A/N: You need coolin'. Baby I'm not foolin'. I'm gonna send ya back to schoolin'. Way down inside, a-honey, you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love. Oh! Wanna...

. . .

Wasted – Chapter 8

Whole Lotta Love

. . .

"All yours."

Get out of my way, you scrumptious asshole. I need to evacuate.

I push myself off the wall I was leaning against, sending Sasuke and his abs a pressing look, because, well, it's pressing. He steps out of the door frame to let me through.

"Thank you."

I close the bathroom door behind me with my foot, clutching the bed sheet I took from Sasuke's bed tightly in my fists, keeping it up around my body. You know, Sasuke being a guy who has his own private wing in his parents' mansion and all, I would've at least expected him to have a bathroom in his bedroom, not fifteen feet away at the end of a corridor.

Directly after he pulled out, he sat up in his bed and peeled off his condom, then turned to me while putting on a pair of boxers. He asked me if I wanted him to show me to the bathroom. A beautiful moment ensued.

And by that I mean that I quickly gathered his bed sheet around my torso, jumped out of bed, stumbled and landed face first in his pile of dirty clothes, letting go of the sheet and uncovering my entire body anyway. Upon hearing him chuckle, I scrambled to my feet, pulled the sheet back around myself and headed to the door without a word, perfectly aware that no witty reply would save my pride at that point.

He then proceeded to show me the way and make me wait (he made me wait!) while he took his own piss. I then leant against the wall, and crossed my legs, feeling my bladder protest vehemently and my still sensitive sex throb faintly. I was about to pee on the floor when the door clicked open and Sasuke let me in.

I hike the sheet up to my waist and sit down on the toilet seat with great relief. I can't contain the satisfied sigh that escapes my lungs as I finally empty my bladder.

I swing my legs up straight and point my feet, stretching, then I flex them and look at the nail polish on my toes. Of all the things I could've done in preparation for tonight but didn't on account of the excitement, I forgot two of the most important. Shave my pubes and repaint my nails.

I don't mean to sound shallow, but it is a disaster down there. The purple (that I named "The Colour Formerly Known As Prince) polish I put on last week is all chipped and honestly, quite amateur-looking. Had I worn heels today, I would've fixed it, but my slip-on sneakers were just too comfortable to abandon. Besides, this is still casual sex, there's no need to dress up and make it special.

I probably won't even stay for the night. Unless Sasuke wants to go for another round, which is very likely and would be highly appreciated. If every time with him is like what it just was, he can have me as many times as he wants.

I mean, the man knows how to please women.

He made me come, for fuck's sake! I'm fairly confident that's never happened to me before.

I just wonder if I'll feel different in the morning. I don't feel any different now, besides the mind-blowing memory of it, but physically, nothing's changed. I wasn't expecting anything to change, but I did wonder, as a younger, more virginal girl learning about coitus, if having an orgasm would operate some sort of transformation in me. I guess I almost hoped for it. For something.

But yeah.

Staying the night.

Another incentive would be the prospect of another breakfast of champions like the one we had back in December, awkwardness aside. Because, honestly, living on my own doesn't make for huge meals or even a full fridge. Contrary to popular belief amongst newcomers (myself included, last year), having roommates doesn't mean sharing what you own. At all. You buy your own stuff, use your own stuff and eat your own stuff. Unless someone graciously offers it, in which case you have to pay them back in some way.

But here. Here, where parents roam. Here, where people stay for weekends, holidays and other school breaks. Here, where the kitchen is bigger than my entire floor and the fridge as big as my room. Here, where either a professional chef or a very hands-on mom resides. Here, there is food. Good food. And plenty of it. So, breakfast is definitely something to look forward to when you've been skipping it all week, not because you want to lose weight but because you don't have the money for it or the time to eat it.

I'm wary, though. If I ask to stay for the night and for breakfast, am I being too clingy? Is it proper fuck-friend behaviour? Or was it a given from the start that I'd be sleeping here? Why didn't we talk about this before? You know, instead of avoiding each other all week, we could've planned a few things (although planning sex is probably the least exciting thing in the world).

