Chapter 21

Sakura awoke to the steady patter of rain, nascent rays of sunlight slanting through the window and dancing on the floor. She took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of soap that clung to Sasuke's skin as he turned in the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist, then pulled her into him.

She lay still, clutching her pillow as she basked in the feeling of waking up beside her husband—his leg pressed between hers, his naked body warming her even on the coldest of days, the soft sound of his breathing against her neck. Twisting in his arm, Sakura turned far enough to see him and his face, peaceful despite knowing he was awake the second she stirred. She smiled—once upon a time, Naruto and Sakura had made fun of Sasuke's ridiculously light sleeping habits. They thought Kakashi was bad, but Sasuke would wake from the sound of a bird a kilometer away and have a kunai in his hand before he realized what he had heard.

"Morning," she whispered, stroking his cheek, her heart filled with the sight of him.

"Morning," Sasuke said. He squeezed his eyes, then opened them, bleary with sleep. With a kiss on her shoulder, he lifted himself on one elbow and checked the clock on her nightstand. "I am due at Naruto's office in an hour."

"Debrief?"

"Hm."

She smiled at him, stretched, and kissed him, then slipped out of the bed. His eyes were on her when she gathered her underwear and pulled on some fresh clothes. "Will you be long?"

"An hour or two."

She nodded, taking one last glance at him. "I'm going to see if Sarada is awake and make some breakfast. Join us?"

"I'll be right there."

Sarada was already up, she discovered, as she opened the door to find her daughter wrestling herself into a red sweater. Sarada popped her head through the opening and looked dazed for a moment before patting down her hair. "Papa?"

"In bed," Sakura said with a smile, loud enough for Sasuke's benefit. "Breakfast in ten minutes. Why don't you go get him once you're done dressing?"

Sarada raised a fist into the air in what Sakura gathered was a perfect imitation of Sakura herself, before ducking back into her wardrobe to find her favorite skirt. Sakura giggled, then went downstairs to heat the massive pan of miso soup Itachi had made the previous day.

As she arrived in the kitchen and saw the cabinet which held her excellent sake, Sakura stopped in her tracks. Squeezing her eyes shut against the sudden recollection of the previous night, playing in her mind like a movie, as though it had happened to someone other than herself. But it had–she could still feel Itachi's body pressed against her, still remember how he smelled and how heavy his breathing was, how Itachi had held onto the table so tight, as though he were stopping himself from reaching for her.

A bolt of hunger shot through her veins, throbbing both deliciously and sinfully as she remembered the darkness that had teemed behind Itachi's eyes, betraying the depth of his attraction to her. Sasuke had never looked at her like Itachi had. Nobody had ever looked at her like that. Feeling somehow both untethered from the world and weighted with desire, Sakura turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto her face, willing herself to calm down. A wave of nausea surged up her throat remembering that this wasn't just any man– she was excited by her husband's own brother . What was wrong with her?

And then anger replaced the nausea and desire. ' Get it together, Sakura ,' she thought, patting her face down with a paper towel. ' Make breakfast for your family–your husband–and go to Itachi's afterwards. We'll talk it over and laugh about it like we always do .'

Ignoring Inner, who snarkily remarked that there wasn't much amusement to be had in being deeply attracted to your brother-in-law, Sakura resolutely put some rice into the cooker and sliced some tomatoes on a separate dish for Sasuke, soon hearing her daughter and husband walk down the stairs.

"Uncle Ita said your favorite color is red."

"Is that so?" Sasuke asked, making eye contact with Sakura. She nodded surreptitiously. "Well, he is right."

"Mine too!" Sarada said as she pulled at her red sweater. Her smile waned. "Uncle Ita also said you like red vegetables."

"I like tomatoes."

"Yuck," Sarada said. She hesitated. "I'll try them for you, papa."

"They're healthier than your mother's tempura, so thank you for trying."

"Hey," Sakura said, waving a ladle. "Nothing wrong with tempura now and then."

"Tempura is yummy," Sarada emphasized.

Sasuke's eyes slid from Sakura to Sarada and back again. He heaved a deep sigh. "I see I'm outnumbered."

Sarada climbed into her chair and crossed her arms, nodding at Sasuke. He sat down beside his daughter, accepting the plate of tomatoes Sakura pushed toward him, and picked up a slice of tomato with his chopsticks to give to Sarada. She sniffled experimentally at the red fruit, her tiny tongue darting out to sample it before she took a bite. Immediately, her face contorted, drawing a chuckle from Sasuke.

"Yuck," Sarada repeated after swallowing the bite with much effort. She pouted and gave Sasuke an apologetic look.

"Just like your mother."

"I eat tomatoes," Sakura said, bringing out the miso soup. She placed them before Sasuke and Sarada. Sasuke's brow pinched as he leaned in closer to inhale.

"It's miso soup."

"I am not blind."

"It's also not poisoned."

The lift of his eyebrow told her her jokes didn't amuse him. "It smells familiar."

"Oh," Sakura set down her own bowl. "Itachi made it."

"Ah," Sasuke said. Though he didn't speak, Sakura could hear the question in that one little word.

