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Disclaimer: Digimon and its associated characters, even when set in an AU world, aren’t mine. No money made, spent, or rolled in naked.

Warning: shounen ai, i.e.: boys loving boys and wanting to get it on with said boys. Vampires, werewolves, and psychics oh my. Beware OOC and a very overused plot cliché.

Pairings: Various combinations of Daisuke, Ken, and Takeru. Twisted Takeru/Hikari, Takeru/Iori, and Miyako/Koushiro

Notes: I have decided that it is an Unwritten Rule of Digimon fandom that everyone has to write a one Vampire Kensuke fic. (Actually, this is just an excuse to take an overdone fandom cliché and try to do something interesting with it.)

Comments, critizism, and over-ripe fruit thrown at high velocity always appreciated.

“How so?” asked Takeru, letting the wire bounce back into place and following Daisuke.

“Oh, you know; couple of kids, middle of the night,” Daisuke elaborated, “An abandoned…um, well, field in this case.” He made a dramatic arm gesture over the tight cluster of suburban homes. “And there’s an abandoned warehouse just a few streets over and you know how dangerous those are! Potentially filled with axe wielding murderers or maybe legions of the undead looking for a meal!”

Takeru sighed, sidestepping a thick cluster of weeds. “Daisuke, it’s barely eight o’clock, hardly the middle of the night. Besides, we always cut through here on our way home. This area is perfectly safe.”

“But the warehouse—“

“Was only ‘abandoned’ last month and is currently being renovated,” Takeru said, rolling his eyes at his friend, “Give it up.”

Daisuke pouted, hunching under the weight of his backpack. “You always spoil my fun,” he whined. Takeru only laughed at him.

They crossed the field and left it to join the little footpath that ran behind the houses, heading in a diagonal fashion for their own apartments. Their parents had been friends since high school and had lived in the same apartment complex for over ten years. The two boys weren’t the best of friends, but they had fun together and provided company when traveling home after a late basketball practice (or football practice in Daisuke’s case).

“What’s got you thinking about horror stories anyways?” Takeru said.

Daisuke turned serious eyes onto the taller boy. “That new freshman is a werewolf,” he said with complete sincerity. Takeru stared at him before laughing.

“Hida?” he demanded, sniggering, “The short brunette that all the teachers love and think is Gods gift of the perfect student? The one that just kinda cowered when the senior started razing him?” Takeru shook his head. “That doesn’t seem like typical werewolf behavior.”

“I bet it’s a front,” Daisuke said, frowning thoughtfully, completely unperturbed by Takeru’s scorn. He was used to other people not agreeing with his ideas. Just went to show how oblivious everyone else was. “I mean, if you were some evil monster, would you go around announcing it?”

“No, maybe not,” Takeru conceded after a moments thought, “But that doesn’t mean I’d go around letting people beat me up either. Cause that way, you’re still noticeable. See, if I was one of the evil undead, I would try to blend in as much as possible.”

“Werewolves aren’t undead, just evil,” Daisuke said with the weariness of someone who knows everything and is bored of everyone else’s ignorance.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

Daisuke frowned at him. “That’s assuming you’d know how to blend in. Some werewolves are born that way; what if they never learn how to interact with humans? They’d always be a freak wherever they go.”

“Then why send them to human school?” Takeru said, smirking.

“How should I know?” Daisuke demanded, shoving the blond boy when he started to chuckle. “Do I look like a werewolf to you?”

Takeru walked backwards, eyeing the shorter redhead critically. “Hmm…”

“Hey, shut up!” Daisuke yelled, aiming a punch that was cheerfully dodged.

Soon, their apartment loamed up before them, a dark square against the star speckled sky. There was a brief fight over who got to unlock the door, of which Daisuke was the ultimate victor, before the pair charged inside. They ignored the elevator, racing each other up the stairs at full speed.

Daisuke was in the lead. He looked over his shoulder at the lagging Takeru. “Loser! You call yourself a—ooof!” He slammed into the person who’d been walking down the stairs.

The sudden impact knocked their feet out from under them, making them land hard on the treads and start to slither down. Daisuke twisted and lashed out, grabbing the railing to keep from sliding further. He found himself leaning over the other person, a boy no older than himself, who tilted his head up to look at Daisuke. Before an apology could spill out, he was instantly trapped by a pair of fathomless violet eyes.

There was forever in those eyes. Beautiful, mysterious, and breathtakingly dangerous. Amused eyes; they read his soul and fond it lacking. In that moment, Daisuke felt more worthless and insignificant than he’d had in his entire life previously. A voice came to him from a great distance, nothing against the force of that vast gaze. Then, the eyes moved, releasing him.

“Daisuke! Don’t just lay there!” Takeru was saying, and Daisuke felt his friend’s hands around his upper arm, dragging him backwards. “Are you okay?” he asked, addressing both Daisuke and his victim.

“Fine,” Daisuke mumbled, shaking off his daze. The other boy was rising gracefully to his feet, long dark hair hanging over his face.

“I’m all right, just startled,” the boy said, brushing off his jacket with slim hands. He was almost as tall as Takeru and thinner, with a pretty, narrow face framed by chin length bangs. Daisuke felt his body stir in response to the boy’s beauty and flushed in confusion. What was this?

“Are you sure, you took a pretty hard fall,” Takeru said, pulling Daisuke out of the way. Daisuke scowled at being manhandled and violently shook off Takeru’s hands. What, Takeru mouthed at him in bafflement.

The indigo haired boy smiled slowly, his elegantly slanted eyes glimmering with humor. “Trust me, I’m fine.” He extended one pale hand. “My name is Ken,” he said.

Daisuke reached past Takeru and took Ken’s hand before the blond could. He shook it firmly. “Motomiya Daisuke. I’m really sorry about running into you like that, ‘fraid I wasn’t paying attention. Kind of a natural state for me. Oh yeah, and this is Takaishi Takeru.” The last said dismissively. Ken’s smile broadened as he accepted Takeru’s hand next.

“How do ya do,” murmured Takeru, staring at Ken. Their handshake seemed to linger longer than necessary. Daisuke felt an irrational surge of jealousy. Damnit, Takaishi was ruining his chances at impressing the new kid!

“So, are you new here?” Daisuke asked with his usual energy, nudging Takeru aside to get closer to Ken. “I didn’t notice anyone moving in recently, but I’m sure I haven’t seen you around before.”

Ken shook his head. “Visiting friends. I live…somewhere else.” Another slow, enigmatic smile heated the blood in Daisuke’s veins. The unexpected reaction made him fidget nervously; he’d never responded this way to another guy before.

“Yeah, uh, well it’s a good building I guess,” Daisuke babbled, “I mean, the people who live here don’t have any complaints. Neither do I! ‘Cause you know, I live here too. Hey, you watch football?” He finished desperately. He could hear, just hear Takeru rolling his eyes.

“Yes. I even play it occasionally,” said Ken, swaying close enough to Daisuke that the redhead could feel his breath on his lips. It sent a shiver through his body. He leaned back uneasily, frightened by the feeling. Takeru instantly shifted to fill the space.

“What about basketball?”

“Hmm, not so much,” Ken shrugged, and Daisuke had the satisfaction of seeing Takeru’s face fall. “But I’ll watch any sport with the right…motivation.” He let the word trail off suggestively, then continued on smoothly. “Not to offend, but I need to get going. It was nice to meet you Takeru, Daisuke.”

“Oh right sure sorry,” the two babbled over each other’s words, plastering themselves against the wall to keep from interfering with the royal boy’s passage.

“Be seeing you,” Ken promised silkily as he walked down the steps. They watched him go breathlessly, rushing to peer over the edge of the railing when he descended out of sight. A short while later, they heard the front door open and close.

Minutes passed. Daisuke shifted in discomfort. What the hell was he doing? Staring after that guy like some…some…some love sick girl! He glanced at Takeru the same time Takeru glanced at him. Their eyes met—and both burst into forced, nervous laughter.

“Race ya!” Daisuke blurted as the awkward sound tapered off. He set off for his apartment, disregarding Takeru’s feeble warnings to be careful.

Warning: Minor spoilers for the “The Storm”.

“I’m on my boat,” he said, staring up at the massive, rivet studded metal plates that made up the ceiling. His voice came out cracked and strained with misuse; the bed under him was damp with sweat, the left side of his face was stiff and swollen. He could barely open his left eye.

“Of course,” said a rough and familiar voice, “It was your birthday present, after all.” Cool hands patted his hot shoulder. “Welcome back to the waking world, my nephew.”

Zuko took a deep breath and felt it catch in his throat. “Uncle,” he rasped, the relief in his voice unmistakable. He’d expected to awaken alone; abandoned on some Earth nation island with no weapons or attendants. But his Uncle was with him, perhaps…perhaps he had imagined his father’s declaration of banishment, perhaps the suffering and burning had been enough.

But if that was the case, then…

“Why am not in my quarters in the palace?” he demanded weakly, the dry, cracked skin of his lips tearing and leaving the taste of copper in his mouth.

“Ah, I believe you could do with some tea,” Iroh said, chair creaking as he stood, “For your throat.”

The lanterns swayed, a motion Zuko’s achingly empty stomach echoed. If he focused, he could hear the distinctive sound of water moving past the hull and the roar of the engines. They were at sea.

Zuko closed his eyes.

“I am exiled,” he said and turned his head to the side, so that his Uncle would not see if his body betrayed him, again, to tears.

“But at least,” Iroh said, the bed dipping as he sat on the edge of it and the gentle scent of jasmine tea mingling with the oil and burning coal odor of the ship, “You are not alone.”

Zuko had only taken the ship out of the harbor twice before now; once with his father on the day of the gifting, the second time to enjoy having something so powerful under his sole command. That had been three weeks ago, when he’d had the time to spare between lessons.

He didn’t know the captain or crew or the few soldiers that had been forced into exile along with him, since he’d never taken notice of or interest in them before. Now, he could taste their hostility and dislike like bile in the back of his mouth. They had been sent away from their homeland because of him and probably hated him for it.

Blunt nails curled into his palms; what did he care of their petty problems and complaints? Any of them could return home if they wanted to leave! They wouldn’t get the warmest welcome, but neither would they be thrown into the nearest Fire Nation jail.

He was the only one with no choice.

