A/N: Hello! Welcome to "Songs of The Cherry Blossom". I'm hoping to update this every week, and YES, I will take suggestions for Sakura-pairings. So feel free to send me a message or something telling me what you'd like to see.

Summary: Non-massacre AU; ItaSaku. It was a slow progression, a build up of sorts. Their thoughts, their heat, their wants, and their needs piling up inside until it all finally came out, combusting in their faces. Once they crossed that line, there was no turning back.

…

Itachi Uchiha never thought that he would enjoy alcohol. The first time that he had tried it, he was six or seven, and Itachi had taken a sip of his mother's wine one night at a family gathering. From that moment, Itachi had sworn he would never touch the stuff, as the taste was not something he imagined he would ever grow to like. He also never really thought of himself as a ladies' man (although his many 'fans' and Konoha gossip said otherwise). Women were forever a forbidden fruit of sorts to Itachi, despite the pressures for him to find himself a wife. They made him somewhat uncomfortable, and the young man's discomfort around women could only be attributed (at least, by Shisui) to the fact that Itachi was never really around women much. ANBU duties kept him away on long missions often, and always with other men. That didn't mean that Itachi wasn't attracted to women, he just could barely speak up around other men as well in non-mission-related situations. To add to the list, Itachi Uchiha was also not the kind of person to really be comfortable around strangers, be they total strangers or friends-of-friends-of-friends. Nor was the Uchiha heir the type who socialized period. If Itachi wasn't forced to go to parties or other social gatherings, he would be in his room, reading, or he would be at some training ground far, far away.

Yet here he was, sitting against a bed, reeking of whisky and wine, his clothes in one hand, part of a blanket over lower half. Feathers that had once stuffed pillows were scattered all around him, on the bed, on the floor, on the night stand, and near the door. Though his head still spun, Itachi's heartbeat was what forced him back to a sobering reality of what had just transpired. He could blame the alcohol, even though Itachi hadn't really had much in the first place. He could blame Shisui, for convincing (manipulating)the Uchiha heir in the first place to go out tonight. With a sigh, Itachi ran a hand through his hair.

No. Itachi couldn't really place the blame on anything or anyone else but himself.

This had been coming for a while now.

Sakura Haruno, on the other hand, had learned more than medical jutsus, complex summons, and chakra control from Tsunade in the past few years. By the time she was old enough to drink, Sakura had quite an impressive stock of all sorts of wines, champagne, and select liquors in her small apartment. Though she wasn't nearly as bad as her mentor, Sakura woke up with a hangover almost every free weekend that she had. Sakura was also a bit of a flirt, though in her own defense, Sakura only flirted with people she found attractive. If she did fling herself at people, why did anyone else care anyway? It wasn't like it was their life. And she had fun. No commitments, all pleasure. She could make men want her with a simple look, a single touch. No one could resist her charms. It didn't help, either, that Sakura was well-known around the village as a medical hero, healing civilian and shinobi every day. Her kind smiles and gentle (at times) voice eased stress, and carefully chosen words made people stop and listen to everything she said. Sakura was a social butterfly, never afraid, never caring, always doing what she pleased.

But here she was, in her bed, wanting to hide from the world, heart racing. Her bed sheets were twisted around her small form. Her hair was somewhat tangled, a few white pillow feathers stuck to her pink locks. What she had seen, what she had just experienced, was unlike anything else, yet Sakura wished that she could go back in time, find herself at the bar, and drag herself away from the crowd.

This was going too far, even though she had been wanting something this for a while now.

Wait. No. She didn't want this. She didn't want this burning feeling in her chest, she didn't want this insatiable longing, the blush on her cheeks, constantly seeing this one man in her mind's eye and in her dreams. Her friend. Nothing more.

No, no, no.

The two had met many times in the past. Sakura was part of Sasuke's team, and Itachi only knew her by association at first. She wasn't easy to ignore, especially with her rather flamboyant pink hair, a trait only specific to her father's side. In their youth, Sasuke often complained about her obsession with him, a fact which only recently started bothering Itachi. Sasuke wasn't nearly as brilliant as his brother, so why Sasuke? The younger Uchiha went through too many phases and too many fads. His constantly rebellious, cocky, and self-centered attitude made even Itachi furious at times. How Sakura had the patience for that one was beyond him.

