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Naruto strolls to their meeting spot, the October sun lighting the path in front of him and warming the clothes on his skin.
He’ll be early, he knows that. But his partner also has a tendency to show up early. They both can’t get enough sleep for the life of them.
He walks past the shops setting up for their day, the bakeries that put all of their pastries in the oven. For a moment, he wonders what it would be like to stop, take a rest, eat a pastry under the sunrise that sets his childhood village in gold. Right now, he doesn’t have that luxury. Maybe one day. He continues his walk.
He reaches the tree line, the very outskirts of his village. The sun begins to poke through the trees. He finds their designated spot–close enough to the gate to see the houses but far enough to smell the omnipresent oak of the trees–and looks around, already anticipating a presence that never fails to send a thrill down his back.
The sun creeps higher over the trees. By the time it no longer ripples through the leaves, Naruto knows it’s late. He’s late.
Something must be wrong.
Naruto tries not to panic. There are many reasons for his partner’s absence, he knows this. But those are all normal-people reasons. Slept in too late, or took too long to get ready, or didn’t want to wake up. Not Sasuke reasons.
If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t feel this troubled. But this isn’t anyone else, and Sasuke hasn’t even been back in the village for that long anyway, and of course, trouble was bound to happen—Naruto’s mind is racing now—and how could he have been so stupid to ignore everything that could go wrong.
He’s already racing back through the streets of Konoha before he knows it. Retracing his steps, it feels like. The sunlight throughout the homes and the shops is now a mockery.
He reaches Sasuke’s tiny home, a small place right next to the Uchiha compound.
He’s almost scared to go inside. Scared if he’ll find it empty.
Getting over his doubt, he reaches the side window and lifts it open. He’s never been one for formalities, not really. This is much more his style. Besides, it’s quicker and more efficient.
When he’s on his feet, he walks down the hall and to the bedroom. Knocking once, he listens for any sign of life.
A minute goes by without noise. He’s about to push open the door and investigate for himself when he hears a voice, albeit weak. And a groan to accompany it.
“Naruto.”
Naruto pushes open the door and inspects the scene in front of him. At first, he doesn’t see the man behind the voice. He looks closer at the bed, discerning a lump of sheets, and finally, he sees the face that pokes out at the very top.
Sasuke’s damp locks are strewn across his head, and he has a towel laid across his forehead.
Naruto almost laughs. He holds it in, just barely. Sasuke looks ridiculous. He ignores the small pang in his heart.
“Sasuke…are you…”
“I can’t get up,” Sasuke croaks. When Naruto rushes to his side, he says, “No, I mean…”
“Are you sick?”
If Naruto didn’t know any better, he would say that Sasuke blushes.
“Yes. Help me, idiot.”
Even the insult sounds weak. Sasuke has slowly found his banter ever since he’s been going on missions with Naruto after the war, but he’s obviously feeling miserable. Naruto decides what needs to be done.
He scoops up the boy, much to a pained protest, and channels his chakra to his feet, ready to flee to the other side of the village.
“You’re coming back to my apartment.”
By the time they reach Naruto’s tiny home near the Hokage’s office and close to the wall of faces, the sunlight streams through the windows. Naruto replaces Sasuke in a similar lying position as he was, only in his bed this time.
The first few hours of Sasuke’s sickness are relatively normal. Though his energy is low, his wit is not.
“You need to eat this,” Naruto holds a pair of chopsticks and fails to feed Sasuke the instant ramen pooling from the end.
“No.”
“You like ramen.”
“Not really.”
“Come on.”
“Throat hurts,” is Sasuke’s only protest. When Naruto rolls his eyes so hard he almost falls off the bed, Sasuke insists, “It’s fine. I can eat it later.”
Naruto pouts. “What if I tried making you a soup instead?”
Sasuke turns his face into the pillows. “That’s fine.”
Naruto groans, his frustration pouring out of him. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not ridiculous,” Sasuke says, as serious as ever. “I’m sick.”
“You’re sick,” Naruto repeats, slowly. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” He doesn’t get a reply.
