AN: Once again, thanks for the reviews! This chapter was harder than most for me, so your previous reviews were really encouraging and made me stick to it! LOL especially you esther, your humour and enthusiasm is contagious in the best possible way.
And to address some things in your lovely review KaraQ, I'd love to see Kakashi's perspective on a lot of this too, but for some reason I find it tricky trying to delve into his mind and write him where it sounds believable, so most of it will be from Sakura's view…but not all. And about the 'R' rating, funny you should mention that 'cause I've been tossing the idea around in my head. I would like to write a steamy smut scene for all you hentai's (me included) I'm just not sure I could pull it off, but IF I do, I'll have to post it somewhere else. Damn you FF (shakes fist) but I don't need to worry about that till WAY into the future anyway.
And to Tami, thank you for pointing out my spelling error, which I noticed I had made continually throughout my entire fic O.o so that's now fixed.
And ya, that was way too long. Sorry! On with the chapter!
Courage Needs You - Chapter #5
Looking around, Sakura forgot her previous excitement while remaining situated on his couch. She felt like her very presence was ruining the secrecy and mystery that Kakashi had surrounded himself with. It was like she was doing something criminal, as if she didn't even havethe right to be here.
Dainty fingers fidgeted nervously, and her bottom lip swelled as she chewed on it subconsciously. Seconds were ticking by; she was counting them in her head. When she reached two-hundred her impatience grew with her previous apprehension turning to one of agitation.
Trying to calm and distract herself, she absently picking at invisible fluff on his black sofa, noticing two matching armchairs and a plain mahogany coffee table in the center. She hadn't asked where her sensei went when he left the room, assuming he went in search for the ointment he declared he had; so using this time, and a lack for something better to do, she scanned his apartment more thoroughly.
All in all it was very neat and tidy; everything seemed to have a place and a purpose; everything except her that is. She observed how he had an open and modest kitchen, connecting to the large living room in the center where it led to a hallway on her right. Down the hall were three doorways, but due to her lack of observation she hadfailed to see which one he had disappeared behind.
She sighed; this had to be one of the most boring residences she had ever been in. There wasn't even anything interesting to look at. No laid out books, no scrolls, not even a single picture hanging on a wall. Whatever happened to the typical bachelor pad of mismatched furniture; of takeout food containers laying scattered around; of dirty clothes stuffed in corners? Why did Kakashi have to be so annoyingly…perfect? Of course this didn't include his tardiness, his perversion for dirty books, nor his queer hobby of getting on her nerves.
Picking at a couple stray hairs on her shirt, and a few pieces of grass that had managed to stick to her shorts, she let them drop on his wood lacquered floor, sickly satisfied at creating such a minor mess in his otherwise immaculate apartment.
There, that's better.
Looking for anything else to add to her brew of trivial dirt, and unfortunately finding nothing, she unconsciously wiggled herself more comfortably on his sofa, and laid her head against the armrest. Peeking through the black curtains behind her, she took notice of the sun's position.
It's only late afternoon, she realized, even though it felt like it was late into the night. She knew she looked out of place with her rosy hair, red dress, and green eyes. She was simply too much colour for his apartment, with all the black's and earth tones of his décor. Maybe it was the universes way of telling her she didn't belong here; well, either or, his couch was still comfy.
Looking through his medicine cabinet and bathroom drawers with the speed of a sloth, Kakashi found the tiny white tube stuffed in the back of one of his drawers. It had been so long since he had bothered to use the cream anymore since pain seemed to happen on a regular bases now. It was just easier to live through it and let his body become accustomed to the discomfort instead. Fortunately and thankfully, humans were amazing creatures at adaptation.
Taking his time, he closed the drawer and stood in front of the door in contemplation.
Thoughts were warring inside his mind; the pros and cons– his morals and ethics; all of it weighing down heavily upon his brow. It all seemed so brash – too quick, but also the perfect opportunity. He simply hadn't expected it to come so soon; it was only yesterday that this strategy of his had been made. He wished there had been more time for him to sort out his principle's – to convince and justify the actions he had yet to make.
Sighing, he knew what he had to do…what needed to be done. It was high time he figured out what was wrong with his pink-haired kunoichi.
With that determined he swung open his bathroom door and strolled down the hall, filled with a frightening purpose and resolve, only to find it wasted when he was met with a slumbering chuunin.
