Work Text:
Barren Land
Sakura gulped down her whiskey in one go. She did this every night since the war ended. Her own space was at home, out of it she was Sakura-sama, the doctor, Tsunade’s apprentice, the neo-sanin, the miracle healer… At home, in her own impersonal little apartment, she was no one, and she liked it that way. No one outside the hospital knew that the war wasn’t really over; the only difference being that the front line had changed. The front line was now settled on the endless raws of hospital beds, in wives and husbands mourning the loss of deceased soldiers.
She had always considered herself empathetic, tactful, but as the days went by and lives were lost, scurrying away her fingers like sand, she started to lose all sense of self. Then, following on her shishou’s footsteps, she decided not to slip anything, avoiding Team Seven like the plague, not wanting them to know she was losing her battles, that she was tired, that she could not pass the night without drenching herself in alcohol. When she wasn’t doing double shifts at the ICU, she read about poison, so she could be an even better doctor. People were dying. War wasn’t over. Refresh and repeat. Refresh and repeat.
She took another glass. She fucking deserved it. She had had a fight with Kakashi; some fucking bullshit about she not sleeping or something. As if she couldn’t be doing anything productive instead of mindlessly watching the white tiles hanging from her ceiling, waiting for sleep to come to her.
And so it was in this predicament, in the loneliness of her new shitty impersonal apartment, when she felt rather than saw him there. “Sasuke”
“Hn.” He said from behind.
“What are you doing here?”
At his silence, she chuckled humorlessly and poured another glass. “What? Was it Kakashi? Or was it Naruto bitching about me skipping on team bonding dinners at Ichiraku’s. If that’s so, tell him I’m busy, will you?”
When he still didn’t say anything but she still felt his presence, she turned around, annoyed beyond reason. He was staring blankly at her, no emotion whatsoever, and she couldn’t help but feel as if she wanted to punch him, just to get a fucking reaction out of the emotional constipated bastard.
But she knew she was being irrational. Sasuke was being himself, constant like stagmant water. She’s the one doing ripples by expecting something out of him. But as she lifted her glass to grace her lips with her liquor, he grabbed her wrist.
“Nobody sent me.” There was a pause where he simple took the glass and drunk it in one go, just like she had done minutes ago. With all the grace he possessed, he sat on a stool by her dinner table.
“Aren’t you on probation?”
“Hn.”
“So that’s why there’s a couple of ANBU outside, isn’t it?” She retrieved her glass from his grasp. “The glasses are on that cupboard. Don’t take mine.”
“All of them are yours.”
“Shut up, Sasuke.”
Another glass filled with liquid gold. And there was only silence and two bodies sat one beside the other at a respectable distance. His cup was full, but still untouched, not a word shared between them and many words left unsaid.
“Why are you here, then?”
But he didn’t answer. And she didn’t throw him out, because she would never do that to him. That much was a constant on her hasty routine.
He returned every night, even if they didn’t talk, even if he didn’t drink anything she would pour on his glass, even if she couldn’t open herself up because she was at the verge of breaking, even if she didn’t want anyone —especially Naruto— to see her in such pathetic state.
But Sasuke? She had seen him at his worst, so it didn’t feel wrong to let him see her like that as well. And she knew. She knew she wasn’t being fair, that her suffering was nothing compared to other’s. Regardless, he always stayed.
But one of those nights, when she had yet to take another soldier pill, intending on drinking her ass off, he stopped her again from filling her glass, just like the first night.
“Sakura.”
She looked up to obsidian’s wells of stoicism, trying to discern if he was tired of her attitude. He probably was, but she could only guess. His face wasn’t giving away shit.
“Spar with me.”
And she did, because for once she wasn’t feeling very talkative, and Sasuke never knew how to convey what was on his mind. So they exchanged blows, because passion and violence was what was left unfulfilled between them. Their laboured breathing was all that could be heard and there wasn’t much of a fight really, because she was fucking exhausted, but that was just what she needed.
Grasping her knees, trying to catch her breath both because her lungs needed it and because the chakra depletion was catching up with her, she cracked under the moonlight. She screamed. Nothing in particular, just an ugly manifestation of anger, no words, just pure anguish.
And he took her home when her legs faltered, carrying her bridal style, straight to bed. He didn’t even bothered findings excuses for his slipping in bed by her side. When she felt asleep, just inches apart from his body heat, there was still much distance and silence to be saved between them, but he swore he would stay and murder anyone who came looking for her before she had slept a good eight hours. Probation be damned.