Title: Give Me My Flowers While I Can Still Smell Them
Summary: She blooms even among the wilted and dying, in the darkest of days, and he wishes for nothing but to crush her underneath his foot.
Pairing: Sasuke x Ino, Gaara x Ino
Type: On-going
Rating: T/M-ish (for language, sexual content)
Genre: AU, romance, (crude) humor
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

It's 10:01 p.m., Sasuke notes, toothbrush in hand, while the other wipes away at the foam at the corner of his lips. He's going to be late, and this is not good, as it means only one thing: first round of drinks will be on him, and his friend, Naruto, is much of a bastard to take advantage and ask for anything other than the $2 special they have on pitchers every Thursday night.

It's sort of a tradition: he and his close friends meet bi-weekly, on a Thursday at 10:30 p.m., at their favorite joint, K-Bar. They talk, laugh, drink, and partake in karaoke if they're drunk enough. Sasuke is sure to never reach such a point. Jameson and Bon Jovi were a bad mix. He shudders at the memory.

He bares his teeth in the mirror and, satisfied, tosses his toothbrush in the cup on the sink. "A couple drinks," he says, using his palms to flatten the wrinkles on his button-up. "A couple, and no more."

From inside the bathroom, he hears his cell phone ring. He looks at himself once more before making his way to the living room where his cell lies atop the marble coffee table. He places the device between his right shoulder and ear and is met with an exasperated sigh on the other end.

"Uchiha," the voice says flatly.

"Sir," Sasuke replies with an equally flat tone. "It's late. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Where are today's files?"

"I left them on your desk," Sasuke replies, slipping an arm into his jacket. He rearranges his cell to his left shoulder so that he can slip his other arm in. "Where else would they be?"

"I'm standing here and do not see them."

"What the hell? Are you sure?"

An exaggerated sigh. "Yes. Uchiha-san, I'm sure you understand the severity of the situation if those are not recovered."

Sasuke practically splutters. "T-That's insane. I know damn well I left that pile there before I left today." Then, something strikes him. "Wait—the new receptionist."

"What about her?"

Sasuke curses with a little more vehemence than necessary. "I apologize. I did not leave them on your desk. I left them with the new receptionist. I told her to make an extra set of copies and to leave everything on your desk after."

"You verbally informed the woman of this task and physically left the papers with her?"

Sasuke backtracks a little. "Well...no. I left the pile at her desk, with a note attached on top." God, what the fuck is wrong with him? He's never met the girl.

He hears what sounds like another deep intake of breath. "This woman started just yesterday. I understand her role is to support the office staff, but having her take care of a task I personally entrust either yourself or Gaara to handle? She is not familiar with our procedures yet. She is barely undergoing training."

"Well, is she an inexperienced idiot? Making copies isn't that difficult, is it?"

There is a long pause. "No. But where are the copies, then? They are neither on her desk nor in the copy room."

Sasuke suppresses a groan. "I will seek her out tomorrow and resolve the situation."

"9:30, Uchiha."

Sasuke spends thirty seconds listening to the dial tone.

"Fuck."

"You're late," Naruto declares with a sneer.

"That, I am," Sasuke breathes out sharply, setting his jacket down on the seat to Naruto's right. He greets the two men before him, Shikamaru and Chouji, with a nod.

"Everything okay?" Chouji inquires worriedly.

"I had to take a call," Sasuke sighs, running a hand over his face. "Dragged out a little longer than expected."

"That's too bad and all but, uh, before you take a seat, I'd like a Jameson and ginger ale," Naruto says casually, completely unconcerned.

"Right," Sasuke grouses, shooting him a scornful look. Naruto seems unbothered; Chouji shrugs his shoulders, mouthing a sympathetic "sorry, man"; Shikamaru…Shikamaru is indifferent, as always.

When Sasuke returns and sets down the tray of drinks, he finally seats himself and deliberately gives Naruto a hard slap on the back. "Here you go, bud."

