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“Come now, otouto, even you can’t manage to kill all my plants. I’m sure at least a few will survive.”
“I’m fairly certain that if I so much as breathe in the direction of your orchids, they will promptly flop over dead.”
Silence echoes over the line. Sasuke can almost picture his older brother’s pinched expression.
“Perhaps leave the orchids be. The camellias could use some water though.”
Why Itachi couldn’t just hire someone to take care of all his damn plants while he’s away on his anniversary is baffling to Sasuke. Surely, he could pay for a professional. Or at the very least, pay Sasuke. Violin strings get expensive after a while.
“Fine. I will try to keep your plants alive for the next two weeks. I will not be held liable for any horticultural malpractice.”
A breathy laugh crackles through the line, “Thank you, otouto.”
Sasuke smashes the end call button as his face reddens. Ugh. Ever since marrying his childhood sweetheart, his brother has become almost insufferably gentle. It’s gross and Sasuke wants to gag every time he experiences the sickeningly sweet sensation of being adored. Life was so much easier when everyone in their family was either silently suffering or glaring accusingly all throughout the day.
Well…no, that’s not true. Life had been immeasurably harder when Sasuke had believed his father hated his guts, his mother was heartbroken with her sons, and his brother was untouchable. Now, after Itachi grew brave enough to tell their father that he was in love with a man, life is just…weirdly great. But also incredibly hard because emotions make Sasuke a little sick to his stomach. Having grown up thinking that emotions were meant to be stuffed down deep inside and only aired out once or twice a decade, being surrounded by his brother’s intense happiness—and what turned out to be his father’s and mother’s equally as intense happiness—almost makes him a bit dizzy. And queasy.
Itachi’s intricate watering system distracts Sasuke for a moment as he shoves horrifying thoughts of being honest about his feelings to the deepest crevice of his psyche, where they can promptly fuck off. There are hoses attached to other hoses and…nozzles. So many nozzles. Each with different settings. He picks one at random and puts it on a somewhat gentle shower. The outdoor maze of stone pathways, ivy-covered arches, and walls and walls and walls of flowers greet him as he steps out into Itachi’s…hobby on steroids. How his brother manages to keep his menagerie of plants alive while simultaneously leading their father’s law firm absolutely floors Sasuke. He can barely keep up with all his extra classes from his dual-major in both his conservatory and his university. Let alone his extra ensemble work. Sasuke wouldn’t have time for a hobby even if he wanted one, and yet Itachi has managed to fall entirely off the deep end with something he picked up a few years ago because his stupid husband brought him home an orchid on a whim. If it were possible to angrily water plants, Sasuke somehow manages it.
He lets the spray smack into the flowers that have the audacity to spring back, shinier and glossier than before. Perhaps it would take skill he simply does not have to murder these flowers. Whatever steroid Itachi has them on, they all but sing and dance in the rain of angry water Sasuke showers on them. He glares around at the mass of plants, mentally calculating just how long this endeavor is going to take him. Maybe he can use two hoses at once. With a groan, he remembers the bushes of camellias lining the outside of Itachi’s yard. He guestimates where he remembers the bushes being, turns the nozzle to a stronger setting, and blindly aims over the fence.
“Ahh!! What the fuck!” The startled shriek that responds to the downpour makes Sasuke freeze up in terror. He drops the hose like it’s a serpent and stares at the hidden door in the paneling that he—very belatedly—realizes he could have used to water the bushes.
The entity on the other side of the fence bangs on the wood. “Uhm, hello? What the fuck?”
Sasuke would also like to know what the fuck. Against his better judgment, he yanks the latch open and turns towards the voice, glare locked and loaded, ready to berate the dumbass who did this to themselves.
The world stops as he stares at the vision before him. The rising sun shines directly behind the man he’d accidentally drenched, haloing blond hair like some scene from a fantasy. The camellias glisten in the sun and a breeze sweeps through the space, lifting petals and leaves to dance in the wind, in and around the most stupidly beautiful human being Sasuke has ever seen in his life.
The man is blond, strands darker than the sunshine only because of the wet nature of them. His eyes are the color of the sky at high noon, big and bright, wide and—angrily glaring at Sasuke like this is somehow his fault. His lips are plump and pink and—angrily shouting at Sasuke like this is somehow his fault. His white button-down is soaked through, clinging to a toned chest slick with water that maybe…just perhaps, might be Sasuke’s fault.
“What the fuck!?” The blond shouts again, glaring at Sasuke and then down at his soaked clothes.
“That’s my line. What the hell are you doing skulking outside my brother’s yard?” Sasuke retorts with vengeful wrath because that’s the only way he knows how to respond, justified or not.
“I was just sketching the flowers! I didn’t know it was a crime punishable by…” The idiot pauses, clearly unsure of where he was going with that one, “drenching!” He waves his arms around as if to make a point. Sasuke is unsure of what point exactly but the sentiment is clear enough.
The thing is, Sasuke would normally be sorry. At least slightly. Enough that he would quietly try to alleviate the situation. Except this beautiful idiot of a man makes him want to antagonize simply on principle. Something about the blonde’s anger just…makes Sasuke want to mess with him some more. Hmm. Maybe he should go see that therapist Itachi casually mentioned a few weeks ago.
Instead, he indulges in what just became his favorite pastime. “Oh, so not only are you trespassing but you’re also drawing private property without permission?”
The idiot stutters in his squawking long enough to contort his stupidly attractive face into confusion.