Exactly when did this envy start burning in him? Itachi wasn't all too sure. He saw glimpses of her growth since they were first introduced. The twelve-year-old girl who had grown out her hair for Sasuke became a sixteen-year-old with super-strength. That girl became an eighteen year old who surpassed the aging Hokage in both know-how and technique. That girl became a woman, whose brains matched her beauty, whom no man could resist or, usually, defeat in battle.

Itachi first truly met Sakura Haruno when he had thoughtlessly invited her to spar with him. That day, much to everyone's surprise, he lost not only the battle, but also some of his self-control.

Sakura only really knew Itachi recently, when he had one too many missions in which he would return to their village on the brink of death. It was always on nights when Sakura was on call, and after a while, it started becoming something of a joke between them. While healing him, she would ask him what it was that he did to land him in the hospital with her yet again, teasing him that he must have enjoyed her presence. The topic of their spar came up from time to time, which Sakura teased him about as well. Talking was her way of distracting her patients from what was going on, be it healing with her hands or stitching up open wounds or digging under their skin for bits and pieces of metal or wood. The ANBU captain at first wouldn't reply, far too busy shifting in and out of consciousness. Eventually, he would come up with his own retorts, though they were a bit more mean-spirited than he meant. He would point out that Sakura was, in fact, not attractive enough for him to enjoy her presence. She was too flat chested, and her hair was too pink. Those first times Itachi would reply, Sakura would often "forget" to heal some wounds of his, and would "conveniently" be unable to find veins when drawing blood or giving him shots. Eventually, Itachi realized that he was in fact irking the medic, rather than simply joking around. Far too many "tries" with large needles and inconvenient pains taught him his lesson. So he stopped insulting her, realizing that it wasn't the way to go about joking around with women.

So, the next time she joked that he was back in to see his favorite doctor, Itachi let out a small chuckle.

"You're the only good one around here, anyway." Sakura flashed him a grin as she healed him. "You're probably everyone's favorite."

"I was only really talking about you. I am your favorite, right?" Sakura asked playfully, batting her lashes. She didn't know if Itachi realized it, but it was a genuine question. Something in Sakura, at that very moment, wished that Itachi did come in to the hospital just to see her. But as quickly as that wish surfaced did Sakura push it as far to the back of her mind as possible.

Eventually, it moved out of the hospital and outside, on the streets. When they saw each other, they would say hi. There were a handful of times Itachi and Sakura would quite literally run into each other, Sakura in a rush to either the hospital or on some mission. Itachi never rushed, on the other hand. If he had the time to be walking down the streets it was because he was headed out of the hospital, the Hokage's tower, and on his way home or to train. Hellos would turn into quick chats about what the other was doing, which would turn into conversations about how one hated the summer heat or rain, and how the other was doing physically despite all the damage he took.

As time passed, those turned into invitations to eat with a small group, which evolved into talking about movies over coffee and books over dinner. Itachi started actually calling it "hanging out" with "a friend" when asked about the day's plans. A friend who distracted him when he trained. A friend whose scent he started to notice (jasmine and orchids). A friend whose laughter would echo in his dreams, whose hands would touch his arm just a bit and send electricity shooting up his veins.

