Date: 8/20/13
Rating: K+
Genre: Cute, Romance
Prompt: Embrace. This was based off a sasusaku fanart that I saw on tumblr, and I absolutely adored it. So here you go!
Sasuke had always been organized. With his weapons. With his training regimen. With his time. And since he was seven, he had separated his life into two eras: Before the Massacre and After. Before was always recalled with fondness—his father's stern, yet proud, expressions, silently urging him to do better, silently pushing him to be better; his mother's kindness and words of comfort, always saying exactly what he needed to hear, ready to pull when his father pushed too hard; his brother's patience, his pokes and prods, his teases and promises for a next time.
After, on the other hand, was only viewed with scorn and with disappointment, was filled with lies and half-truths. After was now; After was present; After was cold—cold eyes, cold hearts, cold touch—and Sasuke hated it. What he longed for was Before—because Before was warm—warm smiles, warm touch, warm embraces, especially warm embraces. And since the transition of Before into After, he'd only been embraced three times—all of them by one person, the only source of warmth in an era of cold. Sakura.
Once on their first mission as Team Seven.
Once during the Chuunin Exams.
And once right after he woke up from a coma.
Each one was a surprise, though admittedly pleasant in hindsight. He remembered how painful Sakura's first embrace was, unintentionally pushing the hundreds of needles deeper into his body as she cried tears of joy. Had it not hurt so much, Sasuke probably would have allowed her to hold him—because it was the first time anyone had held him so dearly in five years; because it was the first time he realized Sakura wasn't just a fangirl. She was his teammate, and she cared about him, genuinely so. And he mattered.
The second time she embraced him, he wasn't himself. He was cursed, and waking to see Sakura so battered infuriated him, triggered something within him, something dark and primeval, something that enjoyed carnage, something that wouldn't stop until he drew blood. And yet, she was able stop him, with her embrace and with her tears. He didn't know how she did it, but she calmed him.
Their last embrace occurred just before he left the village. He didn't remember much—the room was spinning, his eyes were just barely open, and he could barely distinguish up from down. Before he knew it, Sakura's arms were already around his neck, her tears seeping though his shirt, and he couldn't help but compare this embrace to their first one in the Land of Waves. Sakura was as hysterical as ever, but this time, he wasn't in pain. He was grateful.
But now, three years later, Sasuke was at a loss. The war had just ended no more than two minutes prior, and everyone was cheering. Naruto was with his father. Kakashi was being taken to a medical tent. And Sakura, she was standing in front of Sasuke, pulling him deeper into an embrace that, as usual, caught him off-guard.
He felt her lean her head onto his shoulder, but Sasuke could only stare into the distance, dazed, watching as the other ninja continued to celebrate. Though it may have been their fourth, this was the first time he'd been placed in a situation like this. Sure, he'd been injured, and under the influence of a curse mark, and disoriented after waking from a coma. But Sasuke had never been fully conscious before. He was never required to respond before. He looked at his hands. He looked at his arms. He blinked. His arms, he didn't know what to do with his arms. And his head, was he supposed to just keep it where it was, or was he supposed to place it on top of hers—with his chin or what?
Sakura was still crying, her hands crumpling the back of his shirt. Sasuke swallowed. He looked at hands again. Was he supposed to rub her back now? He had absolutely no idea. And he couldn't help but wonder if she noticed how uncomfortable he was, how stiff he was, how completely and utterly lost he was. Because to him, it painfully and mortifyingly obvious.
"I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun," he heard her say into his shoulder, finally forcing him to stop staring at his goddamn hands and his goddamn arms. She looked up. Her grip on his shirt had relaxed, but she hadn't let go. "I'm just," she smiled, tears continuing to stream down her cheeks, "I'm just really happy you're back." She paused, and for a moment Sasuke swore he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes. "I mean, you are coming back right? You're not leaving again, right? You're—"
But Sasuke didn't allow her to finish.
"Yes, Sakura. I am."
He finally knew what to do with his arms.