Sasuke was going to cut off his dick and choke him to death with it; Naruto was certain of this. He could see it in his lover's eyes when they ate dinner the night before, the black orbs alight with anticipation. Yes, Sasuke was going to kill him dead. He knew he should apologize, but therein laid the problem: He didn't know what he had done.
Sasuke had never been the type to remain silent about any indiscretions on Naruto's part. The fact that he was doing so now scared Naruto so much that he knew he needed to call in reinforcements. He needed someone with Uchiha experience, someone who had faced certain death by one of the dark haired menaces and lived to tell the tale. He needed Hoshigaki Kisame.
It was about half-past ten at night when he showed up at said man's apartment, a 24-pack hand and a look of terrifying desperation on his face. Kisame opened the door with an agitated, "Who in the god-damned Hell is—Naruto?"
"Sasuke's going to chop off my dick, Kisame," he said solemnly. Kisame looked disgustedly at him, and then noticed the conspicuous beer box.
"Sure thing, kid. Get in here."
About an hour later, the 24-pack was gone and a half-empty bottle of triple sec sat on the coffee table in Kisame's small living area, and the older man's large gray tabby cat lounged across Naruto's lap as he attempted to relay his dilemma.
"So, so, he said he was on a trip!"
"A trip?" Kisame made a face. "He on drugs?"
Naruto shook his head forcefully, and the cat darted off his lap with a disturbed yowl. "Nah, he's not like that. S'a business trip."
"So?"
"It was my birthday!" He shouted, arms waving frantically. "He never misses—"
"You sound like a woman, you little punk. Stiff upper lip!"
"Quit calling me a woman, you Oreo! I have a huge dick! Sasuke—"
"Probably doesn't want you sharing it," a voice broke in.
Kisame and Naruto tried to jump up, but Naruto got his foot stuck under the table and tripped, grabbing Kisame's face as he went.
"Fuuuuuck."
"You're both morons, I hope you realize," the voice spoke again.
"It's the voice of God himself," Kisame whispered in awe.
The voice snorted. "I will not object to being called God, Kisame, but as your new God, I'm going to have to request you clean this up and remove the orange hell spawn from our home. He seems to be a bad influence."
Kisame looked bewildered. "'Tachi?"
"Yes, Kisame."
"Naruto," Kisame turned to the blond boy still sprawled under the short table, "I'm fucking God."
"And I'm fucking the queen of England."
"Sasuke's not a queen, dipshit."
"Could've fooled me," Itachi muttered exasperatedly, waltzing into the kitchen.
"Hey, Naruto."
"Hey, fish fucker."
"Why'd you come here again?"
___________________________________________
All right, Naruto was willing to admit that trip had not been as helpful as he had hoped, and all he had were several mysterious bruises to show for it.
Itachi had dragged Kisame off to bed at some point, leaving a thoroughly inebriated Naruto to sleep it off under the table, which was all fine and well until he woke up and slammed his skull into the low tabletop.
May it never be said that his skull wasn't tough.
Itachi had kicked him out soon after with a travel mug filled with black coffee and a recommendation to drive slowly. Kisame had laughed before stumbling off to vomit in the kitchen sink.
So much for brotherly sympathy.
Now, at eleven in the morning, he found himself sitting in an IHOP near his and Sasuke's shared apartment, staring blankly at the menu.
"Welcome to IHOP," a dead voice sounded to his left, drawing his eyes from the menu. "Order now."
Naruto stared blankly for a moment. "Gaara?"
"Did you misunderstand? Order your food. Now, peon."
"Gaara?" He tried again, inching away from the red headed man. "Why are you working at IHOP?"
"I need money. Order."
"Gaara, you're wealthy. Obscenely wealthy. You don't need to do anything!"
"I need you to order your food before I gut you with your butter knife."
"Sir! It's that man again! He's threatening customers!" A shrill-voiced waitress squealed out from the end of the isle. Gaara narrowed his eyes at her, then grabbed Naruto's arm.
"Change of plans, peon. You're now my getaway driver."
Naruto couldn't help but wonder, as he found himself peeling out of the parking lot with Gaara in the passenger seat throwing utensils out the window, how in the Hell he ended up in an IHOP in the first place.
After reasoning with Gaara to the best of his abilities, he found himself pushed out of the driver's seat in front of his complex as Gaara sped away in his car. He really needed to stop stealing Naruto's shit. It was irritating.
