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“And you’re sure you don’t mind?” Naruto’s voice crackles through the speakers of Sasuke’s four year old iphone. He pauses to pull the phone away from his ear and hit it against the counter once or twice, paying no attention to the horrifically cracked screen. The speakers are miraculously more clear after hitting the phone. "I really wish I wasn't working so late..."
Sasuke moves to hold the cellphone between his shoulder and chin so that he can return to folding the massive pile of laundry on his bed. The pile had gotten bigger and bigger throughout the week and the chair in his bedroom, lovingly deemed the Laundry Chair, was beginning to take the shape of a small mountain. He winces at all the wrinkles in the pile on the bed and decides that he can't be expected to iron all of these clothes and that'll he'll just be better next time. Maybe. “Yeah, sure. It really isn’t a big deal at all.”
“Alright, well I’ll meet you all there as soon as I can get there. Don’t let Boruto leave the house unless he’s got socks on! His feet should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction.”
“Roger that.” Sasuke hums before dropping the phone to the bed once Naruto hangs up. He goes through a mental checklist in his brain of everything that Sarada and Boruto need to have for the performance their kindergarten was putting on that evening of The Nutcracker. Boruto, unsurprisingly with his boisterous personality and endless energy, was playing a rat. Sarada was going to be a candy cane.
“But I don’t want to be a candy cane! I want to be a rat like Boruto!” Sarada had sobbed after breaking the news to him, face puffy and red with tears. Her teacher had empathized with her plight, but had ultimately determined that Sarada was much too tall to play a rat like the smaller boys in her class. Instead, she was relegated to the back of the stage in a horrible costume Sasuke had pieced together with hot glue and old oatmeal boxes.
Sasuke had winced in sympathy, recalling his own ill-fated career as a tree when he was in the first grade. He didn’t want his child to be traumatized, but all of the members of their class were meant to be participating in the show and, well, someone had to be a candy cane. Besides, a little trauma might be good for her. “It’s a very important role, Sarada.” Sasuke had informed her with a serious tone. “It can’t exactly call itself The Nutcracker if there aren’t any candy canes, right?” He wasn't really sure what candy canes really had to do with The Nutcracker, only having a fuzzy memory of the story, but he couldn't let Sarada know that.
Sarada had nodded tearfully, wiping her face with the back of her hand and doing little more than spreading her tears and snot around. Sasuke used the corner of his t-shirt to wipe her face clean, patting her on the back, and mourning how he never seems to be in possession of a tissue when Sarada gets snotty. “You’re going to have so much fun, just wait and see.”
In truth, Sasuke could not imagine anything worse than spending an hour and a half on stage standing exceptionally still inside the monsterous candy cane structure he had built, but he wasn’t about to tell Sarada that. Eventually, Sarada would come to accept—like Sasuke had—that being the center of attention just wasn’t for them. He almost apologizes for having cursed her with a lanky, tall frame and a fear of the general public.
With Naruto having to work overtime, Sasuke was responsible for picking Boruto and Sarada up from the bus stop, making sure they had a snack, and piling them all into the car to return back to the school after a few hours. Easy.
Sasuke should have anticipated that like most things in his life, what was supposed to be easy usually wasn’t. Once he had walked over the bus stop after hurriedly shoving his feet into his beat up crocs and snatching up his wallet, he only had to wait a moment or two before the beat up school bus puttered to a stop before him.
He could hear the yelling as soon as the door opened.
“Ninja aren’t even real!” He could hear Sarada yelling in that holier-than-thou voice that is equal parts Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno.
“You don’t know that!” Boruto shrieked, hurrying down the steps to exit the bus, face bright red with his anger.
“Papa says so!” Sarada sniffs arrogantly, stepping down with all the dignity of a queen, arms crossed over her chest and bright pink bow in her hair slightly askew.
“Okay, knock it off you gremlins. We need to hurry back so that we can get you guys ready for tonight.” Sasuke takes both of their little hands and starts tugging them back towards the apartment complex as soon as he can get them to stop glaring at each other, running through a mental list of everything that he needs to make sure they have before leaving.
“Papa, can you put glitter in my hair for tonight?” Sarada asks, jumping over a crack on the sidewalk, sending her ponytail flying.
Sasuke nods absentmindedly, pausing in his mental relay to agree. Boruto takes immediate offense to that, tugging urgently on Sasuke’s hand. “But I want glitter in my hair! That’s not fair!”
