Disclaimer: Naruto and its characters belong to Masashi Kishimoto.
Title: Gray-colored Happiness
Chapter: 20 of 42
Chapter 20
The cave is unfamiliar; a hard thing to pinpoint about a basically nondescript curve of rock, but it is true. I am certain I have never been here before. There are small stalactites dripping a substance I hope is water onto the stone floor around me.
I am out of breath, but somehow giddy and excited, and not really tired at all.
I hunch over a makeshift worktable covered in a myriad of vials of multi-colored liquids, picking one up in my black, gnarled hand. I pull the stopper and sniff it - it smells acrid. Then I carefully pour the contents into another vial. The concoction begins to smoke, but this is exactly what I want.
There is a clack of shoe on rock and I look up, seeing the shadowy outline of a figure lurking in the cave entrance.
My lips curl into a smile.
I have been waiting for him.
o.o.o
"Feeling any better?" Kakashi asks brightly as he seats himself on the table. The moon glows brightly in the window behind him.
I blink back into reality, trying to not let the new weirdness of waking dreams concern me.
I glower up at the man briefly and then return to sharpening my weapons as if I have been doing so all along. They are all laid neatly in a row, the perfect, sharp ones and the dull, dirty ones. Kakashi picks one up and starts twirling it on the end of his finger.
"I'm sure if you asked, Sakura could provide you with something to help you sleep." He grins as if he's being helpful.
"I don't need it," I growl.
The grating whip of sharpening is a rhythmic background to our conversation.
Kakashi inclines his head thoughtfully. "You haven't had more than three hours good sleep a night since you came here," he says matter-of-factly. "You're still a growing boy and growing boys need their sleep."
I don't acknowledge him, concentrating only on the shine of the kunai.
"Of course," he continues. "Talking about it would be a help too."
The force with which I pull the stone along the blade is so harsh I almost slice my fingers. The gritty sound of metal against stone reminds me of my sword, the constant companion that abandoned me. I drive the kunai straight into the soft wood of the table.
"Are you going to return these any time soon?" Kakashi quips, twirling the kunai meaningfully.
I grab his hand fiercely and quickly pry the weapon from his fingers. "They're mine." I spit out and put the kunai back in its place.
"Oh?"
"If you paid more attention to your supplies and less to my personal life, you'd know that."
"Your personal life, hmm." He hums as if considering the notion but then just pulls his trusty brown paper bundle from his pocket. He carefully unwraps it and reveals the Icha Icha book he got the other day. He is keeping it protectively covered in the store packaging because he is an even bigger freak than I had previously thought.
All my weapons are sharp and battle ready, so I meticulously replace them in my pack.
Without lifting his eyes from the book, Kakashi decides to ask, "Training going well?"
I zip up my pack and don't answer.
"Now that your status had been reinstated, we can start your alternate training soon."
"'Alternate training'?" I ask despite my better judgment.
"For your eyes." He points at his covered sharingan as if I do not understand what "eye" means and looks straight at me with that uncommon frankness. I stare back. Then without warning he breaks into that stupid looking, crescent-shaped smile. "And so you can let off a little steam. Who knows, I may get some information out of you yet."
/That does not sound beneficial./
No, it doesn't.
"Whatever," I grumble and stand up.
"It's not healthy to keep everything bottled up." He hops down from the table and follows me as I head down the hall. I shoot him an especially malevolent glare as I enter my bedroom. He just smiles stupidly at me.
I squeeze through the small space made by the open door and hope he doesn't try to follow.
o.o.o
My life has become exceptionally boring, a thing I would never before have thought possible. It revolves around the mundane of eating, sleeping, and "training".
In some ways, it's not all that different from when I was a genin the first time.
Except then I had focus.
Now my focus has been broken and buried with my brother's bones beneath a mound of dirt and stone and ash.
I throw another rock across the clear lake water.
If Naruto were here, he'd probably turn this into a competition because that is what he does.
Pointless.
But still . . .
