Work Text:
Sasuke doesn’t hate Gaara.
He’s not childish. He doesn’t hate anyone anymore, not the way he used to, not since therapy, not since he started really trying to be a person again. But he does hate the way Gaara stands a little too close when he talks to Naruto.
He hates the way Naruto doesn’t seem to notice.
They’re at Kiba’s apartment for some half baked weekend party, with music that’s too loud, lighting too dim, and too many bodies pressed together in a space that isn’t really big enough for all of them. Sasuke is already pressed into a corner of the kitchen, nursing the drink he didn’t want but took anyway because it gave him something to do with his hands.
Naruto is in the living room, half lit by the glow of Kiba’s tacky LED strip lights, head tipped back in laughter at something Gaara just said. He’s always laughing around Gaara. And Gaara, that freak, doesn’t even smile properly. He just watches Naruto like he’s something sharp and glittering, like he’s dangerous and delicate and endlessly fascinating.
Sasuke hates it.
“It’s embarrassing how obvious you’re being.”
Sasuke doesn’t look when Karin slides in next to him. She’s holding a red Solo cup, probably filled with whatever garbage Kiba considers drinkable. Her smile is bright and mean.
“You’re gonna burn a hole through the guy,” she adds, elbowing him lightly. “Or Naruto. One of them. What is it now—eight years of pining?”
“Go away,” Sasuke mutters.
“Oh no, not until I finish my drink. I like watching you suffer.”
Suigetsu appears a moment later, tugging Jugo behind him by the wrist. “Yo, Sasuke. Gaara’s talking to your boyfriend again. Just thought you should know.”
“He’s not my—” Sasuke starts, scowling, but Suigetsu steamrolls right through it.
“I mean, not that we’re judging. Naruto’s cute. A little dumb, but hey, that’s your type, right?”
“He’s not dumb,” Sasuke snaps automatically.
Karin cackles. “You’re hopeless.”
He is. He knows that.
Naruto’s been his friend since middle school, and they’d grown even closer once Sasuke came back to Konoha after a few years away, trying to make sense of things, of himself. Naruto had been loud and annoying and persistent and perfect. Sasuke had watched him grow into himself in ways that made Sasuke want to curl up and bite his own tongue off.
Every time Naruto smiled at him, every time he offered to share his lunch or dragged Sasuke to ramen or texted him a dumb question at two in morning, Sasuke’s brain lit up like it was the best thing that had ever happened.
Which would’ve been fine— great even, if Naruto wasn’t so stupid. Not stupid in the actual sense. Naruto was sharp when it mattered, attentive, emotionally present in ways Sasuke wasn’t sure he’d ever figure out. But when it came to him, to Sasuke being obvious, Naruto just didn’t see it.
And Sasuke had been trying.
He wore tight shirts when he knew Naruto would be around. He let himself get teased for wearing cologne, and he didn’t even deny it when Naruto said, “Whoa, you smell good, did you do that for me?” with that stupid grin.
Sasuke just looked at him. Dead in the eye.
And Naruto had laughed. Laughed.
He thinks Sasuke is joking.
And then there’s Gaara, with his weird little stare and the way he always seems to end up touching Naruto’s wrist, or shoulder, or brushing his fingers against Naruto’s stupid arm. And Naruto just stands there and smiles.
It was fucking annoying.
“Just say something,” Karin says now, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Just tell him you’re into him. Or better—kiss him next time you guys are hanging out. You think Naruto’s gonna freak out? That boy would bend over backwards if you asked him to.”
Sasuke glares. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is the problem?”
Sasuke doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. The problem is that this— whatever this is, has been building up for years. A long, slow, awful burn. He doesn’t want to ruin it. Doesn’t want Naruto to pull away or treat him like some broken thing again.
He wants…
God, it’s humiliating.
He wants Naruto to want him back.
It wasn’t a clean feeling. Not the sharp clarity of wanting something you know you’ll reach for, not the warm ache of a slow burn longing that feels romantic when you’re in the right headspace. No, Sasuke’s brand of wanting is a little cluttered and bitter at the edges. A quiet mess of knowing better and still folding like paper under a glance.
