"What!" the shout reverberated much too loudly around their little table and more than one patron from another turned to look at them.

Asuma made a hurried shushing motion, both hands signaling Anko to shut that too wide mouth with the gesture as he gave a paranoid look around. He chewed on his cigarette, nervous that the subject of their conversation would overhear. Well, subjects…either of the two. "Keep it down, will ya?"

"That's not true, is it?" Anko blasted again, arms crossed in disbelief across her chest, eyeing Asuma with an evil glare. And then debating it was plausible that it could be, she added, "You shouldn't say such things about Kakashi. He can kill you, you know."

"Believe me, I know, but I'm serious," he began again in a semi-whisper and gave each around the table a pointed look in the eye. "I've heard from a very reliable source."

"I refuse to believe that my eternal rival would ever take such advantage of a beautiful defenseless woman. Lure of youth or no!" Gai proclaimed, erecting a self-statue with outstretched arm and jostling the table. Anko's weren't the only pair of eyes that dropped in cynicism, but that had been the only outburst of denial.

"And who is this 'reliable source?' What proof did he show you?" Genma said nonchalantly, fiddling with the empty cup he was leaning over, eyes cast downwards and senbon bobbing.

"She's hardly 'defenseless' if she's the Godaime's student," Kurenai stated calmly, the voice of reason.

"And she's been of consensual age for some time," Asuma muttered.

"I don't believe this! Not one bit!" Anko interjected in an angry huff before Genma's inquiry could be answered. "I mean, this is Kakashi we're talking about here! There's no way anyone would be able to observe him without him knowing it!"

Asuma glanced to her in dusting off the ash from the cigarette, eyes watching as it exploded onto the ash tray. Bringing it back to his lips, he looked Anko directly in her eye and inhaled deeply, the brightly burning end holding Genma's attention. Releasing the puff of smoke, he revealed, "I saw it with my own eyes."

"LIAR!" came the chorus.

"What?" he said, looking at all of them, his disbelief evident.

They weren't.

They were.

Somehow, some thing had changed at some time and now every thing was different. She had been staying to in order to get back into the life that had so cruelly gouged her innards out. It was a temporary arrangement, her parents having been unable to keep her from hysterics. Sasuke…was out of the question, being the source of the problem. And Naruto…well, lacked the experience and sensitivity to deliver his sincere thoughts. He had tried, of course, and having been successful, decided to look after her for a few days until she calmed down.

He had given her a place to stay, food to eat, outlets for stress, and a playful atmosphere while she recuperated from life. He knew what to say, when, and how. He had depended on that student-teacher relationship to build her back up again, make her Sakura again. The few days had grown longer, into weeks, when she adamantly refused to return home and to her parents, claiming she would never be able to go back, that this was the only place she didn't feel broken. He hadn't pressured her.

In the weeks that would follow, he would agree that it did her good. She smiled and laughed and he tried to keep a lighthearted atmosphere, ever serious and available when she needed to talk. There would be frequent bouts of fist matches, often sprouting from one of her attempts at a prank or two, and they would half-heartedly spar it out in fist-restricted taijutsu. He wanted to keep his home as undamaged as possible.

She had made a grab for Icha Icha again as he'd sat on the couch, immersing himself in the fantasy. As if he would have fallen so out of familiarity with them to have let her get it. He was proud to say her fingers never even got close to brushing the cover. He'd deftly dodged her as she bent and leaned every which way in her effort to capture it. Soon enough she'd resorted to a bee-line punch for his stomach. The move and swift immobilization at her wrist instigated in another taijutsu bout.

He'd rolled over the back of the couch and tucked the book into the back hem of his pants; she bounded after. He looked down coolly at her, blocking strike after strike and giving ground as he went. She threw a forward kick, aiming for his torso and his left hand quickly and surely smacked her down at the ankle, backing into the hallway at the sharp advance.

"Hey, now," he'd drawled, eyes watching and voice amused, "keep it to arms." She delivered another weak kick along with a smirk just to push him. She could see the quirk to his lip through the fabric.

