Chapter Text
It was one of the rare slow weekends at the country club, but that was entirely due to the heatwave and Sakura wasn’t sure whether she was thankful that she was at least at the 19th hole, the open-air snack bar with AC, or annoyed that she had to stand around bored with no tip opportunity in sight.
If there were at least some regulars, she could chat and ham up how expensive everything was as a med student then hope that the rich country club goer would generously hand her some cash with a wink. It worked pretty well usually, but she’s not sure what helped her more, exaggerating how expensive med school was in a way that appealed to these kinds of folk, or the fact that she actually knew how to play golf and could talk to them about how their game was going that day. Yes, yes, a poor med student knowing playing an expensive and slow sport seems pretty counterintuitive, but she did know how to play; she just hasn’t played beyond the practice of the driving range in the past couple years due to med school, and even that was because the owners let her practice for free if, not when, she had time.
She would never admit it, especially to her friend who teased her for playing “that’s not really a sport!” sport, but she really did miss the days when she had the time to feel the sun on her back, the breeze, the exhilaration of a great drive, shot, pitch, or putt, and graceful control of her swings.
She looked at the empty practice putting greens in front of her and then to the also-empty driving range further away on the left. Minato and Kushina wouldn’t mind her practicing a bit while she was bored and there were no patrons…
There was a suddenly jostling of clubs and Sakura turned lazily to the right, noticing a lanky figure with silver-white hair jostling his clubs while he walked towards the putting green from the parking lot. Sakura’s eyes widened and a slight smile grew on her face. He was back.
This was a new member that she had seen a couple times in the past month, and when she first noticed him, it was, funnily, enough not due to his hair, it was due to how covered he was.
Even today, with the heat wave, he was still wearing a medical mask, a long-sleeved golf shirt, and long slacks. And it was all dark greys and blacks. However, clearly, he was still human, and so today his sleeves were bunched up, slightly to his elbows, showing off muscular lean forearms.
Sakura tried to put on her best professional smile just in case he noticed her watching him, but he just glanced at her, gave her an eye-crinkle, and made his way over to the putting green.
Sakura wasn’t sure how she knew, given how much he covered himself up, but she knew that that was a good looking and fit. It was nice to watch him; his tall lean form moved with grace and purpose, and his concentration was clear and aggressive.
The admiration stopped at his pleasing physical form, because, wow, he really sucked at golf.
It was painful to watch.
As he tried to square up to a ball he had dropped down, Sakura wanted to wince at his hunched back and the way he was trying to grip his putter. It was so incredibly wrong… and was he even aiming properly?
Sakura was pretty sure that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and had previously debated on giving him some pointers. She didn’t want to do it to flirt with him, no matter how cute he was—his form was so bad that she was sure his body would ache because of it. However, she had hesitated because he seemed so determined the first couple times she saw him, she thought he would eventually get a coach or at least take lesson.
He clearly hadn’t.
Sakura debated with herself internally as he pathetically putted the ball around the green, finally getting it close enough to tap it in on his sixth stroke. She winced. It was only six feet…
She took a dep breath, and locked up the counter, and made her way towards him.
When she got to the edge of the green, she almost giggled. He was scowling at his ball.
“Mind if I gave you some pointers?” His eyes whipped towards her incredibly fast, dark and startled. She tried to give a reassuring but professional smile. “You look like you’re pretty new to the game?”
He hesitates, but eventually nods. For some reason, also he looked very embarrassed. “Well, we all have to start somewhere, I suggest you move your hands on your shaft.”
His dark eyes widen and he sputters. “Excuse me?”
Sakura rolls her eyes. Men. “You’re holding your putter wrong; there are specific hand positions and grips that you use for the putter. And for your current hand position, your hands should stay on the grip—the leather handle—and not touch the shaft—the staff of your club.”
His charcoal eyes are still bewildered but this time his gaze is on his putter, and he looks further confused. “But since I have to hunch over to putt…”
“Er… yeah, your form is… not great. With your height, you probably could have gone for a longer putter, but for the most part you’re bending too much forwards and that’s messing up where you should position your hands on the grip. Do you mind if I show you?”
He nods his head, and Sakura is beginning to liken him to a lost dog. He’s very adorably confused, and all he needs to go is a head tilt and the image would be perfect.
Sakura turns to her side, perpendicular to him to show him how a proper form should look from the side profile; her back is straight, her knees are slightly bent, and she is hinged forward by her hips. “Your starting stance for any club should be something like this, and it will engage your core and glutes.”
He scrunchies silver eyebrows in further confusion, but still tries to mimic her and fails. His back is still too hunched over, and he looks like he’s trying to do a weird squat. He looks are her for feedback, but Sakura not sure verbal directions are going to cut it. She bites her lip, considering, and then finally offers, “Do you mind if I touch you to correct your posture?”
His dark eyes meet hers and they crinkle, but she knows he’s really smiling at her this time. “Usually, I exchange names with people who want to lay their hands on me first.” Sakura would usually scowl at such a line, but he finally seems a bit more as ease—and she refuses to notice how smooth and silky his voice sounds when he’s not taken aback—so she settles for another eye roll instead.
“Sakura.” His eyebrows raise at her name and his eyes flicker to her hair, or rather her hair color. Before he can say anything, she continues. “Yes, that is my real name, and yes, I know, it’s quite on the nose.” It earns her another eye-smile, and her stomach flips a little.
“Maa, I was going to ask for your last name. Hatake Kakashi, by the way.” She narrows her eyes at him—at least his flirting was smoother than his putt game. There was no trace of the sputtering man from earlier.
“Haruno.” She was purposely brusque with this, waiting to gage his reaction.
He just gives her another damned eye-crinkle.
Sakura refuses to acknowledge the continued flip-flopping of her stomach.