Naruto accepts his defeat, looking around the room. He’s surprised he’s been able to keep it clean. Part of that cleanliness comes from him not being home all the time. It’s turned into a literal bedroom, a place for sleeping only. When he does have free time, he cleans–just barely–but it’s more than he would’ve done during his heavy training days.
“What kind of soup do you want?”
“Tomato.”
“Okay, but if I didn’t have tomatoes…what else would you like?”
“Why wouldn’t you have tomatoes?”
“I didn’t know I’d have a guest.”
“So you’d get them if you knew I was coming?”
Naruto hesitates. How does he choose his next words carefully, words that don’t taste like a slippery confession? “Sure I would. How else would I get you to stop complaining?”
Sasuke is quiet for a moment. “Whatever you make is fine.”
Naruto raises his eyebrows. “Do you want some rice on the side?’
“No.”
“Okay, I was just asking.”
“And I just answered.”
Naruto fights off another pout. He really can’t tell if Sasuke is too serious for his own good, or if he’s downright sassy.
After a moment of silence, Naruto hears heavy breathing. He looks down at Sasuke. From this angle, he sees Sasuke’s shoulders and the side of his head, pale and smooth as always. Naruto sighs. It’s taking everything in him not to touch that skin, rake through the hair at the top of his head, press his lips to the soft part of his throat.
Naruto stands up, cutting off his thoughts. He has to stop now before it gets worse.
Right as Sasuke passes out, Naruto goes to the kitchen to scrounge up enough ingredients to make a simple, homemade soup. He’s in the kitchen for a while, simply letting Sasuke rest. While he’s cooking, he reorganizes the kitchen, too. There’s not much to organize, but he pulls old ingredients to the front of his cabinet and throws away spices that have been in there since he was a teenager.
Once he’s done cooking, he sits and eats his half of the soup by himself. It’ll be better to let Sasuke get a good nap in before he bothers him. Naruto looks out the tiny window, watching the sun reach a place that signals early afternoon.
By the time he’s done eating, he cleans all the dishes. He even dries them. Setting the rag aside, he pours a bowl of soup for his friend, finally hearing the soft sounds of movement from the bedroom and making his way to the door.
Naruto opens the door. There’s a stillness throughout the room that makes him frown. No words. No noises.
He can see Sasuke’s eyes and nose peeking above the covers, melancholy all of a sudden, as if he were in a trance.
Must be the fever kicking in, Naruto thinks.
“Hey, Sas,” Naruto says, setting the bowl down by the bed. “Soup’s ready.”
He makes his way toward the other side of the room, ready to occupy himself with tidying up his space or picking up a book, god forbid.
No sign of life should be the first indicator that something’s off. When Naruto turns back, he sees Sasuke in the same position, a mop of messy hair and glassy-eyed, not as if he were about to cry but as if he were simply tired by being awake.
“Sasuke,” Naruto says again, crossing the room and now kneeling right by the bed on the floor. He puts his hand to Sasuke’s forehead.
Hot. Sasuke just stares ahead.
Naruto sighs. “I’m going to go try to find you some medicine I may have.” Typically, he leaves the stuffy noses and headaches to a hot tea, or at least food and drinks that are warm. For fever, however, he has a couple tiny bottles laid somewhere in the cabinets above his kitchen.
He comes back with the medicine and a cup of hot water and kneels by the bed again. Brushing Sasuke’s hair out of his face, Naruto holds out the medicine. “Can you take these for me?” He doesn’t know when his voice got so soft.
Sasuke, for the first time, nods. He reaches a hand out from the covers. When his fingers brush Naruto’s palm, it shouldn’t make Naruto’s heart race like it does. Naruto passes him the cup. Sasuke manages to swallow the pills, followed by a swig of water. Naruto takes the cup from him and puts it back.
Sasuke doesn’t close his eyes immediately, so Naruto decides to check out his fever more directly. “I’m gonna move you up more,” he says. No protest comes from the other boy.
