Morning in Your Eyes (1/1)
This stemmed from a scene I scrapped from Ends Meet a long time ago. It was supposed to be a separate one-shot, in the past tense (plumb forgot how to do that), way before WNMS, which is weird, since in the original scrap, Naruto was wearing glasses and there was a Doraemon clock, too. I didn't remember this until recently, but when I made the connection, it was like, omg, for srs, subconscious, y u have to freak me out so?
At one time, I had Runaway Bride playing in the background, and my mind to went places it never should have gone. Sasuke as Julia Roberts' character...there's crack!fic to be had, that's being had, silently, already playing in the back of my mind where it shouldn't.
idk, but I admit I wondered about this at first, because of my bias for unrealistic ust, but then I think it works that they’re both stubborn about that attraction between them. Maybe. Meh. I just really like a sleepy Sasuke leaning against Naruto. I stole that one other scene from this thing. Like the Pretty Cure reference to Takeuchi Junko, one of too many references in this series.
Oh, and here's Naruto's clock, 'cause...just because.
***
Characters: Naruto/Sasuke
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4249
Summary: “Sitting on me doesn’t do any favours for whatever’s decaying in your mouth.”
Against the background of a steady drone from the TV, gradually, Sasuke’s vision blurry begins to clear. His eyelids heavy begin to droop once more, but then he blinks, assaulted by the sight of blue eyes almost too bright accompanied by a disarming smile nearly blinding.
Turning away from the sun slowly slipping through the window, he lets his head fall back on Naruto’s shoulder, closing his eyes and muffling a groan.
He really does need to stop waking up like this.
“Yeah, I can’t believe you slept in, either,” Naruto says, with a chuckle a low rumble in his chest turning into a tingle taking its time to travel along Sasuke’s spine. “But it’s not a big deal. It’s Sunday.”
Head still resting on Naruto’s shoulder, Sasuke peers at the low square table to Naruto’s right, glancing over the two half-eaten bowls of rice porridge, one sinking a partially submerged pickled radish disappearing beneath too many sesame seeds and the other discoloured from traces of leftover pork picked out of a two-day old takeout box Naruto found in the fridge.
The rice porridge was actually the product of the burnt rice Naruto somehow achieved via the use of Shikamaru’s rice cooker. Not wanting to waste the rice, he brought it when he came over last night. I tried to make study food, he said, with the most obnoxiously insistent grin that just made Sasuke want to throw the burnt mess in his face.
Instead, miraculously, Sasuke managed to find a way to salvage the rice to scrape together a dinner that, for once, didn’t solely consist of takeout. The actual edibility of said rice was a silent question he decided was better left unanswered, although Naruto did help himself to finishing the rest of the pot on his own.
Past the two bowls, however, to the left of Naruto’s glasses laid partially folded, a light blue alarm clock catches Sasuke’s attention. He grunts, tucking his right leg against his chest when he reads the time.
9:15.
Licking his lips, he swallows, trying to get rid of the dry taste in his mouth. “When did I...” he croaks, the sound of his voice making him frown at the round clock with the face depicting a sleeping Doraemon lying on his side.
It’s not his. The clock belongs to Naruto, because the kid he not so secretly still is wouldn’t outgrow a character like Doraemon. In whatever strange way-endearing, maybe, Sasuke wants to think-it suits him, though.
He left it here once and never bothered to take it back, so the clock usually sits undisturbed near the edge of the table. Impervious to the occasional teasing from Suigetsu, there it usually stays until it’s placed wherever Naruto wants to move it whenever he decided to invite himself over for the night.
The clock’s simply yet another one of the many things Naruto just so happened to leave at Sasuke’s place. Like the blue and yellow toothbrush replacing the red one Naruto threw away last week, or the accumulation of clothes taking up space in Sasuke’s closet already challenged for space. There’re enough clothes to constitute a full load of laundry if Sasuke ever took the time to separate his clothes from Naruto’s before doing his Saturday morning laundry runs dragging his highly uncooperative hamper six flights of stairs down to the basement floor. And this is excluding the mounting pile of Naruto’s unmatched socks that pair with the ones amassed in their own little corner by the window in Naruto’s apartment.
Those off-hand remarks Shikamaru would make about how much time he and Naruto tended to spend with each other, Sasuke hadn’t put much credence into them before, but with continuously missing art supplies he already knows where to find in the various areas not Shikamaru’s Naruto designated his, scattered in places beyond the blue storage cube sat next to the grey beanbag chair by Naruto’s desk, retrospect makes it easier to see how they’ve managed to perfect the uncanny ability to live together while living apart.
Shifting on Suigetsu’s extra futon he borrows too often, Naruto pulls on the plush comforter shared between them, letting it fall to his lap.
“You didn’t even make it ten minutes into the second part,” he says, grinning through a wide yawn as he straightens his back against the wall. “To tell the truth, though, I think I fell asleep when they started talking about the Yellow River. But I didn’t want to move you, so...”
Sasuke makes a low noise in acknowledgement, closing his eyes. Beneath the comforter pulled up to his chin, he brings his other leg against his chest, laying one arm over his knees. His left arm hangs loosely at his side, and he reaches for the ankle of his right foot lying on top of the left.
He doesn’t remember dozing off, doesn’t recall much after the segment on the Terracotta Army, but he’ll fault the music for lulling him to sleep. Not that he needs an excuse to fall asleep on Naruto. Much like Naruto only needs a whim to come over unannounced, nonchalant with a simple shrug and an even simpler I wanted to see you, but last night they were supposed to start watching that NHK documentary on the Silk Road.
