Title: Always Alice
Fandom/Community: Naruto / 50scenes
Prompt: Table 2: #30 — Contact
Pairing: Hatake Kakashi x Haruno Sakura
Rating: PG
Warning: A tiiiiiiiiny bit of swearing.
Disclaimer: Kishimoto-sensei owns.
Summary: The change was subtle—felt more than seen; unnoticeable to anyone but those paying close attention. It is the encouragement of the tiny steps that allows for the dive over the cliff.

Author Notes: I literally started writing this at 10:30 pm. I finished by about midnight, and I have school. I hate when inspiration strikes late at night on school nights. LORD, I wrote in first person too! I think it's a first! Amazing! Written for the 50scenes community on LiveJournal.

And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow.
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,
And I don't want to go home right now.

And all I can taste is this moment,
And all I can breathe is your life.
'Cause sooner or later it's over.
I just don't want to miss you tonight.
— "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls

I tried to fight the way I wanted to vomit, crush something to bits and break down sobbing all at once.

"You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

My hands clenched at my sides. I fought the rising anger at how harsh Ino's words had come out—the roaring in my ears, pounding blood in my veins. It wouldn't do anything to punch the blonde into oblivion. I fought the severe churning of my stomach, one that had nothing to do with the alcohol I'd consumed. It wouldn't help to get sick—I could hold my own. I even fought the tears that threatened to fall. I had been the stupid fucking crybaby my entire life. I refused to be it now.

She was completely right. I honestly couldn't deny it.

I really was an idiot.

Without my brain to direct my body, it led me to the single place my heart insisted on going—the place my mind refused. I paced before the apartment complex, shivering against the cold. The warmth that had burned in my chest had faded as my alcohol burned itself off. The buzz-kill left the beginnings of a fuzzy, aggravating headache in its wake.

How could I have been so blind?

Not only was I blind, but I was a coward. I hadn't even the gall to pace in front of his apartment—I paced in front of the complex. There were other people inside. Other people who were probably staring out their windows, wondering if a beggar had come to root around in their trashcans. Other people who were probably close to calling the cops.

Sliding a hand through my hair, I hesitantly walked up the steps and onto the little stone stoop. My fingers shook in my pockets.

I had prided myself on my thinking abilities.

Been the smartest in my class; behind Sasuke of course, but the little bastard couldn't help but be better than everyone. My mind also added in that I was not as smart as Shikamaru—he'd merely been too lazy to take the actual tests Iruka-sensei had prepared for them.

So maybe I wasn't so smart after all.

Third in the class behind a psychotic, fraternally-obsessed young Uchiha and a cloud-watching deer-raising genius did nothing to help the situation. Neither did the alcohol in my system. My stomach gave an unhealthy groan and I clutched at it slightly. I'd never been one for vodka.

I was so used to be touched.

Who else could say that?!

I was used to people poking and prodding. When I had been young, it had been my forehead that had received the brunt of the discourse. That and my hair—that still remained something everyone was compelled to handle. I couldn't walk into a store without someone walking up and asking if my hair was real, did I dye it, was it a wig?

As I grew, it became normal, everyday touches. An embarrassingly tight hug from Naruto, the gentle bump of a hip from Ino, Tsunade's light punch into my shoulder that only I could take, Shizune's kind hand on my shoulder.

How had I forgotten about him?

The touching had always been there—from the very beginning.

Shaking, I lifted my hand, shivering against the cold night air. I pressed a finger to the white button labeled 214. A buzz sounded from somewhere inside the square intercom. I slipped my hand back into the pocket of my jacket. The Land of Fire was normally a hot place, and the days were always filled with sunshine—but winter nights could turn freezing at the drop of a hat.

When nothing happened, I pressed the button furiously—thrice more in quick succession. Then I held it down for a full thirty seconds for good measure.

The voice that came through the intercom was staticy and slightly unclear—I couldn't have missed the tone if I tried. "I unlocked the door on the first buzz."

I opened my mouth to reply. . . then shut it.

The door now unlocked, I opened it—wincing at the metal against my hand. It went back inside my jacket as soon as the door shut behind me.

I took the steps two at a time. It didn't take long to get to his apartment. I couldn't stop myself. My stomach was in knots, twisting, curling. I could swear my intestines were snakes, writing around in an attempt to find a way out. Strangely enough, the thought of snakes calmed me. Reminded me. This wasn't volatile Sasuke I was dealing with here. There were few comparisons I could make between the two men. A technique, the revulsion to sharing emotions, a red eye. Anything else and I couldn't see it—my mind had blocked any sort of association.

I pulled my hand back, ready to slam it into the door. My fist tapped lightly instead as courage drained in seconds.

Where was my strength?

Where was the courage I'd had when facing Sasuke? Akatsuki? The bully of my own self-hate?