Through all the moments of my life, there are only two people with whom I spent honest happiness.
Naruto.
And my mother.
I drop a stone flat into the water, hearing the plop and watch the ripples radiate out in their perfect, concentric circles.
In those months between Orochimaru and Itachi, although I neither wanted nor asked for it, Naruto in his own stupid and unique way kept me grounded.
He's been gone too long.
Something's wrong.
The surface of water stills until it is like glass, any evidence of disturbance completely erased.
Hinata is like a ghost when she sits down beside me, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the dock while mine are folded neatly beneath me.
It's strange.
Sneaking a furtive look over at her, I see her basking in the morning light, the sun playing down on the arched length of her neck as she tilts her head back, her eyes closed. Her arms support her weight behind her as her large coat billows around her like some sort of fabric cocoon.
/Interesting./
'What?'
/Do you not sense that?/
'I have no idea what you're going on about.'
/Tch-tch-tch. You make me ashamed to call you my pupil./
Yeah, I'm broken up over that one.
She turns to me then, just her head, and graces me with the barest upturn of her lips.
"Want to spar?" she asks, uncharacteristically calm.
"What?"
"Y-you know, spar." She releases her arms from behind her, pulls up her knees and rests her head on them, while never taking her gaze from mine.
The milky whiteness of her eyes, tinted delicately violet, stare straight into me. I wonder how much those Hyuuga eyes can truly see.
I tense.
/Not that much./
'And you know this how?'
Internally, I can almost feel the shrug.
/She's being polite./
'Meaning, if she wanted to, she could.'
/Perhaps. But she would not understand what she was seeing. I can hide very well. Especially with your help./
I don't like the idea of working with my parasite to keep our secret, even less how easily it comes, but I have no choice.
I nod my agreement to Orochimaru and Hinata takes it as acquiescence.
"Good," she heaves herself to her feet and looks down at me. "N-no one will train with anymore." She purses her lips. "It's v-very annoying."
I hadn't intended to train with her, but now that I have inadvertently agreed, I think it may not be so bad an idea. I've never really tested my skills against the Byakuugan.
Once we reach the training ground, Hinata faces me, back straight and declares, "N-now, d-don't go easy on me. Despite what everyone thinks, I am not so d-delicate yet."
I let one side of my mouth curve up.
As it turns out, Hinata makes a rather good training partner. At least for the way I am now, with only partial access to my natural resources, restricted almost exclusively to taijutsu, the sharingan and the most basic genjutsu.
It forces me to think differently, more acutely. I have to carefully consider where to conceal myself when battling an opponent who can essentially see me regardless of where I go. Plus, she is a close combat expert and while normally I can more than hold my own in that venue, fighting the gentle fist is altogether different. I have to use long-range attacks, but the only techniques left to me are weapons.
All the restrictions make the battle frustrating, but in a surprisingly good way.
It's kind of a thrill trying to work my way carefully through her formidable defenses.
And I think I've finally found her blind spot. I am halfway to launching my attack when she suddenly collapses to her knees. I haven't actually done anything yet so I land softly and cautiously approach her.
/Could be a trap./
'Perhaps, but somehow I doubt it.
"Hyuuga-san?" I ask, unsure even why.
/And now you care for this girl, too?/
'I do not.'
/Then what is the concern in your voice?/
I ignore him, because there is no concern and no cause for it, as I kneel down beside the Hyuuga girl. Her face is twisted up, her hands to her belly and then without any warning, she expels the contents of her stomach all over the ground.
Well, that was unpleasant.
Her colorless eyes widen before she spins away, her hair falling down to hide her face.
"O-oh, my g-goodness," she says, appalled. "H-how embarrassing."
I just crouch beside her, careful not to be too near the regurgitated breakfast, at a loss what to do. Reluctantly, I ask, "Are you O.K.?"
She gives me a sour expression and leans back on her heels, her hands covering her stomach.
/Ah, of course, it is early./
'What?'
