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Summary: It's no secret that, sometimes, Hyuuga Hinata gets a little tongue-tied. Despite her best efforts, it's a bad habit that she simply must live with. As it turns out, Uchiha Sasuke sometimes finds himself at a lost for words himself -- but only around a certain someone.
As expected, the days following the New Year are swamped with havoc. Civilians who may have enjoyed their nights celebrating have decided to carry on their drinking activities far into the first week of January, and with more drunks on the street means more noise complains, more fist-fights over pretty things, more property damage. Not only that, but even some of the shinobi, restless from a shallow pool of missions that hardly offers anything higher than D-Rank, have caused some mischief. In just the past two days, the springs have been frozen over and the Hokage has found his office covered in slime multiple times. In fact, when Hinata is called for her presence at Hokage Tower, she is specifically instructed to come to Shizune’s office. Apparently, the staff is still working on de-stickifying Lord Kakashi’s office.
It’s a frightfully chilly day, with snow clouds roaming the horizon. Hinata fits into her mission outfit, regards her short sleeves and open-toed sandals with hesitation, and decides to cover up with one of her old lavender hoodies. It will simply have to do, and if her suspicions that Kakashi will be handing her a patrolling mission for the day are true, then she will be able to survive the cold by patrolling between cafes and shops.
The run to Hokage Tower is quick, though the wind is merciless against her. She takes a minute to heat up in the main lobby of the building, and then she goes up to Shizune’s office, knocks, and then enters.
She feels, of course, an electrifying presence in the office, but her dissatisfaction does not claim her until her eyes land on Uchiha Sasuke standing in the middle of the cramped but well-decorated room. This office, unlike the Hokage’s, is narrowed by thick shelves on either side of the desk. Kakashi has managed to get himself comfortable behind it, but it does not hold the space of his own, so most of his documents and files are piled on the floor around him. Shizune stands next to him, ringing her hands, not at all pleased with the mess of everything but knowing well there is nothing she can do about it.
Hinata has no choice but to stand rather close to Sasuke, and she does well to not look at him as she bows.
“Never strive to be Hokage, you two,” Kakashi drones, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “While the rest of Konoha is celebrating the New Year, you get to stay late reading lousy documents – and your thanks? A prank from a bunch of genin that makes your office all but unusable for a week.” Then, for some reason, his eyes begin to twinkle, and something beneath his mask turns up into a smile. “Shizune, perhaps it’s time we give Naruto a promotion.”
Shizune turns red. “You jest, Lord Hokage!”
“I wish I wasn’t.” He sighs again, this time sounding exhausted. He looks exhausted, and Hinata forgets her discomfort for a moment.
“How shall I help?” she asks.
Kakashi cracks an eye, then leans forward with both hands on the desk, pressed together. “Well, I don’t suspect you’re very good at cleaning out slime, are you, Hinata?” At her start, he waves a hand and laughs. “I’m joking. No, I need both of your help on the streets. Truthfully, this time of year is a pain. I’d like both of you to patrol the streets together and try to catch things before they become a nuisance.”
Just as Hinata expected. She’s happy, at least, that he’s not asking her to take extra shifts in the watchtowers or by the main gate. The cold would likely kill her. But it’s that together that stops her from immediately taking on the job. Together would mean to work with Sasuke, someone who doesn’t like her very much – someone who, at the moment, she’s not very fond of herself.
“I’ve already gotten a few pairs out there,” Kakashi continues, “but I suspect the two of you will be my most efficient team.”
Of course, they would be. A Hyuuga’s byakugan and an Uchiha’s power and reputation would make nearly any mission child’s play.
Too bad Hinata doesn’t want to work with said Uchiha.
“I’m really, very sorry, Lord Hokage,” Hinata starts with a bow, “but I have to refuse.”
Shizune looks blind-sighted, and even Kakashi is momentarily surprised. Hinata has never refused a mission before. No matter how dangerous or tedious or boring it could be, she’s always taken it on without hesitation. D-Ranks like chauffeuring crabby elders and fishing through mud for a missing item haven’t scared her away before, so why should this one? She sees Kakashi’s eyes flash to Sasuke, who has yet to move a muscle, and the Hokage must have an idea, for he doesn’t seem too angry with her.
“You’d help me quite a bit if you agreed,” he muses.
Hinata deepens her bow.
“I’m very sorry –” and when she finally stands, she turns directly to Sasuke and stares at his profile, at his unmoving gaze directed forward, “but I’m sure Sasuke can handle himself fine without me.”
She leaves after that. Adrenaline makes her feel restless and sick, so rather than return immediately home, she paces the village streets, sucking in as much cold air as her lungs can take and letting it sit there and cool her down from the inside.