And Naruto glances at everyone. Smiles at everyone. Throws his voice out into every room like he’s always confident it’ll be caught and thrown back. And it always is.
Sasuke stays leaning against the kitchen counter, back to the wall, arms folded loosely as if that’ll stop the tense coil pulling across his chest every time Naruto’s voice breaks through the low hum of bass and bodies in Kiba’s apartment. So, of course he’s here. Of course he came. Sasuke’s not an idiot, he knew Naruto would be at this party. Naruto never misses an excuse to crowd into someone’s too small apartment and sweat through a hoodie because someone cranked the heat. It was dumb.
And Sasuke showed up anyway.
He tells himself it’s just because his friends were going. Because he has nothing better to do. And because Naruto might be here. Looking like he always does with hair messier than usual, hoodie sleeves pushed up, that stupid bead of sweat that catches on his neck when the room gets hot and he still refuses to take off a layer.
Which he’s wearing now. One of Sasuke’s hoodies, the black one with the torn cuff that he never officially gave him. Naruto just took it one day, claimed it from the back of Sasuke’s couch and never returned it. And Sasuke let him. Of course he did.
He takes a sip of something clear and flavorless and warm. His eyes flicker across the room again, like he can’t help it, like something in his body drags the attention before his mind catches up.
Naruto is still on the couch, flanked by Kiba and Ino now, legs spread and arms thrown over the back cushions like he owns the whole building. And Gaara’s in front of him, crouched low, saying something that makes Naruto laugh with his whole body. Gaara doesn’t laugh, but he smiles, tilted and unreadable.
Naruto beams back at him, and Sasuke’s fingers twitch around his cup.
He doesn’t realize he’s glaring until someone presses up against his side.
“Jesus,” Suigetsu drawls. “Didn’t know laser vision came standard with whatever flavor of brooding you are.”
Sasuke doesn’t flinch. He just exhales and keeps watching. Suigetsu leans in harder, draping his full weight against Sasuke’s side, propping his chin on Sasuke’s shoulder with zero regard for personal space. “You look like you’re about to commit a hate crime.”
“Get off,” Sasuke mutters, shaking him once, but Suigetsu clings like a parasite.
“I will not. This is entertainment. I love this show.”
Karin is still on his other side, smiling like a demon summoned by blood pressure. “I told you,” she says, sipping something pink from her Solo cup, “he’s like this every time Gaara shows up.”
Suigetsu hums in agreement. “Miserable, possessive and silent. It’s like watching someone lose a game they won’t admit they’re playing.”
Jugo stands across from them, calmer, less invasive. “You could just talk to him.”
“No one wants that, Jugo,” Karin says with a grin. “We’d lose our favorite sitcom.”
“I don’t know,” Suigetsu adds thoughtfully. “I think I’d pay good money to see Sasuke spontaneously combust. That’s gotta be on someone’s bingo card.”
Sasuke exhales, slowly. “You’re all insufferable.”
“We’re your insufferable,” Suigetsu says, voice annoyingly fond, cheek resting on Sasuke’s shoulder. “Now be honest. Are you gonna stare holes into the back of Naruto’s head all night, or just until Gaara leaves?”
Sasuke doesn’t answer. His gaze stays fixed.
He’s not staring.
He’s watching. There’s a difference.
Watching is being passive, observational and detached.
Except that it’s not. Because every movement Naruto makes pulls Sasuke’s attention like gravity. The way he talks with his hands. The way he slouches but always leans into people when he’s focused on them. The way his laughter cracks open the air like static and lights up Sasuke’s spine.
And Gaara is still right there.
Close. Closer than he’s ever been with Sasuke, because Sasuke doesn’t let people that close. Not physically, anyway. But Naruto leans into Gaara’s words, nods when he speaks. He looks comfortable.
Like that’s not someone who used to stare at Sasuke’s mouth during lunch breaks. Like that’s not someone who’s licked blood off their knuckles in a fight and made it look like poetry. Like he’s not competition.
