Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night was young. Well, it was a night for the young and the inebriated: the stars were glittering in a way that could only really be appreciated by the glazed eyes of doped up teens and hopeless drug addicts.

Kakashi walked down the street, a sore thumb among svelte fingers.

It wasn't his hair color that was so out of place in this area. Silver, white, neon green, it was all mundane here. His mask didn't attract much attention either since there were always people around that didn't want to be recognized in these parts of town.

It might have been his clothing which made him out of sync with the bright lights and scanty clothing. He was wearing his jounin uniform, and was swathed in dark, dull colors. But unlike the Goths, who regularly adorned themselves in dark colors, he wasn't trying to appear deathly pale at the same time, nor was he trying to stare everyone down while maintaining an angst-ridden facade.

He heard the not so quiet whispers as people peered at him, trying their hardest to look casual.

Jounin.

Ninja.

Dangerous.

Perhaps it was the way he walked that struck that instinctive chord of fear within their hearts. Danger. It was the way he moved, the way his eyes roved over everything but never stopped to really look because he had already seen it all before and if he wanted to detain, hurt, maim somebody, he would do it and he wouldn't give two shits about it or blink his one visible eye either; he'd just keep on swaggering until he found what he was looking for.

He walked around like an animal on the prowl, causing people to scatter or to stop and stare at him in blank confusion. He didn't pay any attention to his new admirers and his indifference made girls swoon. So, this was how the Uchiha did it. But Kakashi already knew his trick and often wished it wouldn't work. He knew they were watching him, but he didn't really care; in fact, most times he wished they wouldn't stare and just go on their merry ways. They knew he had bigger fish to fry then a bunch of kids who were getting high and blowing their lives away and it was the threat of bigger fish that had everyone crossing the street to get away from him.

In truth, Kakashi was not looking for bigger fish to fry. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. The other day, Genma had mentioned a club, a club which Kakashi might find interesting. In fact, it was a club that he might have found interesting as much as a year ago. Kakashi, intrigued, asked why in his usual deadpan way but Genma had kept his mouth shut on the topic. Said something instead about how it would be much more fun if Kakashi figured it out on his own. All Genma would give him was the name of a club, Code Blue, located in the party district of downtown Konoha.

As he walked down the cracked sidewalk of the party district (PD as it was so good-naturedly called at headquarters) Kakashi understood that he could have just beat the orally fixated jounin to the ground and demanded to know just what on earth he would find amusing in that dark little area of wrong-doing and forgotten teens where the laws of Konoha were lax at best, but exploring would not require him to build up a sweat. Though he would have to badger his friend to find out just what he had been doing in PD.

Kakashi walked past dark, black façades of buildings, pleased to see the kids in line press against themselves, trying hard to hide themselves from this character that did not belong in this plot, not unless if he was working a drug bust in which case he really was unwanted. He was glad he still had that kind of effect on people. That people still held onto their more basic instincts. He supposed they acted this way to all ninjas.

Neon signs hung over window ledges, the only way one would know what lay behind the dark factory walls were actually clubs made for the young and easily impressionable. The signs were removable, able to be retracted at the slightest sign of trouble.

Kakashi hummed tunelessly to himself, casually strolling down the streets not unlike a panther with his grace. Purple Wine, Swine Dealies, Dirty Flirt, and Two Penny Opera were the names of only a few of the clubs he passed. But it was a certain flashing, neon sign that he was looking for: a bright red sign displaying the words "CODE BLUE." He mused on the odd choice of color.

The line-up was long and took many twists and turns around and into alleyways. There was a recognizable excitement in the air. Apparently, this was the place to be, or so he heard from the murmured conversations going on around him. Murmured because of his presence.

Being out here with so many kids was starting to get on his nerves. He wasn't old was he? Not really. But the kids here were young and ready to get plastered, ready and eager to get plastered. He watched them for a while, contemplating what had happened to himself. These kids were decked out in a wide range of colors: some wore clothing that had to have been coloured in by highlighters before they left the homes while others wore clothing so dark that they put the night to shame. All had fresh young faces and glazed or starry eyes. They were youthful. Young. Exuberant. Innocent and not so innocent. He wondered when he had last looked like them. A long time ago. Much too long ago.

Shaking his head, he wondered how Genma had managed to get in. Of course, the Konoha forehead-protector. Ninjas were known to be big spenders, quiet brawlers, and decent drinkers. They also had open invites into any establishment in the city.

