brief bit of NaruSasu angst: Mercy Street

I wish I could write something that wasn't complete and utter crap. (I really, really need to go home. *gnaws off limbs*) And also, this totally started out as pointless fluff. Consider it potential Blindsided continuity, even if it isn't, really.
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Orochimaru has ruined him; there are the obvious things, like his eyes and the steady ache of the curse seal on his shoulder. But then there are the less obvious things, like the nocturnal sleeping patterns, and the way the cold makes him sluggish and stupid.

The heater in Naruto's apartment is broken; during the day, he turns on the stove and curls up in a pile of blankets on the kitchenette floor. When Naruto comes home in the evening, he puts a kettle on the stove and coaxes Sasuke out of his nest with promises of tea and hot food.

Naruto watches him drink his tea with morbid fascination, as his fingernails slowly turn from pale indigo to a more healthy pink. Speaking requires too much effort; he responds to Naruto's questions and rambling with monosyllabic noises until he nearly falls asleep in his carton of take-out noodles.

He doesn't truly wake up until after Naruto has put him to bed; by then, Naruto is asleep, his arm a burning weight across Sasuke's chest. Naruto generates more than enough body heat for the both of them, and the warmth seeps into his bones, rousing him from his cold blooded torpor.

But he cannot move, and he cannot sleep; he cannot do anything but watch the indistinct edges of a patch of moonlight move across the floor and remember when he once would have been able to see it in sharp edged clarity.

Orochimaru has ruined him, left him powerless and half-blind. There is irony in his situation; he went to seek power, but he returned with nothing.

Sasuke has never had much appreciation for irony; now, he only wishes he were blind enough to miss the pity he sees Naruto's eyes.