Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. "Grace Under Pressure" and its lyrics belong to Elbow.
Song: "Grace Under Pressure" by Elbow
we still believe in love, so fuck you
***
Sasuke never voluntarily held his hand.
Which, of course, made Naruto want to hold it all the more.
But he understood; he'd known since their relationship began that his bastard sucked at showing affection. And he loved him for it anyway. He did his best to avoid drawing attention to them when they were out in public, knowing it made Sasuke uneasy. (Most of all, he knew "unease" was just another word for "fear".)
But one sunny summer afternoon while they were walking down the sidewalk, he forgot himself, lost in the rare resonance of Sasuke's soft laughter, a sound only he was ever graced with. He kissed Sasuke right there and then, in the middle of Third Street, oblivious to all the people around them.
He felt the smile freeze and wither under his lips, and slowly withdrew. Instinctively, his hands reached out to grab Sasuke's forearms, stilling him before he could push Naruto away. Again.
Sasuke looked like he was ready to jerk out of Naruto's hold and bolt. Naruto could have almost laughed at the realization that Sasuke, who never gave a damn about what anyone thought of him, was actually human enough to recoil from the hostility of total strangers.
Every line in Sasuke was taut, on edge; even his words came expelled from a clenched jaw, so soft Naruto could hardly hear them. "How… can you not mind the way that they look at us?" At how much they hate us, just for loving each other?
Naruto's stance, his eyes, his smile: all were resolute. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"
A long moment passed in which Sasuke merely stared at him, before letting out a sigh that made the rigidity in his shoulders finally ease. "Idiot."
But as Naruto's hands loosened and fell away from his wrists, he caught one with his own and gripped it tightly. Through his surprise, Naruto still managed to catch a glimpse of the faint smile Sasuke was trying to hide.
They continued on with their walk.
They didn't need, or want, a parade. There was enough pride apparent in every footstep, in each interlaced finger.
