Title: Between Sheets
Summary: It was more difficult to face each other afterwards than coming to the bed in the first place had ever been.
Pairing: KakaSaku
Rating: T
Notes: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
The morning after was always the hardest part.
Whether the night had been spent in broken slumber, their legs curled together and their breathing hollow as they ran away from their haunting nightmares, or in wakefulness, intertwined like tree roots, waking up and facing each other was a process harder than getting to the bed and all that it entailed had ever been.
Kakashi had pulled the mask back up over his face long before the sun broke over the surface of the sky and Sakura could, in any amount of certainty, see what his face looked like. Maybe one day he would trust her enough to drag it down long enough for her to catch a glimpse of whatever shadows and secrets he hid beneath form-fitting black linen, but that day had yet to come, and Sakura had learned patience the way a child learned to swim in a whirlpool. There was no use in fighting the current.
And she was always fully dressed long before the sun rose, as though any instance of nakedness shamed them both. Her apron would be smooth and unwrinkled, her collar straight and pristine.
They would try to forget what they had done the night before, even though there were times when the brief instances of pleasure was all that sustained them and those rough times were growing closer and closer together. They would try to eradicate the memories of what they had said, efface the memories of whispers and gasps, to the point that they almost couldn't remember it themselves.
There was pain found there, as well as pleasure, and they both saw shadows of others in each other's faces, even as they thought of new lives where there was no shadows to the contours of their faces and they wouldn't have phantom bodies lying between them as they slept.
It was easier to forget.
But Kakashi always regretted it, as Sakura walked away, and he heard the phantom rustling of linen bed sheets following her footsteps.
Because memory of her during the day was in some ways better than oblivion found within her at night.