Title: Good Friend Chouji
Pairings: Shikamaru x (undecided), Gaara x Naruto, Haku x Zabuza, Kiba x Hinata, Neji x Tenten (more will be announced at a later date. Pairings will change.)
Warnings: child abuse, self mutilation, bullying, references to sex/sexual acts, homosexuality, underage drinking, attempted suicide, and incest. And stupidity, but that's a given.
Author: Drinking Acid
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. If you hadn't figure it out until now, I seriously pity you.
When he stepped into the Honors Biology classroom, he knew he was going to regret doing so very shortly. Sasuke had arrived already and was sitting at their lab station, a frown on his face and a question in his too-dark eyes. He wanted to curse the damned buildings for making his life so troublesome, but that was too troublesome all on its own, so he settled for grumbling incoherently to himself instead. Apparently, they were doing a lab (where in the world could he have gotten that idea?), forcing them all pair to up and sit at the lab stations for the entire lesson. So now he had to sit through a class period, with Sasuke, partially isolated from the other students, for an entire hour.
Oh, he was so screwed.
"Once you've gotten the lab outline, get to your stations and start setting up," ordered Orochimaru from the front of the class, his arms crossed as he surveyed them all scurrying to get to their seats. "You have the rest of the class period to get this done, and if I see even one person misusing the Bunsen burner, they're going to find themselves in a very unpleasant position." A look was sent to the Hotta twins, both of whom had come trotting in after Shikamaru and were now tinkering with the lab materials (neither of them looked very trustworthy, but that was a normal appearance for them, so it was almost unnoticeable by now). "That applies to you two as well, Hotta 1 and Hotta 2."
He never had figured out why the teachers referred to the Hotta twins as "Hotta 1 and Hotta 2" instead of by their names, which would be easier when they were together (obviously it wouldn't do very well when just addressing one of them, because it was nearly impossible to tell one brother from the other). Orochimaru, Gai, even Asuma, called the boys by their last name, followed by the 1 and 2 to relate that there were, in fact, two twins to address and not just one. As far as he could tell, though, neither of the twins seemed to mind it, even using it to their advantage when pulling off pranks. It was rather funny, really, to watch the faculty trip and stumble over themselves when trying to discipline a twin that kept changing his identity.
"There will be no visiting, no rule-braking, and no bomb-making. Is that clear?" Orochimaru didn't bother waiting for a response, since nobody would've answered anyway. "Get to work."
Grudgingly, he sat down at their lab station and stared dully back at an increasingly jittery Sasuke. The raven-haired boy didn't say anything yet, holding his silence until he was sure they wouldn't be overheard. He skimmed through the lab sheet, avoiding the black eyes boring holes into his forehead, and began setting up their experiment. As hesitant murmurs started to float through the unnaturally cold room (it should have been warmer with all those giant-ass, cold-blooded snakes slithering through their tanks along the walls. Seriously, how were they not dead yet?), Sasuke leaned forward, speaking quietly.
"You know Itachi." It was a statement, not a question, and Shikamaru couldn't help but snort.
"As do you." Sasuke frowned and pressed his hands against the tabletop, his eyes locking onto Shikamaru's with unwelcome ease.
"Everybody who meets that jackass falls for his goddamned goody-two-shoes act and starts to worship the bastard like he's the son of god damn fucking Shiva," snapped the other boy, his voice lowering to a sharp hiss. "I'm not so stupid to think that you haven't fallen for it too."
"One, I didn't fall for anything, I simply don't like him, and two, you are way too jealous of Itachi to be having this conversation with me," he insisted, picking up an empty test tube. Sasuke's brow furrowed, his body retracting slightly as the boy's mind interpreted his words. Then his eyes flashed and Sasuke curled his lip in warning before spitting out his defense.
"I'm not jealous of Itachi!" snapped Sasuke, shooting forward to glare strait in his face. He snorted.
"Of course you aren't."
