Author: Neon Genesis PM
Chicago!verse. "Sasuke!" I wail. Leap into action, dammit. Leap! "Don't let him eat me! Do something gangster-like! Isn't that what you get paid for!" Sasuke x Sakura. Oneshot.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Sakura H. & Sasuke U. - Words: 4,110 - Reviews: 100 - Favs: 332 - Follows: 25 - Published: 08-07-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5283416
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The buzzer to our apartment sounds.
I'm preparing dinner in the kitchen. (Trying to, anyway. I've never exactly been what you would call domestic. Shocker, right?) I look to Sasuke, who has entered to snag a bottle of water from the fridge.
"Sasuke, could you stir this for me while I answer the door?"
He looks up, a deer caught in headlights. We're both aware that his culinary abilities are akin to those of a rock. (Sasuke compares to a rock in many ways. But.)
I tug him over to the stove. "It's easy. Whenever it looks like it's going to boil over, just stir it." I demonstrate before placing the wooden spoon in his hand, even going so far as to help him wrap his fingers around it. I think he's paralyzed by my high expectations of him.
But he does what I ask him to do, as he does most of the time. Turns out my big, bad gangster boyfriend is a sucker for a pretty face. (Only my pretty face, though. I've made sure of that.)
He stares at the saucepan with intense concentration, spoon poised and ready.
Sometimes I worry about that kid.
I leave the kitchen, crossing the living room to get to the door. I spare a moment to glance with satisfaction at the coffee table I picked out. (Well, Sasuke helped. Kind of. Yeah, not really. He occasionally made noncommittal noises and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but at the furniture store.)
I moved in with him eleven months after that first day we talked on the subway. (For the record, his apartment is sweet. High-end, best-you-can-buy stuff and all that jazz. Apparently being a gangster pays very well. Also, he gets a good dental package. As professions go, I highly recommend it.) I still wear the ring he gave me. It's almost comical, the way people instantly treat me with more respect when they see it. But they almost immediately size me up, clearly wondering, How could this girl with pink hair be a member of Akatsuki?
At that point I try to appear fierce and menacing, to prove that I really am gangster, dammit.
(No one ever looks very convinced. I take it rather personally.)
All in all, though, I love Sasuke more than...hell, more than breadsticks. Which, for those who don't know, translates to a hella lot. It takes a good deal of prompting to get him to say the words, but he loves me too. (Always a plus.)
He's protective, and sweet in his own way. He can get jealous, and is maybe just a little bit possessive, but he understands that the only time I really look at other guys is when they're holding trays of free food. Once the food is gone, they might as well be furniture.
More than that, though, he just…gets me. They way I talk, the way my mind works. The random things I say, the obscure connections I make. He listens to me when I ramble and rubs my back when I cry over silly things.
That, mi amigos, is True Love. (Obnoxious capitalization entirely necessary.)
My one complaint is that I am wholly, entirely, and completely shut out of anything and everything involving Akatsuki and what he does for them.
"I don't want you involved with them, Sakura," he always tells me sternly whenever I bring it up. Then to distract me he'll either kiss me or feed me.
I don't like it. (Being shut out, that is; I love being kissed and fed. Especially one-after-the-other.) I mean, I think it's sweet that he wants to protect me from their influence or whatever, but I feel like there's a whole other side to him that I know nothing about, you know?
I want to know everything about Sasuke, the way he knows everything about me.
Sighing, I open the door without checking who it is.
Which, of course, I promptly regret. Story of my life, right there.
The man at our door is very large and very scary, with blue skin and sharp teeth, displayed by his wide smile. "Hello," he says.
"Hi," I respond, as a reflex.
Then I scream for Sasuke.
He comes barreling out of the kitchen, spoon still clutched in his hand. (Aw.) "Sakura, what—" He stops short when he sees the man.
I run to hide behind him. (Some might call it cowering, but no. I am much too dignified to cower. I'm just…okay, yeah, I'm cowering. You would too, shut up.)
The man glances at Sasuke, puzzled. "Was it something I said?"