He was ushered to the front of the club in minutes and glanced over by a bouncer. He supposed he passed the inspection because he was let past a grungy violet (why violet?) door and into a shabby little hallway. A regular door stood at the end of the hall, the only place one could go to escape this dank and tiny cavern.

He opened the door and was immediately bathed in a rainbow glow and he was sure that the metal plates adorning his clothing and protecting his body parts were glinting in bright, multihued eccentricity all over the room. An old song that he himself remembered dancing to was pulsing everywhere, its bass notes rhythmically beating themselves out so loudly that he could feel their needy throb in his chest.

There was dancing going on: on and off the dance floor. It was mostly young people grinding against each other in a vain attempt to try to release pent up sexual energy, or just plain showing off their latest moves to their friends. The futuristic look of the club was pleasing to the eye with its smooth curves and shiny chrome-like metal accents.

But he could see nothing here that even vaguely interested him in the least. The only thing that was happening was that he was starting to become melancholic and slightly nostalgic. Rin and Obito couldn't dance anymore. He blinked, pushing dark thoughts out of his head. Now was not the time. What a fool chase Genma had sent him on. He decided to stick around though. He had caught sight of a bar through the raving mass of young bodies.

May as well sample the drinks, he thought to himself as he made his way through the maze of twisting, thriving bodies on the dance floor. The bar had a large man at one end, wiping his way through several wet glasses and still managing to serve several customers at once. Kakashi ordered a scotch on the rocks, glad that the barman was large and middle-aged. The club looked pretty kiddie-like with all the strobe lights and rainbow-bright upholstery when he walked in, but the barman was an adult and knew his stuff. The jounin sipped his drink quietly, turning his head to the direction of several dazed looking males, none of which seemed to notice his now unclothed face. He allowed his eyes to roam once more after pulling his mask back up.

And that was when his eyes fell on the pale pink hair that usually graced the large forehead of his female charge in delicate wisps, often prompting her to pin it back with rhinestone-studded barrettes. Pale pink hair that should not have been in a club. Pale pink hair that should have been at home, in bed, right at this moment, getting several hours of much-needed sleep. Pale pink hair that didn't match and stood out from the vibrant fuchsias and neon pinks of the many dancers who now decided that having bright pink hair was in style. It was a natural pink that should not have been there.

Perhaps, this was what Genma had been talking about?

Rubbing his forehead, Kakashi took a large gulp of his drink, finishing it off while staring at the still dazed teenaged males. Turning, he made his way to his charge, after putting down his drink. His cool demeanour and frosty expression (was an eye really able to give an expression? Wasn't the term usually reserved for an entire face?) scaring away almost as many dancers as his forehead protector did. Soon, he was behind her, and could watch her unnoticed as he usually did as of late. She was a flighty thing nowadays, and the smallest thing could set her off while the largest could go unnoticed.

She was wearing a red shirt, black pants that ended mid-calf, and strappy heels, seated farther down the bar from him. She was growing older, colder, didn't say much to him anymore. The greeting of "LIAR!" to his pathetic, but truthful (well, almost truthful) excuses had been replaced by a more mature, "Of course, Sensei."

They had irked him at first, the small changes he kept noticing in her. She was more formal now, to everyone, and seemed to have found a new patience in her. A patience which she was able to keep as she taught and re-taught Naruto many basic moves dealing with chakra. She didn't moon about Sasuke all the time either, but she hadn't shown any new interest in anyone.

He remembered a conversation he had overheard when he was investigating her claims about finally giving up on the Uchiha. He had been sure it had all been a hoax, carefully crafted only to see if her indifference would light the Uchiha's soul on fire.

Apparently, it hadn't been a hoax. And neither was her newfound patience. Or her deliberate way of speaking and the careful pauses she kept taking when thinking. Nor was the determined set of her mouth when she beat tree trunks down to splinters after hours of quiet stamina training.

He watched her as she sipped her drink from a coloured straw. What was going on in that head? What had prompted her epiphany? Her sudden urge to be faster, stronger; to be an asset to the team? He had tried to grab her and carry her away from trouble at one point during a mission, but had stopped himself once he realized that she could and was holding up her own quite well. Much better than he last remembered her doing. He had asked her about it and that was when she had revealed that she had been training with Lee and on her own. During her spare time. It had been her idea.

He supposed he should have paid more attention to her. He had no idea she had so much determination in her. So much untapped willpower. So much anger… enough to help her demolish two large tree trunks after three straight hours of tree-kicking.

He should have paid more attention to all of them.

He put a hand to her shoulder and said her name, "Sakura."

