Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood ❯ Chapter 7

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

By emeraldoni

Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, not me.

 

~*~

 

“Sakura! Are you listening?”

 

Sakura sighed, rubbing her forehead as she leaned back in her chair, balancing precariously on only two of the rickety chair's legs.

 

“Yes, Naruto, I'm listening. Repeat that last part.”

 

His hazy voice came through the receiver with avid exuberance, despite the phone's static, her lack of listening already forgotten as he grilled her some more.

 

“Why weren't you there when we got back? We were worried you know! And we had ramen for you!”

 

“Naruto…” She said patiently, for what felt like the thousandth time (which it probably was), “I already told you. I had to go talk to Tsunade, who got me released without any of the hassle. Effortless, right? Anyway, I wasn't in the mood for anything else.”

 

“Well, okay Sakura…. But we would have taken real good care of you! I even got your favorite type of ramen!”

 

“Thanks, Naruto. We'll go out someplace—just us—later on. Maybe next weekend. I'll even pay for a bowl of ramen.”

 

Sakura held the phone away from her ear as shouts of pure ecstasy rubbed abrasively against her cochlea.

 

“Uh huh, okay, Naruto. I gotta go. The kitchen is a bit of a mess.”

 

“Want me to come help you clean up? You are injured, you know.”

 

Sakura thought back to the last time Naruto had come over to help her clean up. It had been an absolute disaster. When Naruto left, the place had been twice as messy as before, some parts permanently so.

 

The contractor had scratched his head over the door frame thing. To this day, Sakura did not understand how Naruto had taken most of the doorframe out without touching the door. It was one of those mysteries of the world.

 

“Uh, no, that's okay, Naruto, thanks anyway.

 

“Okay, see ya, Sakura!”

 

Saying goodbye, Sakura hung up the phone with a relieved by the sudden silence. She loved Naruto with all her heart, but that did not mean she had to tolerate him, because most of the time she didn't. He could be awfully aggravating, insanely so. Sakura didn't know how she had survived living with him for years. Well, him, Kakashi and Sasuke. Though good-looking, they were the most irritating people she knew, and that was saying a lot. She must have grown accustomed, and when she moved out, that callus must have faded. Well, that, and things were different after Sasuke left, but…

 

She didn't want to think about that.

 

Mulling over recent events, she found that maybe the boys she had grown up with weren't all that annoying after all. Certainly there was someone who held the possibility of being even more aggravating that the three of them combined.

 

Of course, Gaara seemed to think the same of her, so maybe it was a mutual thing they had going—the annoyance of one another, an odd, but all too likely bond. Turning on some music, Sakura began picking up the trash-heap that had once been her kitchen—one handed. It was a pain in the ass, but pain-killers only went so far in staving off the pain. Sakura always knew that burns were of some of the most painful wounds—she could testify to that.

 

That's probably why she never worked in the burn ward, because that was one of the most disturbing experiences. It was like a horror movie, with the bandaged men and painful wounds, even the strongest of them screaming.

 

Shuddering slightly, Sakura shoved those thoughts away from her, focusing on scraping off the crustys in her sink that had once been dinner. She didn't even remember what it was. All she knew was that it was unrecognizable now. With a flourish, she single-handedly (literally) set onto the task of cleaning her kitchen up. Her mind wasn't in it all though. In fact, her mind was only a few feet away, across the living room and through the wall that separated her apartment from her neighbor.

 

It was actually kind of frustrating that he could be on her mind so—immersing him self into her thoughts and latching onto her brain—probably the medulla oblongata part, since for some reason when she thought of him now her breath hitched. Actually, now, Sakura thought, he had latched himself to the pons, since that controlled the breathing.

 

Sakura growled. It didn't matter either way. All she knew was that he would not leave her thoughts alone. He had just dropped her off a little over an hour ago, and already she wanted to go over and knock on his door to try and pry some words out of him. She restrained herself though, because she couldn't stand those types of girls that were whiney and clingy and were anything but independent. She had been one once, and those days were a shame that she wished she could erase.

 

No wonder Sas—he hadn't cared for her after….

 

Sakura chipped viciously against a particularly irritating hunk of muck as her face twisted in a grimace, scowling at her memories. Sometimes she really just hated musing over the past, especially when it concerned him.

 

Sakura groaned, collapsing back against another part of her counter. She would have to call the landlord. There was no way she would be able to get that out of the sink by herself. She could just say Naruto had done it without her knowledge. The guy would understand. Hopefully.

 

With a sigh, Sakura heaved herself to the phone, dialing with a trembling finger. She tried not to bang her head against the table, instead resting her temple against the cool surface as the phone rang.

 

“Hyuuga speaking.”

 

Sakura rolled her eyes at the blunt and brief greeting. He had never been that friendly.

