Chapter 38
When Hyuuga Hinata thought about meeting the love of her life, she imagined an accidental brush of fingers, the potential of a spark. She pictured someone kind and strong, whose heart held a rhythm no other could match. She imagined the strength of their chest, the muscles of their arms wrapping around her, keeping her upright in a silly moment of clumsiness. She thought of the sun cresting over the horizon, or setting behind the mountains, an absolute splash of color around a moment that would be tinged gold in her memory.
She never imagined a storm and the downpour of rain soaking her to the bone, dashing through puddles with the wet hem of her coat slapping against the backs of her knees because she’d forgotten her keys. She didn’t flinch when thunder rolled overhead, lightning cracking the sky open only long enough for her to glance up and see the fury of the clouds, each more swollen and tense than the next. She didn’t have an umbrella, because she’d been so focused on grabbing her keys and not being late for the procedure that she hadn’t even thought to grab for anything else, least of all the umbrella tucked innocently beside her front door, nearly begging to be used.
Instead, she allowed the rain to wash over her, plastering her hair against her neck and face. She lifted her fingers to rub under her eyes, certain that by now her mascara would be running under the onslaught. She bounced from foot to foot with nervous energy as she waited for the crosswalk to alight, giving her the go ahead, trying to be patient as cars continue to whir past. A sleek little machine drove too close to the curb and Hinata’s already-soaked jeans took on an even heavier consistency with the added splash of water over her front side.
“Oh,” she gasped, sputtering. “Oh, gosh. Okay. That’s okay,” she muttered to herself, clutching her bag even more tightly to her chest. She hoped that the bags she’d wrapped over her documents were holding up and she didn’t show up to the clinic with sodden paperwork. She bit her lip, attempting to prevent the welling flood of frustration from cresting onto her features. It wasn’t like she was going to be late for work, it was just a volunteering shift, but still. She had never been late before, rain or shine, and she didn’t want to give the impression that she didn’t take Inuzuka-san’s profession seriously.
Sure, she’d grown up with Inuzuka-san’s brother her entire life and had always been treated well by her family, being that she was practically an extension of it—but still. Hinata’s father had not raised her to disappoint, and as clan heiress she made it a point to be as perfect as possible.
She didn’t feel perfect. She pushed her hair away from her flushed cheeks, dashing the moment the crosswalk cleared. She nearly slipped in a puddle on the other side of the road, just managing to catch herself. So maybe she hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and maybe her wrists ached from constant tension and felt unsure without a pen between her fingers. She’d had a harried week at her office, trying to perfect panel after panel, reworking the same soft curves over and over again to try to make them perfect. The few moments of sleep she’d managed to get had not soothed her—she found herself thinking about her boards even in sleep. She often woke with her cheek on her tablet, heart already racing with the thoughts of oh, no, I hope I didn’t drool—did I even finish the illustration I was working on last night?—where was the file she needed for the meeting that same afternoon, what was the blasted name—
Hinata swiveled out of an oncoming passerby with sleek elegance, more than used to being in the way, and continued on towards her office at a run. Her collarbones ached and there was a crick in her back that she was going to need to do something about, quickly. Maybe she could take up yoga again.
She turned another corner, heading swiftly down another block through crowds of people smart enough to have brought their umbrellas with them, and ignored the looks she received as she passed by. She did offer a few muted apologies when she had to dash by some of them, causing splashes of water at their ankles. Hinata moved through the crowds with relative ease, seamlessly navigating with her eyes set ahead, on the corner of the clinic just barely appearing in sight.
Her vision seemed to tunnel, relief cascading through her just as the rain fell over her, and she began to run in earnest. She was just so tired and it had been such a messy few days before this messiest of mornings but she was almost there, almost to the clinic where she could see an interesting procedure that she’d been looking forward to for days; where she could snuggle the animals she cared for, those that were broken or alone or in need; where she could meet her next batch of foster kittens, who’d be returning home with her and—shit, she thought suddenly, missing one of her steps, stumbling. She’d forgotten her carriers, too. Distracted and frustrated and so damned tired, Hinata missed the way the lights ahead of her had long since turned, engines revving closer to her, and her back foot had already left the curb.
