Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Warning: This is a predominately yaoi fic (romance later) with cursing, drug use, mentions of rape, sexual abuse, general violence, and a lot of other things (like the stuff in this chapter) because I am quasi-fucked up... and I still call this a story about family. Let it suffice to say that this is not a story you should read to your five-year-old.

ENJOY!


"No, I ain't much of a poet but I know somebody once told me,
To 'seize the moment and don't squander it,
'Cause you never know when it all could be over tomorrow'.
So I keep conjuring, sometimes I wonder where these thoughts spawn from.
Yeah, ponder it, do you want this?
It's no wonder you're losing your mind, the way it wanders!"


With a background like his, one can easily understand why it's so easy for Kiba Inuzuka to have moments in which his psychosis is more than disturbed—'breaks', one might call them. He can't always cope; can't always deal. It's a curse of being the person whom his environment had chewed him out and shat him out to be, even if he did his best to make sure that he did not worry the populace with the person he was. He did his best when it came to the point of containing it, but he couldn't do it forever, and while he had come to terms with the fact that his violent side came out with the explosion, what he could not seem to begin to accept was seeing the damage it laid out in his wake.

He hated seeing the after-affects of his own violent urges, whether it is to a person or to an inanimate object. The first time he'd seen such a thing, he'd cried for hours in the sanctuary of his bathroom, a crumpled form on the tiled floor, forehead pressed against the cold porcelain of the bathtub and his hands pressed against his ears as to stop himself from hearing the sounds of his family knocking on the door, tears streaming endlessly out of his eyes as the thought, I'm a monster, I'm a fucking monster continually bounced around in his head nonstop.

It had gotten easier over the years, but it definitely still hurt, knowing that he could become something that was less than good. He didn't like knowing he could become something like that, but he was and he really couldn't do very much about it, and so for the most part, he tried to move on with his life—but the one thing he couldn't do, no matter how hard he tried, was feel like a human when a product of his destructive tendencies glared at him.

To his credit, Kiba was a decent actor, and managed to hide the sudden pain and heartsickness he felt when he realized who had forced him to turn around, the impact he had felt from when he had gone face-first into the surprisingly firm chest of Dosu, who stared down at him with a lack of emotion in his showing eye, making the Inuzuka shiver just a little at the look. Dosu's grip was tight around his wrist, so tight that if Kiba actually showed a display of some recognition towards it, someone might notice the quivering of Dosu's hand and the blossoming bruises on Kiba's tan, scarred skin.

Of course, Kiba had gone through a lot worse in his life, so he was able to easily ignore it as he tried to gather his wits. Though blank, all he could see was the look of total fear he'd seen earlier in Dosu's eyes when he'd been dragging Kin around the store, fear he'd implanted in the upperclassman. He hadn't meant to scare anyone—okay, not true; he'd definitely been aiming to freak out the long-haired little ho-bag—and here was an example of such a victim. He could only hope Dosu wasn't here to make him feel worse—he was pretty sure that at this juncture, he'd die if someone brought attention over to him in such a negative light. The people he went to school with already knew there was something off about him, and with the rumors of him being some type of whore, he didn't need it getting to be any worse on him.

Dosu stared at him for a moment longer before asking only just loudly enough over the pounding music, in that cold, brutish voice that could only be his, "What was that?"

Kiba chuckled nervously, smile wobbly, brows furrowing upwards as he looked around as if he were going to get caught with the crown jewels. "W-What? What was what, Dosu, eh?"

"Please don't play dumb," Dosu responded in the same chilling voice, "What was that, Kiba? What happened to you at the store?"

Kiba looked down at Dosu's hand. "Mind letting me go?" he asked, voice getting weaker and weaker by the moment.

"No." Kiba didn't blame him, even with his distress. Well, it'd been more of an opinion question, hadn't it? "Tell me what that was."

Kiba gulped. "I…"

"What's going on here?"

Even Dosu flinched at the cold, interrupting voice, which Kiba couldn't blame him for: neither of them had been paying attention to the world around them. The grip on Kiba's hand was loosened just enough for him to take a few steps back, grabbing at the now-sore wrist of his, his emotions already threatening to take over his composure for the second time that day. A hot, bare arm wrapped around his shoulders, shocking him back into reality as he looked up at… Sasuke? Was that Sasuke standing there, black gaze upon Dosu, who was barely keeping his shit together just from the cold glare Sasuke gave off, jaw tightening and loosening as he visibly tried to keep himself from flipping his shit. Sasuke's fingernails bit into the skin of his upper arm, but he loosed no complaints at the fact, mostly because Sasuke was truly irritated—not regular irritated, but actually really ticked off. Why, Kiba wasn't sure. He'd practically forgotten about Sasuke's presence at the party when Dosu had grabbed him. It'd lost some of its importance when he was busy trying to hide the truth from the inquiring older teenager in front of him.

"Are you Inuzuka's boyfriend?" Dosu asked, his voice still level and cold.

Kiba's eyes widened in surprise at that. "Ah—! N-No! He's—!"

"I'm nothing more than an associate," Sasuke interrupted Kiba coolly; tone just as cold as Dosu's. Kiba frowned at Sasuke's description of their relationship. Really? That's it? An associate? What is this, the corporate world? "But I don't do well when I see people in a position like the one you had him in. It ticks me off. I'm not good to be around when I get ticked, so it's best for you if you don't push me towards that point. Leave him alone before I reach over and rip that eye from its socket and pop it into the dip bowl."

Okay, so maybe the associate thing was a bit of a lie.

If Dosu had been bothered by that statement further than he'd already been bothered just by Sasuke's cold presence, he lent no such sign to the fact. He merely turned his eye over to Kiba, the cold gaze searching his face.

"I would be weary tonight, Kiba," he said ominously before he slinked off through the crowd—which, he was just noticing, was staring at him, despite the music playing. Thankfully, it wasn't like he couldn't take a little staring, so he didn't let himself bow under pressure; didn't let them see the mortification rising like hot lava up his throat, threatening to rip through the surface. He was better than that. Back straightening almost immediately, he glared at the lot of them, eyes hard and fist clenched.