 

“Uh. Hey, Neji… This is Sakura.”

 

There was a short silence, filled with foreboding as Sakura imagined him clenching his fists and narrowing his pale eyes.

 

“What happened this time?”

 

“Yeah… Sorry Neji. It was an accident really, but… I think I'm going to need a new sink.”

 

“…”

 

“Please?”

 

“Was it Naruto again?”

 

Sakura bit her lip and hoped Neji wouldn't be talking to Naruto anytime soon. Usually the stoic Hyuuga would let things slide if Naruto had caused the mess, charging her not even half the damage cost.

 

“Yeah, kind of.”

 

Inevitably, all messes led to being Naruto's fault, like her less than great cooking skills. Maybe if he hadn't always tampered with her meals, she might have been able to learn properly, instead of learning how to cook things really, really fast. So, if things were thought about in depth, she wasn't really lying, and—yes—it was Naruto's fault. Sakura felt justified.

 

“Fine Sakura. This is the last time though. My budget can't take anymore.”

 

Sakura snorted, “Yeah, right, Neji, your budget could take a million more. This isn't even a pinprick, you rich bastard.”

 

“A pinprick can do a lot of damage.”

 

Sakura rolled her eyes, glad that he wasn't too upset about her accident. He would probably buy her the crappiest sink out there though, and then charge her extra. It would be his personal revenge, or something weird like that. Stupid Neji.

 

“Whatever, Neji. When do you think I can get that new sink?”

 

She could practically see him tapping his fingers in annoyance. She certainly had a way with irritating the quiet ones.

 

“When I get around to it, Sakura. You'll have to deal with whatever it is for now.”

 

“Neji. Please don't take a long time. I don't think I can handle that…stuff being in my sink for long.”

 

“I won't ask you what the `stuff' is. I don't want to know. Maybe you should try getting it out before you ask for a new sink.”

 

“I have been for about the past hour. It's stuck. Just please get the sink soon. I've got to go. Thanks Neji. Bye.”

 

She cut him off before he could reply, setting the phone down as she searched for her phone book. She had had it just a few days ago. Where it could be now though was a mystery…

 

Oooo000OOO000oooO

 

Naruto sat staring at the grainy wood in front of him. It was oddly intriguing, moving about, like some odd tunnel. He slowly raised the cold bottle in his hand to take another sip of the alcohol he was so inebriated with. He should have been dancing with all the other people on the floor, but his balance was probably too off for that at the moment. Instead he just swirled his drink around a bit before taking another sip.

 

They wouldn't miss him. They had enough of a buzz to keep going without noticing that he wasn't out there. Instead he was lounging on a grungy bar stool. Emptying his beer, Naruto raised a hand to call for another, but was promptly stopped by a well-sized bust appearing in front of him.

 

“Huh?”

 

Looking up, he was met with dark, critical eyes. Naruto felt his mouth fall slack. When did such a babe begin working behind the bar? It was always that other weirdo…the one with makeup on. This one though, with her bright hair, and dark eyes (so dark you could barely tell they were actually kind of green…) and awesome, kick ass body…. Man, he felt like a dog in heat.

 

She obviously did not return the feelings though. “What?” she snapped, bracing her hands on her hips, “Do you want something or not?”

 

Naruto mentally shook his head and grinned, scratching the back of his head, “Well, you see,” he paused, the want for alcohol completely forgotten, “can I get your number?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Naruto grinned hopefully up at her, leaning over the counter slightly as if that could sway her decision. The situation was a hopeless one though, as the woman's face filled with disgust.

 

“I think that is inappropriate, and if you want another beer, you better not bug me again.”

 

“What? But…please? I really like you! Please? Pretty please? You've got really nice…hair things,” Naruto trailed off, trying not to lower his eyes from her face.

 

The woman just walked away.

 

Oooo000OOO000oooO

 

Sakura grinned as she stared down at the paper. The little newsprint boxes danced back stoically as they made there way into Sakura's heart. Really, this was a boon. She probably shouldn't be doing this, considering she had to work early the next day, but it was a desire she just couldn't resist. Grabbing the special page, Sakura got up and jogged out her door, pausing in front of Gaara's identical little apartment.

 

Maybe he wouldn't be very happy with the idea, but she had to pay him back somehow. The bandage on her hand constantly reminded her of that. She wasn't one of those people who could just take but never give. She would feel horrible. And, to tell the truth, she loved that feeling of satisfaction she got after helping a person, after giving them something. It was just…lovely.

 

With a determined bob of her head, Sakura knocked on the door.

 

Gaara groaned when he heard the banging interrupting his peace. He had been having a nice, relaxing time shining a few of his daggers. Lately they had fallen into disrepair. He had been too distracted with…other things.

 

With a muted clatter, Gaara set down his tools and loped lazily to the front door. A scowl formed across his face when the telltale pink hair came into view.

