Self-Reliance

SELF-RELIANCE

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I don’t own Sasuke. But I own half a bowl of miso soup.

Summary: I think you’ve got the basic gist of this already. No need to repeat myself.

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.


CHAPTER FOUR: UCHIHA FAMILY SECRET


The first month and a half of Sasuke and Naruto’s now-joint holiday was spent in relative peace, all things considered. Their days had become something of a pattern---up whenever Sasuke woke up because of morning sickness, a quick worship session at the shrine of the porcelain god, some form of ramen or sugary cereal for breakfast (Naruto’s two standbys), sometimes yet another round of morning sickness, a lazy afternoon of reading, bitching, and shuriken practice (the last of which was much to Naruto’s personal dismay; pregnancy hadn’t affected Sasuke’s uncanny aim in the least, and he feared for his body parts), dinner (where Naruto shoved as much food at Sasuke as possible, complaining that he was losing weight faster than he could gain it because of the severity of his morning sickness), bedtime, rinse, and then repeat.

It wasn’t altogether bad to have Naruto around. The dobe was making an effort not to be a pain, and though they had minor scuffles over things so stupid as how the towels should be hung up, they managed to get along with relatively little agony. This did not alleviate the fact that Naruto, being Naruto, was bored out of his mind doing nothing all day---jokingly, Sasuke suggested that he take up knitting, only to have the kyuubi-boy do just that. The painful part of it was that Naruto seemed to have a talent for it, so Sasuke soon had twenty pairs of knitted socks, multiple mittens, and even some heinously cute jumpers for the baby. He didn’t complain solely on the grounds that the socks were really quite warm, and also because knitting kept Naruto’s hands busy and his mouth shut.

It was not a bad existence. Naruto knitted and talked cheerfully about nothing, Sasuke glowered and tried to keep down more meals than he surrendered to the toilet bowl, and the baby happily grew, rounding out Sasuke’s figure little by little. A little less than two-thirds through his pregnancy, Sasuke started feeling it in ways he hadn’t in the months before---an influx of hormones led to emotional fits far scarier than his usual brand, and, much to his own dismay, cravings for foods he had hated pre-pregnancy. He hadn’t thought he’d ever take a shine to ramen, but now he was eating just as much of it as Naruto himself (but then again, that was probably to be expected---he was carrying the ramen-maniac’s child).

There was the ramen-craving, and the ice cream-craving, and sometimes the sticky craving for both at the same time. The first time Naruto had caught Sasuke with that concoction, he’d wrinkled his nose and made a face, but then he’d tried it, and had decided he liked it, too. Which was very like Naruto, actually. His normal eating habits mirrored that of a pregnant woman.

So the first five weeks passed nicely, seeing as every underlying issue was being skirted: for Sasuke, it was the issues of caring for his body while ignoring Naruto, because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if he paid more attention to him---the urge to tell him about the baby’s real father had strengthened due to Naruto’s insufferable niceness---and for Naruto, it was the issues of caring for Sasuke while trying to ignore the whining voice in the back of his head that wondered why Sasuke wouldn’t tell him about the baby’s real father.

It was an uncomfortable situation, and while they both ignored it, it laid stagnant, harmless. Of course, one could only ignore such a large issue for only so long, so they both knew that a confrontation would come---the question was when and where, and how much that confrontation would hurt them both.

Because it would hurt. Sasuke just hadn’t realized how much.

*

Naruto woke up to someone puttering about the kitchen. Sasuke, undoubtedly, up because of a persistently hungry baby---which made Naruto laugh inwardly, because such an irritating, demanding baby could only be his. Five and a half months along and it already had Sasuke wrapped around its tiny finger, bound to its whims because he didn’t enjoy a) throwing up two out of three daily meals, and b) having his bladder kicked so hard that he nearly wet himself. Such a nuisance of a child could only be of Uzumaki blood.