"Well?" he asked in a biting voice, making some partygoers flinch, "What're you looking at? If you wanna watch some drama, go home and watch some soaps! Fuck. And you"—he physically removed Sasuke's arm from around him and pushed, a blush of mortification burning up his cheeks as Sasuke looked stunned by the sudden reaction—"Fuck you, Uchiha! I deal with my own shit!" Kiba glared at him for a moment longer before groaning in defeat, looking down at his feet, blush unstoppable as it burned up the rest of his face, saying in a near-silent voice, "But… thanks for your help anyways… I guess… you're not a bad guy, so…"

Sasuke stared at the suddenly reserved Kiba who was [inadvertently] apologizing to him, of all people, as well as thanking him for helping him out in his moment of need. The fact Kiba had turned all rosy and nervous about it all was just icing on top of the cake for Sasuke's pride, though it was immediately smothered by the fact that he was almost certain he didn't deserve the kindness from Kiba, no matter how badly he may very well want it. When Kiba's recognition became such and important thing to him, he wasn't quite sure, but it had and it was—probably more important than even…

He walked up to him, poking his finger into Kiba's chest hard, making the boy look up in surprise and the slightest bit of pain. Sasuke could feel the inquisitive gaze searching the planes and features of his face for anything that would lend towards a response, but as he was quite skilled in the art of 'the emotionless asshole glare', he made sure to give away no answers as he glared right back.

"Shut it. Don't even think about it as having happened, brat," he ordered him before looking around to the eavesdropping partygoers. "I'm sorry, did I suddenly get a TV show stapled onto my forehead, covering the big 'fuck off' I, apparently, usually have written on it?" He was pretty sure that he couldn't have gotten them to turn around any faster before, which pleased him just the slightest before he turned his glare back to the Inuzuka.

"Don't think twice about it, brat," he reminded him before turning on his heel, walking off into the crowd, leaving Kiba standing there listlessly, surprise still clearly written on his smooth features.

Suigetsu slowly made his way from Karin's side, having been stunned into place when the first signs of a fight erupted and especially when Sasuke had involved himself, as in the entire time he'd known Sasuke, he tended not to involve himself anything that might lend itself towards helping someone else. He placed his hand atop Kiba's messy brown head, a sigh wanting to escape his lips yet not being allowed the privilege.

"Well… that was weird," he finally uttered, aiming to be amusing.

The glare Kiba sent his way let him know that he fell short. Well, actually, that wasn't true—it was the twitching of Kiba's bottom lip that told him he did. Dosu had bothered him a lot more than he'd let on, it seemed, and Sasuke's non-acceptance of his apology-slash-thanks didn't make it a whole lot better. Immediately, the smile that had been developing upon his face vanished as he moved to stand in front of Kiba, his hand gripping Kiba's shoulders tightly as to keep him from trying to run away.

"Don't let that ass get to you," he ordered the younger male, who hadn't removed his glare from Suigetsu's eyes. He was already gotten to by that ass, Suigetsu could tell, otherwise he would've shot some sort of smile his way and pushed himself away and tell Suigetsu to get back to enjoying himself and to stop worrying about him. Sasuke's interference, though it probably was appreciated, made nothing better for Kiba; he was still plenty furious and mortified.

A passing partier with a Dixie cup found themselves thoroughly pissed off when his host grabbed their beer from their hand, watching the tattooed youth chug the alcohol as quickly as he could, Suigetsu's brow furrowing with each gulp the tanned teenager took. He groaned as he pulled the cup away from his lips, shoving it back into the hand of the unfortunate partygoer he'd taken it from. Suigetsu ignored the angry partier; his eyes captured by the sight of the absolute turmoil within Kiba's equally angry eyes, the confusion and sadness and mortification and general madness that ran through the brown orbs worrying Suigetsu greatly.

"Shots," Kiba said suddenly, turning on his heel, making Suigetsu blink at the sudden segway, "We need shots. I'm doing shots."

"You hardly tolerate beers!" Suigetsu yelled after him, running after the younger, whom he considered to be on the brink of losing it, if the look in his eyes was any indication. Kiba grabbed yet another cup out of a teenager's hand, taking it all in one long gulp as he continued making his way to his adoptive parent's liquor cabinet, dropping the cup carelessly on the ground, determination lacing each step he took.

Suigetsu cursed mentally. Kiba wasn't on the brink.

He had already lost it.


Kakashi was not a light man by any means of the imagination, but he could tread like a cat when he wanted to. It came as part of being a brat in an orphanage; being able to sneak around at random times of the late night, definitely past his bedtime. Of course, he hadn't expected himself to retain the same capability, but he found himself using it quite often for the life of a detective, which he couldn't decide if it were some sort of godsend or sign of future pedophilic tendencies. His sudden, definite and irrevocable fascination with Hinata Hyūga would be explained if it were the latter, certainly.

He shook his head, doing his best to shake off thoughts of the pale-eyed girl along with them. He was in the middle of a raid, for Chrissakes, the last thing he needed was getting distracted by the thoughts of his wayward heart. While Hinata would be infinitesimally better company than the creepy, eerie and more than likely dangerous orphanage he currently found himself walking about, any thoughts of her and he'd have a stiff member—the last thing you want to stick out in any enemy's mind as a possible target.

Swallowing down his thoughts, he continued forwards, crossing one leg over the other with quiet, subdued moves as he kept his back as close to the wall as he could without touching it, moving slowly and without attention.

He was the shadow.

The shadow with the Beretta M9 Army-issue handheld firearm and mix-matched eyes and silver hair that shined with even the least bit of light shone upon it. It occurred to him that he wasn't so much a shadow as more than quiet and extremely lucky, but he did his best to ignore the thought as he continued moving, curious as to why the house was as stunningly quiet as it was—

"Detective Hatake, not that your capabilities as a storyteller are bad, but will you please quickly reach the point at which you explain why exactly you ended up with a bullet through your right knee?"

