Water Soothe Stone
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, which is such a shame because I do so adore beautiful things.
Rating: PG-13 for suggestive themes.
Pairing: SasuNaru
Author's Note: A mere drabble. I think it's kinda AU. (Not sure, because I haven't seen any recent eps of Naruto.) In any case, Sasuke and Naruto are supposed to be about 17 or 18 here, and it's assuming that Sasuke and Naruto still train together after Sasuke comes back from Orochimaru.
It was startling, to say the least, and as unexpected as a streak of lightning ripping across a cloudless gray sky. One moment they were fighting with all they had, play turned into fury, the next—oh, the next.
Sasuke leapt away, graceless in his bewilderment, and skidded to a stop. Digging his dirty nails into the concrete, Sasuke hid behind a fall of hair and did not dare to look at the panting, prone Naruto. It skittered through him still, flickering golden and crazy through his stomach like renegade chakra.
He shuddered and shook, tossed his dark head and writhed, trying to exorcise the thing that now sat in his stomach like a hot coal, waiting to be lit.
It refused to be moved.
He lifted a shaking hand to wipe away the sweat stinging its way into his eyes. After taking a few more deep breaths, Sasuke decided that perhaps it would not be safe to continue. At the moment, he was not sure if it was even safe to stand up.
There was a groan, then scrapings and rustlings with many pauses in between as Naruto slowly forced himself into a sitting position.
No. No. Stay down, for once. Just this once. Please.
"Izzat something that snake-pervert taught you, huh? Bastard? You think you can distract me with something like that? Huh?"
More scrapings as Naruto dragged himself to his feet, grunting. Sasuke prepared to flee—but there was a rush of air and an impression of glorious, golden fury,
So fast, dead last. When did you get so fast?
and Sasuke found himself slammed against the unforgiving metal leg of the water tower. And before he could even register the pain, Naruto was there, whispering hot into his ear: "Oh, no, you don't, you bastard. You don't get to run away this time."
And it was exactly like when Orochimaru's infection had first began to spread across his body. The coal in his stomach flared, but the flames did not dance with hesitation this time. They seeped and dripped like melted chocolate, like honey, like an assured hand stroking with slow deliberation down his legs, weakening them, and up into his throat, closing it. He clutched at the dark material of Naruto's jacket, trying to somehow throw him away, but his fingers only trembled and stroked at Naruto minutely.
"This time, you finish what you started."
Sasuke wanted to rage at Naruto, claw his throat out, scream at him How can I? When I've only just discovered what it was that I started?
Because, really, how could he be expected to do anything right now? When the slow, knowing flames had robbed his legs and his hands of their strength, and the voice from his throat? When the electric brother of those flames still chittered across his loins, making him jerk and shudder and moan silently against Naruto's neck?
Sasuke looked up then, certain that the hurt of his epiphany was written all across his face, and felt frozen and speared and revealed by the cloudless blue eyes so close to his own. Frozen by the self-same hurt that was reflected there. Reflected, and yet—and yet Sasuke could see that it was a hurt that had been refined and smoothed by time, like a brittle stone whose edges have been made acceptable by years and years of water flowing over it.
The fury seemed to melt from Naruto, and Sasuke understood that he was understood.
"You finish what you started all those years ago."
My stories are as short-lived as my thoughts. How was it? Is the title okay? I was going for a sort of abstract feel.