For a few minutes, they simply sat in silence, Shikamaru continuing with their lab while Sasuke eyed him heatedly. Twice Orochimaru came to their station, "overseeing their work" and making the younger Uchiha fidget uncomfortably as those damned yellow eyes watched him. He really didn't like how their Honors Biology teacher seemed to have that unnatural fascination with Sasuke, but he couldn't do anything about it, since there wasn't any hard evidence to back up his theories (none of which were very pleasant to think about, honestly). Sasuke was just going to have to deal with it. For now.
Once their teacher had traveled to the other side of the room and was yelling at Eiji and Shuichiro, who's project had already boiled over and was making a mess of their lab station ("What the hell did you think you were doing?" "We're sorry sir, we didn't realize we were only supposed to put 5 mL in it." "Yeah! I thought it said 50!"), Sasuke spoke, his voice quiet yet forceful, allowing no arguments.
"Are you really an aid third hour?" He blinked slowly over at the Uchiha, schooling his expression to calm indifference before replying.
"Are you really Itachi's brother?" he retorted. The other's eyes flashed, his body jerking forward to growl in his face.
"How'd you know he's my brother?" he demanded, eyes burning with anger and a little bit of fear.
"I didn't."
Sasuke looked shocked for a moment, his eyes going wide enough that he could see the white around his iris, before narrowing furiously. The black-haired boy's fingers were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white, and the look on his face was nothing short of murderous. He actually felt the need to back away.
"Jackass."
". . ."
"I fucking mean it."
"Whatever."
They lapsed into silence again, Shikamaru continuing with their project while Sasuke sat idle across from him. With an annoyed sigh, he set down the test tube and eyedropper, fixing the shorter boy with an narrowed stare. Sasuke glared back, matching and exceeding the other's glare with practiced ease. Sighing, he rolled his eyes.
"Help out, why don't you."
Sasuke snorted. "You're doing fine all by yourself. You didn't even read the whole fucking assignment and already you're doing better than half the guys in here."
"Thanks, but flattery gets you nowhere. Now help."
"Fine. Jesus fucking Christ . . . ."
He just rolled his eyes again. There was a popping sound, and Shikamaru had just enough time to snap "Duck!" at Sasuke before diving behind the station cabinets. Several other students cried out, the thud of bodies hitting the floor in panic rustling throughout the room, before the lab across from his and Sasuke's exploded.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE—!"
KAA—POOOOOWWWW!
A cloud of smoke and dust billowed throughout the room, a few sparks flying and glass tinkering as the remains of the bomb fell to the floor. Laughter erupted, followed by congratulations from one twin to another, before Orochimaru managed to wipe his face clean of the fine white powder.
"HOTTA'S!"
This, he thought to himself as their teacher started to yell his heart out, his face going purple as his lungs forced all the available air out of his body, is theperfect time to take a nap.
"—And that's when Ino realized that her cheat-sheet was right in plain view of Mr. Umino, and now she's got a week of detention!" laughed Chouji, smiling brightly as he finished his story. Shikamaru laughed, grinning at his friend before sneaking a few cookies away from the other's bag and popping them into his mouth. Chouji wrinkled his nose at him, but Shikamaru just chuckled, spewing bits of Chips Ahoy! out of his mouth as he did so.
They were on their way to work, changed out of their school uniforms and sauntering through town in cargo pants, t-shirts, and sneakers, with their rather bulky book bags slung over their shoulders (their clothes had to go somewhere). It was a fairly nice day, maybe even what one could call a "pleasant" day but the pale blue sky was simply that: pale blue. There were no clouds to speak of, no small puffs of white to twirl in the never ending expanse of cerulean, no billowing bulks of off-white to crawl through the air with unbearable slowness. And he despised Tuesday for it. Why did it have to be Tuesday? Well, all the better. Maybe the sky will be cooperative tomorrow.
