Necklaces

A/N: Well, here's the second chapter of my little NaruSasu tale. After the kind, author-thrilling reviews I received today, I wanted to thank you all - so I hurried a little to edit and post this next part. (I don't know that I can always be this fast though!)

THANK YOU!

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Late afternoon light could be really pretty… couldn't it?

Naruto thought as much anyway, as he sloshed out of the sea, soaking wet jeans cozily weighting his steps.

He had really needed that, that nice long float in the ocean; for being such a stoical guy, Sasuke could sure pack it into a spar, and boy was Naruto sore! He still hardly believed he'd actually landed that attack on Sasuke earlier… well really, he hadn't meant to actually wound him. It kinda made him wince when he thought about it, too.

Anyways the sun was doing it's really pretty thing where it made everything look like it was dipped in raw honey, and seemed to be teasing the horizon for the couple of hours before finally it would kiss it. An odd longing compelled him to turn, plant fists on hips, and squint right into that light, though it stung his eyes.

Warm, warm, everything was so warm… felt good now that he'd cooled off with that swim.

Releasing a gusty sigh, Naruto let himself just plunk back onto his butt, the sand squelch-crunching to fit his shape.

"You know, I'll probably get a really cool tan if I sit out here, even though it's late, and you know how the laydehs love me that way!" he chirped at a small passing crab. At the sudden volume of Naruto's voice, or maybe at the way the man had thunked a broad hand next to the creature to properly address it, the animal vanished into a pock in the sand.

"…Okay, fine, be that way, see if I care," Naruto groused. "Pfthttt!"

Eyes still throbbing, he grabbed his right ankle, pulled it to rest on the front of his left thigh, and commenced picking bits of seaweed from between his toes.

"Stupid, staring into the sun like that, I can't see a damn thing now," he blinked, causing twin streams of moisture to course down beach-pinkened cheeks. He didn’t usually have much trouble with his eyes, he thought, so that was weird. Probably it was the salt from the water, too.

Examining one of those little round seaweed-fruit things between his index finger and his thumb, he snuffled up some of the tear-trickle that had sneaked down into his nose, and barked a small sound. It hit his ears all wrong, and his brow furrowed pensively.

That should have been an ironic laugh, not a pansy-assed sob – not even a dime-store novel's heroine was supposed to sound that weak.

Clearing his throat, which suddenly seemed very tight, he shrugged it off. It wasn’t as if he had any idea about why it would come out like that anyhow. He was fine – no, great - and it was a gorgeous day too, so everything… everything was …

Cutting his train of thought short with a sudden and seemingly unwarranted up-surging of willpower, he tossed away the reddish sea-berry and slung himself backwards. He dwelt only upon the way the sand caught him when he fell - like it loved him - and had just given him a hug.

He didn't need any stupid crab, just as he'd said.

Fading eyes tried to blink the stupid salt and sun and sand away repeatedly as he laid there, staring up into the wild blue sky above. Yeah, that was a real pretty color too. Too bad it was hard to look at it right then, because he felt like he really needed to.

"Jeez, Naruto, you're really some kinda girl or something, aren't you?" he demanded irately of himself, once again disliking the thickness of his voice.

Maybe he'd just shut up and vegetate. He let his eyes close for a minute to block any persistent wind-borne sand, threw a forearm over his face… and thought of nice things.

Iruka-sensei; that was a great thing to think about. The guy totally had taken Naruto under his wing after the stupid fox-demon left him orphaned eighteen years ago, and Naruto thought the world of him. He reminded himself that even if the older generation in Konoha avoided him like the plague because they knew the Kyuubi had been locked away inside him, it wasn't as if it were everyone. Even if that was just because the younger one had been forbidden to know, it wasn’t everyone.

Like good old Iruka. He sure knew, and had still brought Naruto food and whatever he needed as far back as he could remember. Probably Iruka’d saved his life, because for so long he'd been too young to even think about what he needed, or get anything on his own. He was even given a present sometimes, like if it was Christmas.

Nothing was ever done about his birthday, but Naruto could understand that - no one wanted to remember the day Kyuubi leveled half of Konoha, taking thousands of lives, by laughing it up with the demon’s vessel himself… so that made sense, that was fair.

Besides, if Naruto'd had any nosy old family, he'd've had to have checked in with them for every little thing, his impromptu beach-trips and everything. That'd have been a real hassle anyways… so that worked out okay, really.

No curfews either!

So, sure, Naruto had grown up alone; but it wasn't like he was the only poor bastard who’d gone through that. Sasuke had too, after all.

Naruto'd always believed that he and Sasuke were kind of the same… totally not the same, but just the same, just the same. The two had always seemed like night and day to everyone else, he guessed; but they had both always worked towards mastering the arts of ninjutsu, and shared a lonely past. Sometimes it felt like there was more than toil and tragedy that threw them so often together – to the point of deja-vu - but he could never really put his finger on it.

Not that Naruto thought his own deal was a problem, especially in the times he could bear to think about his usual partner's situation. Sasuke'd had some kinda sociopathical freak for an older brother, for one thing. And just about anyone knew that this Itachi person had actually slain all of Sasuke's family and clan, excepting himself and Sasuke, in one fell swoop... and all in one foul night.

There went another reason Naruto was glad he hadn't had any family, ‘cause that shit had to have hurt.

Power-hungry ninja-clan people were just creepy.

He could remember right about when it happened, too, even though Sasuke and he had been only seven or so. They'd still been in the same class back at Academy, and Naruto could recall, if he tried, the time when Sasuke stopped playing with them all after school… and when everyone else started whispering.

Come to think of it, Sasuke hadn't been such a mean little guy before then at all… he had to smile.