Somewhere in-between the next strike of lightning that split the sky open and the following curl of thunder so powerful that it shook her very bones, Hinata realized her mistake.
By then, it was far too late. She was already in the street, and as air sucked back into her throat, her lungs, a gasp of true fear, her eyes turned and there was thunder and lightning right in front of her, except—that wasn’t lightning at all, but headlights; not thunder, but engines, horns, bellowing, the screaming of brakes and then her screaming, too.
Lightning struck to her right, a flash of gold.
The impact took her from the side, sending her flying. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain, the tearing and the shattering. When it came, it was surprising, unexpected—not the pain she knew to expect but an abrupt loss of breath at impact against something firm but squishy, and a firm pressure against the back of her skull. There was a quiet ache in her neck from the inertia of movement, so sudden and striking, but other than that…nothing.
Her hearing came back and she wondered—where had it gone, and when? There was the rain, heavy and all-encompassing, and a flash…there, the thunder, rolling. Engines nearby, making her shake, the wetness of the roads beneath their tires. Then, voices, everywhere. Voices all around her, over her, so close she could imagine the owners of those voices could reach out and touch her. She wondered why they didn’t—was she so broken a thing? Was that why it didn’t hurt? Was it possible to be so beyond help that even the pain could reach her?
She was shaking, that much she could feel, and it was so strange. Something under her shifted, and she became aware of the pressure at the back of her skull, firm and unmoving. She could hear the quietest rhythm of thunder, right there under her ear, just a breath of the real thing overhead. It pounded out a steady quickened beat that slowly, slowly began to temper. She latched onto it, hyper-focused and afraid, but slowly feeling herself sooth against it.
She didn’t know how long it took before she was able to blink open her eyes, and she realized that the voices had hushed around her, though they remained ever present. She studied the material under her cheek, wondered at the pressure sliding carefully away from her skull, down to her nape, and looked up to see the most striking blue eyes staring down at her. Or, she thought, frowning, up at her? It took her a bit longer than she was comfortable admitting to realize why she was so confused, and then why she wasn’t.
She was lying on a man, and he was holding her so carefully she was afraid that she truly might shatter. He was taller than she was, or…longer, since they were lying down. From her position on top of his chest he had to look up at her, down the line of his body to meet her eyes. A dizzying case of multiple directions wrapped up in her mind.
She could feel the heat in her face as she blinked, her heart still racing, and the man beneath her studied her eyes for a long moment before the smallest of smiles curled over his lips. Charmed and dizzy, Hinata watched the words form breathlessly.
“Hey, you alright? You feeling okay? Anything hurt?”
Later, when Hinata thought back on this moment with intense scrutiny, she would wonder how she could have missed him at all. The flash of golden lightning before the impact—she’d thought it was lightning, but it was him. Golden, she thought, and nearly glowing. He was beautiful in a way that Hinata usually avoided, out of sheer intimidation. There were scars on his face, but there was nothing about him that seemed hardened, or critical. He was lax beneath her, careful with how he held her, his hands firm but gentle. The square of his jaw intrigued her, and she must’ve hit her head a little or something because she was consumed with curiosity about that jaw when she should’ve been leaping to her feet, apologetic and ashamed.
“I’m okay,” she whispered at last, finding her voice, and realizing for the nth time that they had an audience. She glanced up and heat flared down to her throat. So many people, all of them staring, and she was still on top of him. She gasped, her true nature returning as the confusion and dizzying distraction began to fade. She lifted a hand against his chest, preparing to push herself off him, when she felt his muscles contract. He shifted them easily, a seamless rolling movement that changed their position so that he was still cradling the nape of her neck but now looming over her.
