Sasuke's cufflink caught the light as he adjusted it for the third time, his linen shirt feeling about three sizes too small. Gaara's reflection loomed behind him in the restaurant's gilt-edged mirror.
"Why are you fidgeting?" the redhead flatly, straightening his own obsidian lapel pin. "You'll wear a hole in your sleeves."
"I'm not—"
"Gentlemen!" Sakura materialized in a cloud of rose perfume, her thrifted red slip dress clinging to curves she'd clearly altered herself. "Look alive—Itachi's just parked the Lexus."
Sasuke's throat tightened. Through the private room's smoked-glass walls, he watched Itachi stride past Harrods Food Hall patrons, trench coat flaring like a barrister's robe.
Sasuke must have looked stressed because Gaara lent over and quietly reminded him to breathe.
Sakura squinted at Sasuke's collar. "Is that cat hair?"
He batted her hand away. "Shut up."
"Charming."
Itachi swept in, shedding drizzle and authority. His gaze flickered over Sasuke's ensemble. "Black again. Wait… is that my jacket?"
Gaara's lime green eyes sparkled with amusement.
He ushered them in a parental manner towards the table, Sakura and Itachi sitting opposite each other, Gaara on Sasuke's right and Itachi on Sasuke's left with a conspicuously empty seat between them.
They made meaningless small talk for the first ten minutes as Sasuke felt his heart creep into his chest with every passing second Naruto was absent from.
"Where's your medic?" Itachi asked after a full fifteen minutes, accepting a martini from a stone-faced waiter with a small nod of thanks.
"Not my—"
The door crashed open.
Naruto stood framed in neon backlight, rugby bag slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from the showers. His shirt—crisp white linen, sleeves rolled to show forearms mapped with fading bruises—clung to sweat-damp skin.
"Sorry!" He flashed a grin sharp enough to cut glass. "Piccadilly line is absolutely shot."
Itachi stood up to shake his hand as he approached the table, "Were you stuck on the train?" He asked with mild concern.
"Nah, just sprinted from Green Park." Naruto dumped his bag by Sakura's chair. "Hello, long time no see."
She stood up to hug him, he must have said something into her ear because she broke away laughing and swatted at him.
Naruto grinned back at her, he turned to acknowledge Gaara who seemed to be taking inventory of everyone else's interactions at the table.
"Nice to see you again," He said pulling Gaara into a one armed hug.
"I'm surprised you're vertical." Gaara said in the flat inquisitive voice he used when scoping a situation out.
"Lesson learned," Naruto said flashing a grin, "Kiba and I are never going to try to outdrink you again."
Something about Naruto's laughter warmed the room even as Sasuke's eyes followed his gaze to Naruto's split knuckles.
Itachi cleared his throat. "Shall I get you a drink?"
Naruto slid into the seat beside Sasuke, knees brushing under the table. The contact sent a jolt up Sasuke's thigh.
"Nice cologne," Naruto murmured, reaching for the drinks menu. "New?"
"No."
"Hmm. I preferred what you were wearing last time."
Sasuke kicked his shin. Naruto's grin widened.
The low hum of conversation buzzed around them. Sasuke watched Naruto charm the sommelier into swapping Itachi's chardonnay for a Yamazaki 18, his laughter butter-smooth and disarming.
"—better with peat," Naruto concluded, leaning back as the waiter poured. "But I'm guessing you're an Islay man?"
Itachi swirled the whisky, grudgingly impressed. "Lagavulin, typically."
"Knew it." Naruto's knee bumped Sasuke's under the table. "You've got that 'I arrest people at dawn' palate."
Sakura muffled a snort into her champagne. Gaara observed silently, fingers steepled, as Sasuke pulled slightly on his collar.
"And for the table," Naruto added, catching the waiter's sleeve, "Tequila. Clase Azul, if you've got it. Three shots."
Sasuke's spine stiffened. "I didn't—"
"C'mon, Uchiha." Naruto's grin softened at the edges. "We've gotta celebrate your corporate villain era properly."
Naruto could work a room, it was a skill Sasuke either lacked or had never entertained cultivating. He watched impressed as Naruto drew Sakura into a debate about ketamine therapy, and then needled Itachi about police bureaucracy with a light and easy manner.
