Self-Reliance

SELF-RELIANCE

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I don’t own Sasuke. But Naruto is a manwhore.

Summary: Uchiha Sasuke has known from a young age that renewing his clan is possibly the direst of his duties as the last heir. Unfortunately, he really can’t trust any woman to do it right, so Sasuke is forced to rekindle the Uchiha clan on his own. This leads to complications even he didn’t foresee…

Warnings: Featuring SasuNaru angst, mpreg, and IrritatedAndFemme!Sasuke. Don’t like it, don’t read it. Like it, review. Review often. Reviews are my happy crack. If you’re going to flame, at least be witty about it. This fic is unbetaed, like everything else I’ve ever done. This author needs no beta. I’m a rebel.


CHAPTER TWO: A BAFFLING CASE OF NICE

Sasuke had a running ranking of the worst days in his life. Naturally, the day his elder brother went psycho and decimated their clan was ranked highest; the root of intense childhood trauma and emotional scarring held precedence over bad days where his hair would simply do nothing. That was just a given.

So the day his family was brutally wiped out came first in the undoubtedly lengthy list of Bad Days in the Life of Uchiha Sasuke. Second was the day he and Naruto had truly duked it out for the first time, under the waterfall at the Valley of the End---the day he’d realized Naruto was possessed by the kyuubi, the day he trotted off to become Orochimaru’s official bitch, the day he had to battle the unfamiliar and terrifying concept of having to murder his dearest friend for the sake of more power---yes, yes, it’d been a horrible day. Really gut-wrenching. It ranked second because it nearly hit even on the Emotional Trauma Scale---if he’d given into the smug mental voice of Itachi and had actually killed Naruto, it’d probably have won over The Day The Uchiha Clan Went Kaput. But he hadn’t killed Naruto that day…he’d been unable to look down in that face that had become somewhat valued, somehow familiar, and find the will inside himself to plunge his clawed fist into his heart.

If he had killed Naruto on The Second Worst Day Ever, Sasuke wouldn’t have had to deal with the ignominy of the third worst day in his life, The Day I Was Pregnant and Everyone Was Sickeningly Polite.

Because that did equate a bad day. A terrible day. A day he wished he would have been able to sleep right through, oblivious of Kakashi’s scatterbrained expression of lasting shock (ninja shellshock wasn’t as bad as that look; poor jounin looked like he was going to have a heart attack at any time, despite being only thirty-two), Sakura’s all-knowing womanhood, and Naruto’s rather baffling case of Nice. Sasuke wasn’t sure which was worse. Each negatively affected his standing as a stoic Uchiha, and each put him into a rather embarrassing squeeze---having to deal with each of his twitchy former-teammates required skill, cunning, and a stomach-turning amount of congeniality. Having to be emotionally attuned was not one of Sasuke’s strong points, but he couldn’t have Sakura, Kakashi, and Naruto pissed at him for the next five months, either. It was that sacrifice that made The Day I Was Pregnant and Everyone Was Sickeningly Polite the third worst day ever.

Sasuke tackled Sakura first. Kakashi had caught up to her before she’d raged her way back to Konoha and Tsunade, whom she’d been bent on tattling Sasuke on. Tsunade, being a medic-nin before everything else, would have forced the Uchiha to come back to Konoha, probably by incentive that she’d shred his ninja qualifications if he refused. It’d taken a great deal of growling on Sasuke’s behalf to convince Sakura that he was best on his own---the very idea of carrying a baby to term in a city where half the male and female populations ogled over him was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. The last thing he needed was shinobi constantly telling him how cute he looked toting about a big belly. His ego was suffering enough as is.

Sakura had given in after Sasuke’s growls had deteriorated into half-formed begs; seeing Sasuke distraught truly was the female ninja’s greatest weakness, whether or not she’d grown out of her crush on him. She was still irritated---very, very irritated, as evidenced by the way Inner Sakura was hovering so close to the surface---but she’d relented, on the compromise that she’d visit him monthly to give him checkups. Sasuke considered this an equivalent exchange---his peace of mind for monthly poking sessions.