Sakura stopped going out to bars, instead spending her free time with the young man. Because, despite the titles, that was what Itachi was. If anything, he was really just a shy little boy. Give her some time, and Sakura could make him blush when she pointed out how his smiles were beautiful and how he should smile more. She liked the way that he laughed, which she had only heard a grand total of two times (once at a movie, and the other when Sakura made a bad joke that Itachi, at that moment, had just found absolutely hilarious). She also liked the way that, in the few times he would say more than a single, short sentence, his black eyes would stay upon her, unwavering, as if he was intent on making her listen. And when they would talk about books, science, politics, or difficult concepts, Sakura liked that she felt somehow energized by their conversation. No one really indulged her the way he did, so it was nice to know that there was someone out there who was just as interested in the same things she was. There was someone out there who was just as interested in watching documentaries as she was, someone who would listen to her fascination with medical science, someone who would explain to her historical periods and tell her about past conflicts that changed the world. Someone who had a bit of an obsession with quoting literature and reading books from foreign lands, compared to Sakura's library of contemporary hits.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, Itachi would be stopped by a few girls, asking him how he was doing. When he would return his attention to Sakura, she would suddenly feel tired or have a headache, and she would excuse herself and go home for the day. One night, Sakura abruptly realized she had "something to deal with at the hospital" when their waitress spent a bit too much time asking Itachi about his personal life, though Itachi had barely responded to the woman. Eventually, events like these started becoming frequent, and Itachi would find himself going over every word that had escaped his lips, every move that he had made. What had he done to make her leave?

Far away from him, she would stand before her mirror, glaring at the small face looking back. Why wasn't she pretty enough? She was too fat, too pale, her hair really was an ugly color of pink. When passing by other girls, Sakura compared herself, hyper aware of all they had and all she lacked. And when she was around Itachi, she was even more so aware—painfully so—of everything she wasn't.

Their outings dwindled. Sakura took more shifts at the hospital, taking more missions, and if Itachi wondered, Sakura was busy. Itachi returned to the pace he had before Sakura, with constant training, back-to-back missions, though Itachi found himself taking care not to end up in the hospital.

"Sakura's gonna be there!" Shisui had added when he had asked Itachi to come out with him that night, hoping somehow that her name would convince his cousin somehow.

That was hook, the bait, and Itachi took it.

At first, they barely spoke. Hell, they were on opposite ends of the room. But as Sakura lost herself with every glass, she found herself sitting next to Itachi, laughing at their old jokes, telling him about all the cute guys all around and who she wanted to be with. He was oddly silent, feeling the need to strangle every other man in the room that she mentioned, his eyes burning a hole through his own drink. To control himself, Itachi downed his drinks one by one, and eventually found himself on the floor, dragged out by Sakura, as a crowd gathered to dance.

By the end of the night, when everyone was headed home, Sakura invited Itachi to walk with her home. Just a walk, so they could catch up. It had been a while, after all, since they had seen each other.

When she spoke, Itachi couldn't focus on what she was saying, but his eyes were focused on her mouth. He let out a small laugh when she noted that she had a bit of lipstick on her front teeth, which he pointed out. She licked it off, a bit embarrassed. She huffed at his interruption. Itachi apologized, a small smile still on his lips.

"What were you saying again?"

"I was talking about work, you idiot!" Sakura pouted and folded her arms. "This whole time, you haven't even been listening."

She sure was beautiful when she was mad.

When they arrived at her doorstep, Sakura dropped her keys. They both reached down for it, heads nearly colliding as they did. And when they stood up, they were perfectly in line with each other.

"Anyway. That was nice," Sakura said, her tone suddenly shy. The way he stared at her at that moment, eyes hooded, his lips parted just a bit, made her feel odd. It wasn't a new sensation, the odd feeling. It had been there for quite a while, but at that moment, it made Sakura's heart pound against its cage. "Thanks for walking with me." She paused, caught between wanting to tell him goodnight, or asking him to come in. But she had forgotten, after all this time, how to get men into her home, much less into her bed.

Itachi. Bed. Sakura felt a blush coming on.

When Sakura opened her mouth again, having decided to simply say goodbye, Itachi had made his own decision.

In a fashion very much unlike him, Itachi Uchiha kissed the pink-haired medic. She kissed him back, immediately opening her mouth and allowing him in. Her hands became tangled in his hair, his hands moving down and around her waist. It became a bit of a competition of tongues, a contest to see who would win this time. Itachi found himself pushed against the wall, Sakura's hands moving down his chest. Her scent overpowered him, making him even dizzier. He let out a small growl.

Realizing exactly who it was she was kissing, Sakura pulled away, wide-eyed. They stared at each other, silent, both of their faces flushed. Sakura took one step back, putting one hand on her lips, another on her hip, green eyes never breaking away from Itachi's.