He swiped a copy from his advisor Friday, ignoring Kakashi’s cheerful claim that the defunct laser disc version offered better picture quality and carefully removing the DVD box laid precariously on the top shelf of the leaning tower of books he refuses to acknowledge-that safety hazard of a bookshelf’s supposedly been on the verge of falling for years, and it’s a wonder anyone hasn’t found themselves buried beneath the collection of porn Kakashi belies as literature.
But the documentary is required viewing for their history class. In lieu of a conventional exam, Kakashi assigned a research project, a paper no less than fifty pages. It’s due before the second week in March, when final exams are administered, which gives them a little under a month to delve into a topic of choice underlining the transmission of art along the Silk Road and the significance behind the scope of various cultural influences.
However, although history is one of Sasuke’s favourite subjects, if anything, given how surprisingly shrewd and meticulous Kakashi could be, there’s probably some hidden agenda behind the seemingly straightforward assignment.
He long ago deemed Kakashi a lazy professor who liked to flaunt his unapologetic indolence with a personal philosophy of teaching his students how to teach themselves, a method that, of course, extended to his advising capabilities, or rather lack thereof, essentially promoting the idea of allowing Sasuke to advise himself.
How Kakashi was ever approved to serve his current ten year tenure, Sasuke still doesn’t know.
Yet, for all his apparent quirks, Kakashi’s more than competent. He’s highly proficient in art history and well known in the archaeology field. Unorthodox teaching methods aside, he’s good at what he does-or doesn’t do-and Sasuke does respect the fact Kakashi strives to challenge rather than coddle his students.
“...bending yourself into that kind of position,” Naruto says, “it doesn’t look comfortable.” There’s a substantial pause. “At all.”
Sasuke relaxes, leaning more heavily against Naruto. “I don’t do this for your comfort.”
“Still, I mean, as much as you sit like that, don’t you get sore when you stay curled up for so long? I know I would.”
“You’re not as flexible as I am.”
“...right.” Naruto clears his throat. “I remember you telling me that you were, uh-that you were really...um, bendy.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Again, Naruto feigns a cough. “Well, as comfortable as this obviously is for you, I kind of can’t feel my left side anymore.” He gives Sasuke’s arm a soft nudge but doesn’t push him off. “You know,” he says, “if that happens to mean anything to you.”
“It means you have two choices.”
“You’re actually giving me a choice this time?”
“Die so I can go back to sleep.”
“Seriously? That’s one of my choices.”
“Or stop talking so I can go back to sleep. Pick one so I can go back to sleep.”
Naruto doesn’t hold back a snort. “You can be such an ass when you’re cranky, you know. Like that time you almost took my eye out with your pinkie.”
“Stop exaggerating.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not exaggerating. I honestly thought I was going to have to start walking around wearing an eyepatch. And all because you got cranky when I woke you up and said you were drooling on me.”
“...I don’t drool.”
“Of course. You’re above doing that sort of thing.”
“And I’m not cranky,” Sasuke mumbles into Naruto’s shirt, “I just don’t appreciate your face being the first thing I see when I wake up.”
“Way too late for that, don’t you think?”
Sasuke groans, fingers unfurling from around the soft material of the comforter gathered in his hand.
“Really, though, it’s almost ten. And the side you’ve been sleeping on is getting kind of numb. I mean, I know you’re leaning against me, because I can see you leaning against me, but I don’t think I have the ability to actually feel you leaning against me anymore.”
“...talking, Naruto, why are you still doing it?”
“See,” Naruto whispers, with his breath warm tickling the shell of Sasuke’s ear, “if I tried to pull something like this with you, I bet you wouldn’t be so accommodating.”
Lifting his head, placing a hand on Naruto’s shoulder for leverage, slowly, Sasuke begins to sit up. The comforter falls to pool over his lap as he crosses his legs. Covering a yawn with the side of his arm, he drags his fingers through mussed hair, what Naruto sometimes likes to refer to as a special Sasuke version of Uzumaki style bed head.
“You’re right,” he says. “I wouldn’t.”
An errant finger reaches to poke his forehead, but Sasuke intercepts it with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t do that.”
Naruto just smiles, though, gives him this exceedingly silly kind of boyish smile so incredibly stupid if only because rarely does it fail to leave behind too many increasingly impossible to undo knots in Sasuke’s stomach.
“The concept of personal space,” Sasuke says, a short puff of air blowing the hair away from his face as he releases Naruto’s wrist, “do you not think it applies to you?”
“Says the guy who treats me like a surrogate bed.” Naruto lets out a light scoff. “Isn’t that-” Pursing his lips, he snaps his fingers three times. “That word I’m looking for, what do you call it?”
“A double standard.”
“Yeah, yeah. That. Being close to me, but not letting me be close to you, isn’t that a double standard?”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
“Okay, so, um...” Chewing on his bottom lip, Naruto inches closer, further diminishing the lack of distance between them. “In this case then, wouldn’t it make more sense that personal space shouldn’t apply, since you’re the one who fell asleep on me first?”
No, Sasuke begins to say, but he draws his head back and scrunches his nose instead. “Your breath smells.”
The words don’t make Naruto falter like Sasuke almost expects him to, don’t turn the smile Naruto’s already wearing too freely into anything other than a devious grin reinforced by the questionable gleam in his eyes. Scooting forward, without warning, he opens his mouth wide to breathe on Sasuke’s face.
Sasuke sways back, raising an arm in a futile attempt to shield himself from Naruto looming closer and closer still, squishing Naruto’s nose beneath his hand half-heartedly trying to push him away. “Naruto, you idiot, don’t-”
Eyes large, he feels himself falling, caught in a tangle of limbs between the sheets and comforter of the futon. He lands on his back with a soft thump, grunting at the weight shuffling on top of him.
Crossing his arms, Naruto sits back and admires his handiwork, looking all too pleased. “Still think my breath stinks?”