“I need to give you a medical checkup before I leave,” Sakura said flatly, not looking at Sasuke. “Tsunade-sama would be angry with me if I didn’t, and you haven’t actually been to anyone to check the fetus’s health, have you?”

“No.” Sasuke said with equal brevity. “It feels healthy enough, though. It’s started moving about, and my appetite has grown with it. And believe me, it’s grown substantially these last several weeks.”

“Your waistline has obviously suffered,” Sakura said, her tone lightening as the medic-nin in her brightened at the thought of checking out a baby. It was her favorite part of being a medic, and it was relatively rare for her to have the chance---ninja had incredibly low birth rates due to adults not wanting to bring children into a violent world. Sakura had only been medic to one pregnant woman, and that had been Hinata. Sasuke was proving to be a much pricklier patient. “But for this, that’s good. Lay down on the couch, Sasuke-kun, and lift up your shirt a bit.”

Had he been Naruto, Sasuke would have been blushing like an idiot. He would have been pleased to be examined by Sakura’s warm, gentle hands, and he would have been doubly embarrassed to have such personal attention. But Sasuke wasn’t Naruto---instead of being embarrassed and pleased, he was just a bit irritated at having his shirt bunched up at his underarms, and a little jumpy to be touched. He didn’t enjoy being poked and prodded, and usually his personal bubble liberally covered his stomach. If not for the rational voice in the back of his head reminding him that Sakura was a medic-nin, and therefore to be trusted with the care of his baby, he would have scowled and squirmed away in true escapist fashion.

Thankfully, Sakura was very careful and professional in her assessment. She gently passed her hands over the slightly rounded mound of his belly, pressing her fingers in to feel the positioning of the fetus and the general state of his internal organs. Everything seemed to be fine for how far along he was---Sakura judged him to be about twenty-four weeks, unaware that he was closer to seventeen---although she worried how his pelvis would cradle the baby. Male hips were not meant by nature to carry the weight of a growing womb, and even in his Sexy-no-jutsu-augmented form, Sasuke still had very slender, narrow hips, since he was still fundamentally male. Male, with internally female sex organs. Other than that matter, though, Sasuke and his baby both seemed fine---the baby reacted positively to the flares of chakra she prodded it with. Sasuke had done a good job of keeping himself healthy, but that was to be expected of a genius. Why not be a genius in baby-carrying, too? He seemed fit to do damn well everything else…

“Good news,” Sakura said with mock cheerfulness. She sat back as Sasuke tugged down his shirt and gave his belly a reassuring rub, as if apologizing for letting ‘the mean cotton-candy-haired lady poke at you’. “You’re pregnant.”

“Really?” Sasuke drawled. “Despite my swollen stomach, increased appetite, and nausea, I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s hard to take you and your sarcasm seriously when you look like that, you know,” Sakura said, giving him a warm smile.

“Like what?” he asked crankily, one dark eyebrow arched.

“Pregnant,” she replied shortly, her smile widening. She seemed to be warming to the term, especially applied to her former crush. She was probably comforting herself that if she couldn’t get into his pants herself, she could at least giggle at his growing belly and the knowledge that someone else had.

“Other than making me look fat, how does being pregnant change my scare factor?”

Sakura thought about it for a moment, tapping one shapely nail on her lower lip. “You look…softer, somehow, since you’ve started showing. Mellower. Not as likely to gnaw off someone’s arm at any given moment.”

Sasuke grimaced at that (do I look like a rabid mental patient or something? Dear God, I’d hoped that Naruto and Kiba were the only people properly defined that way…), but decided not to comment on it. He cleared his throat, one hand resting on his stomach.

“Are you still angry with me?” he asked in a fairly neutral tone, as if he was asking simply for the sake of asking, and not because he was worried that his old comrade might hold his burgeoning pregnancy against him.

“A little,” Sakura conceded, her jade eyes still traveling over the new curve of her teammate’s belly. Sasuke was quickly getting accustomed to people talking more at his stomach than at his face; he supposed that it was something like how a girl had to get used to guys speaking directly to her breasts instead of her face. Usually, it irritated him to no end---he wasn’t even showing that much, dammit---but he suffered it, since it was Sakura. For the sake of familiarity, he was willing to endure his stomach getting more attention than the rest of him.

