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Sasuke has never quite been able to decide what was brighter: the rising sun at six o’clock or Naruto’s resting face under the first break of daylight. Under the brightness of morning, Naruto’s tanned skin glows, slack with sleep. Drool pools at the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his cheek and staining the pillow below him. It’s oafish, just like the rest of him. Yet, instead of the aversion Sasuke should feel, he’s fattened with endearment.
Sasuke is cognizant that the specks that dance through the window’s gleam are dust motes, a clear indication that Naruto would benefit from a dustcloth in his hand. Still, he imagines them as near microscopic blessings. Not exactly a childish vision of fairies or wish-granting spirits. They were more symbolic than that.
See, for the first time since childhood, Sasuke can laze carelessly watching dust. Half-naked and vulnerable to sudden attack, Sasuke can push hypervigilance from his mind and swipe the drool away from Naruto’s lips.
Right now, Sasuke is not a shinobi or even a Uchiha. He isn’t required to be anything. With a mind vacant of thought, Sasuke soaks in the warmth that travels through a summer day. The breeze licks through Naruto’s hair from the cracked window, and, envious that the wind is touching him, Sasuke reaches out to comb his own fingers through Naruto's blonde.
There is no reaction to the contact. Soft, steady snores rumble from Naruto’s throat. Sasuke thinks it's unbelievably unpleasant to listen to. He smiles, though, contented by Naruto’s tranquillity. With age, Naruto has squared. His jaw is strong and masculine, unlike Sasuke, who has retained the pointedness he’s inherited from his mother. He’s glad that parts of her look back at him in the mirror, even if it removes the chance to be seen as brawny.
Naruto being his brawn is good enough, anyway.
Between his index and thumb, Sasuke kindly captures Naruto’s ear, rubbing the lobe between his appendages. No matter the muscle he builds or how far he strays from their child-like softness, Naruto will always be squishy somewhere. Sasuke sighs something too close to dreamy, frowning at the noise.
As quickly as the relief that Naruto was not awake to hear it arises, it dissipates.
“You’re such a pervert,” Naruto’s whisper startles Sasuke, ripping his hand away. That serene moment Sasuke has captured floats away with the dust motes. That brilliant smile ripples Naruto’s complexion, and even with his eyes sealed shut, Sasuke’s heart jumps.
There are times when the swell of tenderness Naruto elicits within him is all too much. It surges through his body, overwhelming his senses. When one blue eye splits open, full of life, while drooping from sleep, a nervous lump catches Sasuke’s throat.
In a poor attempt to gracefully retract, Sasuke jolts upward in the bed. This reaction is profuse of him, entirely unnecessary. It’s been two years since they declared their relationship a strain of romantic and still, Sasuke’s body feels full of bubbles. Sporadically, they pop within him and send another pang of delight through him. If he opens his mouth to speak, soapy foam might fall into the crater of his lap.
Sickened by his gloopy emotions, Sasuke makes the move to stand—to retreat somewhere where his neutral state can settle once more. Except, it seems the elastic of his underwear has been seized.
“Sasuke,” Naruto calls out in that muzzy voice of his, stretching the waistband. Sasuke grumbles something unintelligible. Not particularly at anyone or anything, just out into the world as a sentiment of his irritation.
“Quit it, Naruto. Let go of me,” Sasuke barks over his shoulder, attempting to circumvent the meeting of eyes. He’s not sure if he can handle it. In every fathomable way, Sasuke is more exposed than he’d like to be.
“Where are you going?” Naruto disregards Sasuke entirely, pulling upon the fabric once more and urging him to fall back into bed with him. For show, Sasuke tuts irritably. Naruto’s earnestness persists in all areas of his life. He demonstrated the little self-restraint he has when waiting for Sasuke to shimmy downward once more.
“Bathroom,” Sasuke mumbles as he descends into Naruto, pressing his face into the smooth skin of his neck. Arms cage Sasuke once he’s comfortable, one around Sasuke’s shoulder, the other squeezing at the narrowest part of his waist. Sasuke rolls his eyes.
“Mmm,” Naruto cranes his neck, no doubt uncomfortable, to press his lips against his exposed forehead. “Just pee in the bed.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Naruto’s sapid laugh fills Sasuke’s senses. Any semblance of drowsiness is punched away by the outburst. By no means would Sasuke claim to be funny. Besides Naruto, no one else seems to produce a chuckle at his words, even if they were meant to contain humour.
“A moron, too,” Sasuke produces a noise somewhere between a scoff and one of amusement.
Sasuke has spent a long time being self-absorbed, employed only by his own aches. Once the war ceased, his motivations were revised. Sasuke’s selfishness was to transform into a healthy asset. No longer would he center his hunger, whether it be for vengeance or otherwise.
Naruto was an exception to that. Naruto was always an inconsistency in whatever Sasuke arranged. So, upon the emerging opportunity, they embraced each other. They could both agree that their pent-up fervours would do no good unspoken. The intensity of silenced emotion had already proved destructive.
That invisible pull of theirs transcends romantic passion. It could be deep devotion or mutual worship, Sasuke isn’t sure. He can feel Naruto from kilometres away, though. Even if it is simply a hunch, Sasuke has never been incorrect about the coordinates. And, when he finds Naruto, he always acts suspiciously as if he’d felt Sasuke closing in on him.
