Door to Door

by stones

Pairing: Hidan/Sakura. For some shits and giggles.

It all started with a loud knock and an annoying yell. It was destined for failure from the very beginning.

Haruno Sakura, being the busy body that she was, had just arrived back from work and had finally kicked off her shoes and sprawled herself out on the couch. A knock on the door was the last thing she needed. With an annoyed huff, she pushed herself towards the door, taking a peak from the little hole in the middle (though those rarely help anyway.)

The man was tall, or at least she figured he was, because the little hole made him look like a tiny midget, and it was usually the tallest people that suffered the most. He had to be old. Only people with that light of hair were in their 60s—at least. Old men weren't dangerous, right? So, she slipped the door open a crack, just to peek through.

"Uh, yeah?" she asked, getting a full look at him and his dark clothes. She knew he was tall!

He hadn't really seen her so when she spoke he had to look around, confused and all, to find where the squeaky mouse voice was coming from. He gave her a weird look once he spotted her, and she couldn't tell if he was amused, annoyed, or just constipated.

"Do you want to open the door or something?" he asked. "It's rude. Seriously."

"What do you want?" she asked again, pushing the door only slightly more. It happened in a matter of seconds but he rolled his eyes, grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door open, making the clinging Sakura stumble with it.

"See," he said, looking down at her with a smug smile. "That's fucking better."

She let go of her tight hold on the door and straightened out, giving him an irritated look. But, with the slight chance that he could be a psycho serial killer who could just snap at any given moment, she humored him with a polite smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked, titling her head.

"No," he answered, completely serious. "But you can help yourself."

"What?"

"Have you ever opened your heart to Jashin?" he asked, holding a pamphlet out to her. Interested, she went to grab it, but he pulled back. She reached for it again. He pulled back again. And again. And again. "Aha, got you."

"Whatever," she grumbled, taking the pamphlet from him though she kept his eyes on him suspiciously. After nearly ripping his arm off from snatching it from him, she scanned over the cover. It was pretty abstract, she had to give him that. There was only a black circle with an upside down triangle. Well, it looked upside down. Getting kind of bored, she flipped the page and made a disgusted face when she saw the next picture. It was a dead body on some kind of alter. Cute. She squinted and brought it closer to her face. Whoever the makeup artist and photographer were, they were amazing. Kudos to them. It looked so real. "Is this a joke?" she asked, looking up to him.

"Do I look like I'm fucking joking?" he asked, quite offended.

She scanned him over. He could keep a straight face good alright. Well, she could go along with this. "What do you even do?"

"Follow Jashin," he said then followed with a, "duh."

"'Kay," she said, nodding. "But do you, I don't know, have mass, or maybe rub some fat man's belly?"

"Read," he simply instructed, motioning with his head to the pamphlet. "Fucking educate yourself."

She wasn't honestly about to read this thing, so she pretended to, flipping over pages rather quickly. He snorted so she figured he didn't really believe she was reading the stupid thing. Instead, she looked back up at him. Fun's over. "Alright. Thanks. Bye."

She went to close the door, but he caught it with his hand and kept it open with his arm, which was looking quite muscular and scary at the moment. Not to mention his face looked pretty pissed off.

"Seriously, wait," he said. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?"

"Yeah. What do you think?" he repeated, shrugging, and looking rather proud.

"I don't know what I think," she replied. "I don't even know what this thing—" She flapped the pamphlet around. "—is about."

"ZOMFJ," he groaned, taking the hand that wasn't propping open the door to slap his forehead and run it down his face in frustration.

"ZOMFJ?" she repeated, one hand on her hip, the other holding the pamphlet out. "What the hell is that?"

"Zoh My Fucking Jashin," he said, almost as if it were common knowledge. "I told you to read the fucking pamphlet! Did you think I was joking? Seriously?"

"These pictures gross me out," she explained.

"Fine, Pretty Princess," he started, snatching the pamphlet from her. He flipped it open to the last page and held it in front of her. She read the heading. PERKS. "Since Pretty fuckin' Princess is little Miss Impatient, I'll get to the good stuff."

