The thing about the Sharingan is it grants constant, perfect recall. Even when she reclines in front of him, completely bare but for a smile and the intention of her eyes, he can see the markings on her skin. Not the constellation of scars that pepper her skin from before—old kunai wounds, powder burns from exploding tags, that stab wound—because he doesn’t even need eyes for those. His fingers find those unerringly, every time, brushes against them with reverence and apology, even though he wasn’t the cause of any of those.

(Not directly, thank the gods; he’s left enough marks on her soul, he’s not sure he could stand to see a physical reminder of his sins on her body.)

It’s something beyond this realm that he perceives. Memory superimposes wispy ribbons of black down her cheeks and beneath the line of her jaw, the underside of her breasts and backs of her knees. It’s as clear to him when she is at rest as when in the throes of battle, and the sight warms him.

He presses his mouth against the outlines of her power, trying to convey gratitude and worship to the gift that keeps her safe, that keeps her with him. Even when he is far away.

He doesn’t put much faith in his own abilities to protect—life and experience have shown him he is a failure at trying to spare others pain. That she has something within her to keep her safe, to fortify her against harm, something that has nothing to do with him—

It’s a relief.

She’ll never break, he knows.

She’s already shown that to be true, over and over. That strength grounds him in turn, as if her might follows him wherever he goes. As if somehow, the markings stretch out and surround him as well, like a string of fate.

He still can’t figure out what he ever did to deserve her. Why the only constant in his life has been leaving and returning to find her waiting.

The first time, after everything, he thought it was a mistake. The second time, mere coincidence; she just happened to be there when he slipped through the village gates.

But every time after that…

He presses his forehead against her, imagines he can feel warmth at the centre, the seal of her power and kindness and love.

By the third time, it was established, understood.

He wonders, sometimes, if it wasn’t so long ago, ages before he followed in the footsteps of his brother and his mentor.

And then she smiles, and he decides it doesn’t matter. What matters is here, in the present, where they can set their own precedent.

Their own patterns.

Enemies to lovers?

Check.

They were roommates?

Check.

Fake dating?

Check.

Being a closet hopeless romantic and an open bookworm, he believed he knew all there is in a love story. An expert - so to speak.

Though he didn't expect to be able to witness one unfold before his very eyes – and get a front row seat at that.

The dismissal bell finally rang, and all the kids in Kakashi's third grade class ran away like bullets fired from a gun, eager to go home for the weekend. He stayed behind to fix some things and headed outside as well. He raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw two of his brightest students at the swings. It was a rarity to see any student stay after school on a Friday after all.

He approached them slowly, but Sasuke was still able to spot him. "Shouldn't you two be at home right now?"

"Hi, Kakashi-sensei!" Sakura beamed. "We're waiting for Itachi-nii and Izumi-nee. The Uchihas invited me to dinner!"

"Ah, I see," the teacher smiled. "But it's quite new not to see Naruto with you guys." The three were childhood friends and the bond that they shared is a common knowledge. The trio's mothers were close, and thus it was passed on to their children.

A scoff was heard from the raven-haired boy. "It's his fault he caught a cold." In a low voice that Kakashi only heard due to his sharp ears, he added, "I only wanted Sakura over anyway."

Said girl suddenly stood up from the swing and positioned herself in front of her best friend, dusting off some dust on her pink flower-patterned dress that matches her hair. "Ne, Sasuke-kun, let's go to Disneyland when Golden Week comes!"

The boy visibly winced and sighed. "Can't. I'm going camping with my brother."

"Can I come?"

He shook his head slowly. "It's for boy scouts, Sakura."

At the news, emerald eyes lost a bit of their sparkle. "Oh..."

Lifting up his index and middle finger together, onyx orbs twinkled as he gently poked her forehead.

"Mou, Sasuke-kun..."

"Maybe next time, okay?"

The sight was enough to make Kakashi clench his hand on his chest, unable to control a wave of giddiness that washed over him.

Sakura pouted and Sasuke just ruffled her hair, a soft smile on his face. It took all of Kakashi's willpower not to melt into a puddle of goo.

He has a reputation to uphold, after all.

The silver-haired teacher settled with a soft chuckle. He can clearly remember a familiar scenario like what happened just minutes ago, and it included one Uchiha prodigy as well.

'Speaking of the devil.'

Itachi arrived with Izumi and the two quickly approached them. After saying the formalities, Kakashi's former student proclaimed that they needed to go since the Uchiha matriarch was expecting them not to be late.