He studied her face, eyes dropping to her lips when she gasped, and he laughed. Hinata felt so embarrassed she almost wished she had died, but then she never would’ve felt the strength of this stranger’s body against hers, or seen the way his smile brightened his already enamoring expression into something that could rival the beauty of a sunrise.
Before she could do anything like sputter or attempt to hide her face, the man blinked and lowered his head to her chest and Hinata froze. She felt the warmth of his cheek against her exposed collarbone, the shell of his ear cold in contrast. He closed his eyes and Hinata watched the onlookers grin, amused and only slightly less confused than she was. Hinata, bewildered and thinking once more that maybe she had died, allowed this stranger to lay his ear against her chest and listen to her heart hammer out a nervous measure in her chest.
After several moments of study with the rain continuing to pour down around them—though, thankfully, the cluster of onlookers with their smartly held umbrellas hindered much of it from falling in Hinata’s upturned face—She licked her lips and found her voice.
“Um, excuse me,” she started, voice trembling. “What are you doing?”
“Listening,” he said, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. As if the amused judgment of the onlookers around them and the uncertainty in Hinata’s high-pitched question didn’t bother him at all. He was effortlessly unperturbed, and after a long moment she felt the fingers on her nape squeeze reassuringly before he lifted his head and smiled down at her, full force. She had to blink away the sudden stars in her eyes, watching him almost wildly.
“It’s comforting, y’know?” He said, so unabashedly genuine. Hinata felt the presence of the onlookers fade away into the background, until it felt like there was no one else in the world but her and this stranger leaning over her. Idly, she wondered if he knew he had this kind of effect on people—this kind of power. The way he looked at her made her feel unique, special; like he saw no one else, and that was okay, and that was right. Hinata gazed up at him and wondered if he knew how beautiful he was—not even in features, though there was that, too, but wholly, entirely in character. “Knowing it’s beating real strong in there.”
He had saved her life, hadn’t he?
She studied him, unable to look away, her embarrassment fading as she counted the freckles in his irises, flakes of golden brown speckled around his pupils. Treasures in the sea of his stare, temporarily hers for collecting.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely making it through. She cleared her throat, frowning, and repeated herself. “Thank you.”
His smile was a reward, a second saving grace. He began to shift, and Hinata remembered all too suddenly that he had been on top of her. He shifted his weight to his left knee, pulling her up with him, though neither of them stood. He helped to move her into a seated position, hands fluttering over her carefully, as though seeking injuries. His demeanor tilted ever so slightly, into something more professional. He began to ask her medical questions, enough so that Hinata realized that he was not only a stand out life saver today, but that he probably saved lives for a living.
“Are you a doctor?” She asked, as he ran his fingers over her ankle, checking for pain. The touch was not sexual, but Hinata felt it to the tips of her toes anyways. His eyes jumped back to her, smiling and effervescent.
“Nah,” he said carelessly, shrugging. “Not a doc, just a paramedic.”
“Not just,” Hinata emphasized, glancing up in surprise to see their crowd slowly dispersing now that it was clear there was no gruesome injury present. With their umbrellas gone, Hinata and the stranger who’d saved her quickly became soaked under the unerring onslaught of the rain once more. She noticed offhandedly that he didn’t have an umbrella, either. Just a worn black coat over a rusted orange hoodie for protection against the rain, except he didn’t have the hood on, either.
Preoccupied, Hinata could hear sirens in the distance and expected someone had called for emergency services, but she didn’t need them. She felt fine—amazing, even, under the callused touch of this stranger’s diligent hands. “You saved my life.”
He said nothing to that, and she had the vague impression that she’d made him uncomfortable. She tried to meet his eyes, uncharacteristically brave in a moment of needing him to know exactly what had had done for her, and how much she appreciated it.
“You did, you know.” Her quiet voice carried, obscured slightly under another peal of thunder. Yet, this kind stranger looked up and met her eyes for a moment before a measure of happiness so great it crinkled the sides of his eyes rose over his expression, and Hinata thought maybe she might need those emergency services after all.