"Could you not give me pet names?"

"Fucking listen," he said and then cleared his throat. "Alright, pretty much you get to have a bad ass, fucking time on Earth. Seriously. Oh, then there's immortality—"

"Wait, immortality?"

"Did I s-stutter?" he asked, giving her an irritated look. "Yes, fucking immortality."

"So is it like by default that if your immortal, you have to look like an old person?"

"Old person?"

"Well yeah," she said with a nod. She motioned with her hands to him, as if presenting him to the world. "Gray hair…laugh lines."

"These fucking laugh lines are from the many smiles I get from following Jashin," he said sarcastically, pointing to the corners of his mouth. "And my hair is not gray. It's silver. Get it right, Pretty Princess."

"Stop calling me that," she commanded.

"Look at yourself. Seriously," he said, pointing at her hair. She shrunk back, bringing her hands up to shield her hair from his view. "You look like someone ate bad bubble gum ice cream and shit it out."

"Ew."

"I don't look old," he said, almost trying to drill it into her head. He pushed his sleeves back and flexed his arm. "Does this look old?"

"No." It looked scary…and kinda…hot.

"Like I fucking thought," he grumbled. "Seriously, I've been doing this a long time and this is the first fucking time I ever got that old shit."

"A long time?" she asked, interested. "So you're like a priest or something?"

"Not really," he drawled out with a shrug. "I guess you could call me an elite follower."

"So you're a holy man, huh?"

"Sure," he said, finally agreeing with her.

"You sure swear a lot for a holy man," she observed, then paused, putting a hand to her chin. He felt nervous as she stared at him so he did the most logical thing he could do. He stared back.

"What?" he asked, finally annoyed at her glare.

"It must suck," she said.

"What does?"

"The whole no making love thing," she clarified and his face dropped, looking at her as if she was nuts. "You don't seem like the kind of person--"

"Wait!" he said, holding his hand out. "Just fucking wait. I make love. No, I have sex."

"Isn't that, like, a sin or something?' she asked.

"No!" he exclaimed, almost as if she asked if the moon was made out of cheese. He put his hand on his head, amazed. "Are you fucking kidding me? I fuck all the time!"

Sakura cringed at the harsh word, but still couldn't get past the fact that this priest/prophet/minister/elite worshiper had went against his holy vows.

"Seriously!" he said, almost as if she didn't believe him. "You wanna go fuck right now? Please don't tell me you have a twin bed. That shit's uncomfortable."

"No!"

"How bout a large table?" he offered. "That could work."

"Ew!"

"You wanna go at it on the floor?"

"No!" Sakura exclaimed, grabbing hold of her door. She pushed it, but he still had it propped open with his arm and it didn't budge.

"Hey, it's just an offer, seriously," he said with a shrug. "You're not really my type anyway. You wouldn't even make a good sacrifice."

"Why? What's wrong with me?" she asked, clearly offended.

"That's exactly the fucking point," he explained. "There's too much wrong with you. Jashin likes his sacrifices normal, and well, I don't know, good."

"I am good!" Sakura defended.

"You're a fucking floozy," he said. "That's what you are. Jashin doesn't want no floozies."

"Then I suppose he doesn't want me as a follower," she argued.

He shook his head. "Nah," he said, throwing his hand up as if he were throwing away the idea. "A follower is a follower-- floozy or not."

"Wait," she said, finally catching up with the conversation. "Sacrifices?"

"Duh," he said, opening the pamphlet back to the picture of the dead body. He pointed at it. "Take a good look, Pretty Princess."

She titled her head. "So you like, pretend do to sacrifices?"

"Why would I pretend?" he asked.

"Because isn't murder, I don't know, illegal or something?" she asked, moving her head back and forth mockingly, because really, it was simple logic.

"Alright, don't get fucking sassy with me," he started, then addressed the question at hand. "And it's not murder. It's a sacrifice. Seriously."

