I have a collection of AU stories. Now I got one for canon world stories kek.
Title: Role Reversal
Prompt: Where Sakura has not yet came back (late to her expected arrival date) from her A-rank mission. could you try giving it a humorous twist?
Idea: Anon on Tumblr
Twenty-four hours late. This isn't a concern—not yet—and that's why he turns on his heel when it becomes obvious she's not coming home today. It's an A rank mission. Nothing she couldn't handle. It's not abnormal for it to take a bit longer than normal.
It's not as though he needs to greet her when she returns. She's capable.
—far more than him or the blonde in most occasions.
That doesn't mean much though when he just heads to the gate to great her. Role reversal in a sense. She's always greeted him home, and now he's following that pace she's set.
Footsteps forward, and hours later. Sleep comes some time right after.
Mundane and quite that's his days when he's not accepting missions. Sweat drenched upon the training grounds, and small trips to the market for the bare minimum in the evenings.
It's was twenty-four hours at the start, and then it's forty-eight. Seventy-two hours later, and there's truly no need to feel concern.
She's strong. She doesn't need him to play protector especially over a little tardiness—punctual or not it happens to everyone.
That doesn't mean it isn't starting to develop.
Only when it hits one-hundred and twenty hours later and that small unnerving feeling in his stomach begins its dull ache as he stares at the gates does he start to question things. The crowd of people are going here and there, but there's zero sign of anything pale rose, and sea foam green. The shift of weight from one hip to the other, and a tilt of his head. Inhalation and then the twist of his lips before he's turning back upon that hill as he has every day he's expected her back.
No. He's not concerned.
This is Sakura Haruno.
She'll be just fine on a rank A mission.
The subconscious drum of his leg as he eats his food is never even noticed, and then sleep right after.
Decorated in sleep and half aware it's the morning after and the rubbing of the pad of his hand against his eyes. A yawn following as eyes drag their way to the light that spills through the middle of the mostly closed curtains. His brain feels fuzzy but that's like most mornings.
He eats the smallest of breakfasts.
He's got one hand what more do you expect from him.
Anything more is a waste of effort.
His mind unconsciously checking upon the clock without reason. Every second that hand is ticking has that ache pulsing. There's no reason for concern. He'll see if she arrived deep within the night.
The question falls and there's an irritation as the gate's attendant drags his finger across the pages. She's pale rose, and sea foam green—it's not hard to miss. There's no real reason to check if they're all being open and honest with themselves.
She's well liked, and appreciated by anyone he's ever spoken to—not that he speaks to many. They'd know if she had returned.
The attendant barely has a moment to open his mouth before they're shut down by a voice that comes from behind him. This does nothing more than increase that building frustration.
The roll of his head comes as he sets his eyes on those blues brimming with absolute mischievousness. Mouth twitching and the grinding of teeth comes before he's opening he's addressing him, "What is it Naruto?"
"Lookin' for Sakura-chan?" lips turned up and eyes absolutely calling him out, "She's not back yet."
"Whatever." there's a huff that falls making it clear he doesn't enjoy whatever tease this blonde is conjuring forth.
Shifting around and hand nestled back within his pocket, and he's doing everything to maintain a strong stride. Footsteps behind him make it clear the blonde has no desire to let him off the hook just yet.
"She'll be back before you know. No need to get so concerned." there's a rhythm and a tune to his voice.
"I'm not concerned."
"Teme, you've checked the gate everyday she's been late."
"How would you know?" it's a hiss if anything.
"Who doesn't know?" he's no longer willing to shuffle behind taking in Sasuke's pace and walking beside him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he refuses to look anywhere but at him—that random civilian walking past him, that shop that he's never even considered walking into, or even that restaurant Kakashi's taken them to once or twice are far more appealing in this moment.
"What doesn't it mean?" there's a chuckle following this throwback of his.
"Naruto, unless you have something you need I'm going home." he's not friendly in the way he makes it clear he's done and over this roundabout conversation.
"Oh, come on. It's interesting seeing you guys reverse roles." he stops firm raising his arms and placing them behind his head.
He finally looks at him not comprehending what the blonde's getting at, "Reverse role?"
"Well yeah, Sakura-chan is always waiting on you to come home. Now you're a fidgeting mess waiting on her for once." he's beaming as he says it so lightheartedly.
His lips press firm at the comment and there's an even greater aggravation in feeling like he's being ridiculed by Naruto of all people. He wants to bite back but that's an even greater waste of time then making a large breakfast.
A wave of his hand dismisses him from this game he feels like Naruto's trying to con him into playing. Scrolls and food upon his dinner table as the sun is setting and he can't help but feel as if the irritation is shifting and molding as his eyes flicker to the wall clock. That subconscious drum of his knee is all the more apparent. It's faster as that irritation turned to aggravation sets in with Naruto, of all people, getting in his head.
Role reversal?
This is a role reversal?
