I came back from my cousin's wedding reception yesterday and I felt all lovey-dovey and stuff. However, with no significant other to gush this with, it made me really inspired to write something again. I'm still rusty, but I'm hoping this is good enough to pass for now until I get back to my feet.

(Also went to my first Fanime. It was AMAZING. I MET MATSUSHITA YUYA. *DIES*)

Disclaimer: Do not own Naruto.

The smell of musty, aged paper and sounds of flipping pages filled Sakura's senses as she stood within the confines of Konoha's abandoned library wing. Near the hospital's main building was a three-story building that had served as Konoha's only library until a new one was built a few years ago, the old building now housing the village's more precious literary items; mostly books on ancient clans, a few obscure jutsu scrolls, and the other half of the hospital's medical journals dating from before ninja even existed. Sakura, flipping quickly through the thin book in her hands, closed it abruptly and shelved the tome back in its place before picking one a few spaces down.

'Nope, not this one either,' she thought with mild irritation as she returned the book to its spot on the shelf. Though Sakura spent a majority of her time in this library, mostly wandering the aisles to further her knowledge or study for an exam, she was looking for a specific book to prep for a surgery the day after tomorrow. The patient was the member of an extinct clan…

Or at least, that had been the thought until he suddenly collapsed with his chakra system suddenly bulging from his skin. Tsunade, looking over the file, recognized the symptoms to be similar to one she had seen growing up. A prominent clan known for their superb chakra manipulation was suddenly attacked by a mysterious illness that made their chakra system suddenly overload. After two or three weeks moaning in pain with fever, vomiting, and nausea, the victim went into a grand mal seizure, vomited blood, and died. It was thought that the clan had died out forever because no one ever heard from the clan again. However, it turned out the patient's parents held the recessive genes required for the clan's traits, and the man was now struck by the same illness that had supposedly wiped out his clan.

As this was a difficult surgery, a skilled medic-nin was needed. However, both Tsunade and Shizune had to prepare for a treaty-signing that was happening on the same day as the surgery; and so, Sakura was charged with the role of lead surgeon and told to prepare...

Which led to her current station in the abandoned library wing. Due to the subject matter of the books, people rarely made the trip across the seldom-used outdoor walkway connecting the two buildings as many of the standard shinobi didn't care about the obscure jutsu that made your opponent sneeze uncontrollably or the ancient clan that had been able to do strange things with their mustache hair. However, there were even fewer people in the library than usual as she found herself alone in the building. Even the strict desk clerk (who usually ended up falling asleep behind her romance novel) and the die-hard bookworms who she saw occasionally seemed to have abandoned their usual home in favor of the bright day greeting her from the other side of the large arched windows.

Letting her gaze linger on the bright blue, cloudless sky (it really was a beautiful day), Sakura sighed and put her book back on the shelf disappointedly when suddenly, she felt a small weight on her shoulder as a breeze wafted in.

"You know, you should really focus more. If I had been an enemy ninja, you'd be dead by now."

At the sound of the low voice, Sakura smiled to herself. "I figured no one would look for me in an abandoned library wing," she said turning to face her former-sensei with a smile.

Kakashi, to his credit, smiled back as he removed his foot from the windowsill and planted it firmly inside before ruffling her hair a little. "I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you lunch," he said moving the box of Chinese food from her shoulder to an offering position near her face. Sakura's eyes widened.

"Kakashi, even if people almost never come in here, this is a library! You can't eat in here!" she whispered loudly.

Kakashi, in turn, lifted her chin with his finger and pressed a quick peck to her forehead. "You should've thought of that before you decided to date a rebel like me," he said with his trademark mildly-condescending smile.

"Besides, I don't think Tamura-san will mind," he said pointing to the empty desk. In her mind, Sakura weighed between the gratification of a box of chow mein and her newfound duty of upholding the rules of the library. However, before she reached a full decision, her stomach decided for her with an audible whining gurgle, forcing Sakura to give in.

"Oh alright. I guess it won't hurt to do it just this once," she said reluctantly as she plopped into the closest seat, opening the plastic separating her from her food. Kakashi, taking the seat across from her, split her chopsticks and politely offered them to her.

"I guess I'm rubbing off on you," Kakashi said with a hint of pride. Sakura, determined to let him know that 'no, he was not rubbing off on her and that she was merely answering a basic need (really),' shot him an annoyed glance before slipping a wonderfully greasy noodle into her mouth, careful not to splatter the book she had laid open before her.

A few minutes later, Kakashi collected her garbage to dispose of later as she moved the book—Lessons in the Genetic and Cellular Theory of Kekkei Genkai Disorders—in front of her, pouring deeply into the book. As she delved into the world of how cancer cells could disrupt chakra flow, amplifying ill effects and stressing the body into attacking itself—answering perhaps the reason for the clan's death—Kakashi cracked open a less scientific (if not just as mentally-stimulating) orange book across from her.

And as she chewed her lip, hoping to gnaw away her frustration at the jargon in front of her and the anxiety of botching this surgery, Kakashi reached out to her across the table. Later, he would hold her and soothe away her fears—celebrating with her if she succeeded, consoling her if she didn't—doing all he could to tend to the strong yet fragile blossom in his care—but for the moment, he would hold her hand and assure her with his presence.

And as she smiled, relaxing her body and let her teeth hide behind her reddened lips, he let his fingers squeeze hers briefly without lifting his gaze or uttering a word.

For that alone was enough for now.

And so ends my random drabble written to satiate my need to vent the fluffy feelings inside of me. I know it's probably not the smoothest thing I've written, but please tell me how I did. I want to know if I'm on the path of recovery or not.

Thank you for reading!