[LOG] NaruSasu bj PLZ? part 1
Who: Naruto & Sasuke~
What: ... er. Naruto breaks Sasuke's door down and a fight nearly happens but instead there is the most awkward and realistic blowjob ever written?
When: The same day of Karin and Naruto's meeting, the first day Naruto is back at Oshima. (GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER JESUSHELL.)
Where: Sasuke's room
Warnings: BLOWJOB F.T.W.
Being as he was not the eurotrash he most often implied his dear best friend was, Naruto had no real trouble (nor any real moral dilemma) letting himself into the apartment that they shared via the door that one Uchiha Itachi had had the honor of nearly destroying a short eight months before.
There was music echoing in his ears (English hard rock, as it were) but it didn't stop the starkness of the silence that seemed to stalk the floors like a starved animal. He could hear, from the landing, laughter and yells from the tenants above and below them and he tugged out his earphones with a sardonic grin curling across his chapped lips.
Sasuke never changed. Not ever.
Maybe it's me, maybe I bore you.
He wrapped everything up in his own fashion and shoved his mp3 player deeper in his pocket, joining it with one hand so that he looked entirely casual, excepting the aluminum bat that dangled (sinister) at his side.
(Naruto was a man with a plan.)
The hallways was a heavy-hearted place (not of refuge) and Naruto pushed the lightswitch up, listening to the metallic click accompanying the overhead lights. There wasn't much to be done for it at all, it was true. Sasuke was a child of recluse, and he had always been that way. He had everything he could ask for and then some, and so he and Naruto were complete opposites - it was a wonder they got along at all, and it was a pity that he should be so antisocial as he was. Naruto smiled to himself (thinking that that was honestly exactly the way he liked him) and looked over the outside of Sasuke's closed (undoubtedly locked) bedroom door.
It was almost as if he were saying to it that it had gone unharmed too long.
"Hey, Dickface."
He used the tip of the bat to knock on it's flat surface.
"Open or I'll have to do it myself."
From inside, Sasuke is rolling his eyes.
His reading glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose (-He'd been wearing contacts since he was a little kid, and he made sure no one ever saw him in his glasses, the idea of having to wear anything to correct any of his flaws-) He likes to play like he doesn't have any (-but he does. Of course he does. And Itachi has seen him stripped raw down to this bare level. That is the greatest humiliation of all.) But Naruto has not. (Not down to that.)
Fuck this.
He pulls them away from his face, the book in his hand - a Sophomore Chemistry textbook for Orochimaru's class - sliding beneath his bed and his glasses (He hadn't seen Naruto in a few days, so he hadn't felt the need to put his contacts in.) along with it. It was rare he ever sat on the floor (Itachi's ways had drilled into him well godIneedtocleanthisfuckingplaceup-), but the recently shampooed carpet had a warm feel to it, the blinds in his windows not down and streaking yellow across his room as the sun began to set across Oshima Island. (The honey colored sun that everyone has seen before. That comes once a day, that Sasuke likes to bathe in when no one is watching him.
The world has it's minor pleasures.)
Naruto is right.
The lock had long since clicked, a sandwich and a bottle of water set atop his desk should he get hungry while stubbornly avoiding any human contact. (Sasuke really is a brat sometimes.) And the hard thud of noise (-not a fist, no, never a fist, but something much thicker and more stable. What the Hell, Naruto?) against the material of his door makes his head jerk from the complicated words discussing the history of the Periodic table. (Even he couldn't quite hold interest in something like this so unwaveringly. But Sasuke is Sasuke.)
"Empty threats are irritating, Naruto. Go away."
(But he's staring at the door-
curious?)
Fuck you.
(But Naruto's response to those words is so vulgar nowadays that Sasuke tries to keep himself from saying it, when there are better insults with which to deliver the same message.)
Naruto specializes in vulgarity.
(There is always a right way to do most things. It's not that Naruto doesn't have a sense of that particular fact; he does. He is actually almost constantly aware of the fact, constantly aware of just how wide he has to shimmy to get around it. The Right Way is almost usually the Most Obvious Way, and the Way Everyone Expected. The Right Way is a steel guitar at the right moment and full lips against a microphone blessed with soulful words. The Right Way is good and straight and beautiful and easy, more often than not, and its the Way Everyone Always Thinks It Should Be Done. Of course it is.
But Naruto is willful, and almost always provides an unsteady ripping to a graceful sidestep. The Right Way is the Way Naruto Most Loves To Avoid Doing Things. It doesn't mean that everything ever gets finished - God knows Naruto hates to finish any of the projects he ever starts because finishing is never in the game plan, being overly predictable as it is. Naruto loves all good music, its true, but he loves it most when it is a wild, spontaneous adventure.
As he loves all things.)
He can hear Sasuke still moving, even after the words are said (they have been sensitive to one another for years, this way) and he smiles to himself. Even if he can't make the Uchiha open the door with simple words he can - at very least - make him restless, and to some overly-competitive extent that's something within itself. (Naruto loves the idea that he might make Uchiha-I-Don't-Give-A-Shit-Sasuke uncomfortable enough to move around his room when he thinks Naruto is trying to see him x-ray goggle style through the door.) The late afternoon sun is peering through the curtains in the kitchen and he's grinning to himself.
He must look stupid.
There's never been a time he cares less.
He swings the bat up deftly over one shoulder.
"Let me in Uchiha, or you're going to suffer the consequences."
Sasuke chuckles a bit to himself.
It's the disease of the age.
He crosses his arms, lazily, and sits calmly on the floor (I dare you-), sucking the inside of his cheek ever so lightly as the glossy light pooled over his form (-and the shadows cast across them, how beautiful they must be. The dying light of a dying summer. School begins too soon, and he won't have to see Itachi for a while, if he can avoid it.) He'd gotten over That a while ago. (Shisui's kisses and Itachi's kisses are so very different from Naruto's kisses. Itachi's touches made him want to die and Shisui's felt like falling fast and landing hard. And Naruto's have no feeling.
He assures himself of this.)
"Do your worst, idiot."
(And unlike Naruto, Sasuke despises most of everything. In a bout of completely unabridged immaturity, Sasuke can find something to dislike in everyone and thing-) Except Mikoto. (But she doesn't count.) Except Naruto. (-because the things he hates in Naruto he contradicts in time. In between limbs and tongues and rage. Sasuke is so angry all the time, and in his grand naivety, he is the only one who doesn't understand this. (But if anyone were to guess, the person who would know it best is Itachi.
And if Sasuke were to know that, he'd be even worse off.)
He smirks at the material of the door.
(Your fucking worst.)
And the bat comes forward.
(It isn't like he didn't warn him.)
He hasn't swung it with all that much force, and so when it impacts the sound is ringing. It shoots electricity down his spine and he grins. It is definite, the space within which you can feel the metal catch and the wood give; its more like magic than anything he's felt doing anything else (save something that - no matter how big he talks - he rarely ever mentions in public or in the company of anyone else, even his little sister. He knows that even if he did there's only one person who would really take him seriously, NARUTO YOU'RE SUCH A JOKER, but he knows that despite himself, Sasuke's still an Uchiha, and his constitution is alot more delicate than he makes it out to be.
Not weaker, per se.
Because Sasuke is not weak; this is something Naruto will defend with his life.
Sasuke is delicate, though; sharp-tongued and very uncute in a totally adorable way. Sasuke is delicate like very fancy doilies, or like thin-stemmed champagne glasses. And Naruto fucking likes him that way.) He's left a deep indentation when the bat returns to him, pendulum-like, and so he takes it back, lifting his till-then-trapped-hand and holding it by both; he lifts it across his shoulders expertly, taking a familiar stance with his feet wide apart.
(It's been a long time since Naruto was on anybody's baseball team, but it really doesn't matter. He is muscled the same way, wiry and bendable with the world's stamina beneath his bronzed skin. Uzumaki Naruto, number 10, a power hitter who could always drive it just deep enough that he could get to atleast third base before anyone on your side had a chance to pick it up. Uzumaki Naruto, number 10, who has not undergone much change since he was a small child.)
The deafening crack of the bat colliding with the center of the wood is completely different from his first swing. (Completely different from the sound of a ball flying off into the twilight.)
Sasuke starts.
(It's not a fist. It's not anything he knows. Sasuke was always a little bit too sheltered for his own good. A little too pretty and a little too fragile, but he could never be considered weak. Because he's not. Because nothing with the surname 'Uchiha' will ever be weak, but it can be counted on for one to be dysfunctional. And Sasuke-) He is not excluded whatsoever. (And when Shisui kisses him, the feel of the fall is something terrible. A lightness in his stomach when he's stepped off the roof, and Itachi's touch is the impact as his pretty little body is destroyed when he hits the street below. Initial pain, and then-) Nothing at all.
Poor, sweet Sasuke. (Pity my ass.)
Another loud crack of noise and he jerks back, in shock, the sound of the wood of door crunching and the second layer being hit resonating through the room like a gunshot. (Of all the points of authority. Of everything. Sasuke is at the base, struggling awkwardly, naively, putting on all the right acts until everything is HIS WAY, because Sasuke has been spoiled, whether he acts it or not. He and Naruto are far too different for Sasuke to be able to take his hands all over him. But he does.) Virginity is just a word. (And Itachi is just a name.