Naruto yawned, getting to his feet and shuffling into the main part of the summerhouse clad in only his boxers and a tank-top---it wasn’t like Sasuke would care that he was walking around in his underwear. He wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he knew Sasuke was safely asleep as well, so he decided he might as well join him in a midnight snack.

He found Sasuke on the couch, haloed in the light of a lamp as he read his book. Naruto would have attributed this simply to Sasuke not being able to sleep well had it not been for the carton of ice cream perched on the convenient shelf of his belly. Naruto grinned to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one fist.

“Reading and eating ice cream,” he greeted his rival, leaning over the side of the couch to grin down at him. “I thought you hated sweets and staying up late.”

“I do,” Sasuke agreed, taking another spoonful with a blissful expression. “But the baby seems to have a sweet tooth, and I’m its unwilling slave as far as cravings go. Do me a favor and don’t tell Sakura she was right---I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“That’s my ice cream you know,” Naruto said, sitting down on the couch next to him. “Triple-chocolate---chocolate ice cream with dark and white chocolate chunks. It’s the best stuff in the world.”

“Green tea ice cream is better.”

“No it isn’t,” Naruto argued cheerfully. “My chocolate ice cream is the best, and the baby must think so too if you’re craving it. You and the baby had better leave some for me, you know.”

“You’d deny a pregnant man your ice cream?” Sasuke wondered with a raised eyebrow, looking up at him over the top of his book.

“No more than I’d deny a starving man my ramen, but you still have to share.”

“Fine,” Sasuke mumbled, the spoon still hanging from his mouth as he flipped the page. “Get a spoon, dobe.”

“We could share a spoon,” Naruto offered with a foxy grin, to which the Uchiha heir glowered.

“Not in this lifetime,” Sasuke replied darkly. “Get your own.”

Naruto lumbered into the kitchen, returning momentarily with the preferred eating utensil in hand. He plopped down beside Sasuke, scooping out a large bite and munching happily. Sasuke just read his book and pretended that Naruto didn’t exist---which was difficult because Naruto really enjoyed his ice cream. He inhaled the ice cream in very much the same way he inhaled ramen, making happy mumblings that sounded more or less like B-grade porno noises. There was a brief and terrible spoonfight as both of them wanted to take a bite at the same time, and neither was up to the idea of waiting for the other to take his spoonful first. The force (or perhaps his appetite) was on Sasuke’s side this time around; he won the fight by rapping his spoon against Naruto’s knuckles, which made him drop his weapon.

Between the pregnant boy with cravings and the foxy boy with a secret ice cream addiction, the carton was quickly polished off. Naruto had thought that once his craving had been satisfied, Sasuke would shuffle off to bed, but he seemed to be in a good part of his book and therefore unwilling to put it down. Either that, or he just didn’t want to get up. A lot could be said about Uchiha Sasuke’s rather bad case of laziness, but Naruto was too tired to mentally comment on it. He stretched out on his half of the couch, deciding a catnap was in order until Sasuke finished his book and went back to bed.

He snoozed lightly for about an hour that way, waking up to pressure against his hip. Opening his blue eyes to sneak a look at his teammate, Naruto grinned.

Since it was, above all else, three in the morning, Sasuke had reluctantly fallen asleep. He’d curled up on his side to accommodate his belly, his dark head resting on Naruto’s thigh, the book fallen from his limp fingers. He had one hand tangled in the hem of his rival’s nightshirt, a tenacious clinging reflex that not even years of solitude and Avengerly Attitude had broken.

Sometimes, the bastard could be cute. Sometimes, the bastard could be downright darling, and it was usually when he was either grievously injured or fast asleep. Sasuke was rarely either---he’d become strong enough that the total of people in the world who could kick his ass had fallen to less than one percent, and the uptight bastard was in the habit of catnapping. It was rare that he was ever fully asleep, but the strain on his chakra and body necessitated REM sleep.