"—so if you're ever short a forensic consultant," he concluded, chopsticks gesturing lazily, "I moonlight as a terrible actor."
Itachi gave him an eye smile. "I'll bear that in mind."
Gaara's gaze lingered on Sasuke's untouched sake. "Nervous much?"
"No."
"Hmm, you need to get better at lying."
Naruto's foot hooked around Sasuke's ankle. "Hey, relax. Your brother's only threatened me twice."
"Three times," Itachi corrected, sipping whisky. "You missed the comment about rugby-induced brain trauma."
The tequila arrived. Naruto slid shots to Gaara and Sasuke, clinking his glass against theirs. "To… life choices."
Gaara downed his without blinking. Sasuke choked, citrus burning his sinuses.
"Cute," Naruto murmured, thumping his back.
Sasuke glared. "Go to hell."
He was flashed one of Naruto's wide, perfect grins.
"—So Kiba and I used to bartend at this really seedy club," Naruto continued, Sakura hanging on every word, "and they fired the bouncer for drug dealing, so he got his mates to come into the club every night we were open to wreck the place. Kiba and I used to hide behind the bar for the police to come—"
"And what happened to the club?" Itachi asked, his knife paused mid-cut.
"Oh it got shut down, too many fights and injuries" Naruto's pinky brushed Sasuke's as he reached for water. "Anyway, point is—if you're an architect don't design a club with a bar on a mezzanine, you're just asking for a wild west scene."
Naruto somehow persuaded Sakura and Itachi to accompany him to the bar for more drinks, his blue eyes dancing with a light mischievousness as Itachi was persuaded to move.
The bar's ambient chatter receded as Gaara turned his full attention on Sasuke. His eyeliner sharpened the unnerving focus of that lime-green stare.
"Well?"
Sasuke traced the rim of his empty shot glass. "Well what?"
Gaara's nostrils flared faintly—the closest he ever came to sighing. "You're using him."
The accusation hung between them, uncomfortable and sharp.
"It's mutual," Sasuke muttered.
"Is it?" Gaara tilted his head, serpent-bird assessing prey. "He looks at you like you've hung the moon between two sycamores."
Sasuke's throat tightened. Across the room, Naruto leaned against the bar, gesturing wildly as Sakura doubled over laughing. Even Itachi's shoulders had lost their habitual rigidity.
"He's performing," Sasuke said coldly. "Same as me."
Gaara's finger tapped the tablecloth. Once. Twice. "You're a worse liar than Shikamaru at poker."
"Gaara, please don't—"
"He'll figure it out." Gaara swirled his wine, watching burgundy legs slide down crystal. "They always do."
Sasuke's knuckles whitened. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Gaara's smile didn't reach his eyes. "What do you think it means?"
The silence stretched. Sasuke leant forward and downed Naruto's abandoned tequila, fire blooming behind his sternum.
"Say nothing to Itachi," he hissed.
Gaara examined his nails coolly—black polish chipped at the edges. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Naruto's laugh cut through the tension. He weaved back to the table, balancing three glasses with bartender flair.
"For my favourite future corporate overlord." He slid whisky toward Sasuke, fingers lingering on the coaster. "Single malt."
Itachi reclaimed his seat, trench coat draped neatly over the chairback.
"I trust you've not corrupted my brother further?"
"Wouldn't dare." Naruto's knee found Sasuke's again under the table. "Unless he's into that."
Sasuke kicked him. Harder this time.
"Ow. Feisty."
Sakura collapsed into her chair, champagne sloshing. "He's been telling us about the time he sewed Kiba's earlobe to a cadaver."
Itachi closed his eyes and looked pained. "Must you?"
"Educational," Naruto said solemnly. "Taught me the value of… thoroughness."
His thumb brushed Sasuke's wrist as he reached for his whisky. The contact burned worse than the tequila.
Gaara watched them over his wineglass.
"Drink," Naruto murmured, nudging Sasuke's untouched dram. "Might loosen you up a little."
The whisky went down smoother than expected—smoke and heather and the faintest hint of Naruto's cedar cologne. Warmth pooled in Sasuke's stomach, softening the edges of Madara's looming shadow.
"Better?" Naruto's smirk softened.
"Marginally."
"Highpraise from you."