But nonetheless-)
It can make Sasuke so very angry.
And then there is Naruto.
Crack.
(What the fucking hell are you doing?)
But he holds his silence.
(As Naruko has, always and for years.
And Naruto is in a constant state of being grateful to his little sister, as such.)
The blows and their resonance barrel through his bones and give him a new heartbeat. There has always been something in Naruto close to a love and constant adoration for a back-beat, a love for deep echoing bass and large rhythms, and that had nothing if not manifested itself in his love for dance and his love for violence. Naruto will be the first to agree that if words won't work, fists will - he's the one sworn (almost foolishly) to defend all that ask it of him, and quite a few that would rather he look after himself instead. There is nothing a person can partner up with that works quite like a bat or drum sticks, and Naruto knows it better than anybody else.
I'm gunna get free
I'm gunna get free
I'm gunna get free
Right into the sun
There is an echo up and down the hall as he strikes the door again, directly in the center. The hinges screech painfully and he barks out a laugh - he swings twice at either of them, precision exact. The metal cries out, bends backwards, and then he strikes the door vertically again, waiting for it to beg for mercy because Sasuke isn't going to.
(Naruko has always been merciful in regard to him and has never told anyone why Naruto quit baseball. Nowadays they aren't in Osaka anymore so no one really asks, but if they did she would still never tell them that it was because Naruto had a dream wherein he banged his coach in front of his whole team and couldn't face any of them afterwards.)
And then, it breaks.
Sasuke is expecting it to happen when the hinges of the door shrieked and the lock thrust forward, and with another hit six feet of wood came crashing to the floor beneath the force of Naruto's baseball bat. (The shock of impact and the sheer noise sent him into a rigidity, cracking his knuckles angrily and standing up, the glossy sun beginning to sink lazily behind trees and Oshima's buildings-) The glossy sun dying along with the rest of Oshima. (Summer has come and passed, and Sasuke couldn't be any less appeased.)
He stares.
Round we go.
The world is spinning.
When it stops-
(It's not quite a glare. His lip turned in anger, but his eyebrows not turned down in anger, not even as his door - wasthatreallynecessaryyoufuckingidiot - fell before him. It's not quite a glare, nor is it apathy, but an annoyed stare on the brink of snapping.) He stares, and his fist tightens, but he doesn't take any steps forward, just in opposite in fact, backing up against the wall and sinking to return to where he had been sitting comfortably on the floor.
"There."
It's stone cold.
-It's just beginning.
"You broke down my fucking door."
(If he had taken any steps forward, it would have been to curl his fist into a tight and abrupt punch to Naruto's jaw. It would have hurt him, but Naruto's punch back would have hurt much more, because Sasuke still carries some sort of naivety to hold back. Because he's been taught so very thoroughly to not fight, not steal, be a good boy, be better than your brother, do it all right and you'll have a successful future. And if all of the things that Sasuke has done hasn't been enough of a hint, he and Itachi are similar if only in the idea that they both harbor little care for what their futures hold.)
"Are you satisfied, you brat?"
He snorts audibly and swings the bat over his shoulder.
"Fuck no. Who do you think I am, Uchiha?"
Naruto is never satisfied. He has never been satisfied and it is just one of the many things he loves about himself. (Naruto has grown very very good at loving himself. It has nothing to do with conceit and everything to do with having lived independent for so long from such a young age. Naruto loves Naruko, loves her like the sun loves the Earth and like the Earth loves the Moon, But he has previously gone long, long periods of time without seeing her, and as much as he hates himself for it, he's survived those times each and every time they've come to haunt him because he loves himself when no one else is there to do it for him. Sometimes, when there's no Mommy or Daddy to kiss it better, you have to do it yourself or it's just going to hurt worse. It's just another survival tactic that works if you try at it hard enough.
Wishing a Mother and Father into existence?
Yeah.
Not so much.) He is never satisfied and he is never finished. He is never ever really dried up and there are things he tires of within days of finding them out and there are things (like Sasuke) that he never tires of for any reason. Naruto hates the monotonous because he loves adventure so much. He's addicted to it like it's a narcotic and he loves it more than he loves breathing. (Naruto wouldn't mind dying if it was an adventure. Naruto wouldn't mind dying because he is really just another Peter Pan when you study him the right way.)
He bats his lashes expertly and laughs at his own pun.
Sun comes up
We laugh and we cry
Sun goes down
... and then we all-
(And Sasuke wouldn't mind dying in general. But he doesn't-)
"It's hard to forget."
(And now that you're in here, you goddamn idiot, what are you going to do? Stand there and try to look cool as if you didn't just break a fucking door down for no reason?) But these are the things he doesn't say. (In his family, speaking less than half of what was originally meant to be said is how communication occurs. It's the tone of voice that portrays anything, and that is how the Uchiha have always been. Maybe with the exceptions of Shisui and Mikoto. Mikoto always speaks so delicately, and Shisui never truely speaks.
Itachi and Sasuke are so very alike at a distance, truely.)
He rests against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and a glare curved indefinitely, and he stares at Naruto (-as if nothing has happened. As if he hadn't run the whole goddamn way home every day after school to make sure he wouldn't run into Shisui, because Paranoia is Paranoia and nothing that happened on his first day of school made anything better. But Sasuke does not exist to have someone make it better for him- not his mother, not his cousins, and certainly not his-) I hate him. (Repeat.)
Naruto shifts his weight unsubtly, his sharp hips heaving to their opposite side as he swings the bat across his front and over a different shoulder, just because it's fun to do. (I'll do it if it's worth doing, said with a steady grin.) Naruto never rests and resists everything (resists reason and not because he has to but simply because he can; because Naruto is not obese but loves to weigh things down not because it makes people miserable but because he loves he sensation of being the underdog, of winning when no one expects him to.
His friends are the ones who want him to.
And Naruto has never kept track of his enemies.)
Blond hair is flicked with unbound ease behind his left ear and there is a fire in his eyes like the same fire that has always been. (Azure fire, like summer skies being blown to pieces, their colour forever captured in the eyes of the baby boy with no mother. No father. "Who gave you those eyes?"
"I gave them to myself."
"Ara so.")
"You're a bastard."
But his tone is so bloody affectionate it's nauseating.
Sasuke rolls his eyes and glances at the opposing wall.
(The one that isn't loud and blond and doing nothing but making something more out of his monthly apartment rent, and Sasuke is-) angry, but Shisui's words have long since faded. (August third. And he is still relatively discontent.) "-Am I really?" (He's not even looking at him. Because Sasuke has more interesting things to look at than the only face he'll willingly touch anymore. Of course he does.) His stomach is growling. "You've mentioned it more than once."
His eyes are hard-
(-red.
Itachi.
But Naruto's lips, his cheeks, are so very-)
And Naruto's are-
("Then you stole them?"
"It's not stealing if you don't get caught.")
"Have I?"
But the blond really can't even deal with it when Sasuke doesn't meet his eyes. (Sasuke's not the only one - Naruto's always had this little thing about respect. He doesn't necessarily want it unless he's talking to a person, usually attention is plenty, but as he's gotten older, he's gone to greater and greater lengths if people disrespect him, if people pretend to disregard him.) He studies the Uchiha's ivory cheeks, the way they're carved (emblem-like, idol-like, the kind of carving that is worshiped by a tribe somewhere in the Earth's remotest land; Naruto finds a small amount of pride in being what he is - what is he exactly...? - to Sasuke, because Sasuke bears that much likeness to a God, and Naruto has always been-) and he studies the curves of his dark eyes.
He doesn't have to know what he's thinking, doesn't even have to guess at it, to remember why he was irritated enough to bust into his room in the first place.
(-agnostic.
"I love a challenge.")
I have nothing at all to hide from you.
(-and never have.)
And so the bat is tossed away haplessly (carelessness is in his nature) by only the ends of his fingertips (a false caress) and their bodies are crushed together in the instant following. (Everything in a wonderfully imperfect fluid motion. Naruto is more animalistic than anything else, but it is his way and always has been.) Hips over hips, pelvis flat against Sasuke's stomach, one hand against the wall of the room Naruto calls his own more easily than the one down the hall (more easily than anything, as easily as he calls Sasuke-) and one draped around bony shoulders.
(-his own.)
A haphazard grin.
(They'll never take this from me.)
"It used to bother you more."
(Not ever.)
He pinches Sasuke's cheek.
"Cheer the hell up, you emotastic retard."
Sasuke glowers, knocking Naruto's hand away with the back of his own palm, the weight now crushing him to the floor (-it's not heavy. But it's enough. Wiry hips against wiry hips, Sasuke's neck craning at an awkward angle, arms loosely at his sides, save for the hand enough to get Naruto out of the way. It's not heavy, but-) Naruto has always been so much stronger than he appears, and Sasuke is- (bad religion. Just as all Uchiha are, just as Shisui is every time he kisses him, just as Itachi is when Sasuke overthinks the idea that he is missing-) A pang of hunger and he closes his eyes.
(Re-open.
A blink.
And they always last forever.)
"Leave me alone."
