Sasuke watched Naruto disappear from his rear-view mirror. He didn't know how to name what he felt; there were too many contradictions. He was annoyed that Naruto had managed to worm his way into his home and into his thoughts effortlessly. Yet he had also felt invigorated. Casual conversations with Sakura had always felt forced (probably because they were). His one and only friend, Juugo, was even more at home with silence than Sasuke was. Still, though, Juugo had always confided far more to Sasuke than vice versa.

He actually wanted to talk to Naruto, though he couldn't really figure out why. Naruto was garrulous, intrusive, and prone to crassness, it seemed. Talking to someone like Naruto made him feel all the more exposed; Naruto was surprisingly good at getting him to talk, and he didn't like the feeling of that.

That wasn't precisely true—he liked talking to Naruto. He did not like the fact that he liked it.

He felt as if it had been all too easy for the loud-mouthed blond to control their interactions. Sasuke was accustomed to being in control of conversations, whether he wanted to be or not. Most people found him intimidating, he realized, and that was fine with him. The minority who did not seemed to regard him as a trophy to acquire. Naruto, though, was neither intimidated by nor covetous of Sasuke, it seemed; "... it's easy to talk to you," the blue-eyed man had said.

He also I was pretty.

Sasuke was immune to praise or random compliments. In fact, he almost felt he had an autoimmune reaction to expressions of infatuation; he had been pursued by males and females alike since the age of 12, and he had never found it particularly flattering. To the contrary, he instinctively recoiled from flattery and held the obsequious at arm's length.

But when Naruto had looked at him and called him "pretty," he had felt a rich warmth pervade his senses. He had been aware of his face heating both times Naruto had said it. The difference, he supposed, was that Naruto was brutally honest. He didn't even seem to spare his own feelings, he surely wouldn't waste time pampering Sasuke's ego.

Sasuke frowned as he recalled his advice to Naruto.

There are multiple ways to manipulate and exploit people.

Still, though, he summoned the memory of how it had felt to be in Naruto's arms, to look into his shockingly blue eyes as the words slipped from his unguarded mouth; "You're really pretty. Even though you're very sad."

Sasuke's head seemed to spin, and his stomach soured. He felt naked and alone.

Sasuke was fiercely honest; he always had been. He neither insulted nor praised anyone—he simply stated facts. However, he'd never volunteered a lot of attention about himself, either. Naruto had recognized his quips about his marriage and divorce as the rarities that they truly were. What he couldn't fathom was why he had told Naruto those things to begin with.

He had not been drunk, had not really even had a decent buzz. He had certainly not indulged in scotch as if it were water, as Naruto had done.

It was almost as if Naruto had cast a spell.

Sasuke shook his head, struggling to clear the uncomfortable, irrational thought from his mind, which was feeling more addled by the nanosecond. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, as he turned onto the right street.

He reviewed the objective facts: Naruto had been a strange man in a hipster bar. He had confided in Sasuke, and Sasuke had shared, in return, a few details about his marital life and divorce. Naruto now knew the following about Sasuke: that he was gay, that he'd been married to a woman for 12 years, that he had one child. There wasn't enough information there to harm Sasuke or his family—such as it was.

He knew I was sad.

Sasuke was always extremely conscious of the emotions he allowed to show. He shared sadness with very few people; Sakura had seen it, only because she had experienced his night terrors on a few occasions. Juugo had seen him cry, once, 16 years ago, and never again. Karin and Suigetsu had seen him that same time. Only four people alive had ever witnessed Sasuke give in to tears or confess heartbreak. Naruto was not one of those people.

He tugged at the collar of his shirt. The thought of getting through the workday made him feel better; losing himself within well-ordered sequences of discrete tasks seemed preferable to the uncharted terrain he seemed to be traversing mentally.

He mapped out his day in his mind, taking comfort in ordering his business. He felt his equanimity returning as he unlocked the door to his storefront.

He maintained his focus as he accomplished the tasks of the day, but he found that thoughts of Naruto frequently intruded. It was a rare person who could surprise Sasuke, but Naruto certainly had. Somehow, Naruto, who did not seem to be overly endowed with either tact or perspicacity, had managed to read some of Sasuke's fundamental personality traits, something no one other than a single, long-dead person had.

Sasuke frowned as he thought of Naruto's comments about his ability to exploit people. Sasuke had built his life upon his ability to remain so out of reach and unreadable to others that they projected their own assumptions upon him. This had helped him not only to keep people out of his personal circle, but had also helped him sum up their goals and expectations.

He thought of all the things he had been called over the years.

"You're arrogant" meant that Sasuke hadn't stroked someone's ego the way they had expected him to.

"You're cold" meant that someone had hoped to exploit his emotions.

"You're cut-throat" meant that Sasuke had managed to preempt an attack.

"You're ruthless" meant that someone had intended harm.

"You're hot" meant, "You're a commodity I can use and a mirror to reflect myself the way I want to be seen."

Sasuke believed in very little. He had dedicated his life to protecting and defending those dearest to him. His moral code had therefore been very simple; do whatever it took, go to any extreme to ensure the safety of those he loved—nothing more, nothing less.

"There are multiple ways of manipulating and exploiting people," he had warned Naruto.

Naruto had agreed; but he, Sasuke, was not an exploiter, according to Naruto.

"…yeah, you could, and if something important were on the line, you probably would. But you wouldn't do it just to entertain yourself."

Sasuke didn't gain anything from the fact that most people found him threatening or arrogant, other than relief that it meant they usually kept their distance. Inspiring fear didn't bother him; it brought him no joy, though, either, and it certainly didn't entertain him. Nor had the times he'd had to make good on the threat apparently implicit in his face.

I've known dangerous people, people who could and did fuck with me, Naruto had said. Sasuke wondered what he had meant. When had he encountered such people, and why? How far had they gone? How had Naruto survived?

By the end of the workday, Sasuke had accomplished everything on his agenda. He had not, however, done anything more. He simply couldn't keep his mind from wandering to Naruto over and over again.

He smiled when he recalled Naruto telling him he was pretty. Naruto had looked so childlike, as if he had just handed Sasuke a dandelion on the kindergarten playground. Sasuke was not starved for attention or adulation. His clients generally found his work impressive, and eagerly referred others to him. Although he was indifferent to looks, he was not unaware of the attention his looks attracted. He knew he was, by most people's standards, uncommonly attractive. Yet when Naruto had looked at him such large, blue, open eyes and told him that he was pretty, Sasuke had felt a jolt of excitement. It wasn't a feeling he had felt in his entire adult life.

Sasuke didn't like unusual feelings.

The stupid song that Naruto had forced him to dance to even floated back to him, niggling at him until he had looked it up on his phone.

Good times, for a change
See, the luck I've had
Can make a good man
Turn bad.

So please, please, please,
Let me, let me, let me,
Let me get what I want
This time.

Haven't had a dream in a long time,
See, the life I've had
Can make a good man bad

So, for once in my life,
Let me get what I want;
Lord knows, it would be the first time.
Lord knows, it would be the first time.

The lyrics made Sasuke wince, and again, he wondered about Naruto; what had appealed to him in that little song? What had his luck been like up until now, and what did Naruto want so badly that he would plead or pray for it?

A more disconcerting thought occurred to him.

What did he, Sasuke, want?

He had never stopped to consider.