Kakashi looked up from the limb in question to shoot an emotionless stare at the lesser officer in the process of questioning him. He'd been in the back of the same damned ambulance for over an hour now, just waiting for someone to come and question him so he could be allowed to slip into the back of one of the town cars from his own city and be driven to his own hospital, and now that he was getting his shot, the little prick wanted to be impatient. He was secretly on the verge of shooting him in the face—which would be completely feasible if Minato wasn't standing just a few feet away with his previously mentioned M9 in his right hand, a smaller but just as capable revolver in his left as he prompted Kakashi to continue despite the little dick in front of him with nothing more than the look in his blue eyes.

The jurisdiction on the house they raided, while it was completely okayed by the higher-ups, was still under that of the small town they had to go through to get to it; which was the only reason why this person was before him, asking for information that was so far out of his depth that Kakashi could laugh if he wasn't feeling so disgusted and murderous, glaring at the house that, if he had the choice, would be burning to the ground at that very moment, but due to a lack of jurisdiction and a real grace of God was still standing high and proud in its disgusting foundation.

"Detective Hatake? I haven't all night, sir."

Kakashi turned back to the kid. "What's your name, officer?"

He looked a little pissed at this. "Idate Wasabi-Morino."

"Ah," Kakashi hummed, "Ibiki Morino's… cousin?"

"Brother," he responded tightly.

"Even better," Kakashi continued, "Then you'll understand the immense amount of pain it would cause me if I had to tell your brother that I had to beat the shit out of you and then shoot you with your own gun." Idate froze up slightly, but Kakashi paid it no mind. "Now I am telling you exactly what happened. You can either sit and listen to it or I can go forwards with my threat right now. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Idate straightened out immediately. "Crystal."

Kakashi nodded. "Good boy. Now shut up. I'd like to finish sometime today." With sick satisfaction at the silent pouting Idate was currently participating in, Kakashi turned his attention back to his wrapped-to-hell leg, fisting his hand tightly. "Yeah, the house was really quiet, too quiet for it to be a kid's home. No matter what time of day, orphanages are always full of noise, and this was so quiet that a pin could drop. I remember wondering what kind of noise would be heard when I fell through the floor…"

The carpet was such a plush, sound-absorbent material that Kakashi didn't hear any creaking in his step, which even with how quiet he was being he expected to happen regardless; it was an old house. Of course, he didn't expect the floor underneath in such bad state that just the right amount of weight would have it crumbling to pieces, which is what happened the next step he took with his right foot, his thought about how much noise he could make being answered as he found himself falling into a crumpled mess of a detective onto the hard, cement basement floor beneath where he'd been standing, a glaze expression coming onto his face as he let out a sigh. Well, if no one had heard him before, then someone had definitely heard him now.

Ignoring the immediate pain afflicting his right ankle, which he'd so brutally landed upon, he got to his feet, limping with probably too much sound in his step across the basement's floor, his face probably showing every bit of strain his body currently felt. His right leg pulsed with pain, but he decided that he couldn't afford to show it moment of concern, sticking with a heavy limping, favoring his left now as he tried to avoid putting pressure on his right. Sighing in irritation, he looked around the basement, eyes managing to absorb what little light was on the floor, finally able to see around himself.

The first thought he had was boxes. There was a shit ton of plastic boxes with unmarked black lids, the plastic murky enough so that he couldn't see in if he tried. They were stacked one on top of the other on top of the other, so much that they'd designed their system like a staircase. He'd been as so unlucky to land straight onto the ground, and had only partially dented a box with his right arm as he came down—accounting to the pulsing pain he felt in the unbroken appendage.

The second was a question about how many dogs were at this orphanage. With metal so dark that he'd nearly missed it, cages were stacked on top of the murky black-lid boxes, at least five on each level, laid out so it was nearly wall-to-wall. Kakashi frowned. He'd heard of the orphanage owners having a cat or dog, maybe a cockatiel, but never… thirty dogs and/or cats. And why were they all empty? Considering there was no animals out and about upstairs, why were there no animals in their cages down here? Swallowing back a groan of pain, he limped on forwards, getting closer to the cages without wanting to, noticing pale gray paper tags on the top of each case, each one written upon in black marker.

'Mikasa'

'Aiko'

'Shikaru'

Each one, written on with a name, and each one, as Kakashi noticed, having had a tag that was previously ripped off of it—including the one on the right-hand side in the front, which obviously had no little pet or anything in it since it lacked a name—but not an inhabitant. Something was lying completely still in that cage, and as it was too dark, Kakashi couldn't tell what it was without getting closer. Crouching down, his fingers moved against the bars of the cage until he found the single latch, flipping it off of the metal clasp-bit and allowing it to swing open. Kakashi reached in the cage, a sick feeling reaching his stomach as he noticed the apparent wetness of the object, which he could finally tell was wrapped in what used to be a dark-colored pillow case but obviously found a new purpose. He pulled out the object, the cold wetness nearly forcing him to drop it as he slowly and hesitantly unwrapped the end of the pillowcase until he could stick his hand in, and with even more trepidation due to the odor that was almost immediately released, he reached in to find—

"Stop, Detective Hatake. I believe we've gotten all the information we need," interrupted Idate, his small, pathetic notebook slapping closed with so much noise that Kakashi couldn't help but jump in surprise.

"Not done," he said, looking up at the younger.

"But you are. I know what happens after this point, detective, I can figure this out. I just wanted enough to feed to my bosses." Idate's back was so straight that Kakashi wondered for a moment if he had left the hanger in the back of his suit, but the seriousness of the moment had that fading away almost instantaneously. Of course. It only made sense. Why hear more than you'd have to, eh? He nodded as Idate began to back away, slowly, with fear obvious in his gaze. "I'm sorry for detaining you all. My forensics units will forwards you all evidence necessary. I… have a good evening, Detective Hatake."

At least the kid had enough sense not to wish him one, because while the weather may be amazing, while world peace may finally be found; he would no way in hell be having any sort of good evening. Not with the bullshit he had just seen tonight proving just how shitty a species the human race really was, especially to each other.

