Like a Lady

In the weeks that followed my life changing decision to be Itachi's pretend wife, I found the "training" that came with that decision to be livable.

Alright, so actually I found training with Sasori and Deidara more enjoyable than I would like to admit. And I wouldn't admit it to anyone if they asked.

As I found out during the couple weeks of spending nearly five out of the seven days with them, Sasori was actually very passionate about the work he did. He took great pride in styling my hair and dressing me up that sometimes it came with a very wicked and obsessive vibe that I tried to ignore every time he smiled at how his creation—me—turned out. Deidara, on the other hand, was the biggest idiot I had ever met—save for Naruto—and, in other words, was an absolute joy out of my otherwise boring day. Not only was he definitely not a hard-ass when it came to my transformation as Sasori had been—criticizing my clothes, how I styled my hair, or the way I came to the cabin looking a slob that just rolled out of bed (because that's exactly what happened)—but his energy and enthusiasm made it easy to deter him from training to dicking around.

My jaw hit the ground when he reluctantly admitted that, actually, he and Itachi were friends. Then again, it was also surprising that Naruto and Sasuke were best friends, but on a less exceptional level. The two idiots, that I had been graced and cursed with calling my best friends, were practically forced into being together by their parents since they were in diapers. Deidara and Itachi, on the other hand, made a choice in University.

Itachi, who had been taking business, first became friends with Muscles—whose name I learned to be Kisame. Kisame was in the Police Program, training to be an officer, and was originally friends with Deidara. Deidara and Sasori had already been friends, coming from the same high school and all, before they enrolled and met Kisame. Deidara was bouncing around in the arts department, taking theatre, sculpting, anything, you name it, and he had his fair share of classes and the girls in those classes. Sasori had done the same, but decided to stick with the aesthetician department, leading him into hairstyling and make-up.

Now, how did these unlikely idiots become friends? Well, Itachi being Itachi—with all the arrogance and "grace" that comes with being Itachi—was famous at the University. I wish I could say that it came with something cool like being the one to throw the best parties, pull the best pranks, or hold the best pep rallies—anything that I could talk about at dinners with some sort of pride—but it was because he was the heir to the largest security corporation in all the Fire Country, if not the world.

The best part of this story, and it might have been because of the way Deidara narrated it, was when I found out that Kisame was a groupie. Now, if you were anyone else but me, he might just give you a one-two for even mentioning it, but you are not shitted when I say that he turned so red in the face he was turning purple. Kisame, so it seemed, was somewhat of a fan of Itachi just because of their relevant majors. He was thinking of applying at the company once he graduated, and what a better way to get in than to be friends with the heir himself?

I swore I could hear Kisame giggling in my head for when he would spot Itachi on campus.

Now, where did Sasori and Deidara fall into this? Well, Kisame and Deidara met at the campus gym and one day, Kisame on his adrenaline-high decided that he was finally going to talk to Itachi. Poor Deidara was dragged along and, well, something sprouted between Kisame and Itachi after he tore Deidara and Itachi off of each other because the arrogant Uchiha couldn't keep his prissy, smart-ass remarks to himself. Something about pulling your own friend off of your bro-crush really made Kisame a formidable candidate for Itachi.

Fast-forward a couple years later and Kisame was Itachi's bodyguard. Deidara had also been trained at the corporation but was now "promoted" to be my supervisor and helped Sasori on the side, who got his money from styling the various members of the Uchiha family upon their requests.

Oh, and they all lived together in the middle of buttfuck nowhere because they liked the lake and the privacy. They were this mismatch group of friends who also worked for the Uchiha Bastard. As much as I would like to make it as bad as it sounded, to work for a person who was your friend, it was actually more rewarding than any other job you could've gotten with the Uchihas. For the very little amount they did, save for Kisame who fully committed to his job, they were paid extravagantly just because they were Itachi's friends.

Was that just Mikoto paying the boys to remain friends with her precious, spoiled little brat of a son? Who knows?

"What is the meaning of this?" But you couldn't really blame her either. It was bad enough being friends with Sasuke, but Itachi was on a different level of having a pole shoved up his ass that he sucked the fun out of everything through the hole the pole left inside of him. It was only thanks to Naruto and I that Sasuke developed some sort of humour and understood the definition of "chill", but poor Deidara and Kisame came too late in the man's development that may Itachi's laughter forever rest in peace.

