Shows up to fanfiction months later with Starbucks in hand. I don't even like Starbucks.


Hinata's life is ordinary as it can get with fixed dates and hours she lives by. She has classes and she has her part-time work at the small cosy café near campus, just about a five-minute walk away. Working even on the weekends, Hinata weasels in her homework time between after-class before-work time period. She is an excellent student, no drinking and no smoking, her assignments are always turned in in time. So most of the time, the teachers leave the keys to the workshops at her capable hands. As long as she cleans up any mess made by her the teachers turn a blind eye.

She especially likes to work Friday nights. Her shift is in the morning and she only has advanced charcoal sketches in the afternoon so the rest of the evening is hers. Most students are busy attending parties fit for a Friday night but Hinata isn't most students. Even if she can afford to take time out of work/school, she doesn't have someone to go with. Classmates invite her sometimes, out of necessity politeness, but Hinata always kindly declines.

She knows she won't fit in and she also knows whoever had invited her would disappear the moment they entered the wild, drunken, gathering of college students.

So Hinata works. A burgundy apron secured tightly over her cream blouse-purple skirt combo and her favorite brush in hand, she lets her hand dance over the easel. Practice makes it perfect and that's pretty much what Hinata always does. Between shifts, waiting in line at the store, travelling in the bus, while eating lunch, across the TV, her worn sketchbook is just within her reach.

Time passes slowly while Hinata paints. She is making the final touches to her work; a half moon is hanging at a cloudy sky while gentle waves are brushing the abandoned shores of a tropical beach. The main focus of her painting is the youthful siren sitting on a rock and enjoying the night breeze. Her hair is long enough to cover her bare chest and it's the color of liquid moonlight, and there are dark colored beads adorning her swaying strands. The long and powerful tail is a whirlwind of mauve, violet, amethyst and lilac, casually curled over the moss-covered rock.

Adding navy into cobalt, Hinata darkens the shade. She wants her waves to contrast with the dark starless night and maybe have a hint of green in them, so with a mix of pine-seaweed-basil, Hinata twirls the colors together. Capturing the movement is her goal, constantly swirling, mixing and mingling the colors spread across the canvas.

Brush in hand she almost pokes her eyes out, stopping the wooden stick a breath away from the unsuspecting eye. Her left eye is slightly itchy and Hinata had left her box of contact lenses home. She can't afford to buy a new case and that means not scrubbing and getting paint in her eyes.

She will die of embarrassment if she has to go to the hospital again for the same reason.

Hinata is proud of this one. The tail took her almost a week and a half – choosing the colors, blending them right, and find the right pattern – the rest wasn't as much as challenging-

"Hinata? You're still up here?"

Expecting to be alone, Hinata jumps, almost knocking her canvas down in fright. Panicked hands reach and steady the still wet-painted-siren. Luckily, nothing is smeared or ruined.

While Hinata tries to control her erratically beating heart, Mr Cornwell had approached her from behind. Hinata is still perched on her little stool when the professor puts his old, wrinkled hands over her shoulders.

"I apologize, Hinata. I didn't mean to scare you." The tone is gentle and fatherly, as Hinata remembers him to be and would not be so weird if he hadn't breathed the words into her ear. Middle-aged with balding grey hair, Mr Cornwell isn't Hinata's favorite teacher. He seems way too nice for once, his wire-framed glasses are too big for his round face and something about his polite smile bothers Hinata immensely.

Still, he is a professor and Hinata has nothing to back up the uncomfortable nagging in her gut. Under the guise of a nod, she scoots away in her tiny stool. The hands on her shoulders are heavy.

Steadily, something coils in her stomach. Something that could only be described as dread. Like a snake, it curls in her core, tightening with each passing second. Her hands are cold and her brow furrows with a fresh bout of anxiety. The oxygen levels in the little workshop seemingly drop.

"Your drawing could need a bit more refinement but the color matchup is done fairly well." Hinata unintentionally soaks in the praise, faintly blushing. For all his creepiness, Mr Cornwell is a talented man and maybe Hinata shouldn't be so swift to judge the poor ma-

"Is this the hand you draw with? Such a youthful talent you have Hinata. Polite, talented, hardworking -" her left shoulder is liberated only for Mr Cornwell to capture her cold hand. The skin is rough and aged and smells of paint. Hinata wants to get away but she is frozen in place, her heartbeat deafening her ears. "And very pretty."

It had started as a childish belief. Growing up shy and unwanted, Hinata had done her best to stay out of the way of her family members, acting as if she wasn't in the room, frozen in place even fearing to breathe. If she'd stay unmoving her father wouldn't notice her. If she'd stayed quiet the glares and venomous words won't affect her.

If I'm not a threat they'll leave me alone.

If I don't fight back, father won't hit me.

If I don't scream and cry mother won't be sad in heaven.