"Sasuke!" I wail. Leap into action, dammit. Leap! "Don't let him eat me! Do something gangster-like! Isn't that what you get paid for!"
Sasuke runs a hand through his hair irritably. "Sakura, it's okay," he soothes. "Kisame," he shoots a dark look at the man in the doorway, "is a…colleague of mine."
He coaxes me to release my death-grip on the back of his shirt. I peer around him cautiously, a turtle peeking out of its shell.
"Oh…" Then I brighten. "Oh! So you're one of Sasuke's friends from work!" I beam at him with a sudden change of heart.
Sasuke cringes at the phrase 'friends from work.'
However, the man, Kisame, looks thoughtful. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose. Can I come in?"
"No," Sasuke denies firmly. "I told you to never, under any circumstances, come here. Why was I disobeyed?"
His tone is icy, razor-sharp with menace. It occurs to me that maybe I'm better off not knowing anything about what he does for Akatsuki.
This Sasuke is…scary.
(Still very hot, though. Actually, even hotter than usual, now that he's got his whole badass thing going full-swing now. But I digress.)
Kisame raises his hands defensively. "Sorry, sorry. It's just…" he shoots me a cautious glance, "there were…complications in our…" another glance, "endeavor that need to be discussed immediately and in person."
See, a girl of lesser intelligence might not have caught on, but I think there's something they don't want me to know about. Ohh, I am so onto them. (Sometimes I amaze myself with my flashes of keen insight and brilliant deduction. I mean, really.)
Sasuke glares at him silently for a moment. "Fine," he says shortly. He points to the hallway outside our apartment. "Wait there. I'll be out in a minute."
Kisame shrugs and leaves as instructed, shutting the door behind him.
I frown at Sasuke. "You can talk in front of me."
He sighs, and it makes him seem…tired. "No, I can't." He takes my hand and kisses my palm tenderly. "Go back in the kitchen, okay? I'll be in soon."
I take my hand back. "You don't trust me," I accuse.
His face darkens. "You know that's not it, Sakura." He gives me a look, his patented I'm-not-going-to-indulge-your-nonsense-anymore look. He only uses it when he's really serious, which makes it that much more effective.
I sulk but allow him to tow me back to the kitchen where, oh look, the sauce has boiled over. Awesome.
"Oh sure, leave me fixing dinner in the kitchen while you go talk business," I yell at his retreating back. "Do you realize what blatant gender-stereotyping this is!"
He doesn't respond, so I sink down to sit on the linoleum tiles, working myself up to a good, long wallow in self-pity.
When Sasuke comes back in, I refuse to speak to him. Wallowing takes a lot of concentration, you know.
The dinner I had been fixing (spaghetti) is, at this point, a singular disaster, so he orders from my favorite Chinese restaurant as he cleans up the mess. (The marinara sauce splattered everywhere, so it kinda looks like a murder scene.)
The food arrives some twenty minutes later. After setting it up on the coffee table, Sasuke scoops me up off the kitchen floor, sits down on the couch, and settles me close to his side.
Tricky bastard. He knows I love cuddling. (And mooshoo pork.) He isn't big on prolonged physical contact, so this is a rare treat, and no matter the circumstances, I'm not going to waste it. A plate of food on my lap, I burrow further into his side.
After only ten minutes, my resiliency breaks, as we both knew it would. It's just so hard to stay angry with Sasuke. (Also, my self-discipline has never been particularly admirable. Like that New Year's resolution I made a couple years ago that I would become a serious, steadfast, down-to-earth individual?
Yeah. Well. I think we can all tell how that turned out.)
"You know what I think?" I ask around a mouthful of rice.
He looks down at me, pleased that we are apparently on speaking terms again. "Hmm?"
"I think you're afraid I'm going to judge you." I take another bite of food. Needs more soy sauce... The bottle is on the kitchen counter. I'd have to get up to get it. Enh, too much effort.
He frowns. "What?"
"I think you're afraid that if I know more about Akatsuki, I'll freak out and think you're a horrible person."
