With the most certain belief that there was no way Kakashi would not allow them to stay longer and help investigating the Kazekage's failed assassination, Sakura started her research the same day.
She spent hours in the lab, mixing drops of the poison, refined from Gaara's blood, with various indicators, trickling these mixtures on testing scrolls, comparing results.
For her own safety, she had the lab all to herself, all to herself except for Kiba, who crouched in one corner of the room, equally close to door and window, and would, occasionally, drum his fingers impatiently or, worse, scratch the stonefloor – producing a screaching noise that made Sakura almost drop the vial she was holding.
"Hmm... the drug wasn't administered orally", Sakura mused after hours of mixing and unmixing various chemicals with the refined sample of said poison.
"Huh?"
The way Kiba looked at her bore an astonishing resemblence to Naruto's 'what are you talking about'-face, that managed to startle Sakura for a split second.
"It wasn't mixed in his drink. Or food, or whatever."
"Then what?"
Sakura sight. She undid her ponytail, stretched and yawned.
"I don't know. But", she added triumphantly "we don't have to stick with our own provisions anymore."

That evening, while brushing her hair, looking at her face in the mirror, Sakura pondered. Wasn't she secretly hoping to be called back Konohagakure? Or did she want Kakashi to affirm her prolonged stay, in order to confirm her assumption that he did not want to have her around.
„Get real, Sakura!", she scolded herself. As if he actually would take personal matters in consideration while making such a decission, while making any decission.
Someone knocked at her door, and Sakura froze. She hastily grapped a kunai from her pouch, resting along with her clothes on a chair, and positioned herself close to the wall, before asking her visitor to come in. Upon him entereing she let out a sigh of relieve and, as inconspiciously as possible, placed her knife on a sideboard next to her.
"You're jumpy", Kiba remarked, while closing the door behind him.
"Well, aren't you?", Sakura snapped back, then grew aware of being dressed in nothing but an oversized T-Shirt. She flushed, started to tuck it's fabric down in the irrational hope that, if only she tucked long enough, it might stretch to her knees.
"Yeah, about that...", Kiba said while scratching his right ear – he referred to the jumpiness, of course, not to Sakura's choice of pyjamas.
"I thought, maybe I.. should spent the night here?", he stepped back, prepared for any fist that might fly his way. But Sakura just blinked in confusion.
"There are guards outside our rooms", she finally managed to say.
"Well, they could be one of them as well, couldn't they?", he shrugged "Also, I am here to protect you, so-"
"You're what?", Sakura's voice rose in anger. Why would she need someone to protect her? She was quite capable of protecting herself, thank you very much. And least of all she needed a half-crippled bodyguard as Kiba happened to be.
She felt sorry the moment the words formed in her head and was thankful that she had possessed enough selfcontrole to not say them out loud.

Lying on her side, looking through half closed eyes at Kiba who was squatting infront of her bed, Sakura wondered, if he had really, literally that is, been ordered to "protect" her, or rather to "guard" or "look after" her, and if this difference in vocabulary meant any difference in her Hokage's level of indifference at all.
Partly out of frustration, partly because it was the back of his head she was staring at, her thoughts wandered to the unplanned embrace with Kiba infront of the Monument, earlier that day.
Before she had time to reconsider, she had thrown her beddings down next to him and soon followed.
"Do you mind?", she whispered, when she leant her head against his shoulder. Almost simultaniously she felt his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, until she had no choice but to in turn wrap her own arm around him, lest she wanted it to be stuck uncomfortably between their bodies.
She was well aware of the similarity between her current situation and the moment she and Kakashi had shared not a week – it felt like years – ago. She was also aware of the differences.
This had nothing to do with the awkward sort-of-kind-of intimacy she had had with her former sensei. "You smell nice", she heard Kiba whispering through her hair.
Sakura looked up. She frowned.
"I'm not sure that's what a girl likes to hear."
"Why not?"
Sakura wasn't sure. She had liked hearing it.
She was still trying to come up with a good reply, when she felt lips touching hers. She pulled back, surprised for a second, before she, very cautiously, returned the kiss.
"Well, who would have thought that!", a voice inside her head shouted out, while their lips grew less and less shy, and their tongues decided to join in. She ignored it, she ignored the masked face that momentarily appeared infront of her closed eyes, let herself sink to the floor, still mouth to mouth, breathing in Kiba's breath, while their kisses grew more passionate.
She only stopped, when his fingers testingly slid along the elastic of her underpants, covered his hand with hers and gently pushed it back a few centemeters further up.
"I'm sorry, I...", I think I need some time to get around the idea of you being my first – no she couldn't say that.
Kiba shook his head, smiling, then placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Don't be."