Author: desolate butterfly
Genre: AU, humour, fluff
Warning: Uchiha massacre never happened, and Sasuke and Sakura are about 10 or 11 years old in this fic.
Summary: What if Itachi never killed his clan? Well, then he'd just have to find other ways of being evil, wouldn't he. XD
It wasn't Sasuke's idea to invite Sakura over for dinner, but somehow his mother had heard that they were spending a lot of time together (which was untrue! He was just showing her the proper way to throw kunai at lunch-break, that's all), and told him that he could have friends over any time he wanted.
Which was practically an order to bring her home to meet the family.
At least she was smart and didn't cling to his arm every time he saw her, Sasuke mused, scuffing his feet as he relayed his mother's invitation to the girl. He glanced up and saw that she was smiling widely at him.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and told her to meet him at the edge of the Uchiha compound at six.
She had brought flowers, for his mother. They were pink and delicate and matched the tiny petals stitched into the sleeves of what must have been Sakura's best kimono.
Sasuke scratched his knee and felt awkward in his grubby shorts and shirt that he'd worn to class. He wiped his hand on his thigh before grasping her by the wrist and heading quickly into the street. Sakura tottered after him on her unsteady geta, her small hand warm in his palm.
They almost got by his aunt and uncle's shop without incident, but at the last moment they were spotted, and then Sasuke had to endure several minutes of small-talk while his aunt looked Sakura over and his uncle tried his best to embarrass Sasuke in every possible way.
By the time they got away, Sakura had been told three times how nice it was that 'our little Sasuke-chan' was making new friends, and complimented on her outfit twice. Sasuke only had his cheeks pinched once, but they still bore the red marks and he tucked his head down in order to hide them from Sakura's amused gaze.
"Hey Sasuke-kun," she said as they approached the house.
Sasuke worked his jaw tentatively, rubbing at his left cheek with the back of one hand. "Yeah? What is it?"
"I'm really glad you invited me over for dinner."
'I like it when she smiles like that,' Sasuke thought to himself. Then he scowled and tugged on her hand, impatiently urging her to slip out of her shoes and enter the house.
"Come on. Mother won't like it if we're late," he said, gruffly.
They were rather early, as it turned out.
Sasuke's mother accepted the flowers that Sakura pressed into her hands with gentle gratitude.
"They are very pretty," Mikoto said, with a smile. "And so are you."
Sasuke stood awkwardly in the doorway, studiously avoiding the teasing looks his mother was tossing his way as she asked after Sakura's family. He studied the pictures on the wall instead and wondered how long it would be before he could show Sakura the dojo and the training plans he had made up.
"I'd love to talk more," his mother was saying, "but if I don't finish what I was doing in the kitchen we'll never get to eat. Why don't you go in the family room and sit down a bit Sakura-chan? There's fresh tea all ready for you. My eldest son is already in there."
"Oh thank-you Uchiha-san!"
"And Sasuke—" He snapped back to attention. "—why don't you get me a vase to put my bouquet in? There's a nice one in the storage room."
"But…" Sasuke frowned, shifting a little closer to Sakura. He didn't like the thought of leaving her alone with Itachi for even a brief amount of time. His brother was a little stand-offish with people who weren't…well, who weren't Sasuke, really.
It wasn't Itachi's fault, Sasuke reasoned. He went on missions for the Anbu so much, he hardly ever got to interact with people he wasn't going to eventually kill. Still, nii-san could be a bit scary at times.
"Stop scowling and do as you're told," his mother said, sweeping him out of the kitchen with one hand. "Itachi will take care of your guest until you come back."
So Sasuke left at a dead run, almost barrelling into his father and receiving a stern frown for his hurry.
When he came back to the kitchen—panting, vase in hand—it had only been a few minutes. He left the vase with his mother and rushed into the hallway, where he could hear small snuffling noises from the family room.
Oh no, he thought in dismay. He hasn't made her cry, has he?
Sasuke skidded into the room and stopped short.
There, on the floor, was Itachi—his legs folded neatly, a book spread out on his lap. Sakura knelt beside him, her pink kimono tucked under her toes as she leaned over the book, a hand covering her smiling mouth.
Sasuke realized that the noises he'd heard were suppressed snorts of laughter.
"And this one—" Itachi was saying, a finger pointing down at the page, "—is from when mother tried to take us for a formal family portrait when Sasuke was two. The photographer made Sasuke nervous and he threw up all over his new suit."
Sasuke ran over and snatched the photo album from Itachi's lap, his expression one of pure mortification.
Itachi only blinked at him and pulled another book from behind his back.
"I think this one has all the naked bath pictures," he said, tonelessly.
Sakura made a noise of interest, and Sasuke was saved from having to battle his brother to the death for the possession of that album by his mother calling them in to dinner.
Sakura wouldn't stop smiling through the entire meal.