Rating: M

Summary: Kakashi gets an unexpected visitor.

*Set during the first year of post-war Konoha

It was already dark when Kakashi reached home, bone tired, sore all over and practically dragging his feet past the large gates of Konoha. It was New Year's eve, and he smiled faintly at the lively celebration he could make out from afar.

He barely remembered how he had gotten himself to bed, and even less how he had mustered enough energy to strip out of his muddied jounin uniform for a proper shower, before plopping himself unceremoniously on what he thought was the softest, most comfortable futon that ever existed. The whole weight of him felt like it was sinking continuously into the mattress' center; if it wasn't for the familiar view of his bare ceiling, he could be convinced that he was nestled inside a huge fluffy cloud that was slowly caving in on him. Kakashi let his eyes lazily stare at the contrasting abstract shadows on the ceiling created by the moonlight as the dull pain of his now aching muscles provided an odd sort of comfort— a reminder that he was still very much alive, if not so utterly spent. It was then that sleep settled in on him, heavy and unrelenting.

It must've been a good few hours at least, he wasn't sure, before his slumber was interrupted by two soft dips on the mattress framing both sides of his torso before another one right next to his pillow. Dressed only in boxers, he became a little alarmed at the intrusion that he cracked his right eye open; the familiar flurry of dangling pink calmed him adjust his sleep-hazed sight to the darkness.

Her usual clothes, were unusually tight around her body, as it would seem the gods were always bent on being cruel. Like a cat sauntering into her own territory, she maneuvered herself on his bed, stalking, before finally straddling his torso. The full weight of her hips as she rolled it against his, elicited a groan of pleasure.

Kakashi was always so easy. Helpless and mesmerized, as his eyes searched her face, observing the soft curves of her features that accentuated elegantly in the shadow. She looked most beautiful in the moonlight, he mused, as his fingers languidly traced a path along the side of her thigh.

"Is this a dream?" he asked carefully, as if the simple disturbance of words would drive away the vision in front of him. Eager to believe anything, Kakashi tried to affirm the reality for himself with the slow tease of his fingers on the exposed skin on her waist. A roaring heat had already started to pool down south, yet he searched patiently for answers in those bright flecks of jade glinting behind thick lashes

"Why?" She intoned softly, cocking her head just before bending down to plant a small kiss on his lips. Eager to taste her, Kakashi parted his lips immediately, but she misled him to trace a warm pattern instead, with her tongue, along the curve of his jaw.

"Do you want it to be?" Her question fanned against his neck.

"No," he answered hoarsely. And Yes. The struggle of pleasure and guilt hardly ever fit one answer. His mind tried to search for clarity, but it was too tired and too worn out to debate anything else aside from more pressing choices of whether to take her on her back, or on her knees.

She let out a giggle as he flipped her softly to land on his mattress, pink hair splaying out across his pillow.

They spent the remainder of the night exploring each other's bodies. His physical fatigue was completely lost to the mere sight of her naked curves, moving along with his as they writhed and moaned towards their destination.

She made it there first, screaming his name loud as her insides clamped down tight, nearly taking him with her that Kakashi had to shut his eyes tight just to hold on a little longer.

He couldn't think of a more delightful failure, as the inevitable wave crashed right there between sheets, engulfing the both of them in the sea of ecstasy. It became his last waking thought before he collapsed on his mattress with a satisfied lopsided smirk.

Until he woke. Again.

With a sharp intake of breathe this time and the loud knocking on his door.

He shifted a little, discomforted now by the only real proof of his fantasy, straining against his tight boxers. Without missing a beat, he got up from his bed, turning the light on as he crossed the small space to his bathroom.

Curious of who would be visiting him in the dead of night, he instinctively reached for a fresh pair of clothes by the dresser. An ample pause, and then two more knocks before he was dressed, mask back in place, and everything down south properly secured.

He opened the door slowly, letting the sudden brightness from his room shine a path into his dark hallway, encapsulating the person standing in front of him in a spotlight.

Still, he blinked in disbelief. "Sakura?" he frowned. It was a serendipitous joke, he was sure of it now. One without an amusing punch line. "Shouldn't you be at the festival?"