 

“Hey, Gaara,” she said, voice enthusiastic as a wide grin spread across her face. Her hair was askew and clothes rumpled. Maybe she had just woken up as well.

 

Gaara nodded civilly in return. “Sakura.”

 

Sakura's grin, if possible, widened even further at the use of her name and the greeting that wasn't completely rude. Improvement was being made. He would become her friend yet, if she had any say in it. (Which she did.)

 

Whipping out the news page, Sakura shoved it under his nose, fingers white with excitement. “Let's go to a movie.”

 

Gaara blinked, taking a sliver of a step back so his eyes could focus on the page. What came into view was horrifying. He had yet to forget Sakura's ghastly taste in movies. That was the first night he had met her (a few weeks ago maybe?). Or maybe a little less—he wasn't keeping track—but that movie had nearly sent him into a coma.

 

“No, thank you.” Maybe if he refused politely, then she would just back off…or not.

 

“Uhm, well, please, Gaara? I'll even let you pick out the movie and stuff. And I'll pay for everything!” She was grasping at straws. “And you can choose where we sit, and what we eat. If you want, we can eat dinner, and I'll pay for that too!”

 

Gaara, uncharacteristically, pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Fine. When?”

 

Sakura pumped her fist in the air, “Yes! Okay, so, which movie?”

 

Gaara blindly pointed at one, not even reading the list of titles. He honestly didn't give a shit. Looking at where his fingers landed, Sakura's eyebrows rose a few inches.

 

“You want to see…that one?”

 

Gaara nodded, looking over her shoulder and down the hallway.

 

“Are you sure you want to see…that one?”

 

Gaara nodded a tad impatiently, “Yes, I want to see that one. When do we leave?”

 

“Well… the next showing is at six thirty—that gives us a little time to get ready and stuff.” Folding up the paper, Sakura smiled up at him. “I'll come by at six and we can head out then. We'll eat afterwards, okay?”

 

Gaara nodded again, backing up slightly, thinking their conversation was over.

 

Before he knew it though, Sakura had reached up and pecked him on the cheek. “Thanks.”

 

Then she disappeared into her room, faster than lightening, voice echoing, “see you at six!”

 

Gaara stared blankly at the wall across form him, hand absently coming to his cheek and rubbing it slightly. With a sudden shake of his head, he retreated back into his apartment.

 

He had to get ready.

 

Oooo000OOO000oooO

 

“Hinata! Open then doors, we have a gunshot victim, to the chest, heavy bleeding!”

 

Hinata rushed over, pressing the button to open the emergency room doors. She hated working in the emergency room for just this reason. People depended on her, and she didn't like that. One mistake, one mess-up, and a life could be lost. She wouldn't be able to live with herself after that. And victims like these just reaffirmed her insecurities.

 

Scrambling to get out of the way, the EMTs rushed past her. Hands bloody, five of them worked together to try to keep the man alive. Hinata flitted in front of the gurney, clearing the way in front of them so they could get into surgery as quick as possible. Glancing back, she saw the man was dripping blood like some kind of leaky facet. His dark eyes were glazed over and were staring blindly at the ceiling.

 

One the EMTs kept trying to keep the man's attention, snapping fingers and waving his hand so as to keep the victim awake. Briefly, she wondered how it happened, but swiftly brushed the thought away as they reached a surgery room, rushing into the doors and leaving Hinata out in the hallway.

 

She stared through the wavy windows for a few seconds, watching as they transferred him to a more stable bed and rushed about.

 

Slowly, she trudged away, shoulders slumping as she made her way back to her desk.

 

She really, really hated this place.

 

Oooo000OOO000oooO

 

Sakura grinned, tapping her fingers against her thighs as she peeked up at Gaara. He stared ahead, avoiding her gaze completely with an impassive expression upon his face. He was hoping blankness might discourage her, but that thin line of hope was fairly small.

 

Sakura bobbed on her heels a few more times, standing on her tiptoes to see how much closer they were to the ticket booth. They were waiting in line at the theater, and somehow, even though it was a week night, the line was long. Really long.

 

Sakura sighed, rubbing her hands at the brisk air breathing against her, then peeked up at Gaara once more. He was still studiously avoiding her gaze. Sakura's eyes dropped down to his chest, where his arms crossed impatiently. The corded muscles rippled subtly, and Sakura swore she saw warmth just radiating off of him. They moved forward a bit more as the line shortened, and Sakura returned to staring at his arms.

 

It wouldn't hurt…

 

Shrugging, Sakura quickly slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow, effectively looping arms with him. Gaara froze, staring down at her with eyes that were wide, and a wrinkled brow. Sakura looked up at him with a tentative smile.

 

“Okay?” she said, quietly, yet clearly through the crowd.