“Wow,” Karin says softly. “You’re going full unblinking death glare now.”
“I’m not glaring.”
“Mm,” she hums. “You’re right. You’re just boring a fucking hole through Naruto’s hoodie with your mind.”
“It’s my hoodie.”
“Exactly. Possessive.”
Suigetsu wiggles his eyebrows. “You want him to wear anything else of yours? Or nothing at all? Just wondering.”
Sasuke shoves his elbow into Suigetsu’s side hard enough to make him wheeze, but the bastard doesn’t budge. If anything, he clings harder.
Karin leans in, voice low and sweet like poison. “You know he’d let you, right? Probably has no idea you’ve been trying to eye fuck him since sophomore year. Probably thinks you’re just shy or something.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” she cuts in. “You’re so obvious, it wraps back around to looking accidental. Which is why he hasn’t done anything. He probably thinks it’s a fluke. That you don’t mean it.”
Sasuke grits his teeth.
Because he does. He means every look. Every calculated silence. Every time he shows up to Naruto’s place with coffee and says nothing about remembering exactly how he likes it. Every time he lets Naruto fall asleep against him during movie nights and pretends it doesn’t mean anything when he stays, curled up and heavy on his chest, until morning.
He’s done everything except say it.
And somehow Naruto still hasn’t gotten the message. Or maybe he has. Maybe he knows, and he doesn’t care. Maybe he likes Sasuke’s attention just enough to let it happen but not enough to reciprocate. Maybe Gaara isn’t a threat— maybe he’s just a better option.
Sasuke swallows down something bitter. He’s not going to say anything. It’s easier this way. Even if it’s worse.
Karin sighs, dramatic. “You’re really committed to this masochism thing, huh.”
“It’s not masochism,” Sasuke mutters.
Suigetsu makes a little cooing noise and bumps their cheeks together. “It’s tragic. It’s romantic. It’s gay.”
“Shut up.”
Karin shrugs. “At this point, if Naruto walked up and offered to suck your dick, you’d probably faint before answering.”
Jugo finally cuts in with a look of genuine concern. “Is this how you guys help?”
“No,” Suigetsu and Karin say in unison.
Sasuke sighs again and stares into the middle distance. Naruto’s standing now, stretching his arms over his head like some kind of golden retriever in heat. His shirt lifts just enough to show a strip of stomach. Someone throws a chip at him. He catches it in his mouth.
Sasuke wants to die.
“God,” Suigetsu says, watching the same display. “He is kind of hot, huh?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I’m just saying,” Suigetsu laughs. “No judgment if you need to go jerk off in the bathroom.”
Sasuke smacks him this time. It’s not enough to wipe the grin off Suigetsu’s face.
“Seriously, though,” Karin says, swirling the ice in her cup, “what’s your endgame? Just… pine until you rot?”
Sasuke shrugs one shoulder. “Dunno.”
“You know what would get his attention?”
“I don’t want advice from you.”
“Wear something even tighter next time. Lean into it. Weaponize that ass.”
Suigetsu snorts. “It is an asset.”
Sasuke wants to scream. Or disappear. Or drag Naruto into a closet and make him see it, but even thinking that makes him feel like an asshole.
Naruto just doesn’t know. He’s not ignoring Sasuke. He’s just being Naruto. Too stupid, too kind, too loud to notice subtlety.
And it’s his own fault.
He lets this happen. Lets Naruto into every corner of his life, every pocket of silence, every space that no one else gets to see. Lets him sprawl on his couch and take over his closet and wear his goddamn hoodie to a party like it means nothing.
And maybe it does. Sasuke presses the rim of his cup to his bottom lip and closes his eyes. Just for a second.
“You should come home with us,” Suigetsu says cheerfully. “You look like you’re gonna kill someone.”
“You are glowing with jealous rage,” Karin adds unhelpfully.
Sasuke doesn’t answer.
He watches Naruto instead. Watches the way he throws his head back to laugh. Watches the way he slaps Kiba’s shoulder and tosses popcorn in his face. Watches the way he glows.
Naruto exists like a sun.
And Sasuke is always left in his own orbit.