a/n: for fading ink. BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY, INDIRA! (and this is super late because I didn't realize it was still sitting in my doc manager. Arghhh)
200 Days of Summer
. . .
It was so ironic how the one person she never wanted to see again more than anyone in the world would end up being the only person she was stuck with for…oh, let's say 365 days.
Being stuck in the smallest island mankind had ever imagined usually got no rescue hope these days.
"We're stuck," he said, voice gruff and sounding like he stating some mathematical theory.
She didn't respond.
"In an island," he added a second later. Like that needed clarification.
She kept on staring at the ocean and the private plane that had landed…not-so-gracefully in it.
Why did she have to take that private plane, knowing he was the one flying it?
Oh, right. She was late for an appointment. There was no other choice.
"This is all your fault, Haruno."
"Bite me," she snapped. Then she strode off with dignity. A few seconds later, she tripped on a seashell and fell face down on the sand.
It wasn't far off to say that she could feel his smirk from behind.
. . .
Sasuke probably thought they had a servant he could just order around while he lounged in the makeshift hammock and sipped on the water they found from a nearby waterfall.
"The bamboo's lopsided."
Sakura stared at him in disbelief.
He launched a short speech about how mechanically incorrect it was and how the bamboo shelter would collapse by nightfall if it wasn't fixed before placing the water bottle on the sand and preparing himself for a nap.
The next thing he met was sand in his mouth and pain in his butt.
"I hope you enjoyed your nap," Sakura said sweetly.
Then she strode off again in a huff, not tripping on anything this time.
. . .
She wasn't mad at Uchiha Sasuke for being the famous person that he was – a lead dancer in a pop singing/dancing group, one who composed the group's dance lyrics, played all sorts of instruments and managed to get into acting/modeling gigs during his free time.
She wasn't even mad at him when he went to parties and she read in newspapers and magazines about all the girls linked to him throughout the years.
No. What set her temper to boiling was the fact that he had not onceapologized for all that he had done when they were still in their childhood days and he just…left.
Maybe he forgot about how painful that was. Maybe he just didn't care.
All the same, it remained in her until she grew up, and as immature as it was, holding a grudge was the best way for her to stop getting hurt.
It worked out so far, really – until now.
Stupid plane crash.
. . .
The rainstorm hit them like a sudden punch, and it was all she could do to stop shivering as she wrapped the blanket around her.
"Haruno, come inside."
She gritted her teeth and ignored him.
"Haruno, stop being such a spoiled little diva and—"
The loud clap of thunder was enough to have her inner pride dying and her outer self freaking out, no matter how hard she tried not to. She whimpered in her spot under the lopsided bamboo shelter (now on the verge of falling down), shivering and wishing she was back in Konoha under her warm blankets. She closed her eyes and tried to block the sound away, singing a song in her head to calm herself down – it wasn't working, darn it—
Suddenly she was dry, and warmth surrounded her. Sakura opened her eyes and found herself inside the plane, now split in half but still able to keep the rain away. There were blankets all over her and there was Sasuke on the far side, staring out the tiny window and not saying a word.
Thank you. The word hung around her mind like a mantra. Instead of saying it, she merely accepted the covers and settled in her spot. The plane smelled slightly smoky, and not at all nice, but it was fine for now – better than being out there, anyway.
As if he heard her thoughts, he spoke. "I'll build the shelter tomorrow."
She closed her eyes again and went out like a light.
. . .
The shelter was gorgeous. It looked like being a superstar didn't lessen Sasuke's daily-chore skills at all.
"It's lopsided," she complained, for the heck of it.
"No, it's not."
Ah, well. It was pretty nice – better than her bamboo shelter, at least.
"It's okay," she amended.
He gave her a knowing look.
. . .
Maybe she should forget about holding a grudge for a while. They were both stuck here for more than a month now, and it was useless waiting for a rescue plane to come and take them away. Obviously they were going to be here for a long time, and she needed someone to talk to.
Her saliva was getting dry.
"Hey, Uchi – Sasuke…want some bananas?"
"They're pretty ripe."
"…and sweet. Yum."
"I hate sweets," he replied shortly.