Confrontation is not her forte. While she is no longer that little girl that cowers away from a slightly-raised voice, and while her long years of being a kunoichi has prepared her to handle most physically-aggressive situations, when it comes to more personal or intimate confrontations, Hinata would rather avoid them altogether. Most of the time, she keeps any negative feelings to herself until, with time, they fade – and they do fade. Hyuuga Hinata seldom holds a grudge.
Until now. Is grudge even the right word for it? Perhaps she is simply creating distance between her and Sasuke until she can calm down and look at the whole situation with a less skewed lens. Hinata feels far too close to her feelings to consider any of this a grudge; it all had, after all, been just last night when he had told her, under no uncertain terms, to leave. He had made it awfully clear he wanted nothing to do with her, and rather than leave himself, he had the audacity to tell her to leave – to embarrass her in front of everyone – and then to just ignore her in Shizune’s office –
No. This is not a grudge.
This is hurt feelings. This is a strange concoction of rage and shame that makes her feel dizzy and confused. This is stepping away before he can hurt her again – or, for that matter, before she snaps back at him.
Hinata does not realize how long she has been in the cold until she cannot feel her bare legs. Her jacket is thick and warm, familiar – but her lower body is unprotected from the chill. She will have to go home soon and sink into a warm bath. Hanabi will have a fit once she knows her elder sister has spent most of the morning walking around in nearly freezing temperatures. Snow clouds cloak the horizon, and she smells frost.
Yes. Home is a good idea. Neji will definitely sniff out her bad mood, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Turning a corner, Hinata comes across a growing crowd gathering in the middle of the street. She considers leaping to the rooftops, but upon closer inspection realizes that something isn’t right. Carefully, she meddles between people, and once she is through the thick of it, Hinata sees the issue.
A man – or, maybe, boy is a better term, for he hardly looks a day over eighteen – has somehow gotten his right leg stuck in a manhole. The cover is to the side, warped and bent. An old covering that probably should have been replaced five years ago. Hinata activates her byakugan as she kneels in front of the boy. His face is a dreadful white, but she’s more concerned with his leg. It doesn’t look broken, but he’s somehow got his ankle trapped between the ladder and the wall.
“You’re alright,” she tells him, smiling kindly. “I can help.”
The boy pushes his arms into the pavement, trying to haul himself up. When he can’t, he starts to shake. “I’m stuck!”
“Your foot is trapped in the ladder. Can you move it?” And when he does, Hinata breathes a quiet sigh of relief. He isn’t too injured or too shocked to not be able to move his leg at least. The crowd draws closer, and Hinata motions for them to step back and give her room. A few maybe step a few centimeters back, but most of them stay in place. A concern for later, she supposes. “Alright, good. Rotate your foot so the ball of your ankle is against the wall – yes, like that. Now, carefully, try to slide your ankle out.”
He does, but all strength seems to leave his body. He sort of slumps into a mess of shakes and trembles, both from the cold and the pain. Hinata catches him under his arms.
“It’s alright,” she whispers. “I’ll lift you out – let me just, um, get the right angle.”
She stands and comes behind him, and finally the crowd begins to fall back. She hears a whisper of a name, and just then does she feel an electric pressure on the backs of her ears.
Sasuke’s chakra. It has always been very distinct: static and smoke and the chemical reaction of something burning. It fries her stiff, frozen skin. He has to be close. Did he follow her? Hinata frowns, circles her arms around the boy’s torso, and begins to pull him out.
Another hand grabs under his left shoulder, helping her. Together, they lift him out with ease, and Hinata quickly gets under him to help him balance off of his injured leg.
“I’ve got you,” she says. “I can take you to the hospital.”
The crowd parts, allowing them a clear path to the hospital. Despite herself, Hinata looks around, but Uchiha Sasuke is nowhere in sight.
…
She is all but numb by the time she reaches home. She makes it to the bath without catching anyone’s attention, and she lets herself soak and breathe in the steam, and when her head leans against the porcelain back and her eyes finally close, she remembers that hand. The one that had helped her; the one that had accidentally brushed her own as it pulled away. She thinks about the night after the bar, the way her hands had engulfed Sasuke’s, the way he did not flinch away. Long fingers and a rough palm.
The same hand that had helped her.
Hinata sinks further into the nebulous bath water, and she reminds herself that she’s not happy with him right now. One good deed will not fix his errors.
Hold a grudge, she wills herself, for once in your life.
…
A night meant for relaxing and recharging suddenly becomes –
“Hey. Oi. Sweet thing, I do not remember seeing you here before.”
. . . This.
