title: It Was Always You
prompt: SASUSAKU MONTH 2014
rating: T-M

summary: oo1: Sakura loves watching Sasuke paint. She's never quite understood his works, but they're to both of them, they're special in their own way.

dedicated to: my girls reviee, DeepPoeticGirl, and SR :)

.oo1.
The Smell of Fresh Paint

"God, I love watching you paint," Sakura said, sitting cross-legged eagerly as her eyes followed Sasuke's skilled hand. "I can't understand how you do it. It seems so simple, but when I try to do it—" she trailed off, giggling. "Well, you already remember how it was when I painted."

Sasuke smirked, but his eyes and concentration kept focusing on the canvas in front of him. He dabbed strokes of oil all over the canvas, creating another "masterpiece," as Sakura liked to call it.

"Comes with practice," Sasuke said, wiping his brush to get rid of excess oil. He took a step back at his picture—a mismatched array of wild colors splotched together close up, but a creative abstract piece of work from far away—and sighed.

"It looks great," Sakura assured him. "But what is it?"

Sasuke took off his smock and placed his palette and brushes on the makeshift table next to him. He kissed Sakura's curious forehead.

"It's the last one in my series. You've seen me paint the other parts."

"But what exactly is it?"

His lips brushed the tip of her nose. "You'll understand." He leaned in for a proper kiss when he saw that some red oil paint had gotten onto her nose, making it look rosy and swollen.

"Why are you staring at me like that? Do I have something on my face?"

"Yeah," Sasuke said. "Me."

His lips swooped in for the kill.

.

.

.

Sakura would sit perched for hours doing nothing but watching Sasuke paint, paint, paint. The smell of fresh paint being opened from virgin tubes made her shiver in pleasure, and she loved watching the untouched tube squeeze out colors Sasuke would use to continue his picture.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Sasuke teased, thinking about how he could improve his picture.

"I love watching you. I think that's enough."

"Do you at least want me to open up a window or something? The smell can get pretty strong to the untrained nose."

"I like it," she said. "Fresh paint reminds me of you."

"Me? How so?"

"Because you're always surrounded by paint. You're like, Van Gogh or Da Vinci or Monet. You live art. You breathe art. It's part of your world. Just like you're part of mine."

"Kami, Sakura." Sasuke dropped everything he was holding and kissed her, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips. He gripped her forearms and turned his head for a better angle.

Sakura moaned, her hands gripping Sasuke's hair and tugging it in fistfuls. She pressed kisses down his jawline and his neck, and she felt his hands trail up and down her ribcage.

"Get back to work," Sakura breathed, pulling apart and wiping dabs of paint off his face. "Quitters never accomplish anything."

"I'm taking a break," Sasuke said. He turned around to view his picture and frowned.

"What? Are you not happy with it?"

"It's not the way I wanted it to be."

"I think it looks beautiful the way it is."

"To you, perhaps." His tone was slightly sarcastic, and almost biting.

Sakura's eyebrows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sasuke was still straddling Sakura on the sofa, and he stared into her green eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you saying that my objective perspective isn't worth as much as the artist's?" Sakura scowled.

Sasuke sighed. "You take things too personally. I'm just saying that I think it's not good enough. It's not what it was supposed to be."

"And I'm saying it's gorgeous either way! But here you are, saying, 'oh, Sakura, you don't know anything, you don't know how to paint, you just like to watch Sasuke paint so you can get high on the smell.'"

"What the hell? Sakura, what's your problem? Why are you acting like this?"

Sakura pushed his chest, and he toppled off her onto the ground.

"I don't much appreciate having a boyfriend who looks down on his girlfriend!"

"I'm not looking down on you! I'm only criticizing myself. Damnit, Sakura, what the hell is wrong with you right now?"

She saw Sasuke's dark eyes blaze up in anger, and she felt herself ready to argue back with hurtful words. Instead, she calmly quieted herself, and whispered, "I think I should go for now. I don't know when I'll see you next, but until then, good luck." She said the last phrase with a scowl and packed up her things.

"Sakura, don't you leave me—you owe me an explanation!"

"I don't owe you anything!" she shouted back. Knowing that Sasuke wasn't chasing after her, she ran from his studio, tears brimming in her eyes.

.

.

.

Sakura was lonely and stupid. She realized that she was in the wrong, yet she didn't have the courage to go to or call Sasuke to tell her that she was sorry. After yesterday's dilemma she didn't have the energy to do anything.

