Raindrops, Roses, and Roaches

He thought it was over. There weren’t supposed to be anymore incidents. And yet. . . and yet. . . .

Blue eyes scoured their flat. Drifted over chairs wrapped in shirts and loaded with scrolls, over wooden floors that had a dull sheen, not quite new but well kept. In the far corner, a pile of newspapers, years old, lingered having no other place to go.

Nothing that hadn’t been there before. Everything was as it had been left, two sets of plates upon the small oak table that served not just as a dining piece but a place to set their equipment, a place to sort through all the kunai and shuriken and double check the sharpness of their edges. Two sets of shoes by the door, his and Sasuke’s.

It all told him that everything was as it was meant to be, but his mind couldn’t let it go. Something was off. . .the place was hot. Sticky. Nevermind that it was mid-summer, that the windows were open, letting evening breezes through that were too bloated with humidity to be called cool. Something just wasn’t right.

From down the hall, he detected the subtlest shift of the flooring, wooden boards dipping down as weight was applied. He never heard Sasuke, not even in this place. And that bothered him. He couldn’t enter the bedroom without causing that one spot on the floor to cry out, protesting his weight. It never mattered where he stepped [unless he leapt through the damn doorway completely], but Sasuke. . .there was never a sound. Over time though, he had taught himself to pick up on the shift of the flooring itself.

There was no need to call out the other boy’s name though. Leaning now against the frame, the prodigal Uchiha stared at him, the remnants of sheets wrapped about his lower half. Dark eyes that put sin to shame scanned him from head to toe, searching. It always felt like that, like Sasuke was looking for something. But he never knew what. Never understood why it was he got that sensation each time he returned home.

In the depths of his mind, a memory clicked on, blinked into life as color and scent and feeling crawled to the forefront of his mind. Something was wrong. He had been right. Instinct. . .it never failed him. Lips curved downward, a suddenly thoughtful look overtaking the confusion that had claimed his face.

“Sasuke. . . .”

The dark-haired boy stirred, shifted his weight to his other leg. And that arrogant smile - that impossibly knowing, damning smile – took over his mouth. And he hated it. Hated how beautiful it looked despite the pain it shot into him, dragging up old insecurities and threatening to hold him down. Like a scattershot of glass pinning down pieces of himself for the Uchiha to see.

Sasuke saw everything. It was those eyes. Didn’t just see him, they saw into him, through him. Nothing was secret. Naruto looked away. Couldn’t stand it. Worse than standing there naked before the other boy as fingers probed scars and injuries alike.

“What’s your problem?”

His voice wasn’t cold. Not like it used to be. But, it wasn’t kind either. It was smug in that I’ll tear it all down sort of way. Nothing would be left standing. Sometimes, Naruto wondered just how much of Sasuke – the real Sasuke – was still on its feet.

“You said you wouldn’t,” he replied. Eyes were once again upon the other boy’s figure. Fierce in their hurt, startlingly human.

Sasuke’s face went blank. Not from shock. Not from shame. No, Naruto knew this. Emotions were working themselves out, tangling up with truth and action to produce a look that was cocky in that most awful sort of way. Guiltless. Proud even.

“Wouldn’t what, moron?” came the reply. Cool and confident. Pushing himself from the doorframe, the Uchiha meandered over to where Naruto stood and pulled to a stop beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

Gritting his teeth, the blond shot Sasuke a hardened glare, the kind that tried valiantly to mask the pain only to disintegrate seconds after falling upon the object that inflicted it. Not quite broken, but cracked. “You know what. You said you wouldn’t after. . .”

A smirk played about the edges of Sasuke’s mouth. “After I fucked you?”

Naruto growled, eyes narrowing at the word choice. “I am not some fuck!”

“Oh?” Sasuke purred as a hand slid along Naruto’s arm, sneaking beneath military green fabric to caress skin, the narrow channel that dipped down along his hip bone. “I didn’t realize you were something else.”

Teeth found the juncture where neck meets shoulder. A sharp nip was administered, eliciting a small hiss from Naruto. Fingers reached out and gripped Sasuke’s roaming hand. The tips dug into flesh, nails following suit as more pressure was added. “Stop.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sasuke shot back, tone low. A dangerous slither of words that promised far worse could be brought to life. He was always like that, always rough. Demanding.

“Not after you…!”

“After I what?” There was another bite, harder. Sure to leave an angry mark upon Naruto’s neck.

But no answer came. It never came. Naruto turned his gaze to the floor, fighting back the urge to cry. Even after all this time, Sasuke still had the ability to leave him stranded. Deconstructed him down to an emotional base, and left him that way.

Lips skimmed over skin. Naruto tilted his head to the side, opening up a pathway to his mouth. The same one Sasuke always followed at the start. But instead of the kiss, something else was given.

As warm breath ghosted over his lips, a shiver shuttled down his spine. Hit the base and shot over into his stomach where it churned and boiled and threatened to steal all his strength.

“I always do it better with you.”