Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A Rather Long Prologue 

(before and after everything goes to shit, according to Tsunade) 

+ + + 

"…the war goes on– an ache in the bones,

an ache in the gut, an ache in the heart."

–SS, from I, etcetera: Stories

+ + 

It’s storming, absolutely horrible– the streets overflowing and the sewers rising up– New York is already a pit but in the mounting rain it smells like one too.

It take Tsunade over an hour to get to the old hospital on the edge of Ridgewood, and the taxi had broken down and she had to run the rest of the way– and then some nurse had thrown scrubs at her and disinfectant and told her she couldn’t go inside looking and smelling like she did–

(Kushina would hold her child firmly to her chest or against her neck, knuckles almost white from how tight she gripped him. Minato handled the kid like he was made of glass– like if he breathed too deep or moved too suddenly he’d break.

It was a stark contrast, and there wasn’t really a balancing point between the two). When Tsunade first sees the kid she isn’t really sure what to feel. She never liked babies because she doesn’t understand them. She’s intimidated by how much she could fuck one up.

But Kushina shoves her son into Tsunade’s arms and adjusts her elbows and then– then Tsunade just… holds him. He’s so light, so delicate, and smells so clean and feels so soft that it’s a wonder he’s alive at all.

“Oh,” she says, throat suddenly very tight, “he looks like you.”

Kushina shatters any delicate moment with her cackle, red hair catching the fluorescent hospital lights and still looking  so  bright–

Their whole family is so  bright  and Tsunade–

“What’s his name?” she asks, swallowing and not looking at the expression on Minato’s face when he answers.

“Naruto,” is spoken fondly and Kushina cackles again and Tsunade can’t help the scoff–

“Great,” she says, holding the kid– holding  Naruto – that much closer, “you’ll give him even more of an ego.”

“That’s what I told Kushina,” Minato sighs, and Tsunade knows she should probably meet their eyes but she  can’t – Naruto is so delicate, and sleeping, and his skin is so frail she can see the veins in his temples, can see the way his chest rises– the size of her  palm  for fucks sake–

“Shizune is on her way,” Tsunade tells them as Minato carefully takes Naruto and begins to pace the room, Kushina watching their every move with an unfocused glaze in her eyes–

“Tsunade, these drugs are– fucking– do I look pretty? I wanna feel pretty–”

Tsunade sits on the edge of Kushina’s bed and adjusts her pillows, checks her vitals, makes sure the IV’s in her arm aren’t at an angle–

“You’re lovely, as always,” Tsunade tells her, “congratulations. I suppose I gotta offer to babysit now.”

Minato’s soft laugh is drowned in a clap of thunder.

“Nah,” Kushina slurs, the drugs kicking in, “you’ll ruin him.”

Tsunade grins and Minato catches her eye.

“He’s in the cafeteria,” he tells her, “if you wanted to say hello.”

It’s as much as a suggestion that Minato can make and Tsunade waits until Kushina falls asleep before leaving the room and walking down the sterile white halls– following the signs to the hospital’s cafeteria. It’s pretty empty for 3am, but maybe the weather is helping keep the city under control for once– by drowning them all like rats.

And there he is– sitting at one of the circular tables by the windows, empty Styrofoam coffee cups stacked around him, an open notebook, a briefcase by his muddy boots– he doesn’t look much different.

He keeps his gaze down as she throws herself into the seat across from him– too busy finishing up a thought with a quick flick of his wrist and cheap store pen–

“You’re kinda late, aren’t ya?” he asks, eyes flicking up and his appearance may have aged but his eyes haven’t– always remain young and mischievous and reminding Tsunade of  much  different times. “You’re the godmother, after all.”

“Don’t remind me,” she hisses, not at  all  wanting to reveal the warmth in her chest, the nerves that get caught and tangled and expand with every breath, “we better hope those two stick around, can you imagine us raising a kid?”

Jiraiya laughs, deep and rattled.

“Hah, we wouldn’t be so bad,” he says, finishing the last dregs of coffee from the nearest cup, “well– Shizune would help.”

“Bless Shizune,” Tsunade sighs, smiling wistfully, and then she sobers, eyes darting to the briefcase by his feet. “You getting cocky or just fucking stupid?”

“Easy,” he says, closing his notebook and stuffing it into his deep coat pockets, “there’s nothing in there but vodka and some clothes for Kushina.”

Tsunade raises her brows.

“So not only are you lying but you’re  also  delivering late to me.”

“No business today,” Jiraiya tells her, expression serious but eyes alight– “Naruto’s just been born. Let him come into this world without his godparents making a deal.”

Tsunade huffs but relents.

“So,” she says, “prove to me you actually have vodka.”

Jiraiya’s cackle is almost as loud as Kushina’s.

+

The lights are harsh.

It’s the one thing Tsunade remembers most– the lights.

She isn’t sure why, there were much more horrible, much more pressing matters happening around her, but when she looks back, when she closes her eyes, all she can see are those lights– those cruel fucking red and blue and–

They are purple now, in her club. Purple and pink and yellow, never red or blue, and never those together.

Her hands shake as she takes another shot and drinks it down, then, eventually; Kakashi just passes her the whole bottle.

He’s watching her, she knows. She can feel his eyes on her, and it’s strange for the lights of the club to be flickering with no music, with no beat, with no life to be breathed into the colors–

“Tsunade,” he whispers, “should I come with you?”

Her hands are shaking so badly she can barely hold the bottle. In her mind, she can see them stained red but she has to blink once, twice, four more times before she can convince herself that they’re not.

“Jiraiya will call,” she says, “he–we both can’t go. If–  fuck – if someone is tailing him, following him, then Nar– the kid won’t have anyone if I go and fall into it too. I have to– I need–”

Kakashi doesn’t ask her to explain. He understands. Instead, he takes out his burner, dials a number, lets it ring once–  twice–

“Tenzo,” he says, not bothering to lower his voice, not bothering to hide anything as he watches Tsunade drink deeper than she should, “I need you to go to the 113 Precinct. Yes. Y– thank you.”

The phone snapping closed is harder than a shot.

Tsunade lifts her head, eyes drooping already. She can’t feel her hands and she just needs a little more and maybe– hopefully – she won’t be able to feel anything at all–

“They’ll be here soon,” Kakashi, tells her, “I’m going to turn on the house lights.”

Tsunade wants to say “right”.

She wants to say, “get a blanket”.

She wants to say, “clean the blood off the front steps”.

But she can’t speak, can’t say any of it, because it she does it would make it all real and reality is what she’s trying to escape–

“Kakashi,” is what she lands on, “lock the doors.”

+

Jiraiya is next to her.

They stand, side by side, in Kushina and Minato’s empty apartment.

Naruto is in his crib, sleeping, and small mittens on his hands. He kicks his tiny feet. Tsunade chokes on her breath.

“I’m bad luck,” she says through her teeth, “if they– if–”

“Enough,” Jiraiya says and he sounds exhausted, sounds like the last light in him has been drained, dried, destroyed– his words are sand and broken glass and they cut his tongue on their escape off his tongue, “enough, Tsunade.”

She swallows because she feels like she’s choking and has to prove to herself that she’s not.

The apartment feels large. It feels too small. Her skin is too tight over her bones, over her lungs, over her body. She’s too tight, she’s too much, she’s too–

“I need a drink,” Jiraiya says and only then, in the single, harsh overhead light, does Tsunade see the blood, dark brown and dried on his chest, his cheeks, his hands–

Blood on hands and red on red and Tsunade is too tight to exist–

“Shower,” she says and she’s speaking from a place she doesn’t know, a puppet on autopilot–unseeing, “get yourself together. I’ll watch… I’ll watch the kid.”

“Naruto,” Jiraiya corrects and Tsunade can’t look at him now, “call him his name, Tsunade.”

She doesn’t answer because she can’t. He leaves, disappears, to his own place or into the small bathroom here she isn’t sure. Naruto rolls again and Tsunade reaches down to automatically place him on his back.

She wonders if his hair will be as red as his mothers, or gold, like his father’s.

She half expects to hear Kushina’s laugh echoing through the room. When it doesn’t come everything feels too quiet.

“Okay,” she says and kneels down beside the crib, reaches her fingers through the gaps in the bars to touch the mittens on Naruto’s curled hands, “I won’t leave ya, kid.”

It’s the only promise she’s ever made and it’s the only one she intends to keep.

+

Kakashi watches because it’s what he does best.

Which is ironic, for someone missing their right eye, but it’s what he was trained for and what he still does– second nature and without any intention behind it.

Tsunade drinks more than she used to, which is saying a lot, and he’s quite certain that her blood is pure vodka and vermouth at this point–

“Hey! Hey! Kaka, watch this!”

The kid’s voice has his mother’s rasp and his father’s curve and Kakashi flits his eyes over to where Naruto is climbing up the pole like a firefighter, expression firm in concentration, tongue poking from between his teeth.

He’ll have bruises, Kakashi knows, purple and black up and down his legs, but the kid is a boundless bundle of energy and there’s no point in telling him to slow down. So Kakashi watches like he always does and Naruto eventually falls with an  oof!  and a thud and then Shizune is picking him up and checking his back and scolding, scolding,  scolding –

“Granny does it!” Naruto argues, pointless, because Shizune spoils him as much as she scolds and he’ll be back up that pole in the next five minutes, “and so does Mito and you’ve taught–”

“That’s their job,” Shizune points out, “not yours.”

Naruto pouts, and he looks so much like his late father with his lip jutted and his eyebrows furrowed that Kakashi has to take a minute to blink and stare and  convince  himself– 

“Cross your ankles,” he tells Naruto, ignoring Shizune’s look of askance, “lift from your core.”

Naruto’s grin spreads his cheeks like wildfire.

“All right,” the kid says, triumphant even though he’s failed, and as he approaches the pole again Shizune watches too and catches him before he can fall.

+

Naruto’s asleep in Tsunade’s lap, head lolled against her chest as she counts the cash onto the large desk in front of her.

The bass of the music vibrates through the walls of the club and in this small study it feels like worlds away instead of down below.

“That’s more than we’ve seen all month,” Shizune says, pulling her hair back and flicking the sweat off her palms, “this is working.”

Tsunade looks up with a sharp, wide grin. Shizune knows this look. She’s seen it many, many times before– on men with large wallets, on men with wives at home, on men with coke in their nostrils and vinegar in their veins–

“We’re gonna milk ‘em dry,” Tsunade says and Shizune understand what it means to feel powerful.

+

Naruto is six when he begins to understand how the world works.

He usually sits at the bar and he watches Kakashi mix drinks, watches as Kakashi directs his attention to the men in suits, to the men in leather jackets, to the men who arrive with five women on their arms–

“Don’t worry about the suits,” Kakashi tells him, “notice their shoes. Their watches.”

“Why?” Naruto asks, sipping on the orange juice Kakashi had poured for him with extra maraschino cherries.

“Anyone can have a nice suit,” Kakashi says with a wink, “not everyone can have nice shoes.”

So Naruto begins to notice. It’s a little boring, and no one can hold his attention for long, but he’s six and the club is loud and boisterous and the women are dancing on stage, holding themselves up with their cores on the poles, and so he begins to notice not the men, not the women, but the clothing.

Some suits are tailored– Tsunade teaches him about the stitching, about how to tell. Some suits have stains– and Naruto knows dark brown is dried blood and dark yellow is vomit.

And then there are the women’s clothing: bare, scant, and radiant, all at once. Their clothing is carefully chosen, is delicately precise, and it demands attention, demands to be noticed, simple– demands, and Naruto is drawn to it.