(-there's less anger and annoyance in the tone, if only so much less. If only replaced by a slight twinge of amusement, sprinkles of pain as sharp limbs dig into his own, and irritation, get off of me you idiot-) Because Sasuke doesn't mean most of what he ever says to Naruto. (-And it is that constant lying that proves that he, at the base, is in-) Nevereverever. (-A song stuck in his head, and his cheek is hot from being pulled at and touched. Naruto's own are so-) Tinted. And (-...) "-Why did you break down the goddamn door?"
He eyes it lazily (listlessly, depressively, so many adjectives for just one little look, and they are all morose. Because Sasuke can never seem to get that look off his face.)
Mother, mother? (Do you care?)
And the look shaping the rest of his face is too-
"I don't know."
Naruto props his elbow on Sasuke's collarbone and rests his chin on his folded wrist. His hair is mussed (as always) and his eyes are burning and blue (as they always have been) and his skin is flushed with the sun's colour. (The colour that is nothing like Sasuke's skin, which will never flush with anything unless Naruto gets his way.)
"Why are you looking like you've spent most of the summer moping?"
(But Naruto usually does, with Sasuke.)
Sasuke's eyes harden, and he rests his chin, lightly (-weightless. He's too-) on Naruto's thin arm, not staring at him but more at the fabric of his shirt (-and not seeing that fabric at all, but the horror movie playing in Monochromatic blue over his eyes. Blue tinted cheeks, purple looking lips, Sasuke is unlike Itachi in that he barely sees anything red, and he will never know anyone sees anything differently than he. Colorblindness is a hereditary disorder occurring commonly in the incestuous Uchiha clan, and someday-) But that day is not today. (-In another life, if another time, in another-)
His eyes soften underneath his hair.
"-I don't know."
(-Could have been, would have been-)
-brushing the bangs out of his eyes, leaning down and-
(Naruto thinks that all proposals are better worked nose-to-nose, and so he lingers, watchful, above Sasuke's lips.) "There's your answer." (But it's posed elegantly, not unlike a question, because it's rare Naruto's curiosity is ever truly quelled. Sometimes assuaged, but never quelled. Naruto's questions fly like birds in an unending flock, like a time long ago when the skies of a foreign country with an ugly un-Japanese language would blacken with pigeons. It is doubtless that Naruto will always have questions, will always seek answers, will always plague those around him with any sort of patience. But Naruto and Sasuke have known each other for a while now, and if there's anything Naruto knows Sasuke doesn't really have, it's-)
What you don't know will probably be the death of you, someone told him once, and so Naruto has always striven to know everything he can and then some, not simply because he doesn't want to die, but because he loves learning, loves winning, loves the adventure that is information.
If school didn't bore the living hell out of him, Naruto would easily surpass both Sasuke and Sakura as an academic. But perhaps never, he thinks, as a young adult.
And so-
(-patience.)
-Naruto kisses him.
And it is Sasuke - who has not been touched, aside from Shisui, in months - that kisses him back.
(-Sasuke has always been one to let anything about him build up. For his body to grow diseased, for his heart to grow even more so, and it is those two months that he has been lying in wait and growing so very-) Because Sasuke is more angry than he is fragile, and Naruto has hardly seen any of it. (He hasn't seen the rage within him, because Sasuke doesn't hate Naruto in the ways he assures himself he despises Shisui and Itachi. Naruto, in Sasuke's mind, is-) lips pressing hard against the other's, quickly, perfectly, without flaw as Sasuke so commonly has, because he has wanted for Naruto to touch him for the months that he has been completely (desperate) alone. (-Because Sasuke is the type to grow morbidly attached to those around him, and have it take him over, but never, surely not, would he be in-)
Sasuke's quiet noise when Naruto's tongue is in his mouth and the brushing of their owns, the gloss of the summer sun beginning to fade beneath the trees and the darkness of a coming night tweaking through the corners of the windows. (-It is Sasuke's flush that becomes evident once the sun is no longer portraying it.)
Let me, let me-
And she walked farther and father.
Naruto doesn't bat an eyelash (how does one go about batting an eyelash when their eyes are closed? It's pretty well impossible unless one is pretending to sleep,) baby it's you, and drags his tongue to count Sasuke's molars and the pattern of ridges that cascades across the roof of his mouth. We don't have to go nowhere. ("But you should. You've been inside for what? Three months? You look like a vampire." Then again, Naruto has a serious fetish for vampires, ever since-) He's never told Sasuke about that. Not ever.
And he probably won't.
Because Sasuke doesn't need anyone else comparing him to his brother.
And Naruto knows that (surprisingly) better than anyone. Because Naruto doesn't need anyone else comparing him to-
"Sasuke."
Said in a soft voice full of something the Uchiha probably doesn't recognize. (But he would if Itachi would stop being such a fucking bastard and just-) There's something bursting in the back of Naruto's throat and he's desperate with it, his eyes are only half-open but he feels a soft pang of something too deep in his stomach. (A depth never before touched by anything.) And he doesn't let the other say anything in that moment; he traps him with another soft kiss instead because he doesn't know how to word what he wants to.
Because he doesn't have to word it, yet.
(Because if he did word it, if he tried to say anything at all, it would come out-)
If Sasuke knew that Naruto had any kind of interest in Itachi, Sasuke would leave and never come back. (And Naruto would never find him, and not even Shisui would ever find him, instead he would go somewhere where there was so much red that even with the mask of blue his color-blindness gives him, he would still be able to see it. He would go there, and then-) If Sasuke knew. (But Sasuke doesn't, and so nothing drastic as that has to-) Up against the wall of his bedroom, back burning with pain as some amount of architecture prods deeply into it (-it hurts. But Sasuke has felt little of anything since Shisui- burned his nerves away-- I can't feel you here- and with enough painkillers in his system-)
But he can feel it.
The burn-
And Naruto's (-tremors into the floor as wood smashes against wood, tremors in Sasuke himself when Naruto is kissing him, because while Naruto and Shisui are nothing and touch nothing alike, it is still-) blue. (Naruto's eyes change colors if Sasuke stares long enough, and Sasuke's greatest flaw is that he-) kisses him harder, occasional, barely audible noises here and there, kisses him because (-he is predictable. Because he always, always stares.) And there are only two people in the world Sasuke has ever taken the time to observe in great detail. (Two points to guess who.) But Sasuke would never admit such a (-blue. Azure. Cerulean. Aoi.) thing.
Not ever.
(-and one of them will leave him to rot one day.)
But it could never be-
(I won't leave you.)
Home is calling.
(Naruto only smokes on one day of the year, and he has ever since he was eight, every year on the same exact day, and each year that day is exactly the same as it is for everyone. That day - Leap Year or not - is always exactly the same for everyone each and every year of a life.)
Furusato kokoro no naka de ima demo / Yasashiku hibiiteru- (Even now my home is gently / echoing throughout my heart-)
"You're such an idiot."
Kisses, kisses, kisses like feather and petals- (I'll cover you up, I'll smother you in the best of things, I'll cradle you in my arms, I'll embrace you and not let you go, not ever-) Naruto is whispering and it's a shadow that dapples Sasuke's cheeks affectionately (like they're lying beneath a tree in the summer heat that the blond so easily and eagerly embodies) and his lips move against the skin of the Uchiha's face as he speaks. (As if he's speaking for the first time.)
Naruto has been gone all summer.
But it's more as if the summer left with him, and now it's back to brightly blaze in it's glorified sunset joyousness. (Sasuke hasn't acted one bit happy to see him and he isn't mystified as to the reason why; he isn't a stranger to the fact that - take it or leave it - Sasuke believed himself to have been-)
Naruto only smokes once a year.
(-forsaken.)
Abandoned.
But Naruto could never-
(-because Naruto has always been the one left behind, and so could never bring himself to do another the same emotional harm. It is rare Naruto can ever bring himself to purposely inflict pain on others, very less the pain that he has so suffered as an orphan in the Japanese countryside. Homelessness is sometimes a more pleasant option than having to quietly sit through the scrutiny of small town residents. Destitution is sometimes more happy than having rumors float around your head endlessly and having no mommy or daddy to kiss it better.)
And maybe that is why Naruto treasures Sasuke in the way Naruto treasures Sasuke.
(Even now my home is gently / echoing throughout my heart
On dreamless nights / when I feel blue and lonely / I call out for you-)
Home is calling.
Sasuke growls between the misplaced lips, forming words with his own (-they burn. Even though he can see his reflection in the coat of glossy white paint in the wall adjacent to this one, even though he can see how purple his lips are, be-) they burn and tingle, the blood within them fluctuating in temperature as his heart beats faster (-and he could be screaming, freezing, furious for all that could have been, but he's not. His body is only trembling so softly, so unnoticeably, so pathetically that if-) Itachi is Missing. (-could see him now, it would be humiliating in all the way that-) Itachi is Gone. (-having sex with him was.
Naruto will never know.)
His breath shudders in the moments when Naruto so greedily takes it, but these words, eventually spoken and smoothly at that (-Sasuke expects a stutter) "-Then I would hate to know what you think of yourself."
(But it doesn't come out with a lace of hate tied about it, not at all. The words are soft and sad the way his eyes are right now, the way the shadows of Naruto's hair are blue and his eyes are-) the way his lips makes his blood boil underneath his skin. (-Because Sasuke does not want to think that Naruto might hate himself even half as much as Sasuke detests himself, detests Itachi, and Shisui-) The air conditioning clicks on somewhere in the house, and the dull roar drowns out Sasuke's beating heart to all who but presses an ear to his chest. (-But Naruto can. And it's beating far too quickly.)
