Bookpeople asked for "How about something to do with Sakura and her cravings? In the middle of the night, preferably, just because I'm feeling evil."


Sakura had been eating a half-pound of tomatoes a day for the last week. It was getting to the point where Naruto started to cock his fist to punch a smug smirk off the Uchiha's face if she even so much as glanced at anything red and round.

Before that, it had been red pepper with turkey, though, and pistachio ice-cream, and before that, marmalade made of roses. The flower, yeah. Who had ever heard of something like that? Naruto didn't know, but the people who did sure knew how to line their pockets. And then she hadn't even finished the pot.

It was okay, though, or okay enough, because even when the cravings hit during the night, she just slipped to the kitchen quietly -- hey, ninja -- and went about her devouring romps as quietly as possible. She was so nice and caring, sometimes, not like the bastard who left the kitchen door open so the light could shine in Naruto's face, and what did he mean eleven wasn't a hour to wake up, those were called days off, maybe bastard had heard of them -- um. Yeah.

Of course, when she came back, her cold feet woke him up in full, but by then he had Sasuke annoyed enough at having his own personal Naruto-shaped-blanket (that did nothing but nuzzle his neck sleepily) that Naruto could talk them both into a quick romp about one time out of two.

The second time out of two, well, they didn't have a couch yet, but they did have a bathtub big enough for one teenage guy, provided he didn't mind having his legs dangling over the edge, and he guessed Sasuke deserved a chance to sleep with a Sakura on his shoulder too.

(Well, the bastard was too twitchy to let anyone cuddle up for too long; but the other night, Naruto had woken up early -- stupid shower was leaking -- and he'd caught them holding hands in their sleep. It was the cutest thing ever.

And then Sakura had woken up, been sick over his bare feet, and had promptly gone on to declare that she wanted apple pie.)

But for the last week, nope. Tomatoes. Tomatoes here, tomatoes there, cooked tomatoes and fresh tomatoes, tomato salad and tomato sauce and stuffed tomato, and to drink, tomato-freaking-juice, and the only pleasure he'd gotten out of his meals all week had been to see Sakura growl and try to stab Sasuke's hand with a fork when he looked like he wanted to try one.

It was only funny as long as Sasuke didn't smirk at him. Because Sakura got pissed when Sasuke wore her food.

So here they were, asleep after a good, filling meal of tomatoes (again, and by god he would kill for some meat except that Sakura had decided to get nauseous from the smell.) As always, Sakura got up in the middle of the night and Naruto had to dodge Sasuke's automatic counterattack when he flopped over for an innocent cuddle session, but they were developing a routine and that got settled fast -- Sasuke allowed him to nuzzle as long as he could dig his elbow in Naruto's ribs -- and then they were dozing again in the almost total quiet of the house. (After the third night, Sasuke had polished and oiled the bathroom and kitchen door hinges so thoroughly you could breathe on the doors and they would open like magic. Bastard had no endurance.)


The fridge had always been compassionate to the plight of the two young men. The fridge was quiet.

The cupboards were not.

Squeak, squeak.

The cupboard would get the oil tomorrow morning.


"Is there no goddamn miso ramen in this house?!"

Sasuke kicked him clean out of bed when the Uchiha stormed out to find some motherfucking oil and grease those motherfucking cupboards, but that didn't dim the wide smirk on Naruto's face any.

For info, Kishimoto says that tomatoes are Sasuke's favorite food. u.u