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M U S S E D
Sakura nearly stumbles across the inn’s threshold, dragging her two bags inside and out of the rain. Behind her, Kakashi saunters in with much less fanfare, soaked head to toe from the downpour. Night was nearly upon the small rural village they found themselves in, and it was long past the time that they found a place to hunker down for the night. Kakashi reaches to hold open the door for Sakura, who glances at him appreciatively as she steps back into the rain to grab their other belongings.
For three days, nearly nonstop, they have tracked rogue Mist nin who has been attacking caravans in the countryside. Their suspect had lured them on a wild goose chase through multiple villages, leaving bodies in his wake at every turn. Anticipating his movements was exhilarating, the pursuit initially being at the forefront of her mind. However, towards the end of the hunt, even Kakashi wanted to be done with it. Things thankfully ended in an impressive fashion when Sakura ran down the murderer in the woods just south of this village, performing a spectacular sliding tackle that took the criminal’s legs out from underneath him, which gave Kakashi time to place him in a genjutsu.
Tsunade had sent Anbu to apprehend the missing-nin once captured, transporting him back to Kohana to be transferred to the Mist officials pending a trial for his crimes. That left the two of them to make their way home, and with the adrenaline gone, Sakura was fatigued beyond belief, and Kakashi did not look much better. They both agreed to stop and rest in the village for the night before returning to Kohana in the morning. Neither have anything pertinent to return to.
Sakura shakes the raindrops from her shirt, tired lines underscoring the heavy cast of her eyes, and the contour of her shoulders sags noticeably. She was exhausted; there was no arguing that. She was sure Kakashi felt the same, though he could hide his better, but she could tell by how he stood, back concaved, and shoulders slumped that their current situation also afflicted him.
She disregards the bags with him and wanders further into the quaint reception area, catching the innkeeper’s attention.
“Hello, we’d like a room, please. Two beds,” Sakura requests.
The innkeeper looks up and laughs drily. “Sorry, sweetheart, but all of our rooms with two beds are booked up.” He holds up a piece of paper, a flyer she realizes, and points to the headline. “Annual fishing festival this weekend, you see.”
“In this weather?” Sakura scoffs, but the receptionist doesn’t rise to her taunt. She looks back at Kakashi, noting with disdain that her eyes are poorly focused, and she cannot accurately concentrate and stare for long. He doesn’t look as bothered as she expects him to, but then again, that is his nature, aloof and stoic, without a care in the world.
“Two single rooms, then,” Sakura states in an exasperated tone, turning back to the receptionist.
“Out of those as well, but I can see what I have available for the two of you,” the innkeeper offers. He moves to the registry and begins scanning through the reservations. After a moment, he jabs his finger down the paper and looks at Sakura with hope. “This reservation never showed, so their room is fair game. Only one bed, though.”
Sakura glances back at Kakashi again, looking for any reaction, but she finds him exhausted and mute, not offering any help. She glances at the window, noting the downpour and shivers. They could try and find another inn, surely not all of them are booked. She opens her mouth to say such, but Kakashi elbows past her, slapping what’s left of their cash onto the countertop.
“It’s fine. We’ll take the room,” he says.
-o-
“Absolutely not,” Sakura says calmly.
Kakashi snorts. “It’s not that bad.”
“Coming from the man who definitely won’t fit on the bed? Sure, whatever you say,” she snarks.
The bed is full-sized, but the mattress is thin, and the worn wool comforter offers little to be desired. Kakashi tosses his pack down at the foot of the bed and starts to strip out of his wet clothing. The utility vest goes first, discarded on the room’s only chair, and second goes the weapons pouch strapped to his thigh. He reaches for his shirt next, and it’s then that Sakura, horrifyingly, realizes that she is alone with the object of her desires.
Kakashi has been something of an enigma to her over the last few years. Since their genin days, they have been paired together, and though she thinks of him as the annoying brother that she never wanted but got stuck with anyway, there are instances, flashes, where she remembers that he is a man. A man that is constantly on her mind, someone who has engraved himself so finely into the crevices of her life that she cannot wash him away even if she wanted to.
He is so annoying and frustrating with his lateness and carelessness, but she finds him so utterly fascinating that she cannot leave him be even if she tries. She is sure that he does not feel the same way, but there are moments, after missions, when he looks at her, stares at her which such longing and desire that Sakura forgets how to breathe, and she is drawn in by those mismatched eyes. She has hope that he returns a semblance of the feelings that she has for him. But he never acts on it, and those moments are few and far between. She categorizes those emotions based on the fact that they are usually away from the village, in life-or-death situations, and he is worried about losing a friend.
Kakashi sits at the edge of the bed after putting on a dry shirt and starts pulling off his shoes, one after the other, plopping on the floor with a wet ‘squelch.’