Not after he found some little kid's arm, two days since removed, shoved into a fucking pillow case and left to rot, the blood still red and liquid even after spending at least a night flowing out of the cold, dead appendage.

Not after his raid had left him taking the lives of at least eight pedophiles.

Nothing would make for a good night after this—especially since he was still withholding information about his night, information he would only tell to Minato. He looked up at his mentor, who stood shaking the hand of Idate with a tight-lipped frown before making his way over to Kakashi, already slipping off his corduroy jacket and slipping onto the Hatake's shoulder, gently rubbing his hand up and down Kakashi's arm.

"Come, 'Kashi," he whispered into younger man's ear, "Let's go home. We need to get you in your own bed for the night, Kakashi. Do you want Marlboro's and some scotch?"

"Minato?" he asked in a softer voice than anyone but Minato knew him to be capable of speaking in, blank eyes staring down at his bandaged right leg, waiting patiently for Minato to respond with his soothing, "Hmm?" Once that was achieved, Kakashi looked up at the older male, eyes dark with more emotion than Minato thought Kakashi had still been capable of at that moment. "There was a room…"

"It's a house, 'Kashi, of course there were rooms—"

"Don't treat me as if I'm having a psychiatric break, Minato. Shut the fuck up and let me finish, please," Kakashi interrupted, making Minato sigh, but nod. Kakashi responded with a sigh of his own, looking past Minato at the house. "In the basement, after I found the arm, music started playing. Beethoven, I think. I followed it through a door, to a hallway, which had only three other doors on it, two on each side and one directly at the end of the hall. I inspected each room before going to the last, in order to be thorough." He swallowed dryly. "The first room… it was a nightmare, Minato. If I didn't have any confirmation of the wrong doings of the house owners before, I did then."

Taking another moment to put down the severed hand, Kakashi rose to his full height, turning around at the sound of music. Limping across the rest of the space to the nearest door, he was understandably surprised to find a hall before him, waiting for him to travel down it as the classical symphony's volume rose upon his opening of the door. Frowning, he renewed his grip on his gun, which he hadn't even realized he hadn't let go of for even a moment, moving forwards into the hallway, following the sounds of the symphony.

The hallway was long, but at the same time it was meager as it only contained three other doors, one of which, upon inspection, was a BDSM nightmare in reality, complete with blood, crusty and brown; still on one of the ball gags, which he hadn't even realized came in a different color but that obnoxious red. His stomach churned at the thought of what could be happening to whomever this was being used upon, but he ignored the feeling, instead taking the safety off of his handgun, knowing that this was just sick enough for him to be completely and totally willing to use deadly force. It took most of his self-control not to find some gasoline and set the entire fucking room ablaze. While he was fine with the world of BDSM—he'd partaken once or twice; it honestly wasn't that bad and released an amazing amount of pent-up stress, though it truly wasn't his thing—the fact that more than likely, no, the fact that these items were being exclusively used on children disgusted him. It wasn't a leap of logic for him to decide that this hardcore, adult shit was to subjugate and dehumanize these children even further, based upon the cages.

After all, there was a pattern to these kinds of houses.

They were termed 'halfways' at the station, by Asuma after he picked up the entire Danzō case. They were houses built with the façade of taking in kids in a good light, and would expose the children to the harsh realities of sex trades before they were taken to any number of operation bases Danzō had littered about the city, which was slowly lessening and lessening thanks to Asuma's efforts. Kakashi had never seen one of the houses in person, but he had heard enough in Asuma's debriefings to know what the signs were—which were definitively present in this case.

Kabuto's hideout was a halfway, and—

Minato sighed shakily. "D-Did you tell them about this, the local P.D? And… the kids?"

"No. They wouldn't understand the importance of it, and if they did they'd want to but in to our cases when it comes to Danzō's operation. We've already got too many departments in too many towns on this case, and we don't need to bring in any more. For the latter question, the kids, with the exception of the dead ones, are all scarred but, thankfully, knew their birth names and some knew their phone numbers and parent's names and places of work and even addresses of family, so Tenzō's staying behind tonight to do a full locate of the parents with the local P.D, which we plan to make the extent of this department's involvement in this case," Kakashi reported with a nod. "Twenty-six kids in all. Ten were downstairs in the basement, the rest were upstairs with clients. According to 'Zō, they soundproofed the rooms, so any screams they made, I couldn't hear myself."

Minato looked over at his stonily calm employee. "Not finished, are you?"

He slowly shook his head. "No."

"Fuuuuck. Continue, 'Kashi… I swear this is the last interruption," Minato responded in an obviously shaken voice, disgust easily weaving its way through into the words he spoke. While he still had respect for his former captain, they'd given Danzō way too much trust and freedom due to childhood ties, and that freedom had led to their department finding an inordinate amount of halfway houses, and not only that, destroying the lives of countless children and shattering families beyond repair, and breeding more hate and violence with the abuse and the drug use and the rape and the murder that surrounded that entire world. It was the one thing in this world that was probably worse than rape, to Kakashi, because it was children suffering through this, day in and day out, never knowing if survival was in the cards for them. It was indescribably sick.

Kakashi exhaled slowly, shakily—finally letting loose his inner turmoil with the things he'd seen tonight—as he opened his mouth once more. "After narrowly losing my shit in the walk-in monstrosity, I decided the music wasn't coming from there, and it wasn't coming from across the hall, if the volume lent anything towards the decision. However, I decided that any other information I needed to know about this house, for the sake of investigation, would be in that other room across the hall, and after looking around a bit I'd go to the source of the music and see what the hell was going on…"

Kakashi let out a shaky sigh as he closed the door behind him, turning his attention to the bare wooden door across from the room he'd just left. Taking two quick, hobbling and painful steps, he crossed the rather small hallway, hand wrapping around the bronze doorknob and carefully, slowly; turning the knob with care as not to make a sound and disturb the loudly-playing symphonic music enough to draw any attention. Thanks to his stealth (and partially his silent mental prayers about not getting caught before he sated his curiosity about the contents of the room) he managed to slip inside, no problem, closing the door only part way so he wouldn't make a shit ton of noise when he left the room before turning around.