She looked up at him, head tilted, her expression changing from honest curiosity to confusion as she realized who was standing next to her. "Kakashi?" The "sensei" had been dropped from his name when she had become a chuunin. "What are you doing here?"

He removed his hand from her shoulder, rocking back on his heels. "Came for a drink." He made a vague hand gesture at the bar before putting his hands into his pockets. "You?"

She looked up at him, obviously weighing the consequences of what she would say. "I… I'm…" She paused again and opened her mouth to say something but shut it. She narrowed her eyes at him, her forehead crinkling in confusion. "I…."

"Shouldn't be here?" Kakashi put his hand back on her shoulder, turning her around on the barstool, applying enough pressure to show he wasn't going to drag her away if she resisted; at least, not yet. "Let me take you home."

The bartender had waddled over during the course of their short conversation and was now studiously rubbing away at a spot on a glass. "Y'okay Saku?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling.

"Fine," she answered, nodding, but still looking at Kakashi, obviously not knowing what to do.

The bartender nodded and waddled away to serve other customers, his large mass moving with a grace that only exceptionally large people seemed to have.

"I can take care of myself," she finally said, her soft voice lilting over the words. She spoke as if she was savouring every word as it dropped out of her mouth. Every unemotional, compartmentalized word that carried a bland taste of nothingness straight to her soul and – Kami. He was letting both the alcohol and his nostalgic mood get to him.

When was the last time he had heard her scream in frustration at Naruto's silly antics? When had he last seen her get worked up over nothing? When had he last heard emotion drip from her voice like heavy syrup?

Too long.

He wasn't sure if her statement had been directed to him or to the barkeep. He answered anyway. "Sure you can."

"Want a drink?" she asked, again using her soft voice. Usually in clubs, it was hard to hear, but there were glass walls in this club, partition-like panels set up everywhere to deflect and reflect the waves of sound as they boomed out of large speakers located seemingly everywhere. At the bar, it was easy to hear her words.

And why not get a drink? He had already had one; another would do him no harm. Perhaps he could get her suitably inebriated and manage to get her sick so that she would want to go home. He nodded his head in acquiescence at her.

She waved an arm behind her, flashing fingers in different patterns. The barkeep had noticed and nodded at her back before beginning the creation of their drinks. Kakashi was not impressed. She must have visited this bar for a long time if she had managed to create a sign language for drinks with the bartender. He frowned slightly, wondering if it had been a year. Perhaps that was the other thing Genma had been mentioning.

Twin drinks came sliding behind her on the bar's top and she spun around, grabbing both before they could slide past her. She handed one to him, taking the one with the straw for herself. Her own drink, now finished, sat discarded on the bar's top. She drank while sitting down, sipping lightly on her drink as he turned around, again flashing his handsome face at the dazed and disoriented males in the back of the club as he downed his drink in several gulps.

"Want to dance?"

Somehow, she had managed to finish her drink before him. He wondered what had been in it. It smelled vaguely alcoholic, but nowadays there were odourless, colorless alcohols that could be added into any drink. He put his empty glass down.

He wondered if she was drunk yet. Maybe she would be soon. A couple of minutes dancing would increase her blood rate, make the alcohol in her system run its course faster. And if he managed to shoot a bunch of chakra in her to induce her drunkenness a bit faster than natural, well, that was a plus. He could take her home then.

"Sure," he said, shrugging.

She nodded, and got up, weaving her way through the throngs of gyrating dancers, moving toward the centre of the dance floor.

Kakashi followed her, his eye glued to her pastel pink hair, unknowing of what was going on in her head. When had he stopped being able to read her face? To know every thought as is crossed her visage, her expressions so wide and innocent?

He sighed as he continued to follow her. He hoped tonight would not be as long a night as it felt like it would be.

Chapter Text

The music was hypnotic and trance-like, lulling everyone into a false sense of security. It was never safe in PD. But the DJ played what the people wanted. Did they even know what they wanted? They were probably all just thinking about dancing to what was popular, no matter whether it was good or not.

As Kakashi danced, he tried to keep a careful eye on the small roseate-haired female gyrating in front of him. Not with him – that would have been inappropriate – but in front of him. With as many men as she could. Or women. She didn't seem to care. And, apparently, neither did his hormones.

A surge of teenaged bodies hit the dance floor, shoving him and Sakura farther apart. He continued to dance, sure of his abilities to track the girl. He shut his one visible eye and danced, enjoying the way the music pulsed in his chest. The throbbing let him know that he was alive.

