A/N: Yes, it's me, and I'm back with my nasty habit of running away with ideas. This one is AU, OroXAnko, and it could end as a one-shot (with a cliffy), or I could weave a story out of it. I'm not that sure, cause either choice sits well with me, so I'll let you decide~! :) For those who read my other stories, fair warning: you know of my unsightly habit on multi-chapter stuff.
Oh, and for those interested, this story started due to someone adding me on one of their fave list, and it was a person whom I've always enjoyed reading a review from, and the last I've heard was that there were some problems. So I was thinking about how real-life is damn hectic, time-consuming and full of crazy shit and stuff and then...yeah, my mind ran away with it again.
So, I don't know if you're reading this, but yeah, this is for you umm... J, and I hope that life is treating you well. (Well, that is obviously not the username, but I'm trying to make it as general as I can.)
Warning: I've taken some liberties with Anko's language. You may (or may not) find that she speaks more...vibrantly in this fic.
Disclaimer (I'll only post once): Naruto. Not mine.
A bead of sweat trickled down Anko's forehead as the smell of exhaust fumes drifted into her car. Hot air rose from the asphalt, made almost visible under the sweltering glare of the sun, and Anko closed her eyes, praying that this was just a freaking nightmare -she wasn't stuck in the middle of a long sandwich of cars and her air-conditioning and radio did not breakdown on her. She opened her eyes, but the scene did not change, the lines of cars still stretching out for miles and miles as far as she could see, the traffic barely even a crawl. The incoherent static and the blast of warm air from her air-conditioner told her that she had no luck there either, and that she would have to keep her windows down unless she wanted to have a sauna in her suit.
Today was defiantly NOT her day, no matter how it started or what the stupid horoscope had said in the morning newspaper.
And it had started great. Anko had woken up fresh and happy this friday. For a whole month, she had been working her butt off on a proposal and finally, today's presentation would help her nail the project and the contract. Even Tsunade, her boss, who was nit picky on the small stuff had been impressed. She even had a nicely pressed cream-colored business suit and a matching skirt prepared just for today. Really, what could go wrong?
In fact, Anko felt so good that she might just go repair that faulty cup-holder in her car that Kurenai had repeatedly warned her she would need in an emergency someday.
So after doing her morning routine and putting bread in the toaster, she had sat down to read the papers. And Anko had been rather pleased when she saw her horoscope.
'An unexpected find may come up round a corner. There may be more to it than meets the eye. A legal matter that may have been pending for a while could finally be completed today. It's very likely to go in your favor.'
She did not care much for the first portion, but the second part -oh yeah, that was a good sign.
Then she had looked up, glancing at the clock on her kitchen wall, wondering if she had enough time to enjoy a long relaxing bath instead of a quick shower.
And that was when everything went downhill. She had noticed the clock was not moving. Still, Anko had not felt anything amiss. Until a glance at her cellphone told her that either she hauled her ass out now or start penning her resignation letter.
There wasn't much of a choice, really.
The half-done toast and her coffee went into a plastic bag and styrofoam cup. Her clothes were thrown on -screw the bath and shower, there wasn't even time for a damn hand wash- and she had shot out of the house, one hand clutching her breakfast, the other attempting to open her car door even as she tried to hop into her low heels.
So 'likely to go in your favor'? BULLSHIT.
And now, she just had to get herself stuck in a jam.
Anko's fingers drummed an impatient staccato against the dashboard as she looked irritably out the window. The scenery had been unchanging for the last twenty minutes, and that made Anko even more incensed. Bloody traffic jam. Couldn't that poor sucker choose another time to leap off a building and splatter himself all over the road?
On another day, Anko might have been more sympathetic. But when the random stranger's suicide was going to cost her a major proposal and perhaps-maybe-actually-most-fucking-absolutely her job, Anko thought that she could be excused if she cursed the stupid person to death. And, okay, that was pretty useless to the current situation, because the person is already, you know, dead, but it made Anko feel better -on a microscopic level.
Might as well make good use of the time, Anko thought, and she reached for her half-done peanut butter and jelly toast. Which had turned into a soft mushy and yucky mess, because that's what plastic bags do to warm bread and that is just how her luck is. Anko would have thrown that disgusting thing away if her stomach wasn't eating itself up and still demanding more.