Spinning around in the inflatable pool ring, I saw the leech of the happiness standing on the back patio, glaring at both Deidara and I as if we were the most despicable humans on earth. I glanced down at the blond with the suggestion that we pretended to not have heard or saw him, and oh-so-casually paddle in the opposite direction and hide behind the mist until he gave up and went away.

Unlike the northern region of the Fire Country, Konoha was particularly known for its warm summers and cool winters. The temperature didn't reach as high as Suna in the Wind Country, but it also didn't drop any lower than 10 degrees, at best, at its most coldest time of the year. That made going to beach, the lake, or the cabin, year round possible; something I came to really appreciate now that I ended up in the waters five out the five times I was at the cabin. Itachi, on the other, perfectly polished and manicured hand, didn't possess the same appreciation for the swimmable weather that I had.

Maybe the water was too dirty or he was too busy being rich to know how to swim—god, who knows. All I learned in those couple of weeks was he was the exact same person I thought he was and he basically survived out of sucking the joy out of my life—save for the twenty grand I had yet to receive.

Deidara looked at me suggestively, nudging me back to shore with his foot to mockingly seduce my lover with the few things he taught me. I wasn't one for going out of my way to talk to an Uchiha that wasn't Sasuke if I could help it, but who in the hell would pass up the opportunity to rile one up? I will admit that it didn't stop me from cursing him as I paddled back to shore.

"You are supposed to be training, not fooling around." Oh yes, he was just the best at greetings too. "This is the fourth time this week that I have caught you in the waters with that fool."

Taking the towel from the railing that he didn't bother to offer me, I wrapped it around myself before smiling up at him with some sort of pretend longing.

"Oh darling, I'm so glad to see you." I said breathlessly, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing every part of my body against him while mentally willed every droplet of water to seep through his suit. "There is no need to fuss over my relationship with Deidara; you know we are merely friends."

I felt his body stiffen up like a virgin under my touch and I pulled back slightly to get a good at his face. Had I expected some sort of reaction, like a blush maybe? Yes. Did I get one? Hell to the no. He stared down at me with irritation and a look the demanded I remove my wet person from his now slightly dampen one, but I only smiled.

"I know this sounds mischievous, but my heart tingles with joy to hear you jealous." I continued despite the lack of response while I twirled his tie in my hand. "I can't explain it, but it fills me with so much pride to hear you speak of me with such masculine possessiveness. It's, dare I say, sexy."

I leaned my face into the hand that wasn't wrapped in his tie and sighed longingly for some extra pizzazz in my performance. Had Sasuke been there, he would've also snorted like the two idiots who stood behind me, but alas, Uchiha Itachi was unamused.

I had pulled Sasuke to the side after they graciously returned me home from my first trip to the cabin, and asked him, in all seriousness, if Itachi was gay and I was his beard. Sasuke, for the life of him, couldn't even give me a straight answer despite how hard he tried to justify Itachi's supposedly heterosexual orientation. So, wasn't at all a little disappointed when I didn't feel something hot and hard poking at my thighs.

Removing myself from him, I shot him a smirk before fixing the towel completely around myself. His eyes traveled down to the wet stains on his crisp, probably ironed, shirt and back up at me with a silent scream of "how fucking dare you".

"C'mon, dude. She's improved over the last couple weeks, yeah." Deidara insisted, gesturing to me while I oh so gracefully tried to dry my hair in the most snooty, aristocratic way possible. "Look! She stands like less of a man now!"

My eyes moved from the wall I had blankly been staring at, in my concentration to remove most of the lake water from my hair before I went inside, to stare Deidara down with irritation as well. Apparently, the way I had stood before was too manly for the Uchiha's taste. My shoulders were too broad, too square, and my feet—why the hell didn't they touch when I stood? At least at the ankles dear god, Sakura, you barbarian!

That had been the first lesson I was taught here, and that was the first and last time I argued with them about it because I learned that there was no point. This was that the Uchiha wanted, so it was their job to mold me into this Mrs. Uchiha whose every action reflected her husband's wants. Needless to say, mama would not have be proud of who I had pretended to become.

"And I walk like less of a man now too, right Deidara-kun?" I asked, the repulse obvious in my voice as I squeezed my legs together and waddled around the house porch to the front.

"Hey, I'm just doing my job, yeah."

"Suck my ass."

