Self-Reliance

SELF-RELIANCE

Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto. I don’t own Sasuke. But I own Itachi’s nail polish.

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.

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CHAPTER ONE: BEST LAID PLANS
*

Naruto was the last member of Team Seven to turn eighteen, so Kakashi made a point out of making the last bash the biggest one. Since it was Naruto’s party, it was loud, obnoxious, and something Sasuke found himself suffering through simply because he was a good ninja and therefore an apt teammate (and because Kakashi had told him in no unclear terms that he considered Naruto’s birthday a mission, and to decline that mission would up his status to rogue nin once more. Yes, rogue nin over a birthday party. Sasuke had decided that the only smart thing to do was to come, sit in a corner, and not-so-subtly sulk).

There was alcohol involved, and karaoke, both with various amounts of abuse being poured into the endeavors. It had started as a small party---team seven only, with Kakashi as chaperone (if one could ever call Kakashi a chaperone with a straight face), but word quickly got around that Naruto was having a party, so literally everyone showed up.

Sasuke surveyed the scene with a grimace. He didn’t like parties. He didn’t like alcohol. He didn’t like the fantastically devious look on Gaara’s face as he calmly fished around in Naruto’s pants.

Stupid Naruto, having the gall to get completely and utterly smashed at his own birthday party. Stupid Naruto, not caring that Gaara---Gaara of the Sand, Gaara of No Eyebrows---was not-so-subtly hitting on him. Stupid dobe. He could do better. Even Shikamaru was a better lay than that sandy, freakish---

---and no, I am not jealous. I am simply making observations.

Sasuke glared at him across the table, only half-tasting the swig of beer he had hastily kicked back. Some eighteenth birthday---Naruto would undoubtedly spend the first day of his eighteenth year puking his guts out with the hangover of a lifetime jammed under his belt. Naruto was so incredibly blitzed that he wouldn’t remember anything about his party, not even the mild molestation from Gaara. He wouldn’t remember if someone even pulled down his pants and---

Sasuke paused at the thought, the words THE PLAN ringing in his head.

Yes. The Plan. Tonight…tonight the plan he’d labored over could feasibly work.

Tonight could be the night. Sasuke took another sip off his beer, turning the thought over in his head. Tonight was perfect: the next jounin exam wasn’t until the following autumn, the nations were relatively peaceful for the time being, and he hated winter training anyway. If he put The Plan into action now, nothing bad could come of it. It was peaceful; he couldn’t have invented a more perfect time to pull off The Plan, kick back and relax.

So I wait for now…and when the party’s over…

Sasuke waited with all the patience years of solitude had taught him---waited as Gaara was eventually steered away from Naruto by Temari, waited as Sakura and Ino had to be broken up (a drunken catfight over him, no doubt), waited as the party ebbed and the partiers drifted off for home in pairs. Kakashi sized up the remaining teenagers with a sigh, hands on his hips.

Naruto had fallen asleep on the table, and Kakashi just had to sigh at him.

“What an animal,” Kakashi grinned from beneath his mask. “Life of the party, eh?”

“I’ll take him to his apartment,” Sasuke offered with a carefully-practiced sigh, poking the blond idiot’s head. It lolled bonelessly to the side, and he snored enthusiastically. “He’s on my way home.”

“Kind of you,” Kakashi said dryly.

“Just looking out for a former teammate,” Sasuke said with a shrug---even though it was anything but. He jerked Naruto to his feet, looping his limp arm over his shoulder. The blond jounin snuggled nearer to the source of warmth, a silly smile on his face as he rubbed his cheek against Sasuke’s. This, of course, only made Kakashi grin all the wider. “Even if that teammate is a drunken idiot. Ja, Kakashi-sensei.”

“Ja, Sasuke-kun,” Kakashi waved shortly. “I’d tell you to walk home safely, but that’s rather redundant to tell a shinobi, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Sasuke said, more than half-dragging Naruto to the door. “I’ll see you.”