/She is "delicate", you silly boy./
I watch her hands flex slightly over her belly and when I touch her shoulder, somehow, with the aid of Orochimaru perhaps, I feel the second presence.
I pull my hand away, get to my feet, and regard her. "You're pregnant."
/See? It is not so difficult./
"It's n-not infectious," she states a bit indignantly.
"But," I say, thinking of my own situation, "You're only sixteen."
/You're rather fixated on that, aren't you?/
The girl shrugs and looks to the ground. "Mistakes happen," she says with an odd sort of calm.
"But you were drinking the other day," I point out, as if this proves anything.
"But I d-didn't know then!" She asserts vehemently, raising her wide eyes to me as though desperate I understand this.
I nod dazedly, looking off into the distance.
I don't know what to say. It's not a comfortable situation and there's no reason for me to care.
But then I remember the looks, the furtive glances, and those four ominous words blaring like a siren in my head. And there's a piercing jealous anger that almost blinds me.
/Tch-tch-tch. Disappointing./
I clench my fists fiercely at my sides.
"Is it . . ." I grind out.
"It's not Naruto-kun's." She answers even before I get the question out. "That was a long time ago. Besides, we n-never . . ."
The anger drains out of me as though through a sieve, but the anxiety remains.
So what if had been Naruto's?
What is that to me?
/Nothing. Or at least it should be. In fact, it would be fortunate./
Naruto shouldn't be having a child right now, that's why. He's sixteen, for god's sake.
And besides, he doesn't belong with this silly girl, he belongs with . . .
"H-help me up?"
I blink and see Hinata looking up at me with that sick, pinched expression, her hand outstretched. After only a moment's hesitation, I take the hand and pull her to her feet.
"Th-thanks," she says, the shyness fully reinstated, though she smiles.
I end up walking her home in silence. There are too many thoughts jumbled in my head for speech.
Like what was that stab of jealousy?
And why does the anxious desire to see Naruto linger still, making my heart beat erratically in my ears?
o.o.o
I dreamt of him last night. It wasn't anything special, just a weird mix of where and when and how we once were, traveling and fighting and hunting.
It was at first anyway.
But then it changed, though the change made little sense. Gone were the images and the distinct memories, leaving only the vaguest impressions of smell, touch and taste.
And all of it so overwhelmingly Naruto.
And at the end of it, the only thing I was left with was the almost suffocating longing to be near him.
His absence itches at the back of my brain and the underside of my skin.
Three years ago, I had no qualms about leaving. It was simple.
But now it is all different. I am like some pathetic little kid who can't brave the world without his security blanket. His blond-haired, blue-eyed security blanket.
I hate it.
I've gotten too used to him being there.
I rub my fingers against the smooth expanse of sheet.
He is so much warmer, more comfortable than this pale imitation.
But the worst part I think, as I curl into my pillow, is that for the first time I realize that this feeling, this connection, is not exactly what I thought it was.
o.o.o
I don't want to be in the front row. It seems wrong. The front row is the most important seat, designated for immediate family. It is the most grieved place of honor. There had to be closer family members than me.
But then I look around and see that I am the only family member. The teeming sea of people that looks back at me are nameless and may as well be faceless for all I know of them.
Instinctively, I look up to my right and start to say in a small voice, "Ani . . ."
But the man who looks down at me with a sad, crooked smile is old and fat and unfamiliar.
And I remember, as if I have been thrust into the sunlight from long nights blundering in the dark, what it was that happened and who it was that made it so.
Suddenly, I want to cry so much it burns. The tears claw at the backs of my eyes, struggling to escape. My nose feels clogged, but a dribble of snot leaks down over my lip. I wipe it away with the back of my sleeve and it makes my chin and throat clench raw with unshed emotion. But I am the last now, the only remaining heir of the mighty Uchiha and I must hold myself strong enough for all of them. I lower my eyelids and trap the tears inside the black and red of my memory, to live beside mother and father and everyone I knew and didn't.