Growling slightly in frustration, he realized his over contemplative mind had caused a slight predicament in the meantime. As a skilled ninja he easily walked over and crouched down soundlessly, where he then proceeded to casually observe his little kunoichi. Her left arm was bent and tucked underneath her mane; pink hair dripping over the armrest, trickling in front of her face, and brushing around her head in resemblance to a messy disarranged halo. She looked at him with closed lids, mouth partially agape with her other arm laying carelessly over the side of the couch.
She looked serene in a sloppy sort of way, making him silently debate whether to wake her or let her sleep.
He decided he didn't have the heart to rouse her, since he did sort of feel like he owed her some peace considering her abused locks and body which was undoubtedly his fault, but not without good cause he reasoned.
Leaving, only to come back with a plain white blanket, he gently laid it over her and disappeared within his study.
"Umm, ow…" Sakura muttered, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her words. She rubbed her sore neck and mentally added it to her ever-growing list of sore muscles. Slowly squinting heavy eyes open, she stared in front of her till the haze of sleepiness disappeared. Bewildered for only a second as she looked around the dark room, she realized to her chagrin that she had fallen asleep in her sensei's apartment.
Quickly sitting up, regretting it afterwards from the jabs of pain, she yanked his curtain to the side and looked into the inky sky. Bending her neck this way and that, despite its objection, she couldn't see the moon anywhere to judge the passage of time.
What if he saw me sleeping? Did I snore…or drool? Panicking, she quickly wiped around her mouth to check for any saliva that may have escaped. She sighed in relief.
Maybe he doesn't know after all, she thought very hopefully, yet doubtful at the same time. Swinging her legs around, she swiftly noticed the white blanket. Any hope where he may not have seen her vanished.
In spite of her optimism being crushed she managed a small bashful grin towards the coverlet. It was trivial of course, but she felt warm inside at the compassionate gesture nonetheless. Deciding she better find him and possibly apologize, she clenched her eyes shut in preparation for pain as she planted her feet on the ground to stand.
"Oh you're up," an unmistakable voice drawled.
Sakura quickly snapped her head in the direction of the hallway, a bit miffed that he had managed to sneak up on her. Intentionally or not, it didn't mirror the image of a skilled chuunin she had tried to convince herself of.
"How are you feeling?" he continued, and walked towards her. Sakura noted that he had taken off his green flak vest yet kept the rest of his attire on like usual, leaving him sleek, dark and mystifyingly appetizing to look at. She wondered briefly if he even had a wardrobe that didn't consist of his jounin uniform.
"I'm still sore," she confessed and watched as he casually picked up a white tube that was resting on the coffee table before extending it to her.
"Here, rub some on where ever you're tense. You should feel better the next day."
The metallic covering was dented and distorted; the end rolled up in tight little coils. It reminded her of an oil paint tube that displayed its usage several times.
"Thanks."
"It's no problem Sakura. You can keep it since I don't use it anymore."
She looked at him curiously. "Why don't you use it anymore?"
He shrugged nonchalantly and pocketed his hands. "No need for it. Sore muscles don't bother me anymore."
"Not ever?"
"Well maybe once in a while."
"So you're saying you still feel the pain once in a while if you've overexerted yourself but you don't do anything about it when you could?"
He paused. "I suppose you could state it like that."
"So is this some sort of macho masochistic male thing?" She didn't mean to sound condescending (although she was positive it came off that way) but this was just another tidbit of information to store in her otherwise empty Kakashi folder. And besides, it was always fun arguing with him…well for her anyway. She wasn't quite sure about how he felt about it…or anything at all for that matter.
"I don't get pleasure from pain, Sakura." It almost sounded like he was reprimanding her for thinking or stating such a thing, but what else was she supposed to think? She could continue arguing with him, telling him he was contradicting his words with his actions, then thought better of it after remembering Ino. Better to stay on his good side for now.
"Well uh, thanks for the blanket," she said after a pregnant pause. Should she apologize for falling asleep? Seemed like the moral thing to do, but for some reason the words were caught in the back of her throat. Strange, it had been on the tip of her tongue before…
He gave a barely perceptible nod. "You're welcome." And then she was aware of him standing there above her, dark and intimidating and blending into his surroundings. She wished she knew where a light switch was…
Maybe coming to his apartment wasn't such a bright idea after all. Wouldn't be the first time she made a bad decision, and she knew for a fact it wouldn't be the last.
Feeling like she should do or say something to break the thickening silence, she unscrewed the corrugated cap and squeezed a little bit of the white cream onto her index and middle finger tips. Placing the medicine beside her, she started slowly massaging the balm onto her left forearm first, making sure not to inflame the muscles in her right. She sure wished Kakashi would stop looking at her like that. It made a simple task such as this seem arduous. Maybe she couldn't blame him; watching the pallid substance absorbing into her skin was sort of hypnotizing.
