Disclaimer: Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: LiveLoveLaugh

FanFiction Story: Sleeping Princes

Summary: They called her a slut, a whore. Sweetheart. Even lucky. Life goes on, as one by one she passed every man in her life. She had a chance to sleep with every one of them, too. But…who said anything about sex? (Sakura-factor) One-shots

Delivery from Shino

'If you're going to ask me about my experiences in love, don't. Because you're going to get only one straight answer, and that would be would only a stare from a pair of my intimidating sunglasses. Why, you ask? I don't know, not really. But I would only answer depending on your questions. Now you ask if I ever loved at all. Yes, I did. I love my clan, my father, my old Genin team, my Kikai…no? Not the kind of answer you want? Well, you didn't seem to be able to ask the right kind of question. Now, you call me cynical. I always was. The audience never seemed to pay any attention to me. Another question? Who do I love? Why would you ask me another ridiculous query? You already know, didn't I just—oh, I see. That kind of question. Stop trying to explain to me, just ask me something. Yes, now that's a question…'

He didn't know what to do when he found her asleep on his bed. What was he supposed to do? He thought all she was going to do was wait for him so they could have a late dinner together since it was such a nice night, but that didn't seem to be the cause anymore. He trembled slightly when she curled into the now wrinkled teal green striped sheets of his, sprawling out the messy strands of her bun plucked up with two beaded hairpins. She brought her arms up to her chest, brushing underneath her lip with a curled finger.

He never would have thought. He never would have guessed.

He analyzed her from a distance, his body was frozen solid, as if a single movement could wake her up. And somehow, he didn't want her to. She must have been tired, poor thing, her entire body nearly took up all the room on the bed with her legs dragging at the side. Her teacher must have killed her during that training session. His bed was pushed against the plain wall, with two plain striped pillows against a short headboard, with one nightstand holding up a plain lamp. The walls were painted a beige color, quite a boring color, and only having a desk, chair, and wardrobe closet off to the side. There wasn't really anything in his neat bedroom, hell, it could never be called a bedroom. Though, to be honest, he only spent his sleeping hours in there and spends all his free time studying wildlife outside so there was never any time to make a mess or sport any personality in the room.

"I like your room, it says a lot about you," she once told him.

He was very surprised at her answer but didn't say anymore into it.

His perpetually slanted eyebrows lowered slightly in his dark spectacles, marring his solid smooth looks into a kind of intense of ferocity seeing that he almost resembled an unmoving rock who miraculously does talk, but only when it was necessary. But she was always was the one, besides his infuriating teammate and his dog, to put a sort of emotion in his face. And he didn't really like that.

Yes, it's the topic of the century, as he knows, when you want to talk about someone like him. No, wait, there wasn't a 'someone else', it's just him. He wasn't a very interesting fun guy, he was actually the exact opposite. But he was human, not a pet rock, and he did like things and did not like things. He also finds that amusing. He couldn't say he had ever hated something, other than wanting to choke Kiba on and off the seasons, but that wasn't really the point. And he couldn't say he actually ever loved someone, well, maybe moderately, but…had he ever—?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the sleeping young woman groan. She shifted her legs, which were bare considering the very short length of her training skirt, and moved slightly to fit vertically across the bed. He noted that she was getting his sheets a little dirty, but he didn't seem to mind, since his Kikai bugs would clean everything in the house in one sweep including laundry. The hair began to loosen, leaving the pins to fall off the bed and make a sound on the wooden floor.

She moaned softly, he trembled yet again. He still didn't know why. And he didn't like that.

He didn't like not knowing, he didn't like to be left out of anything. Why do you suppose he was clearly pissed off, uh, if he was, when the puppet guy forfeited his match? He wanted to know everything, he'd like to inform about everything and even though he didn't seem to be a gossip god nor does he use the advantages of spying though his destruction insects, but he liked to be prepared for everything. This is why he was angry, even though he didn't look like it, but he was trembling when the young woman had position herself in his bed and have her head on his pillows, one elbow had already dipped into his once neatly folded sheets.

Even in this disarray of crazy mindless quarrels with his mind, concerning his self control, his anger had contorted into uncontrollable warmth spreading across his face. The sun was still setting, when he looked out of his blinded window, a streak of purple and orange had cascaded across the late afternoon blue skies and the golden orb had turned red and brown which it came down from behind the Hokage Monument. And just watching her, and for no apparent reason, had him stop thinking and just watching.

He still stood where he had stood before. But now, when her lips parted and the pretty blush had blotted her cheeks, he stepped closer until he was at the foot of the bed. He didn't like not knowing, but just looking down on her sleeping angelic form had him thinking of how beautiful she was.

"Shino…" she murmured, opening her tired eyes slightly and she looked up at him, "…sit down…"

And he had stated more than once he didn't like not being informed, but somehow when he slept next to her…

He'd agree it was for the best not knowing.

Afterthoughts

He was silent as usual. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to look at her. But he did all that anyway. He was the first one to whisper her name, he turned his head which motioned for the other men to do so, and he looked at her straying form. She was hurt, and he wanted to do something. And at these moments, it made him irritated.

What was it about her that made him want to do these things? Why is she always the one who brings everyone's attention to him? He actually liked to be secluded from a crowd, he liked to blend in and then when the time comes, he would attack. What happened to the people who usually fend away from him—yeah, he also likes to be intimidating to the people so they wouldn't underestimate them, that way he could keep himself superior amongst others even though he didn't like showing off, but everyone would respect him.

What's wrong with her?

Something about her never seemed to be right to him, something about her always made him greedy, and he was a gentleman and he didn't like to flaunt his desires in front of an audience. He didn't like to be the one to ask questions. But wasn't she supposed to be the one who was creep out by someone like him? Wasn't he an Aburame? Doesn't he have thousands of black bugs hidden and crawling underneath his skin who comes to his command, and when they land on pretty flesh like hers, he could kill her without hesitation?

Is she crazy?

But was it something she saw that everyone else didn't seem to see? Not even him? And in that moment, he wanted to follow her. But he couldn't. He sensed the looks of every other man standing with him under all those umbrellas. He can't single himself out, something grew within that he couldn't apprehend. A feeling, an annoying emotion. He memorized an entire dictionary, and yet, he couldn't define what he felt for her. He remembered that night when they slept in the same bed, it was sort of comforting and warm when their bodies lay together.

His hidden eyes lowered, how long was it when he wasn't so alone?

The rain was beating down hard.

To Be Continued