characters: Sasuke, Sakura
prompt: first snow
dedication: my pen pal Sakura's Unicorn. i don't think you'll ever realise how much of TBE was written with your approval in mind. continue to be amazing; I'm sorry it's taken me over a year to post this.
The first snow strikes unexpectedly, catching the whole of Konoha by surprise. One minute, it's an ordinary clouded day, an unpleasant chill in the air – the next there's snowfall, thick and obliterating and Sasuke is caught in the middle of it.
Then - a window flying open, a flurry of pink whipped about in the snow blurred wind, and Sakura is calling his name.
What follows is a blur of motion; a beckoning hand and his own body moving without pause for thought. His feet hit the solid surface of the balcony. Sakura pulls him into the warmth of her room, with gentle hands and moves to shut the window on the freezing winds.
"It's really turning into a storm out there," she says wonderingly, face pressed up against the glass.
Her room isn't the typically girly thing he might have expected, if he'd ever wasted time imagining it. Wooden floorboards, a single wall painted in a soft apple green colour – and everywhere, little odds and ends that mark this room as hers. Tiny bottles of nail varnish on her bedside table, a tangle of ribbons draped over her mirror, photographs and drawings tacked to the walls. He moves slightly to inspect a stack of books on the floor by her bed. Classics and romances, mostly, but there's a battered copy of the ninja rulebook, too.
As if sensing his scrutiny, Sakura turns and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, Sasuke-kun. I know you probably have places to be today."
He shrugs. "It's not your fault the snow hit, Sakura."
It hits him, then, that she's not wearing her usual red dress. Instead, his teammate is swamped by a baggy cream-coloured sweater and comfy grey leggings. She is wearing slippers and her hair, unbrushed, is shoved up in a sloppy ponytail.
She hums apologetically, glancing around her room. "I don't have anything you can change into, but I can make some tea if you're cold."
There is no point denying it; he knows Sakura has already taken note of his shivering, and there is snow melting in his hair.
Sasuke wishes he was more gifted with words, so that when she smiles at him like this – slow and easy, a smile reserved just for him – he can feel he has honestly done something to deserve her devotion.
Years later he will recall this – the lilt to her smile, the careful way she poured the tea and gave him warmth to cradle in his hands – on the nights when he cannot sleep. The first snow will always belong to her.
notes: surprise bitches, i bet you thought you'd seen the last of me (and this fic)
notes2: i need to start writing this more i feel rusty in the sasusaku feels
notes3: yesterday i fell over in a wet, muddy field and an old couple stopped to laugh at me