Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I do own the barkeep. :D

Pairing: Angsty MadaNaru

Warnings: slight drunkenness, lots of dialogue, language, some OOC. This is my first time writing Naruto, so I apologize for it.

Moving on…

"I really don't know what to do anymore."

The barkeep paused in the act of wiping down the counter. He glanced towards a dejected-looking blonde downing a bottle of beer. Thirty minutes and he'd already managed to pour three down his throat. Ah well. So long as he paid, the kid could drown in a swimming-pool full, for all he cared. It wouldn't hurt to try to talk to him, either. Talking made drunks even thirstier, which would do his modest establishment just fine.

The barkeep sidled closer. "Dunno what to do what, kid?" He made sure to arrange his face into his "Sympathetic Ear" mode.

The blonde kid looked up. He looked absolutely awful. His face was pale and haggard, three tattoos on either cheek stood out like scabbed cuts. His blonde hair looked unwashed – the barkeep wrinkled his nose – he smelled like it too. And his eyes. They were bloodshot with the haze of drink, but that wasn't what made the barkeep uncomfortable. The kid's blue eyes looked old, and empty. It didn't look right even to the barkeep. And considering his line of work, this was saying a lot.

Drinking did nothing for anyone's problems, and everyone had a whole shitload of problems they would be better off dealing with instead of whining. Somehow he knew the kid was up to that, but doing it would rip him up even more.

Which didn't even make any sense. The barkeep made a face. But what the hell… It was uncharacteristic of him, but for once, he decided to actually help instead of ripping his client off.

The kid was giving him an odd look. The barkeep rearranged his facial expression into a sympathetic smile. "So… Anything you need to talk about?" He gestured towards the empty bottles. "You look like you're in a rut, no offense."

The kid was staring at him, bleary-eyed. Then smiled. It came out a bit wobbly. "Nah, you're better off not knowing. And I don't have any more money for a new drink."

Well The barkeep didn't know what to say to that. But there was something about the kid that set him apart from the bar's regulars… That smile spoke volumes. For some reason, it made him want to help.

"Tell you what, just talk. Try to get it out of your system. It'll help more than drowning yourself in that shit." He pointed to the empty bottles, six in all. The kid had remarkable tolerance. "I'll get you a glass of water so you don't pass out."

"… Thanks." The kid mumbled. The barkeep fetched him a tall glass of water while the kid fiddled with something in his lap. A sketchpad. When the barkeep returned to his spot, he was flipping through it. He tried to sneak a look, but the kid slammed it closed. Well, what's his business is his business…

"So, mind telling me what brought you to my esteemed establishment?" The barkeep asked as the kid guzzled down his water. He hesitated, about to change his mind. Then he slumped forwards, sighing.

"When you were a kid, did you ever dream about saving the world?" He asked at length.

The barkeep scrunched his eyebrows, remembering a childhood that wasn't really that great, but didn't really suck, either. "Well, sort of. I'd imagine being a superhero and getting tons of fans. But doesn't everyone?"

The kid nodded. "So did I. And… somehow, my dream actually came true. But the thing is…"

He downed the last sip of water in his glass and looked at the barkeep straight in the eye. "What do you do if you're a superhero, then one day you find out you're only allowed to be one if there are strings attached?"

"… Huh?"

"I mean, think about it!" The kid slammed his glass, then his sketchpad, down on the counter. "We're taught that there's good, and then there's evil, but then we grow up, and there turns out to be this big gray area in the middle of the two. And then we try our best to be in the white. But we don't always make it. So, we try to be the best we can be. But the best isn't always good enough. And it's pretty hard being good. So we settle for the gray. That's where most of us end up." The kid looked at him earnestly.

"You spend all your life trying to be in the white, but you end up in the gray. But what about the people who actually make it? Now, the problem is they want other people to be in the white, too, so they try to pull others in. But what if the people in the gray don't want to listen?"

The barkeep was having a bit of difficulty catching the kid's line of thought, but somehow he managed to get it. "Kid, it looks to me that if you're in the white, you have to bully others to be with you. But you have to admit… it's easier to be in the gray. Then you can give others the benefit of the doubt. At any rate," he poured the kid another glass of water. "At least you're not in the black."

"I know," the kid whispered. "But… there's this guy."

"What's he got to do with it?" The barkeep raised an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"

The kid flushed, in no way did it have anything to do with drink. "Sort of… kind of… not really…."

