A/N: It's more than just a fan.
Sewing Project
The inn was cozy and warm, a stark difference from the frigid cold of the outdoors. Their travel clothes had finished washing and drying. So, after Sakura folded up Sasuke's laundry and stowed away her underwear, she sat atop their shared futon in a comfortable cotton robe, hair nearly dry from her hot shower and fingers quickly at work.
She managed to buy fabric at a little village on their way to the inn, as well as a dainty sewing kit for her project. The moment Sasuke went out to buy dinner for them, she went straight to her task.
Just as she sewed the final stitch on her travel clothing, the shoji door slid open, and Sasuke sauntered into their room with a plastic bag hanging off his wrist.
"Sasuke-kun!" she squeaked, the needle pricking her finger as she hastily folded her shirt in her lap. The pain caused her to wince, but she spoke through the discomfort. "Okaeri."
"Ah, tadaima." He slid the door shut behind him and raised a questioning brow. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes," she assured him, tugging at the thread to cut it. As she stored the needle and leftover thread in its little container, carefully ensuring her shirt didn't unfurl from its place, she patted the plush surface next to her. "Come here for a second."
Sasuke set the bag of their dinner atop a small night table and unbuttoned his cloak. As he did so, he eyed her warily. "Why?"
"Don't be stubborn, just come here."
He set his cloak aside and padded over to where she gestured. Sasuke lowered himself and sat cross-legged beside her.
Sakura gave him a beaming smile, unfolded her shirt, and held it up to showcase her work. The lightweight fabric unraveled to reveal the gentle curves of a crimson crescent that was a color a few shades darker than her shirt. Below it was the base and handle dressed in crisp white. Altogether, the Uchiha crest shone regally between the shoulder blades of her shirt where the Haruno circle once displayed.
"Ta-da!" she chimed, her smile so wide she felt her cheeks hurt, but she was too excited to care. She turned toward the shirt and tilted her head to examine it further before looking to Sasuke.
His mouth parted slightly, as though a word was about to escape his lips, though no sound came out. He blinked once. Twice. Sakura felt her cheeks begin to warm from anxiety.
"Do...do you like it?" she asked, breaking the silence and grasping for his thoughts.
His voice was quiet, and his eyes never left the crest as he asked, "Do you?"
Sakura nodded her head and turned back to the crest to rub a finger carefully over the nearly invisible stitches.
"I love it," she said earnestly. "I love it so, so much. It isn't my best sewing work, but—"
Warm, soft lips pressed against her own, startling her out of her reverie. She fell backward in surprise and onto the feathery surface of their futon as Sasuke hovered over her, his mouth now trailing kisses along her jaw as his hand clasped atop hers, the shirt between their palms. She found herself giggling as his touch. A man of few words, she mused, and more a man of action.
Each graze of his lips held his gratitude. Sakura felt it, savored it, let her soul cherish it.
He pulled away only to press their foreheads together. She looked into his mismatched eyes, violet and midnight looking at her with such admiration it made her heart sing.
"I love it, too," he murmured. "Uchiha Sakura."