As it were, Ino and Sakura were livid. Understaffed hospitals and long, tedious missions can do that to just about anyone, and when Ino and Sakura are livid, they tend to go to karaoke joints exactly like this one. Cheap and, maybe, a little shady; nothing a trained shinobi can’t handle, of course. They book a room for two hours and scream into plastic mics until their vocal cords to shreds, and by the time their session is over, they tend to be refreshed and ready to take on the next day.
Hinata . . . is not exactly on the same wavelength as them.
Hinata likes quiet. Hinata likes familiar places where the usual patron isn’t the kind to just walk up to a girl in hopes of a little bit of late-night action. Turning away from the employee brewing up Sakura and Ino’s drinks, Hinata regards this fellow talking to her carefully. The cigarette between his lips reminds her of Shikamaru, and his sharp eyes have a small semblance to Kiba’s, but nothing else reminds her of her friends. He’s twiggish, but mean-looking, and his smirk makes her nervous.
Is she supposed to . . . ignore him? This sort of thing doesn’t happen often to her.
She hopes, for a moment, that Sakura or Ino will come out to look for her. Maybe one of them will realize those drinks are taking a little longer than expected and will help her out of this situation.
No such thing happens.
The man laughs at her wide stare, leaning into the bar with his arms crossed over his chest. “Quiet thing,” he muses. “That’s fine. I bet I can get you talkin’ by the end of the night. Maybe a few other things too.”
Her stomach coils. Yikes.
“I’m busy,” she says.
“Then another night.” He leans in closer, turns his head just so to blow smoke down the side of her face. “Or maybe you can ditch whoever’s keeping you and come with me instead.”
Not likely. Finally, the drinks she needs are pushed across the bar top to her. Hinata grabs them both and gives the man a weak smile.
“I’m so sorry.” Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that. Apologizing for nothing is a habit that she wishes would just die off by now because it is not helpful for circumstances like this. “I should get back.”
She only makes it one step before he grabs her arm, tugging her back. “Hey, wait.”
Alarms and fire and buzzing adrenaline slosh through her system, along with the burn of chakra to her palms. Jerking back, Hinata wonders what the best course of action is. Taking time to put away the drinks to free her hands could waste precious seconds – not that he’s much of a threat to her. Rather, Hinata simply wants to get away from this man as soon as possible. Dropping the drinks, of course, would cause its own kind of mess.
Either way, this man is about to experience his first ever Gentle Fist to the stomach.
“Hinata.”
A body is suddenly between her and the man, forcing that hand on her arm to retreat away or else get shoved into the side of the bar. She hears the man yelp, but then her attention rises to the placid face of Uchiha Sasuke. He looks down his nose at her. Not in a . . . judgmental way; rather, it’s the only way he can look at her when they are in such close proximity to one another. She can smell winter on his down coat.
“O . . . Oh,” she breathes out, a bubble of adrenaline deflating in her stomach.
“Sakura said she’d be here.” He pulls out something from his pocket. An ID; Sakura’s, in fact. “She left it at Naruto’s. Do you know where she is?”
“U-Um.” She can hardly understand what he’s saying. Fight or flight instincts are clouding her mind, preventing her from taking in anything else but potential danger. “Well . . . what was that? Sakura?”
Sasuke blinks, then turns slightly so that he can regard the man over the square of his shoulder. Electric chakra blasts into her face, so she stumbles back, coughs, shakes. With a quick jutsu, snakes emerge from beneath Sasuke’s sleeves, dropping onto the floor and curling around the man’s limbs. He screeches and tries to kick them away, but they trap his legs together and cause him to fall back onto the floor. His shoulder hits the floor at a weird angle, and Hinata hopes that something pops or breaks.
The other patrons stare warily at the poor bastard on the floor, coughing and grumbling. Not one of them comes to help; even the bartenders play unaware.
When Sasuke turns back to her, she sees his sharingan’s red glow die in his iris.
“Sakura,” he drones. “Do you know where she is?”
Right, Sakura. Her ID. Slowly, Hinata’s mind pieces things together, and with a fleeting glance at the man in a tangle of snakes, she leads him into the back. Their room is the third on the right, and when they enter, they see Sakura screaming a pop song into the mic as Ino cheers her on with a tamborine.
“Took you long enough!” Sakura shouts as they enter. “Not you, Hinata. Thanks for getting those. You, Sasuke, are the one who decided to drag your feet!”
Huffing, Sasuke shoves her ID into Sakura’s hands. “A thank you will suffice.”
“Oh my gosh, Hinata,” Ino says from the couch, “you’re shaking. Everything alright?”
