Downriver
Arms loosely folded across his knees, Sasuke gazed absently and with longing at the water rushing passed him—absently because he was focused on anything but the river, longing because he was on a C-ranked, absolute mockery of a mission with Kakashi, Sai, and the Dobe; on tenuous probation; and, ultimately, gone from her. "Frustrated" was not adequate in the least to describe how dark his mood had grown throughout the course of this humiliating escapade.
The current Team Kakashi, excluding Sakura, had been assigned to repair a bridge. It had once arched across a tributary that marked the border between Amegakure and River Country, a river that fed one of the massive lakes in the region. Heavy rains had caused the old structure to collapse, so here they were. Working from daybreak to noon and from noon to dusk in the middle of a humid summer. And just when the shinobi were growing used to the day's heat, nighttime emerged and turned the land frigid. The only reason this damned mission was even given its rank was because bandits had been spotted in the area; otherwise, it would have been listed as the D-ranked disappointment it really was. Even still, it would not have been so bad if only their female teammate had been allowed to accompany them. The Godaime, unfortunately, had decided "her impressive skills as a renowned Med-nin" to be more useful elsewhere . . . much to the close-knit team's chagrin and Sasuke's vast displeasure.
Apparently some rich merchant who served the local Daimyo was afflicted with a fickle disease that called for a personal visit, and thus Tsunade sent Sakura and another Med-nin to aid him. Sasuke had been irate, which incited a mild argument between him and the kunoichi. Less than three weeks later, the rest of Team Kakashi had been sent on their current mission that turned out to be way more than a few shuriken short of an adventure. But the worst part of this situation was that the bridge they were tending to was just upriver from this sick merchant's lakeside property.
It was all a cruel conspiracy; it had to be. This whole arrangement was a plot meant to drive him insane until he broke his probation and ended up in the dungeons—a certain group of old fools would be absolutely delighted at that development, Sasuke was sure.
And so it was, in light of these overarching circumstances, that Uchiha Sasuke was in a very, very bad mood.
Sweat trickled in miniature torrents down his neck, chest, and back until his torso was so drenched that—had it begun to rain—the downpour would merely have been one more redundant annoyance. He would have to taunt Naruto into sparring with him later; he really needed to pummel something.
"Tch," Sasuke scoffed at the thought of his rival and that big mouth of his. He reached up impatiently to peel the shirt from his body. The black fabric made a muted hiss as it fell to the grass.
Unfortunately, despite his stoic expression, the Uchiha's distracted behavior did not go unnoticed.
"Hey, Sasuke," Kakashi called lazily. The Copy-nin was watching him from the shade. As usual, Icha Icha was perched and poised like a regular, living orange creature in one gloved hand, "we'll be traveling back to the village in the morning, so once you get the last of those posts to the building site downstream, we can head back to the inn before sunset."
We? That was laughable.
Sasuke muttered, "Naruto can bring it. I carried all the others."
"You are in a bad mood, aren't you."
The mocking tone of his ex-sensei's voice was beyond irritating. Just like everything else that had confronted Sasuke these past weeks. It was the way he said it, that characteristic lack of inquisitiveness, the calm, steady inflections that made him sound like he knew everything there was to know about their situation.
"There is no shame in missing her, Sasuke."
His head snapped up. Disturbed, wet locks of raven hair stuck in haphazard bunches to his neck and face. He refused to answer, but that alone was enough for Kakashi.
"I'm sure she's thinking of you as well."
Now the old man was just teasing him. Sasuke glowered.
The corner of the Copy-nin's one visible eye creased, a creepy sign of joviality nearly as old as his mask-wearing habits. Not quite, but almost, "But you shouldn't worry. I'm sure that Chuunin medic that went with her—what was his name?—will keep her company until their mission is over."
Before Kakashi could finish, Sasuke was already storming passed the trees and towards the building site, the last thick post hoisted over one shoulder. And the lackadaisical Jounin was left to muse by his lonesome once more. That was just fine though, for he usually found his own thoughts immensely interesting. And one of the topics he most recently enjoyed pondering was the almost undefinable relationship between two of his ex-students, the last Uchiha and Haruno Sakura.