“Ah, well,” he side-stepped. “No big deal. I’m just glad you’re alright! You have a strong heart there,” and he nodded to her chest, as though she would’ve thought he meant anything else in the world from his comment. At the realization that he’d been listening to it when she’d been nervously thinking about being under him, she ducked her head. Her bangs were too wet to hide her face as they usually did, but the gesture was comforting all the same.
“Where were you headed so fast, anyways?”
At that, everything came rushing back to her. How long had they been here? When she asked him breathlessly what time it was, she realized that barely any time had passed at all. The procedure was probably just beginning, and Hinata was missing some of it, and that was disappointing, but.
Hinata looked up at her handsome savior—stranger, and she felt the anxiety wane. She would not miss the procedure, but she’d almost died trying to get to it, so she figured walking in a few minutes late would be acceptable at the very least.
She pointed over his shoulder towards the clinic, saying, “I volunteer at Fang and Bone.”
The usual response to the clinic’s name was lost on Hinata’s stranger, which led her to believe that he’d been there before. Her assumption was proved correct when he shared an amused look with her and said, “Interesting name, huh? I brought a kitten there not too long back, poor little guy.”
Something sparked in his eyes and amusement made his features even more open and friendly. He laughed a little under his breath. “Ironic enough, I found him in the middle of the street, too.”
Hinata felt heat all the way up into the tips of her ears, and her stranger laughed out loud at the put-upon look on her face.
“You saved his life too, then.”
“Hana-chan did, actually.” He said the veterinarian’s first name so casually that Hinata’s expression went through a cycle of mourning—eyebrows jumping up in surprise, eyes turning down in disappointment, lips curling wryly. He watched her curiously, almost distracted when he added, “I just dumped him in her lap for fixing.”
“Ah, I see.” Hinata silently reprimanded herself for feeling so down at the realization that not only was this man so obviously partnered—who in their right mind would ever let him go?—but also because Hana was an incredible person, an intelligent and efficient and dedicated worker. She was strong and confident and there wasn’t a thing in the world that could stop her when she had her mind set on something. Of course she’d have gone after this man who shone so brightly Hinata was certain that sunrises would pale in comparison.
“She’s quite incredible,” Hinata admitted, allowing a small smile to show. “I’ve volunteered there for quite some time, and I always learn new things from her.”
The man hummed, eyes tracing over Hinata’s features for a moment.
“If you’ve been there for a long time, maybe you took care of the kitten I brought in.” He moved his hand from her nape—she’d forgotten that he was helping brace her there—and rested his hand gently on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Can you stand?”
Surprised at the slight shift in topic, Hinata found herself nodding silently. His fingers slid off her shoulder and down along her arm in a swift, unerring movement before he grasped her hand and helped to bring her back to her feet. He helped steady her even though she didn’t need the help; she felt completely healthy, if a little shaken. The cars just a few feet away from them continued to race along the streets, and Hinata felt a novel sense of disquiet at the proximity. She figured she’d have to deal with that over the next few months, or maybe even years, as the feeling seemed to have already rooted quite deep.
“So,” her stranger said, clearing his throat a little. Hinata could see the lights attached to the sirens just over his shoulder, turning the corner a block down and headed in their direction. “What’s your name?”
Blinking, Hinata heard the question as though through a tank of water, warbled and muddy. “I’m sorry?”
He reached a hand up to rub idly at the nape of his neck, displacing some of his hair there. A nervous habit, maybe? Hinata hadn’t imagined this man could have a nervous bone in his body, and yet—
“Your name,” he reiterated, with more volume and confidence, unashamed to ask twice. “I don’t know your name.”
“Oh,” she breathed, “My name is Hyuuga Hinata.”
He smiled, cheekily reaching out as if to shake her hand. He didn’t react at all to her surname, and Hinata felt a curious, honest kind of joy at the fact.
