Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters associated with it.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains brief descriptions of bodily injury. Please read at your own discretion.

A One Month Bet

The walk back to the Kazekage tower felt much longer than before, and much slower. Kankuro, who had had the most to drink throughout the night, was forced to rely on Sakura and Temari to help him walk through the streets. Talented ninja though he was, he'd taught Sakura an important lesson about alcohol: every person has their limit, be they an accomplished shinobi or not. Years of training in stealth and balance could be quickly lost after one too many drinks. She was figuring that out with every stumbled step.

To Sakura's relief, though, it turned out Temari was terrific at holding her liquor. The only thing that might have given her away was the hint of a slur in her speech and a giggle in her voice. Otherwise, she walked tall and maintained her composure. Sakura figured Temari could've even taken on another sand nin and held her own if the chance had presented itself. Her pig-tailed friend did an excellent job of leading them safely back towards the Kazekage mansion, despite the fact that all the streets were dark. Sakura couldn't tell one alleyway from another; they all looked alike to her, but Temari remembered every turn.

Sakura herself felt rather shaky and light-headed, but only a portion of that could be attributed to the alcohol. The very idea of what she was going to do when they arrived at the tower left her feeling nervous and dizzy. What if she made a fool of herself? What if she got so nervous that she really couldn't keep her liquor down? What if, because she'd had too much to drink, she performed poorly?

What if he simply rejected her?

Of course, there might've been bigger consequences at stake, but Sakura's inhibitions were currently weakened, her mind-scope contracted. She did not consider that she was tampering in politics. She did not think of how this might affect her mission. She did not reflect on the fact that she might be sent back to Konoha. These things did not concern Sakura right now. Instead, she focused on how she would accomplish her deed in the first place: how she might approach Gaara, how she would teach him to relax. She did not take into account how Gaara might react or what he would say afterward. The encouragement Temari and Kankuro had given her, paired with the temporary confidence that always accompanies alcohol, led Sakura to assume that Gaara would willingly submit to this 'lesson' without question and that no major negative outcome might follow. A simple move-in-move-out procedure.

The mansion was almost completely dark when they arrived. Only a small light peeked from under the door of Gaara's office. Sakura's heart rate increased. He was still working, still awake. Temari led her slowly by the arm in the direction of that light. "He's right through there," she whispered with a giggle, "All you have to do is go in and show him how to kiss. It's completely between friends, ok?"

Sakura gulped. Friends. Right. Was Gaara her friend? Was she Gaara's friend? Ah, hell. Does it even matter? He might as well be after this, she thought. With a final glance back to Temari and Kankuro, Sakura took a deep, shaky breath and headed for the door.

"Do you think it'll work?" Temari whispered as she watched the door close behind Sakura.

Kankuro shrugged and pressed his ear to the wood. "If it does, he'll be a man by morning. If it doesn't, we can send her body and our condolences back to Konoha."

X

Gaara sat as his desk, reading over a mission report from a chunin he barely knew. He could scarcely decipher the young ninja's careless scrawl. Part of him wanted to simply sign and be done with it, but a stronger part reminded him that this was exactly the kind of tedious, time-consuming work he'd purposely searched for. For hours he'd read report after report, even the seemingly pointless ones written by genin. Hardly ever did they involve anything of import, but he read them thoroughly anyway, be they as short as a paragraph or as long as several pages. Just to keep himself busy. Just to keep his mind off her.

How long had it been, now? Gaara chanced a look at a nearby clock. Temari and Sakura had left around nine; it was nearing midnight now. They had to be coming back soon. That would be the hardest part of his night: hearing them enter and retreat to their rooms. He was curious what had happened at the pub they went to, curious as to how Sakura might've acted. He'd only ever known her cordially, only been associated with her through politics or a mission. What did she act like, look like, when she was free to simply be a woman and not a kunoichi?

I will stay in place… he'd decided. He would not allow himself to see Sakura upon her return. He did not want to see what she looked like. He did not want to see what she was wearing. He did not want to see her after she'd been drinking. Alcohol weakened the mind—She might act differently. He knew from years of watching his siblings drink that inebriation affected different people in different ways. Kankuro always became very eccentric: if he was in a good mood, the alcohol made him happier and less cautious. He was prone to making stupid mistakes more often. If his brother was unhappy, however, the alcohol increased his temper. He'd witnessed Kankuro throw nasty insults before that he never would have while sober.

Temari was different. She was what Kankuro had labeled a 'happy drunk'. The usually stoic, composed woman would become giggly and unnecessarily friendly. She smiled broadly and laughed with excessive excitement, acting less like a disciplined warrior and more like a flirtatious teenager.