Naruto sidles up next to him on the bed, which is hard, so their thighs are basically pressed together. Gently, he lifts Sasuke to a sitting position. Naruto feels down his shoulders, his arms. Although the skin is warm, it’s still smooth. No rashes. He feels down Sasuke’s other arm and is basically sitting right behind him. In other circumstances, he could just pull him back into his chest. It would be so easy. And he could do this forever. But even gentler. And he could put his hand under Sasuke’s jaw, and he could tilt his head back, and he could kiss him—
Every place they touch is on fire. The last thing he wants to do is make the other boy uncomfortable. It takes everything in him to hold back, hold back. After his ‘exam,’ he sets the boy into a lying position, basically pushing on him, but Sasuke lets it happen.
This is weird.
He’s seen Sasuke injured before, barely moving, but still able to bare his teeth and growl at the enemy. He’s seen him soft and smiling. But not like this.
Not like this. Compliant to every request, soft and pliant under Naruto’s guiding hands, uncharacteristically just okay with everything. The worry pulls Naruto’s brows downward.
Naruto sits on the edge of the bed, one leg propped on the comforter. “You should try to eat your soup. I can leave…if that makes you more comfortable.” If Naruto’s honest, he’s scared to stay and see what his hands start to do without his permission. He’s sure Sasuke wouldn’t want that kind of intimate touch, even if it would make him feel better. Naruto’s never known Sasuke to want any sort of touch from others. The only thing he knows comes close used to be his family.
But they were kids then—and that was a lifetime ago.
“Sasuke,” he sighs, “You need to try eating your soup.”
The mess of hair poking out from the blankets doesn’t move. No answer.
“Sasuke,” Naruto has another request ready on his tongue, but it shrivels up and dies and all he ends up saying is his name.
Finally, the head turns toward him. He nods, getting himself into a sitting position, the blanket only falling down to sit beneath his shoulders.
“I’ll leave the bowl on the table right next to you, ‘Kay?” Naruto says. “I can sit with you if you’d like. If you want me to leave, I can go into the next room—”
“I can’t hold the bowl,” Sasuke says feebly.
“You…what?” Naruto asks, surprised.
“I feel too shaky,” Sasuke says. He looks away then. Naruto can see a twinge of red on his cheeks. He’s about to reach over and brush his knuckles to his cheek when it starts to make sense.
Oh.
Oh.
“You want me to…hold the bowl for you?”
Sasuke opens his mouth, then closes it. He nods his head then.
He’s embarrassed, Naruto realizes. Embarrassed to be so needy. Don’t be embarrassed, Naruto wants to reach out to him. He wants him to know he would do anything to take care of him.
“O–Okay,” Naruto agrees. He would move them to a table, but knowing Sasuke’s state, he would glare daggers at him if he suggested moving out of the bed.
Naruto settles his legs in a criss cross position right in front of the other boy. He holds the soup bowl in his lap, unsure of what to do next. “I can…Do you want me to…”
Sasuke’s only reply is a shake of his head, signaling that he can sit up. He pushes the blankets down the rest of the way. Now they pool at his waist. Naruto doesn’t want to think about his bare shoulders in a tshirt, his exposed arm, or the way the loss of heat makes the boy practically shiver.
Sasuke reaches out then. His hand finds the spoon, and he brings it to his lips, taking a slow sip. It goes to his throat, and his face scrunches in muted pain.
“Is it bad?” Naruto is quick to ask. “If it’s bad, I can get a different soup for you. It won’t even take me very long—”
“It’s fine,” Sasuke is quick to cut him off, but Naruto will never get used to this new, sick voice. The interjection that should’ve sounded rude—it sounds almost apologetic. Like Naruto shoved him to the ground and he’d still be apologizing for being in the way. Too soft. Too defeated.
He eats his soup in silence. Naruto tries not to look at his face. He looks at the walls, or out the window. Everytime Sasuke leans forward and bows his head to the spoon, his forehead gets a little bit closer. Naruto could so easily close the gap. He wants to see the fading sunlight ripple across his black hair. A few times, he glances to see it. But before Sasuke can meet his eyes, he looks out the window again, a new wave of embarrassment taking over.
“I’m done,” Sasuke says a few minutes later. Naruto looks down at the bowl. It’s not completely empty, but it can pass. Sasuke ate most of it.