“I…I don’t—wait, I was just…it was just a sketch of the flowers!” He looks so confused that Sasuke wonders if he’d believe just about anything Sasuke told him. Sasuke’s so tempted to find out. “I…wait do I need permission to sketch your flowers…?”
Fuck if Sasuke knows but his abdomen is starting to hurt from withholding his laughter. He finally can’t hold back a snort and the blond erupts as Sasuke smothers his laughter into his hand.
“You bastard! You’re messing with me!” The blond screeches, but Sasuke can hear a hint of laughter around the edges of his voice.
Sasuke looks up just in time to see the idiot smirk as he shakes his head. Whether it’s in disbelief or amusement, Sasuke can’t tell.
Sasuke’s laughter morphs into a gasp halfway out of his mouth, and he ends up coughing as his heart pounds in response to that smirk. He manages to get himself under control in record time considering he’s never been so instantly attracted to someone before.
“Here, come inside. I’ll get you a towel.” He gestures for the blond to follow him, ignoring the way his face is starting to burn.
The blond waits impatiently in the doorway as Sasuke retrieves a towel from the guest bathroom. His feet hesitate as he steps past the guest bedroom. He still has a few shirts in the drawers from when he last stayed with Itachi. The blond seems about his height. Sasuke snatches a soft white Henley before he can think about it for too long.
Every breath Sasuke had in his lungs decides to escape at once—accompanied by an embarrassing noise Sasuke never wants to think about again—as he walks back to the entryway and finds that the blond idiot has stripped out of his soaking wet shirt. His skin is tanned and tacky from the water and Sasuke thinks that he might just die on the spot because fuck those abs make his heart rabbit in his chest. Sasuke’s mouth fucking waters and the only thought that surfaces in his mind is that this situation is just absurd enough to count as an intro to a porno.
Sasuke physically jerks back as he tosses the towel towards the walking (literal) wet dream standing in his brother’s entryway.
“Thanks,” The smile the blond gives him does not help the sudden heat rampaging through Sasuke’s bloodstream.
He stiffly walks to the kitchen, hands in desperate need of something to do besides trail his fingertips over the idiot about to make him combust. Sasuke huffs out an annoyed breath with himself, forcing his slightly shaking hands to still as they set about making tea.
“I’m Naruto, by the way. Uzumaki Naruto. I’m an art student at the university nearby.”
Sasuke jolts, head spinning around to look back at the blond—thankfully now mostly covered by the towel as he uses it to wipe up the dampness.
“You’re a student at TU?” That’s…bad. Distantly, Sasuke realizes that that information is bad for him. Somewhere beneath all the sudden lust and desire.
“Yep, I’m in the art program. That’s kinda why I was sketching your flowers. I have so many assignments coming up and a ton of sketchbooks to fill.” The blond—Naruto, his name is fucking Naruto and he’s an art student. At Sasuke’s university. They go to the same school. Sasuke belatedly realizes that he might just be spiraling a bit as he absentmindedly tosses Naruto his old Henley.
“Wait, if you know TU, are you a student?”
Don’t answer that. Do not answer that—Sasuke knows he absolutely should not answer that and yet— “Yes.”
Well fuck.
“Wait really?” Naruto lights up like sunlight and Sasuke feels a bit queasy. He’s never going to feel the same about sunlight again and—ugh. Someone please end him before this can get any worse than it already is.
“Wait wait—are you a music student? Are you a violinist!?” Naruto’s smiles cracks his entire face as he points at the violin case Sasuke had stupidly left out on the counter.
Another question he knows he shouldn’t answer. And yet. “Yes. I am. Are you going to stand around half naked in my brother’s kitchen forever?” He pointedly looks at the shirt Naruto had crumpled in his hands when he had excitedly pointed at Sasuke’s violin.
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Naruto pulls the Henley over his head quickly, but not before Sasuke catches the hint of a blush dusting across his cheeks. Oh dammit. Sasuke is ruined.
“Oh! OH!!” Naruto’s head pops out of the shirt, damp hair tousled in a way that makes Sasuke lick his lips. “I know how you can apologize for drenching me!”
“Excuse me?” Sasuke growls, anger overriding his lust because that’s easier to deal with than the rampant crush he’s going to have to dismantle piece by piece.
“I mean, you did kind of ruin my sketchbook. And if I don’t finish this assignment, my grades will plummet.” Naruto flops around the small sketchbook that Sasuke hadn’t even noticed until now. Too distracted by…everything else about the hot blond idiot ruining his health.
Sasuke bites back the comment he’d been about to make, eyes caught on the waterlogged pages. He sighs. “Fine. What do you want?”
Sketchbooks can’t be that expensive. He’ll just buy the idiot a new one and then this nightmare will be over.
Naruto’s smile brightens the whole room, his eyes lighting up like starlight. “Let me sketch you! I’ve always wanted to paint a violinist but it’s hard to find one okay with me staring at them for hours on end. Play for me so I can paint you for my final!”
…
Fuck.
Sasuke wants to refuse. He wants to shove the blond out of his brother’s house and never think about this encounter again.
Except he doesn’t. That damn smile, those damn eyes, the sheer joy and excitement radiating off Naruto in waves makes Sasuke want to say yes. To say yes again and again and again.
So he does. Just this once. Eventually Naruto will find something or someone else to paint and Sasuke can go back to suppressing all his emotions deep down to wallow in quiet longing.
Except he doesn’t. The story of how they met becomes a practiced tale, embellished in each retelling. Especially on the day of their wedding.