He blocked it again and let her steer him down the hall. The bedroom had the advantage of open space, after all. The quick exchanges of fists were amusing and served a more pleasant role of something he referred to as banter-sparring, a sometimes much more preferable and needed form of practice. The sounds of limbs and skin smacking thudded loudly on the condensed walls of the hallway, heavy in the smaller space before returning to normal as she drove him through the doorway.

This was familiar territory. Each knew the other's customary move and counter upon reaching the room; most of the matches ended here. Her foot shot out – a surprise – and lodged itself behind the one stepping. He stumbled and recovered by rolling in a reverse somersault, coming to stand again in time for her rush. His hands came up and caught the straight punch, right hand locking hers and left applying the pressure necessary to flip her over his arm. The covers 'whoofed' and pillows catapulted as she landed upon the mattress. He deflected one square and sent it flying to hit the wall, redirecting its path of descent and throwing out the same arm to keep him from crushing her in his own. He twisted his leg to dislodge the one wrapped around the back of his knee, she having dragged him with her.

He pushed himself upright, hands quickly on the defensive as she renewed the assault, bent legs on either side of her supplying balance. Damn, she was getting fast. He grinned. A slim wrist slipped through his fingers as he moved to block the feint, the arm instead slipping behind him. His eyes widened and he hurriedly bent his left arm behind him in pursuit, grasping her hand just as she started to pull the book away. A solid force connected with his stomach. He huffed and jerked in reflex at the harsh tap to his solar plexus. Where had that elbow come from?

"Are you alright?" she'd laughed, clearing not expecting to have connected. He'd only nodded and ripped her hand away; Icha Icha flew to land with a smack against the wall as it slipped from her fingers halfway through the motion. Said fingers were now flexing beside her head where he'd pinned both arms.

"I win."

She looked away to the book on the floor, scheming pout on her face. His brows drew slightly together, lips pulling into a wondering smile. What did she think she was gonna do?

She'd slipped further under his straddle and he'd just located the knees on his shoulders before more air had involuntarily rushed from his lungs. She'd brought her legs from behind to hook him and slam him down. She rode the momentum and came to land in position reversed, she atop him. She had the most self-satisfied smile upon those bright lips as she leaned closer to whisper in triumph, hair almost brushing his cheeks. "I win."

His eyes stared into hers and both of theirs sparkled with mirth held at bay in quickly widening smirks. Whosever broke and released the laughter first would lose the second battle, so went the unspoken challenge in their eyes to each other. Neither was about to give up; they could read that easily in the other and knew neither would back down. Her light changed suddenly in some way and his faltered, still closely watching hers. It was different and the assuredness of her victory evaporated, taking his with it as the unusual development caused the routine to stumble.

And then her mouth had suddenly been on his and he hadn't known what to do, hadn't known why his hand was at the back of her head or why the other was so desperately gripping her hip. Greedy hands had pulled the mask from his jaw when the heated kissing had made it rub between their chins undesirably.

Something had changed somewhere at some point and play had become play which had then become play, and he didn't know why he had been so unremorseful to the development.

He walked into the bar, nodding to the bar tender and holding up his fingers for the usual drink as he made his way to the standard back table. "Yo."

He nodded to the others, hand in pocket and on an empty chair. Having arrived later than the others, he had forfeited his booth seat and would have to settle for a pull-up. He focused on his task, sliding it around to face the table, the scratching against the wood floor inaudible in the barroom atmosphere. The others at the table traded an expressionless look before one ventured forth as he prepared to sit.

"So, Kakashi," Genma began idly, using his senbon to stir some concocted mixed drink, watching the ice swirl after a glance to the innocent façade of the wide-eyed attentive look Kakashi offered, "is it true what the rumors say about you and Sakura?"

There was a too-slight hesitation as he paused mid-motion in sitting and the tenseness of his fingers on the pulled-out chair did not go unnoticed. All wide eyes turned to bore into his suddenly very small person and he couldn't bring himself to fight the pressure, letting his eyes remain on the tabletop. Only one was able to voice the thoughts running through all his friends' minds.

"OH, MY GOD."

Ah, sweet Anko, ever eloquent and all encompassing phrases 'R Us. He would hear that expression clearly for years to come.