“You do not! You’re just being a meanie!” Sarada cries, tugging forward roughly at Sasuke’s arm so that she can rush precisely one step ahead of Boruto.
“No one is even going to see you!” Boruto yells, eyes tearing up the way they do when he’s mad. He tugs at Sasuke’s other arm to try and match paces with Sarada.
Sasuke yanks them both back to his side, dreading the soreness he’ll most definitely have in his shoulders the next day. “You both can have glitter in your hair. Now stop fighting!”
The rest of their short journey to the apartment is punctuated with tense silence, broken only when they both agree without speaking to press every button in the elevator despite Sasuke’s rebukes. Good luck to anyone trying to use the elevator for the next few minutes, he supposes, after accepting that rationalizing with the two children is impossible.
When they’re standing in front of the door, finally, Sasuke breathes a sigh of relief. Soon, he can park them both in front of the television and numb their minds while he scrambles to find matching socks, tiny black trousers, and the candy cane costume he had only finished the night before at approximately two in the morning.
Except.
Except.
When he digs in his pocket for the keys, he finds: his wallet, his cellphone, a piece of gum, a pink hair tie, and shockingly a small cache of glitter. But no keys. Not even a single trace of a key. He pats himself down in a panic, searching for the keys in every possible place—the inside of his crocs, his underwear, his hair. There are no keys.
“Oh for fucks sake…” Sasuke moans, dragging heavy hands through his hair and down his face. He wants to sink into the floor and disappear forever. This cannot be happening. They absolutely do not have time for this. Maybe, if he turns around and comes back it'll hard reset his life and he will miraculously find the keys in his pocket where they should be.
“Papa, that’s a bad word…” Sarada stage-whispers, interrupting Sasuke’s immediate mental spiral in the way only a six year old can.
“It’s okay just this once, Sarada.” Sasuke replies, only slightly hysterically, which is a herculean show of restraint on his part. He can feel sweat beginning to dot his forehead in nervousness. He should really remember to ask Itachi about the sweating thing.
“Are we locked out?” Boruto asks, his lip trembling a bit.
Sarada’s eyes go wide, and she starts tugging insistently on Sasuke’s arm. He is begging them to stop using his appendages as punctuation. “We are?”
“Everything's fine! I’m just going to make a phone call and then we can—” Sasuke begins soothingly, already doing mental gymnastics to figure out who he can even call. His landlord is unlikely to answer, asshole that he is, and the locksmith definitely won’t show up in time. If the kids miss their performance, Naruto will never forgive him. He wants to bang his head against the wall so hard that he develops retrograde amnesia and can promptly delete this event from his memory.
Except he can’t, because he’s locked out of his apartment with two six year olds. And they’re currently freaking out.
“We don't have a house anymore!” Boruto sobs, eyes welling up with tears that spill over at an alarming speed.
“What about my toys?” Sarada cries, panicked eyes darting from Sasuke to the door and back.
In the chaos of their crying, he holds his hands over his mouth and screams just a little. When he's done, and he more or less accepts that there is nothing else he can do, Sasuke sighs and braces himself, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing Naruto’s number. It rings for approximately three seconds before he hears Naruto pick up.
“Hey, what’s up? Is something wrong?" Naruto’s concerned voice bleeds through. Naruto’s voice must do something to Sasuke because it triggers an immediate release of all the tension in his shoulders and sends tears flooding his eyes. He sniffs once, in a very dignified manner, before answering.
“I may or may not have left my keys inside when I picked up the kids and locked us out.” Sasuke offers, his voice only cracking once.
“Oh shit, really?” Naruto responds.
“Yes, really.” Sasuke definitely does not whine. “I don’t know what to do. The kids think we don't have a house and won’t stop crying and everything is going to shit.”
“It’s going to be okay. Just take a deep breath.” Naruto soothes. “You know the toad outside my front door? The ceramic one?"
Sasuke glances down the hallway, ignores the two six year olds still absolutely losing their minds over the perceived threat to their toys, and spots the enormous, ugly toad watching him from Naruto’s front door. He wipes one of his sweaty palms on his jeans to dry it, not breaking eye contact with the toad. “Yeah, I see it.”
