The bridge I crossed
The Fourth
I pried open the door, blinking my eyes in an attempt to distinguish who it was at the door in the dim corridor lights. "Shikamaru!"
"Don't you dare, Shikamaru me!" The man looked angry, his brown eyes narrowed into tiny slits, the muscle at his jaw jumping as he grit his teeth together. I wondered why he was so mad and asked him as much, not bothering with the preliminaries.
"I come home, and I have this message from you that says, 'I was fired'!" He raised his voice much to my drunken dismay. I had come home after Kakashi had kindly directed me to get out of the office and gotten myself pleasantly drunk with Kiba's ever-present, and ever-willing help. The message hadn't completely sunk into me yet, and I had to reiterate to myself over and over again, "I was fired. Twice." Strange enough, that was my personal best. But then again, I had never been fired before. I always quit. Maybe, if my luck will have it, I might get fired by the same office three or maybe four times in a matter of a week.
"I was fired, though, Shikamaru!" I protested, as he walked roughly by me, effectively making me lose my hold on the door knob. With a push, I shut the door with a loud slam, and followed Shikamaru to my kitchen where Kiba was sprawled out.
Shikamaru was already busy taking empty bottles and dumping them into the trash can. He wrenched a half-full bottle away from Kiba and drained it down the sink, turning on the faucet and letting the water run for a minute before stuffing the bottle into the trash can with the rest. I wrinkled my nose in pity for Kiba as Shikamaru grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the living room.
"We aren't in college anymore to be acting like this, you morons," he said loudly. I flinched when he walked past me and slumped down into one of the chairs. "So, what happened?"
"Schzxcl," Kiba made a snort-like sound. "You'rrr gunna like this one, Nara." Kiba began to giggle, but then a pillow hit him, and he snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks blowing out a bit at his attempt to stifle his laughter.
"I'm not drunk," I asserted. I could feel Shikamaru's disbelieving gaze on me, so I began to tell him what happened. He stopped me when I made a vague reference to Sakura, so I made a detour to explain the Uchiha's engagement to the pink-haired girl, and his general attitude towards the woman. "He ignores her, Shikamaru. Honest!"
Kiba makes a scoffing noise, pushing himself into a more upright sitting position. "Hellufa gentlemanly guy."
Shikamaru and I stared at Kiba, before Shikamaru waved his hand, dismissing Kiba's drunken commentaries and motioning for me to continue.
"And then, when she actually showed up, I mean, we were in a compromising position--"
"Oh, god! You let him go that far?" Shikamaru asked. "And in the office? I mean--I don't--" he stopped when he saw me staring at him, but mumbled, "Must have been uncomfortable."
I shook my head furiously. "No! We were fighting. And I swung a punch at him, and he--he--ah..." I trailed off, realizing that I didn't know how I was going to phrase this without seeming too hormone controlled. "He uh...he tried to--"
"He tried come on to our Naruto-kinsy-winzy. He's all grown up, I says, Nara," Kiba nodded to himself, a feral grin on his face before he fell back into the sofa, laughing. "All grown up."
I covered my face with my hands when Shikamaru joined in the laughter, letting out a "really" in between his gasps for air. This was not going as I planned. "Aren't friends supposed to be supportive?" I demanded the two.
Shikamaru nodded, grinning slightly. "We are. Can't you tell? We're complementing you on your sexual appeal. Where have you been?" They dived into another fit of laughter.
"Fine. Be that way. I'm sure that Kiba-kinsy-winsy will be willing to tell you the rest." Without waiting for their response, I got up angrily, and marched into the bathroom, well aware that it was past midnight. Stripping off my clothes angrily, I got into the shower, relishing the feeling of water against my skin.
I heard knocking and Shikamaru's pleading voice, but I didn't respond so he left me in peace. The same man who had taken the pains to re-hire me, re-fired me for some strange reason. And the Uchiha was clearly in the wrong, but somehow, I got the blame, and the trashing. I knew that I would not be able to find another well-paying job with a resume that says, "I was hired by the Uchiha Corps, fired, then re-hired, and then promptly re-fired. The bottom line being that I did not spend more than a week in the office." I wrinkled my nose at a vision of seeing myself kicked out of each and every office that followed.