When he opened his eye, Sakura was gone. He did a quick scan of the dance floor. Unable to see her, he focused his chakra in order to heighten his senses, determined to find her. His vision strengthened and he was suddenly blinded by the fluorescent lights and strobe lights as he searched for her pink hair. The coloured lights weren't helping either; they kept changing the color of everyone's hair and skin, making it near impossible to see who was pink-haired (probably dyed) and who wasn't. He tried upping his sense of smell but only ended up with a double whammy of a mixture consisting of cologne, perfume, vomit, alcohol, and bad breath. Upping his hearing wouldn't do; even if she was talking, he wouldn't be able to hear her in all the noise.

So, this had been her plan all along; to get him on to the dance floor and lose him in the crowd. Well, he could wait her out. She'd come back to him eventually, just to see how he was doing. He vaguely wondered when the teens would realize that he wasn't there to bust anyone and that he just wanted to have a little fun. There was a small bubble of space left around him, which, although wasn't very large, was significant enough to be noticed since every other body was just rubbing against another. How long would it take for someone to come dance with him?

Not too long, apparently.

The male approaching him seemed to be only mildly intoxicated. He was either very brave and didn't care about Kakashi's status, or was just plain stupid. Either option was fine with Kakashi. The male danced in front of him, coming into the small bubble of space everyone else had granted Kakashi. The jounin wondered if he could intimidate the kid and make him back off. It wasn't going to make anyone else want to dance with him, but it would be slightly amusing. And maybe the kid wouldn't mind.

The kid didn't mind. He just got closer and smiled rather provocatively at Kakashi. His hair was red, short, and hadn't been dyed very recently; his roots were showing. His eyes were outlined in dark kohl and a large red heart had been drawn onto his forehead with what Kakashi believed to be bright red lipstick. Ever since Gaara has stepped through the town, many of the teens (and some children and adults) had adopted his rough exterior as their own. Kakashi didn't mind; this kid looked hot as a redhead.

He recalled suddenly that he was years older than the male gyrating in front of him. He then recalled that he was straight and didn't like men that way. Sure, some of them were pretty, and he wouldn't mind a one-night stand or something, but he wasn't one for a wholesome, one on one dating thing. He never had been one for relationships. Kakashi was a ninja, and any relationship between him and a civilian would surely end in pain and heartbreak. He also didn't have what it took to stick with a relationship. One-night stands were the best thing for him. It was better if it was with a ninja, though; they understood why he couldn't commit. He'd never want to put someone through the torture of finding out that his or her loved one was dead.

He forced his thoughts back to where they had started. He was old. He was straight . He was open to one-night stands. He was currently dancing with a very pretty young man. And he was drunk.

The kid pressed closer still, unaware of the thoughts passing through Kakashi's mind; he eventually wrapped one lanky arm around Kakashi's waist and swung the other around his neck.

Sakura watched the scene from afar, wondering when her ex-teacher would try to find her. He seemed to be otherwise occupied and she was glad. He had surprised her with his arrival to this place, almost as much as when she had shut her eyes on the dance floor a week ago and opened them to the smirking face of the orally-fixated jounin, Genma.

"Don't I know you?" he asked, his caramel-coloured hair gleaming under the flashing lights.

Sakura stared at him in disbelief. A second ago, she had been on the top of the world, at the height of her game, and now, a second later, she felt as though she was being shoved alive into a cabinet at the morgue. If only, if only, her mind murmured to her.

The fact that someone from her other life, her safer life, was here, in the midst of her happy-go-lucky life was confusing. It wasn't helping that she was already addled by more than a few drinks of alcohol. She wondered if her new (well, not so new; a year was not a short time) friends would start showing up at training, asking her if one shade of eye shadow was more vibrant than another under the strobe lights.

How long until they leave you, Saku-chan? Wait a while and let's see what happens. They'll stop paying attention to you. They all will.

Sakura slammed the door separating her mind from the manifestation of her self-doubts that she had created. The god-be-damned creature had taken up a life of its own. It was a mistake, a horrible mutation of something constructive. She'd shoved all of her insecurities on to a made-up friend, a new perfect version of herself, and let that perfect self deal with everything.

But the damned thing had mutated into something warped and ugly beneath its shiny veneer of perfection. Her insecurities which she had tossed to it so carelessly were now being bounced back at her, only this time, they were ten-fold and even harsher than they had been in the beginning.

