A/N: Hi there! Erm... this was intended to be a one-shot, but as I started writing it out things became a lot more complicated and grew about 10,000 words longer - whoops! So now, it's going to be a three-shot? If that makes sense. As the summary says this is Sasu/Naru... enjoy? And reviews are a must!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

Memory

He woke quite suddenly. An uninvited ache swamping the entirety of his head, weaving in and out, through shudders of throbbing turbulence. At first, very blearily-eyed, he wondered whether he'd been attacked and knocked out, though he quickly dismissed the notion after realising he was lying in his own bed. Another realisation dawned at the very same moment; he was naked. From head to toe, not even the covers shielded his pride. Utterly uncovered.

Red patches quickly formed on his cheeks, as he hastily glanced around his bedroom, panic-stricken, looking for signs of another. He appeared to be alone. The state of his bedroom however, announced he'd definitely had a visitor - a rather violent visitor.

Ripped fabric and claw-marks covered most of his furniture, giving his normally organised room a recently burgled look. Holding his breath, Sasuke sighed, grimacing under the continuous rattling and hammering of his abused head. He'd absolutely no recollection of the night past. Any trace, fragment or slither of memory seemed to have drained to the bottom of an empty sake bottle, which lay on the floor; the source of mystery.

He reached for it, curiously, feeling every limb and muscle hiss manically in pained protest. His legs had apparently given up the will to live, refusing to move without desperate tenacity, while his arms were disturbingly decorated in scratches and cuts of all shapes and sizes.

Wincing, as he rolled the bottle around, he wondered quietly, the reason why he'd felt the need to down a whole bottle of sake. He liked to drink a little from time to time, but certainly not that much. There was probably enough there for two drunkards…

Had he entertained last night?

Surely not. Sasuke didn't do entertaining, nor did he do guests or any sort. Still, he thought, absent-mindedly dropping the bottle, and running a cut-covered hand through his hair. Something didn't quite add up; he couldn't have done all this damage by himself - it just wasn't possible. It was as if some kind of possessed demon had trampled into his room and unleashed its aggravation upon everything in sight. That's when he noticed it.

That thing.

It was orange. Bizarrely orange. Unfashionably orange. Lying amongst his discarded clothes, slashed beyond repair. Immediately he knew it wasn't his - he'd never wear orange. He associated the colour with a certain annoyance, a nuisance, an unrelenting pest that followed him around, regardless of whether they were training or not.

He slid over to it gingerly, cursing as his body asserted its growing displeasure to be acknowledged. His stomach contorted, threatening to empty its contents, while an indescribable taste lingered on his tongue. He ignored them both, retrieving the orange material and automatically dropping it. This was the last thing he'd expected.

His insides knotted together and the taste became dominant once more, sickeningly sweet. It had belonged to a pair of boxers, ripped in half, several times in what looked like frenzied urgency.

"Oh god," Sasuke whispered, suddenly noticing a suffocating warmth enveloping him and a new, unusual scent, which crept into the room, a chilling presence, seeming familiar somehow. Pulse-quickening, he rushed to his bed sheets, grabbing them and checking for any signs of a 'disturbance.'

There were many, varying from a slight ruffle of sheets to an unexplainable stain, and the very last was that scent, again. Distinctively strong, its overwhelming odour swept him in, teasing him, leeching every last bit of control he possessed. He staggered, momentarily disorientated. It was such a strange scent, yet so very familiar - so very everyday. A memory arose, quietly tapping on his conscious, asking for entry.

Without hesitation, he granted it.

-------------------------------------

"You're such a light weight! Drunk after two sips - pathetic - just pathe - hic!" Sasuke slurred, one arm around his stumbling companion, while the other crawled along the walls, seeking out the nearest light source.

After a few initial hits and misses, his flawlessly tidy living room was illuminated instantly and like a hurricane, the two of them collapsed onto the nearest sofa, fidgeting in drunken discomfort.

"Haa," Naruto drawled, falling off the sofa and clambering onto a chair, "you can talk - can't even - s-talk properly."

"I'll have you know my stalking skills are above average!" Sasuke announced somewhat defensively, before quickly regretting it. "Erm, I mean…"

"Oh urgh?" Naruto managed, attempting to sit up, about to disagree. Sasuke's talking skills were way below average, never mind above. He was about the most antisocial person the blond had ever met. Unfortunately his protests came out differently than he had first intended. "Clueless bastard."

"Have another drink - you're stressed," Sasuke advised, not picking up on the fact he'd just been insulted.

