title:The Dating Game
authors:by ohwhatsherblanket (thank you, Annie, for the fantastic portmanteau)
pairing(s): SasuSaku, duh.
summary:"Aa." Kakashi's lone eye crinkled in amusement. "It would appear that the two of you are doing 'The Dating Game…"
disclaimer:Still not ours.

notes:Um. Yeah. Sorry about the lateness, guys. We hope you all enjoy this latest installment of The Dating Game.

WE'RE HERE NOW.

And this chapter would have been here earlier, had the upload site been working.

But, we digress.

On with the fic!

Sakura stared.

And stared.

And followed the path of that damned lucky droplet right down to where it met the fabric of his already oh-so-wet towel.

(because um, hello, hot naked man within groping distance, and already her hand was starting to twitch—)

Say something! Anything! her wicked, wicked conscience said, yelling so loudly

(from the confines of her mind and oh God, she really was in trouble, wasn't she, what with Uchiha Itachi standing there looking so damned lickable, and who cared about that stupid, no-good, apathetic, might-as-well-be-asexual Sasuke, here was a real hot piece of Grade-A man-meat—)

she was surprised he hadn't said anything. Actually, for the most part, Itachi was taking her embarrassingly open staring with little more than a vague sort of amusement. His lips were quirked in a little smirk, dark, dark eyes shut, his sinfully-long lashes brushing the sharp angles of his cheeks, looking for all the world like there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way he was(n't)dressed.

Which there wasn't. At all. In fact, the most base part of Sakura

(the one she attempted to appease with mountains and mountains of witty sarcasm, black leather boots, and green nail-polish)

thought that he should stay that way—naked save for a bit of fluffy white one hundred percent Egyptian cotton dignity, forever. As a model to all other men—a standard, even. He owed it to the human race.

God, he was hot.

But still, the logical part of her argued, still, he might get sick, wandering around buck-naked in winter, and then he could die, still pretty, and totally untasted, and then there would be a mass suicide, or at least, a sudden increase in nunneries and convents and then, there would be no more babies, and—

We. Would. All. Die. Out.

Decisions, decisions.

She leaned against the door of Sasuke's room to ponder her current quandary, for a moment leaving Itachi, who was still standing there, in all his naked glory

…totally and completely ignored.

(The thought that whether or not he decided to put clothes on was not her decision did not even cross her mind.)

Suddenly, the wooden surface she was leaning against started to shift, and before she knew it she was falling, falling, falling—

"I see you're practicing your catwalk."

back onto the lean, muscled frame of the one guy she still couldn't forget.

-

The Dating Game

Chapter 2

Should I Stay or Should I Go

-

Touching Sasuke had a tendency of sending something akin to a jolt run down her spine. When his skin came into contact with hers, her knees would buckle and she would struggle not to trip and her head would spin and her heart would flutter and her stomach would jump—

But Sakura then discovered it wasn't just a Sasuke-thing.

It was an Itachi-thing too.

"Ah,oh my freaking gosh!"

Sakura jumped out from her spot in the middle of the Uchiha brother sandwich. She looked wildly around the hall.

You idiot! Stop looking at the freaking flower vase and look at them! screamed Inner Sakura, It's not everyday you see Itachi with only a towel. DO NOT WASTE THE MOMENT!

"Weren't you gonna get food?" Sasuke said, interrupting Inner Sakura and her appraisals of the sex god that was Itachi.

And diverting her attention to—

Sasuke-kun…

Inner Sakura sighed dreamily because while Itachi was a god in his own right, Sasuke was the one who would come sweep her off her feet and ride into the sunset with her.

"I… Uh… Yeah!"

And with that, Sakura ran down the stairs, leaving a smirking Itachi and annoyed Sasuke in her wake.

When she was gone, Itachi glanced at his younger brother, indifferent to the fact that he was walking around the house in merely a towel.

"Was that really Haruno?" he asked. "As in Haruno Sakura?"

Sasuke frowned at Itachi's question, and interest in his friend.

"Yes…"

His stare darkened when a mischievous smile made its way across Itachi's features.

