Title: Drunk on You

Warning: AU, angst, sex, violence, swearing, yaoi, boyxboy love, yadda yadda yadda

Rating: M – for mature situations such as sex, swearing, Naruto's pervertedness, Sasuke's pervertedness (cause we all know he's a closet pervert, hmm?), and huh… how about… sex?

Summary: Hey, tell me, just how the hell does falling in love with your boss manage to derail the train of normality and invite the apocalypse in for a cup of tea?

AN: Eheheh, yeah, I started channeling Planes, Train, and Automobiles in the third paragraph ;; sorry 'bout that xD

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Prologue

This was the last time I let Kiba talk me into going to an all night slumber party with the other members of our little "gang".

The absolute last time! And this time, I was serious damn it!

A groan escaped my lips as I banged my head against the upper part of my steering wheel, taking advantage of the standstill traffic I was currently trapped in. Fucking Kiba and his fucking stupid obsession with fucking alcohol, and fucking Ino for fucking threatening me to go, and fucking Shikamaru, yes fucking goddamn fucking Shikamaru, for casually fucking informing me just fucking minutes ago that I needed to get my fucking ass out the fucking door or else I was fucking going to be fucking late for my fucking job interview!

Oh, and, GOD-FUCKING-DAMN did people drive like fucking retards today!

Glaring heatedly at the cars in front of me, and forcing my hand to stop twitching towards the horn, I slowly counted to fifty, over and over again, in order to calm down. It was still early, right? I still had about a half hour before my interview, right?! I could make it, right?!?!

Yeah, even in my own, desperate head it didn't seem that plausible.

So, I thought seriously about my interview, and the company it was with, for the seventy minutes I was stuck in that One. Damn. Spot, and came to the monumental conclusion that not only was I going to miss my interview due to the predictable downtown Tokyo traffic, but I wasn't that hung up about it. After all, who really needs a job where you have to basically bend over for your boss, do all the grunt work for five years before starting to even be considered for a promotion, and work in a dirty cubicle that was probably mutated enough from its past inhabitants to just up and eat me, chair and all? Not me, that's for sure!

A shit-eating grin spread across my face, and I knew how obnoxious I looked only because the guy next to me was giving me that weird look that you normally reserve for the crazy people running up and down the street proclaiming that they saw the end of the world in their toilet bowl.

Humming lightly, I flipped open my phone and quickly dialed Shikamaru's number, knowing full well that he probably had his hands full of a hung over Kiba, and probably wouldn't be able to reach his phone for another four hours. Maru had a rather soft spot for the dog-lover, soft enough for him to endure hours and hours of Kiba whining, bitching, and barfing every which way.

"Yo," the phone said, and, as always, I started to open my mouth to say hello back before the answering machine kept going, all in Shikamaru's measured, lazy drawl. "I either have my phone off, or don't want to talk to you. Kiba, just walk upstairs you lazy bastard. Naruto, just pound on the damn wall, man, I'll answer."

Smirking as I stifled a yawn, I mentally repeated the words the metallic, female voice was currently saying in my ear. Something about leaving a message at the beep, but if I wanted to page the person - what does that even mean?!? - then I have to press three. Finally, I was allowed to speak.

"Hey Maru, decided to ditch the appointment, already late and all," I said, taking advantage in the small break in traffic in order to cut in front of a slow-responding old grandma who could barely even see over the wheel. That didn't stop her from honking and giving me the finger, however, which successfully caused me to laugh and return the favor. Honestly, that grandma had balls. "So, I'm gonna head back, want any-shit!" I slammed on the breaks, narrowly avoiding hitting some hotrod who had tried to interrupt my illegal u-turn across the median. "Goddamn idiots," I muttered before picking the conversation back up, slowly inching out and throwing my eyes around for any hidden cop just waiting to catch a glimpse of me. "Anything from anywhere? If so, give me a message… oh, and offer Kiba to order calamari for him, I bet he'd love that," I tilted my head, giving the phone a little shove so it rested under my chin, and cast my eyes up and down the road, waiting impatiently for a break as I spoke, and, finally, as soon as a grin spread across my face from imagining just how fast Kiba would turn green and run back into the bathroom, an opportunity presented itself, and I took advantage of the sudden break in order to slam on the gas and squeeze into the little space, yelling my triumph into the phone.

