Chapter Text
It wasn’t until six weeks after Sasuke’s house arrest ended that he finally let Naruto into his apartment.
Well, okay, he didn’t let him in, not exactly. He opened the door before he could knock, leaving Naruto standing dumbly with his fist raised, and walked back down the hallway to collapse bonelessly on the couch. To Naruto, this was as good as an invitation, so he took it at face value and let himself in.
Sasuke had always been so uptight about everything else that Naruto had kind of expected him to be a neat freak. His apartment was… well, it certainly wasn’t neat. He toed off his sandals next to a haphazard pile of shoes, and stepped into the hallway. The shoe cupboard in the entryway was half open, and there was a broken umbrella hooked on the door, with a cluster of plastic grocery bags crammed on the shelf and three empty bottles of green tea lining the top of it.
He found Sasuke in the living room in socked feet and sweats, hair still wet from a shower and leaving a spreading patch of damp on the back of his collar. He was sprawled out with one leg hooked over the back of the couch, and the bottoms of his socks were a dingy grey. He was flipping through TV channels, pretending not to notice Naruto walking in and taking stock of the room. On the low table was a little bowl of mandarin oranges, and a messy pile of peels next to it.
“Scuse the intrusion.” Naruto said, kneeling at the table and helping himself to an orange. He was going to keep it casual. He wasn't going to beg Sasuke to stay, or make any meandering and confusing speeches about their friendship. He definitely wasn't going to let Sasuke bait him into an argument.
Sasuke shot him a glare, and cut to the chase, “You’ve been pounding on my door for weeks. What do you want?”
Naruto just shrugged, dropping the rind in one long strip with the others, and crammed the entire thing into his mouth so he wouldn't have to respond.
Sasuke narrowed his one visible eye at him, and then went back to flipping channels, his mouth drawn in a thin, unhappy line. He kept shooting Naruto irritated looks, but didn’t speak up again. There were droplets of water forming at the tips of each strand of his hair. Naruto watched one slide down his neck towards his collarbone and disappear under the wet edge of his collar. He tried not to imagine what it would feel like to press him into the couch and chase it with the flat of his tongue. Failed. Swallowed loudly.
Going for nonchalance, he dusted his hands off on his pants. His new arm was still a little clumsy, and he stood to walk the circumference of the living room. He counted four wrinkled shirts piled on a chair, and spotted a pair of pants peeking out from underneath the couch. The Uchiha compound had been flattened along with everything else, so he now lived in a one bedroom apartment. His living room, dining room, and kitchen were all one shared space, with the small sofa and television taking up most of the room. He had a low kotatsu-style table with an electric heater built in, and several piles of magazines and books littered the floor - Icha Icha, if the blaring florescent covers were anything to go by. Kakashi’s idea of a housewarming gift, probably.
Actually, Naruto and Sakura had picked the apartment out for him before his trial was even over, and paid six months rent upfront so Sasuke didn’t have to worry about it. Technically, the lease was in Naruto’s name. The rental agent had said it got good morning light; Naruto thought that Sasuke might like that. More importantly, it was less than a five-minute walk from Naruto’s own apartment, and he could see the building from his own rooftop.
Through the long months of Sasuke’s detention, house arrest, and the past six weeks of freedom, Naruto had spent a lot of time on his roof, watching for the lights in his window to flip off and on. Tracking Sasuke’s movement through the apartment, and reassuring himself that he was still alive, still in Konoha.
He had visited Sasuke in the hospital, and in detention, of course, but it wasn’t like Sasuke could send him away there. It was different at his own apartment, even if Naruto was the one paying the rent. He wasn’t sure if Sasuke knew about that, or if he thought the government was subsidizing it. He was certain he’d be furious and humiliated if he did know, though, so he thought it was best not to bring it up. He had dropped by twice a day like clockwork when he wasn’t on missions, and been adamantly ignored. He knew Sasuke wasn’t allowed to do any work, and his assets had all been frozen throughout his detention and house arrest, so he took care to slip an envelope of cash into the mailbox once a week for him to feed himself. He never got a thanks for it; the best he got was a furious go away, Naruto, a handful of times, but the cash was always gone when he came back. He didn’t mind. He remembered what it was like to be broke and hungry.