As they reached the end of the street, Chouji paused, chewing slowly as he gazed thoughtfully at the shop on the corner. Then, as if deciding something, he pulled gently at Shikamaru's sleeve and they entered the store together. He looked back over his shoulder as they passed the threshold, the small jingle of the bell over head signaling their arrival, and smiled.
"Can we look around?"
"Sure."
"Cool."
His friend trotted off, the bag of cookies partially forgotten for the moment as he skimmed the shelves with interest. Wondering absently what made him say yes so quickly (maybe it was a gut reaction, or a split-second thought that skipped the "debate" process and went strait to his mouth; either way, it was troublesome. His brain kept doing things it shouldn't be doing, without even consulting him beforehand. Jeeze, how rude was that?), he took the chance to look around the store.
It was one of those small, no-name places that sort of reminded him of a few collector stores he'd come across on the East side, with all the odds-'n'-ends lined up on the shelves. In here, there were tacky book cases held up with crusty glue and chipped nails huddled in rows and along the walls, each one host to several books that didn't seem to be the same height and width (how troublesome). Fake plants were set in the corners of the shop, a rather dusty one sitting up on the counter next to the cash register, and a total of three, ratty, old rugs had been sprawled out on the beaten-down carpet, though they were wrinkled and dingy from the feet of passerbys. A few, strangely dressed people were browsing the shelves, plucking out books with utter randomness, and the thin, little man behind the counter stood nodding his head along to the music blasting from his ear buds. On that same counter, hidden slightly under the sprawling fake-leafy canopy, sat a very large, very fluffy, Himalayan cat, it's bright blue eyes peering out from the shadows with undeniable skepticism. He snorted to himself. Troublesome cat.
But . . . . . this place was sort of nice. Like a good nap or a cloudy sky. Pleasant. Probably.
He strolled forward, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and trailed after Chouji, who'd wandered near a cluster of book shelves off to the right labeled "fiction". The larger boy was blinking curiously at the titles, his hand moving almost systematically from the bag to his lips, his jaw chewing in rhythm to his hand gestures like the gears of a clock. Quietly, he stopped behind him, looking over his shoulder at the book titles lined up along the shelf. He didn't recognize any of them, but he didn't read very much to begin with, so it wasn't that surprising. Chouji pulled one book off the shelf and flipped it over to read the paragraph on the back.
"'From the best-selling author of I know What You Did Last Summer'," read Chouji slowly, "'They only planned to scare their English teacher. They didn't mean to kill him. But sometimes even the best laid plans go wrong.'" He furrowed his brows at the book, dark eyes squinty with thought. Shikamaru shrugged.
"Sounds a bit morbid."
"It does, doesn't it?" He set the book back on the shelf.
"Yeah, something that Sasuke or Gaara would read. Maybe even Kankuro."
Chouji stiffened, darting his eyes over his shoulder to look back at him guiltily. There was an uneasiness in his posture, an uncertainty in the way he fumbled with his cookie bag as he moved down the line of books for some other novel, one of which he hoped to be more light-hearted or humorous and not some sort of account on the killing of a teacher. He followed after leisurely, not at all concerned with his friend's sudden change of mood.
"I'm—I'm sorry, for not saying anything to them at lunch," apologized Chouji softly. For a moment, he didn't say anything, trying to remember what Chouji was talking about before even daring to reply. Then he grinned and slung his arm over the boy's shoulder.
"Nah, I'm glad you didn't say anything. I don't need that lot ragging on me for being some supper-genius or whatever. I mean, did you see how they acted with Itachi? Trust me, I don't need that."
"But, they said you're too lazy to do any good—!"
"Yeah, I am lazy, so what? That doesn't mean I'm stupid. You know that."
"Yeah, but—"
"But what?"
"B-but, well," Chouji stammered, scrambling to put together something to say, "doesn't it make you mad? To know they think you're stupid or useless?"
