Warnings: rated M for boy love and sexual situations, this chapter contains some 'lime'. As of now, not planning to include any threesomes.

Notes and A/N: A pilot chapter for a new dramedy I was mulling about. Kind of testing, if people out there might be interested in this premise?


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Chapter One

Language is Tactile

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Clang, tlap, krat!

"What is he doing?" whispers break out, like cackling flames.

Frantic hands mash the buttons. Six. Needs the sixth floor, yet the text's blurred.

Sheepishly he smiles, while the rest of his face flushes in heat. Panic raining in his fingertips as they quiver.

"Sorry—'bout that," Naruto says, without turning.

"Great going. Now we'll stop on every floor."

That's when the glares behind him relentlessly drill into his back from everyone in the elevator. Hammering holes into his shirt, his neck, and bones. As humiliation beats down like little knives, he blinks rapidly to the loud thrums of his heartbeat, willing for clarity, yet the only clarity is through sound. Just a damned elevator ride, breathe, for hell's sake.

And he breathes. Shakily.

When a ding sounds, Naruto jolts out the opening doors. Bumps straight into an eager, awaiting body.

"In a rush somewhere, dead last?"

Never would he admit, how he recognizes Sasuke by the feeling of their collision. Dimensions fitting, the stiffness of their shoulders bumping, and the airs mingling—almost like a familiar scent of their usual heated exchanges. Even though he can't see anything but the outlines, Naruto looks up at the blurred face, as if he's soaking in the sight. He's not.

He can't see his own rival. Only feels.

"Oi, Sasuke," Naruto gripes breathlessly, ripping away, whipping an accusing finger. "You just don't hover by elevator doors. Basic manners!"

Not even a sound of acknowledgement. However he hears the low, smooth tone murmur softly.

"Speaking of manners, you better not be late tonight."

Words roll over like faint winds. Before he has a chance to react, Sasuke's blurry form disappears behind closing doors.

He's sweating. Beads of anxiety cooling and slithering down his temples. Because unable to see, even his own hand's fine lines—what would Sasuke even think of him then?

-.-.-

So after class, to fulfill a much necessary doctor's appointment, Naruto paves way into the heart of town.

Though, he sits on the wrong bus. And you're the only one he admits this to, he hates asking for directions.

After all, he thought he memorized the signs. Plus getting over the shock of riding a full fifteen stops in the opposite direction was no easy task. Calls himself stupid and unbelievable, but when hearing someone else utter the words felt like a sword cutting through his spine.

"What are you, illiterate?" says the bus driver, a condescending frail old man.

Besides the first seconds, wherein his heart plummets, Naruto felt in a word, furious—anger akin to demonic possession. In fact, if he hadn't been running late, and if the man weren't some gaunt, skeletal creature, he'd clobber some sense into the rude sap. He was going blind, not stupid.

But two hours on the clock tugs him out the bus like a hand. A mean, abrupt, hand. Mind screams late, god damned late, and Naruto rushes into the clinic like jet fuel exploding from the heels of his feet. He pats for the handles of the entrance, swinging it wide open and throwing himself onto the stage of the waiting room; because let's face it, with a room chock-full of insanely bored patients, everyone snaps their attentions onto him.

Panting haggardly from exhaustion, he leans over the front desk.

"Name?" asks one of the receptionists. Almost a robotic pitch.

Naruto grins, clutching the counter, willing himself steady. "Uzumaki Naruto," hears her shuffle papers, so he saves the hassle, "Listen, I have an appointment with Dr. Tsunade."

"Oh. She already left. An hour ago."

Throat thickens. "But—but…I was supposed to pick up a prescription. Just eye drops, can't I?"

He sees the light of her form shift, as in exasperation. "You're due for a checkup, Mr. Uzumaki. Out of refills. Schedule another appointment and pick it up then."

"So is tomorrow alright?" he says quickly, "Tomorrow the same time as today?"

"I'm afraid that Dr. Tsunade has booked a trip. And she won't be in the office at least for another month…already have patients fully wedged in her schedule upon her return, too."

