title: shot one
prompt: You will see if you read. XD This particular one is for Annie Sparklecakes, AKA, starburst.

notes: The beginning of a hopefully, very short, SasuSaku oneshot collection. All of these stories will involve alcohol in one form or another, but not necessarily inebriation. Perhaps more than alcohol—and promises of indecent exposure—every piece in this collection will have more than a heaping dose of mockery, hence my cleverly not-clever title. Beyond that, there is nothing that really ties them together. Ahem. Anyway, unless noted, each oneshot will be UNRELATED to the one that came before, and I will avoid doing any two-parters.


I started this in the middle of the night. Pinaface—that is, ohwhatsherface—gets mad props and she knows why.

And the beginning might recall my first chapter of cherry apple wine, but it does deviate quite soon afterward. :)

summary: AU. SasuSaku. Today, I kissed my teacher. Which wasn't nearly as mortifying as the fact that I spilled my drink on him last night. FML.

disclaimer: Naruto isn't mine.

In retrospect, the fourth shot of tequila had, perhaps, not been her best and brightest idea.

Sakura shook off this brief flash of reason with another sip of the rum and coke in her left hand. It's a night for celebrations, she'd decided earlier, when she'd been in the Land of the Sober. Tomorrow would be her first day as a graduate student at Konoha University, a school with a sterling reputation.

Yes, she thought, a little gloating is hardly uncalled for.

"Right you are, Forehead," came a voice to her right accompanied by a brief flash of white-blonde hair. Ino, her mind supplied helpfully, if a bit belatedly. Sakura only barely caught the tail end of what her best friend was saying.

"…And you obviously need another drink if you're still speaking like someone fresh out of finishing school. Seriously," Ino finished matter-of-factly.

Sakura blinked blearily, before shaking her head in an attempt to clear it of its fog.

"What are you talking about? Right about what, Ino-pig," she asked.

Ino gave her a blank look, and smiled as she shook her head.

"Maybe you're a bit further along than I thought," she murmured, looking at Sakura contemplatively.

Sakura brought her empty shot glass to the table with a more force than was strictly necessary to sound her agreement.

"Well, that settles it—you said it yourself, Ino-pig. I'm about done for the night. I think my next round's going to have to be just plain seltzer if I want to get home." She was stopped during her descent from the barstool by a pale hand.

"Not so fast," Ino said, her lips curved in a mischievous smirk that Sakura knew she would regret later. "I said you were further along than I thought—"

"Right," Sakura said, clearly confused. "Which is why you should let me go—"

"—but," Ino continued, as though Sakura hadn't said anything at all, "I said nothing about you going home. Not yet, anyway."

"I don't follow you," Sakura said, the barest flush of lucidity returning to her.

Ino didn't reply, and after repeated attempts to call her attention, Sakura followed her friend's eyes to see what had struck her so silent.

At the sight, she drew in a deep breath.

He was all pale skin and dark eyes, his long fingers wrapped snugly around a single glass of red wine. His red tie was loose around his neck, and the first two buttons of his pristine white dress shirt were open—something which drew Sakura's gaze for far longer than she cared to admit. Sakura thought he looked remarkably at ease with the fact that he was the only silent patron in the madding crowd.

"No," Ino said finally, breaking Sakura out of her reverie. "But a few more shots, and I bet you'd follow him."

"Ino," Sakura squeaked out, clearly horrified.

"What? It's true, isn't it? Not that it'd be such a bad thing, you know. When was the last time you—"

"That," Sakura interrupted hotly, "is none of your business, Ino-pig."

The only reply she got was a single raised brow.

She signaled to the bartender for two more shots—one, she insisted, for "Dutch courage", and another for "Irish luck"—and after all but forcing it down her best friend's throat, Ino gave Sakura a gentle nudge to the other end of the bar, where "your would-be conquest" sat nursing his own, decidedly lonely, drink.


"Hey baby, what's your sign?"

Uchiha Sasuke snorted into his Bloody Mary. It was the third time he'd heard that line in the past hour, and—he glanced at the scantily-clad woman who'd spoken, the same one he'd noticed giving one of the bouncers at the door more than just the obligatory kiss-kiss to beat the line—the seventh brunette who'd approached him since he'd entered the club. All he wanted was a night out to himself before the start of the next term. He figured he'd earned it—his research had been going splendidly, and with the arrival of his newest pet-project the next day, progress could only come quicker. Was it too much to ask for a night without the usual parade of harpies?

He should have known better than to expect he'd go unspoken to for the night.

