This fic is heavily inspired and influenced by Baz Luhrman's 'the Moulin Rouge' which is the most awesome movie ever made and anyone who's not seen it (I doubt there are many) should be fucking obliged. Anyway, I guess it's going to be a little shocking, prostitutes, opium and all the delicious moral corruption of fin-de-sciecle Paris, so consider yourself warned.

***

*

Moulin Rouge

*

Paris, 1900,

***

A cat hurries away through the half dark and his coat shines a bright autumn brown as he passes the red-tinged windows of The Moulin Rouge. Sasuke is only momentarily distracted, because his sense are numbed by glorious absinthe and the drunken tugging and yelling from his friends lead him on.

Inside his head he hears his father's voice. Don't waste your life rotting away in the gutters by the sinful brothels of Montmartre. Don't keep lusting after one of those whores until you've been leeched of every penny, every shred of dignity. Don't be fooled by the illusions that they cast in front of your eyes, for they're only meant to keep you from smelling that putrid scent of moral decay.

Sasuke laughs, as he's done many times that evening, drunk on youth and alcohol and as much money to spend to last him a full week in here. Suigetsu hangs heavily on his arm and grins knowingly up at him, while rasping in his ear:

'You're not gonna believe your eyes.'

The latter stumbles onwards, hoarsely screaming out vulgar songs with Juugo, whose coat has gotten unbuttoned during the course of the evening, and whose waistband now hangs limply over one shoulder.

In front of them the doors are open, and music plays from the inside, loud enough for them to hear it, but still soft enough as to lure them in closer. There, on the doors it says in bold red letters: 'Moulin Rouge', as if people still need telling. Everyone who comes to these doors knows exactly what's behind them. It's where the rich and powerful come to play with the dark and beautiful creatures of the underworld.

Inside that becomes increasingly apparent. Through cleverly lit cavernous halls the guests come in, and as the music grows louder and louder the anticipation becomes a physical buzzing in the air. When those heavy golden door finally do open, Sasuke understands immediately why some men throw away everything for a night between these walls.

The room is high and grand and absolutely filled with people, all of them drinking, dancing, singing, flirting, laughing, sinning and living to their utmost ability. Suigetsu laughs high and loud in his ear as he screams with exultation. He joins the throbbing crowd at once, drags his friends along and floats to the bar, where the most exotic flowers bat their eyes and sell their smiles. Sasuke passes a pale, ivory creature that trails her inch-long red nails along his jaw and looks him up and down with catlike green eyes.

At the bar they spend a fortune on drinks and never minding the ridiculous prices, each order another shot of green fairy's magic.

Mizuki, the oldest member of their party bids them goodbye as he's spotted a girl he knows and most likely will end up sleeping with before the night is over. Suigetsu has already chatted up a couple of ladies and his special attention goes to a little pixy with blond curls and an orange mouth that glitters with rhinestones in the flickering light.

Sasuke downs the drink and with the sudden rush and burn he looks at the dancers differently. There is the rush of living and loving. They heave with the same communal, elated heartbeat. Though stoic by nature, when Suigetsu moves to the dance floor with his new blonde little demon and grabs Sasuke's hand, he who himself to be pulled along.

The music is all around them, as are the wide smiles, charcoaled eyes and red lips. He finds that the dancing is easier than it looked. The girls around him take over and he is pulled, twirled and pushed this way and that in the flow of people.

The dance seems to last endlessly, and it certainly does continue the greater part of the evening. There comes a change though, as the hours pass. Sultry violin replaces the jovial, exiting drums. The place is hot now, couples dance close even though the dance floor thins out.

Suigetsu leaves halfway through and when Juugo too is led away by a tall, black-haired, black-skinned temptress with lights for eyes, Sasuke, disentangling himself from a few girls, follows them out to the side. The candles are burning up, the lights are dimmed. He finds himself wandering around and when he passes a door, allows it to fall shut behind him, the music is considerably softened.

He's in a hallway, windowless and stuffy, with red carpet and wooden walls. It makes him think of theatres. As he stumbles down the corridor there appear some doors on his left side. Some are empty; Some are clearly used for maintenance only and some are locked. Sasuke presses his ear to one of the locked ones and blushes a bright red when he hears the distinct primal noises of love-making.

He staggers back ashamed and the vision in front of his eyes becomes at times blurry and disorienting. He crashes through another door noisily, it leads to another corridor, much the same, but filled with people. He sees a young man of barely twenty embrace passionately with a woman of twice his age. He stares at them and edges past.

