1942
By eternalshiva
Disclaimer:
I do not own Naruto or any of the characters portrayed by Masashi Kishimoto, nor do I make any monies off this fanfiction.
AN – This is inspired by a story my grand-mother told me this past week about her and her sister, and how she played spin the bottle one night before the boys were shipped out to training camps for the war in the 40s. This is something that happened between my great-aunt and a boy she met that night.
EDIT: Guess I should point out that the spin the bottle happens after the dance and such. Just to clear up my train of thoughts as I write out plot bunnies.
EDIT II: Thanks Emmy Kay for pointing out a major typo :) gall gull. (Cleared up confusion on author's note)
Large italic text - past event / flashback.
* * *
The night was clear and cool. The girls were sitting on the other side of the boys, lined up in a lop-sided circle. The green glass 7Up bottle spun unto itself as the firm hand of the blond boy let it go. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief a little as he grinned to the indigo haired girl across the way.
"You see that dame?" he pointed at her, grin barely hidden. "I'll make her kiss me before the night is through." He had whispered to the dark haired boy earlier that night when he spied her on the dance floor.
She blushed slightly at the heat of his stare, he was quite the looker and easy on the eyes. She focused on the bottle she secretly hoped would point towards her. Stealing quick glances his way while the bottle slowed down, she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling.
"I think he's keen on you." The pink haired one giggled in her ear as the big band music drowned out her friends' laughter; their cooing sounds as they watched the new recruits of '42 prepare to leave for overseas. They blushed when one of them with weird red markings on his cheeks howled at them before getting elbowed.
The bottle slowed, rolled a little off its axis before it would eventually come to a complete stop but until then, she was anticipating the feel of those strong hands on her hips and the purr of his voice in her ear.
"You think she'd want to dance with me?" the blond asked his partner, "Hn. She'd be stupid to let your clumsy feet anywhere near her." He retorted before the blond punched him square in the gut.
Oh, he wanted to make her blush even deeper, something about her unusual eyes made him want to kiss her more, the way her lilac top and knee length skirt hugged her hips and the way the fishnet stockings teased her flesh made him go a little crazy.
Spin, spin, bottle. Let me kiss this fine young thing.
"Come dance with me!" he greeted her, she blushed and stuttered her approval, her girls cheered and the boys in green made cat calls. The night was young and the war was just an after-thought.
Her eyes were touched with disappointment as the bottle slowed and missed her, looking like it was going to let his lips grace those of her pink-loving friend. He made a strange sound and stood up real fast, startling the gathered fellas and gals.
He gave the bottle a kick and stomped down to make it stop, pointed the nose to her and grinned as her cheeks deepened from pink to red.
"Looks like it's you," he laughed when she stuttered her approval. He reached down and grabbed her small shaking hand, kissed the inside of her wrist to shock her out of her embarrassment before capturing her slightly opened mouth into a searing kiss she'd never forget.
He kissed her, just like that.
The nerve!
The gall!
The laughter that erupted from her lips made him blush in return and he didn't know it then but it would be the memory that would strengthen his resolve, his reason to live through the coming horrors.
This was the gal he wanted to come home to and he said so right then and there!
She blushed, the girls all laughed and the boys called him a liar. She stuttered her acceptance of his proposal, that cool October night, she kissed him back and got disqualified for kissing out of turn.
He left the next morning, her address in his pocket, his picture in her wallet. A fleeting meeting of the lips and a whispered soldier's promise she held on to for years to come even after he'd died on the fields that faithful Christmas morning in '42.
* * *
The boy that kissed my great-aunt during that game of Spin the Bottle died a few months later at the airport in Caens, France from an attack as they were preparing to leave the plane.
The reality of war sucks.
(Sorry Naruto)
Stupid bunnies.