It's that instinct deeply rooted in her core that keeps her glued to her stool, frozen and silent. The pressure on her hand increases momentarily, then it moves under her apron to her thigh while the other hand slides closer to her pale neck. The pad of Mr Cornwell's thumb slides inside her collar and Hinata's jaw tenses for a scream that will never leave her lips.

Her whole body trembles, tunnel vision taking hold but words fail her. The coiling dread takes a sharper edge as the sick feeling threatens to turn her stomach. Liquid heat stings at her eyes and she can't shake off the iron hold of the professor. For an old man, he's especially strong.

Is this really happening? It can't be. Not like this. Never like this.

Horror, pure undiluted horror, bubbles up her throat and passes her clammy lips. Instead of blood curling screaming, pitiful whimpers came out. Mr Cornwell laughs, his mint scented breathing brushing her sweaty neck. He's enjoying her little panic attack.

"N-n-o, p-pleas-se." Her voice wavers under her choked up a stutter.

Another laugh, Hinata feels Mr Cornwell's chest vibrate at her back. "Sweet little Hinata, don't you know that every no is an uncultivated yes."

The dam breaks. She is scaredscaredscared-

"Oh Doll, there you are. I've got lost looking for you."

Both turn at the unexpected visitor, Mr Cornwell annoyed, Hinata teary-eyed. At the door stands tall and proud a young man. Wild and messily spiked dark hair, eyes like liquid amber, and red triangle tattoos over his cheeks, Hinata recognize Kiba Inuzuka easily.

"Who are you?" spats the teacher, enraged to be interrupted.

Kiba flashes a smile, all teeth and snark. "Hello. I'm your local asshole." He winks at Hinata, who can't help but crack a small, relieved smile at the absurdity and the look on her molester's face. The tunnel vision fades.

"You aren't of the Art department, leave now."

"No can do." Kiba sings. "Sorry to burst your fun evening – "a dangerous glint is hidden under the merry tone. That fanged grin could cut steel should it sharpen more. "- but I have business with Doll. So, teach, if you could prey on defenceless girls half your age another time, that'd be great."

Mr Cornwell grits his teeth and glares at Kiba who is smirking unabashedly. Hinata's own wide eyes are locked with molten gold, under his presence her legs work again and Hinata springs to her feet. She grabs her bag throwing it over her shoulder, then, her brushes and paints are shoved inside her tool bag.

Head down in shame, Hinata sprints towards the door. When she is by his side Kiba leans towards her petite frame while his gaze is still locked with the angry prof. His voice is barely above a whisper. "Wait up outside, Doll, I'll be there in 5 minutes. And if anyone asks, tell them you're outstanding."

Hinata manages a forced nod and flees. The pun barely registers in her frenzied mind.


True to his words, Kiba walks leisurely out of the workshop after 5 minutes. His hands are locked behind his neck and he is whistling a popular country song that keeps replaying on the radio every two hours.

He stops in front of Hinata, who still has her head down her pale face. She rubbed away the tears in the little time she had and her breathing turned considerably shallower. Hinata also had time to think through on what happened.

Kiba and she aren't friends, really, she knows the young man because he is always around Naruto-

"Well, Doll, that was pathetic. You let that geezer feel you up without a single, whiny protest. Could've at least demand payment or somethin." The gruff voice brings her to reality. Although the words are blunt and rude, Kiba's amber eyes hold warmth. She takes in the rudely veiled teasing with a cough.

"T-thank y-you, Kiba-s-san." It's a bad time to stutter but Hinata turns a blind eye and blames her tense nerves. Really, 5 minutes isn't enough to calm down.

Kiba waves her apology away like swatting a fly. "No need to be polite with me Doll. Not ma style."

"Uhm…D-doll?"

Kiba clears his throat awkwardly and very pointedly avoids looking at Hinata. He almost looks apologetic for some reason… is that tinge of red at the tip of his ears from embarrassment? Maybe Hinata was seeing things. The lightning is kinda bad at this hour.

"I don't remember your name," Kiba admits, scratching his neck.

"Oh. Uhm… Hinata."

The fanged boy clicks his tongue. "I still prefer Doll, suits you the best." Kiba declares and he's smirking confidently again. Hinata blinks swiftly, did she imagine it perhaps?

The young man stops abruptly in the middle of the abandoned hall and curses colorfully. "Shit, fuck, hell! I fucking forgot!"

"…Kiba-san?"

Kiba's strong fingers grab her by her arms. Moments before, she was in a similar situation but, instead, the one deadly pale with large fear-full eyes is Kiba and not her. He looks close to having a heart attack. "You're an Art student."

"…y-yes?"

"You know your way around the department?"

"…y-yes!" squeaking the reply, Hinata watches Kiba smile like a little boy.

"Can you take me to the workshop where they sew stuff?"

Hinata nods, face aflame as Kiba's grin widens. She is almost afraid of the answer why he'd need to be in the sewing workshop this late. Taking lead with Kiba trailing after her, Hinata takes him down the corridor, takes a left and then another left again and stops in front of an oak door. Kiba salutes her with his fingers.

