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“Looks like it hurts,” Naruto comments.
Sasuke flips him off.
His entire body aches something fierce, blood and bruises marring the usually pristine, pale skin. The fabric of his super suit is valiantly holding together by stretched stitches. He’s never been more glad for a fight to end, because he was literally this close to flashing the world. Honestly, what is his suit made out of? Tissue paper? He’s never been this close to public nudity before and he’d like for it to never happen again. Thanks.
“Not everyone can have a healing ability,” he scowls at the blonde, even though it pulls at the tender skin by his nose.
Naruto, still decked out in his Inari suit and looking annoyingly put together, just smiles his usual obnoxious, blinding grin. It would be Sasuke’s luck that the idiot actually performed better than him today of all days. Today when they weren’t a duo but instead a group, against a massive criminal gang with way too many civvies holding up cameras all around.
No one had the common sense to run anymore. Annoying.
“Ehe, either way, I think I’ll leave you to it…”
Then he wiggles his brows very, very obviously and Sasuke feels like crawling into a hole to die of infection. Naruto bounces away, his ears and tail flickering happily, as though he’s doing Sasuke some sort of favor. They’ve been friends, both on and off the battlefield, for years now and Sasuke still can’t comprehend how stupid the other man is sometimes.
“Indra, hold still.”
Ah, there she is.
In her own super suit, the woman with the power to heal with one hand and crush with the other steps in close. In the effort of protecting secret identities, most masked heroes go to Paeon. Refusing her aid would be stupid, as her ability to heal usually takes minutes at most and very rarely leaves a scar. Perfect for getting your ass whooped by a supervillain at noon and going to dinner with your unsuspecting parents at six.
He doesn’t know what her real hair color is, or even the shapes of her face. She wears the equivalent of a biker helmet, voice modifier included. He speculates it’s because she has very obvious identifying features.
Not that he thinks about her a lot.
She’s shorter than him by a few inches, yet able to manhandle him like he’s lighter than air. She always smells like cherry blossoms and sanitizer and he doesn’t know why he leans in a little when she hovers around to heal him. It’s not like he likes her.
He doesn’t even know what she looks like! Or her name! She could be twenty years older, or worse — a minor.
Sasuke shivers. He hates teenagers. They’re disgusting and impossible to deal with.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” he grunts.
She presses down on his chest and he yelps like a kicked dog.
“Funny, I could have sworn that Inari was the canine-type between you two.”
Sasuke doesn’t have much of a response aside from a scowl, his torso throbbing. It only hurts for another moment, before Paeon’s healing power sinks into his flesh. In just moments he’s practically uninjured aside from some soreness. He almost feels disappointed that it took so little time, then smacks himself internally at the thought. Whatever dumb assumptions Naruto has in his head, they are not true. Not even a little bit. Sasuke refuses to be swayed by dry wit, kindness and nice perfume.
He is Uchiha Sasuke, the dark hero Indra. He will not be—
“Okay, Indra, all done,” Paeon hums, her presence lingering. “That’s a good look for you, by the way.”
Sasuke frowns and opens his mouth, only glancing down for a moment. Then he comes face to face with the fact that his clothes are falling apart and whatever words he was going to say vanish completely. He chokes instead, probably unattractively bug-eyed while Paeon throws her head back and laughs.
If he listens closely, he can pretend he hears the real tenor of her amusement.
It’s nice….
(Even if it’s at his expense.)
Sasuke refuses to blush, the scowl settling firmer on his face. He can barely stand to look at her, turning instead to stare holes into the wall of the ’Recuperation Station’. She’s so annoying. So infuriating. Always being helpful and emotional then turning around and tripping him up.
She could look like anything.
Yet his eyes still follow her when she walks away — on to the next patient, because even when the fight ends, her job doesn’t.
He finds himself caring less about what she looks like and more about why she refuses to show him. They’ve known each other a long time, haven’t they? Something like eight years. That’s certainly enough to trust one another with their secret identities, isn’t it?
Sasuke sighs and can’t even believe that he’s so focused on this. On a girl. Woman. Whatever. That’s never been him. The fact that she’s slipping into the unknown territory of his mind is concerning.
So is the blush that does grace his face when her masked head turns around to catch him staring. Sasuke immediately proceeds to jump and disappear into the nether, cursing the giddiness in his chest when he hears her laughing at his expense again.
Somehow, this is all Naruto’s fault.