Gaara wondered what kind of drunk Sakura was. Could she be an eccentric drunk like his brother? Or a happy drunk like Temari? Or could she perhaps be something different? What if she was a sad drunk? Or a careless drunk?

What if she was a romantic drunk?

He'd never witnessed one in action, but Gaara's imagination was all too vivid. If Sakura was, in fact, a flirtatious drinker, then she might've very easily met another man tonight. She wouldn't have had to try hard to attract one, he was sure. He saw in his mind's eye how her pink eyelashes would flutter seductively and the tinkle of her laugh would be nothing but encouragement. Doubt clouded his mind and his muscles tensed in jealousy.

The report crumpled in his fisted hand.

Calm… he commanded to himself. Miss Haruno has the freedom to do whatever she chooses on her own free time. It is not my concern unless she becomes involved in some kind of trouble or else her decisions effect our agreement and she fails to complete her mission. Calm down.

Gaara slowly unclenched his hand. He fell slack against his chair in exhaustion.

This was the reason he would remain where he was. He would not allow himself to see her. He would not try to find out her particular rapport with alcohol.

No. To do so could invoke feelings and thoughts that would be disastrous to their functional, though strained, business relationship. Already he had to constantly remind himself that she was Miss Haruno. To call her by her first name invited the feeling of familiarity, which Gaara refused to permit himself. He had to stay as distant as possible.

But if she had, in fact, found and seduced another man…A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He could suddenly sense the presence of three approaching figures. They were entering from the direction of the back entrance of the mansion. He gave a sharp intake of breath.

She was back.

There was little to hear; Gaara supposed they were purposely keeping their voices low. He still had his desk light on. They must've known he would still be awake and working.

Remain seated.

The muscles in his legs tensed, preparing to lift him from his chair.

Remain seated!

He forced himself to still. The only movement he allowed himself to make was the steady rise and fall of his chest. His breathing was measured, stable. He closed his eyes.

Click.

Gaara's eyes snapped open and his sand instantly flew to his protection. It hovered around his chair, prepared to strike. The knob on the office door was turning slowly, carefully, as though the person turning it was not trying to alert his attention. Too late. Gaara watched the door to his office slide slowly open. The darkness of the room momentarily shielded the intruder from his sight, but he could instantly smell the scent of vanilla and strawberries.

His sand slithered to the floor and his breathing stilled.

"Hello."

Sakura had hoped Gaara would say something when she stepped inside, be it an encouraging invitation to enter or a curt demand to leave. Instead, he only stared at her in silence, and her attempt at breaking the quiet seemed to be in vain, as he didn't respond to her greeting. She suddenly felt horribly…sickeningly…

Sober.

What the hell am I doing?

Her mind rushed back through the conversation she'd had at the bar. A lesson, Kankuro had said. Between friends, Temari had said. Only chance, her mind had said.

And yet, now that she was here, nothing that had been said seemed like such a good idea.

Get out. Get out now, before he says something to—

"Sakura?"

Sakura's mind track was derailed. It was the first time Gaara had ever called her by her first name. Normally he only addressed her officially. Her heart rate steeped, and Inner Sakura floated back to the surface of her mind. You can't leave now. He's spoken to you.

She gulped. Do it. On shaky legs, she stepped forward. Do it quickly!

Gaara watched silently as Sakura moved towards him. What was she doing here? He could decipher nothing from her expression; she did not look happy, angry, or upset. She walked forward steadily, with a purpose, but she had not announced any trouble outright. If she had come to harm him, his sand would act as a shield as always. Surely, she already knew that.

Gaara simply could not fathom her intentions, but he watched her intently. The closer she drew, the better he could see her in the light. So this is what Haruno Sakura looked as woman instead of a kunoichi… She looked different than usual, dressed in casual garb that accentuated her lovely features. Her scent was intoxicating, even from several feet away. He felt entranced, like a mouse hypnotized by the mesmerizing gaze of a snake. He'd never beheld anything so alluring.

He could not look away from her.

Sakura walked around to the side of Gaara's desk. The angle of his chair followed her movements, so that when she stopped just behind the left side of the desk, he was facing her. Only chance, she reminded herself. Do it. Enjoy it. Get it over with.