Whatever unresolved tension had burned between them for nearly four years was unavoidably addressed after the war, and what should have fizzled out nicely to be replaced by platonic amiability—well, quite veritably—exploded. Erupted. Caught fire. Or any number of torrid euphemisms that could define the start of a relationship fueled by a long-simmering passion. It was, surprisingly, unexpected by all except Naruto, as dense and distracted as the future Hokage was wont to be. He seemed to have an uncanny habit of developing impeccable observation skills when and where it counted the most. The Copy-nin himself had been quite taken aback but concluded that their relationship would forever be one unexplainable in the eyes of others, through the eyes of anyone but each other and maybe their precious people; it was not perfect, not inherently sweet like the developing companionship between Naruto and the Hyuuga heiress. But it was tender and genuine, nonetheless. And while it was obvious to many that Sasuke was protective to an almost overwhelming degree, Sakura and those closest to her knew that he was not possessive. On the other hand, the majority was not so understanding. And so, when Sakura was accompanied on her mission only by a lovelorn fellow medic, many interpreted Sasuke's anger towards the Chuunin as a sign of possessive jealousy.
Scanning a raunchy page with his eyeball, the Jounin smirked. Oh, the Uchiha was jealous, alright. But this, Kakashi knew, was only because he cared in his own overpowering way, the way of his family, and happened to miss her horribly. Not that he would ever admit such a "weakness." The Copy-ninja was not inclined to divulge to Sasuke that he knew this information, however, for he could not risk having a body part he needed being sliced unceremoniously from his person.
At least, whenever Sasuke did use Chidori, Kakashi had the faint comfort of knowing that the brat had learned it from him.
Kakashi let his body sprawl back onto the grass, decidedly satisfied. He poised Icha Icha over his face to shield it from the patches of sunlight that managed to filter down through the leaves. The top half was in danger of a nasty sunburn indeed.
Naruto was already passed out, snoring louder than a wind jutsu in the corner of their room.
It was almost midnight when Sai jumped in through the window, "Your watch, senpai."
Kakashi nodded, donned his long-sleeved shirt and chose to forego the flack vest. He was halfway out the window when he remembered something. His haphazard mop of silver hair spilled over his eyes as he poked his head back inside, "Is he still on the roof?"
Sai nodded.
"I see," hummed the Copy-nin. He quirked a brow in the snoring jinchūriki's direction. "Sai, plug that up, will you?"
Kakashi vanished from the window and scaled atop the inn, not bothering to use chakra. Sure enough, the last Uchiha was straddling the edge of the roof, one leg bent up against his chest and the other dangling freely over the side of the building. His gaze was focused blindly over the river, following the constant roar of water over expansive stretches of lush terrain. What was once vibrant green during the day was now ethereally tinged grey and blue. Even the moonlit glow reflected off the water's surface was blinding.
Kakashi drawled, "Your watch isn't for hours yet. You should get to sleep."
He did not expect a reaction from the young man, nor did he receive one. Chuckling, he approached his ex-student, slouched down to sit next to him. His voice was even more good-natured than usual when he spoke again, knowing this time that he would surely get more of a reaction than just silence and the charged thrum of the night air.
"So lovesick. I never would have expected it from you, Sasuke."
The words had scarcely bled through his mask when the Copy-nin found himself on the receiving end of a scathing glare; in fact, he was surprised that said gaze was not already swimming with red. This indicated to one conclusion only: as teasing as the Jounin's statement was, it was absolutely true.
Unexpectedly, the Uchiha's scowl fell, replaced by his previous visage of contemplation. His eyes darkened, only to be veiled in that reflective fog once more. Sorrow, the expression screamed. He looked so positively lonely that Kakashi felt ashamed of his taunting. He clasped a gloved hand over the prodigy's shoulder, and then returned it to the spine of the risqué novel in his pocket, one of his few constant companions, and withdrew it. Running his gaze idly across the cover, he pondered the obvious cause of the Uchiha's well-disguised disquiet.