Since his unlikely couch-mate was still sleeping, Naruto took a moment to look at him---really look at him, because in this fragile moment all his Uchiha bluster and wards against the world were mysteriously absent, which simply left a startlingly pretty young man holding onto his shirt-hem as if he were in dire need of a teddy bear. Sasuke was profoundly asleep, deep in such a way that he usually denied himself as a ninja: like Kakashi, he usually slept the catlike light naps of a true ninja, where he would be instantly awake if someone so much as exhaled in his presence. But he’d obviously felt safe enough that he’d allowed himself to sleep, to dream, and allow Naruto to protect him if his senses failed him, because that was Naruto’s mission, wasn’t it?

Because of the depth of his slumber, Sasuke had nuzzled and mussed his hair appallingly; the blue-black strands hung over his pale face in a bird’s nest of chaos and disarray, with lonely hairs poking up every so often like antennae. It was very cute, Naruto decided, and a little amusing---who knew that Sasuke the Great could look like a sleepy ragamuffin, just like the rest of the mortal world.

Yeah. Sasuke the Great. Sasuke the Reluctant Chick Magnet. Uchiha Sasuke, who nobody knew looked like a untidy waif when he slept, whose terrifying Sharingan eyes were lined with careful, long lashes that mascara only hoped to emulate, and whose calloused hands were very gentle and warm when he wanted them to be.

‘The hell am I going to do with him? Naruto raged inwardly, resisting the twin urges to fidget (because that would definitely wake Sasuke up, and he’d wake up pissed) and to smooth back his messy hair. I mean, look at him! He’s---man, he’s…he’s something else. I know I’m not exactly on a platonic level with him---haven’t been since October, and maybe even before then---but he’s not coming out and saying anything if he wants it to be more than platonic. I can assume what I want when he’s like…this…but as long as he still glares and bitches when he’s awake, it’s safe to say he doesn’t want anything from me except protection.

Which I’m okay with. Because I have to be okay with that.

Stupid brat, you don’t need to be fine with anything, said a voice in the back of Naruto’s head, deep and rumbling and obviously pissed. Naruto sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

Go away, Kyuubi, he thought tiredly. I’m too busy brooding to deal with you right now.

Naruto did not talk about his surly tenant---he disliked acknowledging the beast living inside him. Needless to say, he didn’t like embellishing the details of his relationship with the youma---he didn’t like to share the fact that the Kyuubi not only ‘talked’ to him, but shared thoughts and visions with him, too.

Kyuubi always had something to say, and it was usually something crude (he had been abstinent for eighteen years, and that had left him cranky and vulgar). Naruto had learned to tune him out since awakening him more fully at thirteen, but his comments had become interesting lately. Lately, Kyuubi had become friendly---as friendly as a power-hungry, caged fox could be---and he was gleefully anticipating the birth of his container’s “kit”. He was also trying very, very hard to convince Naruto to have intercourse with his new “mate” as often as possible.

Kyuubi did not like how quiet Naruto was on his relationship with Sasuke, how lenient, how perfectly willing to leave the status quo be for the time being. He neither understood his wariness of the other boy, nor shared his hesitancy to bite him, mount him, and show him who was boss. Kyuubi didn’t quite understand why Naruto would want a consensual relationship created out of mutual attraction when he could obviously overpower Sasuke and have his way with him. Silly humans and their complicated courting rituals; claiming a mate by force was so much easier.

He’s our bitch, our mate! Kyuubi fumed as Naruto carefully ignored him. He came to us in heat, and we seeded him with our kits. That makes him our mate, our responsibility, and his angsting ass is ours! STOP FLOUNDERING AND RAVISH HIM, DAMMIT! HE’S LAYING RIGHT THERE, SOFTBELLIED AND OPEN TO RAVISHING, AND YOU AREN’T EVEN TEMPTED, ARE YOU, YOU FRIGID LITTLE BASTARD?

Of course I’m tempted, Naruto replied calmly. He’s ravish-worthy, and I’m a red blooded male. That doesn’t mean I’m going to just use him, though---if anything is gonna happen between us besides this baby, I want it to go both ways. I’m not an animal, Kyuubi. I have at least an iota of self-control.