"Bye Kakashi-sensei!" the two children chorused while waving to their teacher. Kakashi gave a wave of his own and didn't stop until the four of them reached the school gate. Sasuke held Sakura's hand while his brother did the same to Izumi. Looking at their backs, he didn't fight back a smile.

*tap tap tap, tap tap*

“Ah, Sasuke-kun, come in. Choose your colors, we’re going to try a new pattern today! I’m using blue, pink, and purple. I think they go well together, but you can do anything you want. And don’t say black, dark gray, navy. That’s boring.”

Sasuke hovered by the door of Sakura’s office in the hospital, eyeing the pile of yarn reproachfully. “There’s nothing else we can do?” he asked as he flexed his new hand habitually. “Not training or something useful? Naruto gets to train.”

Sakura rolled her eyes at him, “Naruto decided to get his arm way before you, so he gets to train before you. Now close the door before he comes in and messes with my supplies.”

Sasuke stepped fully into her office; he knew better than to disobey Sakura.

“I’ll use the same colors as you.” After seeing Sakura’s questioning expression, he cleared his throat and clarified, “so I can follow you more easily.”

Sakura nodded, seeming dejected, but Sasuke didn’t push it. She would talk if she wanted to. It didn’t take long—after what had to be only a few moments of silently sorting through the yarn, her sparkling smile was back as she teased him, “are you sure it’s not because you want to match with me, Sasuke-kun?”

He decided to humor her, “Maybe you can just knit this one for the both of us, but I’m not sure if we’re the same size,” he picked up her doctor’s coat thrown haphazardly on the side of the desk, “do you think I can squeeze?”

First knitting, now jokes? It was plain to see how far gone he was.  

But in Sasuke’s mind, anything was worth it to hear that laugh.

Even Sakura couldn’t quite let go of her smile after using her professional doctor voice to order him around. “I have the pattern on this paper if you want to look at it, but I think I’ve got it down. Use the blue one first, yeah, like that, then we’ll put purple in the middle and red on the other side.”

His new arm still felt awkward, so he dropped his knitting needles a few times, but Sakura was nothing if not patient, and waited for him to catch up so they could continue together.

“When did you learn how to knit?” he asked conversationally. The sound of only their knitting needles was starting to grate on him. He expected her to say she learned recently because of increased downtime following the war or something, but she answered quietly, “when you left the village. That first winter was colder than usual and it gave me something to do besides just train and read.”

The former rogue fumbled his knitting needles again, but this time Sakura didn’t say anything. Maybe in the future he and his arm would slip less.

In the coming months, Sasuke kept up with knitting. He just wanted to spend time with Sakura, really, and this was safe common ground, but she was busy and he didn’t want to seem too desperate. His latest creation was a purple and white patterned blanket with the Uchiha symbol in the center. He got distracted by how excited he was to have successfully knitted the Uchiha symbol that he didn’t pay much attention to the size. It was smaller than he originally wanted, honestly more fit for their baby than what he was going for: a throw blanket for Sakura to leave on her couch to keep her feet warm.

Wait.

Their baby?

Sasuke knew he was in love with Sakura, had known there was something between them for a long time, but a future with her was something he actively avoided thinking about. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, especially when he still had trouble communicating the depth of his feelings, and she surely had other options.

But he really liked the sound of “their baby.” A baby. Together. With Sakura. He could certainly get used to that.

*tap tap tap, tap tap*

His reverie was interrupted by a pattern of knocks on his front door. Only one other person used those knocks to say, “let me in, it’s me.” It was his secret code with a certain someone, because too many times they were attempting to spend time with each other, just for it to be another member of their former squad coming to bother them. “Let me in, time for a team seven reunion!” just wouldn’t cut it anymore, especially not when they saw each other all the time these days. If anyone else, even Naruto or Kakashi—no, especially them—caught him dropping his knitting needles, he might have to kill them. Maybe he could knit a coffin?

He pulled the door open to reveal Sakura, looking very cheery as she held up a bag of food. “I wanted to try this new place by the hospital, but couldn’t decide on what to order since it all looked so yummy, so I ended up getting way too much. Share with me?”

He opened the door wider to let her through. As she got herself situated at his kitchen table, he grabbed the blanket to show her.

She ran her hand over the center, feeling the comforting softness of the knit, “the colors...they kind of remind me of susanoo. Nice job, what are you going to do with it?”

Ah. That.

“It’s a bit small. I’ll probably just save it…”

“Save it? For who though?”

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable since this is quite forward, but it’s baby sized,” he waved it around to show how small it really was, “so I was going to save it for a baby. Our baby.”