Title: What Used to be Team Seven
Word Count: 3 089
Rating: T for mentions of sex. Nothing graphic.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein contained. I only own the text.
This was born out of some really excellent InoShikaCho fics I read, by some author I can't remember and am too lazy to look up. I don't know, I don't think this pairing--what do you call a threesome anyway? besides a threesome, obviously--is terribly popular, but it grew on me as I wrote this fic. Which is enormous, actually, and has a word count I never thought I'd reach. Just over three thousand, and not angsty or fluffy. My god, hell has frozen over. I really like this fic, actually, though it seems to me that there are some problems. I feel as though I slighted Sasuke in the beginning, by not characterizing him enough. I don't think it's a terrible mistake, but it's there just the same. I also feel like I didn't do their life justice in the second half. But overall, I'm really happy with how this turned out. Slightly AU, with the most current, and slightly less current events changed, but whatever. Enjoy.
It has taken Naruto seven years to find and bring back Sasuke. His blood and sweat have gone into this mission, the achievement of this goal. Sasuke is broken, his body shredded and nearly destroyed when Naruto finds him—please let him survive, please, if there is a god, let him live, don't let him die, let him open his eyes, let him not die, please, please, please—but Naruto carries him all the way back to his apartment, and he nearly scares Sakura to death—what the hell is your problem, breaking down the door?!—before carefully laying Sasuke out and letting Sakura look at him.
Her words nearly kill him, nearly stop his heart—this is bad, Naruto, this is bad—but he refuses to give up the small hope in his chest. Sakura pushes him out of the room—I need to concentrate, and your chakra is too roiled to allow that—and he slumps against the wall, trying not to think, or hope, or despair. He prays again, every once in a while—please let her save him, please let him make it, please—though he doesn't know to whom he prays, but he mostly just sits, unmoving, as the long hours—one passing into three transitioning slowly into eight and nine and ten—gently go by and his muscles cramp and uncramp.
Sakura stumbles out the door—he's-well, he might make it, he, he has a fighting chance—and collapses into Naruto's lap. He has hardly the energy to bring her to her room and lay her out under the blankets on her bed before passing out himself.
Sakura wakes up with her limbs tangled in Naruto's, his body nearly on top of hers—she is very warm, sweltering even, but it is better than the cold she has felt for nearly two years—and vaguely wonders why—they have not had sex for a long time now, since Naruto finally picked up Sasuke's trail, almost a year ago—before remembering the horribly massacred body of Sasuke and the incredible chakra she poured into him.
She groans and pushes Naruto, none too lightly, onto the floor. He shouts and writhes about, before coming to and smiling up at her. She rolls her eyes, shoving him back to the ground as she heads to the kitchen to make some sort of tea and meal, from whatever food they have left. She leaves it to Naruto to check up on Sasuke; the ways of a shinobi have hardened her to death—glassy eyes stare up at her as she walks away from the many she has slain—but she doesn't think she could see Sasuke's dead body. Naruto puts a hand on her head—he is at least a head taller than her now—before gently opening his door. Sasuke lays there, staring at the ceiling. He gives no motion of recognition or even acknowledgment of Naruto—the glassy eyes are very close to those of a corpse, but Naruto sees his chest rise and fall with each breath—but Naruto, satisfied that he has made it through the night—thank you, thank you so much, oh God thank you—heads to the kitchen without saying or doing anything.
He half-smiles at Sakura—the beaming grins from his childhood have all but become extinct, they are so rare now—and nudges her with a shoulder before continuing on to the boiling water and making himself some tea. He carefully sits down at the table, Sakura across from him, drinking his tea before he asks the question she knows is coming.
-What do we do with him? he asks her gently, allowing for uncertainty as an answer.
-I guess that depends on what he wants, right? she asks in return, thinking. She doesn't honestly believe that Sasuke will stay with them—he is too independent, too ready to cut any bonds he has—but she is ready to give him that chance.
-Hmm, he responds, staring into his cup. She doesn't say anything, just letting him think. Eventually she gets up and begins to prepare breakfast, absentmindedly making an extra serving—she doesn't think Sasuke will eat, but it won't hurt to offer—and thinking about the day ahead. She and Naruto were going to start a journey today, but that will have to be put off—the other jinchuuriki will be just as hard to track down no matter when they leave, so she supposes it doesn't matter—and she thinks she'll do laundry instead. Naruto has been wearing the orange thing for a couple days now—luckily she has convinced him to only wear it from a lack of anything else, but since that time has come, he is, in fact, proudly exhibiting it—and she is down to her last clean shirt. She finishes breakfast and serves herself and Naruto—she eats over the sink, and he eats at the table, still thinking—before going into her room to collect clothes.
Naruto waits for Sakura to leave before gathering a plate of breakfast and heading into his room. Sasuke hasn't moved—his eyes don't even move, just stare at the same spot on the ceiling—and Naruto doesn't disturb him, just leaving the plate on the bedside table. He comes back later and the food is gone.
