Note: Guys, I am at that stage of my life where I like watching HGTV more than I should, so welcome to my ficlets on post-marriage SasuSaku. Not too sure how many there will be, but I'd say maybe eight?
Warning: enough fluff to rot your teeth – I just love writing domestic!SasuSaku.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Or the line in the summary.

i. kitchen

Sasuke couldn't cook.

At first Sakura found that somewhat endearing, the way her husband would grudgingly take responsibility for dinner and present her with a bowl of rice, a fried egg, and whatever meat or fish was waiting in the fridge, leaving Sakura to bite her lip over things like oil and fatty acids and vegetables (or, specifically, the lack of them). She thought it was cute and that with time, he would improve, but nay, that would appear not so.

Instead she found that Sasuke's dinner days were dull. And repetitive. And not particularly healthy.

So, fed up, she took the not so subtle route—

"What is this?"

—and bought her darling husband a cookbook.

"Simple Meals for Simple Minds," Sasuke read aloud through clenched teeth.

Sakura beamed. "I just thought it might do you some good to get some variety. You don't eat enough vegetables and I know you haven't been taking the iron supplements you've been in need of, Sasuke-kun—"

"I know how to cook," he interrupted, throwing the book onto the island.

"Everyone knows how to cook," Sakura offered sweetly. She sauntered around the counter to stand beside him, not to subtly pressing her body against his side. But he was still glaring, so the seductive approach probably wasn't going to work… Sakura swallowed nervously and looked down at her peace offering. "Everyone knows how to cook, Sasuke-kun," she repeated, now adopting her stern voice. "Heck, Naruto knows how to cook. The only thing is you don't know how to cook well."

He looked momentarily stunned by her bluntness.

Sakura almost felt guilty and gently cupped his cheeks. She took it as a good sign when he didn't slap her hands away. "I mean, I don't think your cooking is bad, I just want more variety, you know?"

"So?" Sasuke seemed to remember that she insulted him because he took a step away from her. "Why don't you cook your precious vegetables then?" He sounded like an idiot even to his own ears, but his pride was on the line there! "You're a woman," he said, as if that would explain everything. "Aren't you inherently good at cooking?"

Sakura scoffed. "Please! How can I possibly cook dinner when I'm the bread winner and you're the one at home all day working on keeping his body fit?!"



They both gritted their teeth and struggled to remain calm. A yelling match would not do. It wasn't Sasuke's fault he'd been home all week. With the blend of his history in other nations and the skillset he had, the kinds of missions the Hokage was willing to send him on were limited. They paid well – very well, like enough to make up for the fact that he took long vacations kind of well – but, again, they were limited. Sakura, on the other hand, had a more stable job that made her hours predictable.

As in, the time she would come home hungry for dinner was clear.

As in what the hell, Sasuke-kun?

"Look," Sakura began. The strain on her face showed that this wasn't an apology. "You can't cook. Fine. And if I want a regular intake of vitamins, that's on me, I guess. But can you at least…" She shrugged and adopted a cute little pout and did that thing where she was kind of shrugging and kind of jutting out her chest that made Sasuke twitch. "Can you just consider the book, Sasuke-kun?" Even her tone changed.

That conniving little—

"Fine," Sasuke said, sighing. He took the cookbook and threw it in a drawer. This was progress.

He raised an eyebrow at her, the "are you happy now?" implied, so she grinned and kissed him on the cheek. To placate him, she said the magic words: "Thank you, Sasuke-kun."

This was compromise.

This was marriage.