Although they were discreet, the searing relationship between Sasuke and the Godaime's apprentice was a secret to no one. Their dynamic was redemptive, genuine enough to earn admiring looks when they walked together through the village, but scandalous enough to keep the gossip of the nosy busybodies fueled and flowing.
It must be so difficult for him, Kakashi decided, for Sasuke to allow himself to feel so strongly for someone, only to be kept apart from her under indirect penalty of all the unwise decisions of his past.
The last kind of person Kakashi wanted to be in the eyes of his students was scum, trash, an embodiment of a worn shinobi system that had already wrought enough pain. Pain to Sakura's loved ones. Pain to everything Sasuke once held dear, yielding only a series of vendettas that eventually exploded in war. If Sasuke and Sakura could forgive each other so unassumingly, so much so that they found this happiness together . . . then who was he, Hatake Kakashi, to choose now of all times to obey the village rules?
"Sasuke."
The Uchiha tilted his head in the Copy-nin's direction, signaling for him to continue. Instead, the Jounin reclined back on his elbows, settled Icha Icha on his chest. The bright orange cover somehow looked less garish in the moonlight. More pink. A dark pink not quite rosette in hue.
Sasuke's frown deepened.
Kakashi, ever observant, did not fail to notice and the corner of his open eye crinkled, "You shouldn't have overdone training with Naruto today. Now your chakra is nearly drained. At least," he flicked his gaze to the crashing river not thirty steps from the inn's humble garden, "drained enough that you wouldn't last running on the water more than a few minutes."
Sasuke turned now to face him fully. Betraying his mild chagrin, his eyes narrowed, "What are you hinting at?"
"Nothing," hummed Kakashi. His fingers tapped an absent tune on the adobe tiles beneath them. "You must be feeling very irrational right now. Anxious, protective . . . vehement, even."
"Tch."
A stray lock of ebony hair obscured Sasuke's vision and he swept it back with a careless snap of his wrist. He really did not mind it, though, and Sakura seemed to like it long. She was always running her fingers through it, tugging at the strands ardently whenever . . . whenever . . .
He swallowed harshly, his longing resulting in an inadvertent glower that only served to amuse his mentor, who started tugging distractedly at the edges of his mask. The cold air had given Kakashi gooseflesh everywhere except beneath that tight black fabric, "I'm relieved you're acting so complacent, Sasuke. I must say that I half expected you to be pacing up and down the riverbank. Especially," he watched the Uchiha slyly from the corner of his eye, "with Sakura-chan being as close as she is. Just downriver, at the far end of the lake."
Chilling and bordering on malicious, for his mood had been awful since Sakura left on her medical mission, Sasuke's aura was almost more brisk than even the night air.
The Copy-nin, impervious as always, merely continued on in his lazy drawl, "It's very fortunate then that you don't know about that old canoe hidden in the trees near the old bridge. . . . Behind that thick cluster of thickets on the right side. I certainly wouldn't want you to do anything foolish. If I told you about the vessel, I would be encouraging insubordination. And I'll have you know, Sasuke, that I am a very upstanding individual."
Lithely, Kakashi jumped to his feet and stretched, intent upon continuing his watch at the front of the inn, or wherever he could sit in the treetops and read his smut undisturbed, "Now, I seem to be suffering from a sudden bout of insomnia tonight. If you don't mind, I think I'll take over your watch as well."
But just as he prepared to step off the roof, Sasuke turned around, "Kakashi."
A gloved hand turned a page, "Hm?"
". . . Thank you."
.
.
.
Sasuke found the old wasen canoe easily.
It was relatively small, most likely used by an old fisherman long gone, and almost invisible beneath the overgrown plant life and branches that sloped low from the trees overhead. He pushed it down the grassy slope and into the river, not bothering to watch the water splash and spray against the curves of the slick vessel as it undulated on the surface. In a hurry, he leaped inside the boat before it could float towards the current, which, though considerably tranquil, would not spare the Uchiha's dry clothing. Over his head he peeled his shirt, whilst balancing the slender bamboo paddle across his knees.
Once he pushed away from the riverbank and began paddling towards the lake, a chilled wind that had previously been licking along the surface of the water parted around him, rose gooseflesh up from his bared skin and lifted his hair until the ebony bangs no longer obscured his face. He was all pure concentration, all intent. His body became fraught with tension at the thought alone of seeing her again.