Kakashi opened the door, and I stared up at the tall, statuesque man before me.

He held the door open slightly, leaning sideways against it. His large hand remained on the knob.

He looked like I did before I got ready for bed; distracted, tired, frustrated—not angry though, never angry.

He was dressed in baggy jogging pants, ones that I could recall seeing at different points in time through my seven years with the man. They were ripped in some places, so that I could see alabaster skin underneath, patches covering others—I seemed to even recall mending them once—and the bottoms were fraying something awful. He had his tight, masked cotton shirt as well. His hair fell over his face, unruly without his hitai-ate to hold it up at its normal angle.

"Can we. . . talk?" I couldn't breathe. I was falling. My problem was, I wasn't sure when I was going to hit the ground.

Kakashi merely stepped back and allowed me to walk into the apartment. He shut the door behind me, and I braced myself against the wall. He glanced over his arm at me before crossing it over his chest with its partner. "What do you want to talk about, Sakura?"

"Can I touch you?"

It took him off guard, I could tell. He blinked at me; mismatched eyes unfocused for a moment as he frowned—I could it see it even through the mask. "Sakura, that's a strange question to ask," he murmured, backing away slightly. My arm shot out without my permission and clasped around his wrist, dangerously close to his heart.

I breathed slowly. "Please?"

I could feel the intake of breath against my hand. My knuckles brushed his chest accidentally, and he suppressed a shudder. "You already are."

My anger returned tenfold.

Ino had to be wrong.

He had ruffled my hair when I was little because it was a cute thing to do. It was something adults did to little kids. Even if she was right—that meant nothing.

When I had grown, he'd refrained from patting me like a dog. Instead he'd place his palm against my shoulder. It showed affection, equality, trust.

Where the love that Ino saw? I wasn't confident in my assessment though.

I had to be sure.

My other hand took his opposite wrist, and I pried them away from his chest. He watched me—I couldn't tell what the look was; amusement, curiosity, whether he was just humouring me or not. I stepped forward and laid my forehead against his chest. It lifted calmly against me, lifting me backwards slightly as he inhaled and then pulled me in when he exhaled.

"What is this?" I breathed, letting go of his wrists to let my hands fall to my sides. They clenched for a moment before relaxing again. His scent overwhelmed me—I couldn't remember the last time anything had so strongly dominated my senses. I breathed him in. I wished he was a liquid so I could drink him. Wished he was food so I could eat him. A drug so I could dream him.

Ino was certainly right about me. I fell far too hard. I closed my eyes, and I waited for the impact—the inevitable collision. How would it feel? Like hitting my bed after wrestling with Naruto? Like hitting a brick wall after training with Shishou?

Kakashi exhaled loudly and rested his palms against my waist. It followed the curve of my hip until his arms engulfed me in an embrace. "Is this enough?" he asked quietly. For the first time, I noticed the strain.

My lip curved upward.

"I don't know."

"Sakura, we shouldn't. . ." he paused when I started turning my head against his chest, forehead rubbing back and forth slightly. He sighed. "I can take this. I can give you this much. I don't know about the rest."

My courage was gone by the alcohol was still in my system. It created the thought, and the haze couldn't prevent my words. "Is the rest this good?"

His body shuddered—he was trying to stop the almost silent laughter. "Is this enough?"

My hands rested against his chest on either side of my head. They rose up slowly and rested lightly on his shoulders. Almost hesitantly, the man turned his head and brushed his masked lips against the knuckles of my right fist. My voice was soft, almost a whisper—I wasn't even sure if he was going to hear me. "Can I have more?"

Leaning forward, his lips pressed against the crown of my head where his hand used to ruffle my hair. "You already have everything, Sakura," he whispered, rubbing his nose lightly in my hair. It tickled—I almost laughed. "That's why I can take it. Even this little of you. . ." His arms tightened around me for just a second before loosening, and I wondered how tight he could draw me in. I wanted it bad. "It's enough for me."

"I want. . ." I trailed off as I lifted my head. His eyes creased happily before my swimming vision.

Without thinking—I was doing that a lot tonight—I rose to my toes and pressed a kiss to where I thought his lips were.

It didn't matter that I missed slightly, undershooting the mark, kissing his bottom lip and the dip between it and his chin—he dropped his face to accommodate me. My legs gave out—there I was again with the falling. His arms tightened around me—held me up, caught my fall.

When he pulled back, I was breathless.

"Stay?" he whispered, forehead against mine. It was all I could do to not laugh as my arms tightened infinitesimally about his neck.

I nodded slowly.

My eyes closed as I pressed my lips back against his—glad that I knew where they were this time.

Glad that dancing was over. Glad that our tiny shifts had eventually brought us closer and not further apart. Glad I knew that I enjoyed falling.

finis.