He can't see at all without the drops! They pour life into his eyes. Not that they're dead without 'em, just he never really understood the meaning 'blind as a bat' until he went two weeks without some medicine. Felt like walking on tight ropes, always threatening to fall hard into something or someone—people have begun to notice—and Sasuke. Tonight, Sasuke'll notice for sure.

Naruto squeezes his own temples, burning up in disbelief. "Really? You can't call her? It's just a paper, you know, if you can," voice crumbles because he sees her head shake.

"Listen, I don't have the authority to sign anything over to you. You and I need a doctor's signature. I'm sorry."

Understands perfectly, even agrees. But his body won't move. "What am I supposed to do? I can't…go without…" comes out in fragments, in erratic breaths.

"Well if it's an emergency, we have another ophthalmologist here. Dr. Uchiha has a booked schedule, but I'll ask him if he'll see you today," assures the receptionist, handing him a board to sign, "Sign your name under the query, while I inform him."

Dumbfounded, Naruto holds the clipboard. Staring. Doctor Uchiha…but he can't see the lines of the words, just a white blank sheet glowing under the fluorescents, and the feeling of solid wood. Rubs his fingers over the cool metallic clip, squinting down. Yet, he scarcely makes out the faint boxes, and he tries zooming into the name Uchiha, but only muddy, empty blurs meets his gaze.

Sasuke has a doctor in the family?

Could it be Sasuke's parents? An uncle? Grandfather? Maybe the name's coincidental. Sasuke frequently mentioned an older brother, but never has he met the guy. In fact, they never talk about their family much…it seemed unnecessary. But now he wishes he probed more…

He must've misheard the name, that's it.

His vision swarms back into clarity. It comes and goes. Naruto signs his name right on the last line, to which the receptionist tells him to wait in a seat.

Yet he's charged like an electric zap rousing his nerves to permanent attention. He paces around the antechamber in circles, again assuming the performer on stage, by now memorizing all four corners of the space enough not to hit the table, or bump into chairs. Everyone's shooting furtive glances, he feels their eyes scrape him with curiosity and—

"Uzumaki, Naruto?" calls out an attendant, holding files in one arm, and holding a door open in the other.

Two hours, waiting to hear his name—and now he feels his blood curl to climax.

He's led into the exam room. But walking through the halls, was like walking through a cave of judgment.

"Dr. Uchiha will be with you shortly."

That name again.

Sasuke'll find out.

They won't be equals anymore. They won't be friends. Because he'll be forced into special classrooms, and he's seen them in his nightmares. Sympathy in everyone's eyes, no longer considering him an equal functioning person—no, no, fuck, no. Pulse throbs in his neck. Should wait for Tsunade. Should leave and not come back, leave before his face's seen.

Runs clammy hands over his face and eyes, while he sits on the patient chair. Torn.

After the medical assistant takes his vitals, she leaves. But he hears her call out, "Itachi, two files here."

Itachi…

Never has Sasuke mentioned the name to him. And he sighs in relief, for maybe the last name, was a coincidence after all.

Soon after he finally breathes, the doctor enters.

Click. The sound of the hinges locking in place. Space enclosing.

Looking hopelessly at the moving blur in a white coat, Naruto says, "I, uh, wanna say thanks for fitting me in as last minute."

That's when the tower of authority looms over him. Can hardly make out the details. And yet, through the fog…they look the same. Blinking rapidly, he thought he's seen Sasuke, and so he wills the clarity to return. Widens his eyes too, but helps for shit, he can't fucking make out anything. He runs a hand through his hair, turning away.

"Tell me what brings you here, Naruto," fills the deep voice, condensing heat into every space of doubt.

The baritone leaves a soft residue on his skin, causing goosebumps.

Naruto drops his unfocused gaze, muttering. "To restock on the drops. Seeing blurs again."

Creaking of a stool, as Itachi mounts on it, glides up close. At once he smells a discerning, concerned air—and his brows furrow, because he never felt this before. Never in Tsunade's office.

"Think ya can help me, doc?" Naruto laughs nervously, especially when the silence persists.

A slender gloved finger hooks under the square of his jaw, and Naruto feels his head tip up. The touch transmits an electric interest: and he's getting desperate to see the other, how they appear, their physiognomy. With wavering and widening eyes, he looks up to the outline of the doctor's blurred face leaning to him.