I feel him stiffen. "Sakura…" he warns, in a we-are-not-going-to-pursue-this-topic tone.
But I press onward. 'Cause that's how I roll. "I love you, Sasuke," I tell him earnestly. "I don't care if you kick puppies or have gunfights in alleys or whatever. I just don't want you to keep shutting me out of your life."
He grimaces. Taking both of our plates and setting them on the table, he uses a hand at the back of my head to press my face into his throat so that I can't see his expression.
I give him time, humming the Jeopardy song to myself. Hm hm hm hm hm hm hm hm, hm hm hm hm hm, hm hm hm hm hm…
Gets kinda annoying after a little while, I gotta admit. Still, a classic.
Finally, he speaks. He sounds unhappy, which makes me feel guilty for pushing him like this. Fight the guilt, fight the guilt, fight the guilt…
"There is…something you can come to."
I pull back to smile at him. "Awesome. What is it? A throw-down? A gunfight? A secret, high-stakes meeting? An illegal drug-dealing den?"
"Because I would take you to any of those," Sasuke scoffs.
So he does have gunfights. Hah, I so called it. "So…what is it? A party?" I laugh. Ah, the wit.
He hesitates. "Something like that."
"Okay, Sasuke, I gotta say: your gangster friends throw a pretty rockin' party. I mean, seriously."
Though it's not so much a party as a dance, I guess. We're in a big, beautiful ballroom with a bunch of other well-dressed couples. Classy music plays, and guys in tuxedos walk around offering people refreshments. (Which I would be a lot happier about if the food weren't that weird, fancy crap with funny French names.
I'm gonna ask Sasuke if we can stop for pizza on the way home.)
I knew Sasuke was high-ranking, but I didn't know he was this high-ranking. Every person that approaches him treats him with deference and respect. Also, practically every woman makes eyes at him. I get jealous, it's true, but I take comfort in the fact that his arm is around my waist and not theirs.
(In your faces, bitches.)
Actually, he's kept me clamped to his side the entire evening. Seriously, clamped. I'm used to him being protective, but this is kind of overkill. Sure, some of the people look...shady, but I think I can handle myself. Some credit would be nice. I mention it to him.
He scoffs. "You manage to get yourself into trouble at the dentist's office." It was one time, buster! And he was asking for it. "Like hell I'm going to let you out of my sight here."
I sulk. "So…what's this for, exactly? What are we celebrating?" I stop and squint at him. "You guys haven't achieved clandestine world domination, have you?" Which would actually be pretty sweet. "Or Chicago domination, at least?"
A low laugh comes from behind us. "We've already been in control of Chicago for a long time, sweetheart."
Sasuke's arm tightens considerably, as does his jaw.
"Itachi," he seethes.
I recall that Sasuke's brother is named Itachi. Sure enough, the man who comes to stand before us is almost an exact replica of Sasuke—or maybe Sasuke is a replica of him. (Kind of like that chicken-or-egg thing. Or something.)
They share height and pale skin, coupled with dark hair and dark eyes. But where Sasuke's skin is smooth, Itachi's face is lined, his lips thinner. His hair is a bit past shoulder-length, secured in a loose ponytail.
Sasuke is handsomer, I decide loyally. (When you're a Cubs fan, you come to understand true loyalty…as well as the mentality that There's Always Next Year. But.)
I've never really gotten him to talk to me about his family, besides the bare facts. So this is pretty cool.
Itachi regards me appraisingly and with some amusement. "I presume that this is my soon-to-be sister-in-law?"
Hell yes. Hey, I think I might like this guy.
Sasuke, however, is not feeling benevolent. "What do you want."
Itachi shakes his head mournfully. "Only the pleasure of getting to know your lovely girl for an evening."
Yeah, that's right, lovely. He went there. Props for him.
Sasuke's arm tightens further. Okay, this kinda hurts. "She's not going anywhere with you."
Itachi's hand is suddenly at my arm, tugging. "Honestly, Sasuke, the way you've been hiding her away from all of us…it's hurting our feelings. I'm well aware that you were never one to share, but surely you can make an exception this once."