I could practically sense Itachi movibg his head to look at Deidara, his displeasure evident as he stared down at the blond who was supposed to not only fix my posture, but my potty mouth. The press and the elders of the Uchiha family would surely not respond well to "suck my ass" at conferences and meetings. If worse comes to worse, would it really be that bad that they died from shock?

"We'll work on that, yeah." I heard Deidara mumble in the distance while Kisame tried to suppress his amusement.

I was happy to see that the fireplace was on when I got inside. It may have been possible to swim in the waters without freezing to death, but the conditions weren't ideal, being in the forest and all. But Deidara and I continued to do it, and we would continue to throughout the official winter months.

"I laid clothes out for you in the guest room to change into, Sakura-san." Sasori stated from behind the kitchen island, in front of him that night's supper which he prepared.

The imagines that popped into my mind were tight, straightjacket-like dresses that I could hardly move in, or sit down or get up in without them riding up over my ass. But one of the symbol of wealth and luxury was having the leisure to wear pretty dresses and high heels anytime I wanted, demonstrating the lack of rush and productivity in my life, or that I was so efficient that I am able to rush from appointment to appointment while looking good in my tasks.

"What? Why can't I wear my normal sweatpants and T-shirt? We're not going anywhere, are we?" I asked, my eyes tearing to Itachi as he walked through the door. He looked from me to Sasori with a raised brow, questioning what it was they were torturing me with—again—that made me burst out in the passions he lacked. "Please, Sasori-senpai? I swear I'll come over tomorrow with heels on!"

If there was one thing most cannot resist—and I say most because it has yet to work on Itachi—was the lower-lip pout and doe-eyes. I didn't use this regularly, mostly because my natural face makes pulling this face out very tiresome, but as I had learned over those weeks was the three men were not as immune as the Uchiha. I couldn't say if it was because I looked cute as fuck, or because it was annoying as to how stubborn I was and their impatience made them give in.

Both ways, my feelings weren't hurt and I was getting my way.

Sasori glowered at me before shooing my off, which I decided to take as "do whatever the hell you want, brat."

As I stomped up the stairs like an excited elephant, I could vaguely hear him shout for me to shower and condition my hair and then the fifty billion things I was to do afterwards when I got out to get the lake water drained for it. No one had told me that my hair, which had grew out perfectly long and silky, needed about sixty different products. There was no way my hair needed conditioner, deep conditioner, serum, oil, and lord knows what else, to feel as good as it had been all those years that I wasn't using it. Though it would be a lie if I said I hadn't been touching my hair non-stop since Sasori poured the elixir of life through my locks—something I got shit for because I was making my hair disgustingly oily like it was my fault my body naturally produces oils to protect itself—but still, the time I had to spend to keep my hair this soft was ridiculous.

After showering and moisturizing my body and hair, I made my way downstairs with hair as soft and straight as the toilet paper god probably used to wipe his ass—just like Sasori wanted.

"Put a shirt on, man!" I had stopped half-way down when I heard Kisame growl, followed by what I thought was a slap on the skin with a wet shirt. There wasn't a day that Kisame and Deidara weren't bickering. Hell, there wasn't a day Deidara didn't get in it with anyone in the house. For a while, I felt worried that with him as my supervisor, he would be attracting more trouble than protecting me from it. But then I remembered my relationship with Naruto and Sasuke and the shit they put me through in high school, that really, any shit that came with Deidara wouldn't be any different than what was my normal life anyways.

"This is my house too, yeah! I can have my shirt off if I want to!" Deidara growled back and a smack, to what I thought was Kisame's skin, followed.

The larger man chuckled and then his voice dropped low is mischief. I practically felt the house shake with his wiggling, non-existent eyebrows as he purred "oh, is it because of Sakura-chan? Are you trying to seduce her?"

Silence followed his question.

"Are you trying to get me fired, you big oaf? Of course not, yeah!" There was a desperation in Deidara's voice that made me want to snort. Like there was a fear that he was to lose his job if Itachi was to take Kisame's suggestion serious, as if the man gave two fucks about my real love life. The only thing his egotistic self cared about was that he wasn't made to look like a fool if I were to be caught by the paparazzi in an affair. And I doubt that would be the case since Deidara was aware of our arrangement, and therefore, it wouldn't be violating the contract. "But you can't blame me if it happens though. Ladies love The Deidara."

You have to believe me when I say I did everything I could to hold in my laugh, but it came out as badly as the fart you've been holding in after having dairy as a lactose intolerant-ist. I came down the stairs laughing, and gave Deidara a once over before slapping his abs that apparently made him so irresistible.

