Work Text:
Sakura’s been finding himself walking up and down the street that divides the territory between Bofurin and Shishitoren more often than usual. He isn’t even sure when it started, but it’s enough that the Bofurin kids all greet him as though he belongs here as they make their last rounds for the evening. It pisses him off, but it’s not like they’re wrong, so there’s not much he can say.
The atmosphere is heavy with the impending rain, the light scent of petrichor lingering after the wind blows through. Leaves rustle and a car passes on one of the connecting streets, its headlights casting long shadows as it does. In addition to walking this part of town more frequently, he’s found himself walking it later and later. He should be heading home—the storm won’t be forgiving and he didn’t bring an umbrella—but still, he keeps walking.
The garden lights are on at the house at the end of the street, illuminating the blue violets you planted earlier in the year. Another favorite of yours, though you say that about a lot of flowers. His eyes flicker to your front door as he nears, coming to a crawl. There’s a light pattering in his chest and an itch in his palm as his mouth goes dry, and that’s before your door opens.
You step out, your eyes immediately finding his as though you were expecting him. That smile appears, the one that blurs the edges of his world. On instinct, he freezes, almost feeling as though he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t—stupid, considering all he’s doing is walking—but your smile widens and it makes the corners of your eyes crinkle and that pattering in his chest increases until he’s sure something’s going to burst. You make it hard to breathe.
“Good evening, Sakura. You’re out kinda late, aren’t you?”
He should say something. Is it late? You’re home, so maybe it is. All he can do is swallow under your watchful gaze.
“What’re you doing out? You should be inside.”
(Great job). (Just what he wanted to say to you).
Dipping your head, he hears your laugh. “I had a feeling I might catch you out here.”
Oh.
Sakura’s hit with that familiar heat, instantaneous as it spreads across his cheeks. It’s been years and he’s grown since his days in Furin, but you still manage to pull blushes out of him like it’s your goddamned job.
“I-I’m just patrolling!” As if this is his territory to patrol anymore.
At that, you scoff, the sound nonjudgmental, raising a brow as you rest your hand on your hip. “Sure you are. Well, since you’re out patrolling, I guess I shouldn’t ask if you want to come in and eat with me?”
His stomach growls at the reminder and part of him is tempted to turn you down, but a larger part of him, the part of him that remembers the taste of your cooking, refuses.
“I—”
You step aside, pushing your door open in a clear invitation and he takes a step forward.
“I guess… I could stay for a bit.”
You laugh again before reminding him, “You can stay for longer than ‘a bit,’ Sakura. You know you’re always welcome here.”
That warmth blooms across his chest, spreading like wildfire down his limbs. It only grows the closer to you he comes, your gentle smile doing him no favors. You shut the door behind him and he tries to think of something to say, some response appropriate for your open invitation, but you beat him to it.
“Should I make omurice tomorrow night for the next time you’re ‘on patrol?’”