Hinata looked at her husband. Really looked at him. It had been seven years since the sixth hokage had sent him on a 'mission' that took him away from them.
Not that she was counting.
She stood there like a fool, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide.
Then, without thinking, she dropped the hem of the apron in which she had balled up in her hands and strode forward and latched her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her height, and buried her face on the crook of his neck.
"Okaerinasai, koi," she mumbled.
She felt him smile on her temple as he wounded his arms around her waist.
Pulling away from each other, he looked at his son.
"Sora."
"Father."
"Sh—shall we have dinner?" Hinata asked frantically, keeping her voice from wavering and hoping she would not burst into tears.
Sasuke gave her a soft look, "Hn."
