Short Note: Got some great reviews that led to me posting this early today! Thanks so much to JeanyDeiXzz, Yeslek kelseY, Chihori-chan, and miikodesu! Your reviews were so nice to wake up to today, you guys are simply amazing.
This one is double the length of the first two and the ones following it. I briefly considered breaking it into two, but think of its length as a thank you to anyone who has reviewed my stories and made my day (: I hope you enjoy!
Stranger Than Fiction
By Socially Suicidal
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Drabble # 3.
Smoothing out her tight black skirt with a self-resolving sigh, Sakura closed the car door behind her and promptly began her approach to the club's front doors. Decisively sending what would be the last self-conscious glance down to her heel clad feet as she itched to tug at the black leather straps winding their way provocatively around her calves, Sakura caught a downwind whiff of a familiar scent through the smell of car fumes and cigarette smoke. Her eyes fell upon the familiar face of Tenten, who had just caught sight of her and had begun waving her over excitedly.
Smiling at the taller outgoing girl, Sakura surveyed the short lavender dress hugging her athletically lean form with appreciative eyes, her friend's long brown hair free around her face, and bright honey colored eyes were lightly accented by a nude shade of eye shadow. It was an easy verdict to arrive at; her friend looked natural and sexy.
Tenten greeted her with a warm, friendly hug that reminded Sakura just how much she had missed social interaction with people other than patients, co-workers, and her cat. Nothing against her cat, of course, Whiskers was damn near the best feline acquaintance anyone could ask for, but it was far from cat nature to be as affectionate as human friends. They did have their moments, though.
"You look fantastic, Ten," Sakura laughed into the taller girl's shoulder.
"Thank you, girl, so do you!"
Releasing her, Tenten was just as quickly grabbing her hand and pulling Sakura through the doors, "Everyone is already inside," the brunette explained over one shoulder.
They entered the club and the pinkette's senses were immediately barraged with all sorts of attacks in the forms of sounds, smells, sights, even a sour taste that entered her mouth upon her own anxiety by the scene. The smell of sweat and alcohol burned her nose in an unholy way, the loud house music and bass pounded at her ears that nearly had her gripping her short pink spikes in aggravation. The horde focusing mostly around the center of the dance floor bounced and swayed together like a huge, well-oiled machine. If oil was alcohol, that is.
Sakura couldn't help but feel like an outsider as she gained the stares of all sorts of people as Tenten pulled her through crowds. Perhaps the outfit she had so carefully picked out hadn't been good, after all. She tugged on the hem of her white, flowing halter top that stopped a mere inch above the waist of her black skirt.
It seemed every corner of humanity mingled about the club, not exactly in harmony, but in a sort of accepting co-existence that Sakura probably had no hope of ever being part of.
Overly ambitious doctors had no business being in these sorts of places.
Regardless, the brunette pulled her up to the bar, where seated were some of Sakura's most precious people. Naruto enthusiastically hopped off of his stool, crossing the distance between them in a few long strides before he engulfed her in his warm, already slightly tipsy, embrace. "Sakura!" The blonde cried, before pulling away from the laughing woman and staring down at her, "You look sexy!"
Frowning, she slapped his chest lightly, blaming his alcohol consumption for the extra dose of bluntness he was sporting that night. "Hello, Naruto. Drunk already, are we?"
Behind him, a cocky brunette laughed at the blonde's expense, "Naruto's a lightweight!" Said Kiba, grinning as Sakura's pink head popped up over Naruto's shoulder. She pushed past him and walked toward the group.
Naruto huffed, indignant at the teasing, "Am not," he mumbled and followed after his longtime best friend.
The pinkette leaned against the bar in between the seats of a laughing Kiba and a rather irritated looking Neji. It appeared the Hyuga man was even less interested in being there than she was. Sakura was hardly surprised. "How are ya?" Kiba asked as he leaned toward her to wrap a casual arm around her waist in greeting. She returned the embrace, smiling.
"Well, how are you guys?"
Neji bowed his head slightly in greetings, causing some of his dark hair to fall against over his shoulders, "Well, Sakura, thank you."
She laughed, "Yeah, you look thrilled to be here, Neji."
Tenten hopped onto the stool on the other side of the brunette Hyuga, managing to look somewhat sheepish, "I kind of, er, forced him to come out tonight. But come on, you of all people know what a tight ass he can be sometimes!"