This was the first time Sasuke had actually let him into the apartment since he moved in, though, and the first time they had seen each other since he was conditionally released.
He groaned theatrically, scrubbing his nails through blond hair, and peering around the corner into Sasuke’s bedroom. The futon was still out, and the bedding was wadded up in a pile on the floor. There was a kunai wedged deeply into the wall. So, they were letting him have weapons again. That was progress.
“Nice place.”
It didn’t seem like Sasuke had an answer to that. He was white-knuckling the television remote, staring down a variety show like it had personally offended him. Finally, he ground out a derisive, “Home sweet home.”
Coming from Sasuke, it almost felt like an apology.
He stared at the side of Sasuke’s face, his sharp jaw clenched as he stubbornly refused to turn and make eye contact with him. Look at me, he willed. Sasuke didn’t.
He knew he had been out to see Sakura the day his house arrest ended. Had even given her a real apology. He heard through the grapevine that he had been spotted at a local izakaya with Kakashi, too, solemnly clinking drinks across a table made of stacked boxes and a wooden board, but Kakashi wouldn’t breathe a word of what they had discussed. He suspected that if he had waited, Sasuke might have eventually come to him. The last straw, though, had come last night in the form of Sai bragging in his backhanded way about drinking with Sasuke at his house the day before.
He didn’t want to wait for Sasuke to come to him. He kept thinking about that drop of water tracing his neck. The futon he had picked out and dragged in himself so Sasuke would have a place to sleep. Their rattling breaths as they had laid in the dirt, side-by-side and determined to bleed out together at the end of the world.
The soft, worn fabric of his sweatshirt was Naruto’s, too. He had picked it up at a hot spring in the Land of Snow, and it proudly declared him an ONSEN BOY in all caps, under the characters for hot springs. Sasuke didn’t own much anymore, so he had left it for him in case he needed it, because it was warm and soft and comfortable. Apparently he had needed it. It was a stupid shirt, but seeing Sasuke in it twisted something furious and possessive in his gut.
The tension, and Sasuke’s stubborn silence, was unbearable. He turned to tour the kitchen for a breather. The dishes Kakashi had brought were mostly still wrapped in paper in an open box on the floor. Naruto grabbed a dirty glass from the sink, and filled it with water. Swallowed it down in one. Filled another.
He was about to turn to head back into the living room when he spotted it. In the corner, next to the refrigerator, was the garbage, tied up in a clear plastic grocery bag. Naruto snatched it up, appalled.
“Sasuke!” He shouted, outraged, and shook the bag at him over the kitchen island.
At the sound of rattling cans, Sasuke finally spared him a look. When he spotted the bag, he had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “What?”
Naruto shook the bag again in response. Inside were the plastic containers from three convenience store bento boxes, mixed in with loudly rattling cans of black coffee, lemon chu-hai, and a few plastic PET bottles.
“I know you’re a domestic terrorist—“
“That was one time!” Sasuke protested over him.
“— but this ain't social. You’re not sorting your garbage?”
“Who cares.” Sasuke said glumly, rolling onto his stomach and pretending to tune Naruto out by grabbing a magazine from the pile on the floor. He balanced on his one remaining elbow and turned the pages a little stiffly.
“Don’t your neighbors complain?” Naruto asked, remembering the many incidents in his youth where he had woken to find his trash returned to his front stoop with an angry letter attached, or endured a brutal dressing down from a granny when he tried to stealthily leave out the trash before collection day.
“I’m a domestic terrorist.” Sasuke reminded him, dark eyebrows drawn. “The neighbors don’t exactly engage with me.”
Right. Naruto sighed, untying the bag, and started to methodically sort the trash. “When do your burnables go out?” He asked, rinsing out the bottles and stripping off their plastic labels.
