Well, looks like I suddenly have to go. My apologies. If you could maybe…"

"Yeah. No worries. Zabuza'll bring it out to you." He ran a hand over his bandana, moving smoothly toward the other end of the hall—presumably where he'd originally been headed. "I, uh, got a customer waiting for me to call 'em, so I'll catch you two later."

Kakashi nodded, and Genma turned around to leave after sending her a small but significant look, and then breath left Sakura's nose fast enough to whistle. She was finally in the clear—for now, at least, which would give her time to sort this shit out before Kakashi could catch wind of it, or before she could let her own mind run away with it.

Best friends, though. What the fuck? Maybe Kakashi didn't know. Maybe Genma was lying. Maybe...

"Everything okay?" Kakashi asked, matching her stride with a casual slouch. For once, his hand wasn't in his pocket, so she laced a few of his fingers with her own and offered him a small smile. A sort of peace offering, at least for herself.

"Yeah," she told him, moving closer to his side. Why wouldn't it be?, she could have asked, but she settled for something more definitive. "Everything's good."

And it could be, she thought. As long as Genma stayed out of it.

.

.

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Chapter Text

Sakura wondered, and not for the first time, whether there was something fundamentally wrong with her family.

It wasn’t that she had hated or resented her upbringing—in fact, it was rather the opposite. Growing up in the Senju household had primed her for a life of kicking ass and taking names. Sometimes literally. And she learned the good things like loyalty, trust, and solidarity in rough times. Determination. Dignity. Love, usually tough. Not to mention how to clear a few shots of vodka without breaking a sweat, even if she regretted them very soon afterward.

But there were times when she was forced to question the extent to which this affected her. Namely when Tsunade called her for a ‘chat’: a conversation that was always guaranteed to be loaded like a bazooka, firing away at the strangest moments and in the worst ways.

“I’m sorry—what?!…Oh, shit! Agh! FUCK!”

“Watch your damn language,” Tsunade muttered on the other end, easily heard despite the phone not being at Sakura’s ear. “Jesus.”

“Uh, sorry, but I just dropped a gigantic milkshake all over my shoes. You’ll have to excuse me for a moment.” Sakura groaned from the back of her throat and slipped her shoes off in the middle of the sidewalk. She was so used to getting stared at by now—whether for her hair or the dogs, or even just her enormous mouth—that it didn’t even register.

“Why the hell were you drinking a milkshake? It’s five in the afternoon there.”

Sakura was extremely grateful that Tsunade wasn’t here to see her eyes roll. “How is that relevant to anything?”

“It’s almost dinnertime.” There was a brief pause on the other side of the phone. She could hear her shuffling through paperwork. “What kind is it, though? I might get my assistant to order me one. Not that my ass needs all the sugar.”

It had been a delicious strawberry milkshake, one with neon pink syrup and wafer cookies laid prettily over the whipped cream, but she wasn’t going to say that. She was too pissed that she’d lost a good eighty percent of the thing. Especially considering how much cash she’d blown on it.

Sakura stopped making good use of the water bottle in her purse, letting her now-dripping-but-thankfully-clean sneakers rest on a bench by a disgruntled salary man. He eyed her narrowly over the top edge of his newspaper; he cowered the second she fired him a look right back. Now was not the time.

“Well, then,” she grumbled, trying to check her tone, “I’d go ahead and dump your new sugar daddy before you get diabetes.”

“Oh, boy—here we go. I thought you’d be happy to hear this. What’s the issue, huh?”

Tsunade’s tone had started out neutral, but clearly she was getting irritated that Sakura was challenging her. They were too similar—except in this one regard, apparently. Sakura scoffed.

“Probably the fact that you’re using your best friend to pay off your massive loan debt? I dunno. You tell me, ba-chan.”

More papers shuffled on the other end. God, she could just picture how distressingly messy the woman’s desk was—even though she was currently working in Bangkok, and in someone else’s office, no less, there was no way she hadn’t settled into her usual state of disorganized chaos. She’d been doing these medical conferences abroad for months now.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sakura. I’m also using him for sex.”

“No!” she whined half-petulantly. “Despite his flaws—his many flaws—you know he’s been completely and totally in love with you since, like, the dawn of time. That’s not fair.”

“You’ve always been a judgy one, haven’t you?” Her aunt was laughing now, which was always a bit frightening. “Are you telling me right now that you feel sorry for Jiraiya?”

The sunlit pavement was uncomfortably warm under her feet, all too easily heating them through her thin, mismatched socks. The correct answer, she wanted to say, was that she felt kind of sorry for anyone who married Tsunade. But she didn’t want her feelings on the matter to be taken any more lightly than they already were, so she put it away for another time. Preferably one where good hot sake was involved.

“No.” She huffed out a breath. “Not—not really, so don’t tell him I said that. You just…you have to understand that this comes as a bit of a shock.”

“Sure. Hn. Let me just say, though, that this was all his idea. He can’t pay anything off unless we’re legally bound.”

“If you say so.”

“Your faith in me is astounding.” Tsunade exhaled loud. “And by the way, I’m really surprised by how surprised you are at all of this.”

“Um, why wouldn’t I be?” She didn’t hesitate to answer as she tossed the emptied cup in the trashcan, then slipped on her wet shoes. Eww. “This literally goes against, like, everything you raised us to do.”

"Not what I meant,” Tsunade sighed with a sharper edge now. “Didn’t Shizune tell you?”

Sakura cleared her throat, watching cars pass on the street before her as she debated how to answer that. Tsunade would call bullshit no matter what she said—which was why she could never lie to the woman. She'd barely spoken to Shizune since she’d left her house after the whole Genma-kicking debacle almost two weeks ago, which was a bit…odd for the two of them. They didn’t keep in touch every day, but they kept in touch often enough for even a few days to feel like a lot.

Right now, she thought, there were some good reasons for not keeping in touch with her friends as often as she usually did. She was getting laid on a daily basis, which she figured was an excellent excuse should the issue ever arise. She had a lot going on: thanks to Sasuke’s ever-so-gracious decision to finally schedule her, she’d started working nights again, and it was a little hard to readjust to that after two weeks of free time. And she was starting a new semester in a week, and was forcing herself to prepare by studying as much as she could, which kind of sucked—but it also made her feel accomplished and on top of her game, which she liked.

But most importantly, she was getting laid. A lot. By a guy with a glorified fast food stand, eight dogs he treated like children, an out-of-left-field astrophysics degree from MIT, and a smoking-hot everything.

And apparently, despite the lovely surprise barbecue she’d crashed, a very questionable taste in friends.

She hadn’t mentioned the Genma thing from last weekend to Shizune, mostly because she didn’t want to remind her of his existence. But she’d also been avoiding the same subject with Kakashi because she wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. Hey, your friend fucking sucks didn’t seem like the best thing to say to someone she still…well, someone she still hardly knew, especially about a situation that was extremely murky to her. She wanted to ask him about it, of course—she was nothing if not insatiably curious—but it felt like a question she’d only ask if they were officially dating. And right now, she didn’t really know enough about him to call this anything more than a fling, even if she liked him a lot more than a fling demanded. And even if she wasn’t sure whether he felt the same way.

Sakura’s stomach turned, as did the sides of her mouth.

That was beside the point. Or at least it was right now.

“No, she didn’t tell me. I guess she’s been busy.” She sniffed distractedly. “That, or she just wanted me to ruin a perfectly good sidewalk with a milkshake.”

“Uh huh,” was what Tsunade came back with, and her stomach flopped again. “I know you two. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. At least not that I know of.” Oops. That was always the wrong thing to say. Tsunade had no qualms about wringing any kind of gossip out of Shizune—between the two of them, and despite being the older one, she’d always been weaker willed than Sakura. Hence their current predicament.

“Anyway,” she continued, scrambling for a subject change, “when’s the big date? Or are you just going to fly in for the night and run through the courthouse?”

A bitter yet humored chuckle filtered through the receiver.

“If only. Fuck. Get this—his one stipulation was that we have some giant blowout wedding.” Tsunade paused, and Sakura could see her rubbing her temple. “I have to wear a goddamned white dress.”

“Oh my God.” She snorted. It quickly turned into a laugh. “Suddenly I’m feeling less like this was a crappy idea.”

“Oh, Sakura. Just wait until you see your bridesmaid’s dress.”

It wasn’t long before the reminder of international roaming charges wrapped up their conversation, leaving Sakura walking down the street with a funny grin on her face, ankles sticky with ice cream, wet shoes, and a hankering for something sweet. She turned her phone between her hands for a moment, debating. Right now, she was closer to Kakashi’s place than her own, but she wasn’t sure whether he was home. Not only that, but he could be working, and she’d already dragged him away from the truck more than once this week.

Before she could reconsider, she opened up a text, making sure to sprinkle in an emoji or two simply because.

Think I’m gonna stop by your place for a shower, but I might need help turning on the faucet. A thinking face, and then a smiling one. Know anyone who could help me with that?

She only had enough time to mentally spite Hidan for saying she was bad at this. Then she got the reply.

think i have a manual hiding somewhere. ill find it by the time u get here

Sakura couldn’t help the stupid giddy smile. Her feet moved just a little bit faster. He’d put a flexing bicep emoji in the text.

Thank goodness, she told him. I was hoping we wouldn’t have to use the hose again.

.

.

.

“Mm.” Her back sank against the quilt on his bed, feeling whatever droplets still clung to her skin sink into the fabric. And then she started to laugh through her nose.

“Hmm?” Kakashi inquired as best as he could with their tongues in each other’s mouths. She pulled away for a second and he relocated to her neck, kissing the skin with his mouth half-open and drawing a happy little sigh out of her.

“I’m just thinking of a bad joke I could make.” Her fingers combed through his damp hair, nails dragging lazily down the nape of his neck. “One about getting dirty and clean at the same time.”

“Hmm.” Without warning, he nipped hard at one spot. She was fairly sure there was another mark there from a few days ago.

“What’s with all the bites and hickeys lately? I thought that was my job.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Okay, maybe it was just her, but he’d hardly spoken since she got here. Not that she didn’t enjoy feeling every hum in his chest where it rested above and against her own, but…still.

“You know,” she tried, smoothing out her voice, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you at work last night.”

“Mm?”

Her eyes met the ceiling above them, plain and white and as boring as his answer. Not even an oh, really? or any true signs that she’d piqued his interest. Time to dial it up a notch, then.

“Yeah. I just kept imagining you coming in there, pretending to order something, and then…” She paused—partly for effect, and partly to think of something good. “Then pulling me into the stockroom and…and taking me over a stack of boxes.”

Nothing. Not a word except for some noncommittal hum. Kakashi simply continued to run his nose along her skin, press his lips into the curve of her shoulder. It was extremely nice, yes, but it wasn’t enough to distract her. She had to think of something really erotic or bizarre, something that would get his attention enough to make him to use his words. Something that would reverse what apparently seemed to be a regression back to caveman speak. She almost wished she could pull out her phone and call Hidan to pick his brain.

Holy shit, Sakura. Come on. We can do better than that.

Okay, no, her inner self argued back. If this was bad enough for her to think WWHD?, then it was probably bad enough. Maybe it was also something she’d generated with her wonderfully overactive imagination, but it seemed as though Kakashi had been doing this all week—this whole half-conversation thing with sex taking up almost all of their time together. She couldn’t necessarily complain about it, not when the sex was remarkably hot and intense now that Kakashi had started taking the wheel, but she could definitely pinpoint a marked difference in their dynamic.

The prouder side of Sakura thought that perhaps she’d thoroughly exhausted him by getting nasty more often than not, but the worrier in her—the one which had been basking in the spotlight ever since she’d jumped him almost three weeks ago—wondered if there was more to it.

“It was so hot,” she continued. If anything, he should be able to note how little enthusiasm she was giving this fantasy. “You were, like, pulling my hair and stuff, ripping all my clothes off and…and blindfolding me with my apron, and knocking over all the souvenir cups…” Kakashi paused for a slight moment, probably out of confusion, or maybe he was wondering why she sounded so confused. But he didn’t stop.

His hands were sliding up her shower-slick legs, inching closer to the apex of her thighs, and she wanted him there. They were both naked, save for the towels, and it would be so easy to let him continue, to brush her fingers over the broad, lean plane of his chest while his worked her where she was already ready, sensitive as she was from coming only minutes before.

“Don’t you wanna know the best part?” she squeaked, trying to ward off the arousal long enough.

“Uh-huh.”

God. It was like talking to a fucking brick wall. Or fucking a talking brick wall—one that barely did the talking part, anyway. Was he even listening?

“Well, it was…” She wracked her brain for a second. “You sprayed whipped cream all over me, and then you said you wanted to do it doggy style in front of the whole café, and then—but then my boss walked in, and I thought you were gonna punch him, but you started making out with him, and—okay, okay, I tried. I can’t do this. Jesus. Just—get up.” Her palms pushed at his naked shoulders as they instantly complied. “Off.”

Immediately he leaned away to look down at her, a slight raise to one brow. His eyes were more open than she’d ever seen them; the way his mouth curved down to one side almost made her tell him to forget it and keep doing what he was doing. But then he bent back at the waist to give her space.

“That was…very detailed.”

She noted the perplexed caution in his voice and was almost glad to hear it.

“Yeah, I was, uh, speaking from the heart, I guess.” Her hands ran over her naked arms. “Just—ignore all of that and grab me a shirt.”

More staring.

“I want to try something.”

His silver eyebrow raised further upward. “Does it involve making out with your boss?”

“Clothes, pretty please,” Sakura said, batting her lashes for effect and everything. And trying to sweep every possible image of Sasuke from her thoughts in the process.

Kakashi stared down at her for a beat or two more, eyes all dark and half-lidded and heart-palpitatingly intense as ever, and stood up, taking all the warmth with him to his dresser. In the thick, awkward environment she’d created, her mind was running a mile a minute.

There were several reasons for him being so quiet this week. The first of which was his generally subdued disposition, she figured. But then the usual insecurities of a new relationship, whatever kind of relationship it was, crept in, and it made her question a lot of things: had they already run out of things to talk about? Did he think she was annoying? Was he only in it for the sex?

Naturally, she’d discussed this with Ino more than once this week, and Ino had set her straight. Didn’t his friends say he wasn’t the type to do this? she reminded Sakura. And he keeps inviting you to be around him, keeps letting you in—after you told him you like him, no less. If he’s as private and isolated as they made him out to be, then this must be a pretty big deal for him.

It was for Sakura as well. Of course it was, and that was why it was eating at her. However, what ate at her the most was the possibility that remained after all the others had been dissected and debunked and thrown out: that the interaction with Genma had somehow thrown a wrench—no pun intended—into their budding, tentative relationship.

“What color? You’ve got quite a few options here: black, black, light black…ah, here’s a dark blue one.”

“The blue one.” Her eyes were kind of glued to where the dimples in his lower back peeked out above his towel. “And put on some pants, too.”

“Hmm.” He opened another drawer. “Not sure I’m liking where this is going.”

She almost laughed. You won’t.

“If you’re good, I’ll…ooh, I’ll let you touch my boobs.”

“Over or under the shirt?”

Now she did laugh. “Over, but only because I’m not wearing a bra. Gotta keep my virtue intact.”

Once they were both in his clothes, Kakashi tossed the damp towels on the floor and pulled back the covers so they could settle in. She sat up, legs stretched out, while he laid down completely. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep—though judging by the tension in the air and the nervous, expectant look on his face, he was ready for whatever she was planning. Or at least as ready as he could be.

“So.” She tugged the shirt down over her thighs, sheets crinkling beneath her legs. “Have you ever played Twenty Questions?”

“Uh…” His eyes drooped in thought. “Once, I think. In middle school.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna play that.”

His eyebrow raised at her, this time with more emphasis. “Right now?”

“Mhm. Yep. Except we answer every question instead of guessing something. I’m going to ask you a question and you answer it, and then you’ll ask me one and I’ll answer it.” It was the quickest thing she could come up with. Hopefully Hidan and Ino would be proud.

Kakashi, on the other hand, seemed increasingly less enthused.

“I must be worse in bed than I thought.”

Sakura felt her face scrunch in disbelief before a cackle puttered out of her. “Um, no. Definitely not the case. I’m just—I want to do something else for a little bit.”

“Fair enough.” There was a pause then. Some of the uneasiness between them, Sakura noticed, had dissipated. But certainly not all. “Are there any rules?”

She had a feeling despite his return to his usual blank, sleepy expression, that he was teasing her, making a joke at her expense. But it didn’t matter. This was his way of agreeing to it.

“Yes,” she replied, thinking as she spoke. “Let’s rule out yes-or-no questions. Well, at least for the first ten. Also, we each get one pass.”

“Just one?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. Or else you’ll skip every question.”

“How little you must think of me,” Kakashi deadpanned. The way his damp hair fell over his forehead was so attractive. She poked at it.

“You have no idea,” she sang back, sticking her tongue out. “Anyway, I’ll go first.”

“By all means.”

Her eyes roamed over his face, the casual drowsiness of his dark eyes as he looked at her, the very faint flush in his neck and chest from their warm shower. The white pillow made his hair look dark, halfway to the black she’d seen in his younger pictures. She couldn’t decide where to start first.

“Which dog have you had the longest?”

A little smiled toyed at the corner of his mouth. “Pakkun. His great-grandmother was our family dog—Momo.”

“Um. That might be the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” She touched a hand to her cheek. “What about his mama? And the other puppies in the litter?”

“Momo had a boy and a girl, Maru and Coffee. Coffee had Niko, and Niko had a few pups, but Pakkun was the one I got.”

“So your parents kept all the other ones? Or have you always been a dog hoarder?” She settled into the bed better, leaning her back against the headboard. Kakashi smiled a bit more widely now—a quiet, soft expression.

“Not a dog hoarder, and those are two questions,” he chastised. “Isn’t it my turn?”

Damnit. Her mouth pinched to the side, not wanting to relent, but she had made the rules. “Yeah, you’re right. Go ahead.”

The pillowcase rustled when he tilted his head a little more in her direction. “Hmm…is your boss hot?”

“Kakashi!” She smacked his naked chest. “I told you th—I was kidding!”

“You didn’t say you were kidding; just to ignore it.” He soothed at the handprint shape all pale on the pinkish area of his skin. “But I must say, your defensiveness only makes my curiosity that much stronger.”

That prompt of an arched eyebrow was going to kill her—if not today, then certainly one day. Sakura huffed.

“Yes, he’s hot, but I hate him, and he’s a complete and total jackass. Kind of like somebody else I know.”

Her infamous glare only garnered an even more infamous eye smile from him.

“Was that really your question? ‘Cause I’m willing to give you a freebie for that one.”

Kakashi shrugged. “I’m satisfied. Your turn.”

“You suck.”

“That’s not a question, Sakura.”

“No, it’s a fact.” When he just creased his eyes again, she decided to move on. “Fine. How did you meet Tsume?”

His gaze unexpectedly turned toward the ceiling. Oh, boy. This should be good.

“I, uh…” He scratched gently along his stomach, though not absently. “I used to date her daughter.”

Sakura felt the shock stretch across her features, especially once she vaguely recalled thinking, despite not remembering exactly what she looked like, that the girl in all those Inuzuka family pictures was pretty. On some level it probably should have been the answer to expect, but when had she ever been able to predict anything about Kakashi?

“When was that?” Sakura asked around an oddly laughing breath. He was avoiding meeting her eyes, which she had learned meant that he was embarrassed—or at least was getting there.

“Around…eight years ago? She was my vet, and, uh”—His palms came up in some kind of finalizing gesture, as if to say that’s all, folks!, and then landed back on his stomach.

“And?” she pressed, leaning closer.

“And…it…was fine, I guess. Fun while it lasted. She got married a while back; lives in Kyoto now.”

How did he do that? How did he limit his answers to the bare minimum while she was practically vibrating with interest?

“How long did it last? I mean, did you—did you love her?”

It wasn’t out of jealousy or competition that she asked what she did. Honestly, it wasn’t. She just wanted to get a peek behind that facade, see what made his wheels turn a little bit. She wanted to know more. Something. Anything. And he—he had to know that she was dying to hear every detail. She brought her knees up to her chest, pulling the quilt up with them.

One of his hands moved to pat the shapeless lump of her foot over the covers; he finally looked at her again, setting that half-lidded stare on her wide-eyed one. In the evening sun that teased through the window, that black of his eyes looked softer, deeper somehow. 

“My turn,” he said, and that was it.

Her voice was smaller when she replied. “Okay.”

“Hmm.” His contemplation was brief, passing. “What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

Frustrated as she was by his unflappable simplicity, she was also grateful for it. Even if he was deviating from her intended course, even if he was attempting to distract her out of picking out the details, there was a freshness to the small-talk kind of question that made her heart a little fuller just because.

“Oh, that’s easy,” she told him, playing along for the moment. “Pancakes. The fluffy kind. With tons of syrup and vanilla ice cream.” Carefully, she reached over to brush his hair away from his forehead with a single finger. She’d have to think of a better responding question than What about you?

“Sounds doable. I can make you some tonight, if you like.”

“Ooh, please. My sweet tooth is on a kick today.”

On a whim, she let her fingers move slowly through his hair, starting off his forehead to rake backward. It was damp and cool beneath her touch. The next question rolled off her tongue effortlessly.

“Was that your last relationship?” Her hand went through his hair again. She made sure to put a light pressure on her nails as they passed. Have you been alone since then? Has anyone touched you like this? Have you—

“I thought you said no yes-or-no questions,” Kakashi mused. “You’re breaking all your own rules here.”

He was right, of course, so she probably couldn’t argue her way out of it. She was frustrated, though. And she might have dragged her nails a little more firmly than intended. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he closed his eyes, relaxing into it. Kind of like a dog.

“I hate you,” she griped with a wrinkle in her nose. Kakashi grinned lazily.

“Do you?”

“No yes-or-no questions.”

“Touché.” He made a short, thoughtful humming noise. “Whose turn is it?”

“Still mine.” Sakura brushed her thumb over the smooth of his forehead, the faint lines near his eyebrows. “How old were you when your hair turned gray?”

“Mm. After I graduated from college.” Another hum. It was low and tangible in his chest. “Didn’t get this light until a few years later, I don’t think.”

She was dying to find out whether it was a genetic thing or if something had triggered it, but she’d have to be patient. And she needed to time something like that with a lot of caution.

“I think it’s sexy,” she confessed instead, smirking at him. Even more so when he exhaled a short laugh through his nose.

“That makes one of us.” He leaned into the swirls she traced on his scalp. “Lemme think…hm. Which one of my dogs is your favorite?”

“All of them.” Her answer was clear and ready. That was a trap she’d been waiting for him to set—people with more than one pet always loved trying that one. Shino, her first boyfriend, almost broke up with her when she picked his butterfly over the rest of his insect collection. 

“Good answer,” Kakashi murmured.

“I know.” She slid further down in the bed to rest on her elbow, shifting closer to the warmth of him while her other hand kept working its magic in his hair. “What are your parents like?”

“Pass.” Before she could begin to protest or seek an explanation, he said: “Long story.”

Sakura had to do her absolute best not to groan. At the very least, he could have given her a single adjective—if even to encompass the both of them at once. There wasn’t anything. Not even a positive or a negative to go on. She ached to turn around and glance at that picture on his bedside table, the old one with the man and woman so clearly his father and mother, holding him and smiling all glowy and a little tired like new parents always looked.

“Seriously, Kakashi? Nothing?” A tug at his hair wouldn’t hurt anything, would it? Again, he didn’t seem to mind when she did. The man was so blissfully checked-out of everything—he was a duck letting water just roll off its back. A puppy napping in the sunlight. If only she could channel an ounce of that. If only she could simply roll with things instead of hanging on to every word.

“You said we each had a pass, and I used it.” His lips were barely moving against the inside of her wrist; his eyes were still closed. “Have patience, grasshopper.”

“Yeah, yeah.” A puff of air rushed from her nose, indignant. “Your turn.”

“Hn.” Kakashi smooched a tiny kiss to her skin. “What’s your blood type?”

“Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“It’s important information,” he drawled, face unchanging. The snort that came from her was unbidden and admittedly very unattractive.

“Sure it is. I’m type O.”

“Mm. Me too, actually.”

“That…seriously? That’s kind of weird. I didn’t think we had that much in common.” In demeanor, or energy levels, or their approaches to question games. Sakura was still reeling from his avoidance of the parents question. Was that some kind of a red flag?

“Now you know.”

She shut herself up there, promising to hound Ino about it later. “I’ll let you ask me another question since that one was lame.”

“Okay.” Another tiny smooch, and then he hummed against the skin, making it warm and tingly. “Hmm…okay. Why did you make up some bizarre fantasy earlier?”

Finally a real question. She could almost hear the hallelujah choruses as she scooted closer to him, letting her arm rest against his chest while her hand moved to touch his face. The pads of her fingers swept over the smooth of his cheekbone.

“To see if you were paying attention,” she nearly whispered, booping his nose ever so gently. “You’ve been awfully quiet this week. I was getting worried, you know.”

She recalled their conversation from the previous week—how he’d told her not to start worrying already, that there’d be plenty of time for that later. And she was thinking she’d garner a similar reaction now, though in much fewer words now that he seemed to be teetering on the edge of consciousness. But there was none of that reassurance, none of that dismissal. Not even an attempt.

Uh oh.

“Why haven’t we gone on any dates since last weekend?” Sakura questioned, taking her turn before he could extend his own. Not that he would have. For the first time since he’d closed his eyes, though, his expression changed—one eye cracked open, drowsy, doubtful.

“I don’t think I realized Saturday was a date.” His voice was a murmur, a hot breath on her palm. “Did you want it to be one?”

“Yes,” she replied with complete honestly, twisting her mouth to one side.

“Okay then,” Kakashi told her. His eye closed again. “It was a date.”

“Okay.” She scooted closer. “Did you want it to be one, though?”

“Mm.” He kind of nuzzled into her hand. “Preferably with less spanking, but if you think it counts, then I’d say it definitely counts.”

Sakura giggled. She couldn’t help it. She settled as close to him as she could and kissed him, feeling the languid press of his sleepy mouth against her own while she soaked in his body heat through her shirt. His arm came up to curl lethargically around her back.

“So we’re dating, then,” she breathed against his chin.

“Think we’re on the tenth real question now,” he mumbled back. “So if that’s a yes for you…yes for me, too.”

She grinned and smothered him with another kiss, all warm and plush and blissfully heady. “Your turn.”

“Mm.” He kissed her this time and missed her mouth by about a centimeter. “When do I get to make good on that boob-touching promise?”

There was a distinct slur to his words that told her he was barely managing to stay lucid. But she couldn’t keep the smile off her face, couldn’t stop brushing the soft silver hair off of his. God, she liked him. She really, really did. And nothing felt better to her right then than knowing that despite all the things he hadn’t said, he liked her too.

“When you wake up,” she said, tracing the full shape of his eyebrow with her thumb, making the moment linger for a little while longer.

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Sakura didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she woke to the distant sound of dog tags jingling and the smell of breakfast.

Kakashi’s side of the bed was empty, the warmth fading, and the room was lit only by the light streaming in from the hallway. A strange sense of disorientation trickled in from the back of her head; her eyebrows crunched to compensate for it. She almost never took naps—not unless she was sick or had pulled two all-nighters in a row.