Naruto yelps in pain. "You asshole, did you forget or some shit?! Gah, these fucking stitches itch," he grits out, tapping one foot against the floor as an arm reaches behind in an attempt to scratch at a recovering wound. Naruto is a fighter, but not one who fights carelessly on the street like a thug, mind you (although he does have his moments when he encounters a drunk-outta-his-fuckin'-mind, unlucky soul who dares give him lip at the bar), for he practices Muay Thai, and is damned good at it. He had a tournament the night before and gained a bad injury, among others: his opponent had an apparent long nail on his big toe, that when barely dodging a roundhouse kick, that toenail made contact with the skin on Naruto's back, leaving a nasty gash that required stitches. Naruto lost. The guys found the entire incident hilarious.

"He looks like a dog, huh?" Chouji whispers from across the table. Beside Chouji, Shikamaru tries not to openly chuckle at the sight. He and Chouji are very close, best friends, even, always coming and leaving together.

"Sasuke, would you like a crepe?" Chouji asks, opening a container. "They're still a little warm." He's not one to eat sweets, but he's also not one to turn down any of Chouji's food, as any meals or snacks he makes never disappoint (a secret he keeps to himself). He mutters a quick "thanks" and takes a bite, enjoying the savory taste of Nutella filling. Chouji is a food critic and runs a very popular blog online, in which he writes about a great deal of food, restaurants, and even drops a recipe here and there. He sometimes brings along food he's made at home, seeking tasters to give opinions. The guys oblige every time.

"I'll have one, also," Shikamaru says. Now, Shikamaru is the lazy one of the group. He didn't graduate at the top class in high school with his abysmal marks. So, how in the hell did he receive a full scholarship to one of the top universities in the country, you ask, and reject such an offer? This guy, Nara fucking Shikamaru, is a professional gamer. To this day, it continues to baffle most. However, Sasuke and the rest saw it coming. When they were younger, Sasuke and Naruto were big on video games but would get their ass kicked every single time. Upon introducing Shikamaru, they had better luck with an apparent genius strategic on their team. Sasuke outgrew games once entering high school, as did Naruto, since the blond realized fondling a pair of tits and ass was much better than fingering your keyboard. Yet, Shikamaru played on. He cared very little for schoolwork, which frustrated his teachers to no end, but even they took note of the underlying intelligence that his normally lazy attitude belied. Sasuke wasn't surprised when Shikamaru mentioned that nearly all his instructors wrote letters of recommendation that he didn't ask for.

"You will aggravate them if you continue, you fool," Shikamaru says as he eyes the growling man in front of him with distaste.

"Shaddup, will ya?" Naruto retorts hotly, retracting his hand and taking hold of the drink in front of him. He takes a swig, straw forgotten, and Chouji is the only one to laugh aloud when he hears glass and teeth clashing.

"Sheesh, man, you're only hurting yourself more," the cook says between laughter.

"Fuck off." He sets down the glass and sighs, "Now, now, where are all the girls?"

Sasuke and Chouji roll their eyes, while Shikamaru only stares upon the drink before him with little interest. The Uzumaki can be such a buzzkill.

Shikamaru shakes his head. "No decent girl ever turns up here, you know that."

Naruto smirks. "Ya sure 'bout that?"

His head is at an angle, and Sasuke follows Naruto's line of vision toward the bar on the other side of the room. A blonde woman is seated on a stool at the bar, chatting with the bartender.

Chouji glances over, as well. "She's pretty," he comments. "Looks a bit familiar, don't you think, 'Maru?"

Shikamaru caves, disregarding his drink in favor of participating in the ogling of a woman at a bar. He considers her for a second. "Ino," he says, lips set in a firm line.

"Yeah! That's Ino-chan!" Chouji seems enthusiastic.

"Well, what the hell are ya two waiting for?" Naruto snaps. "Invite her over and introduce us!"

"I don't think that's a good—"

Chouji wastes no time and cuts Shikamaru off. "Oi! Ino-chan!"

Sasuke notes that while Shikamaru looks peeved, he does nothing to stop Chouji.

"Oiii! Ino-chan!" he calls out again, effectively grabbing her attention. She looks over to their table and appears momentarily confused before smiling and then leaving her seat at the bar, drink in hand. Her hair is up in a messy bun, loose strands at either side of her head. She's wearing a white loose-fitting blouse, the hem tucked nicely within her formal navy pants, and on her feet are faded white low-top Converse. Her eyes are an odd shade of blue. She looks strangely familiar...