There was a pause where he just nodded and she just stared, not quite sure what to say. He huffed, his breath visible against the cold air. "Hey, you got a heated house? Why don't you fucking invite me in or something?"

"You want me to invite you in…" she drawled out, thinking out loud. "A person who pretends to be a murderer and tries to justify it by calling it a sacrifice."

"ZOMFJ!" he yelled out, yanking the door further open. "I don't fucking pretend! Seriously, say it one more time! I fucking dare you!"

"…And now you're threatening me," she murmured. "I don't even know you."

"So…?"

"So, you know," she shook her hands before her and made a ghost sound, "Stranger Danger."

"Fine," he replied. "We'll become unstrangers."

"I don't think that's a--"

"My name is Hidan," he said, putting his hand out. She stared it like it carried a disease. "Yours is?'

She paused. She really couldn't tell this psycho her name. In her mind, she played scenes of him creepily stalking her Facebook, following her into the mall, searching through her underwear drawer when she wasn't home, and peeking through her window when she was sleeping. "My name is….hard to pronounce."

"I'm sure I'll get it eventually," he said. "Seriously, what is it?"

"Jane," she replied with a blank face and robotic voice.

"Really?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Really really," she confirmed with a nod.

"Well, that's fucking funny," he said, his eyes squinting and going down to her chest. She was about to cover her chest, because honestly, find a subtler way to look, but his hand came up and pointed. "Cause your name tag says Sakura."

She wrapped her sweater around herself tighter, effectively hiding the plastic nametag from view though the damage was done.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Well--"

"No," he said with a large smile. "That's fucking great. Lying. Seriously, that's one step closer to being a good follower."

"I never said I wanted to be a follower!" she snapped back.

"Look, Pretty Princess…"

"Sakura!" she corrected.

He shrugged. "Sakura."

"No, shit!" she said, shaking her head quickly. "Jane."

"It's real cute when you curse, seriously," he observed, nodding his head in approval. "It's kind of contradictory. You know, your pink hair, pretending to be a good person kind of attitude. It's kind of like a tainted pink bunny."

"That's sick."

"Do it again," he said.

"Do what?"

"Say bitch, fuck, shit," he said. "Asshole. Jackass. There's a bunch to choose from. Say your favorite."

"Bitch…" she said, hesitantly.

He nodded again. "Yeah, I like it."

"This feels wrong," she mumbled.

"You know what's wrong?" he asked and she shrugged because she wasn't about to guess. He finally took the hand that was propping the door open to take hers, which she jumped in fear from, and brought it to his hand that was still held out for her to shake. "Not shaking a fucking hand when it's waiting. Seriously, it's rude."

She had no choice but to abide. Slowly, she wrapped her fingers around his much larger hand and gave it a good, jerky shake. Just as soon as she did this, she felt something vibrate in her back pocket, followed by a loud musical burst filling both of their ear drums.

"What the fuck is that?" Hidan asked, taking his hand back to cover his ears dramatically. "Seriously, that's what's wrong. How are you going to let that ruin our moment?"

"It was not a moment," she said, reaching for her cell phone in her back pocket as cheesy pop music poured from it. "It's a good song."

"Good song," he snorted, giving himself the privilege to step closer and lean himself against the door frame, making her linger back. "That shit is garbage. Now, the singers who sing these kind of songs are the perfect sacrifices."

"I thought sacrifices were supposed to be normal," she said, silencing her phone.

"Now the thing about these fucking pop stars is that they think they're normal," he started, "even though they're obviously not. And they complain all the fucking time. That's just as bad."

"You don't even know them," she argued. "And what do you listen to?" She threw her hands up and made an angry face. "Rarrrr, I hate life. I scream so loud that no one can even understand me."

"Whatever would be better than that shit," he grumbled. "Don't worry though. It won't be long before I've got you converted and all."

"Oh?"

"Seriously," he said. "I just made you my special project, Pretty Princess."

"It's not going to happen," she sighed, hand reaching for the door. He caught it before she touched it and she looked up at him, not sure whether to be annoyed or a tad bit frightened. "L-Let go."

