Chapter 15
Sunlight spilled mercilessly through the sheer curtains, casting a golden stripe across the floor and directly onto Hinata’s face. Her eyelids twitched, scrunching tightly. The light felt like a thousand needles piercing through her skull. She groaned softly, rolling onto her side, only to find that didn’t help much.
Her head was pounding.
Not a gentle throb. A full, relentless drumming that seemed to echo behind her eyes and down her spine. She winced, pulling the blanket over her head in one swift, defensive movement, curling into a ball beneath it like she could hide from the sun and the pain both.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Her mouth was dry, her stomach queasy, and even the air felt too loud.
Never again, she told herself, pressing her forehead into her pillow. I’m never drinking another shot for the rest of my life. Not ever. Not even at my own birthday.
A soft knock tapped against her bedroom door.
She winced violently. Even that was too much.
“Please don’t knock so loud,” she croaked, her voice muffled under the blanket.
The door creaked open, and she could hear soft footsteps approaching her bed.
“You’re dramatic,” came Sasuke’s voice, a little too amused for her comfort. “I barely touched the door. Your ears are just too sensitive.”
She groaned again, tighter this time, hiding deeper under the covers.
“You only had four shots,” he added, tone casual. “If this is what you look like after that, you really shouldn’t drink anymore.”
“I’ve already thought of that,” she muttered, still tucked away.
There was a beat of silence. She peeked her head out just enough to squint up at him. He was already dressed, a dark shirt fitted neatly over his shoulders, his usual no-nonsense expression in place, though his mouth twitched faintly at the corner.
“What time is it?” she asked blearily.
“Almost eleven thirty.”
She groaned and immediately ducked her head back under the blanket with an exaggerated whimper. She heard him chuckle, and her hand shot out from under the covers to swat blindly in his direction.
“Don’t laugh,” she scolded.
“I’m not laughing,” he replied, clearly laughing. “It’s not my fault you can’t handle your alcohol.”
Hinata grumbled something incomprehensible.
“Do you even remember anything from last night?”
She froze. That was a dangerous question.
Her memory was foggy, but fragments began to piece together. Tenten’s voice. Her own, too loud, too honest. She remembered talking about Kakashi, and about Sasuke. She vaguely remembered accusing him of stalking her, which was…not great.
But then more came.
Sitting beside him at the bar. Apologizing. Sasuke doing the same. A woman’s hand on his knee. That memory jolted her fully awake. She threw the blanket off her head and stared up at him with narrowed eyes.
Sasuke raised a brow. “What?”
“I remember a woman flirting with you,” she said pointedly. “And you didn’t stop her.”
His smirk was immediate. Unapologetic. The worst kind.
“I didn’t even get the chance to,” he said, voice deliberately teasing. “A certain someone came in like she owned the place and claimed me for herself. Threw my arm around her. Pressed herself into my side. Looked ready to kill the woman.”
“I—” Hinata opened her mouth, ready to deny it, but the image slammed back into her mind like a punch.
Grabbing his arm.
Forcing it around her waist.
Her face pressed into his shoulder.
Oh no.
The kiss. The cheek kiss. She hadn’t even asked. She had just—
Her hands flew to her face as her entire body flushed with fresh embarrassment. She yanked the blanket back over her head and curled into herself as tightly as possible.
“I want the ground to swallow me whole,” she whispered into her knees.
“I can’t hear you,” he said. “Lose the blanket.”
A long pause.
Then, reluctantly, she peeled the blanket back just enough to show her eyes, nothing else.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice small.
Her gaze avoided his completely. She couldn’t bear to look at him, not when he found it all so amusing. It irritated her. A lot.
“You’re a weird drunk,” Sasuke said, with faint amusement. “I hope I never see it again. You embarrassed yourself. And me.”
Her eyes widened in horror.
“You leapt on my back like some wild animal. Nearly made me fall. Giggled loudly in my ear. Naruto was passed out cold, and I had to carry both of you out of the bar like I was some kind of walking support beam.”
Hinata cringed with every word. “Please stop,” she whispered, reaching again for the blanket.
But just as she started to pull it up, Sasuke’s hand shot out, grabbing the edge before she could disappear again.
She looked up at him, confused and surprised to find that his expression wasn’t irritated.
He still looked amused. His mouth was neutral, but his eyes were alive with something different. Playful, even. Mischievous, in his quiet way.
“I didn’t hate it,” he said.
She blinked.
“What?” she whispered.
“Seeing you jealous.” His voice was smooth, low. “It was…interesting.”
Her eyes went impossibly wide.
She tried to speak, to defend herself, to explain that she wasn’t jealous exactly, just, well, maybe she was, but nothing came out.
He released the blanket finally, letting it fall.
Hinata gripped the edge with both hands, too flustered to move, even as her mouth opened to form a proper response.
But instead, something else came out.
“…Are you still upset with me?”
Sasuke’s gaze dropped to the bed, then slowly back to her.
“I’m still pissed thinking about it,” he said. “About Kakashi. About you breaking your promise.”
Hinata’s heart sank slightly.
“But…” he continued, “I forgave you.” He met her eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”
Relief washed over her. She nodded slowly. “I won’t.”
For a moment, they said nothing. Their eyes held.
And then both turned away at the same time, cheeks burning.
“I’ll be right back,” Sasuke said suddenly, standing. “Don’t get up.”
Hinata blinked as he left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.
She let out a slow, shaky breath and collapsed onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.
What a mess…
She groaned and covered her face with her arm.
But her lips, despite the weight of everything, curved into the faintest smile.
Hinata remained in bed, her body curled beneath the blanket as she stared quietly at the ceiling. The room had grown still again. The ache in her head had dulled slightly, but a fog still clung to the edges of her thoughts. She let them wander, drifting through broken fragments of the night before, trying to stitch together the pieces.
Her face heated at the memory of the bar, of Sasuke’s teasing words, of her own hands moving without permission. And the kiss on his cheek, uninvited, unplanned, but entirely her doing. She groaned softly, flipping onto her side and hiding her face in her pillow. She wished she could forget it all, but it kept replaying in flashes, sometimes funny, sometimes unbearable.
About fifteen minutes passed before she heard soft footsteps again, followed by the creak of her bedroom door easing open.
She rolled over as Sasuke walked in, a glass of water in one hand and a small plate in the other. A faint, comforting smell followed him, miso, warm and familiar. Her eyes widened slightly as he came to her bedside and placed both items carefully on the nightstand without saying a word.
On the plate sat two neatly shaped onigiri and a small bowl of soup beside them, steam still curling up from the surface.
Hinata blinked, then looked up at him.
Sasuke was already scowling.
“What?” he snapped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her lips curved softly. “I’m just…surprised,” she said gently.
He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly annoyed by her reaction, or maybe just embarrassed. “It’s not that serious.”
But it was. She knew what this was. His version of taking care of her. Without asking, without saying much. The food, the water. The fact that he even came back into the room at all.
“Thank you,” she said, quieter this time.
He looked away. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Her smile lingered as she sat up slowly, careful not to jostle her aching head too much. Sasuke glanced at her again, a frown still etched into his features.
“If the rice is too much, don’t force yourself,” he said, voice low. “I won’t care. But you should eat the soup. And drink all the water.”
She nodded and said thank you again, which only made him grumble under his breath.
“I’m stepping out for a bit,” he added, turning toward the door. “Are you okay to be alone?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine.”
He paused at the threshold, hand on the doorframe, and glanced at her with something unreadable in his expression. Then, too casually, he said, “Just checking. You sure didn’t want me to leave last night.”