"No. Why should I? I don't care about what they think." He couldn't help but smile and laugh. "Hell, they could think I've got the IQ of a freakin' pigeon and I still wouldn't care." Chouji smiled weakly back.
"Then you're a lot stronger than me."
"It's got nothing to do with strength."
"Then what's it got to do with?"
"The space between your ribs."
Chouji furrowed his brow in confusion, trying to understand what he meant. He knew that what he said didn't make much sense to him, but Chouji would figure it out; Shikamaru knew he would. He just smiled, plucking a book from the shelf and handing it to Chouji.
"Here. I've read this book before, I think. It was pretty good."
Chouji read the title. "The Cay?"
"Yeah."
"Well, okay. What's it about?"
"Hmm . . . . . I can't remember."
Chouji laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll get it."
He tucked the book under his arm and brushed his fingers clean of crumbs before rolling up his cookie bag and stuffing it in his book bag. They wove out of the shelves to the cash register where the tiny man stood bobbing his head to his music. Chouji set the book on the counter and started to fish around his pockets for some money to pay for the paperback.
The man behind the counter sighed and removed his ear buds, music still blasting from it (it sounded sort of like Korn, or maybe System of a Down, but he couldn't really tell). While he waited for Chouji to get his money out, the little man started to pet the cat, who's eyes narrowed as a low grumbled emitted from its throat. Quickly the man retracted his hand, rolling his eyes and muttering grumpily to himself.
"I take it that cat isn't yours."
The man gave him a really sarcastic look, one that said: "Well duh, you idiot." Shikamaru didn't pay any attention to it, instead blinking over at the cat. Said cat blinked back, that low grumble still exerting from its throat. Almost unconsciously, he reached out to touch the cat, but the feline swatted at him with a set of very sharp claws, and he decided to keep his hands in his pockets for the remainder of the visit.
"Yeah, the damn thing keeps doing that to me, too. I don't know what the hell it's problem is. I'm the one freakin' feeding it," complained the man. Looking at his name tag, he noted that his name was Kohaku. Amber? Hm. Odd.
"Who owns him?"
"She," he said with a smirk, "is owned by this tennis geek who's, I dunno, out of town for some tournament or something. His parents and friends are going with him so he asked my little sister to watch him and now I'm left to take care of the damned furball."
"Good luck."
"Thanks. This'll be $7.69 with tax," he said to Chouji, who'd dumped a few crumpled bills and a fuck load of change on the counter. Frowning, the Akimichi started to count up his money, muttering numbers to himself as he did so.
"When does shift start?" he asked, looking up at the clock behind Kohaku's head.
"3:30," answered Chouji absently.
"P.M.?"
"Yeah."
"Then we're gonna be late."
"Shit!"
Several minutes and a near miss with a car ("Holy shit! Get the fuck outta the road!" "We're on the freakin' sidewalk, you druggie!") later, they were standing behind the counter at Vega's, listening to Kabuto scold them for being five —count 'em, five— whole minutes late.
"I know it's getting close to the holidays and your shift starts right after school lets out, but you can't just show up late and expect to get full pay for it. I'm docking it by a dollar, understand?" He glared at the both of them, eyes narrowed angrily. "Don't do it again."
"Whatever you say, Kabuto," sighed Shikamaru, leaning back against the counter. Kabuto frowned at him, not at all happy with his laid-back attitude.
"Kinuta is already in the back making coffee. I suggest you join him, Akimichi." Chouji scuttled away, casting another apologetic look over his shoulder at Shikamaru before disappearing behind the cloth door. The grey-haired college student turned to him, hands on his hips like some sort of Hollywood mom; maybe he should laugh. Nah, that would be troublesome.
"What the hell, Nara? Showing up late like that? It's fine when it's just you who gets in trouble, but don't go dragging Akimichi down with you. You're such a spoiled brat, you know that?"