Sasuke refuses to let him pull me from his arms. "She's not going anywhere with you," he repeats, glaring.
It occurs to me that throughout this entire exchange, I have not once been addressed directly. Also, while them playing tug-of-war over me is very hot, it hurts. (But, again, very hot. Very hot.)
"Hey, guys," I speak up. "Can't we all just be friends…?" And maybe stop trying to rip me in half.
Sasuke doesn't even look at me. "Stay out of this, Sakura."
Oh, he did not. I struggle free of his grip. "You know what, maybe I will go with your brother." So there.
Suddenly his glare is turned on me as he tries to attach me back to his side. "You will not."
Excuse me, Bossy McBossypants.
(Am I clever or what?)
Itachi steps in front of me, staving off Sasuke. He smirks. "I think she's made it clear whom she'd rather be with."
Before Sasuke can throw back a heated retort, a man appears and says something so lowly to them that I can't hear. I notice that everyone in the ballroom is rapidly becoming agitated. Bomb? Someone spiked the punch?
"Shit," Itachi murmurs, and melts into the crowd.
I turn to Sasuke. "Wha—"
"Come on," he snaps, and with an arm around my shoulders, hustles me out of the ballroom.
I resist. "Sasuke, what's going on?"
"The Seven Swordsmen," he says shortly.
Ohh. The Seven Swordsmen are the second-most powerful gang in Chicago, and subsequently Akatsuki's rivals. (There are actually more than seven of them. You'd think they could take the time to add a ty to the end of Seven. I mean, is that so hard?)
"So we're in the middle of a gang war? Cool."
Sasuke shoots me a sharp look. I backtrack. "I mean, not cool. They crashed the party, huh? How rude."
Sasuke's cell phone beeps once as we hurry through the reception room. He opens it, listens, then snaps it closed. "Shit."
A door is at our right, and without preamble he yanks it open and shoves me inside. It's a custodial closet. I gape at him. "What the hell, Sasuke!" This is not the time to make out in a closet!
Apparently he has other ideas. "Stay here," he orders. "Do not come out, do not make any noise. I'll be back for you soon."
"And where are you going?"
"You don't need to know." Then he slams the door and is gone.
I slide to the floor, hugging my knees and sulking. Not fair. I'm stuck in a closet while he's out being gangster. Where is the justice in the world? (Let me tell you: not in a closet.)
After a few minutes, I'm not only feeling left out and mistreated, but bored.
You know what, screw it. I'm going outside. To hell with Sasuke and his overbearing bossiness. I'll show him that I'm just as gangster as he is.
I leave the closet and start walking back to the ballroom, spine straight, shoulders back. Yeah, that's right. I'm—
Eff my life.
Standing outside the entrance to the ballroom is a gangster, and instead of an Akatsuki ring, he's wearing the Seven Swordsmen's arm-band.
And, oh yeah, he's holding a gun.
He whirls around when he hears my footsteps. "What—" He blinks when he sees me. I suppose a five-foot-five pink-haired girl in an evening gown isn't quite who he was expecting.
Crapcrapcrap, what should I do? I advance cautiously, my hands raised in the universal gesture for 'Hey look, I'm not holding a big scary weapon.'
"Hi there," I smile at him brightly. Play it cool, play it cool.
He squints at me suspiciously and opens his mouth, but I cut him off by kicking him in the shins. He swears and bends over, so I take the opportunity to deliver a vicious clip to his temple with my elbow.
He crumples to the floor, unconscious. (It's amazing the things you learn in med. school.)
Team Sakura pwns.
I stand over him, victorious. Sasuke worried for nothing. I can totally take care of myself.
...But now that I've proved my gangster-ness, I should probably find him. Hearing far-off gunfire, I gulp. Yeah, definitely gotta find Sasuke.
After several moments of hesitation, I pick up the knocked-out gangster's gun and clutch it. Just so it'll make me look more intimidating and whatnot. I have no idea how to use the thing. (I'd probably end up shooting my foot.)
I enter the ballroom. No one there.
