Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

your name is y/n. you have nice hair but it’s not THAT nice. if you complimented some girl’s hair in line at starbucks then she would compliment your hair too but nobody would go out of their way to say your hair is nice. but it’s kind of nice.

you stand in line at starbucks one day and you sneeze. the guy in front of you turns around and looks at you very flatly. you notice several things at once.

firstly, his hair is really good but completely baffling. it’s like some emo cut from 2004 but hot. he’s just really hot, all over. his bone structure is like a blow to the gut and his eyes are intense and dark. he looks like he could be in a boy band except for that he has the bitchiest expression you’ve ever seen. also it seems he is talking to you.

“your hair’s ugly,” he says. it takes you a second to register that a complete stranger would say this to you apropos of nothing. the woman behind you in line gasps a little, also taken aback.

“what the fuck,” you say.

“it looks like shit,” he says.

“um? fuck you,” you reply, getting a little angry. who the hell is this dude. you just want a latte.

he looks you up and down in a blatantly judgmental way, except you have the feeling that he’s a little amused, which makes you a little excited because he’s hot but also very angry because he’s a complete douche bag.

“you’re a huge asshole, huh,” he says. he’s smirking.

“is anybody else hearing this dude?” you say. the woman behind you faintly says yeah what the fuck. you glance back at her and she nods in solidarity.

“you seem like a dick. do you want to go out sometime.”

the man says this completely deadpan. he pulls an apple out of his pocket and bites it, which is weird. it gets weirder when you realize that it’s not an apple. it’s a tomato. you’re not really comprehending what’s going on because this dude is such a fucking bizarre weirdo with zero social skills whatsoever, and you reply on baffled autopilot. “sure?”

you realize he’s given you his phone. mechanically you input your phone number and name. the man takes it back, inspects it, and looks back at you. “your name doesn’t really fit you.’

“i– what?”

“nothing, i dunno. your parents couldn’t come up with anything good, probably. whatever.”

the man turns around like nothing happens and leaves you with just the view of the back of his head. he seems to be content to eat his raw tomato and ignore you. the barista calls him up. you are so fucking confused.

“did you give him your number?” the woman behind you asks.

“i think so?” you say. “yeah, god. i did. why did i do that.”

“he’s really hot,” she says in consolation.

“i think i hate him?” you say.

the man, who has finished ordering his drink, somehow flips you the bird in a charming way. he takes his coffee– just black coffee, what is wrong with this guy– and leaves as you approach the barista.

“what was that guy’s name?” you demand.

“uh– sasuke?” says the barista. “can i– uh– did you want a drink, or?”

you order your latte and leave. you look down at your phone. you have a text.

hi y/n. i was just kidding about ur hair. it’s gorgeous. ur dumb af for giving some rando ur number tho. when are u free

Chapter Text

your name is y/n. last week some asshole at starbucks said your hair was ugly out of nowhere and then asked you out. unfortunately he was so attractive and weird that he confused you really badly for a second, and you agreed to go out with him. after telling a handful of your friends about it, you decided that you might as well go just so that you can know what kind of enormous douche bag would even do this kind of thing.

you approach the restaurant. restaurant is an overstatement. sasuke, the weirdo from the starbucks line, invited you to this taco kiosk downtown. you’ve been there before. the tacos were fine.

so you walk up to the taco stand and you can see sasuke sitting at one of the tables nearby. incredibly, he seems to already be eating. you approach him.

“hey,” you say. “i thought this was supposed to be a date.”

“oh,” he says. it infuriates you to see that even with a mouthful of carne asada, this guy could be a sculptor’s model for some ethereal fallen angel.

“yeah," he says. "do you want five bucks for a taco or something.”

“why are you already eating.”

“i was hungry.” he takes another bite, like this is normal.

“when you go on a date, you usually– you know what. yeah. i want five bucks for a taco.”

“mkay.”

sasuke wipes his hands on a napkin very deliberately. you suspect he’s drawing it out just to annoy you. he pulls out his wallet, which is the fattest and greenest wallet you have ever seen. it nearly distracts you from the fact that the wallet is gucci. he pulls out a fifty, shakes his head, and grabs a five instead. you take it, kind of shocked.

“actually can you get me a drink too?” he asks shamelessly.

“i– yeah, okay.”

he hands you another five. you go up to get your tacos and a large horchata for your fucking bizzaro date who is apparently richer than jeff bezos. you return and sit down across from him. he’s already finished his tacos.

“am i just supposed to eat this in front of you?” you say.

“that’s what dates are.”

“what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“a lot.” he takes a long sip from his horchata, not even breaking eye contact.

“has anybody told you that you have a shitty personality?”

“yep.”

you eat your taco in silence. he watches you silently. it’s annoying how sexy his hair is in the breeze. he drinks the horchata and it’s kind of tantalizing when a drop of it sticks to his mouth and he licks it off. if you weren’t so bewildered and enraged then you’d probably have trouble talking, but you are in fact so bewildered and enraged.

“so can you talk or something because you eating before i got here and just watching me eat my tacos is kind of pissing me off. like. who are you. what’s your deal. do you have hopes and dreams or something.”

sasuke rolls his eyes, like this is all a huge annoyance and he didn’t ask you out and create this entire situation by himself. “obviously i have hopes and dreams.”

“okay. what’s a hope and or dream of yours then.”

“i highkey want to kill my brother.”

what the fuck. who says that. you’re in broad daylight. there are people sitting nearby. the worst thing is that somehow you’re not even surprised. he keeps sipping his drink like he just told you that he wants to learn another language or something.

