Days slipped by, and Sasuke and Naruto fell into their usual rhythm, both silently agreeing never to mention the heat incident that hung between them like an invisible wall. Between attending lectures and completing assignments, Naruto scoured every resource he could find for information about the Chimera Project, but the trail remained frustratingly cold—not a single mention in any database, forum, or campus rumor.
Today broke his routine—Naruto had his appointment with Tsunade. Morning light sliced through cheap blinds, painting prison bars across his hunched shoulders and restless fingers. The air conditioner clicked and sputtered its weak protest against the September heat. Their shared wall told two stories: Sasuke's side pristine save for a single strip of masking tape concealing a crack, Naruto's plastered with fading orange sticky notes from some forgotten ambition. Through the window they'd left cracked overnight, the campus soundtrack filtered in—sneakers on pavement, distant laughter, someone's dog barking at shadows.
Naruto sat cross-legged, back bent, wearing yesterday's t-shirt under a borrowed hoodie. His attention flickered between the battered tin case in his palm and the digital clock's relentless countdown toward eight a.m. He opened the case with a practiced snap. Three blue pills left. He stared at them, then glanced toward the bathroom door, where the faint sound of running water signaled Sasuke's occupancy. Naruto palmed one pill, dry-swallowed it, and let the case click closed with the other two still inside. His hands shook enough to rattle the tin against the desk.
The door cracked open, and Sasuke emerged, trailing a pulse of humidity that warred with the crisp air from the window. His hair was dark and wet, combed down in loose spikes, and a single droplet of water clung to his jaw before it broke and traced a line along his neck. He wore the school uniform with surgical precision: shirt ironed, collar crisp, dark tie knotted with an obsessive symmetry. His eyes, when he looked at Naruto, were already sharp, already dissecting.
"You're up early." Sasuke's tone was flat, but there was a small, surgical curiosity behind the statement.
Naruto grunted, closing the pill case with a snap and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans. "Couldn't sleep."
Sasuke crossed to his side of the room, swiping a towel from the radiator as he passed. He dried his hands with quick, controlled motions, eyes never leaving Naruto's face. "You have class at nine. It's barely seven."
Naruto's shoulders lifted in a half-hearted shrug. He reached for a spiral-bound notebook buried under his textbooks, flipped it open to reveal nothing but empty lines, and stared at it like it contained the secrets of the universe. "Meeting someone," he mumbled, tracing invisible patterns on the paper with his index finger. "Before class."
Sasuke watched him for another second, then set the towel down with precise care. "Who?"
Naruto's jaw twitched. "Just… someone. Family friend." He wrote a crooked line in the notebook, a distraction.
The air thickened. Sasuke's posture didn't change, but his voice dropped a degree. "Who."
Naruto's jaw tightened. He traced the edge of the notebook with his thumb, digging his nail into the cardboard until it left a crescent mark. His skin felt too tight, like it might split open any second, the familiar itch beneath the surface warning him how desperately he needed those pills. "Tsunade," he snapped, tossing the pen down hard enough that it rolled off the desk and clattered to the floor. The sound made him flinch. "She's a doctor. Happy now, or do you want her medical license number too?" His voice cracked on the last word, betraying how raw this particular nerve was.
Sasuke's face didn't move, but his eyes recalibrated. "You're meeting her for—?"
Naruto's felt a headache coming on. "Suppressants," he said, jaw clenched. "What else would it be?" His nostrils flared as he shoved the notebook away. "I've about burned through everything I have left."
A silence hung between them, thick as mud. Sasuke's gaze flicked, calculating, then he looked out the window, watching the shape of a Beta jogger crossing the quad. "You could have said something."
Naruto let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Sure. Next time I need a chaperone to the doctor, I'll let you know."
Sasuke's eyes cut back. "You're not going alone." It wasn't a question.
Naruto bristled, the old defiance rising up like a rash. "I can handle a doctor's visit, Uchiha. I don't need a—"
"You're not going alone." This time, it was less a statement, more an order. Sasuke crossed the distance between their beds in two steps, a solid wall of calm anger. "I have a right to understand what I'm dealing with." He gestured at the pill case, then at Naruto himself, as if the point was self-evident.
Naruto shot to his feet, knuckles white at his sides. "I know what I'm doing with my own damn body."
Sasuke's gaze turned cold. "Is that what you told yourself during your heat?" The words left his mouth like venom, though he knew the hypocrisy of it—he'd been the catalyst that night, not that he would ever admit it.