Hinata stiffened instantly, the warmth rushing to her face like a fire lit behind her cheeks.
“S-Sasuke-kun,” she stammered, “stop teasing me…”
He didn’t. In fact, he looked even more smug for a second.
“You even wanted a kiss,” he added dryly, smirking.
The words left his mouth, and then something shifted. The silence that followed wasn’t playful. It was thick, clumsy. Awkward.
Hinata’s eyes widened as the air in the room stilled. Sasuke cleared his throat sharply, eyes darting away from hers as his own face began to color at the edges.
“I’ll be back later,” he muttered, and without another word, turned and exited the room, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
She sat in silence for a moment, her eyes fixed on the door.
Her heart was still thudding.
Slowly, she sat up straighter and reached for the glass of water. The coolness soothed her dry throat, and she took several careful sips before setting it back down on the nightstand.
She exhaled, her fingers brushing across her lips as she stared ahead.
He wasn’t wrong, she thought, embarrassed. I really did think he was going to kiss me.
She remembered the way he leaned in. The way her heart had raced in her chest, her breath hitching as she waited for something that never came. And then—poke. Just two fingers to her forehead. The look on his face, the glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Hinata groaned again, bringing a hand to her forehead this time.
He did it on purpose.
But she couldn’t stay flustered for long. Not when her gaze landed on the plate again.
She picked up the small bowl and brought the spoon to her lips, the warmth of the miso instantly grounding her. It was simple, familiar, and perfect. She took another sip, grateful for how gently it settled in her stomach.
Then her eyes drifted to the onigiri.
They were shaped just slightly different from how she usually made hers, slightly more compact, and the seaweed wrapped tighter. She could guess what was inside. Tomato. She could smell it faintly.
Her lips parted in a quiet smile.
Even after teasing her, even with everything between them, he had still taken the time to make her something. Something comforting.
Her fingers brushed the edge of the plate, heart softening.
And despite everything from the night before, despite the embarrassment and the hangover and the poked forehead, that thought alone made her feel warm again.
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Sasuke needed to get out of the house.
The moment he closed the door behind him, he took a deep breath, as if the air outside might cool the heat still crawling up the back of his neck. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and began walking with no particular direction in mind.
He wasn’t sure what was worse, bringing up the kiss like an idiot, or the awkward silence that followed.
What was he thinking?
No, scratch that. He wasn’t thinking. That was the problem.
He winced slightly to himself as he walked past a few villagers, eyes low beneath his lashes. His face still felt warm, and he hated how flustered he’d been. One minute he was teasing her, the next he was the one turning red like a teenager who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
His steps slowed as he passed a bakery window. The scent of something sweet hit him, light and warm. His mind wandered to Hinata.
Maybe he could pick something up for her later. She’d probably still be resting when he got back.
He paused in front of the display, gaze shifting toward a familiar pastry—no, he thought, his jaw tightening. That was the bakery Sakura went to. He hadn’t even realized he’d walked that direction.
He turned quickly, heading away from the shop.
He’d find a different place later.
Right now, he needed to train.
The sun was sharp by the time he reached the training grounds. Sasuke stripped off his overshirt, leaving only the black sleeveless top beneath as he stood in the center of the field, the silence already settling over him like a blanket. He flexed his fingers once, then drew a kunai from his pouch and began to move.
His strikes were precise, each one cutting the air with practiced rhythm, his feet shifting against the grass as his body found the familiar pace.
But his thoughts weren’t quiet.
They never were.
Everything from the day before weighed on him like sand in his pockets, his run-in with Kakashi, that woman at the bar, the conversation with Naruto, the teasing moment with Hinata this morning.
He remembered the way Hinata looked when she pressed into his side. The feel of her against him. The warmth of her breath near his jaw.
His next strike landed too wide. He stopped, corrected his stance, and started again.
He remembered how things used to be. The marriage at the beginning. Cold, bitter. Two strangers under one roof, held together by a name and little else.
There were nights he hadn’t come home at all.
He’d stayed with Sakura. In her bed. Arms around her waist, pretending for a moment that he wasn’t already someone else’s husband.
He thought about what it must’ve been like for Hinata. Alone in that house. Cooking meals for a man who never came. Waiting at the table. Her silence stretched across the hallway.
The kunai in his hand sliced through the bark of a training post, embedding itself halfway into the wood.
He let go of it.
That night he told her he would never choose her came flooding back. The way her voice shook. The slap.
She’d hit him so hard his cheek ached for hours.
He smirked to himself despite everything, sweat starting to build on his brow. He couldn’t believe he used to be that guy. He hated that version of himself now.
But even during those days, those nights, he remembered the little cracks in the walls he tried to keep up. The slope of her neck when she passed by him in the hallway. How his eyes followed the line of her collarbone once and he couldn’t look away.
And how guilty he felt for noticing. Like he didn’t have the right to look. Not when he was already sharing a bed with someone else.
Stupid.
He lunged forward, jabbing at a target dummy, muscles tensing with every strike. The air around him grew hotter, his skin damp with sweat. But the thoughts wouldn’t leave.
He’d been planning to ask her on a date.
A real one.
Not the couples festival they had taken her to before he left on that mission. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d labeled that as a date, but he hadn’t said it. He hadn’t admitted it.
He’d planned to ask her properly when he got back. Something small. Thoughtful. Maybe with sweets. Something quiet. Something that was hers.
Then everything happened. Kakashi. The argument. The silence.
He slowed, chest rising and falling heavily, sweat sliding down the side of his face. He pushed his damp bangs back with the heel of his palm and exhaled, staring up at the sky.
What would even count as a good date?
He’d started paying attention more. The way she liked plum syrup in her tea. The kinds of books she read. The way she paused at every flower shop they passed. The way she smiled, not when someone complimented her, but when someone else was happy.
He thought of that moment again. Her smile during the festival. His hand brushing against hers and her not pulling away.
He wanted to see that again.
He wanted to make up for everything. All of it.
And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel afraid of that truth.
By the time he wiped the sweat from his forehead, his limbs ached. He grabbed his overshirt from where it had fallen on the ground and threw it over his shoulder.
He debated going home. But something tugged at him.
Naruto.
He sighed and started toward the Hokage Tower.
When he arrived, the first thing he saw was Shikamaru leaving the office, looking like he wanted to strangle someone.
“Is he in?” Sasuke asked.
Shikamaru gave him a look that was equal parts deadpan and exhausted. “Yeah. If you can get him to stay awake.”
Sasuke blinked.
“He keeps falling asleep at his desk,” Shikamaru continued with a shake of his head. “Keeps muttering about his ‘worst hangover ever.’ And guess who’s stuck doing all the work?”
“You?”
“Exactly. I swear, the next time he picks up a drink, I’m knocking it out of his hand.”
He muttered all the way down the hallway as he walked off.
Sasuke stepped inside and shut the office door with a loud slam.
Naruto jolted upright instantly. “I’m signing the documents!”
Sasuke leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“I’m not Shikamaru,” he said evenly.
Naruto groaned and slumped back down. “Thank God.” He rubbed his temples. “I have the worst hangover of my life.”
“You and Hinata are two peas in a pod.”
Naruto cracked a small smile. “How is she?”
“Very similar to you,” Sasuke said.
Naruto chuckled, then immediately winced. “Ugh—bad idea.”
“That’s what you get.”
“I can handle it,” Naruto said defensively.
Sasuke snorted.
There was a pause, quieter now.
“…Things looked good last night,” Naruto said, voice softer. “Between you and Hinata. But I want to ask, are they?”