Sasuke is angry and at the same time completely empty. He succeeded in killing Itachi, finally, but he can't feel anything. He can't believe that he was stupid enough to get caught, though, and by Naruto—Dobe, he calls the blond uncaringly, you are such a dobe—of all people. He doesn't quite know what to do now. He has killed everyone who deserves it—Orochimaru, Kabuto, Itachi—other than Naruto, who is too loud and happy and orange to continue living. He meditates for a while before deciding to eat the food left for him. He tries to plan out what he will do when he is healed enough to walk, but surprisingly can think of nothing. He has no aims to accomplish, no pressing needs to be fulfilled, and he is consequently listless. He has vague notions of killing all the Akatsuki, just for the hell of it, but quickly discards them—he is listless, not suicidal—before deciding to visit the Wave country before Konoha officials can execute him. Vague recollections of a young boy who had not been either young or a boy and who was entirely too strong and ready to sacrifice all for one person percolate into his increasingly hazy mind. Haku, Sasuke thinks faintly, we were so alike. Is a death like yours all that awaits me?When Sasuke has not emerged from his room for three days, Sakura decides it's time for a medical visit. She steels herself to see his face, then opens the door. What she sees is both better and worse than what she expected—Sasuke is very nearly smiling at something Naruto is laughing about, and he looks more human than she has ever seen him. She nearly wants to hug him, to embrace the person she remembers before the illusion is shattered and Sasuke spots her. He just looks and looks—were his eyes always so dark?—before his eyes soften just a tiny bit and he looks back at Naruto. She gasps and smiles, before going to sit on the edge of his bed.
Sasuke says very little that day, and all of it sarcastic—Naruto is talking animatedly, with huge gestures and emphasis—and Sakura says nothing, but it is the first time she can remember being so happy since they were twelve.
Sasuke gets better—it is nearly three weeks later, but he is not as angry at the lost time as he should be—and waits for some realization to strike as to what he should do. He no longer has to worry about immediately moving on, he has found out—Naruto and I became traitors when we were sixteen. Tsunade couldn't stop the council from trying to execute Naruto, and so we left—and now can't decide whether he should stay.
He feels inexplicably drawn to his old teammates, a feeling that has only grown over his recovery time. Naruto and Sakura have both changed—matured, maybe, is the right word, he thinks—and grown quieter. They have seen death too much—no S-class nin can escape killing others, unless they want to be caught themselves—not to be affected by it. He finds himself fitting in easily with them, complementing their personalities and ideas so much he feels like a matching puzzle piece. He sits down to dinner with them after his first day fully healed, and no one says anything about it.
Sakura kisses Sasuke first, though Naruto argues that he thought of it before she did. She is gentle and soft, like a kiss from the sakura blossom that is her namesake. Sasuke kisses back only mildly, preserving the almost innocent feeling of the contact. She smiles at him and blushes before proceeding not to speak to him for almost a day.
Naruto nearly doesn't kiss Sasuke. He is worried about Sakura—no I'm not, he declares loudly when Sasuke asks—and would not fight her for anything. It is more than the childish crush he had on her when they were twelve. He can picture spending the rest of his life with her in companionable comfort. He does kiss Sasuke in the end though, because he is discovering that he might like Sasuke too—You're such a bastard, Naruto yells at him, but his eyes are smiling—and he doesn't know who to pick. Naruto's kiss is so very hot, passion and care battling within it, as though he is unsure whether to treat Sasuke as a rival or as a lover. He grins when it is over and begins to talk about something else.
Sakura doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary—in reality, she is trying not to notice, working very hard to be oblivious—until Naruto comes up behind her in the kitchen and hugs her. He kisses her neck as carefully as if she were made of porcelain—you're my nice sakura doll, he tells her as she lays on his chest—and then whispers three words she is afraid to understand.
-Don't be silly, she tells him, worried about her heart that suddenly seems to have a tear down the middle—Don't make me do this, don't make me choose between you, she begs him silently—but he just grins and looks at her.
-I'm not. But we all lo—she looks at him, panic in her eyes—or care about each other. It's like something out of one of Jiraya's books! He smiles maniacally. She gives him a disbelieving look.
Sakura doesn't do anything different for the next few days. She talks to Sasuke and Naruto over dinner, does the household chores—she receives a blank look when she asks if Sasuke can do any chores like laundry or cooking—and she kisses Sasuke twice. She doesn't think about what Naruto has said—neither does he, by the way he acts, actually—until she catches the two of them kissing fiercely.
-Do you care about me? Sakura asks abruptly while Sasuke is watching her prepare dinner—ramen, naturally. He thinks carefully, wondering if Naruto has told her something similar to what he'd told Sasuke.
-Yes.
-Do you care about Naruto? She asks, her voice wavering slightly. Sasuke finally sees what she is getting at.
-Yes.
Neither of them talk for a long time, until after dinner is done and Naruto has once again vanished—Sasuke thinks he goes to bars to drink sometimes, but he doesn't care enough to ask or do something about it—and Sakura has worked up enough courage to ask her next question.