She took a bite, the bread squelching a little -yuck- and was just about to wash it down with coffee, when a sudden loud irritated honk had her jerking her head up and looking out the windshield.
And Anko could not believe her eyes. When the hell did the road clear so fast? Don't the medical personnel and police drag their feet around and take pride in holding up the traffic? Like, 'I held up the traffic for three hours today!' and 'Dude, c'mon, you should have seen me, my team kept them there for ten.'
But the paramedics and police must have been on a caffeine high, because there was no sign of a traffic jam in front of her, when it would usually have taken them an hour to decide if the guy was truly dead -hey, was that his fingers and eyelids moving? Oh, I don't know, let's wait and see if he does it again- and then another few hours to finish scrapping the man off the road, taking some pictures and maybe upload them on a facebook page titled 'Just another day in New York' and -finally- clearing out of the scene. (And, okay, let's not be biased, because they may also upload the pictures on Twitter or Tumblr with the tag #JustAnotherDayAtTheBigApple.)
Seeing was not believing, and Anko wondered if it was something in the soggy bread. Some things just were not fit for consumption, human or animal, and it could have some horrendous side-effect like, maybe, hallucination.
She was contemplating on banging her head against the dashboard to help clear her mind, when the honking -or maybe 'honkings', since there were many now, but was that even a word?- behind her increased from 'I am irritated' to 'The whole lane is fucking pissed offed'.
That got her scrambling to move and she floored the accelerator -but not before she stuck her middle finger out the window.
Patience is a virtue, assholes! And she would have yelled that, but the bread was now hanging limply from her mouth since both her hands were already occupied.
That was how Anko ended up a few moments later. Driving down the road with the windows down, wind whipping her purple hair about wildly, moist toast clamped between her lips. One hand was on the steering wheel and the other holding the cup of coffee that she could not put down, because it was an emergency, but the cup-holder was spoilt, and dammit! She hate it when others were right!
And while it was one of those miraculous moment where New York's roads were relatively smooth and the traffic lights did not turn red at every intersection, it meant that she did not have time to finish her breakfast, which was still dangling from her mouth and sloshing around dangerously in her hand.
The gods must have really wanted a good laugh because at that opportune time, her cell rang. A quick glance at the screen told her that it was the ladyboss calling, and Anko grimaced as Tsunade's voice replayed in her mind: don't you ever, EVER, miss my call again, Mitarashi!
At that time, the ladyboss had ended her sentence with so many imaginary-and-verbally-said exclamation marks that Anko believed that her life would be hell if she broke that rule, even though Tsunade did not explicitly say it. Of course, the increased workload and numerous urgent meetings that coincidentally clashed with her lunch break, all of which happened for a period of one week after she missed Tsunade's call that one time, might have also led to that conclusion.
But, by a stroke of dumb luck, Anko had an operational voice control for answering her phone -it was during a party with Kurenai, Asuma and Kakashi, where they were playing around with the functions, and they were pretty drunk then, but it is besides the point, so don't ask- meaning that she did not really need to free her hands.
In the midst giving herself a mental pat on her back, something dawned on her. The stupid bread was still hanging from her mouth and, unfortunately, the voice command was not 'mmph!', which was the only sound she could make, currently.
Making a hasty -and rather dangerous- decision which she will later blame it on adrenaline, Anko let go of the steering wheel, and crammed that goddamn piece of bread into her mouth -it had to be the wheel, because no way was she going to let her coffee spill in her car, and she was pretty certain of her driving skills...maybe.
Apparently she might have overestimated her prowess. The car bounced as it went out of lane and over a curb and onto the sidewalk, and her hand returned only just in time to swerve out of the way of a lamp-post and a poor old lady whose dentures seemed to be almost dropping out, returning the car onto the road.
The cell was still ringing, but then, Anko could hardly talk with her mouth full, even if she wanted to. She threw back half a cup of coffee, eyes tearing as the scalding liquid made what felt like a ball of moldy carpet easier to swallow but also burning her taste buds at the same time.
Her mouth free now, Anko murmured the allocated command, her cheeks coloring a little. But the phone continued ringing.
Anko glared at her cell, saying the phrase louder this time, but still nothing, other than her blush darkening.
She sighed, letting out a low string of inventive curses, before shouting the command at the top of her lungs, and unfortunately out the open window too. "I'M MASTURBATING NOW!" (Drunk, remember? Don't ask.)
