Notes: After reading an excess of Itachi-kidnaps-Sakura-and-falls-for-her (the overdose being entirely my fault), this spurted out of me. Mind you, I don't think there aren't some decent ones, but I'm just making fun of all the elements these scenarios have in common. Try and catch the tiny nod to Monty Python!
(Read to the tune of "Into a Nap" from the Hana Kimi J-drama soundtrack.)
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction of several things.
Warning: Guaranteed OOC, especially on Sakura's part.
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Sakura was having a strange dream.
Maybe for some people, it would just be a regular dream. Not that she'd want to get acquainted with anyone who regularly had kinky dreams of waking to find her(or him-)self trussed up like a turkey under Uchiha Itachi's impassive stare. How Sakura had ended up with this in her subconscious was not a question that she put to herself – heck, it was almost like two-timing Sasuke's memory!
Well. Might as well make the most of it.
Seeing as this was a dream, she figured that there were several suitably implausible explanations as to why she, the Hokage's earth-shattering (literally), selectively violent, medical marvel of an apprentice had been captured alive by this particular member of the Akatsuki.
"I know," she said aloud, "he pulled some new secret mangekyou technique out of his ass again and hypnotized me and whatnot."
The only other person in the unfamiliar, sparsely-furnished room gave her an inscrutable look. Sakura leaned back against the headboard – because despite the (obviously) unbreakable chakra-leeching ropes that bound her, Itachi had given some thought to her comfort by depositing her on the bed. Presumably to ravish her after the as-yet-nonexistent sexual tension between them reached its breaking point.
Because of course it would happen. It had to.
Since this was dream-Itachi (therefore, fake-and-harmlessly-handsome Itachi, who didn't seem much more animated than his younger sib and fellow missing-nin), Sakura tried talking to him. "Um, hi, Uchiha Itachi."
He inclined his head slightly.
"Could you please tell me why I'm here?"
"You are the – "
"Oh, right, I know!" She sighed, ignoring the quicksilver flicker of annoyance in the Uchiha's red irises. "This is one of those lure-Naruto-into-Akatsuki-clutches-by-stealing-his-only-female-teammate gigs."
Itachi, having once been rudely interrupted, held his tongue as the pink-haired – what would dream-Itachi compare her to? A fragile little cherry blossom? Sakura wrinkled her nose at the sheer cheesiness – kunoichi babbled on.
"Well, if that's not it, you must be holding me hostage to get on Sasuke's nerves or to play some screwy mind-game on him. Because you definitely have mental issues, and I could totally see you doing that. There're a lot of better ways to piss Sasuke off, just so you know. Like taking away his tomatoes. Or eating them in front of him. Or both. Really, I don't know why I still love that-that jerk!"
And poor Sakura sighed again, because she still missed the gorgeous, brooding wet blanket who had been her teammate.
"Why don't you say something?" she asked Itachi petulantly.
He started to open his mouth, believing her to have finished, but Sakura beat him to it again.
"You're not…interested in me…like that, are you?" she muttered with a fearful blush.
Uchiha Itachi got up from his chair at the table (on which were a handful of sake jugs) and approached the bed. Sakura instinctively shrank back – or rather, tried, as her conviction in those chakra ropes was fairly strong. She closed her eyes and willed a change in scenery – someplace without a hot male listed in the Bingo Book leaning over her, hands braced on either side of her, and emanating body heat as he made the mattress dip.
"Sakura, look at me."
She opened her eyes, squeaked at her dream-captor's proximity - "Ack! Back off, you – "
- And blacked out.
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A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.
Kisame strode in to find his usually stoic partner at the table. He picked up one of the sake jugs, then another, and – finding that they were all empty, shook his head regretfully. Uchiha Itachi, who had a steady bead on the wall opposite him, paid him no heed.
"Well?" Kisame prompted at last. "Are we waking up the girl to make her fix your eyes, or what?"
Itachi turned his head to look at the unconscious kunoichi on the bed, for whom he reserved a special inward shudder. If she were awake, he ran the risk of wringing her neck. Which might be slightly excessive, even for a mass-murderer and S-class criminal.
"On second thought, no. It was a silly idea."
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