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The atmosphere inside the izakaya was thick, permeated with the smell of warm sake, grilled yakitori skewers, and the distant smoke of Asuma's cigarettes that someone, out of pure nostalgia, had lit at the next table. The noise was a shapeless mass of laughter: Kiba was shouting something about a mission, Sakura was laughing with that bright maturity she had acquired over the years, and Kakashi, glass in hand, watched his former students with a hidden smile behind his mask.
For Naruto, however, all that noise was just background static.
The alcohol had numbed his limbs, shrouding his thoughts in a heavy, golden haze. He felt his body strangely warm, floating in a sort of limbo where the only fixed axis, the only anchor preventing the ceiling from spinning, was Sasuke's silhouette, sitting right next to him.
There was something magnetic about the way Sasuke moved in those public spaces. He never fully relaxed; he kept his back straight, his left hand resting idly on the polished wooden table, and his dark eyes fixed on his own glass, oblivious to the general bustle.
Naruto rested his chin on the palm of his right hand—the one of flesh and bone—while his bandaged prosthetic fingers tapped against the table, dangerously close to Sasuke's sleeve.
"You're staring at me again, dobe," Sasuke's voice came low, a raspy murmur that cut through Naruto's mental fog like a well-sharpened kunai.
"I'm not staring," Naruto lied, slurring his words with a thick slowness. "Just... securing the perimeter. You're too pale, teme. If I lose sight of you, you fade away with the smoke."
Sasuke let out an almost imperceptible huff, but he didn't move away. Instead, he downed the last drink from his glass. The movement of his throat, the clean line of his jaw under the dim light of the paper lanterns, made something in Naruto's stomach tighten with an intensity that had nothing to do with alcohol. There had been a latent tension between them for months, an invisible thread that tautened every time their shoulders brushed in the hallways of the Hokage's tower or when their eyes met in the silence of the night. A tension that neither of them dared to break, for fear of what would come next.
Then, Sasuke set the empty glass on the wood with a sharp thud. He adjusted his dark cloak over his shoulder and began to stand up.
"I'm leaving," Sasuke said, his back turned.
Two words. Just two words.
In Naruto's intoxicated brain, time stopped. The warmth of the tavern turned into an icy cold that crept up his spine. The haze of the sake cleared instantly, exposing a distorted but terrifying truth. His mind, trapped in the past, didn't process the context. It didn't see the izakaya, or Sakura laughing a few feet away, or the peaceful streets of Konoha outside.
He only heard the "leaving." The same phrase. The same detached tone. The same back facing him while he stayed behind, helpless, watching the center of his universe walk through the village gates, not to return for years.
The panic hit him with the force of a physical impact. He felt the air escape his lungs. Before he could stop himself, before his ninja pride could act as a filter, the accumulated pain of an entire adolescence dedicated to chasing a shadow exploded in his chest.
He covered his face with both hands, burying his face in his palms. The tears, hot and treacherous, flowed uncontrollably, soaking the bandages of his right hand.
"I... I can't believe you're leaving again," Naruto sobbed. It was a broken, pathetic sound, filled with an agony so real and raw that it immediately cut off the conversation at their end of the table.
Sasuke froze mid-step. He turned around slowly, his eyes wide with surprise. Seeing the hero of the world, the man who faced gods without blinking, trembling and crying over a tavern table was an unreal sight.
"Naruto..." Sasuke began, his tone losing a fraction of its usual coldness, replaced by genuine confusion.
But Naruto was already up. His legs shook, the floor swayed beneath his feet, but the survival instinct—the instinct to keep Sasuke by his side—was stronger. He lunged forward, tripping over his own chair, and threw himself against Sasuke's back.
The impact made Sasuke take a step forward to keep his balance. Naruto wrapped his arms around his waist, locking his hands just above Sasuke's belt with a desperate, brute-force grip. He pressed his tear-streaked cheek against the gray fabric of Sasuke's shirt, breathing heavily. The scent of the Uchiha—rain, dry leaves, and that clean scent so uniquely his—flooded him, halfway stabilizing him.
"You're so cruel!" Naruto roared against his back, tightening his grip until Sasuke's ribs protested. "I gave you everything at that damn valley! I brought you back... I forgave you everything... And you're going to leave again? Don't leave, Sasuke! Don't leave me here alone again!"
The entire tavern seemed to hold its breath. Sakura looked away, a mixture of sadness and deep empathy on her face, signaling to Kakashi to leave them alone. Everyone knew that this was their private ground; a sacred and dangerous territory where no one else had the right to intervene.
Sasuke stood completely still under the bear hug. He could feel Naruto's tremors against his back, the suffocating heat of his body, and the dampness of his tears soaking through the fabric of his clothes. His heart began to beat with an unusual force, thumping against his chest. Naruto's vulnerability had always been his greatest weakness, the only force capable of bending his pride.
