Self-Reliance

SELF-RELIANCE

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I don’t own Sasuke. But OMGITACHI.

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 FIVE: UP A TREE

*
Aido knew she was in trouble the moment she realized that someone had come into her bookstore without making the bell on the front door jingle. It’d take a ninja to pull off that kind of feat, and only a ninja with ill will would have felt the need to mercilessly sneak up on a humble bookstore owner. She swallowed hard, fingering the shuriken in her pocket, but nothing could have prepared her for the appearance of a detachedly emotionless jounin wearing a black trench-coat marked with balefully red clouds. He flicked his long gray ponytail over his shoulder, bowing shortly in greeting.

Early retirement had not killed off the ninja voice that serving as a chuunin for six years had created in Aido’s head. Even as her body went through the necessary movements of saying “Welcome to Aido’s Bookstore! How can I help you?” her mind was shrieking third edition bingo book, page thirty-six: Uchiha Itachi, former Konoha jounin, ex-ANBU. S-class criminal wanted for parricide. Fifty-three D, one hundred and fifty-two C, one hundred and thirty-four B, and one S-class mission. Currently employed under the Akatsuki (also known as the Boy Scouts of Criminals). If ever found, the protocol is to retreat until the Konoha hunter-nin can be contacted and hope his eyesight is bad enough that he doesn’t see you leave, and…

…and why the hell is he looking through the cooking books?! Don’t tell me that he’s a chef, on top of everything else. Maybe he’s a cannibal. I wouldn’t put it past him.

Aido watched him warily, trying not to throw the card that she was a former chuunin, and that she had five shuriken stuffed into the pocket of her comfy cargo pants. She wasn’t a terribly good ninja---she wasn’t terribly good at anything, really, save for alphabetizing---but she hoped that she could hold out long enough to use a summoning jutsu and ultimately find out what the hell Itachi was doing in a village too small to even have a proper name. There was nothing here, she fumed, nothing save for---

---save for Uchiha “Satori” Sasuke, whom she’d been contracted by her cousin to watch over. Shit. If UchihaLet’sKillMyFamily!Itachi knew that his little “sister” was covering a somewhat unorthodox pregnancy in this village, Aido wasn’t sure there was a lot she could do to dissuade him from killing him. She’d gotten to chuunin by luck alone and two bloodline-blessed teammates---taking on Uchiha Itachi alone was more than suicide, it was drinking poison, slitting her own wrists, lighting herself on fire, and jumping off a cliff. Aido didn’t even have the ghost of a chance against Itachi.

“Do you have the next volume of the Icha Icha series?” Itachi asked, his dark eyes lighting on the wavering clerk. She almost dropped her kunai in sheer shock.

“You read that series?” she squeaked, somewhat unable to picture Mr. Emotionless Mangekyou-Sharingan himself enjoying a poorly-written smut novel.

“Yours is the only bookstore that carries it,” Itachi pointed out, walking through the self-help isle like a cat testing its territory. “I assume that you must get heavily trafficked because the author has chosen you as the sole retailer.”

“Er---yeah---er,” Aido stumbled, remembering that said author, Jiraiya the Sannin, had had to get her drunk to make her to agree to sell the series. The Copy-Ninja Kakashi visited her store on a monthly basis in hopes of the next volume, and she always had to turn him out because he scared away customers. “Icha Icha Piracy is due out in---uh---at the end of May, I think. Would you like to r-r-r---“

“Take a deep breath and finish the word,” Itachi suggested, which Aido did raggedly, trying desperately not to wet herself.

“Reserve. Would you like to reserve a copy, Uchiha-san?”

“I think I’ll be back around that time anyway,” Itachi said absently, flipping through a book he randomly took from the shelf. He replaced it in a different place, making Aido wince---misuse of the Dewey decimal system was a sure torture in her mind. “My brother should be due about then, if Haruno’s information is correct.” He turned an askance eye to the clerk---it was gleaming red with Sharingan. “Have you seen Sasuke, Umino-san?”

Can’t lie to Sharingan. Can’t lie to Sharingan. Can’t…

“I---er---no,” Aido squeaked, blushing. “I haven’t seen Uchiha Sasuke since I left Konoha. I don’t know where Uchiha Sasuke is.”

But I have seen Umichi Satori, and I know where “she” is. Can’t lie to Sharingan, but I didn’t lie now, did I? Omitting is not exactly the same as lying…omitting is okay. I don’t need to have a guilt trip over omitting…

“Ah,” said Itachi, sounding disappointed. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. I’d like to get this book.”