She knelt down below him on one knee and prayed silently that the heat in her cheeks wasn't too visible in the dim light. Gaara remained expressionless and silent, though she thought for a moment she saw a hint of confusion and shock in his eyes. She drank in his magnificence, thinking she would never again be close enough to examine his handsome features so close. He had high cheek bones, a straight nose, and a strong jaw that was dotted with dark red stubble. His black-rimmed eyes were shaded with shags of his almost too-long hair, and she had the urge to brush it back so that she might be able to gaze into the emerald green orbs that were nearly hidden by it. She wanted to trace a finger over the tattoo etched on his forehead, Love, while staring into those eyes.

Her intoxication had returned, it seemed, clouding her already muddled judgment. What are you doing just staring at him? her mind scolded. You're wasting time. She drew her eyes away from his face and focused on what she was about to say. "Kazekage-sama," she began. Her voice was shaky and quiet. She cleared her throat before continuing. "I, uh, I'm only going to do this once…" She deliberated on what else to say. "This is awkward enough as it is… Please don't…" She hesitated, "Please don't be angry."

Heart beating wildly, stomach churning in apprehension, Sakura closed her eyes and leaned up quickly. She did not see Gaara open his mouth to ask what she was doing; she did not see his eyes grow wide with shock and surprise; she did not hear his intake of breath as her face ascended towards his.

Their lips collided suddenly.

Clumsily.

All too quickly, Sakura realized she was kissing Gaara. It felt to her as though everything previous had been a dream or an illusion. Not now. Her mouth was now connected with Gaara's mouth, and there was no turning back. You did it! You're kissing him! Inner Sakura squealed. No, not kissing. Not yet. Neither of their lips were moving. Gaara's lips were warm and soft, but they were motionless. Focus, Sakura. She scrunched her eyes. Gently she let her hands drift upward to rest on that strong jaw she'd previously been admiring. She drew back slightly, just until their lips were barely touching, and then went back down, this time with more confidence and steadier movements. Sakura went slowly, taking a bit of time to think back on her own kissing experiences.

For years she'd pined after Sasuke, but when it became clear there was no hope, she'd moved on. It was tough to integrate herself into the dating system that all her friends had already embraced, and thanks to Tsunade she'd never truly been in a relationship, but Sakura had had her share of kisses. There were sweet kisses that took place in the areas of the forehead, cheek, and corner of the mouth. There were lead-in kisses that were just encouraging enough to suggest something deeper was desired. Hard kisses usually followed and involved near-bruising force that left the lips puffy but the mood unmistakably sexual. The follow-up to a hard kiss encompassed the use of one tongue or both, usually in the metaphorical form of an oral sword-fight. Other kisses that involved the tongue were usually sensual ones, a cross between a sweet and hard, deep enough to affect the participants emotionally but not so forceful that their lips were left tender and sore.

And, of course, there were the not-so-popular bad kisses whose unpleasant reputation for excessive presence of tongue, teeth, or saliva would always go down in infamy.

But Sakura had enough experience that she didn't worry too much about that last category. Instead, she deliberated on what kind of kiss she should give Gaara. On the one hand, she couldn't put too much of herself into the kiss, or it would cease to be a lesson and fall into the dangerous void of her own self-indulgence. Yet, at the same time, she couldn't very well teach someone how to kiss with their emotions detached. One day, according to Temari and Kankuro, Gaara might use this knowledge for a woman he cared for. She might not exactly fall head-over-heals if he remained mentally disconnected while kissing her.

Jealousy twisted in Sakura's stomach. She didn't want to think of him kissing anyone else. Right now, Inner Sakura purred wickedly, He's mine.

She focused on kissing him gently, with no real distinction on what kind of kiss it might be. He didn't seem to be moving his lips at all, so Sakura used the liberty to her advantage. She kissed his bottom lip softly then moved to his top lip. She tilted her head slightly to the right for better access and continued. It wasn't a bad kiss by any means. She had feared earlier that drinking might've diminished her ability to remain steady and in control, but luckily it didn't. Aside from Gaara's apparent lack of participation, Sakura was actually enjoying herself…None of that, now, she cautioned internally, You can't afford to get romantic.

Gaara, meanwhile, was catatonic.

He gazed wide-eyed and motionless at the face currently attached to his. Sakura. The girl that haunted his thoughts nearly every moment of every day was… kissing him? He could feel her lips moving against his, feel the pressure of her hands urging him to tilt his head towards her.