“Sitting on me doesn’t do any favours for whatever’s decaying in your mouth.”
Naruto laughs, obnoxious and loud, but somehow the sound is as soothing as it’s become familiar. Uncrossing his arms, he lowers his hand, knuckles making a gentle brush across Sasuke’s cheek. “Like yours is any better.”
“My breath isn’t foul.”
“Mine isn’t, either,” Naruto says, but the certainty in his voice begins to waver as he frowns, eyebrows furrowed in the wake of a thoughtful silence. “...is it?”
Not bothering to wait for an answer, he brings a hand close to his mouth and breathes against his palm. After a pause, he does it again. There’s an earnest consideration visible on his face as he tries to gauge his breath for a third time.
Naruto doesn’t have bad breath per se. Despite the leftover pork curry he practically inhaled last night, his breath is no worse than the usual morning breath that’s to be expected. Although being on the receiving end of Naruto’s morning breath usually doesn’t involve Naruto straddling him and all but sitting on the almost erection Sasuke could do without.
Giving Sasuke’s shoulder a light shove, Naruto sucks his teeth. “You’re such a jerk, you know that.”
Sasuke returns the peeved look with an unimpressed one of his own.
“I can’t believe you-I almost did believe you. Saying something died in my mouth when you know my breath doesn’t smell that bad.”
“...get off me,” is the surprisingly gruff sound of Sasuke’s voice, unsurprisingly ignored, because Naruto really does have no concept of personal space, considering how often he takes it upon himself to invade Sasuke’s ever-shrinking bubble he blatantly disregards.
Then again, these days, it’s not something he can say he minds anymore.
So for now he just closes his eyes. Head turned to the side, he sighs, draping an arm over his forehead. The fingers from his other hand begin to tap on the tatami mat floor, following the upbeat melody to one of those annoyingly catchy Glico commercials.
He continues to lie there, lets his hand still, undecided if he wants to move just yet.
As routine as waking up beside each other has become, despite how frequently he accuses Naruto of being slow whenever it came to the art of subtlety, he honestly wouldn’t have thought Naruto could be so obtuse.
With the ease of the unusual closeness they share, lack of people skills Naruto claims he has aside, if Sasuke noticed the gradual change in their relationship, then there’s no reason to suspect something hasn’t registered with Naruto by now.
He realises he likes Naruto. He can’t quite pinpoint when or how it happened, but on a subconscious level, whatever sensibilities such an admission probably doesn’t entail, he’s liked Naruto for a while.
Likes him for all the things he is, possibly more so for all the things he isn’t.
Enough so to act recklessly on a stupid compulsion that led him to convince Naruto it’d be a good idea to rent an apartment with him.
And he is. Or at least he will being renting an apartment with Naruto. Soon. When their current respective leases are up in May, shortly after they begin their third year at Tama, they’ll be moving to Narita. They’ll be living together without living apart. Not too far from the Hachiouji campus, in this affordable little place they agreed on after spending a two month process weeding through various listings and disappointing appointments.
Although he knows the attraction between them is no longer simply platonic on his part, sometimes, amid the internal struggle to articulate what it is exactly he’s looking for from Naruto, sometimes, he really does feel it’d be more constructive to suffocate Naruto with the very same futon he uses too much.
Yet here, lying in the quiet reserved for the normalcy in these kinds of moments between them, he’s almost tempted to reach out for Naruto, almost tempted to give into this funny little urge to play with Naruto’s hair just to see what kind of expression he would make.
It’s a temptation that hasn’t presented itself until now, something well beyond what he can only attribute to the sort of teenage crush harboured by shy glances and naive expectations inspiring clumsy promises clutched by fingers nervously intertwined he’s never experienced before.
If he were a little more sentimental, if he dared to place credibility into the kinds of superficial labels he doesn’t care for, then maybe one of those labels would express a semblance of what he wants Naruto to be.
For a moment, a moment held still so pitiably fleeting, he almost throws all instinctual caution to the wind just to indulge in this one temptation. Arm slow to rise, elbow partially bent, his hand begins to make a blind reach toward the ceiling, as if he’s reaching for Naruto, but he lets his arm drop to the floor before it can fully extend.
The desire to keep Naruto all to himself, this selfish little notion spurring an undeniably nonsensical yen leaving him grappling for something, anything, the smallest reassurance to allay that smidgeon of doubt fuelling the stark possibility he’s misread Naruto in those instances of hesitation that may have meant nothing at all-this concrete fear, too easily can he imagine a reality where he opens his eyes and Naruto won’t be there.
For all Naruto’s outward confidence, as tactile a person as he can be, beneath the Naruto always so damn cocksure in everything else he does lies this tentative Naruto who seems overwhelmingly oblivious to even the slightest touch remotely suggestive in nature.
He almost resents Naruto’s inattention. Or maybe he would hold a childish resentment if he were in the habit of developing irrational grudges for situations he can only fault himself for. In this situation, namely, it’s the consequence of being too subtle for someone as dense as Naruto.
But there are times, so many times in these same kinds of quiet moments between them that he imagines being able to reach out for Naruto with the knowledge that Naruto will always be there, and so many times when he opens his eyes only to lose himself in Naruto’s gaze that makes him feel so incredibly transparent, as if written all over his face is the prickling awareness that Naruto has become more than just Naruto, and he can’t help but feel so pathetically hopeless because Naruto doesn’t seem to understand how with just one look, in that one moment, he can make Sasuke feel like he’s the only person in the world.
“Sasuke...”
To end up falling so hard for such a ridiculously clueless guy...
“You plan on staying down there all day?”
