Sasuke frowned as he drove. Thoughts of Naruto had haunted him all night, making him feel feverish and weak; when he did sleep, he was tormented by dreams of Naruto's kiss.

It seemed a taste of Naruto was not enough. No matter how much he shared with Sasuke, Sasuke wanted more. It wasn't just sexual need; he wanted to get to the bottom of Naruto's mind, understand what made him who he was. He wanted to know why he had a trigram seal against a demon tattooed on his stomach. Did Naruto feel as if he were evil? Was that the reason he seemed to try so hard to see the best in everyone? Was it self-defense?

How old had he been when he got the tattoos? Had he been a minor? It conflicted sharply with Sasuke's image of him as a perpetual child of summer innocence. Sasuke wondered if their paths had ever crossed. They were nearly the same age, Sasuke was pretty sure, and they'd both grown up in Konoha. He felt certain, though, that he would have remembered that shock of blond hair and those blue eyes…

He imagined himself as a child, chained to the decaying and corrupted traditions of his clan and of the town, and compared the image to Naruto, floating about rootlessly like a dandelion spore—unwanted and cut down every where he attempted to bloom. Had the two of them met—Sasuke burdened with the weight of his family's expectations and Naruto untethered completely—would they have been friends?

Then, of course, overlying all of his questions was the intense sexual need Sasuke felt for Naruto. Sasuke had felt desire before, had experienced longing. Nothing had prepared him for the raw impulses that drove him when he was in Naruto's presence, however. He couldn't get enough of him. Every touch led to another, and another. And they'd been close, so very close, to the precipice of feelings Sasuke had never experienced.

Sasuke shuddered at the thought of falling over that precipice. It was enticing and terrifying. He had wanted to Naruto to consume him wholly there by the creek. Even the bracing cold of the water had not sufficed to douse the heat the swelled within Sasuke when Naruto, wet and shirtless, was so near to him.

All night, Sasuke's mind had insisted upon revisiting every single touch, every single kiss that had happened between them. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had promised to watch Sarada today, he had little doubt that he would have called Naruto immediately for the release his mind and body were demanding.

He groaned in frustration, pulling his hair at the thought. He felt so far beyond control that it terrified him. The sensation might be heady, it might be addicting—but it was still too new to be completely comfortable. As he parked in front of Sakura's house, he struggled to compose his mind before he had to deal with Sarada.

It was several minutes before he could bring himself to march up the walk and ring the bell. Sakura answered immediately, clad in her old pajamas.

"Come in, Sasuke," she invited, yawning. "Want a cup of coffee?"

"Is Sarada ready?"

"Not yet. She should almost be. Come on and grab a cup. You can take it to go," she said, walking towards the kitchen. Sasuke followed, slightly perturbed at the wait.

"Have a seat," Sakura directed. Sasuke obliged, pulling up a stool at the bar as Sakura poured the coffee. "Here you go," she said, setting a thermal cup in front of him. "Just the way you like it, black as your soul."

Sasuke did not respond to the familiar old joke. He was thinking, still, of Naruto.

"What do you think of Sarada's principal?" he asked carefully.

"You mean Naruto?" Sakura did not seem surprised by the question; Sasuke, though, found it odd that she was on a first-name basis with him.

"Yes."

"I adore him!" she enthused. "He's a great principal, he works really hard, and he's made huge changes to the school culture at Konoha International. I mean, he's fought the board, and many of the parents, and he just keeps on making the changes he feels are in the best interest of the kids."

"Changes, like what?" Sasuke inquired.

"You know how things were with us," Sakura said. "Even though we went to a different school, the educational culture was still largely the same. Teachers berated the kids, there was rampant bullying, and many of the parents had been pushing for even stricter discipline."

She took a long drink of her coffee before yawning again. "And the way he does it… it's like he somehow manages to get everyone on his side."

"How does he do it?"

"He sends out a weekly newsletter to the parents. He focuses on a new parenting issue every week. And our PTO meetings are usually educational, also, focusing on the newest information about child development and pedagogy. He brings people in from the community to lecture and ask questions. I've even given the lectures a couple of times."

"Why?" Sasuke asked. "You're a doctor, not a teacher."

