Sakura drummed her fingers on the stainless steel counter of the cafe's kitchen, her phone safely in one of the many pockets of her apron. Sai had just left to serve the smoothie. That boy was going to be the end of her... She hastily tied the apron around her waist and set off to a dirty table to wipe it clean. As she scrubbed it with the rag in her hand, her mind wandered off to what she had just agreed too.
Absently, she wondered if she had done something incredibly stupid. Of course, welcoming Kisame into her house was nothing if not one of the best things that has happened to her in the past month or two. She couldn't overlook the fact that he had technically abandoned her, but, similarly, she couldn't over look the years they had spent as best friends. She had missed him dearly, and was quite enthusiastic to see him again—for the better part of the summer, no less—despite the up-and-leave-without-doing-a-damn-thing-to-keep-in-touch stunt he had pulled not too long ago. But Sakura knew how to forgive, even if she wasn't all that great at it. Though, it was the rest of his "friends" that she was skeptical about.
Sakura was a social girl most of the time; she enjoyed people's company and making new friends. But she had never ventured outside the state of Florida before, and New York seemed to be a scary place. She didn't know who these people were or what they were capable of. What if they were desperate two-timers and ended up robbing her? Or worse—raping her?
Wait, what was she thinking? She shook her head before scrubbing harder at a particularly stubborn stain. If Kisame was friends with these people, then they've got to be an OK crowd. And the Kisame she had grown up with—and this one, as well, if the pet names he was determined to use were anything to go by—would never put her in harm's way, right? If he was bringing them to live with her, then he must trust them wholly. And if Kisame trusted them, then so did she.
Content with her decision for now, the pinkette straightened herself from the leaning position she had been in and moved to the kitchen, her two-inch heels clicking softly in comparison to the loud badinage and raillery of the filled cafe. She tossed the rag aside swiftly and washed her hands. The bell at the entrance jingled merrily as a group of young girls entered and took a seat at one of her tables. Sakura pulled the tie out of her hair, allowing the choppy, pink locks to brush the bottom of her jaw. Her tiny hands swept through the tresses so as to style them before walking to the girls. After taking their orders and serving them, she rushed to the next table, which consisted of an older, more mature, couple. The next few hours continued in a similar fashion.
33B
"I'm beat, man. I'm so tired," Sakura moaned as she checked the clock on the wall. It was 10:45. She had been working full-time since eight this morning.
"Didn't you have an hour break at four?" Sai questioned, his piercing pools of ink for eyes not leaving the notebook he was filling in with the profit made today as he spoke.
"Yeah, but I used it to have lunch with Neji."
Sai's fingers continued tapping the calculator, "I didn't know you've been going on dates, hag."
If she weren't so tired, she would've run him over with an ice-cream truck. "I am not dating anyone! We're just friends."
"Would he agree?"
Sakura began to sputter, at a loss for words. Her ears began to burn as they flushed pink, "O-of course! I mean—I mean...we're just friends." She finally hissed, embarrassed at being cornered into an awkward situation.
There was a short pause before either of them spoke again.
"You should stop friend-zoning every guy you meet upon sight, Sakura."
"...What's that supposed to mean, Sai?"
"It means what it means," he sighed. "It's eleven. Our shifts are over," he tossed her the keys and slapped the book shut before shoving it into a drawer, "it's your turn to lock up. Goodnight, Sakura."
With that he slipped on his light jacket and stepped out of the cafe, leaving a confused Sakura to stare speechlessly as he climbed into his car and sped off. Once he had disappeared into the night, she stacked all the chairs up onto the tables, checked the back door, made sure the kitchen was in order, and left after locking the front door.
Shoving the keys into the pocket of her hoodie, she began the long trek home, her combat boots making the only noise as she mulled over what Sai had said.
That night, Sakura tossed and turned in bed. She had dismissed Sai's uncharacteristic comment already, convincing herself that he had just been stressed and tired, as was she. It was understandable; there were more customers than usual, and so they were a bit moodier than usual.
What was bothering her though, was Kisame. Him and his bunch of friends were moving in for the summer. Her worries—despite her attempt at dousing them that morning—were scaring sleep away. And she wasn't very happy about that. The troubled pinkette curled into a semi-fetal position, wrapping her arms around her bare legs as her mind raced with various thoughts.