“Just a little?” Sasuke asked, unconvinced. “Judging from how you stalked off yesterday, I was under the impression that you wanted to stab me repeatedly for being a slut and managing to get myself knocked up.”

“Stabbing you does sound promising,” Sakura mused, and he was sure that Inner Sakura was actively imagining his bloody death. “But do you honestly think you’re a slut just because you’re pregnant? I mean, please. Mr. Ice Prince, a slut? Hardly. You simply did what you had to, like you always do.”

Sasuke sighed, rubbing his stomach again. It’d become something of a nervous habit, though such habits usually irked him.

“At lease one out of three understands,” he said in a tone reminiscent to defeat. “Not the best odds, but I can deal.”

“I’m a woman, Sasuke-kun---it’s my job to understand. As for Kakashi-sensei, he has never been surprised in his life. I think he was pretty much sure that he only had to worry about me getting pregnant, and not either of you boys. And Naruto…I’ve clinically proven that his head is made up of the densest stuff in the universe,” the pinked-haired chuunin said sagely, leaning over and giving Sasuke’s stomach a daring pat. “Give them a little while to get used to the idea of having a preggo Ice Princess around.”

“Ice Princess---“ Sasuke spluttered, scandalized.

“Ja, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura grinned. “I’d better leave before Tsunade-sama starts worrying about us. I assume you want me to carefully omit the part in our report about finding Uchiha Sasuke squirreled away in the old Uchiha summerhouse, eagerly awaiting the birth of his first child?”

“If you would,” Sasuke said dryly. “Godaime-sama would be undoubtedly intrigued, and I’d spend my next several months having tests run on me.” He grimaced at the thought, electrodes and poking shiny things leaping instantly to mind. “And I hate doctors.”

“Not all doctors, I hope,” said Sakura, hands on her hips. “And as your doctor, I have a few suggestions. Firstly, you need to increase your daily caloric intake by about three hundred calories---and good calories, mind you. No sweet things, not that you like sweet things to begin with. You’ll probably gain three or four pounds a month, so don’t let that worry you. Keep up some exercise---not training; exercise, like walking, without any kunai or sharp things involved---and get plenty of rest. And, above all, call me if you think anything might be wrong, or if Naruto gets too annoying.” She sighed deeply. “Although I’m not sure how much I can do for you on the whole Naruto issue. Even if I knocked him out and dragged him back to Konoha, he’d come right back as soon as he regained consciousness. He seems convinced that watching over you is now his solemn duty.”

“Lucky me,” Sasuke muttered, sounding as if he felt anything but lucky.

“Yeah, lucky you. Take advantage of it---I think you could probably convince him to do anything you wanted, and that could be advantageous.” Sakura grinned, a tease in her green eyes. “Especially if the cravings get bad.”

“I’ll have it known that I don’t like pickles or ice cream,” Sasuke said defiantly. “Not to mention that I have superior self-control. I think I’m safe as far as cravings go.”

Sakura’s look said, in particularly definite terms: that’s what you think, buddy…

Women. Bah.

Sasuke crossed his arms over his chest like a moody five-year-old, ignoring Sakura’s laughter. That matter wrapped itself up neatly, but Naruto wasn’t quite so simple. Sasuke doubted that Naruto would melt easily into the idea of his pregnancy by just poking at his belly---girls were always easier to deal with when it came to such matters. They made it clear exactly what they thought, so you didn’t have to toddle around on eggshells.

But Naruto was always difficult. Always.

He should have known that the ninja best at surprising people would surprise him yet again, though. One never could tell with him. Who knew he’d be so pleased about his friend’s pregnancy, and his surprising role in the whole of it? Not Sasuke, that’s for sure. Sakura and Kakashi left that afternoon (unfortunately, Sasuke hadn’t had a chance to desensitize Kakashi, so the silver-haired jounin left in a mentally unstable haze; Sasuke silently apologized to Tsunade for breaking one of her best jounin), but Naruto stuck around, as he’d said he would. They didn’t speak much that first day---Naruto still seemed somewhat unconvinced that his rival was really pregnant, and was sneaking sly looks at his belly when he thought Sasuke wasn’t looking. This, of course, just frayed Sasuke’s nerves, so he ended up growling at the kyuubi-boy and retreating to his room for the rest of the evening. Skirting issues was his specialty, along with brooding.