There’s a soft lilt to Naruto’s voice, barely heard over the announcer listing the sponsors from some programme on TV Asahi, and Sasuke grunts, swatting at the finger poking his cheek. He squeezes his eyes already shut as the air to the left of him shifts.
“Hey, hey, you’re not trying to make me do Kakashi’s project on my own, are you? Because you already said you’d help me. You don’t get to get out of something like that.”
Sasuke blinks, eyes open met with an inquisitive stare and Naruto’s face hovering too close above his own. “Go away, Naruto.”
“See? What’d I tell you?” But Naruto still sits back, kneeled beside him. He slaps both hands over his knees, and absently, Sasuke wonders when he moved. “Cranky.”
“Waking up next to you, I can’t help it that seeing your face makes me want to go back to sleep.”
“Hehe...” Smile wide, Naruto holds out a hand towards Sasuke. “You know how many people would kill for the chance to wake up to the sheer perfection that is my face?”
Sasuke scoffs, taking the proffered hand and pulling himself up. “Everyone in your imagination.”
“So mean, Sasuke.” Propping himself against the wall, Naruto laughs, extending his legs beneath the comforter he throws over them both. “You’re just jealous of my good looks. Admit it.”
“Sure.” Sasuke inhales, leaning against Naruto with an exhale. He listens to the faint echo of Naruto’s laughter gradually beginning to fade, listens to Naruto’s steady breathing as he all but dozes off again.
“...hey, Sasuke.”
“Hmm?”
“...we hang out together a lot, don’t we?”
“We do.” Sasuke tilts his head back a little to peer at Naruto. “What about it?”
Naruto shrugs. “Nothing. Just saying. I guess.”
“Saying what?”
“That we’re friends.” Eyes slightly narrowed, Naruto makes a vague gesture with his hand. “I mean, that is what we are, isn’t it?” He pauses, fiddling with the edge of the comforter and glancing at the TV screen. “...friends. We’re friends.”
“I don’t know, Naruto,” Sasuke breathes, laying his head on Naruto’s shoulder. “Are we?”
Abrupt, Naruto straightens his back against the wall, jostling Sasuke. “Yeah, so-hey, um, want to head down to Sukiya for some beef or something?” he rushes out. “I’m starving.” He stretches his free arm above his head then reaches down to pat his stomach.
Sasuke sighs. “When aren’t you hungry?”
“Shut up. I’m only nineteen. I’m still growing, all right,” Naruto says, and Sasuke can almost hear the grin in his words. “Not to mention, I’ve been trapped under your lazy ass all morning. And then I couldn’t find the remote, so I had to suffer through watching Pretty Cure Five-the least you can do is let me eat.”
“The least I can do? For all I know, you were probably enjoying it. Or watching Doraemon again.”
“So you caught me that one time when nothing else was on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though, okay.” With a low hum, Naruto makes a placating motion with his hand. “But really, I can go and pick something up real quick. Unless you want to stay in?”
“As much we eat out, yeah, I think I can find something to make. Could you...”
Naruto nods. “You shouldn’t drink this stuff so much,” he says, grabbing from the table a nearly empty bottle of peach flavoured green tea he hands to Sasuke anyway. “Using it to keep yourself up, it’s dangerous, you know.”
Sasuke accepts the tea with a soft hum. After emptying what’s left of the bottle, he screws the cap back on. “It’s tea.”
“But there’s no sugar in it. You keep drinking disgustingly strong tea that’s not even sweet. Going through life with so little sugar, that can’t be healthy for you.”
“Going through life sprouting such senseless things,” Sasuke says, employing the empty bottle to hit the side of Naruto’s head, which in no way warranted the ensuing screech trying to deafen Sasuke in one ear, “you should only be so lucky you’ve managed to make it this far.”
“What is it with you and hitting me?” Naruto mumbles, sending him a petulant glare turned pout by protruding lips. “You really like seeing me in pain that much?”
“I barely tapped you with an empty plastic bottle. Tell me how that hurt.”
“Yeah, well...” Naruto sniffs, turning up his nose. “Whatever. That’s not the point. It’s the principle of the thing. Between all the hitting and the kicking and all the cruel things you like to say to me, it’s just not safe for me to be around you at this point.”
Sasuke lets out an amused snort, placing the bottle on the floor and settling against Naruto. He folds his arms over his chest, elongating his legs almost touching Naruto’s beneath the thick material of the comforter still warm.
The lag in conversation is filled by the sounds from some variety show featuring a member from Plastic Tree promoting their new greatest hits albums Naruto’s been talking about all week. Although Sasuke’s not really a fan of the band, he won’t deny that he likes the songs Naruto handpicked for him to listen to from the playlist that one day snuck itself onto his mp3 player.
“July can’t come fast enough.” Naruto groans, letting his head fall on top of Sasuke’s.
“It’s less than five months away.”
“I think you should help me find a way to speed up time or something,” Naruto mutters. “Yeah, we should definitely do that.”
“It’s a greatest hits album. Wouldn’t you already have all of the songs on there anyway?”
“Probably. I guess. It’s not really the same, though. Because they’re one of my favourite bands, I like the idea of being able to show my support for them.”
“Don’t be so impatient.” The heel of Sasuke’s foot makes a casual brush across Naruto’s ankle, a deliberate touch brief the thin material of his sock sliding against Naruto’s bare skin.
Naruto stiffens for a second or two. He takes a deep breath, somewhat shaky, and Sasuke can almost feel Naruto swallowing the lump in his throat. “...I-I’m not impatient,” he says, low, almost a harried whisper, but then his shoulders start to relax, and he bumps Sasuke’s leg with a firm nudge from his foot, readjusting the comforter covering his lap.
“To call me impatient when you’re the one who’s always so cranky,” he mutters, “I don’t see how that’s fair.”
