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Title: Twelve Weeks
Prompt: She is stepping out of the shower when she hears something outside. She puts on her bathrobe and walks out of the bathroom only to find him sitting on her bed. Water drips from her pink locks as she takes him in: same pale face, hair mussed and necktie undone; beautiful. His eyes look at her face before lingering on the noticeable bulge on her robe. He already knows. She could never surprise him. "You're home early," she smiles, knowing exactly why.
Idea: Anonymous on Tumblr
Note: Shorter than I'd like but I was digging some fluff. Wholesome SasuSaku is always acceptable, imo.
Soap, and water mix upon her skin as she rinses herself off. The contented sigh that falls from her as she turns the nob of the shower shutting the water off. Fingers run through pale pink strands to rid it of the excess water. There's the muffled noises from outside the bathroom door—it's the sound of the front door closing and what could only be keys being set upon a table.
There's no rush to wiping herself down and running the towel through her strands before grabbing the bathrobe that sits upon the hook of the bathroom door. There's the subtle girlish grin that comes across her features. Anyone else would feel worry at hearing the door of their home being opened. Anyone else would be concerned at hearing someone make themselves at home when they should normally be alone. She's not just anyone though—he might have been gone for the last few months on a business trip, but there's no doubt he's the one lingering within their apartment.
A hum of amusement comes as she's making her way into the bedroom. Water drops fall from her pale pink strands as she drinks in his presence upon their bed—he's a man of classic and refined looks. Pale complexion, tousled hair, and that blue necktie she gave him for his birthday just a few months ago undone and hanging loosely upon him. He's always been one far more handsome than one should be allowed. Even in all the time they had been dating, even well after they had begun to live together, and even after she had agreed to marry him he had never looked less than handsome.
Those obsidian capture her gaze effortlessly, and there's no missing the shift they make upon her mid section wrapped within the bathrobe. They linger and their drinking her in—it's so obvious as it decorates his face. He's not one for outward reflections. He's entirely subtle as he digests her, and there's no doubt in her mind that he had known long before he had entered their home. Legs shift weight from one to the other. She could never surprise him. It's almost as if he had planned it all from the start.
"You're home early." she cannot stop the smile from spreading wider across her features.
"Ah—just for a day or two." there's humor laced within that hum of a response he gives, "Figured I should confirm something."
There's a certain level of arrogance upon his features as she finally steps from the door way to meet him at the bed, "Surprise—haha!" she's giggling as his fingers have come to grasp her hand within his own.
"When did you find out?" he's rubbing his thumb upon the back of her hand keeping his eyes trained upon the pale emerald that glow within this moment between them.
They were going to be parents—there's no stopping this thrill between them.
"Hm—Ah, I wanna say I first went about two or three weeks after you left for your business trip. I was late." she runs her fingers through those tousled obsidian locks of his, "Looks like you intended to surprise me instead."
The grin that comes across his features is absolutely boyish even within their late thirties, "You didn't seem too surprised."
"Oh, I have been plenty surprised—I can assure you on that Mr. Uchiha." she's beaming within the bite upon her bottom lip.
"Well, Mrs. Uchiha, who all else was informed before me?" his fingers leave her hand within his tease to pull her closer to him—she's still early with her at twelve weeks.
Fingers wrap around his neck, "I figured you'd like the honors of informing your mother. She won't be able to ask when you're going to provide her with a grandchild anymore."
The snort that falls from him loud and sends her into another fit of humored light laughs. There's nothing else to say between the two of them. They're content with just holding each other like this. Soothing rubs come with her fingers deep within those obsidian, and the deep inhale he takes its undoubtedly one of contentment. There had been no stress when she had found out. She knew he would be more than happy to hear of her carrying his child.
She's missed him in his time away, and to have him here to witness her growing baby bump is more than welcomed. Every phone call they shared within his time away had almost made her slip. She had almost given it away, but she's sure he had caught on well before now. Keeping something from Sasuke Uchiha, of all people, was never easy. He always seemed to know, and he always seemed to be four steps a head of her in everything they did, "Are you nervous at all?"