Sasuke did a lot of brooding that evening.

How the hell am I supposed to do this now that he’s here…?


*


Sasuke woke up cranky the next morning. Not that he usually woke up chipper and bright, but that morning was particularly foul---he cursed the happily chirping birds, told the sunlight to screw itself, and scowled like he was attempting to curdle milk. Which, had there been any milk present, he probably would have accomplished beautifully.

He woke up hungry, which only made the crankiness grow. Because he’d been trying to ignore Naruto the night before, he’d had a light dinner, and his needy stomach was less than appreciative. With a growl aimed at the world in general, he got out of bed to quietly forage for something edible enough to shut his stomach up.

Grabbing an apple from the kitchen fruit bowl, Sasuke glared down at Naruto. The kyuubi-boy had claimed Sasuke’s living room couch, sleeping happily in the sleeping bag he’d brought with him (Sasuke had failed to inform him that the house had three bedrooms, because having him sleep out on the couch was more fitting. It made him more of a temporary guest and less of a five-month housemate). All that could be seen of his body was a ragged patch of blond hair peeking out the top; he’d zipped the sleeping bag all the way shut, and how he’d managed not to suffocate himself was beyond Sasuke altogether. That’s how Naruto always slept in sleeping bags---mostly to muffle his obnoxiously loud snoring, which he knew for a fact was enough to wake the dead (it’d happened before, with terrifying results).

Sasuke gave the living room one last glower, taking a savage bite out of his apple as he made his way back to bed.

It was a mess. Twelve hours ago, the summerhouse had been neat and orderly. Sasuke wasn’t exactly a neat-freak, but he was very, very used to things---especially his things---being in a certain way. And Naruto, being Naruto, ruined that---just as he ruined The Plan, just as he ruined the Jounin Exam, just as he ruined everything, really.

Naruto infected things. He just sort of seeped into everything he touched: not there a full twenty-four hours yet and he’d already managed to clutter and mess up Sasuke’s impeccably clean living room. Naruto brought baggage. Anything he touched seemed to get warm and cluttered, happily messy in a friendly, lived-in way. Naruto seeped into things, people---nobody could completely hate Naruto, because he was bright, obnoxious, and blindingly heroic. He reeked of optimism, and passed it on ceaselessly---Konohamaru, Neji, Gaara, and even Sasuke himself were testaments to his ability to inspire confidence and gentleness in others.

Sasuke wasn’t particularly fond of Naruto’s rare ability. In fact, he somewhat despised it---he’d had things ordered just fine, thanks, until he’d come along and trudged all through the neat pattern he’d set up. He took another large bite of apple, fuming about the (---stupid, pattern-breaking, clutter-bunny, infectious---) kyuubi-boy.

Stupid Naruto. Why did he always have to win, every time? There’d been a time in the past where they’d stood as equals, but that was long since gone. After the Orochimaru debacle, Sasuke had lagged---he’d missed almost three years in Konoha while the Forces of Darkness had primped him to become the snake’s carrier, and it showed. Everyone had grown without him, everyone had changed…he’d returned at sixteen to find everything radically different. He wasn’t precisely weak in comparison to the Konoha lot, just…different. He still met most of them as equals, even without the power of the cursed seal (which he had promised himself to never rely on again; not only did it turn him into a freaky, femme, pseudo-winged beast, it beat the hell out of his body)---all of them, actually, but Naruto.