He hoped that he didn't sound too shocked, or admonishing. But the surprise in his voice was evident, most especially as he took in the sight of her bright red kimono, and the elegant way her hair was arranged in a bun with small loose strands falling perfectly to frame her face.

Innocent and unassumingly beautiful. The bitter taste of guilt in his mouth was distinct, as the fantasies from last night shaped and molded back into memory.

"Shouldn't you be at the festival?" he managed despite himself, ignoring the vivid images in his head. This is Sakura, he rebuked. The very name drew familiarity, and history. Trust and friendship.

"Kakashi," she said softly, ignoring his question. And it was the way his name left her delicate lips that nearly undid him. Honorific gone, and much too similar to the intimate breathless moans from his dirty dreams.

Her slight nervousness was not lost in him, and only fueled his curiosity about the purpose of her visit.

Not to say he didn't already break it down to one or two plausible scenarios. Only a fool would miss the recent shift in their interactions, the flirting game Sakura seemed to enjoy that had wormed into Kakashi's insides like a disease. Invading his thoughts. Twisting them as he struggled to remind himself now that this person in front of him wasn't that Sakura, and that there were only a few plausible contrived plot lines that was going to happen tonight, barring the more devious things his own libido had thought up for him.

An awkward invitation to join her for the festival, he deduced, would be one of them. A friendly invite— completely innocent as she would expertly make it out to be. An attempt he would easily decline.

But she could also insist to stay, poke around like an uninvited guest to ask about his mission, fuss about his health under the guise of her usual motherly—Oh.

Her lips was on him. He barely had time to react between the firm grasp of her hands on his shirt and the strong pull afterwards. His hands clenched tight against his doorframe as his mind processed the fact that her mouth was planted firmly against his own. He decided against breathing. Breathing meant moving, and he couldn't spare even the slight amount of friction against the too palpable taste of her lips filtering through his immobile masked ones. His vivid dreams now threatened to spill into reality with renewed fervor as her lower lip began to move, seeking his own.

His breath hitched sharply at the sensation, the desire to pin her against the other side of his door reaching a feverish pitch, and before it threatened to undo every strand of his control, his hands came up quick as lightning, secured around her wrists. She didn't see the strained clench in his jaw as he silently willed her to stop.

To his surprise, she did, eventually letting go of his shirt to stare at him now with a look Kakashi wasn't sure he could read anymore.

Kakashi desperately hoped that his former student could muster up some kind of excuse, he can give her one if she let him. Blame the liquor, he thought to himself, even if he smelled no trace of it on her. Anything.

"I love you..I think." Her tone was broken. They were the words he dreaded the most, and was another line crossed amongst many others.

"Do you love me?" came the final sinker however, tumbling off her lips, a little needily.

"You shouldn't ask me that," he pleaded, even as his own answer stared at him, fidgeting in a beautiful red dress. Kakashi wasn't entirely sure if was an all together resounding yes; these things were hardly simple. Not always ideal, or even purely love. She would be quick to agree if she knew exactly the depths his mind had gone, all the lustful waking thoughts he would conjure to momentarily cure himself of his own depravity.

He wondered if she had thought through any of this at all, outside the tint of rose colored glasses. Kakashi tried to make her understand, between his many evasive no's and her insistent why's, struggling to skirt around the too obvious facts of her youth and his exceedingly spent years. Never mind that the sound of her voice just got louder, more agitated. If they were to come out of this intact, Kakashi needed to keep his own, ever steady and unshaken.

He was certain she knew that he genuinely cared for her. As a friend. They would always have that, he assured her of this, with his hand now on her shoulder.

But his touch caused her to flinch, like it stung her very skin. The spiteful look she gave him was unexpected, as well as his own hurt when she brashly pushed his hand away.

It was when she turned around to leave that he called out her name. She ignored him of course, and he was forced to watch her departing silhouette until he could no longer hear the sound of her footsteps.

Kakashi reminded himself later, after he closed the door behind him, that he should feel relieved. He had been strong enough to do right thing, despite his fatigue. It was a victory of self restraint over carnal desire, even if it felt a little like love. A triumph of honor, he commended himself as he stared at the empty room of his apartment.