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Sasuke will never give up having a daughter, not for the world.
But sometimes, having a child, a fully cognizant miniature human being witnessing and analyzing every action undertaken in the house, can be deeply frustrating.
It is not quite time for her to be out of school yet: the cheery red clock in their kitchen reads fifteen minutes to four. He has a clear view of it over Sakura’s shoulder, even preoccupied as he is with his ministrations.
They have about twenty minutes before Sarada comes home.
If they work fast, they might make it.
Unfortunately, despite how greatly he has missed Sakura’s…company on this last mission, Sasuke refuses to allow the barest chance that Sarada might walk in on them, and so he concludes, with great reluctance, that they ought to stop and make themselves decent.
With a stifled groan, he releases Sakura, untangling his fingers from her hair and sliding his hand out from under her shirt.
“What are you doing?” asks Sakura, her voice rough with the same frustration. He leans back from the counter where he lifted her not a few minutes before and drinks her in: hair mussed, mouth reddened, pupils blown wide.
“We can’t do this right now. Sarada will be back soon.”
He starts to draw back, but slim fingers encircle his wrist and he pauses. It is a loose hold, no chakra behind it, easily broken; but that’s all she really needs to keep him, these days.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Yes?”
Sakura returns the gesture, along with a slight smile. “Actually, Sasuke-kun, Sarada-chan isn’t coming home tonight. She has a sleepover at the Akimichi’s.”
Sasuke frowns, tries to recalibrate the dates in his head.
“Isn’t it a school night?” he asks, not entirely certain. He has trouble with the days of the week when he has been travelling for too long.
Sakura nods. “They only sent out the announcement last night. I think the pipes flooded. Or a septic tank overflowed. Something messy. So no more classes until they can fix it.”
“Didn’t you tell her I was coming home?” He scowls, his frustration evaporating, replaced by annoyance at the idea that his daughter willingly delayed their reunion.
She kicks him gently in the shin, jolts his focus back to her. “I told her what you said, which was that you were coming home this weekend. How were we supposed to know you’d show up three days ahead of schedule? I’m pulling a long shift tomorrow and today was supposed to be the day I catch up on my beauty sleep, not be ambushed by my randy husband.”
He snorts, amused despite himself. “Randy?”
Sakura rolls her eyes. “Fine. My amorous husband. If I’m yawning through surgery tomorrow, I blame you.”
“Hn.”
She pulls him back towards her, his waist between her knees, dragging her feet up the backs of his thighs. “Don’t go all teenage on me, Sasuke-kun. It’s not sexy.”
She releases his wrist and grabs his shirtfront instead, pulling him in for another kiss.
“I thought you wanted to sleep,” he teases, drawing back, only to discover that he cannot, her hands holding him still.
So now she brings out the strength.
“And miss this golden opportunity?” Her eyes are gleaming with amusement. The corner of her mouth curves upwards into a sideways smirk.
He supposes he can’t be too disappointed. He smirks back. “Don’t you mean this lucky coincidence?”
“Semantics, darling. Now shut up and kiss me.”
He obliges.