A Naruto Fanfiction. All characters and locales depicted in this work of fiction belong to Masashi Kishimoto. No profit will be made or is intended to be made from this fanfic.

Author's note: A fairly smutty Christmas fic. For those ages 18 and over only, please. Thanks!

Dedication: To the Kakasaku FC. I haven't been around much lately, as I've been sick most of the past month. Wish I'd been able to participate in the drabble exchange!

The Candy Cane Confession

a kakasaku two-shot

Part One

"I was right. Admit it."

"She does look a lot like me. The hair, I mean. Although obviously the color's not real. The carpet didn't match the drapes."

"Kakashi didn't return that DVD to Shika for three weeks. He had to hound him for it. Your copy ninja came up with excuse after excuse. Says a lot, I think."

Sakura stirred her ramen with a porcelain spoon and wished momentarily that she'd ordered the daily special—tonkatsu topped— instead of the relatively plain shoyu version. Not that it mattered, really. It was clear to her that Ino was going to talk her ear off, or at the very least yammer on until their lunch grew cold.

Sakura shoved the DVD in question along the counter until it bumped her friend's soup bowl. She was glad to be rid of it. While intriguing (and to be truthful, more than a little stimulating) Sakura hadn't enjoyed watching the video. Its heroine seemed too similar to her, although certainly better endowed in the pectoral area.

"It doesn't bother you that Shikamaru watches porn?" the pink haired kunoichi asked, puzzled by her friend's blithe comments. The blonde had always seemed the jealous type.

Ino laughed. "No, why should it? Guys like porn. Shika's a guy. Besides, it's just fantasy. That kind of thing only makes a person's sex life richer."

They were delving into too-much-information territory, Sakura feared. Still, she couldn't contain her curiosity.

"And it doesn't concern you that your husband owns a DVD where the main, uh, character looks quite a bit like me?"

"Why should it? Candie Cain doesn't normally look like that, anyway. Usually she's platinum blonde, with turquoise eyes." Ino winked at her gape-faced friend.

"Shika gets off to a girl that looks like you?"

"Only when I'm not around. Men have needs, Sakura. I thought you knew that."

The thought of a husband fapping to a top-heavy caricature of his wife was not a comforting one. It just seemed so... dirty.

Apparently Ino was reading her friend's mind, although there was no sign that she'd performed her signature jutsu.

"Sakura, you really are quite a prude, considering you're a kunoichi. You're supposed to be a lot more open-minded about these things."

"Really? I'm supposed to be open-minded about the fact that Kakashi-sensei spent three weeks watching a porno starring a woman with the exact same hair color as me? Especially when you say it's proof that he has some kind of thing for me? Sorry, but it's just too weird."

Weird. Disturbing. Stalker-creepy.

Ino giggled again. "Take it as a compliment. What I find weird is the fact that you still call him "Sensei." Do you have some kind of teacher fetish?"

Sakura shook her head vigorously and attempted with controlled breaths to stop the blush forming on her cheeks.

"How long was he your teacher? Six months?"

"Nine." The nine short months of team seven's existence.

"And he acknowledged you as a colleague after that. So what's wrong with him being attracted to you? It happens all the time. Look at Tenten and Gai—"

"I'd rather not." Sakura shuddered. The thought of those two going at it was frightening.

"Or even me and Shika. Teammates get together all the time."

"But he's never said anything."

"Please." This note of sarcasm was accompanied by an eyeroll. "The man is socially inept. And you're not much better. But there must have been some clues. Something you missed."

"No. Not really." Kakashi did stop by the hospital fairly often, but most active ninja did. And when Sakura visited the jounin lounge for the relative peace and quiet it offered the man often sat across the table from her. This was true whether the room was crowded or nearly empty.

But that was it. The illustrious copy ninja never offered to take her to lunch or dinner. And when he did sit opposite her, they hardly engaged in small talk. He was his usual taciturn self, hardly paying her heed. Instead he would sit quietly either reading his ever present soft porn novels (she'd finally gotten a hold of one and confirmed that indeed porn— poorly written porn— was what these books contained) or scrawling out a mission report in his cramped and near-illegible hand.

