Story Title: An Empty Bottle
Rated: PG-13 for inebriation and subsequent logic
Status: Complete // 700+
Summary: [Kankurou/Sakura] A puppet master, a medic nin, and far too much alcohol.
Steve's Notes: I really like Sakura. I really like Kankurou. In combination with their two seconds of interaction in the manga/anime, this was inevitable.
Disclaimer: Naruto © Kishimoto Masashi

Haruno Sakura is a strange, angry drunk, and even if the situation is surreal, Kankurou finds that he's enjoying himself.

"—I mean, haven't they heard of locking the door?" she rages to him and her glass, the cheap saké loosening her tongue. "It's not like I ever liked him that way, but he's in love with another guy! A guy with no eyebrows. He said he loved me. Me. At least I have eyebrows!"

Kankurou feels a grin tugging on his lips as she ignores her glass and grabs the bottle between them, throwing it back messily. Kankurou doesn't mind; that's why he brought her here, after all, to ease her surprise with mind-numbing alcohol. He remembers the first time he walked in on his brother and his lover, finding out in one moment several things he never wished to know, such as just who wore the pants in their relationship and just how flexible Rock Lee really was. He also remembers the large amounts of saké he ingested afterwards, which probably explains why the whole ordeal is a fuzzy mess in the back of his mind.

"You know," she whispers loudly, leaning closer to him. "They aren't the only ones. Ino-pig told me that she's doing it with her sensei, and the other day I swear Tsunade-shishou was with Jiraiya-san. And if Sasuke-kun ever stops being such a stuck-up ice princess, I know he and Naruto would be together. Everybody has somebody, but I'm too ugly too ever—ever—have anybody."

"You're not ugly," Kankurou tells her, thinking that she's surprisingly articulate for as much as she's drunk.

"Yes, I am," she replies, and leans closer still, so that most of her weight is being supported by the low table. She grabs his hand and puts it on her forehead; her flushed skin is burning, as though she has a fever. "I've got a big forehead. A five-fingered forehead, not a four-fingered forehead."

The puppet master has no idea as to what the drunk kunoichi is talking about. "What about it?" he asks.

"It means that my forehead is huuuuuuuuuuuuuge." Sakura pushes her forehead harder into the palm of Kankurou's hand, as though it will convince him that what she's saying is the truth. "Which means I'm ugly. I don't have a boyfriend because I'm too ugly."

He blinks in confusion, and raises an eyebrow. "You think you don't have a boyfriend because you're too ugly?"

"Duh." She looks ridiculous with her mouth hanging open and with his hand on her face. "That's why Tsunade and Ino and Lee have boyfriends—because they're not ugly!"

Kankurou thinks that he should take the saké bottle away from Sakura, because she might be more than smashed if she begins to think that Rock Lee won Gaara over on good looks alone. Instead, he smiles placatingly at her and says, "You're not ugly, Sakura-san."

She pauses and looks at him as though he might have sprouted an extra head, her green eyes glassy and her hair mussed on one side. And it's true -she is oddly attractive, even when her breath smells heavily of alcohol. "You're drunk," she accuses suddenly, and thrusts the bottle into his face. "You drank all this saké."

"You drank it."

The pink-haired woman seems to hesitate. "So…" she leans forward a bit more, setting the bottle on the table. "—you're not drunk?"

He shakes his head.

"And you think I'm pretty?"

Kankurou meets her inquisitive gaze. He knows nothing about her besides her name, her profession, that she is nineteen years old, and has a complex about the size of her forehead. They're sharing drinks by pure coincidence and she's so slobbering drunk that she's thinks Rock Lee is handsome. Still, she is pretty with her pale skin and sweet face, small nose and dark pink mouth; he likes her voice and how small her hand is compared to his own. "Yes," he replies, and gently removes his hand from her forehead.

He is rewarded with a smile.

end.