Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews. It keeps me going when the writing isn't coming so well. And Keltosh, I'd never considered NaruIno before, but that pairing intrigues me. I'll have to give it a shot!

It kinda sounds like it, but this isn't done yet. My writing and the characters just have minds of their own, and decided it was going in this direction before I had a chance to protest... >.>;;

And it only hurts when you cry...
Vertical Horizon - When You Cry

The ramen cooling and forgotten, Naruto lay his cheek to rest against Sakura's head and stroked a hand down her back in comfort. Her hands, rough from unforgiving work, gripped the front of his Hokage robes as if letting go would leave her lost and drifting. His own arm was steady around her waist, keeping her firmly anchored and aware that she had something solid, tangible to lean into.

Her cries having subsided to an occasional sniffle and stray hiccup, she buried her face in his chest and rubbed her nose against him. Jolted by the resultant feelings, he kept himself very still, very stiff (and hoped she wasn't just wiping her nose on him). Whatever she did, however, he couldn't hold fault with her. He'd never made her aware of how he felt past his childhood declarations of a crush. And if it meant an easier time for her, he would carry it to his grave.

There were a great deal and many things he wanted to say. But the experience of age and wisdom stayed his tongue. Nothing he could say was going to make a difference in the way she felt. He only wished she would confide in him so he could find what was troubling her lately and help. Sakura hadn't been herself for the past few weeks at the least, month at the most. If he thought back, searched his memory, he could remember the exact day and where he was when she first seemed bothered.

The memory was unkind. It took you down paths better forgotten, and tugged at the mind during the most inappropriate of times. He would be in a meeting, and think of her; something she'd said or done during the day that had stayed with him. Maybe it was the way she brushed her hair back from her face or the slight angle she held her head. Her eyes, her smile, her scent. And it was all he could do to concentrate on breathing one slow breath at a time.

It was like being consumed alive from the inside. He could tell himself a thousand times over that loving her would kill him, but it didn't matter. The years passed quickly and they passed slowly, drawing out his pain with exquisitely unmerciful delectation. As long as his mind functioned, he would know what it was to love her without having the sentiment echoed.

Absently, he brought his fingers to her hair and mimicked the actions they'd taken earlier for her back. If nothing else, he could bring her comfort. She had to know that there was at least one soft place for her to fall. He would catch her every time without pause or fail; it was enough to see her smile. It had to be enough.

Sakura shifted, a watery laugh escaping her like a sob. "Look at my nails." She held a hand out for both of them to examine. "I used to take such care of them, paint them everyday. Now I'm lucky if I can keep them from cracking."

Soberly, he lifted his own hand and held it against hers. "Look at my nails. I used to paint them too, but now..." He ended on an exaggerated sigh.

Soft laughter and she was shoving at his shoulder. "Oh, you did not..."

"I particularly liked the color pink," he was continuing, pretending as if he hadn't heard her.

Giggling helplessly she grasped her stomach with both hands and ordered, "Stop it!"

"But then one day I discovered green. And it was all over. My love affair with pink ended on a rather sad note."

"Uzumaki Naruto! I'm going to-"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "What? Heal me?"

Without hesitation, she slugged him in the gut.

"Christ Sakura..." He wheezed. "You're like Obaa-san. Don't know your own strength."

"Don't you forget it."

"How can I?" He rubbed ineffectively at his abdomen. "I think you left a bruise the size of a grapefruit."

"Na-ru-to!" That tone had him wincing. "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Why did women always think you were calling them fat?

"And you think I have a death wish, why?"

A pause. "Mm. Good point."

Yawning, she rearranged herself in his lap again and snuggled closer, tucking her head in the pocket of his shoulder. He let the motions be what they were, knowing it was useless to make more of them than there was. It wasn't fair to either of them for him to torment himself that way. Sakura, in her ignorance, knew nothing of his feelings and it was better she never did.

A faint sigh escaped, and then, "Naruto..." She picked at his robes. "I'm sorry for being such a pest. I-I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

Distantly, his eyes traced the outlines of books residing on the shelves along the walls. Most of them belonged to the first five Hokage; but a great portion of them were now his. His contribution to the most revered tradition, and his unselfish love of Konoha. He had reached his dream, fulfilled his wish, and those who had once shunned him, could no longer. And strangely enough it didn't matter.

