pigment (or, a modern/art!au starring the baes)
Tenten + Temari + Ino = squad goals tbh
ii. in which unlikely bonds are formed.
###
There was another flat, similar to the one Sasuke and Ino lived in, a couple of streets over. One of its previous occupants had been another blonde girl: Temari, somewhat tall, didn't talk much. In fact no one would have known her name if not for the overenthusiastic tenant at the end of the hall who had a penchant for screaming other people's names by way of greeting.
Temari-san! Good morning!
You're home late today, Temari-san! Long day at work? Oh, pardon me I see you have company! Have a great evening!
Temari honestly had nothing against Rock Lee, but the guy definitely needs to dial it down. She had stayed at that apartment (a friend's) for nearly three months, when she and her brother Kankuro got into a fight. In a fit of rage, she had stormed out of their mansion in the affluent Den-en-chofu area in southern Tokyo. She arrived at an expensive hotel a little past midnight, only to be forced to leave when she found out he had frozen all her cards and accounts. She phoned a former university classmate who lived nearby, asked her if she could maybe crash for the time being while she figured out how to navigate her new penniless state. And although they had never been particularly close in school, Tenten cheerfully agreed to let her stay at her place.
Temari in college was the socialite-princess everyone had been too scared of to approach; Tenten, on the other hand, was the athlete-extraordinaire. Naturally, they had different circles. They did strike up conversation from time to time during that one boring class they had together. They rolled their eyes at the group of boys who called out to them from afar.
"You know, for a designer-wearing person, you're not so bad," Tented had told her during graduation.
"You're pretty cool too," Temari replied with a sneer, "you know, for a jock."
That had made Tenten crack up so hard she had tears in her eyes after. "See you around, Temari-san."
They had lost touch after graduation — not that either of them were keeping-in-touch people — but Tenten did mention having a place all to herself in Tokyo. Luckily when Temari rang, she was home.
"Oh hey, Temari-san. What a surprise. Can I help you with anything?"
"Yes, well — " Temari hesitated, but her pay phone time was running out and she didn't have any coins left. "Um, could I crash at your place for a bit? I'm in a bit of a bind."
"Sure, no problem. If you tell me where you are right now, I could give you directions to my apartment."
Temari's head reeled. "Tenten-san, are you always this accepting of strangers? That's dangerous, you know."
Surprisingly, this only made the other girl crack up. "Nah, just this time. Besides, you're not a stranger. Consider us — well, aren't we old buddies?"
Not really, Temari thought, but she didn't want to ruin her chances of having a roof over her head at least for the night.
Tenten's place wasn't glamorous. In fact, it was a shabby single-girl's apartment in a not-so-fashionable district of the city. Her building housed several working youth like her, living off convenience store noodles and the occasional can of beer, which Tenten was quick to offer her guest.
Temari politely refused.
"You sure?" Tenten asked, opening the can herself. "Ah, I know! You don't drink this kind of beer, do you?" As she took a swig, hair fell from the loose bun atop her head. She tucked it behind her ear in one swift motion. Her own teasing made her laugh. "Never mind, I was only joking. You can have the couch. Normally, I'd be more hospitable but I have a real important meeting to attend to tomorrow. I can't risk having an aching back, or a colleague of mine gets on my case."
This colleague turned out to be one Hyuuga Neji, or as Tenten sometimes describes him, "Mr. Bossypants himself." Tenten showed Temari his picture on her phone.
"He's not bad-looking," Temari comments.
Tenten makes a funny face, eyes narrowed. "Seriously? He drives half the ladies in the building mad with that face of his. Not your type, huh?"
Temari shrugs, blowing smoke from between pursed lips. "I don't really have a type."
"Oh?" Tenten watches the other girl with an amused expression. "Is that so?"
Temari crushes her cigarette on the paper plate Tenten made into a makeshift ash tray for her when she moved in. Tenten doesn't smoke.
"I'm not in the mood to talk about it, so don't even bother."
Tenten leans back into her chair, arms crossed behind her head. "Eh, if you say so. Just, I think you should go out more. On dates, I mean. It would do you good, maybe you won't be this down and depressing all the time." She grins.
"What's all this fuss about dating anyhow? You fancy Mr. Bossypants or something?"
Tenten laughs a hearty laugh that makes the ashes on the paper plate tremble. "Neji? Nah. Not my type. He prefers blondes anyway. Or so I heard."