Sakura launched into a story about Milanese leather markets, Itachi interjecting dry questions about import taxes. Naruto's attention never fully left Sasuke—a hand "accidentally" bumping his elbow, a chuckle vibrating through the table into Sasuke's thigh.
Gaara stood abruptly. "I'm just going to go for a smoke."
Sasuke half-rose. "I'll—"
"Don't." Gaara's coat whispered against Sasuke's shoulder. "You're exactly where you need to be."
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "Everything…?"
"Peachy." Sasuke drained his whisky. The room tilted pleasantly.
Itachi checked his watch. "I should—"
"One more round!" Sakura brandished her empty flute. "To celebrate Sasuke not combusting!"
"Tempting fate," Itachi muttered, but gestured for the waiter.
Naruto leaned closer, his breath warm against Sasuke's ear. "You're staring."
"Am not."
"Liar." Naruto's grin flashed. "Admit it—you wanted this again."
"Missed what? Your incessant chatter?"
"My charm. My wit. My unparalleled—"
"Capacity for humiliation?"
Naruto's laugh curled low in his chest. "See? You're smiling."
Sasuke touched his mouth, startled. The whisky had indeed loosened something—a surprising and dangerous thawing of control.
His eyes lingered for a long moment on Sasuke's mouth.
Itachi's phone buzzed. He scanned the screen, mouth tightening. "Duty calls. Sasuke—car's outside whenever you're ready."
Sakura pouted. "But—"
"I'll walk you to the station Sakura." Itachi's tone had that 'I'm at work' edge to it. "You might have to run me through your innovative approach to customs declarations again."
Gaara reappeared as they left, raindrops glinting in his hair like frozen crystals. He studied Sasuke's flushed cheeks analytically.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
Gaara's gaze flicked to Naruto, now debating whisky regions with their sommelier. "You know."
Sasuke stood, chair screeching. "I need air."
Naruto materialised at his elbow. "I'll—"
"Stay."
The word hung between them—challenge and plea.
Naruto's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of crowding you."
Gaara exhaled sharply through his nose.
"I'll be five minutes, max."
The night air bit Sasuke's cheeks, sobering as a slap. Behind him, Naruto's laughter seeped through the restaurant doors—bright, hollow, carefully curated.
He looks at you like you've hung the moon.
Sasuke pressed burning palms to damp brick.
Rain needled Sasuke's scalp as Gaara leaned against the damp brickwork, cigarette unlit between his lips.
"Go on then," Sasuke snapped. "Say it."
Gaara tilted his head, rainwater catching in his eyelashes.
"What exactly am I saying?"
"That I'm—" Sasuke's voice cracked. "That this is… reckless. Selfish."
Gaara's silence fell stony between them, colder than the rain.
"You think I don't know?" Sasuke hissed. "You think I want to—"
A flicker of movement—Gaara's hand twitched toward his lighter, then stilled.
"He's not a stray cat," Gaara said at last. "However much you pretend otherwise."
Sasuke's laugh tasted bitter. "Since when do you play moral arbiter?"
Gaara plucked the cigarette away, crushing it between ink-stained fingers. For a heartbeat, his expression softened—a fracture in marble. Then he stepped forward and pulled Sasuke into a stiff, one-armed hug.
Sasuke froze. Gaara smelled of bergamot and clove smoke, sharp against the alley's damp rot.
"Congratulations," Gaara murmured against his ear. "On the internship."
The words landed like a serrated knife in his abdomen as Gaara released him, adjusting his suede jacket with deliberate calm.
"I'll see you at Uni."
He walked away without glancing back, boots clicking against wet cobblestones.
Sasuke pressed shaking palms to brick, mortar grit biting his skin. Gaara's hug lingered like a vice—brief, awkward and utterly devastating.
He took a steadying breath and turned back to re enter the restaurant.
Naruto stood by the table, shrugging into his battered leather jacket. The sommelier hovered nearby, clutching Gaara's forgotten scarf like a white flag.
"Leaving?" Sasuke's voice cut through the clatter of dishwashers.
Naruto froze mid-zip. "Didn't want to outstay my um… whatever this is."
"Come home with me."
The jacket slipped from Naruto's shoulders. He turned to look at Sasuke, surprised. "What?"
Sasuke stepped closer. The whisky burned his courage brighter. "Stay. Tonight."