Side note: this bathroom has the softest toilet paper I've ever had the honour to use. Moving on.

On the plus side, by staying here, I don't have to risk waking my roommates up, I don't have to go back in the cold, I won't feel like a whore and I get a mega breakfast as a bonus. Then again, I get the awkward morning after and the oppressing silence during breakfast – no matter how mega it is.

Oh, fuck it, I'm staying. There are more pluses than minuses and I know how hungry I get after sober sex. Add that to the fact that I haven't been grocery shopping in a while and I barely have any food left, I'm definitely staying. Plus, I need sleep. Badly.

I stand up from the toilet, flush it, readjust the sheet around my torso and walk to the sink. I think it's the first time that the me staring back through the mirror doesn't strike me as a filthy hooker in dire need of makeup remover and a hair brush. I still inspect my skin for blackheads while I wash my hands, out of habit, comb my fingers through my hair for good measure and, reassured of my presentable appearance, turn to the door, eager to get back to Sasuke and his body.

I turn the doorknob and pull, but the door barely budges. However, I can see it's not because I've inadvertently locked myself in since it actually opened a little before being yanked back shut from the other side. I pull again, and just like the first time, someone in the hall keeps it from opening.

"Hey!" I protest as my third attempt proves as unsuccessful as the other two.

I know it's Sasuke on the other side. He's probably just playing with me, in another attempt to work on the "friend" part of our "relationship". I can see how this playful behaviour could be fun to two five-year-olds on a Saturday morning between cartoons, but I'm eighteen years old and I just had mind-blowing sex. All I want is to either get back to the sex or get a few hours of sleep before I have to confront the lack of romantic feelings Sasuke and I have for each other. I'm not in the mood to be trapped in the bathroom indefinitely while he has his kiddy fun on the other side.

And then I hear it.

I hear her.

Whoever she is.

What I hear is a woman, talking in a hushed tone to who I guess is Sasuke. Ah, yep, there's his voice, hushed as well. I can't understand a word they're saying, so I stick my ear to the door, giving up on opening it.

"Go back to bed," Sasuke whispers flatly, obviously as tired as I am.

"Sasuke!" The woman hisses back. "I'm not leaving until you tell me who's in the bathroom."

I hear Sasuke sigh, as if he's giving up on an argument they had while I was peeing. I hear a click and the door swings open. I step aside as to not introduce it to my face and peer outside.

Sasuke's the first one I see, towering above me in his boxer-briefs and his abs. I step off the cold tile floor and onto the hallway's carpet and once Sasuke's out of my line of vision, I finally see the woman he was talking to.

Dressed in flowery pajama pants and flimsy tank top that's bound to be way too cold for the weather, her arms crossed over her chest, she stands perfectly still, barely shorter than me, a disapproving look on her face. Her face that, by the way, really resembles Sasuke, in a feminine, slightly wrinkled way. Her black hair is dishevelled and her eyes are a bit puffy, probably because she just woke up and the light coming from the bathroom is hurting her retinas.

Her eyes are on me, but there's no hatred, just disapproval and mild annoyance, and somehow it doesn't seem directed towards me. She turns her glance back to Sasuke just as I do, slightly confused, and we both see that he appears to be hunched over, staring at the floor, obviously trying to avoid both eye contact and further conversation.

"What were you planning to do?" The woman asks. "Keep her in the bathroom until Fugaku and I leave for work? Might I remind you that our bathroom is in renovation and we all have to use this one? Or has that slipped your mind at the same time as your manners? Honestly, the poor girl, she must be freezing."

I'm not, but I sure as hell won't tell her that.

"Did you really think we couldn't hear you two?" She's hissing again. "With all the noise you were making, we almost thought you were murdering her."

Oops.

"Just be glad Fugaku's actually proud of you for your... finale." Oh, she seems uncomfortable. Good, I am too. "But next time, at least wait until we're out of town. Or use the white guest room, it's far enough."