"Stare ahead."

Startled, Naruto obeys. Even as a light passes dimly over each eye. He's not sure what's happening.

"Weak reflexes. Extremely slow uptake, and recovery. You're getting worse."

Straight to the point, huh. Naruto's released from the gentle hold. "Worse, you mean—how worse?"

"Further tests should show the rate," says the other, "and according to your chart, you haven't run any tests except for primary screening. Now why is that?"

"I—I…" flushing, Naruto withdraws more into the seat.

"Results from the primary screening indicate first stages of serious illness. Potential permanent blindness in both eyes." The sound of pages flipping, carefully, and deliberately. "With pressure over twenty-two, above the normal range, we need to move onto testing and treatment immediately."

Heating more and more, Naruto clenches his fists. "I thought I had more time."

"More time for what?"

Naruto swallows, screwing these useless eyes shut. Was he supposed to actually admit? Was it appropriate? He couldn't explain how broke he is, how penniless he is, that he scarcely had the funds for the eye drops, let alone tests. He's sure this is the last thing a doctor wants to hear, a patient unable to pay for their service.

"I just don't think I need to do any tests now, that's it. Especially when the drops are helping me fine," he settles for.

That's when Itachi responds airily, "And the legal guardian you list here, has no input or say?"

"None at all. I'm eighteen now and I live alone."

A contemplative hum escapes the doctor, never breaking their proximity apart. Itachi, perched on the stool between his legs, reaches for him again. And Naruto bristles when his jaw's recaptured in the same latex clad hands. Sitting on even heights, Itachi still looms over anyway, ever taller and unwaveringly; and Naruto's enthralled by the veil, by the mist between them. Kind of drifting in virtual fog, he almost wants to blow the thick air away.

"Keep them open. Look up. Good," says Itachi, in a level tone. "I'll quench your eyes for today."

And he stares up at the dull light overhead on the ceiling, barely making out the shadows. Drops pour into and wet the corners of his eyes. Naruto breathes like he'd been held underwater, the burning in his eyes wanes. And he blinks, his mouth parted still—for second by second, details materializes in his vision, popping out, sprouting from invisible buds.

Flowers of sight returning.

In that moment, Naruto lowers his head to thank.

But he chokes back when he sees Itachi. Splotches of blurs chase to the edges, yet he sees for the first time the smoldering chestnuts—dainty brows flat and framing mirrors of concentrated intensity, gazing into him. The concerned air he smelled before now manifests in the fair body of the doctor. Nothing like Tsunade's panache aura, this was…

"Better?"

"Yeah. I mean—I…yeah thanks doc," he huffs out, while the muscles in his neck tense.

Reaching into the pockets of his white coat, Itachi pulls out a pen and rolls over to the counter. "Two refills seems fair to me," he murmurs, "But I want to see you again, Naruto. Soon."

He hears the sound of gloves tearing off, and the sound of pen scratching against paper.

Going blind…permanently…

"A couple drops per eye," explains Itachi silkily, signing the note. "At most twice a day."

Forcing a grin, Naruto rips the ticket from the slender hands. "These drops are like liquid gold, thanks!"

"They're for temporary relief," reminds Itachi softly.

However, Naruto wrinkles both his nose and brow. "Relief's relief, as long as I can see. That's all that matters."

"I also can prescribe glasses for now as well."

As if. Naruto scoffs, even flushing at the horrid image of becoming four-eyed. "No. Forget it. I don't think I got the face for that."

Wouldn't be able to afford them anyway…

But he won't mention this to Itachi, who leaves the room with the gait of calm winds.

-.-.-

Now he's got no excuse. With him actually seeing, boarding off the right bus, and he's running.

He's just never been to Sasuke's home before.

Given they're in the same class, forced into a group project, they agreed to set up this "appointment". Strictly business. Still, it's like his body adjusts to the sudden shock this was finally happening.

On one hand, he feels grateful for college forcing them together like this. When he really thinks about it, he and Sasuke could be so much more than rivals—friends, more like it. To have the one guy you can depend on, go out and get involved in stupid shit, and have someone to laugh about it with…an experience he's been deprived of for so long.

