I do not own Naruto. Please read and review.
He hadn't come for this. It was an awful predicament that he'd never consider in his wildest dreams. He'd entered her apartment to deliver a message from her sensei. He'd found her freshly showered with her pink tresses wrapped in a towel. She wore a T-shirt and loose pajama bottoms. She smiled at him brightly with that same sweet smile he remembered when she was fifteen. She was eating blueberry yogurt. She held a spoon within her teeth when she offered him to come in.
He'd never seen her apartment. He'd been locked into a horrid routine of work and sleep. To do something outside of his routine was special. He was glad she invited him in for a moment or two. Yet, she turned the conversation to a place that they'd never went to before. It was about him personally. She laughed with him. She gingerly patted his thigh. She asked if he had a girlfriend and when the last time he entertained a lady.
She laughed at him when he blushed profusely. She remarked that she'd never taken him for a shy man. She said that his staunch professionalism had gone admired for years. Yet, she was sure that he was only being that way in front of the team.
"Maybe we don't know each other at all," she said. He didn't know what to say. He'd found himself captivated by the pink polish on her toes. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. He really did need to go.
Stay.
That was the word she spoke to him. He damn near jumped out of skin when she tugged on his pant leg to pull him back down to the sofa.
Dinner had been prepared. Her girlfriend, Ino, had only just backed out on coming over. That was her explanation.
Stay.
He nodded that he would stay. He removed his outer accourtements and went to her bathroom to wash up. The bright light in her bathroom made it difficult for his eyes. He'd been moving through shadows and dark alleys all day. The sun had gone down making him essentially a nocturnal creature. He avoided his big brown eyes in the mirror. He hated looking at his face these days. He was so tired. Extremely worn.
He washed up as best he could before joining her at the small dining table. Bending down to the floor make him groan involuntarily.
"You've been working a lot," said Sakura.
He nodded. The meal before him looked wonderful. It had been such a while since hot food was set before him.
"Thank you," he said politely. "Itadakimasu."
He tried not to portray how hungry he was, but he was moving so fast that soy sauce wound up all over his shirt. Good thing it was a dark garment.
"You remind me of Naruto," she said laughing. Indeed her captain hadn't aged much before her eyes. He was still that same humble man. His quiet spirit. His calm attitude. She could see his weariness and hunger all at once. She was glad he chose to stay.
"I'll wash that quickly for you. Take it off," she said without a second thought. He simply looked at her.
"No," he said returning his chopsticks to his right hand. He continued to eat a little nervously. He cast a glance at her. Aw hell. He knew that face. Green eyes glaring. Arms folded tightly across her chest. She wasn't backing down. She could take it off of him. She was strong enough. Yet, she was giving him the option to argue with her.
"It's not...appropriate," he said drinking his tea in big gulps.
Sakura stood up and moved to his side of the table.
"Yamato-taichou, please let me wash that for you," she said with outstretched hands. Okay, last chance huh. He heaved a sigh and pulled his shirt over his head. It reeked of sweat and soy sauce. It wasn't that inappropriate he thought. She was a medic nin. She'd seen him in nothing but his shorts on many occassions. and behaved with nothing but precise professionalism. It did seem a little silly to treat her like a child.
To her, he looked quite boyish now. His brown hair was messy and splayed all over his head. He sat slouched at the table. He had resumed eating. She put his shirt in the wash and thought briefly about asking for his pants. He was a fine male specimen. His sculpted muscles revealed twined sinew wrought with tension.
"Yamato-taichou!" she said gazing at his back. She knelt behind him. She placed a hand firmly in a shoulder blade. He bucked from the pressure.
"Your body is full of tension. You must be aching all over."
She was scolding him. Before he could protest, he had been practically dragged to the sofa. He was pushed down. He started to protest, but she began kneading his shoulders.
"AHHH," he erupted involuntarily. The pain was striking at first but it felt so good. His groans and grunts let Sakura know that things were working right. The more it hurt the more tension she was breaking up. She spoke softly about how he had to take better care of himself. He knew that, but the Hokage wasn't giving him much choice.
"I know...ahhh...that's nice...but the Hokage...is relentless. Mission after mission..."
Sakura noticed a big gash on the man's back. Had that always been there? Maybe. She warmed up his muscles thoroughly before she began to knead the knots. She'd have to ice him down later. The calcium would only crystalize in meat of his muscles and make him ever more uncomfortable. By the time she made him puddy in her hands, he dozing softly on the couch. His large eyes and long lashes made her smile. Sakura took the opportunity to massage his legs.
She slipped off his pants with ease. The amount of bruises came as no surprise, but she couldn't very well massage them. She began to work his thigh muscles. Of course, she wouldn't know that he was ridculously ticklish. The moment she clenched the flesh in between her fingers, he giggled. He outright giggled.
She was delighted. However, Yamato, groaned something about her knocking it off and resumed snoring. She didn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't. This was the discovery of the century. She pinched the flesh again. He groaned a explicative at her. She laughed. He began to swat her hand away until she realized why he was so adamant about her not doing that.
She could see he was obviously aroused. It was impressive that he remained so humble. Most men endowed as well as him were arrogant. Yet, he was demanding that she give him his pants.
"Where are you going?" she asked him.
"Home," he said bluntly. "Stop staring, Sakura." He was flushing furiously.
"Disobedience isn't like you," he said trying turn from her view. In truth it wasn't.
"You're going home like that?" she asked. Sakura guessed it had been a while since he had any form of intimacy. So, she took it as a biological reaction. Human contact was something everyone needed every now and then right?
She sat beside him with his pants covering his member. He didn't say anything. She told him that she meant without his shirt. It wasn't near being done since it was so heavily soiled. He sighed in defeat. It was too cold for him to go without a shirt. Sakura had watched him carefully. He looked ashamed. Very embarassed.
"Why do you look so miserable, Yamato-taichou?"
He looked at her. Was she serious? Abruptly, she had snatched the pants away from him. She touched him. Held him. She had made him scream orders for her to cease. Yet, in the moment it took for her to look in his eyes and know he wanted her to. She saw it. He wanted more. Even if he wouldn't say it, ever. She stroked until he released. He didn't speak for the rest of the night.
It was so strange. The silent understanding. While he could see the gross inappropriateness of the situation, he was grateful for it. She had cleaned up the kitchen and folded his clothes neatly for in the morning. He waited patiently only watching her tidy up. She seemed unfazed by a stark naked man with large ghoulish eyes watching her from her sofa. When she had finished, she took his hand and led him into her bedroom.
He held his breath as she undressed. Her body was warm next to him. He was grateful for that. She didn't have to give him anything else. She smiled sweetly at him. So he held her for as long as his body would let him. When he began to pull away, she clung to him. He realized then, that this was something she needed too.
"It's okay," she whispered. So he lay there in quiet contentment.
The dark shadows that filled the corners of his world didn't seem so bleak. He had lived with them for such a long while. He hardly noticed when they began to breach the boundaries of his whole life. Death was so inconsiderate. Yet, he thought that it must have been the same for her. She was always so helpful and determined, but he knew she fought the bleakness that surrounded them. In his own mind, he thought it started with Asuma's death, then Jiraiya's. People that had neither trained her or considered of much interest. The grief still clung to her like perfume.
He supposed that moments like these eased the soft journey into insanity.