“The Idiot’s Guide to Stir-fry?” Aido said, looking at the book cover with the insane urge to double over with hysterical laughter.

“Despite being made up of the nine most dangerous shinobi in all the nations, not one member of the Akatsuki can even boil water. I’ve grown tired of Kisame’s rather bloody meals---bipedal sharks and humans are not the best dining partners, I’ve leaned---so I should be grateful to learn stir-fry. How much for this book?”

“Free,” Aido whimpered, sounding strangled. “Just take it and go and don’t come back. Ever. Please. Stir-fry in exchange for my life.”

“Fair enough,” Itachi said, bowing shortly as he sauntered to the door. “But if you see Sasuke, I will want to know immediately so that I can…congratulate him. Understand?”

“U-understood!”

“I’ll see you in May, Umino-san. Have a copy of Icha Icha Piracy set aside for me.”

“Will do!” Aido said to his retreating back, sighing raggedly as his black-cloaked form disappeared with a smoky chakra pop. She fell to the floor due to suddenly boneless legs, not at all sure that she hadn’t wet herself.

First she had to change her underwear, then she had to warn Sasuke. If Itachi had already found the town where he was staying, it wouldn’t take long for him to weed out where he was living. And if he found Sasuke…Aido shuddered at the thought.

If he found Sasuke, Aido was not sure that the Fourth’s isan would be enough protection.

*

The morning after the huge realization of mommylinear techniques, Naruto awoke late. He yawned, still on the couch, and blinked confusedly at the slant of light filtering in through the windows until it equated a numerical time in his head and his sat up quickly.

Half past noon already? He hadn’t heard Sasuke get up, and it’d become difficult lately for Sasuke to hide when he was coming and going--- Sasuke’s gait was clearly affected by the growing baby. Naruto fondly dubbed it “the waddle”, though such got him beaten by the nearest potentially lethal object within Sasuke’s reach. It was quite the waddle, though, and it made him grin madly whenever he passed him in the summerhouse.

So either Sasuke was still asleep---debatable, considering the sleeping schedule he’d been keeping up lately thanks to the increasing drain on his chakra---or he’d pulled a genjutsu in order to sneak past Naruto. The latter was far more probable, not because Sasuke was especially considerate when it came to other people sleeping, but because he’d gone to bed irritated, and waking up Naruto meant dealing with him. There were not many things Sasuke wouldn’t do in order to keep from dealing with Naruto.

Naruto got to his feet with a groan and a yawn, scratching his ass and grunting in true male fashion, and threw his senses out to locate Sasuke’s chakra signature. It was getting easier and easier to find him that way: to locate the hot-cold mark of his tumultuous Uchiha chakra, with the warm, teasing muddle of other chakra in its center that was only growing and strengthening daily. Usually, Sasuke’s chakra was nearly untraceable; he kept to himself in every single way. Call it emotional constipation, but he didn’t let anything out when not in battle, not even a stray chakra flare. Since the pregnancy had such a hold of his chakra systems, though, he hadn’t had the luxury of that kind of control lately. Lately, his chakra signature had spilled over, unbidden, and Naruto used that to his advantage when it came to finding him.

Unfortunately, no matter how he searched the house, the chakra signatures of Sasuke and his baby were nowhere to be found.

Naruto’s heart leapt instantly to his throat, and only careful breathing kept him from ripping outside, howling Sasuke’s name to anything that would listen.

Sasuke was not inside. His bed was still warm, though, and there was an apple missing from the fruit bowl. Okay. Even though he wasn’t in the summerhouse---gone, oh my god, he’s gone; it’s the Akatsuki or Orochimaru or both and they’re going to rip out his baby and use his body for their malign uses and I’m not going to be able to do anything because I slept in! ARGH!---he’d been there maybe twenty minutes before. Nothing was messed up and there’d been no commotion, so he’d left peaceably. Either that, or he’d been snuck up on and knocked out and now they were proceeding to the baby-ripping-out stage, and…

Naruto made an abrupt turn in the hallway, glowered at the wall for a moment, and then beat his head against the wall a few times to clear it. True, his ears rung slightly afterwards, but he didn’t have the spastic, nagging thoughts clouding up what little rationality he had, either.