"What are we doing?" She whispered.

Mindlessly, Sakura unlocked the door to her studio apartment and headed inside. Itachi followed her in, unable to speak. He kept his eyes to the ground.

Sakura sat on her bed on the far end of the apartment, also staring at the ground. Her head was still spinning, her heart still screaming at her. Her right hand clutched onto a nearby pillow as Itachi closed the door slowly behind them. She could still feel Itachi's lips on hers, his delicious taste lingering in her mouth. When their eyes met again, she felt like she was going to explode into tears, into laughter, into screams and shouts.

So, she threw the pillow in her hand at the man at her door, letting out a laugh as she grabbed her last pillow and ran towards him.

Whatever possessed her at that moment seemed to affect Itachi as well. When she got to him, he blocked her pillow with the one she had thrown at him. They were cheap pillows, and after quite a few hits on each other, grips tight, feathers were falling all around them.

They were kissing again, neither sure how they ended up on each other once more. Sakura pushed Itachi onto her bed, his hands pushing up her shirt.

It occurred to Sakura that, as she removed her top, this was far better than any of her past trysts in the dark. The lights were still on, and she found herself wanting to move slowly through this process. She wasn't going to rush this tonight. She was going to actually enjoy herself. And him.

It occurred to Itachi that, as his hands explored her chest, he hadn't exactly been trying hard enough to quell the many dreams he'd had like this. In fact, he wasn't all too sure if this was a dream. He hoped not.

His mouth was right on her stomach, his hands holding tightly onto her waist. Sakura buried her face in Itachi's hair, sighing. As Itachi moved up, his hands moved up her back, fumbling with the clasps of her lacy black bra. With a small giggle, the pink haired woman helped him kissing him deeply as he pushed the bra off of her shoulders. Itachi moved his lips and tongue down her jaw, down her neck, tracing her clavicle, and licked right in between her breasts.

Itachi pulled back. Taking in the sight of her, now only in her panties, on top of him, invading his space, made him nervous.

"Do you want this?" He asked, somewhat breathless. Sakura blinked.

Yes. She did.

"I've been wanting this for a while," Itachi heard himself confessing. It had to be the alcohol.

Sakura smiled, loosening his ponytail. "Me, too." She kissed him again, this time softly. Reassuring him that she wanted this, too. His hands trembled somewhat as she moved his hands for him, making him touch her. He could break her. He could hurt her. There were an endless number of things that Itachi could do to her that would make Sakura hate him. That would really end this all. Foremost was a continuation of this.

So why, oh why, did they keep going?

He was inside her, and she was gasping underneath him. Fingernails dragged down his back as Itachi moved. One hand held her thigh against his hip, making Sakura squirm as he pushed in deeper.

This was wrong, wasn't it?

No.

It was impossible not to feel good like this.

They were kissing again. His hands were now squeezing her backside. He was moving faster. She moaned his name into his mouth, and Itachi couldn't handle it anymore.

He moved off of the bed once they were done, leaning his head back.

This was not a dream.

Everything was different now.

Sakura lifted her head, peering at the man sitting on the floor. "Itachi, I…"

He turned and looked at her. "What now?"

Sakura took a deep breath.

Smiles, laughs, inside jokes, discussions about history and literature, and all those movies flashed through their minds. Somewhere along the way, something changed. And when they came together once again, despite the protests of their minds, they both came to a simultaneous conclusion. This had, in a way, been coming for a while. It was a slow progression, a build up of sorts. Their thoughts, their heat, their wants, and their needs piling up inside until it all finally came out, combusting in their faces. Who they were, what they were initially, all of that was behind them now. To say they had changed, individually and as a whole, would be an understatement.

They had crossed the line finally. And the other side was, in a way, glorious.

…

A/N: QUEUE THE DANCE NUMBER! Just kidding. PLEASE R&R. Also, have you guessed the song yet?

It's Jason Derulo's "The Other Side". (Guilty pleasure song. Urgh.)