Late on the evening of Christmas Eve, as she was nursing a muffin and a cup of hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon, Sakura received her tenth visitor of the day.

Sensing his chakra signature as soon as he left the elevator, she leaned back in her leather seat and, since she had already long since kicked her boots off, made herself comfortable by pulling her legs up. Silently basking in the happiness that, she found, always tailed his presence in her life, she patiently waited for the door to her office to open.

As expected, it did so without as much as a warning knock, and she couldn't help but smile behind the rim of her festive cup at the small gesture of familiarity.

"Hi, Sasuke-kun," she greeted warmly, watching as the man in question calmly walked across the room to take a seat on one of the chairs provided in front of her desk.

He'd always preferred the one on the right.

She glimpsed the glittering snowflakes in his hair and inhaled the cold smell of winter he had brought with him, and she decided she would take a walk once she was done with the first half of the paperwork. She did, after all, love winter more than any other season.

"How are you today?" she pressed, shifting in an Indian position.

Sasuke took off his coat and grunted an indecipherable response.

Sakura smiled. "Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea? I know you don't drink hot chocolate, but maybe you're feeling adventurous today?"

Shooting her a look from under his dark bangs, Sasuke leaned back in his chair, folded one long leg over the other, and went straight to the point, "So, Sakura. Is this really how you want to spend your Christmas?"

She gave him a small grin. "Sure. It'll make for a happier and healthier rest of the year." She gestured to her desk, cluttered with books, scrolls, various writing utensils, and patient files. "No leftover paperwork."

Sasuke appeared nonplussed. "I see."

"I'm festive!" she exclaimed, straightening her back and parting her robe. "Wearing a sparkly sweater under this white goodness."

"Lovely," he quipped dryly.

She giggled, taking a sip of her warm chocolate. "What are you doing here, Sasuke-kun? Did Naruto send you? Because he's been by himself, and he hasn't managed much."

"Naruto didn't send me."

"Oh. Well…" She shrugged. "Whether you expected this or not, it's not the way you'd want to spend your Christmas. So, go on. Go to their party. Or go home. I don't know. But the hospital isn't your friend as much as it's mine."

Sasuke wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'm not interested in their party," he spat, as if the mere idea offended him.

Sakura let out a small chuckle.

"And…" Hesitating, he shrugged. "There's no one at home for me."

Only mildly surprised that he'd choose to share something so personal, Sakura sighed, smiling sadly. "Well… I can say I'm in the same situation. Who would have thought, right?" She gave a small, watery laugh, and tried to hide her tears.

Sasuke watched her closely, in a manner reminiscent of his favorite summon bird, with eyes calm and calculated, eyes that gave nothing away—yet eyes that weren't cold, not in the real sense of the word—and she didn't know if she actually managed to fool him.

"If you want, you can stay here… with me." She leaned forward and set her elbows on the table, giving a small shrug and hoping with all her might that, at least this time, he couldn't read the hope and need she felt were etched so deeply in her expression. "Keep me company. Forge some signatures."

A moment passed before his reply sounded clearly and truthfully in the warm room. "This isn't where you want to be, Sakura."

"It's the only place I have to be, Sasuke-kun," was her answer.

When he didn't budge, didn't open his mouth to insist and didn't make a move to leave, she gathered a pile of papers and extended them towards him. He didn't hesitate in leaning forward and accepting them, and she smiled before picking up a pen and resuming the work she had been doing before he decided to drop by.

A minute passed in silence. Without needing to look at him, Sakura knew he wasn't working, knew he hadn't even opened the files she'd given him; knew he was watching her, instead. But she didn't mention it. This wasn't the first time she found herself in this situation, and she couldn't be more grateful for that.

Sasuke often visited her at the hospital that she now single-handedly ran. Sometimes, he helped her with the paperwork. Other times, he thumbed through—and frowned at—some of her thick textbooks. Sometimes, he brought her lunch, and they ate together, in comfortable silence—or through Sakura's animated rambles. Other times, he sat on the couch and sharpened his weapons or read a scroll of his own. Regardless of the setup, he was there—and that, to Sakura, meant more, much more than anybody could probably ever even begin to understand.

Because Sasuke was home, and Sasuke spent time with her, and despite everything that had happened, despite the war and the aftershocks that were still felt so strongly and painfully by nearly every person that had been touched by it, that was still everything she had ever wanted.