Okay, deep breath. If I was evil and nefarious and wore makeup, where would I take Sasuke? …well, I’d probably molest him before I took him away, and…um…and I wouldn’t have to share him with anyone. Maybe we’d go to Sunagakure…and…build sandcastles. And he’d have my babies and it’d all be sunshine and butterflies, despite my evilness, and I’d molest him all the time. ‘Cause he’s pretty.

It’s a damn good thing I’m not evil. So. Moving on. I’d…I’d…I don’t know!

Still stuck on the thought of molesting the bitch in a sandcastle without impunity? Kyuubi asked lazily, with a wide grin that showed fangs.

Yes---no. No. Shut up, I’m trying to focus, here. Sasuke’s gone!

I realize that. Try widening your search, brat.

“Oh,” Naruto said aloud. “You’re right.”

Lo and behold, Sasuke was neither kidnapped, nor molested, nor chained up in a cave. He was in the heinously overgrown backyard, sound asleep on one of the thick lower limbs of some ancient tree. Mixed emotions warred in Naruto upon finding him---an astounding wave of relief, but, equally as powerful, a spike of irritation at him running off for an outdoor nap without telling him first. Didn’t he realize how irrational his guardian was? Didn’t he know that Naruto would jump to all the wrong conclusions? He’d probably planned it, the bastard.

Sasuke had snuck off outside like a sulky cat---either that, or he simply didn’t give a flip about Naruto and all his misplaced attention. Sulky or flippant, he was outside for the first time really in the last month; the early April afternoon was warm enough, so he’d opted to sneak off without a shirt, too, despite the new baby-cushion he was lugging out front. He wore a pair of jeans that would have fit him fine pre-pregnancy, but they now had to be left unbuttoned because fitting around his belly was a laughable thought. Only the fact that Sasuke had opted not to shop for maternity clothes made him wear the jeans---he had one pair of pants to his name that fit with any kind of decency, and those had to be washed from time to time. Today seemed to be such a washday.

At the sight of “the bitch” baring his white torso---male, save for the obvious occupant that distorted his slim figure---freckled by leaf-shadows and playful dabbles of sunlight, the Kyuubi whimpered. Actually whimpered, sounding like nothing more than a dog teased by a particularly meaty bone.

Please…? Kyuubi begged his container, sounding so pathetic it almost made Naruto laugh.

No, he answered firmly, telling himself as much as his tenant. We’re not going to molest Sasuke. Not right now, at least. We’re pissed at him, remember? He’s being dumb.

He’s also being very evocative. I can hear your thoughts, and yes, I like his nipples, too. Remember his nipples? Pale pink and soft, hardening when you breathe on them, touch them…c’mon, let’s have a go at his nipples.

No. Pissed---remember---yes. We’re not going to jump Sasuke and---nipples---gah---yes---no---no. No.

“Oi!” Naruto said sharply (to break his train of thought as much as to wake up the bitch), jerking the Uchiha from slumber. “’The hell are you doing up there?”

“I was sleeping,” Sasuke replied crabbily, yawning widely. He propped himself up on his elbows to glare down at the blond below him, dark hair falling down into his face. “But you had the indecency to wake me.”

“Indecency! Bah! What if you’d fallen?” Naruto demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering. “You have to stop being all Mr. Cool and start being Mr. Mom---think about the damned baby for once! You could fall out of that tree, and that would squish the baby!”

Sasuke’s short snort said uh-huh, yeah, right. Me, fall out of a tree. What do I look like, shit-head---an invalid? I’m a ninja, and a jounin in everything but status. As if I would actually fall. Bah. Although not in so many words. No words, actually---just a snooty look with heavy dark eyes and a glib curl of his upper lip. Sasuke was a master of wordless communication. Through many years of trial-and-error, Naruto was starting to compile a concise dictionary of What Sasuke Really Means When He Says (enter derogative comment, and/or sneer here).

Said dictionary fired away on his body-language: laying lazily in the cradle of the thick branch (totally relaxed, so that he didn’t have to huddle and brood and tuck in the pale curve of his neck: It makes me tired, but I’m pleased with my growing body. I don’t fear attack here), half-asleep and content (trusting that Naruto had settled into his role as the baby’s guardian: moron won’t try picking fights with me like this; even he’s not stupid enough to go at it with someone toting around an extra passenger), his hands clasped loosely over his rounded belly (silently possessive: this is my baby, don’t try touching it). Unfortunately for Naruto’s ease, there was something---something off about his expression.

