Day 22 – An Outsider’s Point of View

emiwrites:

fandom: naruto
characters/pairings: sasusaku
a/n: sasusaku month, ssm17d22
warnings: i’m using the international system of units so for those who aren’t familiar with it, 15 m. is about 49 ft. also don’t take this piece too seriously i just went wild out of nowhere and i am just too lazy to change

It was a case of in-the-wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time.

They hadn’t noticed him yet and Boruto prayed the gods to stay unnoticed because he knew a free pass to hell was waiting for him should he be discovered in the bushes.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, hiding in the bushes and watching them make out. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to watch at all—but Boruto couldn’t keep his eyes away from them. He was drawn to them.

And he felt absolutely like a pervert.

And a voyeur.

Luckily—or unluckily, whether the reader is feeling lewd or not, there were at least a good fifteen metres separating him from the couple so he couldn’t see their faces clearly, but auntie Sakura’s pink hair and uncle Sasuke’s black cloak were unmistakable.

It was just a peck, at first. It had been so innocent that Boruto fought back the urge to snicker when he saw it. Instead, his lips stretched into a mischievous smile as he watched Sakura tug on Sasuke’s cloak, pulling his head downward so that she could kiss him softly on the mouth.

So ingenuous, so chaste.

But that all changed when the Fire Na—

(SORRY. WRONG SHOW.

It could have worked, though.)

Ahem.

—But that all changed when Sasuke attacked.

His hand caught her waistband before she could step away and he pulled her against him. If at first, Sakura had seemed surprised, she quickly responded to his enthusiast by looping her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers through his black hair.

(From his spot, it looked like she was pulling at his hair rather fiercely and knowing Sakura’s ridiculously beastly strength, Boruto was quite afraid Sasuke would go bald.

And what a letdown that would be.)

He watched as Sasuke’s hand drifted from Sakura’s waistband to her bare midriff, stroking the flesh with his thumb and judging from the breathy moans and quiet groans he could hear whenever their lips parted, they seemed to be really into it.

Boruto was into it, too.

Therefore, when they disappeared in a puff of smoke two minutes later, Boruto felt strangely disappointed. It wasn’t really educational—not that it was supposed to be—but it was raw and oddly fascinating. He’d seen his parents smooching before and it grossed him out but that was probably because it was his parents and Sakura and Sasuke were totally a different matter… or maybe not.

Boruto considered what happened very slowly.

He’d been watching them make out.

Hidden in the bushes.

So he was a voyeur; he could live with that.

But that was his master. His dad’s best friends.

His childhood friend’s parents.

Oh.

Sarada’s parents.

Oh.

Shit.

HOLY—

.

.

He could never face Sarada again.