Did she do this?
Did she check everyday?
He hasn't checked everyday that she's been delayed—that's an outright lie.
It's not like she needs him to greet her at the gate anyways—it doesn't lessen the fact he feels its part of what they do.
She greets him every time without fail. He wants to greet her at the gate every time without fail.
This right here is a waste of time, and a waste of effort.
There's no reason for the way he feels his mouth twitch as his eyes shift once more upon the wall clock. Maybe he was right. Maybe he is a fidgeting mess.
No. Naruto is anything—literally anything—but right.
He's fine. He's just got jitters from being away from missions longer than expected.
He'll ask Kakashi for a mission tomorrow.
He'll get a mission that gets him out of these quite mundane days.
He won't.
Who the fuck is he trying to kid?
She isn't back.
What the hell was taking her so long?
Maybe that's what has him pushing aside the half eaten plate, and ignoring the scroll beside it, maybe that's why he's rested his head upon his hand, and maybe, just maybe, that's what has him clicking his tongue as he follows the hand that turns within the clock.
This is ridiculous it's only been—who the fuck cares how long it's been?
This is Sakura Haruno—punctual, and never late Sakura Haruno.
Naruto wasn't concerned—but he's not Naruto.
Naruto should be concerned.
What the hell was the blonde's deal?
What if something had happened? What if she was having issues on her mission?
Wasn't this a solo? What if she needed their help?
Stop—pause—rewind.
He can't do that to her.
She's not a genin—she's a rank higher than both of them right now.
There's no reason to act like she can't handle herself.
She's more than capable.
He's pushing up from the table. That dull ache is getting deeper and that's just another thing to make him go from vexation to indignation.
Was this payback? Was she fucking with him?
No—that's even more ridiculous than Naruto is.
Naruto is anything but right—but he's not necessarily always wrong either.
He was always leaving. Traveling. Seeking out the world with clearer eyes.
She was always waiting. Going through day after day. Welcoming him home.
Did she sit here when he was late and with no word? How often did her eyes glance upon the clock and question where he was and what he had seen? Is this what waiting for someone was like? Is this what she put up with?
This dull ache. This irritation turned to aggravation.
That aggravation becoming vexation. That vexation morphing into indignation.
The grind of his teeth has his jaw tightening and mouth shifting. Bottom lip between teeth and he's become even fed up with even himself at this point. He's going in circles, and there's nothing productive about what he's doing.
Rustling sheets and a momentary blackout—he's not even sure when he fell asleep as he tossed and turned annoyed with her and annoyed with himself.
Even as his eyes flutter open and sunlight spills inside the room making him yank the comfort off and sitting him he can't stop that annoyance from the night before flooding into his morning.
His mother would say he had woken up cranky.
That was then and this is now, and maybe that's what has him changing and heading out the door without even taking the time to make breakfast. The sun feels like it's risen early just to mess with him, and that's why he's heading for the training ground. He needs to at least spend his time doing something.
Anything at this point.
—yet, this isn't the direction of the training grounds. The streets are filling as he's making his way through the village.
He's a man on a mission and, so help him god, if she comes home today he has no clue what he's going to say with all this build up.
Footstep after footstep.
The yell of the blonde, and ignoring him just the same.
Naruto's caught the unspoken hint he's in no mood, and as those gates are coming into view and he's making his way forward there's no doubt in his mind that, that small frame, and white cloak are her. There's dry mud splattered upon the bottom of it, and that hood hiding that pale rose and sea foam green.
This pace is a march and it's got his hand tightening and twisting into a fist before he's right before her. Those small hands gloved in leather pull back her hood, and before he can even begin to open his mouth she's beat him to it, "I'm home, Sasuke-kun."
It's a cheeky little smile across her face and the way her teeth show as she looks up at him—that's all it takes to make that annoyance caught in his throat and his shoulders roll back. That ache is calm and nonexistent. The fluttering of lashes and then the dip of his vision from her to the ground.
He's feeling sheepish—self-conscious about how he's strolled up to her, "Welcome home. Sakura."
"Sakura-chan! You shoulda seen it! He waited for you every damn day!"
He chokes openly and the whip of his head as his hand flying out of his pocket to stare the blonde down. Evidently Naruto hadn't caught the hint—he was going to murder him.
Mouth open and eyes far to wide. Throat dry, and warmth creeping up his throat.
"Oh? Ah, is that so? Sorry Sasuke-kun. I had sent word to Kakashi-sensei that somethings had come up. I thought he would have told you my change in date." she's tilting her head to try and gain his attention.
She had sent word.
They had neglected to tell him.
This is why Naruto wasn't concerned.
This was Sakura Haruno—punctual and always sure to send word.
This sure as hell wasn't her doing—it was theirs.
Embarrassment? Anger? Maybe it was both.
Maybe that's what the warm feeling is creeping upon his face.
Whatever it is doesn't matter.
"Naruto."