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The rain is a steady, rhythmic drumming against the windowpane, blurring the village into a hazy grey smudge. Inside the apartment, it’s warm and smells of cedar and toasted flour. Naruto is sprawled on the floor cushions, his back against the base of the sofa, looking entirely too content.
In front of him is a small plate piled with warm, steamed pork buns sasuke had picked up from the market before the downpour started. Naruto’s hair is a mess of sleep-matted gold, and he’s wearing a pair of loose sweats that sit low on his hips, the soft band digging slightly into the supple curve of his stomach.
He takes a large, happy bite of a bun, his cheeks puffing out as he chews. A small, stray crumb clings to the corner of his mouth.
"Sasuke, these are so good," naruto mumbles, his voice muffled by the food. "They're still warm."
Sasuke is sitting on the sofa just behind him, a book open in his lap, but he hasn't turned a page in fifteen minutes. His gaze is fixed on the way naruto’s body looks in the dim, afternoon light. Naruto looks... healthy. Prosperous. There’s a softness to the line of his jaw that wasn't there before, and his shoulders, while still broad, are covered in a layer of smooth, inviting warmth.
When naruto leans forward to reach for another bun, his stomach settles into a soft, heavy fold over the waistband of his pants. It’s a beautiful, honest weight.
"Slow down, usuratonkachi," sasuke murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration.
He reaches down, his long fingers catching naruto’s chin to tilt his head back. Naruto looks up at him, eyes wide and blue, his lips still shiny from the steam of the buns. Sasuke doesn't use a napkin. He uses his thumb, brushing the crumb away with a slow, deliberate pressure that makes naruto’s breath hitch.
Sasuke’s hand doesn't pull away. It slides down naruto’s neck, his palm warm against the skin, until it comes to rest on naruto’s shoulder. His other hand reaches over and sinking into the soft, yielding flesh of naruto’s side. He kneads the skin there, his fingers dipping into the supple give of naruto’s waist.
"You're staring," naruto whispers, a shy, flustered heat creeping up his neck. "Is there... is there something on my face?"
"No," sasuke rasps, his grip tightening on naruto’s side. He leans over the edge of the sofa, his face inches from naruto’s. "I just like watching you eat. I like that you're not hungry anymore."
Naruto’s expression softens, his heart doing a slow, heavy roll in his chest. He sets the half-eaten bun back on the plate and reaches up, his fingers tangling in the hem of sasuke’s sleeve.
"I'm definitely not hungry," naruto chuckles, his voice dropping into a soft, private register. "I think i’m actually getting a little round, sasuke. The aunties at the market keep giving me extra snacks because they say i look 'sturdy' now."
Sasuke huffs, a sharp, possessive sound. He shifts, sliding off the sofa to sit on the floor behind naruto, pulling naruto’s back flush against his chest. His arms wind around naruto’s middle, his large hands spreading flat over the soft, warm expanse of naruto’s stomach.
"Sturdy is good," sasuke murmurs into the back of naruto’s neck, his teeth grazing the skin there. "It means there’s more of you to hold onto when it rains."
Naruto sighs, melting back into the embrace, his own hands coming up to rest over sasuke’s. They stay like that for a long time, the half-eaten snacks forgotten, just two bodies finding warmth in the middle of a storm.