The kitchen table in Naruto's apartment had become a demilitarized zone—equal parts workspace, landfill, and diplomatic front. Flight itineraries curled at the edges, layered like sedimentary rock between battered manuscript pages, travel receipts, and two mugs of coffee that only looked identical until you got close. Sasuke's was black, a slow-moving darkness; Naruto's was aggressively beige, as though a single drop of espresso would trigger a chemical collapse.
The morning sunlight hadn't bothered showing up, so the light was the sickly gold of a dying desk lamp. Naruto hunched over the travel site on his laptop, poking at the "Flexible Dates" option like maybe it would blink and gift him a miracle. He gnawed the end of a mechanical pencil, gaze alternating between the screen and a heap of notes for the next draft. Sasuke sat across from him, one ankle on his knee, the New York Times open and unread, eyes occasionally flicking up to track Naruto's growing impatience.
"God, why are flight prices quadruple on holidays?" Naruto grumbled, slamming the enter key with more force than necessary. "It's not even a real holiday. It's just—eggs and brunch and, like, pastel trauma."
Naruto groaned, scrubbing at his face. "I swear, she has a sixth sense. If I so much as think about skipping a family event, she'll just—" He mimed a finger gun, shooting himself in the temple.
As if summoned, Naruto's phone buzzed on the table, the screen flashing KUSHINA (MOM) with a flurry of emoji following her name. Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "Should I leave?"
"No," Naruto said, then immediately regretted it. He hesitated, thumb poised above the answer icon. "I mean, just… don't say anything."
Sasuke sipped his coffee in reply, the silence as loaded as a courtroom cross-examination.
Naruto answered. "Hi, Mom."
"Hi, sweetheart!" The voice was a fire hose of affection, compressed into a four-inch rectangle. "Are you awake? You sound tired."
Naruto blinked, glancing across the table at Sasuke, who was now openly smirking. "It's nine-thirty," Naruto said, then winced at the defensive edge in his tone. "I'm up. I was just finishing some work."
"Is that work, or is that you playing catch-up because you stayed up all night again?" Kushina's voice was half challenge, half automatic nurture. Naruto could practically hear her winding up for the next volley.
Naruto rolled his eyes, but his smile was visible, even through the phone. "Both. But hey—just confirming, the brunch is still on Sunday, right? Not Saturday?"
"Of course! It's Easter, not Amateur Hour. I told you, everyone's coming. And this time, try not to wear anything orange. The family photos last year—" She trailed off, replaced by a sigh that had, for years, functioned as her one-woman Greek chorus.
Naruto started to protest, but a glance at Sasuke—now pretending to be engrossed in the paper—made him clamp his mouth shut. "Got it. I'll, uh… bring something neutral." Sasuke grunted like trying to hold back a laugh.
There was a pause, as if Kushina was recalibrating. "Honey, are you alone?" she asked, the words so casual that it took a beat for the underlying suspicion to register.
Naruto's eyes shot to Sasuke, who had the decency to look away. "Yeah?" Naruto said, voice climbing an octave. "Why?"
"I just heard something. Like someone was making a snarky comment," Kushina said, the smile audible even through the phone. "Not that I'm judging! Just curious."
Naruto palmed his face. "It's just the radio, Mom. You know I leave it on for the cat."
"You don't have a cat," she shot back, the speed of her reply a testament to twenty-seven years of direct observation.
"I could get a cat," Naruto muttered, thumbing through a stack of flight printouts, trying not to fidget. "Anyway, is Dad back from Palm Springs? Or is he still, you know, allergic to fun?"
"He's home! He's even making a special carrot cake," Kushina said, the pride in her voice suddenly replaced by a conspiratorial whisper. "And—listen to this—the Uchihas are joining us this year."
Naruto's hand froze mid-scribble. His eyes darted to Sasuke, who had abandoned the pretense of reading. "All of them?" Naruto asked, too quickly.
"Just the important ones," Kushina said, and the implication was so pointed that Naruto nearly choked. "You remember Sasuke, right? He's not bringing a guest, so you two should catch up." She paused, then, in a voice so gentle it almost made Naruto's teeth hurt, said, "It's been a long time, honey. Maybe you two can clear up whatever happened. Life's too short for holding grudges."
Naruto's face went nuclear. He could feel Sasuke watching, the weight of it settling between his shoulder blades.
"Yeah, I—uh, I'll try my best," Naruto managed, pencil now drumming a frantic Morse code on the tabletop. "Look, I have to finalize my travel stuff, but I'll see you Sunday. And I promise: no orange. Swear on my cat's life."
Kushina laughed. "Just be yourself, honey. That's all anyone wants."
As the call ended, Naruto set his phone down, knuckles white. He stared at the woodgrain for a long moment, then risked a glance across the table.