Bah, Kyuubi growled. Self-control is vastly overrated.

This was followed up with a lot of snarling and gnashing of teeth, most of which did not translate into any human tongue. Naruto, being intimately connected with the Kyuubi, could understand the general gist of his tirade, and most of it revolved around him being undersexed, and their ‘mate’ being a moody bitch. Naruto ignored the temper tantrum going on in his head, inching over to pluck the book Sasuke had been reading out of his lax fingers without waking him. Instead of the novel he’d currently been reading, it was the baby book he’d picked up from Aido’s.

Deciding to drown out Kyuubi’s sexually frustrated ranting, Naruto idly flipped through the book with a growing feeling of astonishment. It was a good book---a really good book, with information about the development of both mother and child broken down by month and side-cut illustrations of what was happening inside. He quickly skimmed the first several chapters, stopping at the sixth month with a dropped jaw.

Oh my god.

Naruto stared down at the illustrations, his eyes widening with each flipped page. He glanced between the book and at Sasuke’s rounded belly, comparing the illustration of the tiny almost-person curled up inside the womb with the bulge that’d begun to peek out beneath Sasuke’s increasingly snug shirts. Sure, Sasuke had started to look like he’d swallowed a bowling ball, but still…to see that there was really a baby in there, a person-to-be, that was something.

Knowing that he was profoundly asleep---snoring softly, even---he tugged up his nightshirt to bare his abdomen. Naruto slid one hand to cup the base of his belly’s swell, grinning that the stomach muscles that had been sexy, flat and tight several months before had now become so soft, taut and riddled with iridescent stretch marks.

He couldn’t feel any movements beneath his stretched skin, but the book assured him that the baby was already kicking, already squirming around within Sasuke, only to get stronger as the months passed. Its eyes were probably already open, and it was likely it could hear sounds in utero, starting to recognize the voices of its parents and react to them. If he had pressed his ear to Sasuke’s stomach, he probably would have been able to hear its strong little heartbeat (but he refrained, seeing as Sasuke would undoubtedly wake up and bite his ear off for touching him so familiarly).

Softly, so as not to wake him, Naruto gently rubbed circles over his navel, close to their growing child for the first time. It brought out a feeling in him that was difficult to put into words: there was a tenaciously canine aspect of possessiveness to it, a deep kind of pride, careful gentleness, and love---tender love, that this was his baby even if the ‘mother’ was unwilling to openly admit it. This could be his family---his first blood relation since his father’s death at the Kyuubi’s sealing. It was a cowing thought, that he and Sasuke (of all people) were bringing a new life into the world, but a fantastic thought, too.

So that’s what’s happening in him, right now? He thought, looking down at the book and Sasuke’s bared stomach with a feeling akin to awe. That’s what his baby looks like? Man, almost makes me wish I had a doujutsu---I wish I could see what our baby looked like nestled inside him…

What, want to make sure it’s not furry? The Kyuubi asked, a lewd smirk in its tone. I’ve told you already, boy---my genetics don’t affect yours. It was your body he mated with, your seed that entered him and got him in whelp. I was simply an appreciative audience, as it was. Who was to know that you humans were so deliciously aggressive in copulation?

Er…thought Naruto, blushing at the vulpine voyeur living in his body. That might have just been Sasuke. He’s, um, he’s a biter when he gets horny, if memory serves. Not that I mind…I…kinda like the taste of blood. Which is probably your fault, now that I think about it.

I approve, the fox demon purred, lasciviously licking his lips with a broad pink tongue. What good is dominating a mate if they don’t have fangs to them? He makes a better breeding bitch than that pink thing you used to ogle at.

Pink thing---oh, Sakura. Yeah. I dunno. She’s kinda like---like my older sister, you know? She hates me most of the time, but she still takes care of me and Sasuke. We’re her boys.

