Sauce and Fishcakes: A NaruSasu Drabble Dump

A/N: Every now and then, I'm overwhelmed with Naruto/Sasuke feels, and I need something to do with them. This is just going to be a place where I can deposit all those emotions.
Warnings: Some entries may include explicit language, and mature themes.
Also, Disclaimer: No, I don't own Naruto. (It needs to be said, right?)

1. Sasuke returns to Konoha after the war. 6 years later, after he's pardoned for his crimes, and has in general, healed a bit from his experiences, the village finally gets together on Naruto's order and rebuilds his childhood home.

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The Uchiha Estate's ready can you believe it!" Naruto exclaims excitedly clapping Sasuke hard on the back.

"Tch. Of course I can, I'm looking at it right now, dobe." It's the curt answer he gets in return, but the Rokudaime Hokage pays no heed to his sourpuss of a best friend and grabs his arm, dragging him into the house.

"Everyone did such a great job! Is this how it looked growing up Sasuke?"

The ANBU Shinobi is subdued as he looks around at the childhood home, inhaling sharply at the sight of the inside of the house. He reaches out a pale hand to touch the walls, and it feels exactly like how it used to.

"Yeah." He whispers, a lump to his throat as he walks around the wooden floors of the building. Some things are different-all the material is new, and the small holes in the wood where he had thrown shuriken only to be scolded at aren't present anymore.

Sasuke walks around the house, letting the memories overtake him-of the kitchen, of his bedroom, of the little garden where Itachi and he would sit-
and before he knows it, there are tears welling up in his vision, and he collapses against a bench, letting them fall over and clenching at his hair.

The memories are endless, and he is here yet again. In his new-old house, alone without his family and left to live without them yet again.

Naruto's hand falls to his shoulder, heavy and solid, and Sasuke doesn't pull away. The Rokudaime leans down to whisper in his friend's ear.

"You're not alone, teme. You know that."

He stiffens, and then looks up at the stupid blonde to see him grinning from ear to ear. It's like looking into the sun, and his chest seems to squeeze tighter.

"I'm not…" Sasuke repeats, and he's not sure if he's asking it as a question or reaffirming it.

"You aren't. This is your home, Sasuke-teme." Naruto says firmly, walking around so he can put both his hands on his friend's shoulders. "This village is your home."

We are your home.

And Naruto doesn't have to explicitly state it, but Sasuke understands the other Shinobi more than anyone else could hope to. When he closes his eyes, his family dances behind his lids. His smiling mother and his stoic father, and Itachi looking at him with the most loving eyes-and next to them stands a certain blonde boy, his shit eating grin as wide as possible and highly contagious as he leans back, hands behind his head.
It doesn't stop there, as they're flanked by two other people; an older man and a pink haired girl his age. The girl cheerfully calls out to him, waving her hand enthusiastically and the silver haired man looks at him carefully with one uncovered eye. Sasuke can make out the movement of his lips from the ruffle of the cloth covering his face, and he knows he's smiling too.

We are your family.

Sasuke looks up into the eyes of his best friend-blue, ocean blue-and realizes he'll accept it more than anything, as long as he is with him.