Sasuke didn't make him wait long. "Your mother," he said, voice pitched just loud enough for maximum mockery, "seems very excited to see us." The "us" had a slight, deliberate emphasis, the verbal equivalent of a smirk. Sasuke's fingers, always in motion when he was masking nerves, traced slow circles around the handle of his own mug.
Naruto's hand fidgeted with the corner of a printout, tearing a tiny triangle free. He stared at the piece, then flicked it aside. "I want to tell them," he said, barely above a whisper. "My parents, I mean. About… us." He forced himself to look Sasuke in the eye. "I don't want to lie to them, or pretend you're just my boss. Or a… family friend."
Sasuke's gaze sharpened, the focus so intense it made Naruto's heart trip over itself. "You're worried about how they'll react," he said, not a question.
Naruto shook his head. "No. I'm worried about you. About your family. If my mom knows, then the whole Uchiha clan will find out before the dessert course is over. I don't want to ruin things for you with your dad, or, you know, the dynasty or whatever."
Sasuke's jaw worked, as if the words had to fight their way through an internal debate before emerging. He tapped his mug, once, twice, then set it down. "If we do this," he said, "we do it together. I'm not ashamed of you, or of us." He folded his hands, fingers interlaced. "I've wasted enough time being what other people wanted. If the price of being with you is one awkward brunch, I'll pay it."
Naruto's eyes went wide, hope flickering across his face like a sunrise breaking cloud cover. "You mean—like, tell them together? At brunch?"
Sasuke inclined his head, the gesture equal parts formal and shy. "There's a certain efficiency to it. We can get all the interrogations and disappointment out of the way in a single sitting. Maybe even clear the air for good." A faint smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. "Besides, I'd like to see the look on your mother's face when she finds out her 'difficult genius son' has been dating her favorite corporate villain for months."
Naruto barked a laugh, then, impulsively, lunged around the table to wrap Sasuke in a hug. The movement was clumsy—Naruto nearly knocked his mug over in the process—but he didn't care. For a second, Sasuke stiffened, caught off guard, but then he melted into it, one arm sliding around Naruto's waist with practiced ease.
"God, I fucking love you," Naruto said into Sasuke's shoulder, voice muffled but sincere. "You know that, right?"
Sasuke's response was measured, but real. "Yes," he said, tightening his grip. "And I don't hate it."
They held onto each other for a moment longer, long enough for the coffee to cool and the world outside to feel very far away. When they finally separated, Naruto grinned so wide it threatened to split his face in two.
"I guess we'd better book those tickets, then," he said. "If we're coming out, might as well do it in style."
Sasuke rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't fade. "Just promise me you won't wear anything orange."
"Not even socks?" Naruto waggled his eyebrows.
"Especially not socks."
Naruto laughed, the sound light and unburdened. He turned back to the laptop, hands steady as he clicked through to confirm their flights. Sasuke watched him, the expression on his face softening, all the usual armor replaced by something far more dangerous—hope.
For once, neither of them felt like running.
—
The week between booking the flights and Easter Sunday moved with the frenetic inertia of a city in perpetual motion. Sasuke's office became a war zone of contract disputes and quarterly reviews; Naruto's workdays were pinball runs between editorial deadlines and last-minute meetings. Each night, they retreated to the apartment, collapsing onto the couch or straight into bed, saying little but sharing the same brittle exhaustion. The anticipation of what was coming—of what they'd decided to do—buzzed beneath every conversation, every glance, every brush of fingers at the elevator buttons.
On Friday, the night before they were supposed to fly out together, Naruto stood in the bedroom surrounded by the detritus of his own indecision. Open suitcase on the bed, every shirt he owned laid out for consideration, socks sorted by color, travel toiletries lined up like chess pieces. He'd never cared this much about packing before. Now, every detail seemed critical, a matter of strategic importance.
He folded a shirt, then unfolded it, then folded it again, slower, pressing each crease with deliberate care. In the mirror, his reflection looked both older and smaller than he expected: a man about to walk into the past he'd spent years avoiding. He caught his own eye, stuck out his tongue, and then, because no one was watching, whispered, "You can do this, dumbass."
He tossed the last shirt onto the pile and reached for his phone, intending to check their flight status for the tenth time. Instead, the phone buzzed in his hand: a call, not a text, and the name on the screen was SASUKE, all caps, all business.
Naruto answered, heart kicking up a gear. "What's up?"
Sasuke's voice was clipped, uncharacteristically tense. "We have a situation."
Naruto set the phone on speaker and started packing with one hand, tucking jeans into the corner of the suitcase. "What kind of situation?"
"Something came up at the office. Legal wants me here for an emergency meeting tomorrow morning." The words came out measured, too careful, with something unsaid hovering beneath them. "I can't make the morning flight."