Ah. Maybe she should forget about not holding a grudge, then.
"Fine. Killjoy," she muttered.
She ate the bananas wholeheartedly.
. . .
Her stomach grumbled at the smell of corned beef cooking, even as she munched on her bananas stubbornly. How he failed to find the hidden compartment filled with emergency food all these days, she couldn't really figure out. It was his label record's private plane, wasn't it?
She wished she found it first.
"Come eat, Sakura."
Oh. So it was Sakura now.
"It's fine," she said. "I have my bananas to keep me happy."
"You can't expect to eat those stupid fruits for the rest of your life."
He was right, of course.
She kept on eating her fruits, exclaiming every now and then about how good they were. It didn't stop him from leaving her half of what he cooked, and eventually her stomach protested enough for her to take it.
The first bite was like heaven.
"It's delicious," she said reluctantly, waiting for him to smirk or jab at her for being so petty. She probably deserved it.
"It is," was all he said.
They ate in companionable silence, for once.
. . .
"Do you have any more of those bananas?"
Sakura stared at him in surprise.
"Well, yeah. I found a tree with ripe ones yesterday, and…are you saying you want some?"
He nodded his head stiffly.
"Even if you hate fruits that aren't tomatoes?"
"They're good for the health."
She stared some more. Then she handed him the ones she had picked, gawking slightly as he peeled one, took a bite and tried not to flinch. It was obvious he hated it as he glared at her.
"This is awful."
She beamed. Silly boy.
"You'll get used to it."
. . .
"Hey, can you teach me that dance step?"
He stopped from his practice (workout?) and inclined his head at her – a silent order for her to hurry up and stand beside him.
Rolling her eyes, Sakura did as he said, listening closely as he told her the steps and demonstrated slowly.
An hour later, she lay on the sand, exhausted and sweating like a pig.
"Remind me never to dance with you again," she complained without heat.
He sat down beside her, not the least bit tired.
"You're a relentless trainer," she said.
He shrugged. "We all have to train hard at what we do."
She remembered her days as an intern in the hospital, and knew he was right.
"Never dancing with you again," she repeated.
. . .
"Never. Ever. Dancing. With. You. Again."
She flopped down on the sand and cursed herself for getting addicted.
He had some pretty cool dance moves.
. . .
Sakura shouted at the top of her lungs, excitement coursing through her veins.
"Sasuke, look! Look! I caught fish! I caught fish!"
She, who never caught fish (he was much, much better at that). She, who only provided fruits as their daily meal.
"Let's cook it," she said, running back to shore as if her life depended on it. "Let's cook it right now."
He didn't exactly smile in amusement, but his expression was close.
"It's just fish."
"And I proudly caught it! Come on, now. Don't go killjoy on me."
Their dinner, while slightly charred, was the best she'd ever eaten in days.
. . .
She missed Konoha so badly. She missed Naruto's crazy jokes and Ino's juicy gossip and visiting her parents' grave with flowers and food in hand. She missed Tsunade and her insane demands, and talking to patients who were either too demanding or the kindest she'd ever encountered.
Heck, she even missed Sai's insults.
That night, Sakura quietly cried herself to sleep. She was pretty sure he noticed, but he made no comment.
. . .
Sakura tried to stifle her scream by biting her tongue until she felt pain – not that it was helping, because she could still hear the roaring of the wind and the loud pitter-patter of rain and the insane thunder that she vehemently wished would go away. Think happy thoughts, she said to herself. Rainbows, unicorns, mangoes, chocolates…
She inwardly whimpered, hating herself for the tears about to stream.
"Sakura, what is it with you and thunder?"
"You know I've always hated it," she bit out. Then, regretting her flash of temper, she amended, "It's fine. I'm fine. This is just a childhood fear. I'll get over it—"
She froze, paralyzed. She was going to die. She was going to die.
When she didn't move, she heard him sigh behind her before she felt his large hands pulling her and rolling her until – oh. His shirt was in her line of vision, and she wondered if she was wimpy enough to actually hide herself in his arms – that's probably what he thought—
She panicked, hurriedly burying herself in his chest.
