A/N: I just want to send out a big THANK YOU! to all my readers, commenters and fav-ers. It means the world to me to know that somewhere out there people like my work! I also want to say sorry for not writing anything new. I have ideas buzzing around, but i am currently studying abroad in Rome and I have little time to sleep, let alone write. But be assured, i will return once the semester is over!

This is just a little blurb that came to me whilst on the bus to Pompeii. Ideas always seem to form the best when I cannot write them down right away (I have terrible motion sickness, alas). I hope it is just a bit of fluff to lighten your day. ^_^

Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto I could fly back to America for Thanksgiving. As is I shall settle with the promise of turkey and mashed potatos after a day of class XP.

Childish

There is only one time in his life when Naruto is truly childish, Sasuke knows. Others rail on about his antics, about how he will never grow up; never really learn the truth of reality no matter how many times it slaps him in the face or stabs him in the back.

Sasuke knows they are wrong.

There is only one time when Naruto is truly childish and Sasuke is content to say he is only one who will ever see it.

~:~SN~:~

It is not when Naruto continues to pull the infamous pranks of his youth.

Scaling cliff sides to paint comic faces or setting Kakashi's alarm two hours forward so he is on time for meetings or hiding behind fences to startle oblivious passersby, these are not the lingering actions of a naive little boy but the shadow of a being aching for attention. Because only people who are noticed are loved and love has always meant more to Naruto than the wish of every shooting star.

It is not when he refuses to give up.

Children's wants are greedy shrieks and cries. Sasuke knows Naruto never mixes his tears with screams, not when he cries for himself. In those rare moments he is silent, as if straining his ears to hear is mother's or father's voice in the wind, comforting him. But when he is fighting to free Gaara from his demons or liberate Neji from his uncle's curse or to bring justice to Jiriya's death, then his shouts shake the clouds and his tears drown the sun. Because when it comes to others Naruto will go to any length to know they will never have the need for silent tears.

It is not when he smiles and laughs.

There is no sophistication in Naruto's grin, neither the cool dignity of Sasuke's smirk nor the womanly charm of Sakura's smile. When he laughs it is not the deep staccato of Kakashi's chuckle or elegant chime of Ino's giggle. His grin is large and his laugh bubbly but they are not the expressions of a youth. They are the deepest manifestations of an immense heart finding joy where a small one could not. Naruto does not laugh and smile through his scars or despite his scars or even because of them. His grins are effortless and untainted, his laughter the voice of the heart untouched by the worries of the mind. In his expressions he is a man who has been to the darkest corners of the world and returned unscathed. A man who knows there is no use in letting his heart linger in the place where his body no longer dwells.

While he giggles with the children in the park or dances through the market to buy his fruit or hums while studying scrolls in the library Naruto is not a child. He is not burdened by his past or angered at circumstance and yet this does not make him childish in Sasuke's eyes. Sasuke knows, has learned from Naruto himself, that to step beyond demons you must first acknowledge them. And demons, the sneaky creatures they are, always find ways to trouble you no matter how far behind you leave them.

So Sasuke knows, though Naruto's conviction is selfless and his laughter pure, that he can never really be the child everyone thinks he is, that he never really was. Except in one moment.

Night is cold for a body without money for heat, frightening for a child with no one to explain the thunder, unforgiving to the soul, restless with worry as dark figures stalk past the door, figures that haunt even in the day. Sasuke knows that Naruto's childhood nights were the least childish of all.

On Saturday morning Sasuke awakes at five thirty. In his youth he had been awoken at five thirty every day by his mother. After her murder he continued to wake at five thirty, in the absence of an alarm. Exactly five thirty despite the time of year, how late he had stayed up the night before, or how tired he felt.

He takes six seconds to blink at the ceiling, assessing the cool temperature of the air, the scent of rain and the taste of peppermint lingering on the back of his tongue. He takes two seconds to turn his head and look at the clock, not out of habit but to consciously confirm that it is indeed five thirty and eight seconds.

A day before or a day after he would pull the covers back with his left hand, swing his feet to the floor and stand in one graceful motion. He would fold the covers back and take no more than fifteen seconds to make sure the bed looks as if no one has slept there. Then he would walk to the bathroom, take a shower and eat breakfast. A day before or a day after he would be outside, locking his door at six.

But it is Saturday. On Saturday he turns to his left, smothering the day's whisper of fear that he has already missed the most precious moment of the week. He leans on his left elbow and lifts his right hand, letting it hover above his thigh.

He doesn't time this. Every Saturday it changes.

Obsidian eyes tiptoe up fingertips curled in mussed white sheets to tickle a tanned arm. They glide over a strong shoulder, glowing quietly in the muted light and dance across a broad back, scarless and soft. Then they tumble through golden locks just as tousled as the sheets. They brush pink lips and kiss a small nose and stop on pale lashes splayed out over warm cheeks.

It is when his eyes have finished their journey that Sasuke's hand can move. It never does much, that murmur of fear still tickles the back of his mind. His fingers just push little wisps of hair behind an ear and his thumb surrenders to stroking a plump bottom lip.

His eyelids quiver and his mouth opens slightly but Naruto never wakes. Sunday through Fridays Naruto arises at five twenty six. He jokingly claims it is because he still wants to beat Sasuke in everything, even waking up. But Saturday is the day Naruto allows himself to sleep until whatever hour his body decides to wake.

It is at this moment that Sasuke knows the truth of Naruto's childishness, because it is only in this moment that Naruto is truly defenseless. Here, in Sasuke's bed, at Sasuke's side he is unguarded.

A soft smile alights on Sasuke's lips. Never before has Naruto trusted someone to watch over him. Never before has he had anyone. He could have been tainted and anxious and spent the rest of his life with restless nights and mornings ruled by timed routine. But this is Naruto, the child Naruto, knowing Sasuke has fed him and given him a place to shower and a soft bed and warm body to clutch and above all, love; that is all a child wants. All Naruto needs.

A little after five thirty Saturday mornings Sasuke looks down at Naruto and feels a child's trust and draws strength. Though no one ever sees it, Sasuke slides back into bed, pulls Naruto to his chest and, at a little after five thirty Saturday mornings, Sasuke closes his eyes and surrenders to being childish himself.