Alright, I caved. I'm a slavish puppet who thinks it's a puppeteer. You guys have stroked my ego way too much; this just came out of nowhere. Damn it. I'm slightly scared of this utterly elated feeling in my gut. What did you guys do to me?

I don't own Naruto. If I did, I would be sad I didn't own Hinata as well.

- - - - - - -Start.

She couldn't help it.

Old habits died hard. So hard, that she wasn't shocked she woke up here. Well, she wasn't shocked she woke up. Because that meant she had passed out at one point. But here? Where was here?

Confusion clouded her memory, and she couldn't recall where she was, why she was there, or even why she had passed out - because passing out was the only logical reason why she didn't know where she was. She quickly realized she was on something soft - firm, but soft - and came to the conclusion it was a bed in some room. There was a large window to her left, blinding her with the amount of natural light flooding in, before she looked over to see what was on her right. The jarring closeness of round, curious, sapphire-blue eyes made her scream. Well, what would have been a scream, if it weren't stuck in her throat.

It must have shown on her face though, because those curious, wondrous eyes of blue snapped quickly into an expression of its own horror.

"Ah, Hinata! Are you ok, what's wrong? Can you breathe?" And then he was moving, so quickly, touching her, and lifting her up as though to help her breathe. She was sure it would be the cause of her asphyxiation.

He was partly behind her - left knee on the bed, behind her back - standing just off the side of the bed. Just where was she? But then she could feel the heat radiating from his chest at her back, his hands on her shoulders, and she felt like she would start hyperventilating. That was, if she could manage to suck any air into her lungs. And she was really, this close, from passing out again when he started rubbing soothingly at her shoulders, telling her to, "Breathe. It's alright, just breathe."

She couldn't speak. But even if she could, she was sure it would have just been an incomprehensible mess of stuttering and flailing lips. There were no words to describe the burning warmth that was her skin. She was just positively sure, from the intensity of the boiling sensation, that she would spontaneously burst into flames. How could this be happening? How could she be, one second, sitting impossibly happy next to Naruto at Ichiraku Ramen, listening to him bring up the embarrassing subject of what was supposed to be her dream, and the next be waking up in a foreign place, previous mentioned man at her back, touching her, and being too close?

It was all too much. Far too much. Way too much. Too, too much to be conscious at the same time.

He was alarmed when the frigid young woman in his hands went suddenly slack. Terror clawed at his heart, his hand instinctively shooting to her chest in search of a beating, thumping, something. He was further alarmed by the pace of her pulse, which he immediately found. It was off the charts! Not knowing what else to do, he stood there, with a limp Hinata leaning against him, her head resting against his shoulder. He stood there, hunched over, and waited. As if he would suddenly know what to do.

As the seconds ticked by, slowly turning into minutes, he was relieved to feel the aggressive pounding fizzle into a mere thump, thump. Then he blinked, left stupefied in the wake of his growing-fear. She just passed out. Again. But at least she was fine now, and not in any imminent danger.

He maneuvered his way out from behind her, replacing himself with a pillow and blanket - so she'd be propped up. Just to be safe, he thought, in case she woke up again and found herself unable to breathe. He then looked solemnly at the pathetic bundle behind her back. He wished he had more pillows. He wondered briefly if he should grab some of the cushions from the small, old, rarely-used couch in his living room, but quickly dismissed it. Those weren't worthy of being used by Hinata. They were scratchy, uncomfortable, and more or less useless. He didn't know why he still had them, or the couch, but he figured he should just keep them. A living room needed a couch. It wasn't a living room without one. But even then, it wasn't much of a living room. It's not like he ever really lived in it. It was basically just a large span of flooring he had to walk through to get in and out of his apartment. Not that it was large. Just exceedingly large for his needs. After all, the most time he ever spent in his apartment was when he was sleeping.

Entirely distracted, he left the sleeping Hinata in his bed as he made his way to the new direction of his thoughts, to look at said cushions. He nodded in confirmation that they just wouldn't do. Then he wondered what he should do while he waited for her to wake up. It hadn't taken her extremely long the first time around. He'd only been watching her curiously by the side of his bed - fascinated by how she seemed to glow in the sunlight as well, and thinking she just somehow had a thing for glowing indoors - for a few minutes when her eyes fluttered open. But then she looked over to him, and he was just ready to give her a smile, when a strangled noise met his ears, and she looked at him like she couldn't breathe. So now here he was, waiting for her to wake up, after passing out. Again.