Fine. She was a wimp. No denying that now.
"Talk," he repeated. "Talk until you forget about the stupid thunder."
Stupid thunder. She liked the sound of that.
"I don't know what to say—"
"Do you miss your life?" she blurted out, speaking so fast that she stumbled all over her words. Now that she started, she couldn't stop. "Being with your fans? Doing what you do? Mingling with all those pretty girls and spending time with your groupmates?"
"I miss my groupmates, yes. I miss performing."
"Do you do it for the fame or because you love performing?"
"I love performing. I'm not the best singer in the group – that title belongs to Shikamaru – but we balance each other."
"And now you're gone and they're gonna be crippled. That really sucks," she said.
"Hn. They'll manage."
"What's Kiba like? Your rapper? I've always had a crush on him. He seems like he has this wild side that's going to drive women crazy with longing and make them all fall in love with him—"
"He likes girls a lot."
"I bet he does. And I bet he gets them all. With charisma like that, who wouldn't? It must be—" Boom! "—aaah, it must – it must—"
"You were saying? Kiba?"
He was helping her out. He was trying to make her forget about the stupid rainstorm.
She told him – out of panic, really – that someday, she hoped he'd introduce her to Kiba so she'd get to kiss those hot lips. Maybe.
He agreed and said he wouldn't hold her hand if Kiba broke her heart.
An hour later, she slept to the soft hum of his average-sounding voice and the steady beat of his heart.
. . .
He ignored her and kept the open book in his face, more as a cover now than to actually read it (they've both read Les Miserables countless times since they got here).
Removing the book from his face, he found her holding up a turtle, its little head peeking out of its shell.
"Don't kill it."
"I'm not going to! I know what I'm doing. Medical school, remember?"
"You are such a grouch."
"And you are so annoying. And arrogant."
She scoffed. "Says the Engineer."
"…how did you know?"
"I glimpsed it. On television at one point. I do watch television sometimes, you know."
"I thought you hated me enough to switch channels."
"Kiba was beside you. I couldn't resist."
. . .
It looked like the reason he was grouchy as hell lately (grouchier than his usual grouchy self, at least) was finally coming to light.
He ignored her, opting to shiver under his blankets with his stomach empty and his head pounding.
"You're really hot, Sasuke."
"Fans always say that."
"And an arrogant ass," she continued, rolling her eyes. Then the worry kicked in as she felt his forehead, burning under her touch. She immediately went into action. Food first, then some salve.
He'd better not be too sick and die on her and leave her all alone here.
. . .
"I'll be fine," he grunted.
He was so stubborn.
"You need more blankets."
"Stop telling me what we do not have. I'm fine."
"Fine," she huffed.
Five minutes later, she crawled over to him, her worry spiking when she found him shivering again.
As expected, there was no response. Sighing, Sakura positioned herself in front of him so that they were both lying sideways. Then she pulled his arms and made him wrap them around her, arranging the blankets over them and hoping it was enough.
Hours later, he finally stopped shivering. Worries easing, she finally fell asleep.
. . .
Sasuke scoffed. "You can't race me. I'm a runner."
"You just recovered, didn't you? I'm sure you're not fast enough at this point."
"…are you trying to kill me?"
"Nope. This is good for your health. Trust me. I'm a doctor."
"Race you," she repeated, running off with a laugh.
He won the race.
. . .
"Why do you hate me?"
She looked up in surprise, almost dropping the fish she was eating. Where did that come from?
He wasn't looking at her, and they were separated by the bonfire she built. The light flickered across his face, yet she couldn't read his expression.
"I don't hate you. I never hated you," she said, carefully shifting her focus back to the fish. Nitpick, eat. Nitpick, eat. A long pause. "But you did leave."
"I had to."
"Without saying anything."
"I had to."
It really hurt, she said in her mind. They used to be a team – her, him and Naruto. All born with problems in life, all fated to become friends. Then he just left.
It was all too complicated to explain to him, all too hard to express. So she didn't.
They continued eating without another word.
. . .
"I had to leave. I couldn't breathe there."