We could still breed her, Kyuubi offered, and up popped a frighteningly clear image of a very pregnant Sakura curled up next to an equally pregnant Sasuke---Naruto blushed, trying desperately to remind himself that Kyuubi thought of himself as the ultimate alpha male, which made everything fair game. To him, it wasn’t at all odd for Naruto to furbish a harem of ninja to bear himself a literal pack of fox-children. Has some fire to her, that pink thing.

B-Breed---n-no, not Sakura-chan. Sasuke asked for it, but Sakura---I think she’s unofficially Lee’s mate.

The one with the strange eyes and the unfortunate furry protuberances?

Yeah. Lee. Weird-ass eyes, fuzzy eyebrows. Now back to the book, Kyuubi---what are nutrients?

You get them from raw meat, I believe.

Naruto wrinkled his nose in disgust, flipping the next page. I don’t think most humans can eat raw meat. Sasuke’s throwing up enough as is.

I forget how weak your stomachs are, the fox mused, sounding weary at the fragility of the host he was trapped in. More importantly, though, when are you going to tell the bitch that you know you sired his kits?

I was planning for when hell freezes over. Uchiha Sasuke doesn’t want to have Uzumaki babies---any kid he has is going to be Uchiha through and through. I was---I was a convenient lay. He would have told me before we “mated” if he wanted it otherwise.

What if he bears a kit with your golden hair, your blue eyes? How will he explain that away?

Hell, I don’t know, Naruto thought back waspishly, quickly tossing down the mental image Kyuubi had offered up: a waif-like boy with inky dark hair, Sasuke’s catlike good looks, and hauntingly blue eyes. I don’t know if he even thought past the fundamental act of conceiving his precious Uchiha heir---past actually getting himself pregnant.

It takes a mated pair to raise a healthy litter, the Kyuubi said sagely. He’ll need you soon enough. For now, I’d try to loosen him up a bit.

Loosen him up?

Show him you appreciate his body. Show him you see him as a worthy mate. I don’t know! Honestly, the creativity in this is up to you, because if it were me, I would lightly dig my claws into that kit-heavy belly, take a bite out of that smooth white hind, and mount him before he squirmed away. But that’s just me.

I think I’ll try something a little less…uh…bestial, Naruto thought, literally glowing with the force of his flushed face. Thanks anyway, Kyuubi…

Naruto had been so engrossed in his inner conversation (and the explicit images Kyuubi was narrating with) that he hadn’t noticed the subject of their conversation stirring, his dark eyes opening to glower up at him sleepily. He blinked a bit, registering Naruto’s tomato-red blush---Kyuubi’s fault; utterly Kyuubi’s fault---and the hand that was resting on the prominent curve of his belly. He decided he didn’t really like this setup---he was all but lying in his rival’s lap, and having his shirt pulled up and his stomach stroked did not improve the situation.

“What are you doing?” Sasuke demanded, eyes narrowed into coal-black slits.

“Uh---“ Naruto stammered, now blushing out of real embarrassment. “I---um---I was just---“

“You were petting me, that’s what you were doing,” Sasuke growled, and he seemed less than pleased about the attention. In fact, he looked quite pissed.

“Technically, I was petting the baby, but, um…”

“Your hand. Off me. Now.”

Not about to say no when he put it that way---that way being in a tone dubbed The Last Voice You Will Hear Before You Die---Naruto hastily pulled his hand away, smoothing his shirt back down and scooting to the side so that his thigh no longer served as Sasuke’s pillow.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, though he was anything but sorry.

“Just keep your hands to yourself,” Sasuke mumbled back, still glaring with as much energy he could muster at three in the morning.

“Er…could I ask you a question?” Naruto timidly wondered at Sasuke’s silence, not entirely sure that changing the subject would be good for his health, but still feeling the need to do so.

“Depends on how stupid the question is.”

