I wasn't quite sure how to phrase in the story that THIS chapter is going on at the same time as the last chapter, so. . . There you go. While Deidara is getting wasted and connecting with Sasori, Zabuza and Haku are doing. . . this?
(Offical apology for long pause between updates in next chapter's author notes) ~ My internet is fucking up at home and I'm in the process of getting it fixed so I don't know when I'll begin updating more regularly again but I'm trying guys. I'll even upload the chapter after this one right away since you waited so patiently!
It was the first time he had ever been inside a limousine, and he was acutely uncomfortable. He supposed it would have been 1000x worse, if Haku hadn't been beside him, happily chatting. It was insanely accomodating, the compartment that they were in didn't have seats, but more like a long section of seat, that reminded Zabuza of a curved couch. Towards the front of the vehicle, there was a screen that could be rolled up or down, and even a bottle of what he presumed was juice or soda in a bucket-type thing filled with ice cubes, considering Haku's age, but was probably champagne or something when someone over 21 was riding. The window was a privacy screen, Haku told him softly, and proceeded to flick the switch that would roll it up, hiding he and the man from the view of the driver, and judging by the black tint of it and the other windows, they would be hidden from everyone's view.
"Haku, what are you doing?" Zabuza muttered, trying to remain calm as the privacy screen sealed to the top.
"Relax." The boy assured him. "I always roll it up. And anyway, the chauffeur isn't like Bindi or Parkins. We have a different one all the time, just the same company. It's not like they report back to Mother and Father."
Zabuza scowled, unconvinced, but willing to trust the teenager. "Whatever. Where are we going, anyway?" He asked, and tried not to smile when the boy's brown eyes lit up.
"The city." He said, smiling.
"How much do you plan on spending today?" Zabuza wondered out loud, and Haku grinned cheekily. He reached into his front pocket, slipping out a gold credit card, waving it in front of the man's eyes. "Ah." He said, surprised. "Do you have a limit?"
"No. This card is for personal use, as much as I want." Haku explained, pushing it back into his jeans. He glanced up at Zabuza. ". . . I rarely use it." He added, and the man knew it was because the brunette didn't want to seem spoiled or greedy.
"It's okay. You're entitled to buy clothes." He said quickly. He knew Haku wasn't spoiled or greedy, and the boy seemed satsified with his answer, since he rested his head on the man's shoulder.
"I like your car so much better." Haku sighed, when Zabuza's arm automatically curled around him, holding their bodies together.
"Hm? My car?" Zabuza asked in surprise. "Why the Hell would you say something like that?"
"It's more. . . Comfortable." Haku said slowly. "I like when it's just me and you together."
"It's pretty much just me and you now." Zabuza muttered, unsure of whether he liked this particular fact or not. It was tempting.
". . . You're right." Haku said, and smiled mischevously.
"Haku." Zabuza said warningly. He knew exactly what the boy was capable of, and he knew his own body was in a somewhat twitchy, vulnerable state. Sucking Haku off had been sexier than he had ever imagined, and had left him feeling way too turned on for his liking, with no way to relieve himself. Had he not been trained in all arts of explicit self control, he knew he would have simply taken the boy right then and there, no matter what.
"Zabuza." He whined, uncharacteristically.
"Don't tell me you're horny."
"I'm not." Haku said pointedly, slanting his eyes. "But you are."
"That's not important."
"When will it be?" He asked, frowning.
"Excuse me?"
"When are you going to have sex with me, Zabuza?" He blurted out. Not the most dignified to go about asking, but damn it, he was sick of getting pushed away. He was almost starting to believe the man didn't even want him. Which, of course, couldn't have been farther from the truth.
Zabuza heaved a sigh, staring at the ceiling. "We can talk about this later. Just have fun today." He suggested. When he saw the boy's cocoa eyes lower, he kissed him softly on the lips. "It's not important right now. I love you."
"I love you, too." He wondered how long it would take for his heart to stop flickering in his chest every time the man uttered those three little words. He breathed contentedly and leaned back against the soft seat. "I guess you're right."