Sakura rolled her eyes. "I'm a neurologist, with a background in neuropsychology and research into childhood traumas. I lectured about brain development one time, impulse control another. Kurenai has given lectures on adverse childhood events, which I have assisted with. It helps parents understand that children aren't just tiny adults. You know how much we could have benefited if our parents had ever had that understanding?"

"They wouldn't have cared," Sasuke said dourly.

"Maybe not. But many would have. Did you know that one of Naruto's in-laws committed suicide in high school?"

Sasuke shook his head; he listened carefully.

"His wife—well, ex-wife, now, I suppose—grew up with her cousin, Neji. You may remember him. He was a few grades ahead of us at the Japanese-only school. Handsome guy, straight-As in everything, martial arts enthusiast..."

Sasuke couldn't remember; he had gone to the same school as Sakura, but he had been focused on other things at the time.

"Neji grew up in Hinata's house. His own parents had died. He was like an older brother to her. He tried to get into Harvard and was rejected. It absolutely devastated him. He committed suicide from shame, even though he had multiple scholarships from non-Ivy League schools. His death caused the family to reassess their priorities. Naruto apparently knew Neji well. He has drilled it into the teachers' and parents' heads that there are plenty of possibilities for a child's life, but you only get one child. I respect him for that."

Sasuke felt as if another piece of the puzzle that was Naruto was slowly turning, ready to fall into place.

"Sarada… does she like him?"

Sakura laughed. "Like him? I think she has a bit of a crush on him. She thinks the world of him. She works in the school office, you know, as an aide."

"So she said."

"Naruto always makes a point to ask her how her judo lessons are going, and what books she's read, and he remembers the things she tells him. He's like that with all the kids. They all seem to like him, but Sarada reveres him."

Sasuke felt a pinch of jealousy; he immediately pronounced it irrational. Naruto had not been doing the work Sasuke had been doing for the last 12 years, and it was moreover Naruto's job to know Sarada. He couldn't imagine the principal of his own school knowing so many personal details about a child in his care, though; the kids in his school were likely reduced to entries on an alphabetized spreadsheet.

"Do you approve of him?" he asked.

"One hundred percent," Sakura answered. "Why do you ask?"

"I have just recently met him. I wanted to see what kind of influence he might be on Sarada." The lie came easily; like the best of its kind, there was a grain of truth within it.

Sakura laughed. "Oh, yeah. Sarada told me you guys had gone swimming together. I think it shocked her that her beloved Mr. Uzumaki doesn't fly off to Mount Olympus when school hours are over."

"Hn." Sasuke could attest that Naruto could easily have set off a war of jealousy amongst the Olympians with his boyish face and toned physique. He cleared his throat, trying to get the image of water beading on Naruto's tanned, well-chiseled chest out of his mind's eye.

"He'd be a good friend to have, Sasuke," Sakura said gently. He looked in her eyes, trying to suss out the intentions behind her statement. All he could see was open friendliness.

"Hey, Sasuke..." she began.

The creak of the stairs interrupted her, and the two looked across the room to see Sarada rounding the corner.

"Good morning, Papa," she politely greeted Sasuke. He tipped his head in acknowledgment.

"Is there any breakfast, Mama?" She asked Sakura. Sasuke noted the warmth of the hug they shared, as well as the look of affection in Sakura's eyes. He didn't know why he was here. He felt extraneous and redundant, completely out of place in this picture of family.

"There's an egg and bacon English muffin, if you want it."

"Thanks, Mama," Sarada said. Sasuke wondered if the air of formality was for his benefit. Naruto had said she was polite, though…

Sakura began to tousle Sarada's hair, then thought better of it. "Sorry, kiddo, I forget you're a big girl who wants her hair to be nice and smooth."

Sarada grinned. "You can have another hug, though," she told her mother, only to laughingly squeal, "Too tight! You're squishing me!" when Sakura obliged. It felt voyeuristic to Sasuke to witness this exchange.

"We should leave soon. I have to open the store in thirty minutes," he interjected. Sarada looked disappointed.

"Bye-bye, Mama. Will you be home late tonight?" Sarada asked.

"I shouldn't be, but you know how it is. There are freezer meals if you get hungry."