"Please, Deidara." I said, diverting my course to the dining table where I sat across from a very amused—or was it irritated—looking Itachi. "Not with that body alone."

"Oh, and I bet you've seen better, yeah?" He challenged, finally putting his shirt on from what I can only assume to be embarrassment and shame. I winked at him over Itachi's shoulder, and the pretend frown he had on turned into a dangerous smirk. "You slut! All this disrespect and after everything I've done for you, yeah!"

I had concluded that Deidara was a fraud, and the only way he put've gotten through acting class was sleeping with the professor. Not only would I have probably given him three stars for his performances, had I been to them, but I wouldn't have thrown a fuck his way for how terrible his acting was. Mind you, he did know what he was doing when it came to me, but for himself—it's so tragic.

"I mean, what can I say? All the fellas love The Sakura." I sighed arrogantly, flipping my hair over my shoulder in the most dazzling way possible to only open my eyes to meet a very curious and intense stare from my future husband. I reached over I grabbed his one hand in both of mine, batting my eyes innocently as I said in an airy voice: "Isn't that right, darling? Even you have to admit that you were swept off your feet by my bad girl reputation."

In reality, I was sure there was nothing further from the truth. If anything, he should've been repelled by my reputation amongst the public in Konoha—many had came to be over the years. The many friends I once had in high-school, the friends who I had been friends with growing up, left because association with the Harunos weren't good from the company and the reputation I was soiling.

Itachi only studied me; looking me up at down as if he was judging me for not denying Deidara's patriarchal claim that I was a slut. But in all, he hadn't removed his hand from mine in disgust. He actually just glanced at my manicured hand briefly without even moving a muscle.

"You were right." He finally said, glancing over at Deidara. "She is improving."

I looked down at myself to see that I had instinctively closed my legs and relaxed my shoulders. I guess not being fed until you sit properly does that to a person—and by not being fed, I meant deprived of basic rights. When you're in the middle of buttfuck nowhere land, with no way of getting back to civilization, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.

"Alright, boys, I get it." I released Itachi's hand and uncrossed my legs, purposely slouching in the laziest way possible and stuffing my hands into my pockets. "The way I stood, sat, and walked before was too confident for your frail male ego to handle."

I didn't miss the way Itachi's eyes narrowed at the bare attack in his ego, while Kisame and Deidara remained entertained by my intelligent conclusion that they were probably laughing out of nervousness.

"No, it wasn't feminine enough." The Uchiha Bastard said evenly, the challenge in his eye making it impossible for me to turn down now.

"Oh, and who are you to tell me what is feminine and what isn't?" I said, shooting forward and coming face-to-face with his very stoic one. "I'm a female, that's how I stood, and that alone should be feminine enough, right?"

"I am the man who writes your paycheck every month."

Okay, maybe he had a point there. Giving into this contract was giving into patriarchy and capitalism and I should've known better than to challenge those two systems. But fuck me if I was going to not use my platform—my going to be platform because I have yet to make a better reputation for myself or appear in the press—to voice my opinions about the very unfair society we women live in.

Maybe the Uchiha women were comfortable in the oppression because they compensate for it with money, but Haruno Sakura was no Uchiha regardless of what my marriage certificate said in a year or two, give or take.

Mama had never given a fuck about it enough to grill me as much as Itachi was doing, though there were ways I was expected to sit and behave because I was to present myself in a respectful manner, but when it came to this lady-like business, she would've rather spat on your shoe than follow a man's command to sit the way he wanted her to, just to prove her point. Hell, there probably wouldn't be a man by the end of the night.

"Whatever. That's how I was taught to stand during my classes, so forgive me if that was engraved into my mind after unholy amounts of push-ups had I not obeyed." I said matter-of-factly, my head shaking back and forth to emphasize on my sass.

If I had not known Sasori like I did, and if I had thought what he was going to say next was an attack on my person, I may have killed my stylist then and there and put a hole through the cottage wall. But to my chagrin, he hadn't a clue about the contents of his words and luckily for him and the rest who lived in the cottage, I didn't have enough embarrassment or anger to even put a dent in the countertop.

"Ah, I thought it was jail." He deadpanned, turning around to put the chicken breasts in the oven as if he hadn't brought up the most offensive thing possible.

Itachi, surprisingly, glanced over at him warningly, while Deidara's and Kisame's face contorted to a mix of "what the hell is that smell" and "so fucking rude."