She snuggled in the shelter of arms he provided, trying to ignore the thunder and make sense of his words. When she finally did, she didn't know what to say.
He kept talking.
"Itachi was out of prison, and my parents' death anniversary was a constant reminder of what I couldn't have. I needed something. I needed to find him."
"I found him dead in the streets of Paris. Stabbed by a rival gang member. He never changed. I went crazy for a while."
"Then I found them. And music. It gave me purpose. I couldn't go back to Konoha. I'd have gone crazy again from all the memories."
She pretended to sleep, all the while absorbing his words – knowing he would never really say it when he knew she was awake and alert and ready to fry him.
She forgave him that night.
. . .
He was in the hammock again, reading an orange book that looked new to her. And he was wearing glasses.
"Hey, where did you find that?"
He didn't look up, merely kept turning the pages.
"Under the plane carpet. Our manager Kakashi must have left it behind."
"And the glasses?"
"I always wear glasses when I have something new to read."
Meaning he probably already read Les Miserables before they got here.
. . .
"Why won't you let me read it?"
"I told you already – it's the company's technicalities."
"You wouldn't understand the terms. It's pointless."
"It doesn't matter. Please? I'm so bored."
"Arghh, you're impossible!"
"I'll find it, you know. I'll just read it when you're asleep."
To her utmost frustration, he hid it very, very well.
. . .
After finally convincing him to sleep outside their bamboo shelter and enjoy the stars for once (honestly, he was so stiff sometimes), she couldn't help but gloat.
"See? Aren't the stars pretty? All glowing like tiny diamonds?"
Translation: it's okay – which was already good enough from an Uchiha Sasuke.
They lay side by side like that, staring above them and talking when they could. Well, she talked mostly, but he listened, and even contributed some opinions.
"I wonder if Kiba would like to stargaze with me someday," she mused loudly.
He scoffed. "He likes kissing girls. That's it."
"I can provide that, too. Lots of kissing."
He remained silent. Then after a second, he told her she was silly.
"Mark my words. I'll kiss him," she promised.
They slept under the stars, and woke up holding each other close to fend off the cold. It was no longer awkward.
. . .
When he stepped out of the ocean with drops glistening from his skin and his hair sticking to his face, she realized that he was long and lean, and the muscles were subtle. They shifted when he walked, and when he frowned like that—
Her mouth went dry.
Why did she just notice this now?
. . .
"I finally got all your dance steps!" Sakura exclaimed, turning to her raven-haired companion and smile turning into a pout when she found him dead asleep in his cozy little hammock.
And she was so excited to show him, too.
An orange flash caught her vision. Eyes widening, she stared at him, then at the book beside him that seemed to be calling her name. A bulb lit up inside her head.
Seconds later, she finally had the orange book in her hands – and Sasuke was still sound asleep. She hurriedly hid behind a couple of coconut trees out of his line of vision and greedily turned the pages.
. . .
Sasuke read porn.
Sasuke. Read. Porn.
Oddly enough, the idea didn't turn Sakura off, which was her first expected reaction. Instead, she saw him in a new light now – not of the man she used to hate, and would never ever be attracted to, but of a man who…also had needs. It was no longer just the things she read in the newspaper, or saw on television.
This was more tangible now.
Calmly, he turned a page, flicking his gaze towards her every now and then to see what she was doing.
Just as calmly, Sakura drank from her coconut, wondering what was running through his mind.
Was he thinking of his magazine girls when he read that?
Did he think of her once?
Did he have to use those darn glasses?
Ugh. Why did she have to read that?
She needed to bleach her brain with clean activities. Fast.
. . .
"Sasuke, let's race and see who catches dinner first."
"Come on," she cajoled, tickling his waist to get him to react. "Please? I'm really bored."
"Fine. Let's go."
They swam for an hour, catching enough seafood to last them for the night. When she swam back to the sea a few hours later and let her skin absorb the warmth of the sun, she hadn't expected the cramps to overtake her right leg.