“Uzumaki Naruto. It’s nice to meet you.”
Hinata felt as though they’d been transported into another dimension—as though time had bent, just slightly, and they were somewhere else. Sirens blared ever closer, and in another timeline, somewhere and some time else, maybe Naruto and Hinata were meeting in this same exact way, sans the sirens and the almost-manslaughter. Maybe they were meeting for the second time, or the seventh. Sirens warbled. Maybe they were happy.
When their hands parted, the sirens cut off and the emergency vehicles parked behind Naruto, right on the curb. Naruto greeted the medics by name, and they seemed surprised but pleased to see him, bumping fists and asking after him for a brief moment before coming to her, professionalism winning out. They assessed her in just the same way Naruto had, but he didn’t say anything to deter them. Instead, he stood back and reiterated something to one of the firefighters who’d arrived—a woman taller than Naruto by a head, with spiked blonde hair and shrewd eyes.
Hinata heard Naruto mention someone to the fire captain’s exasperation, and she watched as the tall woman crossed her arms. Even dressed in her turnouts, it was apparent that she was corded with muscle, her figure as imposing as it was threatening.
“He’s such a fucking sloth,” Hinata heard the woman sigh, almost affectionately.
“Please, you love him. Laziness and all.”
“Sure do,” she admitted easily, grinning. “They’re setting up a banquet in honor of him and his research at the end of the year. I’ll mail you an invite. Don’t miss it, punk.”
“Cool!” Naruto exclaimed, tucking his hands in his pockets. He said something else as Hinata was distracted, answering a few last questions before denying the need for a trip in the ambulance to the hospital.
“Alright, well then, take care miss.”
Hinata nodded, offering, “You as well. Thank you.”
As the firefighters began to amass back into their respectful vehicles, Naruto patted the striking woman on the arm and walked away from her, heading back to Hinata now that she wasn’t being asked professional and personal questions. All in all, they hadn’t done much more than Naruto himself had done, but she understood protocol. He seemed to have agreed, stepping back to let them do their things without distracting or interfering.
Now that the big trucks wheezed off and down the road, merging seamlessly if not a little aggressively back into the traffic around them, Hinata glanced back to find Naruto removing his coat. Lightning cut through the sky and split him into equal parts wonder, half shadowed and half alight for the briefest of moments. Both sides, Hinata thought quietly, were a marvel.
As Naruto lifted his coat over his head and moved towards her, Hinata finally understood what he was doing and sputtered.
“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t mind—”
“It’s dumping,” Naruto refuted, coming to stand so close to her she could feel the heat radiating off of him. He held his coat over the both of them, though she noticed that one of his broad shoulders was being neglected. Bolstering her courage, she stepped slightly closer until her shoulder touched his ribs, and the coat was able to be shifted back into place. Naruto’s left shoulder was saved.
Smiling at the thought, Hinata glanced up and realized that Naruto was looking down at her, eyes soft, cheeks slightly pink.
“Well, I know you were in a hurry and all, but would you mind if I went with you to Fang and Bone?”
Fang and Bone! How many times was she going to be distracted enough to forget that was she late, and oh, Hana, and oh, Naruto and Hana. Her heart went through a series of whiplash like motions in her chest, until Hinata just managed to nod and together she and Naruto safely crossed the street in the downpour, their boots splashing along. They danced across another crosswalk and it was embarrassing how close she’d been, before disaster had struck. Disaster that had been completely avoidable, had she been thinking clearly. She really needed to get better sleep.
When they stopped outside the clinic, Hinata reached into her pocket to get her key. She fitted it to the lock and pushed the door to the side room open, hesitating for a moment before holding it open completely and encouraging Naruto inside. He was probably more at home here than she was, considering his closeness with Hana. She studied him as he stepped inside, shaking off his coat and then slipping his arms back into it. It was oversized, probably used, and very old, but it was charming hanging off of his broad shoulders.
“Would you mind—hold on for one moment, please?”