He turns to her and calls, “Come to bed, Sakura.” His voice is such a low timber it shoots right down her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’re exhausted. Let’s go to sleep.”
She feels like those emotions are slipping into his gaze again, the ones that leave her warm at her core. The longer he stares at her, the more she feels the urge to fidget under his gaze. She does the only thing that she is good at in moments like this: she flees.
“Let me change, and I’ll be right out,” Sakura offers, grabbing her wet bag from the floor and escaping into the bathroom.
-o-
When Sakura comes out of the bathroom, the lights in the room are out, and Kakashi is already in bed. The only light is a faint luminescence emanating is from the window above the headboard. The rain patters incessantly against the window pane, and Sakura moves to the empty side of the bed, drawing back the covers.
She pauses, looking at the back of Kakashi’s head where it creases into the pillow. He was on his side, turned away from Sakura, his breathing even, of that of someone in a deep slumber. She is unsurprised, given how tired he appeared to be, and Sakura envies how easily he fell asleep. She would like to think that the thought of having to share a bed with her would have haunted him as it haunts her.
She finally crawls into bed, tugging up the covers over herself. The smooth sheets were already warm from Kakashi’s residual heat. She stretches out briefly to enjoy the full extent of it, relishing in the feeling, and then settles down and resigns herself to try and sleep. Initially, she lays on her back, staring at the ceiling and willing herself to sleep. She attempts to rest for the next half hour, but her mind cannot turn itself off despite the exhaustion seeping into her bones. She turns on her side, angling herself towards Kakashi. Having him this close, she can smell the musk clinging to him after a few days on the road. It was unique and earthy, solid and grounding, something that she found relaxing after days’ worth of adrenaline.
She moves slowly, tucking herself closer to his side, savoring in his warmth. She makes sure that she is not close enough to touch but enough to have to mold herself to the shape in which he slumbers, lest she wake him.
Kakashi’s breathing comes softly, the covers rising and falling gently with each inhalation. His steady tempo effortlessly guides Sakura, her chest rising and falling to match his own. She feels the drowsiness creeping in, distinctly taking hold and dragging her down into the depths of slumber. She barely notices as the world slowly falls into darkness.
-o-
Sakura blinks the sleep out of her eyes and finds Kakashi, very much still unconscious, hair mussed, mouth hanging open ungracefully and red imprints on his cheek, carefree and messy and vulnerable, and she feels like the ground is rushing up to meet her with how much raw emotion she feels in this moment. She sometimes forgets how beautiful he looks without his mask. She doesn’t know when he turned to her in their sleep, but they’re closer than before, their noses almost touching, their breath mingling.
It is peaceful for a moment, and then the next thing she realizes, she is staring at hazy mismatched eyes.
“Hey,” he calls. His voice always feels like it knocks something loose inside of her; she pulls back slightly to look at him fully.
“Morning,” she replies, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious.
There’s a moment’s pause, both of them staring at one another, then his lips brush over hers feather-light, teasing, darting in and away before she can fully feel them. It’s maddening, leaving her feeling itchy and hot and – and bothered. She gazes at him wide-eyed, eyes catching the way his mouth cants as he pulls away, smug and unaffected.
“What was that for,” she queries in a hushed tone.
Instead of answering, his hand covers hers underneath the blanket. She can feel the creases of his fingers, the calluses at the edges of his thumb and forefinger. For a few minutes, they sit in silence, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. It’s relatively comfortable, and Sakura doesn’t feel the need to fill it with small talk. Then Kakashi lets out a breath and says, confident and unwavering, “I think you know.”
It’s her that tugs on his hand, that draws him into her, but it’s him that groans against her mouth, hands moving to clutch the back of her head as if he needs to be grounded – as if he is adrift. As if it’s only her kisses that are keeping him afloat. She finds herself lost to the sound, clutching to his shirt as if it is her lifeline – as if she is trying to hold herself to this earth, as his lips move against hers, as his tongue slides into her mouth, licking at her teeth and coaxing her own to move against his.
Her neck aches at this angle as she tries to chase his kisses and extend that delicious friction of their lips meeting and parting. He shifts the get closer, a knee brushing hers, and it occurs to her all at once that there is a polite distance between their bodies, and it is not only unnecessary, but it is unwanted.
Her hands reach out blindly, feeling along the mattress until she brushes along his hip and feels the worn cloth beneath her palm. He gasps against her lips at the touch, and she then puts her hands flush against him, against his chest, feeling the heat beneath her palms and the racing beat of his heart.
He draws away after what feels like an eternity, chest heaving slightly and that same cocky grin crossing his features.
“Breakfast?” He asks.
Sakura smiles softly. “Yes,” she responds. “But you’re buying.”