Not in the same way the men around him are, not greedy, or dominating or feeling  owed – no, Naruto is drawn to it because there’s a power in wearing it, a power in holding your body inside of it, a power that you can draw  anyone  in while wearing it.

He holds Tsunade’s hand as she weaves them through the throngs of people and Naruto notices how the men stare at her, at how they follow her, at how they reach out and touch her.

Naruto doesn’t like it when they do that so Tenzo teaches him the wrist holds to prevent it. He’s small and a child and so no man takes him seriously but they laugh and joke and it diffuses any tension that might have arisen. In those moments Tsunade looks at him with a sharp grin and runs her nails through his hair and he likes that, so he keeps doing it.

Tsunade shows him her closet one night, and it shimmers and gleams with beads and fake diamonds and rhinestones and Naruto runs his hands over the fabric and– and–  and–  there’s a part in his chest, a part that aches.

And then he notices the symbols on clothing.

A fan, with a red curved top and a white bottom, Shizune points out to him.

“The Uchiha’s,” she whispers, eyes sharp and arm around Naruto’s thin shoulders, “you’ll only ever see them here. The abandoned subway station, the one by Iruka’s, don’t ever go beyond that. They own it.”

“But they’re  here ,” Naruto points out.

“Yes,” Shizune says and she doesn’t sound happy about it, “we’re in the neutral zone. Everyone’s allowed in here.”

She looks down at Naruto and smiles.

“If you’re gonna pick pocket,” she whispers, “aim for them.”

In hindsight, it was probably bad advice.

But Naruto is easily bored and easily swayed and he tries for a man wearing the Uchiha fan one night, when the drinks are flowing and the music is loud and he barely gets his fingers to brush the hem of the man’s suit jacket before his wrist is snatched tight and  held .

The Uchiha staring down at him is older, around Tsunade’s age. He has hard lines around his eyes, frown lines against his mouth, and he’s drunk but it barely shows.

The music is too loud for any kind of conversation but the grip he has on Naruto’s wrist is telling enough.

There’s a boy standing next to the older Uchiha, older than Naruto still, who's watching the exchange with bored dark eyes. He feels too old to be in this club, despite being thirteen at least, and Naruto looks up just as the Uchiha breaks his wrist.

+

“Does it hurt?” Kakashi asks– eyes squinted under the softer lights of the nearby bodega.

“No,” Naruto lies.

It’s past four in the morning and Naruto is tired and his wrist is swollen and his whole body somehow aches each time the blood is bumped into his veins–

Iruka clicks his tongue and passes Kakashi a frozen bag of peas.

“How’d you manage this?” Iruka asks gently, even if his eyes are tired and he stifles a yawn in his shoulder.

Naruto shrugs; swinging his legs and hitting the heels of his feet against the counter Kakashi sat him on.

“I tripped,” Naruto says.

Kakashi presses the peas to Naruto’s skin.

“We gotta work on your lying,” Kakashi tells him and Iruka hands him a Snickers bar with a kind smile.

It’s the first time Naruto breaks a bone and he’s grateful for it, because now he knows how it feels.

Kakashi carries him home.

It’s a small apartment– his parent’s old one, and Iruka lives in the spare room with him sometimes, but most of the time it’s Kakashi who enters through the fire escape and brings him vegetables and dinner and sits with him until he falls asleep.

Tonight is no different– Kakashi takes him to bed, pulls off his shoes, his socks, tucks him in and sits on the edge of the mattress.

Naruto’s wrist is still swollen and purple but Kakashi’s bandaged it and made a splint with some clothing hangers and leftover cardboard that used to hold kit kat bars.

It’s raining now, and it drums against the windows like nails tapping on glass– tap tap  tap –

“Are you tired?” Kakashi asks.

Naruto peeks over his covers at him.

“No,” he says, and he’s honest this time, “I’m kinda hungry.”

“Hm,” Kakashi says, and picks him back up.

+

The ramen is hot and cheap and they eat it cross-legged on the kitchen floor. The rain has gatherer weight– wails against the street and the roof and the glass, and the clock on the oven says it’s past five.

Naruto’s always been a night owl, and tonight is no different.

“How’d you really break your wrist?” Kakashi asks and passes Naruto the rest of his noodles as a bargain.

Naruto takes it, balances it on his knee, and slurps it up.

“I tried to take some money from that old Uchiha guy,” Naruto says, candid, and he misses the way Kakashi’s eye narrows, misses the way he folds back up his mask so that Naruto can’t see his frown.

“I see,” is all Kakashi says.

+

“You’re an idiot!” Jiraiya laughs, booming and obvious in the shabby diner.

Naruto pouts, crossing his arms and then wincing when it hurts–

“Even I wouldn’t try to steal from an Uchiha! Who raised you kid?”

Naruto grins and sits up on his knees to lean over the table and poke the tattoos on Jiraiya’s cheeks–

“You, asshole!” he says and Jiraiya laughs harder.

“Sit down, sit down,” he gripes, waving to get the waitress’ attention, “you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Naruto kicks him.

Ten Ten ambles over and she narrows her eyes when Jiraiya asks where her mother is– 

“Readying the steak knife to cut your dick off,” she answers and Naruto laughs and laughs and points in Jiraiya’s face–

“All right, all right, can I get some more coffee, you’ve all made your point–” Jiraiya sighs and relents but still smiles when Ten Ten waves at Naruto as she skips back behind the counter.

“She’ll be a heartbreaker one day,” Jiraiya tells Naruto who really doesn’t care and instead is focusing on the waffles in front of him, “mark my words.”

Naruto wrinkles his nose and dumps all the syrup he can over his plate.

“’M not listening’ to anything you say, old man,” Naruto says, lips sticky and mouth full, “Granny says you’re a pervert and she’d be out of business without you.”

“Did she now?” Jiraiya asks and Naruto narrows his eyes as his godfather leans closer, “what else did she say about me? She misses me?”

“She never misses you,” Naruto says easily and just like Tsunade taught him.

“She does,” Jiraiya, sighs, resting his cheek in his hand, “she’s a tough one, that Hime.”

“Whatever,” Naruto says and stuffs more waffles into his mouth.

Ten Ten is arriving with a pot of coffee when the bell over the door rings and everything gets tense. Naruto’s daft but he understands conflict and a butter knife is in his hand as quickly as the door swings back shut. Jiraiya is still relaxed but his eyes are alert as a familiar boy walks towards them and stops at their table.

Naruto recognizes him but he’s alone this time, and no symbol of the Uchiha clan is on him.

Wordlessly, he passes Naruto a wrist brace– a proper one.

“My father shouldn’t have done that,” he says after a tense pause, and Naruto reaches to take the offering when Jiraiya stops him.

“This isn’t neutral ground, kid,” he says, and the young Uchiha’s eyes show no emotion as Jiraiya leans closer, “you could be shot right now, on sight.”

“I could,” the Uchiha answers, unfazed, “will it be you pulling the trigger?”

A hush as fallen over the diner, static and buzzing, it lingers over their heads like a noose. Naruto watches the exchange, eyes wide, and feels his breath leave him as Jiraya takes the brace– never breaking eye contact.

“Be careful,” Jiraiya tells him, “your father wouldn’t want you here.”

The Uchiha doesn’t answer. Instead he turns his attention to Naruto, who’s still staring in blatant curiosity.

“You work at the club?” he asks and Naruto shrugs.

“Not really,” he says, licking more syrup from his lips, “but I’m there almost every night.”

Jiraiya is watching him and Naruto gets the feeling he’s said something he shouldn’t.

“Don’t approach my father again,” the Uchiha says, “he might kill you.”

Then he turns and leaves without another word.

It takes a moment for everyone to come back alive and Ten Ten just leaves the coffee pot on the table to scurry back behind the counter to where her mother is standing, gun in hand, eyes on the door.

“If that kid talks to you again turn the other way,” Jiraiya says, leveling Naruto with a look so severe Naruto can’t help but sit up straighter, “you understand? We don’t need all that.”

Naruto eyes the brace Jiraiya is still holding and the older man sighs and beckons Naruto to hold his arm out.

It’s is better than clothing hangers and cardboard.

+

Jiraiya teaches Naruto about drugs.

He’s eight years old and apparently that means he’s old enough to learn how to cook, to measure, to smuggle, to run run  run –

“You’re quick,” Jiraiya tells him one night, breathing heavy, catching his breath, and Naruto has just learned how adrenaline tastes, has just learned what it feels like to almost die but  not – “almost as fast as your momma.”

Naruto grins and it’s sharp and reckless and Jiraiya has to take a moment because it  hurts – how familiar it is–

“That was fun,” Naruto pants, eyes alight in a way Jiraiya knows all too well– the addiction of it, the high of it– “can we do it again?”

+

Tsunade watches as Naruto grows.

She makes sure he knows how to mix drinks, makes sure he knows how to pickpocket, makes sure he trains with Tenzo, makes sure he learns how to control his body with Shizune, makes sure he’s at Jiraiya’s side and can run until his legs want to give out and  still  keep moving–

Iruka teaches him to read, teaches him math and English with old school textbooks that were saved from the burning years ago.

It’s a good match, a well-balanced gift that they give to him.

Tsunade watches as Naruto’s eyes begin to linger on both women and men, she watches as Naruto’s fingers reach out to touch the rhinestones in her closet, she watches as Naruto gets taller, as his voice gets deeper, as he changes.

Sometimes she has to remind herself to breathe because she remembers holding this boy when his chest was as big as her palm and his skin was fragile and breakable and so  so  innocent and soft–

And she’s struck with the force of how he’s matured, of how his hands are calloused, of how he can grind powder and laugh with the business men, and he’s only thirteen, only going to get  better , and sometimes Tsunade has to drink more, drink  everything – before the guilt hits her that she’s robbed this kid of any sort of childhood he could’ve had.

+

Tenzo is patient where it counts but Naruto quickly learns that his fuse is shorter than Shizune’s.

They train in the basement of the club whenever they can and Naruto is intimidated because Tenzo is three times his size and scary when he needs to be and Naruto is still young and reckless and hasn’t yet gotten used to how it feels to be hit so hard his teeth rattle.

Regardless Tenzo pushes him and makes Naruto push back.

The bruises become something Naruto is proud of, become something he sees as growth, and the fewer he receives the better he must be getting.

Tenzo ends their training with stretches and kind words and more often than not he leaves while Naruto still practices on.

“He’s not a child anymore,” Tsunade reminds him one night, in a shitty diner with Jiraiya across the booth, “he needs to know how to defend himself.”

Tenzo agrees, he does, but he’s seen so many young men grow up too fast to feel any sort of pride in what he’s doing.

Jiraiya doesn’t speak but perhaps he knows he doesn’t need to. Nothing would be changed. So the older man just writes and writes as Tsunade slips vodka into their coffee and Tenzo leans back and studies how the Manhattan skyline  watches . 

+

Sakura is ten when Tsunade finds her wandering an abandoned subway station at two in the afternoon, a scar on her forehead and a wimpy duffle on her back. And Tsunade sees an angry little girl and thinks she’ll make a powerful angry woman. You don’t seek out change when you’re happy, after all. 

“Hey,” Tsunade calls and the girl turns to face her, “you lost?”

+

Tsunade takes Sakura to her and Shizune’s apartment where she brushes her hair, makes her shower, gives her clothes and food and watches as the girl digs into the sugary cereal and eggs like it’s the greatest thing she’s ever had.

