Chapter Text
“How do you say fuck you in flower.”
On her umpteenth attempt and failure at leveling their relationship to something more physical, Haruno Sakura consults Ino. Not in seduction or interrogation. (Though that is a very enticing option.) But in flower. For a person named after one, she knows nothing besides their medicinal capabilities.
With all the work Ino is juggling, it’s rare for her to be attending the flower shop. But anomalies happen and Sakura just happens to walk into one. Between that and the Icha-Icha-loving secret no-names boyfriend of hers not wanting to have sex with her, she considers the latter more blasphemous.
“I think what you want is a fuck me.” Ino’s eyes twinkle so brightly, she’s worried the Sun will hide itself. Sakura has practically given up on hiding anything much from Ino. Because reasons. That doesn’t mean she’s going to openly disclose her lack of sex life. Sakura mimics the lifelessness of a dead lab fish.
It doesn’t deter Ino, not even the slightest bit.
“First, you get rid of your panda circles under your eyes.” She plunges her fingers underneath her eyebags, wiping at them in disbelief. “Are these even real?”
“They’re my knowledge bag.” Sakura huffs and swats the blond’s prying hands away. She doesn’t consider Kakashi shallow enough to change his mind over looks, but recognizes the power of visual appeal. The reflection of herself in the vase does support Pig’s claim.
She groans.
***
She tries the makeup. Fails quite miserably. She’s in her mid-twenties godamnit. But long hospital hours and occasional missions required more finesse in her chakra control than a brush. Ino had demonstrated for a bit until they were both pulled away for work.
So Kakashi sunshins to find her eyebags slabbed with concealer so thick that it would pass off more as a facial pack, or some remedy cream. It takes half a second for the Rokudaime to read the label of the product.
“Warn a girl.” She deadpans. As if she’s not used to him sunshining at random hours of the day. She thumbs the offending concealer off her face but only smears it more.
“Somebody give you blue eye?”
“Hmph”
“Now you’re sounding like Sasuke.”
He gets kissed by a very aggressive pillow.
***
“You know it wouldn’t kill you to be bad at things,” She accuses. He is excellent at governing a whole village and, for some peculiar reason, outstanding in erasing and applying makeup.
He hums.
“Did you have a date?” He drawls. Gentle fingers apply a layer of toner. “Stay like that for a while. Wait for it to settle.”
“I was dumped.” He applies a layer of cream, followed by sunscreen. She wonders briefly if she is peering into the secrets of his lack of tan line.
“What stupid man.”
He considers an array of foundations that she’s accumulated over the years.
“What stupid man, indeed.” His hand digs into her scalp as he steadies her before cushioning her with his carefully chosen product. She’s half tempted to kiss him, but that would result in a bruised cheekbone.
He follows standard procedures. Nothing that she doesn’t know but with a proficiency that invites many questions.
“Let me make it up to you.”
Oh?
***
He doesn’t.
They go to The Vineyard. An exquisite dining room accompanied by private rooms and welcome drinks that are better than most special drink orders in bars.
It is exquisite. She makes sure to lick the bone marrow (to allude her cravings of course) so clean that she can hear Kakashi groan.
So the man isn’t a stick after all.
Alas, he walks her home like a true gentleman.
***
She plucks a cherry and slices a garnishing orange slice, not forgetting the whiskey stashed behind the counter. She cuts clear cold ice with the precision of a surgeon and promptly drops it all into her swirls of sugar, bitters, and water.
She concocts a classic cocktail and slides it down the counter. It stops dead in front of Kakashi. Her strength control is perfect, everything measured down to the minuscule detail – it is a wonder that she is still a horrible cook.
He muses. A Classic Old Fashioned.
“For you,” she smiles oh so sweetly, with the deadliness of a kunoichi. ‘You old fashioned asshole,’ is unsaid yet not uncommunicated.
She kisses him, and he kisses her. Her hands snake up to his torso, deepening their kiss. She wants him. She wants to make it clear. She wants–
Her brows twitch involuntarily as Kakashi moves away, yet again, bidding her good night. Oh so gentlemanly.
***
“For you,” she smiles all too sweetly when he returns home. It makes Kakashi break into a sweat.
The bouquet is a wonderful mess of orange blossoms (for lust), yellow roses (for jealousy), yellow carnations (for rejection), and Petunias (for anger).
“Thanks..?” He takes it gently as not to ruin the delicate arrangement of her resentment. Their fingers brush lightly and the condensed strength of her emotions waver. She knows. She knows. If she has a problem, she should be talking. She knows that. She just–
“Was I, did I miss a date?” She can practically hear his brain cogs turning.
“We don’t do those,” she reminds him, already breaking into an affectionate smile. She’s already losing ground. But it’s difficult not to when he holds onto the flowers so gently with hands she’s witnessed are capable of breaking a man in half. The adorable blush that specks his visible cheeks doesn’t help either.
It’s not just the flowers. Whatever she gets for him. So much care. Too much care. The thing is, he doesn’t make her feel unwanted. It’s the opposite really.
“I just–“ She doesn’t know how to proceed. Hence, the flowers. He waits for her. He’s infinitely patient with her. He’s too patient with her. And she has very little patience in her.
Communication. She reminds herself. Hatake Kakashi is a quiet man, a man who’d shown he cared by using his body as a shield for her. Even then, he is a private man. To be able to have what they have is a miracle in itself.
She wants him to feel comfortable.
And so maybe, she had been equally discursive with her intentions. (Not her desires – that she considers was well implied.) She’d wanted to talk. About intimacy. About their relationship. They hadn’t exactly named it, but it was exclusive, and maybe she had wanted some form of confirmation, without explicitly stating it, fearing what it may end.
So communication. Honesty. Boundaries and courage and respect–
“Why won’t you have sex with me! You incorrigible man!”
Well, fuck.
***
Well, fuck indeed.
“Sakura.” She refuses to look at him, embarrassed to the core of her heart. Her hair might (she knows it does) match her blush.
“I’m sorry, I just thought maybe I should confess first?” Her head whips up, hair slapping her cheeks unpleasantly.
“I-uh.” She has never seen Kakashi fidget in her life. She pins him with her awed almond eyes.
“I really like you. Will you date me?” As far as confessions go, she thinks she might have heard the same exact lines verbatim from a kindergartner's mouth. It’s childish, and clumsy and so so so heartbreakingly genuine.
She laughs or giggles. Maybe they are much like kindergartners when it comes to love. Their teens were in wars, after all.
He is infinitely patient with her, content with her giggles while still abashedly nervous. His fingers tangle with one another, not knowing what to do.
She takes hold of his hand and kisses it as if claiming as her own.
She smiles. “Yes.”
He visibly relaxes, shoulders slumping back to its usual lethargy. Her hands find the back of his head, pulling him infinitely closer.
Her lips find his scarred eye, “Yes”
Then his cheeks, “Yes.”
Then his lips. “Yes.”
She puts her forehead to his, “Now take me to bed.”
“Yes.”