I think it's a bit funny how Sasuke seems to be shrinking into himself a little more with each word that comes out of the woman's mouth. That and his frown seems to be deepening. If we actually make it back to his room – or the white guest room, as she suggested – I'm so gonna get it. And by that, I mean rough sex. Yes.

"Now," she sighs. She seems to have calmed down. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Oh, see, lady, I don't think that's necessary. I mean, it's not exactly the right time, plus I'm not actually Sasuke's girlfriend, so introductions really would be inappropriate. He seems to be thinking the same thing but speaks up nonetheless.

"Mom, Sakura," he waves his hand between us. "Sakura, mom."

"Hello, Sakura. I'm Mikoto." She extends her hand to me, a soft smile now stretching her lips.

"Hi," I say meekly, shaking her hand ever-so-slightly. "Nice to meet you." It sounds ridiculous in this situation.

"I'll let you two go back to bed." She turns to her son. "To sleep."

I let out a nervous giggle.

"And I expect to see her at breakfast tomorrow morning," she says, still to Sasuke. "Is that clear?" He nods once, still staring at the floor, and doesn't move until she's walked past us into the bathroom. He then grips my wrist and pulls me quickly to his room. I follow as quickly as I can, nearly tripping over the sheet many times on the way, clutching it so it doesn't fall off and it's with relief that I let myself crash onto his bed.

It's only now that I realise how hard my heart is pounding in my chest and how hot my cheeks are from blushing so much. Sasuke stands in front of me, facepalming.

"Sorry about that," he says after a while. "I thought they came back tomorrow. They probably got in while I was picking you up. Had I known-"

"It's fine," I giggle. "Don't exceed your word quota in one go, it's okay. I didn't mind."

And it's true. I mean, yeah, I'm a bit embarrassed, but it could've been seriously worse. She could've thrown me out. They could've exploded into a full-out family feud about bringing girls over. But they didn't. Actually, his mom reminds me a lot of mine. Except mine has never caught me hiding a boy in the house. My ex only came over for dinner, and Naruto's impossible to hide, no matter how hard you try.

"I thought your parents slept in another part of the house," I say, the thought popping up in my mind.

"Reparations. This place is old. The plumbing in their wing is falling apart."

I nod in understanding and then there's a silence. An awkward one. I know I should probably say something, just to diffuse the tension, but I can't think of anything. I tighten the sheet around me and stare at the floor, in the hopes that it will give me some inspiration.

"Look..." Sasuke starts, hesitating. I raise my head to look at him. "You don't have to stay for breakfast if you don't want to. I can handle my mom-"

"No, no, it's fine," I reply, maybe a bit too quickly. Damn. "I mean, breakfast here is awesome. I wouldn't even be having one if I went home."

"Well, that's not good."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

Sasuke snorts, then drops his hands to his sides and stares at me.

"Sooo..." I say. "What now?" He smirks.

"Your call."

I barely hesitate.

"Where's that guest room?"

His smirk widens.

. . . . . . . . .

I didn't come.

The second time.

Then the third time proved to be too much for me – to be fair, none of the other guys I've ever had sex with actually stayed awake long enough to get into a second round, let alone a third one, and I would've been way too drunk to remember anyway, so I never really experienced the male young adult stamina phenomenon. Add to that already sensitive flesh, a really inventive position, sobriety and the slight thrill of getting caught, and Sasuke had me crying out in a matter of minutes, shaking and grasping at anything graspable until the wind was knocked out of my lungs again and I throbbed all around him.

He came shortly after while I was completely limp beneath him, faint moans still escaping my lips. He gave a few last erratic jerks, his fingers digging into my skin and eventually collapsed on top of me. A few minutes of catching our breath and another quick trip to the bathroom later, we're back in his room and in our underwear, completely spent and gratefully crashing onto his bed.

Okay, what's the procedure, now? Do we cuddle? Do we stay on our respective sides of the bed? Do we talk? Do we go immediately to sleep?

