NejiTen Oneshots And Drabbles

Your Place Or Mine

It wasn't something Tenten normally did. Hell, she could think of two times she'd left a bar with someone she barely knew – much less thought about inviting them back to her place - and she sure as hell had been more sober when she did it.

But there was something about him – something compelling and irresistible and thrilling and oddly reassuring – that made her want to jump, and not fear the fall.

Or maybe that was the drinks talking.

Or maybe it was the image she was constructing of his body as her brain dizzily processed and mapped each time her fingers glided over the luxurious texture of undoubtedly expensive shirt, or gripped onto the muscled bicep beneath.

Either way, when she broke away to breathlessly mutter "Can we get out of here?" and he responded with a lust laden, "Please," she made her mind up.

"Your place or mine?"

He hesitated.

"Where would you feel safest."

"Depends."

"On?"

"If I'm going to need more than the pepper spray, taser, and other assorted goodies in my bag. Not to mention the one I had to check when I got in here."

"Impressive," he shot a look to the cross-body bag resting against her hip. "I doubt you will need any of those things, but you are welcome to keep them close. You can text a friend my address as well, if that helps."

"I have gps on my phone – I'll send a glimpse to my friend once we get where we are going."

"Clever girl," he said in the kind of voice that made her melt. "Mine it is, then."

She bit the corner of her lip to keep from smiling too broadly.

"Yours, it is."

It wasn't something Neji normally did. In fact, he could think of precisely three times he had left any venue with someone he barely knew, and certainly not with the intentions he currently had – and he definitely had never brought anyone back to his own home, sober or otherwise. He absently wondered as they got into the back of the cab if he should have suggested a hotel – some neutral ground that he would of course pay for – but there was something about her. Something compelling and irresistible and thrilling and oddly reassuring – that made him want to jump, and not fear the fall.

Or maybe that was the bourbon talking.

Or maybe it was the perplexing combination of satin skin and the press of a lithe, well-muscled body, or his curious inability to determine the exact color of her eyes.

Either way, when she broke away to breathlessly mutter "Can we get out of here?" he could only respond with a lust laden, "Please."

Even as they sat together in the cab, and he gave the driver his address while she better situated her bag on her lap (the contents of which should have made him more nervous, yet somehow did not bother him at all) he still couldn't believe what he was doing.

She wound her fingers in his, and they were remarkably controlled in the car, despite how little control they'd exhibited barely fifteen minutes prior. Then again, they'd been in a secluded part of the too-loud club. Neji had come because he had been dragged out by some work associates that wanted to show him a "good time," and she had apparently come because she had just gotten back in from a several-week work trip, and this was the only place she knew that made a great old-fashioned at this hour. "Some major storm messed up all of the connecting flights. I got the last flight out of Suna but we hit heavy turbulence. Let's just say I earned and this drink and whatever comes after it."