Sasuke stared at the floor for a beat. Then nodded once.
“They’re good. For now.”
Naruto frowned. “Don’t say it like that. You’ll jinx it.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff,” Sasuke replied. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just don’t know what the future looks like. But for now, we’re okay. And that’s enough.”
Naruto nodded, then leaned back in his chair, letting out a small groan as he cradled his head. The hangover was clearly still hitting him hard.
Sasuke stood there for a moment longer, arms crossed, gaze thoughtful. Then, after a long pause, he shifted his weight and cleared his throat.
“…What are some things you did for Hinata?”
Naruto blinked, eyes squinting slightly as he looked up. “Huh?”
“Dates,” Sasuke said, still avoiding eye contact. “Things she liked.”
For a second, Naruto just stared. Then he straightened, expression instantly more alert. “Wait. Are you seriously asking me for date ideas?”
Sasuke stiffened. “Forget it.”
He turned to leave, but Naruto quickly leaned forward.
“No, no! Come on. I wasn’t expecting that, but okay!” He grinned, clearly enjoying this a little too much. “So, there was one thing I did for her once that she really liked. Simple, nothing flashy. Just a quiet afternoon picnic outside the village. I made it a surprise.”
Sasuke glanced back at him. Naruto’s grin softened.
“Don’t do the exact same thing,” Naruto said, rubbing his jaw. “But maybe that’ll give you ideas. The important part is that it’s something you plan, something that means something to you too. She’ll notice.”
Sasuke nodded once, thoughtful. Then after a pause, his voice dropped slightly.
“Do you still love her?”
The question hung in the air, heavier than it probably should have been.
Naruto blinked. For a second, he looked surprised. Then his grin returned, smaller this time, more subdued.
“I’ll always love her,” he said. “But not like that. Hinata’s someone important to me. She always will be. But I’m not in love with her anymore. So you don’t have to worry about me.” He leaned back again, smile lopsided. “And I’m glad, honestly. You look like you’re finally getting your act together. Took you long enough.”
Sasuke nodded, slow. “I wasn’t worried.”
“I know,” Naruto replied with a shrug. “Still figured I’d say it. Just in case.”
Sasuke turned toward the door again, and Naruto called after him, “Hey, we should spar sometime soon.”
“Sure. Later, dobe.” Sasuke said, already stepping out.
And as he walked out into the light, something settled a little deeper in his chest.
Their friendship...it was healing.
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By the time Sasuke returned home, the heat had worsened. The sun was high overhead, and the air was thick and heavy against his skin. Sweat clung to his neck, his chest, his back. His shirt was sticking to him, damp from both heat and training.
The second he stepped through the door, he tugged it over his head and let it fall from his hand without a second thought.
“I’m home,” he called.
Silence.
He glanced down and saw Hinata’s shoes near the door. She hadn’t left. Maybe she’d gone back to sleep.
He headed toward his bedroom, grabbing a clean shirt from the dresser on his way to the bathroom. But something made him pause. A quiet instinct.
He turned and walked back down the hall toward her room, stopping just outside the door. He knocked once.
“Hinata?”
No answer.
He waited a second longer before slowly pushing the door open.
The bed was empty and the cup and food he left her was no longer there. Then her bathroom door inside her bedroom creaked open.
And Hinata stepped out.
Only a towel wrapped loosely around her frame. Her hair was still wet, clinging to her skin. Beads of water slid down her shoulders, tracing the soft line of her collarbone and disappearing beneath the edge of terry cloth barely secured across her chest.
Sasuke froze.
So did she.
His eyes dropped before he could stop himself, her legs, bare and pale in the filtered light, the slope of her neck, the way the towel clung to the dip of her waist.
Her gaze did the same, landing squarely on his bare chest, still damp from sweat, muscles tensed from the still-lingering adrenaline of his workout.
Her lips parted slightly.
Then her entire face flushed bright red.
“Ah—!”
She yelped, darting back into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.
Sasuke turned sharply, pulse leaping, and slammed her bedroom door shut behind him at the exact same moment she slammed the bathroom door from the other side. The sound of both doors crashing shut echoed through the hallway like synchronized panic.
He stood there, back pressed to the wood door, eyes wide, breathing harder than he had after sparring for an hour.
She wasn’t even naked, he told himself.
But that towel—that damn towel—had been hanging on for dear life. One wrong move and it would've surrendered to gravity. And the way she’d been holding it, like it was optional, loose fingers curled around the top edge like it was just another piece of fabric and not the only thing standing between him and—
He scrubbed a hand down his face, fingers dragging over his jaw as if the pressure could erase the image seared into his brain. Wet strands of hair clung to her collarbone like they belonged in some kind of fever dream. The kind he didn’t allow himself to have.
And yet…
He exhaled through gritted teeth, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. His throat felt dry. Too dry.
It didn’t help that it had been a while, longer than he cared to admit. Not since the marriage. Not even in the months before that. Not since before everything changed.
He wasn’t made of stone. He was a man. A married man. With needs. With a wife.
Even if, especially if, he’d spent the past year pretending those needs didn’t exist. And now? Now his wife had just stepped out of her bathroom wrapped in a towel that clung to her like a second skin. A single wrong move and it would’ve fallen. His hand clenched at his side.
He could still feel the way her eyes had flickered to his chest before she yelped. The moment she realized he was standing there. That split-second of silence. Of tension.
And now he was standing here in the hallway, heart pounding like he’d just come from a battle.
Nope. Not surviving that.
Without a second thought, he spun on his heel and stalked down the hallway, fists at his sides. The bathroom door slammed behind him, echoing off the walls.
Cold shower.
Right now. Or someone was going to get kissed, and he wasn’t going to stop at her lips.
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Hinata sat curled into the far corner of the couch, her knees tucked beneath her and a throw blanket draped over her legs. She’d changed into soft, loose clothes, something comfortable but no amount of fabric could cover the warmth still radiating in her face.
She was grateful she had the day off.
Even if she hadn’t, she doubted she could’ve made it through the morning. Not with her aching head, and definitely not after what had happened.
Her mind stubbornly refused to let go of the image: the door creaking open, her bare feet hitting the cool wood floor, towel barely secured and Sasuke standing there. Shirtless. Staring.
She groaned softly into her hands, burying her face. She’d been seconds away from removing that towel to dry off. Seconds.
Her entire face flared in humiliation just thinking about it.
Sasuke was still in the back. Either still in the shower or still hiding in the bathroom from the secondhand embarrassment.
She wouldn’t blame him.
But then, about forty-five minutes later, she heard the soft sound of approaching footsteps. Her back straightened instinctively as Sasuke stepped into view.
He looked composed. Dry. Clean. Clothed. And completely unaffected.
As if nothing had happened.
He crossed the room without hesitation and dropped down on the couch next to her, leaving just enough space between them for comfort but not distance.
“Thank you for earlier,” Hinata said softly, grateful for the food earlier, the water, his concern.
“It’s nothing,” Sasuke replied. “How do you feel now?”
“Better,” she said, smiling slightly. “Much better.”
Silence settled between them again. Not heavy, but present. She fidgeted with the blanket covering her knees.
Sasuke tilted his head toward the TV. “Another one of your predictable romance movies?”
Hinata’s cheeks colored. “It’s not predictable,” she mumbled. Then, after a pause, “Okay, maybe a little. But…yes.”
He smirked. “Figured.”
She pouted lightly, and he looked amused.
“Don’t you have work?” he asked.
“I’m off today.”
“Hm. Got any plans?”
“Not really. Just staying in, recovering.”