It was dark, too dark for him to really make anything of concrete evidence out, but he was able to figure out where the light switch was to the dinky little light that was the only thing he could really make out, his fingers skimming over what felt like an obscene amount of paper before finding the simple switch, flicking on without thought and almost immediately regretting it.

Now, Kakashi was no stranger to subject maps. At the station, with the more sleazy and dangerous targets, they would take over whole chalkboards with maps of the subject's lives and their patterns when it came to their crimes. He was familiar with the strands of string, looped around billboard pins and connecting the events in their odd ways. He was completely used to the sight; he knew what it was… it was just the scariest fucking thing to see it surrounding someone like Hinata Hyūga.

It held pictures and contained facts that no normal person would have—for instance, the fact that Hinata once fell into an ant farm when she was seven was not quite common knowledge, and the pictures of her ultrasound from when she was three months was not something anyone should really have except for her parents. She'd been watched from infancy, all the way up until—according to the timeline—two days ago, with images of her asleep in her hospital bed finishing up the subject map. Kakashi's stomach rolled threatening to release its contents or lack thereof; the moment his sight glued to images of Hinata, Hinata, and more Hinata.

Kabuto was a sicker fuck than he'd thought. He had picked Hinata out of a crowd and instead of taking her for this deluded mess of a sex slave operation, chose to watch her and shadow her entire life. If it'd been random, somehow he felt that it would've had the same amount of disgust that he felt knowing that this wasn't some randomized latching. This had been done with intent, and the image of Hinata's mother at the beginning of the timeline, and at other points at each year comparing Hinata to her, only proved such a thing. Hinata was being watched by a psychotic child abductor with a vendetta and he had no intent of letting her loose by any means of the imagination. He was going to continue to play this game until either he was killed or he finally grew tired of allowing her to survive—which, based upon his patterns as of late, would be soon.


Kiba knew that getting drunk wasn't a good idea. He wasn't an idiot like most of these kids, looking for some stupid temporary high point with drink that would only lead to a large, skull-splitting headache in the morning; and he wasn't the type of person who thoroughly enjoyed losing control over himself in such a way. Drinking heavily wasn't something he enjoyed doing, nor did he delude himself into feeling like he did.

So why he had suddenly felt the need to start drinking, he had no real idea or excuse. Maybe it was Dosu asking him, no, berating him about his reaction to Kin and Zaku, maybe it was Sasuke's interruption of Dosu and defense of Kiba, maybe it was the sheer fact that Sasuke had been listening; or maybe it was some sick combination of all three. In the end, Kiba decided that it didn't matter, which was probably something that could be put down to his alcohol intake, because it was the same moment that he'd felt the need to take off his shirt.

Dimly, he felt hands grabbing at his legs, hands with nail polish and bracelets and rings, and he was aware that he was standing—no, dancing—atop the kitchen table, all eyes upon him and his drunken moves, which he knew held all the steadiness of his sober movements. Master had made sure to beat that into him, that he'd look good even inebriated. He chased away thoughts of Master away with a smile that grew on his face; a wolfish smile that had him hearing squeals and screams from the same girls that were grabbing at him. He didn't give a damn. He was just glad someone was having fun, and that he for once wasn't being ridiculed or spited or ostracized. People wanted to see him. To be near him. That was really all he wanted, and if he had to be drunk to get it… well, then, he had no choice, now did he?

At least they weren't calling him a whore.

It'd been Zaku's fault that the whole ordeal started. Three years ago, Zaku had started acting actually really kind to Kiba, which he should've suspected as being some sort of foul play but had been all too eager to gain another friend. It wasn't long until he found himself actually—embarrassingly, now—falling for Zaku. When Zaku committed to a role, he did it to his very best, and he was as convincing as a friend that Kiba just couldn't help himself. Zaku was his first real crush, the first time he saw a boy and actually imagined himself having some sort of relationship with him. So when Zaku had asked him out—finally asked him out—Kiba had been ecstatic.

It was a well kept secret at the time, Zaku and Kiba's relationship, or at least he'd thought it was. As Kiba wasn't a popular kid, Zaku kept their relationship hidden in the showers, which looking back Kiba should've had problems with but really didn't think about, as he was with someone who actually wanted to hold his hand (on the secluded path in the park and in the car) who wanted to wrap his arm around him (in the dark of the back of the old movie theater no body went to anymore) and even wanted to kiss him (in the back of the restaurant Zaku had just ran into for takeout).

They had sex once. Just once. Kiba had been uncomfortable with the idea for the whole of their four month relationship, but Zaku had kept pressing it and so Kiba had let him, finally, in the back of Zaku's shitty truck, his pants thrown down carelessly beside his head, his legs separated by Zaku, who had no idea how to prepare him or even how to really make Kiba feel comfortable. It'd felt the same as when he'd been under Master's control, and Kiba found himself just laying there, staring up at the moon behind Zaku's head as the older teenager continued to push himself into him.

The next morning, the pictures had been up. He'd known automatically who'd gotten pictures of him with Zaku—Kin. They'd always been hanging around each other, and when Zaku tormented him, Kin was always there to add her two cents. It took him no more than two minutes of being in school to realize that he'd been played. The whole relationship had been a joke just to make him out to be a whore who took any dick, an elaborate prank that Zaku had done just to see his face when he realized what an idiot he'd been for trusting someone like him.

Just the thought of fucking Zaku made him want to drown himself in as much alcohol as he could grab. A girl pulled herself up onto the table, completely ignorant to the fact that Kiba was growing angrier by the moment, but as she turned out to be just the right relief. She pressed her back against Kiba's front, ass pressing against his pelvis, the shaking of her ass, which she called dancing, reminding Kiba that he needed to move, which he quickly started doing, making whomever was watching go wilder. She laughed and leaned her head back against Kiba's bare shoulder—well, he had no memory of ever taking off his shirt, but apparently he did and for once, he didn't care—wide brown eyes looking up at him with a drunken glaze that he himself could barely see.