"What time is it?" she asked on a whim, thinking slight conversation may lighten the mood.
"Midnight." His tone was as bored as his expression. So much for a conversation starter.
She huffed, more at herself than at the situation. "I'm sorry that I fell asleep on you." She didn't mind the concept of apologizing, but she hated the fact that it represented she was at fault for something.
He stared at her for a moment, maybe longer than necessary, taking in murky green eyes before breaking his gaze and ambling towards his armchair. "No need to apologize," he said, chin resting on his fist. "I was busy writing reports."
She felt like maybe this was the part where she should say it was late and that she should get going, but despite the new and awkwardness of their situation, she didn't want to leave. Though he looked exceptionally bored, even by Kakashi standards – sitting there, unmoving, uncaring, with a gaze so powerful yet meaning nothing at the same time – and that he looked fantastically dangerous, camouflaged there by his chair – she still felt safe and warm in his presence. Go figure.
It didn't seem to bother her that he reminded her of a panther, dressed in black with his eyes following her every motion, and if she made anything resembling a wrong move he would pounce and pin her and she would have been too captivated to have been scared.
She knew beneath his clothes and skin were tightly bound springs, looking for an excuse to uncoil and unleash their power, making her briefly wonder what a fully unleashed Kakashi would be like. How much death and destruction could this man cause? Did he ever yearn to kill, just because he knew it would be so simple? The man probably new thousands of ways to take someone's life, and yet, the thought wasn't as disturbing or frightening like she thought it would be.
She continued to absentmindedly rub her arm, knowing he was scrutinizing her every move. She felt unsure whether to be unnerved or flattered that he was still staring at her so intently. After several more seconds, flattery was but a passing thought. She felt bare – exposed – naked before him. As if everything she did told a story to his eyes. It was as if he was gauging her, sizing her up and debating her presence.
She wasn't sure why, but the Kakashi sitting adjacent to her appeared worldly different from the man she knew on the bridge.
He was simply overwhelming in the shadows and silence – enveloping her in his aura of strength and uncertainty. She felt her hands go cold and her throat go tight, confused as to why he was affecting her so strangely.
"You seem bothered," he remarked coolly, disrupting the awkward quiet.
Her body tensed unbidden by his accurate surveillance. "What makes you say that?" she asked, just a tad too cagey.
He continued to observe her, leaving her with silence as his response. She didn't know how to feel about being so obviously ignored. It made her feel questionably isolated inside, as if a chasm opened up inside of her, filling her being with nothingness – like a pocket of air that drifted along, never to be noticed or needed.
"Maybe I should be going." She stood to stand, hoping maybe he would stop her but not knowing what she would do if he did.
"There's no rush Sakura."
Was he saying that to be polite, or did he actually want her to stay? She was no where near an expert at reading her sensei but he seemed to be putting more of an effort into being detached than usual. She wasn't sure what it meant, if anything at all. Sometimes she wished she could just ask, but didn't feel secure enough in her relationship with him to be so candid and open. It was difficult to be open with someone who wasn't open in return.
So sitting there on the edge of his sofa, prepared to either stand or slide back more comfortably, she sat in limbo. There seemed to be an endless amount of things she wasn't sure what to do about, making her feel young, immature, and inept inside.
Her insecurities were quickly forgotten as she heard him rise in a rustle of fabric. He remained wordless as he walked over, stood in front of her and placed rough hands on soft knees before he spread them apart with a deliberate ease. His thumb stroked her once before crouching down to a single knee between her legs – acting as if he had a right to be there.
Her mouth went dry and her eyes grew large, wondering for an evanescent moment what was going on and what he was going to do. She forgot everything at the sound of his voice.
"Lean back." His voice was as dark as the room, shocking her into submission, making her slouch against the back of his sofa. She was too stunned and confused by his actions to remember to blush at his position between her thighs. He remained reticent as he peeled off his gloves in slow movements that caused Sakura's head and heart to swim.
Memories started resurfacing unwillingly. Memories of old cliché romance novels, of discussions her and Ino had, of her mother giving her 'the talk'. She wondered if they would apply here and now – if she wanted it to apply at all.
She didn't see, but she felt as the back of his hand glided from the top of her knee to the tip of her foot; doing it with a grace that made her cheeks flush. Reaching behind, he cupped her heel and lifted her leg till it rested on the top of his thigh. His eyes lifted to meet her gaze.