 

Gaara was silent for a moment, eye studying her silently, before he gave a quick nod of his head, turning away as they stepped even closer to the ticket booth. Silently they got their tickets, a small dispute over who would pay—though Sakura had said it was her treat—that ended with Sakura shoving Gaara out of the way and throwing her money through the glass to the wide-eyed teen. Afterwards, Gaara kept shooting her offended looks.

 

It wasn't until they were settled down, popcorn and an overly large coke nestled between them—which Gaara completely ignored—that it really turned around. They made it all the way through the commercials before Gaara tried to leave.

 

“What the hell is this?” he whispered furiously, eye glued to the screen as his body tensed.

 

Sakura cocked an eyebrow, “but, Gaara, you're the one who chose this movie, remember?”

 

“I did not.”

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

“Shhhh!” interrupted an older lady behind them. Sakura turned to glare at the shushing offender before twisting back to Gaara and giving him a hard look, speaking even quieter as Gaara tried not to look at the screen, “I double checked with you, because this didn't seem like your thing.” Sakura shot a disgusted look at the screen, “but you confirmed this is what you wanted!”

 

Gaara curled a lip, and both turned back to the screen. Sakura peeked out of the corner of her eyes, gauging Gaara's reaction to the film. She had been a bit uneasy about the movie—one normally didn't go to a lusty romance on their first…date thing. At least, she thought this was a date. Other people would consider this a date.

 

Right?

 

Sakura twitched away at the thought, eyes landing back on the screen just in time to encounter a couple getting very…intimate. Sakura turned away again, a blush rising on her cheeks. She really didn't need to see this right now. Actually, she didn't need to see it all.

 

Leaning over to Gaara, she whispered, “I'm going to the restroom. Be right back.”

 

With that, she fled, silently breezing down the shadowed steps, around the corner, and through the door with glowing EXIT sign above it.

 

It felt like heaven.

 

The long hallway she escaped to was clear and cool. Mellow light was cast about as benches were placed strategically against walls. Immediately Sakura went to go rest on one.

 

She probably should feel bad for leaving Gaara in there like that, but it was just too much of relief getting out in the first place. She had thought she would be able to deal with the genre of the movie, and that maybe it wouldn't be that bad, but…. She probably could have seen it with Ino or something, have some laughs over it, whatever…but with Gaara there…

 

It was just too awkward.

 

She would stay out in the hallway for a while. Hopefully Gaara wouldn't notice. She also decided that she would never allow him to pick another movie again. Lurid love scenes were certainly not her thing, at least not with him around. When she was younger, a teen, those things had fascinated her. The thought of sex was exciting and mysterious, as it is to any other young girl. As she grew older, took classes, experienced such things herself, the excitement was taken away and it was just a dull, lackluster activity that held no interest for her.

 

Well, that wasn't completely true. Maybe it was because she was afraid. Not that she would admit it, or anything, but… after that one time….

 

Sakura sighed, letting her head fall back and thump in the wall, painted warm with browns and deep reds—calming almost, lulling. Staring up at one of the lights, Sakura stretched her legs, rolling her neck, trying to get relaxed and prepared to reenter the theatre. She couldn't ditch Gaara for too long. This was for him, paying him back for what he had done for her and all that.

 

Letting loose a low groan, Sakura hefted herself up, turning to slip back silently in the theatre-

 

-only to run strait into a rock.

 

“Oh, excuse me—”

 

“Sakura.”

 

Sakura looked up, meeting pale green eyes that gazed down at her impassively. She grinned, backing up a step to allow him some room. Silently, he paced a few steps into the hall before turning back to face her. She noticed that he carried all their belongings with him—even the food.

 

Sakura laughed, “you look like you're ready to leave.”

 

Gaara nodded. “Yes.”

 

Sakura couldn't be happier, “good. I don't think I could have handled anymore either.” Sakura reached out to take some of the stuff from him—her jacket and purse. “Let's go find some place to eat.”

 

Gaara nodded again, following her out of the theatre and outside after throwing the theatre food away. The wind nipped at Sakura, and she bundled up, tucking herself back into the crook of Gaara's arm. Maybe she was infringing upon his personal space, but somehow… it just felt…right.

 

Gaara retained his silent vigilance, content with their stroll down the darkened street. Every window they passed, their reflections appeared, and in every reflection they looked like a couple. It was odd.

 

Gaara had never been in a relationship like this. He wasn't even sure what kind of relationship this was. The encounters he had with women were brief, the coming together of two people who had no feelings for each other except the urge to satisfy their sexual desires. Sakura was definitely not like those women. She was…

 

Gaara resisted the urge to run a hand through his cropped hair, instead sweeping his eyes across the road as cars drove by once every few minutes. The last one's music had been extraordinarily loud and Sakura had stuck her tongue out at it. He hadn't been able to take his eyes away from her face, flushed with cold, eyes bright and shining in the lamp lights. His gaze trailed down her neck, to her jutting collarbones, and the thick lining of her jacket, hiding her feminine figure.