“I have a spare key in there. It’s a Hide a Key. It's pretty kick ass right?” Naruto sounds way too relaxed for the seriousness of the situation. He’s probably sitting calmly at his desk, not a single hair out of place, while Sasuke is slowly falling apart with their six year olds. Asshole. And also, the toad is creepy. He tells him as much.
“A spare key to your place? What about Sarada’s candy cane?” Sasuke asks hopelessly, nervously picking at a stray thread on his jeans.
“I can call old man Hiruzen right now. He likes me, so I’m sure he’ll do me the favor.” Naruto assures.
Of course Naruto has a personal relationship with their crotchety old landlord. Sasuke has rarely seen the man, often slipping the envelope with his rent in it into the sturdy wooden box Hiruzen has drilled into the wall beside the leasing office. His every interaction with the man has been distinctly unpleasant and the back burner of Sasuke’s stove has been broken for four months with every call to him going unanswered. The old man has Jedi levels of evasion.
“Okay…” Sasuke sighs shakily. He can feel his shoulders slumping with relief. He hopes that the other neighbors can’t hear the way he’s let their children sob uncontrollably for the last ten minutes. Or maybe they already know it’s him and they’re whispering about how negligent he is and how he can’t even get his daughter’s shitty candy cane costume together because he’s just that horrible—
“Hey, stop spiraling. I can practically hear it from here.” Naruto interrupts sharply.
“Fuck, okay. Got it. Ceramic toad. Hiruzen. Okay.” Sasuke responds, jolted out of what was certainly going to be a panic attack, clearing his throat and wiping at his teary eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He remembers that he had wiped Sarada's snotty nose with that same sleeve just moments ago and cringes when his face comes into contact with the wet spot on his sleeve. Gross.
“I’ll see you soon.” Naruto calls softly.
“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.” Sasuke whispers, wiping roughly at his eyes with his other sleeve after moving the phone to his other hand. Once he ends the call, he lets out one, very short yell (not into his hands; let the hear. He doesn't even like his neighbors) in frustration that jolts Sarada and Boruto both out of his theatrics.
He slowly starts to make his way towards Naruto’s door and the toad who watches his every movement with its slightly crooked eyes. The children follow him quietly, watching him upturn the toad and pull a key from its insides with two fingers, wanting to touch the thing as little as possible.
Sasuke holds the key like it’s made of glass, delicately opening Naruto’s front door with it and ushering the children inside before closing the door and placing the key on the hook next to the door in a hurry, like the door was going to magically slam shut in their faces. Naruto can put it back in the toad on his own.
At this point, Sasuke has been in Naruto’s apartment many times. Has had dinner here, has watched movies here, has slept here, has even been bent over that fancy leather sectional, a night he remembers fondly. And yet still, every time he enters this apartment, he can’t help but to immediately be pissed.
It’s all just so orderly and perfect like something out of a magazine. A soft genuine leather sectional in a perfectly clean living room, a coffee table that is a sleek black equipped with tasteful coffee table books that he is positive Naruto has never even read, a tidy kitchen with an espresso machine and a table that doesn’t wobble whenever the wind blows in the wrong direction. It makes Sasuke’s thrift store furniture and shitty coffee table covered in cup rings and nail polish stains look like a slovenly hovel. Naruto insists that he loves Sasuke’s mismatched couch pillows and wobbly kitchen table—says it reminds him of the house he grew up in and that he really shouldn’t have given Hinata so much free reign to decorate because it doesn't have any personality. Sasuke thinks he’s full of shit.
Sarada and Boruto dump their backpacks on the floor and race to Boruto’s bedroom with no instruction necessary which Sasuke is thankful for. It’ll give him a moment or two to breathe while he digs around in Naruto’s cupboards for something the children can eat before he needs to get them ready. He’s praying Naruto has glitter he can put in their hair.
He moves to Naruto’s immaculate kitchen and pulls open the cupboard that he knows houses all of Naruto’s free-range, organic, gluten free or whatever the hell snacks that he feeds his kid. Sasuke isn’t sure that there is anything in there that Sarada will like, but thankfully she isn’t a picky eater. Boruto, on the other hand…
“I don’t want it!” Boruto cries, waving his plastic sword at the plate of nuts and sliced apples. “I want oreos!” He had never even had oreos until he shared some with Sarada a week ago, and now it's all he wants to eat.