"Well, well, well! Lookie here, now!" she cries out happily, spreading her arms wide to wrap around both Chouji and Shikamaru's shoulders. Shikamaru doesn't struggle, even when her glass tips slightly and alcohol spills over his shoulder. He's...smiling.

"Hello to you, too, Ino-chan," Chouji responds. "Come on then, Shikamaru, say hi."

Shikamaru grunts in reply, shrugging off her arm. She tightens her hold and presses her cheek against the top of his head. "Awww, Shika-kun, don't be like that," she coos.

He resigns with a sigh. "Hello, Ino."

She releases her hold on them and stands straight, crossing her arms. Spilling a little more of her drink. Sasuke can't help the eye roll.

"Been a while, huh?" she says.

"Mhm," Chouji agrees. "A couple years. Still haven't gotten rid of the baby fat up here, huh?" he teases, referring to her cheeks as he pats his own.

"Watch it, Cho," she threatens, though there's mirth in her eyes, while Shikamaru looks amused.

The trio seems to have forgotten about the presence of two others. Taking advantage of this, Sasuke rises from his seat to leave to the bathroom, but as soon as he stands, Naruto clears his throat, the attention-hungry, horny bastard.

"Oh!" Chouji exclaims. "These are our friends, Ino. Naruto and—"

"Hey," she interrupts, eyes on Sasuke. Her head tilts, and after a few moments, her eyebrows raise in what can be interpreted as realization—she recognizes him. "Hey, I know you."

His friends' eyes all turn on him, curious, and bewilderment on Naruto's part, as he tries to process the scene taking place: hot girl talking to anyone other than him. She looks familiar, yes, but Sasuke can't think on where or when they may have ever met. He is mildly curious, as well.

"Daddy's told me so much about you."

"What?" Sasuke is genuinely confused and can only deduct that this woman is either drunk or mental.

"Yeah, what?" Naruto mumbles, obviously growing irate that she's yet to pay him any mind.

She extends a hand. "Ino. Yamanaka Ino. I look forward to working with you, Sasuke-kun."

The color in Sasuke's face immediately drains—of course, she's a spitting image of him!—and after several seconds, Naruto bursts into laughter. "Wait. Nooo way!"

"How exciting!" Chouji chimes in. "When did you start?"

Sasuke tunes out their conversation to think back on the one with her father just less than an hour ago. He, Sasuke, called her, Yamanaka Inoichi's daughter, an inexperienced idiot. But why did the man speak of her as if she were just any regular receptionist and not, you know, his daughter? Is this a test, to see if his daughter is being treated poorly by his staff? Is he going to be on the receiving end of paternal wrath the following morning? Should he remove the older Yamanaka from his list of professional references now?

"What brings you here, anyway?" he hears Shikamaru ask, pulling him out of his reverie.

"You know of Buns over there, don't you?" she gestures to the bar, where Tenten, their bartender, is ringing up a customer.

"Tenten. She just started last month," Chouji says. "Is she a friend?"

Ino nods into her drink before throwing her head back and downing the entire thing in one gulp. She exhales sharply. "She works Thursdays. I swung by to hang out."

"Are we keeping you?" Chouji asks, sounding apologetic.

"Nah." She looks over her shoulder and scowls at her friend who is filling a pitcher and giggling at the man sitting before her. "Seems like one of her customers is keeping her company."

"Splendid," Naruto clasps his hands together, smirking. "Pull up a chair and join us."

It's a little past 1 a.m. and everyone, with the exception of Sasuke, is drunk as hell. In the past several hours, he's learned a thing or two about Ino. Aside from now working as the new receptionist at her father's firm—in which Naruto wasted no time in openly reminding Sasuke at least four times—she originally worked as a fitness trainer at a gym. (Some time during the night, her and Naruto engaged in an arm wrestling match, one that Ino effortlessly beat him in and left Naruto feeling emasculated.) She swims at least twice a week and thrifts every Monday when everything is half-off (although he is not sure why, as she must be very wealthy). She listens to 80s rock and is a good dancer when she's had enough drinks but is terrible otherwise.

"What! You've yet to name that thing?"

