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She giggles like wind chimes in the face of a sandstorm, and flops against the couch, two inches from his side. She’s drunk, and he’s not much better, his knuckles tight against a glass of rum, light on the rocks with a splash of Kahlúa. The bitter taste of coffee distracts him from unpleasant thoughts: Her brother, Yashamaru, passed out on the loveseat across from them; and her husband in their home office, working diligently into the night.
It is just enough. Just enough, Sasori tells himself, as she reaches for a Turkish Delight. Powdered sugar dusts her fingers, a sudden urge to wipe it away grips his heart—thoroughly, tightly, and without mercy nor fairness. It stays there when he inhales; it clenches when he breathes out, doubling down. Making him choke. His unease is only shaken away by another one of Karura’s laughs, and an odd question:
“Tell—ah, tell me, something happy?”
His drink is not strong enough for this.
Not enough, even when he knocks it back, ice rattling against his teeth. Then he slams his glass back down on the coffee table with a crack! so loud that Rasa probably hears it.
Good, Sasori thinks, bumping Karura as he turns to her.
Let him hear it. Let him come.
Let him see me kiss his wife.
“Do you want a lie, or a truth?” Sasori asks, voice purposefully low. Karura has to lean in to hear him.
“The truth, of course.” She giggles again, storm-strong. Her joy smelling of rose water syrup. “I want an answer I can love. How could I love a lie? You’re silly. Sil-ly.”
“You’re drunk,” he points out. “So am I. That's something to celebrate.”
“Hm?” Karura tilts her head. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you...?” She blinks as Sasori fits his lips against hers. “...mean,” she finishes, burning bright red.
“It’s happy because you have a good excuse,” Sasori tells her. “If your husband asks, you’re drunk.”
In her shock, he lifts her chin for another, then another, then another, coaxing her bare hands into his hair. Their sighs do nothing to cover up the footsteps echoing down the hall, a shadow rounding the corner.
So Rasa had heard him.
Just as well. Sasori smirks against her, and he hopes he enjoys the show.