Sasuke shakes his head against Naruto’s shoulder, lowering his gaze to hide the slight curve of his lips the tiniest trace of a smile he doesn’t let Naruto see.
At one time, I had Runaway Bride playing in the background, and my mind to went places it never should have gone. Sasuke as Julia Roberts' character...there's crack!fic to be had, that's being had, silently, already playing in the back of my mind where it shouldn't.
idk, but I admit I wondered about this at first, because of my bias for unrealistic ust, but then I think it works that they’re both stubborn about that attraction between them. Maybe. Meh. I just really like a sleepy Sasuke leaning against Naruto. I stole that one other scene from this thing. Like the Pretty Cure reference to Takeuchi Junko, one of too many references in this series.
Oh, and here's Naruto's clock, 'cause...just because.
***
Characters: Naruto/Sasuke
Rating: PG-13
Words: 4249
Summary: “Sitting on me doesn’t do any favours for whatever’s decaying in your mouth.”
Against the background of a steady drone from the TV, gradually, Sasuke’s vision blurry begins to clear. His eyelids heavy begin to droop once more, but then he blinks, assaulted by the sight of blue eyes almost too bright accompanied by a disarming smile nearly blinding.
Turning away from the sun slowly slipping through the window, he lets his head fall back on Naruto’s shoulder, closing his eyes and muffling a groan.
He really does need to stop waking up like this.
“Yeah, I can’t believe you slept in, either,” Naruto says, with a chuckle a low rumble in his chest turning into a tingle taking its time to travel along Sasuke’s spine. “But it’s not a big deal. It’s Sunday.”
Head still resting on Naruto’s shoulder, Sasuke peers at the low square table to Naruto’s right, glancing over the two half-eaten bowls of rice porridge, one sinking a partially submerged pickled radish disappearing beneath too many sesame seeds and the other discoloured from traces of leftover pork picked out of a two-day old takeout box Naruto found in the fridge.
The rice porridge was actually the product of the burnt rice Naruto somehow achieved via the use of Shikamaru’s rice cooker. Not wanting to waste the rice, he brought it when he came over last night. I tried to make study food, he said, with the most obnoxiously insistent grin that just made Sasuke want to throw the burnt mess in his face.
Instead, miraculously, Sasuke managed to find a way to salvage the rice to scrape together a dinner that, for once, didn’t solely consist of takeout. The actual edibility of said rice was a silent question he decided was better left unanswered, although Naruto did help himself to finishing the rest of the pot on his own.
Past the two bowls, however, to the left of Naruto’s glasses laid partially folded, a light blue alarm clock catches Sasuke’s attention. He grunts, tucking his right leg against his chest when he reads the time.
9:15.
Licking his lips, he swallows, trying to get rid of the dry taste in his mouth. “When did I...” he croaks, the sound of his voice making him frown at the round clock with the face depicting a sleeping Doraemon lying on his side.
It’s not his. The clock belongs to Naruto, because the kid he not so secretly still is wouldn’t outgrow a character like Doraemon. In whatever strange way-endearing, maybe, Sasuke wants to think-it suits him, though.
He left it here once and never bothered to take it back, so the clock usually sits undisturbed near the edge of the table. Impervious to the occasional teasing from Suigetsu, there it usually stays until it’s placed wherever Naruto wants to move it whenever he decided to invite himself over for the night.
The clock’s simply yet another one of the many things Naruto just so happened to leave at Sasuke’s place. Like the blue and yellow toothbrush replacing the red one Naruto threw away last week, or the accumulation of clothes taking up space in Sasuke’s closet already challenged for space. There’re enough clothes to constitute a full load of laundry if Sasuke ever took the time to separate his clothes from Naruto’s before doing his Saturday morning laundry runs dragging his highly uncooperative hamper six flights of stairs down to the basement floor. And this is excluding the mounting pile of Naruto’s unmatched socks that pair with the ones amassed in their own little corner by the window in Naruto’s apartment.
Those off-hand remarks Shikamaru would make about how much time he and Naruto tended to spend with each other, Sasuke hadn’t put much credence into them before, but with continuously missing art supplies he already knows where to find in the various areas not Shikamaru’s Naruto designated his, scattered in places beyond the blue storage cube sat next to the grey beanbag chair by Naruto’s desk, retrospect makes it easier to see how they’ve managed to perfect the uncanny ability to live together while living apart.
Shifting on Suigetsu’s extra futon he borrows too often, Naruto pulls on the plush comforter shared between them, letting it fall to his lap.
“You didn’t even make it ten minutes into the second part,” he says, grinning through a wide yawn as he straightens his back against the wall. “To tell the truth, though, I think I fell asleep when they started talking about the Yellow River. But I didn’t want to move you, so...”
Sasuke makes a low noise in acknowledgement, closing his eyes. Beneath the comforter pulled up to his chin, he brings his other leg against his chest, laying one arm over his knees. His left arm hangs loosely at his side, and he reaches for the ankle of his right foot lying on top of the left.
He doesn’t remember dozing off, doesn’t recall much after the segment on the Terracotta Army, but he’ll fault the music for lulling him to sleep. Not that he needs an excuse to fall asleep on Naruto. Much like Naruto only needs a whim to come over unannounced, nonchalant with a simple shrug and an even simpler I wanted to see you, but last night they were supposed to start watching that NHK documentary on the Silk Road.
He swiped a copy from his advisor Friday, ignoring Kakashi’s cheerful claim that the defunct laser disc version offered better picture quality and carefully removing the DVD box laid precariously on the top shelf of the leaning tower of books he refuses to acknowledge-that safety hazard of a bookshelf’s supposedly been on the verge of falling for years, and it’s a wonder anyone hasn’t found themselves buried beneath the collection of porn Kakashi belies as literature.