"Man…" Kisame clicked his tongue in annoyance, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at a very clueless Sasori with disappointment.

I didn't want to hear Sasori ask "what," which would've been followed by either Deidara or Kisame dramatically explaining it to him and further discussing my time in jail. The Incident, as Itachi would have called it, is something that people have had the decency to not bring up—unless you're a pap, but since when did they fall under "decent people."

The room felt like it was on a stand-still and I had half a second to change the subject before things got really awkward.

It wasn't a secret that I went to jail my last year in high school. In all honesty, I would've been surprised if there a soul in Konoha that didn't know that I had. For over two years, that had been the most talked-about scandal of the century.

It was talked about when I was put in jail, it was talked about when I got out, and the paparazzi basically documented everything I did afterwards to see if I was going to slip up and end up in there again. The amount of bullshit I read in those paper was phenomenal. How could someone pull so much shit out of their ass? What the hell did you eat? Who raised you?

It really was only because of a miracle that I didn't end back in jail from of the many times Naruto and Sasuke had to keep me from jumping any moving thing with a camera on it. There was so much anger inside me during those times. So much that mama and Jiraiya forced me into martial arts, a controlled environment where I could release my anger.

I couldn't say it worked out at first. I mean, I was still seventeen, ignorant, arrogant, and angry, that for the first week I came home with bruises and cuts from getting my ass kicked by the instructor. To this day, Sasuke and Naruto swore that if they hadn't enrolled themselves and kept me from sassing out instructor, I may have ended up dead after the first month of going there. At best I would have been missing some teeth.

Now, just because it was widely known doesn't mean I liked to talk about it. People didn't whisper in the street about me anymore, but I still got wary looks from those who didn't know the definition of "get over it."

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" I asked excitedly, to the point where my voice cracked from the sweetness I just vomited out in the "so" alone.

Kisame looked at my knowingly, his grey-blue eyes glancing back from Sasori to me in a mental debate on whether he should educate the redhead or spare me the awkwardness.

"Nothing. He just wanted to take a nap in peace." The large man grunted, using his chin to gesture to silent Uchiha.

"I see." And with that the room drifted off to an awkward silence, which I had much more preferred over what could've been way more awkward.

"I'll be up in two hours." Itachi stood abruptly, striding to spare bedroom by the stairs before turning to look at all of us warningly. "Do try to make use of that time, wisely."

And with that that his black-sock covered feet disappeared behind the door where I was sure he was going to hang up his wet suit and lay in bed while it dried.

Kisame plopped down right in front of me, and I knew, before Deidara even reached for the cupboard of alcohol and shot glasses, what the larger man wanted to do.

"Okay, Haruno, rematch?"

It was more of a challenge than it was a question, and he hadn't even given me time to answer before he started filling the glasses with alcohol.

The blond no longer joined in in our shenanigans, and I was two thousand percent sure it had something to do with the massive hangover he got from drinking with Kisame and I the first time around. From Kisame's huge body-mass which burned through alcohol quicker than his average size, and my experience from high school parties and drinking with my mother, the occasional drinker didn't stand a chance.

"You know you're never gonna win; I don't see why you keep on insisting on humiliating yourself."

But unlike Deidara, Kisame wasn't the type to learn from head-throbbing hangovers and countless breaks to the bathroom where he threw-up his gut that Itachi had even asked me to stop sabotaging his safety to get out of this contract.

"All I hear is a chicken…"

I took a shot before he could break out in the chicken dance.

"You say that every time."

Two hours, a rowdy meal, and one phone call later, Itachi came out of his room to witness the second part of our drinking challenge. With the alcohol running through our blood and interfering with the very basic motors and thoughts, Deidara had to remind us to continue with the arm-wrestling part of the challenge.

In a sober state of mind, Kisame would have had a greater chance of winning. That is not to say that I probably couldn't throw him over my shoulders or strangle him to death with the muscles in my thighs—but that was different.

When it was purely based on muscle strength alone, Kisame would have a better chance of winning had he been sober. But intoxicated, when he could hardly hold his arm up straight or keep himself from falling asleep, my better-at-handling-alcohol-self had the advantage.

"I thought I had told you to use that time wisely." Itachi's voice could've been sounded through an intercom and none of us would've looked up. Even Sasori, who was usually uninterested in every social event or anything unrelated to make-up and hair, sat silently as he watched me about to win for the seventh time. "Kisame, how are you going to operate a vehicle now that you're intoxicated?"