“What time is it?” she rasped into the calm, sitting up groggily. Her hair, she could feel, was entirely in disarray. Unlike any normal person, Kakashi didn’t have an alarm clock beside his bed, so she padded into the bathroom to find her phone.

The time on her screen read ten o’clock. At night. Her sleep schedule was going to be so fucked—she had work all day tomorrow. Until after midnight. With Kankuro. And Sasuke. Wonderful.

With a sigh, she sat down to pee, sliding the phone off the counter as she did so. It was out of habit that she scrolled through the app showing her work schedule at the coffee shop, double-checking what she already knew, then opened Facebook to mindlessly update herself on the world. Ino had updated her profile picture for the second time that week—gorgeous as always, though a tad over-filtered—and there were a few articles down the timeline that she had little interest in. Some people from her classes last semester had made posts about last hoorahs for vacation since classes resumed in a few days. Shizune had shared a recipe video for easy apple fritters.

Oh, Shizune. Shizune, Shizune, Shizune. Her poor cousin. Her beautiful, kind, amazing cousin who deserved none of the shit she was handed. She looked at the mild smile on Shizune’s profile picture, the bobbed black hair and big black eyes. The woman should be married with three kids right now, like she’d always wanted, not working a crappy secretary job and constantly getting fucked over by some sleazy scumbag.

Genma. Right. They’d fallen asleep before she could broach the subject with Kakashi.

Sakura thought about their warm, good moment earlier in the evening, the lightness that had faded with the sun, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to return to that until she brought this out into the open. Until it dissolved whatever unspoken tension still lay between her and Kakashi—between today and last Saturday.

So when she finally arrived in the kitchen, quilt like a cape around her shoulders, she went straight to where Kakashi stood calmly at the stove, sidestepped Uhei and Pakkun, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“My turn,” she said into the space between his shoulder blades. The sweater he’d put on muffled the words.

“‘Morning to you, too.” His voice rumbled in his chest and back, making her lips tingly. “I don’t have any ice cream, but I do have about half a pancake’s worth of syrup.”

Leaning onto her tiptoes, she kissed the back of his neck, then hopped up onto the counter. “That’s okay with me.” The top pancake on the stack was hot when she picked it up, tearing off a piece and popping it into her mouth. Fluffy, buttery deliciousness. “You don’t really like sweet things, do you?”

“Not usually, no.” He was wearing one of his masks; his eyes were on the disc of batter in the pan. She could hear it glide perfectly against the nonstick skillet. “But everyone likes pancakes.”

She tore another chunk off and reached forward to peel his mask down. The way his lips brushed her fingers as he took the bite from her shot a thrill down her spine. Not now, Sakura.

“I don’t think that counted as a question,” she said as playfully as she could manage, “so I’ll ask another one.”

The eyebrow he tilted at her asked, we’re not done with this yet? or maybe, do you realize how bad at this game you are? But he didn’t interrupt her, didn’t refuse anything, and that was fine enough.

Feigning a casual air, she took another small bite of pancake. “How do you know Genma?” It was spongy and delightfully smooth between her fingertips. “I mean, like, how did you meet?”

Perhaps she’d imagined the glance Kakashi sent her as he flipped the cake in the pan. “In school, a long time ago.” The spatula hit the edge with a metallic click. “Actually, he’s my best friend.”

Her stomach soured—of everything Genma had told her, she’d been hoping that one was the biggest lie.

“Oh.” It was lame, and she knew it sounded that way. “Has he always been a mechanic?”

“No, no, that’s a recent development. Some things happened, and he had to take over the family business.”

“What things?” Sakura pushed before she could help herself. She was sure it was something bad—he’d gotten fired, or gone to jail, or something just awful enough to make his family his last resort. Kakashi barely reacted, though.

“I think it’s my turn now,” he drawled simply, pleasantly. The fresh pancake was placed gently atop the heap, the gas on the stove was flipped off, and his attention was on her now, watching closely as she took a bite. “How do you know Genma?”

The question wasn’t accusatory, and neither were his eyes, dark and steady as they were—now that his mask was back in place they were all she had to go by. But she felt unsettled still. Like she’d been found out.

Of course he’d known. He might have been private and terrible at talking, but he was far from oblivious. She should have given him more credit.

If she didn’t want to get this over with so badly, to clear the air as much as she did, she would have passed.

“He’s been dating my cousin off and on for the last couple of years.” Her eyes were on her lap, where the quilt bunched comfortably around her thighs. "I mean, she's my cousin, but she's more like my sister."

“…Oh.”

“Yeah. It was fine for a while, but…he neglected her, and he cheated on her, and he knows that she has some self-esteem issues from past relationships, and it just…” A breath gathered and caught hard in her chest. “He broke her heart. Really, really badly. And he won’t give her time to heal, because he keeps coming back.”

She hadn’t meant to spill all of that. At all. But it was out there now, and all she could do was fiddle with her food and try not to seethe, remembering all the times Shizune had gotten messy drunk or upset over him, and even the times she’d falsely believed things were good again. Asshole.

“So…that’s…why you two were having a powwow at the garage.”

At Kakashi’s weird tone, she immediately looked at him and found his expression distant. Dazed, even.

“Wait…what did you think we were doing?”

His free hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. He wouldn’t look at her, so she tapped his leg with her ankle.

“Kakashi.” Was he—was he blushing? “What is it?”

“I—nothing.”

“No, come on!” She grabbed at the hem of his sweater. “That’s my question, then. And you already used your pass. So now you have to answer it.”

“You really don’t let things go easily, do you,” he mumbled, and Sakura tried to pull him closer.

“Someone has to do the talking around here.” The sweater method was ineffective, so she went for his fingers instead. Some flour was dusted around them, drying the skin, and they slid a little rough against her palm. “Let’s hear it.”

He sighed quietly, resigned, and looked out the window over the sink where it was dark. Everything was silent in the house, save for one of the dogs ambling down the hall.

“I thought that…the two of you were involved somehow. Or had been, anyway, and you both wanted to spare me the awkwardness.”

There he went, rubbing the back of his neck again. It took a minute for the statement to sink in, but when it did, Sakura had to hold back a laugh. Or a choke, really, one that toed the line of a full-out gag.

“You mean—you thought Genma was…? That we—” She couldn’t bring herself to even say it. “Oh my God, no. No, no, no. Never. I swear on my life.”

“I believe you.” He squeezed her hand briefly. “Don’t worry.”

She did, though. It was her specialty, and she needed this to be explicitly clear.

“I was never…with Genma, I will never be with Genma. I promise that he has nothing to do with me meeting you. I didn’t even know you two knew each other.”

“I believe you, Sakura.”

“Kakashi,” she said, more softly now. A terrible something had occurred to her when she recalled his silence during the last few days, the way he’d gotten more…territorial, for lack of a better word—how he’d lavished her with attention while they had sex, had done whatever he could to please her; how he’d been emotionally withdrawn, more so than usual. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet this week?”

His eyebrows converged. He was looking at her now, too.

“I didn't even realize.”

“Yeah,” came her breathy confirmation and the nod along with it. “That’s why I was making up all that weird shit about…work fantasies, or whatever that was.” A nervous bubble of sound rose from her throat. “I was wondering why you’d checked out on me all of a sudden.”

“Oh. Sorry.” His eye smile was sheepish, for once. “It certainly did the trick. I was pretty interested until you mentioned me being into voyeurism, though.”

“Kakashi, I’m serious.” She slid off the counter to stand beside him, to put her arms around him and cocoon him in the quilt. “Is it…do you not trust me? Did you think I was just fucking with you this whole time or something?”

“No, Sakura.” He tucked some hair behind her ear, punctuating the words with tenderness. Hesitance, almost, but definite tenderness. “I’ve never thought that. This is—this is my problem, honestly. I’m not very good at, uh, relationships.” He did the same to her other ear, then touched the lobe with his thumb. “Or expressing myself. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

She felt like an idiot when she saw the way his brow lowered over his eyes, the slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes. She felt awful, because once again she’d only been thinking of herself, how things were affecting her. Not how they were affecting him, or how she herself had impacted Kakashi and his state of mind. He never turned out to be as laid-back and easygoing as she made him out to be.

“No, I should be the one apologizing. I should've just...told you.” Her forehead touched his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, constant and there near the center of his ribs. “I don’t even know why you tolerate me. You deserve so much better.”

She felt his small, long breath rather than hearing it, and then there was an even smaller quiet, deep enough to swim in. His hand smoothed over her hair once, twice.

“It’s not just tolerating,” he said in his low, even voice, bringing her out of her head, and the words seeped into her skin.

And then his fingers were softly tipping her chin up to let her meet his eyes, to see his bared face now that the mask was bundled in his back pocket, and watch as his own eyes traced the shape of her cheek and mouth with a physical weight, like they were stones, smooth and cool and obsidian. When he leaned down to kiss her, she was ready—the quilt was heavy on her arms as she hugged him tighter at the waist, her mouth warm against the slow drag and press of his.

For the first time, there was no urgency in it, no rolling heat or kinetic tension. There was simply an acknowledgment, a little glimmer of promise and hope. No guessing, no fun and games. Just being, sealing up the moment, learning each other through breath and lips.

This felt more like it—what she’d wanted and had been hoping for. What she was starting to believe Kakashi wanted too. This was more than just sex and knowing each other physically, what places to touch and how to make them feel the best. This felt like dating. Being on the same page. A cohesion that caught invitingly in her chest.

He pulled back to kiss her cheek, and she did the same to him, brushing her lips over a tiny rough patch of hiding stubble. And then she kissed him on the other cheek, and again, all the way until she reached his ear. Her arms came up to hold him at his shoulders while his encircled her waist, palms flat and sure against her back.

“Be patient with me,” he whispered into her ear, which she wasn’t expecting, especially not the way the soft, naked quality of it there plucked gently at her heartstrings. "If you can."

“I will,” she whispered back. “Or at least I’ll do my best. You’ll have to be patient with me, too, unfortunately.”

Kakashi hummed a chuckle, one that brought a fizzy heat to her cheeks.

“That I can do.” He detached entirely now, lightly ruffling her hair. “Now let’s eat some fucking pancakes.”

Sakura hiccuped a laugh, surprised—and then laughed harder, easily. He smiled at her with that lopsided grace, replacing his mask as he collected from forks from a nearby drawer.

She didn’t have all the answers, of course, but she had a lot now. And maybe, just maybe, sometime in the far-off future, she’d learn to let some things go for the sake of times like this. The trust would come along with it. She cared about Kakashi, and she knew in this moment that he cared about her, and it was good.

She took the plate he offered her and curled up on the sofa beside him, fed him a few bites of pancake in between some of her own, and shared the tiny amount of syrup he’d unearthed from a bottle in the back of his cabinet. And it was all very, very good.

She would let this be enough. For now, anyway. The rest could wait.

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Chapter Text

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Haruno Sakura, age twenty-four, was dead in her apartment.

In a demise not even close to glamorous, she was collapsed on the kitchen floor, face-down on the cheap, dingy linoleum. The bone of her nose pressed painfully — or would be painful, were she alive — into the tile print. Prone, her arms and legs laid limply, loosely, lifeless as the chicken skewers which had dropped from the convenience store bag in her hand and were now irrevocably squashed beneath her forearm. A shoe still hung pathetically from one foot, not quite taken off at the doorway, while a slipper barely managed to hang onto the other.

Shikamaru looked at the body for a long minute, considering.

Then he stepped around it, continuing into the rest of the apartment, his socked heel catching her hair as he passed.

“Ow,” she groaned, and then turned to press her cheek into the cool flat of the ground beneath her. “Can you help me up, maybe?”

“You fall?” he asked. She could hear him rummaging around the living room area — sofa cushions were coming up, for sure.

“Yeah.”

A short, snide laugh through his nose — or maybe that was the blanket on her couch swishing as he chucked it aside. “On purpose?”

“...Yeah.”

“Get yourself up, then. ‘S your own fault.” Something fell off the coffee table. “Dumbass.”

“I’m tired,” Sakura replied, trying to be sharp and whiny, but it was hard to breathe how she was currently situated. “What the hell are you doing, anyway?”

“Did you see my hair tie in here? Can’t” — a shoving noise — “find it anywhere.”

She exhaled hard enough to remind her of how sore she was, how absolutely exhausted her whole body was. “Are you shitting me? Just go buy a new one.”

“Hell no. It’s the only one that doesn’t rip half my hair out when I take it off.”

Her face smushed and dragged against the floor as she tried to turn to the other side, maybe level a trademark look at him. “We’ve been over this, Shikamaru. They sell those at the dollar store two blocks away.”

“Don’t feel like going.” She couldn’t see him, really, from her uncomfortable vantage point, but she could see him pause, put a hand or perhaps both on his hips. “You sure you didn’t see it anywhere? I fuckin’ hate having my hair down. Pain in my ass.”

“When would I have seen it? I’ve been gone for sixteen hours!” That may have come out in a growl, but she couldn’t be sure. Animals, even dying ones, had more life in them, more composure, than she currently did. “Ugh,” she groaned. “Take one of mine, okay, and just go back to your own room. And clean up whatever you messed up on your way out.”

“Not gonna work. My hair is, like, ten times thicker than yours. You have hair like a cursed baby doll.”

“Yeah, well, you look like a creepy drawing a three-year-old made of your hot dad.”

Sakura could almost hear him frown. It was a thing she would relish if she had the current capacity for joy. “I thought we agreed on no more talk about fucking my family members. Now that you’re balls-deep in some other old guy, or whatever.”

That made her retreat back into what lay beneath her, mashing her cheek into the floor until it had her mouth scrunch into a wet mass of lips. “Leave me alone, you butthead. I haven’t had sex in two weeks.”

“Yeah, and?” Another shoving noise. “People are dying, somewhere. You’ll survive.”

I’m gonna kill you, she thought, but decided to give into the unbridled mean streak leaking through the space where her filter had gone missing. “So am I. Dying. Out there in the real world. Not all of us stay home and jack off to Doraemon reruns all day.”

“Careful what you wish for.” He shuffled closer with a drag of feet. “Your place is the one with the TV.”

Yeah, that did it. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Sure you will.” He was nearer now, stepping over her. The hem of his green tracksuit pants were all gray and scuffed and nasty from being too long. “If you can get up.”

And then he moved past, slid his sandals back on, opened the door with a loud click.

“If it’s not somewhere in my shower, I’m coming back to look again, so — ”

“Say your fucking prayers, then, Nara.”

“Hn.” Was that a laugh? How dare he. “Can’t hear you from all the way up here.”

“I” — With a few steps and a louder click, though, the door closed behind him. “ — hate you. Jesus.”

Sakura gave up and let all the tension in her body drop and melt out, then, finally. A long, dreadful groan came out with it, spreading across the floor in an almost visible wave.

All three different jobs today, a ridiculously long class and lab with her most dreaded professor, some phone call from a caterer she had to delegate — with an unbelievable amount of difficulty, for some reason, and an uncalled-for urgency — to Jiraiya, who took almost an hour to get a hold of, because he was lounging in the sauna. Fucking perv. Add to that that she hadn’t eaten more than a half a fruit sandwich Kankuro stole her from under Sasuke’s nose, an almost-successful attempt to win her affection given her ravenous hunger, and she really did feel like her body was eating itself, and she’d be a skeleton by the morning. Shikamaru would probably feed her leftover muscle meat to the stray neighborhood cats. Or maybe cover it in unagi sauce and eat it himself.

Her body was already decomposing, she was sure. The semester had started back two weeks ago, and tuition and rent and everything were all due at once, and she’d forgotten how hard this was to do — this constant go, go, go. Part of her really liked it, in a bizarre, slightly masochistic way, and she knew it’d be fine. She’d done it before. But the other part of her missed having sex with her boyfriend. Or, really, just seeing his face more than once every three days while he made her a quick breakfast on her way out to walk his dogs, insisting he would do it for her, and she should go take a nap in his comfy bed, which, of course, she never took him up on. She had bills to pay.

She felt deflated. Defeated, even. She didn’t want to move, She wondered if she could get comfortable here, sleep here through the night. It wouldn’t be the worst she’d ever had. The thought of moving seemed like a fate worse than a massive crick in her neck tomorrow morning. It —

Knock-knock-knock. Three quick raps on the door.

Oh my god, she thought, exasperated. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes since Shikamaru left, and now he was back for that stupid hair tie that was probably in his pocket, and she just wanted to sleep, she didn’t deserve this —

Knock-knock.

“Don’t try to pussy out now!” she shrieked lethargically. “Use your key like you always do, you coward!”

He coughed, like the coward he was, and she felt some raw anger possess her, seizing all the muscles in her limbs at once to lift her from the floor. It was blindingly easy to get up. Nothing invigorated her like the thrill of a kill.

She ignored the sparkle of iron deficiency before her eyes, the hollow tingle as the blood flowed back into limbs, the slide of her bony joints on the hard surface beneath her as she scrabbled up to standing and charged toward the door. Each stomp was progressively more thunderous. He was probably trying to make a run for it now — he likely still had bruises from the last purple nurples she’d given him and wasn’t looking for an upgrade.

She grabbed hold of the doorknob, wrenched it downward, and shoved the whole thing open, ready to strike.

It wasn’t Shikamaru.

“Uh,” Kakashi said, blinking.

Sakura stood there and blinked back.

“Was there a secret password I was supposed to use?”

Whiplash. She was getting whiplash. The fury and adrenaline had drained in an instant, swirling down into nothing, and surprise and excitement geysered up in its place. It was dizzying.

Or perhaps she was swooning.

He stood there, the streetlights and the dull light of her kitchen illuminating his tall frame, the silver of his hair, the dark, familiar warmth of his eyes, his arms full of brown paper bags and a big bouquet of sunflowers, butter yellow even in the after-midnight dark, and she could have sworn her heart grew fourteen sizes. She’d never seen something more beautiful in her entire life.

“Oh my God,” she half-whispered, awed, a smile breaking across her face. Perhaps her first one in days. “Get in here right now, or else.”

His mask was bunched below his chin, so she could see the small, almost hesitant smile blossom on his mouth. Her heart swelled to bursting.

She hardly had time to process him entering her home, slipping his shoes off, searching quickly for a spot on her limited counter space to place his spoils before she made her move. The urge to follow him like a magnet and wrap her arms around his middle was impeccably strong — she buried her face in his chest and the old t-shirt covering it the moment he had nothing blocking it.

“Mmngh,” she all but purred. “You smell so delicious and warm. And clean. And kind of garlicky. You smell so good.” His arms came up around her back. Bare, mostly, just like his face. What a lovely surprise.

“What are you doing here? It’s so late,” she asked before he could get a word in edgewise. Not that he ever did. She propped her chin on his sternum and looked up at him, expectant.

“I knew you had a full day, and that you wouldn’t cook yourself dinner.” A hand came up to smooth her crazy hair off her face, the gesture as soft as his eyes looking down at her. “So I made some for you.”

God, she was smitten. Totally, completely, irrevocably smitten with him. She leaned up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“Thank you,” she said against his mouth, not wanting to leave it. His lips followed hers with quiet brushes. “So much. I missed you.”

She felt him smile. “Same here.”

They kissed again, and then kissed some more, making up for lost time, and then there started to be some tongue involved, and then Kakashi accidentally knocked over the bag he’d set on the counter behind him. They both froze at the sound of something sloshing.

Kakashi peered over his shoulder to assess the damage. “False alarm.” He glanced back at her, rubbing her back absently. “But there is soup, and it is cold. And you’re right, too — it is late. Why don’t you go get comfortable while I heat this up?”

The urge to protest immediately rose within her. How wonderful it would be to be stubborn, to stand here and kiss him for another hour, or maybe seductively lure him into her bedroom under the guise of a “grand tour.” But then she realized that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered, and that was a problem. The thought of hot water on her overworked muscles was also incredibly, deeply tempting, even with Kakashi sandwiched between her and her cluttered countertop.

“If I must,” she said, faking a dramatic flair, which seemed to entertain him. He slid his hands from her waist, though, and she missed them immediately.

“You must,” he told her, giving her a decided kiss on the crown of her head, then turning to unpack what he’d brought, and that was that. She watched the way his broad shoulders moved beneath his shirt — short sleeves, it was amazing — and the way he immediately started peeking into her drawers and cabinets, sliding and swinging things open, looking for things to cook with.

Some leftover stubbornness must have been lingering, because some strange, almost frantic feeling thrust itself into her brain and limbs, and it compelled her to quickly skirt around him to grab a few of her small pots and tongs and spoons herself before he’d made it to his next drawer.

“Ah,” he said as he noticed the array of objects she’d collected for him at light speed. “Thank you.”

“If you need salt or pepper, they’re in the drawer right in front of you, and — ”

“Go, Sakura, it’s alright.” Kakashi guided her out of the kitchen space by the shoulders, directing her toward the living room with a laugh. “I can figure it out. Promise.”

“I know, but — ”

“Go.” His smile was placating, encouraging, more in his eyes as they formed half-moons. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry about it.”

And then he went back to the stove and started puttering around with the things she’d left for him to use. He was too tall for the kitchen, really; the stove lined up just below his hips, and his frame took up twice the square feet hers did. But there was something about the sight that made that tugged at her heartstrings, and yet made that unnameable nervous flutter grow even stronger, almost to the point of jumping out of her skin.

She scampered into her bedroom, tearing her clothes off on the way, making the executive decision to scrub off the day. The sooner she changed, the sooner she could make the most of the time she’d have with him tonight, and that was all she really wanted.

.

.

.

“You know,” Kakashi murmured into the skin of her shoulder, the t-shirt collar hanging loose under his face, “you don’t have to coddle me just because we’re together, Sakura.”

She stopped dragging her highlighter mid-highlight, brows converging. “What do you mean? That food was incredible. It’s just a statement of fact.”

“Well, I don’t know. That miso pork was a little on the salty side.” He paused to give a slow, warm kiss to her collarbone. “I’m just saying, I feel like at this point in our relationship, I should know what the secret password to your apartment is.”

Sakura snorted harder than intended. “God, I wish I had one. I could make Shikamaru stop coming over to use my nail clippers.”

“Shikamaru?” He’d tilted his head so the word wasn’t mumbled, making the name exceptionally clear. “Your neighbor-slash-roommate-slash-landlord?”

“Yeah, that’s him.” Sakura realized the fluorescent yellow ink was pooling in the spot where she wasn’t finished highlighting, and it was starting to bleed through the page of her textbook. Shit. She futilely tried to disperse it over the rest of the sentence. “He’s so fucking weird, I’m telling you. You’ll be lucky if you never see him.”

“Hmm, I dunno.” Kakashi nosed along the crook of her neck, which was a little ticklish, but in a good way. “He sounds pretty interesting to me. I think we have the same taste in late-night television.” Another kiss, soft and lazy. “And apartments. I might have to start sleeping on your couch instead of mine.”

A laugh huffed out of her nose. She considered his head resting perfectly on her shoulder, his arm tucked beneath her boobs to help prop her heavy book up while she studied, the warmth of his body lining hers with an intimate, soothing weight that just felt right. “If you leave this bed, I will never let you back in. To take away this level of comfiness would just be cruel, Kakashi, especially while I’m under duress.”  

“Mm.” He continued to trail up to her jawline, and she heard and felt him breathe in as he did. “Take advantage of it, then. The comfiness. You can study tomorrow.”

The thought of that was so, so tempting, but — “I have a test in two days. I’ll have to sleep when I’m dead.”

He hummed, something that was reminiscent of a noise of protest, or as close as his mellow ass would get to one.

“You don’t need to sleep, necessarily,” he said. “But you should relax.”

Sakura sighed, partially because of his lips on her skin, and mostly because this wasn’t the first time he’d told her this. Relax, he’d said when he told her to get out of the kitchen and go get ready for bed. Relax, he’d said when she kept fussing around her living room, making sure he was comfortable and that everything was tidy before he had her sit down to eat. Relax, he’d told her when she rummaged through her backpack for a full three minutes before he’d gingerly pulled her into bed to lay in his arms.

But she just...couldn’t. She couldn’t relax. She felt restless, buzzy. Inertia from running through the day, through the week on survival mode was giving her a deeply nervous energy. That had to be it. It was just because she was awake to experience it tonight since Kakashi was here — she must have slept through it the past few nights, nipping it in the bud before she even noticed it. Even now, an hour after he’d arrived here, she couldn’t get her toes to stop flexing, criss-crossing, dancing beneath the sheets.

“I can hear you thinking,” Kakashi said, murmuring again.

“I” — she cleared her throat — “my birthday’s on Monday, and I asked off of work that day, so I’ll have to take it easy then.”

“I think you’ll be a pile of bones by Friday,” he told her. And then he chuckled. “Which concerns me a bit, since I quite like you as you are.”

“Aren’t you sweet.” She let her head move to rest on his. Just for a few seconds, though. Then she started rereading that sentence for the fourth time, not having processed it at all before.

“Do you…”

Damn it. Her eyes darted off the page. Again. “Hm?”

“Anything special you’d like to do for your birthday?”

Something bloomed in her gut in an instant — a punchy little twinge. “Oh. Um...I — haven’t really thought about it, actually.”

Which wasn’t all the way true — she knew Ino had something planned, as usual, and while she hadn’t had the time to really ask her what the day would hold, she was counting on a surprise. Ino and Shikamaru had both asked her about Shizune, who was always invited; they’d then asked about Kakashi, to which she’d responded —

“I can make you dinner, if you want. Or take you out if you’d rather go somewhere.” The hand around her middle stroked against her side. “Just tell me how many people you’re inviting first.”

The lightness in his tone was a bit jarring, enough to make that thing in her stomach drop entirely, rippling out and spreading like water. Only weirder, murkier water. She squirmed a little under his arm. The thought of her friends meeting Kakashi, at Kakashi’s house, petting his dogs, or them all going out to dinner, looking at his arm draped over the back of her chair, talking to him —

“Okay. We can — we can talk about this later.” Without thinking, she shut her textbook with a clap of the pages and a creak of the thick spine, trapping her pen inside. “Sorry. I’m too tired to even think about anything right now. My brain is officially broken.”

Wasting no time, Kakashi pushed the book off her thighs to let it fall to the floor with a heavy thud, and then pulled her further down on the bed so that her head was on the pillow, her body angled into his, her lower back warm from his hand.

“Finally.” He gave her a long, lingering kiss on the cheek and wrapped himself around her. She felt that odd feeling fading very fast.

“Oh, now I see why you — ”

“Shh,” he hushed casually. “Relax.”

Kakashi kissed the corner of her mouth then. She hesitated, wanting to say something, wanting to say nothing too, stress still rife in her shoulders and back. But his body heat was so inviting, and she’d missed this, and she wasn’t sure how many more days and days and days it would be before she got to lay in bed with him again and let him give her this kind of attention, so she turned her head a fraction enough to slot her mouth against his in an open-mouthed kiss.

It was so good, she thought. He tasted so good, and he felt so good —  his lips were smooth, and his tongue was — his nose brushed against hers as they kissed, and his hand slipped beneath the worn cotton of her shirt to caress her stomach. A shiver sparked through her.