He’d passed him up. It was as simple as that. In every definition of the term, Naruto had passed him up---matched up against each other in the last jounin exam, Naruto had won the battle and the ranking, beating Sasuke out of it so that he’d been stuck as a chuunin for another full year. Sometime between thirteen and eighteen, Naruto had passed him up in height and weight---he was just a brush under six foot, and muscular through the shoulders (so much so that Sakura laughingly advised him never to wear a shirt again---covering up a torso like his was a crime), he’d outstripped his smaller, slimmer rival. Sasuke had stopped at five-foot-six, and before his pregnancy, hadn’t been able to gain weight for the life of him, muscle or otherwise. Like his elder brother, Sasuke had ended up slender and finely muscled---still strong, but in a supple, deceptive way.

Naruto had won. He was tall, muscular, and a jounin---it was no wonder that his rival had finally folded the game altogether, and had sought a consolation prize.

Said consolation prize was squirming away in his jutsu-created womb, happily exploring its snug environment as Sasuke read his book and ignored his rival on a whole. Naruto was still asleep on the couch (lazy-ass bum), so Sasuke stayed in his room and read, spending more energy fuming at the stupid dobe than actually reading the type on the page. It was a fairly good book, had he taken the time to actually skim it---Mon Raion, a fantasy about the nine youma as warriors.

The clerk/owner/sole employee of the village’s bookstore had recommended the book to him. She was a very friendly young woman---Sasuke disremembered her name, but that was because she seemed to be a fairly unremarkable person---and was one of the few village people he actually talked to. He was a regular customer at her shop simply because there was not a hell of a lot else to do when one was pregnant and on a maternity leave disguised as a long holiday.

He glanced at the cover as he set the book aside---a great red fox and a black cat fought beneath the title. Had Sasuke taken the time to think about it, he would have thought it slightly ironic that the main character of the book was the kyuubi no kitsune, and it was ironic in that the real kyuubi was snoring on his couch, probably five hundred feet away. Ironic that he’d picked the book out at all; ironic that it’d been a subconscious reminder of his foxy rival.

Odd.

As he stared at the cover for a moment, pondering this, Sasuke was suddenly very, very aware of his stomach clenching, his breath coming in dizzy, nausea-heavy gasps, and of the cold sweat unexpectedly laminating his skin.

His vision blurred, and he fought the urge to vomit up the apple he’d just eaten for no reason at all.

Hell, not again…

*

Naruto awoke to the sound of someone being loudly sick. He sighed and rolled over---Lee fresh from training, no doubt, and suffering from yet another hangover (the sticky side effect of being a specialist in the Drunken Fist). He thought nothing of it at first, except that it persisted---what, had Lee finally managed to drink his own weight in sake or something? His hangovers were usually not that bad…

But then he opened his eyes, realizing that he wasn’t in the little apartment he shared with the remaining Konoha bachelors---he was in the Uchiha summer home. Though it wasn’t summer. It was late winter, and the air was freezing---did Sasuke really have no idea how to fix the heater? He was a ninja by God, and ninja were supposed to be able to do anything. You’d think that if he was clever enough to get himself knocked up, he could certainly mend a decade-old heating system.

His thoughts were interrupted by another vile-sounding retch from the bathroom.

Ah. Sasuke. Pregnant. Morning sickness. Goody.

Naruto wriggled out of his sleeping bag, plodding sleepily towards where the gagging noises were emanating from: a bathroom plastered with the Uchiha mon, in such a dire need of refurbishing (and a sense of style) that it almost made Naruto sick to his stomach, too. He glanced down at his rival and heaved a sigh.

Naruto had never seen Sasuke look quite so miserable. He was hunched over the toilet bowl, one hand shakily keeping his balance over the seat, the other snaked around his swollen middle. He was violently sick---gagging, vomiting, and then gagging again with wet moans---and was far too preoccupied with this to push his long bangs from his face. His usually immaculately kept black hair was slimed with sweat and puke, hanging down into his nausea-whitened face and red-rimmed eyes. Sasuke stiffened when he felt Naruto’s presence in the doorway, but ninja senses didn’t seem to alleviate his nausea---he simply glared shortly at Naruto and then doubled over and vomited again.

Well, that was something, wasn’t it? Uchiha Sasuke had fallen so far as to not care that Naruto was watching something so grossly personal as him throwing up.