###
The first time they met was at some party Tenten's company had thrown in honor of a project they had just closed. Tenten had invited Temari with the intention of finding him an eligible bachelor among her coworkers, but really there was only one she had in mind.
The bespoke bachelor, Hyuuga Neji, who looked like some elven prince from the movies (long hair, slightly pointy ears, a sullen expression) entered the venue with a group of younger-looking men in tow. Two of them were all goofy grins and loud remarks made at some thing or other. The other, who kind of resembled Neji, but with darker hair and eyes and a more brooding air about him, walked wordlessly behind the others.
Tenten, dressed in a loose frock that nevertheless showed off the well-formed muscles of her legs, approached the group, and with a whisper in Neji's ear nodded in the direction of the bar, where Temari was nursing a gin-and-tonic.
Neji said something, which made Tenten hit him on the shoulder. He sighed and made his way over to the bar while Tenten took the rest of the group by the sleeve and collar and shoved a drink into their hands.
Neji sat noiselessly on the seat beside Temari. He ordered a whiskey, on the rocks.
"Can't hold your liquor?" Temari asked. She was feeling a bit buzzed herself, but that was probably because of the meaningless chatter and drunken flirting she'd been hearing all night than her drink.
"I don't like parties," Neji answered.
Temari hummed. Not quite the talker, as Tenten had warned. Plus he seemed to suck all the enthusiasm in the space nearest him, Temari observed. Guess you can't always have the looks and the pleasing personality.
Neji pulled out a mobile phone from his pants pocket. He frowned at the something on the screen before stuffing it back into his pocket. He downed his drink in one go and ordered another.
They exchanged a few more sentences after that. Later, the brooding guy from Neji's team approached the bar, a deep frown on his face.
"I'm going home," he announced, plain and simple. Neji waved him away with a look that Temari could swear was almost envy. "See you Monday, Uchiha."
Uchiha brought his eyes to where Temari was seated, as if he only just noticed her there. He seemed confused for a split second but gave her an almost imperceptible nod before turning on his heels out of the hall.
"Charming and polite, isn't he," Temari remarked. "Reminds me of someone."
Neji only grunted in response.
###
Back in his apartment building, Sasuke couldn't help but notice the abandoned brown bag in front of the blonde girl's flat. A stray cat is pawing at some fallen-over cans.
He pushes his door open maybe an inch, and then shuts it again. What's gotten into me. He walks over to the green door across his, and knocks. "Don't leave your stuff lying in the hallway. It's attracting stray animals."
He waits a while, listens for a shuffling from behind the door. From what he's glimpsed of the inside of her apartment, it takes the blonde several seconds to get to her door, owing to all the clutter.
No answer. He presses his ear to the door. "Yamanaka."
Odd. She usually made such a racket. He contemplates knocking again, but decides against it. He walks up to his door instead. Whatever. Not my problem if neighborhood cats start living in her apartment.
###
He falls asleep for the better part of an hour. Socializing — rather, merely being in a crowd — fatigued him so. He wakes up feeling like he pulled a muscle. His throat itches, and he gets a sudden impulse to smoke.
Can't, he tells himself. I already smoked three sticks during the party.
He changes into something decent, at least by his standards: a coffee-stained shirt and some gym pants he didn't know he had. He takes an unopened pack of cigarettes and heads for the roof deck.
He sees her, her stomach against the ledge, dress blowing in the wind, a pink jacket thrown thoughtlessly over her shoulders. Her hair glows, almost, in the moonlight. She turns her head and sees him.
"Oh, if it isn't Grumpy," she says, rather sleepily. She waves a hand weakly at him. Her fingers are technicolor, like they had been dipped in a many-colored bucket of paint.
He doesn't respond, but fiddles with the packet of cigarettes in his pants pocket.
She smiles at him with half-closed eyes. "Care to join me for a drink?" she says. "You look like you could use one. Or is that just your face?"
He eyes the empty bottle at her feet. "Speak for yourself. Besides, looks like you're out."
Ino laughs, and it echoes inside his chest. "Fear not, your royal grumpiness. I am always well-prepared." She pulls out a brown bag from somewhere (How did that get there? Is he that sleepy that his eyes are playing tricks on him?)
She sits on the ledge, takes a still-sealed bottle of vodka from the paper bag and waves it at him. She wobbles a bit, tips forward. He catches her by the elbows.