It had been approximately two hours by Zabuza's internal clock. He would have checked his watch, but he couldn't figure out a way to lift his arm without toppling the extremely precarious stack of boxes in his arms. Not particularly heavy, but awkward. "Mm." Haku made a little noise in his throat, and glanced up at Zabuza. "Ok, let me check those out so you can go put them in the lim- car." He corrected himself, glancing around at the few people standing around them. It was obvious he wasn't trying to draw attention to them, but it was hard not to attract the attention of people who you were buying nearly everything you came across.
He waltzed up to the counter, to a woman who, with raised eyebrows, watched Zabuza set everything down. She quickly scanned it all, and said a number that made Zabuza nearly choke. Haku glanced back at him concernedly, before handing her his card. She ran it through the little machine, punching the necessary numbers, and then handed him the little electronic pad for him to enter his pin. He did so, and smiled when she printed out and tore a long, long receipt and handed it to him. He shoved it in on of the boxes, and looked back at Zabuza who picked them back up, and walked to the large electric sliding glass doors, without another word. As far as he was concerned, this was all part of his job.
"Have a nice day." The woman told him, and Haku nodded.
"Thank you." He said, walking past Zabuza out of the doors and into the bright sunlight. It wasn't too cold today, but it wasn't warm. It was a perfect temperature. He motioned to the limo driver, and the trunk popped open, where Zabuza carefully aligned the boxes inside and then slammed it closed. "Hungry?" Haku asked him, barely resisting the urge to hug the tall man, and press his face into that wonderfully muscled chest that was somewhat hidden by a loose-fitting t-shirt.
"Are you?" Zabuza asked, and Haku nodded. "So am I." The teenager wondered if he had declined being hungry, if the man would have declined being hungry as well.
"There's a really nice little bistro type thing about a block from here." Haku said. "I go there every time I'm shopping."
"Alright." The man said agreeably, and watched Haku lean into the front window of the limousine and tell the driver to just turn the car off and wait while they ate. He assumed that meant the boy wanted to walk the block, instead of riding.
When Haku's body was still half-way in the window of the vehicle, Zabuza let one finger drift to the waistband of his pants and felt the hard outline of the gun. He remembered checking it this morning, and putting his knife in his backpocket as a back-up plan. When Haku pulled back out and turned, smiling prettily, Zabuza smiled a little back.
As they walked, the escort kept a hyper awareness of everything. The pattern of Haku's shoes slapping the pavement, making sure they never got too close to the curb, where he might trip and fall into the busy street. The people passing them by, if they made any sudden movement. The cars, if they looked suspicious, or slowed while near he and the pretty teenager.
When they reached the place, it was tiny, and not too crowded, but it seemed elegant. There was classical music straining from somewhere, and all of the tables had a small pot of white flowers and a long tapered, ivory candle with a flame flickering on top. It was intimate and discreet, but they were seated quickly and had their drinks ordered within minutes.
"When I'm older," Haku began, glancing around wistfully, and speaking in a hushed tone, "I want to come to this place and order some fancy wine or something."
"You have a long way to go before you're old enough for wine." Zabuza answered, and then frowned. He hated coming to the conscious realization that the boy was so much younger than him.
"Yeah. But three years should come and go like that." Haku said teasingly, snapping his fingers. He glanced up into the man's face and noted the stormy looks. "Something wrong, Zabuza?"
The man hesitated only a fraction of a second. "I just don't like thinking about your age."
Haku nodded, eyes lowering under thick lashes. "Will it be different after I turn 18? Will your feelings have changed?"
"Yes." The man said firmly. "You'll be an adult."
"I'll be the same person. I'm not going to grow up overnight, you know. I'll be exactly the same."
". . . Then I guess it's just me." The escort growled. He eyed the boy, who leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands, his elbows on the table, a direct contrast to the restaurant around them, which practically oozed polite manners and etiquette. "You're so beautiful, Haku." He whispered, resisting the urge to capture the boy's mouth with his own, when his cheeks colored.