With a sigh---it was hard to be all stoic and rival-y against a pregnant boy beset with morning sickness---Naruto knelt down next to Sasuke and held his hair back as he threw up. He crushed the urge to rub his back and say soothing things---if it were anyone else, Naruto would have done it without a thought, but Sasuke had made it perfectly obvious that he’d rather do this on his own, without any help from the goddamn last-place. But as far as Naruto saw it, keeping his hair out of his face as he puked was less ‘friendly’ and more of a simple common courtesy.

The nausea seemed to pass, and Sasuke finally sat back with a sigh, clutching his stomach and looking green.

“You okay?” Naruto asked as neutrally as possible, handing him a wad of toilet paper to wipe his face off with. Sasuke took it with a grimace, gagging slightly at the acrid taste in his mouth.

“It’s just morning sickness,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing a little. “My baby’s friendly way of saying good morning.”

“Your own fault for reproducing, you bastard.”

“Not right now,” Sasuke groaned. “No jokes. Leave me be, dobe.”

“Er…yeah. Your hair’s kinda grody,” Naruto pointed out for the sake of something to say. “You should wash it out before it really starts to smell.”

Sasuke got to his feet---which took a surprising amount of effort; he had to compensate for unbalancing weight up front and his new inability to bend at the waist---and slouched wordlessly to the sink, turning on the water and bending his dark head beneath the faucet. Naruto watched him scrub at the mess of hair, sweat, and slimy vomit for a bit---somewhat unwilling to leave his shaky rival by himself, because God only knew what it’d do to the baby if he passed out and fell or something---and tossed him a towel as he squeegeed the excess water from his hair and then roughly towel-dried it. The choppy black mane stood out in electrified disarray, and he snorted a little in amusement. For one reason or another, it always seemed infinitely out of place whenever Sasuke wasn’t his nicely kept, tidy self.

He scowled at his rival, and Naruto took that as a good thing---if Sasuke was glaring, he was feeling at least marginally better.

“You up to eating anything, Chubbs?” Naruto asked lightly, and his scowl deepened.

“You may have missed my performance of a few minutes hence, but my stomach hasn’t forgotten. I’m lucky if I can keep down anything more than saltines before lunch. ---And I’m not chubby. I’m pregnant.”

“That sucks,” said the kyuubi-boy, inwardly suffering him a little sympathy. Imagine---not being able to eat! What tragedy! Naruto knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with not eating his morning serving of ramen---this whole pregnancy thing was best avoided at all costs, then. If Sasuke wanted to submit himself willingly to the swollen stomach and lack of morning meals, more power to him…“Well, take a real shower, then, so you don’t hafta smell my breakfast and get all pukey over it. Have you got any ramen?”

“Of course I have ramen,” Sasuke said waspishly, running a hand through his sticky bangs. “I’d fear what you’d do to me if you were denied your three daily squares of dehydrated noodles and meat powders.”

“Good,” Naruto said with a nod, and left Sasuke to undress and wash.

Sasuke blinked at his sudden retreat---I guess I’m taking a shower, then---and tugged open his nightshirt. He drew the tap (a bath sounded oddly good, as opposed to Naruto’s suggested shower), and ran the water as hot as he dared. On a whim, he added some of the peachy bath salts in the jar on the counter, because it wasn’t as if he couldn’t do with smelling better. Usually, Sasuke made a point of not using any kind of scented soaps or shampoos---for a ninja, smelling herbal-fresh did not help with reconnaissance missions. Being as traceless as possible was beneficial, but he was on holiday. He could smell like a fruit if he damned well felt like it.

Making sure the door was locked, Sasuke stripped off his shirt and sweatpants and slid into the waiting bath. At first it was so hot it tingled, but he quickly got used to the peach-scented heat…and God, it was divine.

Water had become his new favorite element. Earth was awesome for attacking, and there’d always been a special place in his heart for fire, but water was currently his beloved. The buoyancy cradled his growing girth, and the heat soothed sore, stretched muscles. If he could have his way, he wouldn’t have minded spending the time he wasn’t putting towards power napping in hot baths. In fact, he’d planned it that way---a couple months of afternoon naps, hot baths, and eating for two. It would have been quiet and relaxing; six months were he didn’t have to worry about anything aside from taking care of the baby growing within him. No stalking from Sakura. No fights with Naruto. No ninja drama. Nothing but him, a comfortable futon, and his ripening belly.