As if on cue, the screen door creaked open and in came Sasuke, his face already twisted in annoyance from just looking at our situation. "I'm driving."

That was enough to distract Kisame, who had probably thought Sasuke could've been someone ready to do harm to poor, defenceless Itachi. My leg lifted to press the soft skin between his legs, making him wince and giving me the upper hand to slam his arm down.

"Ow, hey! That's cheating!" He growled, trying to take a swing at me which I easily avoided by leaning back.

"There were rules?" I gasped innocently, looking over to see that even though Sasuke managed to be amused by my antics, Itachi still had the ugly frown on his face. So, I did what any other person would do, run to him and cupped his ugly, weirdly good-looking face in my hand. "Come now, darling, who is out to get you? If you would like I could protect you since Kisame is no longer capable."

Sasuke, who looked like he was about to vomit, had tried to shimmy his way between Itachi and I.

"Sakura…" He whispered warningly, as if he expected my intoxicated self to try to make a real move on his brother and lure the man to my bed.

You couldn't really blame him either. We've gone out drinking enough times that he knew how much alcohol it took me before I went on the prowl and at one time, he had been the prey. That didn't go over so well for us, since the minute Naruto found out, which was the next morning when he went over to Sasuke's place and found me naked in his bed, the boys broke out in what was one of their most seriously ridiculous fights.

It was only when I managed to make sense of the noise that woke me up did I hastily throw on Sasuke's shirt and pull the pair apart. In my groggy, hangover, mama-Sakura gotta protect my boys state, I didn't think over how it would look for me to wear one of Sasuke's shirts. Naruto stormed off and they didn't speak to hum for a month, which made going out to lunch awkward and bandaging them up separately annoying. Sasuke and I, on the other hand, handled it much better than Naruto did.

The obnoxious blond was worried that this would mess up our trio, which, in short, meant he was just throwing a really big fit for a month, while Sasuke and I were just "meh." We shat together, ate together, bathed together, so it was only a matter time before we slept together. Luckily, it didn't progress any further than just that.

Every now and then we would throw each other a flirtatious wink or a fuck for the stress, but obviously not in the last two years since his brother was like "oh no no no no no Sasuke. I call dibs."

Now, if I slept with Itachi, well, it would be a favour to both him and his mother. Uchiha Itachi got laid? Maybe he would lighten up after a really good beef jerking.

"Relax, I'm not drunk." I slurred, which didn't really help but it did get Sasuke to back off a little. "That is drunk."

Like I said before, Kisame wasn't the type to learn. Now he was hunched over with his head in his hands, either because of the headache or he was secretly crying from losing once again.

"Hey, the muffins are done, yeah." Deidara said as his little blond head popped out from behind the wall, calling me to come over and handle all the baking needs like taking a fucking tray out of the oven was too hard or too womanly for him. Itachi must've looked at me questionably because I heard Sasuke explain that "Sakura likes to bake when she drinks" after I had gone over to take care of it.

"Yes sir, get some alcohol in me and I'll be the perfect house wife." I said cheerfully, dropping the tray on the counter before going over to pop open a bottle of wine. "Unless you get too much, then I'd be the perfect mistress."

With how far back Sasuke rolled his eyes, I swore the vessels which held his eyeballs in place should've snapped off. I still winked at him though, which only deepened my question as to why his eyeballs didn't do just that.

"Oh really? Where do I sign up, yeah?" Deidara whispered in my ear, hands on my waist as he shimmied himself against my backside.

Sasuke looked like he was about the throw a fit, and had Itachi not been in front of him with the aura of dominance and irritation which overpower his, Sasuke may have thrown himself over the counter and tore a playful Deidara off of me.

"Now, Deidara, you know I'm taken." I chide, twisting around and pressing my finger against his chest. "My boyfriend is standing right there and you don't want to anger him."

"But sweetheart, my love, you know I can take him, yeah." He told me encouragingly, pressing my head against his neck as he rubbed my back soothingly in what was supposed to be a scene from his pretend soap opera.

"Like how you almost took him out in University?" I asked with desperation and hope, my voice cracking from the pretend tears that were supposed to stream down my face in relief that I could now be with my one true idiot.

"You know I worry about your choice in company sometimes, Sasuke."

"You're one to talk."

Temperature measurements are in Celsius.

Updated: 05-02-2020

All comments and criticism are widely accepted and appreciated