My brother has stolen my grief and with it my tears, so I cannot let them fall until the day I meet him again.
I don't yet know what this means, but I know with a certainty I cannot name that the tears should not come until after Itachi.
'Grow stronger,' he had said. 'Learn to hate.'
My aniki.
And this is the very last time I will call him that.
o.o.o
This has become something of a routine, these late-night discussions between Kuma and me. I try not to let it vex me.
Tonight I am sitting patiently upon the living room floor while he stands uncomfortably outside; leaning on the edge of the balcony door as if crossing the threshold to the inside is against the rules. It probably is.
"You can come in, if you want," I offer, only because it's awkward otherwise.
He doesn't move and all I see is the faint shadow of his left side reflecting on the door.
I put down the scroll and move to the next, but it tells me nothing more about the history of Konoha than what a child learns in his first year of school. Around me are numerous scrolls of every size and subject and I sift through each one for answers that simply can't be held in leaves of paper. They weren't there before, they won't be there now.
"I'm sorry."
I had almost forgotten he was there.
"Hn." I have no idea what he's sorry for.
"I implied that you don't appreciate anything." He explains. "I made assumptions."
The scroll rolls up with a snap as I move to the next.
"I forgot you aren't Itachi."
The words on the page become meaningless shapes that float in a vast sea of yellow-stained paper.
"You knew my brother?" I quickly correct myself. "Itachi?"
"We met," he answers evasively.
"What . . ." I start, but then stop because I'm unsure I really want to know.
"He was very serious," Kuma says, having guessed my question. "He never smiled. Instead he always wore this look somewhere between arrogance, confidence, and a complete boredom."
I nod, because this all sounds like Itachi, but I don't think Kuma actually sees the gesture.
My watcher sighs then, a funny and melancholy sound. "It was so annoying, embarrassing, to have to take orders from a thirteen year old kid."
I never really thought about Itachi being on a team before. I pick up a particularly old scroll, tattered and brown at the edges, that seems more like a collection of notes hurriedly written down than composed information. It's about the fledgling village and its beginnings as the epicenter of Fire Country.
"The village should be ours," Itachi told me once with that resolute look in his eyes that states he's right.
I already know that story.
"That's why I requested this assignment." I lift my head and see two pinhole, black, bear eyes staring back at me. "After knowing Itachi and what he did, I wanted to meet the one he left behind."
I keep my mouth shut.
"So I forgot you weren't Itachi." He says it simply, admitting a fact but not a mistake. There is no apology in it. Then he turns away.
"No," I reply. "I'm not."
I'm not Itachi. Be he never was what I thought he was, so how can I be sure?
I don't know who I am anymore, either.
Itachi . . .
"Little brother" he called me. One of the last things he said.
"Little brother."
So then tell me, big brother, will you ever give me any peace?
o.o.o
I don't recall the when or where, the who or how, I just know that I heard it somewhere. And the next thing I knew, my feet carried me here and just how that occurred is a blur too.
So now I'm standing, eyes closed, arms folded, and my weight resting on the railing while I portray an outward sense of calm. Boredom would be better, but even I don't think I've achieved that.
/Such a shame./
I don't bother addressing the parasite. I'm hoping that if I don't, he'll just leave me alone.
/Wishful thinking./
Strength of will. I imagine that he is locked up in a box with no bars and no doors and no air holes and maybe he'll just suffocate and die.
The door to the Hokage's office opens and with a rush of anticipation, I open my eyes as well. And there he is; the one I've been waiting for and he's not really all that special.
Is he?
"Old hag," Naruto mutters under his breath, running his hand through his hair and cursing the ground as if it could do something to better his situation.
Finally, he looks up.
It's strange. It's only been a few weeks, but he looks different to me. Or maybe it's me and this is the first time I'm seeing him. Or maybe my new eyes are playing tricks on me. But none of it matters because he smiles.
I feel a vein throb in my throat.
"Waiting for me?" he asks.
"You wish."
My arms feel out of place so I drop them to my sides.