He would've liked very much to open his mouth and tell his damned manager that it wasn't his fault they were late. That it wasn't his laziness or inattentiveness that had forced them to run the whole goddamn way here. If he opened his mouth, if he started to talk, he was sure he could make Kabuto believe that it was actually his fault. That Kabuto was to blame for them being late because he didn't pay them enough, or for making them work so long only for minimum wage when the older boy got almost double their paycheck. If he opened his mouth, he could convince him of anything, and Kabuto would believe it.
But he didn't.
And he had no fucking clue why.
"Get it now? Don't be late again."
"Whatever, Mr. Yakushi."
He turned around to rest his elbows on the counter top and glared moodily out the window at that small sliver of blue between the buildings.
What a fucking bad day, he thought.
He yawned again, a small tear appearing at the corner of his eye as he stretched his mouth wide enough to engulf a watermelon. A stiffness had spread throughout his body, weakening his joints and giving him a burning pain that pulsated up and down his back and spine (maybe it was time for a new mattress. Ha, like he could even afford one). Damn, it was so freakin' early. Ugh. Mornings were not his favorite time of day, that was for sure. Why was he awake so fucking early again?
Oh yeah. School.
After he and Chouji had parted ways at the stairs, he'd been slowly trudging up the steps with all these students pouring in around him like salmon in a stream, trying and yet not trying to reach his next class (AP English). To be honest, he wasn't all that thrilled about going to English. Or rather, he wasn't too thrilled about going to a class taught by Anko, who threw chalk at his head when fell asleep during her speeches and made him do more work than any of the other students. That was so annoying. And troublesome. Like these goddamn stairs. Seriously, would it kill them to put in a freakin' elevator?
Luckily, though, he hadn't seen Itachi at all that morning. Nor had he seen Sasuke, Kankuro, Haku, or Shino. Naruto hadn't been absent (neither had Gaara, who'd taking to shadowing the blonde like some sort of bodyguard) and Kiba had become much more energetic and unruly in the absence of the bug-boy. Sai had popped up around the Old building, reading a book while he managed to walk around about 1,000 different students, and he was sure he'd seen Zabuza practicing out on the field with the other football players (including Kisame. How was he not surprised?). To add icing to the cake, Sakura, Ino, Temari, and Tenten were all out for the day because of a volleyball competition held at a rival school. This day might actually be a quiet one for once.
Stepping into Anko's classroom, he barely registered the clump of students huddled around the center of the room, all talking quickly and excitedly to one person in particular. Anko wasn't in yet, the dry erase board clean and blank, so he took the chance to slip into a much needed nap at his desk, head buried between his arms and his body lax. The sunlight pouring in through the windows warmed his back, and he could feel himself lulling into a sort of trance; not really asleep but sure as hell not awake, either. That was always a good place to be.
The door was thrown open, allowed to slam against the opposite wall and scare the shit out of the class, including him. His head snapped up and he glared blearily at a smirking Anko, who looked far to pleased with her feat to be an accident. Damn woman. Always interrupting his naps.
"Alright, ya gerbils," she called (gerbil? Who the hell is she calling a gerbil?), smirking out at all of them from where she stood behind her desk, arms crossed in that authoritive way. The band of kids in the center parted slightly, allowing whoever was sitting within them to face the teacher. He still couldn't see who it was, but then, he didn't really care, so he kept his reproachful gaze on his teacher.
"We've got a new addition to our class, though I'm sure all of you remember he from years prior, so I'll just get on with it. Everybody give a warm welcome to Itachi Uchiha!"
Oh fuck.
"Ah, thank you Ms. Anko for your adoring introduction," said Itachi, rising up from among the other students to stand to his full height (which was kind of pitiful, actually, since he barely overcame the heads of the people sitting down). He could feel a lump of who-the-hell-knows-what slide down his throat to plop into his stomach in the most sickening manner. Holly fucking shit.
"Hey, it's nothing for my best student, right Uchiha?" laughed Anko. "Oh, but you probably haven't met our newest student yet, Shikamaru Nara. He's the one with the pony-tail."