 

Gaara blinked, snapping his gaze to stare strait down the street. He attempted to organize his thoughts, putting them in the proper places, dismissing the unneeded ones, like the thoughts he had just had. That process was jumbled though, as Sakura tugged on his arm, beginning to lead him to a doorway tucked into a little niche on the side of the street.

 

“Hey, I've heard this place is good. Want to try it?”

 

Gaara just shrugged as Sakura grinned, allowing himself to be tugged into the restaurant. It was a…quaint place. The lighting was soft—similar to the movie theatre but with a bit more authenticity. Seeing the `please seat yourself sign' they both went to go sit in a booth in the corner.

 

Maybe it was the atmosphere, or just the fact that they were in a food-place together, but Gaara couldn't help but be reminded of that night they went out to the café. The night he had lost control and stormed out after thoroughly chewing up the girl who walked before him. Guilt wasn't something Gaara had ever really felt, but when he thought of that incident, it was like some sort of string came up and wrapped itself around his throat. He just felt disgusted with himself.

 

Gaara's already chaotic thoughts swarmed as Sakura turned to smile at him while sliding into the booth seat. Gaara mimicked her action, grabbing one of the menus piled in the middle of the table to flip through in order to avoid looking at the female across from him. Oddly, he was hyperaware of her knees which kept brushing haphazardly against his. It made his gut curl and tighten. Not good.

 

Shifting slightly, Gaara strained his eyes against the minute characters running across the laminated pages. Scanning them briefly, he quickly picked a meal that didn't look too horrible, and then set his menu down. Sakura glanced up at him.

 

“Already decided what you want?”

 

Gaara nodded.

 

“Hmmm.” Sakura fixed an intense gaze at the page. “I can't decide whether I want their Chicken Salad or just a burger. What do you think?”

 

He shrugged and Sakura rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the help,” she muttered sarcastically.

 

Gaara in turn looked away, watching as a waitress approached them, her heavily lidded eyes fixed on him. The woman's nametag had Tsukie scrawled across it in tasteful cursive, fitting to the restaurant's setting. Gaara glanced back at Sakura, watching as she came aware of the waitress who ignored her in favor of Gaara.

 

Sakura raised her eye brows, seeing a thin waist and large chest standing next to their table. Looking up, she saw it was their waitress, who had her eyes practically glued to Gaara in a way that made Sakura's brow furrow.

 

“What can I get you guys?” the waitress said, voice husky, full lips twisting into an inviting smile. Sakura felt her already shallow smile twitch and fall as the woman leaned forward slightly towards Gaara. She was just not in the mood for this shit.

 

Sakura didn't hear what Gaara ordered—a steak, maybe? Or was it a burger?—but watched with raised eyebrows as the woman slowly turned to Sakura, the waitresses smile falling and voice falling flat. Lovely, Sakura thought sarcastically. Unfortunately, the waitress's words still seemed pleasant enough, so Sakura couldn't do anything drastic.

 

“And what can I do for you?”

 

“Uhm….” Sakura stared at her menu for a moment, “Could I ask you a question? What do you think would be better—the chicken salad, or a burger? I've never been here before, so….”

 

The waitress shrugged, “they're both pretty good. You should probably order the salad.”

 

Sakura cracked her knuckles conspicuously under the table. “I'll take the burger.”

 

The waitress hmph'd and nodded, scribbling down their orders, then sauntering away after giving Gaara a playful wink. Sakura scowled. Gaara tilted a non-existent eyebrow in her direction; face almost seeming to ridicule her, his mouth twisted in a half smirk as he evaluated her expression. Sakura's scowl deepened.

 

“Found a new girlfriend, I see,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she leaned back in the cushioned booth.

 

“Maybe,” he replied, voice—was he teasing her?

 

Sakura furrowed her face in consternation, focusing on the grainy wood of the table in front of her. If she looked really closely, she thought she saw a coffee stain.

 

“Whatever,” she said after a few moment of silence, “I've got guys going after me all the time too.”

 

Gaara copied her position, leaning back, arms crossed. She could feel the warmth of his legs under the table.

 

“Oh, really?” he said. This was so strange, but Sakura swore that they were flirting. Her usually stoic neighbor was flirting with her. The man who acted like her very presence was a pebble in his shoe actually looked like he actually enjoyed being with her.

 

Sakura suppressed a Cheshire cat grin. She was going to love this.

 

“Yep.” She nodded. “They're all over me. I can barely get to the corner store and back.”

 

“I've heard of alternate realities,” Gaara said, lips twitching.