Every once in a while, Sasuke becomes so stressed that he gets muscle spasms that send his eye twitching uncontrollably unless he holds his eyes wide open with all his strength. Itachi used to say that it made him look like a fucked up Minion sans the overalls. Sasuke thinks Itachi is an asshole. Boruto flinches back when he meets Sasuke’s extremely wide, twitchy eyes, and he takes the plate with little fuss immediately after.
“Yay, apples!” Sarada cheers, dropping her sword on the floor with little care for it in order to snatch up a slice of apple, used to the creepy way Sasuke’s eyes got sometimes and not paying it any attention.
Sasuke sighs in relief and quickly turns to the dresser in the room, rubbing at his eyes and begging them to stop twitching while he picks his way through Boruto’s clothes, searching for his pants, button up shirt, and socks. Once he's located all of the items, he slumps over on Boruto's tiny bed, watching the children beat the hell out of each other with plastic swords in between eating apple slices. He's so drained from having potentially ruined Sarada and Boruto's performance that he doesn't stop them; as long as no one is crying, it should be fine. He pulls his phone out of his pocket as soon as it vibrates indicating that he has a text message.
Naruto 🤡: Hiruzen just left your door unlocked! 🎉
Sasuke types out a quick thanks 🙃 before snapping the dresser closed and turning to the children. “Okay kids, our door is unlocked. Time to go put glitter in your hair.”
The children cheer happily and run to the front door, nearly knocking the now empty plate over before Sasuke grapples for it and saves it from shattering on the floor. Of course, his sudden leap into action causes his foot to slip on the wooden floors he is sure Naruto regularly polishes and sends his knee slamming into the floor.
He yells out in pain and grabs his knee uselessly, eyes tearing up as lightning bolts of agony shoot up his leg. He positively wilts to the floor like a sad, droopy plant. Can literally nothing ever go right for him? A moment later, Sarada pokes her head back into the room.
“Papa?” She asks, wide eyes watching him where he is still curled up on the floor around his knee. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally fine!” Sasuke wheezes, doing his best to put on a comforting tone despite the throbbing radiating throughout his leg. He will definitely pay for that tomorrow.
She nods, still staring at him with suspicion as he stands shakily, shaking his leg out, and taking her hand in his and the empty plate in his free hand, pretending that his every step isn't agony. After turning all the light off, placing the plate in the dishwasher, and making sure to lock the door behind them, he walks the two children over to his apartment and sighs in relief when the doorknob turns without issue.
Once they’re inside, Sasuke flies into a flurry of panic, helping Boruto into his outfit before turning to Sarada to help her get her candy cane dress on. The other candy cane children likely will have much more simple costumes, but Sasuke’s kid was going to be the best candy cane there, damn it. He had spent many sleepless nights hot gluing rhinestones and white stripes made of felt to the red dress he had managed to unearth at the thrift store. With white faux fur trim at the bottom of the skirt and a bejeweled set of long sleeves, Sarada looked breathtaking.
Once he has her in the dress, be pauses for a moment or two to take in the sight of her, throat thick with pride. “You look beautiful, Sarada.” He blubbers.
She raises her eyebrow in the disdainful way that she could have only gotten from Sakura. “Papa, you’re being embarrassing.”
Sasuke clears his throat and laughs. “You’re right, Sarada. Now, who wants glitter in their hair?”
Both children shriek enthusiastically, raising their hands and waving them frantically in the air chanting: Me! Me! Me!
The glitter is an absolute nightmare with both children refusing to stand still. By the end of it, they each have spilled more glitter on the floor than on their hair. He eventually gets them to stop throwing fistfuls of it at each other, the mess of it on the bathroom floor making him want to bang his head against a wall. That was going to be an absolute nightmare to clean up. He’ll be dragging glitter from the bathroom to the rest of the apartment on the bottoms of his feet for months. He doesn't have time to clean it up so he decides to leave the mess, sending a quick sorry to his future self.
With a final spin, showing off his rat ears and glittery hair, Boruto deems himself ready for the evening, telling Sasuke as much. “Let’s go, let’s go!”
Sasuke rushes through pulling his own clothes on, buttoning his collared shirt and tucking it into his black slacks in a hurry. He spares a glimpse of himself in the mirror and groans at the massive dark circles under his eyes and pale skin that overall give him the appearance of a corpse. He runs his fingers through his hair in an attempt to wrangle it into some kind of respectable order only to forget that his hands still have glitter residue on them. The end result is that his hair is slightly more acceptable than it was before, but has bright red glitter interspersed throughout it.
