i was inspired to rewrite my headcanon properly because the wonderful @chikahoshi created this beautiful art for it!!!
They were sitting in a relatively isolated corner, observing party-goers and drinking mystery cocktails when their comfortable silence was broken by Hinata’s sudden fit of giggles.
The man near her eyed her strangely, wondering how smashed she was.
She kept trying to say something, but she couldn’t breathe because she was cracking up. When she’s finally able to string together a coherent sentence, in between laughter, she asks, “Sasuke… What are you wearing?”
He glanced down at his outfit and shot her a questioning glare. It was his usual poncho and jeans…?
“Is there something wrong with what I’m wearing?” His tone was defensive.
Hinata just looked at him and burst into another fit of giggles, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
“It’s just…” she vaguely gestured at his getup as she searched for the right words. “Mm… Your poncho.”
The perplexed look remained, eyebrows knitted in confusion.
“It’s not a good look.” Her blunt words managed to cut him and he felt personally attacked. His lips parted in shock and upon seeing his expression, she sobered a little and was quick to backtrack.
“N-not that the cloak style is bad!” She waved her hands as if trying to diffuse his bad mood. “It’s unique! But, um… Your poncho is just old.” The last part was said in a rush and Hinata took a long swig of her drink to avoid speaking further.
Pale eyes looked anywhere but directly at him while his were burning holes into her, probably in retaliation of her slander.
He stood, stepping close to the petite woman and bending down to her level so she couldn’t avoid his sharp gaze. Lavender nervously met charcoal and he spoke slowly, but clearly. “It’s well worn.”
She bit her lip to prevent from pointing out the obvious tears at the edges of the “well worn” garment. Sasuke was, without a doubt, irritated.
When he was sure she had nothing to say, he returned to his seat and nursed his own drink, ego still smarting.
She released the breath she didn’t know she was holding and they sat in silence, both paying more attention to the seemingly endless table of alcohol near them than to each other.
Fifteen minutes passed as they chose to become more inebriated than to break the tension. Too unwilling to leave the corner to socialize properly with others, but too awkward to speak to each other, they drank instead.
Once again, the Hyuuga was the first to initiate conversation. Sasuke noted that this was the most they have spoken to each other in the entirety of their relationship, which was limited to having mutual friends. Hopefully she wouldn’t insult him again.
“You always had… interesting fashion choices.” She didn’t say it maliciously, but reflectively.
“Is that so?” The alcohol was getting to him and he wanted to know what she meant. He prided himself on his style and no one had ever called him out for it.
“You know,” Hinata’s drink sloshed in her cup, threatening to spill, “back in school, you remember how you would-” she couldn’t help but giggle, “-how you would always have your collar popped up?”
He nodded sagely, of course he remembered. To this day, he’s still a fan of high collared shirts.
“I always had the urge to fold down your collar for you.” She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “And maybe button up your shirt, since you refused to fasten the first three.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, scandalized. “It was a good look.”
When she shot him a dubious look, he insisted with a scowl, “It was a good look.”
She snorted and took a sip of her drink before whispering conspiratorially, “Honestly, I thought it made you look like a… t-tool.” She stuttered at the last word as if she were telling a dark secret.
Alright… Drunk or not, she was not about to get away without a tongue lashing.
Sasuke scoffed at her, indignant. “Coming from the girl that wore the same baggy, unflattering jacket every day of high school. How did you wear the same jacket for four years?”
“Arm warmers,” she countered simply, with mirth in her eyes.
He opened his mouth to make a retort but found he could not defend himself, so he ended up gaping at her.
She raised an eyebrow at him, a teasing gesture. “And speaking of hoodies, at least I wore mines instead of keeping it around my waist all the time.”
Ah yes, he recalled that purple jacket with nostalgia. And arm warmers, which he wore for about seven years. At the time, he thought it was the epitome of style… Nonetheless, he was losing this battle, the Hyuuga had at least 3 points. He had to switch gears.
Sasuke crossed his arms. “Why are you roasting me about fashion when you had a crush on a boy that exclusively wore tracksuits?” he taunted, “You remember that orange and black mess?”
The heiress solemnly shook her head and glanced at the man in question, who appeared to be playing an alcoholic version of truth or dare. “That’s for another conversation…”
Their banter continued through the night (or was it technically morning?) until their friends finally dragged them back to their respective homes.
The next day, she was having dinner with Hanabi when her sister asked how the party went and Hinata was flooded with a rush of memories.
Her face turned beet red and she sank into her chair. She was absolutely mortified when she remembered her behavior.
“Okay, either it went really well or really poorly,” the younger Hyuuga inferred.
Hinata was still in shock and didn’t respond. She couldn’t believe she offended Uchiha Sasuke in her drunken stupor, she’s barely spoken to him before and their first real conversation was her insulting his style! Not that what she said was a lie, she really didn’t agree with some of his style choices, but she was personally prescribed to the belief that if you had nothing nice or constructive to say, then don’t say it at all.
Chopsticks clattering onto the plate, she shamefully buried her face in her hands and groaned.
He dumped his bounty of gifts on the bed. He didn’t want to open anything at the party because he hated being the center of attention and there was already enough attention on him, being the birthday boy. Naruto conceded to this one wish, since the Uchiha did attend… Albeit reluctantly, and only because Naruto had already set everything up and invited people.
Exhausted from the long night, he flopped down onto the sheets. He decided that that was enough social interaction for the year.
Turning his head to look at the various presents he received, he spotted a medium-sized, beautifully wrapped box. Examining it and trying to think back to the guests at the party, he couldn’t place the giver of this gift.
Curious, Sasuke ripped off the fancy wrapping paper and lifted the lid. He was greeted with an expanse of folded navy cloth, so he removed the garment from its box and laid it out. His fingers trailed over the thick material in awe; it was a dark navy cape with a high collar and metal buttons. Exploring the article, he noticed that the inside had a smooth, purple lining… Was that silk?
Excited to try on the cape, he hastily took off his poncho, slipped the cloak over his shoulders, and fastened the buttons.
He was in love. The garment had a nice weight to it and didn’t appear to be too thick to wear in the summer. The silk lining felt cool against his skin and kept the material from being scratchy. Not to mention, it fit, both literally and aesthetically.
The Uchiha mentally bid goodbye to his old poncho and vowed to wear the cape religiously.
When he went to put the garment back in its box, he noticed a card at the bottom. Still wondering about the identity of his mystery gifter, he picked it up.
It read “Happy Birthday, Sasuke!” in elegant and flowery script. The individual signed her name in the corner with “All the best, Hinata” and then, in very small writing at the bottom, there was the sentence “sorry for what I said when I was drunk.”
He let out an incredulous laugh and felt a grin spread across his face. Grabbing his phone, he texted Naruto.
“Hey, what’s Hinata’s number?”