It was a good thing that Naruto’s apartment was not that far away---three blocks, maybe four, that he was forced to drag the half-conscious dobe. Naruto, being Naruto, made an effort to be dead weight, and annoying dead weight at that. He sang stupid songs that he knew only half the words to and stumbled at the most inopportune times---if Sasuke hadn’t had exceptional balance, he would have ended up in a heap with the heavier boy. Not that he would have minded at that point---dragging Naruto was much harder than falling on top of him and leaving it at that. But then again, if anyone had found them on top of each other in an alley, questions might be raised…

It was a sight for sore eyes when they finally made it to the dobe’s apartment. The unfortunate part was that there were stairs leading up to his second-floor flat. Many stairs. If he was going to have the audacity to get drunk, Sasuke decided waspishly, giving the flight a nasty look he usually saved for snaky enemies and stupid blonds, he could have at least had the foresight to have a ground-level apartment. Oh, but no. Naruto made nothing easy. Made a point of being difficult, really.

“What’sher name, misshy?” Naruto drunkenly inquired, obviously completely blind to the fact that missy was far from a missy; this missy was his bitterest rival and closest teammate. His confusion was just as well---the less information Naruto squirreled away into his memory banks to replay later, the better.

“Satori-chan,” Sasuke said with a smirk, calling up an alias from a certain mission in the past. Had Naruto not been completely and utterly blitzed, he might have remembered that “Satori-chan” had come from a mission where the two of them had been forced into cross-dressing: Naruto had used Sexy-no-jutsu, but Sasuke had had only to brush out his hair and apply a little makeup. Sometimes, genetics could be perfectly unfair.

“Shatori-chan! Yer booootiful!” said Naruto gleefully, clinging to his side. “Purtier than Sakura-chan, even! Are you from Sunagakure? Sand chicks are hot.”

“Dobe,” Sasuke muttered. Naruto stumbled again (quite the feat since they weren’t moving at the time), burying his face in the shorter boy’s dark hair. He sniffled happily, thoroughly enjoying “Satori-chan”’s scent.

After I succeed in The Plan, Sasuke decided, rolling his eyes. I’m never letting him drink again. It’d almost be easier if he was a rowdy drunk, but no, being Naruto, he gets all clingy and shit. Ugh.

“Yer cute when yer all pishy,” Naruto slurred, his lips whispering against the curve of Sasuke’s neck, muffled by the turtleneck he was wearing. “I like…yer hair…shmells real good.”

“Naruto, don’t hit on me,” Sasuke said grumpily. “You’re completely smashed.”

“But yer a purty girl, an’…you shmell so good…”

“Oh, so I’m a pretty girl now, am I?” Sasuke asked, darkly amused. Putting him against his shoulder to free up his hands, he formed a quick seal, muttering “Sexy-no-jutsu”, his carefully-practiced lightened form of the jutsu formulated especially for The Plan coming with a smoky chakra pop. It didn’t change much---it didn’t give him the huge breasts and bimbotastic body of Naruto’s version; the most it did was give him A-cups and more pronounced hips---but it was enough. Just enough. “Now I am a pretty girl…what are you going to do about it?”

Naruto didn’t need any more prodding. He dug his hands into Sasuke’s thick black hair and locked lips with him. For being drunk, he was a damn good kisser---vigorously exploring with his tongue, Sasuke had to weakly admit that his second kiss from the kyuubi-boy was a little more enthusiastic than their first had been. The hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair slid up Sasuke’s shirt to tease at his jutsu-created breasts, impishly exploring the supple white flesh and hardened nipples.

“I-Inside,” Sasuke mumbled against Naruto’s mouth, realizing that this was going to quickly become very hot very fast if Naruto’s eager groping was any indication, and he’d rather be up in his apartment then out on the sidewalk, where anyone and their grandmother could be watching. “We should---we should go inside---“

Naruto sized him up with hazy blue eyes. He could feel his fingers trembling against his breast.

“Yeah…inside.”

And that was where the mess all began.


*

Every good ninja deserves a holiday once in a while. Though ninja contracts through Konoha village don’t explicitly set guidelines for holidays (as evil is not particularly good at pre-scheduling when and where it attacks), it was a generally well-known fact that loopholes existed. A ninja could easily say that he or she was going out on a “training mission”, when in all reality they were going off to relax in some other village. It was the most well known secret among ninja---when a burnt out friend said that they were going out for a “training mission”, other ninja would nod, laugh, and get on with their own missions.

Sasuke had never taken advantage of the “training mission” excuse before. Usually, when he said he was going to go off on his own to train, that was exactly what he was going to do. He enjoyed working missions, and there was the whole fact that he had to travel his path of hatred and stoic strength in order to kill his brother, blah, blah, blah. Sasuke had never had a reason to leave Konoha before. He usually had nothing to hide, nothing that the ever-present paparazzi of teenage girls didn’t know about him.