"You wanna fuck?" she mouthed at him, one hand snaking around behind herself in order to grope him. Now, this was a slut, through and through, and funny; Kiba didn't care. She was pretty. The eyes were cute. They were really dark, but identifiable as brown, with pretty pale skin and rather small breasts, but he didn't mind as he wasn't a breast man; he really did prefer ass—whether they were female or male was something that was up to his mood, really. Kiba grinned down at her, a hand grabbing at her hips and forcing her closer, grinding against her and making her eyes flutter. She really wasn't doing it for him. He wasn't really attracted. Maybe… maybe if the face became more angular… hair a little blacker…

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

He found himself pulled roughly off of the table, away from the girl with the wide brown eyes that asked him to fuck. He would've complained, but intelligence hadn't caught up with him yet as the alcohol was still influencing his brain and stopping him from thinking clearly. Instead, he whirled around on them, his hands wrapping around their neck as he planted a sloppy kiss on their cheek, thinking it was Shino.

Of course, to every non-drunk person, they realized that it was indeed not Shino; which made the blood of said protective best friend boil at the sight of the drunken Kiba kissing the cheek of one pissed Uchiha, who was holding Kiba as if he were inches away from shattering—tightly, and against his body in that way that Shino was almost sure held ill intentions. Sasuke glared over at Kiba's drunken act, his cheek tingling with the feeling of the ghost of Kiba's lips, desperately fighting back a blush at the action made by the boy, who was currently laughing his ass off, his arm tight around his neck.

Sasuke looked down at the drunken kid hanging off of his arms, the lights of the house party playing off the planes of his dopey, smiling face; off of the white teeth of the wolfish grin on his face. Kiba's brown eyes gazed up at him, the glaze over the orbs almost enough to hide the true anger and sadness that rested behind his eye. Did he always look like that? Sasuke wasn't sure. He hadn't thought about it the first times they'd met. He'd been focused on finding him annoying. He was always too friendly, too chipper; and Sasuke really never thought of it as an act.

"Oh… you're not Sheen!" he chirped, hanging onto Sasuke as well as he could, even though he was quite steady on his two feet, if the dancing had indicated anything to Sasuke. "You're… you're… um…"

"Sasuke," he found himself responding, though he was plenty ticked off at Kiba for reasons he knew but didn't comprehend. Usually he didn't give a shit if someone got wasted. He was usually a part of that populace himself, so how could he be angry or care about something like that? However, for some reason, he really was—about the boy hanging off of him. For some reason, to him Kiba just shouldn't be drunk, especially not like this. It just didn't suit him. It didn't fit him. People who got drunk were either idiots who believed they had problems worthy of drinking of, general idiots who wanted to experience such a feeling, or those really unlucky bastards who had so little control over their lives and thoughts that drinking really was an escape.

In Kiba's case, he really felt it was the latter.

Kiba's eyes lit up a little. "Yeah, that's it! Sasuke. Sas-gay. Hee-hee, are you Sas-gay?" he asked.

"You're completely shitfaced, aren't you?" Sasuke sighed as Kiba began to slip just slightly, forcing Sasuke to wrap an arm around his midsection, forcibly pressing the younger against him and hoisting him back up to nearly regular height, which was difficult as Kiba apparently forgot how to use his feet to support himself. Kiba giggled and pushed his face into the crook of Sasuke's neck, warm breath tickling the skin.

"I feel really good," Kiba said, only pausing to let out a slight hiccup. "I hate getting drunk, but this feels really good right now. D'ya wanna get drunk, Sas-gay? Or…" He let out another giggle, and then pressed something warm against the fabric of the t-shirt covering Sasuke's collarbone. His mouth, Sasuke realized with slightly widening eyes, looking down at the boy's face as well he could, seeing that yes, Kiba was indeed kissing his shoulder—open-mouthed kisses that should've been disgusting but what with the lack of spit and tongue, actually made his skin burst out in goosebumps, a shiver threatening to run through his bones. "…Or…" Kiba looked up at him, a lustful look in his eyes as he slowly stopped kissing Sasuke's collarbone as he whispered, "We could fuck."

Sasuke's heart nearly stopped in his chest. The multitude of fantasies he'd been having throughout the night came back to him at the suggestion.

Unfortunately, Kiba's suggestion wasn't as simple as he wanted it to be as he pushed the shirt collar to the side, his tongue flicking out and against Sasuke's pale skin. "I mean, if you don't wanna fuck, I can just suck you off. Imagine it, Sas-gay… my lips around your cock, taking it in deep into my throat, my tongue pressing against the underside… swirling around the head and pressing against the tip, my teeth scraping at the skin as I move my head back and forth… the feel of your cock as it presses into the back of my throat and the moans I'd give as I started jerking myself off to you, one hand stroking myself up and down as I reach the other to play with my ass, my fingers ghosting against my asshole, aiming to tease myself, not to bring myself off… and just when you get close—"

"Stop," groaned out Sasuke, his mind reeling from the out-front perversion of Kiba's words, his own sex drive kicking in as he imagined the well-painted sight in his mind's eye, gripping Kiba's waist so tightly that his nails bit into Kiba's skin.

The younger winced, but still smirked. "So wha'cha say, Sas-gay? Want me to give you a reason to really get hard?" he snaked one hand down, grabbing gently at the half-hardened cock that was only just held back enough by the leather pants as to hide it from the those dancing around them, but not enough for the drunken teenager to be unable to tell what it was. "I've been told I'm really good giving head… that I can drive you crazy with just one lick… how's about you try it out?"

If it were anyone else trying to push him, Sasuke would just ignore them. He didn't give a shit about anyone else, and if they pushed him too far, then he could put them down in a moment. But… this was Kiba. He already wanted him, that much he'd come to terms with. To know that Kiba had this side to him, that he could speak like this, tease like this, was fucking insane to him, and if anything, it made him just a little harder to know that Kiba could be an intentional cock tease.

Throat dry, he nodded, unable to deny the alluring, sexy teenager. At that moment, it didn't even matter that he was underage. It didn't matter that he was supposed to hate him. Maybe if Kiba blew him, just maybe, he'd get the little bastard out of his head. That look in Kiba's eye he'd seen earlier might disappear from his mind. He'd stop getting so jealous over every fucking bitch who decided to touch him.

