Sasuke had known it had been a bad, bad idea to listen to Naruto from the moment he stepped into the loud club to be attacked by blinding lights flashing into his eyes and sweaty bodies pushing against him.
Clubs were most definitely not on the list of places the young Uchiha visited. Granted, the list in question was barely even a list, to begin with, since it contained a maximum number of three locations—his apartment, a nice restaurant that cooked meals that smelled and tasted in a way that reminded him of his childhood, and, sometimes, on the rare occasions when the mission had been long and he was tired, his pink-haired ex-teammate's apartment (because it was the closest to the main gates).
Clearly, though, going out was not something he did. Socializing was not something he did. But Naruto had insisted. He had begged and begged until Sasuke hadn't known what to do to get him off his back. So, when the blond promised him to leave him alone for an entire week, not come by his house and not request his presence on a mission unless Sasuke specifically sought him out for that reason, the Uchiha had deemed it a good enough deal for him to spend an hour or two in a club, at a stupid reunion only someone as stupid as Naruto could have come up with.
It was a monthly reunion, he'd claimed. Something that had been thought of after the war. At first, it had been a way for the Rookie Nine and their friends to mourn the loss of their loved ones together—keeping each other company, giving each other support. Now, five months after the long-awaited installment of peace, it seemed to have turned into a raging way of letting out steam.
Sasuke had never participated to the famous reunion before. He had been in the hospital, then under house arrest, then fresh off probation—with Naruto being surprisingly insightful as to spot his desire to have a week or two to himself after having been under ANBU surveillance for two months straight.
Time passed, though; soon, he was on his trail once again, and Sasuke didn't know what to do with himself anymore.
Heaving a sigh, he raised his onyx gaze, which almost instantly fell over a familiar group of people sitting at the bar. Muttering a curse under his breath, he began to make his way in their direction—a difficult task, one that pissed him off even more than he already was, but one that was necessary, regardless.
He'd stay for half an hour, he decided, shortening the timeframe he'd set for himself before he left his apartment, simply because it was too loud and too crowded and everything that he hated.
Naruto could also kiss his ass for all he cared, but he was not catching sight of him for a week.
Greeting his maybe friends, certainly comrades, he took a seat next to Shikamaru, who had his default bored expression plastered on his face even with a large pint of beer in his hand. Naruto noticed his presence and immediately came over, flopping down beside him and throwing an arm over his shoulders.
"You're late, Sasuke-teme!" he complained, clearly already tipsy, as he ordered another drink alongside him.
Sasuke shrugged his arm away with a growl of annoyance that was lost in the noise of the crowd and the pounding of the music and drowned his shot as soon as it was set in front of him. If he was to get through the next half an hour, he was going to need alcohol, that was for sure.
"Hn," he grunted.
He was late—that, he had to admit. It had been entirely intentional, and it didn't take him long to realize that people hadn't lost time at all, since they were all quite drunk or well on their way there.
Shikamaru was lazily, perhaps more lazily than usual, watching the moving crowd, Lee was having a contest with an intoxicated Kiba, and while Sai, the artist that had been his replacement, made it difficult for Sasuke to read him, if his red ears were any indication, the alcohol had worked its way into his system, as well—which probably led to him currently trying to tell what he was supposed to feel in such a moment and why he couldn't remember what any of his stupid books said on the matter.
The rest, he couldn't see. Kakashi had to have left with his porn book, since he clearly wasn't there anymore. Naruto himself had started to ramble at his side, his words drowned out by both the music and Sasuke's disinterest.
Turning around in his chair, he took his refilled glass with him and faced the crowd, his eyes immediately starting their search for pink hair. There was no reunion that Sakura missed, and if he could find her, maybe he could pass the dobe on to her. She, for one, couldn't be drunk; she had an alcohol tolerance so unlike her mentor's, it was almost laughable.
He found her in relatively little time, her pink hair unmistakable even in the midst of the large crowd. Sasuke blinked, took a long swing of his drink, shook his head, closed his eyes, opened them—and then blinked again.
She was still there. He hadn't been wrong about her presence and he hadn't mistaken her for anybody else.
A frown followed his bewildered expression.