“Mm, I missed you,” she halfway whispered, her own hand finding his hip and her leg wrapping around his.

“Same here,” he said, again, breath fever-warm in her mouth. “Stop working yourself so hard.”

Sakura didn’t respond to that, losing herself as she was in the sensation of pure, blissful horniness, the feeling of being touched with intention. Kakashi moved his attention to her neck, this time lapping at it and making small scrapes with his teeth, knowing how sensitive it was. A whine began to keen at the back of her throat.

“Sleep in tomorrow.” His voice was low, seductive, right in her ear.

Her eyes might have rolled back in her head — just the mere thought of sleeping in even ten minutes later nearly brought her to the edge. Still, though, the reply came automatically: “No...I can’t.”

Kakashi sucked at one spot about halfway down her neck. The one that made her toes curl. He was truly unreal. And so, so good at this. His hand slid downward, slowly, down until his fingers teased at the skimpy waistband of her underwear, his thumb touching what was underneath and making her start.

“Lift up,” came the calm command. “Just a bit.”

She didn’t have to be told twice — in a second, she shifted to let him pull off the garment, slipping it down her legs; she helped him by kicking them off once he’d reached her knees, letting them disappear somewhere at the end of the mattress.

She kissed him again, urging him on, bringing him closer by the shoulders, and he easily complied. His hand skimmed even lower, stroking along her inner thighs, until his fingers found her —

“Oh my God,” she said with a swift, thin inhale. Two weeks had been way too long. And it wasn’t like she’d had the energy to do anything herself. Just a few light touches already had her so wound up, so far gone. The space between her legs felt like it was a thousand degrees.

“Good?” His voice was like silk. Ridiculously hot.

“Very good,” she breathed in response. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t stop, but he took his sweet, delicious time, going slow and steady. There was care in his hands and a meticulous work in his fingers that was making her toes curl, all the fidgety impulses from before expelled completely. Her shoulders had unfurled. Her neck had gone slack to accommodate whatever wonderful things he was doing to it with his lips and teeth. Her legs bent and unbent in whichever way felt best, which was all of them.

“Sleep in tomorrow,” he said again, his whisper drifting through the lustful haze like a lullaby. “I’ll take care of the dogs.”

He could have read the phone book and it would have turned her on the same way. The intimacy of it was astoundingly sexy. But it was the fact that it was sweet nothings, too, that —

Her eyes flew open.

“Wait a minute,” she said out loud, all the tension re-entering her body in a nanosecond.

“What?”

That tone he had — oh, boy. Something was up.

She pushed his hand away, mourning its loss immediately, but — no. In an instant, she lunged herself around to straddle him, pinning his stiff arms to the bed with her palms.

Oh, she knew that face. The slight roundness to his eyes now that he was surprised into widening them past half-mast. The slighter flush high on his cheekbones. His eyes like deep, dark melted chocolate in the soft light of her bedroom, his hair wild against the pillow, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, his lips just barely plush and swollen from kissing — no. No. Back to the subject at hand.

He was making that face. The I’ve been caught face.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She loomed over him to look maximally intimidating. But also to avoid sitting on his lap at all costs.

“Don’t what?”

That infuriatingly handsome innocence, that subtle openness to his expression. Suspicious.

“I see what you’re trying to do.” She let her eyes roam his face, searching for a crack, but coming up somehow empty.

“...Have sex with you?”

She could feel her face go flat. He genuinely was confused, then. Was she really going to have to spell it out for him? Like this? With her naked ass in the air?

“Kakashi, come on.” She flicked the inside of his bicep before reassuming her hold. “You can’t let me off the hook just because I’m your girlfriend.”

Nothing was said for a moment, but then it seemed to click.

“I...don’t think I understand.”

Or maybe not. She sighed, suddenly exasperated.

“Kakashi, it’s — ”

“Are you saying that getting stampeded and drooled on by my dogs every morning is something you enjoy?”

Well, sarcasm aside, it might have been, but — “That’s not the point,” she sighed, again. “I can’t just...not go. That’s not the way my life works. I don’t have room for favors when I have all these bills to pay.”

“You can, though.” He stated it as if it were a matter of fact. “For me, anyway, because luckily I’m the boss. Or at least I speak for Pakkun.” A bit of a smile played at his mouth. Sakura refused to satisfy it.

“Who do you think I am?” she scoffed, flicking him again. “Some kind of child emperor? I don’t work three jobs just to indulge my whims.”

“I’m simply allowing you the chance to recuperate. I can’t have my employees overworked.” He stretched his forearm out to comfortingly touch her thigh, the only thing it could reach, and she swatted it back down. “Consider it paid vacation.”

“Kakashi.”

“Okay, okay. Admittedly, I’ve never thought of you as my employee.” His head tipped to the side, cocking it like a dog. “But that’s because I felt like we really had a connection, you know — ”

“Kakashi.” She took the risk of moving one of her hands to his mouth. But only long enough for him to quit talking, and then it went promptly back. “Stop being cheeky. I’m serious.”

It was his turn to sigh. But it didn’t sound annoyed, or tired, or anything, really. She only felt his chest rise and fall beneath her. He looked her directly in the eyes, back to his usual sleepy expression.

“I can help you,” he said, his voice neutral, gentle. “You work hard, and I have more than enough to spend on me and the boys. You’re too young to run yourself into the ground like this.”

There it was — the twinge back in her gut, twitching and gnarled up and playing all that nervous tension like the strings of a guitar tuned too tight. It was ugly, and instant, and she hated it, and she felt her insides rise to contain it.

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s fine. I can take care of myself. I already am.”

He reached for her thigh again. “Well, I never questioned that, Sakura. Not for a second. You — ”

“I don’t need help.” The kindness in his voice only wound her tighter. “Okay? I’m taking care of it.”

She looked down at him, feeling rigid as a board. The pause between them was a little thick. They stared at each other, waiting for the other to give. That awful feeling had gone into her throat and she had to swallow it down. As if that had cued it, he closed his eyes.

“Okay.” His inhale was slow, measured; his exhale even more so.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated, utterly acquiesced. The tentative bit of relief she felt from that one word bled into that other terrible feeling, and it was a bad cocktail. But relief it was. She exhaled accordingly.

“Alright, then,” she said with finality. “So — ”

“Guess I’ll have to fight you for it.”

“ — Huh?”

The surprise had no time to process. In the quickest she’d ever seen him move, Kakashi maneuvered beneath the firm shackles of her hands to slide down the bed and did so swiftly enough to dislodge her. She flailed, trying to catch herself by the palms on her mattress where his upper body had just been — and by the time she actually did, he’d grabbed a hold of her thighs once and for all, wrapping his arms around the circumference of them, and brought the space between them down toward his face.

She yelped, felt his mouth, his tongue, felt him drag it up the whole of her sexy parts. And then there was the slightest touch of teeth. Sakura’s eyes bugged out of her head.

“Um,” she squeaked, bracing one hand on the wall and grasping his hair in the other. They’d done things like this before, but this — this —

“Sakura,” he said lowly, his breath hot as hell against her. “Sit down.”

Holy shit. She’d been struck by lightning. White-hot, paralyzing, hot-flash lightning. A gulp seized her dry, dry throat.

She had to use her brain for a fraction of a second, no matter how difficult that was. She’d find a way around this. She’d...set her alarms once he fell asleep, and she’d wake up as usual, sneak out while he slept blissfully unaware on her soft jersey sheets. She might even bring him back donuts and coffee just to rub it in his face. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy it now, right? Right?

As if he could read her mind, his tongue dragged all the way up again, making stops along the way to give extra consideration to the throbbiest spots.

“Okay,” she moaned, all air, and tugged hard at his hair. “Okay, okay, okay, you win. God.”

And the fact that she felt his smile, rather than saw or even heard it, meant he knew he’d won, too.

.

.

.

Sakura came into consciousness all at once, sleep still a warm drift she felt herself floating in. Her body felt sore, but not stiff and creaky. It was good.

She kind of couldn’t remember where she was — what day it was — whatever. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, and her pillows felt luxuriously soft under her face, and sleep was the single greatest thing.

She turned over, stretching her arms out beneath her pillows, relishing in the cool underside. Her blankets and sheets were wrapped perfectly around her. Five more minutes, she thought, letting the lull of sleep pull her back. It was all too easy with her room so quiet — no sound but the distant chirp of birds, the hum of a passing car or two.

Her mind interrupted itself to retrace that thought. Something wasn’t right.

Birds.

“Shit,” she croaked, adrenaline pumping through her at light speed as she turned over, grabbed her phone, tapped frantically at the screen to light it up.

It was almost ten o’clock. Ten o’clock.

Panic took a hold of her in a split second. “Shit!”

She whipped off her covers. She never did this. Never, ever slept through her alarms. The only time she’d overslept was the infamous Kakashi Sunday all those weeks ago, and that was because she’d been too drunk to set one.

She stopped. Kakashi. A quick glance over her shoulder told her he wasn’t in bed — and of course he wasn’t. He’d probably gone to walk his fucking dogs.

“Ugh!” she snarled, frustrated. Her shift at Hidan’s was coming up in less than an hour, so no pajamas in public today. Not to mention she was completely naked. She threw on the sports bra rolled up on her floor, the black tank top next to it. Grabbed a pair of underwear she hoped was clean. Pants. Pants. None in sight. But wait: the denim overalls she’d haphazardly thrown out of her bottom drawer the other day were right there. She slipped them on in record time. Bag. Phone. Socks. Shoes, she’d get at the door.

She threw her door open and stumbled out, ready for a brisk sprint to the subway station. She cursed when she almost tripped over her discarded pants from last night. But there was a figure standing in the kitchen, and it startled her so bad she screeched. Loudly.

Kakashi, equally startled, nearly dropped the rice paddle he was holding.

And Shikamaru, who was standing beside him, right outside of her field of vision — and who had apparently located his hair tie, given his reclaimed pineapple hair — just stared at her with his usual disgruntled disposition.

“Look who’s finally up,” he deadpanned, then returned his gaze to his bowl of food, stirring it around with his chopsticks.

Sakura’s stomach dropped. And it wasn’t from the smell of natto.

“Um…” She scrambled for words. Nothing seemed to be coming up in her brain but very, very high-pitched screams.

“Morning, sunshine,” Kakashi sang, waving the utensil at her with an eye smile. Mask on, but pulled beneath his chin. He was pressing rice into a bowl. Breakfast.

Making breakfast.

In her kitchen.

With Shikamaru.

“Uh, hi…” was all she could manage. And then: “How long have you been in here?”

Shikamaru was now chewing on a wad of rice and had no qualms about showing her so. “Ten minutes, tops. I could smell the dashi through the vents.”

Ten minutes. Ten entire minutes he’d been in here, standing in her kitchen while Kakashi cooked. She had no idea how to respond to that.

“It’s weird seeing you in the morning,” he continued for her, like reality wasn’t collapsing, voice muffled by his food. “You’re normally like a vampire. Only visible before dawn and after sunset.”

In any other case, she would have made some snarky retort, or perhaps corrected him on his vampire lore — she was still a little bitter that they’d gotten kicked out of their last adventure to the movies. But she was finding it hard to move, or speak, or even think properly at the moment. Her brain felt like it was splitting.

Kakashi and Shikamaru in the same room.

Talking.

“I was just about to get you up,” came Kakashi’s voice, pleasant and deep. “I didn’t want you to be late for work.”

“I... am late for work,” she finally vocalized. Her feet took her step by step into the kitchen. Panic still held her in its vice, only more potently now, by the scruff of her neck like a bad dog. All she could do was kick her legs around in the air and scramble for purchase. “I was supposed to be at your house an hour ago.”

“You have the morning off,” was his simple reply. “I won, remember?”

The man had the audacity to turn around and wink.

“I” — She didn’t know what to say, again, because he wasn’t exactly wrong. But — “Didn’t you hear my alarms go off?”

“They woke me up, but you slept right through them, so I turned them off.” When he was met with nothing but silence, he peeked over at her, assessed whatever was on her face, and smiled with humor. “Don’t worry about the dogs. Yamato’s taking care of them.”

When he turned back to the food he was preparing, her eyes found Shikamaru’s. That raised brow of his sent another plummeting thread through her stomach. There was no telling what he and Kakashi had discussed while she was still asleep.

Discussed. The thought felt like a plague. She was starting to get nauseous.

“Kakashi,” she said, her voice not as clear as she wanted it to be. She looked away from both of them. Literally anywhere else in the room. Why was Shikamaru in here? “I thought we talked about this.”

“We did,” he replied easily. “And I won. You said so yourself.”

“But — ”

“Come on and eat. You need the protein.”

He’d spoken at the same time as her, not noticing her interjection. Or perhaps he was choosing to ignore it altogether. Apparently that was a possibility, considering how he hadn’t woken her up when she clearly had intended to.

“I’m not hungry,” she told him.

“Well, not yet. But you will be if you don’t get some food on your stomach.”

She now felt an indignant anger making its way into the mix. It was literally like he wasn’t listening to her.

“I’m fine.”

Kakashi stopped fiddling with whatever he was setting out for her. Shikamaru stopped chewing. For a long, dense moment, there was no sound in the room but the whir of her rickety air conditioner.

Sakura didn’t move from where she stood, halfway into the kitchen space. She just crossed her arms and waited.

Eventually, someone cleared their throat — definitely Shikamaru, who started scratching his head with the back end of his chopsticks.

“Yeah...I’m gonna go.” He glanced over at Kakashi. Looked him up and down with measured eyes. “Thanks for the food, man.”

“Oh, sure,” Kakashi said with a bit of a laugh. That unsure chuckle she’d heard before. “Any time.”

No, she wanted to shout. Not any time! None of this was something that ever needed to happen again. Shikamaru didn’t need to be here, talking and eating with her boyfriend, unless she was there to mediate it. They didn’t need to have any sort of familiarity or camaraderie without her knowing about it. And even more importantly, Kakashi didn’t need to be here, in her kitchen, letting her life just slip through the cracks because he felt like it. There didn’t need to be any more fucking surprises.

Shikamaru gave her a look on his way out. A questioning look, maybe, or a judgmental look, she couldn’t tell. His face, always so plain and so peeved. It pissed her off. She tried not to care what he thought about whatever was going on. But she didn’t want to ask him anything in front of Kakashi. Or beat the shit out of him. Not in front of Kakashi.

Her stomach churned, hot and acidic and gross. She gazed hard at the floor until she heard the door click closed behind him.

It was silent for at least half a minute. The pressure built, and built, like the room was inside of a tea kettle, and then —

“Hey,” Kakashi said after a beat, facing her fully. “Everything okay?”

His face was a little tense, she could tell. His dark brows were set in a bit of a furrow, and his arms crossed kind of loosely as he leaned back against the countertop. In the daylight, harsher now than she was used to since it was later than she usually saw, he looked too big for the space, too tall.

“No,” she blurted. “No, it’s not. I’m late, and I’m going to be late for my next job now, too, if I don’t leave now. I was going to study on the subway, too…” And now that was another chunk of time she’d lost. Fuck. “I can’t” — she sighed hard — “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up.”

“I...thought we agreed that you didn’t have to worry about going to my place today.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the ground. “But I’m sorry. That was poor judgment on my part. I was just worried about you.”

She balked a little at that. “Worried?”

“Well...yes.” His hand had traveled into his hair to scratch at the back of his head. “You work so much, and you don’t give yourself time to slow down, or to take care of yourself, I…”

“This is just my life, Kakashi,” she reminded him. “I have to work hard to be able to make it. I can’t just take days off whenever I feel like it.” With another hard sigh, she rubbed her forehead, a headache coming on quick. “I literally can’t afford to.”

“I understand. But — ”

“Do you, though?” It came out before her brain had even processed it. “You have so much money. What you pay me for a week of walking your dogs is twice what I make in two weeks at my other jobs. And you get to make your own schedule. I don’t have that luxury.”

“I know that, Sakura.” Kakashi’s voice was lower now, more solid. He held firm eye contact with her. “I’m not trying to undermine that.”

“Then why do you keep trying to give me the easy way out?” Her voice was louder than intended, but she couldn’t seem to bring it down. “I don’t want you to pay me for something I didn’t do. That’s just fucked up to me!”

“You shouldn’t have to just survive,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to live with this much stress. You deserve the rewards of your hard work. And I have the time and the resources to try and give those to you, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay, well, I don’t want that. I’ve never taken favors, and I’m not about to start now.”

Kakashi didn’t say anything for a minute. He only stared at her with dark, unreadable eyes, his mouth in a straight line. Sakura felt like she was out of breath, full of hot air at the same time. But she was mad, and she had every right to be, and she wasn’t going to give that up.

He finally closed his eyes. A soft exhale followed it. And then he turned back around, turned off the oven where a small pot of broth was simmering.

“Alright. I won’t offer this again. I apologize for disrupting your schedule.” She heard the small clack of him closing the lid of her plastic rice cooker. “At least let me drop you off at work to make up for having you run late. You can take some food with you, too.”

There he was, doing it again. The anger was scorching a hole in her insides. It wasn’t that hard to understand. Why wouldn’t he just fucking listen to her?

“Don’t even worry about it,” she said, not even bothering to hide the cut in her tone. Before he could even say another word, she grabbed the first pair of sneakers in sight, body-checked the door open, and shut it behind her with a big thwack.

Every step on the way down the stairs was a stomp. Every step down the street felt like she was stepping on rocks. It wasn’t until halfway down the block that she realized that she was, and that her shoes were still in her hand. Sakura rolled her eyes, brushed loose gravel off her socks, pulled the sneakers on, kept going, and did not stop at anything less than a brisk, furious pace. She could just picture it now: Kakashi slowly rolling up in his van, the window down, wearing that sheepish expression and seducing her with another apology. But no. Hell no. She wasn’t having it.

She barely noticed people avoiding her in the streets, making way for her hell-on-wheels aura to move past. She just couldn’t stop thinking about the whole damn thing. How dare he, honestly, assume the position of overriding her needs just because he — felt like it? Was that it? The acid boiling in her gut told her otherwise.

He’d kept telling her to relax. He’d kept trying to get her to eat. He’d gone down on her, for fuck’s sake, just to ignore what she was trying to tell him — that she was broke, and she was tired, and she couldn’t change that just because she felt like fucking around. And God only knew what Shikamaru had told him this morning. There was no telling. Shikamaru was over at her house all the time. Shikamaru was who she paid her rent to, usually weeks late, since his dad didn’t know how to set it up online, and who knew how she lived paycheck to meager paycheck. Shikamaru was, like it or not, her friend, and a friend who loved sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Her face burned.  

But that didn’t even matter in the end, did it? The fact was that Kakashi hadn’t taken her seriously. He’d gone out of his way to do the one thing she asked him not to. He wanted her to take the easy way out because he — because he —

Sakura stopped in the middle of the crosswalk, several people accidentally colliding with her due to the sudden obstacle. She felt her stomach drop through the ground.

It was because he pitied her. And more than anything else, that was the worst thing he could do.

The signal beeped ahead of her, alerting her to get out of the road before the light changed. She kept walking, feeling the slight wind in her hair and under the straps of her outfit as she moved. The hum of idle cars, the loud yawns of ones passing were overwhelming, crackling at the raw edges of her mind. She kept going, but she felt sicker and angrier than she had all morning. More than she had in a long, long time.

She threaded her way through the throng of people coming up the station stairs — the old people always took the wrong fucking side, there was a system — and stormed her way to the gates leading down to the subway. She could hear the huge, pealing whine of the train from here, which meant she’d have to wait for the next one, and would almost certainly be late to Hidan’s.

It was fine. It was all just fucking dandy.

She grumbled some choice curses under her breath as she shook her bag off her shoulder and dug through it. Her wallet always hid from her, especially when she was standing by the ticket sensors, and when she was in a hurry, so, she thought, this surely would be fun.

The first thing that she realized upon sticking her hand in her bag was that she’d forgotten her textbook. Wonderful. In her haste and the haze of rage, she hadn’t even thought about the deceptive weight of her bag. The book was probably still lying open, face down, beside her bed. Sakura had to close her eyes, clench her jaw, count to three, and make herself breathe before returning to the task at hand. Punting her bag at an unsuspecting citizen would not help anything.

Upon reentering the vortex, the second thing she found was, of course, not her wallet. But it felt kind of like it, thin and papery, so she pulled it out in a tentative victory, only to realize that it was just actual paper. She frowned at it, flipped it over, wondering what forgotten assignment or form it was. And then she realized that it wasn’t just paper, but an envelope. And on the bottom right corner of it was a henohenomoheji, followed by two neatly scrawled words:

Paid Vacation.

Sakura felt her eyebrow twitch. Once. Twice. Three times. And then her fist crumpled the whole fucking thing.

She whirled around, feeling like steam was coming out of her nose and ears. It probably was. She didn’t care. Ripping that thing in half wouldn’t do any good — no, money be god fucking damned, she needed to rip it to shreds, and over a trash can so the baby-faced policeman by the ticketing kiosk machines wouldn’t try her about it. She whipped her neck around, left, right, back, like an animal searching for its prey.

No trash cans — but she did find a quiet homeless man sitting on a blanket by the wide entrance she’d just passed through, holding a sign that said Need Money Or Food Anything Helps.

She dashed over to him like her feet were on fire, barely managing not to run into five people on her way there.

He looked up in surprise when she stopped in front of him. He was graying, white at the temples, sun-spotted, ponytailed. Smelled like booze. There was an almost shamanistic tranquility radiating off of him. God, she wished that were her.

“Hello,” he greeted, questioningly.

“What’s your name?” she asked back, not cutting any corners.

He raised an eyebrow at her. Assessed her. “Hiruzen.”

“Cool. Merry Christmas, Hiruzen,” she said, leaning down to stuff the crumpled envelope in the tiny cup in front of him. “Here’s a paid vacation for you.”

And then Sakura pivoted right back the way she came, hand elbow-deep in her bag, miraculously locating her wallet at the exact moment she passed through the gate. She slapped it against the sensor and kept walking.

Chapter Text

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Here was the thing about Sakura’s life: no matter how much she tried to maintain a routine, to do her duty to society, to make sure things were paid on time, to stay out of trouble, be a good person, or even just carry out a normal, ordinary life, chaos always — and she meant this with the utmost, gravest sincerity — always found her.

On the one day she was not equipped to be polite, the one day that she just needed to sit and seethe and stew and process her anger, the shit decided it would hit the fan at every possible opportunity.

Some baby on the subway spit up all over her arm, which was pretty fucking gross. Even for someone who had changed an innumerable amount of bedpans. Its poor mother had apologized a million times, clearly so deeply embarrassed, and Sakura tried to assuage her that it was fine, truly, and could she please just have one of those baby wipes sticking out of the woman’s purse? But even those powerful, aloe-scented things, equipped to clean up even the worst of baby diarrhea without a trace, failed to get the smell of stomach acid and regurgitated carrot puree off of her.

Then, on her way into the clinic, she’d decided to stop at a vending machine and get a drink. It was hot today, and she hadn’t eaten — by choice, of course — and she needed caffeine or something to stimulate her blood sugar before her anger eventually petered out. So she’d tried to buy a coffee, but her card got declined because of course, she was poor as shit. And of course she didn’t have enough coins, because she’d spent all of her change on the questionable chicken skewers from the convenience store near her apartment the night before. Which she hadn’t even eaten.

And so some well-meaning passing lady, who had also happened to want something from the same machine, subsequently offered to buy her a drink out of charitable pity, which was apparently a theme today. And despite Sakura’s attempts to vehemently deny any free coffee, the lady just wouldn’t accept that as a reality, and by mistake ended up buying Sakura a lemon-lime soda that she didn’t even want. But Sakura’d taken it anyway, to be fucking nice, and then walked away, chucking it into the first available trash can once she’d turned the corner — only to have it bounce off the rim and torpedo right back at her like a cursed, diabetic boomerang, exploding in her face.

Hidan would have to stick an entire goddamn needle in her neck to get her to make it through the rest of the day.

And speaking of: his newest patient — some anemic weenie, clearly — jerked hard in fright at Hidan’s first attempt to place a needle, and had somehow gotten a vein in his ankle punctured as a result.

The bleeding wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but the guy had passed out, and Hidan kept screeching uncontrollably about the fear of getting sued, and Sakura was the only actual medical professional in the building, apparently, so she had to do damage control. So now she had baby vomit, warm soda, and blood all over her overalls, and was dangerously close to walking out to the main road and begging for a bus to hit her, full speed ahead.

It only made sense, then, that the literal second she sat down to take a breath on a stool in the back room, release some of the tension in her jaw and her shoulders, she heard the homemade doorbell chime at the front of the store.

Sakura grit her teeth together hard to keep from screaming. She was not tending to that.

“Morning,” she heard Hidan grumble, still vexed from the disaster not an hour before. He was rifling through the filing cabinets for some legal paperwork, surely, even though the guy had said it was alright.

“Morning!” the customer responded, and Sakura felt her hot, boiling blood completely stop in its tracks.

She knew that voice. That jovial, full-bodied laugh that went along with it. Oh, she knew it all too well.

“Is there a Sakura-chan still working here, by chance?”

Oh my God, Hidan, she willed with all her might, hoping they might be able to telepathically communicate through the crimson-painted wall of the exam room. She slid off the stool and hid behind the cot she’d just sanitized, grateful for the shroud of the sheet draped over it. Please, just this once, don’t be a fucking idiot.

“Yeah,” Hidan replied all too easily. Shit. “She’s not available, though.” Wait. Good. “Got lady problems or something goin’ on, so she’s probably changing her tampon.”

God damn it. 

“Is she on break?” the guy asked with unassuming curiosity.

“Nah,” Hidan said, slamming a drawer closed with a metallic clank. “She doesn’t get one today ‘cause I’m waiting for the police to show up. Might need her to give a witness testimony.”

She could have slapped her own face. Of all the things he could have said. 

There was a silence for a moment after that. God only knew what was going through the man’s head, or what other dumbassery Hidan would let slip out of his mouth. But then she just heard the most unwelcomingly familiar sound in the world: a low, roguish chuckle, up to no good.

“Hey,” the guy said. “You know what? You seem like a man who knows what he’s about. You like porn?”

Never in her life had she wished more that the floor would swallow her up whole, holy fuck.

“Uh, hell yeah I do,” Hidan replied, more enthusiastic now. “Why d’you ask? You’re not about to flash your dick at me or somethin’, are you?”

The fact that they both laughed was the worst thing she’d ever experienced.

This. Was not. Happening.

“Here. Take this.” A shuffling of fabric, a buckle coming undone — please, God, no. “Limited edition hentai doujinshi of my latest book, illustrated by the world-renowned mangaka Sai. I’d be happy to personalize it, too, if you like.”

“Holy shit,” Hidan exclaimed after a pause, that awful, hysterical thrill making its way into his voice. “You’re Sage Jiraiya?!”

“Sure am,” Jiraiya said, smugness radiant in his voice. “The one and only.”

Forget getting mowed down by a bus. Sakura needed to die right here and now.

“Holy fucking shit, man. I’m” — was Hidan getting choked up? “What a fuckin’ honor. This is, like, my childhood dream come true. I don’t even know what to say!”

“Oho,” Jiraiya said with a laugh, “well, I’m flattered. I’m glad my instincts were correct — you seemed like a man I could trust.”