"You hungry?" I feel enormously stupid. This is Naruto, the same person I've known for years and yet I can think of nothing intelligent to say. And why does it seem that everything I do lately revolves around food? Maybe it's just me.
/It is not./
Naruto's eyes sparkle mischievously as he looks at me.
"If it's ramen!" He answers cheerily. "It's been weeks since I've had any ramen!"
I snort. "Whatever."
He sidles up next to me and I can smell him as if he is the only scent in the air. Pungent, sour, but with that distinct intensity that can be no one but Naruto.
He looks at me, cocks his head, and wrinkles his nose. "I just got back from a mission. I haven't had a chance to clean up or anything. I should probably get a shower first."
"It's fine." There's no way I'm telling him I actually kind of like his smell.
He gives an unconcerned little shrug and we head off.
The ramen stand is relatively empty, for whatever fortuitous reason, so we take the two stools in the center of the bar.
In short order, we make our requests and the old man jots the information down in his head. While we wait, rather than striking up a conversation, Naruto places his cheek in his hand and stares at me intently.
It's annoying.
/You're nervous, not annoyed./
Right now, I'm both. Picture the box, Sasuke, picture the box.
"How did the mission go?" I need some relief from Naruto's stare and Orochimaru's intrusive commentary.
"Oh, you know," Naruto replies nonchalantly. "The same. Went to deliver a scroll, crossed paths with some big bad ninja enemies. Nothing special."
"Then you're not going to tell me why you're almost a week past schedule?"
"Miss me?"
I glare at him, his lip quirked up cutely, anxiously, and my brain screams at me to say "no", but what comes out of my mouth is a tentative "Maybe."
Naruto is shocked into silence. And me, well, my face is growing so warm I have to look away.
The silence between us is awkward.
"Um," Naruto hedges after a bit. "How about you? What kind of missions have you had?" He sounds proud there at the end, as if he has just stumbled on some buried treasure.
I face him, my composure now adequately back intact. "I'm a genin again, remember?" I say pointedly. "What do you think?"
"Ha! Probably rescuing cats and stuff like that!"
And he looks so damned happy, there's no way I can tell him the truth.
"Something like that."
Our dishes arrive, the proprietor smiles, and I find myself nodding at him gratefully. His smile is still the same as when I was a part of Team Seven and I guess I'm relieved that he acts as though nothing has changed. With Naruto, one could argue that he didn't want to lose his best customer. With me, there's no such excuse.
When I look back to Naruto, I notice he has moved a little closer to me. He gives me a nervous quirk of his lip and an unreadable stare in his darkened blue eyes. Then he lets out a nervous shaky breath and turns to his ramen.
"Let's eat!" And he dives in with abandon.
I snort and carefully begin on my bowl, letting it cool a bit before eating and doing so like a normal person. I act as if his sudden nearness is not the only thing on my mind.
"Another one, please!"
I smirk as I chew, barely into my first bowl while Naruto chomps voraciously into his second.
"You didn't tell me who your teammates were," He says around a mouthful of noodles.
Some things never change.
"Just a couple of brats you don't know."
"Well, duh." He rolls his eyes. "That's why I'm asking."
I refuse look at him.
"They have names, don't they?"
"Hn." I glare at the stove behind the counter, but the way Naruto keeps poking me in the arm with his chopstick tells me he's not giving up any time soon. "Kanamori Tetsuo," I grumble obstinately, just to stop him. "And Inuzuka Ouka."
"No. Way." This little tidbit of information is apparently of vast amusement to Naruto, as I knew it would be.
"And who's your leader?"
"Anko." I thoughtfully stir my ramen.
Naruto grins widely and I expect him to burst out laughing, but instead he simply says, "Makes sense."
I check to see if he's making some sort of joke, but he seems oddly sincere, so I keep my mouth shut.
"Another!"
The sound of Naruto ordering yet one more bowl of ramen makes my stomach plummet suddenly to my feet. I don't think I can afford this.