She managed to let out one loud scream before she was taken under. The coral reefs were so pretty, weren't they? So were the colorful fish swimming around, seemingly unafraid of her. Oh, Lord, what if there was a shark around? Was she going to get eaten, some sort of karma for eating all those fish? The air was leaving her lungs and she couldn't breathe anymore…couldn't breathe…
The darkness lasted for only a flash of a second before sunlight blinded her and she was coughing out saltwater.
"You are an idiot."
Ah. Her hero.
"I know," she muttered. "I'm sorry."
The answer must have taken him aback (usually she picked a fight with him when he called her that), because suddenly he was grumbling and trying to carry her back to the shelter. She protested, knowing him carrying her after she read that stupid orange book would…not be a good idea.
After several rounds of arguing, they settled for her cooking and him observing her for any cramp aftereffects.
. . .
"Let me massage your foot."
Very bad idea.
That she was, slightly. But it didn't need any massaging from him. Really.
"Seriously, Sasuke – go do whatever you've been doing and don't worry about me. I'm totally – ouch! Did you just trip me on purpose?"
"No. You're just clumsy."
Before she could stop him, his hands were suddenly on the arch of her foot, slowly making their way up to her ankle. He had a balanced touch, light enough so as not to hurt her and heavy enough to apply the correct amount of pressure. Her heartbeat spiked and panic erupted in her brain as tingles shot up her spine. She bit her tongue hard to stifle the moan that was about to come out and embarrass them both.
She tried pulling her leg from his hands, but he was as stubborn as ever, refusing to let go and pretending she wasn't the least bit protesting. She gave up moving after ten minutes of the useless tug-of-war.
"Is it getting better?" he asked, thumb running over her instep softly.
"It was all better to begin wi—" She shut her mouth at his pointed look. "Yes. It's getting better. Thank you. Now that's enough."
But he didn't stop. He kept on massaging, every touch sending fire to her skin and making her think inappropriate, sensual thoughts.
Stupid. Orange. Book.
His hands moved to her ankles again.
"Still painful?" he asked quietly.
"N-no," she tried not to stammer. When he pressed hard, her hands shot out and went for his shoulders, steadying herself.
He looked up once more from his kneeling position, expression unreadable.
She swallowed, telling him one more time that there was no pain anymore. It was enough. Thank you.
Finally, he let go, and told her to take it easy.
After a few deep breaths, she hurriedly ran to the other side of the island, cooling herself down and staying as far away from him as possible.
. . .
They found their extra bags floating near the shoreline, all tattered but still sealed tightly. Delighted at the discovery, Sakura unpacked hers and found candies, her dress and her only pair of stilettos.
His had a sealed portable radio, some CDs and his formal attire.
"We should have a formal night out."
"On a beach?" he commented dryly.
"It's going to be fun!" The excitement was now thrumming through her veins, and she let her imagination run wild, already listing down the formal dishes she could come up with what little resources they had.
"Meet me tomorrow night and dress up, okay? I've got some planning to do."
"No buts," she warned . "Be here or I'll make your life a living hell."
. . .
The stars were out, brighter than ever, and she was dressed nicely after months of wearing only shirts, shorts and her casual clothes. The black dress wasn't too tight, which made her happy – her weight was the same. The shoes, however, were very difficult to walk in, the sand getting in and making her slip every now and then.
In the end, she opted for walking barefoot.
When he stepped out in his own formal attire, her breath caught in her throat for a few seconds, rendering her speechless. She knew he wore slacks and silk shirts when performing sometimes, but she didn't know the impact it would have on her when she saw it this close.
She served the dinner and he lit the bonfire, and they ate in silence, side by side – a mere inch of space between them.
"The food's great," he commented. She thanked him, painfully polite and awkward.
When they finished, and the heat from his body was driving her crazy, she proclaimed that they should dance and make use of the new radio.
The songs that played from his group's new album started out fast and upbeat, making her dance and forget about being nervous around him for a minute. She simply enjoyed the moment, enjoyed his fluid moves, enjoyed the new steps she learned and enjoyed the blended voices of Sasuke's friends – the people who gave him purpose again.
Then the slow love songs came, and before they knew it, his hands were on her waist and hers were on his shoulders. They danced until the album finished, put on an old album and danced to that as well.
Past midnight, and they were still dancing.