Beating with a tempo like a hummingbird's wings but with the strength of the iron wheels of a steam engine. A thudding, rapid thunder and Naruto can feel a pang of something so deep in his stomach, rising up through his chest and he wants to know (that Sasuke can feel this pain, that Sasuke knows how much Naruto really does-) And so he kisses his cheek firmly and takes his left hand between both of his own, and slides it below the hem of his shirt without permission.
There's a gentle unguarded moment when Sasuke's wrist tenses, and the soft shaking that has so overtaken him (undermined his being) turns into a coarse shudder that makes his skin leap away from him in a pattern of goosebumps, but Naruto's hold is steady, and they lock eyes as Naruto slides Sasuke's palm up across the flat plane of his bronzed stomach. (But Naruto didn't go to the beach even once in the past two months, and Sasuke could never blend into the snow with his black hair.)
"Trust me."
A gentle whisper and Sasuke's fingertips brush his chest at last, still trembling, and Naruto leans into him, leans onto his palm and shivers a little (because Sasuke's skin is the same temperature as his room, but beneath it Naruto can feel a pounding that is so similar to that that's throbbing against his ribcage, threatening to break open and spill out.)
A gentle kiss to Sasuke's cheek, Naruto's hands cradling his.
"Trust me."
Tell me you can feel this.
(Threw her arms around my neck-)
Sasuke is cold, so suddenly, so painfully, and the violent chill that runs up his spine makes him jerk abruptly- and that cold is gone immediately with Naruto's kiss, and Sasuke noses him back to his lips, chastity there in ways that Sasuke has never known how. (Because Shisui stole all of his first kisses and Itachi stole his virginity, and even in how much he is in-) ... (-with Naruto, he will never be able to kiss him without feeling a burning guilt somewhere within his stomach, in the front of his mind and in the dip pit of his heart, because all he is and will ever be now is damaged goods.) Naruto is so lucky in that regard, he supposes. (This throbbing. This pain.)
"I-"
And he kisses him, shudderingly (-who is watching?
Is it you, Nii-san?)
He falls silent.
And the blond wraps himself unhesitatingly around him in that moment. (I will never-) Regret is not anything that Uzumaki Naruto openly associates with - it isn't his style, and it isn't his way. (There are men with bayonets outside, Naruto-nii. "Ignore it.") He is not so easy going as to forget what he's doing; he's not lazy like Shikamaru and he isn't apathetic like Itachi but he's not excruciatingly analytical either, the way they are, and so-
(Naruto only-
"You smoke?"
-one day every year.)
-Naruto is as he is.
(A grin that's fuller of play than ever anything has been. A wide smile full of teeth and over-amusement. Naruto is leaning against their building, the cigarette in hand, wafting sweet-incense smoke, the red-fire end silhouetting the carved stamp heart at the very end. Specially made in Taiwan, given to him by someone careless on his eighth birthday - not very expensive, nothing in Taiwan ever is, but properly inappropriate for any and all occasions except-
"The great Uchiha doesn't give gifts on White Day?"
An irritated spike of sound that says Sasuke thinks he's full of-
"I'm going to give you something then."
"Like what?" A disgruntled, almost-nervous look.
Lips against Uchiha Sasuke's ear in the back alley four stories below the balcony to their building. The air soft-cold in the February afternoon, but their breath is not silhouetted at all. There is no lace, but there is all laughter. Naruto is laughing at Sasuke.
Naruto is laughing at Sasuke because-
"I promise you can have my babies someday. ♥"
...SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-)
His arms are thin, unmuscled, but they have a heated strength all their own.
(Sasuke had punched him.
Hard.
In the face.
And Naruto had-)
FIRST COMES-
(-laughed.)
And Sasuke's muscles have even less tone than Naruto's (-of all the fights Itachi has fought for him, of all the bags he never had to carry, Sasuke is an active person, a good runner, a good swimmer, a good basketball player, a good football (why do the American's call it-) player, a good tennis player, volleyball player, fencer, kendoist, in fact, any sport Sasuke has ever been presented with he's been good at. Except wrestling. When he was told to do that, he was promptly thrown against the floor beneath a boy who was twice his size, and that boy was straddling his hips in ways that Naruto is now-) But Sasuke can never be any more than good at sports when Itachi and Shisui have been great. (-And so while Sasuke can train indefinitely and work hard to be better, they can be apathetic to the fact that they run his life completely, because that is how it has always worked and that is how it will always-)
And Sasuke cannot stop shaking, in that subtle way he does.
(In that subtle way he hates to know that Naruto-) Itachi. Shisui. Mi- (can notice.
"Mother?"
"Yes, Sasuke-kun?"
"A snake bit me-"
He had been so calm with the little think wriggling at his ankle, small teeth sunken deep into his skin, and Mikoto had shrieked.)
Naruko began to smoke because of her brother, the same type of heart shaped cigarettes, the kind she has to go all the way to China to stock up on every summer, because she smokes much more than Naruto does, and grew addicted fast. But not to anything but these (-and Sasuke hates the taste of cigarettes. He hates it because they all taste like Itachi's mouth, smell like Itachi's breath, taste like Shisui after Shisui and Itachi have been close enough. Sasuke will not touch Naruto on White Day because, to him, it would be just like touching-) Itachi is missing. (But Naruto is here. And Naruto is-)
The fabric of Sasuke's shirt is inching off of him, and Sasuke could be no more horrified.
(-It was getting the snake off that made him cry.)
Naruto knows by the way his friend's stomach muscles go taut when the tips of his knuckles brush them. He presses his lips firmly against Sasuke's face and- (-I don't want you to ever cry for me the way I will always cry for you-) -the pads of his thumbs rub circles against the edges of the Uchiha's abdomen. (Trust me.) He presses the heels of his palms (calloused and glossy with wear as they are) into the soft, cream strip of flesh that reveals itself as Sasuke's ("You're so much prettier than a girl, Sasuke."
A dark look. "Is that why you won't stop staring at me?"
"No." An honest gaze. "That's because-") shirt inches upward. His stomach is thin, flat, the occasional rib rising to make a white-tipped wave beneath the skin, and Naruto finds it to be wonderfully warm and clean-scented. He presses his nose to Sasuke's neck, inhales deeply, and the raven shudders, goosebumps coarse in rising, and shaking more perceivable now that they are fully in contact, and he tries half-desperately to assuage him by keeping his drifting hands completely flat. ("-you're adorable when you blush. ♥"
But it's been months since Sasuke blushed as often as he used to, or half as properly, which has been bothering Naruto for some time now. It seems downright strange that he can't make the Uchiha's cheeks colour like that anymore, and he wants to know what happened-)
A snappish remark full of venom for no apparent reason.
You don't.
What type of snake strikes without warning or excuse...?
(-to change things.)
He noses, soft and careful (and l-) a slight waver (-ing), and he pushes through the gentle, rose-water scent of Sasuke's too-effeminate shampoo. (And he had made a point to tell him so, once, and Sasuke had turned purple. Naruto knows himself to be bathed in constant pungent odor of honeysuckle and sea salt. It's not exactly musk, but his skin seems to make itself sweetened and perfect to be smelt coupled with the sodium in his sweat. Sasuke smells like an exotic sort of candy, and Naruto smells like beeswax. They mix surprisingly well.) Their hair collides to clash when he presses his mouth to Sasuke's ear (blinding sunshine on black midnight) and he feels something press and coil inside of him, something almost too much like-
(Please trust me.)
There had been a long pause in the string of conversation half-way through their text messages when Naruto had been seated in a plastic chair on the bullet train from Tokyo (and then on the following boat ride home). There had been a definitive cut in the line of words, and it had been audible between both of them, echoing the same as it would have had they not been so cheap (or cowardly) as to avoid actually using their phones to speak- ("What are you so damn afraid of, you fucking-") -to one another. It had spun and rotated slowly and stung both of them who had to stare at it for just that much longer because it was difficult to find anything that one would deem appropriate as a response.
(noisewithin: I'm locking my door.)
And Naruto had deserved that for being a lech and they had both known it, and still after having not seen one another for about two months Sasuke's scorn stung more than he'd remembered it would. (Time eases pain.)
An hour and two minutes it had taken him to reply.
(messandentwine: Don't forget the windows.
I love a challenge.)
He'd made the excuse that he'd been transferring to the boat and so it was too difficult to focus on typing out a reply and fumble around with his luggage. (A personal excuse. An "it didn't hurt as much as I think it did," type of excuse, an "I'm not really that much of a pussy," type of excuse, an "I can't possibly-") Naruto spent the whole two months of summer vacation running around the entire Japanese continent with his surrogate grandmother for reasons he's not allowed to disclose to anyone. ("-him that much," type of excuse.) It wasn't exactly his idea of a dream vacation.
(Naruto usually tries to avoid making excuses.
"We have to fight back, you brat. Your boyfriend can wait"
"And what about your boyfriend?"
"COME HERE, BRAT, I'LL BOX YOUR EARS.")
Naruto really can't seem to win.
But it's alright, since Sasuke-
"I missed you."