She felt the world change around her as his charcoal eye pierced her core; stripping her of her bearings and exposing her thoughts. The longer she stared back, the more knowledge he was reaping, and yet, she couldn't tear away. It was as if her eyes were magnetized towards his with an invisible pull.
She inhaled slightly in surprise as his hand brushed against her outer thigh, wondering if it was deliberate and full of meaning or accidental and hollow, before he soundlessly reached for the tube that lay beside her. And through all of this, his eyes never left hers, and didn't till he squeezed some of the cream onto his palm.
He rubbed his hands together leisurely, casually, too offhandedly that made her tense, and then he was touching her; hot, smooth skin gripping each side of her calf before rubbing them up and down in a measured aggressive massage. His hands were deliciously warm, instantly relaxing the muscles beneath his fingers and closing the chasm of nothingness in her belly.
She felt confused, lost in a fog too thick to come back home – not worrying or questioning as she felt his chakra slip into her system. Things happened too sudden – too unexpectedly that she was having trouble catching up. Her head felt empty while her heart felt heavy – swelled with a bliss and a complicated sadness that she would never understand.
She sensed the world continuing on without her, not needing or wanting her piece of the puzzle which she believed would never fit into the grand scheme of things. What was Kakashi's perfectly shaped piece doing trying to connect to hers? They would never fit – she was too jagged and misshapen as if a child had taken a pair of shears to her. There would always be a gap, a loose connection, a side that never quite fit, and yet, it was right.
His hands on her, touching her and speaking to her, were right. The way she could feel his calluses on her skin was right. The way they were alone and familiarizing with one another was right.
She usually would've debated and hypothesized why he was doing what he was doing, what it all meant, and what the outcome might result in, but she couldn't. She was blinded by the luminosity of pleasure and pain, leaving her deaf, dumb, and mute because she was tingling. Tingling all over that made her want to squirm inside her own skin as if it didn't fit right. As if it was too taut about her tissue and bones, making it itch and burn and beg to be shed.
She felt asphyxiated, trapped and closed in. Her chest heaved in slow deep breaths, pushing against the constricting material of her dress which seemed tighter – stricter – rougher than she remembered.
She wanted to make sounds, voicing what she was feeling; to grip and claw at the sofa, showing what he was doing, and then, he started to gradually apply more pressure, using the pads of his thumbs to knead and stroke and push to loosen the tissue, making her mouth gape open and her eyes clench shut in pain. He either didn't notice or care as he continued, blocking everything out but his task. She allowed her pain to be ignored and only wished for more.
With her eyes closed, the world was spinning in swirls of colour. A thought hurtled at her through the mess of emotions, letting her think for the briefest of moments if this is what she had been missing all this time. The tales and stories Ino and Tenten would describe to her about the passions her and Shikamaru shared or what Tenten and her latest fling experienced, if this is what they felt.
The furnace of his hands suddenly vanished before he gently placed her foot back down. Her leg suddenly felt cold, chilled to the bone by the loss of heat and prickled with goosebumps as result. She opened her eyes, surprised to see him looking right back at her own. He was gauging her again, she could tell this time, even though his face was impassive and his eye set in steel, she could tell. She watched him as he watched her yet he was the first to break – to drag his eyes along her neck, down her arms to the top of her thighs. She grew flustered, even more so than before knowing he wasn't being subtle yet deliberately purposeful in his gaze. There was no shame in his eyes, nothing but a black depth that seemed infinite to Sakura's decipherable green.
"What are you thinking?" His voice seemed low, quiet and more haggard around the edges than normal.
"Your eyes." She didn't know why she felt the need to whisper, maybe if she spoke too loud this moment would be ruined, gone forever to join her long list of 'what could have been'. And then he was touching her again, tracing the outline of her spandex shorts with a lazy thoroughness, familiarizing himself with the newness of it all.
"What about them?" He gave her a momentary glance. She licked around her cheeks and teeth, trying to re-hydrate the desert that had become her mouth.
"How they're impossible to read."
"Aa," he said, seeming to understand her thoughts completely and then, he was lifting his hand, peeling his hitai-ate up and completely off from around his head. It fell to the ground with a dull thump. She wanted to ask him why he did that, what it was supposed to mean and what she was supposed to do in return, but didn't. She simply stared, barely able to see the difference between his mismatched eyes through the darkness. Something so little could make someone appear so different and she wondered if he felt exposed and naked like she had before – like she still did. If he felt it, he didn't show it; his crimson eye seeming to hold and hide more mysteries than the onyx.
She glanced at the scar; the smooth vertical line that cut through his eyebrow and down to his cheek. It gleamed a lighter shade than everything else, making her want to reach out and trace it with reasons unknown.
