naruto fic: "like his mom"
I refuse to believe that Sasuke won't see reason, I mean pretty much everyone is putting their faith in Naruto to do the miracle and save his best friend, and so am I. Go, Naruto! You have my unconditional support!
GOD, I'M SO GOING DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!!!
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Title: "like his mom"
Rating: PG
Words: 1,381
Characters/Pairings: Sasuke/Sakura
Theme/Prompt: theme #64 - oedipus complex
Warnings/AN: post-ch394 au // fluffy angst, sort of, not much of a plot either.
Summary: Sasuke supposes Sakura does resemble his mother... a little.
Disclaimer: I am not Kishimoto.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, my God.”
Sasuke raises his eyes briefly, spotting his wife standing across the room, before returning to the report he is working on.
He pays her no mind as she remains standing there, focusing on his mission report that is due the next day (and that he should have turned in yesterday, had his dear wife not distracted him so thoroughly upon entering their home, after arriving from his month-long mission-though, really, he isn’t complaining).
“I look like your mom.”
Now that catches his attention and makes him focus on Sakura, who’s currently gripping a frame with a family photo most likely, her hands shaking lightly and he has to wonder if maybe it’d be better to remove the picture from her hands before she destroyed it.
Finally, Sakura turns to him, a surprised, shocked, look marring her commonly serene expression. “I look like your mom, Sasuke.”
He snorts. “No, you don’t.”
Now it’s her turn to snort. “Yes, I do.”
To make her point, she stomps towards him (why is she angry now?) and practically shoves the frame in front of his face. Sighing, Sasuke puts aside his report and take the frame for better inspection, and lets a small smile grace his otherwise expressionless face.
It’s a picture of his family, pre-massacre, way back when things were peaceful and good and his brother wasn’t a traitor and everything was just okay.
The hatred towards his brother had ebbed away as the years went by. So now he can look at this picture and appreciate its significance. He can look at his brother’s impassive face and notice how relaxed he was. Neither Itachi nor his father were smiling at the camera, but they were obviously content. His mother and he were another story, recognizing himself at the tender age of six, both he and his mother were smiling happily at whoever took the picture.
“Well?”
He looks at her for a few second before remembering her question. Focusing his gaze on the picture again, on his mother’s smiling face to be precise, he lets a small frown mar his content expression. His eyes dart back and forth from the image of her smiling mother to his frowning wife, realization dawning on him.
“Sakura.”
“What?”
“Smile for me, please.”
He says this so gently, he doesn’t even realize his tone until Sakura does as he asks (surprisingly, mind you, because she usually refuses) and smiles the most tender smile he’s ever seen.
The resemblance is astonishing.
And his surprise must be obvious as she suddenly smirks, giving him that holier-than-thou look. “I told you so.”
“Hn.”
Well, he supposes Sakura does resembles her mother, a little. The shape of the face is rather similar, maybe even the upturned nose, and the hair-style. But certainly the most striking resemblance is the smile; that tender smile that only they seemed to have.
“Maybe… just a little.”
“I’d say a lot,” she refutes and before he can entertain the thought of engaging into one of their playful banters, all the merriness leaves her face and she looks somewhere between horrified and in denial. “Oh my God. You have an Oedipus Complex!”
“A… what?”
Oedipus… that sounds familiar, he knows he’s heard that name somewhere before. Maybe the Academy? It was probably in passing or during one of the subject all kids were supposed to take in order to graduate, even if it wasn’t related to the shinobi lifestyle.
“Oh, my God.”
Sakura’s grossed out expression only urged him to try and remember, because if this subject is bad enough to put that expression on his wife’s lovely face, then he has to find a way to make it go away. And as he watches Sakura slump next to him on the sofa, looking aghast and horrified, something clicks inside his head.
It was during one of the classes Iruka-sensei made them read novels from foreign writers, tragedy if he recalls correctly. Oedipus the King. What was that book about? He vaguely remembers feeling distaste towards it, more so than usual when compared to other books the class was forced to read. But why? King Oedipus… What was it about the book he disliked so-oh, yes, now he remembered.
He feels his own face twist into a disgusted expression and he stares at Sakura pointedly. “That’s gross,” he says evenly. “I don’t have an Oedipus Complex.”
“Yes, you do!”
“Sakura, you are not my mother.”
“But I look like-”
“No,” he stresses out the word more harshly than he intended, but this discussion is grating on his nerves. “You do not look like her, and are most certainly not like her-at all.”
For a brief moment, Sakura looks offended, but doesn’t have the time to voice her complaint because he keeps talking, uncharacteristically so, just to prove to her that he is right and she is not. Normally, he would’ve let the matter go, ignoring her or distracting her if she became to insistent, but now he just can’t let it go.