"How about we keep to ground," he mutters, pulling her off the ledge and settling her down on the floor. He sits down beside her without another word. She hands him the bottle. He hesitates, then takes a swig before shoving it back to her. She grins.
"That's more like it."
They finish the bottle and are halfway through another when her head dips unto the crook of his shoulder. He gives his shoulder a little shake but no — she's out cold.
He's growing sleepy himself, and before he knows it he's drifting off too.
###
He wakes up feeling like his head's on fire. Struggling fiercely he opens his eyes and thinks, panicked, that he's gone blind. He couldn't see anything but the white-gold glint of the sun. It takes an embarrassing amount of time before he realizes, it's just her hair catching the first rays of the morning.
He blinks, feeling rather stupid. A cold drop of something lands on his cheek.
"Morning, Grumpy." She shoves something — a plastic bottle of some alarmingly red liquid — in his face. "For being so graciously chatty last night, here's a little present: the best hangover recipe in the world. It tastes like shit but it will clear your headache in no time."
He takes the bottle and blinks a couple more times. When he opens his eyes again she was gone, but he thinks he catches a final glimpse of her gleaming hair in the stairwell.
###
She was not kidding about the juice — was that what it was? Was it not poison? — tasting like utter shit, but his head did feel better a couple of minutes later. He threw up, once, and took a nice cold shower. By noon he was feeling himself again.
In his panic a few hours earlier he almost called in sick, before realizing it was a Saturday and no one would be at work — at least ideally, but he wouldn't be surprised if Hyuuga Neji did put in a couple extra hours. Then he remembered last night's party, and prayed that Neji had gotten himself so drunk he couldn't make Sasuke work on the weekend. But the odds of that happening was low. Neji was not known to let himself go even in company-sponsored outings, the uptight prick.
He spends a good part of an hour figuring out what Yamanaka had put in her hangover juice, but to no luck. He starts feeling hungry at around 1 pm, so he takes his keys from the dish by the door and heads out.
###
On his way out, Sasuske sees a young man standing outside Yamanaka's door — pale, dark hair, ink stains on his clothes. He's carrying a gym bag full of — cans, Sasuke decides. They clunked when the guy moved. A dirty paint brush sticks out from the bag pocket.
The stranger doesn't look at him when he passes. Sasuke contemplates telling him that Yamanaka was out god knows where, but decides finally that whatever this hobo's business was with her was, well, none of his business.
He doesn't like him already.
###
Akimichi's was packed, and there was only one place available on a table at the far end of the room. Thankfully, it was his friends' table.
"Yo," Inuzuka greets, a knowing smile adorning his wolf-like features. "You look like you've been dragged through hell and back."
Naruto peers at him, narrows his eyes. "Impossible. You left earlier than everybody else. What's the matter with you?"
He feels a headache coming on. Instead of responding, he grumbles his order to Choji, who promptly scribbles it in his order pad.
"Coming right up!"
"So? Tell us what you've been up to," Inuzuka presses.
"Nothing," he says, a little more forcefully than he intended. It's the headache, he tells himself. Inuzuka's grin widens, while Naruto looks on confused.
"What? What am I missing?"
Ah, the walk of shame, Inuzuka's face seems to be saying. "You won't get it, Naruto. Maybe when you're a little older you can get Uchiha to explain it to you." Naruto frowns. Inuzuka laughs, and Sasuke feels the urge to smash a plate over his head. He is saved from such violence — and a police record or two, probably — by the arrival of Choji and a still steaming bowl of ramen, which he dutifully sets in front of Sasuke. He also places a tall glass of a familiar-looking red juice before him.
"On the house," Choji says, with a grin. "It tastes like shit though, but I imagine you feel like shit already, so." Inuzuka howls with laughter at this, even Naruto, who seems to have caught on to the joke.
If his head wasn't reeling he would have socked them each on the jaw.
###
Neji's apartment was just as bleak and unadorned as his conversation, if Temari were to say so herself. Save for a few photographs lining the top row of a shelf, she wouldn't have guessed anyone lived here. It seemed more like a place to sleep than a home. Indeed on one corner was a small pile of still unopened moving boxes, collecting dust on the lids.
He was still sleeping when she slipped out of the bed, and later, out of the apartment. His phone rang a couple of times before that, and she wondered if she should answer it. She decided not to. She left her number on a piece of paper she found on the bedside table.
It was more an afterthought than anything, she concluded. She didn't really expect him to call her up or anything. But that wouldn't be too bad if he did.