I've... taken liberties... with the future, so this should be considered AU. Ha ha, there's probably OOC-ness as well. Also... I've skimped >>; out on Sasuke's punishment?... so you get to decide for yourself? >>!
Years
At age 18, his revenge was complete.
"It's done," he croaked before he dropped , dark blue hair matted with his brother's blood.
He felt empty, his hate finally allowed to diminish.
Later, the back of his mind would register the satiny, feathery touch of arms embracing him.
"Sasuke-kun, don't die." Words muffled in his ruined shirt.
His 22nd year came around. A memory of one of his goals from 10 years ago surfaced fresh in his mind.
Could he purely love again like when he was a child?
"Sakura," the last Uchiha called his old teammate's name.
She captured him with bright viridian eyes. "Sasuke-kun?"
Reaching into himself, he held onto what pride and dignity he had, trying to phrase what he wanted to say correctly in his mind. Shoving his hands into his pockets like he had done long ago, he maneuvered so his back faced Sakura.
"Sasuke-kun?" she repeated questionably when she was faced with his back.
"… would you like to go on a date?"
He repeated her words from 10 years ago.
Sasuke's 23rd year brought him to his knees.
As socially inept as he was, this was something beyond his imagination.
Obsidian eyes deep as an abyss locked on sparkling emerald ones.
Lowering himself to the floor and taking her left hand in both his, he whispered imploringly, "Be mine"—how possessive he was—"forever."
Twenty-five July 23rds passed for him, and the Uchiha clan was growing.
He was content.
Arms around his wife, clasping her hands in his larger ones, he watched his sleeping child.
"You're being awfully romantic and close today, Sasuk—"
He silenced her with a kiss.
Shifting loosened his hold, and arms twined around his neck.
"Not that I mind, of course, but is there a particular rea—"
Again, he silenced her.
This time, he received a smack, which induced a smirk from him.
Twenty-eight years, and he was sitting, uncharacteristically flipping through a photo album. Reminiscing over certain pictures and filling in the holes of scenes not captured, a small smile formed on his lips.
Two slender arms wrapped around him, and he leaned into his wife's embrace.
Years ago, he would have not believed he would be in this moment. He would have never believed in making good memories. Memories that did not bring him pain, sadness, or angst from remembrance used to be foreign. However, with his friends and family, after redemption, he learned.
Pale pink hair brushed against his cheek, and he heard her murmur, "These have been happy times, haven't they?"
"Aa."
These had been happy times, indeed.
And he was ready for more.