“Mother was not loud and never raised her voice in front of father. She was not violent and knew how to control her temper. She was always kind and gentle, always there to cheer me up when I felt not good enough to be father’s son and-”
His little speech halts suddenly, his mind finally realizing what he has been saying. Sakura is looking at him quietly, that smile on her lips and love in her eyes and he feels too vulnerable and he’s not prepared for it so he makes a hasty retreat.
It’s just his luck that their children decide to arrive at that moment, effectively monopolizing his time for the rest of the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is close to midnight when Sasuke is finally free of the children. Both boys are safely tucked in their beds, sleeping like angels, so unlike the little demons they are when wide-awake, and running around demanding their father’s attention.
Sakura is already asleep and he feels a little disappointed she didn’t wait up for him, but mostly relieved because that means he has the whole night to build up his façade for when she decides she wants to talk about what happened earlier that day.
It’s not like she doesn’t know about his past, she does, she knows all there is to know and then some. She’s his wife after all, and through the years they’ve been together she managed to break the walls around his heart and soul, slowly but surely, enough for him to trust her with the most guarded part of his life: his past. But still, he’s not used to lose control like that, he’ll never be used to it, the vulnerability.
Because keeping his cool façade is as instilled in him as the Sharingan.
Even if Sakura does seem to be able to break through more often than not.
Once he’s ready for bed and slips between the sheet soundlessly, Sakura turns to face him, curling into his side and hugging his waist. She waits a few seconds before talking.
“I… suppose I crossed a line earlier, so… I’m sorry.”
Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and her mouth is pressed against his chest when she talk so the words come muffled by his shirt-but he hears them, loud and clear.
“It’s okay, I may have overreacted a little.”
There’s a moment of pause, and Sasuke is sure she wants to say something else to his response but holds back. Instead, she gives him the look.
“So… I’m loud and violent and always raise my voice in front of you, uh?”
Although the slight arched brow is proof that she’s annoyed, the humor behind her words are not lost to him, so he only smirks in response, turning to her and burying his face into her neck.
“Don’t forget you’re annoying too.”
Sakura laughs softly, because she knows what he really means. Annoying people grow on him, just look who his best friend is. But she’s Sakura so she won’t just stay put after such a remark, even if it sounded more like a compliment.
“You are an idiot. You know that, right?”
“Hn.”
Yes, he knows that very well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE END. =)
GOD, I'M SO GOING DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!!!
-
Title: "like his mom"
Rating: PG
Words: 1,381
Characters/Pairings: Sasuke/Sakura
Theme/Prompt: theme #64 - oedipus complex
Warnings/AN: post-ch394 au // fluffy angst, sort of, not much of a plot either.
Summary: Sasuke supposes Sakura does resemble his mother... a little.
Disclaimer: I am not Kishimoto.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, my God.”
Sasuke raises his eyes briefly, spotting his wife standing across the room, before returning to the report he is working on.
He pays her no mind as she remains standing there, focusing on his mission report that is due the next day (and that he should have turned in yesterday, had his dear wife not distracted him so thoroughly upon entering their home, after arriving from his month-long mission-though, really, he isn’t complaining).
“I look like your mom.”
Now that catches his attention and makes him focus on Sakura, who’s currently gripping a frame with a family photo most likely, her hands shaking lightly and he has to wonder if maybe it’d be better to remove the picture from her hands before she destroyed it.
Finally, Sakura turns to him, a surprised, shocked, look marring her commonly serene expression. “I look like your mom, Sasuke.”
He snorts. “No, you don’t.”
Now it’s her turn to snort. “Yes, I do.”
To make her point, she stomps towards him (why is she angry now?) and practically shoves the frame in front of his face. Sighing, Sasuke puts aside his report and take the frame for better inspection, and lets a small smile grace his otherwise expressionless face.
It’s a picture of his family, pre-massacre, way back when things were peaceful and good and his brother wasn’t a traitor and everything was just okay.
The hatred towards his brother had ebbed away as the years went by. So now he can look at this picture and appreciate its significance. He can look at his brother’s impassive face and notice how relaxed he was. Neither Itachi nor his father were smiling at the camera, but they were obviously content. His mother and he were another story, recognizing himself at the tender age of six, both he and his mother were smiling happily at whoever took the picture.
“Well?”
He looks at her for a few second before remembering her question. Focusing his gaze on the picture again, on his mother’s smiling face to be precise, he lets a small frown mar his content expression. His eyes dart back and forth from the image of her smiling mother to his frowning wife, realization dawning on him.
“Sakura.”
“What?”