He couldn't be attracted to her. It was all just a coincidence. A hinky coincidence pieced together by a friend's over-stimulated imagination.

"Haven't you wondered why no one asks you out?"

Of course Sakura had. But she'd assumed it was due to the fact that she was the most boring, prudish kunoichi in the village. Or that her breath smelled.

"It's because of him, Sakura."

"No it's not."

"Somehow, they know that Kakashi's got his eye on you. And they're smart enough to stay away."

"But you have no evidence of that, do you? You would have said so, otherwise." Idle speculation was annoying, as was Ino's tendency to jump to unwarranted conclusions. She didn't date much. That in no way meant that Kakashi was the cause.

"For someone so smart, you really are stupid, Sakura. You're not as ugly as you think. Sorry, I said that wrong. You're not ugly at all. You're pretty. Everyone says so. I say so. So why shouldn't you be in a relationship?"

"You know that I'm too busy for that."

"With work? You have nothing to prove at the hospital. You're already in charge— at twenty two! Why not rest on your laurels a bit?"

"There's no time."

"Life is short, Sakura. In our line of work you never know when it might end. It bugs me— well, it bugs us—"

"Us?" Just whom was Ino gossiping with? The thought of the details of her personal life broadcast all around Konoha caused Sakura's fists to clench. Ino was a good friend, but a horrible rumor monger. If she was telling the world that Kakashi and Sakura should hook up, well, she'd have to kill the woman.

"Shika and me. It bugs us that you're wasting the prime of your life on work and whatever stupid thing it is that you do in your spare time."

"Needlepoint isn't stupid." She was almost finished stitching a matching set of seat covers for the dining room table she was planning to buy. Eventually.

"Compared to finding happiness it is. Life is all about love."

Sakura made no response to this truism, but Ino was undeterred.

"You're not forty, you know. Stop acting like a spinster." Ino eyed her friend critically before launching into her next barrage of questions. "So how do you feel?"

"About what? Your intrusive behavior?"

"About him."

About Kakashi. Sakura didn't dare tell her friend of the many dreams she'd had of the copy ninja. They'd started at age seventeen, after the village was finally secured and her former teacher had stepped down as interim hokage. On the day of Naruto's ascension Sakura saw a look of relief pass across the tiny visible portion of her former teacher's mask-covered face. Others might not have noticed the emotion fleetingly written there, but Sakura had and she understood its meaning fully. Kakashi hadn't wanted to take on the governance of the village. Protecting it as a soldier was enough for him, and he was glad to get back to this relatively lowly job.

Kakashi's humility was a revelation to Sakura. She'd perceived him as aloof before, with hints of well-hidden arrogance. But that wasn't him at all, she'd realized. Here was a man who truly loved his village, who would do whatever it took to protect it. He was a man who would take on distasteful tasks (and it was clear the formal duties of hokage were indeed distasteful to Kakashi), easily putting aside the desires of his ego and id.

She'd always viewed him as a man to look up to. Certainly this hadn't changed.

But she'd never seen him as human before.

The dreams started then. They troubled her greatly at first, because as Ino indicated, Sakura was a bit of a prude. The fact that her subconscious was willing to embroider half-naked pictures of her former sensei, pictures in which he came to her, sometimes to seduce, other times to ravish: this was more than she was willing to consider. She pushed the images aside, taking cold showers each morning then running the village's perimeter for as long as it took to make her dreams' residue vanish.

But Sakura was a smart girl if a stubborn one. Eventually she realized she couldn't deny her attraction to Kakashi. However it would remain that—attraction— and nothing more. It would be foolish to think that a man of his age and experience might feel the same way toward her. He'd been Hokage before she'd turned eighteen—what could she possibly have to offer him?

"I said, how do you feel about him? But I guess I know. Don't think I missed that look on your face just now. How long have you had a crush on him?"

"Oh," Sakura's voice quavered, "years."