Is it wrong that I'm starting to wish I was drunk? Not to forget about tonight – no way, I will never forget about tonight – but it would give me a good excuse to get right to snoring. I mean, the last (and only) time I was here, I didn't wake up in his arms. Admittedly, he was in the bed with me, and he was awake before me, but if he'd wanted to cuddle, he would've done it. Yes, I know this situation's different, but if my memory serves me right, he wanted to date me back then. Well, sort of.

Come to think of it, he never really explicitly stated that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Maybe it was me who... misinterpreted, I guess. Yeah. I might have assumed. Presumed. Whatever. Maybe I only heard what I wanted to hear and it turned out to be exactly what I didn't want to hear (WHICH MAKES TOTAL SENSE) and I overreacted.

I'm such a bitch.

And apparently, he's down with cuddling. His arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me to himself. I'm not too sure how I feel about that. I mean, yes, it's really comfortable and good for the soul, but I'm not entirely sure it's appropriate in our situation. Also, it's getting really warm. Too warm. Kinda like the stuffy feeling you get when you've been trying to get warm for a while and suddenly, something somewhere remembers it has a job to do and you're swarmed with overwhelming warmth that's really not that comfortable. The kind of warmth that keeps you from falling asleep or that wakes you up in the middle of the night with a sweaty forehead and a parched throat.

Yeah, anyway.

I stick my legs out of the comforter to get some fresh air and OHMYGODWHENDIDITGETSOCOLD! I swear, it's like all the heaters in the place went out and February suddenly remembered what country this is and how cold it's supposed to be. I pull one leg back under the covers and it seems to be a good compromise for a few minutes until the cold in my leg reaches the rest of my body. Suddenly, Sasuke's warmth becomes very appealing. I make sure both my legs are covered, then I squiggle around until I'm facing him and I snuggle up into his arms. If he's fine with it, I'm fine with it.

I didn't know it felt that nice to be held like that after sex.

. . .

There's a weight on my chest. I feel so heavy, I don't think I can move. Is this what a heart attack feels like? I squint my eyes open against the bright sunlight that's pouring down on my face. I can't see much and I still feel heavy. Maybe I'm dead. Or at the hospital. Having a heart attack. It's the alcohol abuse, I'm sure of it.

But, no. I feel Sasuke next to me, his warm skin against my arm. I also hear his slight snoring. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm still oonly in my underwear. Sooo... I'm not dead. Nor at the hospital. And probably not having a heart attack. Good. I need a shirt.

I try to roll over to get up and the weight on my chest tumbles off. I hear a faint "mrrreow" and a soft thud. I open my eyes completely and sit up, startled, to look at what I dislodged from my chest and hurled to the ground.

On the floor, standing next to Sasuke's bed, a black cat stares up at me with big green eyes, apparently as startled from the sudden movement as I am from its presence there. It sits down, still staring at me – judging me, no doubt – and I keep my eyes on it, my brain still too fuzzy to function properly.

Oh.

Oh!

I remember that cat! It was here the last December, when I inadvertently stayed over. It's much bigger than it was back then. Oh, and look, it's not entirely black like I thought. It has a tuft of white fur on its chest.

"Hey," I lean down slowly and stick a hand out for it to smell. It approaches its face slowly, sniffs my fingers for a few seconds, looks back up at me and then gives my hand a nudge with its head. "Remember me?" I ask in the softest voice possible, scratching the cat's ears gently.

"His name's Harry," comes Sasuke's voice behind me, mumbling and muffled. I turn to see him lying on his stomach, his head half-buried in his pillow, his eyes still closed.

"Harry?" I giggle. "Why Harry?" He shrugs.

"He looks like Harry Potter."

I turn back to the cat. He's still playing with my hand, in the most adorable cat behaviour ever. Now that you mention it, he does have some similarities with Harry Potter in terms of colour scheme. Black hair and green eyes.

Sasuke's weight shifts next to me.

"It's also a pun," he says, a bit more clearly. He's probably sitting, but I'm too busy enjoying the overdose of cute the cat is giving me to check. "Because he's hairy."

I giggle again. Harry lets go of my hand and hops up on the bed. He leans his face close to mine, sniffs me up and then gives my nose a lick. I squeal.

