A/N I don't know why I wrote this story. It might be because I took a nap while it was dark out, and that always messes with my head. And boys with long eyelashes are totally my weakness.
Sakura had always admired one thing in Sasuke above all else.
His eyelashes.
Sure, he had come from a prestigious bloodline, practically oozed untapped chakra, and had good looks to boot. But Sakura could not get over his eyelashes.
They were almost girlish, really. Thick and black, curling smoothly upward and so long they almost grazed his eyebrows. She liked the way that they curved around his dark eyes when they bled into a swirling red, how they fell across his cheeks when he winced in disgust at some stupidity or another, or even when they somehow locked together with the lower row of lashes and Sasuke would have to struggle for a moment to regain his dignity.
For a short time, Sakura had convinced herself that they could not, should not, be natural. In fact, the first time she had stayed the night at the Uchiha compound, she had slipped from his light embrace and slunk into the small, tidy bathroom next to his room and began snooping around the drawers. After three quarters of an hour, she had found not a even a stray tube of lash tint and, admitting defeat, accepted that Sasuke had hit the genetic jackpot as she slipped back into his arms.
Finally one morning, wrapped in sunlight and sheets embroidered with the Uchiha fan, Sakura culled enough courage to rest her fingers against butterfly softness of Sasuke's still closed eyes. She ran them across his top lid, bending the beautiful black lashes this way and that, the tips tickling the pads of her fingers. Sakura was so hypnotized by the lashes that she nearly jumped off the bed when Sasuke popped open a single and stared his unreadable stare through her splayed fingers.
"Sakura," he sighed, "You're so odd sometimes."