Naruto nodded agreeably, his arm slapping around hungrily, seizing the half-empty sake bottle, which his befuddled team-mate had been constantly thrusting at him the entire night. Of course, the both of them hadn't planned on getting so drunk at Kiba's eighteenth, it had just kind of happened, through many unfulfilled dares and lost party games.

"It's all this s-talk of talking…" the blond said, after taking a generous gulp, and offering the bottle to his team-mate. "It stresses me out… makes me feel… well, kind of… just a little bit… weird."

"I feel weird too," Sasuke confessed, eying the drabbling blond cautiously, shocked to see him looking uncharacteristically vulnerable and confused. He had to admit it really was weird seeing the idiot look so delicately misplaced. It intrigued him secretly and his mouth slid open without his approval, spilling out unintended thoughts.

"It's…" he began, urging his tongue to tie together. "sort of… I can't put a name to it. I think that maybe… somehow-you… you need to…" a shocking selection of words fitted the end of his sentence, yet he chose none of them and decided to change the subject. "You need to drink up!"

Naruto eyes widened, before sinking into deeper puzzlement. "… are you trying to get me drunk?"

No. Say no. Absolutely not. His mind stressed repetitively. "Yes," Sasuke gasped, his hands springing to life and plastering his mouth in surprise. "No, actually…"

"Wh-why?" Naruto ventured, sky-blue orbs twinkling in genuine interest.

Sasuke shrugged. "Dunno, might be funny, hic."

"You're not gonna play a nasty prank on me, are you?"

"Perhaps,"

"Well," Naruto said conclusively, making a grab for the sake bottle once more, "if I get drunk, you get drunk, h'yeah?"

Sasuke responded with a hic, accepting the offer, and confidently chugging down the remaining contents of the sake bottle, as if his life depended on it. Naruto grinned triumphantly.

------

So, they'd got drunk, okay. Fair enough, it happens - guys do that together, amongst other manly things such as arguing, hugging and then kissing - wait no, not that one - not the last two, in fact. Sasuke struggled against his conscious, headache heightening in pulsating pain. He could hardly make sense of the few dull memories, the faint flicker of disjointed sequences. What did they all mean? And what was that feeling?

That warm, moist, welcoming feeling.

He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. Sure, it was pleasantly comforting and it made his body tingle in anticipation, yet… there was something wrong. Definitely out of place. He touched his lips in contemplation, stirring a memory of a brushing sensation, playful nips and growling grazing. They stung, chapped and scabbed from an onslaught of uncontrollable passion.

Passion?

Sasuke shook his head vigorously in denial, what a stupid word to use. The idiot and that word didn't match. It was like describing Kakashi-sensei as a man of great innocence. Laughable, almost. More importantly, not possible, under any kind of circumstances. Even under the influence.

His certainty slipped a little, as his stomach purred in memory, forgetting its discomfort, filling him with a sudden exhilarating awareness. He pushed it away, declaring it false, but still it remained. Suffocating heat, tantalizing delectability accompanied by waves of breathless shivers, winding up his spine, a spider of desired discovery. Sasuke began to sweat profusely, body shaking. His resolve was failing; it was ridiculously strong. Unbelievably overpowering - all too real.

He sighed, glancing at the sake bottle in sombre realisation.

"Oh crap."

-------------

"It gets so lonely…"

Sasuke wasn't entirely positive as to how they'd ended up sitting so close together, nor did he have any idea as to why he had asked to hear the blonds' innermost problems and hardships in life. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, at least, that's what he told himself now, taking another reassuring sip of the bottle and tilting his head, giving a vaguely interested grunt.

"So lonely, you know?" Naruto continued, occasionally making eye-contact with Sasuke every time a statement required a reaction.

"Oh yeah," Sasuke agreed, staring intensely - a bit too intensely for his liking, but he wasn't in full control of his actions, so it didn't really matter, surely? For now, staring was important and getting closer. A little bit closer. Close enough to…

"Just… having to share a body with the angry foxy."

"Angry foxy?"

"Ky-huuubi."

"Ohhhhh," Sasuke smirked at the nickname closing the space between himself and increasingly drunk blond, ever so discreetly and totally obliviously. "I don't like that fella… very anti-social."

"Like you," Naruto laughed, tapping his intoxicated team-mate on the back affectionately.

Sasuke suddenly found himself very confused. "Eh no… I think… wait, yes… definitely… no way."

"You know what," Naruto said, still laughing, and pulling up his shirt to glare at the seal, "I'd rather have you inside me.."

