Interjections
Naruto’s hair smelled of dandelions. Sasuke stubbornly refused the reflexive urge to wipe at his nose, just in case some of the yellow had managed to rub off. It wasn’t a smell so much as an impression, a hazy lethargy and even tempered indolence that colored summer, when fields burst in a flurry of yellow ground cover.
“They’re weeds.”
Sasuke could hear the bored admonishment, the memory of exasperation that had colored his voice and temperament. He could almost see Naruto’s scrunched scowl, the determined stiffness to his spine as Naruto bent to smell the invasion of yellow.
A determined weed himself, Naruto had turned his back on Sasuke and Sasuke’s derision in favor of the flowers, giving his full attention to the patches of color. Sasuke had watched as Naruto had kicked seeds into flight, had tried not to shake his head in amusement, instead he had scowled in perfectly affected disgust at the sound of Naruto’s carefree laughter.
Naruto’s hair, mussed with sleep and tangled out of its usual spiky excitement carried with it an echo of hazy summer afternoons, the haphazard calm spells between missions and mistakes. Sasuke sniffed surreptitiously. Somewhere beneath the more mundane, familiar scents of sweat, sex, and the soap that had been used in an attempt to cover it all was a hint of free time and crooked smiles.
Sasuke exhaled, relaxing as his eyes slid shut. Dandelions didn’t really have a significant scent, but it was the association that mattered.
Naruto’s hair smelled of dandelions. Sasuke stubbornly refused the reflexive urge to wipe at his nose, just in case some of the yellow had managed to rub off. It wasn’t a smell so much as an impression, a hazy lethargy and even tempered indolence that colored summer, when fields burst in a flurry of yellow ground cover.
“They’re weeds.”
Sasuke could hear the bored admonishment, the memory of exasperation that had colored his voice and temperament. He could almost see Naruto’s scrunched scowl, the determined stiffness to his spine as Naruto bent to smell the invasion of yellow.
A determined weed himself, Naruto had turned his back on Sasuke and Sasuke’s derision in favor of the flowers, giving his full attention to the patches of color. Sasuke had watched as Naruto had kicked seeds into flight, had tried not to shake his head in amusement, instead he had scowled in perfectly affected disgust at the sound of Naruto’s carefree laughter.
Naruto’s hair, mussed with sleep and tangled out of its usual spiky excitement carried with it an echo of hazy summer afternoons, the haphazard calm spells between missions and mistakes. Sasuke sniffed surreptitiously. Somewhere beneath the more mundane, familiar scents of sweat, sex, and the soap that had been used in an attempt to cover it all was a hint of free time and crooked smiles.
Sasuke exhaled, relaxing as his eyes slid shut. Dandelions didn’t really have a significant scent, but it was the association that mattered.