On the sidewalk, a scandalized mother covered her daughter's ear too late while a group of teenagers whooped and cheered loudly. A motorcyclist traveling on the road beside her threw her an incredulous look and missed avoiding a garbage bin, sending him head-first into the smelly contents.
Anko was rather worried. What if her cheeks remained a permanent shade of pink? But then her mind decided that there were other priorities, like the angry voice coming from her phone.
"Anko Mitarashi! Where on earth are you!?"
"I'm on my way! My clock was spoilt, so I got the time all wrong and the congestion was bad!"
"I don't care if you have to break a hundred traffic laws to get here, we can't lose our major client!" Tsunade's angry hiss made Anko step harder on the accelerator.
"I'm sorry, but can't you do your thing and stall for time?"
Tsunade sighed irritably. "I've run out of lame anecdotes and I don't believe knock-knock jokes would sit well with them. The only thing keeping you alive now is the fact that the main player isn't here yet, and he is my acquaintance, so I might be able to do something. But I don't want to be in his debt, so get your sorry ass here before he does."
A panicked voice in the background told Anko that Shizune was telling the ladyboss to return to the meeting room. Something about a certain 'Guren' and 'Tayuya' and 'cat-fight', except that while she may not have heard of them before, Anko was sure the last one was not a reference to a name.
And apparently Tsunade did not think so either. "I've been gone for too long. Got to hang now." Tsunade said hurriedly, but only closed the line after a, "Remember, before the big shot arrives, Anko. Or you'll be sorry."
If she had the time, Anko would have marveled at how Tsunade could sound so menacing over the phone, because right now Anko felt like if she failed the expectation, Tsunade would gut her and feed her to sharks, and not necessarily in that order. But as things were, time was something that she did not have.
Her hand holding the half-empty cup of coffee -yeah, she was feeling rather pessimistic now, so sue her- was starting to complain, but her brain told it to shut up, can't you see I'm in a fucking crisis now!?
And that was when Anko had an epiphany. She could just drink the remaining coffee and she would be done with it! It was a testament to her current state of mind why she did not think of it sooner, but hey, at least she got there.
Throwing back the rest of the addictive brown stuff -she wasn't crazy enough to drink it black- a rather crazed crackle escape her lips as the empty cup sailed out the window and her two hands grip the steering-wheel. She sped pass the traffic lights, whooping loudly in a cheer of success, and maybe that was when the divine powers above decided that she must not have had enough trouble, because at the next intersection where she had to make a turn about a corner, the traffic light just turned orange.
With the adrenaline, caffeine and whatever unhealthy stuff was in the soggy bread surging through her veins, Anko did not think twice. Or maybe she did, a small rationale part of her brain, but the rest to her told it to get bent because damn if she was going to stop for the stupid lights now -that corner was her's.
The scenery outside the windows blurred as her foot floored the accelerator at the same time when her hands spun the steering-wheel to the left, Anko laughing madly all the while. The car sped out of her lane and with the loud screeching and burning of the old tires, cut towards the corner in a really sharp turn, which was also really illegal, but such things tend to slip the mind at times like this. Anko's back pressed into the hard padding of her seat as the momentum tried to throw her to the right, but she had her seat-belt on, and hah! If that was the best fate could throw her, she could definitely handle it and laugh into their face because-
Something blindsided her, and there was the high-pitched scrape and grinding of metal on metal before the car shook and spun to the right. Anko's instincts stepped in, her other foot coming to slam down on the brake, effectively bringing her vehicle to a shuddering and jerking stop, and okay it was getting scary now, because her vision was swirling and there were pretty little red fireworks going off in front of her, she had like, maybe fifteen or twenty fingers, she wasn't sure, because they kept changing, and would the world please please please stop spinning and stay still, because her mind was hurting like fuck now, and who the hell was this bespectacled two-headed guy rapping on her car's hood?
She was giggling incoherently when he came round to her window, her vision still swimming in and out of focus as her mind tried to gather itself back together from the million bits and pieces, which was going to take some time.
The man was now saying something, but he could have been speaking Hebrew for all she care, because nothing was getting into her mind. In fact, she felt free. So free, like a bird. Which brings to memory a song she heard on the radio recently, something about 'I'm like a bird, I only fly away...'