Sakura was naturally paranoid person, but she usually knew what it was that she was afraid of. The last time she had been uneasy and bothered was...well, over nothing, really, was in the third grade.
But that was completely different. She could remember her younger self, frustrated by her fear of what seemed to be, literally, nothing, convinced that there was a foreboding presence wafting around her—particularly in school. A few days later she found out that a fellow classmate had been planning on beating her up, but they had mysteriously chickened out at the last second.
However Sakura Haruno was an eighteen-year-old college freshman, she was now more than capable of taking care of herself.
So what in God's name was big enough to have her scared out of her wits now?
33B
A low, animal-like growl vibrated through his chest, echoing off the walls of his room. It was nearing two o'clock in the morning, but he couldn't find sleep. His need to create was unfulfilled, and it would haunt him until he did something about it. Throwing yet another sculpture aside in frustration, he damned every, and any, God that had thought it funny to steal his muse from him. He had tried music, but that had only succeeded in intensifying his bloody headache. It was as if a horde of banshees had gathered in his head, then decided to see who could scream the loudest, and who could keep it up for the longest amount of time possible.
Deidara reached up to rub his eyes and the bags beneath them. Minutes continued to tick by but the blonde remained motionless in his position, sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows balanced on his knees and he hid his tired face behind his artistic hands.
Suddenly, he sighed through his nose and pulled on the gray skinnies and the blue button-up he had been wearing earlier that day- or the day before, depending on how you looked at it. Deidara felt like a zombie as he stuffed his sock covered feet into a pair of black dress shoes.
The door to his room opened and closed, barely making a sound. Looking at the other doors up and down the hallway, he silently made a decision and advanced towards a particular door that was sporting quite a few splinters and numerous unidentifiable stains. He'd rather a calm night in a bar with Sasori, but the fellow artist would turn him into a baboon-like version of Pinocchio if he woke him at such an ungodly hour, so booming music and scantily dressed girls it was.
Knocking on the door (read: smashing his fist into what was left of the slab of wood), Deidara hoped to God the idiot was even there. Soon enough, the door swung back to reveal a more than half-naked Hidan, with tousled hair and a tired expression. Upon realizing it was none other than his blonde friend, he eyed him suspiciously.
"Bitch, the honeymoon ain't till we get fucking tickets to Maldives, remember?"
Deidara rolled his eyes, "Get dressed, asshole. We're going out." The Jashinist didn't question him; he merely began pulling on random articles of clothing that were messily flung over the entire expanse of the carpeted floor.
"Anyways," Deidara smirked, "I thought we agreed on Barbados instead."
33B
"So, what's up?" Hidan's Chevy corvette Zr1 was practically surfing over neighboring cars like they were smooth waves. His hand was holding the wheel in what seemed to be a gentle caress while the other hand was streaming through his silver hair. The blonde artist in the passenger seat was slouching in his chair, pearly teeth biting the inside of his cheek in thought.
"I'm going crazy, yeah," he groaned. "I feel like shit, man."
"Yeah, I fuckin' guessed that fuckin' much."
Deidara glared half-heartedly at his friend, "then why bother asking, shit-bucket?"
"Watch it, fuckwad. I'm trying to find out why you're so fuckin' messed up, seriously."
It was silent as the red corvette shot down the busy streets they had memorized by heart. The stores and lights gradually decreased in number as they continued to the not-so-nice part of the city. The car and the street beneath it began to vibrate in time with the erratic beat of the clubs that littered the area.
Hidan pulled over next to a small group of young men in matching vests. A ginger with a lanky stature walked over to the driver's side as the two men emerged from the expensive vehicle. The Jashinist forced the keys into the teen's hand, making sure the boy got an eyeful of the Japanese kanji for "three" engraved into his ring.
Deidara and the pasty-skinned priest continued on foot towards a medium sized building made of large dark bricks and a flickering neon sign that said "Vick's" in a bright yellow. All sound ceased as they entered, but they either didn't care, that, or were used to it—possibly both—and so proceeded their slow swagger to the occupied bar.
Deidara drummed his fingers against the wood counter-top. People returned to their conversations and sound filled the bar once again. After a short talk with the bartender, a key was pulled from a drawer and they were escorted to the back of the bar. Hopping down a trap door, then easily navigating themselves down the stairs in the dark, the steady beating of music became more pronounced.