"Do not enter," he replied shortly.

Shut down thus scathingly delivered, Sasuke turned back to his drink, ignoring the pout on the brunette as she walked away, and finally—finally—left him to his own devices.

"Well that wasn't very sporting of you."

He stopped with his drink midway to his mouth, and sighed. Really? Was she really going to come back for more? He turned to face the voice, and opened his mouth to retort, before stopping short at the sight that met his eyes.

A woman—looking barely old enough to be in any club legally—in a dress the same shade as her eyes, with tousled pink hair looked steadily back at him. The flush on her face could have been the result of either a few hours spent on the crowded dance floor, or, more than a few rounds at the bar.

"Who are you," he said gruffly.

The stranger ignored his question, and went on. "What if she were feeling very vulnerable tonight?"

He observed her silently for a while, and then snorted.

"Her boyfriend's one of the bouncers," he said dryly, not knowing why he was obliging her by answering her questions. "Which one of us is vulnerable again?"

"Hm," she said, taking the empty seat beside him. "Still, it wouldn't have hurt to be a little nicer, you know? Girls like it when guys are nice to them."

The soft slurring of her words told him quite decisively that it was the bar that gave her that rosy flush.

"Do they," he said, noncommittally. "Be that as it may, I only take advice from people whose names I know—that is, not-strangers."

For a brief moment, almost immediately after the words left his mouth, Sasuke wondered why he'd even asked. Then, he brushed the thought aside—it didn't matter why he wanted to know, and he wasn't going to waste his time thinking about it. All that mattered was that he did and—

"My name's Sakura," she said, very rudely interrupting his thought processes. "And my friend told me I'm supposed to seduce you tonight since tomorrow's the last day of the rest of my life. But I don't seduce strangers," she finished, blatantly throwing his own words back in his face. "Your loss, I suppose."

Sasuke gave her a look designed solely to irritate, coupled with a thorough once-over that he hoped pronounced her decidedly…lacking.

"No, not really. I prefer my women sober and dignified, thanks," he replied, smirking at her.


At his—teasing; she wasn't quite sure—quip, Sakura felt her mouth drop in mingled shock and horror.

"Just what are you implying, you…you…"

"At a loss for words, are we," he said snidely. "Have you run out of the ones you already know? Should I help you out with some, maybe?"

Oh, but he was absolutely infuriating when he was looking at her so condescendingly. Especially, Sakura tried hard not to think, especially when he looks so good doing it.

"Excuse me," she squeaked out, unable to control the pitch her voice had taken.


Sasuke hadn't had this much fun in ages.

He looked at Sakura's rapidly reddening face in amusement. So maybe he was wrong—maybe he was channeling tonight's disappointments with the opposite sex (because was it really so hard to believe that he was just not interested?) into inducing Sakura's apoplectic fit.

That didn't make annoying the hell out of Sakura any less entertaining.


"You heard me," the stranger—for it occurred to Sakura in that moment that she had yet to get his name—"I won't judge, don't worry."

Sakura leaned into him, feeling more sober than she had in a long while. She was childishly gratified by the way he backed away, just so, in response.

"Tomorrow," she began slowly, so that he would understand. "I start my first term as a graduate student under Professor Sasuke Uchiha at Konoha University. He, as may or may not know, is a highly regarded professor in his field of study—a child prodigy who flew through his schooling so fast that he can't be more than a year older than me. And that man," she continued, oblivious to the stranger's sudden coughing fit. "He picked me to be his next protégé, based on my resume and my application alone." She took his sudden sharp intake of breath as shocked surprise. "Now, normally I wouldn't give this information out to a total stranger, but you, with your…your insinuations of my stupidity, and your general intolerance for the other people around you, who are, by the way, just trying to have a good time—not that you'd know anything about that, judging by the way you shot down that poor girl a few minutes ago—have made me so…ugh, angry, that I can't even be bothered to think of a better word for how I'm feeling right now. So no, Mr. Whoever-You-Are, I do not need you to give me any new words. As you may have noticed, I know enough to get by, thanks, and I have better people to get my validation from besides you."

She finished her tirade a little breathless, still ignoring the near-gaping man beside her, and asked the bartender for a glass of ice water. When he slid it down to her, Sakura took one sip of it, and without warning, poured the rest of it all over her companion.

"There," she said triumphantly. "That should cool you off."