“I don’t know.” He mumbled.
“Course you don’t.” He stomped back to the entrance to collect the bottles he had seen earlier, and kicked the pile of shoes away to pull a few bags from the stash shoved in the shoe closet. “You need to rinse these out. And the labels and caps go out with plastic.”
Sasuke ignored him, turning the page of his magazine with a deliberate snap.
Naruto huffed, and finished sorting the garbage into their respective bags. In the bottom drawer, right where he had left it all those months ago, was a guidebook from the city. He flipped through it, looking for the trash collection schedule for Sasuke’s area, and meticulously copied it down on a scrap of paper, which he pinned to the wall with a needle from his weapons pouch.
“What've you been doing with your trash all this time?” He asked, genuinely curious.
Sasuke shot him a sardonic little smile, “I wasn’t allowed out, so I left it on the porch. ANBU took care of it.”
Naruto barked out a surprised laugh at that. Leave it to Sasuke to defang Konoha’s most elite ninja, and reduce them to babysitting and trash collection.
“Well, you’re allowed out now, so you’d better get used to taking care of your own chores.” He patted the trash schedule stuck to the wall, “Cans and bottles go out tomorrow, before 8am. Not tonight.”
He could feel Sasuke rolling his eyes from across the room. “Yes, mother.”
“Don’t give me that.” He glared, “If I were your mother, you’d be hearing a lot more about how you’ve been getting drunk with Sai.”
“I’m making new friends.” Sasuke said primly. “You should try it.”
Naruto grit his teeth, temper flaring. He knew exactly what Sasuke was trying to imply. “Right. I’ll get right on that, you dick.”
He was leaving for a mission that evening, probably for a week or so. Whether or not Sasuke had let him in, he had been planning to let him know that he wouldn’t be coming by. Sasuke’s attitude made it hard to want to share anything with him, though, and he found himself stomping to the door to see himself out. Let him wonder. Sasuke didn’t bother to get up from the couch, or even glance up from his magazine.
-
The mission - a basic escort - ended up taking a full sixteen days from door-to-door. Unexpected floods in the Land of Water made transit nearly impossible, and they had to stop several times a day to dig out wagon wheels and manually carry supplies for miles at a time. It was freezing and wet and Naruto couldn't wait to see his own bed. He returned to the village muddy and exhausted, but unharmed. He gave a quick verbal report, promising to follow up with a written report after some sleep, and slumped his way home to hopefully take a shower and pass out.
As soon as he reached his door, he knew something was off. His hand froze on the handle; his chakra wards were already disengaged, and glancing at the hinge, he realized it had been jammed open. A break-in, then, and they were good. Only Iruka, who had designed half of them, could get past his wards, and he had a key. It had to be a very high-level, and highly motivated ninja to manage a break in. Alarmed, he sent a shadow clone around to the other potential exits, and kicked open the door, ready for a fight. To say that he was surprised to find Uchiha Sasuke lunging for the window, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, would be an understatement.
“Uhh.” Naruto said, letting the kunai in his hand drop to his side, and dispelling the shadow clone at his window, “Sasuke? What're you doing here?”
Sasuke was wearing Naruto’s sweatshirt again, and appeared to have rummaged through his drawers to pilfer another pair of sweatpants, slung low on his hips. Naruto wet his lips and tried not to look at the obscene cut of his hipbones, looking very deliberately at his face, instead. He was tired and wan, dark smudges under his eyes, but also deeply embarrassed.
“You were gone.” He said lamely, like that explained anything.
Naruto took a cursory glance around the room, picking out a few details. The house definitely wasn’t as he left it. There was a glass in the sink, and a few empty cups of instant ramen on the counter. Someone had also been pawing through his scrolls, and there was an open manga on his unmade bed, which he had definitely made before he left - something Sakura had finally drilled into him a few years ago.
“Were you… staying at my house?”