A blast of sea spray stung his face, a lash of icy fire on his burned eye that the numbing pain medicines couldn’t diminish. In the waves below, dark shapes raced alongside the ship, occasionally breaking the surface to show blue or green backs to the golden afternoon light. Miles and miles behind them, lay the mountains and fields of his home.

Straightening, he pushed away from the railing and crossed the deck to his berth. His legs felt rubbery from the combination of days spent abed and unfamiliarity with the roll of the ocean. Every eye, from helmsman to deck swappers, was on him.

How did he look to them, with his damaged face and most of his hair shaven away? Did they see him still as their prince, or as a dishonorable disgrace? Did they even know what had brought him to this downfall?

He walked with his chin up and did not stumble.

“I’ve rested enough, Uncle,” Zuko snapped, as impervious and demanding as ever. Injury and exile had not mellowed his manner any; indeed it had added a bitter, cutting edge to it. “I need to return to my training.”

If only, Iroh thought with a sharp ach in his old chest, he was not so impatient. So much could have prevented. Again and again he had warned him, and still…

Iroh let loose a long sigh and smiled, looking down upon his nephew. He did love the boy, but Zuko, for all his skills with firebending and fighting, simply didn’t understand the dangerous web of loyalties and politics that entangled the palace.

Perhaps the fault lay with Iroh himself, for allowing the boy to remain innocent for so long.

“Is it true,” Zuko spoke up suddenly, his attention focused on the shin guard he was studiously lacing up, “What father said about my bringing home the Avatar being the only way to restore my honor. I…am not sure of my memory.”

Iroh quirked his mouth to the side, feeling and smothering a dark flare of anger. How cruel you are, brother, to give your son a fool’s hope.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he drawled, reaching up to rub at his chin, “Of course everyone and their ancient grandmother have been searching for the Avatar since he vanished a hundred years ago. I have heard it’s been turned into an enjoyable board game.”

Zuko knotted the last tie and rose sharply to his feet, quickly grabbing the edge of the altar table to keep his balance. For one, unguarded moment, he looked exactly what he was; a hurt and lonely fourteen year old cast away from everything he had known. Iroh took a step forward.

Zuko’s face closed down, like the shutting of doors. Iroh had seen it before, in warriors forced to be men before they had stopped being children.

“I will succeed where they failed,” Zuko said with absolute conviction, pushing past his uncle without the deference anyone else his age would have given the old general, “I will restore my honor. Have the commander begin collecting all information pertaining to the Avatar for the last ten years.”

“Now, now, Prince Zuko—“

“I am going to train!”

So headstrong, so determined; he was either going to get himself killed at an early age or become one of the most powerful leaders Fire Nation has ever seen.

Iroh shook his head and allowed himself a knowing smile.

Be careful my brother, he thought as he followed his nephew topside, or you are going to find yourself facing a very dangerous enemy.

__________________________

Fire Nation and the Fire controlled regions of Earth Nation spread out in splashes of green and red paint on the polished wooden board. Slim lines of black marked their borders, while great stretches of blue separate and divided them, providing challenges to some and protection to others. Across their surface small, delicately carved figures of onyx, jade, and ivory conducted wars in miniature.

“This is stupid, Uncle! How am I supposed to learn how to conduct a siege,” Prince Zuko started, waving his hand over the figurine armies facing off against each other on the constructed battlefield, “If I am on the wrong side?”

“You will not learn anything if you starve to death because I have cut off your supply trains,” Iroh said serenely, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he arranged two cavalry pieces between the besieged city and it’s primary trade route to neighboring settlements. The mountainous terrain made the city easy to defend, but it also meant limited ways in and out.

Zuko stopped at the implied challenge in his Uncle’s words and actually focused on the board. He’d been given a marker to show the level of rations available in the city prior to the siege. An unintended hint of smugness entered his tone, as he informed his Uncle, “Nonsense, I can last out at least another four month based on what’s in my stores.”

Folding his hands across his paunch, the old general smiled as if he had the rest of eternity to spend relaxing right on that spot. “Sieges can last years, Prince Zuko. Perhaps you should start thinking out another strategy.”

Caught between refusing to take part in this useless activity, thereby implying he was too weak to meet Uncle Iroh’s challenge, and fiercely declaring that he didn’t need more than ‘four months’ to win, thereby admitting that there was value to the exercise, Prince Zuko snapped his mouth shut sullenly and assessed the situation. Iroh’s armies had him out numbered and surrounded, camped almost right up against the walls, preventing escape…

A pale hand flashed over the board, as the Prince arranged his spearmen along city wall. The pieces shifted slightly as the ship under them crested a wave, a rolling sensation that Zuko was, as the days turned into weeks, steadily finding more familiar.

“Your armies are in range of my weapons,” he said, adding one of the two Earth Bender pieces to the lineup, “And my bending. The mountain ranges prevent you from having too many in the valley at once or camping further back from the walls. I can cut your forces in half without ever leaving the city.”

Iroh nodded solemnly, approval hinting around the corners of his mouth. “Good, nephew, but not good enough if I can still get reinforcements.”

“It would take two weeks for new troops to travel from the nearest garrison,” Zuko said, chewing reflectively on his thumbnail, golden gaze intense as he mentally weighed his options, “If I was able to wipe out a significant number of soldiers over a continuous period of them, it would become impractical to keep sending more.” A pause, and then he added in a dark tone laced with bitterness, “Fire Nation soldiers.”

Sensing the boy was about to swing back to the tormented broodiness that had become the norm of late, Iroh reminded his nephew, “My armies are not entirely defenseless, Prince Zuko; it will take something large to defeat enough of them too-“

“Uncle, are there caves in these mountains?”

Caught mid-advice, Iroh snapped his mouth shut and raised an eyebrow, sharp mind racing to figure out what Zuko was planning.

“There is the underground waterway,” he said, thick finger hovering over the board as he traced out its flow and various branches, a spider web shaped in liquid and stone, “It irrigates three of the cities in this region.” An idea occurred to him, when he realized that the waterway went directly under the siege line in numerous places.

“Then I will have it collapsed,” Zuko said, confirming what Iroh had suspected and the old general restrained a proud grin, “It will not be easy, but the caverns and the water underneath would make it possible where simple earth bending wouldn’t be strong enough. Getting as many of the enemies soldiers as possible would be the hard part,” he continued, the intensity of expression showing his focus to win this imitated confrontation.

And then all of sudden, that focus shifted. “Uncle, was this waterway natural or manmade?”

Surprised, Iroh cocked his head, pulling up distant memories of obscure knowledge he had collected over the decades. “Hmm, the original river was natural enough, but man shaped and redirected since then. Solid Earthbender work; they should never fear a drought.” There was hint of envy is his voice. Drought was a common and very serious problem in their homeland.

“Uncle, all those benders that were captured as prisoners of war,” Zuko said, meeting Iroh’s eyes seriously, “Why did father never utilize their abilities? Think of what the Earthbenders could have done for the old city sewage systems, the Waterbenders for our aqueducts.”

Iroh lifted both hands, palms facing out, and shook his head. “It sounds so logical talking about it this way. Just like our battle here. War broken into pieces that do not bleed and walls made out of ink. It is impossible for us to know what would actually happen unless it was real and in front of us. In the case of benders, Prince Zuko,” Iroh brought his speech back around to the actual question, seeing that his nephew was getting frustrated with his long-windedness, “It would be too easy for prisoners to turn those abilities against their captors; to destroy our homes rather than improve them.”

“But Fire Nation is the strongest in the world!” Zuko yelled.

He rose sharply, jostling the game board, fists clenched white with anger. Whether he was furious at his father, for not using the tools at his disposal to benefit his people, or at his Uncle, for suggesting that Fire Nation wouldn’t be able to guard its homes against benders of lesser elements, perhaps even the Prince himself did not know.

Either way, Iroh recognized that the exercise was done for the day. Looking away from Zuko’s searing glare, he began carefully returning the figurines to their embroidered silk pouches. “Part of being strong, Prince Zuko, is knowing what your weaknesses are.” A quick pull on braided cord drew the mouth of a pouch closed. “And part of being weak is letting your fear and need to destroy them consume you.”

Silence reined over the room for a moment, broken only by the distant roar of the engine.

“You – that – arrrgh!” Caught unable to find something that properly expressed his frustration and rage, Zuko howled wordlessly and stomped one booted foot against the floor, sending up a flare of fire that threatened the rug he’d been sitting on. “I am going to meditate!”

“Ah, Prince Zuko your temper!” Iroh called uselessly after his nephew’s retreating back.

Disclaimer: No money made, spent, or rolled in naked.

Warning: There will be humor, angst, gen, shounen ai, knitting, death, kissing and the kitchen sink.

Notes: If you’ve been in any fandom long enough, you begin to encounter a whole slew of conventions that can be found in hundred of fanfics. This is really just me poking fun at them and exploring some other ideas of my own.

“Haku, roll over,” Zabuza said, kneeling on the edge of the younger boy’s bedroll.

Haku did so before his eyes had finished opening, elbows tucking up under his chest. He turned his head to look over his shoulder as Zabuza’s hands went to the top of Haku’s hakama.

“Zabuza-san,” he said, blinking the sleep-blur out of his eyes, “I’d rather not.” They were going to be walking a long way tomorrow and he would hate to be hindered on the journey.

“I’ll be quick,” Zabuza assured him bluntly, hands sliding under the fabric to ease it down. Which meant that he would be, if not gentle, at least careful. He didn’t want his favorite tool to be handicapped anymore than Haku did. A weapon was useless if it couldn’t work properly.

Haku smiled at the unvoiced reassurance and obediently lifted his hips.

2) Neji is not that hard up. And even if he was, I’m sure Lee would be more likely to console him than bend over.

Lee was startled, to say the least, when instead of striking him in the chest like he’d expected, Neji grabbed the front of his spandex and dragged him into a very deep kiss.

It took a moment for Lee to realize, that yes he was being kissed, upon which he slammed both hands into Neji’s chest to break the contact. Neji stumbled back and quickly recovered his guard, expression a strange mix of anger, embarrassment, and doubt.

They regarded each other silently for a long while. Neji’s face twisted up in such away that Lee wondered if he was suffering from constipation.

Understanding clicked.

“Ah!” Lee exclaimed. His face became serious. “Neji, I understand that there are strong feelings associated with being my rival! However, my very heart and soul are devoted to the sweet Sakura-chan–“

“Lee.”