She buried her head in a pillow and sighed heavily, finding anything of Sasuke's to smell. Her room was surrounded by sketches and drawings of things she asked him to draw—pictures of them together, flowers, animals, and anything that would satisfy her. Sakura let out a small cry and flopped onto her bed face down.

She missed sitting on his couch, watching him mix colors. She missed him cursing when he got a color wrong, or when he messed up. And she especially missed watching him paint on his face and be unaware, and then ask her why she was laughing at him.

Kami, she missed him.

An unexpected knock came through her door. Sakura groaned, not wanting to see who it was, especially in her condition, but as the knocking got more incessant, she yelled "Coming!" and pried herself out of bed.

Looking in the mirror, she made sure that her face was tear-free and that she looked seemingly happy without her other half. Then, she made her way down to the door, where the stranger was waiting.

"Can I help you—" she stopped halfway. "Hi," she breathed.

"Can I come in?" Sasuke asked. He carried a large suitcase behind him, and he smelled like cologne today, not paint. She wondered if he painted today, or if he simply took a day off like she did.

"Um. Sure." She opened the door to let him in, and he settled down his suitcase.

"I—" they both began. "You go first," Sasuke said.

"Sasuke-kun," Sakura breathed, covering her face with her hands. "I apologize for what happened yesterday. You were right. I was taking things too personally, and I shouldn't have. You're an amazing artist, and your opinion certainly matters much more than mine. I'm sorry I ever tried to butt in."

Sasuke didn't say anything for a while. Then, he took her hand, and kissed her temple.

"I don't care about any of that. As an artist, other peoples' perspectives are just as important as my own. In fact, I came here to give you something."

He bent down and unzipped his suitcase, taking out several canvases she had known and seen painted before.

"I don't understand," Sakura said. "Why did you bring them here?"

"Just wait." He arranged all of them in a certain order, all the abstract brush strokes finding their way into order. Finally, he stopped, and took yesterday's "unfinished" piece out.

"You didn't work on it?"

"You were right. I think it's perfect just the way it is." He placed it with the rest of the paintings and had her stand back.

"Oh my goodness," Sakura breathed, her hand at her mouth. "It's me."

And it was. Nine square canvases placed in order, each with a seemingly different feature making no sense separated—an eye, layers of pink, a nostril—but together, they formed a picture of her.

Sakura felt her eyes water, and Sasuke put his arm around her. "I wanted to give you something special."

"Kami, Sasuke-kun. It's so beautiful. I can't believe I wasn't noticing this before…"

"That's because you were just watching me," Sasuke chuckled. Sakura wrapped her arms around his torso and began to sob violently into his chest.

"It's stunning, Sasuke-kun. I can't even describe how much I love this—how much I love you. Thank you, Sasuke."

He embraced her with one arm and wiped away her tears with the other. "Art is my passion, Sakura. It's what I do. It's who I am. You, on the other hand, are my life. Without you, I have no inspiration for anything. You're my Muse. I can always count on you to love me every step of the way. So please," Sasuke said, his lips on her cheek. "Let it stay that way."

Sakura took another look at the portrait of her and smiled through her watery eyes. "Of course it will."

.

.

.

"I really love the smell of fresh paint," Sakura said to herself as she watched Sasuke paint the still-life in front of him. "I don't know how to describe it. It's almost acerbic, but there's some good mixed in."

"The fumes must be getting to you," Sasuke muttered. "Paint doesn't smell that good."

"To me it does."

Sasuke opened his mouth to argue something, but closed it. He silently nodded, and Sakura smiled.

"Whatcha working on right now?"

"The banana doesn't look right."

"What do you mean? All you have to do is—" she took the brush from him and dabbed a little bit of green and brown. "Put some of this on there."

Sasuke stepped back. "Not bad. The color's right, but your placement is a little off. Here." He set his palette down and guided Sakura's hand in the right direction.

"Look at me," she laughed. "I'm Sasuke. I'm going to be a famous artist one day and sell all my paintings for a million bucks each."

"I don't need money," Sasuke murmured, his lips at her ear, his hand still guiding hers. "I have you." He took the brush back and dabbed her nose.

"Hey!" she pouted.

"You can get me back later. Right now, I have some art to do." He placed the extra paintbrushes over his ear and got back to work, Sakura watching earnestly from her sofa, her nose bright and yellow.

SASUSAKU MONTH 2014

COME AT ME BRO

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