People are looking at him now, laughing mouths and the strong smell of tobacco, and something else, engulfs him like a water. It makes his eyes tear up. He continues walking, unbalanced an leaning against the walls. He feels as if though all the alcohol he drank tonight is hitting his brain all at the same time. To his left a chocolate-coloured brunette with large doe-like eyes, pulls his face close. When she blinks she shows eyelids full of lavender coloured sparkles. She wants to kiss him but he lifts his head out of reach and pushes her away.

That's when his eyes pick out someone else in the hallway. The figure, back against a door, hands casually in the pockets of his black, fitted trousers, looks up at him from under his eyebrows, a knowing Cheshire smile on his lips.

'I don't think this one's up your ally, Odette.' he calls with a clear voice that reaches them over the thrumming of the music and the shrieking of the guests.

Sasuke squints to try and see past the smoke in the air. Everything's dulled now. The only points of focus are the big, kohl enveloped, blue eyes of that boy who is slowly but surely making his way towards them now. Up close he can see the sweat dampened peaks of blond hair and the shine to his shirt, red and white like a candy cane.

'Why don't you come with me?' The boy whispers, close to his ear, and hands already in his and pulling.

Completely bereft of will or sense Sasuke can only follow. As they float through many more corridors and meet many more people, among whom a girl who looks barely fifteen with skin painted a saturated shade of blue and big black eyes.

The music grows fainter, however, and the corridors darker. The boy, his only light, his only guide through the maze, faces him. He bridges the distance and looks at him from breathtakingly close. He inspects Sasuke's eyes and seems to be looking for something. He finds whatever it is, smiles and opens the door with his free hand, then tugs Sasuke closer to him, inside.

The room is dark for a moment, but the boy has a light on in no time at all. He asks something. Sasuke can't hear and shakes his head. He's so hot, but for some reason, can't feel his toes. He looks down and staggers again, almost loosing his footing.

The boy laughs now, and this Sasuke can hear, clear as a bell. Hands descend upon him and quickly unbutton his jacket. He closes his eyes and his nose picks up the smell of incense and flowers and tobacco and the smoke of the flickering flame.

He is pushed down on the bed, small but with a soft mattress that would tend to swallow you whole when you lie down in it. He allows himself to be undressed like a child. He notices the boy rummaging around in the pockets of his jacket. After that it's his waistband, shirts, shoes, socks, trousers. He keeps heavy-lidded eyes on the creature, blond and smiling, with expert hands and a sweet alcoholic breath. When he's finally naked, or maybe close to it, he feels himself be pushed down into the sheets. His eyes close again. He traces hands, a face, a bare stomach.

It's all a dream. A sparkling dream. He imagines himself in his own bed at home, in the cold room in the attic where no fire ever burns. In front of his eyes it's dark and red and his nose is filled with foreign, exotic scents. The hands hold him and wring pleasure out of him. He breathes deeply, content and relaxed as he's never felt before. Outside it may be raining, but all thoughts of outside are gone. The concept doesn't exist anymore. Neither do Mizuki or Suigetsu or Juugo. There's only this burrowed world of delight and senses.

It's over soon, but satisfied as he is, after the breathing slows and a comforter is draped over him, almost tenderly, he sleeps instantly. Sinking back into real dreams.

***

Naruto sits in the reed chair by the bedside, counting the money. He glances over at the figure on the bed, exhausted no doubt. Green as grass, probably. He sniggers softly and curls up a little, careful not to make too much noise. He looks the closed, glossy eyelids and the full, slightly open mouth, kissed to healthy redness by yours truly. He sighs. He could have done a whole lot worse.

He shakes his head and sniggers again. Easy money. He picks off about half of the total fee (which is too much really, considered to what he did, but it was too much 'help yourself' for Naruto to resist) and sticks the other half in his coat pocket.

Then he gets up, and leaves the room in his underwear, clothes under one arm. He'll need to wash them later. It's very early in the morning, just before dawn and the corridors are empty. Or at least, as empty as they get in the Moulin Rouge, where you're never really alone. He nods to a couple of girls he knows, scantily clad as well, counting money, smoking cigarettes, chatting with each other. No one's fazed at Naruto's appearance.

He makes his way through the labyrinth easily. To him it's home and he'd be able to find his way in the dark. He climbs a couple of narrow, wooden stairs until he's at his floor. Some of the well-off prostitutes live outside the Moulin Rouge, and only come in at night, others, less well-off roam the streets for money and hang out outside the doors, desperate to share its grandeur and luxury.