That earned a short chuckle from him. She frowned playfully.
“Can I keep you company?” he asked, casually, almost offhand, though he looked at her as he said it.
Hinata blinked, caught off guard, before her lips curved into a warm smile. “Of course.”
They sat in silence for a bit, the quiet hum of the TV filling the room. At first, Hinata tried focusing on the movie, but she couldn’t help noticing how Sasuke had shifted. Bit by bit, his body leaned closer, relaxed more, until she suddenly realized just how near he was.
Her eyes darted sideways. He was right there.
Only a hair’s breadth away.
His body leaned back comfortably, one arm along the backrest, his legs slightly parted. His head tilted back just enough to rest against the cushion, his profile sharp and still. His expression unreadable, but peaceful.
She found herself watching him.
His face was striking, always had been. Strong jaw, long lashes, dark eyes half-lidded from his relaxed posture. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, a strand clinging to his temple.
Her gaze dipped lower. Even with his shirt on, she could see the way it clung slightly to his abdomen, the outline of his toned frame clear beneath the fabric. It didn’t help that the hem had ridden up just slightly, revealing a hint of skin at his waist.
She blinked.
Once. Twice.
And then realized he was looking at her.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
Hinata whipped her head back to the TV, face fully aflame.
Sasuke shifted.
“Want to spar?”
She looked at him in confusion. “Spar?”
“You and me,” he said. “Just for a bit.”
Hinata fidgeted with the blanket. “I-I don’t know. You’re a lot stronger than I am…”
Sasuke leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as he turned to look at her. “Didn’t you train with Kakashi?”
She nodded.
“Then you’re strong enough. I’m curious anyway.”
She swallowed, unsure if it was nervousness or excitement that twisted in her stomach. Maybe both.
“…Okay,” she said softly.
Sasuke stood in one fluid motion and glanced back at her. She rose with him, following him down the hallway.
The training room was cool, but Hinata could already feel her pulse picking up as she stepped inside behind Sasuke. The floor beneath her feet gave the faintest resistance, and the high walls of the space muted the rest of the world to a hush. Just the two of them now.
They faced each other in the center of the room.
Sasuke stood with his arms at his sides, posture easy but never lax. His eyes were steady, sharp even in their calmness, and they held a quiet sort of curiosity as they watched her.
Hinata took a breath and rolled her shoulders back. Her stance firmed without thinking, falling into muscle memory from years of training.
Sasuke gave a small tilt of his head. “Ready?”
She nodded once.
The moment her head dipped in confirmation, he moved.
In a blur, he flickered from his place and reappeared right in front of her, his fist cutting through the air with precise speed.
She gasped and raised her arms just in time, blocking his strike with both forearms. The impact rattled through her body, feet shifting back with the force.
He didn’t hold back as much as she thought he would.
He stepped back just as quickly, his weight light on the floor. His expression gave nothing away.
Hinata steadied her breath, eyes narrowing. She stepped in, her palms already lit with chakra as she lunged forward with a Gentle Fist strike.
He dodged easily.
But only barely.
They exchanged another flurry of movements, quick jabs and low kicks, testing each other’s rhythm. Hinata realized quickly that Sasuke wasn’t just humoring her. He was assessing her. Measuring her footwork, her timing, how long she hesitated between counters.
He wanted to know how far she’d go.
He pivoted, twisting to avoid a sweep of her leg, and brought his heel down toward her shoulder. She blocked again, but this time her balance wavered, and she was forced back.
“Stop holding back,” he said suddenly.
Hinata blinked, surprised mid-movement.
“What?” she breathed.
His Sharingan lit in one eye, flickering to life like a dare. “Don’t fight like I’m your husband. Fight like I’m an enemy.”
She hesitated for a heartbeat.
Then dropped her stance lower.
Fine.
She surged forward, chakra blooming in her hands like pale flame. Sasuke smirked.
Their spar intensified. Blows coming faster, sharper, their bodies blurring around the room in a beautiful, brutal rhythm. She ducked under a palm strike and spun on her heel, sending her foot up toward his ribs. He caught her ankle mid-air, but she twisted and kicked off his hold, flipping back with the grace only years of discipline could give her.
Sasuke lunged in again, his elbow slicing toward her shoulder. She blocked, diverted his weight, and managed to strike him in the side with a burst of chakra. He hissed softly, stepping back, and gave her a rare, approving look.
Her breath caught.
That look, it wasn’t smug. It was sharp, focused, and oddly warm. Like he was impressed.
The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smirk.
Hinata smiled.
Her pulse thundered in her ears, her lungs burning slightly, but she didn’t care. A thrill rushed through her, spreading down to her fingers.
He was enjoying this.
And so was she.
They clashed again, their movements clean and tight. Sasuke landed a soft hit against her side, enough to make her stumble, and Hinata retaliated by chakra-striking his wrist, forcing him to drop his next blow.
A slow breath left her as she pulled back a step, beads of sweat forming along her brow.
His gaze locked with hers, not assessing this time. Focused. Centered.
There was a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. Then he nodded.
Approval.
Respect.
She straightened, catching her breath. The ache in her arms and legs didn’t matter. The bruises that would probably bloom later didn’t either.
She’d made him work for it.
And for the first time in a long time, Hinata felt a strange sort of pride glowing in her chest.
Not just because she held her own.
But because he had seen her.
Hinata barely had time to catch her breath before Sasuke stepped back from their exchange and rolled his shoulders.
“It’s hot in here,” he muttered.
She blinked, confused, until she saw him reach for the hem of his shirt and tug it up in one smooth motion, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side like it was nothing.
“W-Why can’t you just leave it on?” she sputtered, face flushing as her gaze darted away.
He glanced at her, brow raised. “I just told you why.”
Either he was completely oblivious to the effect his shirtlessness had on her or he was enjoying this far too much. Judging by the faint curve of his lips, it was probably the latter.
She took a slow breath and forced herself to focus. She dropped back into her stance, palms glowing with chakra.
“Come on, already,” she said, voice firmer than she felt.
Sasuke smirked and stepped forward.
Their fists met again.
This time, their spar took on a new tempo, quicker, tighter. Hinata could feel it under her skin. Sasuke wasn’t holding back his smirks anymore, and every brush of his arm against hers, every dodge that brought them chest to chest, made it harder to breathe.
And then, in a blink, he had her.
Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, his arms pinning her wrists beside her head. His chest heaved just inches from hers. Their faces were close, too close. She could feel his breath against her lips, see the glint of sweat trailing down his neck.
Her heart pounded.
She stared up at him, eyes wide, lungs drawing in shallow, heated air. Her gaze flicked briefly to his mouth.
“Staring like that,” he said lowly, “you must really want to kiss me.”
Her face exploded in color.
“I-I’m not staring!” she snapped, pushing against his chest. “I wasn’t even thinking that!”
He let her go, but not before letting her feel the slow drag of his body stepping back. He snorted. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” she repeated, fists clenched now as she charged forward, determined to punch the smirk off his face.
Sasuke dodged easily, still smirking, watching her from the corner of his eye like this was the most fun he’d had in weeks.
She gritted her teeth, tried again, and this time—
She caught him.
She ducked low and swept around behind him, grabbing his arm and twisting it back behind his spine, her breath warm against his shoulder as she whispered, “I’m not.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was still smirking.
But then one second, she had the upper hand, chakra sparking along her palm as she twisted toward him from behind. Next, Sasuke’s weight shifted, an almost imperceptible adjustment of his stance and suddenly, her balance was gone.
Her back hit the floor with a soft thud.