She had melded with the mob, but she was closer to the bar than other people, which was most likely part of the reason why he had managed to spot her so quickly and why he could easily see her even as the crowd shifted and pulsed as if it were alive.
At that point, he wasn't sure that was an entirely good thing.
She was dressed in the tightest garment he had ever seen, a leopard printed one that clung to her every curve, hugging her hips, pushing her breasts up, emphasizing her tiny waist. Her pink hair was caught in a sophisticated up-do she somehow managed to pull off as effortless, with curly tendrils escaping the mess and framing her face beautifully—unintentionally, he would say, clashing with the bright green of her eyes, green that was brought out even more by the heavy make-up he had never seen her wear before.
And her shoes. Kami help him, he blinked again.
He'd seen her wear the black sandals before. Sakura was known to walk around the hospital in quite professional outfits, if her tight dresses (that were a respectable length) over which she threw a white coat, were any indication, and he'd been admitted there enough times since his arrival back in the village to be able to make a clear statement about that. But perhaps it was exactly because all of the dresses that he'd seen her wear were a respectable length that he hadn't quite realized how many wonders the heels did for her body.
Because, seeing as this particular piece of clothing ended a bit above her mid-thigh, which could no longer be called decent at all, he had trouble telling where her long, luscious, perfectly shapely legs were ending.
He had trouble processing a lot of information, truth to be told, as he couldn't seem to be able to get rid of the image of how they would look and feel wrapped around his neck—but that was an entirely different story.
Oblivious to his stunned composure, Sakura continued to dance, moving her body to the rhythm of the music, laughing with Ino, trying to involve Hinata into their not-so-innocent dance, and feeling the pulse of the crowd with a bright grin that never slipped from her lips.
Sasuke had never quite seen her in such a state before.
He'd seen a lot of her after Team Seven was reinstated and he was allowed to leave on missions once again. From weekly dinners at Ichiraku's, to training sessions in the mornings, to hospital visits when he needed them, to missions on which something memorable always happened (because that was what missions with Team Seven were like), Sasuke had had the opportunity to gather a lot of information—about all of his teammates and how time had changed them.
He'd thought he had Sakura down. She was strong, professional, warm, caring, happy, and generally a lot of fun, people would say, even though she was a bit violent—but even that was alright as long as the punch she dealt him as a greeting when the war ended wasn't repeated.
He realized now, though, that he hadn't known this side of her.
The fact that the pinkette laughed a lot and knew how to have fun wasn't a secret to him. In his opinion, she might as well earn the title of the most lively member of their team—because, truly, Naruto complained and whined too much; and he was stupid. But the way she danced with Ino, the way she laughed, the way she smiled, the way she lifted her arms in the air, moving her lithe body perfectly in time with the beat of the music, the way the sparkle in her green eyes couldn't be covered even by the flashing lights… everything he was currently witnessing spoke of something he hadn't been aware existed inside her.
And she was not drunk. Sakura did not—could not—get drunk.
...Or could she?
Watching her have fun with her friends, watching her laugh and smile and lose herself to the music, he came to the conclusion that it was fine, either way. Sakura was a responsible, perfectly capable adult, not a sloppy drunk and a loser, like the rest of their friends, and—
Pausing on his way to bring his glass down from his lips, he spit out his drink in shock when his gaze moved upwards again, hoping to find a glimpse of her luscious legs—and instead finding Sakura sharing a pole with Ino.
"Woo! Go, Sakura-chan!" Naruto yelled from beside him, throwing an arm into the air, his drink sloshing over the rim of the glass held in the other.
Sakura heard him, turned her head, laughed, and waved back.
Sasuke blinked.
Was she insane?!
Slamming his glass on the counter so hard he was surprised it remained intact—or, rather, he would have been surprised, had even a sliver of his attention been focused on anything other than the task at hand—the Uchiha stood from his seat and, before he even realized what was happening, stalked in her direction.
When Sakura yelled, shocked, as he forcefully grabbed her around the waist and slung her over his shoulder with the intention of never letting her near a dance floor again clear in his mind, Sasuke concluded that, yes—yes, she was insane.
It was part of her charm, after all.
A/N: For crazymel2008, who asked for jealous Sasuke. It turned out as more possessive Sasuke, but in my defence, it had a mind of its own!