Down Boy

Title: Down, Boy
Disclaimer: I own Naruto. I own every single bit of it from the hair atop Naruto’s head to the tip of Sasuke’s… er, bits. *gets shoved off a random cliff*
Warnings: I dunno.
Pairings: I dunno.
Authoress: I dunno. Oh no, wait, I know this one. Me!
Summary: M/M, SasuNaruSasu. Sasuke has always enjoyed his privacy… until Naruto moves in under the same roof and trouble bites him in the ass.
Notes: I already have the next chapter down pat, so I’ll probably update soon if I get enough reviews to warm my little black heart. Otherwise I’d just drop this. There’s no point in writing something no one enjoys. (Yep, I'm a review whore… ain’t it sad? *sniffle*) Thanks.


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My life is swimming in deep shit.


“No!” I scream, bolting straight up from bed.


Or at least I try to. I end up with my face smothered under my pillow and legs tangled in loose sheets. My week-old underwear is surgically attached to my ankle, leaving my privates bare to the chilled morning air. Sweat pours down my temples as I blink away remnants of the dream I just awoke from.


What the hell…?!


Kyuubi’s chuckles rumble in my stomach.


“Shut up!” I yell in exasperation, knowing full well he doesn’t give a shit. “Stupid fox. You can laugh till you piss yourself for all I care.”


I carefully free my trapped leg from the evil bedspreads and hike my boxers up to ride on my waist. Tossing a look at the crusty mess I made on the bed, a loud sigh pops out of my mouth before I can stop myself.


Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m nineteen…a rightfully hormone-driven teenager. I’m supposed to have wet dreams. There’s like this unwritten commandment about it somewhere.


The possibility itself is a high probability. I'm almost sure of it.


My eyes cut to the tiny electric clock on my nightstand and every single hair on my body (nose, armpit and pubic regions gracefully excluded) stands on end. I make a dash for the bathroom and jump into the shower with one single thought looping around my head.


Shit. He’s SO gonna to kill me now!!!


+++


Half an hour later finds me on my knees in the board room, my legs tucked under my bum in a kowtow and my forehead kissing the grimy floor.


“I’m sor---“


“Hn.”


“But if you’ll just give me a min---“


“Save it.”


“Listen to me goddamit! I---!!!”


“Naruto. Shut up.”


And I do.


“You’re late for, what, the fifth time this week? And it’s only... Friday.”


Argh… how anyone can ever sound so aloof yet so condescending is beyond me.


“I’m good. I’m more than good. Just why the holy hell do I have to end up with an idiot like you?”


Sasuke gives me a long, pointed look and searches my eyes like the answer is tattooed somewhere inside my skull.


I know I should feel insulted but somehow… I’m not. He says that every time, and he doesn’t really mean it.


Or maybe it’s because I’ve heard it one too many times my ears and brain have shut up in self defense.


I climb up a chair and perch on it cross-legged, half my bum hanging in the air with ankles hugging my wrists. Sakura-chan has always complained that I look like a human pretzel that way but frankly, I can't bring myself to care now that I don't have a crush on her anymore. My tender childhood feelings had been flushed down the toilet the moment she started going out with Unibrow.


When my gaze flits back to his I realize that he has already started to explain to me the mission next week, his head bowed and scribbling away on the large map on the floor, a pencil wedged behind his ear holding dark tendrils back. I nod and pretend I’m listening, but my mind is well on its way off to la-la land.


I admit it. I’m a fucking space cadet. I can never get all worked up over a piece of flimsy paper… my concentration tends to land more on action. I suppose that explains why I always fuck up again and again even after Sasuke had drilled me with specific instructions a half dozen times.


Without meaning to, my eyes start to stray with a mind of their own and I find myself staring at the prominent bulge in Sasuke’s crotch, courtesy to his crossed legs and signature gray shorts.


Wow.


He really is exceptionally… well-endowed. I stomp down on the urge to whip out measuring tape like a ten ton elephant. It’s not like I haven’t noticed before. I’m not attracted to him or anything, but lately my dreams have been revolving around a certain someone with wispy black hair, dark eyes, deathly pale skin and long talented fingers…


I blink when he snaps his fingers in front of my nose, turning me slightly cross-eyed as I try to focus on his hand while my mind is still doing double laps in the sewers.


