A/N: Done for hypeniated's challenge on her profile. I guess this is a drabble-ish…thing? Anyway, it's short and little crackish, but I'm seriously out of it right now.

Disclaimer: Do not own Naruto or Cooking Mama, both of which are far too addicting for their own good.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Under the grey, overcast sky, inside the Uchiha compound, two people sat on the couch, gazes deeply engrossed with the television screen.

"No! No! No!"

"…"

"Augh! No! Wait! Yes!"

"…"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Nnn…"

"…"

"And I win! In your face, Uchiha!" Sakura declared triumphantly as she threw down the game controller and raised her arms over her head, basking in the glory of her victory. Conversely, still on the couch, Sasuke sighed and let the control slip gently from his fingertips as he fell back on the couch.

"It's just a game," he told his girlfriend of two years.

Sakura stuck out her tongue at him. "You're just saying that because you lost and I won," she said, her hands on her hips as she looked down at him defiantly.

Sasuke snorted. "It's Cooking Mama. It's nothing to be proud of."

"You're just mad because you didn't win. Just like how you're jealous of my awesome DDR skills," she said snootily. Sasuke merely rolled his eyes.

"I lose one time because my shoelaces came undone and you just can't let it go."

Sakura merely dismissed the comment because really, everyone knew Sasuke was just jealous of her DDR skills. She could've totally won without his shoelaces coming undone (but it did help).

Sasuke watched as Sakura faced away from him defiantly. He knew what she was thinking and frankly, he couldn't care less, but the bragging could be rather tiresome. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

"If you're so great at Cooking Mama, why can't you cook in real life?"

And instantly, images of Sakura's many cooking debacles flashed before her eyes. The burnt eggs, the burnt toast—she even burned a salad, for Kami's sake.

Her eye twitching at the memory, she turned to face him. "We swore never to speak of my cooking again," she said in a low whisper, only to be met with a knowing and faintly amused look in his eyes and a faint tilt of his lips. Translation: he knew. He just didn't care.

Shocked, her mouth fell agape, opening and closing as she tried to form an argument against that, because really, how do you argue against that when you burn salad?

So she did the only thing she could do. "…shut up."

Sasuke merely smirked.