When the offer of a prosthetic limb had been extended to Sasuke, he’d promptly denied it on principle. The subtracted limb was a silent, material reminder of his choices. For Naruto, the limb was the righting of a wrong. If Sasuke were to have accepted, the emblematic meaning of Naruto’s reconstruction would have been rendered meaningless. Sasuke’s acceptance would have been an undeserved reward for years of atrocity.
And there is only one, very rare circumstance in which Sasuke mourns his appendage. After an extended time away, Naruto engulfs Sasuke. Muscled arms encircle his waist, towing Sasuke ahead. It’s always a warm welcome, a beckon to solace. It is in those fleeting moments that Sasuke wishes he could reciprocate with both arms. Naruto compacts them together, though, somehow sensing Sasuke’s longing.
“One day we’ll have no responsibilities, and we can lie like this aaall day,” Naruto says into Sasuke’s hair, his voice vibrating away any remaining wandering thoughts. His left arm reaches awkwardly to trace wobbly shapes into the dip of Sasuke’s back, occasionally stopping to massage a vertebra. While it would have been more comfortable for Naruto to use his right, the bandages obstruct direct skinship.
“Yeah, when we’re decrepit, maybe.”
“Speak for yourself. While you whine about your joints, I’ll be as spry as ever.”
Sasuke scoffs a response, wrangling himself half-upward. He plants himself back down on Naruto’s chest this time, chin perched between his pecs.
For a moment, he allows himself to imagine what Naruto speaks. What would they be like aged? They’d have wrinkles in spots the other would not. Sasuke’s in the glabella, just as everyone warned him it would. Naruto’s near his mouth, reminding everyone of his ever present grin.
It’s a nice thought but it was a while yet.
“My ass.” Admittedly, it’s a provocation. Sasuke intends to lure Naruto into a verbal scuffle. One that might lead to something a touch more physical. A familiar wrestling match where the sheets splay out everywhere except where they’re meant to be.
Maybe he really is a pervert.
Shockingly, Naruto does not take the bait. He softens, instead. Naruto’s spirited smile tenderly relaxes, seemingly at the sight of Sasuke. Naruto’s manufactured hand tucks a chunk of hair away from Sasuke’s face. Sasuke’s cheeks burn under the attentive gaze of Naruto.
“Sasuke,” he whispers needlessly, calling his name simply for the sake of it for a second time this morning.
“Naruto,” Sasuke calls back. Seeing as he wasted so much time ignoring Naruto, he will never not call back.
With little regard for the growing affection in Sasuke’s chest, Naruto rudely jerks Sasuke from his comfortable position. It had been a ploy. Soften him up so his guard was down. Naruto will always be Sasuke’s weakness. His lack of readiness made him akin to a ragdoll, easy to contort.
In no time, Sasuke was with his back to the mattress. Over top of him, Naruto hovers, his body blocking the window’s light. The only shine Sasuke can see now is straddling his legs around Sasuke’s hips. What a compromising position to be in. He might’ve blushed if this had been the first time. They were far from that, at this point.
“That was an easy win,” Naruto whooped, looking far too pleased with himself. He had a triumphant gleam to him, delighted that Sasuke allowed himself to be relatively defenceless when the two of them occupied space together.
“That’s cheating,” Sasuke spits up at him, squirming underneath his body weight. “You distracted me!”
Sasuke is too focused on wriggling to realize how childlike the accusation sounds. Laughter thumps out of Naruto, deep and unrelenting, completely stilling Sasuke from his escape attempts.
“I’m so happy you’re here, home with me,” Naruto coos, his sincerity nipping at the lining of Sasuke’s stomach. It feels fluttery, he admits to himself, especially when Naruto presses their foreheads together.
It’s Sasuke who makes the move for more, shifting to press their lips together. It starts as a peck. Naruto would never let it end as one. The rhythm they find is pacifying, perfectly lazy for a slow morning. It took a long time for them to learn how to work together efficiently. Somehow, this movement had come much more easily for them. The press felt natural, languidly moving with little thought. Naruto knew exactly what to touch or where to hold, memorizing each of Sasuke’s desires.
Sasuke does wish that Naruto would close his eyes, though. He has the creepy habit of keeping them wide open while they kiss, and it doesn’t matter how many times Sasuke chides him, he just keeps doing it.
They can’t stay like this for much longer, Sasuke knows. Their responsibilities require them, no matter how much the mattress pleads with them to stay. If it were any consolation, it wouldn’t be long before they were back here in the evening, Sasuke reasons. They would have dinner together, crawl right back under the covers to repeat this cycle of intimacy.
All because Sasuke agreed to stay longer. He decided he would try to assimilate, just to see how it goes. Really, it was the least he could do. Naruto has done so much for him; it was only fair that he attempted to compromise for his sake.
Konoha doesn’t entirely feel like home. Citizens are still wary of him, shinobi or otherwise. Naruto claims they’re warming up, but Sasuke holds his doubts. The offending powers that pushed Sasuke to consider annihilation are no longer a concern. At times, the streets of the village still reek of blood and betrayal. The system that failed so many, though changing, is still corrupt and difficult to watch. The scar Konoha left him with will never completely fade.
It was only around Naruto that Sasuke was able to pretend he belonged. When he falls into place beside Naruto, he absorbs his sunny warmth and projects that feeling outward, letting it touch every cranny of this place that Naruto so deeply loves.
If it meant growing old alongside Naruto, forever showered by his passion, Sasuke would do anything.
When their kiss breaks, Sasuke attempts to recreate a smile comparable to Naruto’s.
“I’m happy too.”