"So, you going to give me your number or what?"

"What? No!" she said, wriggling her hand from his tight hold. She gripped the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face. It was about to be a success until he stuck his foot in the doorway. "I'm not going to give my number to you!"

"Why not?"

"What if you're a creepy stalker?" she asked, trying to kick his foot out of the way.

"Seriously?" he asked, nearing his face to look at her, though she looked away each time he had caught her eye. "I know where you fucking live. A number wouldn't make a difference if I was a creepy stalker, which I'm not."

"Fine!" she said, throwing her hands in the air. "If I give it to you will you leave me alone?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "What? Are you fucking dumb in the head?" he asked, bringing his hand up to knock her lightly on the head while she glared, flinching every time his fist collided with her skull. "That would defeat the purpose."

"You know," she started, hands on her hips once again. He rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorframe once more, already knowing that this was a sign of a bitch fit. "I'm tired! I've been working for hours and had to take the bus in the freezing cold all the way home. I get home and I'm just ready to take a nice warm bath--"

"Only if I can come."

"--and jump into bed--"

"Even better."

"--and just relax! But I can't. Because some guy with gray hair and a swearing problem wants to sell his nut job religion to me and hit on me--"

"It's silver."

"--and then, ooh and then--" she was pointing at him at this point "-- he won't take a fucking clue when I reject his sorry ass!'

"What the fuck?" he snapped, pushing himself from the doorframe to stand in front of her. Yeah, he was definitely tall. "You did not reject me."

"I think I did," she said with a fake smile, which clearly pissed him off. But she held her finger up when she saw his mouth open, about to say something. It stopped him and he gave her a suspicious look. She brought her finger down and took the pamphlet from him. "Pencil?"

"Somewhere in here," he said, reaching into his jacket. He pulled it out and held it out to her. She took it and startled scribbling down on the paper while leaned forward to take a peak.

"This is my number," she said once she finished writing.

"Ha! I fucking told you--"

"But it's not for you," she clarified, smacking the pamphlet on his chest. He caught it when she removed her hand and checked the number, just to make sure it Iooked legitimate. "It's because I'm interested in Jashism or whatever."

"Jashinism," he corrected.

"Whatever," she said with a shrug. "I still rejected you."

"Whatever you say, Pretty Princess," he teased with a wink as he folded the pamphlet and pocketed it. "Now about that bath…"

"Out," she hissed, pointing towards the door.

"Oh," he said, beginning to turn. "No sex on the first date?"

"This isn't a date," she said, leaning against the door as he stepped onto her porch. He turned to give her a look.

"I've been talking to you for like, what, ten minutes?" he said. "I've never fucking talked to a girl for that long. Seriously, it's a date."

"It's not a date," she said, pushing the door once more, but this time she heard it slam and saw it close fully.

"Whatever helps you fucking sleep at night, Pretty Princess," he laughed on the other side.

"It's Sakura!" she corrected.

"Whatever you say, Jane," she heard him say on the other side of the door. Okay, she had to smile at that one. She stuck her ear to the door and heard him step down her front porch steps. After she was sure he was gone, she turned around, leaned against her door, and sighed. She could have sworn she meant for it to be a frustrated sigh, but why did it come out like that sigh. Yes, the sigh. The sigh that teenage girls let out after watching a love movie.

Well, the feeling was soon gone when she heard another knock on her door. She spun around and groaned really loudly, intending for him to hear it. Roughly, she turned the doorknob and opened the door, already yelling.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" she yelled, but paused when she opened the door to see someone else.

"What's wrong with you, un?" he asked, lifting a brow at her.

She shook her head and gave him a polite smile. "Sorry," she apologized. "I thought you were someone else." She looked at him, wondering what had brought this new stranger along. His blonde hair swooped across his face (why couldn't she get her hair to do that?!), and he wore earmuffs which she had to say looked quite nice after standing in the cold doorway for so long. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He held a pamphlet out (not another one) and she looked down at it, noticing a silly bear cartoon at the bottom.

"Would you like your free art test, un?"