She barely had time to react before his hands pinned her wrists to the floor, his knees braced on either side of her thighs. His bare chest hovered just above hers, warm and close, his breath steady but shallow.
Hinata’s breath caught, every nerve in her body sparking awake.
She should’ve pushed him off. She should’ve twisted out.
But she didn’t move.
Neither did he.
They stared at each other, silent, breathless, suspended in the stillness of the moment.
Then her eyes dropped. Again
Just for a second.
His lips. His mouth slightly parted. His breath was warm. Her gaze lingered longer than it should’ve. He must have noticed again because that damned smirk crept in slowly, maddeningly smug.
“You’re staring again,” he said, voice low. “You really do want to kiss me, don’t you?”
Her face went up in flames. “I—No! You’re—”
“You keep looking at my mouth.”
“That’s because you keep—!”
Her words tangled as her pulse quickened. She turned her head away, humiliated, only for him to lean in just a hair closer.
“I keep what?” He teased, lowly.
She couldn’t take it anymore. Her heart was pounding so loud it echoed in her ears. Her fingers curled, twitching under his hold.
She snapped. “Y-You must be the one who wants a kiss!”
Sasuke blinked. “What?”
“You!” she blurted, cheeks flushed, words tumbling out faster than her thoughts. “You keep bringing it up again and again! If you’re so sure I want to kiss you, maybe it’s because you want me to!”
His eyes widened, startled.
Hinata’s courage flared, too much, too fast, and before she could stop herself, she twisted her wrist out of his grip and reached up, her fingers curling around the back of his neck and pulled him down even closer.
Their faces were barely a breath apart now. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the slight tremble in her own hand as she whispered innocently, “Do you want me to kiss you, Sasuke-kun?”
The moment the teasing words left her mouth, she froze.
So did he.
His entire body went stiff. His face turned red—red. His eyes widene as he sprang back like she’d set him on fire, spinning around so fast he nearly tripped over himself. She sat up quickly, stunned herself.
He had his back to her now, one hand raised stiffly as if trying to wave her off. His voice came out lower than usual, rough and slightly strangled.
“D-Don’t say weird things.”
Hinata blinked. Her boldness evaporated in an instant. “W-Weird things? You started it!”
He didn’t turn around. His shoulders were unnaturally stiff. His other hand had moved to the waistband of his pants, subtly, but definitely adjusting them. She tilted her head, confused.
“Sasuke-kun?”
Still no turn. “That’s enough training for today.”
She teased, pleased that her teasing got to him. “Giving up that easily?”
“Hinata,” he said, voice sharper this time. “Knock it off.”
There was an edge to his tone that made her blink. Not anger, but tension.
Real tension.
Despite not knowing exactly what she’d done, she felt like she’d pushed something.
He kept his back to her, hand still in front of him, as if the ground in front of him was more interesting than anything else.
She stayed quiet, watching him carefully, heart still beating a little too fast. Whatever line they’d toed, they’d gotten close.
Too close.
She bit her lip, face burning, unsure whether she felt flustered, flattered…
Or curious.
He tilted his head toward the hallway. “Come on,” he said, seemingly shaken off whatever it was that held him in place before.
But before Hinata could take a step, her eyes flicked toward the floor where Sasuke’s discarded shirt still lay crumpled, evidence of their earlier tension and the reason she could barely breathe straight since.
“You’re not going to put your shirt back on?” she asked, voice rising with forced calm.
Sasuke paused just past the doorway, casting a glance over his shoulder. “Why?” he asked with dry amusement. “Can’t focus without it?”
The teasing landed squarely in her chest. Her cheeks warmed instantly.
“I-It’s not that! I just—please put it back on.”
She moved before he could say anything more, kneeling down and scooping the shirt off the floor as if it were something fragile. She stood again and held it out toward him with both hands, her eyes fixed stubbornly on the wall just over his shoulder.
“Seriously,” she muttered, barely above a whisper.
He took the shirt from her fingers, brushing her knuckles in the process. The ghost of a smirk played at his lips, as though he couldn’t help himself.
“Such a shy girl,” he said, low and amused.
She turned her face away to hide the bright color flooding her cheeks, pretending to inspect a random scuff on the wall as he tugged the fabric back over his head. The shirt slid down over his torso, catching briefly over his shoulders before falling into place. Only then did she allow herself to glance back.
And only then did her lungs feel like they could work again.
They stepped out of the training room together, the hallway dimmer in comparison. It was quiet between them, but not strained. The silence felt charged with something unspoken, like they’d crossed an invisible threshold and now neither of them quite knew how to move through it.
The warmth of the earlier sparring match still clung to her skin, but the pace of her heartbeat had changed entirely.
“Where are we going?” she asked softly, voice steadying.
“You’ll see,” Sasuke replied, tone even as ever.
He led her to a room near the back of the house It was smaller than the others, simple, spare, and uncluttered. Clean lines. A quiet kind of order. Sunlight filtered through the half-curtained window and spilled onto the wooden floor in soft gold streaks. A low table sat at the center, surrounded by thin floor cushions.
“Wait here,” he said.
She waited, listening to the muffled sound of Sasuke's footsteps disappearing down the hall. A minute passed. Then another. He returned carrying a sleek black case under his arm. Without a word, he placed it on the table in front of her and opened the lid with care.
Her eyes widened.
Inside the case lay a set of calligraphy tools, brushes arranged with precision, clean rolls of parchment, a shallow inkstone. The rich, earthy scent of ink drifted upward like something from a memory. The entire set was beautiful. Thoughtful. Personal.
“…Calligraphy?” she asked.
Sasuke scratched the back of his neck, his gaze dipping toward the tools rather than her face. “I had it made a few months ago.”
She looked up, curious. “You did?”
He gave a short nod. “It’s something my father used to do. I always thought I’d try it,” he added, softer now. “I just never did.” His fingers traced the rim of the inkstone absently, as though grounding himself in its shape. Then, after a quiet moment, he glanced sideways. “Thought maybe you’d want to try it with me.”
Hinata blinked, heart fluttering. “You want to share this with me?”
Sasuke’s eyes met hers, briefly. He looked away just as quickly. “You don’t have to,” he said. “If it’s not something you’re into, that’s fine.”
But the hesitance in his tone didn’t go unnoticed. He wasn’t brushing it off, not really. He just wasn’t sure how to ask plainly. This was something important to him, even if he wasn’t spelling it out.
Hinata smiled gently. “I’d love to.”
His shoulders eased slightly. Barely a shift, but she noticed.
X
X
X
X
Hinata dipped her brush slowly into the ink, trying to mimic the deliberate strokes Sasuke had shown her. Her hand trembled slightly with concentration as she moved across the parchment.
“The brush has to glide,” he said beside her, his tone even, but not critical. “Don’t press too hard.”
She nodded, adjusting her grip.
“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted softly, eyes focused on her second try. “But Neji-niisan used to practice calligraphy when we were younger. He was really good at it. Graceful. I used to watch him for hours, but I never tried it myself.”
Sasuke’s brush paused mid-stroke. His gaze didn’t lift from his own parchment.
“He was a prodigy,” he said quietly. “I remember hearing about him during the Chunin Exams and seeing how people spoke about him.” A beat passed. “Like they used to talk about Itachi.”
Hinata looked over at him, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.
“My father was very strict,” Sasuke continued after a moment, his brush moving again. “He wasn’t cruel. But he was always focused. Controlled. I spent most of my childhood trying to catch up to Itachi. To be seen the way he was.” He exhaled faintly, the ink sweeping across the parchment in smooth, quiet arcs. “My father barely looked at me unless it was to compare.”