"I had a night out with Ino and the others. Itachi stayed over to watch Sarada, and he prepared breakfast," Sakura said, trailing back into the kitchen to hide the blush that crept to her cheeks. She thought she was fine talking about Itachi, but the second she did, the image of him at the kitchen table and that expression in his eyes came rushing back at her.

' Get a hold of yourself. Nothing even happened ,' Inner laughed.

Sakura took a deep breath and smoothed out her face, then returned to sit at the table. "I need to run some errands later today and was planning on bringing Sarada to my parents. Would you mind looking after her instead?"

"Of course."

After breakfast, Sasuke dressed himself and was out the door, reassuring Sarada he would be back in just a few hours. While Sarada busied herself with her coloring book, Sakura went back upstairs to assess her choice of clothes for the day, adding a sweater over her shirt to ensure she was fully covered from top to bottom–though Inner snidely remarked that she had been fully covered last night as well, and so had Itachi for that matter–and stared at herself in the mirror as she combed her hair.

She looked wan, tiny lines of stress in the corners of her eyes and mouth. It was surprising Sasuke hadn't caught on, observant as he was. Part of her was deeply fearful of going to Itachi's apartment, not knowing what to expect when she got there. Perhaps he would simply laugh it off and tell her it had been a while for him–Ino had said he broke things off with Akari a while ago. Or perhaps he would just deny the whole thing. Or maybe it had just been a figment of her imagination–the months without physical contact had worn on her; even if she had Ino's unicorn to help with that, there was no substituting Sasuke's warm body against hers.

Sakura stared at herself in the mirror, thoughts ricocheting back and forth between all possible scenarios and the best way to handle this, whatever it was, in hopes of saving her friendship, all the while knowing there were things time and words could not erase.

The trek to Itachi's apartment was torture.

Sakura blew into her fingers to warm them, the bag of fresh dango she had bought jostling with the movement, and hoped she wouldn't run into anyone. Her thoughts had been a jumble since Sasuke had stepped into her home—no, even before that—since Itachi had looked at her in that way. A cold sweat broke out on her back as she relived the moment for what felt like the thousandth time.

' This is so messed up ,' she thought miserably. ' He's my best friend. What am I thinking? What is he thinking? '

' Probably the same as you. Attractive person in their vicinity after years of solitude ,' Inner said.

' I'm married .' She paused in the middle of the road. ' To his brother. '

' To someone who has been around for about two years out of the last five years, if that.' Inner laid her cheek in her hand. 'If it were Kakashi who grew this close to you instead of Itachi, chances are you'd be crushing on him instead .'

' Please stop .'

' You know what they say about denial ,' Inner shrugged. ' It doesn't make a problem go away .'

Sakura inhaled, the crisp air helping to clear her addled brain. She was going to go to Itachi, laugh it off with him or pass it off as a joke as they liked to do, then just ignore the entire episode altogether. Inner was right about one thing: she had been lonely, and Itachi had been the most wonderful person she could have hoped for. It was only natural for her to develop a teeny, tiny crush on him, which she would now put out of her mind to save their friendship.

Because if not... No, Sakura didn't dare think about how her life would be without Itachi.

She arrived at his apartment a little before noon. Staring at his front door as though it held all the answers she needed, she sucked in a breath and held it, then leaned forward to knock. The seconds that followed were pure agony–part of her eager at the prospect of seeing him again, another part terrified–the air in her lungs burning as time passed by until she heard his footsteps.

"Sakura," Itachi said as he opened the door. She swallowed hard and forced a smile, ignoring the sweatpants he wore— really, was that his only pair? —and held up the box of dango.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course," he said, stepping to the side. He held the door open for her, and she unconsciously breathed in his scent, committing it to memory before realizing she was absolutely not there to commit anything Uchiha Itachi to her memory and rather to save a friendship and set boundaries.

As she walked into his familiar apartment, shivers burst out across her skin, but despite the brisk day, they weren't from the cold. The sensation that something irrevocable was going to happen hit her, something that would change their friendship forever, and that even her meticulously prepared speech wouldn't stop the inevitable.

"Tea?" Itachi asked.

"Please."

She removed her shoes and carried the rustling bag to the living room, where she took a seat on his sofa and unpacked the dango, pushing the bottom out of the package to reveal the perfect tri-colored dango. She fidgeted, readjusting her position multiple times until she heard Itachi pour water into the cups.

"How is Sasuke?" he asked as he rounded the corner.

"A little battered, but otherwise he seems fine," Sakura said. Itachi stopped in front of her, lifted an eyebrow at her rigid posture, then sighed and set down her tea.

"I'm glad," he said, taking a seat beside her. A silence stretched between the two of them, and just when Sakura opened her mouth to start, Itachi spoke again: "I know why you're here."

"Ah, I—uh—"

"Indeed." Itachi chuckled and blew on his tea. Looking over the rim of his cup, his eyes found hers, soft but guarded. "I'm sorry."

"I—wh—why are you apologizing?"

"I'm attracted to you."

The knot in her stomach suddenly tightened, while simultaneously she felt butterflies going into a frenzy. She pressed a hand against her midsection, hoping to quell the intense emotions. "How can you say that so easily..." she whispered, staring down into the murky depths of her tea.