Naruto moves even closer and now payment is the last thing on my mind. His face is awash with delight as he consumes bowl number three, but I push my own bowl away, barely eaten.
"You want a different flavor?" I wordlessly wave off the owner's question.
"Not hungry?"
I look at Naruto and his ever-growing stack of empty bowls. "I'm not a human trash compactor like you."
There is no scathing, smart-mouthed retort. He just grins. And moves his leg. As if this is an ordinary, everyday thing to do. He presses it along mine until we are touching knee to ankle and the silly, insignificant contact sends a thrill racing through my body.
Is it significant?
I don't know anymore.
But I don't jerk away like I normally would, like I would have a few weeks ago. Like I should. Because as much as things aren't different, they are. No one else could ever make me feel as angry and jealous, excited or content as he can. Not even Itachi.
/You are over-thinking something that has a simple answer./
'This wasn't an invitation.'
/No matter. You need not waste your time considering when there is nothing to consider./
I curl my lip.
/Konoha has given you but one option. Take it./
'I thought you hated Konoha.'
/And so I do./
'Then that makes no sense.'
/But this is not about me, it is about you./
I snort. 'Everything you do is about you.'
And that's what bothers me. There's reason to his chaotic madness and unprecedented behavior; there must be. But his thought patterns are so curling and swirling like a snake that there's no way for me to straighten them out.
A loud bang on the countertop jolts me from my musings. Naruto faces me; hand on the counter, with a tower of empty ramen bowls stacked behind him. I'm not even going to count them.
"Done?" I smirk, hiding my growing concern over how to pay.
"Let's go." He smiles and lifts his hand. Beneath is money, enough to cover the bill.
My face is tight when I look at him, showing my disapproval, but he's unaffected, saying only, "You can get it next time."
"You can't just . .," I begin to protest, out of pride, out of habit, but I don't finish. Naruto's not paying attention; he's already leaving.
"Thanks!" He shouts to the owner as he lifts the short curtain. With a nod to the same, I follow.
I end up letting it go because I have nothing valid to argue with anyway. Naruto remains oddly quiet on our trek top nowhere and that gives me too much room to think.
He walks silently beside me, his blondness glowing brighter in the sunshine and his skin looks more tanned than it was before he left. I wonder idly if he was in Suna.
It seems like forever and no time at all since I saw him last and though I feel better he's back, I also feel worse.
I am completely lost. Nothing in my life makes sense anymore, and yet nothing has truly changed. Naruto is still Naruto, I am still me, and Konoha is still Konoha.
"You're very quiet today," he says.
"Hn."
"Exactly!" He clasps his hands up behind his head. "Not that you're ever that talkative, but c'mon!"
The whisker marks are deeper than they were, or at least seem like it in contrast to the golden hue of his skin.
I shouldn't be noticing these things.
My hands are shaking.
/If we were to find some worthier companion, things could get back on track. Promises to fulfill, Sasuke-kun./
"You seem really distracted or something." He turns to look at me. "Something bothering you?"
"No," I answer a little too sharply.
His eyebrows rise skeptically, but when I turn my head away, he does the same.
Hiding beneath the protection of my bangs, I sneak a look back. He takes in a deep intake of air and I notice, for the first time, that his lips are a slightly different color than the rest of his face. He peeks back at me and turns up his mouth. The curve of his jaw is softly rounded, but in a way that shows the harder line lurking beneath.
Yeah, I need to stop thinking. Right now.
/The only useful idea you've had all day./
The edge of the forest comes into view as we approach the isolated outskirts of town.
Naruto brushes his hair from his face and I notice his fingernails are dirty.
I clench my hands until it hurts.
The gnawing, clawing, burning, biting need to touch him bubbles within me like an overdue eruption.
Then Naruto smiles at me and that sends my heartbeat racing.
So maybe it's that. Or the heat, or maybe it is my abnormal nervousness, but I do something inexplicable and unexpected and very, very stupid.
I tackle him.