-can't ever seem to keep him out.
What: ... er. Naruto breaks Sasuke's door down and a fight nearly happens but instead there is the most awkward and realistic blowjob ever written?
When: The same day of Karin and Naruto's meeting, the first day Naruto is back at Oshima. (GOD THIS TOOK FOREVER JESUSHELL.)
Where: Sasuke's room
Warnings: BLOWJOB F.T.W.
Being as he was not the eurotrash he most often implied his dear best friend was, Naruto had no real trouble (nor any real moral dilemma) letting himself into the apartment that they shared via the door that one Uchiha Itachi had had the honor of nearly destroying a short eight months before.
There was music echoing in his ears (English hard rock, as it were) but it didn't stop the starkness of the silence that seemed to stalk the floors like a starved animal. He could hear, from the landing, laughter and yells from the tenants above and below them and he tugged out his earphones with a sardonic grin curling across his chapped lips.
Sasuke never changed. Not ever.
Maybe it's me, maybe I bore you.
He wrapped everything up in his own fashion and shoved his mp3 player deeper in his pocket, joining it with one hand so that he looked entirely casual, excepting the aluminum bat that dangled (sinister) at his side.
(Naruto was a man with a plan.)
The hallways was a heavy-hearted place (not of refuge) and Naruto pushed the lightswitch up, listening to the metallic click accompanying the overhead lights. There wasn't much to be done for it at all, it was true. Sasuke was a child of recluse, and he had always been that way. He had everything he could ask for and then some, and so he and Naruto were complete opposites - it was a wonder they got along at all, and it was a pity that he should be so antisocial as he was. Naruto smiled to himself (thinking that that was honestly exactly the way he liked him) and looked over the outside of Sasuke's closed (undoubtedly locked) bedroom door.
It was almost as if he were saying to it that it had gone unharmed too long.
"Hey, Dickface."
He used the tip of the bat to knock on it's flat surface.
"Open or I'll have to do it myself."
From inside, Sasuke is rolling his eyes.
His reading glasses pushed up the bridge of his nose (-He'd been wearing contacts since he was a little kid, and he made sure no one ever saw him in his glasses, the idea of having to wear anything to correct any of his flaws-) He likes to play like he doesn't have any (-but he does. Of course he does. And Itachi has seen him stripped raw down to this bare level. That is the greatest humiliation of all.) But Naruto has not. (Not down to that.)
Fuck this.
He pulls them away from his face, the book in his hand - a Sophomore Chemistry textbook for Orochimaru's class - sliding beneath his bed and his glasses (He hadn't seen Naruto in a few days, so he hadn't felt the need to put his contacts in.) along with it. It was rare he ever sat on the floor (Itachi's ways had drilled into him well godIneedtocleanthisfuckingplaceup-), but the recently shampooed carpet had a warm feel to it, the blinds in his windows not down and streaking yellow across his room as the sun began to set across Oshima Island. (The honey colored sun that everyone has seen before. That comes once a day, that Sasuke likes to bathe in when no one is watching him.
The world has it's minor pleasures.)
Naruto is right.
The lock had long since clicked, a sandwich and a bottle of water set atop his desk should he get hungry while stubbornly avoiding any human contact. (Sasuke really is a brat sometimes.) And the hard thud of noise (-not a fist, no, never a fist, but something much thicker and more stable. What the Hell, Naruto?) against the material of his door makes his head jerk from the complicated words discussing the history of the Periodic table. (Even he couldn't quite hold interest in something like this so unwaveringly. But Sasuke is Sasuke.)
"Empty threats are irritating, Naruto. Go away."
(But he's staring at the door-
curious?)
Fuck you.
(But Naruto's response to those words is so vulgar nowadays that Sasuke tries to keep himself from saying it, when there are better insults with which to deliver the same message.)
Naruto specializes in vulgarity.
(There is always a right way to do most things. It's not that Naruto doesn't have a sense of that particular fact; he does. He is actually almost constantly aware of the fact, constantly aware of just how wide he has to shimmy to get around it. The Right Way is almost usually the Most Obvious Way, and the Way Everyone Expected. The Right Way is a steel guitar at the right moment and full lips against a microphone blessed with soulful words. The Right Way is good and straight and beautiful and easy, more often than not, and its the Way Everyone Always Thinks It Should Be Done. Of course it is.
But Naruto is willful, and almost always provides an unsteady ripping to a graceful sidestep. The Right Way is the Way Naruto Most Loves To Avoid Doing Things. It doesn't mean that everything ever gets finished - God knows Naruto hates to finish any of the projects he ever starts because finishing is never in the game plan, being overly predictable as it is. Naruto loves all good music, its true, but he loves it most when it is a wild, spontaneous adventure.
As he loves all things.)
He can hear Sasuke still moving, even after the words are said (they have been sensitive to one another for years, this way) and he smiles to himself. Even if he can't make the Uchiha open the door with simple words he can - at very least - make him restless, and to some overly-competitive extent that's something within itself. (Naruto loves the idea that he might make Uchiha-I-Don't-Give-A-Shit-Sasuke uncomfortable enough to move around his room when he thinks Naruto is trying to see him x-ray goggle style through the door.) The late afternoon sun is peering through the curtains in the kitchen and he's grinning to himself.
He must look stupid.
There's never been a time he cares less.
He swings the bat up deftly over one shoulder.
"Let me in Uchiha, or you're going to suffer the consequences."
Sasuke chuckles a bit to himself.
It's the disease of the age.
He crosses his arms, lazily, and sits calmly on the floor (I dare you-), sucking the inside of his cheek ever so lightly as the glossy light pooled over his form (-and the shadows cast across them, how beautiful they must be. The dying light of a dying summer. School begins too soon, and he won't have to see Itachi for a while, if he can avoid it.) He'd gotten over That a while ago. (Shisui's kisses and Itachi's kisses are so very different from Naruto's kisses. Itachi's touches made him want to die and Shisui's felt like falling fast and landing hard. And Naruto's have no feeling.
He assures himself of this.)
"Do your worst, idiot."
(And unlike Naruto, Sasuke despises most of everything. In a bout of completely unabridged immaturity, Sasuke can find something to dislike in everyone and thing-) Except Mikoto. (But she doesn't count.) Except Naruto. (-because the things he hates in Naruto he contradicts in time. In between limbs and tongues and rage. Sasuke is so angry all the time, and in his grand naivety, he is the only one who doesn't understand this. (But if anyone were to guess, the person who would know it best is Itachi.
And if Sasuke were to know that, he'd be even worse off.)
He smirks at the material of the door.
(Your fucking worst.)
And the bat comes forward.
(It isn't like he didn't warn him.)
He hasn't swung it with all that much force, and so when it impacts the sound is ringing. It shoots electricity down his spine and he grins. It is definite, the space within which you can feel the metal catch and the wood give; its more like magic than anything he's felt doing anything else (save something that - no matter how big he talks - he rarely ever mentions in public or in the company of anyone else, even his little sister. He knows that even if he did there's only one person who would really take him seriously, NARUTO YOU'RE SUCH A JOKER, but he knows that despite himself, Sasuke's still an Uchiha, and his constitution is alot more delicate than he makes it out to be.
Not weaker, per se.
Because Sasuke is not weak; this is something Naruto will defend with his life.
Sasuke is delicate, though; sharp-tongued and very uncute in a totally adorable way. Sasuke is delicate like very fancy doilies, or like thin-stemmed champagne glasses. And Naruto fucking likes him that way.) He's left a deep indentation when the bat returns to him, pendulum-like, and so he takes it back, lifting his till-then-trapped-hand and holding it by both; he lifts it across his shoulders expertly, taking a familiar stance with his feet wide apart.
(It's been a long time since Naruto was on anybody's baseball team, but it really doesn't matter. He is muscled the same way, wiry and bendable with the world's stamina beneath his bronzed skin. Uzumaki Naruto, number 10, a power hitter who could always drive it just deep enough that he could get to atleast third base before anyone on your side had a chance to pick it up. Uzumaki Naruto, number 10, who has not undergone much change since he was a small child.)
The deafening crack of the bat colliding with the center of the wood is completely different from his first swing. (Completely different from the sound of a ball flying off into the twilight.)
Sasuke starts.
(It's not a fist. It's not anything he knows. Sasuke was always a little bit too sheltered for his own good. A little too pretty and a little too fragile, but he could never be considered weak. Because he's not. Because nothing with the surname 'Uchiha' will ever be weak, but it can be counted on for one to be dysfunctional. And Sasuke-) He is not excluded whatsoever. (And when Shisui kisses him, the feel of the fall is something terrible. A lightness in his stomach when he's stepped off the roof, and Itachi's touch is the impact as his pretty little body is destroyed when he hits the street below. Initial pain, and then-) Nothing at all.
Poor, sweet Sasuke. (Pity my ass.)
Another loud crack of noise and he jerks back, in shock, the sound of the wood of door crunching and the second layer being hit resonating through the room like a gunshot. (Of all the points of authority. Of everything. Sasuke is at the base, struggling awkwardly, naively, putting on all the right acts until everything is HIS WAY, because Sasuke has been spoiled, whether he acts it or not. He and Naruto are far too different for Sasuke to be able to take his hands all over him. But he does.) Virginity is just a word. (And Itachi is just a name.
