Sakura waits. Silence.
Naruto isn't going to be here to slump on and gripe about her bruises and her scraped knuckles, she knows that -- Inuzuka Tsume requested a full week of his time, for proper training. Sakura didn't miss him the first few days; it's a lot easier to study when he isn't begging for love. As for Sasuke... Sometimes, reading side by side in silence, drinking the tea he makes for her, is enough. Today, she feels a little lonely.
The living room is full of unsorted clutter; the rest of the house is empty, still a little dusty. They're camping; it's not home yet. There's a small box on the coffee table, where she dumped the medical scrolls she is to read for tomorrow. It has no name on it, but it's at her usual place, meticulously parallel to the edge of the table.
She picks it up, blinks at it.
Sasuke is standing in the connecting door to the dojo. She reddens; at first it feels like getting caught snooping, and then it's a flush of pleasure as she realizes the package really is for her, from him.
He half-turns away just as the small bundle of black cloth falls out, across her palm.
He bought her gloves.
They're tough but not stiff, padded in all the right places, obvious quality. Sasuke is waiting, eyes bored, tilt of the head vaguely challenging, like he doesn't care. Like he didn't go out of his way to get them for her.
She doesn't know what to say, but then he doesn't let her say anything. "You'll tell me how they fit," he throws over his shoulder, and he leaves.
They fit perfectly; and the next day, when she flips and skids over jagged rocks as Tsunade throws her around, and punches that tree trunk fifty times in a row, for once Sakura's hands don't smart that badly.