A sting of tears that she will not let fall burns the undersides of her eyes. Hinata leans over and tries her best to steady her hands, fearing she will spill the drinks if she tries to put them on the low table. Right now, she’s too embarrassed to say anything. She’s a kunoichi, for fuck’s sake, and here she is – acting like a scared teenager because some man sorta, kinda grabbed her arm. A man she could very easily carry all the way to Hokage Rock and throw over the side if she so pleased. Hadn’t she faced wars and much more dangerous enemies?
Bitterness makes her frown. She feels Sasuke take the glasses, one at a time, from her hands to set them onto the table. The stab of relief from his help makes her almost weep.
“I’m okay,” she manages in a smooth tone, “just cold and a bit of a headache.”
Her eyes flash to Sasuke. Don’t say anything. Please.
He watches her, but only for a second, then mutters, “I’m leaving.”
Sakura puts a hand to her hip. “You won’t stay for even one song?”
“Busy.” He’s gone before she can even reply.
Sakura scoffs, returns the mic to its stand, and joins Ino on the sofa.
“If you’re feeling bad, you can go home.” Swirling her straw through her lemonade, Sakura takes a sip before smiling at Hinata. “Really. We can even cut it here and take you home!”
Home sounds awfully nice, but Hinata shakes her head. That man might still be out there, and she doesn’t want to face any questions Ino or Sakura might have if he says something to her.
“Maybe one or two more songs,” she insists with exaggerated cheer. “I want to hear you two do a duet before I go.”
Her acting must be convincing enough, for Ino and Sakura agree without push back. They scroll through a long list of songs until they find one that both of them like, and Hinata makes sure to tap her tambourine in rhythm to the song. Adrenaline drains from her body, leaving her empty, but she hopes that doesn’t show on her face.
…
Finally, she finds a good chance to leave, hugging both Ino and Sakura and thanking them for the invite. She gathers all her things and leaves into the cold night. Bars and restaurants and hotels cast artificial light onto the street, so Hinata follows the asphalt with ease. It’s not a desolate night, but only a handful of villagers cross the street, huddling from one building to another. Every now and then, Hinata checks behind her, then the tiny alleyways she passes. The man had not been in the lobby where she and Sasuke left him. Of course, that was a relief, but that did not entirely mean he was long gone.
A soft, pained noise comes from a shallow alley. Hinata jumps, turns her byakugan down the shadowy crack between two buildings, and falters. She sees a figure, and with the power of her dojutsu she can make out those familiar, awful features. It’s that man.
But before panic can grab her, she notices the discoloring around his eyes and the odd shape of his nose. She smells the blood, and she hears another groan. A broken nose. A rather intentional one, at that. Hinata has seen plenty of the sort to differentiate ones caused by a trip-and-fall and ones caused by a fist to the face. His was definitely from a fist.
Sasuke? she wonders. A silly wonder, she realizes. Why would he?
Probably some girl he decided to mess with after leaving the karaoke bar. Either way, Hinata feels a little satisfied. She would have liked it for her own fist to have broken the bastard’s nose, but karma sometimes takes matters into its own hands.
The cold and her headache become a painful mix that causes her to sit on a bench overlooking a quiet park. The buzz of the vending machines behind her creates a perfect white noise, but her headache begs for water. Just as she pulls out a wallet, a water bottle is held before her, and she does not have to look up to know who it is – but she does. Sasuke stands before her, cloaked in darkness and thick fabrics, and just a single glance at his split knuckles tells her that her suspicions had been correct.
Hinata holds the offered water in between her palms, a feathering smog of cloudy breath overtaking her eyes as she examines it, then Sasuke. Somehow, she can’t find a bone in her body that hates him, and her shoulders sag in exhaustion and defeat.
“I had promised myself,” she says, unscrewing the cap with a crack, “that I’d hold a grudge for at least a day.” The cool drink feels wonderful against her hot throat, and she can’t help but smile. “Maybe even two days if, um, I was feeling adventurous.”
He doesn’t laugh at her mild joke, though she wishes he would. Anything to break the following silence, to cut her off before she gets scared and says something silly again. Sasuke almost looks like a phantom. His dark attire blends him into the background, and he's so pale; a concerning pale.
Again, Hinata worries for his health, but she won't tug at his hand and rub heat into it this time. She's way too sober for such a thing.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he says after a while of both of their breaths melting before their eyes. “I don’t hate you.”
The glow of the vending machine casts a subtly green glow upon his features, making him look softer, less intimidating. Or maybe that’s her overwhelmed mind coming up with silly things.
She murmurs, “You told me to leave Naruto’s.”
“I did.”
“And . . . um, you keep jumping to worse case scenarios with me.” Hinata downs about half of the water before tightening the cap back on and letting it rest between her jumpy knees. “Like at the store.”