“–so I can’t return your feelings to you. But know that I am both flattered and overjoyed to be the receptor of your first love and–“

“Lee,” Neji said somewhat desperately, looking more horrified than anything else right now. Lee didn’t let him continue, knowing he would try to deny his emotions.

“–it is so wonderful that you have opened your heart to your youthful passions!” Lee clenched his fist, moved to tears by Neji’s heartbreaking situation. “I shall hold this moment in my memory forever!”

“…oh god.”

3) As much as we might wish it otherwise, they are only twelve.

Sasuke grabbed Naruto around the chest and wrestled him to the ground, the other boy shouting and fighting him all the way down. Soon he had Naruto pinned, hands trapped above his head as Sasuke straddled his hips.

“Ha!” he shouted triumphantly into the blonde’s face. Naruto scowled furiously, when his expression abruptly cleared.

An evil grin spread across his mouth. “Heeeeey, Sasukeee”

Sasuke turned bright red; suddenly realizing what their position let Naruto feel. “Shut up!” he yelled, jumping to his feet.

“Aww, Sasuke, did I make you happy?” Naruto laughed wildly, clutching at his stomach.

“Shut up, it just happens sometimes!” Sasuke said furiously, blushing so hard the tips of his ears were pink.

He was never going to live this down.

4) Gai-sensei can make anything seem manly.

Kakashi stared down at the colorful mass of yarn that had been lovingly made into something blanket-like in origin.

“…knitting?” Kakashi asked mildly, tracing the looping patterns of green and blue wool with his gaze.

Gai drew himself up with a frown. “Not at all! This is crochet!” He grinned proudly at the construction.

Kakashi’s eye slowly traveled from the fruits of Gai’s labor to the jounin himself. “…really?”

“Oh yes. Requires much greater dexterity of the fingers,” he said, holding up his strong, nimble hands, “I was thinking of giving this to Lee for a New Year’s present when it’s done.”

“Ah.”

Kakashi continued to stare at him. Gai looked slightly miffed at the scrutiny. “What?” A possibility occurred to him. “Ah-hah! Is it true then, my eternal rival, that you are jealous of homemaking skills? There is no way you can compete with the speed and accuracy of my crochet hook!”

He pointed a dramatic finger at Kakashi’s face. The other man looked at it, then at the blanket, and finally back at Gai.

“…knitting?”

“AAAAHH!!”

5) Ninja do not cry. Except when they do.

The insistent pounding at his door wouldn’t go away. It was only in hopes of restoring his shattered quiet that Kakashi dragged himself off the couch to answer it. He did not want to deal with anything right now, least of all another well-wisher.

His plan to open it only half-way and stare dully at the person on the other side was ruined when Gai flung the wooden barrier aside and enfolded Kakashi in a massive bear hug. And proceeded to howl like a dog whose tail had been stepped on.

Kakashi went rigid in the hold but didn’t try to fight it off. “I take it you heard about my team.”

Gai sobbed harder and nodded against his rapidly dampening shoulder. Kakashi sighed. Several moments passed.

“Must you cry on me?”

“Yes!” Gai proclaimed, jerking back enough so Kakashi could see his tear stained face, “Because you aren’t going to!” The older jounin didn’t wait for a response to that, drawing him back into his supportive and manly embrace.

And Kakashi let him.

6) There are reasons for why a ninja would kill herself–

Tenten screamed with a voice gone hoarse as the white hot metal touched the mangled flesh of her inner thigh. Her whole body was a mass of burning agony; she had lost two fingers that, she suspected, had been sent back to Konoha in separate boxes.

A hand grabbed her hair, pulling her head back as the poker was removed. “You could end this at any time, you know,” the one holding her hair said persuasively, “Just answer a few questions about your village and its forces and all this pain will end.”

Tenten stared at his blurred face through one eye nearly blind with tears, the other gummed closed with blood from when they were carving out her eyebrow. She knew he’d love to have the excuse to hurt her more. This frightened her.

But she was more frightened by how badly she wanted to answer whatever they asked of her. Anything, anything to make it stop. It was through force of will alone that she kept the words caged inside of her as another round of questioning began.

Eventually they left her and she sagged against the chains, barely able to breathe. There was no longer hope of rescue, not after this long, in this place, and that knowledge was suddenly, horribly, freeing.

She worked her tongue inside her bloody mouth, searching for the small pill tucked between cheek and jaw. Idiots hadn’t thought to search her mouth, she thought with grim satisfaction as she bit down on the pill until the plastic casing popped and the bitter, burning poison was released. Wouldn’t take long now.

She really hoped Lee and Gai-sensei didn’t cry too much.

7) –A jilted love is not one of them.

“Sakura honey, we know you are upset, but please don’t do anything drastic!” Haruno-san called through the door to her daughter’s bedroom.

“Drastic?! He’s just getting married to someone else, why would I do anything drastic??” There was a clatter as something was knocked to the floor.

Haruno-san bit her lip and turned to her husband. “Oh, she’s so heartbroken! I’m really worried.”

Her husband frowned with concern and stepped around his wife to knock gently on the pink-painted door. “Sweetheart, why don’t you unlock the door and let us in? I can fix my special cocoa for you.”

There seemed to be pause inside the room, then something soft, presumably a pillow, went ‘fuwhuumb’ against the wall. “I’m fine! I just want to be alone!” Sakura’s voice broke slightly. “Go away!”

Haruno-san gasped at the pain in her only child’s voice and clutched onto her husband’s arm.

“She has all those knives in there,” she whispered fearfully. She really didn’t know much about being a ninja—she’d only attended the academy for one year for the basic self-defense training—but surely it was a bad idea to let impressionable young girls freely handle such dangerous items. Why, she’d just read a book about teenage depression and cutting and oooh, it made her blood run cold.

“Sakura, you open this door right now!” her husband said in his too-be-obeyed voice.

“Please, just leave me along for a while!”

Haruno-san couldn’t stand it and cried, “Baby, please, we love you! Don’t hurt yourself!!”

Another pause and suddenly the door flung open, showing Sakura puffy eyed and surprised. “Don’t what?!” she demanded in aggravated confusion.

Her parents didn’t respond; her mother taking the chance to enfold her in a supportive, teary embrace while her father pushed past them to begin scouring the room for all of Sakura’s ninja tools.

Sakura sighed, distracted from her distress over Sasuke’s recent engagement. Why couldn’t she have been born an orphan?

Iruka likes children–

The boy certainly didn’t look like a man-eating fox. There was dirt and snot on his chin and blood on his knees and a surly expression on his face, and all in all, he just looked like a lost little boy crying in an alleyway.

“What do you want?” he demanded, seeming to grow in size even though he didn’t uncurl from his tight huddle against the abandoned crate.

Iruka hesitated, fingers twitching against the handles of the plastic grocery bag he held over his shoulder. Of all the children in the village, this was the only one he avoided out of habit. It was just easier that way, to not have to face the questions the child presented simply by existing.

But that luxury would be going away soon, when he started teaching classes at the academy in the fall.

Bracing himself, Iruka stepped into the alley and crouched down in front of the boy. “I’m Iruka…Umino Iruka. One of the teachers at the ninja academy. You’re Naruto, aren’t you?”

The child’s eyes lit up at the word ninja. “Ye-yes! Uzumaki Naruto!” His expression turned wary again, lower lip thrusting out into a brazen pout. “What about it?”

Iruka trusted his senses a great deal; they were what kept him alive in the chuunin exams and subsequent missions. And now his senses were telling him that the being before him was not the frightening nightmare-image of the monster that tore his world apart, but a harmless, somewhat bratty wild child that shouldn’t be out on his own.

“Well, would you like me to walk you home? It’s getting late.”

Confusion crossed the dirty face. “I know the way home,” he said.

“I’m sure you do,” Iruka said, smiling cautiously, “But let me take you home anyway.”

Wonder smoothed out the scrunched up nose and forehead. “O-okay,” he stuttered, breathless with awe.

Iruka felt himself blushing at the strangely heart twisting adoration on the boy’s face. “Well, come on then.” He straightened up and shifted the grocery bag from one hand to the other.

“Yeah!” the boy chirped, bouncing to his feet in a flurry of energy and following adoringly at Iruka’s heels.

9) –but not like that–

“Iruka-sensei, Iruka-sensei!”

Iruka sealed the scroll he’d been rolling up and smiled down at his young student. “What is it Moegi?”

The auburn haired girl came to a stop by his desk and blushed prettily. “Umm, Iruka-sensei,” she said, shuffling her feet, “Here!” She brought her hands out from behind her back and thrust a folded up piece of yellow construction paper under his nose.

“Oh, what’s this?” Iruka asked, playfully curious. Moegi giggled; they both knew that he knew what it was, but it was fun to pretend. He took the paper from her hand and unfolded it.

The page was decorated with a green, brown, and black construction of lopsided circles, squiggly lines, and uneven squares. He could tell from the cluster of brown lines coming out from the top circle that it was supposed to be a picture of him. Scrawled messily across the bottom, it said, “Moegi likes Iruka-sensei!”

His expression softened into a gentle smile. “It’s wonderful, Moegi,” he said, holding it to his chest, “I’ll treasure it.”

Her big eyes glittered like falling stars. “Really?!”

“Oh yes. And want to know a secret?”

She nodded eagerly, the short ponytails tied on either side of her head bobbing, so he motioned her forward and leaned over in his chair to whisper in her ear. “Iruka-sensei likes Moegi too,” he said.

Clapping both hands to her scarlet cheeks and squeezing her eyes shut, Moegi let out a little “Eeee!” of delight. Without another word, she spun and ran back up the rows of desks to her two friends, both of whom gave her strange looks.

Iruka’s heart fairly melted. He really did love his job. Tucking the picture inside his desk to be put on the refrigerator later, he went back to grading papers.

10) –nor does this make him a whiny little girl–

“Archers!”

The warning cry came over the comms seconds before the volley of arrows appeared. Iruka was barely able to leap out of their way and even then one left a cut along his shoulder. He was going to jump back, out of range and safely into the trees, when he realized that his teammate had been hit.

Information continued to be announced over the comms. “–twenty-eight long-bowmen along the walls–”

Yoshiki was on his side; two arrows in his thigh and third in his flank above the hip. The bottom of Iruka’s stomach dropped out at the sight. He quickly checked the skies for oncoming attacks and then darted over to his friend.