About then, and almost simultaneously, Naruto realized that his eyes weren’t bothering him anymore... and that he had company.


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Finally, Sasuke could find some peace.

Or at least a piece.

He hadn't lost it yet, but to his mind, it was only a matter of time before his control just… snapped.

Too hot, too long, and for too many days (months, years) running. Watching The Moron dance tantalizingly just out of reach, like some kind of sadistic marionette – one designed solely with Sasuke's emotional unraveling in mind – it got to a person.

He willed the hypnotic, rhythmic pounding of the fast-approaching music to calm his nerves, pacing towards the warehouse, moving noiselessly, panther-like.

For all the conviction he'd held in finding The Spastic One earlier that day, he had not found hide or hair of him. Not a trace.

That was strange, as Naruto could usually be found at one of three places - Ichiraku, the roadside stand where he glutted himself on ramen noodles at least once a day; Hokage Mountain, sitting atop the huge carved head of the Fourth Hokage and pipe-dreaming away about his image being someday carved there too; or his hole of an apartment, dinking around with ninjutsu scrolls as if he could possibly even read.

Sasuke had sought Naruto in all three places, and then some less likely ones, with no success.

As was only customary, Sasuke had channeled his sentiments of disappointment and concern into a tidy little snit of rage.

With a growl and a white-knuckling of fists at his sides, Sasuke passed a heavily booted foot though the entrance, and into the "club".

It wasn't a permanent kind of club of course, just a bunch of freaks and kinks gathering for a night's debauchery - the kind of thing that could only be found in the same place for two or three nights in any given stretch. Konoha wasn't the kind of village that would exactly embrace such an establishment, but Sasuke was quite skilled at finding what he wanted to find.

Usually.

Considering Konoha's reserve, the sea of undulating flesh on the 'dance floor' (bare grey cement polished to motor-oily impressiveness, this night) was amusing. Not all of Konoha was strictly puritan, it seemed.

He didn't bother to acknowledge the guy at the door who might have expected payment, but said seedy-looking gentleman noticed him. For one reason or another and probably both, Sasuke was left unchallenged for any cover-charge.

He'd thought his choice of clingy leather pants, suede duster, and sleeveless black mesh shirt was rather the get-up, actually. Chains on the boots, wherever, the whole deal. However, after catching the second set of mostly-bare nether-cheeks in his peripheral vision as he separated himself from the cluster of newly-arriven patrons, he felt comparatively prudish.

In a way, he considered this a good thing, as he didn't really want to shag a club troll. He'd held on to his technical innocence long enough, and as far as he was concerned, he'd die before scraping at the dregs of town for five seconds of –

Nosy-and-unbidden-voice-in-Sasuke's-mind-number one: 'Who's a club-troll, Dearheart?'

Nosy-and-unbidden-voice-in-Sasuke's-mind-number two: 'Aww, his ever-precious virginity, how sweet!"

Peeved and flushing, Sasuke stopped. Then, he schooled the the voices in his head with a hissed-out "Bahh!"

He could fuck anyone he deemed worthy, and it had been that way for as long as he could remember.

. . .

Moving right along.

Slicing through the crowd surgically, as was his wont with most endeavors, he made to set up camp at a booth-like arrangement of furniture - one from which he could just ...watch.

He realized, as he strode broadly through the throng, that it was quite the bolster to his considerable (albeit slightly wounded) ego, these hungry eyes that followed his journey.

It wouldn't hurt to just be watched for a night, would it?

He was a fine boy, he knew. He had something of a fan-club even, amongst the village girls. It was a pity he had to come to a place like this for more ...masculine attentions.

And many attentions he received - weighty, oily stares still pressed upon his back as he arrived at his destination.

After calculating just the right interval of time in which to hold his slightly hip-shot stance, and measuring the precise angle of his head - which caused the titillating happenstance of torrentially lush hair falling over his face just so - he turned to face his audience.

He had decided, magnanimously, he thought, to reward his admirers.

Offering his cruelest smirk to the handful of surreptitious onlookers, he slightly narrowed exotic, up-tilted eyes. Oh-so-slowly, he then shed the black duster, allowing the porcelain-pale skin that peeked through black fishnet to be more readily ogled. Not breaking his arrogant demeanor, he combed an elegantly fingered hand back through chin-length shadow-hued hair. Permitting a tiny peek of pink tongue to part his lips, he wet them to a suggestive sheen.

In a luxuriatingly slow show of settling into the booth, he gracefully and sinuously came to rest his back, eventually, against the wall. He drew one long, strong leg up to stretch the length of the seat, draping the other idly off the side to settle beneath the table.

This alone didn't seem to satiate his minions, so as he shifted his hips lazily forward – acutely feeling and hearing the way the silver chain belt dragged across his groin - he lowered his favorite glare-of-imminent-and-icy-death to settle upon them. Even in the way he rested a pale hand upon his uppermost thigh, fingers trailing into some rather interesting shadows in the fork of his crotch, he commanded this air of fatal seduction to waft over his fan-boys – giving them just a taste of what fathomless charcoal eyes could promise, to the right - or even the wrong - candidate.

Proverbially icing this covetable cake, he re-offered the same potentially hobbling stare, displaying it this time with the added effect of filtering it. Through some of the thickest, blackest lashes imaginable.

The last appeared to be just the candied cherry to top this dessert.

Whether the dozens of stares shifted elsewhere out of loves of life and limb, or due to sheer inabilities to view such a divinity straight on, look away they did.

If Sasuke didn't know himself better, he'd have believed his mood had just turned downright chipper.

Even the voices in his mind had given it a rest. Sasuke was vindicated.

Damn, but this place rocked.


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End Chapter Two.

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