Naruto stopped mid-fold. "Shit. Should I—do you want me to wait? We can go together, catch a later flight."
"No," Sasuke said, immediate and absolute. "You need to be there. Your mom will have your head if you're late."
Sasuke's pause on the other end was long, not quite comfortable. "I'll take a late flight tomorrow. I'll be there before brunch. Just… wait for me ok?"
Naruto chewed his lip, then said, "Are you okay with this? I mean, with… us. With telling them." He hadn't meant to let the words slip out, but now they hung in the air, raw and fragile.
Sasuke's exhale was audible, a soft rush of breath. "More than okay," he said. Through the phone, Naruto caught the familiar sound of Sasuke's chair creaking as he leaned back. "It's overdue. And actually..." A pause. "There's something else. Something big in the works."
Naruto's fingers twitched with the urge to press for details. Instead, he traced the zipper of his suitcase, giving Sasuke the silence he needed.
"I can't say much yet," Sasuke continued, "but once it's finalized..." The rare note of excitement in his voice made Naruto bite his lip to keep from interrupting. "I'll be there, Naruto. I promise."
"Stay here tonight," Naruto said, warmth unfurling in his chest. "Even if you're working late. There's leftover takeout in the fridge."
"I will," Sasuke said. "Don't stay up waiting for me."
"Can't promise that," Naruto replied, softer. "But I'll try."
They hung up, and the silence in the bedroom returned, heavier now but edged with hope. Naruto finished packing, zipped the suitcase, and dragged it out to the hallway by the door. He left his shoes nearby, stacked his phone charger and headphones on top, and stood for a moment, staring at the neat row of his entire life ready to be shipped across state lines for the world's weirdest family reunion.
He showered, brushed his teeth, and walked through the apartment, turning off lights, securing windows, all the tiny rituals of order he'd picked up from years living alone. When he reached the bed, he lay on top of the covers, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling's hairline cracks and listening to the city's heartbeat through double-pane glass.
The bed felt bigger than usual, the air in the apartment thinner. Sasuke's pillow sat untouched, perfectly aligned, the usual indentation absent. In the bathroom, Sasuke's razor and cologne were missing from the counter—he'd packed them for the trip, probably, but it still made the space feel alien, as if Naruto were occupying someone else's life.
For a long time, Naruto lay still, eyes wide open in the dark. He let himself think about what was coming: the questions, the looks, the possibility of laughter or of pain. But mostly he thought of the morning, and of how much it would mean to finally show up with nothing left to hide.
He drifted into sleep with the taste of coffee lingering on his tongue and the memory of Sasuke's hand on his, steady as ever.
He woke before dawn, heart already racing. He pulled on jeans and a hoodie, checked the time (4:19 AM), then paced the apartment's length, restless and electric. The suitcase was exactly where he'd left it, but now it looked ridiculous, overstuffed and gaudy against the clean lines of the entryway.
He made coffee. He sat at the kitchen table and scrolled through old photos on his phone—childhood birthdays, last year's holiday brunch, the handful of candid selfies he and Sasuke had snapped in secret during their months of being "just friends." There were so few, and they were so precious that Naruto felt an ache in his throat just looking at them.
At 6:10, he heard the click of the front door. He looked up, and Sasuke was there, suit rumpled, tie missing entirely, yesterday's stubble darkening his jaw.
"You didn't make it last night," Naruto said, biting back the dozen questions crowding his tongue. He busied his hands with the zipper of his suitcase, giving Sasuke room to explain or not.
Sasuke shook his head, dropping his briefcase by the door. "Pulled an all-nighter at the office." His voice was sandpaper-rough. "Wanted to see you before your flight."
Naruto nodded, eyes flicking to the dark circles under Sasuke's eyes, then away. When he straightened, Sasuke was already moving toward him, crossing the kitchen in three quick strides.
"I'm going to fix this today," Sasuke said, fingers brushing Naruto's sleeve. "I'll be on the red-eye tonight."
"You sure?" Naruto hesitated, then caught Sasuke's wrist. "Your parents... they're not like mine. Are you really okay with this? With them knowing about us?"
"I promised, didn't I?" Sasuke's eyes were bloodshot but determined. His fingers found Naruto's, interlacing them. "I'm not letting you face them alone."
Naruto swallowed, throat suddenly tight. "Okay."
They walked to the door together, Naruto's suitcase bumping against the frame. In the hallway, Sasuke pressed his palm against Naruto's cheek, a gesture so tender it made Naruto's chest ache.
"See you tomorrow, dobe."
"Don't miss your flight, bastard.
In the elevator, Naruto watched his reflection: nervous, yes, but also ready. For the first time in his life, he wasn't running from the past, but toward a future he was choosing.