He lives here, pays his share to keep up maintenance and keeps a little for personal spending. Clothes, if not made or borrowed, have to be bought by yourself. The same with make-up. Breakfast too is excluded, although nobody really eats breakfast here, due to the slightly unorthodox way of living... Dinner however, is supplied by the chefs of the neighbouring restaurants, who've made a deal with the brothel and come in every night to cook in the kitchens. In Montmartre nobody's fazed, ever, it's all business.

In the slightly lighter wooden hallways Naruto runs into a permanently drunk Jiraiya. He slips him his half of the money and makes him promise not to forget about it. A little further, by the room next to his, he knocks on the door. He gets no answer but pushes it open anyway to see Kakashi lie on his bed. He's not a whore, more like a janitor, looks like shit and smells like opium. His one visible eye is red and half-closed, focused on something in the distance, a drug induced dream.

Naruto allows the door to fall shut behind him and the sound is enough to make Kakashi stir and look at him momentarily. He smiles faintly. Naruto returns the gesture and falls down on the bed next to him. He leans his back against the wall and reaches out for the cigarette that rests between Kakashi's fingers. Naruto takes a lung full of glorious, numbing, brightening, softening opium smoke and closes his eyes again.

He smokes until sunrise and will probably sleep through most of the morning and afternoon. As long as he wakes up before nightfall, to have good meal, paint his eyes again, dress up and prepare for another night of the same. He likes to see himself as one of the lucky ones. He remembers the time before the Moulin Rouge, when he was poor, destitute, reduced to nothing but the childish clinging to life, making money in alleys and getting beaten for it.

It was Orochimaru who saved him and took him to the Moulin Rouge, bar, nightclub and bordello, the most rotten place you'll find in Paris. No healthy environment to a ten year-old, but at least it was warm, and there was a bed for him, and he didn't have to start earning his living right away.

'You are someone I can use,' he remembers him saying as he cupped his face and tilted his chin. 'Blue eyes, blond hair, the face of an angel, the mouth of a devil…promising.'

Naruto didn't know what he meant then. He does now, when he looks in the mirror. He's not very big and has never been a bouncer, but he has other talents. He'll survive, he'll earn his share. If anything, he's a hard worker.

He never realised what he gave up that day he first set foot in the Moulin Rouge. He still doesn't, but maybe, during the course of this last, hot summer, he may.

***

Sasuke wakes to a god-almighty hangover of truly biblical proportions. He imagines his father's face yelling at him and the tiny droplets of spit that would fall of his lips when he got too exited. He groans. Merciful, yellow sunlight pours in through the only, tiny, round window in the wall. The room is dusty, small and reminds him of the room he had in the ship that brought him over. Old furniture, cracked and broken, that still looks relatively OK, and would definitely fool drunken guests in the night, surrounds the small wooden bed.

It takes him a while to wake up enough to start wondering where he is. It all comes back to him with a sudden, horrifying clarity. He launches himself out of bed, boiling a healthy scarlet as he notices his lack of clothing and remembers the reason why. He bends down and searches his clothes, breathes a sigh of relief as he finds everything there, wallet, pocket watch, silver lighter and his ticket of course, that reads Moulin Rouging in a coy, daring lettering. His wallet though, is empty and Sasuke curses. There was a lot in there.

He dresses quickly, thankful for the mirror in the room that, tough dusty, allows himself to spot the blotches of red lipstick on his shirt. He curses again, muffles them away, and makes to leave the room. He feels so self-conscious he almost faints. He thinks of his father again and shudders at the realisation that he's become what his dear Papa so fervently preached against.

More afraid of staying here, in the little room where someone would eventually find him, than facing whatever's behind that door, he walks out. The corridors are seemingly empty. A glance at his watch tells him it almost two a clock. He blushes again when he remembers that he was supposed to meet Mizuki, Suigetsu and Juugo for lunch. They're going to wonder where he was.

It takes him a while to get out of the maze of corridors and staircases. He can't remember how he got here in the first place. He meets people now and then, ladies with cleaning equipment and stone faces, no doubt they've seen it all before, men carrying heavy boxes who blamably ignore him, and guests like him, lost and ashamed and sometimes still glowing from the aftermath of that delicious night before.

They do exactly as he does, say nothing, look straight ahead, and try not to make it show that inside, you're so sick you feel like puking.

***

Review pls!