I turned the water off with a flick of my wrist, and stepped out, dripping, and fueled with a bit of alcohol and anger. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I opened the bathroom door and walked into the living room, only to find Shikamaru flipping nonchalantly through the channels, the TV flickering with motion and color, and Kiba snoring softly.
"I thought you two left," I mumbled as I sat down on the chair that Shikamaru had occupied earlier. Shikamaru's eyes flickered over to my tattoo, and I suppressed an instinctive wince. Kiba and Shikamaru knew most of what had happened but chose not to question me for details. The only thing I told them was that I had gotten the tattoo while I was living with Zabuza, and now, I was ashamed of it, and they were satisfied with that explanation.
"What? And leave you by yourself in the condition you're in?" He clicked the TV shut, and the pictures stopped. For a moment, there seemed to be total stillness at the lack of flickering lights.
Heaving a weary sigh, I lowered my face into my hands, the anger that I had harbored only a moment ago seeping away quickly. "I screwed up, Shikamaru."
"No shit," Shikamaru moved Kiba so that he was more comfortable on the sofa. "That's okay, though. I mean, you were overqualified for that position, and besides I don't think I would want you to work in a place where you're constantly molested."
"I-But how am I supposed to get another job, now?" I demanded, my voice pinched with desperation.
Shikamaru sighed wearily, and sat back in the sofa, rubbing at his eyelids. "Naruto, you're so troublesome."
"I think I've established that on my own, actually," I stated. A silence lapsed between us, and the only sounds were those of cars going down the street. It struck me odd that only a few days ago, my life was at its peak with a well paying, easy job.
"The UB," I began, "talks about marriage as--as a reproducing mechanism that contributes to the population. He doesn't care for the Sakura girl. I almost feel sorry for her."
Shikamaru 'hmm'ed softly, and I realized that he was probably falling asleep. I felt a small smile tugging at my lips when I realized that he had come directly to me after he saw the message, not even bothering to change out of his work clothes. But tomorrow was a Saturday, and that meant that Shikamaru would have a day off.
I got up, suddenly aware of the way my muscles strained to move, and walked wearily down to my bedroom. I dragged a blanket off of my bed, and walked all the way back to the living room, the blanket dragging behind me. Mumbling under my breath, I covered the two, and dragged myself back to my room where I slumped down into my bed and fell asleep, not even bothering to put on some clothes.
*
When I woke up, I was covered with a blanket, feeling warm and content. The sun was shining into my room again, and I cranked open an eye, blinking it a few times to adjust to the sudden exposure to light. I had a dreamless night, thankfully, and yesterday's events were only side-notes in my mind. I sat up, stretching lazily and called out, "Shikamaru! Kiba!"
Silence. So they had left me. Getting up, I trudged wearily into the bathroom, attending to my morning rituals before walking out, still clad in nothing but a towel. When I went to the kitchen to get a mug of coffee, I saw a note stuck to my coffee-maker. In Shikamaru's slightly slanted handwriting, I read, "K. has hangover. At his apartment. Call if you need me. -Shika."
I grinned smugly. Now it was Kiba's turn to get a hangover. He had gotten me in enough trouble on Tuesday, and now it was his turn. Pity it wasn't a work-day. The coffee-maker gurgled happily when I turned it on. I watched the coffee drip into the container underneath, at peace for some reason.
When it was done, I wrenched it away and dumped the contents into a mug, sipping at it, and feeling the caffeine seep into my body warmly. I had gotten addicted to coffee after Shikamaru introduced it to me in my last year of high school. He had taken the pains to tutor me for the finals, since I was about to fail Literature without his help. It was on those nights when we stayed up--me with my eyelids being tugged down, and Shikamaru still flipping apathetically through his books as if the time didn't bother him one bit, and he was actually nocturnal.
I slumped down into my cream-colored sofas, smiling at the memory. I had gotten through worse before. I could do it again. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the sofa, feeling the curves of the said furniture molding around my frame with my weight.