Ah well , Tsunade thinks, with a wry smile,  she’ll be sick of it soon enough .

+

She gives Sakura the spare room in Naruto’s apartment.

They’re both without parents; both without homes, and Naruto’s always wanted a roommate ever since he discovered Kakashi and Tenzo share a space. So Sakura gets her own room and her own bed and Naruto and her sit in the middle of the living room and play cards and dance and listen to the shitty battery powered radio every Wednesday night.

They’re more like siblings than anyone else Tsunade knows and Kakashi likes the young girl immediately. She sits behind the bar with him on a high cushioned stool and eats cherries from the jar with her hands and Kakashi lets her because he tends to spoil the children and Tsunade watches and begins to realize that she has more people under her care than she ever could’ve planned for.

+

“Now spin, drop–  good , Sakura!” Tsunade praises, arms crossed as Sakura drops from the pole, hair pulled tightly back and smile stretching her features.

She’s muscular now, growing into her body, and Tsunade reckons that boxing with Tenzo has yielded some results.

“How was that?” Sakura pants.

“Amazing!” Naruto calls from where he’s perched on one of the empty seats, clapping obnoxiously and making Sakura flush with pride, “You’re amazing, Sakura!”

It’s good that they have each other, Tsunade thinks, and thinks, and  thinks , because Naruto is always there to help with Sakura’s bruises and Sakura is there to mend Naruto’s fights and together they’re living in an apartment that used to be so empty and now has life.

+

Lee comes to Tsunade when he’s fourteen.

Kakashi had known Gai, they were close when they were kids, and he looks at Lee and sees his childhood and has to take long, steadying breaths.

He helps Tsunade purchase a pull out couch and place it in the living room of Naruto and Sakura’s home.

It’s getting full, but no one seems to mind.

+

“What are you doing?” Sakura asks one night, when Naruto has just turned fifteen and the air is damp and cool in the way that Spring unfurls around it.

There are still balloons in the living room, and a cheap cake that Iruka had bought sits half eaten on the counter. Lee had smuggled in beer and Tsunade had given them a small bottle of vodka, and the older boy sleeps, passed out on the futon in blissful naivety. 

When she speaks Naruto freezes in the small bathroom and swallows, posture tight. He looks like he’s ready for a fight and Sakura softens her tone because Naruto isn’t turning around– is hiding under hunched shoulders and it makes something in Sakura ache.

“Don’t,” Naruto says, voice rough and so,  so  helpless, “don’t tell anyone. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sakura promises and reaches out to gently help him clasp the gaudy necklace around his neck.

He’s still tense, every muscle in his body practically vibrating with it, so she steps closer and wraps her arms around his waist and holds him close.

“I think you look nice,” she whispers against his skin, “diamonds suit you.”

He laughs and it’s wet and relieved and a little broken but he doesn’t pull away and Sakura grips him tighter.

“I just– it’s not like– I like how I feel when, um, sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes I like to uh– just, feel pretty?” Naruto whispers and Sakura understands because sometimes she likes to feel rough.

She notices, not for the first time, how Naruto has grown. 

She notices the muscles that have broadened his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw, the deepening of his voice. She’s always been comfortable around him, always turned to him, always found comfort in him, and now, standing in this small bathroom, against dirtied yellow lights, Sakura decides she wants to try something new. 

She turns him to face her, his back against the counter, and he isn’t really meeting her eyes, still embarrassed, so she takes his larger hands in hers and intertwines their fingers. 

It takes a while but slowly, carefully, he meets her gaze. 

The necklace is cheap plastic but it still shimmers, still softens him, and it rests in the outline of his collarbones. He looks good, she thinks, for the first time, for the second time, for the third time, and wonders if maybe he’d  feel  good too. 

She leans across and kisses him, gently. It’s short, barely a brush before she’s pulling back. His face is red and his eyes are wide and she doesn’t feel uncomfortable or intimidated by him– not like she does with any of the men who enter the club– with any boy or adult who calls after her on the street. She’s safe here, with him, and she rarely feels safe anymore.  

“Was that okay?” she asks. 

He swallows. 

Nods. 

She leans in again because she’s curious and Naruto is curious and they trust each other enough to explore. 

+

Kakashi notices when Fugaku begins to bring his other son– the younger.

He knows his name is Sasuke, knows he was born two months before Naruto. He knows that this kid is being groomed in the same manner that Naruto was–  is – and he knows that this kid will be a force.

He has his father’s cold eyes, has his father’s demeanor and his older brother’s insight. He never speaks. He stays by his Fugaku’s side and he teaches his son how to slip bills into bras, panties, into stockings. He teaches him how to treat a woman, how to smoke, how to drink.

Sasuke is thirteen and he’s more like his father than his older brother is. Sometimes the older is there as well, but Kakashi has noticed him drifting through the years, more of a shadow than anything else, and Kakashi knows how to recognize someone who wants to run because he’s the same.

Sasuke is thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and he’s beside his father, the purple lights of the club catch his hair, his eyes, reflect off the pale pallor of his skin and Kakashi watches and notices that while Fugaku’s attention is on the stage his son’s is on Naruto.

+

Sasuke hates loud places.

He hates crowds, and gatherings, and clubs.

He  hates  them, down to his bones, down to his core, because it gives him horrible headaches and sickly shakes and yet they’re the only places where he feels anonymous.

He hates the noise as much as he needs it, and his father wants him to need it so he needs it.

He needs it he needs it he  needs  it he–

The vodka is hot and it burns.

He doesn’t let it show, doesn’t chase it with anything. His father would view that as weak– if he can’t even do a shot without then assistance what  can  he do? So he swallows and lets it burn and doesn’t wrinkle his nose.

“What do you think of that one?” Fugaku asks, leans close, and Sasuke can smell the alcohol on his father’s breath.

He follows his gaze, follows and  dreads , and sees where it lands– on a girl who has to be around Sasuke’s age, with pink hair and green eyes and there’s that sick feeling again, creeping up into his stomach, up to his throat, like acid, like bile, like  weakness –

“Here,” his father hands him a stack of twenties and then turns his gaze back to the stage, the lights both dark and spotting bright and Sasuke’s hands shake where he holds the crisp cash– “Happy sixteenth.”

Fugaku doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t tell Sasuke what to do with the money and in the end he doesn’t have to because Sasuke  knows  – he also knows how much he’ll hurt if he doesn’t take his father up on this offer, up on this test, up on this– this  fucked up  initiation–

He stands on legs that feel like they’re buzzing and wishes he was drunk enough to not feel anything at all.

The pink haired girl has been looking at him all night; it’s not hard to get her attention. She makes eye contact and holds and all he has to do is nod and she’s over to where he stands in a heartbeat, a flush high on her cheeks and smile spreading her face–

“Hi,” she says, “did you want a private dance?”

He can feel his father’s gaze on him, feels it like cigar burns up his arms and belts against his back and he can only nod and hope that his expression is smooth, impassive– unaffected.

She takes his hand and pulls him around the bodies, past the bar where the blonde boy sits, laughs alongside an older boy with a horrible haircut and thick brows, and then the music is loud, too loud, until the girl leads them into a dark hallway and it’s all drowned out besides the bass– vibrating and heavy to the staccato beat of his heart.

He doesn’t want to do this.

He doesn’t think he  can .

She avoids the doors with a red light and steers him to the farthest one down the hall.

She turns the knob and leads him inside.

It’s covered, floor to ceiling, in cheap red velvet. There’s a crescent booth with leopard print patterns and mirrors on the walls. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling and kaleidoscopes the room in reflections of broken silver.

Sasuke hates everything about it.

The girl urges him to sit down and he does– he decides to focus on the beat of the music and nothing else. If he focuses on that maybe he won’t remember any of this at all.

But the girl doesn’t move, doesn’t touch him again, and that’s– probably not good. He looks up at her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest, and only then does he notice what she’s wearing– lacy and silver and sparkling under the disco lights.

“Fine,” he says and is relieved to hear his voice doesn’t shake, “get on with it.”

He stares at her but he doesn’t  see  her.

He knows he’s supposed to be into this, supposed to feel aroused. He’s seen how his father looks at these girls, has seen the way he grabs them with greedy hands when he’s had too much to drink.

Maybe that’s the trick, maybe  that’s  the catch– he’s not drunk enough. Maybe, if he were drunker, he’d be able to feel something,  anything , other than what he’s feeling now.

She straddles him and he barely registers it.

His hands remain at his sides, and he knows he isn’t “allowed” to touch, but this is the back room and worse things happen.

She looks surprised, then a little amused, as she stares down at him.

“You’re not hard,” she says and it feels like she’s hit him.

He swallows, humiliated–

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he tells her and watches as her eyes flash, defiant, angry, for just a moment, before her own mask falls into place and  oh , Sasuke realizes,  we’re the same after all .

She begins to move, works on grinding against him, and he focuses on the bass, on the velvet under him, tries to think of other things, other people, different scenarios, situations,  feelings –

They both have something to prove in here and Sasuke just needs it to be over.

“Did you want me to suck you off?” she asks after some time and her voice kills any stirrings of arousal he was beginning to feel because no matter what its still friction and heat and  shit , he’s lost it–

“No,” he says and moves to stand.

She slides off him onto the booth and doesn’t make eye contact as he throws the money down beside her.

“Don’t tell anyone and you can keep all of it,” he says glaring under the tacky  fucking lights–

She picks it up with a manicured hand and counts, eyes widening.

“You’re serious?” she asks, tone disbelieving and he can’t blame her, he’s paying her $300 for a job she  didn’t  do– “you’re not fucking with me are you? ‘Cause like, I don’t mind sucking you off or anything, you’re really hot.”

He clenches his jaw, tries to think–

“Yes or no,” he says.

She grins and shrugs, bending down to unzip her thigh high boot and stuffs the money in.

“Yes,” she says and stands, leans forward and kisses him on the cheek, “if anyone asks you have an eleven inch dick and made me cum four times.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything. Not waiting for her to lead the way he opens the door and walks back through the dark hall. He can’t hear anything else going on inside the rooms, the club’s music is loud enough, and he makes a beeline for the side entrance, opens it and steps out–

Quiet.

His headache lessens considerably.

It’s New York, so it’s never completely silent, but there’s no more banging music, no more haze, no more bodies pressing against his own–

Instead the alley that smells like shit and vomit and melting trash is the best thing he’s experienced all night. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and decides he’ll wait for his father out here.

There’s one lone streetlight, and it buzzes dangerously in the dark.

He takes out a cigarette and lights it. They’re Itachi’s, but he left them sitting out and it’s his own fault that Sasuke took them.

He fumbles for a light, fuck, did he forget–

“Hey,” he nearly drops the cig, “I got you.”

There’s a click and then a small flame in front of him and Sasuke leans forward, breathes in, before he turns his attention to–

The blonde boy.

(The Fox).

Sasuke’s heard plenty of his father’s business calls and dealings to know who this boy is. His blonde hair is telling enough, but the scars on his cheeks fully give him away. The Fox– quick, fast, efficient, Sasuke knows he does runs, smuggles drugs, and gets into back alley fights and silly misdemeanors.

He also knows that when he was eight his father broke this boy’s wrist.

“What, no thank you?” the boy asks but his grin and his tone belay any kind of annoyance.

Sasuke doesn’t answer. The Fox doesn’t seem to mind.

He doesn’t leave either, just leans against the dirty brick wall and stares.

“ What ?” Sasuke snaps, his annoyance bubbling up and wearing thin, and he expects the boy to fight right back but instead he just laughs.