Bullshit, Sakura thought, trying not to gag. He just knew a pervert when he saw one.

“Can you for real make an autograph out to me?” She could practically hear Hidan vibrating. “I gotta get a tattoo of your signature, Jiraiya-sama, please. I’ll do anything. I’ve been saving an ass cheek for this for years. I’d say your my idol, but I don’t have any false idols under Jashin-sama — you’re just — you’re my fuckin’ hero, dude!”

“Oh, sure, sure, I’d be happy to.”

Oh, no. That tone only meant one thing. 

“How about this, then,” he proposed. “I’ll take Sakura-chan out for a quick bite, and when I get back, I’ll sign whatever your heart desires. Police report or body part.”

“Seriously? You’d do that?!”

“Pinky promise.”

“SAKURA!” Hidan squawked, the sound filling the entirety of his tiny clinic. “Get your ass out here!”

Her heart rate spiked. There were no windows in here. If only she were actually on her period and had a tampon to change, or were still rinsing the nastiness of today off her person, she could have crawled out the bathroom window. But she was stuck here — there was nowhere she could even try to slink toward without getting caught.

“Sakura!” Hidan tried again. She didn’t dare move. There were footsteps fading toward the direction of the bathroom — and then a guttural groan. “Aw, damn it. Let’s go outside. Maybe she’s on the phone or somethin’.”

“Lead the way,” she heard Jiraiya say.

And then more footsteps. An infinitely long half-minute until the door chimed again, swung shut behind them. Now was her only chance.

Sakura leapt to her feet with all her strength, vaulted the cot she’d been hiding behind, snatched her phone and bag from the front desk with as little clumsiness as she could manage in her haste, and sprinted toward the door. Her pulse thumped so hard she could hear it. The daylight coming through the glass of the shopfront was like a beacon. A tunnel into another world. Safety.

She rammed the door open with her shoulder, knowing the chime would give her away, so she had to hurry. A quick look left, right, told her Hidan had led Jiraiya toward the alley next door — maybe they wouldn’t even see her —

“Hey!” Hidan shrieked, loud and sudden enough almost to trip her. “There you are, spitfire! Where the hell are you going?!”

Sakura paid him no mind, only ran toward the end of the street to hit the main road, where she could grab a cab and book it. She wasn’t worried about any consequences for deserting her job mid-shift, or getting fired. Hidan would perish without her and he knew it. Plus, she did most of the bookkeeping, so she’d see to it that she was paid properly. And besides, the dazzle of his hero coming by today would likely save her any grief.

What she was worried about, though, was having to see Jiraiya: the man, the myth, the dirty, sleazy legend — and now, in the not-so-distant future, husband to her aunt.

She held back an incendiary scream, focused instead on her surroundings now that she’d gotten to the street. The subway station wasn’t for a good walk, and the bus wouldn’t be here for awhile; a cab was the only way to go, because this street was far too populated to run.

There was a sleek black cab parked by the curb, right at the corner of the block, hazards on to wait for a passenger. Bingo. Sakura darted over to it and opened the back door, claiming it in a flash.

She slid in, unprepared for how roomy the backseat was, and almost faceplanted on the floor of the car.

“Uh,” the driver said, watching her right herself from the rearview mirror. God, this thing smelled like cologne, from the floorboards to the leather seats. It was vaguely suffocating.

“Go,” she ordered, catching her breath. “I’ll figure out where in a minute. Just go.”

“Uh,” the guy said again, this time with more clarity. “Ma’am, this isn’t a taxi.”

“I can see that,” she replied, getting impatient. “I know what a towncar is.” Which she definitely hadn’t bargained for, and was going to be more expensive that she thought, and —

Fuck.

Oops.

“Look,” she said, clearing her throat and trying to summon a sweet politeness. “I don’t have any money on me, but I really need to go.” She tried to turn around and look out the window, see if she was being chased, but it was too tinted to see clearly. “My name is Haruno Sakura. I can leave my ID card with you until I get paid later this week, if you need insurance that you’ll get your money. But I draw the line at showing you my tits.”

“Hold on.” The driver turned around now, facing her fully, and she could see his round, black sunglasses, the raised eyebrows behind them. “Sakura-chan? Is that you?”

Her brain stopped to accommodate this reaction. He — knew her? That couldn’t be right.

But it was soon apparent to her that it was. Those sunglasses. That long, narrow face with the shadowy hint of a mustache. The dorky-looking flat cap that he wore not out of obligation, but by choice, and backwards.

“Ebisu?” she asked, feeling her stomach drop. She knew him all too well. She would know him anywhere: Jiraiya’s freakazoid, persistently loyal driver and assistant. She’d tried so hard to escape, only to fall right into the hands of the enemy.

“Damn, it really is you!” he exclaimed, delighted. That made one of them. “I haven’t seen you in a minute! Your hair! You look — ”

“I gotta go,” she replied, already sliding back to the sidewalk side of the car. She grasped the door handle and pulled to open it.

It swung open for her, though, bringing the sounds of the city and a rumbling, devilish chuckle into the quiet inside of the car. With it came an enormous human frame, blocking her exit just by existing there, not even trying to be an obstacle. But one nonetheless.

Jiraiya leaned down to greet her, the lines at the corners of his mouth widening as he grinned that trademark grin.

“Well, well, well,” he laughed, sounding slightly out of breath, showing his teeth. “That was easier than I expected.”

Sakura, without even thinking, all the adrenaline and anger and chaos from the day finally deciding to make itself unequivocally known, lifted her leg and kicked.

“Not so fast, kid,” he said, chipper and smug, and swiftly catching her ankle, a mere two inches away from giving him a black eye, in his humongous hand. “I know all your tricks.”

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“Do you know what you’d like to have today?” their server asked, her voice gentle and refined.

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow at Sakura from across the table, gesturing to her with a flourish of the hand.

“Ladies first,” he said, like he always fucking did. Sakura sighed, looking back at the menu.

The whole restaurant was gentle and refined, beautifully decorated, and its patrons, very much unlike Sakura in her stained secondhand overalls, were all hushed. Almost delicately so. No doubt it was because of the outrageous prices on the menu. The modern decor, everything glass and new, sleek wooden tables with geometric patterns carved in, the five-thousand yen tonkatsu — the bougie air of it all was oppressive, and about to drive her nuts. There was no way she was eating here. Not when one of these plates was a quarter of a paycheck. She’d almost rather starve.

“I’ll just stick with water,” she told their waifish server, clapping her menu closed with one hand and offering it back.

“Oh.” The young woman blinked. “Yes ma’am, of course. But what would you like to eat?”

Sakura only smiled, as charming as she could, and said again: “I’ll just stick with water.”

There was an awkward moment where no one said anything. There was only the light tinkling of cutlery against plates and the sounds of muted conversation throughout the room. But she didn’t back down. And she wouldn’t. If she was going to be here, she would do things her own way, and that meant —

“She’ll have the Iberico pork katsu, but with the sweet curry sauce, not the spicy one. And the potato salad with extra cucumber.” Jiraiya closed his own menu and took Sakura’s from where she was still holding it out. “I’ll have the genton filet with demi-glace au poulet. Extra rice, too, if you don’t mind.”

Oh, he thought he was being so diplomatic. She could tell by the way he grinned calmly at the lady, despite the way his eyes were trained on the slight dip in her neckline. She bought it though, poor thing, and smiled back, likely grateful that he’d dissipated the discomfort she’d happened to be party to.

“Absolutely, sir. I’ll put these in right away.”

“Thank you, angel.” And then she walked away, leaving the two of them alone again. Jiraiya leaned back in his chair. Despite being at least twice its span, he looked comfortable, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at her, clearly amused. “You sure are a Senju, aren’tcha? Through and through.”

Sakura didn’t like any of this. Her ears twitched.

“Demi-glace au poulet?” she mimicked. “Seriously? You finally sell a book and now you’re too good for a ramen stand?”

“Let’s just say I was in a good mood, now that I finally got the chance to have lunch with my favorite girl.”

God. Eww. She felt her face heat — in disgust — and instantly deflected. “I wonder how Ebisu feels now that he’s getting a paycheck.”

That made him cackle. The rich, huge sound carried through the restaurant like an alarm. It certainly had that effect: people were staring bug-eyed at the rupture in their calm, posh atmosphere.

Jiraiya himself was a disruption. He was physically incapable of being subtle. He was the tallest man she’d ever met, with a broad stature to match; his hair, white for as long as she could remember, was immense and fluffy like a sheepdog, barely contained by a ponytail. He’d probably look so much less like a vaguely unkempt hippie if he cut it. Not that she cared. And not that it mattered — Tsunade was the one marrying him, and it wasn’t for looks.

Ugh.

“I’m sure he’s relieved.” Jiraiya took a big sip of his red wine, unbothered. “He can’t write for shit, and he knows it. But he’s been an excellent apprentice regardless.”

Apprentice. She scoffed at the word and rolled her eyes. He’d been calling Ebisu that for years, making himself feel important and making Ebisu feel better for being a glorified errand boy. She fucking wished she didn’t have her first day of labs later, or else she’d chug half that overpriced bottle between them.

“Seriously, though, Sakura-chan,” Jiraiya continued with a bounce to his tone, “it’s been far too long. At least two years since I last saw you. That pink hair looks cute on you.”

Her cheeks burned. The last time he’d seen her, she’d had an at-home dye job so black it was blue. That was what she got for trying to match Shizune.

“I like it,” she grumbled, reminding him that his approval didn’t matter. God knew he had enough people bolstering his ego now. “I did it myself, too.”

He chuckled. “Of course you did. If you ever let someone else touch your hair, I think I’d have a stroke.”

“Hm.” She took a slow drink of her water. “I wouldn’t give me any ideas, if I were you.”

Another laugh, big and boisterous, smile lines starting to pull at the age-tanned skin of his face. He truly could not be deterred. Sakura felt her eyebrow twitching again.

“How’s school?” he asked next, assessing her openly with his dark eyes. “Not runnin’ you into the ground, I hope? You seem a little skinnier than usual.”

“I’m fine,” she griped. She was not fucking doing this again. Not today. “School is fine. I start my residency next semester, so I can finally start doing the hands-on part. I’m looking forward to that.”

“Ah, that’s right. Tsunade mentioned you’d be at her hospital.”

“Okay, yeah, actually,” she half-interrupted, the words spilling out directly from her head. Her aunt’s name from his mouth had her brain firing on all cylinders. “Can you explain that to me? How the hell this marriage thing ended up happening? Because either ba-chan has a gag order for legal reasons, or she’s too embarrassed to really tell me what’s going on.”

“What’s there to explain?” The expression that crossed Jiraiya’s face was nothing short of pleased. He wasn’t even fazed by the sudden change in subject — likely because this was his favorite one. “She finally came around.”

When over fifteen seconds passed where Sakura just stared at him — not a word or a sigh or a disparaging noise to be heard, just pure and unadulterated done-ness — he fuffed sheepishly at the back of his head.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he said with an easy laugh. “But, I will say, part of why I wanted to see you today was to talk about this.” Seeming to remember something, he checked his phone where it sat on the table. Blank, no messages, but she could see that his phone background was a picture of some blonde girl with big boobs. Figures. “I was hoping to talk to Shizune-chan, too, have a ladies’ day, but yeesh — tryin' to get in touch with that girl lately is like herding cats.”

Sakura’s gut twisted at the thought of seeing Shizune. God, she missed her. She needed that kind smile, her calm, reliable shoulder so badly right now.

Jiraiya’s gravelly voice dissipated the thought. “She’s the oldest daughter...she could stand to be more excited about all of this, don’tcha think?”

Sakura smoothed down the back of her hair and snorted. “No.”

“What,” he said, cocking his head to try and make eye contact with her, “you’re not excited either, huh?”

The jokey air in his tone made it clear he knew damn well how she felt about all of this, and was enjoying her disapproval a bit too much. She frowned.

“Just” — she stopped to suck at her teeth and get her thoughts back together. Didn’t really work. “I just don’t understand. Haven’t you been in love with her for, like, a century? Or however long it is you’ve been alive?”

“Well, of course. But I would never force my feelings on her.” That thought seemed to amuse him. “Let’s just say I learned my lesson on that one about...mm, forty years ago.”

“Yeah, but…”

“...The timing was just right. Can’t really explain why; sometimes life is like that.” He unfurled his napkin, letting the silverware fall gently on the table as he stuffed the cloth on his lap. “Her debt was getting too deep, and we were both tired of her having to hole away in Bangkok doing all that” — and he used air quotes for this — “research. But she’s got all these shady contract conditions that mean I can’t pay anything off for her unless we’re spouses. So I offered, gladly, to wipe it all clean, because I can now. And I want to. And she accepted.” He smiled genuinely, some secret in that happiness, but it faded fast as he pointed at her with his fork. “Don’t ever borrow from loan sharks, Sakura-chan. I mean it.”

Sakura wanted to roll her eyes. After almost twenty years under Tsunade’s roof, she at least knew that. “How romantic of you.”

“I like to think so,” he said, and after a short delay, grinning again wolfishly. “Really, though. The facts aside, I wanted to see if, uh...whether you were okay with all this. Before we went through with the wedding.”

That surprised her. “Me? Why would that matter?”

Jiraiya raised an eyebrow, not understanding her reaction. “Because she’s your mother, sweetheart. Of course it matters.”

Those words instantly made her gut tighten like she was being dropped through the floor. What rose to meet her was a hot flush of bad, ugly feelings. “That’s...she’s not…”

“Huh?”

He hadn’t heard her. Thank god.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, trying to shove all of that shit back behind the door that contained it. It always felt like forcing an elephant into a clown car. “I think” — she took a deep breath — “I think it depends more on how she feels than how I do. And whether you’re willing to accept that if you do this, you’re won’t be getting your ideal Icha Icha Paradise romance.”

“Oho, I’m well aware.” He gave a hearty, rousing laugh to that one, overriding her disapproval again. “I’m just flattered that you know the name of my book.”

Sakura huffed out of her nose, halfheartedly, feeling weird. There was a contemplative pause from Jiraiya then, and the silence made her itch, made her fidget with her water glass.

“But y’know,” he said finally, “love, romantic love, isn’t always conventional. Her marriage to Dan — now that was something. For us, though...well, we’ll see.”

There was a wistfulness to his face, a warmth to his eyes, a big ol' smug to his smile that made it feel like her stomach was being wrung out like a wet rag again.

A memory, Tsunade’s voice, came sharply: Are you telling me right now that you feel sorry for Jiraiya?

Sakura cleared her throat. “And you’re — you’re okay with that?”

“With what?”

With only having her when she’s compromised who she is to be with you, Sakura wanted to say to his innocuous question, but the words sat hard on her tongue. A prepared answer. With love borne out of pity, she thought next, and it felt like she had an entire goddamn rock in her mouth.

“I’m a patient man, Sakura-chan. I’ve waited this long.” He shrugged simply. “And if it doesn’t work out as more than what we already have, that’s alright too. I’m just glad to be with her.”

The words got too heavy to hold behind her teeth anymore. “She’s just using you for money, though. Don’t you — ”

It took a second for her angry, exhausted brain to catch up with her, but it did. She shut her mouth, resisted the sudden, powerful urge to smack her hand over her mouth. Holy shit.

That door inside her closed back on its own, effortlessly, pompously — its job was done.

Before Jiraiya could even so much as blink, or even show an inkling of a response, there was —

“Here’s our house-fermented miso soup,” said the server, reappearing like she’d been magically summoned, setting the ceramic bowls neatly between them. “We also have some tempura rainbow carrot and a shoyu-butter crab leg here for you, compliments of the chef.”

“Ah,” Jiraiya said, truly surprised as he marveled at the food, as well as their moderately attractive server as she laid them across the table. “Well, this sure is a treat. Give them my thanks, will ya?”

She bowed ever so slightly. “Of course. We appreciate your patronage, Sage Jiraiya-sama.”

He snickered as she walked away.

“Would you look at that?” he said, drawing each word out with satisfaction, chopsticks ready in his hand and spirits high. “Perks of being a world-renowned author, huh? You get recognized even when you didn’t say a thing about it.”

Sakura just sat there, some nameless, awful, empty wake washing through the huge, hot room of her insides. Regret, really, was the main part of it, but there were a multitude of other things she was feeling, residual from the morning, the day, and what was happening, unacknowledged, in the current moment. Even her earlobes burned.

Jiraiya, for his part, seemed to have forgotten she’d said a word. She couldn’t tell if that was better or worse.

“Eat, Sakura-chan,” he told her after a moment with his mouth partially full. “The soup is outta this world.”

Robotically, she lifted her spoon, dipping it in the foggy broth. She watched the miso swirl around and pool inside the dip, and then she brought it to her mouth to taste it.

It was good, she thought distantly, nausea rising to meet the flavor. It was funky, salty, balanced in all the right ways. But it wasn’t as good as the one she’d had last night.

At least it would help her keep her mouth shut.

.

.

.

After lunch Sakura felt so goddamn terrible, still, that she agreed to his offer to go to the spa. Even though it was the middle of the week, and the middle of the day, she felt so awful, so lost in thought now that rage wasn’t the only thing propelling her through each moment — that a part of her, however hesitant, felt she owed it to him to indulge him this one thing.

It wasn’t until they strode into the clean, upscale, traditionally-styled building that it hit her.

Jiraiya was taking her to the sauna. To get massages.

“Oh hell no,” she murmured, turning on her heel to walk back out the entrance. Jiraiya held a huge arm out to stop her.

“Not so fast, girly. Didn’t you agree to a whole afternoon with your old man?”

Sakura scowled at his casual use of your. “Not if it includes happy endings, I don’t.”

“Aw, come on, now, Sakura-chan,” he leveled, putting a giant hand on her head. “When have I ever put you in that kind of situation before?”

Sakura knocked his hand away and just stared all the way up at him in disbelief. “Uh, the stripper at my nineteenth birthday party?” Then she shuddered, remembering Ino making a joyous dive for her wallet the instant a zipper moved.

“It’s a rite of passage — ”

“Or maybe the care package you sent ba-chan that one time?”

Unbelievably, that one actually made him mortified. “You  — you weren’t supposed to open that one! Shoulda been minding your own damn business. It’s illegal to open other people’s mail, you know.” Red rose to his face as he laughed nervously. “Sometimes, though, Sakura-chan, you know... adults send each other special things just to — ”

“Oh my God, do not use that voice with me.” She shuddered again, worse this time, remembering the talk he’d given her during her first year of high school, when he’d brought dinner over one night and caught her making out with Shino, no tongue. And then she remembered, viscerally, that she’d never seen the care package he’d sent anywhere near the trash, meaning Tsunade still had its contents somewhere.

Death. She wanted death, immediately.

“Alright, alright,” he agreed, but he still took her by the shoulders and had her face the reception desk. “Point is, this isn’t that kinda place. Cross my heart. I wouldn’t take you anywhere like that.”

“I don’t believe you,” she replied, arching her neck to send a look back to him. He sighed.

“There are men on the staff here,” he said, sounding a bit disheartened. “And they’re not the bosses.”

Sakura mashed her lips together, narrowed her eyes. And she considered that. The defeat in his dark eyes — she whipped her head back around — the ladies in kimonos at the front desk, and like clockwork, one man in a dark blue yukata, entering a door labeled Employees Only. Perhaps too convenient, but it was a fact, and she couldn’t deny facts.

It was her turn to sigh.

“Okay,” she huffed. “Fine. But give me your phone.”

His hands went stiff on her shoulders. “What for?”

Sakura simply lifted a hand toward him, palm expectantly facing up. It took a moment, a few wiggles of her fingers as she waited, but he finally gave a lamenting exhale.

“You sure are a ballbuster, kid,” he said, removing his hands and then placing the flat, shiny weight of his phone in her hand. “There you go.”

“Thaaank you,” she sang, victorious, and slipped it into her pocket without a glance. Now she wouldn’t have to put anyone in the women’s sauna on high alert. “Lead the way, then, I guess.”

And he did.

From the moment they checked in with the receptionists, they were treated like royalty: first, there were offerings of beautifully fresh fruit and warm sake as they waited, as well as hand and nail treatments that worked out kinks Sakura wasn’t even aware that she had. Those were followed by her and Jiraiya blessedly being led off to separate areas of the building. A quiet, petite woman led her through several hallways, including an indoor water garden gently lit by old paper lanterns.

Sakura could hear the soft noise of a shishi-odoshi, smell the clean coolness of water and the light mossiness of the plants surrounding them. God, she thought, to have this kind of money. She was definitely putting one of these in her dream house.

There was a private quiet to this place, and even more so to the room Sakura was led to, which was a candlelit wonder. She was told, politely, to strip down to whatever was comfortable for her, but leaving only her underwear on was recommended. After checking the room thoroughly for cameras and almost burning the room down when she accidentally slingshot her bra into a tealight, she climbed onto the table almost naked, slid under the warm, silky covers folded meticulously out for her, and tried to relax.

The hum of ambient noise and soft chimes drifted over her, washing her in the sound of solitude. It was nice. Not something she was used to, at all, but it was nice. She closed her eyes to —

There was a soft knock.

Sakura froze.

When it was met with no response, the door opened. Her eyes shot open, too, to find a woman stepping calmly into the room, her hair short, tidy, light in color, and her yukata an earthy white linen like the flower pinned on her head.

“Haruno-san?” she said, her voice muted.

“Uh...that’s me,” Sakura responded, feeling very naked now and not knowing what else she was supposed to say.

“Hello,” the woman said, a short but almost musical quality to her voice. “My name is Konan. I’ll be your massage specialist today. Are you having any problem areas or pain I can assist you with?”

“Oh.” Sakura thought on that for a minute, tried to let her mind travel through her body to remember any pain or soreness she might accidentally overlook.

Her neck was stiff, of course...arms and legs needed some stretching, but nothing she couldn’t handle...her back, maybe? She knew her lower back and hips were a little…tense...after the night before. She swallowed, not wanting to think about that. But the real problem was the intangible sinking feeling in her gut, the whirl of gross things hiding in her chest. She took a deep breath.

“I think — um — I think just parts of my back, maybe, and then the top of my neck.”

“Of course,” Konan said, and then she closed the door with a nearly silent click. “Why don’t we start with those, then? Go ahead and turn over. I’ll lift your sheets while you do.”

Konan did so, protecting Sakura’s modesty, allowing her to flip over and smoosh her face into the headrest. The world went very black, save for a slip of low orange light peeking through the face hole. 

She heard some clicks, some shifting of fabric, felt the sheet pass loosely down and be folded at the curve of her lower back, exposing the rest of it to the air. And then there was the feeling of fingertips at her shoulders.

“I’m going to begin now,” Konan said flatly, but there was a definite pause.

“O-oh,” Sakura murmured, giving her permission. “Okay.”

And then there was the sensation of palms traveling slick over the plane of her back, warm with some kind of oil, and Sakura didn’t talk anymore. Not for a long, immeasurable amount of time.

It felt very, very good to have someone kneading into her muscles, working out the buildup of strain and stress from who knew how long with simple presses of the hand. At first, it was all she could focus on — the undivided attention, the dedication to soothing her and what lay tense in her muscles, to healing her. The lady’s practiced hands were a single point her mind traced, down, up, slowly curving into her sides and along her spine. It was incredible, really, the way she could get lost in the darkness, in a singular point of contact. The only other time she’d felt this kind of good was with —

Well, with Kakashi. Fuck.

She’d been trying not to think of him all day, but it was impossible not to. She was still pissed at him. Extremely so. Of course she was. He’d acted independently on deciding something that wasn’t his choice. And he’d done so because he felt sorry for her, sorry enough to throw money at the problem, as if that was truly what the problem was. And that made her feel a number of things — all negative, all eating away at her, but with anger rising foamy and volatile to the top.

She felt something else lurking beneath the surface, though, more important and pressing, wanting to make itself known. Something she couldn’t name, but that she was somehow very familiar with, and that could consume her in a single bite if she acknowledged it. So she didn’t.

“I’m sensing a lot of tension,” Konan said, almost immediately. Sakura almost let out an audible sigh. You don’t fucking say.

“Just, um — personal problems. Not anything you’re doing,” she replied instead.

“Ah. Understood.” A hand glided down the back of her left bicep, fingers putting a delicious pressure between the very fibers of her muscles. “Close your eyes and see if you notice any colors in the darkness as I travel along your pressure points. It may help.”

Sakura frowned into her face rest. This was hitting a little too close to Hidan. “...How?”

“It will tell me what kind of energy flow you need assistance facilitating.”

Oh, geez. If only Ino were here to enjoy this. She could bother this woman about astrology, too. “O...kay.”

“Try it,” she said, just firmly enough that Sakura didn’t question her again.

There wasn’t much to see when Sakura tried to focus her closed eyes again. Just blackness. Konan worked methodically over the expanse of her shoulders and spine, but she still saw nothing. The attention was starting to unnerve her, actually. All she felt was her brain turning, churning, the wheels in gear again.

And then there was something — not a color, but a feeling, curling up from her insides like steam.

Shame. There it was, plain as day.

She knew she was ashamed of what she’d said to Jiraiya at lunch. That was bitchy, and uncalled for, even toward someone like him. Apparently there was some goodness in that pervy little heart of his. He was trying to help Tsunade, and with at least halfway-good intentions. Even if they were pretty disillusioned.

But she wasn’t just feeling weird about her own behavior. It was strange to her, and bad, that Tsunade was taking the easy way out.

Her aunt, the most fearsome, independent, stubborn woman she’d ever met. The woman who had busted her ass to get to the top of her career ladder and make the rules for everyone else. The woman who had persistently refused any and all financial help before now, just because she wanted to fix the debt she’d accrued on her own. The woman who had taught Sakura never to take shit from anyone. Here she was, getting married for money, wiping away all her years of hard work in one fell swoop, and settling with a man who was no more than a friend — one who was really just the butt of all her jokes.

The lack of...of self-respect, really, was appalling to Sakura. She just didn’t understand.

She couldn’t let Kakashi pay her for a day off of the job he’d hired her for. She couldn’t even begin to fathom a lifetime worth of money being paid on her behalf. The thought made her feel like she was spiraling, falling fast through the darkness she’d been floating in.

“Anything?” Konan asked, the heel of a palm digging into her shoulder blade, lifting her back to the moment.

“Not yet,” Sakura murmured, a little embarrassed. She settled further into her position and tried again.

Her brain went right back where it started, though. She couldn’t shake the feeling. Images ran behind her eyes like a film reel.

Kakashi’s small, sheepish smile.

Sasuke telling her she wasn’t scheduled until the next pay period.

The envelopes piled up in the genkan at Tsunade’s old house, all with stamped with urgent red.

Shikamaru in her kitchen, talking so freely to her boyfriend.

Shizune walking with shoulders slumped, defeated, out of the temp agency.

Tsunade, asleep again on the sofa, empty liquor bottles on the old, scratched-up coffee table.

Jiraiya placing his sleek black card into the check folder at the restaurant.

Kakashi closing the lid of her rice cooker, his hand lingering on it for a split second.

Sakura, herself, her green eyes bright under her newly colored bangs, and deciding this was how she looked now.

“Try to relax,” Konan soothed, monotone. “Do you see anything?”

