Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
A/N: If this isn't proof I should get off the computer & stop thinking, I don't know what is. Just- just don't ask, okay. (this started out serious, i swear; i don't know what happened to it!)

Sakura used to trail her fingers over the glass of the store fronts while the other girls went inside. She'd gaze at the dresses, the shoes, the cute little shirts and skirts she'd never get a chance to try on, and sigh longingly, slowly. She used to watch the other girls go in gossiping or laughing, hips sliding from side to side, hair primped and pretty, and she used to feel the misery bubbling in her chest like disgusting green lava.

She never hated those girls for the way they acted (or, well, some of them she really did hate because they were snotty bitches) but instead she loathed them because she was jealous of them. Because they were to free to laugh and flirt, to prance around stores like that without feeling the weight of everyone's astonishment slam onto their slim shoulders. Her vision was green with envy, not disgust, when she glared at them at school, and the guilt of it ate her away sometimes.

She had been raised with boys, to fight and play rough, to wear pants and roll in the dirt, and so when she grew up it was her only option. She didn't know fashion (was that in or out this season?), she didn't know how to put on make-up (clown's weren't pretty, okay), and she didn't know how to- to smile at a guy and make it mean 'you should kiss me now'.

Because if there was one thing Haruno Sakura had never been accused of, it was being coy or subtle.

So she spent her high school days watching Ino and Karin gossip over her head, or when she was particularly sick of not understanding she would march over to the boys' and join in with their argument (sports, teachers-that-sucked, cars; that she could keep up with). She spent four years of her life watching everything pass her by, from freshmen Sadie Hawkin's Dance to prom, never taking any step forward into exploring how it would feel to be 'pretty'.

Whenever it really bothered her she would brush it off, tell herself she looked fine in her torn up jeans and well-loved t-shirt; that it didn't matter which way her hair fell or how the shadows always made her eyes pale out, nor about how well her clothes hugged her figures or if her shoes matched her pants. No one cared particularly how she looked, because she wasn't the kind of girl that anyone looked at that way.

She told herself that eventually it wouldn't matter that she wasn't 'pretty' and eventually the lie became more solid than the truth.

Sakura had always been a good liar.

After graduation she was still watching through those windows, but rarely did she dare trail her fingers over them. Certain things had changed, but overall she was still the dirt-covered little tomboy that had wrestled with the Big Boys in 5th grade. She wore eyeliner now, black, and her wrists or neck were usually adorned with jewelry, but her jeans stayed, her sneakers stayed, and her t-shirts stayed.

But so did that longing to be pretty.

She collapsed onto the couch, enjoying the squishy bounce her body's weight made before gravity forced it to settle into the soft, worn fabric. It had been another long, tedious day in police training and every muscle in her body ached unpleasantly, but she felt it was worth it. One day, she would save lives; one day she would be something so much more. Somewhere in the kitchen the clock tick-tock-ticked quietly and the refrigerator hummed as the icebox turned on, the only sounds in the apartment her could hear. But she knew he was here somewhere; the deadbolt had been locked on the apartment door and it was only ever locked when he got home before her. But still this knowledge did nothing, for the apartment stayed silent even as she stretched her ears to listen.

Half of her wanted to frown because he usually met her in the hall when he got there before her, but half of her was too busy enjoying the feeling of all her muscles uncoiling and falling limp. Still, she was halfway back off the couch, forest green t-shirt bunched annoyingly above her stomach when she heard the bedroom door open. The sound of padding of sock covered feet followed, telling her he was in fact there, so she sunk back into the cushions, righted her shirt, and waited him out.

Lazily she took up the entire couch, kicking her dirty jean legs up to drape over one of the arms while she straightened out her spine on the part where her butt was supposed to go. From her position, head tipped off the side of the couch upside down, she could just glimpse the cuff of his jeans walking steadily towards her and she could hear his barely audible chuckles as he drew closer. Her spine cracked noisily and she sighed, allowing the hand of her boyfriend pull her into a sitting position without much argument, but she settled against his side nonetheless when he sat down.

"Hello," He said, placing a small peck on the top of her cheekbone. His gaze was warm and he traced her little body fondly, taking in her catlike laziness as she curled firmly into his side. "How was academy today?"

"Tedious," She mumbled, eyelashes fluttering on her cheek softly. "Anko ran us ragged in a surprise inspection of our speed progress and Kakashi didn't let up either, he ran us through drills until we couldn't see straight. When I got on the bus a little old woman took one look at me and then gave me her seat, saying I looked like I had been through hell and back and needed it more than she did. She was nearly 80, I swear."

Itachi chuckled, low and smooth, in her ear, the warm breath fluttering around her neck only serving to make her body even more lucid. Like any good boyfriend who didn't want to sleep on the couch, he defended his girl's looks, his hand trailing up and down her arm soothingly (although she needed no help relaxing, since she was too tired to do otherwise). "You don't look like hell to me, babe," He muttered, placing another kiss on the top of her head. Real warmth ran through his voice, though, and somehow Sakura knew this wasn't just some line meant to keep him out of trouble; her face warmed lightly and if she'd had the energy she would've fidgeted or argued, but instead he continued unopposed.

"You're always beautiful to me, Sakura."

Once, Sakura stared through the glass windows of one of those stores, her longing gaze trailing over the dresses and high heeled shoes. Once, she was sure to be beautiful or even mildly pretty one had to talk a certain way, dress a certain way, eat certain things; guys wouldn't look at you if you weren't beautiful like that. Once, she had loathed and regretted her childhood decision to forego dolls for cars and play with the boys, because it seemed to forever lock her from the chance to be 'pretty' or 'girly'. Once, she had wished she could be like Cinderella, if only to shed her dirty jeans and mud covered sneakers for just one night in a beautiful ball gown and glass slippers.

But that was once upon a time.

Itachi had a way of making her feel like the prettiest girl in the room, even when she was sweaty and dirty, in jean shorts and an old ratty band shirt. He had this way of changing her world with just one smile, one kiss, and slowly he had even changed the complex she had. Itachi made her realize it wasn't shoes, make-up, or a cute dress she needed to be stunning, that (cheesily enough) she only had to be herself. Itachi had taken her wild, desperate long (and that niggling habit of lying to herself) and tossed it straight out the window, all without breaking a sweat; he was like one of the superheros from the comic books she used to read with the boys and somehow that thought made her proud.

Sakura gave her boyfriend an accusatory look from beneath mostly closed eyelids, a small shimmering shard of a smile peaking around her slim pink lips. Sleep beckoned her softly, a welcomed siren-song she missed most nights, but it was still at least a minute from taking her completely. "You're ridiculous," She muttered slowly, nuzzling into his shoulder to avoid looking directly into his coal eyes, because then she'd give up and agree with him. "Sweet, but utterly ridiculous."

Itachi opened his mouth, rebuttal on the tip of his tongue and sliding off, but his girlfriend was already half asleep, mind gone. Sluggishly she raised her head, placing a soft abet slightly sloppy kiss on his jaw, before the last muddled thought slipped through her mind and lips.

"'Cause you'll always be the pretty one in our relationship, baby."