Sasuke x Sakura. The dramas of marriage and children. (Disclaimer: no)

She can’t have children.

It’s not her fault, because she’s waited for him, she’s certainly not sterile, and she has never touched birth control in her life.

Once, she imagined him coming home with clear eyes that are as bright as the sky. Now, she imagines simply seeing his eyes without the crackling shade of black thunder burn-outs.

She gets her wish. Spring-green peers luridly out at her in bed one day, and she’s up in a flash, shaking and trembling and trying not to think at all, never mind thoughts like: I just slept with Orochimaru oh my fucking god what if I’m…?

A week later, her chills vanquished by the reinforced image of her dark prince, she’s with him again.

It is their fifth year of marriage.

When he releases her and pulls back abruptly, he stands at the bedside while she stares at him with a feeling of expectance.

“Maybe we should…just…” She tries to stammer it all out.

“I’m weak. I know.” He says blankly.

“No, it’s just…hard on me…every day, Sasuke…”

“I know.” His breath rolls over her skin in coils. Like fog.

He doesn’t bother to say anymore, and plants his hands on her hips again, and Sakura remembers when she once thought kisses came with sex too.

“I know, Itachi.”

Sakura goes rigid.

“Sasuke?” The name slips from her in alarm, into the dark, and she doesn’t bother calling it back.

“I know. I’ll try harder.” His voice is still lost on the present, dreamingly brittle. Bright shining red eyes stare down at her.

Sakura fists her hands. Wills away tears. She repeats, quietly,

“Sasuke…?”

She did not hear what she thought she did.

“...What, Itachi?”

She dares herself to respond.