But nonetheless-)
It can make Sasuke so very angry.
And then there is Naruto.
Crack.
(What the fucking hell are you doing?)
But he holds his silence.
(As Naruko has, always and for years.
And Naruto is in a constant state of being grateful to his little sister, as such.)
The blows and their resonance barrel through his bones and give him a new heartbeat. There has always been something in Naruto close to a love and constant adoration for a back-beat, a love for deep echoing bass and large rhythms, and that had nothing if not manifested itself in his love for dance and his love for violence. Naruto will be the first to agree that if words won't work, fists will - he's the one sworn (almost foolishly) to defend all that ask it of him, and quite a few that would rather he look after himself instead. There is nothing a person can partner up with that works quite like a bat or drum sticks, and Naruto knows it better than anybody else.
I'm gunna get free
I'm gunna get free
I'm gunna get free
Right into the sun
There is an echo up and down the hall as he strikes the door again, directly in the center. The hinges screech painfully and he barks out a laugh - he swings twice at either of them, precision exact. The metal cries out, bends backwards, and then he strikes the door vertically again, waiting for it to beg for mercy because Sasuke isn't going to.
(Naruko has always been merciful in regard to him and has never told anyone why Naruto quit baseball. Nowadays they aren't in Osaka anymore so no one really asks, but if they did she would still never tell them that it was because Naruto had a dream wherein he banged his coach in front of his whole team and couldn't face any of them afterwards.)
And then, it breaks.
Sasuke is expecting it to happen when the hinges of the door shrieked and the lock thrust forward, and with another hit six feet of wood came crashing to the floor beneath the force of Naruto's baseball bat. (The shock of impact and the sheer noise sent him into a rigidity, cracking his knuckles angrily and standing up, the glossy sun beginning to sink lazily behind trees and Oshima's buildings-) The glossy sun dying along with the rest of Oshima. (Summer has come and passed, and Sasuke couldn't be any less appeased.)
He stares.
Round we go.
The world is spinning.
When it stops-
(It's not quite a glare. His lip turned in anger, but his eyebrows not turned down in anger, not even as his door - wasthatreallynecessaryyoufuckingidiot - fell before him. It's not quite a glare, nor is it apathy, but an annoyed stare on the brink of snapping.) He stares, and his fist tightens, but he doesn't take any steps forward, just in opposite in fact, backing up against the wall and sinking to return to where he had been sitting comfortably on the floor.
"There."
It's stone cold.
-It's just beginning.
"You broke down my fucking door."
(If he had taken any steps forward, it would have been to curl his fist into a tight and abrupt punch to Naruto's jaw. It would have hurt him, but Naruto's punch back would have hurt much more, because Sasuke still carries some sort of naivety to hold back. Because he's been taught so very thoroughly to not fight, not steal, be a good boy, be better than your brother, do it all right and you'll have a successful future. And if all of the things that Sasuke has done hasn't been enough of a hint, he and Itachi are similar if only in the idea that they both harbor little care for what their futures hold.)
"Are you satisfied, you brat?"
He snorts audibly and swings the bat over his shoulder.
"Fuck no. Who do you think I am, Uchiha?"
Naruto is never satisfied. He has never been satisfied and it is just one of the many things he loves about himself. (Naruto has grown very very good at loving himself. It has nothing to do with conceit and everything to do with having lived independent for so long from such a young age. Naruto loves Naruko, loves her like the sun loves the Earth and like the Earth loves the Moon, But he has previously gone long, long periods of time without seeing her, and as much as he hates himself for it, he's survived those times each and every time they've come to haunt him because he loves himself when no one else is there to do it for him. Sometimes, when there's no Mommy or Daddy to kiss it better, you have to do it yourself or it's just going to hurt worse. It's just another survival tactic that works if you try at it hard enough.
Wishing a Mother and Father into existence?
Yeah.
Not so much.) He is never satisfied and he is never finished. He is never ever really dried up and there are things he tires of within days of finding them out and there are things (like Sasuke) that he never tires of for any reason. Naruto hates the monotonous because he loves adventure so much. He's addicted to it like it's a narcotic and he loves it more than he loves breathing. (Naruto wouldn't mind dying if it was an adventure. Naruto wouldn't mind dying because he is really just another Peter Pan when you study him the right way.)
He bats his lashes expertly and laughs at his own pun.
Sun comes up
We laugh and we cry
Sun goes down
... and then we all-
(And Sasuke wouldn't mind dying in general. But he doesn't-)
"It's hard to forget."
(And now that you're in here, you goddamn idiot, what are you going to do? Stand there and try to look cool as if you didn't just break a fucking door down for no reason?) But these are the things he doesn't say. (In his family, speaking less than half of what was originally meant to be said is how communication occurs. It's the tone of voice that portrays anything, and that is how the Uchiha have always been. Maybe with the exceptions of Shisui and Mikoto. Mikoto always speaks so delicately, and Shisui never truely speaks.
Itachi and Sasuke are so very alike at a distance, truely.)
He rests against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and a glare curved indefinitely, and he stares at Naruto (-as if nothing has happened. As if he hadn't run the whole goddamn way home every day after school to make sure he wouldn't run into Shisui, because Paranoia is Paranoia and nothing that happened on his first day of school made anything better. But Sasuke does not exist to have someone make it better for him- not his mother, not his cousins, and certainly not his-) I hate him. (Repeat.)
Naruto shifts his weight unsubtly, his sharp hips heaving to their opposite side as he swings the bat across his front and over a different shoulder, just because it's fun to do. (I'll do it if it's worth doing, said with a steady grin.) Naruto never rests and resists everything (resists reason and not because he has to but simply because he can; because Naruto is not obese but loves to weigh things down not because it makes people miserable but because he loves he sensation of being the underdog, of winning when no one expects him to.
His friends are the ones who want him to.
And Naruto has never kept track of his enemies.)
Blond hair is flicked with unbound ease behind his left ear and there is a fire in his eyes like the same fire that has always been. (Azure fire, like summer skies being blown to pieces, their colour forever captured in the eyes of the baby boy with no mother. No father. "Who gave you those eyes?"
"I gave them to myself."
"Ara so.")
"You're a bastard."
But his tone is so bloody affectionate it's nauseating.
Sasuke rolls his eyes and glances at the opposing wall.
(The one that isn't loud and blond and doing nothing but making something more out of his monthly apartment rent, and Sasuke is-) angry, but Shisui's words have long since faded. (August third. And he is still relatively discontent.) "-Am I really?" (He's not even looking at him. Because Sasuke has more interesting things to look at than the only face he'll willingly touch anymore. Of course he does.) His stomach is growling. "You've mentioned it more than once."
His eyes are hard-
(-red.
Itachi.
But Naruto's lips, his cheeks, are so very-)
And Naruto's are-
("Then you stole them?"
"It's not stealing if you don't get caught.")
"Have I?"
But the blond really can't even deal with it when Sasuke doesn't meet his eyes. (Sasuke's not the only one - Naruto's always had this little thing about respect. He doesn't necessarily want it unless he's talking to a person, usually attention is plenty, but as he's gotten older, he's gone to greater and greater lengths if people disrespect him, if people pretend to disregard him.) He studies the Uchiha's ivory cheeks, the way they're carved (emblem-like, idol-like, the kind of carving that is worshiped by a tribe somewhere in the Earth's remotest land; Naruto finds a small amount of pride in being what he is - what is he exactly...? - to Sasuke, because Sasuke bears that much likeness to a God, and Naruto has always been-) and he studies the curves of his dark eyes.
He doesn't have to know what he's thinking, doesn't even have to guess at it, to remember why he was irritated enough to bust into his room in the first place.
(-agnostic.
"I love a challenge.")
I have nothing at all to hide from you.
(-and never have.)
And so the bat is tossed away haplessly (carelessness is in his nature) by only the ends of his fingertips (a false caress) and their bodies are crushed together in the instant following. (Everything in a wonderfully imperfect fluid motion. Naruto is more animalistic than anything else, but it is his way and always has been.) Hips over hips, pelvis flat against Sasuke's stomach, one hand against the wall of the room Naruto calls his own more easily than the one down the hall (more easily than anything, as easily as he calls Sasuke-) and one draped around bony shoulders.
(-his own.)
A haphazard grin.
(They'll never take this from me.)
"It used to bother you more."
(Not ever.)
He pinches Sasuke's cheek.
"Cheer the hell up, you emotastic retard."
Sasuke glowers, knocking Naruto's hand away with the back of his own palm, the weight now crushing him to the floor (-it's not heavy. But it's enough. Wiry hips against wiry hips, Sasuke's neck craning at an awkward angle, arms loosely at his sides, save for the hand enough to get Naruto out of the way. It's not heavy, but-) Naruto has always been so much stronger than he appears, and Sasuke is- (bad religion. Just as all Uchiha are, just as Shisui is every time he kisses him, just as Itachi is when Sasuke overthinks the idea that he is missing-) A pang of hunger and he closes his eyes.
(Re-open.
A blink.
And they always last forever.)
"Leave me alone."