“–at three-o’clock, the rest at twelve. Teams eight and five around the–“

Kneeling on the ground, Iruka applied pressure to the wound on Yoshiki’s side, trying to staunch the blood flow. There was no way to remove the arrow without doing further damage. The other chuunin’s face was pale, his lips pressed so tightly together they were turning white.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you taken care of,” Iruka said seriously, “Just hold on.” Yoshiki nodded shakily and Iruka stood, sliding his hands under Yoshiki’s armpits. He began to drag the larger man to safety.

“–aiming! Take cover!–“

Shit!

He moved faster, feet skidding on dirt and gravel, snapping the arrows stuck in the ground around them. Yoshiki pushed along with his uninjured leg, trying to propel them out of range. It wasn’t fast enough.

“–volley!”

“Get down!”

Iruka didn’t have time to react before Yoshiki tripped him up, both of them hitting the soil in a tangle. Iruka had a wild thought–how the fucking hell was being on the ground supposed to protect them from–

–and then he was staring into Yoshiki’s pain widened eyes as his friend shielded him with his own body. One arrow struck Iruka’s hand, another opened a slice from his cheekbone to his ear, but Yoshiki took the rest, jerking with the shock of the hits.

“No, no!” Iruka gasped as the volley ended, franticly crawling out from under his teammate to help, heedless of his own wounds. The effort was useless; Yoshiki’s back was like a porcupines and he died with a bloody gurgle even as Iruka grabbed one arm and continued pulling him into the trees.

Iruka checked for his pulse anyways, not accepting it when he felt nothing. He ripped the arrow out of his own hand without thinking and was staggered by the sudden wave of agony. Clutching his wrist, he breathed through it, and began yanking the arrows out of Yoshiki’s back. If he could lay him flat…begin CPR…

“It’s alright, Yoshiki-kun, its alright,” he said rapidly, “Just hold on, I’ll…”

“–retreat and regroup! All cells, retreat–“

Iruka froze at the order, staring at the blood on his hands, the blood on Yoshiki. Wiping the blur from his eyes so he could see the way, he lifted Yoshiki’s arm over his shoulders and hauled him back to the gathering point, so as not to leave his body behind for the enemy.

11) –and people really need to stop implying that girls act that way.

Shikamaru shifted slightly against the dirty straw as the thick wood-and-metal door swung open with a bang. He didn’t bother to stand or even sit up. If they wanted to slap him around again, they were going to have to move him themselves.

Besides, he would probably throw up if he did.

Heavy boots clunked over the stone floor and keys jangled as the iron bars were unlocked. “Well, well, look at this slug,” said the deep, gravelly voice of one of his guards. The one that liked to punch him in the stomach.

Shikamaru’s eyebrow twitched.

“I think you need to be punished more,” the guard continued, steps crackling over the straw now, “In fact, I think its time for the ribbons and lace treatment. You’d look fetching in a dress.”

…what the…

“Ino?” he asked, grimacing at the scratchiness of his voice, and finally opened his eyes. The…profoundly unfortunate looking guard grinned down at him with teeth like a falling down fence. “You’ve gained weight.”

“Looking very nice yourself, thanks,” she said dryly, crouching down next to him, “What an idiot, I still can’t believe you got caught. Can you sit up?”

Shikamaru considered it. “I’ll vomit.”

“Nice,” she grunted, putting her massive hand under his neck and levering him up, “Aim thataway.”

He did while she supported him. Spots were dancing in front of his eyes when he finished and Ino wasted no time in unlocking the shackles around his ankles.

“Lets get going; I don’t want to spend any more time in ugly here than I have too. I bet this monster hasn’t bathed in years,” she complained, hoisting him up into her arms.

Shikamaru flinched as he was settled on his sore stomach over her shoulder. “Tell me about it,” he said, the smell not doing much to help his nausea or the spinning in his head.

She carried him to the door and down the long corridor beyond it, heading to where presumably; Chouji was waiting with her body.

After several minutes, Shikamaru asked, “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

The guard had a very nasty laugh.

12) It would be difficult to marry into a Konoha ninja clan.

A)

She doesn’t know when Hinata started flinching every time she lifted her hand in the girl’s direction. Or when the cheerfully bright voice dropped into a trembling whisper, or when soft crying came from behind a closed screen door instead of being brought to her.

Sometimes she likes to fool herself into thinking that it was always there; just another aspect of her gentle daughter’s personality. She herself had been a shy child before blossoming under the combined efforts of her mother and grandmother, maturing into a woman with the fortitude to become a wife of the Hyuuga clan head.

But then Hinata coughs into her napkin and fails to hide it before the speckle of blood can be seen. Or can’t use her left arm for weeks because the muscles in it have been so badly damaged, or shakes like a leaf in the wind whenever her father is near, or turns red and clumsy fingered in response to something her mother just can’t see…

She’s tried talking about it. “Husband,” she’ll say, seated next to him on her knees in their bedroom, or more rarely with her unbound hair spread across his bare chest, “This sort of training isn’t good for our daughter. There must be other ways to teach her to be head of the clan.”

But always his answer is the same. “The Hyuuga cannot allow weakness.”

So she doesn’t remember when Hinata became afraid. But she remembers when Hinabi became strong, like clay hardening in the intense heat of the kiln. She remembers bruises and bleeding born with pride not shame, and a sharply angled chin–just like the father, so little of the mother there–lifted in adult-like self-confidence. She remembers Hinata being turned aside, left to train and struggle on her own.

And when she can escape the all-seeing eyes of the family she has bound herself to, she cries for being grateful of this.

B)

“Kiba is where?”

Her husband glanced idly at the massive, snoozing pile of very large dogs. “In there, somewhere,” he said, making a vague gesture and returning to his scroll, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry?” she fairly shrieked, fists knotting up, “He could be smothered in there! Or get scratched or get dirty or get fleas!”

Several huskies and a mastiff made offended noises at this and her husband looked hurt. “Love, do you honestly think I’d let our only son play with the pack if I thought they would hurt him? He’s fine! Why,” he began, getting the fond, boyish smile that had attracted her to him in the first place, “When I was three, I spent almost the entire summer sleeping out in the kennel, and never once–“

“I don’t care what you did!” she quickly interrupted what promised to be a fairly long trip into the past, “I care about what our son is doing and I don’t want him buried under a bunch of dogs who are still dogs not matter how smart they are! Take him out now!”

Sighing and looking hurt again, he stood up and began wading his way through the congregation of furry bodies. They made no attempt to move out of his way, of course, merely groaning or growling as he shoved and pushed his way through. She clenched her hands together, experiencing a surge of anxiety at the thought of him stepping on Kiba before finding the boy.

“Ah,” he said mildly, pausing somewhere in the middle of the pile and leaning over. He dragged out a stocky toddler that had been hidden in the thick belly fur of a golden retriever. “See, just fine!” he continued, holding the drowsy eyed Kiba up by his left ankle.

Kiba yawned and then sneezed, a small cloud of white hairs being expelled from his face in the action.

His mother went red and began to shake.

“Um…honey? Something wrong?”

13) Practical clothing is a must.

“No, Sakura,” Kakashi said after a long while, having finally completed his slow once-over of his student’s new apparel. His mind kept blanking out on the part between her neck and her knees, forcing him to try again. Thirteen year olds were not supposed to have hips like that and the fact that he even noticed horrified him immensely. “You can’t wear that on missions.”

“It’s just for today, Kakashi-sensei,” she said reassuringly, tilting her head so that the ridiculously long earrings brushed her shoulders, “Don’t you think I look nice?” She turned around to show the low cut back and gazed coyly over her shoulder.

That she aimed said look at the thoroughly disgusted Sasuke and not Kakashi was the only saving grace of the expression. As it was, Kakashi still had the inexplicable urge to knock the boy over and dig his eyes out with kunai.

“Nice or not, Sakura, you can’t wear something that–“Puts your teacher’s sanity at risk? Distracts at least one of your teammates to the point that he looks ready to wet himself with joy? (Naruto was also in danger of having his eyes removed at this point) Could be torn off by the merest breeze and make a bad situation that much worse? “–impedes upon your ability to complete your duties,” he concluded smoothly.

For a moment she looked frustrated and annoyed, but it was quickly replaced with a pout that was thankfully much more childish then what a considerably older and more experienced woman would produce. “Kakashi-sensei, I can still fight just fine in this dress. See?”

She started to lift her leg in what he was sure would be a nicely executed high kick, but he missed it because that ridiculously short skirt rose even higher with the motion and so he quickly switched his attention to some trees in the distance.

As a result, he didn’t get to see what it was that caused Sakura to let out a sudden shriek, but he did look back in time to watch as a fist sized rock laid Naruto out flat.

“Pervert!” she yelled, red-faced and panting with fury. Kakashi raised his eyebrow. Obviously whatever had happen was not a reaction she’d expect to get.

“Sakura,” he said with affected playfulness. “Go home and change. We’ll wait for you.”

She took one last forlorn look at Sasuke–who’d added impatience to disgust but was otherwise unmoved–shot a furious glare at the still on the ground Naruto, and let out a long sigh. “Yes, sensei.”

14) All things being possible, ninja prepare for everything they can.

“So. You believed he was taking you up to his room to discuss -”

Shino paused and a single eyebrow arched like a spring-loaded caterpillar.

” - Dog breeding.”

Kiba spat out a mouthful of toothpaste and spun on his teammate, pointing his toothbrush menacingly at the unimpressed Aburame. “Look, he raises ‘em okay! An’ I was giving ‘im advice an’ it wasn’t like we didn’t need to get into his room anyhow!”

“I’m certain you had a valid reason,” Shino said in such a flat tone it was impossible to tell if he was being serious or sarcastic. Not being able to see most of his face didn’t help much.

Kiba bristled anyway, turning back to the sink and squeezing out another thick coil of toothpaste to cleanse his mouth with. “‘S just not right,” he mumbled, cheeks once again flushing under his tattoos, “For ‘em to send us into a mission like that without knowin’ … ”

The words were cut off as Kiba returned to industrious scrubbing. Shino remained silent for several minutes, before clearing his throat and saying, “If you read the mission parameters, they very specifically outlined why they were sending in two under-aged, dark haired, rugged looking boys on this mission.”