The beautiful scenery rushed passed him, little but a dim portrait of shade and moonlight in the background of his thoughts. He had not been able to put them to rest since she had left on her mission, and he on his. Uchiha Sasuke cherished what little he had; the horrible notion of losing her was enough to start his heart racing, only one of the ways—the only unpleasant one, in fact—in which she could manage to spike his blood pressure. There was no doubt in his mind that she was beyond capable as a ninja. More so, she was only on a menial, medical mission. But tragedy was not uncommon in their profession and he knew the bile taste of loss all too well, the rancorous manner in which he had responded to it during the past. Because hatred was easier to stagger beneath than grief. Because hatred gave him the will to lash out when grief could only be akin to a slow, aching strangulation.
Sasuke unwittingly began to mitigate his frustration and worry with each vigorous stroke of the single oar. With each turn of his wrists, each powerful rotation of his shoulders and forearms, the paddle's smooth face sliced through the water in clean, crisp strokes. Several harried glides succeeded in dousing the plane of the Uchiha's back until the tips of his unruly hair became soaked and stuck to his neck in stubborn, slick strands. How absurd this was. Uchiha Sasuke was no romantic, but here he was, jumping into a canoe and paddling tenaciously downriver to see his pink-haired lover. He may have felt disconcerted at his own behavior, but was far too eager to see Sakura to let this sudden display of spontaneity bother him.
The current grew stronger, aided in pushing him forward. When a particularly harsh stroke of the paddle had his torso drenched in freezing water once more, a sense of mirth he had not felt since his earliest childhood washed over him. From his lungs he exhaled a large puff of air that appeared as a cloud of mist before his face. Its gradual dissipation mirrored the way he found his body relaxing despite the present exertion of his muscles. Incredulous at the feeling, he shook his head and flicked his gaze quickly to the dark expanse overhead.
No matter what I do, huh?
His hawk's gaze spotted a large boulder obstructing his path, forcing him to redirect the vessel with ease.
Still love me, Nii-san?
He hoped Itachi knew, could feel the same lightness Sasuke felt in his own chest. Knew that his little brother, for the first time in a long time, felt the freedom of unhindered joy so deep in his bones that even the night's chill could not affect him.
When the river emptied into the massive lake, it carried the last Uchiha with it. At long last, it was the moon that guided Sasuke's steps onto the grass-laden inlet that stretched out into the lake, reaching from its lush banks like an arm grasping fervently towards a lover's hand. The dewy grass cooled his bare feet. He decided not to tie the wasen canoe to any onshore obstacle, choosing instead to rely on strength alone. In his haste, he pushed the vessel far enough up the embankment to keep it grounded for the meantime.
He needed to see her first.
His heart thundered inside his ribcage the closer he came to the cabin; warm, pale light filtered through the large window, revealing a table, upon which a petite hand wrote fiercely across the plains of a medical journal.
Sasuke smirked. Nearly every muscle in his body froze when he stepped beneath the shelter of a tree that stood just outside the house's back screen. He knew there were others nearby, and could not risk being heard or seen with her, at the risk of her mission and his probation. The Uchiha felt no other chakra signatures in the immediate vicinity, but he still could not be certain; therefore, he had no choice but to gain her attention from where he stood.
A candle, the only source of light inside the cabin, burned meagerly near her open journal. Melted wax had pooled at the candle-holder's base. At the sight, Sasuke sighed. But his urge to smile could no longer be denied, soft and faint as the expression was. He almost felt loath to disturb her.
Haruno Sakura. Always the diligent worker. Always so selfless.
The sudden ache that emerged in Sasuke's chest nearly had him startled, but he knew very well that he should not be after all this time. She was now an intrinsic, admittedly cherished part of his life, imperfect as it was—but she made it as close to perfect as it could ever be, as if the future, their future, would no longer be defined by his past. The way she looked at him, the way she touched him, drowned out every reminder of his mistakes, her mistakes, the ensuing consequences that truly did not matter in light of what they had managed to create together.
