Summer in Konoha is hot, sticky and, on the worst days, makes Sasuke vaguely nostalgic for the cool dryness of Orchimaru’s labs. The latter of which is unacceptable and leads to him lying across on of the library tables in the Hokage’s vault, spinning a kunai around his fingers and trying not to crawl out of his skin in boredom.
“Sasuke,” Sakura says the fourth time his foot knocks against the table leg. “Konoha is a big city.”
“Hn,” he grunts, because pissing her off is something to do. It’s more fun now than it was when they were kids – whatever Tsunade did to her when he was… gone, forged her into something sharp and unafraid of her own desires. They understand each other better now; he thunks his heel against a chair, the metal legs protesting.
“Kami, go bother your boyfriend,” she mutters, flipping her page.
“What,” Sasuke says, jerking upright. The kunai nicks his palm and he hisses.
“You heard me,” she says, not looking up, and it’s maybe damning that Sasuke does know exactly what she’s talking about.
“I am not dating Naruto,” he says, louder than he intends to. It echoes judgmentally in the stacks.
“Okay, what are you doing then?” she asks with exaggerated patience. He glares at the top of her head and absolutely does not think about how soft Naruto’s hair is or how his stomach jumps when he laughs or the way his face goes soft and open when...
“We’re – it’s – hate! Hate making out!” His mouth vomits without his permission; he shuts his eyes and wills the earth to swallow him. When the kami do not see fit to bury him, he pries his eyes open to face Sakura’s deeply unimpressed expression.
“Sasuke,” she says with no small amount of pity, “that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”
The worst part is he can’t even argue with her.
–
In the grand tradition of Sasuke’s life, the whole thing is entirely Naruto’s fault. One minute they were fighting – the simplicity of rage white hot in his blood – and the next Naruto’s face was too close and he was kissing him with more teeth than generally considered polite. Fuck you, Sasuke remembers thinking, and then he was yanking at Naruto’s hair, giving back as good as he got. They hadn’t broken apart until Sakura – two minutes later? two years? fuck if Sasuke knows – showed up and commented, “Kakashi-sensei already reads porn in public, let’s not give him ideas about live shows.”
That might have been the end of it, something they all chalked up to professional stress and never spoke of again. It should have been the end of it, but there was something too close to vulnerability in Naruto’s face before he narrowed his eyes and stepped away. It was the end of it… except it’s still happening isn’t it?
–
Sakura, mercifully, lets him flee the vault with the remaining scraps of his dignity. The hottest part of the afternoon has passed and the streets are clogged with late shoppers and early dinner goers. After a year and a half and several very public scenes involving Naruto (and Kakashi, weirdly enough), people have stopped insulting him in public but they still glare and keep their distance. The irony of it all is not lost on him.
He deliberately turns in the opposite direction from his normal training ground and lets his feet wander. Apparently exclusively processing his emotions via destruction is unhealthy and he doesn’t want to look at his stupid therapist’s disappointed face next week. Although he can’t wait for her expression when he tells her he’s accidentally dating -
“Shit,” he says, and realizes too late he’s walked to the Academy. Sure enough, Naruto’s helping Iruka haul boxes of kami knows what outside, stacking them neatly in the sun. He looks ridiculous: a piece of green fabric tied to keep his hair off his face and stripped down to a black undershirt and his awful, dumb orange shorts. There’s an awful flutter of warmth in his traitor stomach anyway.
“He’s not attractive,” he mutters for show, because even he doesn’t need the voice of reason in his head – which is sounding suspiciously like Itachi these days – to tell him that’s not the problem. “We’re not dating.” It sounds more like a lie every time he says it out loud. Iruka comes outside and says something that makes Naruto laugh, tipping his head back and spinning with his arms held out like a child. What an idiot.
Still, when Naruto catches sight of him and yells his name, he has to swallow down a smile. Iruka squints in Sasuke’s direction and laughs at whatever Naruto says, waving him off. For a brief, terrible moment he wonders if Iruka thinks they’ve been dating this whole time too, but then Naruto is jogging in his direction and he forces it out of his mind.