Dragging himself up the two flight of stairs to the apartment, Naruto whispered consolations to his threatened manhood. "I'm sure he won't chop you off," he said. "He'll probably just put us on the couch till you turn blue and fall off. Then he'll laugh at you."
However, as Naruto opened the front door, there were no random gun shots or flying office ware. Rather, there was an innocent note lying askew on the entryway table, the miniature paperweight shaped like a rainbow that Naruto had bought from a tourist trap in Mexico during the previous year holding it down. Picking it up, Naruo chuckled. Clearly he hadn't done anything wrong. He shouldn't let his imagination run away with him.
'Dobe,' it began, 'I'll be out the rest of the day. There's a Halloween street fair tonight. I'm sure you've heard about it. Be there or your ass is mine.
Sasuke
PS: No, I didn't mean that in the pleasurable way.
PPS: You're a moron if you thought I did, and I know you did. Don't deny it.
PPPS: I took the liberty of selecting your costume. It's on the bed.'
Naruto stared in horror at the seemingly benign note. This would not bode well for him. Not well at all.
___________________________________________
He was right. Not only did it NOT bode well for him, but it was rather humiliating. After taking a few minutes—okay, like an hour, but who's counting?—to process the threatening note (because there was no way in Hell Sasuke was getting anywhere near his ass, no matter what the situation), he had gone to their bedroom, dreading what costume his sadistic lover had picked for him.
Spread out before him was an obviously expensive suit, tailored for his current size. It even had his family emblem. He put it on and turned to examine himself in the mirror. It actually looked pretty good, he mused. He wondered if this was really supposed to be punishment: getting to go to a Halloween fair with his lover, dressed in an awesome suit that made him feel like James Bond. Or someone equally awesome. He smirked. Sasuke had lost his touch for punishment, it seemed.
Once he arrived at the fair, however, he was quickly forced to reexamine his evaluation of the situation.
It was a rather rundown road fair, not the elaborate street fair he'd been told about. There were a few sad-looking clowns loitering around the front, and when Naruto passed them, he'd gotten a rather strong whiff of something that smelled quite like the stuff his grandmother used to drink.
The whole place had a rather 'Twilight Zone' feel to it, and he half expected Rod Serling to pop out and begin one of his creepy monologues. Everything was fine until he reached the apple-bobbing stand.
"You should try it!" The stand's proprietor urged, pushing him toward the open metal basin. "First try's free, after all!"
"Why the fuck would I want to stick my head in a bucket and bite an apple, you stupid fuck?! Hey, no, easy there—"
He was cut off then, his head shoved unceremoniously into the water. Coughing and spluttering, he pushed back up with a roar of, "What the fucking shit you old—"
"And who would you be calling old, Mr. Uzumaki?"
All words died as Naruto drank in the sight before him. Sasuke, his ice princess who despised public affection or overly perverse gestures, was standing in the midst of a low-budget street fair, decked out like a maid. A French maid. The black bodice he wore, tightly laced with white ribbon, gave his body a feminine curve, distracting onlookers from his rather obvious lack of girly parts up top. At his waist, the bodice curved outward into an obscenely short and frilly black skirt, complete with a tiny lace apron tied on.
And then there were the boots. Oh, God, Naruto had already been hard just with the ridiculously lewd costume, but the thigh high boots, with all the buckles and leather, was making his cock leak.
"Something wrong, Mr. Uzumaki?" His lover asked, hips cocked to the side while he tapped a bizarre looking feather duster sharply on the palm of his hand.
He tried to respond, really, but all that came out was "Uggnnh?"
Sasuke smirked, turning to the flustered stand owner. "So sorry, sir, but Mr. Uzumaki was expected home over an hour ago. He had an appointment with me about getting his wood polished. Isn't that right, Sir?"
"Mmmnnnghh."
"Of course."
But nothing yet compared to the extreme rush of blood to his groin that occurred when Sasuke turned around. The bodice, it seemed, was backless, leaving the small of his back completely visible. And right there, for all to see was the Uzumaki emblem, just like the one tailored on to his suit.
Sasuke, he realized, had gotten a tramp stamp.
As the other man pushed him into his car, he heard a whisper of, "Happy birthday, Dobe."
Hell. Yes.