WR: Fine. So Sakura doesn't deserve Kakashi. But Kakashi doesn't want to get with Anko, and so this was born. Mutilated at birth, by the way.
Is it raining where you are? she asked, twitching at the call of her name. She hated the whitewashed walls in the hospital, hated the putrid stink of cleaner, hated the bright, white floors that deterred her from her path. She hated it all. And the fact she hated the most was that he wasn't there to hold her hand – not when she wanted him there the most. Oh yes, he was there to pound at when she was angry, and he was there to poke and prod at her when she needed the support, but he was never there when she was in pain, or when she wanted to cry, or when she wanted to be held.
Do you still remember me? She hated him when he was away – despised him even. She despised him for leaving her, if only for two or three days; she hated him when he had to command those men and women in missions - because it meant that he was one step closer to dying and leaving her alone. And she realized that she really did love him, until her whole purpose of being revolved around him, and that if he were gone, she would want to be gone with him as well. It was sad. Very sad – and to others it might have appeared desperate – but she did love him.
Stupid boy, where the hell are you? she smirked, looking down on the floor. She could see her reflection on the tiles, could hear her feet tapping impatiently on the ground, could feel the cold slumber of air beside her. Yeah, she could feel all that – but she couldn't feel herself. Where was she? Was she lost in his memories? Was she lost in her mind? No – she didn't know where she was at all.
"Go this way, ma'am, and the doctor'd be right with you."
Sakura looked at the young nurse expectantly as the door was opened for her. She walked in, grimacing as she saw the array of needles and syringes on top of the metallic table. And she shivered – really shivered – not because of the cold, or because of the ambience, but because it was always at this point where he would come and hold her shoulder and whisper to her that everything would be alright. Always at this point.
Goddamn, you're late again. And she found herself not caring if he had a mission to undergo, she didn't care that he had to train, or become stronger, or that he had to teach all the rest of them how to become real ninja. No, she didn't care – because he was hers, and the whole point of that was that she could summon him whenever she wished. It was selfish, naïve, childish even, but she expected all these things of him.
"Haruno, Sakura, am I correct?" the doctor entered. A middle-aged man clad in white, she nearly snorted at his manner. "You'll have a routine checkup, and then I'll have to draw your blood."
"I understand you hate needles, but…" he trailed off.
She clenched her fists.
"…You'll have to do it if you want to continue being a ninja."
Once every year. Once every frigging year – and she couldn't even stand it. Why should she of all people need check-ups? She was perfectly healthy – in fact, most Chuunins were perfectly healthy themselves. It was the Jounins who needed the check-ups – yet the Hokage had said that their health was their own responsibility.
Damn it! She whined silently.
And where the hell was he?!
"What would you like to do first?"
She gulped again.
"I guess the blood test," she said meekly, frowning as the doctor drew out a needle – a large, large needle – with a large, large tube for blood.
Stupid boy, I don't need him anyways.
"Alright, I'll just be a couple of minutes, I need to get something," the doctor left, taking with him his coat. But not the needle – no, he decided to leave the needle behind.
For her to stare at until she wanted to die of fear and fright.
One could say she hated needles.
She merely thought it was a major dislike.
And her thoughts drifted off once more to him – to his hands, and the way they would play with her hair, to his eyes and the way the would look when he was deep in thought, to his uniform – because she had already memorized the number of stitches on the damn thing.
So it was here where the term 'speak of the devil' – or more like 'thought' – proved itself true.
Unfortunately, the 'devil' had managed to dump a certain pale of water on top of her head.
"Ah, Sakura," he blinked, "sorry about that."
"And you're late again, why?" she demanded. "Stupid Kakashi," she muttered.
"I was walking on the street and caught sight of a blue bird."
"No really, why?"
He was silent for a while.
"My team was obliterated. I was the only one left standing. But," he paused, "at least I managed to complete the mission."
"Oh," she mouthed silently. And she was scared – for once, not because of the needles, or the floor, or the hospital room – because she knew her time with him was precious. God, he could die any day.
"They haven't taken your blood yet, have they?" he sat by her – and she decided to promptly jerk away.
"No," she said simply. And she could see the distressed look on his face – and she could see that this wasn't what he needed now – but she couldn't help it. She was scared of him, and what he could do to her – scared for him, and what those missions could do to him.
"Are you," he pondered, "angry?"
For a while she contemplated the idea of being cruel.
"No," she decided, "no I'm not."
"You sure," he asked plaintively, searching for her hand.
"Yeah," she grabbed his instead.
And they sat like that for a while, enjoying each other's company.
"I told Tsunade-sama that I was going on a 3 month break," he broke the silence.
"Yeah, and I am going on a break – because I'm tired and I need the sleep," he yawned.
What the hell does that do? She wanted to scream – when I'll be even more frightened after three months?
"I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when the doctor comes," he rested his head on her shoulder. And yes, he was sleeping – deeply, in fact – something which he hadn't done for a long time. So she looked at him for some time, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for being with such a great man – because she knew she didn't deserve him. After all, what had she done for him? Nothing but mock him, and shout at him, and complain until he would no longer listen. Yeah, that was all she had done for him.
So when the doctor came in again – this time with a larger needle – she did not wake him up.
Because she knew he needed her this time.
And she didn't mind it one bit.
WR: Snort. Barf. And as for one-shotters, I usually do chapter stories.