"Yeah, he does that," Sasuke says, his voice much closer to my ear, now. "Hey, buddy." He extends a hand over me to pet Harry and I lie back down to give him more room. He picks up the cat and brings it over to himself. Harry doesn't seem to mind and proceeds to lick Sasuke's nose as well.

"Was he sleeping on you?" I nod. He chuckles. "He's a real boy. He loves boobs."

"How do you know?" Has he had other girls over? Does Harry like every girl that comes along?

"He sleeps on my mom's when I'm not home."

"What does he do when you are?"

"He sleeps on my butt."

His tone makes me laugh. Harry looks at me lazily while Sasuke scratches his belly. I reach out and give his ears a few scratches of my own and he closes his eyes, content, his body all stretched out on the mattress between Sasuke and me.

"He's adorable."

"Of course, he's mine."

I snicker and then there's a silence. This one's not awkward. In fact, it's rather comfortable. We're just there, petting a cat. I don't know about Sasuke, but I'm enjoying this. It's soothing. Maybe this is what it would be like if we were in a relationship.

No.

No, that's not how it would be. If we were a couple, we'd be kissing, cuddling, maybe making jokes about how we should move in together so I could be Harry's mommy, since Sasuke's his daddy. Then it'd be awkward, because we might not be at that point in our personal development and one of us might not want it as much as the other. Then there'd be questions like "Why?" and "What's the problem with living with me?" and "Are you not serious about this?" and eventually "Are you seeing other people behind my back?" and then all Hell would break loose and this perfect morning would be ruined because no one ever trusts each other and it always gets painful in the end.

"Sakura?"

I snap back to reality.

"What?"

"You spaced out."

"Oh. Sorry."

"No harm. It's just that you looked possessed."

"Yeah, that happens. I was thinking that dating you would ruin this."

"That's not nice."

"No, I mean-... Not you in particular, if this were anyone else, I wouldn't want to be dating them either. It'd make things complicated. I wouldn't be happy." God, I hope he gets what I mean.

"Why?" Damn.

"It's just... When people date, they eventually have certain expectations of their partner that he or she is not able to meet, and they get disappointed, and then simple moments like this get ruined because they talk too much and don't say the right things and I'm doing exactly that, which is not good. Never mind me, I'll shut up now." I try to hide my flustered face in my pillow.

Sasuke stares for a moment and then smirks.

"You hungry?" I nod. "Come on."

He stops petting Harry and rolls out of bed. The cat opens one eye to see why he's not getting any belly scratches anymore and meows at me when I withdraw my hand from his ears to follow Sasuke. I retrieve my shirt from a corner of the room, and as soon as I pop my head out of the collar, a ball of plaid fabric hits my face. I can't help a yelp of surprise, which makes Sasuke snicker.

I unfold the fabric to find that it's a pair of pyjama pants. I throw a glance at the half-naked man standing a few feet from me, smirking, inquiring silently what they're for.

"My mother."

"Oh."

Right. The woman who ordered my presence at the breakfast table this morning. The one who is absolutely convinced Sasuke and I are a proper couple and who knows we're very loud in bed. For Sasuke's sanity and my guilt-free conscience, we need to make it believable. Hence the lending of the not-boyfriend's pyjama pants. I slip them on and tighten the knotted cord around my hips. The fabric floats around my legs and pools at my feet. I'm gonna have to hold these pants up like a skirt if I want to walk in them without tripping.

I dig through my pant pockets for an elastic and tie my hair up when I find one. I must be one hell of a sight, with my crumpled shirt, my too-big pyjama pants and my fail-bun. I follow Sasuke out of his room, the smell of bacon floating up to my nose when we reach the stairs. I suddenly realise how starving I am. All the physical exertion of last seems to have taken a toll on me. I've never been this hungry after sex. Then again, I'm usually hung over and nauseous after sex.