"Thank you, Zabuza." He tilted his face a little, a thought crossing his mind. "Mm. . . Zabuza?" He asked, pursing his lips when the man raised an eyebrow as if telling him to go on. "Is this like. . . A date?"
The man cleared his throat, wishing his drink was there so he could use it to wet his mouth which had suddenly gone as dry as a desert. "I. . . I don't think so. If it were a date, I would be. . ." What? He wondered. What kept this from being a date? "I would have taken you somewhere really nice before we ate, and uh. . . We would be. . . Talking differently." He wasn't making sense, and he knew it.
Haku grinned a little knowingly, but didn't comment on the obvious idiocy. "Right. Well, maybe one day we'll go on actual date."
"Maybe." Zabuza said gruffly, glad that topic was clearly over. Before he could flounder for another topic of conversation, the waitress came with their drinks in tall, slim, frosty glasses. The bodyguard noticed with slight surprise she didn't look at Haku's immature and impolite way of sitting with anything but a smile. He figured people working in a place like this would be snobs.
Zabuza had glanced at the menu, and had been extremely dismayed to find the words were in. . . Some other language. "What can I get you to eat?" She asked, pulling out a small notepad. Haku nodded, and began speaking in a stream of words Zabuza couldn't understand, making his eyes narrow.
"Can you just give us a minute?" He said loudly, making Haku's voice stop abruptly, and the waitress's hazel eyes widen, her pen freezing on the paper. She looked at Haku helplessly, unsure of what to do. The boy tilted his head, nodding toward her, and she backed away quickly, planning to come back in a few minutes, unsure of what had made the man suddenly become so. . . Harsh.
Haku, however, was used to this, and wasn't bothered in the least by his slight ourburst. "What's the matter?" He asked softly.
"I don't know what any of this means." He scowled, pushing the glossy menu with the swirly, scrolly letters toward the boy, who gasped a little.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't even think of you not being able to read French. . . Well. Do you mind if I order for you?" He asked.
"I don't care, but. . . I didn't know you were fluent in French." He managed. It was kind of. . . Sexy, in a way that nearly made the brown-haired man squirm with guilt. The words had sounded so sophisticated and mature, tumbling easy from the innocent beauty's mouth.
"Oh." Haku answered, eyes widening. "I'm not really fluent. I just know a few phrases and words, mostly food-related, actually. I couldn't really carry on a whole conversation." He paused for a moment, then added, "It was part of those classes I told you and Naruto and Sasuke about."
Zabuza grunted, quite bothered by the way the accent and voice had affected him. "Right. Yeah, order anything for me. I don't care." When the boy nodded, a small smile on his lips, the man frowned. "Not snails or anything weird." He clarified. He glanced over, away from Haku's line of vision, glaring at two men who sat at a table. His eyes had been quick enough to see both of them staring at he and Haku, but they had subtly looked away when he had turned toward them. Weird.
"Of course!" Haku laughed. He glanced over, his eyes urging the waitress to return. He was starving. When she did so, he ordered, and she left again, in a bit of a hurry. Haku wondered if she felt uncomfortable with Zabuza's intense way of speaking. He liked it.
"So what'd you get?" He wondered, despite himself. He didn't like looking ignorant in the boy's eyes, but it was painfully obvious he was clueless to the ways Haku had been raised.
"This special kind of pasta. It's really tasty. You'll like it." Haku said, then paused a moment. "I really only know a few things in French. I wish I knew more. Maybe I should take some language courses." He said thoughtfully, absently biting his lower lip.
". . . If you want." Zabuza said quietly. He shifted under the table. "Are you happy, Haku?"
"Hm?" The sudden question nudged him out of his thoughts, making him raise his brows a little in concern. "Sure, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I just wanted to know." He said dismissively. Haku frowned a little, looking very much to Zabuza like a puppy who had been kicked too many times.
