Their first kiss was on Homecoming night. The briefest touch, his lips to hers, before Sakura pulled away, blushing. Then again, a kiss not so fleeting, followed by one after another until the sun rose above them.
Notes: I’ve been in a mood for SS lately (blame @xxlovendreamsxx), and it seemed like the perfect time to write this little high school fic. @jjibbless sent me a request for “high school popular kid / nerd AU” awhile back, which ties into the Day 9 prompt pretty well in my opinion! Thank you jjibbless for the request and @sasusakumonths for hosting this awesome event.
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prelude
It isn’t that Sasuke Uchiha is a misfit, exactly. He’s too good-looking—and high schoolers are too shallow—for him to be an utter outcast. But he’s the kind of boy who spends more time alone than with their classmates, and if he has any friends besides Naruto, who’s friends with everyone, then he’s keeping them well hidden. Sasuke’s GPA is tied with Sakura’s for the highest in the Class of 2018, but she’s sure that if he’d socialize, people would stop dismissing him as a nerd. Instead, he blows off every dance, football game, and party he’s invited to.
Until homecoming. It’s the kind of warm October evening that you can only find in southern California, late enough in the year that autumn’s edge has calmed the weather from suffocating to balmy. Sakura is crowned homecoming queen, the San Junipero Sharks kick the Gardena Wolfhounds’ asses, and Sasuke Uchiha shows up to a school event. All in all, it’s a beautiful night.
watch the queen
Only a loser would lurk around the corner, pretending not to spy on a pretty girl, and Sasuke is not a loser. He isn’t lurking either. Just standing around, keeping himself busy with people-watching—well, person-watching.
Sakura is sitting with the other girls from the homecoming court, all of them trussed up in ridiculous fluffy gowns and torturous-looking shoes. Ino seems pissed that Sakura took the crown, but in that strangely fond way that characterizes their relationship. Maybe Sasuke is too distant from Sakura’s circle to understand how that odd friendship functions, but he thinks it might be every bit as confusing to witness up close.
Seven months. He has seven months until graduation. He needs to either ask Sakura out or get his head on straight and forget about her.
Moving on would be better. He heard that Sakura is applying to Ivy League schools all over the country, and God knows she’s accomplished enough to be accepted into most of them. Sasuke keeps pace with her academically, but foster kids don’t have the financial backing for Yale. He’s about to age out of the system, and it’s going to take all of his time and energy just to get by. Even if Sakura wants him back—and sometimes, when he catches her looking at him across the library, he thinks she might—Sasuke knows that it’s not enough. She’s beautiful, brilliant, privileged, and loved. Her future is too bright to risk dimming, and she deserves better than anything he could provide.
But then he thinks, What’s one date? It’s not like watching a movie together and grabbing dinner (maybe kissing on her doorstep, if he’s lucky) would turn into something committed. Sasuke can’t hope for any of that, much less more, so why not at least try?
He should scoff at her attempts to appear intimidating. Such an attempt is foolish, how exactly is Sakura to assume that she would get the better of him when she is a foot shorter with pink hair. Sasuke smirks, “you’re not getting the last dumpling”.
Sakura blinks her eyes in a mockery of some sort of flirting technique that has never worked on him – never. “Sasuke-kun,” she begins, sweetly, “I’m your wife”.
Now, he scoffs, “I’m well aware”.
She continues to smile, “please can I have the last dumpling?”
He holds his glare, “no”. Sasuke raises his chopsticks, and hovers it over the prized dumpling.
Sakura frowns, all traces of her sweetness disappearing from her expression. She too raises her chopsticks to hover over the dumpling.
A few of the other patrons of the restaurant glance at the couple.
Sasuke’s left eye twitches – he’ll be able to grab the dumpling now if he goes for it, he is faster than her, surely. His resolve is made, the corner of his lip moves. But before Sasuke can even move his chopsticks forward, he feels a slow, yet gentle stroke against his inner thigh.
His eyes widen – Sakura.
His wife, as conniving as he should have expected her to be. She has removed her left shoe, and runs her silk covered foot along the inside of his leg.
The table cloth hides the action from the view of the other restaurant-goers. Sasuke narrows his gaze, then widens them once more as Sakura’s toes creep higher still. She brushes along an area, perhaps a little to sensitive to be touched in public. Sasuke’s chopsticks wobble in his grasp – Sakura takes this lapse in concentration to grab the last dumpling.
She plops it in her mouth, and smiles.
Sasuke grits his jaw, “foul-play”.
Sakura smirks, “says the loser”.
The other patrons continue to glance over towards the table in confusion.
SasuSaku Month 