"Why not?" The barkeep was eyeing the still-full glass. The kid, noticing, took a gulp.

"I really like him, but he's also my biggest problem."

"They always are. Me, I used to have this girl… really bad shit. You don't want to know." The barkeep shrugged. "Why don't you just dump him, then?"

"… I can't."

"Why not?"

The kid shook his head. "I care about him, and I owe him too much. Anyways, it's way too complicated to explain."

"I've got the time. Bar doesn't close until 5 AM." The barkeep glanced at the clock. "It's only about eleven o'clock now."

"Well…" The kid stopped. Then the words seemed to burst out of him. "I care about him, but it's just… he's the total opposite of everything I believe in."

"It's good to have balance in a relationship."

The kid babbled on as if he didn't hear him. "I owe him everything. My life, my art, everything. He became a sort of father figure to me after my dad died, and he's always taken great care of me. But there's something fundamentally twisted and bitter about him that I don't think I'll ever be able to fix. I've tried so many times. But whenever I do, he gets angry. Not violent-angry, but he yells at me, says I'm thinking like a kid and if I keep on doing it I might as well jump from a building. I don't want to become as twisted and warped as him. "

"But that's just it. It'll kill me to leave. But if I stay, it'll destroy everything that makes me who I am. And that includes him."

The kid's shoulders slumped down. The barkeep was fumbling in his admittedly limited arsenal of words, thinking of a few shreds of comfort. He could think of absolutely nothing to say.

Just then, the bell rang, alerting the barkeep to a new customer. But instead of sitting in one of the stools, the sleek-looking newcomer approached the kid, now back to his original position.

"Naruto…" the man's voice was quiet, harsh, and bitter. But it was underlined with a layer of gentleness towards whom he was addressing. In the dim lighting of the bar the barkeep couldn't see what he looked like, under the hood he was wearing. The boy stirred, but didn't look up.

"It's time to go home."

"Go away."

The barkeep could feel the man tense in irritation, and could have sworn he'd seen a flash of red as he swiveled towards him. The barkeep immediately knew it was his time to shove off.

"So… uh… kid, nice talking to you." Damn those red eyes, but he wasn't about to let the kid gallivant off with five beers on his tab. "If your… friend doesn't mind, you'll be paying me for those drinks now?"

The man turned his head towards him. Under the hood, his eyes were glowing. The barkeep backed off. Suddenly, a wad of cash went sailing in the air. With fumbling fingers, the barkeep picked it off the floor. His jaw dropped open.

"For his beer, and for your silence." The man helped the kid up from his stool and steadied him with his arm. "Any word of this gets out, and you shall pay dearly." He hadn't blinked once. "Understood?"

"G-got it." The man was leading the kid – Naruto – out of the bar. He didn't look back even once, but Naruto turned around, grinned tiredly, and waved goodbye, before both of them disappeared inside a black limousine parked outside the bar.

When they were gone, the barkeep glanced down at the wad of cash in his hands.

"I should definitely chat up my customers more often."

When Naruto woke up, he was in his own bedroom, still dressed in last night's clothes, reeking of beer, and feeling nauseous. After limping to the bathroom and taking a nice, long, and hot shower, he dressed in fresh clothes and looked around his room, checking to see if Madara had broken anything.

Everything was intact. Except for one thing. His sketchpad was gone.

Worry thundered in Naruto's heart and stomach. He stared at the door for a long moment and swallowed. Steeling himself, he opened the door and climbed down the adjacent staircase, careful to make as little noise as possible. He wandered around the sprawling mansion, looking for his guardian.

He reached the main hall, living room, and finally the dining quarters, but Madara wasn't in any of them. But he could smell something fragrant wafting from the kitchen. Following his nose, he cautiously looked inside.

Madara was sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter, dressed in an old pair of jeans and a black shirt, a mug of brewed coffee in front of him. That was the fragrance Naruto had smelled. The old-fashioned brick oven was roaring behind him, making the room stifling hot. Naruto's sketchpad was in front of him, and he was turning the pages slowly, almost reverently.

Page after page were abstract sketches full of color. Naruto's dreams, hopes, aspirations, bound in cloth and sealed in paper.

Naruto cleared his throat nervously. Only then did Madara look up from his careful examination. Gently shutting the sketchpad closed, he slid off the stool and went to stand in front of his charge.

Naruto shifted uncomfortably at the ice dark daggers training on him. He held his ground, keeping his eyes level with his then-guardian, now-lover. "I'd like to have that back, please," he managed to speak at length.