But that was before he’d put The Plan into action, which left him incapacitated as far as completing usual missions went. In fact, Sasuke believed he was doing Konoha a favor by leaving---it wasn’t like he could do any serious B or A ranked missions in the shape he currently was. It was just easier if they didn’t know what was happening to Konoha’s former Number One Rookie.

It was a very nice sort of holiday, though. Under the alias of Umichi Satori (like some kind of rock star, an Uchiha could not travel anywhere without some glimmer of recognition and a flock of appreciative fangirls), he’d left Konoha for a neighboring non-ninja village, where his family had owned a summerhouse. His first month of the vacation had revolved around cleaning and renovating the dilapidated house---it’d lain empty for over just over a decade, and the dust bunnies had evolved into ferocious beasts. It’d taken a month of ceiling repairs and Scrubbing-Bubbles-no-jutsu to make it habitable, and another month of laundry and merciless beatings on the heating system to make it comfortable. After all that work, Sasuke had finally started to enjoy his six-month hiatus as a “training” ninja.

And that took him to the morning The Plan failed him.

Sasuke stretched in bed, catlike, with a contented yawn. The room was cold, but his blanket-heavy bed was very warm; the difference of temperature was blissful, and he allowed himself to revel sleepily in it. And why not? He had nothing to do but the sporadic load of laundry, nowhere to go besides the grocery store, and nobody to see who was worth his time. He could laze the day away, only stirring himself for the occasional snack (he had become very attentive to his stomach as of late, seeing as he now had two people dependant on his diet) and the recurrent trips to the bathroom. The frequent eating and the morning sickness were no great task to get over, but having to piss every hour was enough to fray his patience.

Sasuke yawned again, half-curling around his stomach and rubbing circles over the tightening swell.

Showing yourself already? Sasuke thought to his tiny passenger, slightly amused. He’d gone from being flat and trim to being full and bulgy in what seemed like just a matter of days. His firm abdominal muscles had kept his growing secret in check for the first four months, but now he seemed to gleefully be making up for lost time. Just as flashy and obnoxious as your father, I take it. I should have thought this over a bit more before deciding I wanted you…you’ll kick me black and blue if you have even half of his energy. I suppose I did bring this upon myself, but still…you could have some pity for me. I am carrying you all on my own, because…

Sasuke paused, sighing at the thought and all the fetters that were inexorably tied to it.

Well, because I got your dimwitted father smashed so that he’d sleep with me, because I am the last Uchiha and I have something of an image to keep up---and thanks to you, kid, my image is going to become increasingly bloated---and because I am inherently male, and should therefore not be pregnant to begin with. But I used a variation of Naruto’s ridiculous prank-jutsu so that I could conceive an Uchiha child.

He rubbed his stomach harder, his fingers memorizing the solidity that had begun to blossom beneath his skin. The child within him fluttered, a feeling almost like bubbles or butterflies or something equally as needlessly maudlin.

Because what would the world be without any more Uchiha children?

And that was when he fell into a gentle, catlike slumber, his hands folded lightly over the curve of his belly. He probably would have slept the rest of the day away in that manner, like every other day before it in the past several weeks, but he was abruptly stirred from sleep by a knock at the door. Sasuke awoke with a small snort of surprise---visitors? Umichi Satori hadn’t gotten many visitors after the initial flow of nosy neighbors when ‘she’ had moved into the old Uchiha place. Sasuke yawned widely, wrapped the blanket over his shoulders like a shawl, and muttered to himself about the broken heater and insufferably curious villagers. The fleecy throw was still warm from his nap, and it was a calming influence.

With a sigh, he sleepily formed the seals and muttered “Sexy-no-jutsu,” the ninjutsu coming as easily as breathing since he’d become familiar with holding it in place. It was easy enough, especially since he held the point of the jutsu as far towards masculine as he could, making him only slightly more feminine, outwardly. It took very little chakra to hold that level of the jutsu, which was good---since the pregnancy had taken in his body, he’d had to keep the lowest point in the jutsu, which made him female on the inside, active at all times. This did wear him out (hence his new habit of sleeping sixteen hours a day or more), so he tried to shy away from raising the jutsu point and eating up more chakra than necessary.