". . . Are you?" The boy asked softly, not sure of whether he wanted the answer. He thought the man was, but. . . He could never really be sure, could he?
"Very much so." He answered lowly. Haku slid out of his chair gracefully, smiling serenely.
"I have to go to the restroom, excuse me." He said, scurrying off toward the back of the restaurant. Zabuza frowned a little, but tried not to. He didn't like the idea of Haku going anywhere by himself in the public diner, but. . . He was nearly an adult. He didn't want the boy to feel crowded or anything. . . But it was his job. His eyes narrowed, glaring at the door Haku had disappeared behind.
His eyes whipped to the side as he saw two large men walking from the opposite side of the restaurant - the same men that had been staring at them. He sat up instantly, body tensing, eyes zoning in on them. They headed into the bathroom after Haku, the door swinging behind them.
Before it had even finished moving, Zabuza had bolted out of his seat and towards it. He paused as soon as he got through the door, looking around. What the hell? It wasn't even a bathroom, it was just a tiny room with just a mirror and a door on the other side. A waiting room for the bathroom, he supposed. Kind of pointless, but whatever. He knew rich people got off on pointless, unneeded things. He crossed the room quickly, his hand reaching for the knob, and paused.
He didn't know how the boy would feel about him checking up on him, and he'd rather avoid doing it altogether as long as he wasn't in any danger. Perhaps it was a coincidence that the men had to go to the restroom at the same time as Haku? He frowned slowly, letting his mouth open slightly in a scowl, baring his teeth. That was bullshit.
Haku sighed, leaning a narrow hip against the marble sink, eyeing himself in the mirror. He folded his arms over his chest and poked his lips out a bit, before sucking them back in again to avoid looking pouty. Well, maybe he was pouty, but he didn't know why. He should be happy. Zabuza was happy. They were happy together. Right? He flipped his scarf a little, letting it flitter over his stomach a bit, not sure of what to do. Where did this incomplete feeling come from? He had everything he wanted, didn't he? Zabuza liked him. Really liked him. Loved him. He blushed at the thought, and stood up straight again, glaring at the ceiling.
He heard the door open, but didn't bother looking behind him to observe who had walked in. It wasn't important. He resisted sighing again, and yanked a paper towel out of the large, plastic container perched on the wall, scrubbing his hands of the miniscule droplets of water that remained after he had washed them. He was being an idiot. Just because Zabuza wouldn't sleep with him- He paused in his actions, eyes widening. Was that really it? Was he really that hurt by the fact that the man wouldn't have sex with him? What kind of boy was he, anyway? Some kind of ruthless slut?
"Oi, Hoshigaki, right?" Haku turned, rudely yanked from his conflicted thoughts, to face a man who was at least as tall as Zabuza, maybe taller. As a result, the boy's own face was at about collarbone level. It never occured to him to feel intimidated.
"Yes?" He asked quietly. It only surprised him a little. He had been recognized in public before a few times. He knew his father was somewhat famous, not in the way an actor or a musician was, but he had been involved in some political campaigns and things of that nature. He was friends (and enemies) with several very important political headfigures, and often went to banquets and press release meetings and whatnot. Haku was also aware he was in charge of certain commitees and orders.
"Hey, no kidding?" There was a second man apparently, as he stepped in behind Haku, his shadow looming over the boy.
"Yes, really." Haku answered, somewhat annoyed. He wanted to be back sitting with Zabuza, not signing autographs or answering questions about his dad to these two strange characters.
"You know. . . " The first man began, with a mock thoughtful look on his fat face. Haku instantly despised him. He had a condescending voice. "I do believe this one here is the youngest Hoshigaki kid."
"The baby?" The second man chuckled. Haku's breath caught in his throat as he felt one of them, he wasn't sure which one, lay a beefy hand on his shoulder.
"E-Excuse me." He said firmly. "I'd really like to go back and finish my food, if you don't mind." The tough act might have worked, if his soft voice hadn't broken on the first syllable.