"Actually, we've had the pleasure of meeting the previous day," informed Itachi.
"Unfortunately," he grumbled to himself.
"Of course, of course," said Anko, waving her hand dismissively. "I should've guessed. Well, anyway, enough with the chitchat, let's get down to business!" She was way too happy for it to be legal, and he was sure that it was drug induced (caffeine or cocaine; either one would fit). This was all so very whacked out, so very unpleasant, that he was sure he'd hurl right then. Goddammit . . . .
"Ah, Ms. Anko, where should I sit?" asked the older Uchiha with false inquisitiveness. He knew it was false because he'd heard the tone far too often (though Itachi's was better hidden than most) to not recognize it. Itachi was play suck-up; he was planning something.
"Er, you can sit with . . . . . hm, how about next to Nara? Maybe you can get that bag o' bones to actually do something for once. I have a hell of a time just keeping him awake." She and a few of the other students laughed at that, though a few jeered, and he decided that this day officially sucked. Not that it hadn't before, but now it was official.
"Thanks," replied Itachi, moving away from his fan club to steal the seat beside Shikamaru's for himself. It had been occupied for most of the first month of school, but just as they came into October, the girl (Kagome something-or-other) started to only show up about once every two weeks, and sometimes not even then. According to school gossip, she was in the hospital with four broken bones (last time it had been herpes, which turned out to be a false alarm, and the time before that it had been a skull fracture, and the time before that she'd gotten hepatitis. There was something up with that girl, he was sure, but it just wasn't worth thinking about). At any rate, it was open for other students, and for once in his life, he wished that the odd, panic-prone girl had actually been at school today.
"Pleasure seeing you again," greeted Itachi with that same sugary-sweet voice that made him sound like some sort of soap-opera actor. Oh, he hated that tone.
"'Pleasure' isn't the word I would've used."
"Well, what word would you have used?"
"'Fuck'."
Itachi's lips curled into a smile, his eyelids dropping to cover half his eyeballs (he looked like a cat, or maybe a snake), and chuckled slightly.
"You're just full of optimism, aren't you?" He sighed, resting his head on his arms as he stared at the Uchiha from out of the corner of his eye.
"Don't you have someone else you can annoy? Friends, Sasuke . . . Orochimaru's snakes?"
"Ow, that hurt."
"Suck it up, pansy."
"Don't be such a prick. I was only trying to make conversation," said Itachi cooly.
"I don't want conversation. I want you to leave me alone."
"Where's the entertainment in that?" He glared over at him.
"There's isn't any. Now go away."
"I can't. We're in the middle of class."
"Then shut the hell up and let me sleep."
"Again, where's the—?"
"Shut. Up."
He kept his head firmly buried in his arms for the rest of the period, forcing himself to not look up or shift while Itachi's goddamned eyes smoldered holes into his temple. Anko's voice provided background noise for the steady tap of the Uchiha's pencil and his own forced breathing, which would start to quicken when he wasn't paying attention to it. God damn Itachi. God damn fucking Itachi. Why the hell did he have to be so freakin' troublesome?
A pebble of chalk struck his head, followed by the clatter of it falling to the ground, and he wondered vaguely if there was any way to simply disappear and just not be here. There wasn't, of course, so he raised his head just in time to catch Anko's follow-up comment.
"Oi, Nara, are you paying attention back there?"
"Yeah, yeah I am."
"Well, your desk doesn't have all the answers so keep your eyes on me, okay?"
"Okay."
Itachi wouldn't stop snickering the whole 48 minutes left of class.
"Oh come on, he can't be that bad."
"Trust me, he is."
They were sitting in the chess parlor on the East side, Asuma playing black and him playing white. Asuma had for his prisoners three pawns and one bishop; Shikamaru had two pawns, a knight, and a rook. Lunch had yet to be ordered. It was very obvious who would win.