But Naruto had ruined that, as usual. Sasuke should have known that including the dobe in his plans would end up in pain; anything Naruto touched seemed to go awry. But he’d had to include Naruto in there. Who else would have fathered the baby, if not him?

Sasuke reached for the shampoo, entertaining the idea as he lathered his hair. Yes---if not Naruto, then who?

Sasuke had briefly (very, very briefly, mind) considered levying The Plan against Shikamaru. He was possibly the most gifted tactician Konoha had ever seen, and Sasuke respected that kind of brilliance. Shikamaru refused to drink, though, so The Plan would have been rendered ineffective against him. Coupled with the fact that he was completely and utterly Temari’s bitch, this made him an incompatible match.

As far as power levels went, Gaara would have made a fine stud. Sasuke paused, rinsing out his hair. Yeah, Gaara was strong, but Sasuke was also somewhat partial to eyebrows. Not so partial that he had even momentarily thought about tagging Lee as a suitable father to his child, though. He shuddered. Yuck. No, there was a point where eyebrows became too much. So no, both Gaara and Lee had been quickly denied.

Neji’s bloodline would have made an interesting match with his own, but he was married. To his cousin Hinata, no less, and Sasuke would not have wanted to be tagged as a home wrecker, even if the home was just a tad inbred.

Chouji…Sasuke thought about it for a second, suffered a brief and painful mental image involving sheets and too many rolls of fat, and was almost revisited by his old friend Mr. Morning Sickness. No, not Chouji. They’d both have to be drunk out of their minds, and the therapy he’d need later on would not be worth the end product. That, and he was a married man as well---to her highness Ino herself, oddly enough. Sasuke had never quite known what to make of that relationship, so, like everything else he didn’t fully understand, he ignored it.

And that left his foxy rival, who had been his first choice to begin with. Yes, that left Naruto, who’d been won over almost too easily---it’d taken no more than a nudge in the right direction in order to get him smashed, and getting him into bed had been sickeningly easy (a kiss here, a poke there, and he’d only just been able to hop a ride before the train blew its whistle).

And the most ironic part was that Naruto didn’t even know. His memories from his one-night stand were probably hazy at best, and he had given no indication that he realized Sasuke was connected to “Satori-chan” in any way, shape or form. He’d quickly given up on pestering him on the baby’s other parent, totally oblivious to the fact that he was the father. Oh, the irony.

Sasuke half-rolled over; he’d filled the tub relatively full, but his belly had swelled to the point that it rose slightly above the bathwater like a lonely white island. Compared with the steamy water, the air above was very cold, and the baby squirmed around in an effort to voice its discomfort. He sat up and shoved his wet hair out of his eyes. Fine. If the baby was going to complain about being cold, he’d just quickly condition his hair and get out. He’d settle down with a cup of tea and a book if his stomach felt up to it and he didn’t fall asleep first.

Sasuke managed to convince himself to get out of the tub despite how wonderfully warm it was. He quickly toweled off---he would have just knotted it around his waist, but said waist was becoming too wide for the towel to encircle---and redressed in his pajamas. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere but bed.

Naruto was nowhere to be found when Sasuke got out of the bathroom, but he’d left out a piping hot cup ramen with a note that read I AM GOD---EAT ME AND YOU’LL FEEL BETTER attached to it.

To Naruto, ramen probably was a form of consolation.

Sasuke obediently sat down with a pair of chopsticks and ate the ramen---and kept it down, too, which was unusual. He attributed it either to the fact that Naruto had somehow perfected a type of medicinal super ramen, or that the baby was just overjoyed that its real father had made its breakfast, and was kindly not forcing its carrier to enjoy it for a second time. Which was good, because ramen was no fun coming back up.