"Whoa!" Naruto's eyes are wide as he falls backward, crashing down into the dirt and grass with an offended "oof".
I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing, just that the need to do it wholly overwhelmed me. I needed to touch him, and attacking is quite honestly the only way I can understand. Beneath my hands I feel the hardness of muscle and bone when I press down on his shoulders. I'm on my hands and knees straddling him and trapping his body with my own. His hair still sticks up uncontrollably, defiant in its refusal to obey the laws of gravity. Pulling his mouth down at the corners, Naruto frowns angrily up at me.
"What was that for?"
But I have no answer. My head is full of cotton. My eyes twitch and I can hardly make out anything that makes any sense, least of all my own actions. I know my breathing is strained, but there's no reason for it that I can name.
A change slowly comes over Naruto's face, the angry lines smoothing out until the only ones that remain are the three whisker marks on his flushed, baby-round cheeks.
The color of his eyes is almost a slate gray, like the sky just before a storm, when everything in contrast seems to glow neon and I don't think I've ever seen them turn that shade before.
/Yes, yes, I know. You think he's cute./
"Uh, Sasuke?"
I dig my fingers deep into his muscle and his eyebrows rise. But otherwise, he doesn't move, remaining pinned under me and strangely compliant. Not like every other time in recent days when he was the one who broke into my shields, past my guard, catching me unawares and unprepared.
But this time, this way . . .
"Now I'm in control."
I like that. I'm not vulnerable, just like I shouldn't be, not back with Orochimaru or Shinta or Ibiki where I had only my wits to affect an outcome. Here, now, with Naruto, I am in charge.
I sneer. "So how do you like it?"
Naruto looks at me a moment, but then swallows shallowly, his body still yielding and replies with a nonsensical, "Yeah."
He stares straight through me as he timidly raises his hands, but I catch them in my own and slam them to the ground beside his head.
I'm down to my elbows now and our faces are close together, not close enough to touch, but close enough that I can sip the airy remains of his breath.
He is breathing thinly.
Nervously, he licks his lips. "So," he whispers, his eyelids fluttering. "Can I?"
"Can you what?" I return in a vain attempt to sound normal, though that battle has long since been lost.
"Kiss you."
My heart is pounding against my ribcage because I think I may actually want him to. I don't know what would happen if I did. I feel like I'm falling into a deep dark well.
I lean in closer until we are scarcely a hair's breadth apart and murmur "No."
His face screws up into a confounded little pout.
But I can't give him permission.
Because I want to but I don't. Or I think I do, but I can't. Or won't. There are no assurances for me to hold onto and no solid ground to stand on.
So Naruto will have to make the decision.
And he does.
The muscles in his neck strain slight and sharp as he tips up to me, his eyes falling closed, and he gently presses his lips to mine.
The electric shock in my brain from my parasitic intruder is almost physically painful.
But I have other things on my mind besides Orochimaru's virulent protest.
Naruto's lips are chapped as he parts them slightly, flicking his tongue out to slide along my lower lip. It is a gentle movement that I barely feel, but affects me all the more because of it. My vision begins to blur.
In my head Orochimaru's protesting voice echoes persistently and it sounds an awful lot like mine.
Naruto presses his palms up harshly against mine and his short nails dig into the back of my hands. I drive back, gripping my fingers, the force, the minor pain, is arousing.
Yet my rational side still reminds me of all the demands made of me, the expectation, obligations and threats that hang over my head.
Insistently, Naruto leans upward, sliding his warm, velvety tongue along the seam of my mouth. Everything else disappears until all that remains is the feel of him, his hands, his lips, his tongue, and the desire I can practically feel leaking through his skin. A gentle breeze whips up, filling my nose with his powerful scent like pheromones.
My need, my yearning, spikes until I am dizzy.
But it matters little what I want.
Then Naruto whines deep in the back of his throat, sending vibrations rippling through my body, all the way down to my blood.
Ah, fuck it.
I close my eyes.
And kiss him back.