Naruto's fingers twitched, itching to punch something—the wall, Sasuke's perfect jaw, anything—but the clock's red numbers flipped to 7:22. Too late for a fight. He yanked his bag up, the worn zipper catching on a loose thread. "Whatever. Tag along if you need to. Not like I can stop you."
Sasuke didn't bother to respond. He pulled on his jacket, his movements exact and efficient, then followed Naruto out the door.
—
They crossed campus without speaking. Gravel crunched beneath their shoes while birds called to each other from distant trees. Already the morning's social choreography had begun: near the admin building, clusters of Alphas threw their heads back in exaggerated laughter; Betas hurried past with books pressed to their chests like armor; and here and there, Omegas—silver bracelets glinting on their wrists—huddled together in nervous groups, keeping to the edges of walkways.
Naruto hugged the gymnasium wall where shadows pooled beneath the eaves, keeping his hood pulled low over his eyes. Four times now, Sasuke had shifted his path, angling his body between Naruto and the clusters of Alphas lounging across the quad. Each time, Sasuke's shoulder would eclipse Naruto's view for just a moment—casual, almost accidental—before he'd drift back to his original position. By the fourth occurrence, Naruto's jaw had begun to clench, teeth grinding against the realization that none of this was random.
Naruto kicked at a loose pebble, watching it skitter across the path. "I don't need a shield," he muttered. "Not like they can tell what I am."
Sasuke's eyes swept the quad, tracking a cluster of Alphas by the fountain. "Your scent's stronger than yesterday," he said, voice flat as a lab report. "It's there—just beneath the surface."
Naruto clenched his jaw. "Well, thanks for the heads up, Captain Pheromone."
Sasuke ignored the jab. He scanned the quad as they crossed the central square, his posture casual but his eyes alert, never lingering on one group for more than a second. He intercepted a shoulder-check from a passing Alpha with a calculated pivot, barely losing speed. Naruto trailed in his wake, equal parts grateful and infuriated.
They reached the edge of campus where academic buildings surrendered to the real world: a shabby intersection where two narrow streets met, lined with the kind of shops that survived on student desperation. The "COFFEE" sign above the corner café hung crooked, one letter flickering weakly even in daylight. Naruto halted at the curb, his sneakers toeing the edge while they waited for the light to change.
Sasuke stood half a step behind, keeping watch over his shoulder. "She's meeting you here?"
Naruto nodded, refusing to look up. "Café. She always picks public places. Less chance of a scene."
Sasuke said nothing, but his presence radiated a static charge, the air between them thinner than it had any right to be.
The light changed. Naruto stepped off the curb, hands in his pockets, and tried not to think about the way every nerve in his body seemed to anticipate the next disaster. Sasuke's footsteps followed, even and inevitable.
They reached the café six minutes early. Naruto scanned the interior through the glass—booths mostly empty, a lone Beta reading a newspaper in the corner. He hesitated.
Sasuke's hand came down on his shoulder, not hard, but enough to pin him in place. "You're shaking," Sasuke said quietly.
Naruto tried to pull away. "I'm fine."
"Stop pretending," Sasuke said, his voice as soft as the pressure of his fingers. "If you need backup, say so."
The words nearly undid him, but Naruto only shrugged again, feigning nonchalance. "Just don't embarrass me. She's… intense."
Sasuke's mouth twitched. "I can handle intense."
Naruto rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eased a notch. Together, they entered the café, the warm air stinging Naruto's cheeks, the clatter of plates and the bitter tang of espresso suddenly overwhelming.
They found a booth in the back, Naruto sliding in first, Sasuke taking the seat across and immediately staking out a clear view of the door. He sat back, arms folded, eyes already calculating exit points and potential threats, as if this were an interrogation and not a coffee date with a family friend.
Naruto fumbled with the menu, not reading it. He didn't realize he was bouncing his knee until Sasuke stilled it with a single, firm touch.
"Relax," Sasuke said. "It's not an ambush."
Naruto glared, but his retort died somewhere between his brain and his mouth. The pressure of Sasuke's fingers against his leg made it impossible to form a coherent thought.
The clock behind the counter ticked to 7:57. Three minutes until Tsunade arrived. Naruto's pulse quickened as he imagined her sharp eyes scanning him, reading the evidence of his heat. She'd always seen through him. Would she notice how Sasuke's fingers still rested on his thigh under the table? How the Alpha across from him—absently tracing the rim of a chipped mug—was now the fragile thread holding his entire life together?