“Wow,” he says, voice raspy and low, “this how you normally greet people? With your sparkling personality?”

Sasuke bristles.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, breathing in again and hating how he can feel the blonde’s gaze on him.

“You’re the most uptight person I think I’ve ever met,” he tells Sasuke and Sasuke’s tempted to throw his cigarette at him because he thinks he’s making it pretty fucking obvious that he  doesn’t want to talk – “most of the guys in there are having the time of their life, ya know. Coked out and shit, you don’t look like you’re on anything but alcohol.”

Sasuke, again, doesn’t answer.

The blonde keeps talking.

“But they’re all perverts anyway. I can’t tell ya how predictable they all are. Just– fumbling around, fuckin’– hah– there was a guy a few hours ago, came in around six, and he was just knockin’ shots, like double fisting– this dude  wasn’t  okay. Looked worse than you did when Sakura lead you back–”

Sasuke shoots him a withering glare but the blonde doesn’t falter.

“What? You think I didn’t see how miserable you looked?”

Sasuke knows the other boy is trying to bait him, take the upper hand in whatever backwards conversation this is, but Sasuke latches on to one detail and decides to run with it–

“You were watching me?”

Now the blonde fumbles, a pink flush rising on his cheeks and it fills Sasuke with a hot flash of satisfaction–

“I– no– just, you know– Sakura’s my friend and–”

Sasuke’s eyebrows rise.

“You like her?”

The blonde splutters.

“No! I used to, when we were like, thirteen but– no. I mean, she could kill me with her thighs and I wouldn’t complain, ya know, would be an honor to have my jugular crushed–”

“Stop talking,” Sasuke says, aghast, and the boy’s laughter bounces off the alley’s grimy walls.

“Huh,” the blonde muses, scratching his cheek absentmindedly and Sasuke’s eyes follow the movement, “so… you didn’t like the back rooms?”

Unease grips Sasuke so hard he feels like he’s choking.

“They’re… all right.”

The boy laughs again.

“They’re tacky as  fuck ,” he says and Sasuke can only silently agrees, “I helped Granny decorate them. They get so gross, you don’t even wanna  know .”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sasuke answers, finishing his cig and tossing it into a nearby puddle.

“Wow, you’re an asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a compliment, take it.”

“I don’t think you know what a compliment is.”

“Sure I do,” the boy disagrees; smile lazy and wide, “it’s me calling you an asshole.”

“So if I call you an idiot–”

“Then you’re an asshole.”

Sasuke grins; despite not wanting to, and it makes the blonde’s expression all the more intense, all the more  bright–  no one has ever talked to Sasuke like this, like he’s  interesting , like he has something to offer besides money and his–

“What’s your name?”

Sasuke turns away. He can feel himself souring, can feel the dread that creeps in whenever anyone asks him this. The boy will either try to wheedle in a meeting or rob him right here– there’s never been an in-between.  

“Does it matter?”

“Nah,” the other boy sighs, wistful, and taking Sasuke completely by surprise, “asshole and bastard are actually pretty fitting–”

“Sasuke,” he interrupts before the blonde can keep rambling.

“I’m Naruto,” Naruto tells him. “Uzumaki but uh– parent’s didn’t own anything, so. Not sure if you would’ve heard of us.”

He has, vaguely, distantly, but he doesn’t tell Naruto this. Instead Sasuke chances glancing over– Naruto is  still  smiling, eyes bright and blue and so fucking open that Sasuke feels uncomfortable, feels like he’s being seen straight through– 

“I don’t care,” Sasuke lies.

Naruto punches his shoulder and it doesn’t hurt, not at all. 

“So  Sasuke ,” Naruto hums, rocking back and forth on his heels, “you really shouldn’t be standing in an alley all by yourself.”

Sasuke raises a brow.

“I mean,” Naruto elaborates, gesticulating wildly at him, “you’re dressed all prim and proper– that jacket alone is probably like, a thousand dollars, you’re lucky you haven’t been mugged already.”

“Are you  trying  to rob me?” Sasuke questions, shoulders tensing but Naruto’s holding up his hands immediately–

“ No ! No, if I was going to I would’ve already,” Naruto says and it’s not exactly comforting but it isn’t a threat, either, “I just mean, like, if you wanna be outside you should go to the roof. No one hangs out there.”

Sasuke looks up.

Sirens are loud in the distance; the thrum of the club is still reaching his ears, but if he goes higher the sounds won’t be as encompassing as they feel now.

Naruto must sense his hesitation because he begins to stride further into the alley, looking over his shoulder with that wide grin that just  screams  trouble–

“C’mon pretty boy,” he calls and Sasuke hopes his glare is still visible even in this gloom, “I know a way up!”

Sasuke doesn’t like taking orders.

He hates it.

But he also hates his chances of being mugged.

Naruto clambers up on one of the dumpsters, balances, and then jumps, grabbing onto a fire escape ladder and pulling himself up easily despite the rust and grime, and he waits for Sasuke to follow suit.

“I know you fancy family types don’t like to get your hands dirty,” he yells down, the sarcasm heavy in his tone, “so if you wanna opt out–”

Sasuke takes off his jacket and throws it on the ground. Naruto raised his eyebrows, his gaze raking in the crumbled material as Sasuke follows the same path he did, albeit slower, and as he grips the metal rungs Naruto reaches out to steady him so Sasuke can pull himself up.

“You’re gonna get cold,” Naruto points out but Sasuke shrugs, even though the chill in the air is evident to him now.

“Stop yapping and lead the way.”

Together they climbed the rickety fire escape, up and up and up, until Naruto’s clambering over the side of someone’s apartment building and Sasuke’s just glad the lights aren’t on–

The roof is, as Naruto said, much quieter.

It catches more of a breeze, and Sasuke  is  cold but he’d die before admitting it. Instead he focuses on the layout before him. Manhattan’s skyline is glimmering, rising up, and Sasuke remembers his mother telling him about a time when there were more skyscrapers, when you could take subway lines out of the city and anywhere else you’d like to go. Now it’s ferries and it has to be  owned – only the rich can live in the city and only the poor, the ones without refined family names stay outside of it. 

Naruto stands beside him, looking out just like Sasuke is, but his expression is one of relaxation, of lazy contentment– it’s not what Sasuke had been expecting.

“Which ones yours?” Naruto hums, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels– a nervous habit, Sasuke’s beginning to realize.

“That one,” he points and Naruto follows the gesture.

He lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, it’s tall,” he says and his next grin is sharp and fox like but Sasuke doesn’t feel cornered, or scared, or any of the other emotions he probably should be feeling after following a dangerous stranger up onto an abandoned roof.

But.

But Naruto isn’t making any moves to hurt him. He’s conversing, gently, softly, letting the wind carry his words and his eyes send them off. Sasuke isn’t sure he’s met anyone so– he wants to say genuine, he does, but there’s a wall up, here, he knows. He can  feel  it, a wall as tall as his own, and now that he’s realized it Naruto doesn’t seem so easygoing as he wants to appear.

Sasuke turns his gaze away.

There’s no thumping music, there’s no loud yelling.

There are sirens, yes, and street noise and the smell of cement after rain but there are no harsh lights and no father’s piercing gaze and no girl’s taking his hand and leading him into velvet draped rooms.

Yes, this is much better.

“Told ya,” Naruto says, and Sasuke looks over to where the blonde has begun to settle down, legs dangling over the ledge.

Sasuke walks forward and sits beside him, enough space between them so they’re not touching, and looks down.

The street is a winding light; some stragglers from the club litter the sidewalks like stumbling trash.

“I brought some vodka,” Naruto says, digging a flask out of the waistband of his pants and unscrewing the cap, “it’ll warm ya up. I’d offer you my jacket–”

Sasuke takes the flask.

Naruto lets him have it with a huff of a laugh and then leans back, bracing himself on his palms.

Sasuke sips, expecting straight vodka and surprised when instead it tastes like lemons. It’s… not unpleasant.

“Have as much as you want,” Naruto sighs, “’m already pretty buzzed.”

“Why are you here?” Sasuke asks and winces internally at his wording but Naruto doesn’t take offence, he just holds out his hand for Sasuke to pass the flask back over.

“Why are you?” Naruto shoots back, “Aren’t there strip clubs in the city?” 

Sasuke makes sure his expression remains fixed and impassive. 

“No,” he says, “the only things the city has is apartments and offices. There’s… nothing else anymore.” 

Naruto holds his gaze, unrelenting and oddly somber. 

“Huh,” he says, thoughtful, “sounds kinda awful.”

Sasuke doesn’t tell him that it is. Everywhere is awful but at least Sasuke gets a room that’s safe and clean and can walk the city streets without the fear of being robbed because the only people that can be in the wealth of Manhattan are those who already own it. 

“I’m security,” Naruto says, belatedly answering Sasuke’s question and then licks the vodka stain from his lips. 

“You’re shitty security,” Sasuke tells him. 

“I’m on a break, asshole,” Naruto argues, and takes another pull, “besides Granny lets me do whatever. Lee’s working tonight too, and Tenzo– they don’t really need me right now. Not unless some crazy shit goes down.” 

Sasuke’s tired, he realizes, tired and drained. He wants to leave but he knows his father will be another hour or two at least, and his credentials won't be enough to get him passage onto their ferry by himself.

“You know what sounds good?” Naruto speaks into the silence, cracks it carefully, “Pizza.  Fuck , I’d kill for a pizza right now.”

He groans dramatically and flops onto his back, legs still kicking over the street below. Sasuke watches him, eyes taking in the other boy’s orange jacket, how it’s unzipped, how he’s wearing a black shirt and beneath it, where the material has ridden up, reveals something mesh and tight and–

Sasuke looks away and doesn’t understand why his mouth is so dry.

“Go get some,” he says and Naruto shifts on the roof beside him.

“I’m broke,” Naruto tells him, without care or remorse, “well, not really, but it’s– I either buy a pizza now or I eat dinner later, ya know? Granny helps out but I can’t always rely on her.”

“Granny?”

“Tsunade,” Naruto elaborates, “she owns the club– your dad gives  so  much money, did you know that? Keeps us in business, probably.”

Sasuke glowers at the street below and drinks probably too much on his next tilt back. Naruto’s watching him, Sasuke can feel it, but it’s a different feeling than he gets when his father stares.

Naruto’s gaze isn’t picking him apart for mistakes. He’s just– looking. Like he’s curious, like he  wants  to get to know him, like–

“Don’t you have a brother?” Naruto asks and there goes any good mood Sasuke had.

He moves to stand–

And Naruto reaches out and grabs his wrist, not hard, but halting all the same.

“I’m sorry,” Naruto blurts and Sasuke’s struck by the genuine guilt there, “you– I ramble when I’m nervous and you’re not giving me a lot to work with here. Which– that’s fine– I– sorry, you don’t have to answer anything. Tell me to shut up whenever just– uh– don’t go?”

Sasuke regards him, not really sure what to say. Naruto’s hand is warm and it’s nice in the face of the cold. He settles and Naruto breathes a smile of relief.

“Sorry,” he says again.

“Stop apologizing,” Sasuke tells him, annoyed.

“Right,” Naruto says, licks his lips and grins, “right. Uh, thanks?”

“Moron,” Sasuke sighs, looking up at the sky, “didn’t you want pizza?”

Naruto’s eyes narrow and he sits up. 

“Yeah but–”

“I’ll buy it,” Sasuke interrupts, turning to face him, “but you have to go pick it up.”