His eyes turn away, but he doesn’t deny that either.
“I’m confused,” she admits, finally.
Anyone would be. One minute, he ignores you; the next, he buys you a water for your headache. One minute, he wants you as far away from him as possible; the next, he gives the creep who wouldn’t leave you alone a broken nose in some alleyway. He’s the kind to trip you, then offer you a helping hand up, and Hinata isn’t sure what to do with that. She can take nice, and she can take mean, but it gets complicated when it’s both at the same time.
“I’m not very –” Sasuke stops himself there, as if second-guessing what he was about to say. She watches his dark eyes narrow and his frown deepen into something closer to a scowl, and she fascinates herself with this look of his because she’s never seen something quite like it. Pinched annoyance, but at himself rather than at her. A spark of amusement warms up her knuckles when, at last, he says, “social.”
Well, anyone would know that much. Still, she thinks she understands what he means. Unsociable in the sense that, perhaps, the things he says don’t come out quite the way he means them to. His words are harsher than the actual meaning behind them.
“If you do not hate me, then why did you tell me to leave?”
The quiet that follows does not feel dismissive. Sasuke isn’t ignoring her, she thinks. Nothing about his face reveals a single thought going through his mind, but something about the situation, the lack of hostility flowing from him, makes her think that he’s just . . . thinking. Considering what to say — perhaps to avoid the cutting words that he is so used to saying without consequence.
Finally, he says, “I did not know how else to say it.”
Say what? Hinata holds that question back. She is only just now starting to get an understanding of Sasuke; she does not want to push too much and ruin this small amount of progress.
So, instead she says, “I’m — um, I also struggle with my words.” Her face heats up immediately. An obvious, redundant statement. Everyone in Konoha knows about her trouble with words. Everyone. Even the last Uchiha. “A-And I’m not very sociable either.”
He murmurs, “I don’t believe it.”
“You think I’m lying?”
His teeth grit, and Hinata catches on. It happened again. He said something that implied something he didn’t mean.
“I think you’re sociable," he says at last.
An intense glee makes her temporarily immune to the cold breeze pushing against her. Somehow, that is the best thing anyone has ever said to her. She feels kiddish, but she doesn’t mind.
“You broke his nose,” she says. “That man.”
Sasuke’s blank face reveals nothing. “Who knows.”
“Thank . . . um . . . thank you.”
"I never said I did it." But when her eyes drift down to his hand, to those scratched up knuckles that are still red from impact, Sasuke releases a defeated exhale. "It would have been nice to snap his neck."
A surprised sound hiccups from her throat. "Oh – you shouldn't!"
"Joking," Sasuke drones, and then, sorta, smiles. It's a faint lift of his mouth, and it isn't very bright or warm, but it relaxes his features some.
It takes her heart – for only a brief moment. It looks so alien on the usually untouched canvas of his face, but at the same time, it looks nice on him. Like it should be there. Konoha rumor says that if Uchiha Sasuke ever smiles at you, you'll be slaughtered in the night, but Hinata is not afraid at all.
In fact, she wants him to smile more. At her. With her, maybe.
Her tepid grudge, by now, is long forgotten.
Another chill goes through them, and this time, Hinata shivers. Sasuke puts himself in front of her, his back blocking the icy wind and his down coat kissing the edges of her knees. A strong sense of ease washes over her in that instance, and Hinata stares at him, warming up and turning pink. It feels like stars are stuck in her eyes.
Sasuke shifts and glares at the vending machine. “Don’t look at me like that.”
A flash of shame is quickly overwhelmed with glee. See? She’s already learning. “Is that the truth,” she asks, “or is your unsociable half talking?”
Now that glare drops onto her, though it’s not very threatening.
Hinata laughs, and Sasuke huddles a tad closer to encapsulate her arms in his cover as well.
“Thank you,” she says.
And when he refuses to meet her eye, she feels her heart soften — just a tad.
Indeed, Hyuuga Hinata cannot hold a grudge for very long.
Summary: It's no secret that, sometimes, Hyuuga Hinata gets a little tongue-tied. Despite her best efforts, it's a bad habit that she simply must live with. As it turns out, Uchiha Sasuke sometimes finds himself at a lost for words himself -- but only around a certain someone.
It’s the first of January when Naruto invites her to a semi-late New Year’s celebration at his place. He catches her between Hokage Tower and home, hardly bundled up, ears pink and hands looking on the verge of frostbitten. He doesn’t even have a scarf, and Hinata thinks he’s taking advantage of his streak of good health. It’s not common for Naruto to get sick, even if (sometimes) Konoha wants him to. Many of the villagers adore him, but even his most loyal fans can admit that he could use an off-day or two, and everyone knows that Naruto only takes an off-day when he’s too sick to leave his bed. But the flu can strike down even Konoha’s most powerful shinobi, and Hinata contemplates telling him such.