"Cover me Doll, I'm going in."

He leaves her standing, and as if in a spy movie he creeps inside the dark workshop in his tiptoes. Her duty as a guide complete, Hinata could leave but she doesn't. The halls seem a tad bit darker and a lot lonelier. Kiba shows up a few minutes later anyway, holding a stylish red leather handbag as if it belonged to some royalty and his task was to protect it to his last dying breath.

Feeling her confused stare Kiba throws in a hasty explanation. "It's Ino's, not mine. Red leather isn't ma choice, not that I would buy one if it was black or sometin. Wouldn't have bothered snooping for a fucking bag also, but apparently, she has her super-secret-under-CIA-protected designs in it. Also, she'd nag me till dawn." He shakes his head, exasperated but fond.

"Ah."

"Mission accomplished, then." He fiddles with the bag in his hand while giving her sideways glance.

They both turn away, heading towards the marble stairs at the end of the corridor. Going down two floors, Hinata turns to left pushing the fire exit door, crosses over the little courtyard through the wooden gazebo and at the corner of the aged building she turns left again ending up in the main entrance of the Arts and Crafts Department.

"Keep away from pervy grandpas."

"Y-yes. I'll t-try." Hinata squeaks. She's doing that an awful a lot lately. "Uhm… T-thanks."

Kiba shrugs. Daring to look up, Hinata sees him relaxed. The glaringly red bag is tucked under his arm with his slumped shoulders giving an indifferent air to him. His lazy smirk grows when he catches her sneaking glances. His golden eyes look even brighter under the moonlit parking lot.

Any other day, Hinata would've long twisted her attention away; however, Kiba easily ensnares her. Or maybe Hinata is the one who captures his gaze, refusing to let go. Kiba's words ring inside her head.

He found the bag. The mission is accomplished. There is no reason for them to stay together anymore. This is the point where everyone goes their separate ways.

The wind blows, messing both their hairs and stings her tearstained cheeks. She almost rubbed them raw but the cold manages to dig up the remains. Hinata clenches her fists so hard, she might break the skin. She doesn't want to walk back to her apartment, alone, completely and utterly alone.

There is no guarantee she'll keep it together to her apartment either.

Maybe she could drop by the café? An extra helping hand in a Friday night is always welcomed and work always took Hinata's mind away from overdriving itself. Also, the café will provide human contact, company she secretly craves but vehemently denies it because –

A loud, hungry growl takes her by surprise and at the same time reminds her where she is. With whom she is.

Kiba is still standing there, with her, and still looking at her, eyebrows raised and a pointy canine poking his lower lip. He tries to hold in his laughter by biting down harder but his shoulders are shaking with the strength of a mini-hurricane.

Hinata literally dozed off while staring at the young man and her cheeks burn all the way to her ears.

Is it possible to die of embarrassment? If not Hinata could be the first ever registered case.

Kiba's golden-hazel eyes run over her petite frame. "When was the last time you ate, Doll?"

"…"

"Right." He shakes his head with a chuckle and turns away. Hinata tries hard not to take it personally but – a painful pang goes through her heart.

"Hey!" The Inuzuka's long legs have already carried him halfway through the empty road when he shouts at her. "Speed up before I leave you behind."

"Behind?"

Kiba shakes his head. He is wearing a small, knowing smile and Hinata lowers her eyes to his chest. Her cheeks feel warmer but she refuses to look up into his smoldering topaz eyes. She' used to speaking to people without looking at their eyes, it's a habit she gained as a child and never really managed to break out of.

"It's dinner time."

That snaps her head up. "D-dinner? Why?"

Kiba turns his head to look over his shoulder, a challenging wild smirk splitting his face. Somehow he finds something overly amusing, and he laughs. "You're hungry, aren't you? I'm taking you out for dinner."

"Ah, Kiba-san y-you don't h-have too."

She winces at her own meek voice. As if possible her shoulders sag even more and Hinata feels herself half of her own height. Her lavender eyes glued to her black flats and she blinks repeatedly at the familiar sting. When was the last time she changed her contacts?

"Girlz would claw each other for a night with me, so you kinda lucked out. Don't break my heart, Doll, just say yes." Kiba winked playfully while cupping his chest dramatically. "And drop the san. I'm too hot and young to be addressed politely."

Hinata should be outraged at the endearment of her name, but it seems it's something Kiba would do and no amount of persuasion will make him back down. Also, Hinata lets it slide as Kiba did save her from an uncomfortable situation.

"Curry?"

"S-sure." Hinata mouth moves and she has answered before she was aware. Well, eating curry with the infamous bad boy of the campus can't hurt, right?

That's what she thinks until Kiba stops in front of a sleek, shiny Harley. Hinata doesn't get cars or bikes but even she could tell that the engine was built for speed.

"Meet my baby, Betsy. Hinata, Betsy. Betsy, Hinata." Kiba shoves the red bag inside a barrel-shaped leather bag secured to the side. With practiced ease, he swings his leg over the bike and turns towards her with a raised brow. "Coming?"