Naruto’s answering smile is brighter than the club will ever be.  

+

The Uchiha isn’t what Naruto had been expecting.

Sure, he’s noticed him for a while– trailing beside first Itachi, then his father, and now he drifts, moves between the bodies in the club with eyes that take it in but don’t process.

He’s like smoke, and Naruto hadn’t been sure if there was much of a person left. But there’s tomato sauce on Sasuke’s fingers, and cheese grease coating his lips like some tacky gloss and his legs are crossed under him, his fancy dress pants catching the dirt of the roof– he doesn’t look so untouchable, now. If anything he looks younger, the hard lines of his face catch the streetlights and soften, and he eats as much as Naruto does.

It’s been fun to teach the other boy to fold the pizza in half, a simple thing that Naruto had just copied growing up, and he’s left to wonder–

“Do rich people eat pizza with a fork and knife?” Naruto asks, chewing around his words and Sasuke halts mid bite to flick some sauce at him. “Wh– hey –!”

“My mother… doesn’t like the grease,” Sasuke mutters under his breath.

“No, you’re joking,” Naruto laughs, leaning forward so that he can tilt and maybe see Sasuke’s pinched expression better–

“Idiot don’t lean that far over the edge, you’ll fall–”

“You eat pizza with a  fork and knife– “

“My  mother –“

“This is  hilarious–  ow!”

Sasuke smacks him with his pizza crust and Naruto takes it to chomp on happily, his stomach no longer cramping with hunger. They finish the food in record time, and maybe they ate too fast, because they’re laying down in the next second, staring up at the stars and listening as the bass of the club dies down.

“Ah,” Naruto groans, “what time is it?”

Sasuke checks his watch with a practiced flick of his wrist.

“Past five,” he says and there’s a defeated edge to his tone, some sort of dejection that has Naruto looking over just as the other boy stands, brushing off his pants as he goes.

“You’re leaving,” Naruto states and Sasuke doesn’t confirm or deny: the answer is obvious.

Naruto’s beginning to understand him– at first he thought the guy was rude, quiet, maybe a little boring. And he definitely doesn’t know him at all, not from spending three hours on a shitty roof eating oil drenched pizza, but he can at  least  understand why Sasuke is the way he is.

He’s oddly open, if you know what to look for, and Naruto’s been trained to notice the smaller things since he was two and learned what cash felt like in his hand. Jiraiya always says that reading people is the most important part of what they do– that in order for you to make it out alive you need to know  who  you’re dealing with,  what  you’re dealing with, and  where  you’re dealing with it.

Maybe it’s because his godfather is a writer, maybe it’s because he’s traveled and seen more than Naruto ever hopes to, but the guy has always drilled it into Naruto’s head to recognize the people who have the same eyes as you.

Those are the ones you can reason with.

All the others? Well–

Naruto stands, a little groggy on his feet– vodka and pizza and late,  late  nights will do that to anyone– and holds out his hand. Sasuke eyes him warily.

( Not used to being touched– or prefers not to be ).

“Aw, c’mon, you’re not too good to shake my hand, are ya?” Naruto wheedles, keeps his tone light and body open so that there’s no perception of a threat, no implications of Sasuke being hurt if they touch.

“It’s unnecessary,” Sasuke says but reaches out anyway ( not used to banal touches, then ) “we’ve already introduced–”

“Relax,” Naruto tells him, and hooks their index and middle finger together, Sasuke watching in slight confusion, “this means we got each other’s backs. Ya know, next time you stand like a dumbass in the middle of an alley with a fancy watch and shit I’ll keep an eye out for you. That kinda thing.”

Sasuke doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that but he lets Naruto grip their fingers and then release. He hesitates, seemingly unsure for a moment, but Naruto watches with a dampened sort of reality as the mask slides back on over Sasuke’s features, as his posture straightens, as his eyes harden, older now in the early morning light than he looked five minutes previously– when the sky was still dark and the shadows still comforting.

“Hey,” Naruto says before Sasuke can so much as angle himself away, “ if you ever get dragged backstage again tell Sakura to take ya to room three.”

Sasuke lingers, just for a moment, the new façade hardening the longer he stays but then it melts, just barely, like wax under a hot flame and Naruto focuses on it before it hits the air and solidifies again–

“We’ll see,” Sasuke hums and then he’s leaving, walking over to the edge of the building and Naruto isn’t sure why he’s feeling this, isn’t sure  why  he’s almost desperate to make Sasuke stay–

( It’s because his eyes are the same –)

“Wait!” Naruto calls out and Sasuke hesitates but doesn’t turn, “uh– um–”

Shit.

He’s fumbling, he didn’t really have anything to say and now Sasuke probably thinks he’s broken or something and Naruto has never,  ever  been this self conscious in his  entire life –

“The pizza was horrible,” Sasuke says and turns to look over his shoulder, the corner of his lip ticking up, just barely, just a twitch, but Naruto notices, “I’m picking next time.”

He’s gone with much more grace and skill than he’d shown previously and Naruto just stands there for a moment, heart racing and chest bubbling and he can’t help the rushed breath of– of–  something  that escapes him.

He thinks its adrenaline.

It feels like happiness.

+ + +

Chapter Text

If it weren’t for the drunks Sakura would love dancing.

She does love it– when she gets the stage alone, before hours, and it’s just her and her music and sometimes Naruto, who is easily impressed, will cheer her on from a seat at the bar while he steals some of Kakashi’s orange soda.

She loves that she can feel powerful with nothing.

She loves that she’s strong enough to hold her body sideways on the pole, loves the strain in her muscles, the shake it brings, the way the music thrums through her in a way so much more visceral than simply listening.

She loves it.

Really, she does.

She’s never had a problem with stripping either, because it’s just dancing– and if she blocks out the audience then really it’s barely any different for her. But on long nights, the ones where she needs Adderall to get through the shift, she feels close to hating dancing.

She hates that these men could have that power, take the strength that she got from something she loves and crumble it– and so she doesn’t let them have it. Instead she steps on their fingers with her heels, tells Tenzo about someone getting too aggressive, tells Lee and Naruto – “that one there, with the bald patch and the dumb fucking sunglasses” –

And then Sakura saw him.

She’s noticed him before, when they were younger and she was still trying to figure out herself and her body and this large space she occupies.

She remembers him best when the house lights are pink and purple because they make his hair shine like an oil spill. He never reaches for her. He never tries to touch her inappropriately, never so much as sneers at her, and it’s a rush of something new and attractive and she wonders what he likes, if he would let her push him down, let her hold him beneath her–

And then he didn’t get hard.

She blinked down at him, not sure if it was because of the alcohol, not sure if this was normal for him, but she wasn’t used to that.

She tells Naruto later.

He laughs so hard he nearly collapses off the bar stool.

“It’s not that funny!” she hisses, indignant because she carries some embarrassment at not being able to get a man hard, “He was probably really drunk or something!”

“S-Sakura-chan,” Naruto guffaws, the childhood suffix making her smack his shoulder– “ow! Hey I didn’t–”

“Perhaps he was nervous,” Lee pipes in, leaning around Naruto to earnestly meet Sakura’s gaze, “you are beautiful, Sakura-san. Please don’t take his lack of arousal as a reflection of your worth.”

“I’m not,” Sakura snaps, stung for how close to home that was, “I just… I kind of like him? Wha– he’s hot!”

Naruto snickers and she hits him again. Lee’s expression falls.

“Ah,” he says, mollified, “I see.”

“What if he’s gay?” Naruto spits out, biting into two maraschino cherries, “You ever think of that? He could definitely be queer.”

“He– no way,” Sakura says, “he’s not.”

Naruto simply raises an eyebrow– unconvinced. He reaches for more cherries but Kakashi slaps his hand without looking away from his erotic novel.

“What’s up with you guys and hitting me?” Naruto hisses, trying again for the glazed fruit only to have Kakashi move the entire jar.

“He’s an Uchiha,” Sakura says, proudly, “he’s not gay. And he’s rich so we could travel the world.”

“What world?” Naruto asks, giving up on his cherry hunt and instead finishing the rest of his Amaretto Sour, “Chicago? I’ve heard that’s better.”

“I would love to see Japan,” Lee interjects, “or Canada.”

“Canada? The fuck for?”

“I like maple syrup,” Lee explains patiently, “do you not?”

“Guess so,” Naruto says with a shrug.

Sakura tugs his ear to get his attention.

“Listen! Do you know who I’m talking about? The young Uchiha–”

“Yeah, I know who you’re yapping about! And he’s kind of a dick–”

“You’ve talked to him?” Sakura interjects, moving both herself and her bar stool closer so that her knees are bumping against Naruto’s thighs, “When? Where? What’s he like?”

Naruto grins; wide and foxlike– it pulls at the white scars on his cheeks.

“In the back room, I gave him a lap dance and he was as limp–”

Sakura punches him off the stool.

Kakashi leans over his book and sighs.

“Naruto, please stop messing around.”

“I–wh– I didn’t fall willingly!”

Lee is bending down to help Naruto up but Sakura is sliding off her stool, holding out her hand and Kakashi wordlessly passes her the best whiskey.

“Wh– Sakura-chan wait, I was joking!”

“Ha-ha, I’m laughing so hard Naruto!” she hisses stomping past the stage and grabbing a random jacket left on one of the flimsy coat racks–

“Wa– Sakura-chan–!”

The club doors slam shut behind her.

She’s angry, and embarrassed, and the cold early morning air doesn’t do anything to mollify her. She uncaps the bottle as she stalks away, drinking heartily and ignoring all the drunks straggling through the alleys.

She walks the street like she owns it and in her mind she does.

The sun is just kissing the top of Brooklyn as Sakura clambers up a familiar fire escape, shuffling along the thin metal rails until she stops at an apartment on a four-story walkup. The window sill is filled with potted plants and Sakura raps her knuckles on the glass and waits until the yellow curtains are pulled back. She’s met with her best friend’s sleep addled face– blonde hair a tangled mess on her head.

Ino rolls her eyes and unlocks the window and Sakura crashes gracelessly onto her bed and over her covered legs.

“Ow, ugly, watch it!” Ino snaps, yawning into her hand. “What are you doing here so early?”

Sakura kicks off her shoes and passes Ino the bottle of whiskey before crawling under the comforter and burrowing into her friend’s side.

“Aw, hey, what’s wrong?” Ino asks, sounding a lot more awake but Sakura just sniffles and waits until Ino’s arm wraps around her shoulders to pull her against her side.

“Naruto’s being stupid,” Sakura mutters into Ino’s shirt and Ino simply huffs a laugh and pulls the comforter over them both.

“Well that’s nothing new,” she says, and then, after a moment, “so what happened?”

+

Lee is dejected.

He’s only managed to submit Naruto three times today– he’s usually much better. Although, judging by how swollen Naruto’s nose is, perhaps he was a bit too rough.

“My apologies,” Lee tells him, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he holds ice to Naruto’s jaw, “I took my frustrations out on you.”

“This? C’mon, man, this is nothing,” Naruto smiles and then grimaces when it pulls on a cut, “ow, I forgot how mean your left hook is.”

Guilt bubbles hot in Lee’s chest.

“I did not intent to hurt you so,” he laments and Naruto’s smile falters into something more relaxed as he continues to lay on the cold cement.

“What’s up?” Naruto questions, narrowing his eyes against the sun and Lee does his best to situate his body so that Naruto is at least cast in the shade, “Did something happen?”

“It’s Sakura, idiot,” Kiba yells from where he’s perched on one of the moldy shipping crates, Akamaru resting peacefully in his lap, “that’s what he’s been talking about all week! Even I know that!”