"I told you before. I have never lied to you." An amused sound escaped him. "The least I can do is to be honest and straightforward with you now."

Sakura nodded, gathering her courage. "I'm... attracted to you too."

The corners of his eyes betrayed a smile behind his cup. "I see."

She searched for words, following the rim of her mug with her thumb. "I don't..." She swore beneath her breath. "I swear I thought this conversation through before coming here."

Itachi chuckled. "Then allow me."

She looked up to meet his soft, midnight gaze, the amusement fading from his handsome face.

"Sakura, you are a beautiful, humorous, and intelligent woman. And I..." His lips quirked up. "I am only a man. It's natural for us to grow attached to one another when we spend so much time together."

Sakura couldn't help the blush that crept up her neck and face, or the way her heart seemed to clench. "But, Sasuke."

"But Sasuke," he affirmed. "I knew you would come today, so allow me to put your fears to rest—Sasuke is my brother. I would never do anything to endanger your marriage with him, or endanger the bond he and I have started to rebuild for that matter."

"Right," Sakura said.

"Or endanger what we have."

She licked her lips, nervous to hear him continue. "Oh?"

"I meant what I said yesterday. You and Sarada saved me from a half-life lived solely for the purpose of being near Sasuke, hoping for his forgiveness. When I lived after that day..." He paused, searching for the words. "I had hoped to have a small role in his life. This gift you and Sarada have given me transcends all my hopes and expectations."

"Itachi—"

"I will do anything to keep Sarada from harm and do my best to ensure she is always happy. The same goes for you, Sakura."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and licked her dry lips, not missing the way he followed the movement of her tongue. Whereas before she would have dismissed such movements as him simply being perceptive, this time, fire broke out on her face. He noticed, averted his eyes, and rubbed his brow. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Sakura whispered. "I'm not upset. You're right. You're a... very attractive man, in all aspects," she ignored the dimples in his cheeks as best she could, "but it's a bit of a, uh, problematic situation."

He gave a self-deprecating smile. "Problematic seems to be the correct word." He paused, drank from his tea, then said: "Would you like me to stay away for a while?"

"No," Sakura near shouted, coming to her feet. Then, startled by her own reaction, she sat back down. "I mean... If you feel that would help you. But I'm—shit—" She let out a short, crazed laugh. "I'm so scared of things changing between us." She set her tea down on the table, then pushed her face into her palms. "You are always there for us. I don't want anything to change between the two of us, or you and Sarada." She cursed again, wiping at her tears, only to find Itachi had slid closer. She felt her entire body freeze. Then he gingerly wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her into the crook of his body until her cheek rested against his shoulder.

"It won't. We're rational people. We'll get past this, and everything will remain the same."

"Right," Sakura said, clutching his shirt. "Right. We're rational people."

She felt rather than heard his laugh, and it was like gasoline on fire. She looked up to meet his smile, only to find that he was looking down at her, dark and heady. A wave of heat poured through her body. How she had ever perceived the look in his eyes to be dangerous, Sakura would never know. His midnight eyes smoldered desirously, a whole new side to him she had scarcely seen hidden behind lock and key. For a moment, she wished she had the means to open it and see how Itachi would be if he were fully himself with her.

Before she realized it, she had her hand on his chest, captivated by him as she angled her face up to him, and like a magnet, Itachi tilted his head down, his mouth so close to hers she could taste his breath on her tongue. He glanced down at her lips, turmoil in his eyes even as they lingered so long, she struggled to think clearly. The feel of his muscles under her fingertips sent a bolt of electricity through her body, turning her veins into liquid fire.

This close to him, Sakura could see the fine lines, the deep crease of his tear troughs, every perfection and imperfection on his face. As the tips of their noses touched, Itachi's hands found her throat, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of her neck, thumbs stroking her jaw as he closed his eyes. Every caress of his thumbs against her skin caused her breath to hitch and then quicken, adrenaline heavy in her veins, and her head to fog with desire.

He paused, holding them suspended in time for a long moment. Pendulous between one moment and the next, Sakura found the voices in her head had silenced–all that remained was the intoxicating scent of his breath, her heart pounding wildly in her ear, the sensuous slide of his skin against hers, the hard muscle beneath her fingers, and the all-consuming urge to press her lips against his and relieve some of the overwhelming ache she felt.

How was it possible to want someone as badly as Sakura wanted him? It was unlike anything she had ever felt before–now that she had touched him like this, it felt unbearable to be away from him. As he opened his eyes, Sakura found herself caught in his gaze, finding herself reflected in midnight–flushed, eyes wide, her breathing rapid.

Instantly, she knew she had to back away, her trembling hands finding his as she sucked in a breath. He released her, and she stood quickly, burying her hands into her hair as she walked away from him and the temptation, putting the coffee table between them before she dared to turn around again.

Itachi sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, while he stared at the discarded tea cup on the table. The guilt she had managed to tuck away came back full-force as the realization that she had almost kissed Itachi hit her.

Her chest heaved as he looked up, the humor from earlier gone as he too struggled with what had just happened. She took a deep breath, then ran.