Betaed by Windshades again. Whee NaruSaku cuteness.
He wakes up on Sakura's roof. Well, the roof of the building where her parents live. He doesn't have a clue if they just rent an apartment or if the whole building belongs to them. He's never been inside. He doesn't really want to ask if he can come in; what if her parents hate him, and tell her exactly why? He doesn't know how he'll deal with her knowing, even though he's aware that one day -- soon -- he will have to tell them.
It's still early; he slides down her wall and tries to look in, but she closed the blinds. He sighs, and prepares to jump off and go back home to get dressed, and then almost gets brained by her blinds opening violently. He loses his balance and his hold on the wall. She grabs him by the shirt, and snarls, something about perverts and voyeurs and -- oh, hello, Naruto.
She stares at his clothes as he finds a hold on the tiny windowsill-thing masquerading as a balcony.
"What are you doing here at this hour? In pajamas?" she asks, and pulls him all the way in.
He grins sheepishly and searches for an answer, not bothering to get up from the floor. The bottom of her robe brushes against his foot. Lavender. He wonders what she's wearing underneath.
"Couldn't sleep?" she sighs, and closes the window.
He answers only with a sheepish grin and a little laugh, uncomfortable with lying to her openly. He looks around curiously; he's never been in a girl's bedroom before. It's a nice little room -- a polished, tidy desk; a dresser; a mirror; a few posters on the walls. Rosy nail polish, a ribbon. Very girly. No shinobi gear anywhere in sight -- ah, wait. Kunai under the bed... but that's it.
"Say, Sakura-chan--"
She hushes him quickly, wincing. "Quiet! If my parents hear a boy in my room..."
"They'll think we're having a torrid love affair?" he whispers with a large grin. He doesn't bother dodging the slap he knows he deserves.
It's not as strong as usual, though, and he blinks up at her, puzzled. "Sakura-chan?"
"Ah, no... nothing." She sits on her bed, back to the wall. He leans against the bed, watching her. She's hugging her knees, robe pulled tight around her.
"... Sakura-chan?"
"Are you... Naruto, are you... all right?"
He blinks at her and, for a moment, thinks that she knows everything. She's watching him with such sad, horrified eyes.
"That mission..."
Oh. That mission. He's doing his best not to think about it too hard. It's over and done with. The most important thing is to make sure it won't happen again.
"Eh. I'm alright."
Apparently he doesn't look convincing. She slowly slides off her bed and sits down at his side, hugging her knees against her chest, twirling a lock of pink hair around her finger nervously. She's close; he can feel her warmth.
"You... I don't know what he showed you, what he did to you, but..."
"You were dead," he replies without thinking. "The three of you."
She doesn't say anything, she just slips her arm around his neck, slowly, hesitantly. He blushes a bit, gives her a crooked little smile. If he didn't feel so awkward, he'd be delighted. It isn't often that he gets hugs from her. But she's being so careful, as if the smallest wrong gesture could set him off. Damn it, it's not as if he's Sasuke.
"... That wasn't all, was it?" she asks softly. "I mean, you -- you bit him."
I ate him, he thinks. Part of him. Sure, shredding was more cathartic than swallowing, but there were still a few missing bits afterwards. And he's less sickened by the act itself than by what it means. "I went berserk," he replies bleakly.
She shivers. He wonders if she's afraid of him now. It hurts.
"... There was a cage, and I was alone, and no one cared. And when I remembered there were people who'd care..."
"It changed into something even worse, something that burrowed even deeper," she continues, nodding thoughtfully.
"... Yeah."
There's more silence. And yet more silence. It's not natural, not between the two of them, and he hates it, but he doesn't know how to break it.
The moment is well suited; he's been sort of leading up to his huge revelation and, after all, she isn't pulling away yet. He could tell her the truth. He could. He should.
He doesn't dare. He's too scared.
"Hey, where's all your ninja stuff?" he asks, so that he doesn't say something else.
She tenses, and then shrugs, appearing uncaring. He winces; way to go, Naruto.
"Oh, in that cupboard. I didn't want to litter my room with the stuff."
"But what if you gotta get something fast?" he asks, bewildered.
"Then I open the cupboard; it's not that complicated."
"... Oh." It doesn't sound very efficient to him, but he doesn't add anything; he doesn't want her to snap again.
She sighs. "Sorry, Naruto... My mom just doesn't like walking in and seeing shuriken and exploding tags all over the room. Besides, it would look out of place here, wouldn't it?" she asks, gesturing at the tidy, girly bedroom. The bed sheets are pale purple with a patterned trim; nothing fancy, but pretty and delicate. The laundry basket is empty, tucked away in a corner. The cupboards are closed. Even the papers on her desk are stacked neatly, held in place by a glass paperweight -- a kitten, he thinks, frail and precious and yeah, definitely not ninja-ish.
It's all very Sakura, in a way -- tidy and girly. And yet, in a way, totally not.
"Do you study medical scrolls sometimes?" he asks, because even if she hides the weapons, there must be some traces of her job that don't conflict with the dainty and studious atmosphere.
She gives him a look, like she can hear his train of thought and isn't impressed. "They're locked away, Naruto. You're not supposed to let ninjutsu scrolls out where anywhere walking by could take a look. Didn't you listen to anything they taught us in class?" And she knocks her knuckles against his head.