Okaaay. Maybe I should just go back to my closet and wait for Sasuke. I turn to do just that and end up walking right into Sasuke himself. He's like a jack-in-the-box. Just pops outta nowhere.
I beam at him. "Sasuke!"
He doesn't look quite as happy to see me. "What are you doing," he hisses, clutching my shoulders. "I told you—" He notices the gun in my hands and the prone form of the gangster. "You—I can't believe—"
I notice that is hair is tousled, his clothes rumpled. I frown. "Hey. Did you shove me in a closet just so you could go off and have an affair?" The nerve of some people!
He smacks me upside the head. "Idiot!"
I gape at him. "You…you hit me." Sasuke never, ever hits me. Never even pretends to.
"Yes, I did!" he snarls. "This isn't a game, Sakura. I told you to stay where I put you because it's dangerous. Why can't you ever, just once, make it easy for me to take care of you?"
He doesn't let me answer, just takes the gun from me and puts it on the ground. Then he grabs my arm roughly and drags me away, out of the building, onto the nighttime streets.
I stumble along, trying to keep up with his long, brisk strides. Eventually he slows the pace and releases my arm.
I'm so miserable, I don't even notice that I'm crying until Sasuke reaches over and brushes a tear away.
Then I fall apart. Crumpling into his arms, I sob and wail, big fat tears rolling down my cheeks. Sasuke maneuvers me over to a nearby bench, where he lets me bawl all over him, ruining his blazer and shirt.
(A guy walking by gives us a very weird look, but one glare from Sasuke and he quickly looks down and hurries away.)
I'm only realizing now how scary that was and how lucky I am and Sasuke hit me and doesn't love me anymore and that guy had a gun and Sasuke doesn't love me anymore and I could have died and Sasuke doesn't love me anymore and Sasuke could have died and Sasuke doesn't love me anymore and I think a zit is forming near my chin and Sasuke doesn't love me anymore and—
"Shh," he murmurs, cradling me. "Sakura. Shh. It's okay. You're okay. I've got you." His voice is so gentle, so tender that I think maybe—
I hiccup. "D-Do you still love me...?"
He kisses the top of my head. "Silly."
Well, that solves about sixty percent of my concerns. (Not sure if it helps the zit, though.) But the others…I think I'm starting to realize that maybe being a gangster isn't just…gangster. That it's scary and dangerous. I'm suddenly really guilty that I've been giving him such a hard time about it.
(No matter what, though, it's still gonna be cool. Really cool. All of my previous boyfriends were boring lawyers-or-something. Not cool.)
I suppose, in the future, I could maybe make it a habit to listen to Sasuke when he tells me to do something important. Since he's just looking out for me and whatnot.
Also, maybe I should consider that I'm not quite as tough and badass and gangster as I tell myself I am.
(Though I think I am pretty gangster, all things considered. Don't wanna get ahead of myself, here.)
Sasuke smoothes my hair. "I'm sorry I hit you."
"I deserved it," I sniffle. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." He rubs my back.
After a few long, peaceful moments, I lean back, scrubbing at my eyes. "So…can we go get pizza?"
He looks at me. "What," I say defensively. "I'm hungry." Being in a life-threatening situation can really make a girl work up an appetite.
He just laughs, and I think it might be the sweetest thing I've ever heard.
I got so excited about my new multi-chapter that I forgot to post this XD. I think I like this one better than Me and My Gangster. That one was just kinda...enh. The title...is rather abstract, and not exactly aligned with Rob Mills' song, either. But I think the song describes this Sakura's character rather decently-ish. Listen to it when you get the chance, if you haven't already.
There will be a next one - eventually. For now, I've gotten back into canon. (Though I do still have ideas for random AU oneshots running through my head...)
1) Based off of the recent chapters, do you guys think Sakura is in love with Naruto? I don't think so, but...hmm. Still, I love what Sakura said: "The fool's in love with me. So I'll do it." It's just awesome. And considering it, I don't think she loves him back. But I've been wrong before. _
Disclaimer: I own nothing that is not mine.