Hinata was silent, letting the weight of that settle.
“…I always thought if I just worked harder, he’d acknowledge me.”
She placed her brush down, her hands folding in her lap as she looked down at her own page. Her voice was soft when she spoke.
“My father was like that too. Not outwardly cold. But distant.” She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. “I’m the oldest. I was supposed to be strong. The example. But I wasn’t. Not to him. He always looked at Hanabi the way I wanted him to look at me.”
Her voice trembled slightly, but she caught it before it cracked.
“I didn’t realize…” She glanced at Sasuke. “How similar our childhoods were.”
He didn’t respond right away, but he turned his head to meet her eyes. There was something unspoken between them, an understanding.
“Only difference,” Sasuke said quietly, “is you were the older sibling.”
Hinata smiled faintly, her gaze dropping again. “You were chasing a shadow. I was trying not to disappear beneath one.”
They sat there for a moment in shared silence. Not awkward. Just present.
Hinata picked up her brush again, testing the stroke of a character across fresh parchment. “This is…” she said, brows drawing in thoughtfully, “more calming than I expected.”
Sasuke dipped his brush once more into the ink, slower this time. “My father used to say that too. That calligraphy focused the mind. Disciplined the breath.” He paused, then added, more to himself than her, “I think he meant it in more ways than one.”
Hinata watched him carefully as he wrote. His strokes were clean. Precise. Almost graceful, even though there was a strength behind them, controlled tension in the wrist and fingers.
“You’re really good at this,” she said, a little awestruck.
Sasuke barely looked up. “It’s nothing.”
“You say that like it’s not impressive,” she teased, nudging her shoulder slightly toward his. “Is there anything you’re not good at, Sasuke-kun?”
His eyes flicked to her, dry and mildly amused. “Plenty.”
“Oh?” She tilted her head playfully. “Like what?”
He didn’t answer right away, only looked down at his page again, but there was the tiniest curl at the corner of his mouth.
Hinata blinked, heart fluttering despite herself. She tucked her chin slightly, brushing the edge of her sleeve across a smudge of ink on her knuckle, if only to keep from fidgeting.
Sasuke set his brush down gently, shoulders drawing back in a breath. For a long moment, he didn’t look at her. Just stared at the parchment in front of him like it might give him strength.
“…Hinata,” he said finally, voice quieter than usual.
She turned toward him. “Yes?”
There was a pause. He exhaled through his nose and looked at her, but only briefly. The tips of his fingers tapped once against the edge of the table before going still.
“Would you…” He trailed off, jaw tightening slightly. Then he finished, barely above a murmur, “Would you want to go on a date? With me?”
Hinata blinked. The words settled between them like something fragile and precious.
“A…date?” she echoed, unsure if she’d heard right.
He nodded, expression stiff. “You don’t have to. I just—” His voice caught slightly, and when he spoke again, there was a small edge of self-consciousness that crept into his tone. “If it’s not something you want, it’s fine.”
She looked at him carefully. He wasn’t teasing. His voice held none of that usual dry sharpness, and there was something unmistakably unsure about the way his eyes dropped to the floor, as though he was already bracing for a no.
“Sasuke-kun,” she said gently, her words threading softly into the quiet, “I’d love to go on a date with you.”
He looked up. A flicker of something eased in his eyes. Relief, subtle but unmistakable. Before he could answer, there was a sudden, crisp knock at the front door. Both of them turned their heads.
Hinata blinked, eyebrows raising slightly. “Were you expecting someone?”
Sasuke frowned. “No. Were you?”
She shook her head. “No…”
Sasuke rose from the table in a smooth motion, already eyeing the hallway with narrowed suspicion. Hinata followed, brushing her hands on her skirt as she stood. She figured he was thinking about Kakashi, but she didn’t want to mention it in case she was wrong.
Once they reached the door and Sasuke opened it.
Standing just beyond the threshold, arms folded across her chest and a knowing smirk playing on her lips was Hanabi.
Hinata’s jaw slackened. “Hanabi?”
Hanabi stepped in before either of them could invite her, surveying the space with one long glance. “Wow,” she said. “Didn’t realize I needed a formal invitation now.”
Sasuke stepped back just enough to let her pass. His expression was unreadable.
“Hello to you too,” Hinata said, mildly exasperated.
“Hello, Onee-san,” Hanabi beamed, stepping forward to hug her. “And hello, Brother-in-law.”
Sasuke nodded, offering a quiet “Hn.”
Hanabi’s eyes flitted between them. A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Something’s different.”
Hinata blinked. “Different?”
“Yeah,” Hanabi said, circling slightly as she surveyed the quiet house “Since the last dinner. There’s a vibe between you two now. Something stronger.” She paused near the hallway wall and frowned, pointing dramatically. “Still no pictures of the two of you, though. You’ve been married for over a year. What kind of couple doesn’t have any photos together?”
Hinata groaned. “Hanabi—”
“I’m just saying,” Hanabi said, spinning on her heel to face them again. “You two live like mysterious roommates who signed a lease together for tax purposes.”
Sasuke raised a brow. “Why are you here?”
Hanabi’s smile thinned as she crossed her arms. “Can’t a little sister come visit her sweet, fragile older sister and big brother?”
“Hanabi,” Hinata warned flatly.
“Fine,” she sighed, tilting her head. “Father asked me to stop by. You know, after that awkward dinner. Something about checking in, making sure everything’s going well.” Her gaze flicked between them again, sly. “And Grandfather’s been on his usual rampage about you two not having kids again. So. There’s that.”
Hinata flushed instantly. “He’s at it again?”
“Yep,” Hanabi said matter-of-factly, waving a hand. “So I’m reporting back that you’re alive, healthy, and suspiciously blushy. That’ll calm him down. Maybe. He was worried grandfather still had you both upset, especially you,” she glanced at Sasuke.
Sasuke coughed, suddenly turning his head toward the hallway like he had somewhere very important to look.
Hanabi narrowed her eyes playfully. “Are you two okay?”
Hinata glanced at Sasuke, who looked back at her. “Yeah. We’re okay.” She smiled.
Hanabi’s face softened. “Good. I’ll get out of your hair then.”
She turned toward the door, tossing one more grin over her shoulder. “But seriously, Onee-san, come visit more often. I miss you. Big Brother Sasuke’s been hogging you.”
Hinata bit her lip, not correcting her sister. The truth that Sasuke had only recently come back from his mission and that they’d barely spoken until this yesterday, wasn’t worth saying right now.
“I’ll come by tomorrow during lunch,” Hinata said instead. “My break at work is around noon.”
Hanabi beamed. “Perfect. See? You are still the sweet big sister I remember.” Then, to Sasuke, “Don’t mess it up.”
He rolled his eyes. “I won’t.”
With that, Hanabi let herself out, and the door clicked softly behind her.
Silence returned.
Hinata looked up at Sasuke.
“…Sorry about her,” she said.
He gave the faintest shrug. “She doesn’t bother me.”
She smiled.
Sasuke turned, walking slowly back toward the hallway. “So, about that date.”
Hinata followed him, her steps light. “Mm?”
“I was thinking,” he said without looking back, “maybe this weekend.”
She tilted her head. “A weekend date? I’d like that.”
Sasuke nodded once. “I’ll plan it. But for now…”
He glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
“Want to keep going with the calligraphy?”
Hinata’s smile returned. “I would.”