But the more he runs and the closer he gets, he loses momentum. Because every home he passes wears this somber face like he's passing a forest of frowning trees. Frowning, at him. You know, the feeling of going to a party, and while you're dressed in ripped jeans, everyone's in a suit and gown? Sending ill looks and scowls. Because you should see the dump he's shacking in the outskirts of town, then look at the beauty of this community.

In a word, he doesn't belong.

And when he stands on an actual porch framed in mahogany, arms hang limp at his sides.

He's late, and what's worse, doubtful.

Sure, he reckoned Sasuke was wealthy—but when literally overshadowed by the height of the mansion, Naruto swallows the dread, the films of wet anxiety in his lungs he can't shake off.

Somehow, he knocks with enough force, loud and confident like a lion's roar.

"It's open," he hears Sasuke call from the inside.

When he steps into the foyer, Naruto's immediately lost. Three directions to turn to, all promising him Sasuke, and he's freezing in confusion. Like he's entered a hall of infinite doors, paths. And so to avoid looking terribly dumbfounded, Naruto wiggles out of his jacket and hangs it on the gilded coatrack.

That's when gentle tapping of footsteps sound.

"So you're late, what a surprise," deadpans Sasuke, blooming into his vision. Arms crossed, and leaning upon the frame of a wall.

Naruto feels his face collapse into a smile, practically bleeding from his heart.

"I see you've been counting the seconds," he jibes.

"Can I really help it?"

They stare at each other.

It's just a joke, supplies the unnerving silence. Naruto bursts in explosive laughter. "I probably should leave, hm? Didn't know you were the clingy type, ya bastard."

Instead of laughing with him, Sasuke narrows his dark eyes to slits. "Don't leave when we haven't even started our assignment."

"Mhm. Assignment, right. So your place," emphasizes Naruto, "I'm sure you got a planetarium upstairs, or something neat?"

For what felt like a long moment of considering, Sasuke finally scoffs but makes no attempt to humor the topic, and Naruto rubs his neck in embarrassment because really he should have known better. Sasuke probably downplayed these details for a reason.

When Sasuke turns away, naturally he pads after. They enter and pass several rooms, before they stop dead center in a round kitchen.

The second Sasuke reaches for a knife on the marble counter, Naruto shouts raising his arms in outcry, "Woah put that down, Sasuke!" and his terrified, voice echoes from the walls, "You don't need to get so violent. We can talk things through."

"Oi, moron, shut up," quips the other, even rolling his eyes.

Naruto keeps distance, unsure of what he's seeing. "What're you going to do? Only fair if I arm myself too, you know."

"It's called cooking," murmurs Sasuke, wielding the knife as emphasis (much to Naruto's chagrin), "and the real question is, are you going to make yourself useful? Or stand there talking stupidly?"

"Eh?"

Like he's dangling off a cliff, trying to grip the last solid thought: I thought this was strictly…business? In fact, Sasuke ties an apron over his school uniform—and the whole sight has him frozen in shock. This portrait of Sasuke was not what he expect and it sure as hell didn't have 'business' as a caption.

Again, they stare into each other. Breezes of their energy striking in constructive waves.

"Well? Get over here to my side and dice," demands the other.

Now, the winds between them gust. Curl. Pulled in, Naruto sways forward completely entranced, the spontaneity, one would think he's soaring through some galactic interstellar adventure. But really, he might as well have, for closing in the distance between them felt gravitationally right. Side by side, even if they were just hacking away at cucumbers.

Their shoulders bump, and Naruto tenses deeply. Just them grazing, like flitting seconds, their hips colliding briefly—

Why doesn't Sasuke move?

If Itachi hadn't fixed his eyes, he'd never get to see…Sasuke at his side. Wouldn't see Sasuke cutting deftly into a plump tomato, nor the fringes of hair matting against temples—making him wonder why Sasuke's sweating. Would have completely missed the way Sasuke's neck stretches, exposing a strip of tense muscle, and throbbing. Wouldn't see—

Pain splinters, in his fingers. Naruto sucks in a gasp, "Shit!"

"Naruto—you idiot, aren't you watching?"

Watching you

The spotlight bears down quite hotly and Naruto gulps, especially when the blood seeps out his thumb. Relentlessly. He sets the wretched knife on the counter, sighing.

