Title: Champagne Supernova
Rating: M
Pairing: GaaSaku
Genre: Humor/
Description: Sakura made it her life's mission to track Gaara Sabaku down and give him the beating he deserved. But when she finally does, the tables are turned due to a series of events and she ends up owing him her life. The two will learn they're more like each other than either of them would've guessed, however, it's safer to call their new found friendliness an obsession than anything else.
WARNING: This fanfic is rated M for a reason. So if you are not mature enough for things like swear words, drugs, sexual content, violence, character death, etc, then don't read this.
A/N: This chapter is Sakura's POV. Every following chapter should be narrator's POV.
Tattoos & Vanilla Rum
Gaara Sabaku is a dead man. That skinny fire-crotch little bastard better pray that I never see his face again. But for the sake of kicking his ass until it's redder than his hair, I hope I see him again.
Why?
Oh, I'll tell you why...
It was the last week of summer before my senior year at Konoha high school. My friend, Naruto Uzumaki decided to throw a party. It was a little out of control; nearly everyone from school was there, and I could've sworn I bumped into a few of my teachers. The whole house was packed tight and you had to fight your way through crowds of drunk fools. By the time you found a spot with enough room to stretch, you were dripping with sweat that wasn't your own and stunk like a combination of every skank's perfume.
The main feature of this party was Gaara Sabaku. Well, not Gaara himself, just the tattooing equipment he brought along with him. When I arrived to the party, I found Naruto sprawled out on the table in his kitchen with Gaara hovering over him. He was tattooing some sort of tribal design around Naruto's belly-button. Naruto lay there, eyes and teeth clenched.
As soon as Gaara noticed me, he grilled me- almost as if he didn't know who I was. I was almost certain he didn't remember who I was, until...
"Who invited her?" he mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.
"Hm?" Naruto lifted his head and looked over at me. "Oh, hey Sakura! I didn't know you were here yet! Hey- you wanna go next?"
Go next, are you fucking crazy? I thought.
"I'll be gentle..." Gaara said in an unreliable tone, lifting the tattoo gun up from Naruto's skin. He pressed his foot down on the power source and splattered black ink all over, as if he were trying to intimidate me. I felt my blood boil for a brief moment and questioned what was going on in his mind.
The idea of me laying beneath Gaara, completely vulnerable while he drilled a needle into my skin didn't sound like a good time. But at the same time, I didn't care. I wanted to prove to Gaara that I wasn't the pampered little girl without pain tolerance that he thought I was.
"I can handle it," I said confidently.
But when Gaara smirked, I felt that confidence fade away, but didn't let it show.
I had never gotten a tattoo before, so I wouldn't really be able to tell if he was digging the needle into me to hurt me, or if it really just hurt that bad.
He was nearly done with Naruto's tattoo by now, filling it in solid black. Naruto kept groaning and gritting his teeth like he was in so much pain. I started pounding shots of vanilla rum- maybe if I was drunk enough, I wouldn't feel it at all. By the time it was my turn, I couldn't even stand up straight. I flopped down on my stomach on the table and pulled my shirt over my head. I reached as far as I could and pointed to my right shoulderblade.
"I want Konoha's symbol," I said, slurring my speech, "the leaf... right here."
Gaara drew up the picture on stencil paper first, and then placed the outline of the tattoo on my shoulderblade. And then after a few moments, he went to work.
I have no idea what possessed me that night. Perhaps it was the booze. I had always planned on getting a tattoo. But the fact that I let Gaara Sabaku give me a tattoo was baffling. Something very permanent from someone I don't trust at all. We all make stupid mistakes at some point in our lives, I suppose... However, sometime later, it would prove to be one of the biggest mistakes I would ever make.
Gaara and I never got along when we were younger. He was always that quiet little kid in school who nobody knew that well. Naruto was the only person who ever made an attempt to build any sort of relationship with the kid, and finally, around the 7th grade, he succeeded. Once they became friends, I saw a lot more of Gaara. He didn't like me right off the bat. Any sort of conversation we would have always ended with me getting pissed off while he just sat back and looked amused. To be honest, I believe he was jealous that I was Naruto's best friend before he was.
In the 9th grade, Gaara made the decision to drop out of school. He claimed he had goals that school couldn't help him achieve. After that, I didn't see him for a few years. Not until this night.
"Is this what you dropped out of school for?" I asked, giggling slightly. The needle tickled slightly; thanks to the alcohol, I assumed. Either way, it wasn't unbareable.
"...Yes," he said, "I probably make more money than you and your parents put together." His tone was a little irritable, probably because he thought I was laughing at him and not from the way the needle felt.
"That comment was just unncecessary," I said, "and regardless, you're still the one who dropped out of school."
I felt the needle press into my skin, forcing me to squeal.
"I wouldn't say you're in any position to talk shit, Sakura," he said.
"You started it,"
"I'll finish it if you want me to,"
He would. I learned over the years that Gaara was the type of person who wouldn't make empty threats, and at that moment, I really wasn't in any position to argue at the moment.
About 45 minutes later, Gaara finished. Right away, he bandaged me up without letting me see it and told me to leave it on for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, I could take it off, and he claimed I'd be very pleased with the results.
And I believed him.
The rest of the night went on like any usual party. The few people that can't control their liquor were passed out in numerous parts of the house, the skanks that hadn't found someone to lay them were still dancing around in their tiny outfits trying to catch some random guy's attention, and me... well, I finished the last of my drink. And then I went home.
When I woke up the next morning, the hangover announced itself proudly. My lips were chapped, my throat dry, and my head was pounding like a drum. I had forgotten about the tattoo until I shifted under my covers and felt an unusual soreness on my shoulder.
Remembering, I got up, went to the bathroom, and began to undo the bandages.
Then, I screamed so loud, I cleared every telephone wire in my neighborhood of the birds that rested on them.
A dick.
A fucking dick.
That little redheaded douche bag tattooed a dick on me.
A small, yet detailed, hairy-balled, veiny dick.
I haven't got the money to get it removed, and no shop around here will cover it up for me without my parent's permission, since I'm only 17. My parents wouldn't approve of me getting a tattoo in the first place- how am I supposed to explain a cover up tattoo in a way that won't make them freak out and ground me for the rest of my life? Impossible.
Until I can take care of it, I'm going to dedicate every day to finding Gaara and beating his face in. And if I don't find him after I take care of it, I'm still going to beat his face in.
"You're a dead man, Gaara Sabaku..." I muttered aloud, "A DEAD MAN! DO YOU HEAR ME?"
"What the fuck did I ever do to you?" I heard voice from below. I looked down to see some random guy who was walking by my house looking up at me. I hadn't even realized I was hanging out my window.
"Uh...not you! Sorry!"
I don't care if it takes me the rest of my life. I will find Gaara, and I will hurt him.