To her surprise, instead of the storming off she'd expected, or even the cursing that would have signified the angry reaction she hoped for, the stranger chuckled. He shook his head once, twice, spraying her with droplets—and looking less like the drowned chicken she thought he'd resembled, and more like a fashion model on location in the midst of a spring shower.

Sakura gaped, her mouth falling open in shock, now truly at a loss for words.

"But, you…"

"I am so glad that you did that," he said, now leaning into her, so closely that their breaths mingled, and the different shades of gray that made up the color of his eyes were now more than apparent to her. Sakura sucked in a breath at his sudden closeness. He looked unperturbed by the water making its way down the bridge of his nose. "You have no idea."

He stood, and patted himself dry with a towel the laughing bartender had given to him after Sakura's rampage, and with a single finger, tapped Sakura's open jaw shut. His touch lingered for a moment on her bottom lip, and he smirked at the flush that reclaimed her face.

"Kankuro," he said, addressing the bartender without taking his eyes off of his single, captive audience. "Buy her another of whatever she had before the water, and put it on my tab. Believe me," he finished, now directing his words to Sakura, "you'll need it."

Then, he smiled, almost serenely.

"I should probably add something to my list of what makes women attractive," he said blandly. "What was it, again? Oh, right. I said I liked sobriety, dignity…and let's see." He gave her another brief, yet decidedly penetrating, glance.

"I think I'll add idiocy to that list."

"Idiocy," Sakura repeated blankly.

"Right," Sasuke replied. "I find idiocy charming—but only when it has pink hair."

He released her from his hold as he backed away, and slid his arms into jacket.

"Good night, Sakura," he said, almost mockingly. "I daresay we'll meet again, soon."

He turned to walk away, but stopped at the sudden soft thump that met his ears.

Sakura, it seemed, had fainted.


Sasuke sighed as he carried her with one arm under her bent knees, and another under her neck. After he'd gotten his bearings, he adjusted her so she was in a fireman's carry, slung over his shoulder so that his right hand was free. For a moment, he cursed his chivalrous upbringing, and wondered why he was even bothering with a girl who'd done nothing but insult him—and then, he allowed, complimented him, but that didn't count since she didn't know it was him she'd been speaking about, anyway—since he'd met her.

Implying he was "rude," and outright saying he was "intolerant"…

Sasuke was tempted to drop her where he stood.

Then, he visualized the hangover his current burden would wake up to, as well as the mortification she would feel when she eventually remembered all the things she'd said to him tonight

And the look on her face, when she walked into his classroom tomorrow…

It was a pleasure too blissful to contemplate.

With these happy thoughts in mind, Sasuke exited the bar—unconscious passenger in tow—and went off to find the blonde girl he'd seen her speaking to earlier in the night.


Ino turned away from the charming blond man she was speaking to at the feel of two fingers tapping against her shoulder. To her surprise, it was the marble statue she and Sakura had been ogling earlier, and—

At the sight of her best friend slung over the man's shoulder, Ino gaped.


"I think this is yours," he said simply, gesturing to the sleeping, green-clad figure he was carrying.

"What'd you do to her, you creep," Ino yelled indignantly, stepping down from her bar stool. "Do you like your women unconscious?"

"No," he shot back, unamused. "I like them sober, thanks. I figured she didn't want to be mauled, so I brought her over to you. She's yours, isn't she? Or did I pick the wrong blonde bimbo? There are so many here tonight, you'll have to forgive my confusion if I did. "

Ino narrowed her eyes at him, and the blond man she'd been speaking to, backed away in alarm.

"You total prick!"

In response, he snorted.

"You're lucky I even bothered after she spilled that water all over me."

"And I'm sure," Ino said waspishly, "that you did something to deserve it!"

Without another word to anyone, Ino took Sakura from the stranger's lax hold and stomped off in the general direction of the exit.


The next morning was a flurry of activity as Sakura hurried to get her things together for her first day at Konoha U.

In her head, she cursed hangovers, Ino, liquor, Ino, blackouts, Ino, and a single strange man whose face she couldn't recall, but whose annoyingly superior voice she could.

"Idiocy my ass," she muttered, as she locked the door before leaving.

"Thank God I'm never going to have to see him again."

She paused.

"Even if he was sort of cute."


The classroom was blissfully empty when she arrived, and as she'd planned on the way to work, she took the seat directly in front of the professor's desk, having found during her experiences in high school that it was the place most conducive to her learning.

Sakura unpacked her laptop, satisfied when she saw the full battery bar. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to leave it charging before going out with Ino the night before.