It wasn't exactly how he had thought their morning would go. He figured maybe she might, almost pass out, but he didn't think she would. Twice. His shoulders slumped at the misfortune, dragging his feet to the kitchen. He needed something to drink to soothe his gloomy frame of mind.

In what felt like too many times that day, her eyes opened. She didn't know where she was, or how she got to where she was, but she was dreadfully comfortable. She made to turn onto her side - to hopefully get some more, much needed sleep - when she realized her feet weren't bare. She sat up with a start and stared at her feet. Why was she still wearing her sandals? Indoors? Come to think of it, why was she so dressed, when she was sleeping? Her right brow creased in question. Where was she again?

She looked around then, completely without a clue as to where she was, but feeling as though it were vaguely familiar. Somehow. It most certainly wasn't her room, or any room she knew of, but it felt familiar, in a way she couldn't pinpoint - like she might know where or who's room this was. A blush rest lazily on her cheeks, and her lips curved upwards at the passing thought that maybe - hopefully - it was Naruto's room, but she quickly bit her bottom lip, unable to stop the smile, and shook her head violently at the idea. But then she was jolted at the sudden thought. Naruto-kun! Where was Naruto? They were at Ichiraku, weren't they? So where was he now, and why was she here, wherever here was?

She tried recalling her morning with Naruto - not daring to think of it as a date - and it all seemed to come back to her slowly, but surely. She had walked to the stand, showing up at exactly 10:00, just as she promised. Or, as Naruto duped her into promising in her desperate attempt to get his focus off of her and last night. Last night. It still horrified her that it had all actually happened. She couldn't believe how she had acted, and yet a part of her wanted to do it again. The part of her that was ridiculously eager for Naruto to find out she loved him. That small, tiny part of her. The small, tiny part of her that was somehow starting to overpower the rest of her. She had been able to keep it dormant for years, and now it was slightly angry at her, and quite vindictive, but thankfully even more delighted at the idea of coming out to play. That was when her imagination had come up with the fictitious Naruto-kun that visited her nightly in her room. With him around, that small part of her was free to fool around, coming up with all kinds of things that would embarrass her counterpart - if she weren't herself so enthralled and mesmerized.

I'm pathetic, she thought, a bit wistfully. But she couldn't help how much fun it was to stay up just a little later than usual to recall where Naruto had been earlier in the day, and then twist it in her head to make it seem as though he had done it with her. She realized how silly it was to live vicariously through her imagination, but it seemed to pacify that small part of her that was dying to tell Naruto how much she loved him. And, well, she couldn't have that happening.

Realizing her train of thought had gotten off course, she shook her head violently again. Naruto-kun. Ichiraku. 10:00. Right. So she'd shown up - making sure to be punctual, as it was engraved into her as a Hyuuga - and sat beside him, feeling dazed much too soon by how happy seeing her seemed to make him. She enjoyed the way her heart fluttered at the memory. And then they had just talked, casually, as friends, in the way she had always dreamed of. Some noodles would slap against his chin every now and then, before he'd suck them into his mouth with a prominent slurping noise. Manners that would be seen as utterly obnoxious and non-existent by any other Hyuuga. But not Hinata, no. In fact, feeling a somewhat giddy sensation of slight rebellion, she had giggled at the act, as if to laugh in her entire family's face. Even now, she didn't feel that well-known burn of shame at her little exploit of passive-aggressiveness. Naruto's presence of good-happy-fluffy-feelings was far too powerful, and had cloaked her in an air of security. She still felt safe, even in her unknown whereabouts. And then he had brought up last night. Her happy feelings had stopped as if the words 'last night' pushed an invisible pause button on a remote control to her emotions. Biting her lip, she listened to him animatedly, albeit vaguely awkward, tell her his version of last night, through his perspective. She was getting more and more nervous, feeling that clouded, swaying impulse dance threateningly in the back of her head. And then he had asked her if she really knew it was him, and why she did what she did if she did. Ah. So that was why she passed out. She could still taste the ramen as if it were still in her mouth, running along her tastebuds, and still hear the clear, trying-to-be-nonchalant tone of Naruto's voice, before that looming cloud in the back of her head washed her vision in black.