His visitor rapped impatiently at the door, and Sasuke yawned again, surprised to hear his own low voice popped up an octave thanks to the jutsu.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered as the annoying whoever-they-were knocked again. He opened the door without thinking, rubbing at one sleep-filled dark eye, and started to politely greet his visitors when he was interrupted by gasps.

He looked up, ninja senses perking at the sound. And he was met by two and a half pairs of eyes staring at him---two green, two blue, and one deep gray.

Sakura, Naruto, and Kakashi.

Shit, Sasuke bristled, draping the blanket over his belly a bit to mute the noticeable curve. They weren’t supposed to come!

“Sasuke-kun?”

Sakura knew the moment she looked at him, as if by some feminine sixth sense. The realization burned a hot, jealous fire in her jade-green eyes, and she shook as if she’d been slapped. Kakashi just sort of took in a ragged breath, as much shock as the jounin could allow himself, and put a gentle hand over Sakura’s---she was shaking, flushed with anger, screamed accusations fighting their way up her tight throat.

Sasuke could tell that Naruto didn’t understand. The kyuubi-boy still had that stupid, bewildered smile pasted on his foxy face, jumping to a million of the wrong conclusions all at once.

“Sasuke, you lying bastard! Here I was thinking that you were going to try to best-up me by going off to train on your own, but then you squirrel away and---“ and Naruto pointed a finger at the gentle pout of his stomach, shaking his head in disbelief. “---you just sit around and get fat? ‘The hell’s gotten into you? Am I that sucky of a rival?”

“I’m not fat, shit-for-brains,” Sasuke said in a tired monotone, his eyes half-closed. Naruto’s oblivious reaction was almost a blessing in comparison to the looks that Kakashi and Sakura were giving him.

“And you say I’m in denial!” Naruto laughed. “Dude, Sasuke, you should lay off the sweets, ‘cause you look like you’re freakin’ bustin’ at the seams---“

Sakura caught the look in Sasuke’s eyes as he watched Naruto, and things clicked in her head.

“It’s his, isn’t it?” Sakura burst out, making Sasuke flinch almost involuntarily. “I always knew that---that you didn’t want me, but---but how could you be so stubborn? I would have done it for you. Hell, I would’ve given my right arm to…to carry it for you, but…I’m not good enough, am I?”

“Sakura, it’s not like that---“ Sasuke started to say with far more patience than he truly felt like giving at the moment.

Sakura just gave a frustrated shriek, wrenching her hand from Kakashi’s and storming off the way they’d come. Naruto glanced at her retreating back with that befuddled expression of an infinitely dense teenager, his confusion only growing.

“What’s going on?” he asked, a childish twang of curiosity uplifting his tone. “Why’s Sakura-chan so pissy? I mean, hell, I’d be pissed too that prince charming’s gotten chubby if I was her, but isn’t she kinda, like, overreacting?”

“Sasuke…” Kakashi said finally, his one visible eye uncharacteristically dark. “I can only hope that Sakura is wrong. You should know better than to abuse your body in such a way.”

“I had to do it myself, Kakashi-sensei,” the dark-haired young man said quietly, sounding strangely…desperate in a way that unnerved Kakashi.

“Had to do what?” Naruto asked, so blatantly ignorant that Sasuke almost found it physically painful. No, Naruto did not understand the fullness of his rival’s formally-flat belly; no, Naruto did not understand why he’d kept so silent on the matter; no, Naruto did not understand why he’d come to him in the first place, drunkenly lubricated and his jutsu firmly in place…

But that was because Naruto understood very little about the youngest Uchiha.

Sasuke chewed slightly on his lower lip, his eyes downcast.

“You should come in,” he said softly. “And I’ll explain as best I can.”

*

Something was very odd about Sasuke. Naruto wasn’t quite positive what it was, but it was something huge---something that had driven off Sakura-chan, and was obviously bothering Kakashi-sensei deeply as well. He’d left to go find the female aspect of their team, fearing that she might do something stupid, and Naruto was only left to sullenly wonder why.

Naruto felt profoundly left out of the loop; what, was Sasuke sick or something? Yeah, he wasn’t looking so hot---he seemed exhausted, and he’d lost some weight if his bony shoulders were any clear indication, but there was the whole matter of the bulging belly straining against the waistband of his sweats. Sasuke had to be sick to have accumulated that much weight in one spot in such a short time period; he’d probably left the village because he knew he was falling ill, and he didn’t want to lose face as an Uchiha because of his weakness.