His thoughts were a blur as they raced in time with his elevated heart rate. When had this happened? How did this happen? He couldn't even remember anything before Sakura's lips were against his. His eyes could no longer focus on her face because of their proximity, but he could taste the strawberry on her lips and smell the alcohol that wafted around her. Yet nothing clicked. These facts, though related, could not make sense in his jumbled mind. It was as if the moment their lips connected a shock wave was sent through his body, disconnecting any nerve endings and other neural processes. His limbs felt numb, petrified, as though he would not have been able to move them even if he had wanted to. All he could feel was the gentle press of her face against his, the touch of her tender fingertips along his jaw, and the erratic beating of his own heart in his chest.

Suddenly Sakura stilled, and his mind raced back to real time. She pulled away slightly, enough so his eyes could readjust and focus on her. When she opened her own eyes, she jolted back in surprise, as though she had forgotten who she was kissing and was shocked to find Gaara there in front of her. "Oh, um…"

Sakura brought her hands away from his face. She had not expected to see Gaara's eyes wide open when she pulled away. Had his eyes been open the entire time?

Awkward…

But she had bigger things to worry about besides Gaara's apparent misunderstanding of proper kissing etiquette. He still had not said anything since first acknowledging her entrance. Was he simply too stunned to speak? Was he so furious that he could not express his anger in words?

A slightly smug Inner Sakura suggested, Maybe it was such a good kiss he's speechless?

No, a more coherent part of her mind countered. I think he's in shock…

Sakura's medic-nin training kicked in and she instantly became serious. "Kazekage-sama?" she asked in a curt, urgent tone, "Hello? Can you hear me?"

He suddenly jolted and stood up, frightening Sakura so much that she fell over backwards. Her reflexes countered the pull of gravity, and she was on her feet a moment later, instinctively pulling into a defensive position. Her heart was racing while her brain tried to keep up. The hazy drawbacks of the alcohol returned.

She took slow, deep breaths to steady herself. "Kazekage-sama," she said again, this time more quietly. "Are you alright?"

Gaara looked at her as though suddenly remembering she was there in the room. He turned away.

"Yes."

Sakura sighed in relief and relaxed her position. "Good," she said. She watched him sit back down in his chair. He no longer looked at her; in fact, he made a point of keeping his back turned to her. Sakura chewed on her lip. Fix this! her mind screamed, You need to make him understand!

She crossed slowly back to the front of his desk. Again, he refused to look at her. "Um," She swallowed down the fear now encroaching within her. Surely, he was angry with her, enraged at what she had done. She needed to make him see that the kiss they'd shared was innocent, just between friends, as Temari had said.

But as Sakura gazed at the back of his turned head, she felt the saddening truth solidify in the pit of her stomach. This man was not her friend. He had never been her friend in the past, and he certainly was not now. Acquaintance, perhaps. Political affiliate, yes.

Friend—not in the slightest. She had crossed a line.

Remain calm, her mind ordered. But she could already feel her pulse quickening, the shameful heat rising to her cheeks. Her eyes stung in mortification. Do not cry. She swallowed again. Stay professional.

She locked her jaw and looked straight ahead. "Well, that'll be enough, I think," she found herself saying in what Naruto had once teasingly labeled her 'sensei-voice'. "Just remember to relax and remain confident. When the time comes—" She paused to swallow her shame. "When the time comes, I'm sure she'll be a lucky woman."

Seriously? You couldn't think of anything better to say than that? Sakura floundered to come up with anything more useful to say. For all the humiliating thoughts now blazing through her mind, she had to remind herself that this whole ordeal had been a 'lesson' for him. For Gaara. She needed to accept the cold, hard truth, and move on. The quickest and most painless way of doing so was to embrace the teacher within herself. To effectively instruct someone to do a specific action, the teacher had to be firm, but encouraging. If Gaara was to actually learn from this experience, it would do him no good unless he had encouraging words to fall back on.

At least, that's what Sakura told herself.

Gaara inclined his head in her direction but still said nothing. She had to focus all her self-control on not exposing her shame. Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit it so forcefully that she could taste the metallic tang of her own blood. When he still remained silent, Sakura finally surrendered. She offered him a shallow, shaky bow before turning on her heel and heading back towards the door.

As her hand reached for the knob of the door, she said quickly, "Good night, Kazekage-sama." She could not conceal the broken ache in her voice, and she bit her lip again, disgusted at how weak she sounded. But there was nothing she could do now. Just leave, her wounded pride whimpered. Get out of here before you lose it…

"Gaara,"

It felt strange to hear his name uttered through his own lips, but it had stopped Sakura from leaving, and that was all that mattered. She stood frozen at the door, refusing to look at him. Of all the things running through his frenzied mind, he had not expected his own name to be the first words he would say to her, but Gaara could no longer stomach the formal titles. Sakura had…

Sakura had kissed him.

