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“You look terrible.”
Sakura makes a vague noise of sad frustration from where she’s lying, facedown, on the couch, but makes no move to look at him when he walks into the apartment.
“Where’s Naruto? And Sai?”
She turns her head just enough that she can talk. “Out.”
“‘Out’?”
“Naruto is out with Gaara, and Sai is probably committing crimes downtown. He didn’t say. But he had his duffel with him.” Sakura sits up and shoves her phone in his face. “Look at this. Look at it.”
He balks from the screen before taking it from her and moving it a normal distance away from his face so that he can actually see what’s on it. And it appears to be…
“That’s a very nice set of boobs?” He passes the phone back. “I’m not going to rate them.”
She yanks him down next to her on the couch. “That’s not the point. Look at who it is. Asshole.” She flips through the pictures and finds one that shows more of a face.
“She’s very pretty?”
“It’s Ino .”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Does she actually expect him to remember everyone he’s ever met? That’s completely unreasonable of her. He can hardly remember what he had for breakfast, much less whoever this is. He has to use a day planner app to remind himself to brush his teeth.
Sakura gives him an incredulous, personally-insulted look like he’s just insulted her entire family going back 10 generations. “Yamanaka Ino? She was in our Japanese school?”
At that, the memories start to come back. Sasuke, Sakura, and Naruto had all gone to the same weekends-only Japanese school as kids, and more or less had the same classmates all the way through high school, with the only notable addition being Sai in their junior year. Theirs had been a small class, and though Sasuke actively represses most of those years because he’d been an absolute turd and he’s very ashamed of his behavior, he can remember his classmates’ names when pressed.
He looks back down at the photos on the screen. “No it’s not.”
“It is. There’s photos with Shikamaru and Chouji. It’s her.” Sakura rests her head on Sasuke’s shoulder, throwing a magnificent little pity party.
Ino has, for lack of a better term, glowed up since Sasuke last saw her at graduation. She’s finally mastered whatever look she was going for back in high school, and now presents more like one of those YouTube beauty gurus and less like Sasuke’s uncle’s weird artist boyfriend. She’s laying, eyes half-closed, in a field somewhere. Her platinum hair is fanned out around her, with little yellow buttercups peeking through the pale strands and framing what of her is in the picture, and her arms are raised above her head.
“She got ripped.”
Sakura whines. Actually whines . “I knoooow,” she bemoans. “Look at her biceps, she’s probably only a class below me, look at her arms .”
“I am.”
She rests the whole of her body weight on his side now. “Sasukeeee,” she drawls. “She’s so pretty I’m gonna die .”
“Then perish. Come with me.” He shoves her off and stands up, turning back around to help her stand as well.
He looks into her eyes and he can see how much of her wants to just ragdoll in his grip. She weighs more than he can hold and she knows it. After a moment, she seems to decide that just going with him will be the better idea, and she follows him to the door.
“Where are we going?” She asks as she locks the door behind them.
“I forgot that I need flowers. For reasons.”
Sakura accepts this answer-- it seems that the last dozen-odd years of avoiding answering her questions has finally paid off. It won’t after this, because she’ll never fucking trust him again, but sacrifices must be made.
He plugs his destination into Maps and follows where it leads him. It’s closer to his uncle’s place than he remembers: he hopes he doesn’t run into his uncle or his weird boyfriend. Pretty fucked up of Uncle Obito to date someone who Sasuke remembers knowing in high school, but hey. At least he waited until Sasuke and Itachi moved out to bring Deidara home.
Sure enough, Sakura stops cold when she sees the sign.
“Sasuke.”
“Don’t be a bitch. Come on.” He keeps walking. If she follows, then she follows, and if she doesn’t, then she doesn’t and she gets to sit outside while Sasuke does his business. There isn’t even any guarantee that Ino still works here, not if she has as many followers as Sasuke thinks she does. He doesn’t remember her being here last time he came, though he figures now that the attendant could have been her dad.
As opposed to the brisk autumn outside, the shop is warm and full of color. Sasuke isn’t about to pretend he knows which flowers are called what, but he figures that the ones they stock here are pretty enough. The last bouquet he bought here certainly looked nice, and Itachi had assured him their mother’s spirit liked it as a centerpiece. Flowers have never really done it for Sasuke though, nor does the rest of the decor (there's a reason Sasuke isn't in charge of how their shop looks, and he's told that it's because his taste is, in a word, trash) but Sakura seems to be taken by the appearance of the place.
“Welcome to Yamanaka Flowers!” calls a cheery voice from further into the shop. Sasuke catches a glimpse of a long blonde ponytail out of the corner of his eye. From the depths of the back room, he hears "Give me a sec, and I'll be right out to help!" After a moment, Yamanaka Ino herself emerges. "What can I do for you today?"
"I need anemone." No point in wasting time.
Ino nods, a smile fixed on her face. “Those are right over here!” She points off to one side of the shop. “The ones that look like massive cherry blossoms. Are they for a girlfriend, or your mom, or what?”
Flicking his eyes up to Sakura, he signals for her to take over the conversation. His job is done.
“We’re tattoo artists, and someone wants an anemone tattoo. Real flowers are easier to draw than just looking at pictures. You get a better sense of how the light hits it, and the colors, you know?”