“that’s psychopathic.”

“you don’t know me,” he says. this statement paired with his pseudo-scene kid hair makes you feel exhausted beyond your years.

he offers you the horchata. you squint at him. a small part of you says indirect kiss as you take a long, obnoxiously loud sip, but all the rest of you says i probably have herpes now. that’s what rich incredibly sexy weirdo psychopaths do. they give you herpes.

“i don’t have herpes, by the way,” he says.

“yeah, i already drank from the same straw, so it doesn’t matter at this point.”

“okay. well. i hope if i gave you herpes it kills you.”

this guy is really pissing you off on a level that nobody has ever pissed you off before in your life. you finish your taco. he looks at you through his long, dark lashes.

“so let’s do this again next week,” he says very matter-of-factly.

he gets up and just walks away from you without saying anything else. a bird shits on your shoulder and you yell “FUCK”. he turns around and sees this, briefly laughs at you from a distance, and keeps walking away.

Chapter Text

your name is y/n and you are allegedly dating a sexy weirdo named sasuke uchiha. you say allegedly because he keeps inviting you to places, being an asshole to you while you eat, and then walking away. luckily for him, you don’t mind a free lunch. you’re set to see him again on thursday. he wants to get pho.

it surprises you, then, when you pick up your phone and there’s a text from him that reads where are you right now.

at the dmv

oh nice. u know the drugstore nearby?

yeah

can u come to the huge dumpster behind it?

what

like right now

no

why

i lost my ID and i need a new one. why are you at the dumpster

come here

no

yes

why

help me climb in

you squint at your phone. someone clears their throat behind you and you shuffle forward in line. you really want your ID. the phone goes back in your pocket but it begins buzzing immediately. sasuke is calling. you decline the call. sasuke calls again. you decline the call again. sasuke calls a third time. you pick up, and then hang up immediately. you receive a text.

help me climb into the dumpster

say please

please help me climb into the dumpster please

oh shit i didnt think you say it would lol

fuck you. will you help me now

no wtf i told u i’m getting a replacement ID

you stand in line for half an hour more and then finally get your paperwork in for a replacement ID. after a supremely awkward photo, you exit the DMV. you check your phone. there are 18 missed calls from sasuke. as you look at the screen, he calls again. you pick up.

“do you have your ID yet?”

“no, they’re gonna mail one to me.”

“okay can you come to the dumpster now.”

“have you been there the whole time?”

“i actually walked to the DMV to get you but i saw all the people inside and got stressed out.”

“…ooookay. drugstore dumpster?”

“yes.”

you walk the block or so to the drugstore and see your boyfriend (?) standing in the alleyway, hands shoved into a long black overcoat. you would call it overdramatic but he’s pulling it off. actually you will call it overdramatic anyway.

“what, are you cosplaying or something? playing CIA agent?”

his lip curls in disdain. “fuck no. we’re hunting the CIA.”

you laugh. he stares at you.

“say that again with a straight face. again.”

“we’re hunting the CIA.”

you knew he was crazy but you didn’t know he was crazy crazy. he beckons you further into the alley. as usual, you follow in disbelief.

“so my brother is a fucking pig fed and i need to know what drugs he bought when he went in,” says sasuke, looking very serious. he’s so pretty, even standing next to a gated dumpster. it takes you a second to register what he said.

“i– what?”

“he threw away his receipt when he walked out and the garbage guy took the bag out of the trashcan before i could–”

“no, nope, no. nuh uh. you know what? i don’t wanna know.”

“but you’re gonna help me climb into the dumpster?”

he’s completely deadpan. you look flatly at your boyfriend (?) for a long moment.

“yeah, alright. i’ll give you a boost.”

you lock your hands together and he steps onto them with his sleek leather boot. bracing yourself, you count to three and hoist upwards, giving him just enough momentum to scramble over the gate. after a few minutes of scuffling, he gives a little whoop of victory, apparently having found the trash bag he wanted, and climbs back out clutching a comically long receipt. his black coat and black pants and black boots are filthy, his hair disheveled. to your dismay he still looks like an archangel, albeit a nasty smelly fallen one.

he pumps his fist, a satisfied grin on his face, and greedily inspects the receipt. curious, you also peek at it.

“holy shit. that’s… a lot of chemical names. do you know what this shit is? i didn’t even know they sold this stuff.”

“nope. my friend is in med school, i’ll ask her.”

“oh, nice.”

you stand awkwardly in the back alley next to your trash covered boyfriend (?) and wonder if his claim about his brother working for the feds actually holds any water. you wonder what the fuck sasuke does for a living. you wonder if food grease comes out of boot leather easily. you wonder why you keep seeing this guy.

“hey,” says sasuke.

“yeah?”

“thanks.”

with surprising tenderness, sasuke kisses you briefly on the mouth. you blink at him. he blinks back.

“so we do kisses now?”

“i mean. we’re dating,” says your boyfriend (!).

“oh. cool.”

“you’re a dumbass.”

“you just climbed out of a dumpster, douchebag.”

sasuke opens his mouth to respond but a gruff voice yells at you from the back door of the pharmacy to get the fuck out of there, fuckin’ kids, making you both jump. like chastised dogs caught drinking from toilets, you run out of the back alley and into the flickering neon signs of the parking lot. sasuke stuffs the receipt in his pocket without folding it and the paper makes an annoying crunching noise.

“do you wanna get pho right now?” he says.

“yeah, man, i’m starving. fuck the DMV.”