Kiba choked on the water and spent sometime gagging and coughing. Shino watched helpfully. “It didn’t–”

“It did. Maybe if you prepare yourself better, next time you won’t be so surprised when some man sticks his tongue down your - ”

Kiba snatched up his weapon’s pouch and chased Shino out of the bathroom.

15) -but there things for which nothing can ready you.

It was a black shoe, with pink laces tied into a lopsided bow. All Kurenai could think when she saw it was, “Oh it’s so small.” Small enough to fit into the cup of her hand if she were to try and hold it; almost as small as than the tiny fingers that had to have worked so hard to knot the ends of the laces together.

The white stockings they had been fitted over were shoved down around skinny legs, stained with dirt and fluid, but the small shoes were only scuffed a little around the toes. They were obviously very new, like the now tattered red and pink dress pushed up under pale underarms; a gift, or a special treat, for proper young lady.

At a sound behind her, Kurenai turned around part way, using her body as a shield. “Wait! Give me a chance to cover her.”

Her partner dutifully gave his back to the scene Kurenai was guarding, but didn’t leave. “You can’t yet, we need to take pictures first.”

She forcibly choked on the sound of fury and horror that tried to claw its way out of her throat. “There can’t be pictures of her like this, she’s only a - ”

“A body at a crime scene, solider,” came the sharp interruption of her statement. He took a breath and continued more gently, “I understand, Kurenai, but there’s only so much the rest of the team can gather from the surroundings and the body. They need to know how the perpetrator left everything.”

Kurenai released the tight coil of her fingers, making herself breathe, settling the swimming feeling in her head. Too deep a breath brought the scent of blood and the rotting trash of the alley. She held her fingers, tan and calloused, above the scuffed end of a small, polished black shoe.

“Let me take them,” she said finally, in voice that shook towards the end.

Without turning around, her partner handed her the camera.

For Merichan.

Haku watched them without seeing; hands resting on his knees and attention turned to the meeting going on behind him.

Their client was there, seated in the same stiff kneeling position as Haku with his thick belly taking up half his lap. His voice shook as he spoke and Haku could smell the sweat off of him. Appearantly, he could only give them less then half the payment he’d promised when he hired them. The reason for this was complex and, in fact, reasonable.

It was also an utter lie, but that was to be expected.

Zabuza lounged across from him on the tattered tatami mats, his casual sprawl showing as much disrespect as self-confidence. One wrist rested on a bent knee, while his large, sword calloused hand supported his bandaged face. Haku didn’t need to turn around to see his keeper’s expression. The outcome of this conversation had already been decided.

“So, as you can see,” their client babbled, pausing only for audible swallow, “The entire payment isn’t possible at this time. It’s nothing personal of course, just business. You understand.”

In the street, the dog nipped a little too hard at one of the children and earned a squeal of disapproval. One of the watching mothers stepped forward to separate the tangle of animal and child. Haku moved his thumb, rubbing the soft material of his hakama against his thigh.

“Yes,” Zabuza said and the chuckle in his voice was dark.

Haku rose from the wood slates of the porch in a single fluid motion. Turned around, he could see the stark terror on their client’s greasy face as Zabuza shifted on the mats, coiling himself like a snake.

“I understand completely,”

Haku slid the paper screen closed and returned to his former position.

Twenty minutes later, the screen opened and Zabuza stepped out, twisting his back as if to loosen stiff muscles. He was spotless, but from right near the door, Haku could clearly pick up the stench of blood and spilt bowls that wafted out from the room.

“Come on, kid.” Zabuza didn’t wait for agreement, hitching his sword higher on his back and starting off down the street.

Haku was up and at his master’s heels before he had finished the second word, a dutiful shadow flitting silently in Zabuza wake. They didn’t rush or hurry, traveling along through the seedier areas of the village at a steady pace that spoke of business and importance. There weren’t many people that would get in the way of someone Zabuza’s size or carrying armament like his, regardless.

Because the ward they were in was along the docks outside the city wall, they only had to worry about the guard station on the trade road. This was easily avoided by breaking into one of the houses and escaping over its back wall into the woods on the west side. Haku could hear the sound of the village watch being called even as the trees swallowed them up.

They traveled in silence for a long while, moving fluidly between one shadow and the next.

“How much, Zabuza-san?” Haku asked, when he thought it had been long enough that he would actually get an answer.

Zabuza fished a small leather sack from an inner pocket in his pants and tossed it over to the boy. Haku didn’t open it up – he wasn’t allowed to handle the money unless Zabuza gave it to him to buy something in particular or to make bribes. The fact that Zabuza trusted him not to touch the coins even while they were in his hands was more effective in staying his curiousity than any beating could be.

Haku weighted the sack. “Not enough.”

“More than half, once I liberated it from him,” Zabuza said in a rough-edged voice that was neither angry nor amused, “He might even have gotten the rest to us in a few days.”

“Assuming we wanted to stay around that long,” Haku finished the thought and passed the pouch back. It vanished again into the waistband of Zabuza’s pants.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said as he picked up the pace, nearly flying between the tangle of wind twisted trees, “I want to have dinner caught by the time we make camp.”

“Yes, Zabuza-san,” Haku said, drawing out his needles.

Knowing that they needed to conserve their money until the next job, Haku simply nodded and prepared the pheasants he had killed. Of course, he wouldn’t have said anything even if they had been richer than kings. It wasn’t his place.

Once they had eaten, Haku rose from his place by the fire. “I’m going to wash,” he said. He’d bathed yesterday morning, in a cheap bathhouse in the village, and if he waited until tomorrow, he could wash with warm water heated over the fire. But the thought of going to sleep tonight covered in the sweat from that day’s job bothered him.

Zabuza lounged on the uneven ground, staring into the dying flames with dark eyes. He didn’t acknowledge Haku’s statement, but Haku hadn’t expected him too.

The boy slid off his clothing and folded it on his bound bedroll, untying his hair as he walked naked down to the lake. The surface was black, painted in the writhing splashes of white from the low-lying moon. It was icy, but Haku barely noticed. Cold was a familiar and oft entertained companion, one he welcomed back with the same sweet smile he gifted to Zabuza.

Soon he was able to submerge himself, moving buoyantly over the thick sand the covered the lakebed and moving his arms and legs against the resistance of the water. It felt nice; his entire body tingled from the cold and the silvery light on his bare skin made him think of long lost, snow-laden nights.

Relaxed from his swim, he was about to go back to the shore to get the soap, when he sensed someone else entering the lake.

“Zabuza-san,” he said in greeting to his guardian, swimming a wide circle to give Zabuza the space he needed to bathe privately.

“Come here,” the tall man said when he was no further then waist deep, gesturing Haku over to him. Without his face bandages, his mouthful of razor teeth glimmered in the light when he spoke. Haku paddled over obediently.

“Turn around.”

A sound nearly escaped Haku’s lips when he saw the hunk of soap Zabuza held. The missing-nin had only helped Haku bathe once, when they first started traveling together and that was for the purpose of teaching Haku how to do it on his own. It was made clear at the time that if Zabuza had to participate in such events again, it would involve a wire brush. Haku had to be proficient in his own personal care, or he was no good to the older ninja. He didn’t need punishment to enforce that lesson.

“Zabuza-san,” Haku said, a question and compliance at the same time, and gave Zabuza his back.

Lather covered hands ghosted up his back before they gathered up the ends of his hair, working the long black strands between them. Strong, coarse fingers slid up to his scalp, pushing forward over the sensitive skin. It was an entirely new feeling, enough to make him shiver unexpectedly and close his eyes.

Haku was used to being loomed over by Zabuza’s size; it was a comforting, safe feeling, to forever be eclipsed in his keeper’s shadow. Now the familiar presence felt more there then ever before, so close that the warmth of his bare skin reached Haku’s water chilled flesh. He shivered again as that rough but careful touch ran wetly down the sides of his cheeks and around his ears, starting a low pulse below his stomach.

“Zabuza-san…” he said again, not asking further because he knew there would be no answer. The grip in his hair shifted to cup is chin and his head was carefully titled back, supported at the nape of his neck.

They looked at each other in silence for a while, Haku’s heart fluttering in his chest and something gathering low and tight in his belly. Zabuza’s face was as a still as the cliffs rising above the surface of the lake, his grip too firm to escape but too gentle to damage. His body behind Haku was like a log fresh from the fire and Haku thought it would set him blaze if he came in contact with it.

“Hm,” Zabuza said finally, “Not yet.” He released his charge with a pat to the shoulder that was oddly off-handed considering their earlier intimacy and rinsed the lather from his hands before returning to the camp. He left the soap floating on the surface and Haku had to catch it fast before it sank to the bottom.

He stared after Zabuza and felt strangely as if he’d been standing on the edge of crevasse into something deep and unknown. But Haku wasn’t an innocent and in half the time it took for him to finish washing, he’d already understand what had not happened.

When the last traces of soap were gone, he returned to the fire to find Zabuza already dry and lying on his side of the bedroll, eyes closed and breathing even in a way completely out of keeping with real sleep. Haku knelt naked on his side and dried himself with a towel, ringing out the extra moisture in his hair and binding it up.

Dressed for rest and warmed by the slowly dying flames, Haku lay down and looked Zabuza’s broad back. In a quiet, unobtrusive voice designed to be unheard if the other person wished it so, Haku said, “Zabuza-san, whatever you request of me is yours.”

He spoke not as a concession to Zabuza’s desires, but as if it were the purest fact. Like he was saying the sky was blue – a truth so great everyone knew it without ever speaking it.

There was a pause, a change in Zabuza’s breathing that was enough to let him know that his words had been heard.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Zabuza said finally.

With a very slight smile, Haku closed his eyes and did just that.

End.

Elbows taking up most of the their little street side café table and shoulders arched up so high his back seemed to bend between them, Shikamaru glanced up from the iced tea he was idly stirring.

“Stop glaring like that, Temari, you’re going to give him a heart attack,” he said in a low drawl, gaze passing indifferently over the surrounding crowd.

“Tsk.” She dismissed him, snatching up her glass in one long fingered hand and taking a long pull on the straw. “I’m going to bring you home to Sand with me,” she said, “Show you what real men look like.”

“I don’t need any dating help,” he said, scowling in annoyance. If he’d known that the Sand jounin was going to latch onto his sexuality like this, he would have put more effort into hiding it.