Would he mind? She might come off as nagging . . . which might make her come off like his girlfriend or his mother. Right now, Hinata would rather avoid both interpretations.
He tells her, in his normal, boyish voice, that he’s hosting a small get-together at his place since he wasn’t really able to celebrate the New Year due to a mission. Nothing like her birthday, just a handful of friends and some snacks and maybe a movie.
“And beer,” he tells her, grinning, “so you can get better at drinking.”
Her blush makes him cackle, and he tells her the time and hopes she can make it. He leaves her a bit startled and a bit breathless, and her walk home is contemplative. She’s never been invited to his home before. They have always been friends, even when she used to wish for something more than that, but something like stopping by his place has always been a figment of her imagination.
When she gets home, she finds Hanabi and Neji in the dojo, and after a look at her face they know something has come up. She has on her ‘Naruto expression’, as her sister puts it. Hinata still is not sure how it is different from any other expression she has.
“He’s invited me,” she tells them, “to his apartment this evening.”
Hanabi squeaks, and Neji frowns.
“Alone?” he asks.
Hinata shakes her head, “Oh, no! No, of course not.”
“Boo,” Hanabi grumbles, then smiles at her sister. “Oh well. I’m sure you’re happy about it.”
Hinata supposes she ought to be. A childhood dream is finally coming to life. But why now? If it’s because he’s, at last, developing some kind of romantic interest in her, does she want that? Just as her feelings for him have begun to fade, does she want to return to that Hinata? Not that it was a bad Hinata – the one who gave all her heart to Uzumaki Naruto. But she is twenty, and she has matured, and she is trying to stray away from those more awkward parts of her: the stutter, the fainting, the obnoxious blushing. The awkward parts that Naruto used to bring out of her.
But, probably, she’s overthinking things. It could very well be a simple, friendly invite.
Probably.
…
By eight, she’s at that door. It’s nothing special, nor does she suspect it to be a trap of any sort, but Hinata finds herself hesitating. It’s a party. He said others would be coming. It’s not just the two of them, and even if it was, nothing would happen. Naruto is being friendly, and this worry building up inside of her is misplaced. So she should just knock.
Just . . .
A hand grabs the knob, twisting it. A hand she recognizes. A hand that took her two days to forget the feel of. Sasuke, once more, has appeared out of nowhere behind her, quiet and tall, looming just slightly over her.
“He keeps it unlocked,” he mutters, opening the door.
Hinata gapes, then looks up at him. “O-Oh! Hello, Sasuke. I didn’t know you were also invited.”
A wave of heated air mists over them. Sasuke pushes the door open, then stands straight and frowns. “Are you planning to stay out here all night?”
“Oh!” Shivering, Hinata steps inside, flustered and a little embarrassed. How long had he been there, watching her stand like an idiot in front of Naruto’s door? Did he see how nervous she was? “I’m sorry – um – I –”
“There you are.” A different, warm hand grabs her arm, spinning her around to face Naruto. Hinata’s heart leaps, surprised, though it’s silly to be. It’s his apartment. He invited her. Of course he’s here. “Come on, get warm. Sit wherever you want. I can take your coat – oi, Sasuke, you’re late!”
“I’m exactly on time,” is all Sasuke says before he disappears into the kitchen.
Naruto takes Hinata’s coat and scarf, hanging it in the entrance closet before he follows Sasuke. She sees Sakura and Sai huddled by a low table in the living room, warming their hands with cups of ramen. Sakura waves her over and offers her a cup, and they vaguely watch the TV show playing while they catch up. The hospital has been busy, and the Hyuuga still plan for Hinata to take on her birthright role within the next few years. Along with training and missions and the chaos that always comes with this time of year, it’s been busy in Konoha.
At some point, Naruto and Sasuke join them with bowls of chips and edamame. Naruto is split between laughing at the show and telling stories about his latest missions and such. He at least has the mind to wear a sweater, and everything about him seems warm to Hinata.
He catches her eye, grins, then suddenly stands. “Right! Beer. Poor Hinata. I bet you’ve been waiting all night, haven’t you?”
When he passes by, he rustles his hand through her hair, and Hinata feels that familiar heat touch her face and the back of her neck.
Sakura takes a drink of water, then blinks. “Beer, Hinata? Have you started liking it?”
“O-Oh, no, um . . . .”
From the kitchen, Naruto calls, “She begged me to bring some tonight. Said she wouldn’t come otherwise.”