She was learning how to block it out now, the voice, the creature, the manifestation of herself. Her inner evil. She blocked it out and focused on the people around her, the frantic emotions, and the erratic heartbeats. If she wanted to, she could have told you the heart rate of every person in the room, all at once. It wasn't very helpful at the moment, but sometimes it came in handy. At least, that was what Tsunade had said.

Genma danced silently in front of her, rolling his senbon from one side of his mouth the other. She didn't know how to answer him, didn't know what to say, what to do. So she shook her head at him, a delayed reaction of course, but let him think what he wanted. Her pink hair hit the shoulders of the surrounding people, but no one noticed.

"You sure?" he asked, annoyingly persistent.

She shook her head again and mumbled something about having to go to the bathroom as she spun on her heel, quick to hide the tears in her eyes. Her secret, it was out. In hours, everyone would know what she did at night, where she went, who she hung out with. But they wouldn't know why, but they wouldn't care. They'd make up their own stories.

She was vaguely aware of the taste of her acidic bile as it slowly made its way up her throat. Her hand automatically went up to her mouth as she groped her way to the bathroom, ignoring the stinging remarks of drunks as she rushed past them. She ran inside the bathroom and locked herself into a bathroom stall, emptying the contents of her stomach into the porcelain toilet.

She hadn't expected anyone to find out about Code Blue. Or about her sudden changes in lifestyle or friends or late-night activities. No one had seemed to notice her changes in attitude and character; or else they did and thought better than to bring it up to her.

It wasn't her fault that her parents were crazy. They weren't like regular parents. Dinner was never on time and never a filling dish. They come home late at night and sometimes not at all. They weren't druggies, and they weren't negligent. They were just too busy helping out the city's homeless to pay attention to their daughter.

From an early age, Sakura had been forced to seek attention on her own, something she wasn't very fond of or good at. She'd heard girls talking about how easy it was to get attention from a boy and how nice it felt when they smiled at you. She'd looked for a guy then, someone who seemed to be like her. That was when she had seen Uchiha Sasuke and fallen in love. She'd thought he was quiet, reserved, cute. Like her. 

She'd been wrong. The Uchiha boy never paid any attention to her, and if he did, it was to inform her that she was nothing more than an annoyance. She didn't know why at the time, but his refusal to give her attention only made her want him more. Forbidden fruit. So she idolized him, placed him so high up in her mind that every glance from him was treasured and every harsh word stabbed at her during the night.

Her parents knew about her crush on the young Uchiha. The only Uchiha left. They'd smile when she talked about it. But while she was talking, they'd go back to discussing plans for the next day's food drive, or the architect's ideas about a new shelter. And she'd be left alone to think about Sasuke and school and her insecurities.

She dry-heaved over the toilet in the cool isolation of the bathroom stall.

She'd given up on Sasuke a year ago. What had brought on her epiphany? She wasn't sure. She just knew she didn't want to hurt anymore. Didn't want to be dependent. Didn't want to be weak. Didn't want a lot of things.

She'd analyzed it at night, spending hours chatting life up with Inner Sakura; dealing with her inner demon left her exhausted. When she'd finally finished her nightly chats (which had taken a whole month to complete) she'd been left with a lot of space in her timetable. She stopped all actions associated with Sasuke (including watching him, buying stuff for him, and cooking for him) and replaced it with training. 

Lee had helped a lot. He was nice and considerate and reminded her that she was a girl, but in a good way. He wasn't like Sasuke, shooting her down because she wasn't as strong, or because she didn't have as many muscles as he did. Lee would admire her because she was trying, she was working to become stronger and trying to become something.

She wasn't sure what she was trying to become.

She'd gone to PD on a whim, reading up about it in a file she'd been filing for Tsunade. She'd never even known it existed. She didn't think anyone else would either, at least, none of the chuunin. She'd gone through everything talking about TD, researching the entire thing fully to understand how things in it worked. It was really just a trashy place in town where the teens liked to hang out and shoot up. And only grunts were posted to do work there, and even then, it was on a rare basis and usually not many arrests were made.

She spat out the taste of bile and walked out of the stall, legs shaking. 

So she'd come here, and found Code Blue along with several new friends. Well, more than several. And friends who were actually real people who dealt with real issues and never even had to think about shooting kunai or what genjutsu is best to use on the hearing disabled. They were people who thought about drugs and sex and dancing. And then more drugs. Followed by sex and more dancing. And possibly more drugs. And they talked too, about normal, superficial things that normal, superficial teens were supposed to talk about. Like make-up and condoms, or music and art.