“I was just wondering…uh…why are you having a baby? Not just in general, but---er---why you you? Why are you carrying a kid around in your gut when it’d be easier to do the normal male thing and have someone else do it? Why not just knock up some other chick---there has to be some girl somewhere that you could stand enough to have sex with, even just once. Why go through all the…er…pain, discomfort, morning sickness, and stretching by yourself? I mean, I’d think that toting around a bowling-ball sized belly hurts your ego---and your back---more than having sex with some random chick.”

“It’s not an issue of ego. Not really. Do you want the honest answer?” Sasuke asked, pushing his disheveled bangs from his forehead. Naruto gave him a long look.

“Honesty is generally what I aim for,” he deadpanned. “And it’s usually the first thing that comes to mind for normal people.”

“Don’t patronize me, dobe, or I’ll give you the answer of ‘I’m just a misogynist’, like I give anyone else.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “What do you know about bloodline techniques?”

Ah, that Sasuke. Roundabout as usual. Did he ever come out straight to say anything, without a loose and complicated explanation leading up to it? He wavered in between being incredibly blunt and being frustratingly vague. Being the kind of person who liked things lined up and spelt out, Naruto did not appreciate these tendencies. Curious as to where he was going with it, though, he decided to bite the bait and play along.

“Well, it seems that everyone has one but me,” he said flatly, mentally glaring at all the bloodline ninja he’d fought (and, at times, lost miserably to). “That it’s a family thing, that it is tied into the person’s chakra systems at birth...aaaand…that’s about all I know. Sorry; you guys seem pretty tight-lipped on the details of bloodline limits and all. Bah. Like we could actually steal them or something…”

“It’s more of an issue of patriarchal pride,” Sasuke said in a ruminative tone. “There’s an aspect to it that nobody really likes to talk about with non-bloodline clans. You see, almost every bloodline limit is purely matrilineal.”

Sasuke paused after spitting out that obscenely long word, looking up at Naruto as if he expected the dobe to go “OH!” at any moment, a light bulb firing over his head. That moment did not come; Naruto just sort of stared at him blankly, as if trying to discern why the word ‘matrilineal’ was so very significant. Context clues were doing him no good.

Sasuke sighed explosively, glaring at him and his pea-sized vocabulary.

“Matrilineal,” he growled. “Meaning that it comes from the mother’s side.”

“Oh!” said Naruto, belated as ever. Sasuke successfully resisted the urge to smack him.

“Bearing a child with myself as the ‘mother’ is the only way to pass on my Sharingan. Bloodlines are inherited from mother to child, and the father has no effect on the strength of the blood. Even though Fugaku, my father, had Sharingan as well, his is in no way connected to the potency of my own Sharingan.”

Naruto’s eyes widened.

“So your Sharingan and Itachi’s Mangekyou-Sharingan came from your mom? That nice, pretty lady who gave up ninjutsu to be a housewife? The uber-scary-wheel-eyes came from her?”

“From our mother, Uchiha Mikoto, yes. Mother had a far superior Sharingan to our father’s, though she was very demure about it. ---Stop gaping, moron. Sharingan used to be considered a woman’s technique---who but a mother could know so much just from looking at someone? It’s only in the last few generations since the police squad started up that Sharingan was considered to be so masculine.”

“So that’s why you had to get pregnant,” Naruto said, the pieces clicking together in his head. “The rest of the village didn’t know it was mommylinear, so they always thought that if you just knocked up a chick the baby’d have Sharingan, too. Which it wouldn’t, ‘cause the only Sharingan users left are you and Itachi, so there aren’t any Sharingan chicks to bonk. That’s why you couldn’t marry Sakura-chan and be done with it.”

“Yes,” Sasuke murmured, looking down at his book as if it held some divine answer for him. “Not that I’d marry Sakura anyway, but yes. I don’t want to be known as the last Sharingan user. Itachi did this on purpose---he killed all the women of our clan so that we would be isolated as the greatest and last. It took several years, but I figured out a loophole…”

“Sexy-no-jutsu,” Naruto summed, shaking his head. “It turned your guy innards to chick innards, and lo and behold---Sharingan babies.”