I had just finished my coffee and was about to get dressed when the phone rang. Shikamaru, probably, to check if I was all right. Mumbling under my breath, I reached over to the coffee-table that was placed at the corner that the sofa and the three-seater met and picked up a cordless phone.
"I read your note, already, I'm not that dumb, Shikamaru," I mumbled into the phone.
"Naruto?" I bolted into a sitting position, my eyes wide, and a blush creeping up to my cheeks again. It was times like those that I wished that I could drop down dead. Why oh why... "It's me, Orochimaru."
"Oh." Oh? Who in hell's name would answer with an "oh" when Mr. Sexy Doctor called for a date? Apparently, I did. I moved my mouth in an attempt to say something, and finally, "Hi."
"Did I catch you at the wrong time?"
I shook my head, and then realizing that he couldn't probably see through telephones, and said, "Oh, no, no!" I mentally kicked myself when I realized that I had I said "no" twice, and that "oh" rhymed with "no." Great. I turned into a poet just when I didn't want to. Somewhere in the back of my random mind, a thought surfaced, almost making me gag over the phone. What was it they said? 'You're a whore and you score when you're a sex-obsessed improvisational poet who likes to mumble sonnets when making love and you love white gloves?'
"You aren't mad, are you?" His voice was even more seductive over the phone, and I shivered at each word he said.
"No, why?" At the sound of my own shaky voice, I winced. Nope. It wasn't 'what was it they say' it was 'what was it an overly intoxicated Kiba said.' How was it that I managed to pull out the most useless, random thoughts in such desperate situations like this?
"It took me a while to call," he explained. There was a brief silence, before I ventured to break it.
"So..." Right. And the grand Uzumaki Naruto manages to pull forth the most witty conversation-helping comments in his great store of witticisms.
"Naruto," he said my name, and I could hear every, single vowel and consonant, and could almost imagine the way his tongue moved to form my name. "Would you like to go out for dinner this evening?"
Hallelujah! "Uh, yes. That would be nice," I fumbled with my words, wondering a second after I said each one if I had done something wrong.
"I'll pick you up, at...when would you like for me to be there?"
I ransacked my mind, wondering what a proper time for a date was. Six? Six thirty? "Seven. Is that all right?" Was that too early? Too late? I was tempted to tell him to hold and dial Shikamaru's emergency number to consult him. But then again, that would have my image flying out the window, and Orochimaru would probably never call me again in fear of the nondescript, and random Beethoven music that I played when I made him hold to set a time for our date.
Orochimaru chuckled into the phone, sensing my panic, and said, reassuringly, "All right, seven it is. I'll see you then."
"All right. I'll se you then. Bye."
"Bye." I waited for a split second and hung up, slamming down the phone into the pillow next to me, breathing as if I had run a mile or two. I immediately picked up the phone again, and dialed Kiba's number. The phone rang once or twice before Shikamaru picked up.
"Shikamaru!" I practically screamed his name into the phone, and there was a prolonged silence which made me wonder if I had burst his ear-drum and if he was lying with blood coming out of his ear in Kiba's apartment.
"What? I hear you, I hear you, geez!" Guess not.
"Orochimaru asked me out, and--and he's coming at seven--" I shot a glance at the clock in my living room. "It's eleven thirty. Which means that he'll be here in seven and a half hours"
"You sound a lot like a girl, you do realize that, don't you, Naruto?" Shikamaru's calm, controlled voice was slightly perturbed, and I growled, realizing that I probably did.
"What ever, I uh--"
"Why'd you call, Naruto?"
"Just wanted to let you know, that's all," I muttered a little lamely. Shikamaru was silent for a while, and then, voice soft, he offered, "It'll be fine. Trust me."
"Yeah, right," I said, unconvinced still. I was about to say something else when I heard Kiba retching in the background. "I got some things to do," I offered instead. "Take care of Kiba."
"I don't really have choice, you know."
I laughed at that. "Bye, Shikamaru."
*
In the next few hours, I cleaned the entire apartment out of sheer anxiousness. I was watering my plants, gifts from Kiba, when the phone rang. "Naruto?"