“Oh fuck off man,” Naruto grunts as he stands, holding his nose in the long sleeve of his jacket as he studies Lee carefully.

Lee knows it might take Naruto a while to piece things together but he isn’t an idiot. Not like others seem to think. He’s very perceptive when he wants to be, especially if it involves his friends, and the apologetic smile on his face tells Lee all he needs to know.

“Do not beat yourself up over this,” Lee tells him, giving him a thumbs up and trying to ignore the own ache in his chest that isn’t from the kick Naruto landed there an hour ago, “I just want her happy. If she’s happy with this Uchiha–”

“To be honest Lee I’m not sure he’s interested,” Naruto interrupts, his voice a little backed up as he tilts his head to help stop the blood, “m’sure it’s just another one of her crushes, ya know? They’ve only interacted once. She’s not “in love” or anything.”

Kiba snorts from where he’s still sitting on the crate.

“Dude, this is Sakura,” he says, not helping the situation or reading the tone at all, “she falls in love fast. She’s almost as bad as you!”

“Hey!” Naruto spits and winces but still manages to flick blood in Kiba’s direction, “that–I don’t–”

“You’re a romantic, Naruto-kun,” Lee says, patting his friend’s shoulder, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I too, am a romantic.”

Naruto sags.

“We’re talking about you,” Naruto whines, “not me, lets stop talking about me–”

“How did you meet the young Uchiha anyway?” Lee continues, grateful for the attention to switch– at least until this ache in his chest diminishes.

This is more pressing, anyway. No one talks to the Uchiha’s. No one even looks at them, unless you’re a stripper and Fugaku is four drinks in. That family doesn’t do casual friends, doesn’t to benevolence or useless socialization– it was the first thing Lee was told when he agreed to come into Tsunade’s club as security: don’t interact with the Uchiha’s.

They’re one of the wealthiest families left in Manhattan– Lee’s heard rumors that they even have they’re own jet– which is unheard of. And impractical, Lee assumes, because there’s nowhere left to fly to. It’s amazing in and of itself that Naruto exchanged just a few words. He wasn’t sure if Tsunade was aware, and how she would take it. She tolerates Fugaku because she prides herself in the anonymity of her club: it’s what keeps the rich families coming.

Naruto groans and throws his arms up.

“Nothing! It’s– I met him in the alley and gave him a light and that’s it! He was an asshole and I left! End of story, nothing happened, stop riding my ass.”

Kiba leans forward and makes a show of sniffing the air.

“Huh,” he says, his grin as sharp as Naruto’s, “I smell bullshit.”

“You smell your dog, asshole,” Naruto shoots back before picking up the tattered bat he’s taken to carrying– the nails Kiba helped him hammer in stick out like bent, rusted wires, “I’m leaving.”

“We didn’t mean to overstep,” Lee tries but Naruto tosses him a wave and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“No worries, Lee,” he calls back, “but I gotta meet the ol’ Perv! I’m already running late.”

Kiba guffaws.

“Which one!” he yells and Naruto’s answering laugh chases away any tension that could’ve lingered.

The two boys watch as Naruto climbs the crates and disappears deeper into the abandoned loading dock before turning to each other.

“Well,” Kiba sighs and stretches, “you wanna take a walk and tell me about Sakura?”

Lee smiles.

+

Kakashi is tired.

To be fair, Kakashi is always tired, but he usually equates that with his depression. Today, it’s depression and being actually tired.

“You look horrible,” Tsunade tells him as she looks up from the money water falling over her desk, “why?”

Kakashi shrugs. Her eyes dart down and then narrow in disgust.

“Are you wearing crocs?”

Kakashi follows her gaze. They’re bright yellow. He likes them.

“They’re comfortable,” he says.

She wrinkles her nose.

“I should fire you,” she sighs, resting her cheek in her hand, “right now, I should fire you.”

“No one else will work for this cheap,” Kakashi reminds her with a lazy wink but it actually looks like he just twitched, “unfortunately I’m not here to talk about my fashion.”

“Thank fuck,” Tsunade says but smiles and then digs into her desk drawer to pull out a half smoked joint, “you want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“Might help you sleep,” she says as she flicks her nearly empty lighter, “or something. I have cream that can help with the bags under your eyes.”

“This conversation is improving my self esteem,” Kakashi says– tone flat.

Tsunade just laughs and waves away a puff of smoke.

“Why are you here?” Tsunade asks, glancing at the clock mounted precariously on the wall, “It’s three. Your shift doesn’t start for another six hours.”

Kakashi stuffs his hands into his pockets and meets her gaze steadily.

“I think you’re right,” he says.

She raises a thin eyebrow.

“Be more specific.”

“Uchiha Itachi hasn’t been seen for three months,” Kakashi tells her evenly, “and Fugaku has taken to bringing his youngest.”

Tsunade inhales deeply, eyes flicking to the windows on the right wall. The glass gives her a good view of the dance floor and stage, and while she usually has the heavy velvet curtains drawn during business hours they’re peeled back now.

Naruto and Jiraiya sit below– Naruto talking loud enough that the cadence of his voice carries as Jiraiya simply nods and laughs and then flicks him with the end of his pen.

“Well,” Tsunade says, after a stilted length of silence, “that explains some things.”

“Hm,” Kakashi agrees, “it seems like there’s some unrest in the families.”

Tsunade snorts.

“Yeah no shit,” she huffs, leaning back in her chair and making the back creak worryingly, “don’t know what that’ll mean for us.”

“They might close the bridges,” Kakashi ponders, scratching his cheek absentmindedly, “discontinue the use of ferries. I’ve heard they’ve shut down all the airports off the West Coast.”

Tsunade doesn’t respond, just stares blankly at the wall beside Kakashi’s head.

“We’ll need to start saving up,” she tells him, then amends at his look, “more so than we already are.”

“Upcharge?” Kakashi asks.

“Upcharge,” Tsunade grins, then leans over her desk, the blunt held aloft. “You sure?”

He eyes it.

“Why not,” he sighs and takes it from her, “we’ll be dead within the next decade.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tsunade says and turns away as he pulls down his mask.

“No one cares you know,” she whispers, only turning back around when Kakashi hands the pot back to her, “they don’t give a fuck what–”

“I know,” Kakashi interrupts, breathing in and letting it out– controlled and steadying, “it’s not about that anymore.”

Tsunade nods, careful, and then she stands in a flourish and stalks over to the windows.

“God those two are a mess,” she says and her tone would be harsh if it weren’t for the softness around her eyes, “Jiraiya’s a bad influence.”

“Yes,” Kakashi agrees, “but he’s our best runner.”

Tsunade turns, looking at Kakashi over her shoulder.

“Say, Kakashi,” she says, expression shrewd, and Kakashi’s hackles rise– “how’s Tenzo?”

Another good reason to wear his mask: no one can tell when he’s blushing.

He’s sure Tsunade can though, because her smile is growing and she’s still staring–

“Uh, he–”

“Tell him I say hi,” she says and walks back to her desk, “and give him the weekend off. Jiraiya needs him for a run.”

Kakashi’s eyes narrow at that.

“Why?”

Tsunade looks surprised by the question.

“Why?” she repeats.

“Where is the run?” Kakashi asks instead.

“Manhattan,” Tsunade responds, “on the border of what used to be Harlem.”

There are a lot of emotions churning through him then, too many to be useful, and so instead he wordlessly holds out his hand and Tsunade passes him the half smoked joint.

“Sit down,” she sighs and Kakashi drags over the bean bag chair in the corner, “and don’t interrupt– there’s a lot of ground to cover.”

Kakashi nods and settles in.

+

Naruto’s an idiot.

“You’re an idiot,” Sakura tells him blankly, arms crossed as she enters their apartment.

The sun is just beginning to dip– gold and pink light melting along the walls and the furniture surrounding, and Naruto jumps ten feet in the air and almost snaps his ankle when he lands.

He wobbles as he turns and then realizes it’s Sakura before he relaxes in a loud rush of breath.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he grumbles, rolling his ankle and wincing as he collapses back onto his unmade bed, “how do you wear these every night?”

Sakura looks down at the silver heels strapped around Naruto’s feet and sighs.

“Well they fit me for one,” she responds and stalks over, “and I practice.”

Naruto’s pouting at the ceiling, his eyes glazed and dejected, and Sakura feels the anger she’d come in with fade, just a bit.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Naruto responds, automatic.

“Did you do a run today?”

Naruto nods, expression carefully blank. He’s like this sometimes– comes home unseeing, comes home and sleeps in his clothes, comes home and makes Sakura pack everything she owns while he sits by the door, bat in hand, and waits for ghosts that never show.

The only method Sakura knows that helps him out of his head is–

“Lets go out,” she insists.

Naruto raises his head and stares at her. It takes him a moment to process what she’s said.

“Out?” he parrots, “Like– where?”

“Ino’s having a party,” Sakura says, “Her parents are visiting their grandma.”

Naruto’s expression pinches.

“They live in the same building,” he says, slowly.

“Yes,” Sakura says slowly back, “and they won’t be home for the rest of the night.”

“Oh,” Naruto says then falls back onto his mattress, “well.”

Sakura groans and reaches forward to grab his wrists, manually hauling him up. Naruto flops like a fish and she slaps the side of his head– gentle, but still jarring enough to get his attention.

“It’ll be fun!” she goads, pinching his cheeks and forcing his gaze up, “C’mon! Ino can do your makeup! We’ll be with friends– you can wear whatever you want!”

Naruto’s expression shutters and he looks away, out the small window at the fading light beyond.

“I’m horny,” he pouts.

She hits him again.

“I’m still mad at you so tough shit.”

“No! Not– no, ew Sakura-chan–”

“Ew? EW? So now it’s gross to think about hooking up with me but when I bought that strap on last year–”

Naruto’s face goes scarlet.

“No! No, that was– uh, that was amazing I just meant like– I –uh– wanna be with a guy?” he winces and it’s tough for him to get the words out but after everything they’ve done together Sakura’s surprised that this is still hard for Naruto to admit.

Then again the outside world isn’t as accepting as their group of friends– especially under Danzō’s eyes.

“Okay,” she says, careful, “hook up with…”

Shit.

She trails off, thinking, and Naruto groans and flops back down and proceeds to curl up on his side, hugging his arms and burying his face into his pillows.

“I just wanna get dicked down,” he whines and Sakura huffs at his transparency.

“I think we’re too honest with each other,” she says and Naruto huffs a laugh and turns big, baleful eyes up at her.

“Do I have to pay for sex?” he asks her, “Is that what I gotta do?”

“No, Naruto, Jesus–”

“Maybe I’ll just get drunk and lay here,” he continues like she didn’t speak, “or fight. Where’s Lee? He’ll beat the shit out of me.”

“Oh get up!” Sakura snaps, grabbing his arm and bodily pulling him from the bed, “Enough! You’re gonna come with me and we’ll make you look hot and you can make out with anyone you want okay? Come on lets go.”

He drags his feet but doesn’t argue as Sakura first pulls him into her room so she can get changed, and then packs her backpack (the brass knuckles Tsunade gave her for her twelfth birthday are the first things in) and then she’s yanking Naruto out the door and into the street and passed the harried shops and through the alley’s and then up the fire escape and then–

“Hey whore,” Ino greets as she opens the window.

“Hey pig,” Sakura responds and kisses her cheek.

Naruto falls into the room and bounces onto the bed. He doesn’t move.