“Who said anything about dating?” Temari said around her straw, giving him a sideways look, “I’d settle for just getting you laid.”

“When did I become your pet project?” Shikamaru groused, flicking at a few drops of water on the wrought iron table. Around them, the noontime crowd moved in ebbs and flows of action and speech. It was lively without being rushed; the relaxed but purposefully atmosphere of a village that was doing well for itself.

“When I saved your life,” Temari said as she looked around for another prospect, crossing her legs under the yukata she’d taken to wearing during her visit. It was an unspeakably impractical outfit and when he’d questioned her on it, she had tightly replied that she was an official representative of her village and it would be in his best interest not to bring it up again.

“That was years ago,” he protested half-heartedly, rubbing above his left eyebrow with cold, damp fingers.

“Uh huh.” The point was clearly not up for discussion. “Hey, you know that person, right?” Temari gestured with her glass at a passing Leaf-nin.

Shikamaru braced his chin against his fist and slowly drifted his attention in the indicated direction. Recognition brightened his otherwise sullen and bored expression.

“Yeah, that’s Hyuuga Neji,” he said, watching the young jounin stop and engage in a conversation with an associate, “He was on my team for that failed retrieval mission. We’ve worked together a few other times since then.”

“Thought he looked familiar. He’s a lot less bloody this time,” Temari said, eyebrow rising as the skin around Shikamaru’s eyes flinched slightly at the reminder. “Hmm…you know…” she trailed off thoughtfully, nail taping the side of her cup and fierce blue eyes full of speculation.

Shikamaru was instantly suspicious. “No.”

“He’s cute,” she said, ignoring him, “Oi, Hyuuga!” The last was shouted as Temari half-rose from her chair, hand cupping around the side of her mouth to project her voice. When Neji turned his head their way to acknowledge the summon, she waved him over. He nodded once in acceptance and finished up his conversation.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes, mentally bemoaning the orders that left him playing guard duty to this monster woman. Temari settled back into her chair with a smug little smirk.

“You’re insane,” he said flatly as Neji started toward their table.

“Shut up, I know what I’m doing,” Temari said with a sniff, putting down her glass with a click and gripping her knee with both hands.

“Temari-san, Shikamaru,” the jounin said in a neutral tone when he reached them, stopping a few feet before their table. The same neutrality carried over to his expression; brows smooth below his headband and lips resting together lightly. It wasn’t an open or welcoming expression, and there was a definite sense of self-importance in the way he carried himself, but it also wasn’t the same cold haughtiness that would have been there less then three years ago.

“Neji,” Shikamaru said in greeting, leaning back in his chair. Scheming kunoichi aside, Neji was one of his co-workers and superiors.

“You doing anything tonight?” Temari asked flat out. With her back ramrod straight and her eyes narrowed fiercely, she looked less like someone trying to set up a friend than someone conducting an invasion on a foreign country.

Neji frowned slightly, white eyes evaluating the women addressing him so abruptly. “I am having dinner with my clan. Did you require assistance with something?” All of sudden, Neji’s focus obviously shifted. “I was under the impression that Shikamaru was supposed to attend to your needs while in Konoha.”

Temari’s eyebrows flew up while Shikamaru let out a dark chuckle.

“I warned them I’d start shirking my duties first chance I got,” Shikamaru leered, folding his arms behind his head.

“I’m just surprised it took this long,” Neji said in clear disapproval that was at odds with the faint smirk lurking around the corners of his mouth. He seemed to gather himself and nodded to Temari, waiting pointedly.

She was watching them both in wiry amusement. “We could use a third head while we’re going over the last of the exam paperwork this evening.” There was a small mountain of forms and treaties that had to be signed, double, and triple checked before Sand could begin opening its gates to the other villages.

“Afterward you can take that out to dinner and off my hands for the night,” she continued, waving her hand at Shikamaru and ignoring his muttered ‘off your hands?’

Neji pressed his lips together, considering, then inclined his head. “That is acceptable to me. What time should we meet?”

After discussing the details of their get together, Neji excused himself to wrap up some other business.

“Well, well,” Temari said once he’d gone, “Looks like you’ll be getting lucky tonight after all.”

“Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shikamaru pushed himself up from the table, honestly annoyed with her. The protest was more whiney then angry though and Temari brushed it away with a laugh.

“Better get practicing on your kissing,” she taunted him, briefly puckering her lips at him, “You know, I bet he’s a - ”

“I’m not listening to you anymore.”

/.end.file

(Neji would later say that Tokimi, being the only one of the three Rock children to get her mother’s brains and sense, had only forgiven Lee to get him to stop embarrassing her like that. Lee, however, refused to believe a word of this.)

His wife on the other hand, as incomparably generous, caring, and skilled as she may be, was not about to let him get off that easy.

“Sakura-san, I swear that I will never – “

The bedroom door opened to gift him with a pillow to the face. “You drank sake, Lee! At your own daughter’s birthday party!”

Lee pulled the pillow aside to grant him a full view of his wife. She stood in the doorway with short pink hair wild about her furious face and silk nightgown pulled taut across her bosom from the way her fist was drawn back in a threatening punch that could easily break his head open.

Lee clutched at the pillow and fell in love all over again.

“You know what sake does to you!” she continued, seeming to think better of hitting him and striking the wall instead. Thankfully gently enough not to break anything; once, shortly after they married, she’d lost her temper and spilt the wall all the way down to the foundation. She slammed the door closed again while he launched into another speech of heartfelt appeal.

“I know and I cannot express my everlasting sorrow that I was so careless as to thoughtlessly ingest that drink that Naruto handed to me! To make up for it, I will climb to the highest building and beg forgiveness one-hundred – “

“Stop apologizing!” The portal into Lee and Sakura’s bedroom and the nest of comfort and delight found therein opened once more to emit an armful of blankets.

When it closed, no more pleading, promises of amazing acts, or vows of devotion, would get it to open again.

At least until tomorrow morning.

End.

All forms of feedback very much enjoyed.

____________________________________________

She was fully dressed and standing on a spit of rock slowly being swallowed back into the sea when the dinghy rounded the northern side of the island and headed toward her.

She felt a rush of petulant anger at the sight; couldn’t they just let her alone a while longer? She couldn’t go back to it all now, to daily life and its duties and concerns and distractions. Not when the memory of three days past was still fresh on her skin; the sound of his voice still so clear and strong amid her thoughts. Not when she could close her eyes and believe, so very easily, that he would be beside her when she opened them again.

‘And if I spend too much longer courting memory and fantasy,’ she told herself with a wry twist to her lips, ‘I’ll surely go madder than Jack.’

She stayed where she was and watched the dinghy’s steady progress across the rocking waves. It wasn’t long before she recognized her first mate seated at the helm – what his name again? Zhen Jin? Zhang Li? She probably ought to get around to memorizing that. He noticed her regard and returned it with a grin. There was nothing even moderately pleasant about the expression and Elizabeth felt a faint thrill of warning through the sadness that muffled her like a blanket.

When the nose of the boat was a body’s length from her spire, the man barked an order to his oarsman. The younger fellow lifted his oars from the water, allowing the dinghy to bob about unhindered. In the same easy, unconcerned motion, her first mate rose from his seat and aimed a pistol at her.

“I could shoot you here and tell the crew you ended it yourself out of grief,” he said in his accented English, clearly relishing the possibility, “And none would be the wiser.”

The oarsman started to protest and then seemed to think better of it. The other two ignored him.

Elizabeth glanced briefly at the pistol and just as casually dismissed it, meeting the man’s scornful gaze instead. Her arms remained relaxed at her sides, making no motion toward the pistol hidden under her coat. “I am flattered that you would even bother lying.”

He laughed roughly, showing stained teeth. “They like you,” he said. As quickly as it had come, the humor stripped from his face, leaving behind a glittering dark rage. “Why else would they wait three days on the word of an English whore?”

She lifted her chin, gratified at the offended fury that stirred in her chest. It was warm and satisfying and would keep her moving when hope faltered. “Perhaps they have a healthy respect of my astounding leadership abilities,” she said archly.

He snorted, surprise and amusement flickering across his weather lined face. The tip of the pistol wavered slightly, and then steadied as he cocked it with a sharp click. Elizabeth’s heart jumped at the sound, despite herself.

How odd that she could still fear death after all she had seen and been through. ‘Oh, of course you fear it,’ the sensible side of herself spoke up, ‘Who wants to be dead, anyway? Besides, with our luck, we’ll end up in whatever constitutes as heaven – or, be honest now, hell –with no visitors allowed and poor Will gets the pleasure of coming home to our bones every ten years.‘

“Where is the chest?” he asked, night black eyes flicking up and down her frame, as if she might have it hidden in a pocket or behind her legs.

“It will do you no good without the key,” she said, suddenly wishing she’d had the forethought to bury it, instead of leaving it wedged in the shallow cave that had been her shelter for the past few days, “And that key is sailing on the underside of the world.”

“Ch’, you speak as though no one has ever acquired both at the same time,” he said, giving her a smug smile.

Her mouth worked silently in indignation.

“O-ooh,” she said finally, forcing the words past her sheer disbelief and disgust at the very thought, “And see how splendidly that turned out for him!” She held up her arms and spun in an extravagant circle, as though Beckett’s failure lay spread out atop the ocean itself for all to view. “Why, he’s sitting upon his throne now, drinking tea and relishing in all the wealth that his endeavors have brought him!”

She shouted the last few words at the sky, at the memory of a man whose ambitions had so greatly changed her life. Her first mate was seething when she turned back to him; his sun-browned body fairly shaking with the extent of his hatred. No one likes being made fun of, least of all an uptight and tradition-bound pirate.

Yet, despite the fact that he was the armed angry man with very good reason to blow her head off and go take over her ship, Elizabeth felt like she was the one with all of the power. He wouldn’t have come here for the sole purpose of killing her, else she would have been dead already (or at least in the process of fighting her for her life); he was retrieving her at the crew’s beset and enough of them were on her side that he didn’t want to run the risk of denouncing her outright. Yet.

She rather belatedly realized she was grinning wildly and had to repress the urge to swagger as she took two steps along her now sunken perch. He didn’t back down from her approach, but he didn’t shoot her either.

“Come on, then,” she said, hands on her hips, “Surely you would not want to miss the opportunity to serve under Death’s own wife. Think of the notoriety at the very least.”