"Kakashi." I managed to keep my voice rather calm, almost fake in its friendliness.
He was silent for a split second before offering an apology. "I'm sorry I fired you like that."
I opened my mouth to say something, but then blanked. What was I supposed to say, 'It's okay, really, don't worry about. I understand.'? Instead, I opted for, "All right."
"I want to re-hire you."
"I don't work for you Kakashi," I said, tired now of all this firing and re-hiring.
"I realize, but--"
"If the UB wants me to work for him, tell him to ask me himself."
Kakashi didn't say anything for a while. Then, "All right, I'll pass on the message."
I opened my mouth to say something in response, but found that I could not find my words. Would the UB do it? Most probably not, but some small part inside me hoped that he would. I glanced worriedly at the clock, biting my lips again when I saw that it was past four.
"If he says he wants to call me, tell him to call me tomorrow," I said, after finding my voice again. "Not tonight. But tomorrow."
"All right."
There was silence again, and I wondered if he had hung up. "Why did you fire me?"
"I was worried about Sasuke."
"His fiancé thought that he had cheated on her with me. And he didn't care. So you go and fire me?"
"Look, Naruto, maybe I'll tell you later. After. Not now. Just drop it, okay?" Kakashi's voice was clipped and business-like again.
"Fine." My retort didn't have an affect on his attitude because he said a brisk 'good bye' before hanging up. The dial tone sounded oddly mocking to me, and I hung up hastily, feeling my heart beat quicken in anticipation. For the first time that day, I wished that my date with Orochimaru was done and over with. Suddenly, the panicky feeling overwhelmed me again, distorting my thoughts.
I walked into the living room slowly as if the floor under me would suddenly cave in and I would unluckily fall through my unlucky apartment floor and enter an unlucky bathroom which housed an unlucky old woman who was unluckily ugly to look at. And at the very unlucky moment that I fell in, she would unluckily be stripping down to her bras, or lack thereof, and would unluckily scream in a very unlucky manner. Upon which she would become unnaturally, unluckily more ugly due to the unsuspected and unlucky shock, and my unlucky eyes would have landed on her old, wrinkled, pale, and unlucky ass at that moment.
Which, in turn, would make me the unluckiest bastard to have ever graced this unlucky world.
I sat down in the couch, glancing suspiciously at the phone and the floor beneath me, expecting either of them to either combust spontaneously, or sprout horns, tails and pitchforks and mutilate into a very unhealthy pink, or have Kakashi, Sasuke and Sakura appear in front of me and accuse me of wrecking chaos in their fairly decent lives, stuff a cup of ramen down my throat and slit said throat until I bled to death and actually manage topaint Kakashi, Sasuke and Sakura a shade of red and pink with my blood.
I rested my head against the back of the sofa and curled up into a ball, convincing myself vainly that I would wake up find myself being in Orochimaru's arms (since in this made up reality of mine Kakashi never called, I was never offered anything else, and the only thing of importance that had happened to me on Saturday was that Orochimaru took me out).
The warmth of the day, combined with my anxiousness lulled me into an uneasy sleep, and I slipped into that comforting sense of peace that I could not find in the real world anymore.
*
It was 5:52 when I woke up again, and I realized with a swift sense of panic that I had about an hour before Orochimaru picked me up. So I stumbled towards the bathroom, mentally preparing myself to stick my head under the cold flow of tap water. It was a trick that Kiba had taught me, saying that he would include it in his soon-to-be-a-world's-bestseller The Beginner's Guide To Overcoming The Shittiest Of Shit-Resembling Hangovers.
True, I didn't have a hangover, but I felt strange, as if someone had reached in and dug around my insides for a while. I turned the tap on, but as if on cue, the phone started to ring. Maybe it was Orochimaru, calling to cancel. For the strangest reason, I hoped it would be the case. "Orochimaru?"
"You're going out with him." Not a question, but a fact, as if he was reading it off an almanac.
"I didn't know that you were that eager to get me back in the job." My words were clipped with annoyance, and I glanced hurriedly at the digital clock on the kitchen microwave. 6:03.