And she slurred something along those lines to the guy, and he must have decided that she was a hopeless case, because he was gesturing at her angrily to another guy who had come to stand beside him.
This second guy had... Anko squinted. Either one or two heads, and he had long hair, was really pale and something in her mind screamed Dracula, except that, she'd grudgingly admit, a more modern and suave version who looked as if he had just stepped out of an Armani magazine, because the suit he was wearing was hugging his physique really well.
So, she might, might, have said something like, "Do you know you have two heads" or "Pretty fireworks!" and, just maybe, "Are you gay?" and "I'd totally jump you anyway." because both guys were giving her weird looks, the one with the round glasses spluttering indignantly. Well, Anko thought sniffily, she wasn't referring to him.
But the incredulous look with an undercurrent of amusement the Armani-model-look-a-like guy was giving her struck something in her sluggish mind. That guy on the motorcycle had given her a rather similar look, when she was attempting to answer her phone because Tsunade called...because she was running late for this meeting...
And then yeah, that was how everything clicked back into place, reality crashing back down on her hard.
The seat-belt had jammed at the sudden impact during the collision and thankfully prevented Anko from flying out the window, but it made her want to empty her stomach's contents over the floorboard, because she was sure that the foods wasn't supposed to churn that way.
She stumbled out, one hand clutching her head as the pounding within reduced to a dull throbbing pain, the other supporting her against her car as her stomach continued to do some acrobatic tricks that Anko wasn't sure was healthy for her.
Bracing herself, she surveyed the damage. Her old Toyota had it's paint peeled off at some patches and had a dent, but that was about it. And the other car, well...that sleek black Mercedes did not seem to have even been scratched. And, okay that was exaggerating, because Anko was sure she could find some damage done, only if she used a microscope.
Beside her, someone cleared his throat, and Anko turned to Glasses-guy. He had a look of disapproval on his face, and something told Anko that he did not much appreciate that stunt she pulled at the corner.
She ran her hand through her hair, wincing a little as her fingers caught on some tangles. "Look, I'm very sorry, but I'm in a hurry, so can we settle this later?"
Glasses-guy's eyes widened. "You could have killed someone with that reckless driving!"
"I'm in a hurry, alright?!" Anko snapped back, and, okay she didn't really have the grounds for that, but she was cranky, so there.
He folded his arms crossly. "I should be calling the police right no-"
An arm landed on his shoulders, and Armani-model said, "Kabuto, I believe that we were about to rush the red light on our end too."
Kabuto spluttered for a while. "But Orochimaru, sir, we were running late! And she was the one who-"
"Enough." The slight irritation in Orochimaru's voice stopped Kabuto, who settled for frowning at Anko.
Orochimaru's golden eyes -such a pretty color, Anko thought vaguely, amidst the torture she was receiving from her stomach- swept over her car, before landing on her. "If there are any damages with regards to this incident that you may need to see to, I'm willing to settle the bill." He slipped a card into her hand.
And Anko would have thanked him or something, but she could not even utter a word, because her stomach was busy turning itself inside out and it was taking all of her concentration NOT to puke, and Kabuto was saying something about reckless driving and responsibility which Anko might have been willing to listen to, but she was too busy trying not to die, so excuse her for that, and OH GOD WHY CAN'T HE JUST SHUT UP-
Then her stomach decided that that was the limit and did a final heave, sending Anko doubling over and vomiting all over Kabuto's nice leather shoes.
He swore as he leapt out of the way, but was not fast enough.
She would have been busy planning her own funeral, because Kabuto looked like someone just killed his puppy and someone was going to get hurt real bad, but she was kind of busy, you know, barfing. Anko was panting when a handkerchief was handed to her, a twinkle of amusement in Orochimaru's eyes telling her that he was enjoying this way more than he should, and she would have told him to fuck himself, except that acute embarrassment kept her mouth shut. So she simply mumbled her thanks, accepting the plain black cloth.
When Anko stood upright again, Kabuto was glaring daggers at her, and she was seriously considering preparing her will in case she was suddenly killed in a car crash involving a black Merc or something.
But it turns out that no, that wasn't going to happen, because Orochimaru was already walking away. "Come, Kabuto. It would not serve us to be more tardy than we already are." And that was the end of it as Kabuto followed Orochimaru, mumbling something about stupid reckless females, lack of responsibility and cereal being a better choice of breakfast than peanut butter and jelly toast.