Sasuke was staring at his face as if searching for something, slightly befuddled, lingering at his eyes and lips like he was trying to remember something but couldn’t. He looked lost and frustrated, so much so that the emotion was slipping out from beneath his impassive mask of pale disinterest.

“What do you want,” Sasuke asked finally, sitting up on his tree branch so that his belly jutted into his lap and his long legs dangled.

“I wanted to know where you were at,” Naruto said stiffly, trying desperately to smother the moans that Kyuubi was making in the back of his head. “I don’t like waking up to find you just disappeared, y’know. I was thinkin’ you’d gotten yourself kidnapped by the Akatsuki or some other lameass group of boy scout bad guys, but nooo…you’re sunbathing.”

“It’s warm,” Sasuke said simply, dragging a hand through his dark hair to make sense of the cowlicks and knots. “I’ll leave a post-it note on your stupid face next time if it pisses you off that much.”

“You should get down and go back inside,” he said levelly. He blinked. “Er---how did you get up there, anyway?”

“I’m a ninja,” Sasuke said with a smirk. “This belly doesn’t slow me down that much. I could kick your ass, even this pregnant.”

“Really?” Naruto asked, his competitive streak itching to test that theory. He hadn’t spared with his rival for months---not since his defeat in the Jounin Exam, at least. A part of him wanted to fight him because that was the time they understood each other best---when their fists and feet collided, their thoughts naturally seemed to follow, clicking into place so that they could actually talk, even if it was between smacks and yelps and pants. Another part of him recoiled at the mere thought of putting his mate’s body through that kind of stress---what if he slipped, just a little, and hit his ripening belly? Even a slight knock could hurt the baby at this stage.

“I probably should spar,” Sasuke said, as if musing over the thought. “I’d rather not go completely soft. Pregnancy is no excuse to slip.”

“You really want to fight me?” Naruto asked with a sort of sinking sensation deep in his stomach. “Are you sure you want to---I mean, your chakra---“

“No chakra,” Sasuke said, rolling his eyes. “Taijutsu practice. I’m sure you’ll be going pitifully easy on me to begin with, because all you seem to see anymore is this belly of mine.”

“It is big,” Naruto agreed with a foxy grin. “Kinda draws the eye to it.”

Sasuke must have decided that that was an invitation to attack, because he was off his branch and under his guard before Naruto could even blink. The first two attacks hit because of that---an open-palm strike to his solar plexus and a light cuff to the side of his head, saying stupid dobe, your guard was down, better than any glare could have. Naruto was ready for the next strike---a rising fist aimed at his chin---and blocked it, clipping a punch against his jaw. The half-landed hit just made Sasuke grin; he sped the kata up, two strikes to Naruto’s stomach, another two to his chest, and he jumped nimbly away before the kyuubi-boy could spit out a curse and retaliate.

Well, that was no surprise. Even pregnant and pretty, Uchiha Sasuke was every bit male: his voice was still deep and rough, his hands still were full of thick calluses from years of training, and he still fought like any other shinobi. Pregnancy didn’t change that any more than it changed his uncanny accuracy with projectiles or the strength of his blows.

Sasuke’s hits still hurt like a bitch.

Naruto hunched over his stomach, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. He staggered, straightened, and scowled at his rival. “Why the hell do you want to spar? It’s not like I can really fight back.”

“Exactly,” said Sasuke, giving him one of his rare smiles. “There’s a vicious kind of victory to that. I’ve finally found a way to ensure I beat you every single time.”

“You’re not gonna be knocked up for the rest of your life,” Naruto pointed out, adding chakra to his feet so that when he jumped at an adjacent tree, he stuck to it.

“Who says I’m not going to get pregnant again?” Sasuke challenged. “One baby isn’t exactly a clan, now, is it?”

“Again---you’re not going to be pregnant solidly for the rest of your life. I’ll find places in-between babies to challenge you.”

“I’ll be nursing,” Sasuke said, appearing behind Naruto and taking advantage of his expression of WTF---NURSING?! to land a round-house kick to his chest that sent him flying.

Naruto hit the birdbath with an audible thump of extremely-dense-head striking incredibly-denser-stone. He reeled for a moment, seeing stars, before he was able to make out what had happened. He glared at Sasuke (still on the tree, smugly smirking for all he was worth), and tried to digest his incredulity. How could he have managed a kick with that belly? His balance was lowered and skewed because of it, and it stuck out in front of him, un-pliant to certain kinds of snapped movements.

“You should not have been able to pull that off!” Naruto barked, getting himself to his feet with a painful wince.

