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It was , in Sasori’s opinion, a rather lovely morning. At least as far as days could be considered nice given their temporal nature. Dawn breaking over the desert brought with it opaline clouds and golden rays of sunlight to illuminate his wife’s sleeping form, a sight he spent a good hour watching. He liked it, the way that the creeping light banished the shadows and set the corona of her hair ablaze, the colors of the horizon at play in every strand.
When the last dregs of the night were gone, he rose for the day--carefully extricating himself from the twined limb way of sleeping they had easily fallen into after placing a kiss at the corner of her eye. They did not sleep like spoons but face to face, her leg thrown over him, his arm over her. Locked together like puzzle pieces as it was meant to be. That way of being made it easy for Sasori when he woke in the wee hours to stare at Sakura’s face in the dark just to make sure that everything was as it should have been. That the house was quiet and still, that her heart beat steady and strong beneath his ear and on the rare occasion that Sakura sleep-talked he was prone to indulging himself with those nonsensical conversations like he had earlier.
We’s gonna fly dis whayle right over the moon!
But dear, how are we going to breathe in space?
Duh, magic Sasori! Sakura’s nose had scrunched, displeased with the intrusion of logic into her dream. Weren’t you paying attention to the talking slug? Interestingly, the more frustrated she became the better she spoke.
“Why would I ever listen to a slug?” Sasori later thought to himself as he was standing over the stove. The fruit had already been cut and was currently sitting on the table in a chilled bowl. He'd much prefer to watch them sizzle under a good handful of salt. ‘Nuisances…’ That line of thought reminded him of another reason why it was shaping up to be a superb morning; the house was blissfully empty of the usual round of unwanted guests.
Deidara was nowhere to be found and all the windows and the doors were as secure as he’d left them the night before. ‘That old bat and her brother are either dead or sleeping in.’ Sasori would take what he could get. ‘And Gaara…’ Well, who cared about him anyways? He decided not to think about whatever the other two were up to, the point was that none of them were in his house, eating his food and slopping their gross germs all over his things and compromising his wife.
“That slug was an alien princess.” Sakura grumbled as she slouched into a chair, haven woken up to the smell of food and lethargically made her way down the stairs. “And salt wouldn’t have worked on her anyways.” She didn’t have to hear him say it to know he’d been thinking it.
The last piece of french toast he’d been cooking was flipped out of the pan with the deft flick of his wrist. “Then it wasn’t a slug to begin with.” Sasori said, placing a plate before her. It was now doubly important that she ate appropriately and breakfast was the most important meal of the day. The proof of that belief was the table laden with more food than either of them could eat. Fruit and Yogurt, french toast, the more traditional fare of pickled vegetables and rice, even the miso he abhorred had been prepared. ‘Seaweed is good for expectant mothers.’ It was full of calcium, Vitamin A and even B2. It was healthy for everyone...he simply hated it, not that Sasori would ever admit that outloud. Disliking a food was weak and immature. ‘I am neither.’
“She looked like a slug.” Sakura insisted, pressing her lips against his as he leaned down expectantly. “Thank you.” Although looking at the food only made her empty stomach flop. ‘But Sasori worked so hard…’ And she loved breakfast. She loved every meal he made. So she picked up her fork and knife and began to cut the egg-dipped bread into pieces. 10 weeks along the child growing inside her was little more than an inch long but it made sure she knew it was there anytime she put food in her mouth.
Nausea was in full swing, but Sakura refused to complain, refused to let something like hormones keep her from eating the food her husband labored over. The first piece of toast went down easily along with a few pieces of fruit after it. It was the second bite of toast that in Sakura’s opinion became the mistake. Sasori had turned from the table to fetch a pitcher of some sort of juice just as her resolve to keep eating shattered. She shot up from her chair, fork clanging to the floor as she sprinted from the table to the sink.
Sadly for Sasori he was in between the two of them and before he could dodge to the side Sakura’s time ran out with a quiet blegh all down the front of his shirt. The still warm, hardly digested mess that had once been a lovely and no doubt tasty piece of french toast dripped down to the floor as his wife began to sob hysterically, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I’m so sorry!” Sakura cried, hands pulling at his shirt. “I tried not to, I really did…” Tears welled within her eyes. It was a mess, it was humiliating. She hated not being able to eat. ‘I’m going to starve…’
“Sakura, I’ve stuck my hands in worse things than this knowingly .” Sasori was not one to be disgusted so easily, he dealt in death. ‘You’re not at fault.” It was the thing growing inside of her. ‘This is the third day in a row.’ he mused, narrowing his eyes as worry began to set in. “We’ll try just broth next time, I’ll clean up here and you can go start on a shower.” He would join her after.
It was later, in the midnight hours long after the day had died when their limbs were slotted, fitting together once more that Sasori began to monologue to unseen, barely developed ears. “If you keep this up I’m going to have to put your mother on an intravenous drip just to replace all the nutrients you keep auto-ejecting out of her. Do you know how much she hates needles?” Sakura swore that she didn't, but she did. Especially when they were wielded by strangers. ‘Which in my opinion is just good sense.’ But that was besides the point.
“Brat.” He poked a finger against his wife’s mostly flat stomach. “Don’t cause trouble for your mother, she has to work hard to sustain the both of you now...You’ll have to apologize when you’re old enough. I will compile a list of all your wrong doings starting from today.” Sasori would allow a grace period for the times prior to his warning.
Sakura slumbered on, cheek pressed into the curve of his shoulder, dreaming of galactic slug princesses and whales flying over the moon.