Feeling and Thinking and Being Real
When she woke up that morning with a broad smile on both her face and heart, she knew her husband had returned home, in spite of the empty space beside her. Oh, there were signs that indicated his presence here and there. His scent on their sheets, for instance. The closet door, slightly ajar at the exact manner he was wont to leave it, wont to drive her crazy, was another. The translucent lace that was their curtain... it was slightly ruffled at that corner of the window; he had a habit of reclining at the window sill, brooding on the sleeping village at dead hours of the night, staring at winking lights, like some sentinel on a late shift.
And of course, the most concrete sign of all: his hitai-ate headband lying on the bedside table.
She rose to her feet with a groan, tottering slightly. One hand automatically rested on her belly, as the other grazed the bed just in case further support was needed. Heartily, she stretched like a cat when she gained balance, making cute little noises akin to contented purrs. He always did smile whenever she did that----and always tried to hide it, naturally. Hah! As if he was any less amusing when he yawned. Can you imagine a widely feared, prodigious ninja rumbling like a bear and pawing on his bedsheets?
Where was he, anyway?
Their bedroom door was open by a crack. As she neared it, the smell of frying sausage wafted to her nose. She glided outside and on to the kitchen, urged on by a doubly whetted appetite, still dreamy, for sleep had not yet completely left her head.
Sure enough, there he was, standing at the stove on a gray cotton shirt and blue pajamas, busily manipulating pan and chopsticks as skillfully as he wielded shuriken or kunai.
She didn't bother to try to startle him; that never worked, and he never pretended it did.
"Look who's back," she crooned in a low voice, kissing his cheek as she hugged him from behind. "Good morning, dear."
He didn't answer, didn't return her kiss, didn't even look at her. For a moment, she was torn between wanting to crumple up and wanting to explode; what could she have possibly done to upset him now when she hasn't even seen him for days? (Well, she did have to go to the bathroom several times last night, but he was used to that and probably wasn't disturbed.) She knew that it could be not her at all, that her husband shut out the world unexpectedly when he needed space. But one doesn't really get used to getting hurt by a loved one; one may become familiar to feelings elicited, but never totally immune.
But then he touched her hand briefly, and the feeling of rejection subsided somewhat. She let go to allow him a wider range of motion and took a step back, watching him wordlessly.
"Sit," he ordered tersely after a few moments.
She did as she was told graciously and continued watching him from her place at their little square table. He finished with his preparations swiftly and had her breakfast served in under ten minutes. Then, he sat beside her and started eating in silence.
Between mouthfuls, she suddenly spoke, "You're mad at me, aren't you?".
"No." He didn't look up from his plate when he said this.
"Oh, yes, you are." She titled her head to one side thoughtfully. "I wonder what for. I wasn't the one who arrived home a day later than promised. Oh, and without my requested foodstuff, apparently."
"I left the crabs at the Hokage's freezer."
"That's good. Care to tell me why I suddenly feel like I'm inside one?"
"Because you slept on cold concrete last night," he answered, this time glaring at her.
Sakura's face lit up in understanding. "Oh, that's it? That's the reason why you're mad? Well, then, I'm sorry I fell asleep in front of the shrine. And thank you for taking me to bed."
"Obviously missed the point."
"Oh, Sasu, I won't get sick because of that."
"What were you doing down there, anyway? Cleaning?"
"Yes."
"What possessed you to suddenly start scraping my floors off with a doggy sponge?"
"Cleanliness. And it's my floor, too."
"Didn't I tell you before not to go down there?"
"Yes."
Sasuke's expression was unreadable as he stared at her.
"Yes," Sakura repeated, returning his gaze steadily. "You've told me not to go down there more than twenty times before."
"Don't go down there again," he said simply. Sasuke wasn't the argumentative type, after all, just as his wife wasn't the arguable type.
"I don't see why not. It's not like I'm contaminating the place."
"Contaminating something else," he muttered with a scowl.
That statement, she caught but didn't quite get. Contaminated what? Memories? Because she and that room weren't compatible? Because she was alive and they were dead? That made sense, she thought. They were killed in that room, the people he loved. Therefore, it disturbed him to see her in there.
Still...
"It's my clan, too," she said in a tiny voice.
Silence.
She could pray for them, too, couldn't she? For peace. Theirs and his. And it was only right she honor them. It wasn't as if her presence in that room would be some sort of desecration...
Finally, he spoke. "Different branch," he said, rather dismissive in manner. "A dead one. Don't go down there."
"It's my house, too," she answered, this time a little less sure of herself.
"Aa."
She sighed, poked the lone piece of sausage on her plate, and sighed again. They weren't getting any where. It would be best if one of them backed down in the mean time. Her, probably.
After a long period of quiet, she spoke up again.
"Ne, Sasuke-kun?"
"Aa."
"Can I have that extra piece of mango?"
"How can I possibly deprive you of that?" he returned drily.
She laughed, and everything was all right again.
0402104 2337hrs
AN: Jemiul, Ori, and the un-named one, thanks for reading and for the comments! Again, comments, complaints, etcetera would be much appreciated. Thank you. =)