Naruto looks into his eyes then. He doesn’t know what comes over him to say his next words. “You did good.”
Sasuke blushes again. Shit. It’s too much.
Naruto is about to take the bowl away when the faintest touch of a hand covers his own. His breath catches. “Sas–”
Sasuke takes the bowl from him. He shifts, and Naruto rushes to stop him, “I can do it. You don’t have to get up. There’s other dishes I need to do anyway…”
But Sasuke just sets the bowl on the table beside him. When he turns again, there’s no barrier between them. Only Naruto’s empty hands and a heart full of a heavy burden. Too many unrecognizable emotions. “Sas,” he says.
Sasuke scooches forward on the bed. He’s still beneath the covers, but he’s now directly in front of Naruto. Naruto almost says it again. Almost. It’s then that Sasuke leans forward, his forehead landing on Naruto’s chest, and he sighs.
Naruto stays still. Now this Sasuke—this Sasuke he doesn’t know what to do with.
Does he want him to…hold him? Naruto’s arms feel useless at his sides, but he can’t risk it. If it’s not what the other boy wants—if it’s not what Sasuke wants—he can’t take that chance. They breathe into each other for what feels like a lifetime.
Finally, Naruto’s brain kicks into action. As if abandoning all of his former restraints, he brings a hand up, running through the damp locks. When Sasuke practically purrs, he decides to continue.
Petting through Sasuke’s hair is not as daunting as he worked it up to be, Naruto decides. If anything, it feels like second nature.
Even though the locks are damp, matted in spots, and obviously wrecked from chills and fever, he realizes he wouldn’t rather be doing anything else, sitting there as he detangles each strand from the next.
Sasuke mumbles something, and maybe it wasn’t meant for Naruto’s ears, but he has to ask. “What was that?”
Sasuke turns his face to the side. Naruto doesn’t think he’ll repeat himself, but then he says weakly, “You’re only doing this because I’m sick.”
Naruto freezes. He’s only doing this because he’s sick…?
It dawns on him. He’s trying to set a boundary.
Naruto wants to throw up. You’re only doing this because I’m sick. It feels like acid pouring down his throat.
There’s a line he shouldn’t cross. He knows that.
So he agrees, meekly. “Yes.”
Sasuke is silent again. Naruto thinks his answer soothes the other boy’s worries. His hands are back to petting, gentle, but so painful as he feels the care beneath each stroke.
But it’s over too soon, as Sasuke’s shoulders stiffen—as he removes himself from Naruto’s hands, untangles himself from the warmth, from everything that has ever been nice to Naruto. He leans back onto the pillows, his face turned to the window. Like a teenager, like a kid.
Like a sign.
Naruto’s heart picks up. “Did I say something wrong…?”
“No,” Sasuke cuts him off again. He slides back into the covers, chin disappearing, that same head of hair looking unruly as it splays against the pillows. “It’s fine.”
Naruto is silent. He looks out the window, too. But he’s not really looking at anything. “You know that I want…that I only want you to be comfortable.”
Sasuke murmurs, deflated, “Yeah.”
Naruto looks at him, a conflicted emotion in his eyes. “Do you want me to stay?”
No answer.
Naruto taps his finger nervously against the comforter. He gets up then, doing what he can. He tucks Sasuke into the bed, swiping his bangs out of his face. He walks to the closet, and when he returns, lays a clean blanket down next to the feverish boy. It’s overkill, he knows that. He knows that it’s unnecessary, it’s wrong. He’s doing it wrong. He cares too much.
“I’ll be back later, ‘Kay?” Naruto says, his fingers twisting between each other.
“‘Ts fine.” Another rustle. He watches as Sasuke becomes one with the bed. It’s a funny sight, one that almost makes him laugh out loud if it weren’t for the worry in his heart.
“Okay,” Naruto says, not wanting to leave, but not knowing how to stay and keep stumbling through his actions. He’s always been like this. Even as a kid. One foot in front of the other. Until his foot knocks the paint can and he’s stumbling through the streets, bruises on his knees, the red paint of his actions on his hands.