He tried to pull at Naruto's arms with his single hand, but the blond held on tighter, letting out a choked groan.
"Let go of me, dobe. You're making a scene," Sasuke said, though his voice lacked its usual authority; it sounded strangely hoarse, altered by the physical proximity.
"I'm not letting you go! If I let you go, you'll walk through that door and it'll be another year before I see your stupid face again," Naruto reproached, his voice broken, burying his face deeper into the crook between Sasuke's neck and shoulder. "Promise it. Promise me you won't leave the village."
Sasuke sighed, a long sound born from the depths of his chest. The initial exasperation dissolved, giving way to something much denser—a current of affection and burning frustration. With a slow movement, Sasuke stopped fighting the grip. He turned his head sideways, so that his lips were scant inches away from Naruto's wild, blond hair.
"Idiot," Sasuke whispered, and for the first time, his voice was soft. "I'm not leaving the village."
Naruto stopped his complaining, though he didn't loosen his arms. His breathing was still erratic.
"What?" he asked, his voice muffled against the fabric.
"I'm not leaving Konoha," Sasuke repeated, articulating each word with forced patience, though the heat in his own cheeks was starting to give him away. "I'm going home. To my apartment. Three streets away from here, because it's late and you smell like alcohol from a mile away."
Naruto went very still. The gears of his brain, slowed down by the jars of sake, processed the information at a snail's pace. He lifted his head slowly, resting his chin on Sasuke's shoulder. Their faces were so close that Naruto could see the reflection of the tavern lights in Sasuke's dark pupils, and the slight reddish hue adorning the Uchiha's cheekbones.
The distance was dangerous. The tension between them, the one they had been dodging for months, suddenly became so thick it could almost be touched. Naruto looked at Sasuke's lips, involuntarily, before locking his blue eyes back onto the other's.
"...To your apartment?" Naruto asked in a whisper, making sure.
"Yes."
"Are you not packing your travel cloak?"
"No."
"Do you promise me?" Sasuke narrowed his eyes, but he didn't look away. Naruto's proximity, the warmth of his sake-flavored breath, and the way their bodies fit together perfectly were wreaking havoc on his usual self-control.
"I don't have to promise you anything, Naruto," he replied in a murmur, but his fingers, almost of their own accord, moved to gently touch Naruto's forearm wrapped around him—a barely perceptible brush, but charged with electricity.
"I don't trust you," Naruto declared, straightening up a bit, though he didn't pull away. The urgency of the panic had vanished, replaced by an absolute stubbornness and a latent desire to prolong this contact. "I'm coming with you. I have to see with my own eyes that you get into that building and stay inside."
"You're too drunk to walk alone, you're not going to ensure anything," Sasuke retorted, but he didn't object when Naruto finally relaxed his arms, only to sling one over Sasuke's shoulders, looking for support.
"Then we walk together. That way neither of us falls."
Sasuke let out a snort, but before Naruto could lose his balance from the dizziness, the Uchiha wrapped his own left arm around the blond's waist, pulling him firmly against his side. The contact was intimate, steady—much more than strictly necessary to support a drunk man.
"Let's get out of here before you decide to cry about something else," Sasuke decreed.
They left the izakaya under the silent, amused gazes of their friends. As they crossed the threshold, the cool air of the Konoha night hit them full force. The village was quiet, the streets dimly lit by lanterns that cast elongated shadows on the pavement.
They walked slowly. Naruto let himself be guided, his heavy head resting intermittently against Sasuke's shoulder. With every step, the brush of their hips and the pressure of Sasuke's hand on his waist felt like a slow fire. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was no longer what it used to be. It was filled with unspoken words, with implicit promises in the way Sasuke held Naruto's weight, and in the way Naruto completely surrendered to his care.
When they reached Sasuke's apartment building, Naruto stopped at the threshold, staring at the open door with narrowed eyes.
"Good. You're home," Naruto muttered, though his fingers clenched tightly into Sasuke's jacket, reluctant to let go now that the night was coming to an end.
Sasuke looked down at him. The moonlight illuminated Naruto's face, softening his features and making his blue eyes look deep, almost translucent. The tension that had started in the tavern reached its peak there, in the stillness of the entryway, where no one was watching them.
"You fulfilled your mission, dobe. You can leave now," Sasuke said, but his hand didn't move from Naruto's hip. His fingers dug slightly into the fabric of the orange jacket, contradicting his own words.
Naruto took a step forward, closing the small distance left between them. The alcohol gave him the bravery that sobriety stole from him. He stared at Sasuke with a seriousness that surprised the Uchiha.
"I'm not leaving," Naruto said, his voice low and firm. "I'm staying up here with you. Tomorrow I have to check that you're still here."