“Sure,” he said glibly, glancing around at the interior, shivering a bit. He tucked his hands back into his pockets as she turned to race to the back room, surprised to find none of the lights on in the hallway. A niggling thought picked at her the further into the clinic she got, when she couldn’t hear the usual hustle-bustle of patrons and their pets waiting to be seen. Maybe it was because she’d bypassed the front and gone straight the into bowels of the joint, intent on finding Hana as quickly as possible to apologize. She headed straight for the appropriate suite for the procedure, and turned the handle.
Locked.
Locked? Hinata stood there with her fingers curled around the cold handle for several moments before, with an embarrassed flush, realization dawned on her. It was Sunday. Not Monday. The clinic was closed on Sundays, because the Inuzuka’s travelled north to visit their elders, some sort of weekly rite.
Hinata was kicking herself the entire walk back, wondering how on Earth she was going to explain this to Naruto and not look like the fool she was. Of course after a string of messy days and an awful morning where she’d forgotten her keys, then forgotten an umbrella, then almost died—of course the day would come to a close with one more disaster. She didn’t know why she was surprised.
She turned back into the side room and found Naruto picking at something on his jeans, right where she’d left him. Distracted suddenly by the realization that he’d only really offered to walk her over here and had never claimed to want to spend any other time with her, she began to panic, feeling awful.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you in here, especially because, well…they’re actually closed.” Sheepish, Hinata bowed her head a little, gauging Naruto’s reaction through her eyelashes. He didn’t react much, and that made Hinata pause. If he was dating Hana, shouldn’t he have known about the Sunday rite?
Without thinking, Hinata found herself blurting the question out, though not in so many words.
Instead, she asked, “Wait, didn’t Inuzuka-san tell you?”
Naruto’s eyebrows rose. “Hana-chan? Tell me what?”
“About Sundays…I mean, I don’t want to come off rude. I apologize, I’m having a weird few days. But she’s your girlfriend, right? She isn’t shy or quiet about, well, most things, but especially Sunday rite.”
Naruto said nothing for several long moments, merely blinking at her. He opened his mouth a few separate times, as if about to say something, before confusion wiped the words away.
At last, he seemed to ground himself.
Elegantly, he said, “Huh?”
Hinata frowned slightly, but before she could explain again Naruto stuttered out a laugh, a confused bubble of surprise.
“What’s this about Sundays? And girlfriend? Oh no. No way! I mean there’s nothing wrong with her, I guess, but she’d kinda scary, y’know? And I only met her the one time with the kitten, and she threatened to cut my balls off because she thought he’d been mine, and just…no.”
It was Hinata’s turn to stare blankly at Naruto, blinking, as he took a deep breath and continued on rambling.
“Sorry Hinata, I’m so confused, but what do you mean Sunday right? Like are you asking me if it’s Sunday? ‘it’s Sunday, right?’ Because it is. Sunday, I mean.”
Understanding was a garden blooming inside of Hinata, petals upturned to the sunlight and absorbing all of Naruto’s confused ramblings and explanations as though every tendril of his voice nourished the inherent joy in her. She laughed, shaking her head and stopping him before her hurt himself—or her, lest she fall down in a fit of laughter.
“I’m so sorry—I misunderstood—oh, how confusing that must’ve been. I apologize, that was my bad.”
The latter sentiment was a phrase she’d learned from her sister, a trendier and more casual turn of phrase than Hinata was used to using. She’d grown up with elegant pleasantries and no idle chatter, before Hanabi was born. Since becoming an older sister, Hinata had learned that there was much more to life than rules and strict politics of being. Long ago she might’ve felt embarrassed, using such lingo. She could still see the scowls of her elders. But then she thought of Hanabi’s smug expression, and she’d long since grown used to being comfortable with similar simple, fun turns of phrase.