Her friend cackled like the elderly gossip she was destined to become. "You are such an idiot, Sakura. Why didn't you tell me? We could have fixed things way back then."

"Fixed things?"

Ino nodded vigorously, and Sakura cringed as she saw an impish grin appear upon her friend's classically beautiful face.

"I've got a plan."

Sakura sighed. "Of course you do."

"We're going to turn you into Candie Cain! Come on!" She dragged her friend away from her barely eaten soup and into a street crowded with a throng of holiday shoppers.

"First stop, Pink!"

Not Pink. Please, not Pink. It was well known as Kakashi's home away from home, the place for him to indulge his passion for Jiraiya-sensei's "literature" and of course the associated merchandise branded with the Icha, Icha logo.

Thankfully, he wasn't there. Kakashi must be back at the jounin lounge, where she'd left him when Ino came barging in, angry that Sakura had stood her up for lunch. Not that she'd done so. They didn't have plans for the day. Well, Sakura didn't. It was clear now that Ino had an agenda all along.

"Keep the DVD. You'll need to memorize Candie's lines." Ino laughed raucously, loud enough to send the shop keeper scurrying toward them.

"We need a Santa outfit," she said when the owner arrived. "Something sexy, obviously." Ino flashed the DVD case at the store's proprietor. "Something like this."

The owner eyed Sakura up and down, and the pink haired kunoichi was sure she saw a flash of recognition in the man's sharp eyes. He nodded in approval. "I have just what you need. In back. I'll be right out."

He returned moments later with a skimpy outfit in red velvet, trimmed in fluffy maribou feathers and a black vinyl belt. It looked like it might fit a six year old, but, as the owner pointed out, it stretched.

Sakura retired to the dressing room, stripped quickly and tugged on the curve hugging outfit. Not that it hugged all of her curves. Her breasts were spilling out of the thing, even with its narrow satin straps tightened as far as possible. It made her wonder how someone as silicone-enhanced as the real Candie Cain pulled off such attire.

"You'll need a bra," she heard the rather effeminate shopkeeper call through the louvered dressing room door. The door opened slightly and a well-manicured hand presented to her a fire engine red peephole brassiere. Sakura cringed as she examined the silken fabric. It was identical, she realized, to the one worn by the porn star, and its distinctive lack of fabric underscored the fact that this was a garment intended purely for sex. But it did the job of holding the girls in place, too. It pushed and prodded her chest into a display of abundance that would make any man look twice.

Sakura swallowed the lump of unease growing at the back of her throat and smiled warily at her reflection. If she was going to go through with this farce (and knowing Ino, there was no doubt in Sakura's mind that she would be going through with it) she might was well go for broke. Sakura once again pulled up the velvet and feather garment, and gingerly opened the door, but not before tugging firmly downward in an attempt to hide her half uncovered posterior.

"Marvelous!" The owner probably said that to every patron, male or female, so Sakura relied on her friend's response, instead. Ino's gaze was critical, like that of a fashion designer analyzing her model for flaws.

"I think fishnets would be too slutty."

"Too slutty?" Despite her resolve, Sakura couldn't help speaking up. "So this isn't slutty enough already?"

Sakura's friend ignored her. "I say we go for these." The blonde waved red and white striped thigh highs at her friend. "And what about panties?" This was addressed to the store owner. "I was thinking a thong..."

"Hmm. You know, I've got some really nice split crotch panties that match the bra."

Sakura's eyes widened to saucer proportions. The owner noted her alarm and chuckled softly. "but I think on a lady like you, these would do nicely." He crossed the store and returned with a pair of cotton bikinis. They matched the stripe of the thigh highs, and thankfully, contained enough fabric to cover at least a portion of her derriere.

"I really don't need to try these on, do I? They're obviously my size..."

"Oh, fine, Sakura. Be a spoilsport. This is the only time I'll see you dressed up, you know."

Was this about Ino's entertainment, then? No, no, her friend wasn't that cruel.

"Shoes. You need shoes. Not G.I. sandals or those horrible nurses' shoes you wear, either."