She swallowed around a lump forming in her throat.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to muster her voice. “I see pink.”

Konan only hummed, like that made all the sense in the world, and kept working.

.

.

.

Sakura had no idea how much longer she was in that room, being calmed under the ministrations of that mysterious woman, and was barely cognizant of her dreamy, hazy trip to the steam room afterward. Timed seemed to slip away from her as she fluctuated from hyper-awareness to some strange, detached thoughtfulness, succumbing to the warmth and the dense, pure air that was cloaking her outside and in.

By the time the placid tone of the timer in the sauna sounded, she’d almost forgotten how she got there, or what her name even was. It kind of didn’t hit her until she was led back to a private room to change her clothes.

She got dressed — had her overalls been washed since she’d arrived here? What the hell — and found two phones sitting beside her big, cluttered bag. She picked her own up first.

A text from Shikamaru: U working tonite?

A text from Ino: Reservations made!! ;) Get ready bitch!!!

A text from Hidan, who still did not know how to type an exclamation point: WHEN R U COMING BACK NEED ASS AUTOGRAPH EP EP EP.

And finally, a reminder from her calendar: FIRST DAY OF LABS!!!!!!!!! - 2 hours ago.

Shit.

She closed her eyes, summoning a deep breath, trying to emulate what she’d just experienced.

Inhale. It was fine.

Exhale. Fucking Christ. Whatever.

There wasn’t anything she could do about it. This day was beyond blown to hell anyway — might as well just take it stride. There wasn’t any denying the god-awful spark of anger and anxiety, and even a bizarre shot of guilt, that stemmed from missing something that important. But she’d have to figure it out later. She shoved the damn phone in her front pocket.

And then she realized she had Jiraiya’s phone, and all of those feelings instantly made way for sweeping, morbid curiosity. She hadn’t realized when she’d nabbed it from him, but oh, this was a jackpot. Her fingers greedily reached for it. God, the amount of pictures of unsuspecting women she could delete —

Wait. There were probably dick pics in there. His dick pics. She gagged, out loud, accidentally dropping it onto the tatami like a hot potato.

Shit. Double shit. Was that a crack she heard?

Sakura leaned down to nudge it with a fingertip, fearful as she turned it right side up. She pressed the screen to light it up and assess for damage.

Thankfully, somehow, there was not a dent or a split or anything in sight. She whistled out the breath she’d been holding.

What there was, though, was a picture. A blond woman with big boobs, just as she’d seen at lunch. But it wasn’t just any woman.

The picture showed Tsunade, her long hair straw-colored now that she was older, but her face still as youthful as ever, thanks to the cheap but amazing plastic surgery she’d gotten from a doctor friend in Korea.

She was sitting in a beach chair, sunglasses on her head, dark green bikini top on, tea-colored drink in hand. Sandy freckles all over her sun-pink skin. One eye was closed to squint at the afternoon sunlight, and the other was looking right into the camera, and the smile on her face was a bit sly.

Sakura had never seen this picture before. She tapped the phone to light it up again. This definitely wasn’t from the couple of beach trips they’d taken together when she and Shizune were younger. No, this one was far more recent — and Tsunade looked loose, pretty in the most natural way. And dare Sakura say it, she looked happy.

God damn it.

Jiraiya really was in love with this woman, wasn’t he. Madly, stupidly, hopelessly in love with her aunt Tsunade.

She took his phone up from the floor, collected her bag, and headed toward the lobby, hand to her forehead as she made her way out.

She found Jiraiya in a chair there, his body too big for it, but he still had gotten comfortable; he was dozing off a bit, a women’s magazine resting open on his chest. She’d half expected him to still be in a borrowed yukata, but no — he was back in his jeans and button-down shirt, the top four buttons undone and the tails sloppily untucked like the kind of off-duty rockstar he thought he was. His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, wide chest rising and falling a bit slower than normal. How long had he been waiting for her?

She walked up to him and kicked his shoe. A slight startled, interrupted snore happened, and then he opened his eyes suddenly, his hair swishing against the wall, and tried to look like he’d been awake the whole time. Oldest, least effective trick in the book.

“Hey, kid.” He blinked sleep out of his eyes, and then he smiled at her drowsily, fondly. It made her stomach squeeze. “How’d it go?”

“Here,” she said, handing his phone back to him and slapping it unceremoniously onto his palm. “You’ve earned it.”

That caught him off guard. Had he forgotten? Regardless, he laughed, as always, and leaned over to ruffle her hair, messing up the choppy mop even further.

“Thanks. You ready to head out?”

She put her hand up to smack his away, but stopped herself halfway. Something about it felt unnecessary.

“Yeah,” she told him, scratching the back of her neck instead. “Let’s go.”

.

.

.

The rest of the afternoon found Jiraiya spoiling the living shit out of Sakura. The man simply could not be stopped. Perhaps it was some astounding subtlety of manipulation, or the man really did just enjoy spending money willy-nilly.

She liked candy, right? He purchased a gigantic pack of fruit chews from the streetside drug store. She liked lemonade, right? He bought her some frozen soft-serve lemonade from a cute little street cart. She liked comfy pajamas, right? He just wanted to see something in this store real quick, promise. She worked all the time, right? He just needed to tell the dude at the natural remedies shop her address just to mail her a coupon, in case she ever wanted to use one there, not an entire box of vitamin packs or anything.

It was ridiculous. Jiraiya wouldn’t take no for an answer. And he never had. He and Ebisu, who was parked with twenty shopping bags packed into his passenger seat, had always, always done the most when no one even asked them to. Jiraiya always used to bring her and Shizune groceries, since Tsunade worked so much and often at night, even though the two girls were perfectly capable of cooking and shopping for themselves. He always got Ebisu to walk her home at night or pick her up from bad dates or bring her medicine when she was home sick from school, even though she didn’t need any protecting or nursing, and his apprentice usually got a kick in the balls for it. It was annoying as hell, especially since he knew she hated being doted on.

It wasn’t until he’d dragged her into a clothing store, flustering her into picking out some things she liked that she really had a moment to pause, to even think. She closed the curtain to her dressing room, making extra sure to leave not even a nanometer of a gap, and hung the twenty-odd hangers worth of clothes on the rods waiting for them, one by one.

No matter how many times she objected to Jiraiya’s hovering, his gift-giving, his splurging on her behalf...at the end of the day, she never really could say no outright. She could complain and nag about it all she wanted, but she couldn’t tell him to knock it the hell off. 

Perhaps it was because she knew, deep down, that he was doing it because he loved her aunt, and she felt like he needed some kind of consolation prize for getting nothing in return. Or perhaps it was because he knew how she felt, and he felt sorry for her, and this was his way of filling a void she didn’t know she’d made visible enough to notice.

Her hand balled up the cotton of the shirt she was holding. She closed her eyes.

“Jiraiya,” she said, not meaning to do so that faintly. But of course he heard her — he was standing not too far outside her room, sifting through the racks of non-sale stuff for something else she might wear.

“What’s that?” he called back. “Found somethin’ you like?”

God. Summoning the words seemed impossible, like she was uprooting something buried deep. Like a tooth, or a bigass turnip. Or maybe an entire tree. She scrunched and squished her lips together like they would say it for her.

“Sakura-chan?” he asked after a little stretch of nothing. She huffed out a steeling breath.

“I’m...sorry,” she said, and that was all that came out.

“For what?” was the simple response, if with a touch of surprise. She could hear the metal hangers sliding along the rack he was sorting through, still.

“For — for earlier.” She swallowed. “For what I said about ba-chan...and you.”

“Oh,” he said, and then she heard a good-natured chuckle, muffled slightly by the curtain between them. “I barely thought a thing of it. But you weren’t wrong, y’know. She’s made it very clear that she’s callin’ the shots here.” And then another one. “Like I didn’t already know her.”

That kind of made her smile. She was glad he couldn’t see her. “You’re an idiot, by the way.”

“I sure am.” She could just picture what his face looked like right then — stupidly whipped. “A fool in love, as they say.”

She made a big retching noise just for his benefit, which she could tell he appreciated, and then she decided to try on the light green blouse she was still grasping in her fist.

“I’ll be honest with you. I’ve loved her as long as I’ve known her,” he continued after she had finally gotten the thing on right. “But she’s had a lot of loss in her life. Family, money, pride. And she always kept me at arms length ‘cause of that, understandably.”

She paused. First of all, this shirt looked awful on her. It made her look pasty as hell. But there was also the fact that Jiraiya rarely ever brought this kind of stuff up. The serious parts of their lives.

“I’ve never wanted anything in return from her. Or any of you girls. And I don’t expect anything, either.” He hummed, pensive. “I just wanted you to know that someone was rootin’ for you, really.”

Oh no. Sakura felt her bottom lip start to tremble. There it was — his understanding, too astute, too close.

“So, I gotta say,” and he was still idly flipping through the clothing racks, “even if this is the way it’s happening — actually, especially that this is the way it’s happening — I feel like the luckiest asshole in the world. And I don’t know what I did to deserve havin’ the three of you around.”

The way he said it was so offhand, like it was just rolling right from his brain off the tongue. Natural, simple fact.

He believed it, and he believed in Tsunade, in Shizune. In her. Her jaw was full-on wobbling now. Every thought and feeling of the day was one big ball in her chest, threatening to pop at any moment.

It did, a little bit. She felt the hard prickle of tears behind her eyes, a few making their way around to collect and fall from her lashes. She brought a shaking hand to wipe them away. The burn of salt stung her flushed, overwhelmed skin.

He really cared, then, didn’t he? For some reason he did, and he did a lot. And this was his way of looking out for her, buying her anything he thought she’d benefit from, just because he thought it might please her. Just to let her know he was on her side. It was what he’d always done: assessed what she needed from afar, and didn’t let her take no for an answer. And she couldn’t even accept it graciously — not a single gesture.

Sakura gave a wet, stuffy breath, trying to keep it quiet. She was really, really glad he couldn’t see her. But she didn’t want to be in here anymore.

“You still in there?” he called. “I just found this shirt with cats on it. You gotta have a look.”

God, she couldn’t do this. She clipped the straps back over her shoulders, straightening out her clothes, and grabbed her bag. One check to the mirror told her that she didn’t look like she’d been crying — no, she was just a chaotic pink mess, as always.

She thrust the dressing room curtain aside and marched forward, eyes avoiding Jiraiya’s skyscraper figure as she approached the rest of the store.

“That’s it? You only want that?”

Sakura looked down at where he was pointing, only to realize that she was still wearing that ugly green thing. Damnit.

“Um,” she said, and then summoned the power of every god she knew not to let on that she’d been crying. Instinctually, she tore the tag off the back of her neck, letting the plastic string attaching it scratch her back, and handed the thing to him. “Here. If you — I’ll — I’ll just wear this, I guess.”

Jiraiya blinked at her, clearly flabbergasted. Her face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m gonna wait in the car,” she murmured, profoundly uncomfortable. She waded through rows and circles of clothing and mannequins headed out the open door, ignoring his calls after her, walking out to the busy streets of the shopping district outside.

The first thing that greeted her was the sun, halfway low in the sky. She breathed it in until the pressure in her throat started to lessen.

But she quickly realized that its soft afternoon light meant it wasn’t too far off from setting. The day was approaching dinnertime now — she’d have to head to her shift at the coffeeshop in a couple of hours. God, she didn’t want to fucking go. Today had been...well, it had been different. And it had been a lot. And she was exhausted.

She walked slowly toward the black towncar where Ebisu waited behind tinted windows, taking in her surroundings with a strange, fleeting need to appreciate them, to distract her from herself. It wasn’t often that she was able to come to this area of the city — not just because of time, but more certainly because of money. There was so much here — so much food, and things to do and see, and so much life to go along with them. Not for the first time, she felt that sting of a fate resigned to overscheduled struggling.

You’re too young to run yourself into the ground like this, she suddenly heard Kakashi say in her head, like the thought had been waiting to cross her mind all day. You work so much you don’t give yourself time to slow down or to take care of yourself youdeservetherewardsofyourhardwork

She stomped toward the car, threw the door open, and swung herself inside.

Ebisu jumped when she shut it a bit too hard.

“H-hey!” he said in welcome. “Where’s Jiraiya-sama?”

“Probably buying half the store,” she muttered. She scooted over until she was on the far side of the car, leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, chilled from Ebisu’s fully blasting air conditioning.

“You’re probably right,” he said lightly, and then he assumed his previous position of facing forward. The usual.

They sat in a decently comfortable silence for a few minutes, mostly because he was listening to some podcast, and Sakura was lost in her own head again. She didn’t know where to even begin with all of this. She hated all these favors. She hated all this special treatment. So she sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize to Kakashi — there was nothing to apologize for. Not when she’d made her feelings on the matter explicitly clear.

She knew she was supposed to talk to him, though — and that was a bit of a terrifying thought. Not because she didn’t know what to say. But because she didn’t know what would come out of it. Her track record for things like this, especially in her handful of past relationships, wasn’t quite stellar.

She put a hand to her stomach, feeling it start up its spin cycle again. Ugh.

Her gaze drifted back out the window, over to the street cart across the road. If she hadn’t been more full than she’d been since the cake-eating contest she’d won in high school, she would have made a quick trip over there to grab one of those puffy waffles with chocolate cream that guy was selling. A little comfort food never hurt anyone. She jealously eyed the young girl walking off with one covered in matcha powder.

The door opened, revealing Jiraiya, shopping bag in hand. He tossed it toward the front passenger seat. Not half the store, given that the bag wasn’t unmanageably big, but a good bit of it, then. Sakura sighed.

“Alrighty, then,” Jiraiya warbled, sliding into the back seat next to her. “That was eventful, huh?”

He even nudged her with his elbow. Sakura hid her face further into the arm she had propped against the window. “Don’t get too excited.”

He laughed. “Right, right.” And then he looked to Ebisu. “Let’s take Sakura-chan home, then. I think I finally wore her out.”

“Sure thing.”

Ebisu started the car all the way up and waited for an opportunity to turn the car around, as he was parked on the wrong side of the street and facing the wrong way to do a simple merge. Sakura’s eyes found that waffle cart again in the meantime. Perhaps she could force some room in her poor, unsettled stomach and go grab one.

She saw another girl walk off with one piled with fresh strawberries — no, two of them. Sakura could relate to that. But then she trotted over to the guy waiting for her, and Sakura had to resist the urge to roll down the window and boo at them. She was not in the mood to see other people happy in their lovey-dovey relationships. It was like a train wreck, though: she couldn’t look away.

The guy took the folded-up waffle from her, smiled, moved his sunglasses to the top of his head to move his longish hair out of his face. There was something familiar, somehow, about —

Sakura’s heartbeat stopped, a flash of recognition darting through her blood to make way for her fight or flight response.

Genma. It was Genma.

And he was wrapping his arm around the waist of the waffle-bearing woman with him — a woman with short, dark hair. He leaned forward to kiss her — eww — and used his waffle hand to brush her hair off her face after the quick peck.

There was no doubt. That kind smile. That perfect button nose. Those silver drop earrings she only wore when she was trying to dress up.

Shizune.

Sakura felt her heart plummet, detaching by the strings and falling right out to roll on the floor of the car.

No.

No.

“Make sure your seatbelts are on,” Ebisu told them from the driver’s seat. “I’m gonna have to make this — ”

And then he swerved so fast that Sakura’s forehead bumped against the window, knocked her backwards, and flung her directly into Jiraiya.

“Oof!” He caught her before she landed neck-down by his feet, her shoulder bonking into his stomach. “You okay there, sweetheart?”

But she didn’t respond. She scrambled back up until she could see out the back window, squinting through the tint to see if her eyes were, prayerfully, deceiving her.

But they weren’t. The two of them were there. Shizune and Genma. Lovey-dovey, eating street waffles together, kissing and laughing in broad daylight, like this was a direct time warp back to three years ago. Like none of the bullshit he’d put her through had ever happened.

No, no, no.

“Sakura?”

She watched their figures get smaller until a crowd and a row of decorative trees blocked her view. And then she slumped back into her seat, eyes feeling too big and heavy to fit in her head anymore.

“Yeah,” she managed to say in response. “It’s fine.”

The problem, she thought, clipping on her seatbelt in an automatic motion, was that this was anything but fine. It was the worst possible thing. It meant that her cousin was back with that motherfucking bastard, again, despite every tear and drink and violent kick they’d tried to remedy this with. It meant that Shizune hadn't been busy, but had been hiding from her for weeks. Weeks. And it meant that Genma had been right — that Shizune, ultimately, didn’t have to listen to what was good for her, and that he could sway her any way he wanted to.

But the thing that hit her the hardest, the deepest, and the most furious wasn’t about either of them. No, it was about Kakashi. Everything she’d been suppressing was coming back in spades.

Genma was apparently his best friend — and if that were true, then Kakashi had known about this the whole time. She wouldn’t know for sure until she talked to him about it, of course, but she then she remembered the last time they’d talked about Genma: short, sweet, hurried quickly past with a kiss and the promise of more.

It was just like that day at Tsume’s house. Just like last night. Just like every time they’d had a slight hitch in the road. Speed bumps they’d never slowed down for, only kept driving over, full speed ahead.

That man, that lying, cheating, manipulative son of a bitch, was Kakashi’s best friend. For years. Decades. Since school, she remembered him telling her. They were best friends, he’d told her with an alarming nonchalance, and Sakura couldn’t even begin to fathom how, or why. She was realizing that there were a lot of things she didn’t know about Kakashi.

And that begged the question she’d been reluctant to ask herself this whole time: if she couldn’t figure out the most important things about him, did she really even know him at all?

Chapter Text

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“This better be good,” Ino growled, yanking the door open. “I am this close to finally doing anal, and if you ruin that for me, I will never talk to you again, I swear to God.”

Sakura could only stare at Ino’s wine-flushed face and her long, silky hair, which she was wearing down. She wasn’t even wearing a robe — just skimpy white panties and a white bra. 

Shit. Sakura had, without a doubt, totally interrupted.

“Uh...my bad,” she said, hearing some kind of punk music blaring further in the apartment. Even at this hour, Ino could do that, because rich people could afford thick walls. But that meant someone was here — probably that skater bro from the art school. The one who posted his attempts at rapping online, no mercy for any potential listeners.

Ino sighed, adjusting the way her boobs were spilling out of their lacy container. “What is it, dude? Is everything okay?”

“I’m — so sorry. Please go get laid. I’m serious. You deserve it.” She started backing away. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I — ”

“Sakura.” Ino grabbed her forearm, manicured nails pinching into the skin. “You look like you’re gonna hurl, and you never come over here. Especially not this late. Tell me what’s up.”

Sakura stared into her friend’s eyes, an unnaturally light blue from her colored contacts and framed with feathery lashes. 

“Kakashi and I had a fight,” she mumbled, feeling herself immediately deflate like a bad whoopie cushion, like not saying anything had been the only thing keeping her afloat. “And Shizune and Genma are back together. And I think I am gonna hurl, actually. Jiraiya let me eat too much sugar.”

Ino’s brows rose. “Wait. You saw Jiraiya?” She paused, blinking rapidly, her grip going a bit soft. “Wait, wait, wait. Was this all in one day?”

Sakura nodded. 

Ino paused again, narrowing her eyes as she considered Sakura’s slumped shoulders, her hair that desperately needed to be washed, her majorly depressed countenance. And then she turned around.

“DEI!” she screamed, loud enough to be heard over the music. “Put your clothes back on! It’s an emergency!”

“Hah?” Sakura thought she heard back. Not even five seconds later, a guy tripped out into the main hall, frantically slipping his black boxers on, clothes in hand. 

She felt her eyes bug out of her head. Not because of the guy’s piercings and excessive tattoos — some renditions of paintings, some sexually explicit anime girls, and some mouths with tongues sticking out. Not because he was still incredibly naked — the hole in the front of his boxers was flapped open, hiding absolutely nothing that it was supposed to. And not even because he was far better looking than she’d imagined him, based on Ino’s abysmal descriptions of this new fling over the past few weeks.

Sakura stared wide-eyed at her friend, who gave her a silencing look. A don’t try me, bitch look. 

“What’s up, babe?” the guy asked, noticing Sakura with an evaluative once-over. His eyes, also unnaturally blue, traced her form in a way she didn’t care for. “Why am I putting my clothes on? This is her, yeah?”

Ino stiffened immediately. “No, Deidei, Jesus. Use your brain. I told you that was next weekend.” She walked over to him and grabbed his inked-up shoulders, started pushing him toward the door, where Sakura was still standing. “You have to leave, right now.”

“The hell?” He stumbled around Sakura, who was now being dragged inside by the elbow. “Babe, we were just — ”

“I know, I know. Come back over tomorrow night, okay?” She shut the door enough to hide the guy and tell him something in a hushed tone. Unfortunately it didn’t censor the wet noises not a moment later of what had to be a nasty french kiss, or the hand that came around to smack Ino’s ass before grabbing a handful of it. Sakura averted her gaze, too sober for this. 

Her eyes spanned the length of the ice-blue hallway instead, distracting herself on purpose. There was some kind of structure or device set up outside Ino’s bedroom. Was that — was that lighting equipment? 

“See ya then, babygirl,” she heard the guy said, and then Ino shut the door. She leaned her back against it, seeming winded, the muscles in her taut stomach rising and falling. 

“Phew,” she said, whistling out a breath, and then she clapped resolutely. “Okay. We need wine. But you need food first.”

Sakura followed Ino toward the kitchen. She was getting a bit of whiplash. This was what she got for coming here after work, in the liminal hours of the night. 

“You didn’t tell me you were banging your doppelganger,” she announced in slaphappy disbelief as she trailed toward the barstools at the island. Ino’s sexcapades were mindblowing sometimes, but this one might have taken the cake. 

Ino groaned, gruff. “God damn it, I knew this was coming.”

“What’s all the equipment for? Please don’t say you’re a secret porn star now.” Sakura plopped herself in a seat. “Do people still have twin fetishes?”

Ino scowled, halfway toward pouring a big glass of rosé from the open bottle on the counter. “It’s an erotic film, Sakura. It’s one of Deidara’s projects for his portfolio this year.” She continued the motion, letting it glug into the oversized wine glass. “We’re doing a devil and angel concept — I’m, of course, the angel.”

She gestured to the expensive lingerie she was wearing. Sakura had to mash her lips together to keep from laughing.

“Stop judging me, you bitch!” Ino tossed the cork at her. “I can see it in that spunky little face of yours. You fucking wish you were me.”

“Not really,” Sakura snorted. “I don’t really have any desire to have sex with my evil twin.”

“First of all, you're the evil twin. Not the other one.” Ino slid the glass toward her, and she took it gratefully. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it, though. Gives a whole new meaning to ‘go fuck yourself.’”

“So all those years of telling you that finally paid off?” She took a giant-ass sip, hoping for a rejuvenating effect. The day was quickly catching up to her, and her body was starting to feel stiff and sore everywhere at once.

“Nice try. Enough about me, though. What’s with the ugly shirt?” Ino asked as she whirled toward the fridge. “Gift from Jiraiya?”

Of course Ino would guess that flawlessly. But Sakura didn’t take the bait. Ino loved Jiraiya, weirdly, and she had some bizarre, unsettling appreciation for his antics. She took another chug of her wine.

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the bad part of my day, surprisingly.” Another gulp, and she winced as the heady taste went down.

“What did you two do?” Ino was rummaging around the shelves, the glow of the fridge’s inside outlining her form. “You know I’m curious.”

A big sigh left her. “It was...whatever. He took me to lunch at some bullshit rich people place, and then he bought me all this stuff I didn’t ask for just because he likes having money now, I guess.”

She heard a snort from inside the fridge. “You sound thrilled.”

“It was so unnecessary. I had to keep myself from gagging every time he pulled out his wallet.”

“Yeah, that’s just so horrible, having someone buy you nice things because they love you.” There was a laugh now, too. “You weirdo.”

Sakura didn’t say anything, because her stomach almost churned up all the wine she’d just swallowed, and her head was starting to feel a little flush from the alcohol. Ino didn’t understand. Even though Jiraiya did truly care, apparently, that wasn’t the issue.

Ino turned to glance inquisitively at her — she’d forgotten to respond. Shit. Before she could even formulate a quip or a joke, Ino quickly shifted, returning her attention to the contents of her refrigerator. 

“Did I hear you say that you and Kakashi fought?” she asked, her tone obvious, but her interest genuine. “What’d he do?”

“Ugh,” Sakura moaned, resisting the sudden urge to slam her face against the granite. This was the big one. The hugest manifestation of the problem. “He fucking — tried to dictate my schedule, first of all. Like, he just...decided for me that I didn’t have to go to work, even though I did need to, and it fucked up my whole day.”

“Oh, hell no,” Ino said, turning back again to slap some to-go boxes on the island. “Did he say what the hell for?”

Sakura’s stomach did a weird flip again. As much as it was eating at her, and as much as she needed to vent and try to make sense of it, Ino, looking at her with an angry raised eyebrow, wouldn’t understand the money thing. And she didn’t want to explain that her boyfriend pitied her for being poor. That was just…

Her face burned, and she ran a hand through her hair, pulling the short strands into her fist as she avoided Ino’s penetrating eyes. “I don’t get it, honestly. I feel like...like I don’t know him at all, really.”

Ino scoffed, pissed. “Well, you know that he’s a controlling asshole, at least.”

A line of fire burned down her throat at the thought of that. Her hand moved to rub her eyes. “Probably because he’s best friends with Genma.”

“Genma? Like, Shizune’s ex Genma?” Ino slapped the chopsticks she was holding onto the counter with a disbelieving metallic clang. “Are you shitting me?”

She shook her head, feeling the dizziness start to set in behind her closing eyes. “No. He told me they’re best friends, and I just tried to forget it because I didn’t want it to be true.” And then there was the worst part: “And he’s not her ex anymore.”

“Jesus.” Ino slid an open box full of noodles and the chopsticks toward her. “Here. Eat. It’s leftover Thai food, but it won’t be spicy if you eat it cold, and there’s a ton of broccoli.”

Oh, God. The smell of shrimp and peppers on an empty, already-rolling stomach was not doing her any favors, but she persevered, bringing a noodle to her mouth and chewing slowly. She couldn’t taste it, only feel its texture, and her tongue felt weird because of it. 

“Shizune and him are back together?” Ino said after the quiet moment. Sakura just nodded, stirring the oily clump of noodles around in the container with a heavy arm. 

“Yeah. I saw them making out near a street cart when I was out with Jiraiya today. We were in the car, though, so I couldn’t really do or say anything.” She exhaled, setting down the chopsticks with finality. She probably couldn’t stomach another bite. “It just pisses me the hell off. After all this shit, she still — ”

She didn’t finish, but she didn’t have to. Ino made a noise of disapproval. 

“He must fuck like a guy on death row or something. That can really do it. Good dick is more powerful than men deserve.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Shizune especially has low self-esteem, and she’s a hopeless romantic, so she’s way more vulnerable to a bad guy. We have to rehab her again.”

Sakura sighed again, tipping her head to put its weight into her hand, too tired to support it. That was what she was thinking, too, but the situation now was infinitely more complicated. They were out shopping. Eating waffles together. Kissing chastely in public, and smiling while doing it. 