They’re already running late, so Sasuke has no time to wash his hair. He’ll just have to accept looking like one of Sarada’s art projects for the evening. He calls for the children to grab their things, carefully plucks his keys from the bowl next to the front door, and grabs the candy cane costume he had just managed to finish paper macheing, carrying it like it would shatter at any minute, which very well may be true.
Certainly, it wouldn’t win any awards, but the only vaguely lumpy, paper mache candy cane is respectable enough for the kindergarten performance. He had built the candy cane using old oatmeal boxes and had only considered that he probably shouldn't have layered the inside so that there are thirty copies of the jolly old man on the box staring at whoever wears it. He only hopes that Sarada isn’t scared of them.
The drive to the school goes, thankfully, without a hitch. The ancient engine in his Toyota Corolla starts after only a second try, and he miraculously has both enough gas in his car—Naruto must have filled it for him—and both booster seats in the backseat which Naruto must have placed there before heading to work. He says a quick thank you to whatever divine intervention had led him to giving Naruto the spare key to his car.
By the time they make it to the school, the parking lot is packed with cars and the classroom is entirely overrun by small children dressed as rats and sugar plum fairies and candy canes. When they enter the classroom so that he can drop the two children off and find his way to the auditorium, all of the children stop what they’re doing to turn their attention to him. It’s a bit terrifying, all things considered. He carefully places the candy cane costume against the wall and nods at the teacher who is gallantly attempting to stop a tiny child from climbing the curtains in the window.
“Alright you two,” Sasuke kneels before Sarada and Boruto, reaching over to fix Boruto’s little bow tie and to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Sarada’s ear. “Good luck out there. You’re going to be great! I’ll see you after the performance”
Boruto nods enthusiastically, but Sarada’s eyes start to water when he stands to leave. Without any warning, Sarada begins to cry, reaching over to wrap herself around Sasuke’s leg. The sight of her seems to signal to Boruto that he should be crying, too, so he joins her and wraps his tiny arms around Sasuke’s other leg. The other children and the teacher watch them with wide eyes which sends Sasuke into a bit of a panic.
“Hey! It’s alright, I’ll be right there watching you with Naruto. Don’t be scared!” Sasuke reassures frantically, patting their backs and ignoring the huge amount of glitter that has effectively been rubbed into each leg of his slacks.
He manages to extract them from his legs, one child at a time, and reaches over to wipe the tears from her eyes and snot from their noses with the sleeve of his shirt. Why does he never have a tissue? He’s sure he looks like an absolute nightmare, but he’ll have to mentally process that once he’s seated.
“I’m scared…” Sarada whimpers, scrubbing at her face with her hand and smearing glitter everywhere.
“It’s okay to be scared,” Sasuke reassures her, grabbing and holding both of her hands with his. “If you get on stage and it’s scary, just look at me, okay? Just like we practiced?”
She nods shakily. Sasuke lets her go and moves to stand, offering her two thumbs up as he edges closer to the door. He is grateful when Boruto takes her hand and starts tugging her towards the other children. Sasuke manages to fully leave the room once Sarada’s back is turned and she’s tumbling around on the floor with one of the sugar plum fairies in their best attempt at a wrestling match.
He takes a deep breath once he’s in the hallway and takes stock of himself. His sleeve is coated in tears and snot and his pants now are sporting red and green glitter to match the mess of his hair. He looks like a really sad Christmas tree. He rubs at his temple, urging the throbbing to let up, and decides to make his way to the auditorium.
The hall just outside of the auditorium is full of PTA moms with their perfectly coiffed hair and floral dresses, and corporate dads clearly just having left work. They’re sipping the lemon water and eating the cheese and crackers that have been left on a small table by the entrance next to the programs, making small talk with one another. Sasuke has long since learned to not bother with small talk at these events, more than tired of either his age or his single status being the constant center of those conversations. He also doesn't want anyone asking about Sarada's anywhere near where she might hear.
He makes a beeline for the table with the programs and pushes his way into the auditorium, spying a few people scattered around the room, likely also avoiding the small talk outside.
And that’s when he sees him.
What the fuck.