Madara raised his eyebrows. Then he picked Naruto's sketchpad up from the counter, turning it over, contemplating it.

And without taking his eyes off Naruto's face, he tossed it into the oven.

Naruto's reaction was instantaneous. He dived for the burning sketchpad, but Madara's arms locked around his waist kept him from moving. Only when the sketchpad was reduced to gray ash did Naruto go limp and slide to the floor. Madara released his waist so he could crouch in front of him, and narrowly avoided a blow that would have shattered his jaw.

Twisting the boy's arm behind him, Madara coolly met Naruto's furious gaze. "Bastard," the child bit out.

Madara masked his irritation behind a cold smile, and dragged him off the floor. The obstinate child refused to meet his eyes, gaze trained on the pile of ash crumbling in the fire.

That was remedied soon enough. Madara forced Naruto's face up, gripping tightly to the sides of his face. With the boy struggling all the while, he sealed the space between them with his lips.

Naruto struggled, thrashed, and was pinned to the wall for his effort. He kept his mouth firmly shut, not participating. Madara bit his lower lip, hard, and he yelped in pain. Madara, seizing the opportunity, slipped his tongue into Naruto's mouth, tasting mint toothpaste and stale beer. Though Naruto bit and resisted, he could feel his resolve slipping. It was only when Madara felt him tentatively respond that he released the boy's head, sliding his arms around his waist. They were close to passing out when they separated, gasping for air. Naruto's knees gave out from under him, and he sank to the floor, cradling his head. Even then Madara wouldn't let go of him, pulling him into his lap and stroking his hair tenderly while Naruto cried hot tears of frustration.

It was a while before Naruto calmed down, but he didn't move away from the floor or Madara's arms. Madara buried his face into the boy's still-damp hair, breathing deep. They stayed that way for a long time.

Finally, Naruto mumbled something Madara couldn't hear. "What did you say?" He raised his head.

Naruto's voice was hoarse, and his face was puffy from crying. But his eyes burned with the determined fire Madara knew so well. And loathed so much, because he knew it was what drove the boy to run headlong into danger like a witless child and leave him powerless to stop him, again and again.

"I said, you won't be the end of me." Naruto was very quiet as he voiced his thought aloud. "Even if you keep burning my work, the dreams are still inside of me. I care about you, but that doesn't mean I'll step aside and let you do as you please. I won't let you control what I think, even if you say it's for my own good."

Madara didn't answer. But his eyes said everything. Every bit of helpless frustration, bitter anger, and desperate worry borne out of the love he had for the stubborn child he'd raised.

Naruto could see them as well. He closed his eyes and leaned back to his guardian's warmth. "I can't be yours forever." He whispered. He felt Madara tense in irritation, and felt the older man's grip on him tighten. In a voice so soft and low he heard his guardian say something against the top of his head.

"We'll see about that."

Warning: ridiculously lengthy AN ahead

Okay, so I really don't know what I'm supposed to feel about this oneshot. On one hand, I'm so happy it's finally DONE. (It took me ages to write this thing) On the other hand, I'm not that satisfied because I think they're kind of out of character. But it is an AU setting, so I think it's a little justifiable.

To clear a few things up: In this AU, Madara is a rather shady art dealer who takes Naruto in when the latter is orphaned. The two care about each other deeply, but their relationship is strained because of Naruto's blatant disregard for the facts of reality and recklessness when it comes to "speaking out". (He's an activist). This in turn causes Madara to worry about him and limit his freedom, in the interest of keeping the boy – and himself - safe.

In this oneshot I really wanted to show how different the concepts of good and evil are in the Naruto-verse and real life. In the anime, and most stories in general, good and evil are divided by a pretty distinct line, and people fall to one side or the other. This is not so in real life. In real life, one finds out more often than not that no one really gives a damn, and people are really more interested in simply living than in living to fight for something. I know I kind of failed to express it here. So I would appreciate any comments regarding this.

I honestly think Madara was a bit too tender and downright sane in this, but I honestly think he didn't used to be such a screw-up in his time – that happened after centuries of obsessing over the Shodaime thing and the Kyuubi incident.

Okay, so overly-long (and a tad pretentious) A/N over. I really would appreciate reviews, because the next time I write something, I'd really like to know what I'm doing. XD For those who seek to flame, go ahead. I'm not the one making a moron of myself. :D