The pistol wavered again. A moment longer and it dropped, returning to its holster at his belt. “You will bring disgrace and dishonor down upon us,” her first mate said, spitting over the side of the dinghy, “And I will be there when those that have foolishly followed you turn on you to strip the flesh from your bones.”

She chuckled. “Mr. Lin,” she said and congratulated herself when he didn’t correct her, “I would not have it any other way. ”

He curled his lip at her. This one was only as trustworthy as the sword she would have to keep held at his throat. “What are your orders, Captain?” He issued an order of his own to the oarsman before she had a chance to answer. The other man obediently put his oars to the water, crossing the last few feet between them.

That was something else she was going to have learn; Chinese.

Elizabeth looked to the sea, for the first time in days seeing it and not the memory of swiftly vanishing sails. It was only a few hours past dawn, leaving her crew enough time to ready the ship and get them a goodly distance before sunset. But where, exactly, would they go? There was no home for her in Port Royal, no father to welcome her back with confused disapproval and unwavering love, no genteel society to cosset her platitudes and courtesy. For the first time in months, there was no where she needed to be and no reason to go any where. Her home awaited her ten years in the future.

But that was an awful long time to stand on a bit of rock with the ocean soaking your boots.

The wind pulled at her unbound hair, whispers of freedom and adventure. And if both had gained a hollow, empty taste to them since she’d last heard their call, it was no matter. She knew better than most that, at times, something was better than naught at all.

“Tell me, Mr. Lin,” she said, as she turned her gaze from the horizon and bent over to take hold of the dinghy’s edge, “How are the waters about China?”

No beta, beware.

Available Translations: Russian

_________________________________

Kakashi was greatly skilled in many venues, but he had a special talent for putting things off. Meetings, social gatherings, paying bills, kunai trying to intercept with his torso; no matter what it was, if Kakashi wanted to avoid it — whether temporarily or permanently — then he did so. Often to the extreme frustration of those around him. Just ask Maito Gai. And be ready to lose an afternoon.

Of course, there are those things in life that even someone like Hatake Kakashi can’t prevent or avoid.

One of them happened to be puberty.

It was a nasty period of life, he’d decided, one that had snuck up on him not just once, but twice.

The first time he had been sort of wearily annoyed. A perfectly acceptable existence of poking things with sharp pointy objects for a paycheck had been thrown into chaos by the overwhelming urge to poke girls with one particular pointy object.

It took years to get used to it, during which he did things he never wanted to think about again and things he hoped to god he never forgot. In the end he pledged his heart to his one true love—Momoda Nadeshiko, the long legged heroine of Icha Icha Paradise, volume one—-and settled into the comfortable life of a professional bachelor.

The second strike of puberty came the day he looked upon Sakura and realized that there was now a pair of what were obviously breasts making themselves known under her dress. It didn’t help that the dress, which had been zipped up to her neck just twenty minutes ago he’d bet his life, was open down the front to the point of invading nipple territory. If he’d had a stable gun on him right then, he would have stopped that siege in five seconds and spent the rest of his day in a much better mood.

After that, it came to his – rather bleated– attention that Sasuke was going through the rather unpleasant squeaky voiced stage, and Naruto…

Well, actually, there was one incident and that was admittedly Kakashi’s fault. You just didn’t drop in unexpectedly on teenage boys. Especially ones that lived alone and didn’t have to worry about things like locking themselves in the bathroom for privacy.

On the upside, Naruto spent the next two weeks avoiding him like crazy. It was the quietest two weeks Kakashi had enjoyed since the hyperactive brat was put under his care.

After his initial ‘well, crap’ reaction, Kakashi was ready to brush the whole thing aside and leave them to muddle along on their own. They’d figure out things eventually.

Okay, no, he wasn’t that bad.

He gave the boys books and Sakura had Tsunade so all was well on that front. Granted, he was pretty sure Sasuke burned his book and Naruto vanished for a week with his, but those were acceptable causalities.

The sudden burning rage he experienced when he saw a group of older teenagers eyeing Sakura in a distinctly predatory fashion, however, was not.

While he’d adapted himself to honestly, wholeheartedly caring for people for the first time in years, the fact that this caring appearantly extended to protecting his former students’ virtue was a new one on him. It wasn’t exactly a happy discovery either.

Unfortunately, the feeling of protectiveness extended to Naruto, too. The boy had finally discovered a world of females that existed beyond Sakura and he was taking full advantage of it. His tastes ran toward the dominant and aggressive, which meant the girls either had nothing to do with him, or ate him for breakfast. Sakura provided unexpected salvation in this arena as she caught onto the problem quicker than Kakashi did and warned off the sharks through some archaic female ritual.

Sasuke turned out to have all the sexual drive of a piece of granite. Kakashi suspected that it would either all come out one day and he’d assault the nearest sheep field, or he’d turn into Ibiki. Lord knew that man hadn’t gotten anything in over a decade.

All in all, it was enough to make Kakashi want to neuter the lot of them.

Besides, he would be there to help them correct their errors and together they would become more skilled! After all, didn’t he learn from his students even as they learned from him? Yes! That was the path to success!

Greatly cheered, Lee continued correcting essays and tests with such vigor and concentration that he missed another person entering the room until calloused hands covered his eyes.

He recognized who it was instantly – for he knew every line and scar and scent of those hands – and was smiling more brilliantly then the sun before she even opened her mouth. “Guess who?”

“The most beautiful blossom that has ever bloomed,” he said extravagantly, cheeks stinging slightly from grinning so broadly. But how could he help it? How could he not want to shout his joy from being privileged enough to spend even a moment in this amazing woman’s presence?

She released his face to swat his shoulder. “Silly, don’t say strange things like that,” she said, but he could tell she was pleased from the warmth in her voice.

He turned his head to watch as she came around to the front of his desk and leaned her folded arms against it, sunlight from the window filtering through her unbound pink hair. She was smiling at him affectionately but it was sort of sad at the same time.

“Did you enjoy your visit with Sasuke-san?” Lee asked with a touch of concern. He knew how much she still cared for her former teammate and it never failed to upset Sakura whenever the Uchiha was hurt or…caused trouble for himself and others.

How he hated to see her sad. Someone such as dear Sakura should never have reason to frown. But he must believe in her strength too. Yes, though it hurt him to see her suffer, the best he could do as her beloved boyfriend was be there to support her when she needed him and stand aside when she needed to fight her own battle!

“Sasuke-kun said…” she started, voice trailing off as she looked to the side. Lee knew instantly that something had happened between them. He waited patiently for her to continue.

She took a deep breath and met his eyes straight on. “Lee, I want to tell you this. Sasuke-kun said to me, ‘If I asked you, would you marry me?’”

She stopped again and Lee smiled encouragingly. This seemed to confuse her.

“I said no,” Sakura continued in a rush, like she had to explain before he got the wrong idea, “Because…because the person I am wouldn’t be happy with someone like Sasuke-kun. And I’m happy with you, I love you, I – but it wasn’t just being your girlfriend, it was, I mean – “

Lee reached out and took her hand, cradling it between his own. “It’s a sad thing, isn’t it Sakura-san, to realize your dream isn’t what you wanted?”

She blew out a long breath and eyed him, her expression a mixture of gratefulness, bafflement, and wistful nostalgia. She pulled his hands toward her until she could rest her chin on his knuckles.

“You’re a wonder Lee-kun, really you are,” she said and he could feel the warmth of her breath through the bandages, “Any other man would have reacted very differently to their girlfriend telling them that.”

Lee shook his head, not denying her words, but showing that he didn’t understand the reason behind them. “You would have never accepted my advances if your heart wasn’t certain. Because that is the woman that my Sakura-san is.”

There has never been, Lee decided, a jewel that shined brighter than Sakura’s eyes when she smiled like that.

End.

Warning: contains YAOI and implied SEX.

Notes: this fits very loosely into the “Parental Guidance” universe, but there’s no need to read one to get the other. It also feels horribly incomplete, because every time I get Naruto and Sasuke within shouting range of each other, they won’t shut up, so I’m sure I missed something major in this. Rawr.

Gift-fic for Biztheinsane

Available Translations: Russian

More specifically, it sat in the center of his room; a wadded up double handful of black mesh and lightweight cotton that he had to step over every time he went to the bathroom. He didn’t understand how the hell both of them missed it. No matter how madly they’d rushed to get dressed before Kakashi came home and found them naked and tangled up together, they should have spotted it. The shirt was perfectly visible, lying right where even a half-blind idiot could see it.

Especially that half-blind idiot. The one who owned the stupid thing. Of course Naruto hadn’t come back to get it. Sasuke wouldn’t have let him in or talked to him even if he had shown up, but that wasn’t the point. Naruto wasn’t going to come over because he just wasn’t that considerate. He probably expected Sasuke to return it to him.

Ha. Like that was going to happen.

So Sasuke got good at pretending the shirt didn’t exist. Ideally he’d be able to ignore it long enough for it to disintegrate and get absorbed into the carpet.

Kakashi noticed it when Sasuke started vacuuming around the item rather then touch it, but he didn’t do more than dully ask if Sasuke had any laundry he wanted to add to the load. Because of this Sasuke spent four days experiencing acute paranoia over whether or not his former teacher/current babysitter knew what happened. Kakashi, for his part, was too used to Sasuke’s moods to be terribly moved when the teenager took to glaring at him suspiciously and searching the house for surveillance equipment.

By the start of the second week after the Event, Sasuke felt like the shirt was mocking him. Sneering at him. Reminding him of what happened. Showing up in his dreams.

Or at least, Naruto taking it off would show up in his dreams. Which was usually followed by Naruto kissing him and then Naruto pushing him down onto the bed and then Naruto tugging open his pants…

His paranoia came back when Kakashi dryly asked if he would be better off using the neighbor’s bathroom since he could never seem to get into his own.

In attempt to distract himself, Sasuke spent his free time cleaning the house. The scrolls were alphabetized, the weapons were mounted according to size, the top shelves were dusted, and the curtains were washed.

It didn’t help.

In a last ditch effort, Sasuke decided to completely redesign his bedroom. Maybe he could put a table or rug over the shirt.

This turned out to be a mistake as Kakashi caught him in the middle of going through interior design catalogs and color swatches and decided this was his cue to sit and stare incredulously. It ruined the experience. Especially when Sasuke explained the importance of matching your curtains to your wallpaper and caused Kakashi to have hysterical giggle fits.