Naruto showed no judgment, only relief. He sighed, shoulders sagging, and laughed a little as he said, “Oh good, because wow, let me tell you, I was lost.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, grinning, moving closer to him across the room until she could lean against the island at her back. The cool counter leeched some warmth from the small of her back, but she didn’t mind it. She could use a little cool-mindedness, right about then. “The way you refer to Inuzuka-san…I assumed that you two were partners. Significant others.”
Hinata stumbled over the terms. She wasn’t old, just about to turn twenty-eight in a month or so, but she had a dismal dating history. Dismal, in that it was almost non-existent. She felt naïve and uncertain, didn’t even know what the kids were calling simple relationships these days. Girlfriends and boyfriends, partners and lovers, significant others. She hadn’t a clue.
“Oh,” Naruto huffed, curious. “Nah, that ain’t it. It’s kind of a joke that I had when I met her, because she’d super easy to rile up. She really feels like a big sister when you meet her. I don’t really care for, uh, whaddya call it. Like proper respectful titling?”
Hinata looked at Naruto and wondered at what kind of person he was, that he could so easily and carelessly disregard generations worth of tradition without a care in the world for backlash it might incur. She thought of her upbringing—nothing but tradition and strict rules and judgment, and it baffled her. She had to admit to herself, too, that his chaotic, carefree nature drew her in even more. She wanted to know more about him, to understand why he didn’t care about traditions like that, and why he felt so comfortable calling someone something personal, almost familiar. She wanted to know so much more about him, to get closer, to reach out—
“If you remember, I, uh,” he was saying, bringing that same hand back to the nape of his neck. “I called you by your first name, y’know. Just a bit ago, actually.”
Hinata’s thoughts froze, rewinding the metaphorical tapes, and Naruto wasn’t lying—he had called her by her first name. She was shocked at how easy it had been, so casual she’d missed it. Now that he’d reminded her, though, she felt heat pooling in her gut, rising over her throat to her nose and spreading out to her cheeks and ears. He’d said her name.
“Oh,” Hinata breathed.
Naruto laughed, “Yup.”
Hinata fidgeted in the brief silence that followed, slightly awkward but in a strange way, a little charming, too. Naruto watched her with a fondness she couldn’t ignore, and she wondered if she was looking to deeply into things or if he genuinely liked looking.
After a moment, Naruto pushed himself away from the counter he’d been leaning on across from her, and stepped closer. Hinata’s heart nearly seized up, then went into working overtime. He was cautious in his approach, as though deliberately trying not to frighten her.
“Hey,” he said softly, defiantly shattering the silence around and between them. He reached out and Hinata felt the heat of his fingertips before they even touched her skin, trailing across her cheekbone, tucking a wet strand of hair behind her flushed ear. There was a tinge of redness to his cheeks, too, and Hinata wanted desperately to kiss him. She thought about it, too, but it felt too forward, to presumptuous, she’d only just met him. She wondered if he wanted to kiss her, too. “I know it’s been kinda a weird day and all, but, uh.”
“Wanna grab something to eat?” He asked, and Hinata felt butterflies set aflutter.
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation, still feeling the heat from his touch even after his hand had returned to his side, and she saw him flex it, just once, as though the feeling of her skin had left a lasting impression. “I would love that.”
Naruto smiled, and after a moment of just gazing at each other, curious and joyful, both, they moved together towards the door. Naruto shrugged out of his coat as they moved through the doorway, and Hinata’s smile was pure, unadulterated delight. She imagined putting this moment down on paper, sketching the lines of them together, her curves against his bulk, tucked under a torn, well-loved coat. How easy it would be, she thought as she fit the key to the lock and felt Naruto’s eyes on her nape, to turn to him, look up, and kiss the square of his jaw.
Maybe in another place, some other time, she thought lightheartedly, feeling wholly carefree for the first time in months. She turned back to Naruto, looked up into his remarkable eyes, the breathtaking sincerity of his smile, and stepped closer to him under the protection of his coat.
Maybe, she thought happily—
Maybe sooner than she imagined.