But the documentary is required viewing for their history class. In lieu of a conventional exam, Kakashi assigned a research project, a paper no less than fifty pages. It’s due before the second week in March, when final exams are administered, which gives them a little under a month to delve into a topic of choice underlining the transmission of art along the Silk Road and the significance behind the scope of various cultural influences.
However, although history is one of Sasuke’s favourite subjects, if anything, given how surprisingly shrewd and meticulous Kakashi could be, there’s probably some hidden agenda behind the seemingly straightforward assignment.
He long ago deemed Kakashi a lazy professor who liked to flaunt his unapologetic indolence with a personal philosophy of teaching his students how to teach themselves, a method that, of course, extended to his advising capabilities, or rather lack thereof, essentially promoting the idea of allowing Sasuke to advise himself.
How Kakashi was ever approved to serve his current ten year tenure, Sasuke still doesn’t know.
Yet, for all his apparent quirks, Kakashi’s more than competent. He’s highly proficient in art history and well known in the archaeology field. Unorthodox teaching methods aside, he’s good at what he does-or doesn’t do-and Sasuke does respect the fact Kakashi strives to challenge rather than coddle his students.
“...bending yourself into that kind of position,” Naruto says, “it doesn’t look comfortable.” There’s a substantial pause. “At all.”
Sasuke relaxes, leaning more heavily against Naruto. “I don’t do this for your comfort.”
“Still, I mean, as much as you sit like that, don’t you get sore when you stay curled up for so long? I know I would.”
“You’re not as flexible as I am.”
“...right.” Naruto clears his throat. “I remember you telling me that you were, uh-that you were really...um, bendy.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Again, Naruto feigns a cough. “Well, as comfortable as this obviously is for you, I kind of can’t feel my left side anymore.” He gives Sasuke’s arm a soft nudge but doesn’t push him off. “You know,” he says, “if that happens to mean anything to you.”
“It means you have two choices.”
“You’re actually giving me a choice this time?”
“Die so I can go back to sleep.”
“Seriously? That’s one of my choices.”
“Or stop talking so I can go back to sleep. Pick one so I can go back to sleep.”
Naruto doesn’t hold back a snort. “You can be such an ass when you’re cranky, you know. Like that time you almost took my eye out with your pinkie.”
“Stop exaggerating.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not exaggerating. I honestly thought I was going to have to start walking around wearing an eyepatch. And all because you got cranky when I woke you up and said you were drooling on me.”
“...I don’t drool.”
“Of course. You’re above doing that sort of thing.”
“And I’m not cranky,” Sasuke mumbles into Naruto’s shirt, “I just don’t appreciate your face being the first thing I see when I wake up.”
“Way too late for that, don’t you think?”
Sasuke groans, fingers unfurling from around the soft material of the comforter gathered in his hand.
“Really, though, it’s almost ten. And the side you’ve been sleeping on is getting kind of numb. I mean, I know you’re leaning against me, because I can see you leaning against me, but I don’t think I have the ability to actually feel you leaning against me anymore.”
“...talking, Naruto, why are you still doing it?”
“See,” Naruto whispers, with his breath warm tickling the shell of Sasuke’s ear, “if I tried to pull something like this with you, I bet you wouldn’t be so accommodating.”
Lifting his head, placing a hand on Naruto’s shoulder for leverage, slowly, Sasuke begins to sit up. The comforter falls to pool over his lap as he crosses his legs. Covering a yawn with the side of his arm, he drags his fingers through mussed hair, what Naruto sometimes likes to refer to as a special Sasuke version of Uzumaki style bed head.
“You’re right,” he says. “I wouldn’t.”
An errant finger reaches to poke his forehead, but Sasuke intercepts it with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t do that.”
Naruto just smiles, though, gives him this exceedingly silly kind of boyish smile so incredibly stupid if only because rarely does it fail to leave behind too many increasingly impossible to undo knots in Sasuke’s stomach.
“The concept of personal space,” Sasuke says, a short puff of air blowing the hair away from his face as he releases Naruto’s wrist, “do you not think it applies to you?”
“Says the guy who treats me like a surrogate bed.” Naruto lets out a light scoff. “Isn’t that-” Pursing his lips, he snaps his fingers three times. “That word I’m looking for, what do you call it?”
“A double standard.”
“Yeah, yeah. That. Being close to me, but not letting me be close to you, isn’t that a double standard?”
“I never said it wasn’t.”
“Okay, so, um...” Chewing on his bottom lip, Naruto inches closer, further diminishing the lack of distance between them. “In this case then, wouldn’t it make more sense that personal space shouldn’t apply, since you’re the one who fell asleep on me first?”
No, Sasuke begins to say, but he draws his head back and scrunches his nose instead. “Your breath smells.”
The words don’t make Naruto falter like Sasuke almost expects him to, don’t turn the smile Naruto’s already wearing too freely into anything other than a devious grin reinforced by the questionable gleam in his eyes. Scooting forward, without warning, he opens his mouth wide to breathe on Sasuke’s face.
Sasuke sways back, raising an arm in a futile attempt to shield himself from Naruto looming closer and closer still, squishing Naruto’s nose beneath his hand half-heartedly trying to push him away. “Naruto, you idiot, don’t-”
Eyes large, he feels himself falling, caught in a tangle of limbs between the sheets and comforter of the futon. He lands on his back with a soft thump, grunting at the weight shuffling on top of him.
Crossing his arms, Naruto sits back and admires his handiwork, looking all too pleased. “Still think my breath stinks?”
“Sitting on me doesn’t do any favours for whatever’s decaying in your mouth.”