He leaves with a last look at the black-haired boy, that same feeling of failure bubbling up into his chest. It’s the same feeling as being four, when everyone told him he should give up on his dream. It’s the same feeling as being twelve, fifteen, and even now, looking at a wall that seems too high to jump over. He’s always doing too much for people. He’s always getting himself involved in places he doesn’t need to. He’s always getting into trouble.
The door clicks with a quiet shut behind him.
–
It’s dark out when Naruto comes back to the apartment. The grocery bags swing side to side in his hands. He has some vegetables, some bread to thicken up the soup that he’ll make for dinner.
He opens the door and is met with the sight of darkness across the apartment. That’s right, he thinks. It was only bright in here earlier because the sun was out, not because any lights were on.
He places the bags of groceries on the table, turning on a light in the corner of the room to get started on his cooking. It doesn’t take him long. He doesn’t know if Sasuke is sleeping, but he tries to be quiet regardless. Placing a spoon in the bowl of soup he just made, he makes his way to the bedroom.
An awful noise spills through the cracks and Naruto almost drops the bowl. He sets it down right on the floor, rushing to the other end of the house. He opens the door, eyes frantic, heart rate accelerating.
Sasuke is hunched over in bed, his frame looking small compared to the long walls. He chokes on a sob, hand covering his mouth, his other hand clutching his chest.
Naruto is immediately by his side. When he’s close enough, he sits on the bed, caressing the side of his face.
“Sasuke, what’s wrong? Sasuke, talk to me.” He knows Sasuke isn’t particularly weak, nor easily overthrown by sickness. Instead, he looks distraught. Like really, painfully, heartbroken. The sight is too much.
Sasuke tries to catch his breath. The sight is new. It’s all so new. There are tears running down his cheeks. “I thought you left for sure. I-I thought…I really messed up this time…”
Naruto tries to console him, but he can’t get a word in before Sasuke continues.
“You were dead. I killed you when we w-were kids. I killed you and you died. And I w-woke up and you were gone. You were gone for sure.” His voice is low and hoarse, but Naruto knows the feeling of that raw pain.
“I’m right here,” Naruto says, hoping his words will do something. He doesn’t feel good at this sort of stuff. He feels twelve again, in his oversized jacket and accessories everywhere, trying to do his best. He looks at Sasuke and sees a boy the same age as him, the same boy from their childhood, the same face he’s always known, dreamed of, tried to grasp in his hands. He thumbs down the soft skin of his cheek.
“I-I know, but I-” Sasuke takes in a deep, shivery breath.
Naruto brings their foreheads together. He’s too close, pressed like this. He can’t see anything. All he can do is feel. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving, okay? I won’t leave you.” He swallows. “Never have.”
Like this, it’s hard for Naruto not to feel anything but Sasuke’s heartbreak. As if it took a hold of him at the worst time. As if It crawled out from under his subconscious and overtook him when he was weak, a blanket of panic that harnessed his fever and turned it on his emotions.
The panic begins to subside when Naruto runs his fingers down Sasuke’s arm. He trails his fingertips over the back of Sasuke’s hand, and he leaves the end of his fingers covering Sasuke’s own. He takes his fingers, turns his hand over, and presses their palms together.
“Feel my palm?” Naruto asks in a moment of valor. “It’s warm. I always run too warm.” I’m always too warm around you.
“Stupid Naruto,” Sasuke whispers eventually, but the words sound like a nickname that was given to him long ago. “Your hands are like the sun.”
Naruto smiles, a rare, soft thing he doesn’t mean to part his lips. “That’s a stupid thing to say.”
“It’s true,” Sasuke says. “You just don’t feel it.”
Naruto’s breath catches in the back of his throat. How he wishes he could tell him that he feels everything.
It’s another minute pressed together like that. Naruto’s hand covering Sasuke’s, the smooth and tan skin he’s come to not be insecure of over the years. He doesn’t know when their hands got to be so big. Maybe they were always this size, always fitting into one another.
Sasuke says his name, and Naruto hums.
“You’re sweaty.”
“Oh,” Naruto chokes down his embarrassment, already retracting his hand.