The Hyuga frowned, something like a glower settling over his features as he sipped his drink – probably water, knowing him as the pinkette did – instead of offering a retort. Sakura smiled, placing a warm hand on the man's sleeved arm, "Don't worry, she made me come too." His lip nearly quirked and he nodded his thanks for her sympathy.
"All I know," Naruto slurred slightly, taking another gulp from the glass in his hand as he wound a casual arm around the pink haired girl's shoulders, "Is that I'm glad Ino got a job here, this place is great!"
The aforementioned blonde seemed to materialize before them, wiping down her bar, "Heya Forehead, they finally dragged you outa your office, huh?"
Sakura's lips pursed at her longtime friend, "Sure did, Pig, all to come down here and watch you filling up glasses."
The voluptuous blonde scowled, her brightly manicured hands settling on her hips, "Let's get some drinks in you, fast, girl. I don't think I'll be able to deal with that attitude of yours for long."
Sakura stuck her tongue out at the insult, but otherwise did not try to dispute it. She knew she sometimes wasn't the most pleasant company. It was what it was.
Ino placed a glass of some fruity cocktail in front of her before quickly going to tend to other patrons seated at the bar. Grateful for the chance to dull her nerves, Sakura took a sip, nearly flinching at the sweetness.
"Alright, well," Kiba began as he placed his now empty glass on the bar, "I'm ready to dance. Care to join me, Sakura?"
She forced a smile, flattered by the offer, but politely declined. Tenten energetically led the Inuzuka into the crowd in her stead, leaving her in the company of Neji and Naruto. She pulled herself up onto the now vacant seat.
"Not going to dance with Tenten?" Sakura teased, elbowing the Hyuga gently as she sipped delicately on her horribly sweet drink.
White eyes stared seriously at her, "Of course not, Sakura, that would be inappropriate."
"Right, right," the doctor rolled her eyes, "With you guys working together, and all."
Neji just nodded, turning his cold eyes back to the drink before him. Naruto clapped them both on the back, "Well, I hate to leave you two sticks in the mud here," the blonde slurred, "But I think I'll leave you to sticks in the mud here. Try to have fun!" The blonde sauntered off, and Sakura couldn't help but chuckle at him.
A comfortable silence fell over the two of them, as it was wont to, Neji staring down at the bar while Sakura turned to lean her back against it, drink at hand, as she stared mindlessly at the crowds of people standing, drinking, and dancing alike. She pondered their actions, the harmony with which some of the dancers moved, and Ino was vigilant with keeping the glass she drank from steadily full at all times. Hey, she wasn't hired on the spot for her good looks (although, the pinkette reasoned that her looks played a key role in any employment Ino was granted).
Sakura was almost jealous, almost.
She continued her survey of the dance floor for quite some time (about two or three drinks, actually) until her attention focused on some far off corner to her left where no dancers or patrons deigned to occupy – all but one, lone character, in fact.
Sakura's brows lifted as her slightly tipsy gaze floundered over the masculine figure.
Softly outlined verdant eyes drank in the sight of the intimidating man like taking a shot of hard liquor, one that caused the burning of her throat and watering of her eyes. Leaning against the far wall out of the reach of the obnoxiously oppressive strobe lights, the menacing looking man had ghastly pale skin antagonizing tousled red spikes that fell around hooded thickly outlined eyes, seemingly surveying the crowd with mixed wrath and suspicion. She found she needed a chaser, desperately.
Entirely black lids partially shielded the brightest aquamarine (or were they jade? Hell if she could tell from across the room, with the world already slightly foggy) eyes, their burning lucidity countering their half-lidded gaze and his lounging posture against the wall.
A long, seemingly very thick, black trench coat adorned with a myriad of different metal decorations (chains, handcuffs, bike chains and the like) that was opened widely, exposing the partially shredded black shirt underneath with the word "Sabaku" sprawled in a rusty crimson slanted across his chest. Dark grey pants clung around his wiry waist thanks to a heavy leather belt with an oddly designed metal belt buckle. The partly shredded bottoms met with heavy looking metal boots, one leg crossed over the other as he slouched against the wall.
No one seemed to be paying much mind to the man, unless avoiding him like he was death itself counted as paying mind. He had acquired a rather large berth around him; dancers and drinkers alike kept their distance and gave him space.