 

Sakura grinned wickedly, “I'm sure you have. I bet you know all about them. I've got proof to back up my claims. You can even ask Naruto. He was one of `em.”

 

Gaara didn't show any outward physical movement, but on the inside his chest clenched. He hadn't really cared for the Naruto kid before, but now he felt like ripping the idiots face of and shoving it somewhere unpleasant. Gaara shifted slightly, trying not to reveal his discomfort at this awful revelation. Could he actually be feeling slightly possessive about the girl? Maybe it was better not to think of it.

 

Gaara discarded the thoughts from his mind, instead focusing on providing a witty reply.

 

“I can see how you would be proud-it being your sibling and a social reject who lusted after you. You should boast more.”

 

Sakura gaped. “Okay, buster, first off—Naruto and I are not blood-related, you know that. We're just really close, like siblings. Second off—there have been others, like-like….”

 

“Hm.”

 

“Oh! I know! Like Kiba! He was panting all over me.” Sakura sniffed proudly. “And I think his dog like me too.”

 

“Is that the only one? This `Kiba' and your semi-sibling. You have done much in your life. You must feel accomplished.”

 

Sakura ignored the way the dim light flickered across his face, making his features stand out even more, his shaded eyes under shadow, and his pale orbs peering out with an eerie glow. He was mesmerizing, and Sakura found herself addicted to his appearance. His low voice didn't help the matter either, nor the way his eyes stared at her as though he was going to eat her. Sakura felt her belly do a flip-flop as her cheeks flushed. She hadn't felt this way since….

 

Oh god. She was lusting after Gaara. Gaara! Of all people, Gaara! Maybe it was the way he had suddenly started talking to her, or the way his body had began to lean towards her, she imitating his position. Maybe it was the stimulating conversation or the way their legs touched which she was horribly sensitive to. Maybe it was the way she hadn't ever been that sexual, her one experience being an absolute disaster—the only other times she was pleasured was by her own fingers, and that was shallow at best.

 

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way Gaara seemed to actually be interested in her, despite the fact that he treated her like an annoyance. He took care of her and kept an eye on her, unwittingly comforting her. In fact, in just the few weeks she had known him, he had saved her countless of times, and not just physically either. He had been there—even made her tea. Tea!—on Halloween, when she had caught a haunting glimpse of the past. And he had helped her when she was burnt—though she still thought he had overreacted just a tad—and had walked her home.

 

(He had even picked her lock open—considering he was the one who had locked the door when she was without her keys. In hindsight, maybe that wasn't exactly a good thing though.)

 

Sakura allowed a twist of her lips, leaning forward on the table slightly. Really, this odd sort of banter they had going on was kind of fun.

 

“Oh, well, you know, the other names kind of slip my mind. Too many to count and all that, you know?”

 

Gaara had leaned forward as well, and the foot between their faces shrunk just a little bit. Folding her hands below her chin, Sakura awaited his answer.

 

Unfortunately they were interrupted as their meals were shoved under their noses, clattering against the table harshly. Sakura jerked back as Gaara's eyes flickered towards the waitress who stared flatly at her. the waitress's dark hair, which had been pulled back before, was now flowing strategically down her back and over one shoulder. Sakura frowned, eyes flickering between Tsukie and Gaara.

 

Tsukie smiled at him. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

“No.” Gaara's voice was flat and emotionless.

 

Sakura almost waved a banner of victory at Gaara's answer. Even if she hadn't been having a good time with him, she still would have been offended by the waitress's blatant interest in the man. Even if they weren't, most people would probably consider her and Gaara a couple, which meant Tsukie was moving into her territory with no respect for Sakura's boundaries. It was bad enough when that happened with Naruto, or even Kakashi—which was always quite disturbing—but with it happening to her with Gaara. Well, that was just unacceptable.

 

Sakura smiled genially at the waitress as the woman skulked off. Turning to her burger, she caught Gaara's eyes upon her once again. The smirk was gone, and instead impassiveness replaced the mirthful facial expression that he had worn just a few minutes before. Somehow, though, she got the impression that he was studying her, thinking, contemplating on something that she didn't understand. She looked away, digging into her fatty burger instead, making a mess as it slowly fell apart with each bite.

 

“Dammit. These things are just impossible to eat, no matter where you get them.”

 

Sakura glanced over to Gaara's plate, seeing the chicken salad that she had been contemplating earlier. She eyed it like a starving wolf, before glancing up at the stoic man. Gaara's eyebrow quirked as he caught sight of her attention.

 

“Hey, Gaara, you know, if you want a bite of my burger, you can have one.”

 

“No thank you.”

 

“You sure? It's really good. Delicious, actually. We could, you know, trade some bites, or something like that.”

 

“A kind offer, but, no.”

 

Sakura mumbled something, the corners of her lips facing south as she leaned forward, “are you really, really sure?”