Shizune was in love with him, again. Hopelessly. 

A wave of true nausea hit Sakura in the gut. She just wanted answers. She hated this. And she couldn’t stop thinking about how Kakashi fit into all of this. If she got Shizune to shut Genma out — if she even could — where would that leave Kakashi?

Would he still even want to be with her? 

Did she still even want to be with him?

“Hey. I need you to back up,” Ino declared after a moment of silence, pulling the focus back with a literal snap of her fingers. Probably sensing the downward spiral in Sakura’s brain. “Genma. Kakashi. Best friends. What the hell is that about?”

“I…” She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, seeing stars behind them from the pressure. “I wish I knew. We all met by accident. Genma’s a fucking mechanic now, did I tell you that?”

“Uh, no? What? You what?!”

“They’ve been friends since they were kids, which is just — so fucked up to me.” She groaned. “I don’t — how do you even be friends with someone like that? And for that long? I...”

The back of her brain suddenly lit up, neurons exploding one by one as they shot off a myriad of latent memories. 

Her handprint, red and angry, on Genma’s face at New Year’s dinner. Her screaming match with him at the bowling alley on her birthday, the one time he’d ever been invited to a non-family gathering. The roundhouse double-kick to the face outside the bar. All the things she’d said to Shizune in confidence, not knowing she was on speakerphone where Genma could hear. 

His voice, too calm and sober for how much he’d had to drink: Does it ever get lonely, being you?

Her palms went clammy. Saliva was flooding her mouth suddenly, hot and sick, running under her tongue with a viscous vigor. 

If they were really best friends, then Kakashi knew. By now, Kakashi had to know.

“Sakura?” Ino asked, waving a hand in front of her. “You okay? You look kind of…”

Oh, God. It was coming. Sakura scooted her chair away from the island with a hard push.

“I’ll be right back,” she croaked, covering her mouth. “I’m just gonna — ”

“Oh, shit, are you gonna be sick?” Ino responded immediately, fiercely, but she was already meeting her halfway, guiding her there, a hand on her back and one around her bicep to pull her along.

“I’m good,” Sakura reassured. “I’m totally good.“

But then it happened: she puked, right there, all over Ino’s immaculate hallway. Big time. Like a woman possessed. 

They both just stood there for a long moment, staring at the damage. Sakura’s eyes had watered from the retching, but she could see the horrible splatter anyway, could feel the nasty drool still running off her lips. She braced her hands against her knees, praying there wasn’t a round two coming.

“Oh, babe,” Ino finally said, hand still on her back, if slightly withdrawn. “If that’s good, then I really, really don’t want to see bad.”

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There was a lot to be said for the power of a hot shower and expensive, comfy, matching pajamas. There was even more to be said for friends who sacrificed their very sexy evenings for their pathetic friends in crisis.

Sakura had refused help in cleaning and mopping the hallway, so Ino, who somehow hadn’t puked herself, decidedly put on some clothes and ran to the corner store for crackers and ginger soda — open twenty-four hours, thank God, or else Sakura would have probably been coasting death for the rest of the evening. Ino was a wonderful friend, but certainly not the mom kind, and definitely not the dad kind. Much more of the cool, childless aunt who gave out gift cards for Christmas. That kind of friend.

She wasn’t much for warm and fuzzy, either, unless she was inebriated. But she had her moments. And now was one of them. She let Sakura rest her head in her lap while they watched some American action movie. 

Well, watched was a loose term. It was more like rampant bitching with luxury car chases and explosions in the background. 

“All I’m saying is, you should think about it.”

Sakura snorted, slotting another saltine out of its plastic sleeve. “Okay...I might be suspicious, but I highly doubt Kakashi’s a drug dealer.”

“I’m telling you, dude, think about it!” Ino retorted around a neon-orange cheese puff. “Rich, eccentric, keeps wads of cash in the bathroom? Has an inexplicable number of animals...and the food truck is probably just a front.” She sucked some cheese dust off her fingertips with a resounding pop. “The Genma thing makes total sense when you think about it. He probably got fired for getting caught with something.”

“Well, that’s probably true regardless.” No doubt he’d done something stupid and terrible to get himself offed from a respectable job. “But I don’t know. I don’t think it’s that kind of thing. For Kakashi, at least.”

“Then what else would it be?” Ino watched Sakura slide a cracker into her mouth, a sculpted, skeptical eyebrow raised. “How else do you justify being friends with someone like that unless you’re equally shady?”

“I...I don’t know.” That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? She couldn’t understand it, and she didn’t have the means to — not based on the little amount of information she’d been given. “I keep hoping, like...maybe he doesn’t know who Genma really is. He tends to give people the benefit of the doubt.”

She thought back to that first night at his house, all those soft, hesitant smiles. The way he’d invited her to stay, to show her that his friends cared, even if it didn’t seem so at first. The warm, cozy, delightful afternoon at Tsume’s. Him getting shy all the time, the blustery sweetness of his embarrassment. Standing in his kitchen while he made pancakes, reassuring him that she had never been romantically involved with Genma, that fucker. 

Had he known, then, and just played dumb? Surely that couldn’t have all been an act. Right? 

“Don’t you go getting all soft on me.” The changing light from the TV flash across Ino’s scowl. “I can see it in your dumb face. This is exactly what he wants! He wants you all pliant and doubtful and — and fond. This is exactly how he’s gonna reel you back in.”

“I’m not being fond!” she whined. Even though she was totally remembering him feeding her a forkful of cheesecake. And the adorable way he smiled with his eyes.

“Yes, you are! You have to see the bigger picture here, Sakura. He’s trying to control you!”

That made Sakura’s stomach sink. Again. But not with an impending nausea bomb.

She didn’t want to admit it — not when she was remembering all of the sunny, happy little moments they’d had since she’d started to know him. 

But Ino had a point. And a very good one. 

How many times had she asked Kakashi something about himself, only for him to divert the subject, or flat-out refuse to answer it? How many cryptic hints had his friends dropped about him only to clam up when it was time to get to the meat of the subject? It seemed like he was surrounded by good people, but at the end of the day, she didn’t know any of those people. Not outside of the context of him. 

And then there was the money thing. The fact that he thought he had a say in her life just because he could pay her out of her obligations. The way he withheld information, only giving her bits and pieces of the truth, or nothing at all. 

She really didn’t know him. It was the only thing she’d been able to think about since Jiraiya had dropped her off at home. 

“I see that brain of yours working behind that bigass forehead.” A fingertip landed on it soundly, making Sakura wince. “You need to go talk to him. Bust his door down and demand answers.” 

Another explosion rang out on the television. Sakura ate another cracker, letting its flaky saltiness melt on her tongue while she thought. And thought. 

“I hate this,” she finally managed.

“Of course you do, babe. You thought you could trust him, and then he ended up being as bad as every other guy.” Either that was a loving pat to her forehead, or a knowing smack. It was hard to tell with Ino. “Don’t blame yourself. We’ve all been there.”

Ugh, God. Sakura was feeling pretty saturated with the truth she’d been too naive to see, and it didn’t sit well with her. She rolled over to face the TV — it wouldn’t hide her face completely from Ino, but she could at least avoid the facts of things a bit longer if she didn’t see them reflected in Ino’s eyes.

“Don’t be a weenie, though. You should go kick his ass. First thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, I should.” She pictured herself karate-kicking her way through the door of his food truck and threatening to throw him in the deep fryer. Or sneaking into his house under the guise of walking the dogs, when really she would tie him to a chair using their leashes and interrogate him. Or she could just hold him at gunpoint with a good one-liner, like these buff dudes in the movie. 

Oh, shit, though. The morning. It hit her like a ton of bricks. She still had to go walk his dogs, which meant he would be there. And — 

“Wait a minute,” she said, eyes going wide, “what day is it tomorrow?”

Ino twisted a strand of Sakura’s short, damp hair around her finger. “Friday. I think. Or I guess it already is.”

Sakura checked her phone. Friday, March 25th. 

Panic, immediate, now joined all the other awful things inside her. 

She’d fucking forgotten.

“Oh my fucking God. I have an exam in” — she clicked her phone to light up the screen — “oh, fuck, six hours. Oh my God. I haven’t even studied, Ino, what the hell am I gonna do?!”

“You have class tomorrow?” Ino looked like she smelled something bad. “Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Sakura sat up with a lurch, raking her hands through her hair. “When have I ever had a Friday off?” Oh God, she was going to die. All the other stress had piled on, burying this stress, and now it was an unmanageable ball of major fucking stress all wrapped up together, and she was going to fail.

Ino swatted away the hands she was trying to press through her own skull. “Hey! Chill out. You’re gonna be fine, dude. It’s just one test.”

“It’s twenty-five percent of my grade!” In Shimura-sensei’s class, no less. There would be no extra credit opportunity to make up for whatever losses she was about to incur. She’d left her textbook on the floor by her bed after having sex with Kakashi, and she hadn’t glanced at it since. 

Perfect. This whole goddamn mess was his fault.

“Hey!” The bag of cheese puffs crunched as Ino moved to loom over her. “You’ve had a shitty, overwhelming day, and you had an anxiety attack so bad you fucking puked on my floor. If you get sick again, I will actually murder you.” Her nail poked Sakura in the cheek, hard. “You need to sleep. Save the worrying about Kakashi and school and whatever else for tomorrow.”

“But — ”

“Don’t even say you haven’t studied. There’s no way in hell you weren’t studying for this shit since last week.” When Sakura opened her mouth to respond again, Ino frowned and clapped a hand over it. “We’re done talking about this, Forehead! You’re gonna go kick his ass and cram for your test and whatever in the morning, but you are going to sleep, right now.”

“How am I supposed to sleep now?!” she tried wailing from beneath Ino’s palm, but it just sounded like a garbled mess of whines. Ino understood it anyway.

“Because I said so!” She removed her hand and used it to grab the remote, effectively cutting off the TV and all excitement that went along with it. “I’ll knock you out myself if I have to. The sheets in my guest room have a very high thread count, and they are very comfortable, and you are going to use them, whether you like it or not, bitch.”

Sakura frowned too, already being halfway dragged toward said guest room. “God, you sound like Tsunade.”

That got a laugh out of Ino, despite her intimidation. It came out sounding a little maniacal.

“I do, don’t I?” Her platinum hair billowed out behind her as they marched through the open bedroom door. “Someone’s gotta knock some sense into you every now and then.”

That was a valid statement. It was why, not even fifteen minutes later, she found herself firmly tucked beneath the luxurious comforter and sheets on Ino’s guest bed — a queen bed, so much larger and plusher than Sakura’s sad excuse for a double — and attempting to fall asleep, no light but the soft fairy lights hanging over the headboard. 

It was hard, now that she was here, not to think about the fact that this room could have been hers. Ino had asked her to move in with her when she first got this place. Before she’d settled on it, even, she’d told Sakura that she wanted them to live together. There wouldn’t have been any rent to pay — Ino’s dad was abundantly, generously wealthy with their old family company and money, and he told Sakura he thought of her like a daughter. 

It would have been so different: Sakura wouldn’t have had to work so much, so there would’ve been more time to study, to be with her friends, to take care of her body. But that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted freedom, self-sufficiency, to live life her own way, even if it meant sacrificing some peace. She wanted to never be a burden to anyone but herself. 

That was the whole issue. Wasn’t it? Wasn’t that what had so royally pissed her off?

Here, in the calm of this bedroom, things seemed softer, further away. The whole day had dialed back to a simmer in the dark, had given way to the promising, sweet lull of sleep. But she still felt restless and unsettled, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Her phone was on the nightstand. She glanced at its dark surface, the shallow cracks in its glass.

Don’t do it.

It wouldn’t hurt to double-check her alarms…

Don’t do it! Just go to bed, you wiener. 

She nabbed it in a flash, slid it under the covers with her, like Ino would be able to catch her looking at it if the screen’s light was visible enough. It took mere seconds to open up her texts.

Hours ago, around the time she’d taken her break at the coffee shop, a text from Kakashi had made its way into her inbox. It read, very simply, r u ok?

Wouldn’t you like to know, she’d almost sent back, but then thought better of it. Plus Sasuke had approached the table she sat at with a reminder that there were only forty-five seconds left on her break, and she should spend them getting ready to return to work. Not enough time to formulate a proper response, even without the murderous rage for Sasuke’s stupid, beautiful face. 

When she was grabbing her bag from her locker at the end of her shift, she saw another text waiting for her: Pls just let me know if ur alright. Seeing those words had made her feel such a deep, unnameable concoction of emotions it made her hands shake. The biggest one, still, was anger. Fuck you, she’d barely managed not to send back, wanting to wait until she had something better and meaner. But lingering behind that anger was something that honestly just made her want to cry. 

Looking at the texts now, she was livid. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was okay. Maybe she wanted him to worry a bit. Maybe, if Ino really was right, she wanted him to squirm, knowing she was free to do whatever she chose, his opinion or approval be damned. And maybe, worst of all, she wanted him to feel as awful as she did.

He had no right to tell her what to do. He had no right to pity her. But he had, and he did.

This whole day had been a betrayal, plain and simple. She’d been betrayed. And it hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Her throat burned, like stomach acid was still coating the inside. All she really knew was that if she didn’t get any sleep, then she would have hell to pay in the morning, no matter what she decided to do. So she clicked her phone back to dark, placed it on the side table, and closed her eyes. 

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After a restless nap of a sleep, a fruitless attempt to tame her hair, a crusty free donut from a campaigning saleswoman outside the student center, and a long, long mental debate on whether she should take a zero or completely, irrevocably embarrass herself through this test for Shimura-sensei — who would oversee her entire upcoming residency — Sakura decided to just go for it. What the hell did she have to lose?

She’d forgotten to change out of what Ino had lent her, so she’d gone on the subway, walked to class, and sat through her exam in a pair of sneakers and pink-and-white striped cotton pajamas. At least they were matching. And the shirt was button-down, which was always coded as professional by default. 

And yet, Shimura-sensei had not been amused. The deep wrinkles in his face only emphasized the grimace he gifted her as she turned in her test packet. Hopefully he’d chalk her inevitably failing grade up to some kind of temporary insanity or a mental breakdown. It wasn’t that far from the truth.

The inordinate and unusual amount of time it took for her to bullshit her test meant that she’d missed her dogwalking window, though. And it was closer to lunchtime by the time she finally exited the science building. She knew what she had to do, and where she had to go. It took one search on social media to find out where his truck was stationed for the day, and one text to Hidan to tell him she would most definitely be late for work. 

She could do this, she told herself, marching through campus, and then through the nearby park as a shortcut. She would do this. She ignored the voice nestled way back in her brain trying to feed her nonsense. She ignored the people staring at her as she made her way to the other side of the square. None of them mattered. Once the truck was in sight, parked ever so innocuously at the curb, that was the only thing she could see. 

Her heartbeat thudded hard in her throat as she approached the line snaking down the sidewalk. She glanced up toward the front, wondering just how long it would take to get there — and with no short of twenty people between her and the window, it wouldn’t be soon. 

The customer in front of it reached their hand out to pay, and she saw a hand poke through to retrieve the cash. Something in her snapped.

Without even thinking, she abandoned her post, sprinted up to the front of the line. Some balding guy looked at her with deep offense, but he’d live. There were more important things happening, and they were hers. 

“Hey!” the paying customer wailed when Sakura shoved her aside. A chorus of complaints from the people behind her joined it. 

“Whoa, what’s the problem?” came a voice from inside the truck, and a face appeared with it. And neither belonged to who she was hoping for.

Within the slightly rusted frame of the window was a younger guy, tan and brown-haired, and very surprisingly, roguishly hot, wearing a loose tank top. That couldn’t be food safe. He was looking at her with mild perplexity — like he was trying to figure out where he’d seen her before. And then she realized she was doing the same thing, the cacophony of pissy people on their lunch break entirely negligible as she tried to place how she knew him.

“Ah,” came another voice, one that was immediately recognizable. “Look who’s here!”

Sakura looked past the guy’s shoulder to find Tsume there, a sweatband keeping her hair away from her face as she cooked. And then it hit her. The guy was Kiba, Tsume’s sparkly, slutty son. Who, the only other time she’d seen him, had witnessed her and her boyfriend getting spanked all the way out of his house. 

He seemed to realize it just as she did. Great.

There was a smirk forming on his face. Great.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted, like if she did it loud enough it would physically smack Kiba in the mouth. And the eyes, which were roaming over her clothing choice with amusement. She didn’t have time for this, for fuck’s sake. Not today, and probably not ever. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, grinning enough to show teeth. Ooh, he was wolfish, and he knew he was cute. “Don’t you have some beds to rumple, hot stuff?”

The terrifying part was that she couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuinely flirtatious. It didn’t matter though, because his eyes suddenly went wide, and he let out a yelp.

“Mom!” he griped, clearly rubbing his ass. “What the hell! I’m just — ”

“No you aren’t,” Tsume deadpanned, bringing up an oily pair of tongs to point at him. God, these people were not food safe.  

Her sharp eyes turned back to Sakura, a bit more kindly. Or so she hoped. “Kakashi-kun’s out today, hun. I made too much chili to fit in my freezer, and I couldn’t let it go to waste, so this little shit and I are in here street peddling.”

“Oh,” was all she could say to that. But then — “Out? What? Did he say why?”

Tsume and Kiba shrugged identically. 

“Dunno,” she said. “But he rarely ever does this kinda thing, so I don’t question it. Figure it’s gotta be something pretty serious.” She turned to glance behind her for a second, stirred something, then looked back at Sakura. “You should call him.”

“Excuse me,” the balding dude behind her interjected, “but can you sort this crap out later? You’re holding up the line!”

“Hey,” Kiba said, leaning through the window with what looked almost like a snarl. “We’re having a conversation here! Sort your own crap out, douchebag!”

“Kiba!” Tsume violently shoved him aside. There was the very distinct sound of a thud. “This is my truck today, so I get to do damage control!” She leaned out the window herself now, staring right over Sakura’s head. “If you got a problem, sir, you are more than welcome to leave. Otherwise I can show you what our express service looks like. Sound good?”

Sakura didn’t have to look at the guy to know he was gulping back a reply. She could literally hear him swallow.

“Okay, then,” Tsume continued nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t just threatened to shove a hot dog down some man’s throat. Or up his ass. Either seemed highly possible. “Like I was saying, call him. He’s probably home sick and could use some TLC.”

Oh, Sakura would give him some tender loving care, alright. “Sure.”

“I gotta get back to work, though. Give him a pat on the butt for me, will ya?” Tsume snickered. “For old time’s sake.”

“Um.” Damn it, she was blushing. “Thanks for the tip.”

Kiba reappeared as soon as his mom had returned to the kitchen behind them. His tank top was loose, revealing a little metallic sparkle on one side of his chest, and his smirk had returned, now firmly planted on his face. God, he was like a good-looking Kankuro — a total glutton for punishment.

“If he doesn’t want that ass pat,” he said, “then you know where to find me.”

Sakura decided that he deserved the Kankuro treatment. “If I want to hang someone from a clothesline by their nipple rings, I know where to find you, too.”

His eyes went wide, and he brought a hand to his chest, either surprised or offended. She took off before he could say anything else, the sound of Tsume’s cackle echoing out of the order window.

Every clap of her sneakers on the pavement only increased her fury. Now she had to go all the way to Kakashi’s house.

Why did he have to make everything so much harder than it had to be?

She was barely cognizant of the walk, ride, and run it took to get there. All she could think about was what Tsume had told her. Sick? Home? Pretty serious? What the hell did that mean? 

A little part of her was happy to hear it. Maybe he was moping around his house, feeling shitty, knowing what he’d done. It almost made her feel good to think about. She was so consumed in imagining what she’d find that she was hardly even conscious of where she was. Until, that was, she saw the empty driveway of his house, the dog-chewed wooden railing of his balcony. 

She paused, taking a steadying breath — her heart was beating way too fast. Mostly because she’d just walked up the hill of his street, and the subway stairs before that. What was she about to see? Would he be in bed, miserable, his dogs all sad in the living room? Or worse; would he be totally, completely fine, just coincidentally too busy to go to work?

Her gut twisted. Either way, she had to confront him. She had to say what she’d come here to say.

Her legs felt heavier with every step closer to the door. One of the dogs started barking — she almost dropped her keyring when she unlocked the door, thumb and fingers sweaty on the little rubber key cover shaped like a puppy. A gift from Kakashi, not more than three weeks old, a momento from their first actual date. Ugh. 

She removed her shoes at the door, telling herself she wasn’t hesitating. The same dog was still yapping, and Bull had joined them, and it was starting to piss her off. She could announce her own arrival, thank you very much. It felt weird enough being at his house like this as it was. Sakura kind of hated how familiar it felt to her, how much it had already settled into her bones without her realizing. 

Wanting to catch him off guard, she padded into the kitchen — empty. The living room was also empty. But one look at the door to the backyard gave him away: he was sitting in a porch chair, maskless, in stained sweatpants and a shirt, a book resting on his chest and a cigarette between his lips. His eyes were either closed or just about. 

Her heart twisted into her throat. He looked like he was on fucking vacation.

The door had been slid halfway open, and despite the dogs running through the opening — Urushi, Uhei, and Guruko — she ignored and stepped over them to thwack it completely ajar. 

“Are you shitting me right now?”

Kakashi startled in surprise, the book tumbling off his chest and into his lap. 

“Sakura.” His voice was thick with smoke. He coughed a bit as he snubbed out his cigarette. It sat crunched atop a small but sizeable mountain of other cigarette butts, the smell of tobacco heavy and acrid in the afternoon heat. “Hi.”

She couldn’t believe this. “‘Hi’? Seriously?”

Pakkun barked as Kakashi stood, and he leaned down to quiet him with a pat between the ears. 

“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said plainly. His eyes were on Pakkun. “I was worried about you last night — ”

He seemed to pause, to hesitate, but she didn’t wait for him to continue. Her arms crossed in front of her chest. 

“Yeah, you look real worried.” All that was missing from this scene was a beer, or maybe a little cocktail with an umbrella in it. 

He ran a hand through his hair. It lingered on the back of his neck. She hated herself right then for remembering exactly what the skin there felt like.

“It was clear that you wanted some space. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

She found herself without a response to that. Half-formed insults halted in their tracks, choking on her tongue. She couldn’t really argue with that, could she?

“I —” 

“Sakura,” he said again, this time with something else in his voice — frustration? He stood back to his full height. “Can we talk about yesterday? Please just tell me what I did wrong. I don’t want...I don’t want this to happen again.”

So he wanted to play the victim, then. He had the audacity to try and put his tail between his legs.

Her blood boiled, and the five-car pileup on her tongue made way for more. 

“It’s not just yesterday, Kakashi. You fucking lied to me.”

Now it was his turn to be speechless. He blinked, brows raised, dark eyes confused. At least there was some expression on his face, for once.

“What do you mean?”

Sakura sucked the soft inside of her lower lip between her teeth. “You tell me.” 

His hand went to the back of his neck again, rubbed at the skin as his eyes found the ground. Bisuke was circling his foot protectively, his tan fur a little scruffy, his big black eyes wary of Sakura. Traitor.

“I…” Kakashi finally said after a moment. “Help me understand what you’re talking about. Please. I don’t —”

“It’s Genma, Kakashi!” she blurted, sick of this stupid act. “It’s fucking Genma! Your best friend!” Her hands went to her hips, and it suddenly occurred to her that she was still wearing pajamas. She forced more authority into her voice. “We had a whole goddamn conversation about him! Why didn’t you tell me more then? Why did you hide so much from me?!”

Kakashi stood there with rigid shoulders. His lips were just slightly parted — about to say something, maybe, or perhaps shocked that she’d figured it out.

“I thought — ” She saw him swallow, lick his lips. “I thought you said you’d be patient with me. I thought we discussed that I would tell you more when I could, that I was...that I was trying. What changed?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” A fire burned in her stomach. She threw an accusatory open hand into the space between them. “I can’t trust you! You keep going behind my back and treating my life like it’s just some fucking game to you!”

“...What?”

“I’m not stupid, you know. I might not be able to do rocket science, or whatever the hell it was that you got famous for, but I’m smart enough to know when something’s wrong.” She desperately tried to keep the wobble out of her voice. It was just her vocal cords needing a break. That was all. “You think I can’t tell what this is?”

“What are you talking about, Sakura?” His voice was lower now, clearer, more focused, and he was frowning. Oh, she was definitely onto him. 

“I’m not some — some lovesick, insecure girl you can control as you please. If you did something wrong, and you fucked up, then that’s it.” Her chin startled to tremble. She wanted to slap herself to quell it, but all she could do was keep her jaw clenched. “I don’t need you in order to be happy, or successful. I can do that all by myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

“Wait a minute,” he said. “I’ve never meant to make you feel like that. I’m sorry if I have. I would never want to undermine you, or how hard you work — ” 

“But you did, though!” Her voice, god damnit, broke a little on the last word. “You did! You keep things from me, and you take pity on me with money, and you don’t take me seriously!” She inhaled deeply through her nose, feeling it clog with snot and incoming tears. God damn it. 

“Sakura, I — ”

“Everything was fine until he came along. But now I see things as they really are. You’re just like him, aren’t you?” Tears stuck hot at the corners of her eyes. Her vision went blurry when they leaked out. “Why didn’t you tell me he was back with my cousin? You knew — ”

“Genma?”

“ — they shouldn’t be together, that I didn’t want him around her. You knew because we talked about it!”

“How do you know that they’re together?” he’d said at the same time, so she almost didn’t hear him. When her mind processed the words, though, they went straight through her throat. 

“I saw it! But does it even matter?!” Furious, she wiped at her eye, trying to keep her composure. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. He’s your best friend. Of course you knew.”

Kakashi’s hands were up, palms facing toward her. “He’d mentioned dating someone, but not...”

“See? I knew it!”

“Sakura, please. Please just listen to me.” He was stepping closer, hands still up in mock surrender. “Where is this coming from? I thought you were angry with me for yesterday — ”

“I am angry with you for yesterday.” Her tongue felt dry and tacky. “You totally crossed a line, even after I told you not to. And then you just threw money at my problems like they didn’t even matter!” 

She saw him close his eyes, saw his lips press together. “That was a mistake. I misunderstood...well, a lot of things. It won’t happen again.”

“You say that,” Sakura sniffled, breathing hard, “but what about all the times before? All the times you kept things from me or tried to brush me off by having sex with me?”

He was quiet. She waited for him this time, wiping her face with the backs of her hands, smearing salty tear tracks all over her cheeks and trying to catch her breath. For just a moment, watching him stand there silently, she wished he would — 

“That’s not true,” he finally said, eyes open, expression the same stoic, half-asleep thing as always. 

Her lip trembled. Why did he have to make everything so much fucking harder?

Kakashi took a deep breath, watching her unsuccessfully try to compose herself. And then he put his hands by his sides, looked at her dead-on with dark, steady eyes.

“I am trying to get to know you,” he said, his voice low and soft. “I am trying to do this the right way. But closing those parts of yourself off — ”

She physically felt herself balk at that. He could not be serious. After weeks of circling around answers about his life. Genma. His parents. His past. The pictures on his bedside. How he felt about anything. 

How he felt about her. 