He went tomato red at that, and abruptly changed the subject, “You look like shit. Where have you been?”
“I was on a mission.” He said, squinting, “It took longer than I expected. Sasuke, were you worried about me?”
“No, dumbass!” Sasuke snapped, glaring through his bangs, and then admitted, “I ran out of money.”
Ah. Well. That explained the ramen, at least, but not why Sasuke had been sleeping in his bed. He lovingly filed that detail away for later, maybe after a shower, when he could examine it at his own pace. Like from his bed that now undoubtedly smelled like Sasuke's shampoo.
For now, though, he was so tired he could barely keep on his feet. With a jaw-splitting yawn, he started undressing, leaving his weapons, shoes, and muddy jacket in a pile by the door.
“What are you doing?” Sasuke looked trapped, eyes wide and fingers scrabbling for the latch on the window.
“What?” Naruto said distractedly, kneeling to pull a wad of cash from where it was stashed under a cabinet. “I’m gonna take a shower. Here.” He said, waving a handful of bills in Sasuke’s direction, “Sorry, I thought I’d be gone a week at most.”
“I’m not taking your money.” Sasuke protested, as if he hadn’t been taking Naruto’s money for weeks.
“Alright, starve. See if I care.” Naruto rolled his eyes, but pressed the bills into Sasuke’s hand anyway. “God, you’re so much work. You can just say thank you, y'know.”
Sasuke stood, stunned, in the middle of the room, money clutched in his fist. His eyes kept flashing between the dirty jacket on the floor and Naruto's exposed shoulders. Naruto shook his head, and turned to the bathroom.
“I’m not some housewife.” Sasuke finally hissed to the back of his head.
“That’s right.” Naruto agreed, letting the door slam behind him, “My loving wife might've at least cooked dinner.”
-
The next afternoon, he trudged in to deliver his written report and collect his meager earnings from a sparkling chuunin. C-rank escorts didn’t pay well, but Naruto knew that they were an important part of the reconstruction efforts, so he tried to get one in as often as he could manage. He stopped briefly by a fruit and vegetable stand on his way to Sasuke’s apartment, and rapped on the door with his knuckles. There was a thunk and a quiet yelp from inside, and the sound of shuffling feet before the door swung open to reveal a sleepily blinking Sasuke. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night before, scandalously low sweatpants and all, and his hair was mussed up on one side. He must have been sleeping. Naruto noticed with some satisfaction that the shoes had been put away in the closet this time, and the broken umbrella was gone. There was a neat bag of rinsed PET bottles by the door, ready to be recycled. Sasuke stepped wordlessly aside, scrubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, and let Naruto walk into the living room.
“I brought a housewarming gift this time.” Naruto said, depositing two bottles of green tea and a bunch of grapes on the kitchen counter.
“Okay?” Sasuke said snidely, pushing past him to the bathroom. Naruto heard the taps start to run, and the sound of Sasuke brushing his teeth.
While he was otherwise engaged, Naruto knelt to start unwrapping the paper-wrapped dishes and kitchenware still on the floor, organizing them into neat rows on the built-in storage shelves and in drawers. He rinsed off the grapes, and put them in a bowl before leaving them out on the table, and poured two glasses of tea.
Sasuke emerged from the bathroom, face washed and hair somewhat flattened with water. He gave Naruto an ugly look. “Going through my stuff?”
“You’re one to talk.” Naruto reminded him, looking pointedly at his poached sweatpants.
Sasuke bared his teeth at him, and hustled him back into the living room, “Just sit down and shut up.” He said, disappearing back behind the half-wall into the kitchen space.
He heard the refrigerator door open and close, and then Sasuke reappeared for a moment to retrieve his abandoned kunai from where it was still imbedded in the bedroom wall. Naruto popped a grape into his mouth, and strained to listen. Was he— was he cutting something with his kunai? Naruto made a mental note to bring him a cooking knife next time.
There was some more shuffling, and some quiet cursing, before Sasuke stomped into the living room with a bowl in his hand. His finger was bleeding.