"It's alright to miss them," he suddenly spoke, jolting her from her thoughts.

She blinked, and looked up at him in surprise. "Sorry?"

"You heard me," he said. Leaning forward, he tossed the files she'd given him back on the desk, firmly holding her gaze. "It's alright to miss them. And it's alright to be hurting. And it's alright to still be mourning. And it's definitely alright not to be fine with going home to an empty house on Christmas."

"It's fine," she blurted out, and then inwardly slapped herself, immediately realizing that she'd said it too quickly to be believable. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head, amending, "It's not that, really. I… had them for a really long time. Much longer than you or Naruto…" She bit her lip. "Sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said that, but it's true. I have to be a big girl about this and admit that I've had it better than most… and that crying and moping around isn't going to solve anything." With a shrug and yet another weary, shaky sigh, she returned to her paperwork. "It's just the way the world works."

With a sigh of his own, Sasuke stood.

Sakura blinked at the movement in her peripheral vision, raising her head in search of his eyes, surprised to see him on his feet and then even more surprised to see him not moving towards the door, but around the desk and towards her.

"Wha—"

Once at her side, Sasuke methodically reached down and pried the pen from the clutch of her fingers, before easily lifting her up by the scruff of her white coat and instantly bringing her into his arms.

For a moment, Sakura was too shell-shocked to think, much less move. Sasuke had been back for almost half a year, and he'd learned not to flinch and, eventually, to return her hugs, but never before had he actually initiated one himself.

But then his warmth started to seep through their clothes, through her skin, slowly trickling a path towards her heart. Then his scent, musky, woodsy, and so entirely Sasuke, started to invade her senses. Then the utter comfort of his embrace completely overwhelmed her, bathing her from head to toe, and she no longer hesitated in snaking her arms around his waist and burying her head into the center of his chest, closing her burning eyes as his scent only became stronger and his arms only wound tighter around her in response.

Sasuke rested his chin on top of her head and a hand on the small of her back, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles into her lab-coat.

He understood what she was going through; he understood it better than anyone. Naruto didn't, not really, because, as much as he liked to insist he did, he didn't know loss the way he did—the way they did, now. Yes, Sasuke knew the exact pain that she was feeling, the exact pain that he hadn't truly wished on anyone, not even in his darkest hours, much less on Sakura—and, while there had never been anyone there for him, never anyone to comfort him and to tell him that life went on, that, at some point in the future, things would brighten up, he knew how much that would have meant; he knew how much good it would have done to him.

And he would give that to Sakura, because Kami knew she deserved it more than him.

"Don't downplay the importance of this simply because of us, Sakura," he murmured softly in her hair. "The fact that we've not had that you've just lost in a long time doesn't mean you shouldn't be hurting. Just because you're had your parents for a longer time doesn't mean their loss should be any easier to bear."

She was crying now, silent tears slipping from her eyes and absorbing into the soft material of the same shirt her hands were so tightly anchored in.

"You're hurting now, and it's alright," he continued. "This isn't really where you want to spend your Christmas. Completing patient charts while they, themselves, are off celebrating with their families. Wearing a sparkly sweater just for the heck of it. Sakura, you want to be with someone you love. And that's not selfish. It never could be."

"I'm a mess," she argued. "No one deserves to deal with that on Christmas." She paused, and nearly choked on her tears when she added, "And I don't want to go home. I can't. I can't go home."

"I know," he sighed, pulling away just enough so he could see her face and cup it in his large hands, wiping her tears away with calloused fingers. "How about this? Come home with me."

"I can't do that to you," she whined in response.

He scoffed. "I'm not leaving you here. And I wasn't finished. I was saying you should come home with me. And…" He shrugged. "We'll see. We'll… cook dinner. Celebrate Christmas, I guess." Pausing, he seemed to seriously consider the next words to come out of his mouth. "We can even make a tree if you really, really want to."

She giggled wetly at that, and, though it made her heart rate pick up, she doubted it was a coincidence that his black eyes softened just then.

"We'll… keep each other company," he said, and seemed to decide, on the spot, to add something that he knew was a deal-breaker for Sakura. "I don't have anyone to spend Christmas with, either."

…And it wasn't until he said it out loud that he realized how true it was—and how much he would like for it to change.

Date: o7/12/2o14