“What the fuck?” Sasuke asks, eyes immediately locking onto him like a heat seeking missile. He speedwalks over to the row of seats near the stage. After awkwardly turning to the side and ignoring how every chair he pushes past squeaks in the quiet of the auditorium so that he can side step down the row towards the seat exactly in the middle where he sits.
“Itachi,” Sasuke hisses with narrow eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?” The elderly woman at the end of the row turns to glare at them from her spot some distance from Itachi. Sasuke doesn’t care; this is important.
Itachi blinks wide eyes at Sasuke, dressed (as always) impeccably in a three piece suit, shiny loafers, and hair perfectly smoothed into a ponytail that hangs just over one shoulder. He’s wearing a fucking Rolex. “Why, Sasuke, of course I’m here. When Naruto called to tell me about Sarada’s performance, I took an early day at the hospital and hurried here.”
Of course Naruto called him. He had told the blonde some time ago about his relationship with his older brother, Itachi. Mostly, that Itachi loves to fuck with Sasuke because he likes watching Sasuke scramble around in a rage. He recalls many summers spent at the beach with his family, falling asleep only to wake up buried up to his neck in sand. Afternoons spent watching Itachi drive up to pick him up from high school, a job he came home from college to complete, and cringing away from Itachi’s car from which loud, embarrassing music played for all his peers to hear. He and his cousin Shisui inviting him into their tree house and then removing the ladder after pretending to get snacks inside.
In short, Itachi was an asshole.
Of course, there were happy moments, too. Itachi wasn’t all evil; he had helped Sasuke with math homework and had threatened to beat up the older kids who decided to pick on Sasuke in middle school. But at his core, Itachi was an older brother and older brothers are horrible.
Sasuke grumbles and slumps into the chair exactly one away from Itachi, refusing to sit next to the man in case he tries to glue his hand to the arm rest or something equally as asshole-y. Itachi looks at him with a very put upon smile and reaches over to pat his hand.
“I’m glad I can see her. You should tell me about these things more often.” Itachi lightly scolds.
Sasuke sighs, “I know, I know. I just always figure you’re kept crazy busy at the hospital, and I don’t want her getting excited if you can’t make it.” He won’t sit next to the crazy fucker, but he is admittedly a wonderful uncle to Sarada, if only because his tormenting of her dad is funny to her.
“I’ll always make time for her,” Itachi gets a soft look in his eyes. “You too, I hope you know. I’m always there for you. Speaking of which…” Here, he moves to pull an envelope from his inner pocket.
“Itachi, no. I’ve told you a million times I don’t need help,” Sasuke complains, refusing to take the envelope. “Like I told Father the day he told me he was done with me. I’m going to raise Sarada all on my own. Hopefully she’ll grow up to one day tell him to fuck off. Poetic justice, and all.”
Itachi waves the envelope before Sasuke, like the check inside would tempt him with its smell. Crazy motherfucker. “Come on, Sasuke. I won’t tell Father or Mother. And it’s for her. She needs new clothes, I’m sure, and she’ll be bursting out of her shoes in no time. I know Miss. Haruno isn’t involved with Sarada, which I understand, but being a single parent is a heavy burden.”
Sasuke crosses his arms over his chest stubbornly. “I’m doing just fine. Sarada has everything she needs. Besides, I’m not a single parent anymore.” He knows that Itachi genuinely wants to help, but he can't bring himself to accept it.
Itachi hums thoughtfully, tucking the envelope away with a disappointed sigh. “Speaking of which, when are you and Naruto going to stop pretending you live in separate apartments? I’m sure the children are getting tired of ‘sleepovers’ all the time.”
Sasuke could kill Naruto for telling Itachi his business. How does he manage to know and have a relationship with everyone on the planet? It’s like a superpower that is specifically designed to fuck Sasuke over at opportune moments. He flushes bright red and sinks down just a bit in his seat, arms still crossed over his chest. He hopes he doesn’t smear the still-drying snot on his sleeve down his chest. “We’re moving slowly. We don’t want to confuse the kids with too sudden of a change.”
“It might be good for them to have a bit more consistency,” Itachi offers gently. “I know that it’s difficult for you, to trust people with Sarada, and that a lot of people have let you down. But Naruto seems genuinely in it for you. I don’t think you would have to worry about him up and leaving one day.”