"Maybe you're just overreacting."
"Trust me, I'm not."
"Well then, you've got one hell of a problem on your hands."
"You don't think I know that?" His voice came out louder than he'd intended.
"Don't get upset, Shika," replied Asuma smoothly, moving his pawn. "I'm just trying to help."
"Sorry." Glaring at the board, he moved his rook so as to take out the offending pawn. Asuma took a drag of his cigarette, studying the board thoughtfully before speaking.
"It's just that, he doesn't seem like that bad a guy . . . ."
"Appearances can be deceiving."
"What, are you turning philosophical on me all of a sudden?"
"No, I'm just stating the obvious."
"Ah."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"That's a tough one, Shika. I guess it depends one what you want to accomplish."
"Give me a 'for-instance'."
"Well, for instance, if you wanted him to be your enemy, make yourself a threat. Become the best at whatever it is he loves being."
"Too troublesome. And I don't want to be his enemy so much as I just want him to leave me alone."
"That one could be trickier," admitted Asuma, exhaling a plume of smoke slowly. "And since the only people I don't want to talk to are already dead or are my roommate, there's really nothing I can help you with on that."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow at the older man, his lips quirking into a smile. "You don't like Raidou?"
"Not really, no. He's loud. Really loud. I can understand why Genma wanted him out," Asuma said, smiling as he shook his head.
"I thought Genma kicked him out because they broke up."
"Hey!" snapped Genma from behind the counter, revealing that he had, in fact, been eavesdropping on their conversation. "Don't go spreading rumors about my love life! And where'd you hear that, anyway?"
"You and Isamu were talking about it a month ago," he told him, laughing along with Asuma. Genma scowled, blushing slightly, and gnawed at his toothpick incessantly. Apparently Shikamaru wasn't supposed to know about that.
"I heard he's already got another boyfriend," gossiped Asuma teasingly, taking a drag of his cigarette. Shikamaru played along, leaning forward and grinning as if he were listening in on a juicy secret.
"Hey!" yelped Genma.
"Really now? Who?"
"I told you two, shut up!"
"Well, he's kind of young, a bit on the small side, and he works at—"
"Fuck it Asuma, if you say one more word, I'm spilling about that "pretty little thing" you want to fuck in your bed!" threatened Genma furiously, leaning over the counter to glare heatedly at Asuma. The look wasn't very powerful, since his cheeks were as red as tomatoes, but Asuma quieted almost instantly.
"Alright, alright, truce," conceded Asuma, raising his hands in defeat. Genma nodded curtly, leaning back to rest his body in a supposed-to-be-relaxed position and returned to his magazine. Asuma clucking his tongue, looking back down at the board as he let out a breath of smoke.
"What's this "pretty little thing" Genma was talking about?" he asked curiously, forcing back a smile. Ha ha, Asuma had a girlfriend, he thought to himself.
The older man blushed, sending him a scowl (another, much nastier, look sent Genma's way) before saying, "I'm not going to tell you that."
"Why not?"
"'Cause you'll— I don't know, you'll try and screw it up."
"How?"
"I don't know, maybe you'll try and sabotage her office, or try and set us up on a date, or tell your friends about her." He smirked.
"So it's a she."
"That's not funny, Shika."
"Depends on what side of the table you're on."
"Kid's got a point," piped Genma.
"Stay outta this," ordered Asuma irritably.
"Why would I sabotage her office?"
"Because you're crafty enough you won't need the janitor's key to get in, or her's."
"I don't even know where she works."
"Yes you do," cut in Genma.
"Shut up Genma."
"Sorry Asuma."
"I promise I won't tell anybody, or try and set you up on a date, and I won't sabotage her office," he promised. Asuma didn't look at all convinced, his dark eyes searching his critically as he tapped his cigarette ashes into the ash tray.
"No."
"Spoil sport."
"Don't I know it."
To be continued . . . .