Sasuke can feel Ino’s eyes on his loose sleeve, probably wondering how he tattoos without his arm, but she doesn’t comment on it. Good. Sasuke has started fights over less.
“Ooh! Interesting! I’ve never been much of an artist myself.”
Sakura gives a high giggle that makes Sasuke want to barf. “It’s a lot of the same stuff. Crosses, girlfriends’ names, all that good stuff. We don’t get flowers as often as you might think, though.” She reaches up and scratches the back of her neck, showing off not only her massive fucking biceps, but also the full-sleeve dragon Kakashi did on her. It’s a beautiful piece, in vibrant shades of violet, royal blue, and magenta. On her other arm sits a myriad of smaller pieces, ranging from a swarm of stark black birds forming a bracer on her forearm to a classic heart on her shoulder, with Shishou in a scroll underneath. With her hair up like this-- not that Ino can see it from where she’s standing-- Sasuke’s own work is also visible, the branches of a cherry blossom tree disappearing into Sakura’s hair. When her hair is up, like this, the tree is bare, but when her hair is down it looks like the tree is in bloom. He’s quite proud of that one.
“Do you know what anemones mean?” Ino asks, leaning forward over the counter.
Sasuke tunes the conversation behind him out. He’s facilitated communication between Useless Gays Number One and Two, and now he gets to ignore their… romance and focus on the flowers in front of him instead. There’s whites and pinks venturing into purples, but which one will be best for the client? “Do the white ones and the purple ones mean different things?” he interrupts.
The look on Ino’s face tells him that while he wasn’t paying attention, she either remembered or was reminded of who he is and regrets knowing him at all. What, you think Sasuke forgot about Ino having a crush on him? As if. His memory is the best memory there ever was.
“White means sincerity, purple means protection from evil.”
Sasuke nods and turns back to the flowers, ignoring the two women once again. The client hadn’t made any specific meaning notes, and he kind of really wants to get the right color. Maybe getting some of each color is the way to go. What does that entail? Is it a bunch? A posy? A bouquet? Does he just take a handful and run while Ino is distracted? He turns a bit to look behind him at the two women by the counter. Are they done making their arrangements yet?
His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he just barely catches Sakura putting hers away without missing a beat. Of course she doesn’t even need to look at her phone to text.
from Sakura
you WILL stall until i have her number
this is your fault
suffer the consequences of your actions
Sasuke debates texting her back about her change in tune. He could point out to her that she has Ino’s Instagram and doesn’t need her number, but Sakura gets into the zone while flirting and it sometimes feels like a complete 180 of her personality, and Flirting Sakura would probably bash his head in without a second thought if she decided it would help her chances. Sasuke suppresses a huff, but pretends to be interested in the flowers again. If he can pretend to be into poetry for Itachi for the years they lived together, he can pretend to be into flowers for Sakura for a few more minutes. He could also mention that this is in no way his fault. Sasuke didn’t make her horny. He just provided her with the tools--
Yeah, he’s gonna cut that thought off right there. The less Sasuke thinks about sex, the happier everyone will be.
Rolling the stem of a flower in his hands, he considers what else he could do with flowers in tattoos. He could draw up some concepts. A girl came into the shop a few days ago, asking for a ring of cherry blossoms around her wrist. Cherry blossoms, of course, won’t be in season for months, and pictures are no good, but anemones are similar enough that he can get a sense of how the light hits them before her appointment.
“Sasuke,” Sakura calls to him, finally. He turns to see her holding a posy of something that looks like pink daisies with broader petals. “You done?”
He nods and rises from his haunches, three bunches of anemones clutched in his hand. Better to be safe than sorry. As he approaches the counter, he notes that Sakura doesn’t even have her wallet out. “I hope you don’t expect me to pay for those.”
“Of course not. You’re just paying me back.”
“Paying you back for what? You don’t buy me things.” That might be a lie. Sasuke’s memory is like a piece of swiss cheese on a good day.
“Groceries.”
“You haven’t gone grocery shopping in weeks.” Grocery shopping is one of the duties foisted onto Sasuke and Naruto, being the ones who know how to cook. Sakura likes to overseason everything, and Sai legitimately doesn’t know how to work anything more complex than the microwave.
Huffing, Sakura starts to dig out her wallet, only for Ino to wave her off. “Don’t worry about it. They’re on the house! Remind me to hit you up later for that tattoo, though.”
After that, Ino’s phone number presumably in tow, they escape back out onto the street.
“So.”
“Don’t.”
“Really? A tattoo? How long did it take her to wring that out of you?”
She swats his shoulder. “Shut up, she gave me flowers.”
“And you promised her a tattoo ? Please tell me it was just a discount.”
Sakura goes conspicuously silent, and Sasuke groans. “Simp,” he accuses.
She puffs up, just like an offended cat, and opens her mouth, but can’t seem to be able to string a sentence together.
“No, no, go ahead. If you can come up with the last time I offered someone a free tattoo in order to get their phone number, I’ll cover your rent for this month. Come on.” When she can’t answer, he smirks. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I’m not thanking you.”
“You should be.”
She shoves his shoulder again. “You knew it was there already. Unfair advantage.”
Shrugging, Sasuke holds the building door open for her. “Fine. I guess I won’t tell you what those cosmos mean, then.”
“Now wait--”