Naruto's gaze flicked to Itachi's silhouette in the Lexus. "Your brother's waiting."
"He won't care."
"Won't he?"
Sasuke grabbed Naruto's wrist, pulse thrumming under his thumb. "Do you want to go?"
Naruto's free hand cradled Sasuke's jaw. "Depends. Is this another disappearing act?"
The kiss was softer than Sasuke expected—a question, not a demand. Naruto's palm settled at the small of his back, guiding him toward the exit like they were waltzing.
"Lead the way, then."
Itachi didn't bother to glance up from his dashboard as they slid into the backseat.
"Hyde Park Corner, was it?"
"He's staying over," Sasuke said, too loudly.
Naruto's knee pressed against his. "If it's no trouble."
Itachi raised his eyebrows momentarily before he merged into traffic. "The Ducati Monster 1200?"
Naruto blinked. "Uh. Yeah. '98 model, hand me down from my godfather."
"He rides too?"
"Yeah, my godmother pretends she hates it, but she secretly loves it."
"Hmm. Interesting." Itachi's reflection almost smiled. "He let you rebuild the gearbox?"
"Twice." Naruto relaxed into the leather, launching into a story about blown gaskets and midnight parts runs.
Sasuke stared at Naruto's hand resting inches from his thigh. The urge to intertwine their fingers felt absurd, childish—yet the space between them hummed like a live wire.
"—so now I keep a torque wrench in my rucksack," Naruto finished, grinning.
Itachi's eyes met Sasuke's in the rearview. "Very practical."
The unspoken unlike someone hung between them.
Itachi swung open the heavy front door and then paused as if to make sure Cat was not underfoot to bolt towards the hedgerows.
His keys jingled as he dropped them into a bowl near the door, "I've got an early briefing." He said heading up the stairs, "Don't keep the neighbours up Sasuke."
Sasuke watched him go as Naruto hung in the doorway looking at him as if he was about to change his mind.
Sasuke hesitated for a moment, the grandfather clock's ticking suddenly deafening.
"Do you want a drink?" He asked, filling the silence that had suddenly lapsed between them.
Naruto reached out, holding him by the elbow, his fingers gentle.
"Are you sure you don't want me to go?"
Sasuke shook his head, his resolve hardening.
He's not a stray.
He walked resolutely into the kitchen, pulling two water tumblers down from the cabinet, filling them with ice and then water. He pushed one towards Naruto across the kitchen bar as Naruto hung up his weathered leather jacket in the hallway.
Nsruto's eyes tracked Sasuke's every movement.
"Thirsty?" Sasuke pushed a glass across the kitchen island.
Naruto's fingers brushed his as he took it. "Parched."
They stood in silence, water beads sliding down glass. Upstairs, Itachi's door clicked shut.
"Tsunade's got this theory," Naruto said suddenly, tracing the marble counter. "Says adrenaline junkies are just repressed poets."
Sasuke leaned against the fridge. "And your godfather?"
"Jiraiya? Retired. Bought a Kawasaki z900 last week." Naruto's grin faltered as he stepped closer. "FaceTimed me while rebuilding the carburetor. Dropped a wrench on his foot mid-call—fractured three toes."
Sasuke's eyebrow twitched. "Sounds painful."
"Tsunade made him sit in A for six hours as 'character building'." Naruto swirled his water, ice clinking. "Sent me a photo of him sulking in a neon pink moon boot. Caption: Play stupid games, win stupid orthopedic footwear."
A near-smile tugged Sasuke's mouth. "I like her, she sounds cruel."
"Nah. Let him keep the bike." Naruto's thumb traced the tumbler's rim. "Just banned him from the garage after 9pm. Swears he'll beat her at poker to lift the curfew."
The fridge hummed. Sasuke's gaze dropped to Naruto's hands—knuckles still scabbed from Saturday's tackle.
"He's fine," Naruto added softly, catching his stare. "Promise."
Sasuke huffed—a near-laugh—and reached for Naruto's empty glass. Their fingers brushed. Ice clinked.
"Placement at seven," Naruto added abruptly. "Trauma ward."
Sasuke's reflection stilled in the window. "You'll need sleep."
"Yeah."
The stairs creaked underfoot. Naruto paused at the bedroom door, moonlight striping the same navy sheets they'd shared a few weeks ago.