“Ew, get up,” Ino hisses, kicking him with her freshly painted toes.

“Ino,” Naruto moans, “stop.”

“He’s sad and horny,” Sakura informs her best friend, sidling up to her and resting her cheek on Ino’s shoulder, “so we need to get him drunk.”

Ino nods sagely.

“Obviously,” she says, “it’s our best course of action.”

“It’s our only course of action,” Sakura corrects.

Ino tilts her head to study the blonde lump on her bed.

“Look at him,” she whispers, “he’s so sad. Like, literally pathetic.”

“I’m right here,” Naruto says, “I can hear you.”

“Then look alive,” Ino snaps, “you’re worse than my grandma and she’s 97 with dementia.”

“Wow,” Naruto grins, “you’re so inspirational, Ino. Thanks, I feel so much better.”

“Okay!” Ino claps and Naruto jumps, “get up! We’re getting you laid!”

Both Naruto and Sakura blink at her.

“Uh,” Naruto begins, “I don’t–”

“Up!" Ino snaps and Naruto scrambles to his feet, posture ramrod straight as Ino approaches and looks him up and down. “Hm, okay, I can work with this.”

Naruto shoots Sakura a look: help me, it says.

“Great, so you two seem fine,” Sakura smiles and Naruto’s jaw drops, “I’m going to get alcohol.”

Ino waves her off, holding up Naruto’s arms and then snapping her fingers.

“All right,” she instructs, “shirt off.”

“What?”

+

Iruka stares.

Then stares some more.

“Uh, Kakashi,” he says, eyes on the jumbo pack of condoms, “isn’t this– a little ambitious?”

Kakashi sags and rubs his palm over his eye.

“Perhaps,” he groans, “I have no idea what I’m doing, Iruka.”

The other man reaches out to pat his shoulder consolingly.

“Well, it seems like– if you’re buying this many condoms– that things are going great.”

Kakashi just makes this wounded wheezing noise and Iruka withdraws his hand, a little alarmed.

“Um, Kakashi–”

“I haven’t told him,” Kakashi mumbles, words muffled by his arm and the sticky counter underneath it but Iruka has long since mastered the art of understanding a grumbling Kakashi Hatake.

But then the other man’s words sink in and Iruka blinks.

“Wait,” he says, “you haven’t told him you like him yet you’re buying a pack of thirty six–”

“Help me,” Kakashi interrupts and he stares up at Iruka with the most pathetic face, “please, Iruka. Help me be normal.”

Iruka laughs and gently takes the box from Kakashi’s hands.

“Oh-kay,” he says, “first don’t do this.”

He places the box back behind the counter.

“And second just tell him how you feel. Go from there. That’s step one.”

Kakashi blinks.

“Are you sure I can’t just throw condoms at him?”

+

Sasuke has been thinking about the best way to word this all day.

It’s been tumbling in his head, behind his eyes– it’s been awful, really, because Sasuke isn’t one to stress about things. He usually does what he wants, and up until this point what he’s wanted was his father’s approval so doing anything was relatively easy­– it’s been whatever his father’s asked.

Train, Fugaku had told him, learn how to disarm a man in two seconds.

So Sasuke had.

Never trust anyone, Fugaku had told him; no one earns your loyalty besides your family.

So Sasuke isolated.

Marry a woman who will do what you say, Fugaku had told him, you don’t have to love them– that’s what the clubs are for.

So Sasuke–

So Sasuke–

He’s been worrying it about in his head all week. He hates this. He hates feeling out of control. And for some reason– for some fucked up reason– one normal interaction has been in his head nonstop.

It’s– strange. It’s the first time Sasuke had ever just… hung out with someone? He doesn’t have friends. He doesn’t have anyone besides his family.

(He doesn’t even have Itachi anymore).

He stands and takes a deep breath.

His father is where he always is– the study.

It’s a small room that’s off the living area; dark wood and long shelves cover the walls. There are no windows in here. Sasuke’s only been inside once. And now he’s about to ask to come in again and all for– what? The chance to maybe– possibly– interact with that dumb kid? What if he isn’t there tonight? What if Sasuke does this, asks for something, and he gets it and it doesn’t even matter? What then?

He hesitates.

And that frustrates him further because Sasuke never hesitates. He’s never had to. Everything has been given to him. He’s never gone after something before. He hasn’t wanted anything before– not really.

Is this what it feels like?

He isn’t sure he likes all this… confusion. Not for the first time since Itachi left Sasuke wishes his brother had swallowed his pride and stayed. But then again, he knows that it wasn’t really Itachi’s choice to leave.

He didn’t know anyone was home, after all.

Sasuke takes a deep breath and turns back around.

It’s not worth it.

It’s not–

The door opens.

Sasuke freezes.

“Sasuke,” his father says, “come in.”

It’s like walking into a bear’s open maw– Sasuke sidesteps the teeth as he enters. Fugaku settles back behind his desk, the bottle of scotch already open. He regards Sasuke with an empty impassiveness that’s clouded under the guise of alcohol.

Fugaku doesn’t say anything and Sasuke knows he must.

“I’d like to borrow the ferry,” Sasuke says.

Blurts really, it’s ungraceful and his voice isn’t as strong as he’d like it to be but at least he’s said it.

Fugaku’s eyebrows rise.

“Really?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, “You liked that girl?”

There’s a pit in Sasuke’s stomach.  He doesn’t know the right way to play this. If he says yes will his father think less of him for going after a whore? If he says no then what reason does he have to go back to the club without his father?

He’s overthinking– he knows he’s overthinking, and because of it his heart feels like it’s racing, skipping over his ribs, and what if he chokes on it, what if–

“She’s adequate for now,” Sasuke says.

And, for the first time in his life, he sees his father smile.

+

“Ooh, Naruto, you look so hot!” Sakura squeals leaning down to get right in his face. “Ino! Teach me how you did this.”

“It’s not hard,” Ino says– smug from where she’s standing with her eye shadow brush brandished in her hand, “looks good, huh?”

“Yeah!” Sakura exclaims and Naruto winces at the pitch. “Huh, I never would’ve put orange on you but it really makes your eyes more blue.”

Naruto can’t help the blush that tints his cheeks. He’s nervous, unbelievably so. It’s the first time he’ll ever wear makeup around anyone who isn’t Sakura or Ino and that’s– it’s a heady feeling. He isn’t sure how to handle it.

“You look great,” Sakura tells him, earnest and soft, “promise. Here.”

She holds up Ino’s small hand mirror and Naruto takes it with shaking hands. He studies himself for a long time.

“Oh,” he whispers, tilting his head, warmth bubbling in his chest, “oh, it looks fucking dope!”

Ino sighs but she’s obviously please. Sakura’s hands tighten on Naruto’s shoulders. Her smile is all teeth.

“All right hot shot,” she says, “lets get fucked up.”

Everyone arrives in groups. It’s not safe to walk alone and Naruto’s anxiety hasn’t really gone away but the vodka sure is helping. He was half expecting someone to make fun of him, or tease him, or belittle him in anyway, but the only person who comes close is Kiba when he says, “bro are you trying to steal my look?”

It’s– intoxicating.

Naruto has never felt so warm. Here he is, surrounded by his friends and vodka and smoke and soft hands and he has never, ever, felt so accepted.

“Naruto!” Lee laughs, draping himself like a noodle over Naruto’s shoulders and pinching his cheeks, “you are a wonderful sight, my friend! The orange suits you well.”

“Thanks man,” Naruto grins, wrapping a stabilizing arm around Lee’s thin waist– but to be fair they both aren’t great at holding their liquor so they end up just swaying together.

“Aw, fuck!” someone who sounds a lot like Kiba shrieks, “we’re out of vodka!”

The answering groans are comical and Naruto, high on the feeling of peace and acceptance and weed (mostly weed) yells back: “I’ll get more!”

Sakura stumbles after him, an arm over his shoulders.

“I’ll come with,” she slurs, then falls over her heels.

“Ah, no,” Naruto laughs, propping her up on a nearby chair where Hinata is sitting, quiet as ever but stoned out of her mind, “stay here, I’ll be fine.”

“Take Lee at least,” Sakura insists and points at Hinata.

“Uh, that's okay,” Naruto says, “it’s a fifteen minute walk, Sakura-chan.”

Hinata just blinks at him with pink-rimmed eyes.

It’s a bit unnerving.

“Right,” he says– and louder, “I’ll be back!”

“You go man!” Kiba shouts.

Naruto lets the door of Ino’s apartment swing shut and grins when he can still hear the jeering of his friends from inside. Walking is a little difficult but he’s not so far gone that he can’t move and so with great concentration he stumbles down the steps, holding onto the railing for dear life.

Outside it’s cold– colder than Naruto had been expecting and he probably should’ve brought his jacket but, well, he’s already walked too far. It’s a Thursday night– there aren’t many people out, and those that are look like Naruto feels.

“Hey fag, wanna suck my dick?” a voice from an alley yells out.

“Nah, I’m good,” Naruto answers and continues on.

Tenzo is sitting out of Tsunade’s reading one of Kakashi’s dumb books. He doesn’t look like he understands the appeal but he glances up when Naruto approaches, a knowing grin on his face.

“Where you coming from?” he asks, standing and steadying Naruto as he sways precariously.

“Ino’s,” Naruto responds with a lazy grin, “we–we’re out of the good shit.”

Tenzo raises an eyebrow.

“I hope you mean water,” he says.

“Yeah,” Naruto confirms with a laugh and moves past, pushing open the front door, “water.”

Tenzo rolls his eyes just as the door closes behind him.

The club isn’t busy– not like it will be tomorrow– and Naruto beelines for the bar. He sits down on one of the rickety stools and leans over the counter to get Kakashi’s attention, which is unnecessary because Kakashi has been staring at him blandly the whole time.

“Naruto,” he greets, “you smell like vodka.”

“Funny you should bring that up,” Naruto slurs then hiccups, “’cause I need more.”

“Hmm,” Kakashi hums, resting his cheek on his hand, “I don’t think so.”

Naruto pouts.

“Aw, c’mon!” he whines, “It’s not just f’r me! It’s for everyone!”

“So that’s what you kids are up to, huh?” Kakashi sighs and straightens, glancing at the back door, “Someone’s looking for you, I think.”

“Huh?”

“I saw the young Uchiha here. He left about ten min–”

Naruto’s fallen off the stool and dashing to the side door before Kakashi can finish and when the man looks down he notices he’s missing a New Amsterdam. He could go after Naruto but he really doesn’t feel like it.

And his new crocs might get dirty. 

Besides, he thinks a man ordered a drink ten minutes ago and he’s definitely forgotten about it.

+

Climbing the fire escape drunk isn’t a new experience but it never gets easier.

Especially when he’s holding a glass bottle.

He’s not really thinking, when he’s drunk he just reacts– even more so than usual– and so by the time he’s up over the ledge and onto the rooftop he doesn’t even realize how nervous he is until he sees the lone silhouette before him.

It’s dark but he can just make out Sasuke’s features– pale and soft in the minimal light from the street and lamps below.

Naruto feels oddly breathless.

And self-conscious, when he remembers his eye shadow. Well, if Sasuke’s a homophobe he probably shouldn’t want to be friends with him anyways.

“Hey,” Naruto breathes, and just for something to do he unscrews the vodka and takes a pull, “what’re you doin’ up here?”

Sasuke raises an eyebrow– unimpressed.

“Are you drunk?” he asks.

Naruto grins, sheepish, as he walks over. He only trips once.