Sasuke rolls his eyes. “It’s fine,” he says, already reaching to take his hand back. Naruto’s eyes widen. This time, he keeps their hands between them, and lays his head on Naruto’s shoulder. Was this always allowed? Or is it the fever talking?
“I’m sweaty too. I’m sick.”
Is it the fever talking? Or is it Sasuke laying his heart out in the open?
“I have to admit something,” Naruto says, voice low again. He sounds mature all of a sudden. He’s no longer scared. Just accepting of the feelings he’s had forever.
Sasuke hums. The moon outside shifts into a new position. Naruto figures it’s now or never.
“I wouldn’t do this just because you’re sick.” He swallows, not sure how the words will land. The places that they’re touching seem to light on fire all of a sudden.
As if they’re touching wasn’t burning him alive, Sasuke has the audacity to ask, “What do you mean?”
Naruto flushes. “I mean…” he says, hesitant. “I lied earlier. When I said I’m only doing this because you’re sick.” He runs his thumb over the back of Sasuke’s hand, just for emphasis. “I’d do it…any day.”
Sasuke looks up. “Even when I’m not sick?”
Naruto looks back. “Even when you’re not sick.”
Sasuke scoffs, but he gets closer. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, it’s true.” Naruto rolls his eyes. Now he knows how Sasuke gets the urge to call him idiot.
Sasuke gets so close that their noses touch. Naruto doesn’t lean away.
He’s so close to bridging the gap, and he even leans forward, about to ask for more than he can want, when Sasuke backs up all of a sudden, a deep breath inward and leaving Naruto in the most embarrassing sitting up position.
“Um…” Sasuke trails off, sinking lower into the covers. “I’m feeling tired.”
“Oh!” Naruto says a little too loudly. He scratches the back of his neck. “Oh…”
Sasuke sinks further, almost morphing into the bed. “So…I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah! For…for sure.” Naruto gets up then. Useless, he backs away and decides that sleeping on the couch doesn’t sound so bad. Or even in the closet. Or crawling in a hole.
“But…” Sasuke calls out again, feeble this time. “You’ll stay, right?”
Naruto cracks a smile. “I’ll be right outside.”
The fact that Sasuke doesn’t argue or attempt politeness shows the other boy how tired he must really be. Closing the bedroom door behind him, Naruto stares out into the dark vastness that is the rest of his apartment. He’s never thought of it as being big before.
It feels like it could swallow him now.
-
Morning comes without a sound. The next thing he knows, he’s blinking against the sun rays that come through the beaten-up blinds on his window. He’s glad that he didn’t sleep in too late, despite the events of the previous day.
Stretching, he makes his way to the bathroom.
It’s the only bathroom in the house, so he has to go through his bedroom. Once he opens the door, he’s confused.
His bathroom door is shut, and there’s already noise coming from the other side.
He knocks on the door, his door. “Sasuke? Are you sick?”
There’s a pause, and then the sound of the faucet turning off. “No,” comes Sasuke’s voice from the other side of the door. “Just freshening up. Felt like I was drowning in sweat.”
That makes more sense. Naruto jiggles the handle. “Let me in,” he urges. “My bladder is dying.”
Sasuke swings the door open. Naruto notices many things at once. First of all, he has Naruto’s shirt on. Second of all, his hair is freshly showered. Third of all, he has Naruto’s sweatpants on.
Naruto has barely any time to react to this new appearance before Sasuke pushes him against the doorframe, with barely any room for the two of them, and then kisses him.
He doesn’t react. Can’t react.
At Naruto’s failed attempt to close his eyes and move his mouth, Sasuke groans, “Come on.”
“Excuse me?!” Naruto squeaks.
“You suck at this. Just kiss me back. Kiss me back.”
“I can’t even—Oh my god.”
“I’m not sick anymore,” Sasuke says, even though Naruto doesn't really believe that could be true, and then he shoves him away, as if he didn't just kiss him three seconds ago. “Whatever. You don’t even want it.”
It takes Naruto all but three seconds to reel his mind back into overdrive, and something muted, like anger. “Oh, I don’t want it?” He stands up straight.