"Sofa's fine," he said too quickly.
Sasuke crossed to the wardrobe, shoulders rigid. "Don't be absurd."
"Last time you said that, I woke up with your knee in my spleen."
"I don't thrash."
Naruto's laugh sounded ragged at the edges. "You snore."
"I do not—"
"Like a chainsaw. Cute, though."
Sasuke flung a pillow at him. Naruto caught it, grin fading as his eyes flicked to the bed—too wide, too empty, too full of before.
"The bed's big enough," Sasuke said evenly, "unless you've developed a problem with sharing."
Naruto's throat worked. "S'long as you keep your elbows to yourself."
He bent over to pick up his duffel bag the hem of his shirt riding up as he did so, catching Sasuke's eye.
"Do you mind if I use the bathroom?"
"Sure."
Alone, Sasuke traced the dent Naruto's body had left last time—faint, persistent, like a fossil in limestone. The clock ticked. Cat yowled downstairs.
Naruto returned smelling of Itachi's soap, hair damp. "Adventure Time reruns still your lullaby?"
"Shut up."
They lay parallel, inches apart, staring at the ceiling. Naruto's heat radiated across the chasm.
"Sasuke."
"What?"
"Your elbow's on my side."
"It is not."
"Is too."
Sasuke flipped onto his side, glowering. Naruto's smirk glinted in the dark.
"Better."
"Insufferable."
"But you love it."
The words hung, unretractable. Naruto froze. Sasuke's breath caught in his chest.
Somewhere outside, a car alarm wailed. Naruto rolled onto his back, forearm pressed to his eyes. "Forget I—"
"It's fine."
"No, it's—"
"Naruto."
Silence.
Sasuke's hand crept across the sheets—pinky first—until it grazed Naruto's. A question.
Naruto's fingers twitched. A pause. Then it interlocked.
The clock struck two.
The pendulum swung between them, counting breaths. Naruto's thumb moved—a slow, unconscious stroke against Sasuke's knuckle.
Naruto turned his head, the faint shift of linen loud in the dark. Sasuke felt the weight of his stare—a tangible pressure that prickled the back of his neck. A minute passed. Two. The heat from their linked fingers crept up Sasuke's arm, pooling at his collarbone like hot syrupy sugar.
"What are you looking at?" Sasuke asked finally, his voice was unsteady at the edges as if it was unraveling.
Naruto's breath came out slightly staggered. "You."
The word hung, stripped of irony. Heat coursed through Sasuke's chest, sharp and sweet and almost stinging. He closed his eyes, but the afterimage lingered—Naruto's face half-shadowed, gaze unflinching.
"Why?"
A stretch of silence. The fridge hummed noisily downstairs.
Naruto's laugh came out brittle. "Dunno. Just… do."
Sasuke's pulse thrummed in his throat. He could list a hundred reasons this was reckless. A thousand. Yet his traitorous fingers tightened around Naruto's.
"Stop thinking," Naruto murmured.
"I'm not—"
"Liar." His thumb stilled. "You're always thinking."
The accusation hung between them. Sasuke's free hand curled into the sheet.
"So are you."
Naruto's exhale ghosted across the pillow. "Yeah—but about being a secret agent."
Sasuke opened his eyes. Naruto was closer now—inches, not miles. His pupils swallowed the blue, leaving only black.
"Tell me," Sasuke whispered.
Naruto's gaze dropped to his mouth. "Can't."
"Coward."
The word landed like a dare. Naruto's breath hitched. For a heartbeat, Sasuke thought—hoped—he'd close the distance.
Then Naruto rolled onto his back, hand slipping free. "We should sleep."
Cold air rushed between them. Sasuke stared at the ceiling, nails biting his palm.
"Right."
Naruto's arm brushed his as he yanked the duvet higher. "I've got to get up at six."
"You mentioned."
Silence.
The clock chimed half-two. Somewhere on the street below, a fox screamed.
Naruto's voice, barely audible: "You're staring again."
"Am not."
"Liar."
Sasuke turned his face into the pillow, inhaling coal-tar soap and Naruto's stupid cedar cologne. "Go to sleep."
"Trying."
Dawn crept through the blinds. They lay awake, shoulders touching, pretending not to notice.