X
X
X
X
Later that night…
The living room lights were dim, allowing the glow from the television to paint shifting patterns across the walls. A faint blue flicker danced over Hinata’s knees and the edge of the couch. She sat close to Sasuke, their shoulders brushing every so often as they watched a martial arts movie unfold on the screen. Crisp punches and high, spinning kicks filled the silence, though neither of them was entirely focused on the film anymore. Not with the slow, buzzing awareness that crackled in the air.
When a particularly exaggerated fight sequence played, Hinata couldn’t help a light giggle. “That stance is all wrong,” she murmured, leaning forward. “If he were really balancing like that, he’d topple instantly.”
Sasuke’s gaze slid across the screen, half-lidded, assessing. “Too much flash,” he agreed quietly. “Not enough foundation. If we tried that, we’d probably break an ankle.”
He said “we,” and it made her heart flutter a little. She liked the sound of it, of them testing new moves together. Like something they’d do regularly, not just once in a while. It felt comfortable, cozy, in a way she never imagined when they first got married.
As the movie’s pacing slowed for a dramatic dialogue scene, Hinata felt Sasuke shift beside her. The cushion dipped. She noticed the subtle press of his thigh against hers. Her cheeks warmed. She tried to focus on the screen, but her gaze drifted sideways, and her breath caught when she realized he was looking back at her.
His stare was calm but searching, as though he weighed a thought he’d been carrying for too long. “Can I ask you something?”
She tilted her head in curiosity. “Y-Yes.”
“Can I kiss you?”
The question was so straightforward that it sent warmth rushing to her cheeks. She blinked, once, twice, her pulse hammering behind her ribs. She parted her lips, voice catching in her throat.
“Y-Yes…” she stuttered. “I mean—yes!”
The flush in her neck deepened. For a split second, nerves nearly swallowed her. But in a burst of uncharacteristic boldness, she tried to ease the tension by leaning forward slightly, her eyes dancing with quiet laughter.
“S-So, you were the one who really wanted to kiss me this whole time?” she teased, hoping it’d deflect some of her own embarrassment.
Sasuke’s expression didn’t shift. He held her gaze, dark eyes steady as he spoke in that low, almost impassive tone he used when he was being entirely honest. “Maybe I have been thinking about it.”
The blunt admission made her heart skip another beat. She tried to look away, but the gentle intensity in his eyes kept her rooted, like he was daring her to acknowledge just how real this was.
He edged closer on the couch, the shifting of his body sending a gentle brush of warmth over her side. One arm draped along the backrest behind her, forming a loose circle around her shoulders, not trapping her but making her acutely aware of how near he was. Hinata felt her pulse hammering in her ears. She’d never been so conscious of each breath.
Sasuke lifted his other hand, his palm sliding up to cradle the side of her neck. His fingers were warm against her skin, his thumb grazing her jawline in a tender, almost reverent way. Hinata’s lids fluttered at the sensation. She watched as his eyes drifted from her lips back to her gaze, like he was making sure she was sure, giving her one last chance to refuse.
She closed the distance first, just by a hair, and that was all the invitation he needed.
His lips touched hers, light and fleeting, just enough to make her breath catch. The kiss didn’t feel sure. It felt careful. Like he was testing the shape of her mouth. Like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to stay. The softness of it startled her more than any sudden move could have.
He kissed her again, just a little deeper, the angle shifting slightly. Her lips parted on instinct, and the moment they did, something in him shifted. The restraint fell away.
His mouth pressed more firmly against hers. The softness remained, but now there was pressure. Heat. Intention. He tilted his head just enough to draw her in closer, lips moving with a slow confidence that made her toes curl into the cushion beneath her.
She could feel the strength in his grip, the way his palm anchored her by the neck. It wasn’t rough, but it left no question about who was leading. His hold wasn’t just for balance. It was firm and possessive. He was guiding her into the rhythm of him.
Then came the pull.
His teeth found her bottom lip, catching it gently between them before he let it go with a slow, deliberate drag. When he drew it back in with a soft suction, Hinata’s breath hitched in the back of her throat.
She was melting. That was the only word for it.
Her fingers had found the edge of his shirt without her realizing. Her palm pressed to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat under muscle and cloth. His body was warm. Solid. Every part of him radiated heat and control. He didn’t rush, didn’t grope or grab. He just kissed her like he meant it. Like he had been meaning to. Like it had been sitting in the back of his mind, waiting for a moment just like this.
His lips molded to hers with such intent, so much focused energy, that she thought she might forget how to breathe entirely. There was a rhythm to it. Slow, thorough. He explored every part of her mouth with soft nips, coaxing responses from her with each pass. She had never been kissed like this before. Not by Naruto. Not by anyone.
Sasuke kissed like a man who didn’t need to say what he wanted. He just showed it.
And he wanted her.
Her legs shifted slightly on the couch, her thighs pressing together as a wave of heat pulsed down her spine. The way his thumb stroked her cheek, the firm hold he kept at her neck, the control laced into every kiss. It was too much and not enough all at once.
When he finally pulled away, her lips still tingled. She found herself leaning forward a fraction, chasing the heat of his mouth before she caught herself. Sasuke rested his forehead lightly against hers. His breathing was uneven, warm against her lips.
He hadn’t opened his eyes yet.
When he did, they looked heavy and dark and so terribly calm in contrast to how she felt. Her own pulse was thundering in her chest, fast and breathless, but he looked like he was still trying to commit the shape of her mouth to memory.
He didn’t move his hand from her neck. If anything, his thumb brushed slowly across her skin again as he tilted his head.
“Can I kiss you somewhere else?” he murmured, his voice rasping just enough to make her stomach flutter.
“Where?” she whispered, gaze still on his mouth, in a daze.
Sasuke paused for a moment, his gaze drifting across Hinata’s collarbone. Then he tilted his head, his lips dipping toward the delicate skin of her neck. He didn’t actually kiss her right away, he exhaled, letting a warm puff of air brush the spot under her jaw.
Hinata startled so abruptly that a tiny burst of laughter escaped her. She clamped her mouth shut, cheeks blazing, realizing how it must have sounded. She jerked back slightly, bringing her hand up in a half-hearted attempt to shield her neck.
“I…I’m ticklish there,” she admitted in a rush, recalling an old memory. “Naruto-kun used to…well, never mind. But sometimes, if I’m kissed in that spot…I can’t stop laughing.”
“Ticklish,” he repeated, voice soft.
He leaned in without waiting for an invitation, pressing a feathery kiss just under her jawline. Hinata immediately let out an unrestrained giggle, her body twisting away.
“S-Sasuke-kun!” she exclaimed.
He didn’t stop. Another teasing kiss landed on the curve of her neck, and she broke into a stream of breathy laughter, squirming under his hold. The more she tried to push him away, the more he seemed amused by her efforts.
His hand slipped behind her neck, both to keep her in place and to cradle her gently. She found herself sliding back into the corner of the couch as he half-hovered over her, laughter tumbling from her lips in an unending rush. Every brush of his mouth made her limbs jolt with ticklish energy.
“Sasuke-kun, I said i-it tickles!” she gasped between giggles, trying to sound reprimanding, though it came out more like a plea.
He responded with a low hum, barely more than a murmur. He continued his quiet assault of kisses until she was practically breathless, her cheeks flushed bright from laughter and the faintest embarrassment of being pinned in such a playful way.
At last, he drew back. His eyes gleamed with a triumphant sort of mischief, yet there was a note of apology there too. He let his hand slide from her neck to her shoulder, giving her a bit more room to breathe.
“Sorry,” he said, although the unrepentant curve of his lips suggested he was anything but. “I’ve been wanting to kiss that neck of yours for a while now.”