And then, as if on cue, she suddenly remembered even more than that. Something even worse than fainting on Naruto, when he had taken the time out of his morning to eat breakfast with her, even if it was ramen. No, what was worse than fainting on Naruto, was fainting on Naruto. In this bed. Just where was she? Why was she in a bed in the first place, and why was Naruto there? That familiar feeling - the one where she felt like she should know where she was - clawed at her mind again. She looked frantically around the room for a clue. They were seemingly everywhere. It was a mess. There were clothes and objects carelessly about, and the only place that seemed to be uncluttered was the top of a dresser. A dresser that had a framed picture on top. A picture with a very well-known, younger version of the man she loved inside of it. Oh goodness gracious. There was no way she could really be in Naruto's bedroom - in his bed - of all places, could she? She looked around the room once more, cautiously, forcing her mind to slow down and take it all in. There were only three options: Sakura, Kakashi,... or Naruto. Due to the un-cleanliness and amount of clothes strewn about - clothes that were suspiciously ranging from black to orange - she figured it was highly unlikely to be Sakura. So it had to be Kakashi or Naruto. Because it had to make sense somehow that Kakashi would bring her limp body to his bedroom after she passed out sitting beside Naruto. There had to be some logic in that somewhere.

In a furious blush of defeat, she knew there wasn't. She was in Naruto's bedroom. On his bed. These were his sheets, and that was his pillow. This was where he laid every night to sleep. It was positively delightful. She didn't know where he was - perhaps in the bathroom? - but she couldn't care to wonder or question too determinedly. The opportunity was too golden, too tempting, too much hers, that she practically dived back into the bed, holding the pillow, his pillow, tightly to her chest. It smelled just like him, only better, because she was able to enjoy it for however long she wished.

When the reality of her situation - the full reality - set in, she stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, uncertainty creeping into the lilac eyes that were her own. So she had woke up, after passing out, in this very bed once before. She couldn't recall in her hasty confusion - and Naruto's too-closeness - what it was exactly that had been too much for her that she had fainted in the first place. But now she could. And it was really, a very good, completely justified reason. Because honestly, how could she have possibly answered his question? That she often imagined him in the moments before sleep to live out her wistful whims, because she was madly in love with him and too much of a coward to tell him, so she had to resort to interacting with a version of him that existed only in her head? She would sound like a complete loon! She would be mortified! She would die. And then, for a moment, things made sense. Only they didn't. Because nothing explained why, out of all places, she had woken up in his bed. In his apartment. Why, out of anywhere to take her, he had chosen to take her to the one place she never dared in a million years - well, maybe only a few times - to dream of, imagine, or hope to one day see.

She heard something then, a shuffling bang, that had her blinking in its direction. Frowning, unable to think of what it could possibly be, she sat up and tilted her body around to face the open doorway of Naruto's bedroom. She hadn't realized it was open, but before that burning sensation could come back to her cheeks - because really, what if he had walked in on her and saw her cuddling his pillow like a giddy, love-sick child? - she pushed forward, deciding to explore the possibilities of what could have made that noise, armed with only the pillow of Uzumaki Naruto.

She walked curiously into the depths of Naruto's apartment, stopping short at the sight of Naruto rubbing his head, glaring at the door of a cabinet in the kitchen. She stood in the large archway that connected to the living room, smiling at the sight before her. She felt dangerously blissful, as if she were in one of those imagined scenarios that small part of her came up with at night, and waited for the impending moment where she would suddenly wake up in her bed.

"Ah, Hinata! You're awake! I'm so-" he stopped abruptly, startling her almost as much as his sudden exclamation, "Is that my pillow?"

She dropped it then, as if it had burned her, and held her hands tightly, embarrassed. What had possessed her to carry it around with her like a child carries around a blanket or treasured stuffed animal? Still, even knowing how childish it was, she wished she hadn't dropped it.