"Sakura," he said carefully, "you're never a burden. I don't do things because I have to. I do them because I want to."

She remained as she was a moment longer, and then lifted her eyes to his. With slow, hesitant movements, she raised her hand to his face and pressed her fingers against the warmth of his skin. As he stilled, his mind trying to wrap around this sudden interest in him, she traced the marks on his face with her fingertips.

As nice as it was, Sakura didn't understand the danger in the hunger that slicked through him; wants, needs, and the ripe spike of lust - that ever prevalent desire that heralded to the most base of human frailties, along with hunger and sleep. People were programmed to seek out others and mate, so they would never live their lives alone. But the deepest imprint wasn't so different from the demon fox; all living creatures had the need to leave themselves behind in the form of their offspring.

He deliberately kept his face blank and his eyes guarded. To protect himself, he would hide it all; the pain, the loneliness, and the anger. Helpless emotions had never served to better him or give him what he sought most. Naruto had learned young that nothing could be gained by simply feeling. Everything he had, he had because he'd sweat, bled, and lost for it. And he couldn't help but think he appreciated it more because of it.

To save them both the embarrassment of misunderstanding, he closed his fingers around her hand and stopped her ministrations. Though it cost him; her fingers were rough where others were smooth and capable where others were weak. He'd never appreciated a hand that knew nothing of the joy and suffering of honest work. And for all Sakura pretended to be above everything, he knew no one worked harder than she did.

Confusion and something he couldn't recognize filtered through her expression. And then she was moving, rising to align her face with his, and touching his lips with hers. Just the barest pressure of her lips and the whisper of flavor unique to only her.

And he went numb, couldn't move to respond. Sakura had never willingly touched him in any way but friendship.

Eyes wide and bright in her face, seeming to overshadow any other feature, she went first pale and then flushed. His grip was weak, and it took her little effort to break free and turn from him; but not before he caught the tears in her eyes.

Naruto couldn't say what spurned him into motion. Strong fingers, capable of crushing a man and being only the most gentle with her, closed around her wrist and he was tugging her back. She hit his chest with an audible snap and a startled, female squeak. There were fresh tracks on her face, made from tears he'd caused. And the anger with himself was a bright flash, because he'd promised that he would never hurt her if he could help it.

Feelings struggled within him, vying for the surface and winning with a little push from the demon fox. If he let himself feel everything for her, he knew he would frighten her away. But the temptation was too much and the will to fight it wasn't strong enough.

"You don't understand what you're doing, Sakura," he murmured, before lowering his head and tracing the tears on her face with his tongue. Her skin was salty-sweet and the low growl in his throat was answered by one deep inside, buried out of necessity.

Her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself to him, her breasts soft and firm against his chest. "Yes I do," she answered, a hitch in her words as she let her head fall back. "I'm telling you what my problem is."

His head jerked up. "You-"

Sakura bit her lip, looking very much like the little girl he remembered. "It's not all of it, but... Do you hate me, Naruto?"

He laughed, he couldn't help it. "Hate you?"

She turned her face away from him. "I treated you poorly. And now..." Shame stained her cheeks and she tried to move away.

He held her fast, forcing her to look at him. "Sakura, we were children. We're not children anymore," he reminded her. "And what you do here has consequences."

There was the faintest spark of temper in her eyes, and he felt relieved for it.

"Damn the consequences. I was always the one following the rules, while secretly hating them. I wanted everyone to like me, to be proud of me. And I was so jealous of you and your freedom to say and do what you wanted. I don't want to pretend anymore, Naruto."

"What are you saying?" He asked, careful to keep the fear and hope from his tone.

"That I'm making myself sick denying."

"What?" He murmured softly, unmoving.

"That I..." She bit her lip again. "That I can't see you as a friend anymore. I want more than I know I deserve... Don't hate me. I understand if you-"

"That's enough." And he forced her back to him, taking her lips, his own hot and demanding. Slanting his head, he took them deeper and tasted her, steeped in the scent and the wants.

Against her lips he said, "Just know. I can't let you go now."

With something between a laugh and a sob, she threw her arms around his neck and gave freely of herself.