"Ha! Take that stupid Tokyo traffic! I, Naruto Uzumaki have beaten you and your stupid standstills, bumper to bumper traffic and your stupid, idiotic-"

I think I was about to say something along the lines of shiny, red sports cars when I stopped to ponder just why I was saying that. As I stopped to ponder that, my attention shifted from the brake pedal cautiously under my foot, and my hands seemed to slide from the wheel mid-turn into that small space I had found.

When the front of my car hit the front of the shiny, red sports car in front of me, I realized just why I had suddenly thought to say that, and a curse sprang from my mouth as I slammed my foot down on the brake, head snapping back as the airbag deployed and the sound of bending metal and shattering glass reached my ears. The phone fell from my grasp, and I kinda felt bad for Shikamaru, knowing I was probably going to receive an earful about reckless driving and owe him a shitload for his car, because considering how I was currently spinning around, still scraping against the car I'd hit, Maru's car wasn't going to be able to get up after this one.

The car and I came to a stop, having almost spun 180 degrees, and I slowly peeled my fingers away from the steering wheel, batting at the airbag to get to my seatbelt before stumbling out into the street, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the wreckage in front of me.

"SHIT!" I screamed, tugging lightly at my hair as I approached the car, ignoring the startled yells and honks from neighboring cars, and completely oblivious to the sirens in the distance. So I'd been right about the hidden police! Ha!

The car was, to put it simply, totaled. I had thought I'd just clipped the other car with my right side, but… well… I hadn't been that lucky. The entire front end was currently wheezing smoke, dripping liquids, and was accordioned to about half its normal size. The door I had emerged from was hanging at an odd angle and the one front wheel I could see was currently flat and hanging off the rim. Suddenly, I didn't want to turn around and face the person I had run into, mainly because… well… lets just say the words SPORTS CAR were blaring in my mind, and I could almost feel my lowsy life savings flying out the window.

When I did finally turn around, it was only because of someone clearing his throat behind me and, stupidly thinking it was a policeman coming to the rescue, I turned to face the repercussions and found myself staring at the cover image to Men's Vogue. Or, at least someone who should have been on there. He was glaring murder at me, his mouth a thin line on a pale face, chin tilted up as he looked down at me, and there was a muscle twitching in his clenched jaw. His hair was slightly messed up from our mad spin, and his bangs were hanging at a weird angle that should have screamed "COMB ME" but all my hormone driven mind was thinking was "utterly shaggable".

Of course, all sexually oriented thoughts were driven out of my mind as I took in the sight of what was left of his car with widening eyes. I could tell, even in its accordioned, completely dead state, that it had been expensive. And if I knew anything about cars, it was definitely a Ferrari… or a Porsche… and that it was completely in ruins. The front end was at a weird angle with the rest of the car, and seemed to be a little more accordioned than my car. Seemed like even a sleek and mighty sports car couldn't stand up to the mighty Volvo sedan!

But, the guy was still glaring, and really, he seemed about to punch me, a thought further backed up by him suddenly raising his hand and throwing it towards me, warranting a flinch.

I blinked down at the hand suddenly in front of me, stretched out like he was going to shake my hand. Blinking up at the face still glaring at me, I gave him my best "WTF?" expression.

He huffed in annoyance and met my eyes, piercing me with both the beauty of the dark orbs and the icy fierceness raging within them. I'd never seen such eyes.

"Name. Number. Now," he growled, and I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my back at the fierceness and the depth of that voice.

Well, until what he was saying registered in my mind. When it did, and when I looked back at the ruined car in front of me, blinked, met the smoldering black eyes one more time…

And then I ran.

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"You. Did. WHAT?"