“I’ve already adjusted for my changed center of gravity,” he said, perfectly bored. “And I’ve always been flexible.”

The Kyuubi didn’t even need to add anything to that comment to make it perverted; he simply laughed raucously, and Naruto suffered a brief flash of fox-induced memory at exactly how flexible Sasuke was.

“You win,” Naruto said, throwing up his hands. “You’ve proven you’re not a weak, pregnant chick; good job! Now come back inside and stop being so goddamn smug!”

“My baby and I are still sunbathing,” Sasuke replied imperiously, settling back down on his branch as if he hadn’t just kicked his mate into a birdbath.

“Fine!” Naruto snapped, wavering slightly and not at all unsure that he’d suffered a slight concussion. Eh, what was new…he’d spent half his genin days suffering from a slight concussion. “I’m going inside, and it’s your own fault if you fall out of the tree!”

Sasuke didn’t fall out of the tree. Sasuke didn’t come back inside, either, and Naruto wasn’t sure which one pissed him off more. He patiently waited for him to come in for lunch, but he didn’t. He didn’t even have the decency to come in and tell him he wouldn’t be eating lunch; irritated, Naruto had slurped up his ramen along with his own, deciding that it was time for an ulterior kind of conversation, seeing as Sasuke didn’t like talking about his feelings unless he was drunk. And he wanted to talk to Sasuke about his feelings, but getting a six-months-pregnant man drunk was not a viable option.

So he settled with kunai mail.

Sasuke, why the hell are you sunbathing? He wrote on a strip of paper, bound it neatly to one of his duller kunai, and tossed it out the window and at the tree. He heard the soft thump as it met the wood, and, about five minutes later, the kunai was re-sent---at Naruto’s head, with startling accuracy. It hit the kitchen cupboard.

The return note read, simply: Because.

Frowning, he crossed that out, scribbling: Why won’t you come inside? You’ll be in trouble if someone comes by.

Which got him the terse, and very Sasuke-like reply of: Because. Screw them.

Okay, so maybe this isn’t a better way to get Sasuke to talk, Naruto thought with a sigh, almost about to drop the matter entirely if Kyuubi hadn’t intervened.

Keep trying. He’s got a breaking point, remember? Six years was his breaking point when it came to keeping his hands off you, so I’d give him six minutes on a smaller subject. Thankfully, you are relentlessly annoying when you put your mind to it.

Thanks. I think. So, what do we write now?

How about: dear mate, I would like to take a moment to point out that you have become heavy with our kits, and I can smell myself in them. I’m perfectly aware that we mated last fall, and that you see me as a viable male. My kind mates for life, so I’d just like to make sure you’re in for more than a rough mount once in a while. Emotional investment is important to me. I like your nipples, your growing belly, and the way you smell when you’re hot. Much love, your Alpha Male.

…Naruto turned this over in his head for a moment. I don’t think the paper strips are big enough for all that.

Cut it down to you’re mine, your kits are mine, and you better damn well like it.

Not the tone I was hoping for, Naruto winced. He set down the pen he’d been tapping, made himself another cup ramen, and inhaled it noisily as he tried to think up the best way to approach this issue.

Frustration stripped him down to his childhood standby of bluntness---irritated, Naruto scribbled down a hasty: Do you like me? Circle YES or NO, only to have the kunai sent back to him flaming.

For the time being, Naruto decided as he beat down the flames, that was enough of an answer. He’d have to think before he really breeched the subject with him, though he knew that it’d have to be soon---he was six months along already, and Naruto knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with himself if he waited until he was nearly ready to give birth. He wanted to enjoy this time with Sasuke---wanted to live with him without having to sneak peeks at him like a naughty little boy, wanted to enjoy having him rest against him without fearing to wake him up, wanted to touch him like the one night had been. Wanted to be tender, wanted to love him, wanted to have at least a small percent of it returned---the lack of all these things left him frustrated.

In a perfect world, they would have come together easily, with gushing proclamations of love on both sides, a few joyful tears, and sweet kisses. But the thing of it was, they were both emotionally stunted young men---one looking for love in all the wrong places, desperate for someone to give him a chance to love them, and one with the firm belief that he couldn’t love anyone save for the baby within him, because the baby was the only one who’d understand what their blood meant to him. If anything was going to progress, it would be through temper tantrums, tears, and more than a few missed signals.

They only knew how to fight. That’s all ninja were trained to do. Was it any surprise then that they had issues?