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The Uchiha compound was quiet at night.
Sakura wasn’t sure why she found that surprising or what she had expected in the first place. But at two in the morning, it was quiet. Dark, and peaceful, and not at all like the bustling sector it was in the daylight.
She had assumed, in an unconscious way not entirely rooted in rationality, that the Uchiha were alert and aware at all times. She had no doubt, of course, that if she were to run down to a police post she would find officers on night shift.
But from her perch on the rooftop of the clan head's home—sitting with his son no less—she could see nothing but the magical stretch of the starry nights.
Not a sound, not a light, not a soul.
She and Itachi, and the warm spot between them fanned by their body heat.
Itachi had never looked so peaceful.
She knew Itachi perhaps better than his own parents did. Sakura knew that torment haunted him every waking hour of his day. She also knew that he craved peace in his marrow.
Now she wondered why she hadn’t considered him to be a night owl before. He certainly appeared to be, drinking tea on his rooftop without a shred of worry for the approaching day or the receding night.
And why should he? In this silence, in this protective cloak of suspended night, it was hard to worry about the passage of time or a tomorrow that felt forever away.
It wasn’t meant to be a date, regardless.
Sakura had only swung by the Uchiha compound to heal the broken leg of a high profile elderly in the clan. On her way out, she was accosted by a young woman. The woman had heard from her aunt that Sakura would be here, and was ordered to call her. It turned out the woman's sister had gone into labour more than fifteen hours ago and they wanted Sakura's help.
One might be surprised by this staggering show of trust from a clan such as that of the Uchiha. Except everyone knew that Itachi Uchiha, future head of their clan, was courting Sakura Haruno.
As far as those women were concerned Sakura was already one of them. Better yet, the future matriarch of the Uchiha.
It was almost midnight by the time Sakura passed the little boy, healthy and wailing like no tomorrow, to his exhausted mother to cradle.
She hadn’t expected to find Itachi waiting at the doorstep by the time she was escorted out. But then again she hadn’t been surprised. He said he wanted to walk her home—not at all unusual, Itachi in all the time that she had known him never failed to be a gentleman.
Sakura glanced around the quieting street, and back at her boyfriend whom she hadn’t seen in a week, and found that she didn’t want to leave yet.
And so they ended up here. Itachi’s family had already retired to bed, and Sakura was glad for it. She didn’t wish to explain to the foreboding Fugaku Uchiha what she was doing with his son after midnight. In their own house no less.
Not that they were doing anything yet. Unless Fugaku took a strange offence to the way Itachi’s pinky danced along the side of her hand resting on the cushion between them.
Sakura didn’t want to think of Fugaku anyway. He might approve of her relationship with his son, support it even, but Sakura couldn’t deny the resentment that filled her every time she remembered the way he treated Itachi in his youth.
She sighed softly.
Itachi looked at her. “I hope I’m not keeping you.”
That made the ghost of a smile tickle the corners of her mouth. “Of course not,” she reassured, and then added, “and didn’t I blatantly invite myself here?”
“You know you’re welcome here any time of the day,” Itachi said, his hand covering hers, calloused and protective.
It was so innocuous and yet it made her heart flutter. “Not sure the elders would approve of seeing us like this,” Sakura joked lightly, leaning against Itachi’s side.
In response, he leaned against her, resting his cheek atop her hair. “When did the elders approve of anything anyway?” He muttered over a huff, half-breathy, half-laughing.
“Good point,” Sakura agreed, “knowing them they would accuse me of enticing you.”
“Maybe. Or they could accuse me of tainting your honour,” Itachi mused, “In which case they might suggest immediate betrothal.”
Sakura looked up at him curiously, “You sound awfully calm for someone who could be solicited into marrying me at a moment’s notice.”
Itachi blinked down at her, like she was being deliberately obtuse. “It would be an honour to be married to you.”
Sakura stared at him, uncomprehending. “How can you say that with a straight face?”
That earned her a smile. “Because it’s true. What did you think my intentions were anyway when we entered this relationship?”
Sakura had wondered that many times before. At first, she supposed Itachi wanted to appease his parents by picking a respectable woman. They happened to be close friends already, so that made her an obvious choice.
And then she thought Itachi was probably looking for a good match if he had to spend the rest of his life with someone. And they were a good match, no doubt there. “I don’t know, it did occur to me that the final goal could be marriage though.”
“I understood from previous discussions that you were fine with that. Are you having any second thoughts?” He wondered in that same matter-of-fact tone he used to discuss the weather. The lightness of it, however, betrayed his true emotions. It mattered to him a great deal what Sakura's answer would be.
Sakura immediately shook her head. “Not at all. Of course not. I did worry about Sasuke at first, but... I think you’re the one for me so ...”
Itachi leaned down to press their lips together sweetly, “As do I, my love.”
As always, Sakura blushed at his affection. She couldn’t ever seem to help it.
His arm wiggled out from between them and drew her closer to his chest.
Sakura relaxed into his embrace. He always smelled like sweets and spices and incense. A product of visiting shrines and eating dango and spending time cooking with his mother, she supposed.
Itachi matted her hair back, tucking wayward strands behind her ear. “Would you come over tomorrow for lunch?“
“I have surgery at noon so I might be a little late,” Sakura said, dejected at the prospect. Itachi and Mikoto made the best food.