“Huh?” I say, flustered. “What?”


“Naruto. Look at my face when I talk. Not my dick.”


“Ah… sorry.” I drag my eyes up to meet his. His lashes are long and black, as if they had been dipped in ink.


I am pretty sure he is just kidding around though. Sasuke doesn’t do girls. I’ve never seen him do a guy, either, so I’m placing high bets on celibacy. And he is still smirking in this really sexy way that makes me want to either land a punch square in his jaw or grab him by the ears and kiss him senseless.


My head starts to spin, my throat rapidly dehydrates and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I sit there in sheer shock with my jaw to the floor, listening to my heart launch a Mardi Gras parade in my chest before I come to my senses enough to knock the damned thing into oblivion.


Did I just put Sasuke, sexy and kiss in the same sentence?


Holy crap.


Mental note to self: cut back the goddamn expired milk. Dreaming is one thing, because everyone knows dreams don’t mean shit, but thinking about it on conscious level is an entirely different matter.


This brings up a rather interesting question though. With his looks, he probably can pick any girl he wants. What type of girls would Sasuke go for?


Hot blond chicks with watermelon boobs?


Brunettes with smoldering dark eyes and stick-insect figures?


Curvy redheads best for hugging and groping?


Gasp!


Maybe he does all of them! Maybe he is father to a whole orphanage of offspring with bloodshot eyes and pointy black hair and baseball bats shoved up their sphincter muscles!


“Sasuke?”


“What,” he says absently, eyes focused on whatever documents he’s shuffling through.


“Uh… can you reproduce?”


He pins me down with a stare that makes me feel remotely the size of a green pea.


“What, are you completely daft?” he says incredulously, like I had farted in church and giggled about it.


“Well… can you?” I prompt.


He takes a couple of deep breaths.


Gee, his face is doing a series of interesting chameleon color changes. It isn’t pretty.


Is he going to hyperventilate?


He sucks in some more air and slowly his cheeks return to alabaster white… but he still looks pissed. He gives an excessively loud sigh but doesn’t grace me with an answer, his eyes telling me that I’m stupid.


I demonstrate my maturity in return by sticking out my tongue at him, making him roll his eyes and look down at the papers, the corner of his mouth turning up the slightest fraction.


And I’ve known him long enough to know that is equivalent to a smile.


“About that drink you mentioned,” he says hesitantly, and my ears prick up. Sasuke is just about as talkative as the wall on my right, so whenever he speaks, people tend to listen. “I… have some free time tonight, so…”


I nearly topple off my chair in shock.


Is this Uchiha Sasuke, supreme loner of the galaxy?


I’ve asked him out for god knows how many times throughout the years. For what, I don’t know. Call it friendship or companionship, whatever. For once I just want to kick back and relax to enjoy his company, and I don’t want to have to crawl through blood and guts to do it.


Don’t get me wrong. I love battling, but occasionally I’d like to converse with Sasuke in a normal fashion over pizza and beer.


“Okay,” I say, a little too eager for my liking. I do a mental grimace, feeling a little like a puppy being teased with a kibble.


Okay, let’s try this again.


“Uh, what I mean is… yeah, I’m pretty busy 24/7 but I’ll make an exception for you and cancel my date for tonight.” I make a show of shuffling through my palm sized schedule scroll and Sasuke does that half smile, half smirk again.


Oh, who was I kidding? Obviously he’s using the magical Sasuke know-all voodoo thing and knows I’m fibbing.


I stand up, walk to the door, and pause in front of it. I turn my head a little and try to mimic his smirk.


“I’ll see you tonight, then,” I drawl. Wait a minute. Why the fuck am I lowering my voice? And using that smoldering eye technique Neji taught me that I reserve exclusively for flirting with random hot girls.


Aaaaaaaargh I’m not a fag, no!


Dipping my head, I quickly walk out the door, glad that Sasuke cannot see the blush threatening to spread through my cheeks like wildfire.


I have a date with Sasuke. A real date! And it’s not even a group thing, I have him all to myself! He’s mine. All mine! Naruto, you’re such a stud!


Only when I get to the men’s room and plop myself on the toilet seat do I remember I haven’t told him when and where to meet up.


Fuck.


+++

TBC...?

[EDIT: Corrected typos. Thx for pointing them out, aura ^^]