And then she'd become detached once again, as though she'd been acting out orders. He couldn't make sense of it now, but he knew their relationship had changed. He'd been trying so hard to distance himself from her, going to extra lengths to avoid the torment she brought upon him, and here she'd come, completely without warning, and…and…

He sighed. He couldn't push her away anymore.

She had a reason for coming here, he thought, but his befuddled brain couldn't make sense of it. When she'd first entered his office, she'd looked hesitant and confused. What had urged her onward? Her demeanor only changed after—

I called her.

By her first name. Subconsciously. After purposely forcing himself to remain detached from her, he'd addressed her as "Sakura". It was accidental, unintentional, and yet it felt… Natural. She had looked worried, perhaps nervous, and his mind had responded in concern. Concern for her. At that moment she had ceased to simply be 'Miss Haruno'. The instant his protective instincts kicked in, she'd finally become Sakura.

His subconscious accepted Sakura as familiar, despite the fact that he had tried to avoid such feelings. Now they had shared a—he gulped. A kiss. This changed everything. It could not be ignored, at least not in his mind.

He could not, would not, suffice to be just the Kazekage to her.

"Call me Gaara."

He grimaced at how it sounded like a demand, not a request, but he prayed that his meaning was still understood. Sakura glanced over her shoulder at him. He could barely see her face for the too dim light of the room, but he saw the silhouette of her head gently dip.

"Good night… Gaara."

Sakura took a deep breath and pulled the door open. Temari and Kankuro sat in the darkened lobby area, effectively failing at appearing nonchalant. Temari was picking at her fingernails, while Kankuro sat in a cushioned chair, reading a piece of parchment upside-down. When they saw her, they both looked up in practiced surprise.

"Sakura-chan!" Temari said excitedly. But Sakura ignored her. She shoved past both of them, striding determinedly towards the sleeping quarters. Thankfully, neither of them attempted to follow her. They simply watched her disappear down the hallway.

Her room was cool and dark when she finally managed to lock herself inside it. A broken sob echoed through the darkness around her, and she clutched herself in anger at how upset she was. "Stop it," she ground out, as though commanding herself out loud would halt the onslaught of emotion now churning tumultuously inside her. Her sharp little nails dug into the flesh of her forearms. "Stop it!" she commanded again.

"Stop crying," Tsunade warned while towering over her crumpled body. Sakura whimpered and cradled her shattered hand. Too much force behind her punch; not enough chakra pinpointed at the point of impact. The fourth time that day. It felt like self-inflicted torture to repeatedly break her own bones then have Tsunade heal them again, only to have them broken again. Each time she failed, her sensei repaired the splintered bones and severed muscles, but Sakura's arm was bruised and battered beyond recognition. She wanted to cry out for the pain lancing up her arm and into her shoulder. It hurt so badly.

"Stand up."

Sakura grit her teeth and shakily obeyed. Tsunade grabbed her bloodied wrist, and the young girl nearly crumpled to the ground again in pain. Tsunade expelled a sigh and held her hand over the injury, letting carefully-measured amounts of chakra seep into her apprentice's injury. Sakura could feel the warmth of the energy flowing into her arm, and she winced as she felt the bones snap back into place. While Tsunade continued, she said calmly, "Why are you crying, Sakura?"

A redundant question, but Sakura bit her lip and answered anyways: "Because it hurts, sensei."

"And how do you think an enemy would react if they saw you were crying during the midst of a battle?"

Sakura's cheeks blazed pink from exhaustion, pain, and shame. "They would use it to their advantage, sensei." She winced again as her pinky finger relocated. "They would think I was weak."

"Are you weak?" Tsunade finished quickly and dropped Sakura's arm. The younger girl gulped back another wave of tears. Would she always have to overcome the same barrier? Would she always be the weakest one?

Sakura looked up at her master and ground her teeth. "No."

Tsunade nodded approvingly. "Then prove it. Prove it to yourself." Sakura turned back to the stone wall, and Tsunade whispered, "Do not let them break you, Sakura. You are strong."

Sakura clenched her aching fist. She calculated. She concentrated. She drew back. Leapt forward.

The wall crumpled.

Sakura exhaled wearily. Tears no longer threatened to spill over her cheeks, but she still felt empty and cold. The memory was a painful one, but it reminded her once again of her place in this world. You can't take back what you've done, her mind whispered. You kissed the Kazekage. There was no ignoring or forgetting what had happened. She would have to live with it and not let it upset her. Do not be weak, she gulped. This changes nothing.

Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome and appreciated.

Sincerely,

Olly