Sasuke does not want to be having this conversation in an elementary school auditorium, but he’s a bit of a captive audience. Despite his decision to raise Sarada on his own, and he doesn’t regret that decision—would choose her every time—Sakura leaving him to raise her had still smarted if only in a bittersweet way. He knew that Sakura couldn’t be a mother at that point in her life, but Sasuke hadn’t been entirely prepared to be a father. His own father shutting the door in his face had only solidified his general sense of distrust. Things had been hard after that, many nights spent crying and clipping coupons, hoping that it would be enough to feed and clothe them for the next week. He hadn’t been on a date in five years before Naruto.
Speaking of which.
“Baby! Hey!” Naruto yells out the moment he opens the auditorium doors, letting in a flood of noise and light from outside the room. He's dressed like a complete fuckboy with a pink polo tucked into his slacks, and Sasuke doesn't understand why he still finds him hot. Naruto turns to glance over his shoulder calling out to a fellow PTA parent. “I’ll catch up with you later, Tenten!”
Then, Naruto cheerily makes his way to their row while Sasuke does his best impersonation of roadkill, flattening against his seat as much as possible. Every eye in the auditorium is turned to look at them, some chuckling at Naruto’s exuberance. Sasuke hates being the center of attention. It’s why his first grade teacher made him play the role of a tree for fucksake.
By the time Naruto makes it to their row, the eyes have turned away and the general chatter continues. He side steps down the row, ignoring the squeaking of the chairs, and plops himself right in the chair that separates Itachi and Sasuke.
“I’m so glad I made it in time!” Naruto sighs in relief. “Man, I probably broke six traffic laws getting here.” He reaches over to grab Sasuke’s hand where it rests on the arm rest and leans in to kiss him briefly after murmuring a quiet “Come here.”
Sasuke is trying his best to ignore Itachi who is watching him with that slightly evil look he gets in his eyes when he smells fresh humiliation. Sasuke kicks at Naruto’s shin, still flushed bright red and now starting to sweat nervously, freeing himself. “Hey knock it off. We’re in an elementary school. There are children, or something.”
Naruto chuckles lightly, as if Sasuke full on kicking him in the leg is just some cute thing he does. Then he turns to Itachi, reaching over to shake his hand. “Itachi! I’m so glad that you could make it. Sarada is going to be thrilled!”
Itachi smiles lightly. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m glad that someone thinks of me,” Then, he dramatically places a hand over his heart, as if touched. Sasuke knows better. “I must say, I am so happy that Sasuke has you. It’s nice seeing him get the affection he deserves. He’ll never admit it, but he’s told me how much he loves how affectionate you are.”
Sasuke curses himself for that one night when Naruto had been on a work trip a few hours away, and Sasuke had gotten wine drunk in the middle of the night. He had ended up calling Itachi, who was just coming from a surgery, and blubbering on the phone about how much he likes his Naruto and he just gets me you know? God, I’m starting to sound like him.
Naruto grins his mega kilowatt smile and turns its entire, manic force to Sasuke. He reaches over for Sasuke’s hand and uses it to tug him closer, putting his arm around him once he’s close enough. “Oh, I know, trust me. He’s pretty shy. Still nice to hear.”
“He is sitting right here!” Sasuke hisses in a whisper-shout. “And besides—”
He is interrupted by the curtain raising abruptly to reveal the school’s principal. “Alright everyone, we’re just about ready to begin the Winter Showcase, please take your seats!”
Sasuke ignores most of the introductions and welcome addresses, scrambling for the shitty old camera he brought with him in a tote bag. It was practically monstrous in size and only took photos sometimes, but his nearly broken iphone had all the camera quality of a Myspace profile picture. Itachi and Naruto were similarly armed with their decidedly less shitty phones.
Slowly, the children are marched on stage, adorned in rat ears and fairy wings and an insane amount of glitter. He spies Sarada bringing up the back of the stage, tugging her candy cane behind her so that she can put it on when the performance begins and she doesn’t need to move as much. Sasuke is proud of her cautiousness. His daughter is so smart. Boruto is practically skipping around the stage in his rat-like glory, absolutely loving being on stage. He’s about to start demonstrating his somersault skills—a familiar pose Sasuke recognizes him doing—when their teacher claps her hands signaling that the children should begin.
And then, right before the performance is about to start, he sees it: Sarada’s face is slowly becoming the color of an overripe tomato, and she looks like she’s about to cry. Sasuke has vivid flashbacks to his own childhood spent crying on stages just like this one and spying Itachi’s pitying stare in the audience and his mother’s exuberant gesturing while his father looks like he wants to be anywhere but there.