Kiba smiled widely, finally getting on his two feet, grabbing Sasuke's hand and turning, pulling the dumbstruck Uchiha along. In the back of Sasuke's mind, he realized that no one—absolutely no one—had ever thrown him off like this. He could not remember a time he was dumbstruck by someone. Not even Naruto had thrown him off his game like this. For once, someone else besides him was in control—and it was this skinny little kid from his therapist's office. The skinny kid with the scarred-to-shit back.

Sasuke found his eyes glued to the long marks marring the tanned skin, the gashes either from a whip or a knife—or maybe some sick combination of the two. Anything Kiba had gone through, he decided, it'd been realer than he'd thought and could even comprehend. It looked as if Kiba had been tortured, literally tortured, and the fact that Kiba was still living despite it was amazing. It made that powerful and instant dislike he'd felt for the annoying little bugger fade away almost automatically into the black. If anyone could survive this, then they were worthy of respect. But he also found himself growing angry—not at Kiba; at whatever asshole who thought to fuck with him. If he could kill them, right then and there, he'd happily go to prison for it. Kiba didn't deserve to be hurt in that way. He was worth more than that.

He was worthy of so much more.

He didn't realize where they'd been going until Kiba pushed him inside, closing the door behind himself with a slam and a quick turn of the door's lock. The moonlight coming in through the open window danced upon the features of Kiba's youthful face, the wide smile turning into a determined smirk, his steps slow and methodical. If it weren't from the stink of his breath, Sasuke honestly would've thought that he was sober right now. He kicked off his sneakers, bare feet pressing into the carpet with obvious comfort as he moved closer to the Uchiha, who'd gone stiff when he'd seen the smirk. For the first moment, the fact that he was shirtless really had an effect on Sasuke—the hardened, pebbly and dark-colored nipples begged for a lick or even a bite, the pubic hair leading down underneath the ripped jeans taunting Sasuke in just the right way, accompanied by the harsh v-line of his hips and pelvis.

Kiba's warm hands pressed against Sasuke's abdomen, pushing up on the shirt slowly. Kiba kept eye contact with the Uchiha, the smirk slowly slipping off of his face as he neared Sasuke's lips, the scars laying underneath the tattoos upon his cheeks coming more into view for the Uchiha. A question about them went to mind, but he was distracted when Kiba's hands ran across his nipples. He let out just the slightest gasp, his hands grabbing at Kiba's hips and pulling him against him, his hardness pressing against Kiba's groin. Kiba let out a slight cry, eyes going wide, the sound making Sasuke lose grasp of what little control he still had. One hand weaving itself into the chocolate brown locks, he slammed his lips against Kiba's chapped ones, tongue slipping between the lips as he went immediately into a deep kiss.

Kiba let out a groan into his mouth, automatically on his speed as he pressed his own tongue against Sasuke's, his body feeling as if it were melting, and the thing making him so hot was separated by his clothing. Never before had he wanted something—never so badly. Not with Zaku. Not with Shino. No one. Sasuke had interested him, but he really hadn't been aware of how much he did. This was absolutely insane, the things he was doing to him, the things that was happening to his body. When he'd been teasing Sasuke, he'd been hoping that he would get something out of it… but he really hadn't thought that much.

Sasuke's tongue felt like magic against his, the bewitchingly warm digit coaxing his around despite the lag he felt with the drunkenness, the gentle sliding of the intricate dance he was invoking making him feel like he was going to cloud nine. Never before had he been kissed like this. Never. This was… Jesus, it felt so damned good. Fucking God, he didn't want this kiss to end. It just made him feel so wanted—so needed.

Without even thinking, Sasuke walked them backwards until he hit the edge of the bed (which Kiba was dimly aware of being the guest bedroom; he didn't want a random guy in his bedroom after all), sitting down and pulling Kiba onto his lap, the younger immediately straddling him, his hands traveling up and down the older male's clothed body, pawing at his warm, hard torso in frustration.

"For fuck's sake," he moaned against Sasuke's lips in between harsh, deep kisses, "Take off your fucking clothes!"

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at the order and decided to teach the insolent youth a lesson. Wrenching his lips away, he moved so quickly that he knew the drunk was startled when he found himself slammed against the bed; locks of hair that Sasuke hadn't even realized were very long brushing against his eyelashes as he blinked in startled surprise. Sasuke smirked cockily down at him, his definitively overlong bangs brushing lightly against Kiba's cheeks.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are," Sasuke murmured, his hands wrapped tightly around the boy's wrists, onyx eyes taking in the sight of the heated teenager with great interest. "But you don't get to fucking order me around. Do you hear me?"

Kiba's lips parted, but no words escaped, and the fact only made the smirk just grow. Letting go of one skinny wrist, he trailed his fingertips down Kiba's body, making the tanned youth arch into his touch as he flowed along. The responsiveness of his body amazed Sasuke greatly, and only made it that much better when he unzipped the fly to ripped jeans, a hand slipping underneath the now loosened fabric and under the briefs, grasping at a hardening cock. Kiba's eyes grew even wider, breaths coming in ragged pants as he began to lose control over his body.

Sasuke kissed at the corner of his lips, nipping at the warm nerve center as he let go of the boy's wrist, rearing his head back up to shoot him a determined glare. "Keep your hands there or there will be consequences," he said in an authoritative voice. Kiba whimpered and shivered, but voice no discomfort, so Sasuke smiled just a little.

"Good boy," he teased him, his hands familiarizing themselves with the contours of Kiba's slim body, his thumbs stroking the hardened nipples slowly and with as little pressure as possible, in order to just tickle him. Instead of laughing, Kiba bit at his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut. Sasuke allowed himself to chuckle, making a small tsking sound. "Open the eyes and your mouth. You're not allowed to close either."

Kiba cracked open one eye, the pleasure singing through even the glaze of alcohol. "W-Why?" he panted.