Hinata swallows hard, her nerves are tightly knotted. "I've, uhm, never before…" she gestures the deadly looking machine, hoping she doesn't look as lost as she feels she is. "I just…"

Kiba rolls his shoulders and puffs his chest up. "You aren't the first girl who had their first ride with me. I could even make a list out of it." His voice drips with amusement as he wiggles his brows at her and, in Hinata's ears; there is no mistake what he suggests.

A cold fear clenches her inside and Hinata's blush intensifies, however, this time, it's not of embarrassment but anger. Angry enough that her vision wavers like steam rising from a volcano.

"I certainly will not add my name to that list then, Kiba-san." In her mind, Hinata is standing tall, eyes hard and voice firm but the reality isn't what her imagination makes up. Her shoulders are hunched defensively, eyes stingingly puffy and her voice is above a whisper but at least loud enough to be heard in the deserted parking lot.

The day isn't going to be any better anyway, and even if it's extremely rude, would have left her mortified another day when she isn't bone-deep-tired, Hinata turns her back and briskly walks away.

At least, tries to.

The roaring engine echoes as Kiba's bike swerves in front of her, halting her steps and cutting her off. A flick kills the purring engine leaving the silence paint the night. "Hinata, shit, I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean it that way, really, it was just a pun. Fuck, Ino always tells me to think before I speak, but it's so fucking hard to filter sometimes. Shit, I'm so sorry that I hope to make it up by buying dinner?" he lamely finishes, lips pouting.

Hinata crosses her arms over her chest and tries not to be swayed by the pouting lip and puppy dog eyes thrown her way. He seems sorry, Hinata begrudgingly admits in the safety of her mind. She is good at being a judge of character, a Hyuuga trait that passed down in the family history along with light-sensitive eyes.

Doesn't take long for her already fragile shield to break apart.

"…If I say yes," she carefully weights her words, adding and scratching in her mind as she continues, thankfully stutter-free. "Just dinner – not, not the things you're used to doing with girls… I'm not like that, I'm not saying yes because I want to - to…"

"Got the message, Doll," Kiba interrupts and Hinata is glad she doesn't have to finish her sentence. Her face is warm enough already and she wonders where her one-minute-courage holed itself, she could have used it some more.

"No kinkiness, unless you specifically ask for it."

How he manages to distract her from her own feelings, Hinata doesn't know. The soul-deep terror freezing her body in the workshop, her insecurities weighing down her delicate shoulders, adrenaline-fueled heartbeats making her dizzy and the hot momentarily temper giving her tunnel vision. Each time Kiba just barges uninvited with a rich laugh and even a richer vocabulary, successfully distracting her from her own demons.

It's not every day she gets an invitation to dinner from a boy. Hinata knows that she is considered pretty and her last name brings in more attention than she wants or desires.

Accepting would mean eating dinner, alone, with the infamous, blunt and loud Kiba Inuzuka who also happened to be quite exotically good-looking.

"Just dinner."

The answering smirk flashes his white teeth, mischief tempered by the playful twitch of his lips. "Scout Promise."


The ride isn't the type of dangerous heart attack that Hinata expects. Kiba drives relatively slow and doesn't take sharp turns to jostle her. The feeling of the rumbling engine between her legs leaves her face momentarily pink under the heavy helmet but it isn't entirely unpleasant. Her pale hands are clutched tightly to his leather-clad shoulders tight enough to bruise and maybe it's the strength of her death-grip that puts Kiba under the speeding limit.

Way too soon, he pulls over to a small family owned Indian restaurant and Hinata can smell the rich spices even with her head covered completely by the helmet.

Kiba swings his leg over, stands up and offers her his hand. With a frivolous bow, "M'lady."

With the hand not occupied by her helmet, Hinata shyly takes his hand and tries to ignore the charming boyish smile.

He doesn't even try to be charming. He is just naturally pulling people his way.

"L-lead the way."

The curry is surprisingly delicious and beer isn't a bad choice to go along the dish. Kiba speaks a mile a minute and Hinata is eagerly listening to the boy while politely not looking his way. It's awfully intimate – feels like almost a date, sharing a dinner just the two of them. For this single night, Hinata will play make-believe, she had decided while she was riding his bike, yet breaking habits are not easy.

So she orders her third beer. The first was for her dried throat and the second was gone even before halfway through her curry. Kiba doesn't say anything about it, just matches her drink for drink.

"Ah, Doll, girlz love my lines. They always fall for my devilish charms at the end of the night."

Hinata cocks her head to the side, her tongue gets looser and stutter-free with each glass. "Impossible. No woman in her right mind would let herself swoon with cheesy lines."

"Cheesy lines? Now I'm hurt, Doll." The smirk he gives is nothing but hurt. "I guess I'll have to prove you wrong."