"I will take her to eat when we close," Sasuke volunteered. The look of shock on both Sakura's and Sarada's faces made him regret the offer immediately.

"Thanks, Papa," Sarada said with a smile.

"Ok, then! I'll see you when I see you, Monkey. Shannaroo!"

"Shanaroo, Mama!"

Sasuke walked to his car, still unaccustomed to the knowledge that a child was following behind him.

The first thing Sarada noticed when she got in the cars were the flowers Naruto had given him yesterday.

"Did someone give you flowers, Papa?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered abruptly. He wished he had thrown them away the night before; he didn't want Sarada asking him questions about Naruto.

"Was it Mr. Uzumaki?"

"Why would you say that?" he asked.

"Because you went swimming with him. I thought maybe..."

"Don't think too much about the business of others, Sarada," he said, regretting the harshness in his voice immediately.

Her face fell. "I'm sorry."

"No, never mind. Don't worry about it," he said, but this didn't seem to cheer her up at all.

"I'm sorry I made you angry last night," Sarada murmured, her voice high-pitched and tremulous.

Sasuke felt a moment of shock. "Why did you think you made me angry?"

"You seemed mad when I asked why you and Mr. Uzumaki were wet, and again when I asked if you went swimming with him."

Her words left Sasuke dumbfounded. "I wasn't angry."

"Your voice sounded angry."

"Sarada." She looked up, and to his horror, tears had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

"If I am ever angry at you, you will know it. Because I will tell you directly that I am angry at you, and why." Sasuke cursed at himself inwardly.

"I am just curious about you," she said, and the tears began in earnest. "I wasn't trying to be rude. I was just surprised that you were friends. I hoped… I hoped…" She took off her glasses and swiped at her eyes. "I wanted to find out about who you liked and what we could talk about together because I don't know anything about you."

Sasuke stared at her, his mouth open. He had no idea how to comfort a crying child. His crying child. Whom he had reduced to tears unwittingly. Again.

A car horn interrupted his thoughts, and he silently drove through the stop sign. He couldn't think of why she had thought he was angry. He had been irritated, certainly; he had been on the dizzy edge of release with Naruto when her phone call had interrupted them. He hadn't been angry, though, and most definitely not at Sarada.

He crept into a parking space in front of Tomoe and turned the car off. He sat in bemused silence as Sarada hiccupped next to him.

He recalled the easy hugs that she had shared with Sakura with a pang of guilt. Sasuke had never been very physically affectionate with anyone other than Itachi as a child; in adulthood, Naruto had been the only person able to coax physical demonstrations from him.

But still…

He remembered, still, all the times he had watched his father hungrily, hoping for some sign of affection or recognition.

Gingerly, he reached out and laid his hand on Sarada's shoulder. She sniffed, looking up at him with her devastatingly large eyes brimming over with tears.

"I am not very talkative, Sarada," he said. "I've spent a lot of time alone. I'm not used to talking to many people, especially children. I don't intend to sound angry at you. You haven't given me any reason to be."

She nodded as if she understood, but he could still see the uncertainty in her tearful eyes.

What would Naruto do? He wondered.

Of course.

"Sarada," he asked awkwardly, "do you like flowers?"

She looked at him confusedly, but nodded.

"Would you like these?"

"No, Papa, they're yours," she said softly.

Sasuke picked up the bouquet and plucked a single orange—excuse me, salmon—rose and handed it to his daughter. She looked at it before taking it into her hands and smiling up at him hesitantly.

"Come. Help me open up the shop."

Sarada trailed behind him obediently. He hated the thought of spending a whole day at the mercy of his child, who wanted so much more from him than he knew how to give. The idea of being fixed with those huge, unmistakably Uchiha eyes at every inevitable failure made him recoil.

As he opened the point of sale unit and prepared to do an inventory, the memory of Naruto talking about Sarada came back to him.

"Sarada."

She jumped a little at the sound of her name. "Yes, Papa?"

"You are an office aide, yes?"

She nodded.

"When you are forced to keep me company here, would you like to act as my assistant?"

Sarada's impossibly large eyes grew larger and her mouth fell open. "Really?" she breathed.

"If you want. But you'll have to follow instructions precisely. I'm not patient, Sarada, and I'm not talkative. You need to understand that and deal with it."