Naruto slouched lower, tucking his hands under his thighs to stop the tremor. Sasuke watched him, impassive.
Sasuke leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur that wouldn't carry beyond their booth. "For someone who claims she's practically family, you look like you're about to face a firing squad."
Naruto glared at Sasuke and finally jerked his leg away from the touch. "She's seen me at my worst since I was a kid. Having you here makes it... different."
Sasuke exhaled through his nose and settled back against the vinyl booth, one arm draped across its edge. His fingers tapped a silent rhythm against the worn upholstery.
"Seven minutes past," Naruto whispered, his eyes darting between the door and the clock above it.
A low sound rumbled in Sasuke's throat—not quite acknowledgment, not quite dismissal.
On the third sweep of the door, Tsunade strode in. She cut through the air like a thrown knife, coat half-buttoned over compression leggings, hair still damp at the temples as if she'd just come from a run or a fight. She saw Naruto, raised a hand in greeting—and then spotted Sasuke. Her stride didn't falter, but the medical bag in her hand shifted, swinging forward like a weapon.
Tsunade's gaze flicked between them. "Interesting addition to our usual meeting," she murmured, just loud enough for their booth.
Sasuke remained perfectly still, but frost seemed to crystallize in the space between them. "Sasuke's my roommate," Naruto blurted, then immediately stared down at his hands. "And he... he knows everything."
Tsunade claimed the seat beside Naruto, positioning herself with her back against the wall, eyes locked on Sasuke like a surgeon assessing where to make the first incision. The medical bag landed on the table with a soft thud, its clasp opening with a sharp click under her practiced fingers.
She tapped a manicured nail against the tabletop. "This changes our approach considerably." Her eyes narrowed, clinical and assessing. "Have you made progress with the housing office about switching rooms?" The question hung between them like a tripwire. Sasuke's shoulders tensed imperceptibly. The room change request—he'd need to ensure it disappeared from the system before anyone could process it.
Naruto traced a fingernail along a deep groove in the table's surface, avoiding everyone's eyes. "Still nothing," he mumbled. "Housing office says we're stuck on some waitlist." Beside him, Sasuke went rigid, his head snapping toward Naruto with such sudden intensity that the booth seemed to shrink around them.
Tsunade's expression thawed by a fraction of a degree. She extracted a spiral-bound notebook from her bag and thumbed to a page marked with a crimson flag that jutted out like an accusation. Her eyes locked onto Sasuke while her ballpoint pen drummed a quiet interrogation against the paper. "So," she said, each word precise as a scalpel, "you're the one sharing his living quarters."
A muscle in Sasuke's jaw tightened. "I am his roommate, yes." His thumb struck the tabletop once, twice, three times in measured succession. Tsunade nodded and wrote something down.
"And how is your pheromone control?" The question landed like a slap. Sasuke's shoulders squared, his face a careful blank. His eyes flickered toward Naruto, whose fingers still traced nervous patterns on the table's surface, before returning to meet Tsunade's clinical gaze.
Naruto sank lower in his seat, shoulders hunched as if trying to physically disappear between the vinyl cushions. "I told you she is intense," he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the café's ambient noise. The words escaped through barely-moving lips as his eyes darted nervously between Tsunade's razor-sharp gaze and Sasuke's granite expression, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension.
Tsunade's shoulders dropped a fraction as she exhaled. "Your presence here tells me something," she said, studying Sasuke with clinical precision. "You wouldn't be sitting at this table if Naruto meant nothing to you." Sasuke's eye twitched almost imperceptibly, but he offered no denial. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "So let me be clear—any lapses in your pheromone control affect his medication requirements. I need to know." Her attention shifted to Naruto, the sharp edges of her expression softening. "Getting your dosage exactly right could be the difference between safety and exposure."
Sasuke's jaw clenched. He fixed his gaze on a point just past Tsunade's shoulder, avoiding the weight of Naruto's eyes on him. "There have been two incidents," he said, each word precise as if extracted under duress.
Tsunade's pen scratched across her notebook, her expression unreadable. "Most alphas wouldn't manage that level of restraint in such close quarters," she said, the clinical assessment not quite masking what might have been approval.
She turned to Naruto, her voice losing its edge. "I need details. The last episodes—everything you felt, in your own words. Don't leave anything out."