(-there's less anger and annoyance in the tone, if only so much less. If only replaced by a slight twinge of amusement, sprinkles of pain as sharp limbs dig into his own, and irritation, get off of me you idiot-) Because Sasuke doesn't mean most of what he ever says to Naruto. (-And it is that constant lying that proves that he, at the base, is in-) Nevereverever. (-A song stuck in his head, and his cheek is hot from being pulled at and touched. Naruto's own are so-) Tinted. And (-...) "-Why did you break down the goddamn door?"
He eyes it lazily (listlessly, depressively, so many adjectives for just one little look, and they are all morose. Because Sasuke can never seem to get that look off his face.)
Mother, mother? (Do you care?)
And the look shaping the rest of his face is too-
"I don't know."
Naruto props his elbow on Sasuke's collarbone and rests his chin on his folded wrist. His hair is mussed (as always) and his eyes are burning and blue (as they always have been) and his skin is flushed with the sun's colour. (The colour that is nothing like Sasuke's skin, which will never flush with anything unless Naruto gets his way.)
"Why are you looking like you've spent most of the summer moping?"
(But Naruto usually does, with Sasuke.)
Sasuke's eyes harden, and he rests his chin, lightly (-weightless. He's too-) on Naruto's thin arm, not staring at him but more at the fabric of his shirt (-and not seeing that fabric at all, but the horror movie playing in Monochromatic blue over his eyes. Blue tinted cheeks, purple looking lips, Sasuke is unlike Itachi in that he barely sees anything red, and he will never know anyone sees anything differently than he. Colorblindness is a hereditary disorder occurring commonly in the incestuous Uchiha clan, and someday-) But that day is not today. (-In another life, if another time, in another-)
His eyes soften underneath his hair.
"-I don't know."
(-Could have been, would have been-)
-brushing the bangs out of his eyes, leaning down and-
(Naruto thinks that all proposals are better worked nose-to-nose, and so he lingers, watchful, above Sasuke's lips.) "There's your answer." (But it's posed elegantly, not unlike a question, because it's rare Naruto's curiosity is ever truly quelled. Sometimes assuaged, but never quelled. Naruto's questions fly like birds in an unending flock, like a time long ago when the skies of a foreign country with an ugly un-Japanese language would blacken with pigeons. It is doubtless that Naruto will always have questions, will always seek answers, will always plague those around him with any sort of patience. But Naruto and Sasuke have known each other for a while now, and if there's anything Naruto knows Sasuke doesn't really have, it's-)
What you don't know will probably be the death of you, someone told him once, and so Naruto has always striven to know everything he can and then some, not simply because he doesn't want to die, but because he loves learning, loves winning, loves the adventure that is information.
If school didn't bore the living hell out of him, Naruto would easily surpass both Sasuke and Sakura as an academic. But perhaps never, he thinks, as a young adult.
And so-
(-patience.)
-Naruto kisses him.
And it is Sasuke - who has not been touched, aside from Shisui, in months - that kisses him back.
(-Sasuke has always been one to let anything about him build up. For his body to grow diseased, for his heart to grow even more so, and it is those two months that he has been lying in wait and growing so very-) Because Sasuke is more angry than he is fragile, and Naruto has hardly seen any of it. (He hasn't seen the rage within him, because Sasuke doesn't hate Naruto in the ways he assures himself he despises Shisui and Itachi. Naruto, in Sasuke's mind, is-) lips pressing hard against the other's, quickly, perfectly, without flaw as Sasuke so commonly has, because he has wanted for Naruto to touch him for the months that he has been completely (desperate) alone. (-Because Sasuke is the type to grow morbidly attached to those around him, and have it take him over, but never, surely not, would he be in-)
Sasuke's quiet noise when Naruto's tongue is in his mouth and the brushing of their owns, the gloss of the summer sun beginning to fade beneath the trees and the darkness of a coming night tweaking through the corners of the windows. (-It is Sasuke's flush that becomes evident once the sun is no longer portraying it.)
Let me, let me-
And she walked farther and father.
Naruto doesn't bat an eyelash (how does one go about batting an eyelash when their eyes are closed? It's pretty well impossible unless one is pretending to sleep,) baby it's you, and drags his tongue to count Sasuke's molars and the pattern of ridges that cascades across the roof of his mouth. We don't have to go nowhere. ("But you should. You've been inside for what? Three months? You look like a vampire." Then again, Naruto has a serious fetish for vampires, ever since-) He's never told Sasuke about that. Not ever.
And he probably won't.
Because Sasuke doesn't need anyone else comparing him to his brother.
And Naruto knows that (surprisingly) better than anyone. Because Naruto doesn't need anyone else comparing him to-
"Sasuke."
Said in a soft voice full of something the Uchiha probably doesn't recognize. (But he would if Itachi would stop being such a fucking bastard and just-) There's something bursting in the back of Naruto's throat and he's desperate with it, his eyes are only half-open but he feels a soft pang of something too deep in his stomach. (A depth never before touched by anything.) And he doesn't let the other say anything in that moment; he traps him with another soft kiss instead because he doesn't know how to word what he wants to.
Because he doesn't have to word it, yet.
(Because if he did word it, if he tried to say anything at all, it would come out-)
If Sasuke knew that Naruto had any kind of interest in Itachi, Sasuke would leave and never come back. (And Naruto would never find him, and not even Shisui would ever find him, instead he would go somewhere where there was so much red that even with the mask of blue his color-blindness gives him, he would still be able to see it. He would go there, and then-) If Sasuke knew. (But Sasuke doesn't, and so nothing drastic as that has to-) Up against the wall of his bedroom, back burning with pain as some amount of architecture prods deeply into it (-it hurts. But Sasuke has felt little of anything since Shisui- burned his nerves away-- I can't feel you here- and with enough painkillers in his system-)
But he can feel it.
The burn-
And Naruto's (-tremors into the floor as wood smashes against wood, tremors in Sasuke himself when Naruto is kissing him, because while Naruto and Shisui are nothing and touch nothing alike, it is still-) blue. (Naruto's eyes change colors if Sasuke stares long enough, and Sasuke's greatest flaw is that he-) kisses him harder, occasional, barely audible noises here and there, kisses him because (-he is predictable. Because he always, always stares.) And there are only two people in the world Sasuke has ever taken the time to observe in great detail. (Two points to guess who.) But Sasuke would never admit such a (-blue. Azure. Cerulean. Aoi.) thing.
Not ever.
(-and one of them will leave him to rot one day.)
But it could never be-
(I won't leave you.)
Home is calling.
(Naruto only smokes on one day of the year, and he has ever since he was eight, every year on the same exact day, and each year that day is exactly the same as it is for everyone. That day - Leap Year or not - is always exactly the same for everyone each and every year of a life.)
Furusato kokoro no naka de ima demo / Yasashiku hibiiteru- (Even now my home is gently / echoing throughout my heart-)
"You're such an idiot."
Kisses, kisses, kisses like feather and petals- (I'll cover you up, I'll smother you in the best of things, I'll cradle you in my arms, I'll embrace you and not let you go, not ever-) Naruto is whispering and it's a shadow that dapples Sasuke's cheeks affectionately (like they're lying beneath a tree in the summer heat that the blond so easily and eagerly embodies) and his lips move against the skin of the Uchiha's face as he speaks. (As if he's speaking for the first time.)
Naruto has been gone all summer.
But it's more as if the summer left with him, and now it's back to brightly blaze in it's glorified sunset joyousness. (Sasuke hasn't acted one bit happy to see him and he isn't mystified as to the reason why; he isn't a stranger to the fact that - take it or leave it - Sasuke believed himself to have been-)
Naruto only smokes once a year.
(-forsaken.)
Abandoned.
But Naruto could never-
(-because Naruto has always been the one left behind, and so could never bring himself to do another the same emotional harm. It is rare Naruto can ever bring himself to purposely inflict pain on others, very less the pain that he has so suffered as an orphan in the Japanese countryside. Homelessness is sometimes a more pleasant option than having to quietly sit through the scrutiny of small town residents. Destitution is sometimes more happy than having rumors float around your head endlessly and having no mommy or daddy to kiss it better.)
And maybe that is why Naruto treasures Sasuke in the way Naruto treasures Sasuke.
(Even now my home is gently / echoing throughout my heart
On dreamless nights / when I feel blue and lonely / I call out for you-)
Home is calling.
Sasuke growls between the misplaced lips, forming words with his own (-they burn. Even though he can see his reflection in the coat of glossy white paint in the wall adjacent to this one, even though he can see how purple his lips are, be-) they burn and tingle, the blood within them fluctuating in temperature as his heart beats faster (-and he could be screaming, freezing, furious for all that could have been, but he's not. His body is only trembling so softly, so unnoticeably, so pathetically that if-) Itachi is Missing. (-could see him now, it would be humiliating in all the way that-) Itachi is Gone. (-having sex with him was.
Naruto will never know.)
His breath shudders in the moments when Naruto so greedily takes it, but these words, eventually spoken and smoothly at that (-Sasuke expects a stutter) "-Then I would hate to know what you think of yourself."
(But it doesn't come out with a lace of hate tied about it, not at all. The words are soft and sad the way his eyes are right now, the way the shadows of Naruto's hair are blue and his eyes are-) the way his lips makes his blood boil underneath his skin. (-Because Sasuke does not want to think that Naruto might hate himself even half as much as Sasuke detests himself, detests Itachi, and Shisui-) The air conditioning clicks on somewhere in the house, and the dull roar drowns out Sasuke's beating heart to all who but presses an ear to his chest. (-But Naruto can. And it's beating far too quickly.)