Anko would have chucked her empty coffee cup at him, because PB&J rules over stupid flakes of cereal any day, but then she had already thrown the cup away and there was a meeting she had to rush to.
Kurenai looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure you can pull it off? This meeting, I mean, not your hair, although you seem to be doing a good job at it."
Anko scowled as she yanked the comb through her hair where the wind had done a number on it, and managed to pull out what felt like a large chunk of her scalp. "It's no longer a matter of if I can, because I must. Who knows what the ladyboss would do to me."
Her friend shuddered as she handed Anko a tube of lip moisturizer, because Anko hated lipstick, and she always end up eating half of it -which, by the way, tasted really gross. "Yeah, I hope for my sake you do this well. God knows how unbearable that woman is on the entire office whenever a deal goes down the gutter."
"Wow, thanks, I really felt your concern there." Anko pulled and twisted her unruly hair into a high ponytail, running the comb through it a final time. Her reflection in the toilet's mirror stared back. She wasn't a sight to behold, not even at her best condition, but at least she looks presentable now.
"That's what I do, honey," Kurenai flicked a stray strand of hair off Anko's shoulder, fussing around her fringe, tucking some strands behind her purple-haired friend's ear. "Don't worry, I'll bring flowers to your funeral."
Anko smoothed her not-so-nicely-pressed-and-now-slightly-crumpled cream-colored suit. She knew that Kurenai was joking and trying to cheer her up. The last thing she need is someone making her more flustered by adding on to her anxiety.
But this was as prepared as she was going to get. Anko took her file from Kurenai, and after an encouraging pat on the back from her friend -"Go get 'em, girl!"- she braved the lion's den.
She stepped in, and four sets of eyes snapped to her instantly. It was only the discipline and rehearsals that Anko had drummed into her own brain that helped her continue on her confident gait to take a seat beside Tsunade, not letting the pressure get to her.
"You are lucky you got your ass here in time, I was half-way through planning what to write on your epitaph." Tsunade hissed, though her serene expression gave away nothing.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. So why aren't we starting now?"
Beside Tsunade, Shizune answered Anko's question. "The main representative of Sound Inc. have yet to arrive, but some of his coordinators are already here, as you can see."
"And whatever you do, no wisecracks about red-heads or brunettes." Tsunade added.
Anko glanced across the table at the two woman who must be Guren and Tayuya, and she could totally see the sparks as they glared at each other, and it wasn't the lovey-dovey type. It's the give-me-an-opportunity-to-kill-you-and-I-will kind and wow, Anko would really do her best to stay out of their way. Of course, if they were to turn upon her, well, she have her own arsenal of poisonous bitchy gaze to hand out. She was reasonable that way.
Tsunade leaned close to her and sniffed, and Anko flinched, breaking out of her thoughts. "What?"
"You smell like vomit," Her boss told her, and Shizune helpfully passed her a packet of mints and Anko grudgingly took one, glad that Tsunade did not press on to find out why.
She was crunching the sweet, cheap and crappy plastic version of cherry flavor filling her mouth, when the door opened.
Someone walked in, followed by another person, and Tsunade was standing up, smile on her face, and shaking hands with the taller one, but Anko's brain was having trouble processing everything. This cannot be happening, because that was the Armani model look-a-like Orochimaru guy and his Round-glasses assistant, Kabuto, and Anko must have tried to say something -maybe curse the gods- but she choked on her spit -stupid cherry-flavored spit- and was coughing up a lung, and then Orochimaru's and her eyes locked.
Anko was praying hard, really really hard, that perhaps on their way here, both Orochimaru and Kabuto may have suffered a bout of amnesia that erased the last twenty minutes off their minds. That, or they deemed her too lowly of their attention that they forgot about her.
But spewing your breakfast on someone's assistant's leather shoes tend to leave a lasting impression, though not necessarily a good one, and as the side's of Orochimaru's lips curled up a little, Anko felt her heart (and her reputation and face and, oh need she mention, her whole fucking life) take a steep plunge.
Oh crap.
(I'd like to say that any jokes made are just in the name of fun because after re-reading this, I thought that the police and paramedics part was rather mean and insulting. The real stuff are pretty honorable -most of them are, anyway- and the jobs they do are pretty shitty sometimes, so I do think they deserve some respect. Hence this qualifier.)
Reviews are love~!