And yet they had parted on their respective missions, left each other with only the bitter words of some foolish argument for which he could not even remember the details. The beginnings of a deep frown marred Sasuke's smile until it vanished.
In hindsight, it made no sense. Now, however, everything unfolded before him with a startling yet welcome clarity. The answer as to his impromptu journey across the water to where he now stood was undeniably evident.
The gentle smile returned.
Concentrating, the Uchiha watched the small flame, focused easily upon the candle with the three tomoe spinning in his eyes. A simple genjutsu roiled itself about the candle with the ease of a serpent's coils. Out from beneath the tree Sasuke moved, keeping to the shadows until he could properly gaze at the medic's profile. Her brow was furrowed in confusion as she observed the candle. The flame was gone, according to her fooled vision, but she could obviously still feel its heat on the skin of her arm. Sasuke smirked again when the kunoichi formed a seal, a single word leaving her lips. A shiver rattled Sasuke's spine at the mere sound of her voice. It was a soft, feminine lilt he had not heard in so long.
"Kai."
Revealing the tiny flame once more, the illusion that it had burned out dispersed. Now that she was no longer distracted, the medic instantly recognized his chakra signature and with incredible urgency vaulted to her feet.
Satisfied, Sasuke walked back down to the lake to tether the canoe. He could hear her bare feet padding lightly behind him over the damp grass.
"Sasuke-kun? What are you doing here?" she hissed under her breath.
Sasuke turned around to take in her form swathed in shadows where the moonlight could not reach. Her hair was thoroughly mussed from long nights of what Sasuke hoped to be only difficult medical duties. He knew her better—trusted her more—than to ever doubt her loyalty; it was that overconfident Chuunin medic he did not trust. But he did in fact have the assurance that if the man crossed any boundaries, he would most definitely be bearing a plethora of bruises courtesy of Sakura's fists.
Remaining silent, Sasuke withdrew a weathered loop of wire that he often utilized with his fūma shuriken. Now he used it to tether the wasen to a low tree branch. Once he began to advance back up from the shoreline, the kunoichi walked down to meet him.
It was hell for her to suppress her immediate instinct to run to him. They had not parted on peaceful terms, after all, and three weeks was far too long to go without seeing his face—even though these weeks were nothing in comparison to a time when they had been apart for more than three years. But their circumstances were different now. Their relationship was different.
"You know I'm happy to see you, Sasuke, but if this is just about Shimizu-san again, then maybe you . . . you should . . ."
His toes were almost touching hers. He was looking down into her eyes with such intensity that the young medic briefly forgot where she was; his eyes were dark, even more impossible to decipher against this backdrop of night sky. Nevertheless, she could pick out the stubborn lines of his stoic face, the quirk at the corner of his mouth that betrayed how truly, genuinely happy he was to see her after so many empty days spent without each other. But, as usual, the Uchiha was adamant against showing it, especially while he was constantly being trailed by many an irritation: his probation, mission shortages, Naruto. In Sakura's opinion, the aloof darling looked so frustrated, almost . . . almost like a petulant child.
She grinned.
And her smile remained. Even when Sasuke moved closer, forcing her to tilt her head back so they could maintain eye-contact.
"I didn't navigate all that damned cold water to talk about Shimizu."
Her eyes widened in realization, and in an instant no apologies were needed. Guilt, admission . . . both were almost always followed by forgiveness between them. No vindictiveness. No bitterness. Right then, Sasuke resolved to himself that as long as he was able, he would never allow them to part in the way they had again.
The warmth that had settled in the Uchiha's abdomen radiated outwards and into every sinew of his body. Amused, he kept his eyes trained upon her face while she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, sending the cold air careening away from their touching forms, "I am glad you're here, Sasuke-kun."
Her touch seared into his skin, and Sasuke found himself glad that he had chosen to undertake the journey with his torso exposed.
Somewhat shy under his gaze and embarrassed by their argument weeks ago, Sakura angled her face closer to his neck. She wondered with distracted desire at the scent of his body; he smelled of water vapor wildly capsized on the wind, of sweat surely acquired from the exercise of his rowing travels, but mostly of fire. Of warmth, if warmth could ever possess a tangible scent. She breathed him in deeply, let her hands glide slowly down strong, lithe arms. The faint perspiration was like chilled dew on his skin.
