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midnightdiddleA Naru/Sasu Sasu/Naru drabble. Just because.
They call it fighting, to justify their actions. Naruto pins Sasuke to the bed and kisses him, substituting caresses for what should be punches. Sasuke grabs his shoulders, pulling and using their combined weight to flip them over, so he's sprawled atop the blonde. They call it wrestling, because they can't call it love.
Love is an idealistic notion, something that can't exist in the real world they live in. Sakura believes in love, just as she believes in princes and fairytales, happily ever afters and dreams coming true. Sasuke used to believe in these things, in damsels in distress and wishing stars, in brotherly love, but he's been proven wrong, again and again. Naruto wishes he could believe in those things, but he never learned how.
Sasuke and Naruto live in a world of ANBU missions, where new names are added to the monument every day, where nothing turns out quite the way it's supposed to, where there's no such thing as love. They're jealous of Sakura, of the way she can go on dreaming and pretending, and so they protect her, keep her away from the real world. They let her believe in love, because Sasuke no longer can, and Naruto never learned how.
Sasuke lies his head against Naruto's chest, listening to the beating of his heart, and he tilts his head so he can kiss Naruto's chin. Naruto touches Sasuke face, runs his fingers along the cheekbones and stubbly chin, over the chapped lips. They're nineteen, and they're scared to death of dying. The future's standing before them, big and huge and so possible, but death is standing right behind them, just waiting, hot, dry hands around their necks.
Sasuke wonders what it'd be like, if his parents were still alive. He wonders if he'd be on Sakura's and Naruto's team, if he'd be in the ANBU, if he'd come home more than half-dead every week. He wonders if he'd be living in this dingy apartment, where cockroaches crawl across the counters and the ceiling drips on the bed. He wonders if his parents would be happy, if his brother would be at home. More than anything, he wonders if what his parents would think about this, about him sleeping with a man he doesn't love, because if he loves him, then the man he loves and doesn't love, he needs and doesn't need, he hates and doesn't hate, would die.
Naruto just wishes he could wonder.
And it's serious. Sorry, doll, I tried, but this popped into my head before something cracky. But here, a snippet of a crack fic I was once working on. It's a karaoke thing.
Sasuke was muttering the lyrics, making the words impossible to decipher. That is, until he reached the chorus. Suddenly he was screaming into the microphone, blasting all the ears in the room.
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
And then he was mumbling the words again. Genma’s mouth fell open and his needle fell, unheeded to the floor. Iruka glanced up from his little drunken stupor and even Kakashi stopped groping Iruka to look up at the stage.
“Who you think he’s talking about?” Hayate asked conversationally as Kurenai tried to save a choking Asuma.
“My money’s on Naruto,” Neji stated quietly. The teachers blinked at him before Asuma, wheezing, shook his head.
“Nah, I say Orochimaru.”
“What about Itachi?”
“Ah,” Kurenai and Gai said together, nodding sagely at Hayate’s comment.
I hate you hate
I hate you love me
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
And then Sasuke was wandering away from the stage, hands shoved in his pockets, muttering something about “damn dobes,” “fucking freaks,” and “bastard brothers.”
“Brilliant, Hayate,” Gai praised as a student bounded up to the machine. Wait, no, that was no student. A drunk Iruka was swaying as he peered blearily out at the audience.
They call it fighting, to justify their actions. Naruto pins Sasuke to the bed and kisses him, substituting caresses for what should be punches. Sasuke grabs his shoulders, pulling and using their combined weight to flip them over, so he's sprawled atop the blonde. They call it wrestling, because they can't call it love.
Love is an idealistic notion, something that can't exist in the real world they live in. Sakura believes in love, just as she believes in princes and fairytales, happily ever afters and dreams coming true. Sasuke used to believe in these things, in damsels in distress and wishing stars, in brotherly love, but he's been proven wrong, again and again. Naruto wishes he could believe in those things, but he never learned how.
Sasuke and Naruto live in a world of ANBU missions, where new names are added to the monument every day, where nothing turns out quite the way it's supposed to, where there's no such thing as love. They're jealous of Sakura, of the way she can go on dreaming and pretending, and so they protect her, keep her away from the real world. They let her believe in love, because Sasuke no longer can, and Naruto never learned how.
Sasuke lies his head against Naruto's chest, listening to the beating of his heart, and he tilts his head so he can kiss Naruto's chin. Naruto touches Sasuke face, runs his fingers along the cheekbones and stubbly chin, over the chapped lips. They're nineteen, and they're scared to death of dying. The future's standing before them, big and huge and so possible, but death is standing right behind them, just waiting, hot, dry hands around their necks.
Sasuke wonders what it'd be like, if his parents were still alive. He wonders if he'd be on Sakura's and Naruto's team, if he'd be in the ANBU, if he'd come home more than half-dead every week. He wonders if he'd be living in this dingy apartment, where cockroaches crawl across the counters and the ceiling drips on the bed. He wonders if his parents would be happy, if his brother would be at home. More than anything, he wonders if what his parents would think about this, about him sleeping with a man he doesn't love, because if he loves him, then the man he loves and doesn't love, he needs and doesn't need, he hates and doesn't hate, would die.
Naruto just wishes he could wonder.
And it's serious. Sorry, doll, I tried, but this popped into my head before something cracky. But here, a snippet of a crack fic I was once working on. It's a karaoke thing.
Sasuke was muttering the lyrics, making the words impossible to decipher. That is, until he reached the chorus. Suddenly he was screaming into the microphone, blasting all the ears in the room.
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
And then he was mumbling the words again. Genma’s mouth fell open and his needle fell, unheeded to the floor. Iruka glanced up from his little drunken stupor and even Kakashi stopped groping Iruka to look up at the stage.
“Who you think he’s talking about?” Hayate asked conversationally as Kurenai tried to save a choking Asuma.
“My money’s on Naruto,” Neji stated quietly. The teachers blinked at him before Asuma, wheezing, shook his head.
“Nah, I say Orochimaru.”
“What about Itachi?”
“Ah,” Kurenai and Gai said together, nodding sagely at Hayate’s comment.
I hate you hate
I hate you love me
I hate everything about you
Why do I love you?
And then Sasuke was wandering away from the stage, hands shoved in his pockets, muttering something about “damn dobes,” “fucking freaks,” and “bastard brothers.”
“Brilliant, Hayate,” Gai praised as a student bounded up to the machine. Wait, no, that was no student. A drunk Iruka was swaying as he peered blearily out at the audience.
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Date: 2005-06-21 07:53 am (UTC)