“Th-That’s not true!”
She hears him laugh and realizes he’s teasing her. Is that normal? Maybe it’s friendly teasing with not much else behind it. Either way, Hinata feels hot, and she wonders if she can hide away in the bathroom for a moment without concerning anyone. Just a small break – a minute alone to reassess and find her grounding. That’s all she needs.
“Uh oh.” Naruto returns from the kitchen, and instead of sitting back with the group, he opens the closet once more. “Looks like I forgot to actually buy the beer.”
Sakura sighs, and Sai says he’s reminded him a few times. Hinata, however, sees her chance, and she quickly comes to Naruto’s side, reaches past him, and grabs her coat from the closet.
“Let me,” she insists.
Naruto watches her pull on her coat, wide-eyed. “Eh? No, Hinata, that’s okay.”
“Really,” she says. “I need a little fresh air. I won’t be long.”
She checks her pockets for her ID and wallet, nods to herself, and opens the door before any more protests can come from anyone. After a while in the warm apartment, the air outside shocks her system, and she feels every hair on her arms stand. Indeed, she will have to hurry before she freezes alive. Hinata tugs on the handle to shut the door, but something stops it before it closes all the way.
Sasuke. He opens it fully once more, down coat already on, and steps on the welcoming mat before closing the door behind him. A snake of fog leaves his mouth, and he starts towards the nearest convenience store.
Maybe . . . he also needs some fresh air.
Once again, Hinata finds herself completely baffled by him.
…
The beer is easy to find, and Hinata makes sure to get two cases – just in case. Then, she meanders down the aisles, looking for nothing in particular. She had wanted a moment to clear her head, but now she’s wondering about Sasuke. Is this becoming a pattern? First, he walks her home, and now he’s accompanying her to get beer. The walk after the bar could be construed as gentlemanly, but this would be a bit of a stretch. Perhaps he’s trying to be nice? She wouldn’t know. Hinata doesn’t really know anything about him, especially not what’s going on in that head of his.
Unconsciously, she stops in front of a section of dried seaweed snacks that her sister likes the most. She reaches out the pluck one from the shelf, but just then, she feels Sasuke's presence suddenly right next to her and panics. Her hand knocks into a few bags, but before they can fall, Sasuke leans over her and grabs them.
The wheeze that escapes her is full of thrill and nerves. The back of her neck burns alive with shame.
"Sorry —" Hinata twists slightly to stare at him. His eyes are so dark that they could swallow her whole. "Thank — oh dear, I'm so sorry. I was just, u-um, startled."
Not what she meant to say. She doesn't want to give the impression she's scared of him. Nervous and slightly puzzled, sure, but not scared.
The packs of beer hanging from her hands start to bite into her fingers. Hinata adjusts, and then blushes some more when Sasuke's gaze slides down to them.
"It's . . . It's . . ." Hinata bites her tongue, praying for anything to say; anything that isn't stupid, that will make him realize just how much of a pest she is. She can't ask why he has come. Absolutely not. So, awkwardly, she says, "It's good to see you again."
. . . Again, probably not the best thing to say. Not because she doesn't mean it — but if she had given the impression at the bar that she had a thing for him, then this is really selling it.
Sasuke's expression turns dark. Not angry, but severe. It makes Hinata's heart drop right into her gut. "Sure," he mutters, pulls away from the shelves, and wanders away from the aisle they're in.
Hinata's shoulders wilt. Really, she should just learn to keep her mouth shut. It's not like anything good ever comes out.
She lingers along the shelves a little more, collecting herself, before the bite from the cases get too much and she goes to pay.
At the register, the cashier scans in her packs and overlooks her ID as she digs through her wallet. A few bills of yen, however, drop onto the counter before she can get the right amount, and Sasuke balances both packs on one arm and makes his way to the automatic door. Hinata and the cashier meet eyes. He wonders if she’s just been robbed, and she shakes her head.
“A friend,” she tells him, though she’s unsure if that’s true. “U-Um, I’ll take the change. Thank you.”
Afterwards, she hurries after Sasuke. That, too, seems to be a pattern. She keeps going after him. Why is that?
“Here,” she says as she reaches his side, “the change.”
Sasuke trudges on. She doesn’t quite understand. Sometimes, he talks; other times, he doesn’t. How can she tell when he's in a more talkative mood?
“Thank you,” she continues. “You didn’t have to – I mean, um, I was okay with paying. But—”
Sasuke stares down at her, halting just a moment.
“Do you think,” he drones, “I can’t afford something as cheap as beer?”