Sakura could hardly blame them. Although his physical stature gave little to his intimidating aura, the man seeped danger and rage from his feral eyes to his coiled, tense posture – as if he was prepared to jump out of his skin at the slightest thing that displeased him. Albeit, judging from the fierce glower adorning his pale features, Sakura could assume that there was little that didn't displease him.
Her breath caught somewhere in her throat as he caught her gaze, catching her gawking unabashedly at him from across the floor. The rigid, penetrating glare that caught and paralyzed her made her feel much like a mouse trapped in the claws of a vicious feline, just waiting to be ripped to pieces by those deadly talons and teeth. Oh god, I'm dead meat, her mind moaned in terror as he pushed himself off of the wall, his gaze unwavering.
Inner Sakura cheered, daring the stranger to be ballsy enough to approach her and reprimand her for staring. Cha! Sakura could hardly agree.
Whatever advance he planned on making over to her was cut from her vision as a black clad chest suddenly appeared before her emerald gaze. Blinking, Sakura lifted her eyes to meet those of Uchiha Itachi, his dark eyes staring down at her stoically, if not a little questioningly.
Wordlessly, he removed the now empty glass from her fingertips and replaced it with a full one. Yeah, more alcohol, as if that was what she really needed right now.
Regardless, she graciously accepted the glass, tipping her head back and swallowing a healthy gulp. It burned. Maybe that was what she needed.
She nodded her thanks despite the grimace decorating her face as she swallowed. The older Uchiha brother just nodded curtly in response, leaning back on the bar stool next to hers.
"How are you, Sakura?" His baritone voice met her ears like a soft velvet.
She paused from lifting the glass to her lips, glancing up at his uninterrupted gaze. He always seemed to look at her like he knew something she didn't. Then again, this was Itachi, and he probably did. "I'm fine, Ita," her cheerful voice assured, going as far as to even use the nickname she had given him only to be used when no one was within earshot, "How are you?"
The raven haired man shrugged, "I have not seen you."
Sakura just shook her head, "I work a lot."
"Do you enjoy it?"
Emerald eyes blinked in response, confused by the unusual line of questioning from the usually stoic older man, "Of course I do," she replied automatically, sounding entirely too much like an automated recording. "I love it."
Itachi nodded, seeming to accept the answer, causing some of his black bangs to fall across his forehead. She found her slightly drunk self staring and swiftly averted her eyes to the crowd, taking another hearty gulp of the drink he had provided for her. Her calculating eyes didn't find the redhead she had been caught staring at before, which unnerved her.
Suddenly, a pale hand appeared before her, and she lifted her startled gaze to the Uchiha to whom it belonged. "Dance," he said simply after a moment of her staring, as if it should have been obvious.
"I – uh, Ita, I don't –" Her stammering refusal was ignored as Itachi promptly grasped her wrist and pulled her away from her stool, barely allowing her time to place her nearly empty glass on the surface of the bar.
His strong grip pulled her into a messy throng of dancers, the smell of alcohol near the bar had been nothing in comparison to in the middle of the dancing mass, and he stopped only when she was good and lost among the crowd. Itachi turned to her, placing his hands on her hips and patiently waited for the dizzy woman to gingerly rest her palms on his chest. He pulled her closer and swayed them along to the music.
After a few moments of this, Sakura's alcohol induced adrenaline began soring steadily as she became more comfortable with her partner, overcoming the bewilderment of his rare actions. It wasn't every day Uchiha Itachi bought you a drink and pulled you onto the dance floor, you know, no matter how long you'd been friends with him.
They danced for quite some time, his movements were effortless in a way that impressed Sakura, who before tonight, had no idea her friend of many years had this side to him. She reckoned he had a few in him when he had let his forehead fall onto her shoulder and let out a breathy laugh at one point.
Soon after that, a tall, purple haired woman tapped her shoulder and Sakura pulled from her partner, gazing curiously into a pair of round amethyst eyes. "Mind if I cut in?" The voice the sultry woman produced was gravelly, almost from disuse, but seemed to hold no ill intent for the pink haired doctor. After studying her messily cropped purple locks and pierced face for a dizzying moment, Sakura nodded and withdrew from the Uchiha. The leather clad woman nodded, offering her a smirk the pinkette could assume was as close to a smile as this woman got, and slipped her long arms around Itachi with familiarity.
Ah, this must have been the woman Itachi had been seeing for the past few months. Itachi made eye contact with her before nodding at her and beginning to sway – in a much more provocative manner than he had with her - with the odd looking female.