The only thing he could do after watching the way her fingers twiddled together, as her feet shifted her weight in a more-than-obvious notion of discomfort, was sigh at the relapse in her behavior. He knew he had been overly spoiled by her playful, half-asleep self. And he knew he couldn't expect her to suddenly start acting like that again. He knew that, but. He was stuck. Because she was so introverted, and shy, and guarded, and all he wanted to do was interact with her, and talk with her, and maybe while she sat in his lap, stroking the back of his neck. You know, like last night..., he thought innocently. And if things progressed further than that, well, who was he to deny the nature of things?

But then he realized where his thoughts had taken a turn and backtracked his focus to the girl standing in the entry to his kitchen, his pillow lying at her feet. "Man, Hinata! You really scared me, suddenly passing out like that!" With a stray thought, he laughed, "It's been a while since you've done that. But man, I was so freaked out I didn't know what to do! When you weren't waking up, I just took you to the first place that came to mind. I'm sorry, didn't mean to freak you out or anything. But, you're a pretty heavy sleeper, you know that? And then, just when I thought you were going to wake up and tell me what happened, you fainted again!"

"U-uh, um, N-Naruto-kun, I, ah..." He blinked at her furious stuttering, barely able to comprehend anything she said.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Hinata," he put his hands up as if surrendering, and continued, "Calm down a bit, I don't understand." He gave her a miniature version of his trademark smile, hoping to coax one back.

She chewed on her bottom lip for just a moment, before treating him with an even smaller, sheepish smile. "U-Um, w-well... I'm s-sorry, Naruto-kun."

There was a moment of silence drawn between them, and he wondered how he would ever get anywhere with Hinata if she was constantly like this. It was one of the biggest challenges he'd ever come across, but the feat would be glorious, and the reward would, hopefully, be one that kept on giving. So, he decided to do what he was best at. Being blunt.

"Hinata, do you like me?"

He would have laughed, or even smiled, at the way she froze up - like a child would when they got caught red-handed - but he couldn't bring himself to once he saw the dread in her eyes. Urgh. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that 'like' was the furthest description away from what she felt for him. But, he was determined to pull it out of her, because he knew it was there. It had to be. She wouldn't have treated him like she did last night if she didn't. He was done being dense and entirely over with playing games. She was way too good at them, and she always won. This time, he would be victorious - he was sure of it.

"Hinata?"

She wasn't looking at him. That incessantly nagging, impatient part of him was going crazy, raging underneath his skin, wanting nothing more than to just shake the answer out of her, but he knew better. He was older now, wiser, and he just knew better. She needed patience, if he was ever going to reap any reward from helping her come out of that ridiculously thick shell of hers. It would have been impressive, if it weren't driving him completely bonkers.

He could see, even from where he was standing, the warring emotions gushing through her, very much like an overflowing waterfall. But before his guilt could take over, and likely stop any more pressing of the subject - because she seemed to have a very strong difficulty with it - his determination shot it down. He couldn't let her get away this time. It was time to catch that elusive mouse.

"W-What?" She asked, in an entirely hushed tone. He knew it was very likely she was just trying to buy some time; probably to mull over what to tell him, to evade him once more.

Almost begrudgingly, he indulged her, and asked again, "Do you like me?"

Only, it had come out completely unlike how he wanted it to. He wanted to sound friendly, but strong and manly, like he knew something she didn't know he knew. Which he did. But, it didn't come out like that at all. It was breathy, barely any louder than her hushed question, and almost desperate sounding. Weak, even, if he thought about it. As if he wasn't sure what her answer would be. As if it were a likely possibility he would hear 'no'. As if he were scared.

That vulnerable feeling clawed at his chest once more, like last night, only she wasn't soothing the pain that immediately followed. He swallowed hard, trying to will it away.

Suddenly thinking to ask, he followed his question with another breathy, "Be honest."

She didn't know what to do. Or what to say. She knew exactly where this sudden urge to know whether or not she liked him came from - nowhere. She was so floored by it, so incredibly caught off guard, that she had almost, just barely, let it slip. All of it. Everything. That she loved him, lived for him, breathed for him. For him and the moment he would finally notice her. And then she was stuck between the horror of him finding out, and the sheer delight that would come from him finally knowing the truth.

It took her a while, but she finally convinced herself to wait, just a little longer, managing to keep the increasingly growing, not-so-small part of her at bay. She mentally nodded, firm in her decision to simply tell him that she did like him, as a friend, when her mouth shut before it could even open.

