Title: Pray It's Raining on Sunday
Fandom/Community: Naruto / kakasakudrabble
Characters: Kakashi, Sakura
Pairing: KakaSaku
Rating: PG-13
Word of the Week: Confessions

Author Notes: The result of my iPod deciding to play mass amounts of love songs in the middle of the night, when I'm laying in bed, trying to go to sleep so that I can wake up in time for school. Also, my huge metaphor-fun lines are a bit of missing roleplaying, as I haven't had much time for it as of late. I love sleeping in when it rains—especially when I'm depressed. I think anything would make you feel better if you had Kakashi, though, to come and comfort you. The Confessions part, I dunno, kinda got lost in the metaphors, but it's basically her giving in—confessing—to herself that she needs him.


Deciding to finally pull her head from underneath the covers, it was already early morning. Amazing how fast the days could go when she was here. She continued to lay there. The clouds outside the only visible window in the room observed a scene of chilling gray and blandness, as though the rain had washed the colors away. Yesterday had been a stormy, gloomy day. Days like that caused her to wonder if she was going crazy. Rain pattered lightly against the windows, creating a percussion of sounds in her ears. If she'd been at home she would have ended up talking to herself.

How many days had it been since she had gone home?

Too long, her mind told her, incessantly prattling along worries that always seemed to be swept aside with a swift, crease of an eye. Bills to pay, food to eat before it spoiled, plants to water, fish to feed; an apartment to keep up.

She turned her head and pressed her cheek against the cool side of the pillow, breathing out and in, repeating the motion as she closed her eyes. Not long enough, her heart whispered, a delicate rustle like dry leaves against bones.

No energy to move, just wanted to lay there until she died of happiness. Too warm, too comfortable, too sated, too loved.

Sakura opened her eyes and spun on her side, facing the dull corner wall the bed was pressed against. She slid a pale, delicate hand from underneath the dark, drably-green comforter and dragged her nails across the silky, white sheets. Her pink hair slid over her eyes, causing her to see through a haze of pastel crimson. She didn't bother to attempt to move the tresses, merely closed her eyes against their irritating texture and blew lazily up at them. Her head turned into the pillow, pressing her nose into the soft fabric, and drinking in the scent.

She was breathing in spices and the smells of the forest. Something like cinnamon, with a hint of nutmeg—or maybe it was vanilla?—she was a horrible cook; she could never tell the difference. But the smell of pines and leaves and the dew was definitely there.

She shouldn't be happy.

Shouldn't feel so comfortable and so at ease.

It was normal to cry and sob and hurt because something had been taken from her that she couldn't ever get back.

The emotions that had been churning within her gut earlier, strong enough to make her physically sick—she'd already gone there spiritually, emotionally—had left the moment after she'd knocked on the door, the moment it had opened and she had stared with jaded, tear-filled eyes up into mismatched ones that made all the hurt go immediately away.

She walked into his apartment, drenched and dripping, and had instantly felt at home.

How many times had she come home to his home? Ate the food—his food—that he prepared for her because she looked too thin for his liking? Worn his clothes because she didn't have any clean and he couldn't do laundry to save his life? Slept in his bed because it was better, warmer, more accepting?

If she looked at the far side of his bedroom, she'd find a dresser with separate drawers for the clothes she'd left there. She had her own set of towels in his bathroom; her favorite foods were in his cupboards.

How long had it been since she'd even stepped into her own apartment?

Too long.

Not long enough.

The words waged war within her own mind, threatened to overwhelm her. There were times when the Sensible Sakura would take over and she couldn't believe that she had allowed herself to rely on him so fully. There were times when the Sensitive Sakura looked at Sensible Sakura and punched her lights out—effectively shutting her up for a bit longer.

She was startled by something that sounded like a door closing outside the room, her eyes slid openly slowly; but the door to the bedroom was shut and try as might, she couldn't see through walls. She could only hope to high heaven somebody was now home with her. Content to lounge in bed, she merely turned her head in the opposite direction and stared at the door. She willed it to open. When it didn't she sighed and closed her eyes, rolling her head over to face the wall again.

She shouldn't be happy.

But she was.

Irreversibly, unconditionally, irrevocably and all those other big words she could never remember for forever and always.

"Why is it you always lay in bed naked?" a drawling voice questioned; playfully, softly.

Without opening her eyes, she smirked indulgently. She stretched, catlike, arms reaching to grasp at something that wasn't there above her head, back arching off the bed gracefully. The comforter slipped and a cool gust of air hit her bare breasts. "Should I not be naked?" she inquired back in a slow tone, almost childish.

Shouldn't, Sensible Sakura hissed vehemently in her mind, Seven years since Sasuke left, only to be shut up by a boot to the face by Sensitive Sakura. Sensitive didn't want to hear Sensible's bitching. Sensitive wanted to be loved again.

The comforter was lifted from her as his naked form lowered slowly atop her own, warming her skin in a way that only this body knew how. A protective way. A comforting way. A way that spoke millions of words to her in the dead of the night, when all she had before was her tears and her stuffed toys from childhood to keep her company. He surrounded her with those feelings only he could evoke; made her shiver all the more when he gave her those looks with mismatched eyes.

"Always be naked." Kakashi's voice was a hush against her skin. "I need you more than the trees need the rain."

Love me 'til the skies cry tears like lightning and sob like thunder.