fresh paint.

The feel of it, slick and warm between her fingers, reminded her of blood. The pasty smell, however, was completely different. She wrinkled her nose and sighed in apology.

"Sorry, Sasuke, I'll grab another color."

"Damnit, Sakura, you used all the red."

He lifted up the jar she had discarded and frowned, scraping with his fingers to try and get as much paint as he could.

"Ne, ne, Sasuke, I said sorry…"

He glanced over at her, her hands still working on the parchment in front of them. Paint splattered her fingers and palms, a few specks coloring her reddening cheeks. She was working diligently, using black now, concentrating on perfecting the pattern of the roof tiles of the Hokage's tower of her painting.

This was how he had found her, pastel pink hair tied back and barefooted, kneeling on the floor of their daughter's room, using absolutely all of the finger paint he had just bought. She had grinned her stupid, crooked grin and sheepishly invited him to join.

"You get home early for once and you decide to use all of her paints? She's not going to be happy with you, you know."

"Shut up, Sasuke, you're painting, too."

"And you used all the red."

"We'll buy her more."

"I can't paint the uchiwa on our house, it's not finished."

She sighed again and looked at him, mischief sparking in her eyes. She reached behind him and handed him an unopened jar of finger paint.

"Here, use pink."

He glared at her.

"….no."

She laughed loudly and reached out to rub her paint-covered finger on the tip of his nose.

"But you love pink, right, Sasuke-kun?"

He could feel heat creeping into his neck. No matter how long they had been together, despite being married, having a child, with another one on the way (she was lucky to be painting at all, stupid woman, he would never let her use anything other than this non-toxic stuff), he still couldn't get used to controlling his emotions around her. Maybe that was why he loved her, after all.

He reached out just as quickly to wipe his own paint on her cheek.

"Right."

She blushed furiously (God, he was so stupid for her) and made an undignified sound in the back of her throat.

"Sasuke!"

She stood and stomped out, heading to the kitchen to wash her face and hands, calling back to him.

"You're lucky I was finished anyway, we've got to go by Ino's to pick her up."

He smirked to himself at the embarrassed haughtiness in her voice, and used what little red remained to finish the uchiwa that marked their house. He picked up the pink, examining it thoughtfully. He unscrewed the cap and dipped a finger in, doodling in the corner of their drawing of home.

When she found the drawing later, after swinging by the market to replace the paint they'd used and tucking her daughter into bed, her heart almost stopped.

In the corner, in the bright pink shade of her hair, was the ai-ai gasa, their names scrawled neatly under the umbrella.