She leaned away. Her excited gaze flitted back and forth along the stoic contours of his face, obviously searching for any inkling of his current thoughts that just might cross his subdued features uninhibited. Behind her back she linked her fidgeting hands. Coyly, she continued to peer up at him; her verdant eyes bright with worry as she automatically scanned over his form in search of wounds, no matter how miniscule they may be. Sasuke frowned.
"I can't believe you came all this way in that old fishing canoe. Are you alright? You're all sweaty."
As if to reiterate her words, she swept a chakra-enflamed hand against the damp skin stretched with tautness over his collarbone. He shivered. And Sakura, always the adept medic, could not help but notice; she misinterpreted his reaction—perhaps intentionally, if Sasuke's eyes were not deceiving him to the blush in her cheeks—and took his hand, "Let's go inside, Sasuke-kun. Shimizu-san's room isn't close to mine, so no one should know that you're here.
Giving a satisfied hum, Sasuke allowed her to lead him inside the cabin. Once Sakura shut the shoji screen behind them, their lips met in a burning frenzy, a harried meeting of teeth and tongue as they reveled in each other's presence, a need they had been deprived of for so, so long. It was for breath they reluctantly pulled apart, and Sakura tried to put distance between them. She was determined, but so was he. Stubbornly, Sasuke followed her, his mouth warm and coaxing against her neck. They only had so much time until daybreak. The adamantly curious medic, however, nipped gently at his earlobe, focused chakra into her palm and pushed him back onto her mission cot.
She settled down beside him, voice both reprimanding and alight with laughter, "Like I said, I do love that you're here, Sasuke-kun," she laid her head onto his shoulder, eyes closing in peace as his fingers pushed the pink strands back from her face. Like many times before and always to Sasuke's surprise, she seemed to enjoy the feeling of his hand's calluses, the multitude of scars, "But you're breaking the rules of your probation. I'm not worth it."
"Tch. Don't be annoying."
Eyes still closed, Sakura smiled, "You haven't said that to me in a while."
"I haven't seen you in a while."
Her smile started to drop at the unfortunate truth in his words, but he caught her mouth with his once more. Sasuke kissed her deeply, trying to convey his thoughts with the passion that thrummed through him without fail in her presence: that if she was truly not worth his breaking the rules—his impromptu, waterlogged journey—then nothing else in his life could ever be.
His matted hair had already begun to dry, and she weaved her petite fingers into it, stroking his neck and scalp beneath the mussed dark mane until he allowed a groan, heady and deep, to leave his lips. Frantic, she kissed her way down his neck. Her tongue brushed the tender area beneath his ear, tasted the night that clung to his alabaster skin even still.
"Where did you get that canoe?"
"Found it," Sasuke's growl came from within the core of his heaving chest, eliciting a delightful warmth in Sakura's lower abdomen.
The kunoichi fought to suppress her moans and, of course, was unsuccessful, "You found it, Sasuke-kun? How?"
"Kakashi."
"Kakashi-sensei? Really?"
Much to Sasuke's chagrin she pulled away yet again. But he accommodated her, equally content to just watch as she chattered every musing that came into her head. Hands running unconsciously along the length of his arms. Happiness radiating from her green eyes, darkened slightly with the beginnings of desire.
Without warning she jumped from the futon in favor of pacing, leaving Sasuke almost besides himself with want and exasperation. He watched her walk closer, only to move away from him again, each movement of her lithe body exaggerated under candlelight.
"Isn't Kaka-sensei's birthday next month? All of us should buy him a present. It has to be something special. . . . Maybe another plant to keep Ukki-san company," the kunoichi ceased her pacing, eyes hopeful, and turned suddenly to face him. "What do you think, Sasuke-kun?"
Sighing heavily, Sasuke stood and stalked slowly towards her with the honed grace expected of any shinobi.
"I think," a smirk adorned his face with all the softness he was capable of expressing, "that I will buy that old man all the damned shrubs in Konoha if you come back over here."