Sasuke held his gaze for a few endless seconds, measuring the weight of the insinuation, the space opening up between them that neither of them planned to close ever again. Finally, the corners of Sasuke's lips rose in an imperceptible, soft line.
"Come in then, usuratonkachi," Sasuke whispered, turning to guide him up the stairs, keeping his arm firmly joined to Naruto's.
The click of the door closing behind them sealed off the noise of the outside world, leaving only the echo of their breathing in the quiet entryway of Sasuke’s apartment. The interior was cast in shadows, dimly illuminated by the silvery moonlight filtering through the living room window, drawing sharp angles across the clean wooden floor.
Naruto swayed slightly the moment Sasuke loosened his grip around his waist to take off his shoes. The dizziness returned with a sudden wave of heat rushing up his neck, but Sasuke’s proximity still acted as his ultimate anchor. Without thinking much, giving in to the momentum of his alcohol-fueled bravery and the overwhelming relief that the Uchiha wasn't leaving on another three-year mission, Naruto took a step forward.
He pressed himself right into Sasuke’s chest, forcing the dark-haired man back a step until his back hit the entryway wall with a soft thud.
"Naruto, what the hell—?" Sasuke began, his voice dropping, but the words died in his throat.
Naruto lifted his hands. His left hand—warm, made of flesh and bone—glided slowly up Sasuke’s chest, bunching up the gray fabric of his shirt a bit, until it rested against the curve of his neck. His bandaged prosthetic came to rest on the Uchiha’s shoulder. Naruto was breathing through his mouth, his blue eyes entirely fixed on the other man's lips. The distance between them vanished in a heartbeat. He could feel Sasuke’s racing pulse thumping wildly right beneath the palm of his hand. The tension that had accumulated over months—the kind they always masked with rough sparring or shared silences—condensed in the air, turning almost electric.
Sasuke parted his lips, his dark eyes widening in surprise and something much deeper—a restrained desire that threatened to shatter his composure. He didn’t move. He didn’t push him away. He simply waited, with bated breath, as Naruto tilted his head, closing the final millimeters to seal the kiss they both knew had been looming since the end of the war.
And then, the universe decided Naruto had reached his limit of intensity for one night.
Just as Naruto’s eyelashes brushed together and his lips were a fraction away from touching Sasuke’s, a violent, treacherous contraction racked his stomach. The golden haze of the sake instantly soured into churning acid. Naruto’s eyes snapped open, wide with sheer panic.
"Uh... Teme..." he managed to choke out.
Before Sasuke could even process the shift in the atmosphere, Naruto bent forward and retched, vomiting completely over his own orange jacket and the floor.
The silence that followed was absolute. The air, previously heavy with romance and sexual tension, dissolved as if it had never existed, replaced by the pungent smell of fermented alcohol and the sound of Naruto coughing, his hands propped on his knees with an expression of pure misery on his face.
Sasuke stood completely petrified against the wall. He stared at the floor, looked at Naruto’s jacket, and then closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers as he let out a sigh that dragged out every last drop of patience left in his soul.
"You're a fucking disaster, Naruto," Sasuke growled, though his tone lacked any real anger; it was pure, unadulterated domestic resignation.
Springing into action with shinobi efficiency, Sasuke grabbed Naruto by a clean section of his clothes and dragged him toward the bathroom before the blond could take a clumsy step and spread the mess across the entire apartment.
He sat Naruto down on the edge of the bathtub. The Jinchuriki looked like a kicked puppy; his hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and his eyes were watery—this time not from the drama of abandonment, but from the stomach ache and sheer mortification.
"I'm sorry... I'm really sorry, Sasuke..." Naruto whined, hiding his face in his clean hands. "It was... everything was playing out so well in my head..."
"Shut up," Sasuke ordered, though his movements were surprisingly gentle.
The Uchiha knelt in front of him. With agile fingers, he began unzipping the iconic orange jacket, handling it carefully to avoid making more of a mess. He slipped it off his shoulders and tossed it directly into the laundry basket to be washed the next day. Then, he turned on the sink faucet, soaked a small towel in cold water, and turned back to Naruto.
"Lift your chin," he commanded.
Naruto obeyed, uncharacteristically submissive. Sasuke used the damp towel to gently wipe away the corners of Naruto’s mouth and chin, cooling his burning skin. The contact was incredibly tender, a stark contrast to Sasuke’s harsh words. Naruto relaxed under the touch, closing his eyes and letting out a shaky breath.
"You're cleaning my floor tomorrow, you hear me?" Sasuke murmured, running the towel over the blond's forehead to soothe his alcohol-induced fever.
"Yeah, whatever you say..." Naruto replied, cracking one eye open. "You're really nice when you want to be, teme."
Sasuke gave his nose a gentle poke with the towel as a warning.