"These." The shop proprietor produced a pair of platform Mary Janes, their heels high enough to cause a broken ankle should the wearer slip. Just perfect for icy December streets, Sakura noted wryly. She tried the shoes on quickly, managing a smile when she noticed that they did flatter her legs. There was a reason strippers wore such outlandish shoes, after all. They might be completely impractical, but they were also dead sexy.

Sakura bolted from the store as soon as her purchases were paid for, and after looking in both directions down the still-busy street. It would be horrifying to run into anyone she knew. Thankfully Pink was discrete enough to wrap purchases in plain brown paper. Nevertheless, Sakura high tailed it away from the garishly decorated shop windows, not bothering to wait for Ino despite the blonde's angry cries.

Her friend caught up with her and steered her into a nearby confectionery.

"A candy cane. You can't forget that."

It was the highlight of the film: Candie Cain's amorous interactions with a sugary peppermint stick took up a good half of the movie. Sakura bit her lip as Ino dragged her from aisle to aisle of the sucrose infused shop, and nervously wriggled from her friend's grasp as the blonde picked up what could only be described as a candy rod.

It was exactly the same as the one Candie used in the movie, not something that could hang from an evergreen, owing to its lack of a hook and ridiculous size. Rather it was a treat that would last the average child a good month or so, assuming he or she worked on it daily for an hour or so.

"Ino, I really don't think—"

"Don't you want to find out how he really feels?"

"I guess so. But—"

"No buts. This will send him over the edge. And if he does feel something for you, you'll definitely know it."

"I don't think I—"

"You're a kunoichi, aren't you? This really isn't that much different from the lab practical we had in year two of the academy."

Ino was right. But said practical was done in the presence of a female teacher, not a potential lover.

Lover. Sakura's heart flipped at the thought of it. The idea seemed so unlikely. Much more realistic was the chance of her making a fool out of herself.

Ino picked up three of the over-sized Christmas confections and headed for the cash register.

"Why so many?" Sakura asked as they exited the store. She was half-afraid to hear the answer.

"You'll need to practice. And," she added with a grin, "one is for me."

It took Sakura two evenings to learn her part. The dialogue wasn't particularly difficult to memorize, given that most of it consisted of assorted moans, groans and shrieks of delight. There was an introductory dialogue, as even the least plot driven film needed a shred of context before the banging began. Sakura was by no means a connoisseur of this particular art form-- she'd seen only three such films before, but this one fit the same mold as the other ones. The lead in was cliché, and woodenly delivered. But the sex scene was surprisingly realistic, apart from various surgically enhanced body parts. Again, Sakura couldn't claim expertise, but the couple seemed as engaged as she'd ever been while doing the act.

And that was where the trouble lay. Emulating such vigorous foreplay (self-play?) was proving to be quite difficult.

After three hours straight of candy cane caresses, Sakura's throat was numb from peppermint oil, and fairly sore. She couldn't master the real Candie's sword-swallowing act, and had absolutely no intention of trying the X-rated follow up. The only positive in this endeavor was the fact that Sakura's breath was uncommonly fresh the next day, so much so that her patients remarked on it.

That alone was enough to make her wonder if it was her breath that kept the men away.

At the end of her work shift, Sakura made her way to the cylindrical administrative building and slipped into to the deserted jounin lounge. She had no desire to return home. The mirror would beckon to her, and her perfectionism would drive her to while away the evening practicing for her eventual encounter with the copy ninja.

Sakura chose a chair facing the door and pulled out a copy of Ninja Medic Quarterly. The script she'd transcribed the night before was tucked inside, and despite the emptiness of the room she eyed the words surreptitiously. She couldn't help but feel dirty about her upcoming show, even if as Ino said the ends justified the means.

She was glad of the journal when she heard a dry cough. Sakura looked up from her reading to see Kakashi sitting opposite. When he'd slipped in she had no idea. But she had the unnerving feeling he'd been gazing at her for the past couple of minutes.

She smiled nervously as she shut the journal and shoved it inside the tote bag she carried.