“I don’t know if it worked yet,” Sasuke argued. He rolled over onto his back, loosely resting his hands on his stomach and staring blankly at the ceiling in a half-brooding state. “I might not have passed the bloodline on to this baby. We won’t know for years---not until Sharingan awakens during the beginning of puberty. It might come out, it might not. As a natural male, I might not have the ability to pass it at all, despite putting my viscera through the blender. But yes, I was able to conceive this way, with the help of your stupid-ass technique.”

…heh, yeah. With the help of my technique, and perhaps the help of some of my better body parts as well, eh, Satori-chan?

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Naruto said magnanimously, leaning over Sasuke and grinning down at him.

And Sasuke had to resist the urge to reach up, draw Naruto’s face down lower, and kiss him. Which was, of course, both odd and troubling. Usually, the only impulse he had to resist when it came to Naruto was the urge to smack him soundly for being an idiot. But the itch had been there, rich and tantalizing, and only his shock at feeling it saved him from caving to it. A strange feeling he only half recognized coiling in his gut, he licked his dry lips and levered himself into a sitting position, determined to get as far away from Naruto as possible as quickly as possible.

He didn’t like Naruto. Not like that. He’d been The Rival, The Sperm Donor, and The One Who Holds Back My Hair While I Throw Up---nothing more, nothing less. Yes, he’d enjoyed the exercise needed to acquire said sperm, but it didn’t take love (LOVE?! Some Inner Sasuke voice shrieked, scandalized at the very term, even loosely applied to Naruto) to enjoy sex. So then why was his stomach clenching with nervousness at being this close to the dobe? Why were his palms sweating, why was he flushed---he wasn’t some pre-teen girl! Why the hell was he acting like one?

“I’m going back to bed,” Sasuke muttered as he got to his feet and shuffled back towards his bedroom to brood. “Sleep on the couch for all I care, but turn the light out when you go to sleep.”

“’Night, Sasuke,” Naruto said cheerfully, oblivious to his rival’s current train of
‘I CAN’T LIKE NARUTO! YES---NO---AUGH!’ thought. “Sweet dreams and all that shit.”

Sasuke was very glad that his back was turned to the dobe, so that he didn’t see the berry-red blush that was raging across his features like a curse-seal wildfire. Dear God, no---Uchiha Sasuke didn’t blush! There were laws of nature forbidding that a face so pale should get so red!

“Goodnight,” he returned, sounding strangled.

Naruto found that Sasuke could shuffle pretty damn quickly when he put his mind to it. Sasuke slammed his bedroom door behind him like a grumpy five-year-old having a tantrum, making Naruto blink confusedly.

Huh. Wonder what’s up with him?

He’s Sasuke, Kyuubi replied flatly. I think that’s all the explanation needed.

Meh, it’s probably nothing…so, Kyuubi, about this showing-Sasuke-I-see-him-as-a-mate thing…


*

As both a woman and a ninja, Sakura was a good actress. Women are born actresses---they fake everything from orgasms to whole relationships, perfectly bred to break hearts and get their way. This acting skill was God’s way of apologizing for making the woman bleed monthly, and (usually, anyway) for making her sole carrier of children.

Sakura was well-versed in the skill of acting. She’d been blunt as a teenager, but she had acquired the ability to be subtle while under the tutelage of Tsunade. It was that very ability that had allowed her to smile at Sasuke (blindingly pregnant Sasuke, Sasuke who had obviously taken his Sharingan ability and Naruto’s Sexy-no-jutsu and had abused them both terribly) and say: I’m a woman, Sasuke-kun---it’s my job to understand.

Which she didn’t mean. Not totally, at least.

A part of her was happy for Sasuke---happy that he was happy, or at least less surly than usual. Happy that he was going to slowly but surely bring back the Uchiha line, happy that he was taking care of himself, happy that he was enough at peace with who he was to bring a child into his life. But a larger part of herself was jealous---and why not? Here she was, fit and equipped by nature to bear children, and Sasuke had somehow decided that that wasn’t enough. Sure, he found women and their tenacious emotional attachments bothersome, but Sakura would not have been a bother.

