Mornings with Sasuke

A/N: an unproofread and quick mini-fic from a poem I read and loved. I figured this didn't need a summary because the title says it all.

Mornings with You

I slowly wake

as day is dawning,

to fingertips

and lips imploring.

The sheets against my skin,

he says,

like wrapping paper

on Christmas morning.

- Lang Leav

On the mess of white they lay— tangled, tranquil, amorous. He strokes the mesh of pink on his jawline with a caress so gentle, so tender, so uncharacteristic of his perceived international persona, fallacious as it is.

Because it is only her who knows this Sasuke - this morning Sasuke. Only through her viridian orbs can she see the shinobi, the father, and the husband she so loved and waited for all these years. It was only her who has seen his soul beyond the darkness— his soul so naked, so genuine and phlegmatic.

It was only her who could see the truest peace written in those onyx orbs, and who could see him as naked as his soul that morning.

"Good morning," she croaks to the man who was now her husband.

"Good morning," he replies, terse as he is.

"It's a miracle you've decided to stay through the morning," she says, his iconic silence following for an iota of a second.

"I needed some peace and quiet," he replies, his eyes lingering upon hers.

I needed you.

With the faintest smile, she snuggles closer to his warmth, his hands playing along her tresses once again. It was his solace - her hair, its fragrance, and its color. He never knew that his gray and stoic demeanor would develop an affinity to such a soft and feminine color. He breathes in her scent like a drug; branding it as a memory. Lavender. The uniqueness of it all has grown to be an identity of his love - that when a blend of pink and lavender collide, so do his thoughts of her. This woman he so loves and cherishes will be the death of him, literally and figuratively so.

Oh gods, he loves this woman - this woman who saved him from eternal solitude; from extinction. Because, he always thought that if it wasn't her, it wouldn't be anyone else. All throughout those wavering years he knew not of his locked-up sentiments, blinded by the hands of sheer hatred, power and vengeance. But if it was Naruto's job to bring him back, it was Sakura's job to open him up. He deems this feat unequatable by any means of gratefulness. He didn't deserve all these, but her deeply rooted kindness overruled it all.

Little did he know that this mere "morning Sasuke" was a thank you enough for Sakura. She was contented knowing he has found peace - be it with her, with (not so much) Naruto, their village and their family.

And with hurried knocks on their bedroom door, his reverie was cut short.

"Mama, Papa! I'm late for my mission! I'll be back before dinner!"

"Okay honey, take care!" Sakura replied with a yell matching their daughter's.

His girls tend to be quite loud and talkative sometimes, contrary to the supposed "peace and quiet" he has found. But he knew peace was a subjective feeling. And this was his - his silent flux of contentment and pride.

"Anata,"

"Hn?"

"We have the whole day for ourselves," she noted, "got activities planned out for today?"

"I have a mission report to finalize," he replied earning a scowl from his wife, "but it can wait."

"Hell yeah it can! I waited long enough for this too," she claimed, positioning herself on top of him.

And there he was, her morning Sasuke, wrapped in the sheets - her present after years of tears and pain; after months of extended waits - naked, bare and giving under her ecstatic wholeness.

~ Blame Lang Leav.