Naruto laughs, obnoxious and loud, but somehow the sound is as soothing as it’s become familiar. Uncrossing his arms, he lowers his hand, knuckles making a gentle brush across Sasuke’s cheek. “Like yours is any better.”
“My breath isn’t foul.”
“Mine isn’t, either,” Naruto says, but the certainty in his voice begins to waver as he frowns, eyebrows furrowed in the wake of a thoughtful silence. “...is it?”
Not bothering to wait for an answer, he brings a hand close to his mouth and breathes against his palm. After a pause, he does it again. There’s an earnest consideration visible on his face as he tries to gauge his breath for a third time.
Naruto doesn’t have bad breath per se. Despite the leftover pork curry he practically inhaled last night, his breath is no worse than the usual morning breath that’s to be expected. Although being on the receiving end of Naruto’s morning breath usually doesn’t involve Naruto straddling him and all but sitting on the almost erection Sasuke could do without.
Giving Sasuke’s shoulder a light shove, Naruto sucks his teeth. “You’re such a jerk, you know that.”
Sasuke returns the peeved look with an unimpressed one of his own.
“I can’t believe you-I almost did believe you. Saying something died in my mouth when you know my breath doesn’t smell that bad.”
“...get off me,” is the surprisingly gruff sound of Sasuke’s voice, unsurprisingly ignored, because Naruto really does have no concept of personal space, considering how often he takes it upon himself to invade Sasuke’s ever-shrinking bubble he blatantly disregards.
Then again, these days, it’s not something he can say he minds anymore.
So for now he just closes his eyes. Head turned to the side, he sighs, draping an arm over his forehead. The fingers from his other hand begin to tap on the tatami mat floor, following the upbeat melody to one of those annoyingly catchy Glico commercials.
He continues to lie there, lets his hand still, undecided if he wants to move just yet.
As routine as waking up beside each other has become, despite how frequently he accuses Naruto of being slow whenever it came to the art of subtlety, he honestly wouldn’t have thought Naruto could be so obtuse.
With the ease of the unusual closeness they share, lack of people skills Naruto claims he has aside, if Sasuke noticed the gradual change in their relationship, then there’s no reason to suspect something hasn’t registered with Naruto by now.
He realises he likes Naruto. He can’t quite pinpoint when or how it happened, but on a subconscious level, whatever sensibilities such an admission probably doesn’t entail, he’s liked Naruto for a while.
Likes him for all the things he is, possibly more so for all the things he isn’t.
Enough so to act recklessly on a stupid compulsion that led him to convince Naruto it’d be a good idea to rent an apartment with him.
And he is. Or at least he will being renting an apartment with Naruto. Soon. When their current respective leases are up in May, shortly after they begin their third year at Tama, they’ll be moving to Narita. They’ll be living together without living apart. Not too far from the Hachiouji campus, in this affordable little place they agreed on after spending a two month process weeding through various listings and disappointing appointments.
Although he knows the attraction between them is no longer simply platonic on his part, sometimes, amid the internal struggle to articulate what it is exactly he’s looking for from Naruto, sometimes, he really does feel it’d be more constructive to suffocate Naruto with the very same futon he uses too much.
Yet here, lying in the quiet reserved for the normalcy in these kinds of moments between them, he’s almost tempted to reach out for Naruto, almost tempted to give into this funny little urge to play with Naruto’s hair just to see what kind of expression he would make.
It’s a temptation that hasn’t presented itself until now, something well beyond what he can only attribute to the sort of teenage crush harboured by shy glances and naive expectations inspiring clumsy promises clutched by fingers nervously intertwined he’s never experienced before.
If he were a little more sentimental, if he dared to place credibility into the kinds of superficial labels he doesn’t care for, then maybe one of those labels would express a semblance of what he wants Naruto to be.
For a moment, a moment held still so pitiably fleeting, he almost throws all instinctual caution to the wind just to indulge in this one temptation. Arm slow to rise, elbow partially bent, his hand begins to make a blind reach toward the ceiling, as if he’s reaching for Naruto, but he lets his arm drop to the floor before it can fully extend.
The desire to keep Naruto all to himself, this selfish little notion spurring an undeniably nonsensical yen leaving him grappling for something, anything, the smallest reassurance to allay that smidgeon of doubt fuelling the stark possibility he’s misread Naruto in those instances of hesitation that may have meant nothing at all-this concrete fear, too easily can he imagine a reality where he opens his eyes and Naruto won’t be there.
For all Naruto’s outward confidence, as tactile a person as he can be, beneath the Naruto always so damn cocksure in everything else he does lies this tentative Naruto who seems overwhelmingly oblivious to even the slightest touch remotely suggestive in nature.
He almost resents Naruto’s inattention. Or maybe he would hold a childish resentment if he were in the habit of developing irrational grudges for situations he can only fault himself for. In this situation, namely, it’s the consequence of being too subtle for someone as dense as Naruto.
But there are times, so many times in these same kinds of quiet moments between them that he imagines being able to reach out for Naruto with the knowledge that Naruto will always be there, and so many times when he opens his eyes only to lose himself in Naruto’s gaze that makes him feel so incredibly transparent, as if written all over his face is the prickling awareness that Naruto has become more than just Naruto, and he can’t help but feel so pathetically hopeless because Naruto doesn’t seem to understand how with just one look, in that one moment, he can make Sasuke feel like he’s the only person in the world.
“Sasuke...”
To end up falling so hard for such a ridiculously clueless guy...
“You plan on staying down there all day?”
There’s a soft lilt to Naruto’s voice, barely heard over the announcer listing the sponsors from some programme on TV Asahi, and Sasuke grunts, swatting at the finger poking his cheek. He squeezes his eyes already shut as the air to the left of him shifts.