"Yeah, well, we got a few things to talk to you about." One of them said, and proceeded to grip the boy's shoulders tightly, lifting him off the ground slightly and placing him in the corner of the room, so the both of them were blocking any way for him to escape.
"Yeah, just a few little things to discuss." The other man said, the one with the rude voice. "You don't mind, do you?"
Haku didn't know what to say. Panic was a tickle in his throat, like a low burn. He wondered exactly how much danger he was in. "What do you want?" He asked, jerking up a shoulder in what he thought looked like an unconcerned move.
"Well, we were just wondering how much you might be worth?"
"Worth?" The word came out in genuine shock, and puzzlement.
"Yeah. How much might your daddy pay for his baby boy?" One of them clarified, eyes gleaming, mouth in a sadistic snarl. "I know he's got plenty of cash to spare." His hand shot up and held Haku's arm in a vise-like grip, yanking it to pull the boy closer to him, as he pulled out a syringe with the other hand. The fluorescent lighting that had seemed low and full of calming ambience were suddenly bright, too bright, as a beam of light relfected off the metallic tip of the needle, glinting evilly.
Haku's eyes widened, as the man's thumb pressed the tiniest amount of pressure to the opposite end, a clear liquid squirting out for just a second. Panic went from a tickle in his throat to a gush of hot, horrible fear that gripped his whole body as if he had just fallen into a vat of boiling water. His mouth trembled open as he tried to form words, and felt sweat prickle his skin. Everything happened so quickly, his mind couldn't register anything, his body just acted on instinct.
He gasped out loud, his breath choking him, as he heard a loud bang, followed by another, even louder bang. He screamed, falling to his knees, the hard tile floor of the bathroom slamming his kneecaps with enough force to make them feel as though the bones were busted. The boy reverted into a somewhat fetal position, his forehead brushing the freezing tile, his hands clamping over his ears like a child throwing a temper tantrum, as he shrieked and shrieked, his loud screams filling every corner of the room.
He tensed, his voice no longer able to come out as an immeasurable amount of fear stuck in his throat, when he felt hands grab him and pull him up off the floor. He had heard gunshots. Had he been shot? Had the two men shot him? Was he going to die?
"Did they stick you?" He heard a voice snarl against his ear as he was yanked up again. He found himself bundled up against a hard chest, and the pain and fear instantly poured from him, leaving his body limp and exhausted and unable to move or flex. Zabuza's voice, Zabuza's chest.
"N-no." He said finally, when he remembered to speak. "They didn't do anything to me." He turned his head, instinctively flipping his hair out of his face, and peering down onto the floor.
One of the men, the one who had not been holding the syringe, was pressed back against the wall, in a half-way sitting position, his eyes huge and cowering. He was trembling, unable to speak. Haku's vision flicked over to Zabuza's arm for just a moment, seeing that he held the gun up in the direction of the man, his fingers locked perfectly into place. Ready to fire and take a life in a milisecond. His eyes moved back in the direction they had come from to rest on the other person on the ground.
Well, he had been a person, what he was now could not be described as such. People had eyes, and a nose and a mouth. A face. He no longer had any of those things. His skull and the meat in his face were on display like a painting in a museum. Haku could faintly make out a jawline, but nothing else resembled what it had been less than a minute ago. He turned his head again, unable to stare at the corpse any longer.
"Are you sure they didn't prick you with the needle?" He asked again, his voice firm but slow, the words sinking into Haku's ears like wax.
"No." He repeated. "You shot him before he could do anything." Shot. What a clean, respectable word for what Zabuza had done to the man. Killed, even murdered, seemed too tame for what he looked like now. Any of the gorey, edgy horror movies he had seen on his television couldn't touch what was a few feet from them. His head was light and he wanted to throw up. A horrifying thought occured to him, and before his mind could advise him not to follow through on it, he looked down, his eyes resting on his own body. Blood, as bright red as the fat fruits that Bindi often cut up for him, with a white whipped sauce to dip them in, speckled across his clean clothes in a mocking sort of polka dot pattern.