Only for Sasuke to steal him by the arm, forcing him to take a seat. "Don't worry, I'll get a bandage. Keep the towel and pressure."

"Fine," he huffs.

Naruto smiles; and yet, he squeezes his hand in doubt. He thinks over their longwinded past.

How every collision in their lives led to this moment. How they've acted on each other. With each other: jumped off bridges, off cliffs, dueled in chess, fencing, even run their student government, and in the summers, played in teams for volleyball on the beach. Every scene under the sun, in the moon light, swimming across lakes during marathons. This would be the damned collage he'd make in art class, if he could, except he never really bothered with projects.

Now, they're in the same Psych 101 class like old times.

"Still alive?" comes the call, reverberating from the high ceilings, and rolling around like an alarm.

Sasuke returns with an ace bandage and gauze. And even though his friend's expression is placid like air, the movements reveal something raw. Like a chest of treasures rolling up on shore, but before he could reach for it, is swept again away into sea. Veiled and drowned. As before he can place what it is, Sasuke snatches hold of his injured thumb.

"You cut yourself deeply. Great tactic to get out of cooking," remarks Sasuke, with biting scorn sharp like a hawk's claw.

"You think I did this on purpose?"

Sasuke only knots the bandage around. "Not the first time you've backed down from a challenge."

"What the hell, Sasuke!" he shoots up, "What in…what challenge are you talking about? Because I can cook, okay? For hell's sake I work at a restaurant, think by now I've picked up on kitchen etiquette!"

At this, a smirk flashes instantly. "You work? I didn't realize."

"Well not everyone's got a place like this to their name."

Naruto trails off. Because Sasuke's expression collapses into a scowl, effectively garroting him from further speech. Almost he hears, this is why we're apart. Shouldn't have commented so off-handedly. But why was Sasuke so sore about it? Many people would dream for wealth.

"Just set the table."

Happy to move on, Naruto obliges. "Okay. Where are your plates and…" stops short when Sasuke points to a pantry by the tri-paneled windows.

Just as he walks over and reaches for the objects of his mission, he hears another instruction.

"Set three plates," adds Sasuke, tone remote.

"Just three?"

"My brother, you, and me. That's it."

"What about your parents?"

Sasuke's back appears unfazed, yet the words slice the air like a cold katana, "Dead."

Winded, Naruto scarcely keeps steady. He vaguely remembers seeing Sasuke's parents at their big games. They were alive. He shakes his head, could his memory be deceiving him? It has been so long ago. Yet never did he see a brother of Sasuke's show up to any of their tournaments: unless maybe it was a kid brother? But even then…

Not like his own backstory was a fun topic, their pasts some morbid icing on the cake. He envied Sasuke for having a family when he never had one himself. And as if two hefty loads drop over him, Naruto's shoulders sag. Or was it the frown overtaking him, slumping him forward in dread? Nonetheless, he sets the plates, the glasses, the silverware, even napkins.

Almost six in the evening.

"Listen, Sasuke. This convo's no walk in the park, but I'm glad I'm here."

And waiting for the oven timer to go off, they sit together like two bricks in a wall, meant to be aligned, he breathes. For the first time in a long while, actually soaking in quietude together. Through his pores, breathing in the moment because just this morning, he couldn't see. And he's not sure how much more time's left.

Wouldn't have seen Sasuke forcing their gazes apart. Or how, nearly imperceptible apples of the throat bob up in a nervous swallow.

As if by instinct, Naruto reaches forward to reassure. "Sasuke, you—you okay?"

Stops in mid-speech, because Sasuke catches his wrist. Squeezing, painfully tight.

"Oi, you—"

"I've always wanted you…here."

Naruto freezes, especially as the grip transmits emphasis into his very bones. "But you never gave me a sign or anything. I thought you only saw me as a rival."

"I don't know if I'm capable of being friends with you."

"And why the hell not?" he fires, before giving a fruitless yank. "Just tell me straight. That's why I came over, to talk."

"Talk," echoes back the other, voice thickening to syrup, "talk about what? Us?"

"Yeah us. The assignment can wait, ya know? Think it's not such a bad idea."