She also owns a nameless pet turtle.

"Well, Naruto, I've yet to find a name most fitting for him," Ino scowls.

"And you've had him for how long, again?" Shikamaru asks playfully.

Ino gives a loud hmph and crosses her arms, before mumbling under her breath, "Five years…"

"What was that? 'Fraid I didn't hear you," Shikamaru grins and grins even more when Ino kicks his leg under the table.

Shikamaru is a happy, talkative drunk, something Sasuke has never seen before in the years they have drank together—and they started as early as thirteen. A permanent smile has been plastered on his face all night. The sight is new, and a bit frightening, even.

"Violent as always," Chouji chuckles, as Shikamaru takes another kick when he tells Ino she should've gotten a pet pig instead. (Sasuke is sure if anyone other than Shikamaru and Chouji were to say that, more bodily harm would be done than a kick to the shin.) "Well, it's a quarter past one. 'Maru, do you still need a ride to the airport in the morning?"

Shikamaru gives a curt nod before turning to Ino. "Was nice hanging with you tonight," he says coolly, as if he wasn't all smiles and fucking giggles just a couple minutes prior. "We should do this again."

Ino stands and punches him in the chest before circling her arms around his shoulders and bringing him into a hug. "Of course! Good luck on your tournament this weekend!"

"How're you getting home tonight?" Chouji asks over her head when she hugs him next. "I believe Tenten left."

"I'll catch a cab," Ino shrugs. At the boys' skeptical looks, she places her hands on her hips. "Guys, I will be fine."

"Where do ya live? Maybe we can catch one together," Naruto offers, and Sasuke internally blanches beside him, for he knows of his hidden intentions.

"West of here," she answers.

"Naruto's up north. Sasuke can drive you home," Chouji suggests almost too quickly. Before Sasuke can protest, Chouji smoothly continues, "He's a trustworthy guy. He'll make sure you get home safely."

"Yeah?" She turns to Sasuke; her eyes are bright, cheeks flushed. They haven't really spoken tonight. Rather, he hasn't, choosing to keep to himself and allow the others to speak among themselves. He was invisible, as Chouji and Shikamaru were too happy to be reunited with an old friend and catch up, while Naruto was glad he had one less guy to worry about in keeping her attention.

"What about it, Sasuke?" Chouji pushes.

Sasuke looks over at Ino, who's fumbling with her phone and muttering nonsense about whether she's been feeding her turtle the right amount of pellets per meal. Shikamaru's infamous phrase echoes in his mind: troublesome. He sighs, defeated.

"Yeah."

"It's hot in here," she complains for the third time in a span of twenty minutes.

"The AC isn't working," he also repeats for the third time. "I rather not open the windows. It's thunderstorming, Yamanaka-san."

"Not even a crack?" she whines. "And I told you, just call me Ino."

He tells her no, which is met with her releasing the most dramatic sigh. (Like father, like daughter.) Giving up, she busies herself with her phone.

Sasuke exhales, but his relief is short-lived when she starts up again.

"I so do not want to wake up early for work."

"Get used to it," is all he says in response.

"Hm, of course. Daddy says you always arrive fifteen minutes early."

"How did you know who I was?" He's been wanting to ask all night. "We have never met."

She taps away at her phone, most likely writing out a text, before she answers him. "He has a photo of a company outing on his desk at home. A cruise, I think? You and that redhead guy are at either side of him. Not much of a smiler, huh?"

He chooses not to comment, and he hears her giggle.

"Aw, come on! I'm just teasing you."

Sasuke scowls. "Funny, Yamanaka-san."

"Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"Anything else is inappropriate," he replies, coming to a stop at a red light.

She snorts. "How so? Because I'm daddy's daughter?"

"Yes," he says, simply. It is just that.

"We are the same age. Do not be so formal. It's," she makes all sorts of gestures with her hands, "weird."

He says nothing and counts away the seconds on the pedestrian signal. At fifteen seconds, a sharp snap is made right beside his ear and he visibly winces.

Annoyed, he turns to her. "What is it?"

Ino smacks her lips in discontent. She faces away from him and stares at the drops of rain cascading against the window. "Don't treat me like my father's daughter," she says after a moment. Her finger begins to make intricate designs on the foggy glass (he hates when anyone does that) before she swipes at it entirely. "I am your co-worker now. Treat me as such."