“Dinner then?” Itachi wondered, ever unrelenting.
“I think I can do dinner,” Sakura said, mentally reviewing her schedule. “Is eight fine?”
“Perfect,” Itachi squeezed her against him. “We can have Anmitsu for dessert.”
A secret smile graced her lips at the mention of her favourite dessert. Her arms wrapped around Itachi’s middle in appreciation. “You always have wonderful ideas.”
He snagged a strand of pink hair and twisted it around his index. “Not sure about always ... I was thinking the other day we should pack up and run away for a couple of weeks.”
Sakura giggled. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that. I could definitely use a break.”
“Hmm, you work so hard.” His lips pressed against her hair. “... don’t you have an early shift tomorrow?”
“Seven a.m.,” Sakura confirmed with a soft sigh, basking some more in his closeness.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he told her. “You need to sleep.”
Sakura groaned, but he was right as always. So she let him pull her up to her feet and together they jumped across rooftops, steps silent.
Once beyond the Uchiha compound, they walked leisurely, Itachi’s fingers slipping between hers. He was always more affectionate in the absence of prying eyes. It made Sakura wish they could take late night walks forever if it meant having this intimacy.
She watched the shifting shadows of alleyways and cats on a late-night prowl. Some houses had their dim lights on—perhaps night owls themselves?
They arrived at her doorstep too soon, and she instantly missed the feeling of Itachi’s palm against hers when his hand slipped away.
As she unsealed the door and fumbled with the key, she asked him hesitantly, “... want to come in?”
When she looked at him again his eyes were unreadable.
“You can stay if you want,” she tacked on hastily.
The corners of Itachi’s mouth twitched up faintly and he reached to caress her cheek. “I don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing,” she said, voice thick, and cupped his hand against her cheek. “Plenty of room for you next to me.”
His smile warmed, “Promise me you’ll sleep?”
“I promise,” she enunciated for effect, dragging his hand off her cheek and using it to tug him into her apartment
Itachi followed willingly, kicking his shoes off at the door and treading together through the dark living room. He paused at her bedroom door, “I’ll make tea while you change?”
“Sure,” she said kindly, and let him go.
Her pyjamas were still on the bed where she discarded them that morning, and after rooting through her closet she found one of Naruto’s old sweatpants for Itachi to borrow.
He returned minutes later with a steaming mug, which he handed to her. Sakura passed the sweatpants to him, “Naruto left those once upon a time. They should fit you.”
“Naruto?” he sounded puzzled, “since when did Naruto stay nights?”
“Since your brother gave us a scare by leaving the village and poor Naruto started having nightmares that I would leave too.” Sakura took her tea mug and settled under the sheets of her bed, sipping it tentatively.
She tried not to make it obvious that she was watching Itachi out of the corner of her eye. He was a vision of lean sinewy muscles as he chucked off his shirt and exchanged his pants for the ones Sakura gave him.
He stretched his legs. “A bit short, but they’ll do," he remarked casually.
Sakura patted the space next to her. “Come on then, I demand kisses and cuddles.”
Itachi chuckled, sounding even more carefree here than he had been on that roof. He happily crawled onto the space next to her, lithe muscles and deadly grace, and extracted the mug from her grasp. He placed it on the nightstand before drawing her into his arms. “Sleep,” he told her softly.
“And where are my kisses?” She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Ah, my bad,” Itachi chuckled again, lips fluttering over her forehead in answer. They pressed again over the corner of her eyelid, before finally meeting her own.
Sakura hummed, content with the gentle lips that kissed slowly and unhurriedly. The pad of his thumb stroked along her jawline, and when she parted her lips he met her tongue with his.
It took her a moment to realise the growing fogginess of her thoughts was in fact desire, not lethargy. When Itachi made to pull away, she found herself sinking her fingers in his hair and holding him in place.
He made a noise in his throat, a little like he was surprised, but he sunk back into her kiss without complaint. The same hand that was tracing along her jaw landed on her hip and pressed them closer together.
“What happened to sleep?” Itachi rasped against her mouth. The tenor of his voice was so wonderfully throaty it made her shiver.
Sakura’s hand dragged appreciatively down his bared torso, feeling along the wicked ridges of his muscles. “We’ll sleep plenty when we die.”
“Tsk,” Itachi responded, but he had already moved along to lavishing her throat with kisses. “I only promised cuddles and kisses.”
Sakura arched against the hot sensation of his lips descending her body, her eyes closing. “K-kisses sound great,” she strangled out when he sucked her nipple through her shirt.
The hand on her hip dragged up and down her thigh, tugging her closer and slipping his thigh between her legs. “My, I’d swear you brought me back here for some nefarious intentions,” Itachi worked his way up her throat again, and back to her mouth.
His tongue dipped between her lips once more to caress her own and she ground her hips against him.
With each wicked glide of his tongue, sleep lost some more of its importance. And with every roll of her hips against his thigh, it drifted further and further off her mind.
Her last coherent thought was what she could possibly say to Shizune tomorrow when she showed up looking like a zombie.
After all, she couldn’t exactly tell her she had Itachi Uchiha in her bed keeping her up all night, could she?