Following the source of the loud sounds, Hidan could be heard humming along to the song that was shaking the supposedly soundproof walls. As the greasy bartender unlocked the heavy, metal door, Deidara mustered enough energy to think exasperatedly to himself, "Well, here it goes..."
As if the consistent thumping of music alone wasn't enough, people moved in unbelievably perfect sync to the beat of the DJ's spinning. Pushing through the throng of bodies like a hot knife through butter, the two dashing young men reached a closed black door in no time before pushing it open and stepping into a room noticeably brighter than the foggy club.
Within the room were expensive leather couches with equally price-worthy people lounging upon them. More people reclined near the bar with their exotic drinks. Pool tables and card tables lined the expanse of the black, tiled floor. The sound of the club still vibrated in the air of the VIP room, but the soundproof walls mostly dimmed the harshness of the noise.
It didn't take long for them to get comfortable; soon enough they were playing pool like they usually did. Hidan was making it obvious that he'd rather be enjoying certain other people's presence in a much different manner, but his favorites had gone home hours ago and the women left weren't as experienced as he'd like. Anyways, his friend needed him... that meant something, right? As the Jashinist contemplated the importance of the blonde before him, Deidara concentrated on the hit he was about to deliver.
"What the fuck is up with you? You're frowning like a pussy. Now that I mention it, Itachi's been looking all fucking sad and shit, too." Deidara snorted; Hidan could always make him feel infinitely less shitty. He brought up his cue stick to recalculate the move he had been stuck on for a few minutes now, he sighed exasperatedly then put it back down.
"I really don't know, man. I just feel...so paranoid, yeah. It's really fucking weird though, because I haven't even been on a job since that fat loser's ammo shack a couple of weeks ago."
Hidan raised an eyebrow, "You been dealing instead?"
Deidara shook his head, "I'd barely call it that, yeah. Nothing's selling." Hidan cursed out a sentence that probably didn't even have any meaning.
"But it's just been really bothering me, yeah. I've got no clue why, though. It's driving me fuckin' nuts." Deidara clicked the cue back into its holding place then drifted off to the bar with Hidan right behind him.
"I've been assigned a fucking gorilla man to get rid of. It's for tomorrow night." They ordered drinks, and their rings assured that their glasses were filled to the brim and in their hands in mere seconds.
"Isn't that Kisame's specialty, yeah? 'Cause you'd surely fuck it up." Hidan punched him in the ribs.
"Hahahaha," the Jashinist chortled at the bomber's furious glare, "Nah, Pein's giving him a break off duty for a while." That sobered Deidara right up.
"What? You think it has to do with his friend, yeah?" Hidan swallowed half of his drink in one go.
"Of course it has to fuckin' do with Kisame's fuckin' bitch, you dumbfuck," the silver-haired vampire snapped knowingly, "Pein's fuckin' pissed."
The blond kicked his crazy friend in the shins brutally, "Well, I know that, yeah. I'm just wondering what Kisame was thinking; keeping a friend like that." He sipped his drink then licked his lips in thought, "but fuck if that chick wasn't feisty."
An evil smirk curled on Hidan's lips, for the conversation had taken a turn he quite liked, "A-fucking-men! And she's a waitress; do you have any fucking idea how sexy bitches look in those uniforms? Fuck, man. If she's got a body I'm fucking it senseless." His striking eyes glazed over in deep thought.
"Excuse me, yeah?" Deidara turned his body to face his Hidan, "who said she'd even want to screw you? We all know she'll be begging me to get it on with her, yeah."
Hidan rolled his eyes, "Bitch please, she'll coming crying to me about some drag queen—that's you, by the way—trying to touch her. And that's when I'll make my fucking move."
The two men glared heatedly at each other.
"What if she turns out ugly, though?" Deidara thought aloud, "You could have her then, yeah."
"You fucking wish. Have you seen Kisame's taste in women? Seriously, this chick's gonna be a fuckin winner."
"Good point, yeah. But I'm still getting her first." Hidan shoved Deidara brutally, tackling him off the stool. They wrestled for a bit on the ground but it didn't really get anywhere since they had memorized each other's fighting style, they could block each other perfectly. A few minutes later, they shook their hands on it; first one to bed Sakura Haruno got $2000 and would be "the man."