Hinata just raises her beer with on hand while the other goes up, over her head for the simple bow and tugs it lose. At once, a heavy mass of dark purple hair falls over her shoulders and she sighs with relief.

Kiba winds his long fingers through his mane-of-a-hair and smirks. "Wanna arrange the alphabet so U and I are together?"

"That's pretty lame."

The Inuzuka doesn't give up. "Your ears are red from the cold, maybe you should warm them between my thighs."

"That's creepy bordering rude." Still, due to the crudeness Hinata unintentionally blushes. Kiba keeps firing away.

"Are you from France? Cuz madam."

"Where do you come up with these things?" Hinata shakes her head, a giggle bubbling up her throat. "These were all evenly awful. No girl in her right mind would willingly follow you after hearing any of that!"

"But they do!" Kiba swings his hand at himself. "Everyone wants a piece of me, doll." The winks at her. "It's the part of my charm, you see. Charming ladies with my tongue is my strong point."

"You're lucky you're easy to the eyes, Kiba-san. Otherwise, your so-called charming lines wouldn't snare even one woman for company." The words leave her mouth before she can't stop. Hinata stills on her small stool and from under her bangs stealthy glances at her dinner-mate.

Kiba's mouth hangs open, eyes wide. "Is that your way of saying I'm attractive?" the smirk returns full-blown power and Hinata swears her blush goes down all the way to her chest.

"I have no memory of such thing."

"Sure."

"I deny everything." She tries to save herself but just gets sucked deeper into quicksand. "It's the alcohol. I – I usually don't drink -"

Laughter cuts her tirade off. "Don't sweat it, Doll, just teasing you. You're cute when you blush." He adds with a playful wink.

"I'm not cute," Hinata argues, fiddling with her empty glass for distraction.

"What, don't like cute? Then, you're beautiful."

Hinata's glass slips from her twitching fingers and she catches it at the last minute. "Don't- don't say it so casually!"

"Why not? You're a pretty chick; I say it as I see it. Don't act like no one has ever called you beautiful." Kiba rolls his eyes as he leans back in his chair. Hinata keeps her head down, face awfully warm, she feels the heavy gaze of Kiba on her head.

"For real?" Kiba exclaims, the manager is shooting daggers at their table and looks like he is restraining himself from kicking them out. "What kind of half-assed guys have you dated?"

"I don't have time for romance." Hinata bitterly admits, for a second her mind wanders back to her possible arranged marriage candidates but she shakes her head clear. Tonight is not the time to reminisce the unwanted past.

She knows she is a pretty girl, Hinata guesses. The Hyuuga genes gave her aristocratic features and she was lucky enough to have her mother's figure that said to draw lots of attention on her youth –also her fathers, she had heard once her grandmother say – also working in a café near campus let her gain many catcalls and whistles from college boys. Though, no one had said it so genuinely like Kiba.

"Well, screw guys." Kiba reaches over the table and ruffles her hair until Hinata yelps and looks up, meeting his warm amber gaze. "And you should totally take my word for it, cuz I'm a guy and all. This means I can have your undivided attention on me at all times without worrying about competition."

"Your attention?"

Kiba must have seen something on her face that softens his eyes. Hinata's breath hitches in her lungs. He looks younger with his kinder eyes and soft smile but he I still Kiba with his wild hair and exotic tattoos.

"Congrats Doll-chan, you've been given the privilege of entering my 'the girls I can hang out with without having them drool on me and ruin my night' category."

"…Thanks?"

"No probs." Kiba winks at her once again. Hinata's head spins and she is sure the beer has nothing to do with her current state.

Strange how much Hinata is enjoying the evening. Kiba is crude, awfully blunt, and lives the moment without a single worry for tomorrow. He is lewd, wild and also has the funniest stories. Hinata is suspicious of their reality but she still laughs, blushes and speaks back.

It's… nice.

"-And that's how we ended up in jail for the night. Had to call Ino to bail me and Shika out. She never lets me forget that one." Kiba grins wider. "If ya ask the Shikaman he'll say 'all I heard was Kiba saying I swear it will be funny and then we were in jail.' It's a classic, tho his mom didn't quite believe it."

Hinata starts to laugh, it's rich and deep. It's not common for her to laugh this much in such a short amount of time, but Kiba easily manages somehow bring a smile on her face. Her cheeks hurt but Hinata doesn't care.

"I like tipsy-doll." Kiba declares, taking a full swing from his beer, finishing it all. "With a little bit of alcohol and you don't stutter anymore… or speak admiring my shoes."

"…Sorry."

Kiba heaves a heavy sigh. "Doll, stop, I didn't say it so you'd apologize. Speak your mind, just cause you bow your head doesn't mean people will ignore you. Don't let anyone have that sort of power over you, you're a brilliant woman, show them their place."

The words hit close to home and Hinata quiets down. For the first time, in that evening, she raises her gaze to meets his full on and asks, "Why did you invite me out for dinner, Kiba-san?"

"Eyes."

"…My eyes?"