Her heart could just break. Splinter and shatter into a million pieces, she didn't care. Why was he looking at her like that? She couldn't understand. It was dreadfully familiar, from the days in their childhood, when Naruto was the outcast pariah of Konoha. She had seen a similar expression on his face before, but it wasn't nearly as devastating as it was for her to bear then as it was now. Because it was just mere yards away from her now, and so acutely sorrow-stricken. Nearly desperate, in a way, as if he were just seconds away from crumbling apart. And of course, he was looking at her. Facing her. How could she have possibly interpreted it as being for anyone or any reason other than her? What did she do? What had she done? She couldn't bear the thought it was her fault somehow, that he was looking at her like that because of her. But then she wondered, more importantly, more urgently, how could she possibly rid him of it?

Overwhelmed by her own sadness - and the belief that it was her fault, her doing he was like this - her eyes welled with moisture and her legs were moving of their own accord, towards him, for him, quickly closing the gap between them. She couldn't look away from those eyes staring at her, begging her to answer his question.

"Don't cry, Naruto-kun," she whispered, bringing a hand to his face to wipe away non-existent tears.

"What are you talking about, Hinata, you're the one...," and then he was doing the same for her, only somehow there were tears to wipe away, and she was confused, and slightly curious to know where they had come from, but mostly concerned about erasing that offensive sadness in those wonderfully blue eyes that she loved so much. Sadness had no right to overcome Naruto anymore; it was an entirely undeserving emotion of his greatness. She had to erase it. He couldn't be sad. There was too much of it in his childhood, he didn't deserve to be put through any more of it now. She had to protect him from it somehow. But how? How?

"Don't be sad, please," she whispered again, refusing to stop wiping away the tears she never saw him cry. But she knew they had been there, once, when no one was looking. She had to get rid of them.

"Hinata, what are you-"

"I love you. So, please, don't be sad. Please." Her vision was getting blurry. So blurry, but she couldn't stop. Naruto was still sad. A part of her was happy when he froze. It made it easier to wipe away the absent tears.

It was never a common occurrence. Moments like this were few and far between for Uzumaki Naruto. His mind was racing.

Thoughts and memories were swirling around so fast, that he couldn't move his body in fear it would overwhelm him. Love? Love? Love? Whoa, whoa, whoa, now, just hold the phone. Hinata loved him? Not just liked him? Because it was more than obvious she liked him after last night, since she had even gone so far as to comfort him, but love? That idea certainly never crossed his mind! Just what was love anyway? Wasn't it that lovey-dovey kissing and hugging, and marriage, and babies and- Certainly, they were too young for love, right? But then, he didn't think he'd ever be able to describe just how quickly that vulnerability had vanished as soon as he saw those lilac eyes to the brim with tears, practically running towards him, begging him to stop feeling sad. And then he did. Because... Because she was touching him again, and wiping insistently at his temple, her hand cupping his cheek. Because she was speaking without that stutter again, and comforting him when it sounded like she was the one who was going to break. Because all he wanted to do then was hold her close, tell her everything was ok, and be the one to protect her from the tears and sadness. And then she said she loved him. Threw a wrench at him point-blank. And it should have frozen his mind. Really, it should have. But then his mind was racing, like it had to be first, and he was suddenly remembering every time he had been with this incredibly strong, crying woman, while trying to make sense of it all at the same time. It was a strange sensation. But then he started picturing what life could be like to love and be loved by Hyuuga Hinata.

Surely, it would be fantastic. Because she was that fiercely strong, never-give-up type of woman who would take your pain away even as she felt her own, even as her own was making her cry... as she told you she loved you. He could definitely see living the rest his life with someone like that. Because surely he couldn't be with someone he never showed himself to; his whole self, his self that was weak, and vulnerable, and the part of him that was still there after all these years. He figured it would never go away, but... but if he spent more time - years, maybe - with Hinata, maybe it could. Maybe it would. And even if they were too young, or too much of friends, he couldn't help but feel like he might, maybe, one day soon, want to love her too. He would like that. Love it, maybe.

