It is the Lark

By Maria Szabo

Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters belong to Kishimoto Masashi and his publishers, etc. This is a work of fanfiction and no profit is being made save that of enjoyment.

So what exactly do you say on the morning after, she wondered, mere minutes after she awoke and realized she was not in her own bed. He still slept beside her, slightly turned away, as if he was still trying to hide his face behind that mask of his.

What to say? What to say? Sakura shivered, and pulled the blanket up closer around her. The bedding smelled of him—of them, really—but it wasn't an unpleasant scent. It had a hint of steel, sweat, blood, dog and oddly enough, cedar. She'd been aware of it since she first met him, back when she was still a child and he had been assigned as their team's teacher, but those circumstances had been very different indeed.

What to say? Had it only been seven years since they'd first met? It seemed like she'd known Kakashi-sensei forever. And now…and now…

He'd always been protective of her, but to tell the truth, she'd been very weak at the beginning and needed the protection. Sasuke-kun, and even Naruto had been stronger than she had been back then. And now, well…as the Hokage liked to say, "Men like to compare their strength. Women just get the job done." After all, of the Three Great Ninjas, Tsunade-hime had been the only one to become Hokage.

But she'd grown in her years as Tsunade's apprentice, and Kakashi-sensei, who had once been only protective, began to look at her with new eyes. It startled her at first, when she noticed, because this was, after all, the perpetually-late, laid-back, porn-reading Kakashi-sensei, and she had always been in love with Sasuke-kun, who would conveniently never-ever-ever love her back.

What to say? She considered the man slumbering beside her, bathed in the half-light of morning through the cheap bachelor bamboo shades of the window above his bed. His skin held odd tans where his mask and clothing had stopped and started, and there were old scars on his torso, bits of bruises along his ribcage, and on his arm, she could make out the hint of an ANBU tattoo in its distinctive curlicue. He had always been very thin, but with long, lean muscles—the type for endurance, not top strength. She wondered if that ran in his family—her own family was of very normal build.

What to say? One day, they are teacher and student. One day, sempai and kohai. One day, comrades in arms. One day, good friends. And then the night comes, and while they had shared countless other evenings together, last night was different. Last night, a line had been crossed and the boundaries were changed.

And she didn't know what to say.

Her musings were interrupted by the opening of one dark eye. Kakashi-sensei kept the other one, the Sharingan, shut, and his hand seemed to reach above his head towards the ledge under the window, patting around in search of something.

Sakura grinned to herself, leaned over the side of the bed, and pulled up his hitai-ate, handing it to him without a word. He blushed, grunted, and tied it back into place, slipping it over his eye. He gave her a smile, both bashful and tender, then tried to hide the lower half of his face with his hand.

The words came.

"Good Morning."

FIN