I winced, resisting the urge to bury my head under the pillows on the couch at Shikamaru's angry roar. Kiba's snickers reverberated from the echoes of the bathroom, and I sent a half-hearted glare in his direction, raising and lowering a shoulder at Shikamaru's angry exclamation.

"I panicked, so what?" I said, squinting up at my friend's livid outline, taking slight pleasure in knowing that the out of character look of anger on his face was due to my idiocy.

Shikamaru ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply, angrily, before letting his lips move as he counted within his head, making my grin spread even more. Getting under Maru's skin had always been fun, but seeing him visibly trying to repress his outbursts was even better yet.

"The running away I can understand," he finally said, pressing his hands together and tapping his index fingers against his taunt lips, looking at the space above my head as he thought. I could almost see the cogs whirling as his mind replayed my story and used his imagination to provide imagery to go with my details. I always thought that whenever Shikamaru got like this, smoke would start coming out of his ears. When I voiced this thought, however, the other boy merely looked at me and said that I was mistaking him for me. The bastard. "It's the crashing of my car that I can't!"

"But Maru!" I whined again, throwing my hands out wide in a symbol of desperation and apology, trying to get him to understand just why his precious car was probably turning into a cube of metal probably no bigger than his head. "I was going to get you something at the store! I was going to celebrate how I wasn't conforming to the man! It wasn't my fault that some stupid sports car driving lunatic was eyeing the same spot that I had so called!"

The death glare the black-haired man gave me was enough to wilt flowers and kill puppies. It was the kind of look one reserves for mass murders and people who kick kittens, but in Shikamaru's world… I'd probably just put myself way above those kind of people. Honestly, you'd think the car was more important than his freaking girlfriend!

"Oi, give him a break, s'not his fault," Kiba stated, finally emerging from the bathroom to throw an arm around Shikamaru's shoulders, smirk plastered firmly on his face. From the way Shikamaru blanched and looked fairly green, I'd bet my life that Kiba either stank of barf or had managed to wipe some on Maru's meticulously clean shirt. Honestly, that guy was like a freaking maid from the way he went on about cleanliness and neatness. Sometimes Naruto thought he'd blow something in his mind whenever he stepped into one of the apartments of his lazier, messier friends. "If he said he had the spot, then he had the spot, and even though he technically plowed into the bastard, he's the one at fault, cause Naru had it first," nodding sagely, the brunet scratched at one of the purple tattoos on his cheek, grinning as he met Shikamaru's patented idiot detection glare unwaveringly. "Well Uzumaki, my man, thanks for the booze and the toilet, I'll take Mr. Scrubbing Bubbles and split before we have to hear about his 'poor, sweet, unsuspecting car' anymore."

I just blinked at the sudden void in my living room, about as surprised as Shikamaru by the speed at which Kiba turned and steered them both out of the apartment, throwing back one last grin before shutting the door, letting the silence muffle the sound slightly.

Sighing lightly and shaking my head, I took a sip of beer and fell back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a slightly goofy grin on my face. My heart was still racing in my chest, thumping harshly against my ribs as if trying to tell me to get up off my lazy ass and keep on running, as if the dark haired man with his crushed, red car was walking up the steps to my apartment.

Utter foolishness, of course, but that didn't stop my heart from racing.

Groaning lightly, I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, rubbing away the tiredness that was threatening to drag me deeper into the comfort of my couch and plague my mind with ideas of sleep. "Not now," I murmured to my sleepy brain, trying to coax it back to life with promises of ramen and maybe a one night stand in the near future. It seemed to listen to the ramen part of it, but only scoffed at the idea of sex, knowing full well that I wasn't going to allow my body that pleasure until it was with just the right person, and, for almost twelve years, that right person had been Sakura.

So no, one night stands were out of the question. Or were they? I couldn't be completely inexperienced my first time with Sakura, that might completely dissuade her from going further… but…

The phone chose that lovely little time to ring, startling me out of my thoughts with a slightly girlish squeak that had definitely come from the mouse burrowed into the cushion that I'd sat on. Yeah, definitely the mouse.