The next day Sasuke went to the Hokage to request a replacement. Tsunade pointed out that defectors who try to kill their teammates don’t have much right to complain about their guardians. Sasuke pointed out that it wasn’t like Naruto had actually died. Tsunade mentioned that it was the thought that counted. Sasuke mentioned that she wasn’t one to talk about killing teammates. She had her Anbu escort him out. They did this about once a month.

By the third week, Sakura had come over twice to ask what he and Naruto were fighting about this time, because the idiot was insisting that Sasuke was avoiding him again and making her life miserable because of it. Sasuke said he didn’t know and ignored her. She was immune to this.

On her second visit, she fixed them dinner. Since they’d been looking forward to End Of The Month Surprise prior to that, Sasuke was something approaching grateful for the favor. Unfortunately, she decided that her efforts gave her leave to follow him into his bedroom and be “helpful” by picking up the shirt lying in the middle of his otherwise completely spotless floor. This of course exposed the bright yellow spiral pattern on the front leaving no question as to the original owner. Sasuke fielded her questions with his usual “I am above answering to you” attitude and eventually succeeded in chasing her off. (Which annoyed Kakashi who’d been hoping to get her to cook the next night too.)

But he knew that the cover had been blown. Sakura was going to ask Naruto about it and the dumbass never could keep a secret to save his life. He’d try to lie–badly–and just end up giving the whole thing away. Now Sasuke would have to talk with him, if only to drill the proper cover-up story into his head.

He cursed creatively all the way to Naruto’s apartment. He was still cursing when he pounded on the door and realized after five minutes that no one was home. After ten restful minutes thinking hateful thoughts at a certain blonde who was still a moron no matter how right he’d been about the “strength from protecting people” bit or how good he was with his tongue, Sasuke left to do some shopping. Not because he really wanted to, but because damned if he was going to wait on Naruto of all people.

An hour and a half later he was back at Naruto’s door, not much calmer for having refreshed the household supply of toilet paper and disinfectant. When he knocked a yell of greeting came from inside.

The second the door opened, Sasuke thrust his hand forward and as a result nearly stuffed the shirt–he’d brought it with him, despite an initial resolve not to–into Naruto’s face. The blonde jerked back from the near-attack in time to avoid a mouthful of dirty cotton.

“You left this, you idiot, and now Sakura knows,” Sasuke said without preamble.

Naruto was never very quick on the uptake, but arguments or accusations from Sasuke were processed faster in his brain than anything else. “You told Sakura?” he demanded, eyes and nostrils flaring in indignation, “You’ve been avoiding me all this time but you talk to Sakura about it?”

“I didn’t tell her!” Sasuke snapped in frustration. What was it about Naruto that kept dragging him back? The boy was completely brain dead. “She found the shirt!”

“Shirt, what shirt? You asshole, what the–oh, I’d wondered where that went,” Naurto said in a different tone of voice, finally connecting what Sasuke was talking about with the item being held in front of his nose. Then the confusion returned to his features. “But how would she know from that?”

“Because it was your shirt on my floor,” Sasuke explained slowly, gritting his teeth. He hadn’t lowered his arm yet and if Naruto didn’t take the shirt right now he was going to stuff it straight down the blonde’s pants. “Its Sakura. She can see these things.”

Naruto got an odd look from that. At least, Sasuke thought it was odd; a sort of almost smile, almost scowl, like someone who didn’t know whether to be pleased or furious. “Okay, so she knows. We should talk to her.”

He reached up absentmindedly to take his undershirt back. Sasuke released it with a sudden surge of relief, like he was dropping a twenty-pound weight off his shoulders.

“No, we aren’t going to talk to her,” Sasuke said, narrowing his eyes. He noticed that Naruto was wearing only the black leggings of his chuunin uniform and a tank top. He had nice shoulders. Sasuke could remember the feel of them against his palms. “We’re going to figure out a cover-up to tell her for when she comes around asking questions.”

For a moment Naruto stood staring, one hand on the door and the other holding his newly recovered shirt. Then his face scrunched up, his fists clenched, and his whole body vibrated. It looked like he was having an epileptic fit.

“But–you–argh!!” He made frantic hand and arms movements. Sasuke just folded his arms across his chest and watched the show. “You said she already knew! What would it matter if she–”

“She doesn’t know all of it, stupid.”

“But you said she knows! You said it, you!” He halted his exotic dance of frustrated confusion to squint uncertainly. “Unless you’re talking about something else. This is about the–that day right? A month ago when we…”

Naruto’s volume dropped on the last few words and suddenly they were having a completely different conversation.

Sasuke folded his arms the other way, uncomfortably aware of himself, of Naruto, barefoot and in that eye-searing orange tank that outlined the shape his chest. Of a soft mouth in a taunt line and the still full curve of a tanned cheek. Of the way overgrown blonde spikes fell into blue eyes that were looking at him in that way that made him feel like he was being flayed from the inside.

The silence was very loud, riding on a swell of words that should be spoken but never would be. Finally, Naruto reached out, knotted his fist in Sasuke’s collar, and dragged him into the apartment.

Later, Sasuke would tell himself that he locked his knees to prevent from being pulled in. He hadn’t, but it made him feel better to believe he had.

A noteworthy time after that, when they’d gotten their breath back, Naruto turned his head on Sasuke’s shoulder and said into his neck, “We should move in together,”

They sat on the floor of the entranceway, not having made it very far into the apartment, their pants around their ankles and Sasuke seated across Naruto’s thighs. Sasuke shifted slightly, the back of his shirt catching on the door, and furrowed his forehead in confusion.

“What?” He took a deep breath to calm his still racing heart and tried to work up some moisture in his dry mouth. His thighs and backside were sticky and the back of his head was sore from when he’d slammed it into the door at one point. “That’s stupid.”

“No its not,” Naruto protested, settling Sasuke’s weight more comfortably in his lap and lifting his head to look Sasuke in the face. “It makes perfect sense! That way we’ll have more time to spend together and it won’t matter where I leave my clothes and you can’t avoid me like the jerk you are.” He grinned and bucked his hips slightly. “We can do this more.”

Sasuke frowned, staring at the sunlit expanse of Naruto’s one room apartment over the other teen’s shoulder. “If I’m going to live with someone for sex, I better be getting children out of it.”

Because they were so close, Sasuke couldn’t move fast enough to keep from getting his head bashed against the door again. “Ow! You dumb–”

“Its not just sex, you ass! Don’t say crap like that,” Naruto said with a glare, his hand pressed against Sasuke’s forehead and fingers tangled the mussed black locks. Sasuke continued to stare past him, under the curve of his palm.

Of course it was just sex. Naruto made his heart quicken, his body tremble, and his breath come short with an excitement that surged up his spine in a way comparable only to the thrill of fighting. But it was just an urge, or hormones, or something equally stupid and it would eventually fade back into the otherwise acceptable desire to kick Naruto’s ass. Then he could get married to some strong, quiet woman who wouldn’t mind bearing and rearing half-a-dozen children, and he’d never again put up with a passion that could turn his brains into complete mush.

“I’m still not moving in you with you, stupid,” Sasuke said after a minute of mentally organizing his future, and jerked his head out from under Naruto’s hand, “We’ve only been together twice. It’s not a declaration of everlasting devotion or anything. Besides, Kakashi would have to come too and I’m not doing anything like this with him in the next room.”

“Bah, I’ll talk to the old hag about that,” Naruto assured him with his usual certainty, “She wouldn’t even have him keeping an eye on you if you stopped leaving the village without permission and randomly leveling people’s houses.”

“That wasn’t random, it was a mission and it wasn’t my fault the foundation had rotted away.” He squirmed, starting to feel the strain of being spread open across Naruto’s hips. Naruto gripped lightly at his thighs and frowned stubbornly, obviously not intending to let him up yet.

“We’ve known each other for years. This more than just friendship, so why shouldn’t we?” He titled his head, smiling slightly, and so obviously pleased with the idea that Sasuke wanted to punch him purely on principle. “We could get a big place with a garden! It’d be cool!”

“No it wouldn’t,” Sasuke growled, “You’d never clean up and fix ramen all the time and then I’d have to smother you in your sleep. Besides, people would know.”

Naruto, of course, failed to see the importance behind this. “But you said Sakura all ready knows, so it shouldn’t be too–”

Sasuke shut him up with a kiss for the sake of his sanity. “No, Naruto,” he said when they separated. “Now let me up, you idiot, this is undignified.”

For heartbeat, Naruto looked vulnerable and utterly confused in the way of someone facing a concept completely beyond their realm of reasoning. Sasuke went back to staring out at the apartment, noticing the way one of the legs on the kitchen table was at a different angle then the rest. The moment passed and Naruto’s expression showed only determined annoyance as he muttered things about touchy, paranoid assholes and disentangled himself from Sasuke.

“Fine, but you’re staying today, right?” he asked, scooting out of Sasuke’s way and using the black undershirt to clean off the mess on his stomach. Sasuke scowled at it out of reflex. “I haven’t seen you in forever because you’re a dick. We should do something.” His face flared up. “Something else.”

Sasuke shrugged one shoulder and stretched the kinks out of his legs and hips. “I’ll stay,” he said like it didn’t matter, “We need to work out what to do about Sakura anyway.”

“Urgh, but Sakura–”

“Just shut up, idiot.”

A day or so after leaving Naruto, Sasuke decided to go into hiding long enough for first Kakashi, and then a team of Anbu, to go looking for him. He slipped out of the village while they were distracted searching elsewhere, which ultimately resulted in him leading them on an insane goose chase throughout the forests surrounding Konoha.

It was wonderfully therapeutic, until one of them got him in the ass with a tranquilizer dart.

Then it just sucked.

end.file

Disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine and I don’t make money off of them.

“Okay, you know what? Fine,” Sasuke snapped, lifting his head from Naruto’s thighs and reaching for his clothes in sharp jerky movements.

Naruto blinked in shock. “Wait, what are you – “

“You said you wanted to do this,” Sasuke continued, voice tight with fury and embarrassment and…was that hurt? “You told me we were going to try it. But if you don’t want to then – then fine.” He started to yank his pants on, not even noticing that they were backwards.

Naruto grabbed his arm and held on tight. �