Title: But There Is a Life Running Between Those Dots
Fandom/Community: Naruto / kakasakudrabble
Characters: Kakashi, Sakura, Ino, OC
Pairing: KakaSaku
Rating: PG
Word of the Week: Pride

Author Notes: Weee. More WAFF to make up to the emoness of Picture Trends.

Well. . . I know that Picture Trends is probably going to manage at least 15 chapters. Because I fitted everything that I'd written for Shambling Grounds into Chapters 10 and 11. :P Yea, I'm pathetic. Also, some people who read my lifejournal (like beautyinsleep) know about the next two fanfiction I plan on writing have nothing to do with 50scenes or 30romances. KakaSaku has poisoned my brain and I have found it hard to write anything else.

Posting like an hour or so early, but I'm seventeen! OH YEA. I can now get into R-rated movies myself.


As soon as she stepped a foot out of the civilian bar, she jutsued herself back to her apartment.

Her feet ached. Her dancing partner had not been able to refrain from stepping on her toes.

He was not completely unfortunate; he had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, large oval brown eyes and sandy brown hair. He wasn't exactly in peak condition—that was to be expected, he wasn't a ninja—but he had strong arms, a toned stomach and a great smile. He'd stand five inches taller than she did if she lacked heels.

Unfortunately, he wasn't Sakura's Mr. Right.

He'd been awkward with her all night, unable to get too close when the two of them danced, even slow dancing, and he'd had such a hard time starting a conversation that he stumbled all over his words whenever Sakura smiled at him. It had been a rather disappointing evening.

Something crunched under her heel.

Fallen leaves she knew hadn't come in with her were broken on the floor.

"Naruto?" she called out—the first person she could think of who'd come into her house without her knowledge. When there was no answering yell, she grew a little worried. "Hello? Anybody thinking of sneaking up and trying to rape me?"

"No," a baritone voice drawled from behind her, "but even if somebody hadn't had that idea, they'd have it now."

Sakura sighed, forgoing the continued wear of her sheer blouse for the camisole underneath as she stomped into her kitchen, blithely ignoring the masked man leaning stiffly against her front door. She bent, retrieving a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Kakashi sidled deeper closer, leaning instead on the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room. "Have fun tonight?"

The pink-haired kunoichi turned and propped herself up onto her countertop, raising an eyebrow at the shinobi before her. "How did you. . .?" She shook her head. "Nevermind. I don't even want to know. But yes, I did. I'll have you know that I danced with a rather nice civilian named Niban and I'll probably double-date with Ino and Shikamaru next week."

"Aa."

Sakura rubbed at the back of her neck, feeling awkward with his intense stare so focused on her—even if it was just one eye. She wished she would have left her blouse on. "Do you not like me dating a civilian?"

She didn't miss the gruff sound that came from his throat. "I didn't know a dance meant dating."

"You know what I mean," she snapped, feeling not at all sorry for making him jealous.

He glowered at her. "I'm sure I don't."

The young woman rolled her eyes. "You don't like the idea of me dating," stated Sakura matter-of-factly, taking a quick swig of her water bottle. "You never have. You don't like when I flirt with boys, whether it be with Lee, Genma, or some civilian you know I'm not going to date. You don't like when I wear short skirts in public. You don't like the idea of me with some other guy. I may not be Mr. Perfect Jounin like you are, but I'm not stupid. It bothers you."

"Yes," he ground out, gritting his teeth. "It bothers me, as you so eloquently put it."

Sakura smiled. "My next question is. . . why?"

"I don't have to have a reason!" Kakashi snapped. It was strange for Kakashi to yell, but Sakura didn't seem surprised. He took a breath to calm his nerves. "Because you're—"

"Because I'm what?" Sakura lowered the water bottle onto the counter and slid slowly back to the floor, her stocking-clad feet sliding on the linoleum floor. "Yours?"

His dark gray eye was suddenly much darker than she ever remembered it to be. He'd stilled; frozen in place against her kitchen wall as she paced toward him and reached up to his face. He didn't move, allowed her to lift his hitai-ate off his head, toss it onto the kitchen table. He closed his eyes to avoid having to look at her.

"Enough pragmatism, Kakashi. It doesn't suit you."

The tip of her fingertip trailed along the raised flesh of his scar beneath his eye. He could feel her breath on his face when she spoke. "Stake your claim. Before someone else does."

He took in a ragged breath. "I can't."

"Youcan." She smirked; a flash of pearly white teeth against curling pink, cupid's-bow lips.

Those lips ghosted over his mouth and he felt the air leave his lungs in a gust of wind involuntarily. Her other hand slipped against his own and lifted it to her chest. His palm kissed the bare skin above her breast, feeling the rapid beat of her heart in his own palm. She kissed his jaw—a quick press of lips he had too little time to enjoy—and longed to feel against his mask again. No, against his skin.

"My heart already has a name written on it."

She tore his mask down in one swift motion; eyes shut for his convenience and swiped her tongue against his lips as she pushed her own on his.

Kakashi groaned. His fingertips curled against her skin, sliding to grip the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss against his own better judgment. Her body pressed deliciously against his and he found his other hand compelled her hold her there, anchoring at her waist. Her tongue slid against his, intoxicating in and of itself—that was if you ignored the way she smelled. His hand played with the hair on her neck.

When she pulled back, she hummed. "Hmmm. That was nice."

"Sakura, I—"

She broke him off with a kiss. "You take too long, Kakashi." Her head lay against his chest, and he felt a little guilty that he absolutely loved it. "You're too difficult to make jealous." Her lips were against his again, the guilt slowly slipping away.