-Do you think we can all be happy together? Sasuke considers carefully, more than aware that his answer could affect how he spends the rest of his life, however short.
-Yes.
They all have sex for the first time together. Sasuke and Naruto came very close to doing it without Sakura, until she came home from shopping and screamed and cried and felt betrayed enough to pack before they consoled her that yes, they loved her—Sasuke shuddered and sounded as if he was choking when he said it, but it was an admission all the same—no, they wouldn't try without her, and yes, they would miss her if she left. Because just Sasuke and Naruto, everyone thought but didn't say, would be absolutely disastrous and end with something involving massacres and lots of blood. Sakura, fees much better, and falls asleep sprawled over both of their chests. Naruto and Sasuke, for their part, feel sufficiently guilty not to move her, though Sasuke is falling off the end and the two beds that have been pushed together are sliding apart again.
The first time is awkward, and ends with Naruto unconscious because he hit his head, but it's enough that they all tried. The second time is better, because they all learn the spots that make each other shudder and moan and gasp, and they learn about rhythm and synchronization. Then it becomes a matter of practice—the term is Naruto's, and he quickly gets yelled at for demanding 'practice' multiple times a day: a pace not even Sasuke feels like keeping up with—until they are all satisfied that they have become good enough.
Sakura loves the both of them, but they are so different. Naruto is loud and passionate during sex: he moans and talks nonsense and calls out. He is hot, and Sakura enjoys laying in his arms because she always feels warm and safe. Sasuke is cool, his pale skin always slightly colder than hers, which is good because it wakes her up, makes her be alert and think again. He is nearly silent when they have sex: he pants and hisses and moans very softly. She loves them both, and they are so different.
When Sakura gets pregnant, the first question on Sasuke's mind is How? which he immediately realizes is a stupid question, and then thinks, Whose? Neither of them have any idea, of course, and he has to learn not to care. The first question on Naruto's mind is What are we going to do?, closely followed by hyperventilation and excited chattering unintelligibly. He doesn't care if the baby is his or Sasuke's because either way he will be a father.
Sasuke wakes up one morning to Sakura whimpering. He does his best to hold her, which doesn't seem to help as she just shivers harder. Naruto, he knows, is off in the Fire country, gathering information—I just know something's going to happen when I'm gone, he'd said, showing reluctance to go—and he tries to think of what to do. Naruto could keep her warm, as he always has done, but his absence means Sasuke must resort to more blankets. He gets the only other two they own, draping them over Sakura's form. He looks at her critically—she is curled up, arms around a heavily swollen stomach—and feels a pang of worry for both Sakura and the baby. He places a hand on her forehead, which tells him nothing, since her skin is always so much hotter than his. He thinks that maybe she might have a fever, but can't think of anything to do besides make soup. This, he thinks grimly, is why we need Naruto, as he moves into the kitchen.
Naruto returns home as quickly as he can, anxious about Sakura's health. At nearly eight months into the pregnancy, she is more prone than ever, and Naruto can think of so many things that could go wrong. He is immediately put at ease when he walks into the apartment, and laughs at the sight of Sasuke trying to make soup. Then he hears the whimpers, and he runs into the bedroom to see Sakura looking very sick. He goes up to her, calling her name softly, sighing in relief when her eyes flutter open.
-I'm fine, she croaks. It's just a cold.
-I don't think so, he tells her, you're not getting off that easily. He's startled by Sasuke coming up behind him, looking worried.
-What about the soup?
-I burned it, Sasuke admits, blushing slightly. Can you help her?
-Maybe, Naruto says, moving toward Sakura and trying to remember her lessons on healing.
Sakura, when she wakes up, sees both Naruto and Sasuke hovering over her. They both look very anxious, and she smiles, hoping to put them at ease. Naruto leans forward to kiss her, and she returns it, recognizing the question he is asking—are you okay?—and responding—yes. Sasuke simply kisses her forehead, then leaves the room. He brings her a breakfast that is only slightly singed, and she thinks it is one of the best meals she has ever had.
It takes the birth of their son for Sasuke to realize how dependent he has become on Sakura and Naruto. A very bad moment when it looked as though Sakura might die teaches him that he might not live without her, and a look at Naruto's ashen face shows him he definitely wouldn't live without the both of them. Naruto is startled by the sudden embrace, but welcomes it all the same.
We have come so far, Naruto thinks, watching Sasuke play with their son. The two-year-old is undeniably Naruto's—golden hair flashes in the sun, with a wide smile—but seems as though he is Sasuke's as well—haughty kid, Naruto mutters, after being told he isn't refined enough to come to his tea party—though it is impossible. Sakura watches all of them from the porch—they have finally bought an actual house, instead of just an apartment—and sees the flash of bright green eyes looking her way before her son turns back to his 'Father'. They are a dysfunctional family—a Father, a Mommy and a Dad—but she thinks they'll turn out alright. For a moment her heart swells and the moment seems perfect, etched into eternity. She can see their entire future—maybe another child, then simply growing old and dying all together—and it seems so perfect and absolute. Yes, they will be alright, and she can't wait to get there.