Whoa I never meant to leave this story for that long! To be honest, you all know how easily distracted I am, and that along with life and plot bunnies and focusing a little more on Rapture made me kind of forget about this fic. Whoops!

So sorry for the impromptu hiatus. Hopefully it'll never be that long again, though I do intend to still focus more on Rapture. That fic is just begging me to be finished.

I don't own Naruto. If I did, obviously there would be more Naruhina. *flings NH at you*

Hinata stood barefoot in Naruto's bathroom, clothed only in one of his oversized tshirts. With what had just happened, she should have been overflowing with joy. But, while staring at her reflection in the mirror— long hair disheveled, skin flushed—reality hit, and it hit hard. She felt it as the happiness ebbed out of her, felt the warmth leave her insides.

It was small and tasteful, a kunoichi's ring; not big enough to be too noticeable if she were on a mission, not big enough to get in her way, and easily able to slip under gloves. It was beautiful, practical, and most likely heavily suggested by Sakura.

It was also starting to make her feel unworthy.

She didn't know why she had never thought of this until now. Probably because despite everything, she had never expected Naruto to want to marry her. Date her for a little bit, maybe, but spend the rest of his life with her? It was something straight out of her 10-year-old self's dreams.

Her eyes began to burn, and Hinata took a deep breath, willing the panic down and the oncoming tears away. The ring grew heavy and cold on her finger.

"Hinata?"

His voice startled her, a hand instinctively shooting over her heart.

"Babe, are you okay?"

"Fine," she squeaked, rubbing her eyes hurriedly before opening the bathroom door.

He was in the small kitchen, dressed only in a low-slung pair of black boxers and putting a kettle on. Hinata forced herself not to stare, focusing on his mega-watt grin instead of the hard lines and smooth planes of his body. "Hi," he said almost shyly, reaching for her.

Obediently, she allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms, inhaling his unique musky scent. Here, with her face tucked into his collarbone, she felt safe, felt her panic ebbing away.

Naruto nuzzled her hair. "Uzumaki-san."

And just that quickly, the panic was back. She stiffened involuntarily at the words, stiffened so obviously that Naruto stiffened in response before slowly backing away from her.

Her heart broke at the expression on his face—while carefully blank, his soulful blue eyes showed all of his hurt—and she had to bite her lip to stop from breaking into hysterics.

He crossed his arms over his chest, looked away. "Did you change your mind? Finally realize what you were chaining yourself to? I don't blame you."

"Stop it," she snapped, grabbing his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. She hated it when he said things like that, like he was the monster he had always been told he was. "I know exactly who you are. I love you"—she brought his forehead down to meet hers—"and I would never, ever change my mind, Naruto-kun."

Relief visibly filled his body and his infectious smile returned, but he was still clearly baffled. "Then what's the matter?"

Against her will, tears leaked out beneath her lashes. Naruto wiped at them, perplexed.

"Because you might change yours," she whispered.

He snorted, wrapping a finger around a strand of her hair. "And why would I do that?" He paused. "You're not secretly a man, are you? Because I don't think that's a dealbreaker. I've never been with a man before, but for you, I'd give it a shot—"

"Naruto!" Hinata interrupted, exasperated. He was not supposed to make her want to laugh. "I'm being serious!"

"So am I!" the blond scoffed. "I don't see what the problem is."

"You're studying to be Hokage," she reminded. "And I'm going to be clan head."

He stared blankly at her.

"I'm expected to pass along my family name. Any children I had would be Hyuuga. Naruto, your family line would end with you." And she knew how much his parents meant to him, how proud he was of his heritage, how the Uzumaki clan was practically nonexistent. How was she supposed to help him rebuild his clan with Hyuuga children?

Understanding flickered over Naruto's features. He chuckled. "That's what was bothering you? My line wouldn't end with me. They would still be my kids."

"But they wouldn't be Uzumaki," she reminded.

Naruto shrugged, leaning casually against a counter. "That doesn't bother me. Uzumaki is my mother's family name, you know. There's no rule saying my kids have to take mine."

For a moment, Hinata was struck silent. She was not expecting this reaction. Tearfully giving him back the ring she expected. But Naruto telling her he wanted to marry her anyway? "But your clan—"

"You can't miss what you never had, Hina. They can be Hyuuga on paper, and we can still call them Uzumaki if that makes you feel any better."

"But me being clan head means that I have to live on the compound. How are you going to do that if you're Hokage? You're not supposed to favor any of the clans, much less live with them."

An eyebrow raised. "I'm starting to think you're looking for excuses," he teased. "I really don't care where we live—we can figure it out later. Can't we just ignore the politics?"

"But—"

Strong hands grabbed her around her midsection, pulling her flush against him. "Hinata. I love you and I want you to be the person by my side, not anyone else, even if it's difficult, even if we have to fight to do it. Can you please, please just say yes?"

He really didn't care. All of the things she thought were important may be, but apparently not as important as her. Tears sprang to her eyes again. Wordlessly, she nodded her assent.

Naruto smothered her mouth with his. "Thank you," he whispered gleefully against her lips. "Thank you. Thank you."

The kettle began to whistle. Hinata tried to reach for it, but Naruto trapped her against the counter. "Leave it," he mumbled. "I don't have a taste for tea anymore."

She smiled, heart singing. "What do you have a taste for?"

"Well," he murmured against her neck, a hand creeping up her thigh and beneath the hem of her (his) shirt, "all this talk about kids makes me feel like we should practice making them."

A/N: Let me know!