"You left so quickly the day before last."

"Oh. Right, Ino. She's always doing things like that. Dragged me all over town in her quest for the perfect Christmas gift. For Shikamaru." That last detail was just in case Kakashi had heard they'd visited Pink.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you—"

"What?"

Kakashi scratched his head the way he always did when flustered. He never blushed, looked down or gave any other sign of discomfort, but during her time on team Kakashi Sakura had learned to interpret the subtleties of his nonverbal communication.

"I was your secret Santa this year. I missed the party, but I do have your gift. I was wondering if you'd be willing to stop by for it."

"Sure!" The exclamation bounced out of its own volition and ricocheted around the near empty room. He must be able to sense her nervousness. Surely it was palpable. "When?" she asked with a bit more control.

"How about tomorrow night, after you get off work?"

Sakura nodded in response. Somehow he knew she was working nights all week. That was a good sign. Perhaps a bit stalkerish, but then again, maybe not.

"So, around eight?"

Kakashi nodded before pushing his chair back, and exiting with alacrity.

She had a full twenty four hours until her date with mortification.

Courage didn't come in a bottle, but it was a fair enough substitute. Sakura stopped by the liquor store on her way home from work and grabbed a bottle of schnapps. She finished it before dressing in her Santa's helper ensemble, and while she was a bit unsteady on her feet by the time she made it to her front door, the blast of cold air that met her as she stepped outside sobered her up enough to bring back the anxiety that had tormented her all day.

Sakura pulled her traveling cape around her as she tromped through the layer of new snow that blanketed the village. Her platform shoes kept her feet dry, although they did little to prevent her from sliding on the newly packed footprints of others.

The streets were empty, thankfully, so there was no one to gawk at her striped legs and too short skirt. Christmas eve was a night for couples and toasts before roaring fireplaces, not treks down deserted roads. Sakura slipped down unshoveled sidewalks before taking to the untouched snow of the road, and cursed herself for forgetting her gloves.

Sakura made it to Kakashi's apartment in one piece, however, her cheeks and nose reddened by the cold, if not the alcohol. She paused at the foot of the stairs leading to his floor of the building, ran her hands over the twin pigtails holding her shoulder length hair away from her head, and tugged firmly on the stocking that had managed to creep down her right thigh. After a quick adjustment to her decolletage (her outfit had also slipped a bit) she climbed the stairs to Kakashi's apartment and gingerly rang the bell.

A blast of hot air hit Sakura as the door opened. Kakashi stood before her in only sweatpants, a white tank undershirt and his ever present mask.

He invited her in and invited her to take her shoes off before crossing to the other side of a small living room and an even smaller Christmas tree.

As he rummaged through the packages under it, Sakura glanced around the room. The blanket covering the kotatsu was disturbed, as though someone had recently been sitting under it, and on the table itself was a six pack of beer and bowl of chips.

Maybe he was planning on inviting her to stay.

Sakura unclasped her cape and shrugged. The garment fell to the ground behind her with a soothing whoosh, just as it had the twenty-odd times she'd practiced this move. Her hands trembled a bit as they clasped the candy cane she'd brought along, and Sakura held her breath as she waited for Kakashi to turn toward her.

He did, agonizingly slowly, and Sakura prepared to launch into the dialogue and accompanying gestures she'd run through repeatedly.

"I've been very bad, Santa," she began.

Kakashi's eyes widened—both eyes, as he'd pushed back his hair upon glimpsing her— and the small box he was holding dropped to the tatami covered floor.

"Sakura?"

His question was punctuated by the unmistakable (and horribly impolite) sound of a toilet flushing, and Sakura wondered just how thin the walls were in the apartment complex.

A door creaked open, and Yamato strolled into the living room, scratching himself lazily.

Like Kakashi, he was clad in sweats. But only sweats— his chest was bare and he was minus his normal headpiece.

Sakura looked from Kakashi to his kohai, and back again.

Then she bolted.

Part two to be posted tomorrow (as soon as its written)! Merry Christmas, all!