"Wait here. Don't move. If you have to throw up again, use the toilet."
Sasuke left the bathroom toward his bedroom and returned a few minutes later with a bundle of clean clothes in his hands. He handed Naruto a pair of black sweatpants and one of his own dark cotton t-shirts.
"Change. I'm going to clean the entryway."
Naruto nodded clumsily. Undressing with his balance entirely compromised turned out to be an S-rank mission, but he managed to pull off his soiled undershirt and slip into Sasuke’s clothes. The shirt fit a little snugly across his shoulders—Naruto had filled out considerably over the last few years—but the fabric was incredibly soft and smelled entirely like the soap Sasuke used.
When Sasuke returned to the bathroom after clearing the entryway with a quick water jutsu and a mop, he stopped in the doorway.
Naruto had his back turned, attempting to rinse his mouth out at the sink. Sasuke’s black t-shirt stretched across his back, and there, right in the center of the Konoha hero's shoulder blades, the red-and-white Uchiha fan stood out prominently.
A sudden, uncontrollable heat rushed up Sasuke’s neck, coloring his cheeks a vivid crimson. Seeing his own emblem—the symbol of his fallen family that he guarded so fiercely—stamped across Naruto’s back... it felt strangely intimate. Almost like a mark, as if Naruto belonged there, within the walls of his home, bearing his name. Sasuke averted his gaze quickly, clearing his throat to mask the sudden flip his heart had done.
"The outside is clean," Sasuke said, his voice slightly tighter than usual. "Go to the living room. You're sleeping on the couch."
Naruto turned around, dragging his feet from the physical exhaustion that was finally taking its toll. He looked at Sasuke and then at the living room couch, which looked comfortable but terribly lonely.
"I don't want to sleep on the couch," Naruto protested, putting on his best pouting face—the one he knew always wore down the dark-haired man's defenses.
"You're drunk, you smell like a tavern, and you almost ruined my entryway. You're lucky I didn't leave you out in the building hallway," Sasuke retorted, crossing his arms, though the blush on his cheeks still hadn't completely faded. "To the couch."
"But teme..." Naruto stepped closer, swaying a bit, and before Sasuke could dodge him, he wrapped his arms around him again, pressing his forehead against the Uchiha’s chest. "You said you weren't leaving. If I sleep out there alone, I'm going to think you snuck out through the window. Let me sleep with you. I won't move, I promise."
"You're a fucking manipulator," Sasuke whispered against the blond hair. He tried to maintain a firm stance, but the truth was that having Naruto there, wearing his clothes, seeking his warmth so insistently, melted away whatever trace of resistance he had left.
Freeing his arm, Sasuke gave him a gentle tap on the back of his head.
"Fine. But if you move too much, I'm throwing you out of bed."
Naruto let out a silly giggle, his mood instantly lifting. He let himself be guided by Sasuke toward the master bedroom. Sasuke’s bed wasn’t excessively large, but it had dark sheets and a thick duvet that felt like a cloud. Naruto practically collapsed onto the mattress, sinking into the pillows with a groan of pure satisfaction.
Sasuke took his time. He removed his cloak, hung it in the closet, and lay down on the other side of the bed, initially maintaining a cautious distance. He lay on his side, his back turned to Naruto in an attempt to retain some dignity.
Naruto, however, had no intention of respecting distances.
The second he felt Sasuke’s weight on the mattress, Naruto slid across the sheets until he was pressed flush against his back. He looped his left arm around Sasuke’s waist, pulling him close until not a single millimeter of space remained between them. He buried his face in the space between Sasuke’s shoulder blades, letting out a deep, relaxed sigh. The heat radiating from both their bodies created a perfect bubble beneath the blankets, isolating them from the rest of the world.
Sasuke tensed for a split second, feeling Naruto’s steady, strong heartbeat against his back. But the blond’s warmth was contagious.
"You're a clingy idiot, you know that?"
Naruto chuckled softly.
Little by little, Sasuke’s rigid muscles uncoiled. He let out the breath he was holding and, with a slow, almost timid movement, reached his own hand back, intertwining his fingers with Naruto’s hand resting over his stomach.
"Thanks for taking care of me, Sasuke," Naruto murmured, his voice already raspy and heavy with the sleep that was finally claiming him.
"Go to sleep already, dobe," Sasuke replied in a whisper.
In the dim shadows of the room, illuminated only by the peace of the Konoha night, they both drifted off to sleep. Naruto, with his face buried in Sasuke’s scent, kept a loose, happy smile on his lips, knowing his world was safe. And Sasuke, tightly holding the hand of the only bond he had never been able to break, fell asleep with an identical smile—small but genuine—etched onto his face. For the first time in many years, neither of them was in a hurry for tomorrow to arrive.