“Ah, fuck…” Itachi whispers, spying the tears as well.
It’s too late to pull her aside as the candy canes all start to tug their costumes on and the other children take their positions around the stage. Sarada is clearly starting to panic and she definitely doesn't want to put the costume on, eyes darting around, most likely looking for them but unable to see past the bright lights of the stage.
Suddenly, beside him, Naruto starts clapping and yelling out, “Come on, Sarada! You’ve got his, honey!”
All eyes in the audience zero in on them, but Sarada’s sniffling abruptly stops when she locates them in the audience, eyes wide.
Fuck it. Sasuke decides. He stands and waves at her from his spot in the middle of the row. “I’m right here, Sarada! You’re going to be great!”
Other parents start similarly cheering for their teary-eyed children as Sasuke takes his seat again after seeing Sarada wipe her eyes, not even registering the way Naruto puts his arm around him and squeezes. His eyes focus on Sarada and her candy cane costume which she puts on herself with the stoicism of a battle-weary soldier.
That’s my girl. Sasuke tears up, but only a little. He can’t let Itachi see him cry, crazy fucker.
The performance goes off without a hitch, Sarada doing an excellent job of standing in the back of the stage and not moving at all except for the one time she had to spin—which she did damn well, if you ask him. Boruto had managed to completely forget what he was meant to be doing on stage and once all eyes were trained on him, had asked that the audience to watch this and knelt down to perform an olympics-worthy somersault. Naruto had practically cackled, recording Boruto who stuck the landing and stood posed with all the seriousness he was capable of, rat ears slightly askew.
Itachi had even managed to not be an asshole, congratulating Sarada warmly when she came running to them at the end of the showcase. She squealed in delight when Itachi had scooped her up and spun her around, cheering again, again!
After some time with her, Itachi claimed to have a dinner planned and patted Sasuke on the head in a way that was so condescending that it made him want to foam at the mouth. Then, he kneeled before Sarada and asked for a hug which she granted him with the graciousness of a queen. Later, he would find the envelope tucked into the belt of her dress with a note from Itachi: It’s all in cash, so you can’t throw it out. I win! which he will seethe over even on his way to the toy store to let Sarada pick out something shiny and expensive with the cash.
Naruto swings Boruto up on his shoulders and Sarada takes Sasuke’s hand, tugging him after them. She pauses just as they’re about to leave and turns to face Sasuke.
“Did I do good, Papa?” She asks shyly, her hands wringing nervously in front of her. He recognizes that this is a critical moment for her childhood memories. The image of his own father's disinterested face flashes in his mind. He can't fuck this up.
Sasuke kneels down to squeeze her to his chest. His tiny baby. “You did perfect. Best damn candy cane I’ve ever seen.” He holds her there for a moment or two; they’ll find Naruto and Boruto in a bit.
“Papa,” Sarada manages to get out from her position, absolutely crushed against him “That’s a bad word.”
“It’s okay, just this once,” Sasuke assures her, standing to take her hand and tugging her lightly towards the door. “Let’s find those two and go home, yeah? Maybe even get some pizza?”
She takes off with a scream, shouting Boruto’s name and pizza pizza interchangeably. Sasuke follows behind her at a sedate pace, bravely being the one to take Naruto’s hand in his own when they catch up. Naruto squeezes his hand and smiles blindingly at him. Itachi’s words float around in his brain, and he thinks of having this twenty-four hours of the day and seven days a week. Two kids positively screaming the house down over pizza and Naruto holding his hand. Maybe, in a couple of weeks, Sasuke will ask Naruto to move in with him. They almost certainly will annoy their neighbors with all the noise, but he doesn’t give a fuck.
---
A month later and they're sharing an apartment that is a choatic mix of Sasuke's shitty furniture which Naruto had insisted they not get rid of and Naruto's magazine-worthy decorations. Even having moved to a three bedroom unit in the same building, it somehow manages to feel cramped and the hot water heater is absolute shit, but Sasuke is so overwhelmingly happy that it doesn't matter. Naruto plays with the kids and takes out the trash and washes dishes and does all the other little things that make him unbearably perfect. Asshole.
Sasuke doesn't let him keep the toad.