“Smile for me, please.”
He says this so gently, he doesn’t even realize his tone until Sakura does as he asks (surprisingly, mind you, because she usually refuses) and smiles the most tender smile he’s ever seen.
The resemblance is astonishing.
And his surprise must be obvious as she suddenly smirks, giving him that holier-than-thou look. “I told you so.”
“Hn.”
Well, he supposes Sakura does resembles her mother, a little. The shape of the face is rather similar, maybe even the upturned nose, and the hair-style. But certainly the most striking resemblance is the smile; that tender smile that only they seemed to have.
“Maybe… just a little.”
“I’d say a lot,” she refutes and before he can entertain the thought of engaging into one of their playful banters, all the merriness leaves her face and she looks somewhere between horrified and in denial. “Oh my God. You have an Oedipus Complex!”
“A… what?”
Oedipus… that sounds familiar, he knows he’s heard that name somewhere before. Maybe the Academy? It was probably in passing or during one of the subject all kids were supposed to take in order to graduate, even if it wasn’t related to the shinobi lifestyle.
“Oh, my God.”
Sakura’s grossed out expression only urged him to try and remember, because if this subject is bad enough to put that expression on his wife’s lovely face, then he has to find a way to make it go away. And as he watches Sakura slump next to him on the sofa, looking aghast and horrified, something clicks inside his head.
It was during one of the classes Iruka-sensei made them read novels from foreign writers, tragedy if he recalls correctly. Oedipus the King. What was that book about? He vaguely remembers feeling distaste towards it, more so than usual when compared to other books the class was forced to read. But why? King Oedipus… What was it about the book he disliked so-oh, yes, now he remembered.
He feels his own face twist into a disgusted expression and he stares at Sakura pointedly. “That’s gross,” he says evenly. “I don’t have an Oedipus Complex.”
“Yes, you do!”
“Sakura, you are not my mother.”
“But I look like-”
“No,” he stresses out the word more harshly than he intended, but this discussion is grating on his nerves. “You do not look like her, and are most certainly not like her-at all.”
For a brief moment, Sakura looks offended, but doesn’t have the time to voice her complaint because he keeps talking, uncharacteristically so, just to prove to her that he is right and she is not. Normally, he would’ve let the matter go, ignoring her or distracting her if she became to insistent, but now he just can’t let it go.
“Mother was not loud and never raised her voice in front of father. She was not violent and knew how to control her temper. She was always kind and gentle, always there to cheer me up when I felt not good enough to be father’s son and-”
His little speech halts suddenly, his mind finally realizing what he has been saying. Sakura is looking at him quietly, that smile on her lips and love in her eyes and he feels too vulnerable and he’s not prepared for it so he makes a hasty retreat.
It’s just his luck that their children decide to arrive at that moment, effectively monopolizing his time for the rest of the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is close to midnight when Sasuke is finally free of the children. Both boys are safely tucked in their beds, sleeping like angels, so unlike the little demons they are when wide-awake, and running around demanding their father’s attention.
Sakura is already asleep and he feels a little disappointed she didn’t wait up for him, but mostly relieved because that means he has the whole night to build up his façade for when she decides she wants to talk about what happened earlier that day.
It’s not like she doesn’t know about his past, she does, she knows all there is to know and then some. She’s his wife after all, and through the years they’ve been together she managed to break the walls around his heart and soul, slowly but surely, enough for him to trust her with the most guarded part of his life: his past. But still, he’s not used to lose control like that, he’ll never be used to it, the vulnerability.
Because keeping his cool façade is as instilled in him as the Sharingan.
Even if Sakura does seem to be able to break through more often than not.
Once he’s ready for bed and slips between the sheet soundlessly, Sakura turns to face him, curling into his side and hugging his waist. She waits a few seconds before talking.
“I… suppose I crossed a line earlier, so… I’m sorry.”
Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and her mouth is pressed against his chest when she talk so the words come muffled by his shirt-but he hears them, loud and clear.
“It’s okay, I may have overreacted a little.”
There’s a moment of pause, and Sasuke is sure she wants to say something else to his response but holds back. Instead, she gives him the look.
“So… I’m loud and violent and always raise my voice in front of you, uh?”
Although the slight arched brow is proof that she’s annoyed, the humor behind her words are not lost to him, so he only smirks in response, turning to her and burying his face into her neck.
“Don’t forget you’re annoying too.”
Sakura laughs softly, because she knows what he really means. Annoying people grow on him, just look who his best friend is. But she’s Sakura so she won’t just stay put after such a remark, even if it sounded more like a compliment.
“You are an idiot. You know that, right?”
“Hn.”
Yes, he knows that very well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE END. =)