 

“Yes, I'm sure.”

 

Sakura let out a huge, grumbling sigh, then straitened her shoulders. “Okay, I give up.” She bit her lip. “Can I have a bite of your salad?”

 

Gaara let the silence hang for a moment, bringing another bite of breaded chicken and lettuce to his mouth, before giving her his attention. He shrugged. “If you want.”

 

Sakura grinned, grabbing her fork out of its napkin role and reaching across the table to dig into Gaara's plate. He sat back, watching her as she inhaled a few mouthfuls before she looked curiously up at him.

 

“Aren't you going to eat? Eat!”

 

Gaara remained motionless, boring a hole through her forehead. Sakura grimaced inwardly. He was really good at unnerving people, and Sakura couldn't help but wonder if he had ever interrogated people for a living. He would be an asset to the government, or wherever interrogators were used.

 

And would he stop staring at her? Jeeze!

 

Sakura paused in the attack on Gaara's dinner, putting her fork down as she sat back. “Well, does that mean you're done as well? Should I call for the check?”

 

Gaara just shrugged, and Sakura nearly groaned at his regression. Where had his mocking attitude gone? Why was he back to being all…stupid?

 

With an air of exasperation, Sakura called for the check, not even energetic enough to glower at the flirtatious waitress, who took forever in ringing them up, and looked smug as Sakura and Gaara had another small tiff over who was going to pay for their dinner. Sakura won, but barely.

 

Her shoulders slumped as they exited onto the street, finding it even colder than before. She hadn't realized a man could be so taxing. Gaara was on the same scale of energy-sucking as Naruto, which was pretty bad.

 

“Well,” said Sakura, “we ready to go home? Or is there anything else you want to do. It's my treat, remember?”

 

Gaara offered another shrug and Sakura let out a meaningless noise of frustration.

 

“What is wrong with you? We were just having a nice time, so why do you have to go all weird on me now? Did I do something? If you didn't want me to eat your food you should have just said something.”

 

Gaara paused in his stride, turning to look at her with flat eyes. He raised an eyebrow, voice still, unspoken. Sakura threw her hand up in the air, emitting a loud `bah!' before stalking off. Gaara followed.

 

They traveled like that for a few minutes, getting to be about a block and a half from the apartment before Sakura whirled about—colliding right with Gaara's chest. After a short moment of disorientation, she glared up at Gaara.

 

“You know what your problem is?” she hissed, poking him in the chest, “You have a stick up your ass! You think—I dunno—that you're too good for other people—like me!”

 

Gaara's brow furrowed as her thin finger jabbed into his chest. It didn't hurt, but he couldn't help but be annoyed. Clasping her wrist, Gaara muttered, “stop it.”

 

“-and you treat me like shit just because I'm different and not pretty!-”

 

“-stop it.”

 

“-do you even give a damn about anyone-”

 

Gaara snarled, gripping Sakura's shoulders and pushing her away, “I said—stop it!”

 

Sakura fell silent, eyes wide with shock. Slowly, ever so slowly, her body unwound, dewy orbs dropping to the ground as he eyes narrowed with shame.

 

“I'm sorry….” She whispered, lips trembling, “…sorry…”

 

Gaara froze for a moment, and silently pulled her into an embrace. It was an urge he couldn't deny, something that his body called for, something that he just had to do. And she was so warm, her feminine curves pressing against him as her back shook with suppressed sobs. Gaara didn't say anything, just dug his face and hand into her pastel locks, his other arm wrapped around her waist.

 

He had never held a woman like this. He had held them out of lust, or violence, but never in comfort, caring. He felt her arms slowly snake around his neck, her chest pushed up against his, her damp face buried into his shoulder. Warmth coiled up his stomach, making his fingers itch and his breath come out slightly quicker than normal.

 

He was on pins and needles, like every part of his body she touched came out of a deep sleep, and it was painful, but exhilarating.

 

Without thought, moving on something akin to instinct, Gaara reached a gentle palm to her chin, lifting up her face so it was a mere hairs-width away. Their breaths intermingled, slightly ragged as the cool breeze whispered around them and down the deserted street. A streetlight's watery beams tried to reach them, but were unable to permeate the shadows that grew in the space of their bodies.

 

Ever so slightly, Sakura tensed her calves, shifting her body up, and hesitantly pressing her lips to his.

 

It was a soft kiss, slow and sweet and nervous. Gaara's arms wrapped around her body, pulling her away from the street lamp and into the shade of a darkened building. The heat between them cackled warmly, slithering up her stomach, into her hands and face, releasing from her breath as she sighed into Gaara's inquisitive lips.

 

After a few moments of the blissful embers consuming them, Sakura pulled away. They were still tangled together, but her face was inaccessible as she ducked down and to the side, eye focused on the damp street. After a few seconds of reveling in the feel of Gaara's muscled form, she pulled away completely.