"Don't ask questions. Just do it. Now," Sasuke ordered him, pinching one nipple and forcing both eyes to fly open, a loud moan escaping Kiba's open lips. He nodded in appreciation, the other hand lowering to slip back into the warm confines of Kiba's briefs, the formerly half-hard cock now fully erect, pre-cum dripping bountifully from the superheated tip. "That's what I want."

"I… you're talking so MUCH!" Sasuke forced the last word to become a cry as he fisted the hardened penis, the appendage pulsing angrily under his grip. "Ah! No! Don't do that! Ah!" Kiba cried out, turning his head from side to side.

"Painful? Or… good?" asked Sasuke, squeezing the cock and pinching the nipple in time, making Kiba reach a new octave. Forgotten was the party just outside the door, forgotten was Sasuke's dislike for him, forgotten was Kiba's dislike for being regarded a whore. It felt too good for either of them to think about the people they were to the public's eye; it felt too good for them not to slip out of their usual skins for just this moment and become the people they were naturally.

In this moment, Sasuke didn't even remember he'd lost his big brother and his mother. He didn't remember he'd pissed off his dad. He didn't remember that he hated life and wished he'd died in Itachi's place. He didn't remember that he'd lost his best friend. He didn't even remember that he thought Kiba was annoying. He was lost in Kiba's sexuality, in the writhing of his slim body and the loud moans he let out when he played with the younger boy, and in that loss of himself, he was actually back to the person he used to be—if not only for a moment.

"No! Yes! Fuck!" Kiba moaned, gritting his teeth against the moans that threatened to leave his mouth. Sasuke smirked, removing his hand from the youth's chest and lowered it to the waistband of Kiba's jeans, tugging them quickly and harshly, yanking them off in one go and nearly tearing them further, which he hardly noticed; instead noticing how sexy he truly was—even with the scars.

He'd seen the scars on Kiba's knees, as well as the scars hidden by the cheek tattoos, but he hadn't realized just how many scars the boy had. Now that he was close to completely naked, he noticed the immense amount of scars that littered his thighs, shins, calves, ankles—even his arms, wrists, torso, shoulders. He was literally covered in scars, a medley which seemed to nearly fade into his natural skin tone—the reason why he really hadn't noticed them—and then there were some that were too big not to be noticed—like the scars on his thighs, which were similar to the scars upon Kiba's back.

He knew that the scars should deter him from wanting the teenager, but as he heard once, the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. Kiba's attractiveness wasn't just his physicality, which to Sasuke was perfect despite the scars. He couldn't quantify why and how he'd so quickly gotten over the momentary anger and slight disgust with the scars, but what mattered now was that they added to the person he was.

Kiba's drunken eyes were glued upon him, his chest completely still as far as Sasuke noticed. He gave a soft smile, lowering his head again. "If you think I'm gonna let this gross me out," he murmured as he flicked his tongue against a still-hard nipple, making Kiba gasp out, "You've got another damned thing coming. This is too interesting for me to just lose focus."

Kiba groaned, arching into his mouth, giving Sasuke the opportunity to get further ahead. Pushing down his briefs, he revealed the boy's hardened cock to the air of the bedroom, making Kiba hiss harshly. Sasuke bit the nipple just slightly before giving it an open-mouthed kiss, his fist wrapping around Kiba's erection, slowly moving his hand down the erection, pulling down the foreskin and making him whimper.

"Ah… Sasu…ke…" he whispered through his pants, his hands grasping onto the bed above his head, the duvet crinkling in his grip. He smirked haughtily before wrapping his lips around the neglected nipple, giving it a hard suck. Kiba cried out wordlessly, his hips beginning to move in sync with Sasuke's pumps. "I… I was gonna…"

"Blow me? I know," Sasuke murmured against Kiba's chest, hot breath blowing against the goose-bumped skin. "But… you decided to order me around… I can't have that. You're going to have to take this instead. Or were you looking forwards to my cock? I didn't know that you were thirsty for it."

If Kiba was going to say anything to Sasuke's words, Sasuke didn't know. Before they could go any further, the door was broken down, and Sasuke knew in that instant, right before he found himself wrenched to his feet by the back of his shirt, that shit was about to go down. Without even thinking, Sasuke whirled around; his fist finding its place in the face of whomever decided it was a good idea to rip him away from his interesting new plaything.

When did he decide that Kiba was a plaything, though? The thought was strange, sudden one, but when the guy he'd punched tackled him around his waist, bringing him down to the ground hard on his back and his vision turned red, he decided it was one he'd deal with later, because after all, he had a fucker to murder at the moment.


So it's been a while- 3 weeks, which is long even for me. I apologize for the wait, guys! It's just that the progression of the party was one that I was unsure of, especially since I planned it almost exclusively to force Kiba and Sasuke's relationship along. I went further than I originally thought, though. Really wasn't planning on having a SasuxKiba near-sex scene, and if I didn't check my word count, I might've went all the way. But thank God I did. It was at twelve thousand words, and I wasn't even done. I was going to put a lot more emotional shit in this.

So one of my real-life friends asked me for the name account. I let her read one of my one-shots - Of Slaves and Lovers, I think - and so she wanted to check out the rest of my works. I tried to STRONGLY suggest she didn't, mostly because I was afraid she'd look at me different as she read this story. If she's reading this, she's probably turning so many shades of red. I did suggest against it, man. So sorry if I grossed you out.

Damn friends, showing me Boku no Pico... making me more of a pervert and getting me into writing yaoi. I don't regret getting into writing it; it's fun, but still... Boku no Pico ruined my morals.

Thanks to Ayrmed for excusing my perversion as a natural behavior. That made me smile really wide and made me feel better about myself. Thanks also for complimenting the characters, and I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter. :)

Thanks also to Venom's Savior for complimenting the way the stories work together. Hopefully I kept that up in this chapter, and I sincerely do hope this wasn't that long of a wait for you!

Well, that's all for now... 'til next time... I love you all, I hope you enjoyed it, and good night :)

Lyrics from "The Monster" by Eminem ft. Rihanna, from the album The Marshall Mathers LP 2 (2013).