Kiba shrugged scratching his chin, he said, "They seemed lonely and sad. Thought was a shame cuz they are very pretty." He coughed. Hinata imagined his cheeks a faint pink, though the rich red tattoo hid the coloring well. "Anyway, didn't think you'd want to be by yourself after – after – that, and food always makes me happier, thought I'd work with you too… did it?"

Hinata's expression softens and grateful smile curls her lips. "It did. Thank you, Kiba-san."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, "Stop with the honorifics!"

"Never."

Kiba snorts playfully. "I've been rubbing off you."

Hinata tips her glass until she empties her sixth beer. "You say it like it's an awful thing."

"And that's exactly why we are going to hang out more."


"I'll see you home, it's getting pretty late."

"I can take care of myself, Kiba-san –"

"Hey! Drop the san!"

Hinata pats herself on the back when she manages to keep her face straight against his annoyed pout. Kiba can be a big man-child when he wants to be, Hinata decides and it's strange that she finds it charming.

It's the beer, Hinata is sure of it now. She isn't drunk, not at all, just blissfully tipsy. She can walk and talk, the slight swaying and ache behind her temples can be ignored.

"You don't need to go out of your way to leave me at my apartment."

"Bullshit. The streets aren't safe at nights, especially for pretty chicks." Seeing the stubborn tilt of Hinata's chin, Kiba chances tactics. Usually giving compliments worked and Kiba expects her to blush and avoid his gaze, but with a couple of drinks, Hinata seems to gain a backbone of unrelenting steel. "If you let me drop you off and I'll owe you a favor, how about that? It can be anything you wish."

"It seems unfair towards you." She argues. Her jaw aches for a yawn but Hinata holds it in. It's rude and un-lady-like. "You can't know what I might ask of you. Might even regret giving me this much leeway."

"That's what makes life fun, doll, the trill of the unknown. Also, you don't have a single mean bone in your body, you probably can't dish out something outrageous that I haven't done before." The challenge is there, in the curve of his lips and vibrant amber of his eyes.

She takes the offered helmet and successfully wears it on the first try. "I shall hold you on that, then."

Kiba winks at her one last time and flicks the helmet's screen closed. As she carefully gets on the bike she murmurs her address to his ear. His leather jacket is warm and smells like pinewood, without realizing it, Hinata is burying her nose into the collar while her arms snake around his torso. Kiba isn't driving fast, even if he is, Hinata doesn't care, she's content where she is.

The ride is over before she can blink.

"Here we are, Doll. Thank you for riding with Inuzuka wheels, we are always available for future use. Just ask for the dashing driver and we'll make sure he is ready for service."

Hinata raises her head, her pale green apartment is right in front of her. "Oh, I'm home." She slowly untangles herself from Kiba. The Inuzuka helps her get off, his grip steadying on her upper arms.

"Thank you for the ride –" it lacks, the generosity isn't enough. "and the dinner, and the company and-"

"Got it Doll, no need to get your panties in a twist. Was my pleasure, believe it." He leans on the handles of his bike. "Now, off you go. I'll stay until you enter."

Hinata nods, her blush darker in the night and she sways towards the stairs.

"Hey Doll!"

She half-turns to look over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Got something…" Kiba waves his hand towards her, lips twitching with the effort not to smirk. "You have something on your ass."

"What?" she squeaks high-pitched and undignified. "What is it?" Hinata pats her hand on her bottom, trying to erase a stain that isn't there.

"My eyes."

Hinata's hand stops mid-swipe and not even the lively howling like laugh unfreezes her. Slowly, and very deliberately she looks up, meeting Kiba's amused amber eyes – even more bright and captivating under the lights of his bike. "Oh, I will get you back for that one," Hinata swears. She is surprised to find it that she means it.

"Can't wait for it, Doll."


"So the block-head actually managed to do something nice. Being prince charming on the black motorbike and taking you out for dinner. This doesn't explain the war between Kiba and your voicemail, though." Ino drawls, cutting the Hyuuga off.

28 messages… oh. Make it tosses her phone to the sofa, ignoring the blinking blue light at the corner of the device signaling another received text.

"So even the shy cute Hinata can hold grudges."

"It's not a grudge," she whines half-hearted. "It just frustrates me how he doesn't understand." At the flat look of the blonde, Hinata sighed, she'll have to cut the story short for another time.

"We started to hang out since then, he'd drop by the café I work and eat half tray worth of brownies. It's been a little over a month but Kiba proved himself as a sensible and valuable friend. He…he makes me feel braver and like I could overcome any obstacle."

"Sounds like a fairy tale. That painting of yours, it was inspired by your interactions." Hinata nods. "What's the problem, then?"

"My family." Any other would have spit out the words like a lowly curse but Hinata is too dignified, she just grits out, eyes cold and shoulders stiff. "Father tried to contact me back, I ignored every attempt. Kiba thinks that I should give them a chance because they are family and they want what's best for me, but they do not! They want what's best for the family, my happiness is of no importance in the great big picture."

