much more than satisfactory
if you are entrusted with something valuable, treasure it.
Time passes as it always has – fluid, slipping between his fingers before he realizes it is gone. A month in Earth, two weeks in Wind – the days blur as he crosses back through Rain and into Fire, the deep, verdant forests and familiar dirt roads creating in him a sense of urgency because he is almost, finally home.
He cannot count the number of days it has been since he has been back home, but for him, it feels like far too long. Sasuke would never admit it aloud, but he quickens his pace, imagining the comfort of his home, the warmth of his bed, the love of the woman waiting for him.
It has been five years since he left again, and two since he made Sakura his wife, and he is – for the first time in so long – happy. They may be no Naruto and Hinata, all boisterous declarations of love from rooftops and back-bending kisses in the street, but what they have is deep, what they have is true – it's the love of a thousand miles, of sleepless nights, of understanding and trust and forgiveness.
Theirs is a slow love; quiet, steady, hopeful. It is full of silences – the things he most wants to say, to ask, to beg for kept barely under the surface. He knows she will see them, and in her own way, she will always answer, reassure, redeem him. And that, he thinks, is more than enough, because now, after all this time, he allows his silent touches and smoldering gazes to say what he never would have before – he has loved her for a long time, and his absolute determination is that he will do whatever it takes to deserve her.
And for her part, Sakura is just... herself. One day it's her in the bathtub, reassuring him that a snide comment from a cheeky ANBU upstart about being a "traitor's wife" didn't bother her in the slightest and that she had quite cheerfully put the brat in his place with three broken fingers and a deadly smile. Another, it's her in her medic apron, hitting him over the head with an antidote textbook, telling him that Uchiha are emotionally retarded because they feel too deeply and then try to cover it up and really, what do you expect when someone has such strong emotions and yet forces themselves to bottle them up? And sometimes, it's her hands on his face, wiping away tears, and a repeated whisper of I forgive you, Sasuke in the dead of night, when the silent thrashings of his nightmares wake her. All of this, Sasuke knows, he could never earn, and he tries to show the depth of his affection in his own way.
However, when he is away, the letters he can send are infrequent and short, and he has never been one for words, anyway. When he arrives back in the village, Sasuke does not want any unnecessary delays, so he has already written his report, weaving in and out of alleys and rooftops in the moonlight to drop it off at the Hokage tower before hurriedly turning to go home.
That is a powerful word to him now. Home. It means so much more than where he lives, he thinks, staring up at the building. It's the smell of Sakura's shampoo lingering in the air, the sound of her yelling when he leaves the toilet seat up, the taste of her lips on his own after they've been apart. Forgoing the door, he leaps up into the window, landing carefully on the balls of his feet. She is sleeping with her back to him, pink locks splayed out behind her, her ribs rising rhythmically with each breath, and he watches for a moment, admitting to himself just how much he has missed this. His eyes trace the Uchiha fan on her spine, feeling a surge of pride because despite all the odds, she is his.
Sasuke hops inside to shed his travel cloak, sandals, and shirt, and he is unwinding the cloth from around his head when she stirs, turning over to face him. She is bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, but when the fact that he is there, right in front of her registers, she bolts upright, smiling so hard he is sure her face will split in half right then and there.
"I'm home," he says quietly, and she holds out her arms to him from her spot in the covers. Sasuke is not one for public displays of affection, but here, in the privacy of their own home, he moves into the circle of her arms gratefully, embracing her and burying his face in her disheveled rosy hair. "Welcome back," Sakura whispers into his chest. Tilting her head up, she regards his face intently as if she is searching for a sign that he is okay. He lets her, and when she is seemingly satisfied, she simply notes, "Your hair is longer," as she scoots over to make room for him in the bed.
"So is yours," he replies, finger combing a sleep-induced tangle. Leaning her head into the touch, Sakura sighs and tells him something he already knows – "I missed you." The corner of Sasuke's mouth turns up in half of a smile, and he lies back, pulling at her hand to bring her with him. Rolling over just enough so that he can look at her, his charcoal eyes soften as he gently taps her forehead and admits, "I missed you, too."
She exhales contentedly, snuggling into his side and placing a hand over his heart. He is lucky, he knows, because she has always believed it was there. No matter how broken or black or crushed, she was determined to find it, to heal it, to put it back together. Naruto has been his best friend, the one to bring him back to his senses, but Sakura… she has been the one to truly save him, to rescue him from the crushing guilt of the unspeakable atrocities he's committed. She has been his absolute salvation, even though he never deserved it.
But he is torn from his thoughts when he hears "Sasuke…" in a shaky whisper from his shoulder, and he inclines his neck to find bright jade eyes staring at him intensely. His brow furrows, and he knows that this is enough indicate his thoughts – what? For a moment, she does not say anything else, only sits up and turns to face the window, avoiding his gaze. Following suit, he reaches out to touch her arm, suddenly uneasy as he can see the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks as she clears her throat and tells him, "I have to tell you something."
"Sakura…?" he whispers, her name a question, almost a plea, to tell him everything is okay, because if his happiness were to be snatched away now, he is sure he would never recover. She inhales sharply, and continues, "I wanted to before, but you've been gone for months and I didn't want to tell you by letter…"
Sasuke waits for her to finish, but she doesn't, and his eyes narrow in frustration and anxiety. He moves closer and tilts her chin up to look her in the face. "Sakura," he says; his voice soft but the tone firm. And yet, she does not look at him, her eyes slanted to the side, avoiding his. He drops his hand from her jaw, and notices the suspicious placement of her free hand… over her stomach. She still isn't looking at him, her gaze firmly trained on the floor, even when his eyes narrow and bleed into mismatched circles.
He stays there, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe, more afraid than he has ever been in his life. Because there, under her hand, twined into Sakura's chakra, is another chakra. Its signature is small but strong, and he cannot take his eyes off it, as if it will vanish when he looks away.
Sakura, perhaps unable to take the silence, breaks it clumsily – "What I want to tell you is that I … um…" She trails off as she finally looks at him again, first tracing the uncanny patterns of his irises, then following their path to her stomach, her eyes widening. "You're pregnant," he says matter-of-factly, as if he is a stranger in his own body, still staring.
"Um, Sasuke, I-"
"You're pregnant," he repeats, and it is not a question, for he can see the evidence himself, as clear as day. He tears his gaze away and meets her eyes, doujustu blending back into inky darkness as his mouth sours at the edges, "You are… unhappy about it?"
At this, Sakura comes back to herself, fingers flying to smooth the wrinkles in his forehead. "No, Sasuke, I am not unhappy about it," she shakes her head, as if the suggestion is ludicrous. "I'm so happy," she smiles, her hand cradling his face, and tears gather in her eyes again as she continues, "Sasuke, I am happier than you can imagine, happy for us, and happy for you… We are finally restoring your clan, just like you always wanted."
It is a more emotional moment than Sasuke is prepared to deal with – his wife, his family, his clan, his baby. Suddenly, he snaps back to reality and pokes Sakura in the forehead. She glares at him, rubbing the reddened spot, "What was that for?!"
"Our clan," he says pointedly, before leaning his own forehead to rest on hers and gently wrapping her in his embrace. She huffs but lets him, moving to rest her face in the crook of his neck. Sasuke closes his eyes, relishing this moment of peace, of hope, of promise. This is what Sakura has given him in so many ways, and he could not be more grateful.
Brushing his nose along her cheekbone, Sasuke brings his lips to hers, the pressure gentle, expressing everything he wishes he could say. But as Sakura responds, he smiles into their kiss – she understands, as usual, the words behind his actions, the ones tattooed on his lips for her – then, now, and always.
Thank you.