"That can be taken care of."

Sasuke choked on his words, fighting back the demon stirring in his stomach, but after several attempts of suppression, he failed miserably, and out came the beast, ravenously hungry. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, and throwing himself off the sofa, landed in a pile of repressed rage.

"Wha? You want to be like the Ky-uuuuuuuhbi?" Naruto chirped, his tone puzzled and fascinated at the same time. "That's the right kind of behaviour, maybe if you talk to him, he'll let you trade places? I'd like that."

Sasuke staggered to his feet clumsily, avoiding eye-contact, giving his full attention to the floor. "Erm… hic.. I'm gonna go now -erm, not feeling too good - want sleep - need sleep - need other things, too - but not you - definitely not you - nope - go away."

Naruto stuck his tongue out, before falling under a shower of giggles. "Was only messin' with you, stupid,"

"Don't call me stupid!" Sasuke growled venomously, "idiot," he added as an afterthought.

Naruto slithered off the sofa, adopting a sing-songy voice, clearly enjoying his little teasing session. "Aww, poor, poor Uchi-Poo."

Uchi-Poo.

The name was otherworldly. Never meant to be part of this world. Never meant to be seen, heard and especially not to be said - especially from that idiot. It sent a blood curdling shiver down his spine. He hated it, every last letter. He wanted to desecrate it, destroy it, burn it - anything - just get rid of it - get rid of him!

Quivering in anger, Sasuke announced somewhat menacingly: "Piss off."

"Make me," Naruto responded simply, folding his arms in feigned aggravation and turning his head away like a petulant child.

"This," Sasuke spat, pointing dramatically and waving his hand around madly, "is my apartment - mine!"

"Surely this can all be sorted with a hug?" Naruto purred, swaggering in his direction, a tipsy smile planted on his lips.

"A hug?!"

"Yeah, a nice, sweet, comforting hug, how about it?"

"Not a chance."

"Oh, c'mon… you look like you need it."

"Get out."

"Just a quickie."

"Oh, I'll give you a quickie alright…"

Naruto furrowed his brow stubbornly, doing his best to remain standing, completely misinterpreting the statement. "Okay, go on - do it!"

-----------

And then he'd left, right? There was nothing more to it. A quick slam of the door and he was gone. Not another word said. Of course, a lot of unresolved mysterious remained… but they weren't important. He knew the facts now; the idiot had left and he'd gone to bed.

As he'd been rewinding through the events of last night, Sasuke had hardly noticed an hour pass by, leaving him approximately ten minutes to get to his mission briefing. He regretted agreeing to it now; he was in no state to do anything. Aching, tired, hung-over, uniform torn, all concluded by the look of death upon his face, and to make matters worse the idiot would be there. Maybe he'd be able to shine some light on situation…

Digging in his wardrobe for a spare uniform and quickly throwing it on, he limped towards his mirror, adjusting the collar. After a couple of minutes, he'd managed to make himself look vaguely alive, save for the vacant expression in his eyes and perhaps the slight inconvenience of drifting off every few seconds, and then there was that mark on his neck. He pulled down his collar, inspecting, jaw dropping as he noticed there was more than one - they were everywhere. An outbreak, rapidly spreading down the nape of his neck, across his chest and further down, much further down.

He ran his fingers along each red bump gingerly, a dull sore ebbing from each one in a stinging symphony. What were they? A virus? An illness? A bad reaction? He couldn't put a name to it, though he was sure he'd seen something similar on a few of the girls from the academy. It couldn't be the same though - he wouldn't let that happen, and as slim as the chances were, even if it did happen, he'd have to be indescribably drunk.

Sasuke stifled a mourn of despair, dropping onto his bed, dismally dejected; his muddled memory was beginning to stir, suddenly realising where each puzzle piece belonged, smiling in accomplishment.

Without warning, the hazy movie-reel in his mind sparked back into action, continuing to play, proving his past assumptions wrong. There it was again; that tingling, persistent pestering. The unexplainable stirring, setting his stomach bubbling, purring, remembering each touch, each bite, each lick, each moment of undeniable pleasure.

Teeth clenching, Sasuke rolled onto his side, holding it all back, begging it to disappear, vanish into non-existence. The broken images flashing through his mind were make-believe, he insisted; like a prank gone terribly wrong, or an emotion welling up, left alone to brew in all its solitary loneliness - unlike the impossible, unlike improbable, but just faintly, so very slightly possible.

And kissing him… kissing him was like…