At the reminder of last night, she blanched. Ino had told her precious little of what had happened when Sakura had called her on her way to class. Her voice though, had been annoyingly smug, when she'd intimated that something—and her fairly singing the word left a bad taste in Sakura's mouth—involving a glass of ice water, and a "perfectly prime piece of ass—and, Sakura-darling, I do mean 'ass'"—had occurred.

She shuddered delicately as she opened a blank document on her word processor, determined to forget all about it.

Or rather, she corrected herself, forget it more thoroughly than I have already.

Two more students filtered in, and by the time class started, there were a grand total of three students in the class, including her.

And, Sakura noticed, she was the only girl.

"Professor's very selective isn't he," the man beside her said aloud. As their companion—a man with dark, slanted eyes, who had his hair tied back in a perfectly functional sort of way—was dozing on and off, Sakura could only assume the comment was directed at her. He, she couldn't help but notice, had the palest eyes she'd ever seen on anyone in her life.

She opened her mouth to respond, only to be beaten to it by the very same low drawl she'd resolved to forget.

"That's right, Hyuuga. I take only the best into my class, since I don't believe in wasting my breath."

Sakura felt her stomach sink somewhere to the vicinity of her knees as he turned those dark eyes onto her and smirked.

"Though," he continued mockingly, "I'll say I'm different from other teachers you might find here at KU in that I do allow for moments of…idiocy. Isn't that right, Haruno?"

Sakura, who'd been trying in vain to stay unnoticed by The Voice, was forced to look up at the direct address.

"Yes? I mean," she squeaked, "yes. Exactly."

The grin that met her eyes was feral, more a baring of teeth than anything else, though Sakura could not deny seeing more than a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Thankfully, it seemed that he'd had enough of reminiscing, as he suddenly regained the apathy he'd walked in with; any mirth he'd had was swept away for another day.

"Very well, then. Let's begin."



By the time you get this email—a throwback, I hope you'll notice, to all those times we used to pass notes to each other in grade school—I'll be Dead by Way of Mortification. And no, this isn't me being dramatic—because that is your forte, whether or not you believe me—because I am never that. I'm just telling you the truth, as gracefully as my limited time will allow.

(And don't even start with me about how "normal people" don't type complete sentences into their emails. Or, that they don't use words like "Mortification. I have never claimed to be normal, and as you know, it causes me physical pain to even see "words" like "u," or "ur," or whatever the "hip, 'in,'" spelling is now. My apologies in advance, but you and your silly laptop will have to live with my coherency.)

What I'm trying to say is that Adonis-from-last-night—as in, the guy you told me to hit on—IS MY TEACHER, FML.

(Yes, I know, who knew someone who looks the way he does could actually have a mind?)

And Oh my God, Ino, he recognized me, and Oh My God. I don't even know. I'm in a state of hysteria. All I'm saying, is thank God for Blackberry Curves because they allow me to release my frustrations via text without those stupid "YOU HAVE REACHED THE MAXIMUM OF CHARACTERS THE MESSAGE WILL ALLOW" notifications that stupid Nokia seemed to give me after my every other vowel.

Whatever. My point is that clearly, I was not meant to soar into the annals of academic greatness.

At least, not because of my mentor, Uchiha Sasuke—as in, the man (with the greatest ass this side of Paradise) I complimented and insulted all in the span of one breath.

I amaze even myself, sometimes.

You can help yourself to my condo, and everything in it. I won't need it where I'm going. Just bury me in my Louboutins because while I love you, I don't love you enough to allow you to upstage me at my own funeral.

Check my teeth for lipstick, please—I would, but well, you know.



At the end of class, Sakura shot up with little prompting, and busied herself with packing her things while Neji Hyuuga and Shikamaru Nara spent their time schmoozing with one Professor Sasuke Uchiha. She'd packed all but her external hard drive, and was close to the door before he called out to her, stopping her mid-step, her hand already halfway to the doorknob.

"Please stay behind, Haruno. Gentlemen," he said, addressing his next words to Neji and Shikamaru, "until next time."

The two, taking his words for the dismissal they were—Sakura supposed they weren't grad students for nothing then—walked out of the classroom with carefully concealed looks of confusion on their faces, as though they'd suddenly realized that they were late for an appointment they couldn't remember making.

After their footsteps had gotten far enough down the hallway outside the door, Sasuke sat down and allowed a smirk to make its way across his lips.

"Before you say anything, I would just like to say that," Sakura began slowly—as she was determined to keep her voice free from any inflections that might give her away—"I was exceptionally drunk last night, and I don't actually remember what I said to you," she finished, lying through her teeth.