He watched her in quiet fascination. He was sure she wasn't even aware of the fact that she just told him what was surely one of her best kept secrets. She would probably revert even more, and shy away from him - again - if she knew she let the cat out of the bag. And then he smiled at that, because maybe he wasn't the cat after all. Maybe, this whole time, she had been the cat, and he kept getting caught in traps, because hewas the mouse. He enjoyed the fleeting image of Hinata dressed as a cat, hiding behind a corner, waiting for him to get caught. But she never made a move after that. What a sneaky, timid cat. It just refused to go in for the kill.

But he couldn't have her getting all withdrawn from him again. So, with a small, tiny, little smile - like the one he'd given her this morning - he decided he wouldn't bring up the whole 'love' thing. Not yet. She needed a little more time, to get used to him being around. Because he most certainly would be, a lot. Now that he knew how to find her. Now that he knew very well how to find that strange, danged cat who's actions were so inexplicable up until now. And he figured he wouldn't mind getting caught the next time around - maybe he'll even jump head-first into it, or wait for just the right moment to be sure he got caught. Because then he'd be sure to coax out the hiding cat. He would make her show herself. Once she got used to his presence, of course. Because then, maybe, she'll no longer pass out near him anymore. Maybe, by then, she'll have let him get close enough to fall in love with her. Maybe she'll have let him in completely. Yes, he would love that.

"Thank you, Hinata," he whispered, softly, so as not to startle her, "I feel a lot better now."

Wary, but believing his words more than her own heart, she stopped her thumb. She blinked then, suddenly confused as to why she was holding onto Naruto's face. And then that all-too-familiar blush consumed her.

She attempted to jump back, in that much too strong reflex of hers, only to find herself fixed to the spot by a pair of arms that had somehow encircled her waist. She was looking back towards his face when it dawned on her - she just helped Naruto. She just managed to console the greatest thing to ever exist, that probably ever will. The sudden swell of happy, can't-believe-it-was-me feelings in her heart appeased every part of her being, including the much too powerful, easily embarrassed, timid part. She felt so proud of herself for managing to stay strong and not faint again, and for actually being able to do something for him. Something, she felt, that couldn't be done by just anyone. And then there was that smile. Again, that smile, the one that was just for her - because it had to be - was greeting her eyes, rewarding her miraculous feat. She was quickly falling in love with that one too.

Everything was perfect. She was enjoying the sudden - if not, slightly uncalled for - attention of the man she loved, and not passing out. Normally, she never felt much for pride - as it was a dangerous emotion that she often saw change people - and it always seemed a very mutual thing, as pride had always been very elusive with her. But, in the moment, she felt like it was concrete; something she could call upon whenever she felt like. It had to have been because of the presence of Naruto, but she found herself really liking the uncommon sensation. She felt like thanking it, actually, as it was the main reason she was able to stand in the arms of Uzumaki Naruto - feeling a peculiar sense of self-confidence - and not pass out. She was barely even blushing, when one considered the situation she was in. And everything was just perfect. Except for the fact that she couldn't help but feel something was amiss. Like she'd forgotten or done something she shouldn't have. Because there was a certain glint in those deep-sapphire eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. Like he knew something. Like he was planning something.

She couldn't shake the feeling that it had to do with her.

- - - - - - -End.

A/N: Alas, this is where I leave you in this story. It is an open end, but I've given you more than enough clues as to what will happen between them, so I feel it's fitting. If I were to go any further into the development of their relationship, I fear it'd be never-ending. There is just so much to these two that there probably is no satisfactory ending I can give you. At least, not without a bunch of in-between stuff that I have no desire to produce. I hope you enjoyed this little ride, and I hope I've given you a satisfactory view of Hinata's perspective, if only just a glance.

I woke up this morning to an alarming 48 e-mails. Specifically, e-mails from FFnet. This lil' story of mine has been received very well, earned me so much praise, that I just couldn't hold myself back from giving this little gift to you. Thank you all so much, really. I'm overjoyed!

And I just had to put that little insinuation of Hinata being a heavy sleeper in there, for my own personal shitsngiggles. This isn't even slightly related to my other story. But, if you'd like, feel free to imagine, and twist in your head, 'Heavy Sleeper' as a mature sort-of-sequel to this. But it isn't. Not officially ;)

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews will forever be appreciated :)

Sidenote: I swear you guys have broken my face with this smile. It won't go away.