Title: Blame Nike.

Rating: T.

Summary: Sakura writes a letter to the Nike company.


"Sakura, you know I love you."

"Shut up, dipshit!" The pinkette screamed at her 18 year old boyfriend, who really was only 5 feet 6 inches and not 6 feet tall in reality. So seriously, shut up.

He stared at his girlfriend. She was a few inches shorter than him.

"I think you're over reacting-"

"Well I think you're under reacting!"

Facepalm. Open mouth, insert foot, Sasuke. Looks like you are not winning this one.

Actually, come to think of it. I don't think you ever win. At least, not when it comes to the cute little monster that is Sakura.

She was currently pacing angrily with her hands fisted in her hair.

"How do I tell my parents?" She whined, before slamming her face on her pillows. She continued beating her bed with her fists.

"Sakura, is your door open?" Her mother yelled teasingly from downstairs.

"It wouldn't make a difference!" Sakura screamed back, suddenly finding the whole situation extremely funny.

"WHAT?"

Ignoring the mother, Sasuke continued staring at Sakura.

Maybe, just a little possibilty, this was kind of his fault. But hey, it wasn't all that bad.

Fumbling for a piece of paper and a pen, Sakura scrawled a message.

"What's Nike's address?" She asked without looking up from her writings.

"Huh? I don't know. Why?" He asked, coming to sit next to her on the bed.

Looking over her shoulder. His girlfriend really did have a temper. She wasn't really going to send it, was she?

'Dear Nike. I did it. Now what? Sincerely, pregnant teen.'

He could only hug her and try not to laugh.


Dedicated to KillerMay, again.

Because I forgot to include Sasuke's REAL height.

Ohyeah.