Like clouds parting, a ray of glinting light passes in Sasuke. Then the light concentrates into a wry smile.

"Well tell me, what kind of idea is it then?"

Testing. When Sasuke flicks a thumb over his wrist, grazing fingertips along his burning arm. Immediately Naruto shivers, as the tense muscle under the touch twitches in provocation. And yet, he remains wholly still. Torn. When Sasuke softens the vice grip, their hands melt into each other, their skin connects, deepening, pulling, he stays still.

Even when Sasuke tethers their palms into a tender loop. He sits, struck stupefied at the sensations. How their pulses parallel like two drums in sync, throbbing in unison, and he feels the soft touch like pale feathers entwined with his own calloused fingers.

And in that moment, Sasuke disconnects them. With such ease, it's almost frightening.

"So that's how it is," comes the soft murmur, pensive.

Without ever saying a word, somehow through the touch alone, answers exchange between them. But Naruto, under the heat of his flushing face, bolts up.

"What?" he demands, pulse racing to his throat because the influx of stirred feelings bear down like rain. "The hell are you even getting at?"

"I always thought you liked women," remarks Sasuke, almost to himself.

His expression sunders as if Sasuke fired a missile right between the eyes.

"Huh? I do. I do like women."

A cloud hovers over the dainty brow. "And what am I to you?"

"A friend," the words rip from the heart, "if you'd let it."

Trails off because Sasuke stands up to even their heights. "A friend," he echoes robotically.

"Even though we started as rivals, you've become…my best friend," confesses Naruto, rubbing his neck raw.

"And what's a friend, Naruto? What does 'friend' mean?"

The tone's entirely serious, not a speck of humor.

Space warps under Sasuke's confident, sharp movements. In a blink of an eye, two pale fists seizes his shoulders, reeling them close so their breaths add together into gusts of wind. Vivid storms. The air sways and in perspiration, cools—Naruto feels heavier, feels weightier, even his own eyes droop, and lower to Sasuke's lips.

And failing the previous tests, Naruto fails this one too: when under the intense gravity, Sasuke falls into him, connecting their mouths.

In a flash, the two fists formerly on his shoulders, now entrench and nest into his hair. As if to keep them from dropping, as if pleading for a chance.

Stumbling back, Naruto feels the hard counter press into his spine. Bends like a tree branch, the way Sasuke pulls him with such force: one would think the man was hungry for this kiss, for years. And he presses clammy palms onto the jabbing wall behind him, screwing eyes shut. Tasting. Fresh air, and pure taste like clean water.

Warm tongue asks for entry, prodding and patting, and the desperation—feels this all: but the door's painfully sealed—like iron bars vaulting.

"Say something," says Sasuke, voice hoarse as if laden in deep sorrow.

Finally his eyes snap open. Afraid to meet blurs. To not see.

No words could describe the relief sweeping like a tornado, when Sasuke's dark eyes fills his vision, like two planets in a sky of clarity.

"I…don't…know."

"You wanted to know why we're not friends? Because this is what I think of you."

Yet the rest of Naruto freezes in embarrassing stagnation, with the pain of his bleeding thumb acting as the only anchor of inhibition. Tremors of indecisiveness.

"We're both..."

"Both what?" dares Sasuke, breathing over their mouths.

A whuff of confusion parts out his mouth. He's sure Sasuke feels his indecision. He's sure. About that, at least.

"No one at school will accept that. My team won't...I'll be kicked off."

"They don't have to know," Sasuke painfully inserts, forcing a placid expression. "I know how to be discreet."

"Fuck, Sasuke. How long have you felt this way?"

"How long?" Sasuke stares at him, not one flicker of doubt. "From the beginning."

Like a dam breaking loose, he feels a torrent of energy rush through his temples. Naruto shakes his head ferociously. Was it the years of frustration, loneliness, and of neglect finally making itself known? Whatever it was, Naruto couldn't hold it back.

"You gotta be screwing with me. There is no way that's true. You're…light in the loafers—is that what you're telling me? You're saying five whole years you…no you're joking. This was a mistake—"

In one lightning flash, Sasuke pins him down with mad strength. "Feel free to reject me," venom seeps into the words, bitter, slicing. Naruto feels his heart race at the darkness enveloping the other. "Do as you want. But do not classify what I confess as a lie. It's real."