Sakura could only smile at the fact that he wanted her so. The thought of how far their relationship had progressed since the war would render her to tears otherwise, "I'm going to hold you to that promise, Sasuke-kun, so please don't drown on your way back."
And, seeing as there was no other way to hide her blush from his shrewd gaze, all she could do was launch herself at him.
.
.
.
"I love you so much," Sakura sighed into Sasuke's chest. She erupted into breathless laughter when his entire body stiffened underneath her. She had told him this many times before, so there could only be one explanation for his slight discomfort.
"You don't have to say it, Sasuke-kun," the tip of her tongue brushed against his neck for what seemed the hundredth time that night. Worrying her bottom lip, she pulled away.
The Uchiha was still exhausted and his head lolled to the side so that he could see her face fully. It was dim in the room, the candle having burned out long ago. Only scant moonlight streamed in through the window. Her smile was breathtaking, but was somehow still inferior to the brilliance of her eyes, the pure joy he saw there, the way the soft glow of the moon's radiance comingled with jade just before him.
Intently threading his fingers through her hair, Sasuke pulled her body flush against his. He leaned down, Sharingan eyes boring into hers, to taste her mouth once more, knowing very well that when they parted—damn it all—he was going to say it regardless, in his own way.
Sated in mind and definitely in body, Sasuke replaced the trusty canoe beneath the trees and somersaulted with deft precision through the open window of the inn. He landed in a crouch and perused the sight before him with cautious eyes.
Their room was flooded in the darkest of pitch. Only crickets' chirping outside and the breathing of the other two men in the room ruptured the silence. As was to be expected, Naruto did not awaken—still would have remained passed out like a limp ramen noodle even if Sasuke summoned Kirin down from the sky and maimed the entire inn to formless gobs and smithereens.
When the Uchiha sank, still somehow graceful, to his futon in a thoroughly relaxed heap, he was not surprised in the least when another form flipped soundlessly through the window, and Kakashi's voice reached his ears in a hushed murmur.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
Misty moonlight streaming in through the unused bamboo shades illuminated pristine teeth when Sasuke smirked, a truly content expression that felt foreign on the stoic angles of his face. It was almost a whole smile.
"Hn."
A thud resonated through the room moments later, followed by an indignant yelp from Naruto, who was due to fulfill his own watch. It was the last watch before sunrise. Once the drowsy Kyuubi container had stumbled outside, grumbling incoherently about "emotionally constipated, inconsiderate bastards," an almost deafening silence vacant of snoring settled over the inn. Mind filled with comical notions of buxom women trying to de-mask him, Hatake Kakashi had almost found sleep when the voice of his most wayward student muttered to him from across the dark room.
"Kakashi," Sasuke deadpanned.
Little more than a grunt was all he could spare, "Hm. What is it, Sasuke?"
Patiently, the Copy-ninja waited for the question to be asked of him and—not unexpectedly—he received it the form of a tired, monotone statement.
". . . What do you think of bonsai trees."
A/N:
Oh, so silly.
This piece was inspired by the beautiful poem "Meeting at Night" by Robert Browning. It is a gorgeous work of poetry that I've always loved, so I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I tried to use more sensual diction in order to capture that atmosphere I envisioned in my head, so I hope it was still adequate while not being over-done. And, of course, I couldn't resist throwing Itachi in their somewhere. I just love that guy.
I just thought that, since Sasuke pursues so passionately that which he is interested in, what would he do if he was in love with Sakura, but distance, his punishment, and his own regrets acted as tedious obstacles to keep him from her? Well, I felt very strongly that he would obviously fight to overcome those obstacles, of course—that and, well, the image of a shirtless Sasuke vigorously paddling a beat-up canoe was too incredible a thought to pass up. It's one of my favorites so far. It's imperfect but still very idyllic SasuSaku and I got a cavity writing it, but I love it anyway, despite the fact that I kind of threw my hands up as far as characterization goes.
Thank you so much for reading!
It would mean a lot to me if you would let me know what you thought of this little story, as it's probably much more lighthearted and saccharine than anything else I've written as of yet or will ever write.
Please, do review.