Disclaimer- I don't own Naruto.

Wrote thi. Didn't feel like finishing. Did anyway. Didn't feel like posting it. Did anyway.

Enjoy! :)

Ibiki was stretched out on his bed, fully clothed, reading a book. He could hear his shower running, and smiled a little at the thought of who was in it. Sakura had just gotten back from a long shift at the hospital and had stopped at his place before going home. Ibiki, no stranger to long shifts himself, had offered her his shower to clean up in.

The water turned off and Ibiki raised his eyes from his book as Sakura emerged, clad in only a towel. He gritted his teeth slightly, the smirk not entirely fading from his lips. She snorted at him as she rummaged for her clothes.

"How on earth did I end up with an arrogant bastard like you?"

Ibiki cocked an eyebrow. "You just got out of my shower, so be careful I don't ravish you."

It was an empty threat, since they both knew Ibiki would never do anything like that without consent.

"First time for everything." she retorted. It was a jab at the fact that all three times Sakura had started to approach him sexually he had pushed her away. She thought it was sweet, but she was getting a little tired of it.

Ibiki shook his head, and Sakura peered at his book, her breasts in his face as she did so. "A book on torture? I would have thought you'd have read all the material in Konoha on that by now."

"I have," he chuckled, turning a page. "I wrote this."

Sakura didn't even blink in surprise. "And why are you reading it?"

"It's inaccurate. I wrote it when my mental stability was questionable, and it's much too violent. My editor asked me to revise it for the second edition."

Sakura grinned. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I'm not sure how this is a surprise."

"Of course you're not," grumbled Sakura good-naturedly.

She turned and got dressed, her back facing him. Despite giving him an opening, he kept his eyes firmly glued to the page.

"You're such a gentleman," said Sakura. "No one would believe it if I told them."

He stiffened slightly, but otherwise remained nonchalant. "So everyone thinks I'm some sort of violent pervert?"

Sakura turned red from embarrassment. "That's not what I meant! It's just…not a lot of guys are less willing for sex than their girlfriends."

He chuckled. "Trust me; it's not that I'm not willing for sex."

"Than what is it?" Sakura, fully dressed, was now sitting on the bed with him again.

Damn it. She had him trapped, and he blamed it on the stupid book. He needed to pay more attention to him. If people knew how easily she maneuvered around his defenses, his reputation would wither away, and he involuntarily glared at her. She grinned in return.

"I just don't think you'd like having sex with me." he admitted. Part of the truth.

"Why, are you small or something? Do you crush women by accident?"

He shot her a look, and she stuck out her tongue. "I can't think of any other reason."

"Have you forgotten who I am, woman?"

"No, and you don't make it easy to forget." She curled up next to him, her head in the crook of his arm. When she looked at him, his black eyes were filled with such unbearable sadness that she wanted to hug him for all eternity and never let him go. She reached for his headband but met with his resistance and realized exactly why he didn't want to have sex with her.

"Oh, Ibiki…" she sighed. He glared at her in return.

"You're insecure under that hard exterior, aren't you?" she purred. He grumbled something indistinct.

"Ibiki, if you want this to be something more than friends, you're going to have to show me your body eventually." She said it gently, but firmly. He was unbelievably stubborn, and yelling at him wouldn't change anything.

He shrugged, and she punched him lightly in the shoulder. Or what she thought was lightly, because he winced slightly. Averting his gaze, he pulled off his headband.

Sakura had seen it before, but not since the Chunin Exams and not up close. Her stomach lurched at the thought of receiving those scars, of going through the pain and despair of having the brand of your imprisonment marked on your scalp forever. She ran her soft fingers over his head, almost massaging, feeling every incision and laceration. He was still, and she kissed him.

"I think you're very handsome." she whispered.

To her surprise, he laughed. "There's no need to feel sorry for me."

"I wasn't." she snarled, pushing him back on his bed and pulling his shirt off so fast it ripped. She didn't even blink at his scars, just kissed him with wild abandon. He realized with shock what this meant.

And he kissed back, holding her so tight that he'd never let go.

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