There. That made sense. A lot of things could be explained away by Sasuke’s insufferable ego.

But then what had Sakura been blabbering on about? Honestly, the way she was going on, it almost sounded like the frigid bastard had gotten someone knocked up or something.

Naruto eyed the fullness rounding out Sasuke’s front, a sudden thought popping up before he hastily smothered it: or almost like he’d gotten himself knocked up or something. He pursed his lips, watching Sasuke putter about quietly as he prepared tea for his unexpected guest (shock, horror, and hysterics were not enough to dampen the manners of a host that his mother had imbued in him at a young age). He moved differently. Carefully. Taking especial care not to bump his unwieldy stomach against anything, with a hesitancy that he’d never had before. His renowned grace was still apparent, but just stripped of his usual ninja finesse. It was somewhat surreal.

“Are you pregnant?” Naruto asked with all the blunt aptitude of a two-by-four.

Sasuke’s dark eyes flicked up quickly, calmly. “Yes.”

“Good, ‘cause man, wouldn’t that be some weird shit if---“ Naruto froze, his eyes widening as he actually took a moment to listen to the reply he’d been given. “Wait. You said yes.”

“Yes, I did,” Sasuke agreed, pouring the boiling water into the waiting teapot. “And I am. Almost five months pregnant, to be precise. I thought even you would have realized that by now, dobe, but I suppose I’ve just misjudged your intelligence once again. Sorry for my mistake.”

“But you---“ Naruto spluttered, his voice reaching an unexpectedly scandalized high note. “---You can’t do that! You’re male; men don’t have babies!”

“I’m not male right now,” he said with a minimal shrug, handing Naruto a cup of tea. “Not fully at least, due to Sexy-no-jutsu.”

“What!” the kyuubi-boy barked, pointing a shaking finger at his rival. “That’s my technique, you bastard! I didn’t give you permission to filch it for your malign uses! You can’t abuse my technique to have man-babies!”

“Sharingan.” Sasuke pointed out succinctly with what might have been a slight smile, had Uchiha Sasuke been capable of any lasting expression other than Bored With the World at Large, Smugly Amused, or Incredibly Pissed Off. “It makes any technique fair game, dobe, because it’s the other ninja’s fault for showing it to me. ---And you have no place to complain when I’ve finally realized a logical use for your dumbass move.”

“A logical use?!” Naruto fumed, glaring blue bullets at his rival. “Getting girls who are technically guys knocked up is not a logical use for my beautiful skill! Why the hell---firstly, what guy did you get to sleep with you, and secondly, why? We have women for these things, you stupid bastard!”

Sasuke’s expression closed unexpectedly, coldly remote.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” he said stiffly. “Now quickly drink your goddamn tea so that you can leave me alone.”

“You didn’t answer me!” Naruto snapped. “What, did some guy---you know, f-force himself on you and get you pregnant? ‘Cause if that’s the case, then that asshole is mine; I’ll---“

Had the circumstances been different, Sasuke might have been inwardly warmed that Naruto was so adamant in watching out for him. It was a comforting thing to know that one had friends who would gang-beat anyone who crossed you the wrong way, but he was not in the mood to enjoy it. Honestly, he was in a very bad mood due to the way Naruto’s eyes seemed glued to the gentle rise of his stomach, and he didn’t want to deal with him at the moment.

“Idiot,” Sasuke snapped right back, venomously. “You think I’d let anyone touch me when I didn’t damn well feel like it? You think so lowly of me. No, I purposefully did this because I’m the only person I trust enough to bear the next Uchiha heir. The women of our village are either too weak by my standards, or totally inept as mothers. That, and I can’t stand the lot of them. Get it?”

“So you got yourself pregnant?” Naruto chorused, a horrified look on his face. “Eeeeeeeeeeew.”

“No, I---never mind; just drink your tea and leave me here.” He looked away, taking a sip from his own cup of tea. “I plan to return to the village after I’ve had this baby, and nobody is the wiser on the matter. I can lie about the mother if anyone asks.”

“Leave?” the kyuubi-boy echoed as if it were the very last thing on his mind. “You can’t be preggers by yourself, you know. We are a team.”