The familiar sight of the dining room comes into view and to my dismay, so does the sight of Sasuke's mother and a man I presume is his father. I sort of hoped they'd be off to work by the time Sasuke and I come down to eat. Nevertheless, I answer Mikoto's greeting with a smile and as graciously as possible, I take a seat in front of her. I don't miss the look of disapproval on her face when Sasuke doesn't pull my chair for me – which really doesn't bother me at all – and plops down lazily on the chair next to mine.

Sasuke's father is hunched over his newspaper, a plate of untouched food sitting next to the pile of paper. Mikoto puts a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

"Fugaku?" He raises his head and notices me. "Sasuke would like to introduce someone to you." She gives her son a look that could be translated to "That's right, I'm not doing it for you." I glance at Sasuke and I see that his face is in an annoyed frown. I hold in my laughter. He's adorable.

He clears his throat before speaking.

"This is Sakura," he points his thumb at me. "She's my girlfriend."

I know he doesn't mean it. I know we've decided together that we weren't dating, just friends with benefits. I know he only said it because there's no good way to tell your parents you have a fuck-buddy and saying I'm his girlfriend is just making things simpler for the both of us in this situation. I know it doesn't really mean anything. I'm perfectly aware of all of that.

But damn, that made me feel good.

Just like the first time my ex introduced me to his parents as his girlfriend. The feeling of belonging to a whole, of being only one half of an entity anymore, of being labelled as "together", that was the best feeling in the world. It feels warm, bright, exhilarating.

But I know it's wrong. I'll to push it away, shove it down somewhere it won't come out of to complicate everything. At least, the blush that I can feel creeping up my cheeks will hide that resignation of mine to not let myself get carried away. I can't think of myself as Sasuke's girlfriend, but they have to. I have to make them. At least for the sake of this breakfast.

Sasuke's father stares me up and down, his gaze very similar to his son's, although a lot more intimidating. He seems to be scrutinizing every inch of my face, maybe trying to decide whether I'm a suitable choice for Sasuke. If he could stop, that'd be really swell. I'm not here for an interview and I'm definitely not here as a potential bride. Still, that's pretty much what he makes it feel like, squinting his eyes as if that'd help him see through any bad intentions I have.

I mean, I get it. They're loaded. Any girl would do close to anything to get her hands on a rich boy like Sasuke to ensure her future as a lazy housewife who gets everything she wants from her husband. His parents are worried about that, obviously, and because a gold digger digs everywhere, even with her in-laws. They want to protect their fortune as much as they want to protect their son's feelings and that's very commendable.

If it didn't mean exposing our fake relationship, I'd tell them in a heartbeat that I'm not sleeping with Sasuke for his money but for mutual satisfaction in our single states. I'm basically relieving tension by having sex with their son. Which is not as commendable and shall remain secret, because being a, ahem, promiscuous young lady is not exactly better than being a gold digging whore. I guess I'll just keep my pride of knowing that the term "gold digger" doesn't apply to me on the inside and act like a very respectable girl on the outside.

After five minutes of studying my reddening face, Fugaku finally lessens his intense stare, seemingly satisfied with what he observed.

"It's nice to meet you," he says in a deep, gruff voice, his face impassive. He extends a hand to me over the table and I shake it as shyly as I shook Mikoto's hand last night. "Welcome to the family."

My cheeks are on fire. My heart skips a beat. Meeting my ex's family was very much like this, and that's exactly what his father had told me, except he had a wide smile on his face. I'd felt so welcome, so peaceful. So good. This is different, of course. But it feels the same. I thank him quietly, my voice only a squeak.

Sasuke hands me a platter of pastries and I gratefully direct my attention back to him. Having him (literally and figuratively) by my side is comforting. I feel safe. Once Mikoto starts her drill of questions – "How did you two meet?", "Are you in the same program?", "What kind of career do you want to pursue with your Film Studies degree?", "Is my son treating you well?", "What are you doing for Valentine 's Day?"and so on – Sasuke gets back into the conversation and tries to restrain his mother. They get into a bit of bickering that's simply adorable and I'm relieved when she announces she and Fugaku have to leave for work.

"Do you work together?" I ask. I imagine Sasuke's mom being his dad's boss and the absolutely romantic way they could've gotten together.

