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Naruto was currently debating the consequences of alcoholism.
It was one of those days. He'd been kicked out of the office by Shikamaru (something about not sleeping for three days) Boruto had been caught painting the Hokage Rock (again!!), he hadn't seen Sasuke in a few days and it was times like these that Naruto wished he had a Dad to consult. Or even Pervy Sage.
But he didn't have either, so he settled for the conveniently located bar beside the Hokage's office.
Everything felt like it was falling to pieces, his rose colored glasses had been ripped off and he was forced to see how painful his life was. He could chalk the feeling up to not having slept in awhile, but he knew it was real; something a nap wouldn't fix.
He'd always felt there was a part of him missing. The feeling briefly went away when he was twelve, but it'd come right back. Sometimes he thought he'd die with this pain in his chest.
"Usuratonkachi?" A voice calls, right on time, Naruto figures.
"Hi," Naruto answers, "how'd you find me?"
"You weren't in the office."
"So you immediately figured I was at the bar?"
"I can feel your chakra, idiot."
"Oh."
Sasuke sighs, taking the seat left of Naruto. He waves down the bartender, ordering two glasses of Sake. He was tense and Naruto made the assumption he was having a shitty day too. Their drinks were delievered quickly and Naruto sighs as he sees Sasuke take a sip, he obviously wasn't gonna talk.
"I've been thinking." Naruto announces.
When he's not met with a snide remark like, "That's a first," or "Shocker," he knows it's bad.
"I saved the world when I was sixteen and all I grew up to be was Hokage, a husband, and a shitty fucking Dad." Naruto quickly finishes his entire glass, waving to the bartender.
"Hey man, can I get another glass?" He asks.
"Sure thing, Hokage!" The bartender answers.
Naruto turns to Sasuke, before laughing at the irony. It wasn't a laugh of joy, but rather the laugh of someone spending their one free Wednesday night at a bar with their best-friend instead of home with their family.
Sasuke shakes his head, "You're a good Dad. Boruto is much better off than you were."
Naruto nods, wishing he could believe the words Sasuke spoke, but until he saw Boruto grown and taking care of himself — he'll always feel like he's failing. He sighs, circling the rim of his glass with his finger, "Do you ever wish things had gone differently?"
Sasuke purses his lips, "When?"
Naruto shrugs, "I don't know .. just — when we were younger."
Sasuke nods.
"I regret leaving ... a lot." He admits, quietly.
Naruto smiles, tears in his eyes from Sasuke's admission. Not once over the fifteen years since the war had he ever heard Sasuke regret anything. "Now you know how I feel."
Sasuke's eyes flicker down to Naruto's lips — and he felt like he could still taste the miso, "I always have."
"Then how did I end up with a wife?" Naruto whispers, his lips quivering.
Sasuke can do nothing but stare at his limp hand on the bar. He wouldn't have an answer for that, he often wondered the same thing. Where would the two of them be right now if Sasuke had stayed? Would they be happier or still sitting at this bar on different nights, drinking themselves sick and miserable? If Sasuke had been honest, would it have ever been enough or would nothing save them from themselves?
He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Hey, you two!" Sakura greets, taking a seat beside Naruto.
"Hi, Sakura." Naruto answers.
She glances over him once, before deflating — her shoulders slumping as she sighed, "Good, it's one of those nights for you too."
Naruto nods, "What happened with you?"
Sakura looks at Naruto and immediately, her eyes begin to well. She looks away, wiping her tears with her hands before Sasuke reaches over Naruto, handing her a napkin. She takes a deep breath, finally looking back at Naruto.
"We lost a kid today," her voice shakes, "he looked .. he looked just like you. He didn't have a family 'cause of the war and — it's getting really hard to do this, forever."
"Be medical ninja?" Naruto asks.
Sakura nods, "I don't know. I mean, I'm helping people, but every time we lose someone it gets harder and Sarada's at home alone and she doesn't even think I'm her Mom. I mean — " She drags her hands through her hair, a habit she'd picked up from Naruto, " — what am I doing? It's just me."
She waves her hand between her and Naruto, "We don't see each other anymore," she gestures to Sasuke, "you never come home and I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Sasuke can feel his stomach churn as Sakura mentions him never coming home. He wouldn't try to justify it, how could he? All Sasuke had wanted was a family — to avenge the one Konoha had broke. Now that he has it, he does nothing.
Instead, he spends his days teaching Naruto's son and tells himself there's no hidden meaning behind it.
"Join the club," Naruto mutters, when the bartender finally drops off his glass of Sake — which Sakura swipes instantly and downs in one gulp. Naruto frowns, but doesn't have the energy to fight, just waving at the bartender and pointing to the empty glass.
"I mean," she pauses to swallow, "what did you think you'd be doing right now? End of the war, where did you picture yourself?"
Naruto shrugs, "I don't know, I knew I'd be Hokage."
"Okay," Sakura answers, "but there had to have been something else."
Naruto thinks for a second, before picturing a boy with black hair — cut jagged, styled the same as Sasuke's, dark whiskers embedded in his cheeks, matching the ones Naruto wore everyday. A sharingan, but only in his right eye, a power he fought for and earned. Naruto would want to name him Ramen and Sasuke would laugh at the terrible choice, not knowing Naruto was serious, and they'd fight until agreeing on the name Menma.
They'd raise him through every tough day and no matter how hard times would get, Naruto and Sasuke would join each other in bed at night, wholly at peace with no regrets to bear. But Naruto couldn't say that, so instead he settled for, "A lot of good."
Sasuke nods — as if he were thinking about Naruto too, imagining the same forever.
Sakura smiles before her lips quiver again, a single tear slipping down her cheek, "yeah."
The three are silent for a moment, thinking individually about their own troubles, until Sasuke huffs out a laugh.
"What's so funny, dobe?"
"You wanted to be a ramen chef," Sasuke cackles.
Naruto gasps, nodding, "I did? Oh — yeah, I remember that!"
"A ramen chef? Naruto, you can't cook at all!" Sakura laughs.
"It was my backup if I didn't make Hokage!" Naruto reasons.
They all laugh together, sipping their drinks (by now the bartender has decided to just keep the rounds coming), "If you didn't make Hokage," Sakura whispers, "like that was ever out of the question."
Naruto hesitates before speaking up, "Can I be honest?"
Sakura and Sasuke nod immediately.
"I don't think I ever wanted to be Hokage, I think I just wanted to be liked." He whispers, so low that Sakura and Sasuke almost doubt what they've heard.
"If it helps," Sakura takes a deep breath, "I didn't want to be a medical ninja, I just wanted my own thing to be good at. Away from you two." She admits and it makes Naruto wonder how long it took her to come to terms with that. He'd fought the idea off for years before realizing he never wanted any of this.
"I think," Sasuke speaks up, "we're all a mess."
"Yeah, I'd bet Gama on it," Naruto huffs, going to take a drink, before Sakura stops him.
"A toast," she raises her glass, "to how much of a mess we are."
Naruto clinks his glass against hers, holding it there as he nudges Sasuke.
Sasuke looks at Naruto once (damn those guilt tripping puppy dog eyes) before giving in, reluctantly raising his cup to meet theirs, the glasses clicking together.
"A toast," Naruto and Sasuke say in tandem before whipping their heads to glare at the other.
Sakura smiled at the familiarity.
The three would sit and talk all night at the bar, finding the comfort they didn't have, in each other. Then when the sun rose, they would each go home and pretend they still believed in their happy endings. Until their lives were told as just that — individual stories of heroism ending in domestic bliss — by their children and grandchildren, until there was nothing more of a whisper about Team 7 and the lives they dreamed of.