He had less than 3 seconds of feeling unmercifully sick before darkness slid over him, blacking out his vision and consciousness. In the last miliseconds, he could hear the bathroom door fly open again, slamming against the opposite wall, and a woman screaming. He was grateful to pass out.
The harsh reality of the world, when it came back to him, came unwelcomed and uninvited. When his eyelashes fluttered, and his mind immediately began to register what had happened, he wanted to go back. Back into the cool darkness where nothing mattered and he had nothing to explain, nothing to tell, nothing to feel. When he heard what was unmistakably his mother's voice, sobbing, his desire to go back tripled. He didn't dare move a muscle, lest he be discovered awake.
He heard his father's voice, and Zabuza's, they were talking. His bodyguard must be explaining what had happened. He was glad Zabuza knew how to explain, because he surely did not. He had only the vaguest idea of what had gone on. He knew the men had wanted to knock him out with whatever had been in the syringe. Kidnap him and hold him for ransom, he supposed. What a stupid and cliche thing to do to a politician's child. It was like something in a stupid movie. Didn't they know even if they had stuck him with the needle, and had him completely limp and at their mercy, how would they ever have gotten him out, and past his brown-haired escort?
He was laying on something soft, a bed. Resisting the urge to squint, he tried his hardest to listen to the soft words uttered by the three adults in the room with him. He could only make out bits and pieces.
"Grateful to you . . . Protecting him . . . Repay you." His father's voice was calm. He hardly sounded as if he were caught in the throes of grief like his pitiful, weeping mother, but Haku supposed that was normal. At least he was grateful to Zabuza for saving him? He could have been neutral about it, the boy guessed. "Oh, you saved him? Well, alright, I guess. Sorry to put you through the trouble, it was nothing to be concerned over." He imagined his father saying, and could barely repress a giggle.
And then he heard it, and a felt it. His mother's hand, cold as ice, nearly making him shiver out loud, pressed against his cheek and then his forehead. "Oh, my poor baby!" He heard her cry, then felt her chilly appendage leave him. He supposed her hand was an indication of her soul. Don't be such an ungrateful brat, they're your parents. They made you, a voice snapped at him in his head, and he instantly felt guilty. He supposed he could serve penance by showing everyone he was awake. Not like it mattered, he was in no danger of dying, anyway.
Zabuza had rescued him. Saved him like a knight in shining white armor. He mentally grinned at the image, knowing he was romanticizing the man far too much, but had no choice in the matter. He wished his parents would get the hell out so he could feel the man's big hands on him, checking him to make sure everything was okay, and so he could tell the man how much he meant to him. How grateful Haku was for everything. He wished there was something he could do to pay Zabuza back for everything, but knew there probably wasn't. He would ask later anyway, just to make sure.
He moaned a little, softly, like people did in the movies when they were waking up. He even went so far as to raise one hand and let the back of it rest on his forehead, to sate his mother's thirst for drama. When he felt her body practically crush his, followed by an unbearably loud cry, he figured he had done the right thing. Over his mother's shoulder, his big brown eyes connected with Zabuza's, and he smiled against the woman's dress sleeve.
Ha, Zabuza's job has been cake up until this point, ne? Well there you go, he had to work a little. A LITTLE. And I know, I know. I make Haku a pitiful damsel in distress. I realize he's an incredibly skilled and tactile assassin who is responsible for as many deaths as Zabuza himself, but not in my story, alright!? Anyway, his job might keep getting tougher and tougher, you never know. After all, nobody even knows what ever happened to Orochimaru. Will he play a part in this story, later? You'll just have to wait and see! c:
Also, this chapter ran a little long in my opinion. I had planned on it being shorter, and then having a sort of cliff hanger pertaining to an event (and pairing) I want to include in the story very soon, but it was just getting too long so maybe I can do it next chapter? Leave me reviews, my infinitely loyal readers, they make me very happy.