"I'll do whatever you tell me to do, Papa," she vowed solemnly. For one painful moment, her expression was so eerily like Itachi's that Sasuke physically ached.

"Hn. You can start by neatening the store and ensuring that the books are orderly. We will go over inventory after lunch, but I usually do it every Monday morning."

She nodded once, and he saw confidence bloom in her demeanor.

They spent several hours silently carrying out their respective tasks. By lunch time, they had still not drawn their first customer. This, he explained to his concerned daughter, was typical for a Monday morning, especially in the summer; most of Tomoe's revenue, he told her, came from unique artifacts and antiques that Sasuke kept carefully locked away until someone requested something specific.

"I usually eat lunch here," he told her. "Maybe you would like to go out today."

She frowned a little, and he wondered if he had somehow hurt her feelings again.

"I don't want to leave the store unattended in the middle of the day," she said.

Sasuke blinked and looked at her again. She was absolutely serious.

"The store will be fine. We'll lock it. Do you have a favorite food?"

"Tea."

Sasuke rolled his eyes. "Tea is not a food. You know this."

Sarada glared at him. "I like food with tea. Could we please go to the tea shop? It's close. We can get back quickly."

"Fine."

Sasuke noted that the owners of World Cup Tea Shoppe were quite familiar with Sarada. They smiled and welcomed her warmly when she and Sasuke sat, almost ignoring Sasuke completely, which suited him fine. He observed her as they made small talk with her; he could tell, he thought, that she was not altogether pleased with the ongoing conversation, but she maintained impeccable manners throughout.

When the owners finally left the two of them alone, Sarada studied her menu carefully. "Papa, may I have the chicken sandwich and a cup of tea?" she asked after a while.

"Hn. Get what you want."

The woman who owned the shop ambled back over to them when she noticed Sarada give a small wave. "What would you like today, sweetheart?"

"I would like the chicken sandwich and a cup of masala chai, please," Sarada answered.

"Have you had the masala chai muffins, Sarada? We just started making them," the woman asked.

This was the first time that Sasuke had seen Sarada excited or childlike about anything. She looked at him pleadingly.

"Get two, Sarada. You can have the other for snack later," Sasuke told her. Sarada beamed as if he had just given her a Christmas gift. He stored away the knowledge that she liked masala chai muffins.

"Sarada!" the woman fawned. "Is this your Dad? It must be, you look just exactly like him! Ah, you have his eyes, don't you? And his pretty black hair. Where have you been hiding such a handsome father, you sly little girl?"

Sarada flushed and her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "We are working together today, so we really need to be getting back very soon. Could you please take my father's order?" she asked, and though her diction was precise and courteous, it also had an icy edge. Sasuke found himself impressed despite himself.

The woman laughed. "A working lunch, huh? You are always such a serious little thing. I'll be snappy, then. What can I get you, sir?" she asked Sasuke, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked from her hand to her face, annoyed at the invasion of his space.

"I'd like the tomato soup, a house salad, and some personal space with a cup of green tea," he snapped.

The woman looked at him in shock, but then laughed as if he'd told her an incredibly funny joke. "I see where Sarada gets her sense of humor from, now," she said as she strode back to the kitchen with their orders.

Sarada still looked irritable. "Do women always fawn over you and flirt with you like that?" she asked.

"Hn. Don't know."

"Does it annoy you?"

"People invading my space and my privacy annoys me, yes."

Sarada grinned. "I suppose I am your daughter, after all."

Sasuke raised one brow and grunted.

The father-daughter, tandem offensive against noisome flirtation seemed to have had its desired effect, as a different employee brought the pair their lunch. Sarada unfolded her napkin across her lap, then lifted the bread off the top of her sandwich to remove the slice of tomato.

"Are you going to eat that?" Sasuke asked, his fork already poised midair.

Sarada wrinkled up her nose. "I hate tomatoes." She looked at Sasuke's place setting, at his tomato soup, his salad covered with tomatoes, and now her own slice of tomato on top. "You really like them, don't you?"

Sasuke smiled. "Quite."

Sarada looked down and smiled, a delicate pink rising in her cheeks. "We're a good match, Papa," she said softly. Sasuke was beginning to think she might be right.