Ino slides closer to the shaking girl and hugs her close. Hinata sniffs once, twice and takes a deep breath. Once she is sure she won't cry, Ino hesitantly adds her own two cents.

"I wouldn't expect much. Inuzuka's always been a close-knit family. They don't abandon their own and certainly don't treat their members like dirt. Kiba grew up in an environment where a family is considered above everything. While he might get pissed at their treatment towards you, Kiba will believe the importance of family bonds exceed all the bullshit they had put you through."

The Hyuuga's head falls down and she cradles her face. Frustration haunts her expression as she groans, "Hearing all this, I don't think there is anything I can do."

"You could talk about it." Ino shrugs, swatting away a blonde sidelock from her face. Her hair was getting ridiculously long and difficult to take care of maybe it was time for a much-needed haircut. "It won't be always easy speaking with Kiba – God knows how he drives me up the walls sometimes – and that ass has his own dead-set ideas and beliefs. He probably thinks you could work it out with your shitty folks and not trying hard enough. If you want to make the point cross through that thick skull you'll have to convince him."

"It feels like Kiba doesn't trust my word. The way he treated the issue… I wasn't happy there, haven't been for the longest of times. Father forbid me of my dream and passion while forcing me through pointless and boring duties of a wife-to-be. I was trusted to the role of a future political connection, Ino, like an object to exchange and birth the next child hoping for a boy because my worth as a wife would have been useless without producing a proper male heir."

Ino reaches for her. She cradles her amber painted nails around Hinata's trembling ones. Pushing the hands away reveals watered eyes and a crooked hiccup.

"I can't say I understand that, Hinata." Ino wills her voice lower yet firm. She wants Hinata to listen, and yet at the same time, not push on her high strung nerves. A misstep and Hinata might fall apart on her lavender couch. "We all face our own obstacles and find our own solutions. It might not sit well with everyone but it is our choice, our path, and our life. Stand firmly for what you believe."

Hinata lets the word sink in and just the uttered support lifts the weight pushing her shoulders down. She straightens her aching spine, palms her cheeks clean of tears and smiles.

"You're absolutely correct, Ino." Ino pats her back when Hinata's tone raises a pinch. "I almost lost sight of where I was going or what I wanted. Kiba challenged my resolve and I didn't even realize. He just,-"

Hinata takes one of the brownies from the table, turning it between her fingers a few times she bites her lips. Ino raises her eyebrows at the nervousness but doesn't comment on it. She learned from their brief encounters that Hinata is not to be pushed. She likes to weight her words, think through her sentences, sort out her emotions and decide the best way. Giving her time is the way to handle her.

"I'd hate to sound rude or chasing after rumors, but what exactly happened between you, Sakura-san and Uchiha-san."

"Urgh." Ino's nose churns up. That's quite the rollercoaster of a tale that needs dessert, wine and heavenly aid for patience. "I don't want feelings, I want new clothes."

Hinata's lips twitch into a small smile. "I'm afraid that a crazy shopping spare will have to wait." Her eyes glance towards the window, the unexpected blizzard is going full power and covering everything in a thick layer of white.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the subtle change of topic." Baby blue eyes fall down at her hands then at Hinata's. "I'll get my nail set, too, so we can become pretty while bitching. Verdammt. I hope those brownies have some alcohol in them." The blonde winks and hops to her feet to get her manicure set while Hinata fetches the cherry brownies she brought.


The Bra shopping omake

"You have had ripped my favorite bra, Sai and now you'll pay for a new one. You'll help me chose, right?" Ino flutters her lashes prettily, getting closer to the counter towards the unfazed pale man.

"I will take responsibility," Sai tells her, serious like a soldier given an order and that's all Ino needs to hear.

A glance up, very nearly though her lashes and she gives Sai a sly, secretive smile. "Wonderful, let's go shopping!"

And that's how the unsightly duo found themselves inside Victoria Secret, Ino happily bouncing on her heels, going from display to display like a whirlwind and Sai silently follows her.

Every color or model that catches her eye ends up in her ever-growing pile and her baby-blue eyes glow with every fabric she snatches. Swiftly, she makes a direct line to the VIP changing rooms. Sai walks past her and open the heavy velvet curtain for her.

It's just like Sai, to be such a gentleman and Ino feels just a tiny bit guilty for the torture she will put him through. Just for a second.

"Sit here," she all but shoves him to the plush armchair. "I'll need all the comments I get." With a wink, she disappears behind the smaller set of curtains.

Her first choice is something fancy and the cut is rather classic a whole set of – bra, panties, stocking and garter belt – it has a rich color of gold and crimson-red. Her battle armor on, Ino steps outside.

Sai's dark eyes go up and then down and then up again. Ino's smirk grows as she – "The gold dims your hair color."

…What… that's not – Ino didn't expect –

One glance in the mirror confirms the black-haired man's words and Ino whirls back inside her luxurious cage, unaware of the amused twitch of Sai's lips.