Hinata squeezes the yen coins into her palm, horrified. Is that how she’s coming off? Maybe her tone is all wrong, or her posture. Her shoulders tense up, and even Sasuke looks slightly taken aback.
“No,” she whispers, “I . . . .”
She doesn’t know what else to say. The cold is seeping into her stomach. Sasuke continues down the road, and once again, Hinata follows, feeling miserable.
…
He probably hates her. She’s not exactly sure what she could have done to make him hate her, but she’s sure he does. It’s also possible that their personalities simply don’t mesh. Maybe they simply don’t click, and she hasn’t exactly done anything to make him so . . . standoffish. That’s probably it. Hyuuga Hinata isn’t the kind, after all, to be chummy with the likes of Uchiha Sasuke.
But then why the strange acts of chivalry? Why come to her birthday celebration? If he hated her, wouldn’t it be best if he simply avoided her?
“Need me to crack that for you, Hinata?”
Naruto sits next to her on the floor as Sai and Sakura look through rented DVDs for a movie to watch. He’s already through his first can and notices that she hasn’t even touched hers. His grin is gentle and a little lopsided, which catches her a bit off guard.
“O-Oh.” He takes the can from her before she can say anything else. With his index, he cracks the can open, and the beer fizzes and pops as he hands it back to her. “Thank you.”
He puts a hand on his bicep, as if he’s strong enough to open a thousand cans in one day if she asks him to. He probably could, and Hinata laughs. To the side, Sakura muses that all the movies Sai has picked are horror. Not a very good choice for a New Year’s party, she thinks, but Naruto looks pretty excited as he leans over to give the choices a gander. After a minute of debate, they finally decide on an old slasher that came out when they were still in the Academy. Sai plops it into the DVDs player, and Sakura wraps herself in a swath of blankets, rolling her eyes in mild defeat.
Naruto turns off the lights so that only the screen of the TV shines through the room. When he returns to the floor, he seems to be sitting closer to her. Or maybe Hinata’s just imagining things.
“You like these kinds of movies?” he asks.
Hinata thinks her choice in movies is rather girly: dramas or romances. Sometimes, Hanabi will get her to sit down and watch something a bit more daunting or frightening, and while Hinata never found herself scared to the bone, she usually finds herself drawn back to her usual genres.
“I don’t watch them much,” she admits.
Naruto grins. “Scared?”
And because she feels like it’s the right thing to say, she says, “Maybe a bit.”
His eyes flash past her for a moment, and that grin turns sly as he leans a bit closer.
“Don’t worry,” he assures her, “I’ll keep you safe.”
Her lungs feel on the brink of popping. Before Hinata can turn into a boiling puddle of ooze, however, she sees a flash of darkness and bends her head back to see Sasuke looming over her. This time, her lungs shrink and tighten, and her pulse stutters in alarm against her throat. How is he everywhere and nowhere at the same time?
Sasuke has a rather obvious expression; a first for Hinata. He looks absolutely repulsed.
“Revolting,” he mutters, kicks Naruto back, and sits between the two of them.
“Oi!” Naruto shouts.
With the edge of his thumb, Sasuke cracks open his can, and he gulps down the entire thing before the movie even starts.
…
It’s . . . not a bad movie. A bit cliché, though most of the movies that came out around that time are, but not bad. And it had a semi-happy ending, which Hinata appreciates. Life as a shinobi is depressing enough, so the least her movies can do is end with a little bit of hope. Sai gets up to flick on the lights as Sakura slowly removes herself from her cocoon of blankets. Naruto, surprisingly, looks a bit pale in the face, which he tries to hide with a grin as he looks past Sasuke at Hinata.
“Didja like it?”
Hinata finishes her third can and nods. “It was nice.”
He laughs and rests an elbow on the table. “You’ve got that tipsy flush,” he says. “It’s cute.”
Hinata swallows and buzzes, but before she can make a fool of herself, Sasuke slams down his fifth (or maybe sixth – she wasn’t really counting) can before turning to her.
“Shouldn’t you,” he mutters, “be leaving now?”
Everything freezes, cracks. Her stomach folds into herself, and Hinata wants to wither away. For some reason, shame is the first to hit her. She’s not sure why. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She just came to a party. She went out to get beer, and she watched a movie with her friends. That’s all. What is there to be ashamed about?
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to come. Naruto is complicated, and Sasuke is making everything strange and tense. Hinata tries to smile, and then she stands and starts putting on her coat.
“Sasuke,” Sakura hisses.
“Hinata,” Naruto begs. She whispers a ‘good night’ and hurries into the night. This time, the door shuts behind her with no hand blocking its way. Sasuke doesn’t follow her, and she makes her way home shaking – a little hurt – a little embarrassed – a little peeved.
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