“A team?” Sasuke demanded, edging towards hysterics at the very idea. “We’re not genin anymore, Naruto---we haven’t been a team for years! This isn’t a mission! I am simply confirming the progeny of my familial line---this has nothing to do with team seven, Konoha, and especially not you!”

“Actually,” Naruto said with a wide, foxy grin, obediently sipping his tea. “It is a mission. Tsunade-hag made me promise not to come back without you, because she was afraid that you’d gotten your precious Uchiha self injured during your training. So as long as you stay here, so do I. So there.”

And that was where The Plan went awry.

It’d been a very good plan, too---perfectly executed, perfectly designed. He had called it The Plan to Propagate the Illustrious Uchiha Clan, and it was obscenely simple.

The Plan had three major parts, all of which were crucial in the success of Sasuke’s mission. He would not---could not---allow himself any leeway on the matter, because it was imperative that each prong in his triad plan was executed without a hitch. It was easy enough for a boy who’d been considered a genius as a genin, and who was currently being slated for the head of the ANBU as soon as he made jounin (five years later in his life than his elder brother had been when he’d secured the title; Sasuke comforted himself in that he wouldn’t have wanted to be an assassin at thirteen, anyway).

It was a ridiculously simple plan, comprised solely of low-level ninjutsu, flat out lies, and more than a little alcohol. A genin could have pulled this off, honestly---not that he suggested a genin should, though, because drinking and sex were heavily involved in The Plan. In fact, drinking and sex covered two out of three aspects of The Plan.

Part one: get desired subject inebriated.

(Read: get him drunk out of his mind, so that he doesn’t know that I’m me.)

Part two: use selected ninjutsu to infiltrate the enemy territory.

(Read: use the Sexy-no-jutsu I Sharingan’d in order to get into his bed/pants.)

Part three: complete mission by taking the wanted material from the subject.

(Read: Screw Naruto, and with any luck, I’ll end up with what I came for…)

It was a relatively well thought-out plan, which perfectly befitted the last true Uchiha heir. He wasn’t a tactician in the same way Shikamaru was, but he was still arguably brilliant. To top that, he had had a great deal of time to think about The Plan. Sasuke was not precisely spoilt, but he was still very used to things going the way that he wanted. People either pitied him for being a poor little boy denied a family, or feared him for being a power-hungry avenger.

Everyone felt that way except for Naruto. He did not pretend to pity Sasuke. He did not even think about fearing Sasuke, because he was afraid of nothing.

That’s why he chose him as the subject for The Plan. Because he was strong, because he was stubborn, because he was…he was…

Something. Sasuke could never quite put his finger on exactly why he wanted him, but he did. He just did, an act of near desperation and possessive tenacity.

Oh, the plan worked wonderfully. It went off without a hitch, all three aspects. Then had come the after-mission clean up: the perfectly planned explanations he gave the Hokage and Kakashi, the excuse for the “training mission”---everything. It all worked out beautifully, and nobody suspected a thing. Naruto had been so incredibly drunk that he’d counted Sasuke’s secret escapades as a half-remembered dream afterwards, and Kakashi and Tsunade had no reason to disbelieve him.

Sasuke was pleased with himself for how fully his plan had worked, satisfied that he’d gotten precisely what he’d wanted from the exchange. It had worked, and he’d toddled off to the Uchiha summerhouse as soon as he had started showing the outward signs of pregnancy. He’d thought that it was all going to work out according to The Plan.

But he hadn’t factored in Naruto’s insufferable curiosity, or his stiff competitive streak. Of course Naruto would come after him---he’d been under the impression that Sasuke was training without him. Of course Naruto would want to know what ‘techniques’ he was perfecting, that he’d have to train by his own. Of course Naruto would wreck ANY PLAN HE TOUCHED.

It was Naruto. He was the ninja best at surprising people.

“You’re having a baby!” Naruto grinned widely, seeming absolutely enthused that his rival had a bun in the oven and a foot in his mouth. “That’s weird an’ shit, but cool, too! You know what, I’m gonna take care of you and your baby---I don’t think Sakura-chan wants to ‘cause she’s pissed that you’re knocked up and she’s not, and Kakashi has better stuff to do, so it’ll just be you and me! This’ll be the coolest mission ever!”

Take care…of me…? That’s exactly what I’m afraid of…

Sasuke thumped his head on the table with a sigh, realizing that his beautiful plan was quickly coming to pieces.

Stupid, stupid Naruto.