The first thing Sasuke said, after a long moment, after Naruto pulled back with a decidedly ugly gap mouthed look, and after he let go of his wrist, was simply: “…your breath stinks. Close the door.”
“Huh?” said Naruto, blinking. “Oh. Fuck off. It’s my apartment.” He shook snow off of his jacket and bumped it shut. The last of the cold air seemed to try to bum-rush them. Little droplets were in Naruto’s hair and on his cheeks. They dripped down, finding slight detour in his scars, continuing on their way. Sasuke traced one of them quietly with his eyes as he turned back, giving a melodramatic puff of his lips that only Naruto had ever perfected to such a level of petulance.
“When’s the cold ever bothered you?” he continued, and with a keen interest to prove his point, stuck his hand up Sasuke’s shirt.
It was a frigid shock. “The hell—stop that!”
“Nyeheh!” said Naruto, with a proud grin at the Uchiha’s retreat. “Teach ya to come all uninvited and all! ….you were gone awhile.”
Sasuke stopped when he reached the table in the kitchenette. He’d thrown his packs under it. “Mm,” he said. “They cut the power in my apartment.”
Naruto followed. “Oh? Huh. Yeah they’ve done that to me a few times. Happens when you’re gone for awhile…”
“Registry’s closed.”
“Happens when there’s an assload of snow.”
“Ichiraku wasn’t apparently.”
“Happens when their best customer stops by for a victory dinner.” Naruto unzipped, pulled his slippery jacket back over his shoulders. “Iruka-sensei’s treat-- how’dya guess?”
Sasuke curled his lip. “Your breath,” he said. Then, as Naruto seemed to decide that it was as good a time as any to work his shirt off: “The taste,” he added, and looked supremely annoyed when all Naruto did was come over and shove him onto the table.
Naruto: Set For Defrost
The first thing Sasuke said, after a long moment, after Naruto pulled back with a decidedly ugly gap mouthed look, and after he let go of his wrist, was simply: “…your breath stinks. Close the door.”
“Huh?” said Naruto, blinking. “Oh. Fuck off. It’s my apartment.” He shook snow off of his jacket and bumped it shut. The last of the cold air seemed to try to bum-rush them. Little droplets were in Naruto’s hair and on his cheeks. They dripped down, finding slight detour in his scars, continuing on their way. Sasuke traced one of them quietly with his eyes as he turned back, giving a melodramatic puff of his lips that only Naruto had ever perfected to such a level of petulance.
“When’s the cold ever bothered you?” he continued, and with a keen interest to prove his point, stuck his hand up Sasuke’s shirt.
It was a frigid shock. “The hell—stop that!”
“Nyeheh!” said Naruto, with a proud grin at the Uchiha’s retreat. “Teach ya to come all uninvited and all! ….you were gone awhile.”
Sasuke stopped when he reached the table in the kitchenette. He’d thrown his packs under it. “Mm,” he said. “They cut the power in my apartment.”
Naruto followed. “Oh? Huh. Yeah they’ve done that to me a few times. Happens when you’re gone for awhile…”
“Registry’s closed.”
“Happens when there’s an assload of snow.”
“Ichiraku wasn’t apparently.”
“Happens when their best customer stops by for a victory dinner.” Naruto unzipped, pulled his slippery jacket back over his shoulders. “Iruka-sensei’s treat-- how’dya guess?”
Sasuke curled his lip. “Your breath,” he said. Then, as Naruto seemed to decide that it was as good a time as any to work his shirt off: “The taste,” he added, and looked supremely annoyed when all Naruto did was come over and shove him onto the table.
His hands were very cold.