Sasuke tapped his fingers against his oak desk, looking supremely unaffected, and decidedly unconvinced.

"Right. Tell me, Sakura. Do you make it a habit of offering your unmentionables to all men? Or was I simply uncommonly lucky last night?"

Sakura's jaw dropped in horror at his pointed choice of words.

"I didn't," she squeaked, clearly mortified.

After a few moments, Sasuke allowed himself to smirk.

"No," he agreed lowly. "But the way the evening was going, I'm sure you would have."

Sakura flushed pink, but made an admirable effort to recover.

"Really," she said, a note of challenge in her voice. "Would that have been before or after I spilled the water on your crotch?"

His lips quirked even more at her slip, and the end result looked more like a half-smile than the mocking expression of barely concealed derision she'd been treated to so frequently the night before.

"Aa," he said simply. "So, you do remember some of it, don't you?"

"Only that one, brief, shining moment," she replied, acidly. "It gets a little blurry after that."

"I do have that effect on women sometimes," he answered blandly. Sakura, however, saw what seemed to be amusement lurking behind the indifference.

The sight of it infuriated her.

"You're certainly confident in your ability to attract the fairer sex," she said huffily, trying in vain to forget that she herself had given him more than enough reason to be so.

Sasuke scoffed—he found himself doing that around this Haruno Sakura.

"I did get you last night, didn't I?"

Sakura suppressed an unladylike snort.

"Hardly," she snapped back. "You got three strawberry daiquiris, four shots of tequila, and two Rum-and-Cokes. I just happened to be the container."

"Whatever I got last night is turning out to be a lot more charming than you," he said silkily, leaning back in his seat.

"I'm not here to be charming," she said coldly. "I'm here to be your student."

Suddenly, Sasuke stopped and leaned in, resting his chin on the interlocked knuckles of his hands. He considered her with his dark, dark eyes, and Sakura had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being thoroughly inspected.

"Tomorrow," he said aloud, as though he'd forgotten she was even in the room. "I'll wait until tomorrow, but no longer."

Sakura looked at him, confused by the sudden lack of insults.

"Tomorrow? You'll wait until tomorrow for what," she asked defensively, wondering what it was he had in mind now.

"Tomorrow," Sasuke said, "I'm recommending that you transfer into Professor Hatake's class."

Sakua gaped at him, unable to process what he was saying. She tried to reply, tried in vain to express her confusion at having been let go before she'd even begun—at having been "released" into the mentorship of the Kakashi Hatake who himself had molded Sasuke into the visionary he was now, into the scholar whose reputation was surpassed only be his master's.

"Wha—" Sakura tried again, unable to complete the word.

"Your references are excellent, and you come highly recommended," Sasuke continued, apparently oblivious to Sakura's inner turmoil. "And I haven't 'forwarded' anyone in years, so if you're lucky, my word will be enough to get you in with him."

"I'm sorry," Sakura sputtered out. "Why am I being transferred?"

Sasuke heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"You really don't remember, do you?" At her blank look, he continued. "What did I tell out about charm and idiocy?"

"You said you only liked it when…oh." At the return of the memory, and despite her efforts to avoid it, Sakura could not stop the blush. "But I all but called you a self-righteous twit! I insulted you, and then I spilled water on your crotch."

She eyed him strangely.

"Is that, like, a mating ritual, where you're from? Does it go together with insulting your would-be paramour?"

Sasuke shrugged, unaffected by her sarcasm.

"We'll never find out if you stay in my class, will we?"

Sakura bit her lip, considering.

On one hand, he'd called her a moron, and intimated that he thought her little more than a fluff-filled airhead with more hair than sense.

On the other, she had spilled water on his crotch. And she'd probably have the opportunity to do it again, if she saw him outside of the classroom.

With that happy thought, Sakura made up her mind.

In one swift movement, she dragged him forward by the tie he was wearing until they were sharing the same breath, as close to each other as they had been the night before. Sasuke didn't resist until the last moment, just before his lips would touch hers.

"I still think you're charming, you know," Sasuke murmured, his breaths falling on the seams of her lips.

Sakura was unimpressed. "Which is code for, 'I still think you're a moron,' right?"

He smirked, unrepentantly, as his eyes fluttered shut.

"You're learning," he replied, before closing the distance between their lips.

There is Tale One. I doubt very much that the others will be this long, though. :)

Prompt, by the by, was student/teacher.

Please, tell me what you think!