“I’m closing myself off?” Sakura practically shrieked, the words spilling out of her like they’d been yanked from her insides. “I don’t even know you!”

Kakashi seemed to fold at that. She saw his shoulders fall. Good.

“All I’m trying to say is — ” 

“No!” she bulldozed. Her voice was shaking, but she didn’t care. “No. You had your chance to say whatever you needed to say so many times, and you never took it.”

“Sakura,” he pleaded, taking another step closer, but she backed away like he was infectiously diseased. 

“No, Kakashi! I’m done dealing with this!” She raked a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face and holding it there. “Keep hiding everything if you want, but I’m done trying to figure you out. Have fun in your sad life with your shitty friends.” 

She immediately made to leave by reentering the house, but one more thing occurred to her:

“Oh,” she said, whirling around to face his hunching figure, his perpetually fucking mellow eyes. “And by the way, I quit.”

She didn’t wait for him to respond. If he did, she didn’t hear him say anything. Coward. The dogs, who’d been watching the show from behind the glass door, parted to let her pass, and she was proud of the way her heart didn’t even tug at the sight of their big, sweet eyes. She stomped through his living room and kitchen like she was trying to wake the dead, and then she snatched her shoes and her bag from the genkan. Made her way out of the front door and slammed it behind her. 

Fuck this, she thought, storming through the familiar path of his street, down the stairs of the subway station, through the gates. Fuck this, and fuck him. She was so mad about it she couldn’t see straight. Or maybe that was just her crying, still, her body trying to catch up to her brain. 

She was probably a spectacle on the subway — sobbing, snot-nosed, in her friend’s too-big pajamas and her own holey work sneakers. She saw her own reflection in the window across from her, saw the way her hair stuck up in ten different directions, and decided she was entitled to looking like a mess. This whole day had been a glorified one. 

She was still out of sorts on the way to her own apartment. Wired, supercharged, her brain swirling with thought after thought and feeling after feeling. But the more she dwelled on it, the faster she felt the adrenaline wane. She was losing her momentum. Going up the stairs to her apartment felt like wading through quicksand. 

When she opened the door to her place, everything was normal, even if her kitchen was a little cleaner than she remembered it. The early afternoon light shone through her front window, over the stove in a bright wash. She frowned at it. And then she saw the clock. 

Shit.

She still had to go to work, even if she was later than she’d anticipated she’d be. Hidan would forgive her. God, though, she so powerfully did not want to go. She didn’t feel ready to do anything but take a nap, and preferably one that lasted long enough to make these past two days nothing more than a completely distant memory. Or even something she didn’t remember at all. That was preferable.

Damn it, though. She couldn’t afford to skip. And, she thought with a humorless laugh as she let her bag flop to the floor of the kitchen, she only had two jobs again. Excellent. She’d have to try to double her hours just to make up for that loss. Just perfect. She inhaled hard through her nose, dragging whatever was blocking her airways back into her face, exhaling wetly out of her mouth. She’d need to shower, or at least change, and she had to eat. There was suddenly a gaping void in her stomach. She wouldn’t make it through the rest of the afternoon and night without eating something.

Sakura opened her fridge, mindlessly scanning the contents for something that looked mildly appetizing. And that was when she saw it.

Four little disposable containers, all neatly labeled with a familiar scratch of ink. Tamagoyaki. Soup. Rice. Extras. And on the shelf in front of them, there was a note, sticking to the edge with one of the flower-shaped stickers she kept in her silverware drawer, complete with a carefully drawn heart and a cartoon dog:

I’m sorry. 

Sakura stared at it for so long that her fridge started beeping, alerting her of the temperature drop thanks to the door being open. She felt her soul snap back into her body in an instant. And with it came another round of hot, wet tears, springing into her eyes so quick that they ran right down her sticky cheeks. 

She closed the refrigerator door and turned back toward the rest of her apartment, deciding she’d have the instant ramen in her cabinet instead.

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Chapter Text

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For the first time she could remember, Sakura had a day off. A Saturday off. 

It happened by pure coincidence: she didn’t have any class, Hidan was closed for a “religious holiday,” she wasn’t scheduled at the coffee shop, and she found herself suddenly relieved of her third job. 

It didn’t take long after waking for it to occur to her. One look at her phone, which had next to no new notifications or reminders at this hour of the morning, and she realized. 

“Oh, hell yes,” she croaked, still half-asleep, and snuggled back into her pillow. Delighted, she hummed at the soft sensations of her sheets, the cool feeling of slinging one leg over her comforter and the warmth of one underneath. Perfection.

Five minutes later, though, she still wasn’t back asleep. All she could seem to focus on was the oily film all over her face, the way her shorts bunched uncomfortably around her butt, the strong urge — need, more accurately — to pee. She groaned and flipped onto her stomach, burying her face into the mattress, and inhaled. She could forget about that stuff for another hour. No problem.

Only, she realized, her eyes flying open in the dark, the sheets on the other side of her bed smelled distinctly like...like a cool wash, distinctly masculine, but with the smell of salt and warm food and, if she inhaled long enough, just a little bit of dog, homey and endearing. Her stomach clenched, and the feeling reached up to her chest, squeezing like a fist.

She flopped onto her back, safely back on her own pillow. Her ceiling was suddenly incredibly interesting. Maybe if she stared at it long enough, she would get bored and forget. She could forget about all of this. She could go back to sleep like she so deeply deserved to, because she hadn’t slept in since — 

Since Thursday. 

“God damn it.” Sakura dragged her hands down her gross face, then slapped her cheeks for good measure. Clearly this was going nowhere. And she was awake, whether she liked it or not.

At least she had extra time to get herself clean and ready for the day. That in and of itself was a luxury. She brushed her teeth, showered, blow-dried her hair — and then, upon traipsing around her room in a towel, realized she had absolutely zero to wear, because everything was dirty. 

“Okay.” There was a mountain range of shit all over her floor. “Laundry day.”

She collected it all in the hamper, which started to collapse beneath its own weight. It was time to wash her sheets of — well, it was just time. She stripped them off with a ripping flourish. And then, when the floor and bed were finally clear of any scattered, forgotten belongings, the urge to clean hit her like a gale-force wind. 

She threw on her pj’s and pulled her cheapo vacuum from her closet. She ran it over the carpet around her room, under the bed, even rolled it up against the corners where the floor met the wall. The satisfying clicking whirls of debris in the dust container only spurred her on — when was the last time she’d given this place a good deep cleaning? If she had free time, it was going to be productive, damn it. 

Once her carpet had those telltale vacuum streaks, and was clean enough that she was convinced it had turned two shades lighter, she moved to her bathroom. But not without turning on her speaker to play some music. Without the big hum of the vacuum, it was a little too quiet. 

Ino’s old pop playlist was good. It helped her blaze and bop her way through scrubbing every tile and surface in her shower, replacing her kinda rusty razor with one of the replacements hiding in her cabinet, consolidating her bottles of color-safe conditioner, and cleaning every nook and cranny of her toilet until it was clean enough to eat off of. And then there was her sink, and her medicine cabinet, and her mirror, and her floor, and the bathmat, and the faucets, and the grout, and the inside of the plasticky thing covering the ceiling light. 

But even when all of that was sparkling clean, even when she herself was glistening with hard-earned sweat and feeling a little out of breath, it wasn’t enough to satiate the urge. 

To the kitchen it was, then. 

Sakura grabbed her laundry basket and marched out of her spotless bedroom, deciding it was time to dump it all in the washer before she’d tackle the rest of her space. Maybe today, actually, she would treat herself and separate her lights and darks. Maybe she would steal some of the yummy-smelling dryer sheets Shikamaru’s mom had bought him that he never used. Maybe she would — 

She stopped suddenly, vision tunneling on the big yellow spot in her kitchen. 

It had been easy enough to ignore yesterday, and in the dark of her apartment all night. But here in the daylight, there they were, plain and simple: that big bunch of sunflowers sitting neatly, happily in an empty coffee can on the counter. The ones Kakashi had brought for her.

The hamper slipped from her grip, thumping onto the ground and tipping over to spill its contents all over the floor. 

“God damn it,” she whined, stooping to stuff them back into their container. But her mind wasn’t on the task. She felt like she was being magnetically pulled to that bright spot behind her. She stood and turned to face it, and then, unthinking, walked to it. 

They were beautiful, a buttery, picturesque yellow, cut to perfectly fit into their tin and stand upright, facing her like she was the sun they were looking for. She remembered Kakashi standing on her porch not even forty-eight hours ago, the most perfect sight for sore eyes, holding these things like he was something out of a movie. 

Her finger touched one of the petals. 

Have fun in your sad life with your shitty friends. 

Her stomach lurched. 

What have I done?

She took a step back. 

Nothing. Right? Nothing. She’d only done what was best. What was inevitable. With a shuddering breath, she turned back to the clothes on her floor, deciding to will it away and do what needed to be done. The important things. 

She had done the right thing, and she would get past this. She would get his smell out of her clothes, out of her bed, and that would be that. She would be fine. It would all be fine.

She stepped out of her apartment, wincing at the morning sunlight, and loaded her things into the washing machine in the little closet by Shikamaru’s door — 

— which opened just as she poured in the detergent. 

He paused halfway out, cigarette in his mouth, and just stared at her, dark hair rumpled and clothes wrinkled. He looked like some kind of cave creature. Nothing new. 

“What?” Sakura frowned eventually.

He pushed the cigarette to the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “I’m starting to think I have a hallucination problem.”

“Well, maybe.” She fuffed at her sweaty hair. “It’s not every day there’s a gorgeous girl standing outside your door.”

“Yeah, it’s not.” His eyes thinned when she smiled triumphantly. “Don’t take that as a compliment. I’m just saying I have no illusions about my dick game.”

“Or lack thereof?”

“Or lack thereof.” He stepped out and closed his door behind him. “What I meant is that I have now seen you here in the morning not once, but twice this week.”

She would rather not remember what he was referring to. The sinking feeling that came with him standing in her kitchen, talking to Kakashi, had been horrifying enough the first time. 

“Is there a problem with that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he was getting at. “I do live here, y’know.”

“Well,” Shikamaru griped, bags puffy under his narrow eyes, “a little, yeah. You keep waking me up before eleven. It’s fucking up my sleep schedule.”

“Oh, pardon me.”  

“Yeah, an apology would be nice. I don’t need girl-power anthems as an alarm clock.” He flicked on his lighter, burning the tip of his cigarette until it glowed. “Or anything, for that matter. I like my sleep just as much as you hate yours.”

“Blow that away from me,” she griped back when he inhaled his smoke. 

“Yeah, yeah. When you’re a big, fancy doctor, I’m sure you’ll find it in your heart to fix my crispy lungs.”

“Someone will,” she mumbled, sighing, starting up the machine and shutting the lid. “At this rate, I’m gonna flunk out of school.”

“You? Giving up?” He snorted, and smoke came out of his nose. “That’s new.”

“I’m just having a crappy week.” She turned and gripped the metal railing outside her own door, bending down to lean her forehead on its warm, thin surface. “Cut me some slack.”

“Trouble in paradise?” came the monotone question. Sakura wanted to groan, but it came out more as a long, crackling huff. The last thing she wanted was to discuss this, but her brain pushed the words out with her breath.

“Yeah. I broke up with him.”

“...Who?”

Sakura snapped back up to glare at him. “What do you mean, who? Kakashi. The guy I’ve been seeing for over a month.” The confusion on his face stayed put. “The one whose food you stole from my kitchen the other day?”

“No, yeah, I remember him.” He took another casual drag, then flicked ash off the end, letting it float over the edge of the porch. “I just figured you meant someone else. There’s no way you’d be dumb enough to break up with that guy.”

“Excuse you.” Her eyes shrank at him. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You talked to him for, like, what — five minutes?”

“Try ten.”

“Yeah, okay. And you just happened to become his best buddy in the time it took me to leave my bedroom?” She scoffed. “Please.”

He just kept smoking, unflappable as ever. Much like someone else she knew. It was only making her madder. 

“Takes a fraction of that, at best, to figure out what the problem was.” He gestured to her with his free hand. “You.”

“... Me?”

“Yeah.” He let out a smoky exhale. “You.”

Her palms began to sweat against the sun-warmed iron. “You — Okay. You’re going to have to explain to me how you came to that conclusion, seeing how you barely know him. Barely.”

“See? That, right there.” Shikamaru squinted at her against the light peeking over their neighboring buildings. “You’ve been dating for over a month and I’ve never even seen a picture of him. If he hadn’t been cooking, I would’ve thought he was that sketchy repairman my mom used to threaten to cheat on my dad with.”

“Why would you need to know what he looks like?” Sakura, blood starting to buzz, crossed her arms and turned to face him fully. “Let me guess: you just wanted to see if you could win whatever bet you made with Ino. Because you thought he’d be ugly, or stupid, or clearly have something wrong with him?”

“Well, maybe a little. Your reputation with relationships is pretty astounding.” He scratched at the side of his butt. “That’s not the point though. Your best friend doesn’t even know the most basic things about the person you’re in a relationship with.”

“Oh, please,” she said, bristling. “Since when are you my best friend?”

That finally got some kind of reaction. Shikamaru blinked at her, slow at first, and then fast a few times, like he’d glitched. But then he just resumed position, smoking, squinting, not caring. 

“I meant, does Ino know?” The question came after a short pause. “She’s met him and everything?”

There was a sudden nausea that came with the words. Whether it was because of the mere thought of having those two in the same room filled her with an awful, unnameable emotion, or because Shikamaru had hit the nail on the head, she didn’t know. 

“No,” she finally replied. “She hasn’t.”

“But she’s seen him, at least.”

Her ears burned. “No.”

“And you don’t think that’s a little weird?” 

He raised his eyebrows a bit, as if to prompt her. But she didn’t have an answer for him, or that expectant look on his face, or that low, sloppy ponytail that was making him look like a grumpy troll. 

“I just…” she finally said. “I don’t...I don’t understand why that matters.”

“Huh?”

Something was rising within her — something high and nauseous and urgent. 

“Why does it matter if my friends meet him? Can’t you just take my word for things?” Shikamaru opened his mouth to say something, but she kept going before he could interrupt her. “And besides, it’s not like it’s important anymore, if this is how it worked out.”

There was only some kind of hum in response. “So you didn’t want to get too close to him ‘cause you knew it wouldn’t work out.” He licked his lips. “And that’s why you broke up with him?”

There it was again: that big, awful feeling, pushing at her stomach and the front of her brain. “No, it’s not. I broke up with him for other reasons.”

“Hn. Yeah, okay.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, dismissing. There was no point in talking about this. At least not with him. Or with anyone, really. What was done was done, and there was no fucking point in dwelling on it. Her stomach was starting to hurt.

Shikamaru only snorted. “Try me.”

There was the big noise of the water flowing into the washing machine, the old clanks of the gears inside it starting to work. But there was nothing else, not for a long minute. 

Her anger was sitting on her tongue, forming faster the longer she looked at just how...how flippant Shikamaru was, the casual drag of his cigarette, the slouch of his shoulders, totally unburdened and unbothered by the effect he was having on her. She was getting real fucking sick of the way he always poked and prodded at her, of how he had such a grand old time making her feel like an idiot. She could feel that smack of irritation, could suck on it like it was a piece of candy. 

“Well?” he asked, tapping the ash off the end of his little death stick. The smell of tobacco — 

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a dick about this.” It was in her voice now. “Honestly, Shikamaru, can’t you find anything better to do than try to make my stupid, shitty little life entertaining for yourself? I don’t — I don’t have time for this.”

“Uh, I’m not?” One of his dark brows arched at her. “I’m just wondering why you’re trying to ruin this for yourself. The dude seems like a good guy.”

“Well, he’s not, okay? So can we drop it?”

“Not if — ”

“And I’m not trying to do anything besides protect myself,” she pressed, “and the people I care about. He fucked up, and I’m done with it.”

There was a pause from Shikamaru, whose tongue was quite literally in his cheek, poking it out just enough to let Sakura think that she’d won. He smoked a little more. 

She considered going inside after a few more seconds, but then:

“Okay, it’s his fault.” His tone was too dry to decipher. “So let’s talk about what he did.”

“Why do we have to keep — ”

“I wanna know what he did. If it’s that bad, it won’t be hard to change my mind.”

So this was a competition, then, judging by the little smirk rising on his mouth the longer she stewed. But it was a competition she would easily win. She didn’t owe him anything — not an explanation, not a sob story, and not even a conversation about it, honestly. But if Sakura were anything, it was stubborn. And she was also right. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like being in a relationship with someone you barely know?” It was rhetorical, but she knew he would be a smartass if she didn’t keep talking. “Do you know what it feels like getting lied to by someone you — you trust, and that you like, a lot? Because it fucking sucks. Okay? I — ” She stopped, not wanting her voice to crack at the edges enough to hear. Damnit. 

Shikamaru was nothing if not annoyingly patient, and only in the wrong moments. Surprisingly enough, he waited for her to go on, scratching his forehead idly with his thumbnail, cigarette approaching stub territory between his fingers. 

“He thinks that just because he has a lot of money, he can swoop in like some kind of hero and rearrange my poor little working-girl life to suit his needs. So that’s one reason.”

“I mean, fair.” Shikamaru gave a half-assed shrug. “Kind of fucked up he would even admit that.”

“Well — not exactly. But, I mean, actions kind of speak louder with words in this case. It’s pretty easy to piece that together.”

He shrugged again, either accepting or dismissing that. Typical. 

“What else happened? He lied? Kept stuff from you?”

The railing was digging into her hip. 

“How would you feel if you’d been sleeping with someone — dating them, working with them, seeing them every single day, pretty much — and you only knew, like, the bare minimum about them? Like, only things you found out by miraculous fucking coincidence.” She felt the sleepy warmth of his bedroom like a bruise, the way his eyes closed beneath her hand, the twenty questions that had no answers. “And — and then whatever you did ask about got brushed aside like it was some stupid little joke? I asked him the simplest shit — the simplest shit, Shikamaru, and he just...moved past it, every time.”

“I mean,” he looked away, “I’m not gonna say that doesn’t sound like a pain in the ass. But you haven’t really been dating long enough to, like, get emotionally intimate” — there were air quotes — “or whatever.”

“Well, maybe not, but — ” But it had been different this time, she didn’t say. Or at least I thought it would be. “I just think...that...that it’s just shady not to tell someone you’re in a relationship with something if they ask.”

“Mm, right.” Shikamaru licked at the ridge of his top teeth. “So he knows about your family, then.”

That brought a strange, sharp feeling up her throat. “I — it hasn’t come up. But why does — ”

“But you’d tell him, if he asked.”

“Stop. This — this isn’t about me right now. We’re talking about him .”

Somehow satisfied, Shikamaru took another drag. “See? You can’t force that shit out of people. Sometimes they’re insecure, or some shit, or...not used to letting people in. You should know that better than anyone.”

Um.

“What the hell does that mean?”

Shikamaru, not even cognizant of the flint in her tone, almost laughed. Laughed. 

“You know what it means. C’mon now.”

“Not fucking really!” 

He looked at her for a second, an unfamiliar expression on his face, and laughed again. Smoke tripped out of his nostrils. “Okay, fine. I get it, we’re not talking about you. But — I mean, honestly, can’t you just, like — I dunno, wait? I thought girls normally love that rare vulnerability shit, the whole waiting for the moment — ”

“Is it so fucking wrong to want to know?!” Sakura practically shrieked, well and truly pissed now. Mocking her like a fucking — “Is it wrong to give a shit about someone?! I just want — ”

“Do you have to know every single thing about a person to care about them?” Shikamaru came back with a softer voice than hers, but one animated in a way she wasn’t used to hearing from him. “Jesus, dude, can’t you just — I don’t know, be a little patient instead of pushing so hard?” 

Patient. 

The word hit her like a ton of bricks. 

Patient.

Her tongue went to sandpaper in her mouth.

Patience. She’d agreed to it, that warm night in Kakashi’s kitchen, hazy sleep and hazier kissing, a conversation finished but not complete. She’d promised him patience, an indefinite wait for responses to questions that should have had simple, ready answers. 

Be patient with me. 

She’d been patient, and look where it had gotten her: one failure after the other, again; back to square one, just this time with more bullshit attached than she could have rightfully expected. She was very aware suddenly of the sweat and dust coating her skin, the rugburn on her knees from cleaning her carpet, all visceral and throbbing and grimy. She felt hot and unclean. Her jaw quivered with something unnameable. 

“That’s rich,” she said without even thinking of the words first, her eyes finding Shikamaru’s. “That is so rich, coming from you of all people.”

Shikamaru frowned, his eyes returning to their normal half-masted edge. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” The words were coming, and there was nothing there to stop them. “All you do is pry into my shit because you have nothing better to do. I’m not taking advice from someone with no purpose, and no drive, and no fucking life.”

The space between them fell heavy and quiet, the sun too bright and the tension pulsing hard. Or maybe that was her own heartbeat. She just stared at him, hoping she looked as furious and justified as she felt. Maybe then he would get the hint. Wishful thinking, though, she knew. 

Shikamaru just stared, and stared, and stared at her back, like he was waiting for her to keep talking. She wouldn’t, though. There was nothing else to say.

He stubbed his cigarette out on the railing, then flicked it off the side to wherever it would land. 

“Yeah,” he grumbled, almost too low for her to hear. “This is why I don’t deal with stuff like this. Troublesome fucking shit.”

He turned to shuffle back to his own apartment, his dark hoodie too big for his shoulders and his hair unruly. The door swung shut behind him. And then she was alone. 

Good, she thought, chest on fire with adrenaline. She rubbed the heel of her hand into her sternum to try and quell its burn. See if you come invade my space now, asshole. 

She stood there a moment, blazing hot with the inertia of — had that been a fight? 

Ugh!

She shouldn’t have fucking brought it up in the first place. Not with Shikamaru’s stupid ass, anyway. Acting like he knew anything just because he wormed his way into her business. Always. She was so fucking tired of this, of no one fucking getting it, of her brain not being able to reign itself back in when it was whirling and whirling and whirling, a ferris wheel off the rails and on fire.

She left her laundry churning behind the closet door and left the morning heat where it was, deciding it was time to shower this stupid day off herself before the rest of it found her. If her door managed to slam itself behind her, then, well, that wasn’t her problem.

.

.

.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon had her squeaky-clean and reading a textbook, her pencil and notebook ready for notes on whatever anatomical delight awaited her study. It felt so satisfying to have even a moment to get ahead on her work, to learn with less pressure and truly enjoy doing so. 

She’d started a little shopping list in the margins of her current page. Something about the hard reset of a spotless house, a little feng shui, a little...something different made her want to capitalize on the energy, use it as a jumping-off point for care on some other things she’d been neglecting lately. Hair dye, peroxide. Her roots were coming in again, dark at the very top of her head. Vegetables. Water. New sponges. She scribbled right underneath, a thought occurring to her: Maybe a plant? It’d be nice to have a little green in here, something fresh and new. It would just have to be low-input, max-output.

Her pencil followed the guidance of her fingers, turning the question mark into a swirl. She circled inward, then retraced it back outward, all the way until it filled the corner of the notebook. 

She should keep studying. Not be...on edge, or itching for her phone, or sensing the presence on the other side of the wall she leaned against. She wasn’t thinking about it. Not any of it. Because it was inconsequential, and it was fine. Shikamaru would apologize eventually, and she’d give him a cool shoulder, and he’d get a goddamn life before asking to come over again and use hers as gossip fodder. 

Have fun in your sad life with your shitty friends. 

“Uggghhhhhh.” She dug her palms into her face, the heels settling hard on her eyes. Her fingers threaded through her still-damp bangs. She grabbed them like they were play-dough. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about this? What was done was done. It was done! You lived, you learned, you moved on. So why — 

A growling noise scared the shit out of her. She jumped, eyes darting to the source: her phone, face down on her side table, vibrating loudly on the cheap wooden top. She snatched it, kind of pissed that someone was disturbing the peace she was attempting here. 

Tsunade was calling. 

Oh, boy. 

“Hi?” she asked, closing her textbook, fingers lingering around the spine. “Everything okay?”

“Fine as I’ll ever be,” Tsunade drawled, sounding tired. Or maybe bored. “I just got off the plane. Can you meet me in an hour?”

Sakura blinked. 

“Wait.” Blinked again. “You’re here? In Japan?”

“Yeah. Just for a few hours, though.” Then came a long-suffering sigh, crackling through the phone and drowning out the busy noises in the background. “I’m just — fucking hell — I have to find a dress. And I need you to do a fitting for yours, too.”

“Oh my God.”

“Look. I don’t want to hear about it, okay?”

“Ba-chan…”

“Saaakuraaa,” she sang back, not having it. “All I’m asking for is an hour. Jiraiya already picked out the bridesmaid dresses, so it’s not like you have to shop.” Something shuffled, then Sakura could hear distinctively high-heeled footsteps. “And I want to see you! I haven’t seen you in months.”

It’d been nearly a year, but Sakura didn’t say that. She scratched at her forehead instead. “I — ”

“You were swamped when I came last time, I know. Do you have time today, though?”

“I…” She felt like she was going to jump out her skin. This fucking day, honestly. “...Yeah. Just text me where to meet you.”

“God, thank you. I’m dreading this enough as it is. I need all the support I can get.” Tsunade sighed again, voice rough. She’d done that a lot since she’d had to relocate — and even more since this marriage thing started. 

“Um,” Sakura replied, mind stuck on the word all. “Is… is Shizune coming, too?”

Another sigh. “I tried to call her. Nothing. I left her a message, though, so maybe.” Tsunade grumbled. “Damn girl is going to drive me nuts. Has she been talking to you at all? She’s been out of pocket for weeks. Which is inconvenient as hell, for one, since she’s supposed to be helping plan this shitshow.”

The overwhelming urge to tattle overcame Sakura. But — no. Her brain was already overloaded. “No, I haven’t — heard from her.”

Occupied as she was, Tsunade didn’t seem to notice any of her hesitance. “Great. Well, I’ll just shove it back onto Jiraiya. Not like he doesn’t love it.”

If Sakura weren’t so tense, she might have laughed. 

“Yeah. Just, um...I should probably leave now, so just tell me where to meet you.”

“Okay. I will. You fuckin’ rock, by the way — I ever tell you that?”

Yes, Sakura thought, pressing her lips into a heavy smile. You do. “Yeah, yeah. Be safe.”

“You first.”

They hung up, and Sakura immediately opened a text to Jiraiya. Where am I supposed to go for dress fitting? She knew damn well she wouldn’t get an informative text otherwise. Not unless Tsunade’s assistant was with her, which — slim chance if she was just popping in for the afternoon. Add adaptability to the list of Senju standing orders. 

Almost immediately, Jiraiya sent her the address. He was a lot of things, but at least he was predictable. 

Hope you luv the dress, he added. Cant wait to c u on big day!!!

Sakura sighed deeply, flipping her books closed and shoving her phone in her back pocket as she stood. Today had already been a lot, and chaos always seemed to follow her family. Hopefully, just hopefully, this would just be easy, even if there were knots forming in the pit of Sakura’s stomach. 

It’ll be fine, she commanded to the rest of her brain, walking to her closet for something decent or clean to wear. It always is, after a while.

.

.

.