"This is fun," she said lightly, taking the chance and burying her face in his neck. Maybe the fire – the unbearable heat – was just in her mind. Maybe the only way to get rid of it was to get used to his touch.
"Hn." He drew her closer, and she realized how wrong she was.
When the second album ended and the weariness settled in, they lay on the sand, covered themselves in blankets and slept facing each other.
. . .
He was wearing those darn glasses again. She wished she could take it off and crush it from existence. It was doing things to her system that should be best buried under the pits of nothingness.
Wait a minute – did he just say watch out?
The creak from behind her gave her the initiative to move away, just as the coconut tree fell on their bamboo shelter – their beloved bamboo shelter – with enough force to have it collapsing. Even as the sound of crashing continued, she felt arms wrap around her and take her away, shielding her from the mess even when she didn't say a word.
When the noise stopped, she looked up and found Sasuke on top of her. His scent surrounded her, clinging to her senses until it was all she was aware of. He was looking back at her, his face impossibly close and his mouth—
She unconsciously licked her lower lip, and his hand on her hip tightened. Then his gaze shifted to her lips, and her brain warned her that he was going to kiss her, this was it, he was—
He abruptly pulled them up, then let go.
"We need to build a new shelter before the weather gets bad," he said, voice blunt.
She nodded her head, unable to speak.
Then he was stalking away in search of wood to use.
After a while, she joined in on the search.
. . .
There was only enough time to build the new shelter floor before the storm hit them, and hit them hard.
They settled on staying inside the plane again, but not really at the end where the air was suffocating. The open space in front made water trickle through every now and then, and they had no choice but to bear it, hoping the weather would calm down after a few hours.
He tightened his hold on her as they faced the plane's end, a large banana leaf shielding his back and his chest shielding her.
She trembled, but didn't tell him it wasn't because of the rain.
"I'm fine. Are you?"
His palm was like a brand on her moist shirt, hot and sensual and making thinking difficult. She couldn't think. When she tried to breathe, she could only smell the rain and him.
He drew her closer, anticipating her panic. Instead, her hand moved and settled on top of his.
There were no words.
. . .
This was unavoidable.
The waterfall that was supposed to be her salvation became her worst enemy as it revealed her body to him in all its imperfection. There was a second of stilted silence before she ducked down, submerging her upper half back in the water and asking him to go away until she finished bathing.
He went away without a word.
. . .
"I – we can't do this," she protested, even as her eyes looked at the sky and she tried to keep her mind from scrambling.
"Hn. We can't."
The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling as they tasted each other for the first time. It became hurried, almost desperate.
"This is – so wrong," she gasped out, her back digging against the tree, her legs going around his waist.
A second later, and her strap was down. His hand was scorching as he palmed her breast, then flicked her nipple. Then his mouth was there, hungry and hard, and her breathing quickened.
"I – Kiba—"
"Don't you dare say his name," he growled, tongue coming out and tapping hers. All sane thoughts flew out of her head as easily as water trickling from cupped palms, and she arched closer, hands helpless as they clutched onto him.
"Stars – he – I – stars…"
"I'll make you see stars," he rasped, voice low and husky as strong hands slid under her skirt, thumbs hooking on her panties and slowly bringing it down.
He kept his promise.
. . .
The second time he made her see stars was the first time they made love – right on the sand, where he slowly seduced her and made her feel things she wasn't supposed to be feeling for him.
She vowed that it would be the last.
. . .
"Sasuke – no – stop – oh."
Her eyes rolled on top of her eyelids, her knees turning to jelly as he kept his face in between her legs, tongue probing and tasting every inch.
He didn't stop until she exploded.
. . .
"We should really stop this. What we're doing isn't right and…"
Her words trailed off as she stared at his eyes glinting behind his glasses, his movement slow as he stood up from his spot on a rock and made his way towards her.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked, voice husky and eyes pinning her in place.
"I'm sure," she whispered softly.
"If you say so."
All it took was willpower, really. Piece of cake.
She had lots of that.
. . .
He groaned out her name in response as he thrust in and out of her, telling her how tight she was and how good she felt. The kisses he scattered all over her overwhelmed her to the point of no return, and she took one second to glare at him.