Hinata swallowed, feeling her heart thud against her ribcage. It was one thing for him to tease her. It was another thing entirely to learn he’d actually been thinking about doing it. Her pulse gave a funny little flip at the thought.
She looked away, a shy smile forming at the corners of her mouth. “You…you have?”
His lips brushed against her cheek, lingering in a way that made her heat up all over again. “Didn’t plan on tickling you,” he murmured, “but once I realized it was your weak spot, well, I couldn’t resist.”
She flushed at the simple confession. Her shoulders relaxed little by little, and that giddy swirl in her chest refused to go away. He slowly withdrew the rest of the way, settling back as if he’d accomplished some grand victory.
Hinata pressed a hand to her neck, skin still tingling, and let out a breathless laugh. “I can’t believe you took advantage of that, Sasuke-kun…”
He shrugged lightly, his dark gaze sliding away with an almost smug air. “You should’ve kept it a secret.” Then his eyes flicked back, capturing hers in a moment of unguarded warmth. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
A memory surfaced of something he’d said days ago, about how his thoughts were on her while he was away on his mission. The flicker of that moment made Hinata swallow. She drew in a shaky breath, turning her face enough to meet his gaze.
“Sasuke-kun,” she began quietly. “When you said you were thinking of me, does that mean you actually see our marriage as more than just being friends?”
He eased back slightly, bracing one palm on the couch so he could look at her head-on. His cheeks were still tinged with color, and Hinata realized he looked just as flustered as she felt. Yet his expression held a calm determination.
“You really don’t get it, do you,” he said, voice low but steady. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if it didn’t mean something to me. I don’t kiss people I see as just friends.”
Hinata’s eyes widened. Her heart pounded almost painfully at the raw honesty in his words.
His fingers tensed against the cushion as he glanced away for a moment, then turned back to her. “I think I’m finally starting to see you as my wife. Not just someone I ended up with because of an arranged marriage.” He cleared his throat, gaze shifting briefly sideways. “I meant it when I said I’ll only leave if you want me to.”
She felt her heart clench in an unexpected wave of tenderness. “Do you really mean that?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
He nodded once, a bit stiffly, but there was no mistaking his sincerity. “Yeah.”
She exhaled slowly, surprise and relief blending together, making her head spin. Then, with a quiet shift of her body, she nestled beside him on the couch.
They stayed like that, hearing each other’s breathing rise and fall. The television still flickered, the martial arts hero delivering a dramatic final blow in the background. But neither paid attention anymore.
“We’ve come a long way,” Sasuke remarked after a moment, as he glanced down at her.
Hinata lifted her gaze, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “We have.”
And as she settled into the warmth of his side, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her cheek, Hinata felt something unravel inside her, some tension she’d been holding for too long. For the first time, she felt like they were choosing each other, with no reservations or regrets. The hush that followed was comfortable, full of quiet promise, and the flickering screen cast them in gold and shadow, their future open, wide, and inviting.
He inhaled slowly. “Hinata…” he began, his voice oddly subdued. “I might sound selfish when I say this.”
She looked up at him, noticing how his shoulders tensed, how he refused to meet her eyes for a second. “Selfish?”
His gaze flicked toward her, then away again, uncertain. “I want you to only want me.”
Hinata blinked. A faint warmth brushed her cheeks at the weight of those words. She could hear the unspoken name echo in the air. Kakashi. Quietly lingering in the background of their story.
She let her hand settle lightly atop his. “Sasuke-kun…”
He swallowed, his jaw tightening slightly. “I know I have no right to demand that, especially with how I was before, but that’s what I want.”
She exhaled softly. The TV light flickered across the side of his face, highlighting the faint strain in his expression. She could see the insecurity there, the flicker of memory of the times he’d pushed her away, chosen Sakura. She squeezed his fingers.
“I told you before when you were gone, I thought about you. I really did,” she said, voice steady despite the shiver of emotion rising in her chest. She glanced aside, remembering the morning Kakashi had shown up. “Kakashi came by before. I didn’t mention it before. But I told him…I told him that my husband didn’t want me around him while you weren’t here. Just like you told me to. Even though I did break the promise much later…”
Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, but he listened without interruption. His tension didn’t dissolve, but his posture eased ever so slightly, like a man making room for a truth he needed to hear.
Hinata felt her heart pound as she tried to order her thoughts. “When I got your letter, reading it made me so unbelievably happy. I know it was short, and you only said a few things, but I kept rereading it. It’s in my bedside table now.”
She could still picture the neat strokes of his handwriting, the faint smell of ink on the page.
“I keep it safe,” she added, quieter, cheeks warming. “It felt like you were closer than you actually were. I’m not sure how to explain it. It felt good. I guess I never realized how much I missed you, until that letter.”
She heard a soft intake of breath Sasuke’s. He was looking at her intently now, as though every word mattered. And maybe it did.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “I’m sorry if it’s confusing,” she added, trying to gather her emotions neatly, but they spilled over in flutters. “I just…I can’t connect it all yet. How I feel. But I wanted you to know that, when you were gone, I was thinking of you.”
Something flickered in Sasuke’s expression, a faint pink tinge creeping across his cheeks. He didn’t look away fast enough to hide it, either. “You’re really serious,” he murmured.
Hinata nodded slowly. “Yes.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. She could feel his warmth, and the quiet thrumming of her own pulse. Sasuke cleared his throat, lips pursing like he was searching for the right thing to say. He looked almost bashful, something Hinata had rarely, if ever, seen from him.
He gave a single, awkward nod, glancing aside. His gaze returned to her face, and the corners of his mouth lifted. “I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about that letter.” Sasuke’s eyes lowered, focusing on her fingers curled around his. A softness pulled at his mouth. “Thank you. For telling me.”
Her heart pounded so loudly, she thought he might hear it. She was barely sure how to interpret her own feelings, let alone articulate them. But the admission was enough for now.
And he blushed. Faint, but there.
Neither of them tried to break the moment with further explanation.
Instead, Sasuke shifted on the couch, lifting his free hand to brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His eyes were gentle, half-hooded, his voice a murmur. “Hinata…”
She swallowed, blinking up at him. “Yes?”
He hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “It means a lot. That you’re by my side right now,” he said, voice husky with undertones of relief or gratitude. “Even if you’re not sure how far that goes yet.”
Hinata’s lips parted, but all that came out was a soft exhale. She wasn’t sure how to say that her feelings were growingHinata’s lips parted, but only a soft exhale escaped. She realized she no longer spent her spare thoughts on Kakashi the way she once had. She still cared about him, of course, but Sasuke...he had quietly settled into a part of her heart she never believed he could reach, not after all the ways they had hurt each other. The realization left her breathless. Maybe she was falling for him, deeper than she knew how to say. She couldn’t articulate it yet, at least not neatly. But the shift was there, as real as the steady pulse in her chest. stronger than she let on, that maybe she was falling for him in a deeper way. She couldn’t put it into words, not neatly.
So instead, she squeezed his hand again, letting her eyes drop in shy acknowledgement. It was enough. For now.
Sasuke let out a small breath, as he nodded once more, leaning back into the couch cushions, releasing her fingers reluctantly. She felt the air shift at the loss of contact.
A faint pink dust still painted his cheeks, but a sense of calm settled in his eyes. The slightest curve on his mouth lingered, a sign of acceptance, or maybe quiet joy.
Somewhere on the screen, the martial artists performed another over-the-top finishing move, but neither of them looked. Hinata scooted closer once more, this time slipping her hand between their legs, resting it lightly over his. He didn’t pull away.
They sat like that, hearts fluttering in the half-darkness.