Beating with a tempo like a hummingbird's wings but with the strength of the iron wheels of a steam engine. A thudding, rapid thunder and Naruto can feel a pang of something so deep in his stomach, rising up through his chest and he wants to know (that Sasuke can feel this pain, that Sasuke knows how much Naruto really does-) And so he kisses his cheek firmly and takes his left hand between both of his own, and slides it below the hem of his shirt without permission.
There's a gentle unguarded moment when Sasuke's wrist tenses, and the soft shaking that has so overtaken him (undermined his being) turns into a coarse shudder that makes his skin leap away from him in a pattern of goosebumps, but Naruto's hold is steady, and they lock eyes as Naruto slides Sasuke's palm up across the flat plane of his bronzed stomach. (But Naruto didn't go to the beach even once in the past two months, and Sasuke could never blend into the snow with his black hair.)
"Trust me."
A gentle whisper and Sasuke's fingertips brush his chest at last, still trembling, and Naruto leans into him, leans onto his palm and shivers a little (because Sasuke's skin is the same temperature as his room, but beneath it Naruto can feel a pounding that is so similar to that that's throbbing against his ribcage, threatening to break open and spill out.)
A gentle kiss to Sasuke's cheek, Naruto's hands cradling his.
"Trust me."
Tell me you can feel this.
(Threw her arms around my neck-)
Sasuke is cold, so suddenly, so painfully, and the violent chill that runs up his spine makes him jerk abruptly- and that cold is gone immediately with Naruto's kiss, and Sasuke noses him back to his lips, chastity there in ways that Sasuke has never known how. (Because Shisui stole all of his first kisses and Itachi stole his virginity, and even in how much he is in-) ... (-with Naruto, he will never be able to kiss him without feeling a burning guilt somewhere within his stomach, in the front of his mind and in the dip pit of his heart, because all he is and will ever be now is damaged goods.) Naruto is so lucky in that regard, he supposes. (This throbbing. This pain.)
"I-"
And he kisses him, shudderingly (-who is watching?
Is it you, Nii-san?)
He falls silent.
And the blond wraps himself unhesitatingly around him in that moment. (I will never-) Regret is not anything that Uzumaki Naruto openly associates with - it isn't his style, and it isn't his way. (There are men with bayonets outside, Naruto-nii. "Ignore it.") He is not so easy going as to forget what he's doing; he's not lazy like Shikamaru and he isn't apathetic like Itachi but he's not excruciatingly analytical either, the way they are, and so-
(Naruto only-
"You smoke?"
-one day every year.)
-Naruto is as he is.
(A grin that's fuller of play than ever anything has been. A wide smile full of teeth and over-amusement. Naruto is leaning against their building, the cigarette in hand, wafting sweet-incense smoke, the red-fire end silhouetting the carved stamp heart at the very end. Specially made in Taiwan, given to him by someone careless on his eighth birthday - not very expensive, nothing in Taiwan ever is, but properly inappropriate for any and all occasions except-
"The great Uchiha doesn't give gifts on White Day?"
An irritated spike of sound that says Sasuke thinks he's full of-
"I'm going to give you something then."
"Like what?" A disgruntled, almost-nervous look.
Lips against Uchiha Sasuke's ear in the back alley four stories below the balcony to their building. The air soft-cold in the February afternoon, but their breath is not silhouetted at all. There is no lace, but there is all laughter. Naruto is laughing at Sasuke.
Naruto is laughing at Sasuke because-
"I promise you can have my babies someday. ♥"
...SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-)
His arms are thin, unmuscled, but they have a heated strength all their own.
(Sasuke had punched him.
Hard.
In the face.
And Naruto had-)
FIRST COMES-
(-laughed.)
And Sasuke's muscles have even less tone than Naruto's (-of all the fights Itachi has fought for him, of all the bags he never had to carry, Sasuke is an active person, a good runner, a good swimmer, a good basketball player, a good football (why do the American's call it-) player, a good tennis player, volleyball player, fencer, kendoist, in fact, any sport Sasuke has ever been presented with he's been good at. Except wrestling. When he was told to do that, he was promptly thrown against the floor beneath a boy who was twice his size, and that boy was straddling his hips in ways that Naruto is now-) But Sasuke can never be any more than good at sports when Itachi and Shisui have been great. (-And so while Sasuke can train indefinitely and work hard to be better, they can be apathetic to the fact that they run his life completely, because that is how it has always worked and that is how it will always-)
And Sasuke cannot stop shaking, in that subtle way he does.
(In that subtle way he hates to know that Naruto-) Itachi. Shisui. Mi- (can notice.
"Mother?"
"Yes, Sasuke-kun?"
"A snake bit me-"
He had been so calm with the little think wriggling at his ankle, small teeth sunken deep into his skin, and Mikoto had shrieked.)
Naruko began to smoke because of her brother, the same type of heart shaped cigarettes, the kind she has to go all the way to China to stock up on every summer, because she smokes much more than Naruto does, and grew addicted fast. But not to anything but these (-and Sasuke hates the taste of cigarettes. He hates it because they all taste like Itachi's mouth, smell like Itachi's breath, taste like Shisui after Shisui and Itachi have been close enough. Sasuke will not touch Naruto on White Day because, to him, it would be just like touching-) Itachi is missing. (But Naruto is here. And Naruto is-)
The fabric of Sasuke's shirt is inching off of him, and Sasuke could be no more horrified.
(-It was getting the snake off that made him cry.)
Naruto knows by the way his friend's stomach muscles go taut when the tips of his knuckles brush them. He presses his lips firmly against Sasuke's face and- (-I don't want you to ever cry for me the way I will always cry for you-) -the pads of his thumbs rub circles against the edges of the Uchiha's abdomen. (Trust me.) He presses the heels of his palms (calloused and glossy with wear as they are) into the soft, cream strip of flesh that reveals itself as Sasuke's ("You're so much prettier than a girl, Sasuke."
A dark look. "Is that why you won't stop staring at me?"
"No." An honest gaze. "That's because-") shirt inches upward. His stomach is thin, flat, the occasional rib rising to make a white-tipped wave beneath the skin, and Naruto finds it to be wonderfully warm and clean-scented. He presses his nose to Sasuke's neck, inhales deeply, and the raven shudders, goosebumps coarse in rising, and shaking more perceivable now that they are fully in contact, and he tries half-desperately to assuage him by keeping his drifting hands completely flat. ("-you're adorable when you blush. ♥"
But it's been months since Sasuke blushed as often as he used to, or half as properly, which has been bothering Naruto for some time now. It seems downright strange that he can't make the Uchiha's cheeks colour like that anymore, and he wants to know what happened-)
A snappish remark full of venom for no apparent reason.
You don't.
What type of snake strikes without warning or excuse...?
(-to change things.)
He noses, soft and careful (and l-) a slight waver (-ing), and he pushes through the gentle, rose-water scent of Sasuke's too-effeminate shampoo. (And he had made a point to tell him so, once, and Sasuke had turned purple. Naruto knows himself to be bathed in constant pungent odor of honeysuckle and sea salt. It's not exactly musk, but his skin seems to make itself sweetened and perfect to be smelt coupled with the sodium in his sweat. Sasuke smells like an exotic sort of candy, and Naruto smells like beeswax. They mix surprisingly well.) Their hair collides to clash when he presses his mouth to Sasuke's ear (blinding sunshine on black midnight) and he feels something press and coil inside of him, something almost too much like-
(Please trust me.)
There had been a long pause in the string of conversation half-way through their text messages when Naruto had been seated in a plastic chair on the bullet train from Tokyo (and then on the following boat ride home). There had been a definitive cut in the line of words, and it had been audible between both of them, echoing the same as it would have had they not been so cheap (or cowardly) as to avoid actually using their phones to speak- ("What are you so damn afraid of, you fucking-") -to one another. It had spun and rotated slowly and stung both of them who had to stare at it for just that much longer because it was difficult to find anything that one would deem appropriate as a response.
(noisewithin: I'm locking my door.)
And Naruto had deserved that for being a lech and they had both known it, and still after having not seen one another for about two months Sasuke's scorn stung more than he'd remembered it would. (Time eases pain.)
An hour and two minutes it had taken him to reply.
(messandentwine: Don't forget the windows.
I love a challenge.)
He'd made the excuse that he'd been transferring to the boat and so it was too difficult to focus on typing out a reply and fumble around with his luggage. (A personal excuse. An "it didn't hurt as much as I think it did," type of excuse, an "I'm not really that much of a pussy," type of excuse, an "I can't possibly-") Naruto spent the whole two months of summer vacation running around the entire Japanese continent with his surrogate grandmother for reasons he's not allowed to disclose to anyone. ("-him that much," type of excuse.) It wasn't exactly his idea of a dream vacation.
(Naruto usually tries to avoid making excuses.
"We have to fight back, you brat. Your boyfriend can wait"
"And what about your boyfriend?"
"COME HERE, BRAT, I'LL BOX YOUR EARS.")
Naruto really can't seem to win.
But it's alright, since Sasuke-
"I missed you."
-can't ever seem to keep him out.