"Do you want me to continue?"
Continue what? The dance on her thigh caused by his fingers? His previous ministrations on her calf? The removal of his clothing?
"Yes."
He gave no indication of hearing her agreement, keeping his focus fixated on her. She turned her eyes to the side, avoiding his penetrating gaze that knew too much, and wondered what she had just agreed to and if she should have felt abashed.
She felt him move, his leg brushing against her own as he switched knees, grasping her other sore limb with the same intent as the previous.
She knew what to anticipate this time, watching as he grabbed the tube to rub the balm between his hands. His movements seemed too leisure, too paced and too concise. She wanted him to hurry and disable her mind and heighten her senses once again. And then slowly, too slowly, the now familiar feel of his hands were on her. The size, the warmth, the strength – she knew it now in a very different way than before. They were slick and smooth, skating and sliding in a rhythm that would never be forgotten.
She felt his chakra slipping further into her system now; hot energy tingling and pulsating beneath her skin, but she was too far gone to care. Her mind felt hazy, her vision blurry, her lungs constricting. Her thoughts and questions disoriented in the cloud that was her mind. The beginning of pain was barely registered as it tried to peek through and shine its light through her daze.
But she was lost, gone and sucked into a stupor in which he had created. She knew he had stopped – his hands leaving her skin, her leg a chilly quivering mess, yet the smog remained, refusing to disappear.
She leaned forward, placed her hand on his shoulder and stood, making him stand in turn. She felt hot and cold, dulled and heightened, unable to understand what she was doing or why she was doing it. Chest to chest, she slipped her hand between them, reaching up and tugged at the pull of her zipper. Inch by inch the teeth pulled apart and yet the constriction of her lungs only intensified. It reached and clawed and grasped her throat, making it hard to breathe and hard to ignore.
The pull had reached her hip and the fog had turned so thick that she felt she was standing in a cloud. The mist was everywhere, covering her logic, blanketing her reason, disarraying her mind into complete and utter chaos. Her body moved on impulse – her actions, instinct. She didn't see, but felt as the back of his hand brushed her cheek, causing blind eyes to close in response.
The sound of her zipper: the fitting of her dress: the loss of his heat.
"I think you should go home now, Sakura."
Olive coloured eyes snapped open, the vapor clouding them and her mind disappearing. She blinked once, twice, then tilted her head to look at him inquisitively.
"You're kicking me out?"
His silence was his answer. A sudden tightness, so restricting it felt like a fist, squeezing, squeezing her throat till her eyes pooled with water. It continued to trickle and worm its way all down her torso, leaving sharp stabbing pricks of pain in its wake.
She struggled to breath as the clarity of everything unraveled like the ribbon of fate.
Her fingers suddenly clamped and her jaw painfully tightened as she quickly pushed away to glare at him through the dark and water.
"Sakura…" he said softly, outstretching his hand as if she were a wounded animal.
"Don't touch me!" she snapped, violently swatting his hand away, not knowing what else to do. Her head pounded and her eyes felt glazed, the events of what just happened remaining a blur. She wanted to grab her head and scream out her confusion, but didn't – couldn't. Instead, she stood there, looking at his floor, her body a frisson of emotions and rejection.
Kakashi dropped his arm to his side and took a couple steps back, his face remaining a stoic unreadable mask.
Sakura clenched and unclenched her fists, her body stiff and tense, her mind weak and confused. Swirling, twirling, curling here and there and everywhere her emotions just kept circling and circling, making her want to fall to her knees and grab her pulsating skull. Her chest hurt and her eyes felt heavy.
"Why?" she croaked, the fist still squeezing.
And what would his answer be, if any? He simple stared at her, always just staring and never saying. Her chasm reopened, with not enough erosion in the universe to diminish it.
Did he see it? Could he feel it: the longing, the ache, the heartbreaking loneliness that she kept hidden till now? Were her eyes betraying her, telling him her inner most secrets and turmoil she kept buried beneath layers and layers of indifference and rime?
She couldn't look, not into the eyes that knew, and so she ran, and he let her.
Umm…ya…(cough) Anybody confused out there? Ya, I expected as much. I bet some of you are wondering what it was exactly that Kakashi did. Don't worry, all shall make sense in the future (I hope)
I am just so glad this chapter is finished! I don't even want to look at it anymore. It was hard trying to get across how Sakura was feeling…her emotions and her confusion at the end. Bah, I just hope it turned out alright, and the only way I'll know is from you lovely readers (hint hint)
Lol, anyway, happy reading to everyone!