“I’ll show you what I want.”
He grabs Sasuke’s arm, cages him back onto the wall, and holds him there.
“What’s your game, Uchiha?” Naruto asks, lacking the growl to his voice. He’s genuinely reeling over Sasuke’s behavior.
Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Why would I kiss you with a fever? Stupid.”
Naruto blinks. Twice. “Why would—why would you kiss me ever?!”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Sasuke has the audacity to smirk. At Naruto’s floundered expression, he sighs. “My god, you’re the idiotest idiot I know.”
“I could have—died,” Naruto says, exaggerating. “I mean, I could have really, truly, died. The way my heart was beating was not healthy. Plus, it’s common courtesy to at least alert your friend before you lean in to kiss them—I mean, considering a friend is even the right title—”
Sasuke brings his face down while he’s still talking and kisses him a second time.
Brain not responding, Naruto grips Sasuke’s arm, and closes his eyes. It’s a lot better when they both have their head in the game. He doesn’t know how to kiss. Not Sasuke, not anyone. Sasuke pulls on his lip, and Naruto almost groans. That has to be something. It’s better once it’s wet. Sasuke stops kissing him for a moment just to feel the hot air from Naruto’s open mouth. He tries not to smile. Then his lips are back lips, a hand slips beneath the hem of Naruto’s shirt sleeve and Naruto shivers.
Sasuke abandons his bicep to wrap his arm around Naruto’s neck and bring him in closer. That’s when Naruto properly dies. He can feel their hips now pressed together. His are wider, covering Sasuke’s. He doesn’t want to think about that. He’s already dead, he doesn’t need to explode.
A minute turns to two and then Sasuke smirks when he pushes him away again. “You’re bad. You should work on that.” Leaving Naruto in the dust, he crosses the room to where Naruto keeps his socks. “Good thing I can help you with it.”
“I literally can’t believe…” Naruto doesn’t know how to finish his sentence. “But why…wait until morning? You left me hanging yesterday!”
“Like I said, why would I kiss you if my mouth was gross?” Sasuke replies, now deadpan. “That sounds awful.”
Naruto shakes his head, not knowing he’s smiling until he can feel it across his face. A hot feeling rises with it. “Sasuke…Sasuke!”
“What?” Sasuke asks, oblivious to the orange-haired boy’s turmoil.
“I’ll make you pay for this.”
“You can start by changing these sheets.” Sasuke sniffs a pillow case. “God, they smell awful.”
“You…” Naruto stares in disbelief. “You literally slept there! I was on my couch!”
Sasuke laughs. A short, shy, airy sound.
Naruto calms down, if only for a moment. The world seems a little lighter now. The weight on his shoulders a little less heavy. The morning sun a little brighter, more yellow.
“I was just joking. I can clean them for you.” Sasuke smiles back. Naruto can’t handle looking into those eyes.
“What? No. I mean…I’ll do it.” Naruto shakes his head. Stupid. This whole morning is stupid.
“So how about a date?” Sasuke suggests out of the blue. Naruto’s sure he would’ve choked if he was holding his water. “Although…your attire is inappropriate.”
Naruto looks down at himself. Right. He was just in a shirt and boxers. He doesn’t remember kicking off his pants during the night. It must have been the heater getting to him.
He looks back up. “You’re…”
“I’m what?”
“Serious. You’re completely serious."
“Of course I’m serious.” Sasuke stops what he’s doing, laying the folded blankets he borrowed on the edge of the bed. “Unless, you…don’t want to…” he looks away, shy almost. Like a genin—a kid.
“I absolutely hate you,” Naruto says and walks up to the other boy, pinching his cheek. He remembers his elders doing that to him to scold him. He softens. “You really want to?”
Sasuke looks at him through the corner of his eyes while he rummages through more clothes. It’s his turn to blush. “Yeah…don’t make me regret it.”
When Naruto smiles, Sasuke’s sure he can see the sun. “Trust me, this will be the best first date you have ever been on.”
There's a pause.
"What?"
“...I’ve never been on a first date—”
“Bah, shut up.”