Sasuke scoffs softly. "Whatever."

The remainder of the ride is silent, save for Ino's impatient tapping on the window, or the shuffling of her feet resting on the dashboard, then being taken down a couple minutes later before doing it again. She's antsy. He can't tell if it's because she's uncomfortable with the warmth in his car, or if she's naturally like that. Whatever it may be, he hopes such behavior won't make an appearance when she begins working in a never-ending chaotic environment that makes up his workplace.

He works closely with her father and is admittedly proud that the man has not only taken a liking to him but trusts him, as well. He takes care and is confident in his staff as a whole, but Sasuke understands that his role is different and demands a lot. He has made sure to never disappoint his boss. He has made sure to never disappoint any boss he's worked for, actually.

Work forever remains to be his priority. When he thinks on his childhood and teenage years, he can't bring himself to recall a memory in which he felt like a child or teenager. Rules, rules, and rules were imposed on him. Goals, goals, and goals—that weren't even his—were set out for him to follow. It all began at such a young age. Any motivation he had was driven by the possibility of his father being ashamed, disappointed, if he were ever to displease him.

"That's not healthy thinking, little brother," he can almost hear his brother say, a flick to his forehead always following after.

His GPS notifies him that he is nearly at his destination. To the right of him, Ino is sound asleep. She reclined her seat some time ago and is now resting comfortably on her side, seat belt forgotten. She appears peaceful, bearing a serene expression, even if her mouth is slightly agape and drool is beginning to form. He shakes his head. Of course. She must have no worries in the world, as her father is a well-off, well-respected man and must treat his daughter like a princess.

Their fathers are alike in so many ways, yet Sasuke feels as if her upbringing was nothing like his. She would never understand. He almost finds himself slowly resenting her before he tells himself that jealousy is unbecoming of him, and to envy a girl such as herself?

Get a grip, Uchiha.

His hand reaches out to nudge her forearm. "Yamanaka-san. We're almost there."

She grumbles something that he can't hear and swats his hand away before turning on her other side, her back now to him. Hand suspended in air, his fingers twitch. Brat. He clears his throat and tries again, "Ino, wake up."

Slowly, ever-so-fucking slowly, the blonde woman turns her head with the widest grin, stretched out from cheek to cheek. He restrains himself from swearing in response to that godawful smile.

"Why, thank you, Sasuke-kun." Her misplaced emphasis tells him she must still be drunk.

He makes a turn onto a small street. "Just"—he pinches the bridges of his nose—"point out which house."

"No need." Without any further say, she abruptly opens the door while he is still driving.

"Hey!" he shouts, his foot stomping on the breaks. "What the f—"

"Sasuke-kun," she drawls out, as if she's speaking to a child, "I'm not sure daddy would approve of a man dropping me off at home in the middle of the night—even if said man is an employee of his, and a favorite, at that."

Ino closes the door and Sasuke watches, appalled, as she walks into the pouring rain. Her feet barely touch the sidewalk when she pauses and turns to face him. No more than ten seconds have elapsed and already she is soaked. The insane blonde taps at his window.

What? he mouths, unable to fathom her crazed intentions now. Not wanting her to remain outside any longer, and for him to risk running into his boss with his daughter at two in the morning, he rolls down his window.

"The files are with daddy, okay?"

It takes a moment for her statement to register. Holy shit. The incident completely eluded him tonight. Maybe he is a little inebriated himself…

"What do you mean? He said he wasn't able to find them."

"I know!" she shouts over the thunder that just struck. "He knew you were being irresponsible in leaving it to anyone other than him or your no-eyebrow colleague." She smiles. "He was obviously fucking with you."

She pulls herself away from the car, head moving side to side. "Tut, tut, Sasuke-kun. For a professional, that's a move an inexperienced rookie would make, no?"

Before Sasuke can form anything coherent, since words decide to fucking fail him, Ino smirks and bids him farewell with a wave of her hand, her figure now a blur in the rain.

He stares at the time displayed on the touchscreen. 2:17 a.m.

I need some fucking sleep.