“Sasuke! I thought you were studying with Sakura-chan?” He’s sweaty and possibly sunburnt and this close to him it’s very hard to ignore that Sasuke is very probably in love with him. Fuck. He shrugs.
“Want to get ramen?” Naruto grins, punching him lightly on the shoulder and skipping ahead.
“I always want ramen.” His eyes flick up to the rooftops and Sasuke’s already gathering chakra in his feet when he yells, “Beat you there!”
It’s juvenile and undignified – shoving each other into laundry lines and tripping around corners – but they’re moving fast enough that Sasuke doesn’t have to hide his smile and Naruto cackles the whole way. They skid to a stop in front in front of Ichiraku’s in a cloud of dust and Naruto dives into a stool before Sasuke can claim the win.
“Always follow through,” Naruto says in a horrible parody of Kakashi. He lost his makeshift headband during their race and… what if Sakura was right, just this once? What if they...
“I’ll buy,” he says, only a little strangled, and Naruto gives hims a weird look. “For losing, Moron.”
“Oh.” Sasuke can see the minute he decides to roll with it, his smile only a little hesitant. “Awesome!”
“Hn,” he grunts, and then thankfully Ayame comes to put them out of their misery.
Teuchi and Ayame treat Naruto like a beloved nephew – all warm interest and fond heckling – and have for as long as Sasuke can remember. In a weird way meals with Naruto at Ichiraku’s remind Sasuke of lunches with Itachi and his mother, except four times as loud and significantly messier. It hurts less now than it did before. He doesn’t say much, just watches the three of them bounce off of each other and tries to keep his face under control; Naruto keeps shooting him these little questioning glances that make it difficult.
“Thank you,” he says, as they’re leaving. Ayame gives him a look that’s too knowing for his comfort, but all she says is, “Have a good night,” and then it’s just the two of them again, shoulders brushing as they walk toward Naruto’s apartment.
“Ugggh, that was good,” Naruto says, stretching. (It took awhile… and a couple of fist fights and therapy sessions) to figure out when Naruto was talking because that’s how he processes the world versus when he was looking for a response.) He grins, all trouble. “We should race more often.”
“That was your free win,” he says, letting his sharingan bleed out for a second. Naruto barks a laugh, shoving his shoulder.
“Bastard.”
“Idiot.”
They walk the rest of the way in silence, the bubble of Naruto’s influence enough to keep the civilians from glaring at him until they turn off the main road. The street Naruto lives on is rough around the edges, but full of kids playing and windows propped open. It fits him in a way it never would Sasuke.
“Hey,” Naruto says, crowding into Sasuke’s space without a hint of hesitance, because fucking good night make outs are a thing they have been doing for… awhile. (Sasuke really is an idiot.)
“Wait,” he says, taking a step back. “I, uh, dating? We’re dating.” It’s supposed to be a question, but he misses by a mile; Naruto looks like he’s been punched in the gut.
“We – you, want – ” Naruto splutters, waving his hands around like a moron.
“Yeah,” he mutters and curses every inch of the Uchiha genes and the flush he can feel crawling up his face.
“Oh.” There’s a hesitant little smile taking over Naruto’s face and it makes Sasuke glare harder. “I didn’t...” He shrugs, glancing down. “I was happy with...”
Happy with what I would give, Sasuke realizes after a moment. Even now, after everything. Sometimes, Sasuke wishes he could punch himself in the face; Sakura would probably do it if he asked. No one would argue he didn’t deserve it.
“I want.” He swallows, hard, and grabs one of Naruto’s hands. It’s warm and a little sweaty. “I want you.”
Naruto’s smile is blinding and tastes like ramen when Sasuke kisses it, laughter bubbling from Naruto’s mouth to his even as he cups Sasuke’s chin in his hand.
“I love you too,” Naruto says, pulling back, his hands hot against Sasuke’s neck, his cheek. This close his eyes are unfairly, distressingly blue. “Boyfriend.” Sasuke scowls on reflex; Naruto cackles.
“I hate you,” he mutters, and shuts him up with a kiss.
Still, he could get used to it.