“Hey, hey, you’re not trying to make me do Kakashi’s project on my own, are you? Because you already said you’d help me. You don’t get to get out of something like that.”
Sasuke blinks, eyes open met with an inquisitive stare and Naruto’s face hovering too close above his own. “Go away, Naruto.”
“See? What’d I tell you?” But Naruto still sits back, kneeled beside him. He slaps both hands over his knees, and absently, Sasuke wonders when he moved. “Cranky.”
“Waking up next to you, I can’t help it that seeing your face makes me want to go back to sleep.”
“Hehe...” Smile wide, Naruto holds out a hand towards Sasuke. “You know how many people would kill for the chance to wake up to the sheer perfection that is my face?”
Sasuke scoffs, taking the proffered hand and pulling himself up. “Everyone in your imagination.”
“So mean, Sasuke.” Propping himself against the wall, Naruto laughs, extending his legs beneath the comforter he throws over them both. “You’re just jealous of my good looks. Admit it.”
“Sure.” Sasuke inhales, leaning against Naruto with an exhale. He listens to the faint echo of Naruto’s laughter gradually beginning to fade, listens to Naruto’s steady breathing as he all but dozes off again.
“...hey, Sasuke.”
“Hmm?”
“...we hang out together a lot, don’t we?”
“We do.” Sasuke tilts his head back a little to peer at Naruto. “What about it?”
Naruto shrugs. “Nothing. Just saying. I guess.”
“Saying what?”
“That we’re friends.” Eyes slightly narrowed, Naruto makes a vague gesture with his hand. “I mean, that is what we are, isn’t it?” He pauses, fiddling with the edge of the comforter and glancing at the TV screen. “...friends. We’re friends.”
“I don’t know, Naruto,” Sasuke breathes, laying his head on Naruto’s shoulder. “Are we?”
Abrupt, Naruto straightens his back against the wall, jostling Sasuke. “Yeah, so-hey, um, want to head down to Sukiya for some beef or something?” he rushes out. “I’m starving.” He stretches his free arm above his head then reaches down to pat his stomach.
Sasuke sighs. “When aren’t you hungry?”
“Shut up. I’m only nineteen. I’m still growing, all right,” Naruto says, and Sasuke can almost hear the grin in his words. “Not to mention, I’ve been trapped under your lazy ass all morning. And then I couldn’t find the remote, so I had to suffer through watching Pretty Cure Five-the least you can do is let me eat.”
“The least I can do? For all I know, you were probably enjoying it. Or watching Doraemon again.”
“So you caught me that one time when nothing else was on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though, okay.” With a low hum, Naruto makes a placating motion with his hand. “But really, I can go and pick something up real quick. Unless you want to stay in?”
“As much we eat out, yeah, I think I can find something to make. Could you...”
Naruto nods. “You shouldn’t drink this stuff so much,” he says, grabbing from the table a nearly empty bottle of peach flavoured green tea he hands to Sasuke anyway. “Using it to keep yourself up, it’s dangerous, you know.”
Sasuke accepts the tea with a soft hum. After emptying what’s left of the bottle, he screws the cap back on. “It’s tea.”
“But there’s no sugar in it. You keep drinking disgustingly strong tea that’s not even sweet. Going through life with so little sugar, that can’t be healthy for you.”
“Going through life sprouting such senseless things,” Sasuke says, employing the empty bottle to hit the side of Naruto’s head, which in no way warranted the ensuing screech trying to deafen Sasuke in one ear, “you should only be so lucky you’ve managed to make it this far.”
“What is it with you and hitting me?” Naruto mumbles, sending him a petulant glare turned pout by protruding lips. “You really like seeing me in pain that much?”
“I barely tapped you with an empty plastic bottle. Tell me how that hurt.”
“Yeah, well...” Naruto sniffs, turning up his nose. “Whatever. That’s not the point. It’s the principle of the thing. Between all the hitting and the kicking and all the cruel things you like to say to me, it’s just not safe for me to be around you at this point.”
Sasuke lets out an amused snort, placing the bottle on the floor and settling against Naruto. He folds his arms over his chest, elongating his legs almost touching Naruto’s beneath the thick material of the comforter still warm.
The lag in conversation is filled by the sounds from some variety show featuring a member from Plastic Tree promoting their new greatest hits albums Naruto’s been talking about all week. Although Sasuke’s not really a fan of the band, he won’t deny that he likes the songs Naruto handpicked for him to listen to from the playlist that one day snuck itself onto his mp3 player.
“July can’t come fast enough.” Naruto groans, letting his head fall on top of Sasuke’s.
“It’s less than five months away.”
“I think you should help me find a way to speed up time or something,” Naruto mutters. “Yeah, we should definitely do that.”
“It’s a greatest hits album. Wouldn’t you already have all of the songs on there anyway?”
“Probably. I guess. It’s not really the same, though. Because they’re one of my favourite bands, I like the idea of being able to show my support for them.”
“Don’t be so impatient.” The heel of Sasuke’s foot makes a casual brush across Naruto’s ankle, a deliberate touch brief the thin material of his sock sliding against Naruto’s bare skin.
Naruto stiffens for a second or two. He takes a deep breath, somewhat shaky, and Sasuke can almost feel Naruto swallowing the lump in his throat. “...I-I’m not impatient,” he says, low, almost a harried whisper, but then his shoulders start to relax, and he bumps Sasuke’s leg with a firm nudge from his foot, readjusting the comforter covering his lap.
“To call me impatient when you’re the one who’s always so cranky,” he mutters, “I don’t see how that’s fair.”
Sasuke shakes his head against Naruto’s shoulder, lowering his gaze to hide the slight curve of his lips the tiniest trace of a smile he doesn’t let Naruto see.