Disclaimer: I.D.N.O.N (aka I do not own Naruto) –sigh.
don't want to crossover
Between this genre, that genre
Between you and I is where
I want to crossover, cross the line
I just want to go further
Between here and there grow wiser
Together you and I--we can
Cross all borders, you and I
Only, only you can make me...
-Utada Hikaru, Crossover Interlude
He called it reconciliation. She called it nothing. The intention was a gift. Wrapped in silicon silver and gold leaf patterns. He thought it would solve everything. Her intention was to allow him to suffer. A little. But not too long because...after all, he was still her Sasuke-kun. But for now, she would not let it slide. So she threw it over her shoulder onto the freshly watered tomatoes. Over the years, her aim had improved. And the remnants splattered onto his face. This was karma.
He called this the second reconciliation. She didn't want the abridged version. So he bought her the genuine deal. With one look at the cover, she looked across the table and was careful to keep her eyes below his [in case he'd see the anticipation and the glimmer of surprise, happiness maybe even?. She huffed and said she would just throw this one away also. His slight smile jaded a little. But he stayed silent. He knew...he knew that she had kept all the other ones on a straight array on that cherry-wooden shelf next to the Team 7 picture. And so he continued to wait. This was patience.
The third reconciliation. Under the bright pink and orange lighting, he cursed his loud-mouthed male teammate. But his choice had been good it seemed; Sakura was smiling. He could see the turn about the corner. A step closer. Skip a beat. Just to tell you, Sasuke. I don't particularly like almonds. Contrary to her declaration, she's stuffing the sweet into her mouth. I don't either. He leans on a railing, looking sideways at her. Yes, Sasuke thinks. He was right to bring Sakura to a pastry store. So one tells the truth and one is in denial. This is irony.
The fourth reconciliation. It's late. It's 2 in the morning, damn it. But here he is. Standing like a statue (he still has maintained his pride) with his arms crossing over the other. She is haggard in appearance and staggers when she sees him. What...why...what are you doing here? He takes her hand and holds her upright. I'll walk you home. Still, even with her fatigued mind, she is as snappy as ever. Stupid male dominance. I will? He chuckles. And to think, those six years ago, she would have clung to his arm just for a walk. He tucks her hair behind her ear and tells her she's tired, and for once in her life, can't he help her to home? Abruptly, she stops and looks him square in the eye. Maybe it's the time; maybe it's the hours she'd spent stooping over the surgery table; maybe it's the fact he waited for her all night; or maybe it's the damn light-the way it makes him look like that twelve year old boy she had fallen in love with. But she says, okay. Okay then. This is understanding.
The fifth reconciliation. It's February and she has forgotten all about trading for oneself. She's too busy working, too busy reading to see what has compiled onto her desk. Sakura, there's mail for you! She walks over to her desk and her eyes travel to the ceiling. There's a hundred heart-shaped boxes full of bittersweet chocolate. Flowers, mostly sakura blossoms have overflowed the vases. And there's a single paper crane on her desk with a sign saying "Open me!" She's flooded by that night near the bench. Thank you. This time, that jackass. That stupid, stupid... he has added something else. Thank you for being my friend. Sorry. She's smiling through her tears. So when Tsunade looks up from the door opening abruptly, she is the first one to see Sakura's first real smile out of these ten years. Her apprentice (though now she can't really call her that anymore) hung her coat on the coat-rack and left with the crane in her hand. Good luck. This is a wish.
The sixth reconciliation. I'm not promising I'll say yes. He smirks wryly in silent disagreement when he sees the corner of her mouth curl up. But I'm promising that I can be as good as an Uchiha matriarch can hope to ever be. He smiles. Really smiles and sits back down, waiting for her to hug or weep or do whatever women did after they were proposed to. But all she does is slip on the ring and cross her arms, tapping her shoe on the restaurant tiles. Well?What are you waiting for? A love proclamation? He raises an eyebrow in expectation. ...Yes. She stops tapping and chakra-punches him on the arm (wouldn't want to bruise his pretty face or waste her abilities afterwards). Uchiha Sasuke! The day I will tell you that is the day you say it to me first! He sighs, and with one languid motion, tugs her to him so that he can whisper that I-love-you. She beams at him and between their kisses, asks him, now was that so hard? This is happiness.
I appreciate constructive criticism. Or even just reviews. Hint: you will receive a cookie if you do...sometime in the future. :D