Pairings: SasuSaku; (onesided) Naru → Ino; (past) NaruGaa; Deidara in love with himself
Rating: (Eventual E, Explicit)
Tags: AU, College/University; Eventual Smut; Sardonic Humor; Sakura in Pursuit; Sasuke is awkward
Ao3 | FFN
Summary: Contrary to the urban legend, painting the body in full won’t cause imminent death for the model. Sasuke inherently knows this.
But as he watches her skin drown in shimmering gold, transcend the human shape in gentle whorls and bends, piercing green eyes daring him to move from his stool — he believes suffocation is still a distinct possibility.
(Alternatively: Sasuke’s sprung, Naruto’s in crisis, and their new art instructor just got out of prison.)
The truth is, most women overwhelm him.
Snob, mean-looking, your dick don’t work, Naruto usually says, ticking each insult off his fingers like reading a grocery list.
This class is going to be a nightmarish experience. Not being able to draw is the rock-bottom of his concerns.
“Are you ready for this?” Naruto claps his hands on Sasuke’s shoulders and leans past him into the room, looking around. The latter follows his gaze: Groups of students he expects, some clearly entrenched in the art school and its eccentric culture and others looking wary as he might seem, a smattering of loners. Acquaintances he knows from other classes in passing, and one pale redhead with a jarring tattoo on his temple, a recent panicked fling of Naruto’s.
“If we’re here because of your self-imposed crisis—”But Naruto’s gaze is zeroed in on a woman with the longest ponytail Sasuke’s ever seen, cascading down her back as spun gold and looking not unlike a feminine adaptation of himself.
“We’ve gone from bi-crisis to straight narcissism. I actually can’t stand you,” Sasuke mutters.
“Shit’s hilarious,” Naruto says at the decibels of live music, “since Uchihas all marry themselves. Ugh, look at her, though. I hope she’s the model. Although,” he pauses, shifting his eyes to the woman she’s speaking to animatedly, “the pink hair on her friend is so different-looking. Exotic!”
True to form, Naruto has all the grace of an elephant, his voice attracting the attention of temple-tattoo and spun-gold and the girl with pastel hair. Along with several other bystanders.
And Sasuke finally looks right at her, beholds her in a single heartbeat, a shiver pulsing with heat and chill, as a shot in the spine, wondering if she’s truly glowing or if that’s just the room’s light. Stomach roiling with a strange sense of precognition, knowledge of an esoteric thing he doesn’t actually possess.
He’s afraid. If he meets her eyes, they could spark and catch. Powdered glass and crimson phosphorus: Just add heat.
Watching her, glancing sidelong, the colors of her sparkle as diamonds — pink like the post-it but gentler, a blush, eyes that he guesses are green, jade like old family jewelry but twinkling with intimacy, worn glass sifted in from the sea’s tides.
“Ino!” Naruto rips him from his musing, unravels his trance. Both women turn and Sasuke’s eyes sweep away to avoid impending doom.
Beautiful blonde has been established as Ino, judging by the way she rolls her eyes to the ceiling and gifts him a surreptitious middle finger.
“You know her?” Sasuke hisses. A tightness in his chest, winding up in a torpid vise, as he feels pink’s eyes on him in a dangerous way and it only solidifies the notion that it’s dangerous but familiar, that something far beyond himself is aligning as lackadaisical atoms seeking their eventual pairs. He doesn’t like it, but it all has the desperate curiosity of a car crash, the aftermath too vivid and striking to simply ignore.
“We’re about to begin, yeah!”
Two ringing claps, and the room startles in unison at the authoritative speaker. Hands now twisting together and laden with heavy, ornate rings, his grin is indulgent as he adds, “So can you all sit down and shut it?”
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