“Here.” He said, slamming a bowl of unevenly cut raw vegetables and a bottle of mayonnaise on the table.
“What’s this?” Naruto said dubiously, eyeing the assortment of raw carrots, peppers, cucumbers, and— was that broccoli?
“Crudités.” Sasuke said, already sounding offended.
“Cru— what?”
“It’s lunch.” Sasuke snapped, “Eat it.”
“You can’t eat raw broccoli, Sasuke. And, you’re bleeding.” He pointed out.
“Yes you can. They do it in Lightening.” Sasuke argued, sticking his finger in his mouth. “They eat it with— with mayonnaise dressing.”
Naruto’s brain quietly filed the sight of Sasuke speaking through fingers in his mouth away for later. He carried on doggedly, “There’s no way they eat it raw. You gotta cook it.”
“You don’t!” Sasuke insisted, snatching a piece of broccoli and biting into it to prove his point. His face twisted in dismay at the taste. “Just because you’re classless and don’t understand foreign food doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Naruto sighed, watching Sasuke balance the remaining broccoli on the table so he could squeeze a glob of mayonnaise onto it. He stubbornly finished it off, the picture of regret. There was a smear of mayonnaise on the table that Sasuke swiped at with his finger.
When Naruto’s voice came out, it was uncharacteristically gentle. “Sasuke.” He said, holding up both hands in a placating gesture, “They were definitely making fun of you. No one eats broccoli raw.”
“Yes they do!” Sasuke glared, “And they eat apples with peanut paste, too. I saw it. Ask anyone. Ask Killer B if you don’t believe me.”
“That’s disgusting.” Naruto said flatly, but took a wedge of cucumber to appease him. Sasuke, glaring down at his bleeding finger like he could staunch the blood with his mind, didn’t even notice.
With a much beleaguered huff, Naruto pushed himself up from the table to rummage through Sasuke’s medicine cabinet. He was sure Sakura had left a first-aid kit somewhere.
“Give me your hand,” He said, kneeling back at the table and squeezing some disinfectant onto a cotton swab, “Before you get mayonnaise in that.”
Sasuke moved to cross his arms, before realizing he only had one left. He let his hand flop on the table in an abortive gesture, instead, and turned his head to glare daggers at the wall. He looked impossibly young, then, face set in a stubborn moue. It reminded Naruto of the early days of Team Seven, before everything got so complicated. His heart constricted painfully. He was so in love with him. He was so fucked.
Carefully, gently, he reached out to uncurl Sasuke’s fist, and swipe at the little cut. He couldn’t help but grin at Sasuke’s hiss of pain as the disinfectant made contact. A nick from a kunai was something they had all experienced in their academy days, and they had both endured their fair share of lethal injuries since then; Naruto’s eyes flicked to Sasuke’s loose sleeve in confirmation. Still. When it hurt, it hurt, he supposed. He lifted his hand to blow on the cut like he had seen mothers do for their children, and Sasuke’s mouth dropped open, eyes snapping to meet his. For one delirious moment, Naruto imagined sucking Sasuke’s finger into his own mouth. He stuck the bandage on, instead, and dropped his hand with an unceremonious thunk on the table.
“There.” He said, relieved to hear his voice coming out clear and confident. Sasuke was still staring with the same stupefied look on his face, but when Naruto spoke, his mouth slammed shut with an audible click.
After a terse silence, Naruto pushed himself back to his feet, snagging three mismatched hunks of carrot and another cucumber in another attempt to placate whatever weird mood he had gotten himself into, “Alright. I gotta get going.” He said apologetically, “I’ve got a patrol shift.”
“Right.” Sasuke was staring down at his hand, oddly subdued, “Whatever.”
“Thanks for lunch.” Naruto said, and couldn’t help his mouth slanting into a sarcastic smile, “Maybe next time you could try actually cooking something.”
He barely dodged the bowl Sasuke threw at his head as he fled the apartment, cackling.