Sakura nodded back before turning and attempting to battle her way through the crowd in effort to get back to the bar. After some difficultly, the pinkette was free of the horde and made a slightly unsteady beeline toward the end of the bar which was currently vacant. No sooner had she hoisted herself onto a stool was Ino before her, asking what she wanted to drink.
Sakura asked for that fruity thing Ino had served her when she first arrived, figuring that it was okay to keep drinking if she just had something light. It was the botched logic of a tipsy mind, in truth, but she took comfort in the semblance of rational thinking anyway. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket to check the time. 2:04 a.m. blinked back at here. Whoa, she had been dancing with Itachi for like an hour.
Deciding that she was in desperate need for air that wasn't clouded with sweat, music, and alcohol, Sakura pushed herself from the stool and stumbled for a moment before spotting an exit sign above a doorway labeled "employees only." She reasoned that her best friend was an employee and that was good enough as she pushed through the door and entered what appeared to be a lounge. Spotting the exit, the pinkette walked through the door and sighed as the biting winter air soothed her hot skin, the chilly fingers of a breeze sobering her somewhat.
Breathing deeply, the doctor allowed the door to fall shut behind her and stepped further into the alleyway, noticing that the parking lot at the back of the club was to her right, before the stench of cigarette smoke interrupted her happy relaxation. Frowning, her nose scrunched in distaste for the smell of the damn things, Sakura turned on her heel toward the source of the odor, hands on her hips.
Shocked emerald eyes landed on the form of the intimidating redhead she had been caught staring at earlier, leaning on the wall beside the door she had just come through taking a drag from the offending cigarette. Worse of all, she had garnered his attention also and he stared right back at her, exhaling dark smoke through his nostrils.
Two feral sea foam eyes stared down on her, slightly twisted in recognition. A malevolent smirk was beginning to pull at the edges of his pale mouth as he gauged her reaction.
Swallowing, the doctor was floored by the appearance of the man she had been caught staring at earlier now directly in her line of vision. However, that arrogant expression that was beginning to form on his face was just a little bit too much for her wounded pride to handle. Frowning, she glowered, crossing her arms as best as she could over her chest without spilling her cocktail.
"May I help you?" Sakura huffed, staring indignantly into the dead, black rimmed eyes that bore into her face. Seriously, was he trying to stare holes through her?
The redhead pushed himself away from the wall, mirth dancing in his eyes, but did not deign her question with a reply as he continued silently smoking away at his cigarette.
Never one to be ignored, Sakura shifted her weight defiantly, "Cigarettes are bad for you, you know."
This seemed to surprise him, if the pulling of the skin above his eyes was any indication. She noted the partially hidden pattern of a red kanj adorning the left side of his forehead - she thought it read "love" but couldn't be entirely sure. It was then Sakura noticed the ghastly man before her lacked eyebrows. Great, Inner Sakura groaned, a cigarette smoking freak, with no eyebrows to boot.
She ignored the voice, but did acknowledge the fact that the man before her was… odd looking. The pale, almost undead hue of his skin contradicted his slightly strained, wide jade eyes. And then, of course, there were the heavy black lines from, what she presumed was, lack of sleep over an extended period of time. The look he was giving her as she took him in was positively feral, and it took all of her willpower not to take a step back.
Her pride would never have allowed for such a blatant display of weakness.
"I know," he finally replied, slowly, as if waiting for her to bolt. His voice did nothing to surprise her - it was raspy, rough and just downright chilling. How intimidating could he be? He was barely six feet tall, if that and the only muscle on his body seemed to be wiry and lean - nothing too scary. Her eyes fell to his boot clad feet, hah, she thought, he's not even really that tall.
"Then why do you do it?" And just as she decided he wasn't too scary, he was moving toward her rapidly and she nearly tripped on her own feet to back up – pride be damned as it gave way to fear - until her back hit gracelessly against the wall of the building across from him. Sakura gasped as the redhead had crossed the distance and stood directly before her, entirely too far in her personal space, if you asked her.
He stared down at her almost incredulously, noting as her expression changed yet again, before his eyes narrowed ferociously. "Because I want to."
The doctor's breath caught and she swallowed visibly, trying to ignore the wafting of smoke from his breath as he hissed at her. "I see you don't mind much for your health, then," she managed to say, her gaze following his hand as it rose to his lips. He took a long drag, staring intently at her jade eyes, before he purposefully exhaled the smoke into her face.