You know that when you start groaning at your own actions and rolling your eyes at yourself, that you're in a pretty sorry state. You know that sorry state only gets worse when you realize that you have to fish through the various layers of filth in your couch cushions before reaching the shrilly ringing phone.

Still glowering slightly at my slow descent into insanity, I quickly answered the phone before it could go into voicemail and tucked it neatly under my chin, flopping back onto the couch with a slightly irritated sigh.

"Uzumaki Naruto speaking," I said, voice somewhat strained and sharp. Hey, they'd interrupted my zoning out, and that merited bitchiness, right?

"Ah, Uzumaki-san," a voice said, and despite the crackling that came with phone conversations, I could hear the intensity in the low female voice, I could hear the velvet draped across her vowels, the sharp, precise edge of her consonants. Redhead, I decided, nodding to myself over the phone, a possessive redhead. "We have just reviewed your job application for Uchiha Corps and would like to inform you that you have been accepted. You will begin work tomorrow."

I blinked, feeling like my brain had just stopped.

Uchiha Corp? As in, the billionare Everything Inc. Uchiha Corp?

And what the hell did she mean application? I hadn't submitted an application! I'd been too intent on his stupid cubicle job to…

Oh…

Wait…

Kiba was so dead!

"Umm…" I finally said, noticing that the woman was impatiently waiting for my response to her call. "Miss…"

"Karin," was the short reply.

"Karin-san," I repeated, wondering briefly if she was just a bitch, or if she really didn't have a last name. In today's day and age, only porn stars had one name. "If someone was to… I dunno… forget exactly what position they were applying for… would you be able to remind them over the phone? And… perhaps… maybe explain a little about what they're doing?" I finished up lamely, nearly dying of embarrassment right then and there, while simultaneously vowing to flay Kiba alive the next time I saw him. Only he would steal my personal information for something so evil.

"Of course, Uzumaki-san," the girl sounded smug, as if she had just won some personal bet, and I could almost see her leaning back in her chair, smirk on her face as she twirled the phone cord around her finger, sharing some secret joke with someone. "Uchiha Corp is run by Uchiha Itachi, the eldest Uchiha son. However, he is leaving the company soon, and in order to keep Uchiha Corp going strong, he's called his little brother, Uchiha Sasuke, over from China in order to take his place. Hatake Kakashi, Sasuke's personal advisor, put in a request for a new personal assistant for Sasuke-kun, a job that would basically cover your basic secretarial tasks such as managing his personal papers, appointments, and other such things. The pay is high, and there is a need to have some sort of management skills, seeing as the appointed person would gain power over many of the employees here. After reviewing the application you sent us and speaking with your college professors, we have deemed you worthy of this position Uzumaki-san, and would like to know if you will be starting work with us tomorrow."

To tell the truth, I was floored, just sitting there for a while opening and closing my mouth like some sort of retarded goldfish. Here I was fresh out of a car crash, in debt to Shikamaru, and (if that guy ever stalked me enough to figure out my name), I also owed someone a nice shiny sports car I had no way of paying for, yet I had a job a bona fide job literally just falling out of the sky and into my lap. And it actually offered money. Like the green stuff that grew on trees.

For the first time since that morning, it seemed like my luck was picking up.

About damn time too.

"Uzumaki-san?" came the voice from the other side of the line, sounding annoyed at my sudden stunned silence. "Your response?"

I let my eyes travel over my slightly unfurnished apartment absently, drumming my fingers against the arm of the couch as I weighed the pros and the cons of the job in my head. It didn't take very long. After all this was Uchiha Corps we were talking about.

"I'll take it," I finally grinned, nodding absently, knowing that the girl couldn't really see me. "When should I be there tomorrow?"

"Six AM sharp, Uzumaki-san, and if you want to survive your first day, you'd do well with being at least half an hour early. Thank you for your time."

She ended that conversation with a foreboding click, but I wasn't really paying attention to her parting words, I was too busy dialing Shikamaru's number, another shit-eating grin spreading across my face.

Who cared about the call time for work? I had a freaking JOB!