Naruto's brow trembles. How much pressure built behind his eyes? Because his vision blurs enough that he can't see the hard edges anymore.

He must be grimacing from the pain because Sasuke lets up and they both glance at the triply, bandaged thumb. You'd think Sasuke taped a pillow to it, and yet, smidgens of blood soaks through. However before either of them could cope with their sloppy entanglement, the door hinges creak loudly. Sounding as intense as sirens at night, flaring in their field of crime.

Pad, dap. Footsteps.

Startled, both turn to face the newcomer. To this awfully, terribly humiliating scene. Of Sasuke against him, bending him backwards over the counter-top.

Naruto jerks in sudden ferocity, pushing them apart.

Though it was too late.

"Aniki," he hears Sasuke say, "this is Naruto."

Naruto's heart hangs out as for a nauseating moment, as he sees upside down. Itachi. The doctor from today. He knew, he damned knew not to stay—should have waited for Tsunade—and when Sasuke mentioned a brother, he should have ran, but he didn't. And now…

That's it. Itachi's going to say something now. About how sick, and ill, he is. And he wishes he was blind right now, not to see Sasuke's reaction. Sympathy, or disgust, at the sound of a hint of weakness.

"Ah, Naruto. Pleasure to finally meet you," is all Itachi says, offering obeisance, until turning away, "I have to go make a phone call regarding a grant proposal, and submit e-mails which could take some time. You eat without me, Sasuke."

"But Itachi—"

When Sasuke chases after his older brother, Itachi swivels round and plants two fingers like a dart. Dead center on Sasuke's forehead. The knockback was slow, and you could see Sasuke shiver to a stop.

"I can't, little brother. Not tonight. You have your friend Naruto anyway, and I won't disturb."

Pounding furiously like a dry funeral drum, Naruto almost couldn't hear over his heart. He's sure he's safe when he hears the footsteps ascend the stairs from a faint distance. He's safe, right? Patient confidentiality, right? But, they're brothers. Brothers talked about everything.

Bading! The loud ringing of the oven timer goes off. And he watches Sasuke, who now walks with the air of someone who's lost the gold metal by a point. Walks with such disappointment, and grave frustration, Naruto wonders whether it was bravery or sheer fury prompting Sasuke to stick in bare hands into the fiery heat of the oven.

Sucks in a breath, long held, all's well for—

"If the bleeding doesn't stop soon," announces Sasuke, the moment they sit at the table again, "you'll need stitches."

The glass in his hand nearly falls to the table, almost spilling. "Go to the ER for this?" he puts up his hands in a universal gesture that says, 'no way'. "Are you kidding me!"

Sasuke's profile glows with ill-suppressed concern, layered with exasperation of course. "That's right. You don't know."

"Know what?"

That's when Sasuke turns round to face him fully. After a short pause of considering, says, "My brother you just met, is a surgeon. He'd sew you up here and has all the equipment needed. No ER necessary."

"Ah, um, well..." nothing was coming to him, so he elegantly blurts, "damn it. " Now he's rocking nervously in his seat, the rambling's about to commence like a frantic melody. "What do you take me for? Over a little thing like this, really. You know this is nothing, you know that! Plus, that I'd burden your family—"

"Shut up," hisses Sasuke, teeth clacking as if hearing the tirade stings.

Defensively, Naruto laughs. He's got nothing to say, hell's sake. For once, really speechless. The situation here's not helping either, seeing as how Itachi's already helped him enough for one day. Now this is just embarrassing. Can feel himself turn deeply rubicund, crimson like the soaked bandages over his pulsing thumb.

"You're never a burden," whispers Sasuke at last, and the next words are scarcely audible, "Not to me."

With that, Sasuke abandons the dinner, standing up so quickly the chair stumbles in protest.

Naruto stiffens, glued to his seat. "Wait. Where—where are you going Sasuke?"

"To Itachi. Tell him you need help."

As if a bolt of lightning struck through the roof, Naruto freezes over.

That is, before he chases after Sasuke like a crazed animal, but it was no use. And in hindsight, he was bound to meet Itachi soon again. Just not this soon, and not in these circumstances.