"No. You'll be a great mother." he's tender within his pull from her to look her into her pale emerald.
"You know that's not what I meant." she's scolding him lightly, "Come now, what would you like for dinner?" she's stepping away from him in hopes of getting changed only to have his hand upon her own again.
"You're not cooking." he's firm within his statement making it clear there's no room for debate, but he married her knowing she was stubborn.
"I'm a little over twelve weeks pregnant—not disabled." she's groaning with her pout, "I can do all the same things I've been doing."
The glower upon his features is far to common, but it holds a certain level of childishness to it this round. The grasp upon her hand is released, and he's shaking his head as he makes his way from the bedroom and down the hall. Fingers grasp one of her husband's many shirts that sit within his dresser, and there's a knowing smile upon her face as she slides a part of shorts upon her—she's not going to be a fan of not being able to wear her regular clothes soon as it was.
Down the hall with fingers running through her damp locks and the raised eyebrow comes with seeing his white button ups sleeves pulled back to his elbows as he washes the spinach within the sink. He's laid out the usual salads—tomatoes, olives, and shredded cheese. There's a scrunch of her nose giving away her disgust, "No olives—oh god, definitely, none of those."
His fingers halt within their cleaning to look at her. It's a blink, and then another. The shift of his weight comes and she can see those gears turning before he realizes why. He's shutting the water off and grabbing the container of olives and throwing them within the garbage, "What else makes you nauseated?"
"Well—more like I'm craving pickles. Olives seem to be the only thing that make me want to hurl the minute I see or smell them." she's sticking her tongue out in displeasure at the thought of them.
There's a chuckle that falls from him at her overly dramatic explanation, and her feet bringing her to the fridge. Pulling the jar of kosher dill pickle spears from the fridge she's quick to try and remove the lid before coming beside him for assistance, "You'll spoil your dinner." he scolds her lightly handing her the lid he has twist from the jar.
"I'll be fine. . . so you thinking a boy or girl?" she's quick in pulling a spear from the jar and taking a bite. The noise of excitement that leaves her brings but another snort from him and that grin seems to be etched permanently upon his lips.
He brings the strainer of washed spinach to the counter before grabbing a knife to slice within the tomatoes he's placed out, "A girl." he seems entirely too sure with his response.
"What if it's a boy?" she leans upon the counter with her elbows resting upon it, "I think if he gets my godforsaken hair we should call him Momoiro."
"It's gonna be a girl." he shakes his head, "Your hair is fine—wait you would name our child pink?"
"Well yeah. It would be fitting." she doesn't bother to share his gaze as she takes another bite of the spear pickle, "and please don't pretend like it would be okay for our children to take after my hair color."
He's silent and the chopping does not continue and that's what finally makes her drag her eyes to him. She can only blink with her cheek puffed from the pickle that sits within it half chewed. The slow chew she gives way to shows her registering his face so close to her own, "What?"
Those lips of his press against her own—it's a tender little peck if anything—before resuming his intended task, "Let's hold off on names for now—but it's still going to be a girl."
The puff of hair that falls from her at his determination that it'll be girl comes, but it doesn't sour her mood. She'll let him have his way this one time and hold off on discussing possible names for their child. Swallowing down the food she's finally taken the time to chew she grabs but another pickle from the jar, "Fine—fine. We'll decide on that later. I'd love a boy, though, especially if they look like you."
There's a chuckle that falls from him, "Oh? Need more than one of me do you."
A roll of her eyes over comes her with his little remark—he's so sure and so determined for it to be a girl. She wants a boy that looks like him—forever handsome with that classic and refined look that's been him in all this time. There's the curl of his fingers within her damp hair as he rubs his fingers within her scalp.
Yeah—she definitely wants a child that's like him.