 

“…That was…unexpected…”

 

Gaara was silent, nodding slightly. His arms fell to his side, feeling awkward and uncomfortable at their sudden emptiness. He wanted to grab for her again, but she had moved away.

 

“I'm just…not sure…” she whispered, voice weak, “this is a lot.”

 

In a way, Gaara understood. What had just happened was certainly not planned by either of them. He had expected to have a horrible night accompanied by her incessant chapter, and she… probably hadn't expected him to be the best of company either.

 

Nodding his head, Gaara emerged from the shadows as well. What they had just done…probably shouldn't be repeated. Sakura was one of those nice types of girls who married with a nice type of man who went and had nice type of babies in a nice type of suburban neighborhood.

 

Gaara was not the nice type of guy, and of course what had just happened would probably be considered a mistake in the book of her life and in the morning she would look back on it with regret. He ignored the feeling of discomfort as his chest tightened. Gaara had already decided, when he had first met Sakura weeks ago, that she was an annoyance and not a girl with whom he wanted to share air. He'd just have to keep on track with that mindset.

 

Setting his resolution, Gaara watched as she straitened and gifted him with a wry, crooked smile. Her cheeks were still stained a deep shade of red.

 

“Let's…let's head home.”

 

Gaara nodded and strode over to her side, hands burying themselves into his pockets. His eyes widened as her arm slipped through the crook on his elbow, effectively inter-mingling their body heat.

 

They ambled in silence the short distance to the apartment complex, and then paused outside their doorways. Sakura unlatched herself from him, getting out her keys, the focusing her attention on him.

 

“Well, we should do that again.”

 

Gaara's brow rose. She wanted to go out with him again?

 

“I had fun, and you didn't seem to have such a bad time yourself, yeah?”

 

Gaara shrugged and Sakura's grin lowered a bit, but she kept vigilance in her positive attitude.

 

“Good night.”

 

“'night.”

 

As he closed his apartment door behind him, Gaara couldn't help but let his lips twitch slightly in an intangible smile.

 

Another night out really might not be so bad.

 

Oooo000OOO000oooO

 

Hinata rubbed her eyes as she walked down the hallway, repressing the strained groan that threatened to garble out her throat. Graveyard shifts were really not her thing, especially considering she had already worked all day. If she hadn't been raised to be such a polite person, she probably would have thrown vulgarity after vulgarity at the irresponsible nurse who had called in. Her excuse was that she was sick, but Hinata knew that wasn't the case when she heard a man's voice in the background saying something…inappropriate.

 

Pausing in her shuffle, Hinata looked down at the clipboard she held in dry hands. Being a nurse meant constantly washing your hands. Being at the hospital meant washing your hands with cheap soap. Washing your hands with cheap soap meant having dry hands. It was a long, awful cycle that never ended and just added to Hinata's extreme dislike of her job.

 

With a groggy mind, Hinata walked from room to room, peeking into the patients windows to see if they needed any help, or were asleep. She checked each name off as she walked by, finding each person to be silent in slumber.

 

Nearing the end to the list, she noticed a note left on the bottom. It was another room number. From the nearly illegible chicken scratch, she thought it said room 203.

 

Forcing her eyelids to stay upright, Hinata began to trek her way through the sterile corridors, feeling as though her legs were trying to sift through thick mud. She nearly bumped into the door of the room before she even noticed she had reached her destination.

 

Flipping through some of the pages after the check-up list, she found the patients information. Apparently it was a gunshot wound. They had extricated the bullet without issue, but the blood loss had been extensive, hence why the man had yet to awake. Hinata made a mental note that the drugs were probably more effective at putting him to sleep than the blood loss. Morphine tended to do that to you.

 

Slipping into the private space, Hinata closed the door behind her with barely a hush. Her shoes made a soft tapping noise as she crossed the tiled floor to the patient's bedside. He didn't even stir.

 

As she drew up upon him, Hinata's eyes widened. This was the man that had come in earlier by ambulance, the one she had cleared the way for.

 

He looked better, considering he wasn't teetering over the edge of death, and the blood once covering him had long since been cleaned up. In fact, if he didn't look so sickly, Hinata would say he was quite handsome. The skin was pale and smooth, still lovely despite the bags he had under his eyes and above his emaciated cheeks.

 

Hinata glanced back at the list, noting his name with curiosity.

 

…Uchiha, Sasuke…

 

~*~

 

 

A/N: Okay everybody; give a big round of applause to AsuraTwilight (quizilla username—will get ff.net name soon) who has recently taken up the grueling task of being my beta. Sorry for the long update, but I hope the added length of the chapter will make up for that. Again, forgive me.

 

Until next time…

 

~emeraldoni