More Than Words

She talked a lot. And by that I mean A LOT. The girl had verbal diarrhea, he'd decided, as his bored gaze slowly traveled to the sky outside the restaurant. The sun had long since disappeared, leaving it streaked with a pleasant shade of pink which reminded him pretty much of her. "So, I was walking by the market place that day, when I saw this…" Her chattering was incessant, unceasing. It was a fact of life. Like how Sakura blossoms were pink and oranges were, well, orange. Sometimes he wondered if even in her sleep she chattered so much. He wouldn't have been very surprised if she did though. There was never really a time he could recall when he'd seen her not talking. And he'd have given everything to see her speechless.

"Sakura," he began finally. She paused in mid sentence, deciding that what he had to say was probably more important than that funny old man with the orange moustache she'd seen at the market place. "Have you ever spoken a single sentence in less than a hundred words?"

The surprise in her eyes was quickly replaced by confidence, "Sure I have!" she puffed out her chest, "just give me a topic, any topic at all."

"Hn," he leaned closer. Just enough for his dark eyes to catch the orange glow of the dancing candle. Just enough for his breath to tickle her cheek. "How much do you love me?"

His question had caught her off-guard, her lime green eyes widening as a pretty blush rose to her cheeks. He smirked at the desired effect. "W-well," she pursed her cherry pink lips into a cute pout as tiny creases formed on her forehead. "Oh!" the gears in her mind began spinning as she launched off into full swing, "there was this time like two, wait or was it three? Nope, two. Or was it three?" a vein popped in the poor boy's right temple. "Ok, fine, two and a half. Yea, as I was saying, I was at Tsunade-shishou's book vault, tidying up all the huge stacks of dust covered books and scrolls, oh you have no idea know just how untidy it can get in there, with all files and magazines and books and documents and…" another vein popped in the left temple, "well, I came across this poetry book. I think it was by Shakekunai or something, maybe a cousin of Shakespeare, or distant cousin or auntie's brother, or father's mother's sister's…"

"Sakura!" his outburst made the restaurant go quiet, "will you please get to the point?" She giggled childishly at this; she'd mentioned once that she thought he looked cute when he was mad. Not that she was going to bring it up again, seeing he'd gone as red as the tomato he'd been eating the last time she brought it up.

"Well, anyways, it read something like this," she paused for dramatic effect, "if the skies were rolls of parchment, the oceans, seas and lakes filled with black ink, and every stalk and stem of every flower in the fields were pens. I'd still be unable to express in words just how much I love you." She smiled shyly at this as Sasuke quickly found something amusing outside the window to divert his gaze to. "And that's how much I love you," she whispered, playfully reaching across the candle-lit table to poke his cheek.

"Sakura, you do realize you've exceeded a hundred, right?" charcoal pools turned back to meet hers. "Six words," his smirk increased ten-fold. "More. Than. Anything. In. The. World." A gasp escaped her lips as something went off in her chest. Those were the exact same words she'd said to him the night he'd left. Yet then, they'd rolled right off him like raindrops on a hard rock. Now he'd accepted them. And she couldn't have been more overjoyed. For she knew, that despite that arrogant smirk on his face, he'd meant them with all his heart.

And her eyes widened at this. "Four words!" she exclaimed triumphantly, "With. All. My. Heart."

That was IT!!! She had beaten THE Uchiha- "You've gotta try harder than that, sweetie," his voice was low, and even a blindman would have caught the taunting glint in his eyes. "Three words. More. Than. Life."

With that, he folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, observing the huffing kunoichi across the table. She bit her lower lip and twirled a pink strand absently, lost in deep thought.

And then, it was like a bolt of lightning striking her out of the blue and she leapt across the table, toppling a glass in the process. His hands now firmly clasped in her, she glared at him challengingly. Oh she could taste the victory like salt in the sea breeze. "One word," her face was now barely inches from his.

"Infinite," it hit the air like a resounding bell, causing all activities to come to a standstill.

"Beat that," her smile was devious, evil even.

"Alright," it was that cool, indifferent voice of his. And he closed the gap between them, tongue tickling hers as he fought for dominance. She tasted like cherries. Like tomatoes. Like everything sweet.

"I win."

She was speechless.