She just wanted to be normal for once. It was going to be an experiment and if it failed, well, she could laugh it off and no one would ever know. She had been a normal teen for one night and had fallen in love with the rough night sky and the light happy feeling alcohol gave her. She'd tried weed once, and decided she wouldn't do it again, the feeling too unfamiliar.

The experiment had worked… a little too well. She'd gone from one trip to PD to one every two weeks to three every week. The place had an addictive quality to it. She went almost every day now, always making sure to be on top of where the drug busts were and what was going on in every section, always happy to help out her newfound friends with her information. They never questioned where she got her intel from, for which she was relieved. They trusted her. And she trusted them.

She washed her hands, mulling over what to do about Genma as she dried them under a warm air dryer.

Why had Genma shown up? What had been the point of his intrusion into her secret life? It was hers to divulge, not his. And he was surely going to tell Kakashi. And Kakashi wouldn't let her stay with her friends. With the clubs. With her new, now old secret. They’d say it was too dangerous. The fact that she hadn't been hurt would not be due to the fact that she could defend herself, but due to the fact that it just had yet to happen.

She realized she hadn't rinsed the vomit from her mouth and ran to the sink, spitting the vile substance from her mouth before rinsing it thoroughly. She washed her hands again and dried them off. Then she fisted them and held them close to her sides, not wanting to break anything. All her hard work down the drain. Just because of some stupid ninja. 

She did a high side-kick, smashing the cover of a condom machine off and showering the ground with tiny green-black packages and dozens of quarters. The door swung open and a group of scantily clad females walked in. Upon seeing her standing there among the mess, they backed out of the room much more quietly than they had entered.

What the fuck was Genma doing here? Why was he in PD at all? She always checked the Hokage's sheets about TD. No one was on duty today. No one. She slammed the cover of the condom dispenser back on the broken machine.

She stormed out of the bathroom and out of the club, brushing off the calls of friends. She headed for a training ground where she could vent her anger out on some unsuspecting tree trunks.

She had shown up everyday since seeing Genma, just to see if Kakashi really would show up. Today, she had been resting when he finally showed himself. She had been foolish enough to think that maybe he wasn't going to come. Maybe Genma hadn't told him. Maybe Genma had told him and Kakashi hadn't believed him. She'd been a fool. And now, here he was today, drinking, dancing, and wanting to take her home.

Take her somewhere safe. Where she couldn't hurt herself.

Didn't he know that she did the most damage to herself in the quiet confines of her room? Sure, you couldn't see it, but she could feel it. And it weighed down on her in the darkness of the night; darkness unpunctuated by the light because ninjas didn't have nightlights and her window never had the moon shine in.

She hated him.

Kakashi.

She scoffed at him as she danced around, happy for she was with her friends. He never paid attention to her.

He didn't pay attention, yet he always seemed to know what was going on. He never showed any interest in anything but always asked the right perfectly-toned questions which made you spill your guts. He was an enigma, with his tousled hair and hidden face and his stupid inexplicable tardiness. There were times when he truly annoyed her and others where he made her want to stab him repetitively with a blunt object while spinning him over an open fire on a spit.

She spun around, wondering if spinning fast enough would make the unbidden thoughts of the silver-haired jounin leave her mind. The damned bastard kept having cameos in her thoughts as of late and it was starting to bother her.

On the other side of the dance floor, Kakashi was sliding his arms around the young redhead's hips. No one he knew was here. No one knew him here. The youth twisted closer and Kakashi shut his eye, moving with the beat. Beneath his eyelids, images began to take shape, eventually evening out from multi-faceted hues to Sakura's face.

Sakura. He opened his eye.

She had attempted to trick him and gotten him to dance around the dance floor. He snarled inwardly, suddenly and inexplicably determined to have a good time. He gripped the youth's hair and upped the physical contact. The youth responded positively, shutting his eyes and continuing to gyrate with a speed that only youth could muster. Kakashi pulled down his mask and pressed his lips to the youth's, slightly disappointed that they were cold and not warm.

As his hands wandered through his hair, he wondered vaguely why the youth's hair was so short and began to realize that he wished he had breasts. He was definitely straight.. But the kiss was enjoyable, so he deepened it. His hands continued combing through the youth's hair, helping him to realize that he really did prefer long hair. Well, long-ish hair. With pink bangs. Soft pink bangs. He opened his one eye after a while and wondered why the eyes staring back at him were a dull brown and not a vibrant green.

He realized what he was thinking about and decided to get the fuck off the dance floor.

He needed a drink and he needed it now.