"What about her?" Sasuke inquired in a cool tone.

"She gotten prettier since I last saw her."

And suddenly, as Itachi walked away from his expressionless brother, Sasuke felt something… odd inside of him.

Was he jeal—

No.

He wasn't even gonna go there.

He gave one last glare to his ever so dear brother, an almost-warning, before shutting the door in his face. He growled, annoyed by something he couldn't name, as he eased himself back onto his bed, his thoughts wandering to the girl in his kitchen.

Haruno Sakura was a friend. A goodfriend at that. She'd never once shown signs of being subject to the same disease as any of the other girls he'd let into his life. Had never once simpered or sighed at his mere entrance, had never turned into a figurative puddle of goo at his size – 12 feet.

(had never dropped her books so that when he ever-so-helpfully bent over to pick them up, she would have prime pinching opportunities)

She was sweet, intelligent, and refreshingly uncomplicated. She rarely played games

(except for when she wanted him to buy her something ridiculously overpriced, like those leather boots last winter, or that box of Swiss chocolates last month, or—)

and, even if she wanted to hide something, her eyes would give her away every time.

And she wasn't even his type.

Sakura was pretty enough, he supposed, with her soft pink hair, and bright green eyes. Her smile was bright, and her skin was pale, and free of blemishes.

She wasn't afraid to order seconds when they ate out—as long as he was paying, of course, so she didn't look as anorexic as what seemed to be fashionable these days. She had…curves, he thought, as he made his way back into his room, and settled back on his bed.

(and, his hormones reminded him gleefully, and she has boobies.They're probably nice. And squishy. And—)

Sasuke twitched.

She's so annoying.

-

"Hi, yeah, can I get a large cheese pizza with um, extra cheese, please? Uh, yeah, I'm paying cash. Delivery to…"

Sakura needed pizza.

Pizza was the ultimate comfort food.

Really.

She'd know.

She used it to cheer her up when it became obvious that Sasuke would never return her feelings.

"On second thought, can I get two of those please? Actually no. I mean yeah. Two large pizzas, but like, one with just extra cheese, and the other one will be meat lovers…"

"Don't forget the dipping sauce."

Sakura froze when she heard his voice and almost dropped the phone.

"And," she hastily said to the person on the other line. "Could I get some dipping sauce please? Oh, the flavor…?"

"Ranch."

"Ranch, please. Yep, still delivery… Alright… Yeah, 'kay, thanks."

Sakura turned her cell phone off and shoved it in her pocket before walking over to the fridge and pretending to rummage through it.

No way in hell am I talking to him she screamed to herself. Not after I just ogled him a few minutes ago. UGH!

After a few more moments spent reading the Nutrition Facts on a pint of expired pineapple yogurt, she squared her shoulders. There was only so much time she could spend staring at the walls of the refrigerator before it started to get ridiculous, and she'd just crossed it. She poured a glass of milk and took a sip, exhaling with relish.

She stood up from her bent position, stretched, and turned around, only to once again come face to face with Itachi's

(and somewhere, in the confines of her mind, Inner Sakura was going on a disorganized rampage because it was—)

covered chest.

Sakura tried very hard not to feel disappointed. After all, Itachi having put on a black fitted shirt and pants was a goodthing. Now, there was no worry of him getting pneumonia, or anything serious, from walking around with only a scrap of fabric to save him from prying

(green)

eyes.

Really, Sakura was pleased.

"Are you pouting?"

At the sound of his voice, she squeaked, and back stepped until the small of her back hit the breakfast bar. Amazingly, it seemed that no matter how much she backed away, the distance between them remained the same.

Until she belatedly realized that no, the laws of physics and logic weren't changing to spite her, Itachi was just matching every two of her baby steps with one of his normal ones.

Which meant that sooner or later—

"Oof!"

there would be nowhere left to run.

Itachi said nothing, but placed his hands on either side of her, so she was essentially sandwiched between his

(hot, hard, very very male)

body, and the white countertop.

Sakura swallowed, and placed her glass of milk on the countertop behind her. Itachi said nothing, seemingly content to watch.