And then---because Naruto had mysteriously disappeared, the house was mercifully silent, and his stomach was full for the time being---Sasuke decided it was naptime. He curled up on the couch with a throw blanket and tried to ignore how carefully nice his rival had been that morning. If he didn’t think about it, he wouldn’t act on it, and if he didn’t act on it…

“You smell fruity.”

Sasuke awoke with a jerk, his eyes snapping open to find his blond rival grinning foxily down at him, leaning over the back of the couch. Black eyes met blue, and Sasuke quickly rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blearily confused.

“F-fruity?”

Naruto nodded, his grin widening. “Like peaches.”

“Er---the bath stuff,” he quickly explained, pushing his long, damp bangs from his face. “You said I smelt bad, so I thought that some soap stuff wouldn’t hurt. What did you wake me up for, dobe?”

“Oh yeah,” Naruto said, and smiled cheerfully. “I got you something.”

Sasuke gave him a long-suffering look. “Tell me it isn’t ramen.”

“It’s not quite as good as ramen---but hey, you ate the stuff I left out, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Sasuke said. “Thank you for making it.”

“Yeah, no prob. I like feeding people, ‘cause I say everyone can benefit from a good cup ramen! Anyway, anyway, I thought you might like this.” And then he dropped a grocery bag in Sasuke’s lap, seeming tremendously pleased with himself. Had he had the nine bottlebrush tails of the youma inside him, he would have been wagging them enthusiastically. Sasuke blinked owlishly at the shopping bag, and the kyuubi-boy sighed, reaching a hand in to fish out one of the multicolored boxes.

“What are those?” Sasuke asked, honestly confused.

“Okay, so I went to the pharmacy, right?” Naruto said, launching into his explanation with all his usual perkiness and lack of proper sentence structure. “’Cause I wanted to see if they had anything for morning sickness---and they had some herbal shit, but nothing that looked too promising. Er---I got it anyways, though; it’s the blue box. Well, the cashier asked me if it was for my girlfriend, and I was all ‘hell no, dude, I don’t have a girlfriend!’ I didn’t tell him that I was gettin’ stuff for a pregnant ninja guy, either, ‘cause I don’t think he would’ve got it. Anyways…so I asked if there were any, like, vitamins or whatever that pregnant people should take, and God---did you know that you’re supposed to take all these prenatal supplements? You’re supposed to have calcium, iron, and lots of folic acid---heck, I thought that folic acid was the stuff you use to burn holes in floors, but the guy that thought you were my girlfriend said that there’s different kinds of acids. I left the pharmacy feelin’ like some kinda drug lord, with all the pills I got---it was awesome!”

Sasuke found himself rendered almost completely speechless.

Naruto had done something unexpectedly nice. Again. He was making a habit of it really, and Sasuke neither knew precisely why he was doing it or why he deserved it---Sasuke hadn’t been particularly nice to him, so it was fully out of the goodness of Naruto’s heart. He was going to say something---“thank you” came to mind, but Sasuke wasn’t in the habit of throwing the statement around often, much less twice in one day---but Naruto just shrugged and grinned, Sasuke’s thunderstruck surprise enough of a reward for him.

“I’ll get you some water, you can pop your pills, and then I’ll let you get back to your nap,” Naruto said, gathering up the rainbow of boxes and disappearing into the kitchen. He watched him leave, wondering idly if he did know---he was acting remarkably like a gleefully expectant father for not knowing about his literal role as one.

“Hey, Naruto.”

The blond jounin looked up, smiling slightly. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“’Eh, it’s the mission,” Naruto said, shrugging. He was faintly pink with embarrassment. “It’s my duty to make sure you get your Uchiha babies with as little discomfort as possible, right? And---and you’re my friend, too. So…yeah, just take your acid-pill-thingies and get back to sleep. I’ll make some more ramen when you get up.”

Sasuke pulled the blanket up to his chin again, wondering what kind of personal walls had fallen to allow him to fall deeply asleep in his rival’s presence. Was it that Naruto had changed, or was it him? Sasuke wasn’t quite sure, but he had a feeling maternal hormones might have been in play on his side of the field. He sighed, curling up with the blanket.

Stupid hormones. They made it exceptionally hard to be an Uchiha.