Coughing, Sakura glared wrathfully at the face insufferable prick that had the gall to blow those disgusting fumes in her face. Her intoxicated temper got the better of her and, before thinking about the – possibly fatal - repercussions of her actions, she reached up and snatched the cigarette from his pale lips.
He watched her impassively, save for the glower that settled over his face, as she stared at the offending stick in her small, peach palm before dropping it to the floor and crushing it under the toe of her black stiletto.
"Consider it a favor."
The redhead growled at her audacious comment, far from amused, and slammed his palms onto the wall on either side of her head behind her. Sakura jumped slightly, lifting her cautious eyes to meet his enraged ones. Her eyes flickered to the ground, where she had dropped her drink and the glass shattered across the asphalt, before lifting them to meet his again. "You shouldn't have done that," he threatened lowly, leaning toward her menacingly, making her feel quite small – again like a mouse, trapped in front of a hungry cat.
"You shouldn't have blown smoke in my face," Sakura retorted, crossing her arms over her chest, causing them to brush against the front of his mutilated black shirt. She noticed the logo on the front of it and realization hit her. "I bet your boss wouldn't be pleased to know you were stunting your duties to come out here and inhale some cancer."
The skin of his brow lifted again in surprise and it was a moment before he spoke. "Why are you here?"
"I'm here with my friends," she replied defensively, not liking at all the implications of his question. How dare he accuse her of not belonging…! No matter how true those implications would probably be.
He shook his head with a smirk as he removed his hands from the wall and stood up at his normal, slightly slouched, height. He jerked his hand to the side, and she realized what he was asking. "Oh," the esteemed doctor mumbled dumbly, "I was looking for some fresh air."
Haughtily crossing his wiry, pale arms across his chest, Sakura knew what the redhead was saying. It sounded something like, 'It doesn't look like you found any.' Her slowly growing ability to read his vague, nonverbal replies unnerved her.
"Well," she scoffed, daringly poking him in the chest, "I hardly expected to walk out into a cloud of your disgusting fumes."
No sooner had she touched him was her hand trapped in his vice-like grip and her body pinned to the wall once more, her hand trapped in between their crushed bodies as he gave her a vicious snarl. "Don't… touch me," he growled into her hair.
She froze, lips parted, before she whispered, "You're hurting me."
A moment of silence.
"Good."
Frowning, the pinkette immediately pushed him off of her. He looked startled by her strength. She had always been strong for a girl of her stature, it was something she took pride in, and it continually came in good use to her whether it be for lifting furniture or carrying a lot of books – or in situations such as these.
"What's your name?" Sakura demanded.
The redhead just stared at her, lips falling into a scowl. He turned and began walking away, intent on leaving her there, until a hand snatched his wrist and yanked him back until he was facing her, now, seething face.
"I asked your name," she repeated slowly, gauging his reaction as her fingers were nearly scalded by the coldness of the skin of his wrist.
"Gaara," he growled, pulling his hand free of her grasp. He took a step away from the woman, suddenly the urge to get as far from her as possible overtook him.
She noticed the way his weight shifted away from her, and was suddenly reminded of a wounded animal. Maybe she wasn't the mouse, after all.
"I'm Doctor Haruno Sakura," she introduced politely, still trying to figure out why she hadn't stomped away from the infuriating man before her, as she shoved her hand out toward him, "It wasn't so nice to meet you. Care to try again?"
Gaara stared at her hand as if it would burn him, opting to ignore the gesture of familiarity, "Not particularly, doctor."
Sakura remained unaffected. She even beamed a smile up at him. "Well that's just too bad, Gaara, because we're going to," the finality of her words disturbed him, reminding him immediately of his sister, a woman similar in her demanding ways.
The odd little pink woman strode past him, pulling the door open and pausing in the frame. After a moment of waiting, she glanced over her shoulder at him, "Are you coming? I'm going to need a few more drinks if I'll be talking to you for the rest of the night. After all, you were the one that made me drop mine."
Gaara was torn between ripping her perfect little head off of her perfect little shoulders and high tailing it the fuck out of there before she turned on him with a knife, or something. Either way - he reasoned as he took the first step toward what he just knew would be a pounding headache for him later - the slight woman would be nothing he couldn't handle when the time came. Why not amuse himself with the company of a spitfire for the night? If she really grated his nerves, he'd just leave. No harm, no foul.
Sabaku Gaara usually wasn't this wrong.