Still, he did not touch her, only watched her reaction with half-lidded eyes. Somehow, Sakura thought, that was worse. There was a sudden knot in the pit of her stomach, followed by a brief swooping sensation that she equated with going on roller coasters, or down elevators. She could feel the blush creeping across her face, the heat that suddenly suffused the back of her neck, and she was suddenly very aware of the scent of Itachi's aftershave—a pine, woodsy scent, that she had only ever thought to associate with Sasuke.

She'd never even considered that other men would make use of the same scent.

(She'd never even considered other men.)

Her hair chose that moment to fall out of place, and her vision was suddenly obscured by cotton-candy pink. Before she could lift a hand to fix it, his had risen to the task, brushing them aside with the smoothest of movements, careful not to touch her any more than was necessary.

His fingers made the barest degree of contact with the side of her left cheek, and she felt his touch linger.

Something dark and heady twisted in the air around them, and she licked her suddenly dry lips.

"Itachi…"

He leaned in, until there was no room for anything but air between their lips.

"Hm?"

"…Are you go-going to ki-kiss me, because I, um, well…that is—"

"Sakura."

"Wh-what?"

"Shut up."

And he leaned in, and slanted his lips against hers.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, it felt wrong. This was wrong. This was Itachi, brother of he-who-she'd-fallen-in-maybesortof-love with.

This wasn't what she wanted.

This was pure, undiluted lust.

And then, Itachi pulled her lower lip between his own, and nibbled, and Sakura wrapped her arms around his neck, slipped her hands through his surprisingly soft black hair, and forgot everything except how to kiss back.

-

Sasuke sighed as yet another contestant blew a kiss at the audience. He turned away from the TV with a grimace, and leaned up to stretch. Mid-yawn, his stomach began to rumble, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since his sandwich and tomato lunch earlier that day.

He looked around.

Wasn't Sakura supposed to be getting food?

He shrugged it off, and shook his head.

"Probably got lost wandering the halls…"

Knowing he had to go get her before she caused any trouble (like last time when she almost dropped a lamp), Sasuke slipped out of his room while the audience on the nth episode he had watched laughed at something stupid one of the contestants said in hopes of 'wooing' the woman.

Wordlessly, Sasuke trudged down the stairs in the direction Sakura ran off to after seeing his brother in a towel.

"Oi, Sakura…"

His words broke off when he came to a halt at the doorway to the kitchen.

His jaw almost dropped from the shock but he regained his composure before he could be noticed.

(If he could be noticed.)

Because in the kitchen he had found his brother pressed up against Sakura in a heated lip lock, with one of his hands tangled into her hair, the other on her hips—

And her own arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Sasuke shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat to gain their attention.

-

Something was wrong.

Sakura tried to pull back, but Itachi's hold on her was tight,

(and really, it was hard to run when she wanted to be caught)

Despite the haze surrounding her, she managed to disengage her mouth from his

(very talented)

one, and gasped.

Sasuke was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, an unreadable expression on his face. Blushing at the thought of him seeing her in (almost, by her modest standards, anyway) flagrante delicto, she hastily pushed Itachi away, face burning an impossibly darker shade of red at the smirk on his face.

"Sasuke! I, um, that is…Itachi was just—see, I was looking for your, you know, the um—yeah, and I got lost a little and—"

She was saved from her less than eloquent attempt at an explanation

(and she vaguely wondered why she felt she owe him one to begin with, though that was a thought to save for later when she wasn't quite so red anymore, and the breath had returned to her lungs, and Sasuke wasn't lookingat her in a way that—

when Itachi wasn't standing but two feet away looking so damned smug)

by the doorbell.

Sasuke didn't move.

"I, um, ordered pizza," she said, wishing the words didn't sound so hollow in the awkward silence between them.

Sasuke nodded, stiffly.

"I'll see to that, then."

He turned away, and Sakura couldn't help but wonder what was running through his mind.

She couldn't help but hope it wasn't nothing .

YEAH. The next chapter will be up…sooner. :DDD

Tell us what you thought, yeah?