She would have been alright with just having his children, not being his wife, not being his partner, not being anything aside from twenty-three other chromosomes. Carrying an Uchiha baby, being truly useful to Sasuke, would have been good enough. But he had gotten it into his head that he could do it better, and so he’d gone to someone else, to---it made her stomach hurt to think about it---to Naruto? He hadn’t said it in so many words, but that look in his eyes when he had seen Naruto standing in the doorway had been enough positive proof.

Ugh. Naruto. Sure he was hot---unfair genetics at play once again; who would have thought that a weedy thirteen-year-old with a slightly growly voice could have blossomed into a Grecian god of an eighteen-year-old whose deep voice was almost a purr?---but he was NARUTO. What kind of father could an annoying blond with a youma mired in his gut be? Even if Sakura herself relented to the relationship---but was it a relationship?---the village wouldn’t stand for it.

Their precious Uchiha heir carrying the spawn of the Kyuubi? No way in hell.

Sakura voiced this much to the tall, dark, and handsome man sharing the bar with her. Needless to say, she was more than a little drunk. He listened graciously, though, seeming on all accounts interested by her rants about that “icy asshole” and that “god-fricking-damned Naruto”. He even bought her a couple of drinks, as if encouraging this behavior.

He was especially interested in Sasuke, pressing quiet questions as to his whereabouts and curious condition.

“Well, he’s pregnant, you know,” Sakura drawled, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know why he decided that knocking himself up was a good idea, but he’s Sasuke, so a lot of premeditation went into it. He didn’t just wake up one morning and say ‘gee, I think I’d like to have babies. I’ll go shag a teammate.’. He brooded on it for months, probably, maybe even years. And he won’t say anything on the matter, but I’m almost positive that Naruto is the father. Can you believe that? Sasuke and Naruto---I always thought that there was something going on between them, but I never thought…I mean, Sasuke made it perfectly clear that he hated ‘the dobe’, but…but they’ve kept so close for so long…and now a baby…my God…”

“My God indeed,” her bar-mate murmured, his dark eyes cast hazy by shock. “Are you positive, Haruno-san?”

“Positive?” Sakura scoffed, tossing back another gulp of beer. “Of course I’m positive. I’m a medic-nin, dammit, and if there’s one thing I know how to do right, it’s telling who’s pregnant and who’s not. And Sasuke-kun…Sasuke-kun is very pregnant. Probably…seven months or so already. I’m not sure; he won’t come in for an ultrasound or a pelvic exam, and he was pretty stiff on the matter of when he’d had intercourse.” The thought seemed to hit Sakura for the first time, and she whimpered. “Oh, hell. Sasuke had sex, didn’t he? He’s no longer my icy virginal prince…”

“Knowing Sasuke,” the man said, shaking his head. “I don’t think he was ever an icy virginal prince. Where is he now? In the old Uchiha part of Konoha?”

She took another drink, wavering slightly. “’M not s’posed to tell. It’s a secret.”

“I can respect that. So he’s not in the village, then?”

“No…” the chuunin agreed, poking sadly at a melting ice cube on the bar top. “He left to have his baby ‘cause he doesn’t want anyone to see him as anything but his hot, slender self. Though he’s still pretty hot, even with a belly going. I mean, he’s Sasuke…it’s hard for him not to be hot.”

This made the stranger snort with amusement. “Very like him,” he commented. “Sasuke has always been somewhat like a prissy cat, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’d leave to birth his ‘kittens’. Thank you for the information, Haruno-san.”

“You know,” Sakura said, focusing him in a curiously bleary look, green eyes searching his face for familiar features. “You look a lot like Sasuke-kun. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I ought to,” Itachi said equably, leaving a tip on the bar counter as he stood to leave. “Sasuke is my younger brother.”

And Sakura realized that she’d done a very, very bad thing.