“Uh, a little,” he admits, “but I’m polite. Want some?”

Sasuke takes the bottle and drinks. He barely winces at the taste and Naruto just watches­– which is rude, he knows but Sasuke is just– he’s– he’s easy to stare at.

“Nice eye shadow,” Sasuke says and drinks from the bottle again, and Naruto’s expecting venom in his tone, or his eyes, or for disgust to make his lip curl and voice burn but it’s just– Sasuke just states it– like it’s a fact, like it’s truth, and Naruto can feel his heart kick up again because he’s drunk and he’s been horny and Sasuke is really pretty and he’s a guy that’s almost a stranger and so the repercussions of losing him wouldn’t be nearly as bad or embarrassing if Naruto lost one of his friends–

“Thanks,” Naruto swallows, shuffling his feet, “it–I like orange.”

Sasuke looks like he wants to laugh which counts for him actually laughing, Naruto assumes.

“Suits you,” Sasuke tells him, states it– again, “is it normal for you to be drunk at work?”

Naruto grins.

“Ah, not working tonight,” he admits and takes the vodka back before Sasuke drinks it all, “I’m actually just grabbing this before heading back. My friend Ino she’s having a party– well, not really a party, it’s just like–uh– kind of a gathering? It’s my friends all in one place drinking.”

Sasuke stares.

“So a party,” he says, like he’s speaking to a confused child.

“Yeah,” Naruto laughs, flustered, “yeah I– yeah I g-guess so.”

Sasuke’s eyes narrow.

“Why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird! I’m acting normal!”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’ve met me one time how do you know what my normal is?”

“You weren’t this messy last time you were drunk,” Sasuke points out, then steps closer, more into Naruto’s space, “are you blushing?”

Naruto’s heart skips.

“I’m– no– I’m wearing blush. I’m not– I don’t–”

Sasuke doesn’t step back and Naruto isn’t sure why he isn’t stepping away. It’s cause he’s drunk, he can always blame it on him being drunk–

Sasuke’s still staring, his dark eyes made darker by the night sky and gloom, and he’s so intense that Naruto feels pinned in place. If he looks away first he feels like he’d lose something. Whatever this is– he’d lose it.

“Uh, Sas–”

“Why are you wearing makeup?” Sasuke asks, blunt and to the point.

Naruto bristles.

“You got a problem with it?” he snaps.

“No,” Sasuke says, easy, and then doesn’t elaborate.

Naruto’s grip is white-knuckled on the neck of his bottle and he just– fuck he just really wants to kiss someone and here’s Sasuke with really nice lips and standing really fucking close–

Naruto steps back.

He breaks it– whatever had been settling– and he doesn’t let himself feel bereft at the loss.

“I–I like it,” Naruto answers, breaking eye contact too and fuck, what else is he breaking here– why is there anything to break– “uh, Ino– my friend did it for me.”

He shrugs, a little lost, and when Sasuke doesn’t speak Naruto feels like he needs to explain further.

“It’s not all the time,” he begins, “just, you know, sometimes I like to uh, feel– nice? Like, pretty? But only sometimes it’s not– not an everyday thing­– but I wear uh, well­– nevermind…”

“What do you wear?” Sasuke asks and his voice is deep and smooth and entirely unreadable and Naruto feels himself blushing again– hot and spreading.

He swallows around a dry throat.

“Um… womensclothing,” he says in a rush, one word stumbling overtop the other but Sasuke seems to understand because he nods, once, and reaches for the vodka before taking a heavy swig.

Naruto braces himself for a hit. Or for Sasuke to smash the glass over his head and use the glass to cut more scars into his skin–more scars into–

“Are you going to throw up, moron?” Sasuke asks, flippant, and Naruto stutters.

“You– wait, you don’t care?”

“About what? You liking to wear make up and women’s clothes?”

Naruto flushes– deeper still.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why should I care?” Sasuke asks and Naruto has a full list, really, on why Sasuke should care but instead Sasuke says, “we need more vodka.”

Naruto stares at the bottle he brought.

It’s halfway gone already. Shit. Sakura is going to kill him. Ino’s going to kill him. Kiba’s going to–

“Hey,” Naruto blurts, louder than he needs because Sasuke is still relatively close to him, “you should come with me.”

“To the not party?”

Naruto nods, a new kind of excited determination bubbling up inside him and it feels like elation, like when he runs and runs and runs and Jiraiya smiles at him and says good job, kid.

Because he just told Sasuke that he likes to wear makeup and women’s clothing and Sasuke hadn’t hit him, hadn’t acted like it was a big deal at all and that means that Sasuke accepts him and Naruto– that’s all Naruto–

“I don’t do parties.”

“Too bad,” Naruto says, good mood only heightening when he reaches out and grabs Sasuke’s wrist and the other boy doesn’t try to break his hold, “if you want more vodka you have to work for it.”

“Can’t I just suck your dick?”

Naruto chokes.

The grin on Sasuke’s face doesn’t help.

“You– I–”

“Huh,” Sasuke says, “is that all it takes to shut you up?”

Naruto’s pretty certain his skin is going to boil off.

“That’s­– you’re not funny, asshole,” Naruto splutters and instead of looking at Sasuke and his stupid fucking face any longer Naruto spins and begins to drag the other boy to the edge of the roof, “just for that you’re comin’ with me, no take backs.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond but he doesn’t pull his hand out of Naruto’s hold so – well, it means something, is all.

+

Sasuke– has to be out of his mind.

Naruto’s hand is warm and sure around his own, and at some point on their walk (jog really, Naruto walks like hell is nipping at his heels) Naruto’s grip went from around Sasuke’s wrist to around his palm instead.

Sasuke’s thankful for the dark otherwise his blush would be too obvious.

“Okay,” Naruto says, letting go of Sasuke and shuffling around so that the bottle of vodka is tucked precariously into the waistband of his pants, “up we go.”

Sasuke stares at the rickety fire escape and makes a decision.

“No,” he says.

Naruto looks like he’s going to start crying.

“Is there not a front door?” Sasuke sighs and Naruto blinks and then catches on, God, he’s a fucking moron why is Sasuke even here­–

“Oh!” Naruto laughs, “Fuck yeah, there is! Oh god, I totally forgot–”

“Yo! Scar face!” a boy’s voice rings down around them and Sasuke tenses, prepared for a fight because who the fuck– “Come on up! Ino’s window is open for a reason!”

The boy yelling at them also has marks on his face but they look like tattoos and Naruto is still smiling, albeit not as bright, so maybe this isn’t an attack but a friend? Sasuke doesn’t understand why the other had to bring in Naruto’s appearance, it’s obvious the guy has some issues regarding it–

“That’s Kiba,” Naruto tells him and it sounds like an apology, “fire escape it is, rich boy. You good with that?”

“Do I have a choice?” Sasuke grumbles and Naruto simply laughs and jumps up to pull the rusted ladder down.

Ah well, Sasuke thinks, he didn’t wear anything nice for a reason.

At least he gets to see Naruto trip up the steps.

“You’re a moron,” Sasuke says and relishes in Naruto’s put upon huff.

“Aw fuck off,” he sighs but lets Sasuke in through the window first.

Sasuke isn’t really prepared for the bed he steps on but he figures if its owner had an issue with people coming in through the bedroom window then the bed wouldn’t be under it.

Naruto falls a lot less gracefully.

Sasuke realizes, as he notices the people huddled around the open doorway, that he isn’t drunk enough for this.

And when he meets a set of familiar green eyes he realizes he should be blackout in order to handle this.

He’s only here to see Naruto. For some stupid fucking reason that’s why Sasuke came to Brooklyn and now he’s somehow meeting all of Naruto’s friends and this is– this is a nightmare situation really–

Except Naruto’s sliding beside him with an air of absolute nonchalance and then he’s holding up the vodka and everyone breaks into grins and then someone passes him a cup and says “my name is Lee, it is a delight–”

The drink is fruity and strong.

The atmosphere is quieter than the club and Naruto stays by his side, doesn’t stray, and instead they find a seat and sequester themselves there and while Sasuke can feel the pink-haired girl’s eyes on him she doesn’t approach, just watches, so maybe it’s not so bad–

Time moves quickly and then he can’t feel his hands.

“Oh,” Naruto laughs, “you’re fucked up, dude.”

“Hn,” is all Sasuke can peel his tongue up to say.

Naruto’s hand is on his lower back, stabilizing him, and Sasuke lets himself lean into it because he might as well take any opportunity to be close to–

He’s drunk and he can blame these thoughts on that.

“Me too,” Naruto whispers, like it’s some kind of secret, but the blonde is swaying even more than Sasuke is– “fuck. What if I throw up?”

“Then I leave you here,” Sasuke responds, automatic, and Naruto laughs and pushes him and this– this is natural, this feels good–

Is this what it feels like to have friends? Is this what–

“God, are you even more of an asshole when you’re drunk?” Naruto asks, arm around Sasuke’s shoulders and usually Sasuke would castrate anyone who dared to touch him so much– he doesn’t think he’s ever been touched this much– but Naruto’s proximity isn’t a means to an end, it isn’t to get anything from his, it’s just for comfort, grounding, and so Sasuke allows it.

“Are you even more of a moron?” Sasuke shoots back and has to steady Naruto before he walks into a wall.

“You’re fun,” Naruto tells him, “you’re funny.”

“No one has ever said that about me,” Sasuke says.

Naruto’s nose scrunches in adorable confusion.

“Huh? Why? Have they met you?”

“Yes,” Sasuke responds, “whose they?”

“People!” Naruto answers, too loud, and gestures around the room, “Anyone!”

“You’re not making sense,” Sasuke tells him.

“I’m drunk,” Naruto responds.

“Yes.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Really?”

Naruto grins into Sasuke’s shoulder, presses the happiness into his skin and it burns–

“Naruto,” a familiar voice says and Sasuke looks up as the pink-haired girl stares down at them, expression unreadable, “explain to me what’s happening.”

Naruto sits up and his arm falls from Sasuke’s shoulders.

“Ah, Sakura-chan, I saw him at Tsunade’s and–”

“Invited him to Ino’s?” Sakura finishes, tone dry.

Sasuke feels like he’s caught between something quite personal. He stands and the effect is ruined by how he sways.

“I’m leaving,” he announces and, not waiting for anyone’s acknowledgement, walks to the door.

“Whoa, wait, hold up asshole!” Naruto yells, too loud, God, he’s always too loud and Sasuke can hear Naruto bumbling through the room to catch up to him.

He grabs his wrist and this time Sasuke tugs Naruto with him– out into the hall and lets the door to the apartment slam shut.

Suddenly, without the noise and the energy of everyone surrounding him, Sasuke feels very very tired.

It’s too late for the ferries to be running, he doesn’t have jurisdiction to call them this late.

It’ll make his father happy, he supposes, if he believes Sasuke spent the night with Tsunade’s whores.

He turns to Naruto whose staring at him with wide blue eyes, his hair a mess and orange eye shadow long since smudged around his temples. He looks disheveled and Sasuke thinks it rather suits him.

“Come home with me,” Naruto blurts and Sasuke’s realizing that Naruto never really thinks things through because now he’s blushing, red as Sakura’s lipstick– “not– uh, not in a sexual way just– you’re drunk and I made you come here so uh, th–the least I c’do is give ya a place to sleep.”

A part of Sasuke wants to watch Naruto flounder for longer.

Another part– a much more pressing part– wants to lie down and not move for hours.

“Okay,” he says and Naruto smiles and grabs his hand and pulls him along again.