“Pink?” “Yes. Pink. It’ll look good with your hair. Or,” Sakura shrugged, “you can just catch cold and get sick. You don’t want that, do you? We’re going out Friday night.” Hidan rolled his eyes. “What is this, the eighteenth century? I’m not gonna catch a fucking cold and die because I got cold.” “Suit yourself,” Sakura said as she started to close the closet door. It was his own fault for coming over the night before in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans when the weather report called for a late winter storm with heavy rain and unusually cold temperatures. “Wait, wait!” Hidan reached his hand in and grabbed the pink sweater. “I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna wear the damn thing.” He held it up and sighed. No way was that tiny sweater ever going to fit his large frame. “I’m sorry, Hidan,” Sakura told him, and she really did sound sorry. “It’s really all I have right now.” He put the sweater back. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go or we’ll be late for class.”
Two days later Hidan texted Sakura from beneath a pile of blankets he had burrowed himself in. ‘Can’t go out with you tonight. I think I’m dying.’ He even sent a picture in which he looked absolutely miserable as proof just in case she thought he was trying to bail on their plans. Her reply came immediately. ‘What is this? The 18th century?’ ‘I’m not fucking kidding. Don’t make fun of me. I’m really sick.’ After a few minutes she texted again, sending him a picture of herself with a cup of tea and looking cozy in a bathrobe, with her long pink hair falling over one shoulder. ‘If you need anything, let me know. Feel better. And when you do we can go shopping and I’ll help you pick out a warm coat.'
Naruto - Hidan/Sakura
“Yes. Pink. It’ll look good with your hair. Or,” Sakura shrugged, “you can just catch cold and get sick. You don’t want that, do you? We’re going out Friday night.”
Hidan rolled his eyes. “What is this, the eighteenth century? I’m not gonna catch a fucking cold and die because I got cold.”
“Suit yourself,” Sakura said as she started to close the closet door. It was his own fault for coming over the night before in nothing but a t-shirt and jeans when the weather report called for a late winter storm with heavy rain and unusually cold temperatures.
“Wait, wait!” Hidan reached his hand in and grabbed the pink sweater. “I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna wear the damn thing.” He held it up and sighed. No way was that tiny sweater ever going to fit his large frame.
“I’m sorry, Hidan,” Sakura told him, and she really did sound sorry. “It’s really all I have right now.”
He put the sweater back. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go or we’ll be late for class.”
Two days later Hidan texted Sakura from beneath a pile of blankets he had burrowed himself in.
‘Can’t go out with you tonight. I think I’m dying.’ He even sent a picture in which he looked absolutely miserable as proof just in case she thought he was trying to bail on their plans.
Her reply came immediately.
‘What is this? The 18th century?’
‘I’m not fucking kidding. Don’t make fun of me. I’m really sick.’
After a few minutes she texted again, sending him a picture of herself with a cup of tea and looking cozy in a bathrobe, with her long pink hair falling over one shoulder.
‘If you need anything, let me know. Feel better. And when you do we can go shopping and I’ll help you pick out a warm coat.'