The metal rungs shrieked on the rod as Sakura shoved the curtain aside. 

“I look like a fucking valentine.”

Tsunade, champagne perched in manicured hand, glanced up from her phone with a crinkled, distracted pensiveness. Her whole face went smooth as she registered the sight before her. 

“Oh, Christ.” Her eyes closed, and her free hand came up to pinch at the bridge of her nose, cloaking her rapidly-enlarging struggle to keep her mouth straight. A snort escaped regardless. “Oh, my god.”

“Ba-chan. Please.”

The snorting only continued, stuttering like a motor engine until it evolved into a well-oiled cackle. The champagne sloshed in its delicate flute. 

Sakura stared at her own reflection in one of the mirrors behind Tsunade, hoping — and then she almost lost her shit again. It’d somehow gotten worse outside of the horror show of this cursed dressing room. 

The whole thing was an abomination. Red, so red it was practically hot orange. Floor-length fluff, and tulle, and even more, rippled against itself and puffed to high hell and randomly encasing large crepe flowers that sat at odd angles against her legs. Not to mention the fact that it was too long, because she was short and stumpy and drowning , and the surprisingly modest bust keeping it all up was hardly staying on her board of a chest. In spite of the frilly, ribboned straps sliding off her shoulders faster than she could keep them up, she literally had to hold the whole thing in place with both hands.

Oh, god, and her hair. Her bubblegum frizz bomb, bangs uneven where she’d shoved them on either side of her mortified cheeks. Pink and red all over, like a goddamned valentine.

The polite lady who’d been helping them rushed over in loping steps, the tailor following directly behind, like speed would assuage any of what Sakura was experiencing. “Come with me, ma’am. We’ll get these measurements just right. Not to worry!”

“Too late,” she moaned far louder than intended. Tsunade practically howled. 

It took a while to get Sakura situated in front of the cage of mirrors that awaited her. She made it clear that she would face away from it while the tailor got to work, the boutique attendant walking circles around them as they dutifully took notes. It gave her a perfect vantage point from which to watch Tsunade finally collect herself enough and walk over, bare feet soft on the immaculately vacuumed carpet. 

“When he said this would be a fairy tale, I had my doubts,” Tsunade said, shaking her head. “But god damn.”

“I physically cannot wear this, ba-chan.” Sakura gripped some inches of the skirt in a fist, her chest fabric now secured by the busy tailor. “I hope you understand what I’m saying.”

“Oh, believe me.” An errant chuckle escaped her mouth. “You know, for someone who only cares about women for a living, Jiraiya’s taste sure is…”

Sakura raised an eyebrow at the hand she was uselessly whirling in gesture. “Appalling? Outrageous? A sadistic nightmare?” She thought she heard a quiet laugh behind her. Her only ally, apparently.

“I was going to say concerning, but — ” Tsunade snorted again, that crisp, familiar sound. “God. It never gets old.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Tsunade leaned to one side to address the staff. “Do either of you know if both bridesmaids’ dresses are the same? Is my other daughter also going to be subjected to this eldritch horror?”

“I...yes, ma’am, that’s what was selected.” The humor and fear were both apparent in his voice. All too familiar when Tsunade was around. “This, um...this is the first time in quite a while we’ve had the groom involved in this...part of the process. It’s usually the bride.”

“I’m sure.” She drank the last of her drink like a shot. “You won’t have to worry about me, though. I’m pretty low-maintenance.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Oh, boy. That tone. Sakura tried not to laugh.

Her eyes followed Tsunade as she hunted for the open champagne bottle. It was so strange seeing her in person. She was a short woman who looked taller and longer than she should, even without her signature two-inch heels. Even in linen capris and a long cardigan — over an artfully cleavaged wrap shirt, though, of course. Maybe it was her naturally together aura, the way she could smirk and so casually hold a glass of complimentary Veuve by her face, arms crossed loosely like she owned the place. The way she always looked good, agelessly beautiful despite herself. 

Sakura forgot what she truly looked like sometimes, what the thin crinkles around her knowing eyes looked like when all she heard was her voice. 

“A- ha.” She padded back over, wiggling the shiny black bottle like the spoil it was as she plopped herself onto a cushioned bench. “Alright, then.” She poured herself another healthy glass, careful not to let it bubble over the top. “Now that I have you trapped, talk to me.”

Sakura snorted, adjusting a renewed hold on the bodice. “You don’t have to trap me to get me to talk to you.”

“Oh, sure I do. You’re slippery as an eel.” She lifted her glass in salute. “Learned from the best.”

“Yeah, I was gonna say.”

Tsunade crossed her legs. “Tell me about school.”

“It’s, uh…” Sakura watched the tailor tug on one of the giant flowers stuck to her dress. Hopefully, if she were lucky, planning to rip it off. “Fine. I’m staying on top of things.”

“Good, good.” She took a big sip. “Danzo treating you okay?”

Sakura sent her a deadpan stare. “Does Shimura-sensei ever treat anyone okay?”

“Hah. Good question.”

“I feel like he’s” — of the mind that I’m clinically insane, as of yesterday — “not a huge fan of me. But I mean, he’s all I’ve got in terms of advisor options, so. He’ll have to deal.”

“Atta girl.” Tsunade leaned back, resting her weight on her palm. “You wait until I get back in that hospital. We’ll be running that place flawlessly.”

“Ba-chan,” Sakura started. Not this again. “You — ”

“I’m not talking about nepotism, honey. I mean that you’ll probably be all the way at chief of surgery by the time I get reinstated. We’ll be the dynamic duo in no time.”

She hated having this conversation — not because it wasn’t her dream, running a hospital with Tsunade, but because of the elephant in the room. She decided to shift gears. “Oh, god, speaking of dynamic duos — Jiraiya took me out for a girl’s day this week.”

Tsunade laughed wickedly. “Oh, he told me. And I’m sure you loved every second of it.”

“That’s one way to put it.” She lifted her arms after a firm prompting by the attendant, who adjusted her middle for her. “You two sure talk a lot. More often than I expected for a...an unrequited love.”

“We were friends first, if you’ll recall. Now we just have...an...even more mutually beneficial relationship.” Tsunade grinned, pleased with herself. Sakura restrained a retch, as always. “And hell yeah, he does love to chat. But I gotta get my information somewhere. He tells me more about you than you do.”

“Oh?” Sakura raised a skeptical brow. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re working three jobs.”

If Sakura was supposed to wither beneath the look Tsunade was giving her, she wouldn’t. She tried to stand just a little taller. “I...I am. Yes.”

Tsunade stared at her long enough that Sakura could feel the tailor pause uncomfortably at her calf. Sakura knew what she was thinking: there was no way she could successfully balance that with school. There was no way she could take care of herself if she was burning the candle at both ends with a flamethrower. But Sakura had proven the supposed impossible, despite how hard it was, and she would continue to do it. She —

“Okay,” Tsunade finally said, swaying her bare foot in a little loop. “As long as you feel like you’ve got it, then good. I’m proud of you.” She pointed at her with a red-lacquered fingernail. “Just don’t wear yourself out.”

“Oh.” Sakura’s back unstiffened considerably. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

“I know you do.”

And then she smiled, a slow, solid thing that reached her mischievously warm eyes. She means it, Sakura tried to tell herself. She knows.

“So. Um. How’s the research going?” she asked, crossing her hands behind her head. Her arms were getting a little tired. 

“Actually pretty well, if you can believe that. My assistant’s been ass to eyeballs in work for this clinical trial study we’ve been researching. Stem cells for potentially regrowing partials of a damaged cerebral cortex. Really cool stuff — you’d love it.”

God, yes, she would. “That’s —”

The door chimed at the front of the store.

“Hi,” Sakura heard from the other room, well-rounded and polite to the receptionist she knew was waiting there. “I’m very late, but I’m here for Senju Tsunade?”

Her stomach froze into a block of ice, splintered and cloudy. 

Tsunade swiveled around to the other side of the bench. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Kaa-san?”

“Hey, you little snot! Get in here!” Tsunade, in record time, had clambered over to meet Shizune as she rounded the doorway. 

In came her cousin, wearing a soft tunic-y top and leggings and lipstick, looking suspiciously pretty and casual for a workday. Hmm. 

It was always kind of funny to see them together: Tsunade, small but mighty and mean, all cool earthy colors, and Shizune, on the taller side thanks to Uncle Dan, jet-black hair hovering over shoulders while they hugged. They looked nothing alike — no coloring, posture, or attitude the same. But then it would click, somehow, and then it was too obvious to unsee. 

And then there was Sakura, dyed hair like a little harpy, the puzzle piece with the folded knub of an edge, shoved into a hole that only fit because they made it. 

A little funny, any other time but now. 

“And where the hell have you been, huh? My girls too busy for me now or something?”

Shizune winced her smile against the slapped love-pat to her cheek. “Sorry. I’ve had a lot going on.”

Sakura felt the grimace rising to her mouth. I’ll say. 

“And...don’t hate me, but I do have to be back by 3:30, so I probably — ”

“Oh, shit. What time is it?” Tsunade tamped down an incoming champagne belch, then checked her phone. “Ugh, fuck me. I better go try on a couple of dresses.” She gave her daughter another swift pat on the face. “Good to see you. Don’t leave without coming to find me, alright?”

Shizune nodded pleasantly. “Cross my heart.”

The attendant stepped forward, smelling the scent of a hurry from a mile away. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Are you the maid of honor?”

“I already told youuu, I don’t have ooone,” Tsunade called as she exited, tipsily sing-songing the words. Shizune sheepishly scrunched her mouth, eyes trailing after her. 

“I’m a bridesmaid, but I guess I’m filling in as a maid of honor.” She turned, finally, to the attendant. “I — ”

Sakura’s stomach lurched, thinking the way Shizune’s face paled was at seeing her. But then she realized her eyes were not on Sakura, but what she was wearing. 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no no no. No.”

Finally: vindication. Sakura would revel in that, at least. 

“Oh yes,” she said, arcing her arms like a ballerina. “This is what new money looks like, baby.”

“Christ almighty, Sakura, you…” Shizune finally looked her in the eye, approaching her pedestal. She desperately grabbed her hand. “Blink twice if you’re in there. I’ll get you out.”

Sakura blinked rapidly. “What ever do you mean? I just adore — what is this fabric called again?”

“Silk organza,” the tailor answered tiredly, attempting to locate the hem. 

“Silk organza,” she finished, batting her eyelashes again. Shizune looked as horrified as she felt, but she at least gave a pity laugh. 

“Come with me, ma’am,” the attendant practically begged, winning the award for miserable. Sakura didn’t feel bad for the woman; she was complicit in this hate crime. 

“Wish me luck,” Shizune whimpered, offering Sakura a sad, sympathetic wave, then allowed herself to be whisked off to the dressing room. 

Okay. 

Well.

That went better than Sakura was expecting, admittedly, but...something was definitely different about that girl, and she knew exactly what was behind it. It was kind of amazing that Tsunade hadn’t noticed or said anything — then again, though, she was probably dipping into bottle number two already. 

It’s always up to me, isn’t it, to say what needed to be said. It was just the way things had always been, no matter what. 

A slow, sleepy voice curled around her brain. You don’t mess around. 

Uuuuuuuggggggghhhhhhhhh.

The man at her feet startled. “Sorry ma’am, did I poke you?”

Oh. That’d been out loud. Great. 

“No, you’re fine. I’m just ready to get out of this monstrosity.” She sighed. “Any chance you can set this thing on fire sometime between now and the wedding?”

He gave a long, thin sigh too, ruffling out the layer of tulle to measure it. “If I had a dollar for every time I wanted to burn one of our dresses, ma’am, I could buy it from you instead.”

She liked this man, and told him as much. She’d have to make sure Jiraiya sent him a hefty tip. 

It wasn’t much longer before the curtain behind them opened. Sakura was ushered — maneuvered, more appropriately — to the floor, allowing for Shizune to take her place on the platform. 

There was no way the dress would be any better on someone else. It was fucking huge, ungainly, unsightly. But it most certainly looked more palatable on Shizune. 

Sakura watched as she smoothed her hands over the bodice, assessing herself in the mirror, talking with the staff. Her moderate height, her boobs actually filling out the cup inserts, her black hair and her pale shoulders soft against the bright red. She looked… good, somehow. Better than good, even. 

God damnit.

“This must look worse than I thought,” Shizune said out of nowhere, after a good amount of time had passed. “I haven’t seen you this quiet since Jiraiya got that stripper for your birthday party.”

Sakura’s tongue found the inside of her lip, and she wondered for half a second if she should just bite it. “Not any quieter than you’ve been the past few weeks.” 

Ah, there it was. Hesitance. Guilt, more like. Shizune’s mouth pressed into a sorry, thoughtful twist, ol’ reliable. Sakura smelled it like a shark, and capitalized on it, pushing like a thumb in a bruise.

“So,” she said, “anything new going on in your life? Hmm?”

“I’ve just been busy,” Shizune dodged, the expected answer. And then something shifted — her shoulders squared, and not just because the tailor was adjusting her corset. “And apparently, so have you.”

“Of course I’m busy.” Sakura bristled, picking up on something in her tone. “Between three jobs, school, and evidently wasting my time peeling you off the floor of bar bathrooms.”

Shizune unmistakably sharpened then, black eyes cutting like scalpels. 

“Is there something you want to say to me, Sakura?”

The tension in the room was thick enough to slice. The harried staff lady was, for once, hovering at the edge of the room instead.

“Hell yeah there is,” Sakura said, tired of this bullshit skirting around. “Why the fuck are you back with Genma?”

Something in Shizune’s responding anger made it seem like she had come prepared for this. “That is absolutely none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t. You’ve made it my business for three fucking years!” Sakura stomped closer, dress be damned. “You’ve been hiding it from me like a coward, because you know better.”

“Oh, I’m a coward?” Shizune was incredulous. “You’ve been dating someone too, pretty seriously I might add, and I had to find it out from my boyfriend instead of my own sister.”

So she knew. Of course she did. It was why Sakura hadn’t heard from her in goddamn ages. “And you didn’t even want to talk to me about it? See! Because you were hiding!”

“No, Sakura, I was waiting for you to tell me when you were ready!”

She had to laugh at that. “Oh, yeah, right. I had to find out by seeing you two tongue-fuck at a waffle stand.”

Shizune’s face and chest were flushing red, more from being pissed than embarrassed.

“You know what? Maybe I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you would react like this!” She grabbed the ridiculous puff of her skirt and hiked it up, charging closer to Sakura. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a little bit of a judgmental bitch!” 

Sakura was ready for a fight — a physical one — but Shizune’s weak ass made for the dressing room instead. Oh, hell no.

Sakura followed, not missing a beat, even if she was trying not to trip. “There’s nothing to judge; it’s just a fact. You can do better! We’ve been over this so many times.” Whatever Shizune was muttering now, she kept pressing over it. “Why the hell are you back with him?! You literally had a meltdown the last time you saw him. I just don’t fucking get it.”

Open doors and curtains be damned, Shizune was already hurriedly getting her abomination of a dress off, unzipping the back herself while she faced the wall. “He’s different now, Sakura. Maybe if you would give him a chance instead of — ”

“Um, absolutely fucking not.” Sakura shoved her arms over her own chest. “I cannot believe you’re asking me to entertain this shit. He’s a liar, and he’s a cheater, and I don’t fucking trust him. And I don’t have to, either!”

“Fine! Whatever —” 

“No! I’m not listening to this shit! He’s obviously manipulating you if you believe anything other than the fact that he’s a piece of shit.”

“Oh, but you trust his best friend?” Shizune balked, glaring over her shoulder as she hunted for her clothes, arms crossed over her bare chest. “It’s okay if it’s you, right?”

The thought of Kakashi made Sakura’s stomach even hotter and sicker. “Do you seriously think I would have dated him if I’d known in the first place?” She thought of him standing on his porch, speechless as she left. “Know what? It doesn’t even matter anyway. It’s over now.”

Shizune finished pulling on her leggings before she responded. The silence was nauseating. “So…you just found out he knew Genma, and decided he wasn’t worth a shot. Great. People are their own person, you know.” She turned back around to grab her bra. “Or maybe you don’t, apparently.”

Whatever the hell that meant. “It was way more than that. He lied to me, so we’re done.”

“I don’t get it. You can be such a hypocrite — ”

“I don’t get you.” Sakura found herself stepping closer, her fists clenching harder. “Ba-chan raised us to do better than whatever the hell you’re doing. Didn’t you learn not to put up with bullshit from anyone? Especially not from worthless men?” Shizune’s back tensed. “Don’t you care about yourself?!”

Shizune whirled around, shirt crumpled in her own fist. “Oh my god, you always fucking do this! You latch onto the shit our mom used to say without any room for gray areas!” She pointed outside the room, long past where Sakura stood. “You think she doesn’t ever fuck up? Have you met her? What the hell do you think our childhood was? What do you think she’s doing now?!”

“Quit trying to deflect — ”

“No. I’m sick of this. You know, I had a lot of time to think about this when you weren’t butting into my relationship every five seconds.” She tried to finish getting dressed while still maintaining eye contact, which didn’t really work. Her hair was getting messed up. “How many relationships have you ended before they really started? How many of my relationships have you told me to leave because of one single mistake?” She stepped closer, finally, using her height to her advantage. “We weren’t taught to shut people out every time they fuck up. We weren’t taught to drive everyone out until there’s no one left but us.” She shoved a finger into Sakura’s chest, hard and unyielding. “Get your head out of your ass, Sakura. Or maybe you really will end up alone.”

Before Sakura could even think to get a word in edgewise, Shizune snatched her bag and stormed out of the room — only stopping to intercept Tsunade, who was approaching the room in a way that only meant they’d been loud enough to hear. Sakura felt her entire stomach drop.

“Sorry, kaa-san. I gotta go.” She leaned in to kiss Tsunade’s cheek and give her a half-hug, rushed and only half sincere. “Have a safe flight.”

“O... kay,” Tsunade replied, trying and failing to catch up to what she’d missed. She watched Shizune leave after thanking the staff. Then her gaze swiveled over to Sakura, eyebrow arched staunchly in silent question. 

Sakura just stood there at the site of the explosion, full of shrapnel. 

“Oookay.” Tsunade strolled into the room, the train of her dress dragging behind her. A wedding dress. Because she was trying some on. “You wanna tell me what the hell just happened?”

Sakura looked over at the dress Shizune had somehow managed to neatly hang up in the midst of their fighting. “...Nothing.”

“Please. I could hear you two from Thailand if I wanted to.” She came to sit beside Sakura, who didn’t even realize she’d sat down, on the wide white bench, her ivory dress a silky waterfall over the side. Everything in here was so damn white and spotless. It was giving her a headache. “Now, tell me.”

Sakura grit her teeth. She felt the powerful, familiar urge to lean her head on Tsunade’s freckled shoulder. Feel the warm scent of alcohol on her breath. But she didn’t do it. She never did. Just sat there and seethed and tried to process, and Tsunade gave her a minute to.

“You two always do this.” A hand settled on her back, patting resolutely. “It’ll be fine; you’re sisters.”

Talk about it, get over it, move past it. It was always how this worked. Something felt different about this one, though. Something had cut. 

“I just don’t...don’t like the men she dates,” she offered weakly, the tiniest tip of the iceberg. 

Tsunade snorted. “Well, duh. No one will ever be good enough for her. Or you, for that matter.”

Right. Sakura turned her phone over in her hands, watching the ceiling lights reflect as it moved. 

“She’ll learn one day. She’s just a hopeless romantic.” Tsunade crossed her legs under her dress, leaning unburdened against the wall behind her. “That’s why I put her in charge of all the wedding details — you know she loves that crap.”

Sakura’s gut twisted. “You could’ve just asked me, ba-chan.”

“Honey, you’re in med school. And working your ass off. No way in hell.”

“I mean...yeah, but I could’ve — ”

“Besides, you’re not interested in this stuff. Love, romance, all that bull. I was trying to spare you.”

Heat shot up her throat, and it made her flush. “I am too — ”

“Sakura. You swore off dating the second you took an anatomy class, and you scared off the ones you did date.” Tsunade chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “I didn’t blame you. And I still don’t, honestly. I don’t care if you never date — ”

“But I do,” she interrupted, shoving the words out, trying so desperately to stay above water. “I am. I’m dating someone now, actually, and...”

Was. Was dating someone. Oops. Tsunade’s surprise was almost offensive, though, so she didn’t regret saying it. 

“You’re dating someone.”

Maybe she could tell Sakura was lying. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the millionth. “...Yes.”

Tsunade mulled on it for a minute, sucking on her teeth. Then she turned, flipping a long ponytail over her shoulder as she stuck out a hand. 

“Alright. Lemme see the bastard.”

If it’d been anyone else, she wouldn’t have, but this was a whole different animal. And it was harmless, anyway. The damage had been done. “Fine. If you’re so friggin’ curious.”

“Hn.” The smirk was audible.

She unlocked her phone, loaded her pics. Scrolled past a bunch of screenshots of work schedules, of memes, pictures of hairstyles or random shit she’d saved because she liked it. She briefly considered finding someone else, because she didn’t even want to look at Kakashi right now. But she wasn’t even sure she had pictures of her past flings, and...whatever. It was fine. It’d do for now, just to prove the damn point. 

“Here.” She located the selfie she’d taken a few weeks ago, back when they’d had a short date for lunch between classes. She was smiling with her cheeks full of onigiri, pieces of rice stuck happily to her lips. Kakashi was biting into the corner of it she’d offered, holding up a peace sign with long, crooked fingers. His eyes were puppy-black, and bright, the sunshine on both their faces. 

She handed the phone to Tsunade, feeling a little ill. 

Her aunt peered down at it like she needed glasses; she probably did, knowing her. “Hmm. He looks old.”

“He’s not. It’s a long story.” Maybe he’d lied about that too, now that she thought about it. Who knew — 

“Wait a second.” Tsunade brought the screen closer to her face. Something in her expression, a little appalled, set alarms off in Sakura’s head. 

“What?”

“Is that...I think he used to be my patient, Sakura.” Amber eyes, wide and strangely so, flicked over to meet hers. Sakura felt them pinning her where she sat. “You’re dating Kakashi? Hatake Kakashi?”

Hold up.

“You — ” She swallowed around a dry throat. “You know him?”

The room felt about nine times smaller. 

“Oh, do I.” Tsunade sighed, shaking her head like she was dusting off cobwebs. “He was in my hospital for...god, at least a year, under my care. Ten, mm, twelve years ago now. Maybe longer than that.” She gazed at the picture again, tapping the screen when it dimmed. “He’s definitely too old for you, by the way. How the hell did you even meet him?”

“I...I walked his dogs?” Hospital? A year? Tsunade was neuro, that meant...it — what — 

“Dogs? He got more?” Tsunade scoffed, like reality wasn’t collapsing around them. “Figures. Fuckin’ freak. He still have that little pug? Tonton used to love that stupid thing, back when we used to sneak ‘em both into the courtyard.”

Pakkun. Tsunade knew Kakashi, and Pakkun, and — and — 

“Ba-chan,” she croaked, holding a hand out to stop her, to stop the oncoming vertigo. “Back up a second. What...what was he in the hospital for?”

Tsunade was perplexed, and maybe disapproving. “He didn’t tell you?” Maybe suspicious. “How long have you been together?”

The better question would’ve been: what did he tell Sakura? Ever? What had he ever told her? The only person who’d told her anything was his gossipy neighbor-friend, and even then he’d skirted around all the…

The pieces shifted. Clicked into place. 

This must’ve been it. The thing. Whatever Yamato and all of Kakashi’s friends had refused to talk about. The thing that had made his hair gray, made them check in on him, made everything just…

“I figured there was something, but…” Sakura pressed a hand to her forehead like it’d make things make sense. “He was — he’s really weird about it. Talking about himself, I mean.”

Tsunade hummed, thoughtful. “Welp, sounds like some things never change.” She paused for a heavy second, eyes flinty. “I can tell you, but you should probably ask him first, Sakura. It’s no small thing.”

“I need you to tell me.” She gripped the lace on Tsunade’s forearm. “Please. I’ll never find out otherwise.”

All Tsunade offered was a grimace, smudged with lipstick. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sakura silently urged her. Her heartbeat was throbbing in her eardrums.

With a sigh, Tsunade looked to the ceiling. “Well, it was pretty damn ugly, I’ll tell you that. He got brought to us with a mess of shit — broken spine, broken skull, legs completely fucked, an arm bent backward; the whole enchilada. The rehab took him longer than the actual healing. Kurotsuchi had the patience of a saint, getting that idiot man through the dregs of PT.”

“What…” Sakura found herself saying before she even realized she was speaking. What the hell? She’d noticed some scars around his shoulders and legs, but hadn’t had the chance to ask, and always chalked them up to the dogs. Her brain was scrambling to remember what his back looked like, but he…it’d never…

“Baby, I really think you should ask him about this before I say anything else. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”

“No,” Sakura said, reeling. She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Maybe he really had been into shady shit, like Ino had said…maybe he’d had some kind of addiction problem and gotten into an accident; maybe it was the drag racing, or maybe something had happened with the…the science stuff, or the dogs, or…or — “Just — just tell me.”

Tsunade was still for a long moment, one longer than Sakura was able to hold her breath.

“Ba-chan, seriously —”

“He tried to kill himself, Sakura.” Her eyes closed. “He jumped off a building. He probably didn’t want you to know. Hell, he didn’t want us to know, even though we all did.” She opened her eyes again, and they darted around, probably looking for her champagne. “Therapy was a big part of his discharge process once he’d recovered enough, which was probably the thing that singlehandedly got Darui all his accolades. I will never understand how that man did it. I came close to killing the kid myself half the time he was in there.”

Sakura was speechless. All the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. Tsunade was still talking, but she couldn’t hear her. All she could hear was her own pulse, and with every beat came some new horror.

No wonder your back is so bad —  

  — difficult to get to know on a personal level, so it's pretty significant when he lets someone in.

                  — this is my problem, honestly —

Keep hiding everything if you want, but I’m done trying to figure you out — 

“Hey — Sakura, what — you’re gonna pull your hair out. Stop.” Tsunade was trying to pry her hands off her face, but she couldn’t let go. “Damn it, knew I shouldn’t have said anything —”

you’ll realize my emotional baggage is too heavy to carry. 

            Maybe you’ll realize

enjoy while you can — 

“Ma’am, I don’t mean to interrupt,” came a voice from somewhere underwater, “but you only have thirty minutes until you asked to be finished.”

your sad life

“Yeah, I hear you. I think she’s gonna hurl, so once she’s good I’ll get her opinion and get out of your hair.” A hand on her back, too warm. “Hey, it’s alright. He’s fine. Just breathe.”

your sad life

“It’s okay. Just breathe.”

Be patient with me, if you can.

“It’s not okay,” Sakura managed to croak, tears immediately clawing up her throat and refusing to find their way out. 

It wasn’t okay. She had fucked up so massively that there weren’t words for how not okay it was. She’d gotten so ahead of herself, so off the mark, so — so — pushing so hard — 

Fuck, her brain chanted, her only grounding mantra. Fuck. Fuck. Tsunade was telling her to breathe, still, but she really couldn’t. 

What the fuck have I done?

.

.

.