"Those glasses," she thought, "should be illegal."
He shut her mind off by driving into her faster, making them both lose control.
. . .
"So. Truth or dare?"
"Is that a yes?"
"Is that a no?"
"Fine," she huffed, frowning. "There's always tomorrow."
They sat in front of the fire, his arms around her, and they watched the waves roll over the shore together.
. . .
"Truth or dare?"
"How many women have you slept with?"
"I'm not asking out of jealousy. I'm just curious. You seem so…well-versed in the art of…you know…oh, stop smirking, you ass."
"Just between us?"
His answer left her startled, though she tried not to show it.
"Did you care for her?"
Maybe she was a supermodel, and the hottest girl he'd ever laid eyes on. Or maybe she was a fellow singer/dancer, and the sweetest girl he'd ever known. Maybe—
"She's a silly girl with pink hair."
Her heartbeat stuttered.
"Truth or dare?" he asked quietly.
It took her a second to register, before she said, "truth."
"How many guys have you slept with?"
Her answer was soft, and certain. "One."
"May I ask who?"
"Oh, you know – he's an occasional singer and dancer. Mostly he's just an arrogant dork with good moves."
His embrace tightened as he buried his lips in her hair.
She closed her eyes, content.
. . .
The boat was such a rare sight, she dropped the fruits she had picked on the sand, squashing them immediately.
"There's a boat," she said in wonder, staring.
From his spot installing a new branch to their shelter, Sasuke looked up momentarily before he dropped the wood and stood up.
"There's really a boat," she repeated, not sure whether to be elated or sad.
They were saved.
They were done.
It was back to reality.
. . .
Two weeks later
"Paging Dr. Haruno, paging Dr. Haruno – you are needed in the lobby immediately."
What was it now?
Sakura gave a sigh as she looked down at her charts, mentally ticking off the things she'd already done and the things she still needed to do. It was a busy day at the hospital, and she thrived on all of it as it kept her mind occupied and her body constantly moving.
Tsunade's voice was clear and concise as she told someone some instructions, obviously not minding bossing whoever it was around. That was how she ran things, anyway, and Sakura was fine with it.
"Just make sure she gets enough rest – she refused the leave I offered her and has been working nonstop. Sakura needs all the relaxation she deserves after her ordeal."
Was Naruto insisting she take that leave again?
Frowning, Sakura hastened her steps, mouth already open to tell her boss that she was fine where she was and it was really none of Tsunade's business and—
"Look, she's here! She's here."
She stopped short at the sight, and tried not to react too much. Sasuke was standing in the lobby, surrounded by his group. They were all staring at her curiously.
She couldn't stop the first words out of her mouth.
"So where are your screaming fangirls?"
Kiba laughed, an explosion of charm and huskiness that made her stare back for a while in fascination.
"I like her, Uchiha," he said, grinning mouth showing a very attractive side-fang. "Too bad you met her first."
Kiba explained that they used a ruse to stir the fans to another direction, where Neji – the group's second lead singer – was filming a new movie and offering a free kiss to one lucky fan. Apparently, Sasuke owed the guy a lot for that.
Apparently, they all wanted to come here, too, to meet her.
Then Sasuke muttered something about wanting to see Naruto, and could she kindly take the day off from work and take him to where the blond guy was?
Sakura tilted her head. "He'll probably punch you."
"And kick your ass."
"And beat you to a pulp."
"…just take me there, Sakura."
With one last look at Tsunade (whose eyes were oddly glinting), the pink-haired doctor promised that she would be back. Her boss simply muttered that she wasn't counting on it, then strode off with a final wave.
Then Sasuke took Sakura's hand, and out they went – and in every second that counted, all that Sakura could think about, really, was this: this was a start.
It was enough for now.
conclusion: I can't seem to write drabbles to save my life. Everything I write just snowballs into long fics. Lol.
I'm currently editing the next chapter of Scent. It will be up soon! :)
also: check out the rated-M fic Unicorn Paige, xfucktheglasses and I wrote! It's found under our collab account, rainbowp3nis. XD