"Ow! I leave my scrolls on my desk all the time," he mutters back, pouting.
"And on the floor beside your desk, and on your kitchen table, and beside your bed..."
She laughs when he starts looking dejected, and nudges him in the ribs with her elbow.
"Ah, it's alright, you don't have anything but basic scrolls, anyway, right? You learned all your big techniques on the field. But the Fifth's own medical jutsu... well, it's not top secret either, but..." she shrugs. "I don't want to look for specific scrolls for ten hours. At least that way I always know where they are."
"Yeah, right, you're just a neat freak," he teases, and can't help but grin when she scowls at him and threatens him with her fist. She wouldn't treat him like this if she didn't care, if she didn't trust. He never wants to let go of that.
She pouts, and then reluctantly smiles. "Maybe I am," she admits with false annoyance. "But it wouldn't hurt for you to be a bit of one too!" she adds, bossily.
She pokes his chest with her finger. They're so close, and if he caught her hand and leaned forward, he could kiss her. It's a line he's not sure he can cross without consequences, though. What if she never wants to invite him back in her room because she doesn't trust him alone with her?
"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, and looks away from her because he doesn't need more temptation.
There are pictures on her wall, over her desk. A copy of the same Team Seven one they own, but other pictures too. Her parents, alone and together, or with other older people that he assumes are family; Ino holding a cat, or being silly, or wearing fancy clothes; a picture of Naruto himself and Lee during a pushup contest; other girls and boys he only vaguely remembers from the ninja academy, or doesn't even know.
"There's only one Sasuke up here, and that's when he was twelve," he comments, pointing at the board on which the bulk of them are pinned. That's just plain weird. She hasn't publicly proclaimed her undying love for the bastard in years, but he knows better than to assume that she doesn't have romantic feelings for him anymore.
Sakura blinks, then winces and looks down at her feet, sheepish and disappointed. "He hates having his picture taken."
"So you don't have any?" Okay, the idea of Sasuke and her dating isn't one of his favorites. But pictures are probably important to her, and, potential boyfriend or just teammate, Sasuke is important to her, too. Naruto narrows his eyes determinedly -- he's going to stalk the bastard and take a ton of them, just for her.
"Oh, I have a few. Of his back, usually," she replies with a weird little wince of a smile. "And his shoulder, or his foot as he jumps off, or else there's a branch or someone's arm in the way..."
She reaches into her desk drawer, pulls out a slim book, opens it on her lap. Indeed, of the dozen shots she has of Sasuke, only two show more than a fifth of his face, and it's clear even these pictures are failures. Naruto snickers. "You'd expect him, of all people, to be photogenic."
"Oh, hush, you don't look any better."
And she turns the page. She has pictures of him, too. She's even in some of them -- so she didn't take them. So she went and asked the person who took them for copies. He stares at one of Kiba and him all tangled up in a length of wire in order to stop himself from looking at her face; he knows he'd kiss her.
They look at the pictures, and they talk about nothing -- "Hey, I remember that!" and "Wow, now he looks stupid here" and "We should do this again". And he's happy. He's happy because she wasn't scared away by his berserk fit and she's acting like they're friends, real friends, not just teammates, and they're sitting so close and she's letting him. True, she might be trying to comfort him, or distract him from the bad memories, but... he doesn't think she could fake being this at ease with him, this ... simply content.
Eventually, her stomach growls, and he's surprised to notice that it's already six-thirty AM. It's going to be a bitch to get back home, so he can get dressed, without being seen -- a good thing Kakashi's always late, because Naruto, himself, probably won't arrive on time.
She blushes, sheepish, and opens her mouth -- presumably, to apologize. And then her mother calls and she bursts into action. Naruto jumps to his feet, eyeing the door nervously.
"I'm awake, Mom!" she yells as she stuffs the photo album back in the drawer. "Relax, she won't come knocking yet," she whispers to him.
And then she stares at him, biting her lip. "Ah... maybe you could... You could come out through the window and then knock at the door and I could invite you for breakfast... Mom wouldn't say anything..."
Privately, he thinks that she would. But that Sakura would even offer... he doesn't remember being invited to share a meal with a family. Iruka-sensei doesn't count; he's living alone, too. It's not the same.
"Thank you, Sakura-chan, but I don't think your mom would buy the old 'just happened to be in the neighborhood' excuse," he reminds her, and tugs at his pajamas pants, grinning.
She looks down at his pants and blushes. "Oh, right."
He would tease her, but there's another call from her mother. She yells back, even as she herds him toward the window, so fast that he stumbles. He's laughing silently as she opens the window and quickly scans the street and the other buildings for onlookers. Not that he can't appreciate how much she doesn't want to get caught, but she doesn't even look half that panicked during missions.
He takes a last, long look at her room, so pretty and tidy; and at her, so pretty and not so tidy, expression frenzied, hair in disarray, and so very kissable. He grins, and waves, taking his sweet time, and then throws himself off the banister, narrowly avoiding her exasperated shove.
She shakes her fist at him as he waves from the next roof. He bounces off, back toward home.
He's... a little deeper in than a simple crush, isn't he. He doesn't really manage to mind.