Sai isn't a fashionable guy; maybe he preferred something more sporty? She easily picks a set that reminds her of sporty comfortable underwear with cross back straps, sturdy lace around her hips and under her chest adding sexiness to the simple cut.

"The bra doesn't hug your chest snuggly; the cut isn't suited for your body type." Sai idly comments. Over his lap, there is the latest number of Vogue and Ino wonders where he found the damn thing.

Back inside, Ino digs through her armory. Another classic cut but the lace bodysuit adds a risky twist. The black lingerie is pretty, a little fragile like but somewhat holding a darker promise.

"How about this one?"

Sai tilts his head to the side. "I thought you needed a bra."

"You can't expect me to wear a mismatched set, Sai, its either go big or go home."

The young man sighs and his eyes sweep over her, critically, judging but not one ounce of what Ino wants is shown in his expression. "It seems uncomfortable for everyday use. How will you use the bathroom with a one-piece?"

With a slight tick, unnoticeable under her bright smile, Ino closes the curtain. Something fancy and kinky, yet, comfy and useful. This one is black and half-see-through with gorgeous roses-vines climbing through her body. Thanks to the sheer material the roses seem like they are tattooed on her body.

This should work! Ino thinks as she swings the curtain open.

Sai is in the middle of turning a page as he freezes. He does a double take, his eyes are especially glued to the roses and vines detail. "Thin materials are easy to damage, I would advise something more durable."

"Smart ass." Ino bites as she swings the curtain shut. She'd swear she almost had a reaction from him!

Something dark with lace and has a thin line between classic and scandalous. Elegant and naughty, the dark lavender set has many twists, straps and laces.

"Is this better?" she cocks her hip for good measure, cherry-red lips curled seductively.

"Unnecessarily complicated."

This time Ino picks something more classic, retro like rose-pearl satin set with cute little black bows.

Sai doesn't even comment on it, just raises one brow in a bored manner.

Thankfully the curtain can't be slammed shut like wooden doors. Sporty didn't work, and so the kinkier ones, so, maybe something pretty? In her changing room, Ino pulls something cute, delicate and sheer in soft pastel colors. It's rather innocent and pure, covering more skin than it should but Ino takes the shot.

"This one?" Ino asks sweetly. Feeling her role, she shyly tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "How do I look?"

"Stunning, but you don't need fancy lingerie for that," Sai says, casually as if one speaks of the weather. Ino is the stunned one, the compliment has left his lips so easily and he actually means it.

Without a word, Ino hides behind her curtain with the excuse of trying another set. She feels her cheeks slowly grow warm and silently throws a tantrum in her confined space. Ino will not be defeated in her own game!

Her last piece has the most details of delicate colorful tiny flowers. The material is thin and soft with a skirt like a garter belt and a mix-match of pink and blue.

She steps out, doing a little twirl and giggling like a school girl, "Better?"

No matter what she tried on or how she posed, the damn tattooist didn't react. No blushing, no fidgeting, no stammering. Like seeing Ino in sexy lingerie wasn't fazing him!

The last drop is when he, in a bored tone asks, "Have you decided, Ino?"

"None of them," Ino says hotly. Defeat tastes bitter in her mouth. She won't wear a bra-panty match that has no effect on the opposite sex. "I'll wear the one you liked best and seeing how you didn't react to a single one of them, I won't buy any."

Suddenly, Sai is in front of her. She barely has time to blink as the young man corners her to the wall. Ever so slowly, his left-hand settles on her hip, cold and big, his fingers seem to burn through the thin fabric.

Ino's heart is ramming in her ribcage as Sai's other hand takes hold of her chin, his thumb brushes her lower lip. Her eyes are taken hostage by his dark eyes. Like pools of ink, devouring light in their intensity, he leans closer and Ino can taste his breath and her lips involuntarily opens.

Closer and closer he gets, the hand on her hip slides on her lower back and pulls her flush to his hard chest. Sai tilts his head, his expression is blank but his eyes are heavy with something burning behind the irises.

"Sai?" her voice comes out raspier and needier than she'd admit.

The young man's lips curl slightly, tempting and mouth-watering. Should Ino want, she could close the gap and get herself a kiss and be ravished in the dressing room of an expensive lingerie shop, however, Sai doesn't go for her lips.

He dips his face to her slender neck, the cold fingers on her chin moving her face away to give himself space and Ino can swear she forget to breathe when she feels Sai leave a small peck.

"What you wear is meaningless," Sai whispers into the shell of her ear. His lips are cold and brush her sensitive ears as they move. "After all, at the end of the night, the lingerie will be nothing but ripped cloth on the floor of my bedroom."

Ino does not blush, nor does she choke on thin air. When Sai backs of there is a taunting smirk curving his lips and Ino grudging admits that the jerk has won this round.

Sai, dear, you just summoned the inner bitch who doesn't like to play nice. You will eat those words, one day, Ino swears, she is going to make him beg!