"No, we just carpool. My office is on the way to the station," she answers with a smile.

"The station?"

"My dad's the chief of police," Sasuke buts in, his mouth full of bacon. It makes me giggle but Mikoto sends him a disapproving look.

"Manners, Sasuke," she calls before leaving.

"Yeah!" I exclaim in agreement, giving a light slap on his shoulder. He glares at me, then opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to show me the extent of chewing he's inflicted to the bacon, possibly in an attempt to disgust me. "I'm friends with Naruto, that doesn't work on me."

"Damn." He closes his mouth, falsely defeated.

We hear the front door open then close and suddenly, we're alone again. I bring my legs up to sit cross-legged on my chair, still looking at Sasuke. I pick up a piece of fruit from my plate and pop it in my mouth. He finishes chewing his bacon and swallows, then turns his head to look at me.

"What?" He asks. I can't help my smile.

"You and your mother."

"Sorry about that."

"Oh, don't be sorry. It was rather endearing," he takes a huge bite out of a pastry. "She loves you very much."

"You think?" He asks, a touch of sarcasm in his voice, but with a smirk nonetheless. "They usually leave for work way earlier than this."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She stayed home longer just for you."

"Wow. I feel honoured."

"She wanted to make sure you were still here."

"That's sweet of her."

He rolls his eyes and I giggle. We eat in comfortable silence for a while. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun just eating breakfast. Actually, I can't remember the last time I sat down with people to eat breakfast at a table that's in the same place where I spent the night.

"I..." Should I tell him? I don't really want him to pity me, or to think I want to be invited over for breakfast again out of pity. "I haven't had breakfast with my parents since elementary school." He frowns at me.

"Why?" He asks.

"My dad works abroad a lot and my mom leaves at six every morning. It's been like that since I got into high school, I think. My parents thought I could finally take care of myself in the morning, make my own breakfast and get myself to the bus and to school. They have no idea how many times I missed it, by accident and on purpose." I fiddle with a piece of toast on my plate.

"You missed the bus on purpose?"

"Yeah. I loved school, but the boys on the bus kept teasing me. The step between home and school was unbearable."

"What did they do?"

"They threw food at me. It was a contest to see who could hit my forehead. They put stuff in my hair, too. They even cut it, once."

"Kids are dumb."

"They're cruel."

"Yeah."

"So, I'd spend up to three days a week at home. Sometimes I'd fake an illness, so my mom wouldn't get mad at me. I even faked slipping down the basement stairs and hitting my head on the wall. I was very thorough, I actually hit my head on that wall to have a bruise and to leave a mark."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I was desperate. Anyway, after high school, I moved out to live on my own near the school. Now I don't even see my mom in the evening like in high school. I see her on holidays when I'm not going out."

"I see."

"That's why this morning was so much fun to me. You'll have to thank your mom for me." I give Sasuke a smile that I try to make playful. He smirks back and warmth spreads through my chest.

"I will. When do you have to be at school?"

"Well, I don't absolutely have to." I know my tone is very suggestive, because that's exactly how I mean it to be, as much as my smile. Sasuke picks up on it.

"Good." He grabs the back of my neck and pulls my head to his, crashing his lips to mine.

I smile into the kiss and transfer myself from my chair to his lap, one leg on each side of his hips. His hands roam up and down my back, pulling off my shirt and tugging at the clasp of my bra. I feel him clear away the plates behind me, then he picks me up and sits me on the table, pushing me down to the hard surface.

The last coherent thought I have is about the dishes we send crashing down to the floor with our shaking of the table and the fact that Sasuke had planned on this because he'd put condoms in the pocket of his pyjama pants.

. . .

A/N: Xena, I'm so sorry! I know I promised I'd post this before the end of last month! This is the only time I've had to write, because I'm down with bronchitis. I hope you enjoyed.

Yay, fun times with breakfast and tables! Do you guys think they did kinky things with the food? Or did they get interrupted by the kitchen personnel in charge of picking up the dishes? I'll leave that to you guys' imagination.

Thanks for reading and please review!