The afternoon was spent in watching horror movies; Gaara seemed to take what she said about what friends do literally. Sakura regretted getting a slasher; at one point, she jumped and screamed with the victim, and Gaara gave her a look. Amused? Sakura thought. Annoyed? She couldn't tell. Gaara was so unreadable.

Sakura was not a night owl, unlike Ino, who considered it her civic duty to stay out all night partying. And just about now she felt sleepy. Then it struck her. One apartment. One bed. One very small bed. Gaara must have noticed her panic, because asked her what was wrong, in a bored voice.

"Nothing, I mean, are you-are you tired?"

"Yes."

Ah, Kami. Why her? "Well, I'll, uh, show you to the bed."

She felt extremely awkward with Gaara standing behind her; she could feel the ghost of his breath on her bare neck, and shivered.

"We are both going to stay in the same bed?"

"As I said, I've been meaning to get…yeah…"

Gaara seemed to ignore her went to the bathroom. He came back without wearing a shirt, and cast it aside, onto a pile of her clothes. He choose a side of the bed, the one closest to the wall. He turned away from her, dismissing her completely. Sakura looked at him for a moment, then went to the bathroom. She washed her face and looked up, studying her face.

Was she attractive? She had stopped putting a lot of thought into her appearance after a while of being on Team Eight; it just wasn't necessary. And it didn't matter now, either. Just because she had Gaara in her bed, with his clear, piercing eyes and his distinctly masculine scent that she imagined hung around him like an aura as she looked at him. Was he sleeping? He must be, she decided. Otherwise he would have turned around and glared at her for looking at him for so long.

Sakura maneuvered her way under the covers, being very, very careful not to touch Gaara. She didn't know what he would be like if she woke him up. Though…Sakura snuck a glance over at Gaara. He was asleep. And she was curious about what had happened today, what with all the touching Gaara and stuff. What if it had worn off by now? She should probably test it…

Sakura reached out a trembling hand and stroked Gaara's forearm; sure enough, there was the sensation of being tenderly stroked in return. Well, there you go, question answered, she told herself. It still works. But she couldn't seem to tear herself away; his skin was so soft, unusual for a shinobi. Well, he rarely even has physical contact, she reminded herself. Of course it would be soft. Or course his warmth would feel like a balm to her. Of course the muscles of his chest would be hard and defined.

Sakura trailed her fingers down Gaara's tanned torso, feeling the answering move down her breast, and then without thinking, she flicked his nipple, and gasped aloud at the sensation. God, that had felt…She moved her hand down onto his hip, barely being able to stand the sensation of the touch moving steadily towards the apex of her legs. She circled Gaara's slender hips, a rather feminine trait, she noted. Her hand hovered his stomache, lightly caressing the trickle of hairs she found there. Better to stop here. He might wake up. Yes…Sakura turned away from him, lest she be tempted again. And the Gods knew, he was certainly tempting. She pulled a section of the covers up to her chest and closed her eyes.