"I'm going away tomorrow for a short vacation, and I didn't want to call you then."
"Look, I'm busy. Call me back tomorrow."
"I told you. I don't want to call you tomorrow." His voice was just as leveled, just as deep, just as calm. And here I was, feeling my entrails combusting in my anger.
"Well, you better start believing that you want to call tomorrow, because I'm not listening to you now. So b--"
"Don't hang up."
"Watch me." I snapped the phone into its cradle--did he honestly think that I'd stay on the line--and walked back into the bathroom to take a quick shower. As I stepped out of the bathroom, the phone rang again, startling me. I walked into the kitchen slowly, cautiously. It couldn't be the UB. He would never call someone after they hung up on him. It could be anybody but the Uchiha. So, "Hello?"
"You hung up."
It was the UB. "You're a dick, did you know that?"
"Oh, funny." His voice was cruel, unsympathetic as he went on. "I never thought that I was a dick. Ilike to draw a line at the fact that I had one, actually."
I opened my mouth at that. In the strangest way, it was funny. "Oh, well let me help out your impaired thinking process a bit there. For all your fans out there, you're probably a personification of the perfect dick."
"Thank you."
"You're oh so welcome. Now I have to go."
"Where?" His voice was a bit clipped, and I felt the urge to explain myself to him.
"Dinner. At seven," I mumbled. "A date. The first," I added a little unnecessarily. I felt odd, as if I was betraying the UB by seeing Orochimaru.
There was silence. "I called. Now you come back and work for me. On Monday. I expect you to be there at 8:00."
That was it. "Listen up, you son of a bitch. You were supposed to ask me. Not just assume that just because you called I would immediately start working for you." I glanced worriedly at the digital clock. 6:33. He was eating away at my time. "Look, I have to go, do you understand that? I have to be ready by seven."
I was oddly reluctant to hang up the phone. It was a strange feeling of competition and unsaid rivalry, almost. I wanted him to hang up first, so that he wouldn't think that he had defeated me and made me hang up out of sheer frustration.
"Then hang up." There was silence between the two of us, and I rolled my eyes in disbelief. He was completely and totally aware of my thoughts. So I did what I thought best. I went into my room, the phone still cradled between the crook of my neck and shoulder and began to dress. The sound of rustling fabric sounded oddly magnified, and I winced as the zipper made an unbelievably loud noise.
"What are you doing?"
"I just took a shower," I mumbled into the retreiver. "So now I'm getting dressed. Got a problem with that?" My comment shut him up, and I was successfully able to put on a pair of casual pants and hold onto the phone at the same time.
"Oh."
"Stupid."
"Jerk."
"Idiot."
Another lengthy silence. I walked over to my bedside stand and picked up the watch. 6:59. "I have to go now, and no I won't be coming back to work for you. Try asking nicely next time, UB."
I hung up without waiting for him to say anything, and sat down to read. It was a slow-paced, well written, extremely boring, and oddly peaceful book called "Death comes for the Archbishop" by Willa Cather. I had started that book in my last year of college, almost a year and a half ago in an attempt to calm my nerves before the last final exams. And I managed to plow through half a page when I was anxious, an entire page when I was having a panic attack.
Hell. I might even look 'scholarly' when Orochimaru found me reading a book while waiting for him. I glanced at the watch again. 7:01. I had successfully managed to get dressed in less than half an hour. And there was no way the Uchiha would call me again. Not after I hung up on him twice.
Feeling confident, I flipped open the book. There was a bookmark with a little smiley face bead hanging off of it. Kiba had given it to me, saying that like my plants, the book mark gave off a "peaceful" aura. Flipping the book open to the where the bookmark was nestled, I picked up the colorful bookmark, smiling slightly at the yellow faces on a bright, rainbow colored background. I turned the bookmark over, and smiled at what was written.
Yo, Naruto, this thing is supposed to be good for you and make you smile. If it doesn't, tell me and I'll return it at the bookstore and get my three dollars back. Oh, and happy birthday. -Kiba.
Caution: This product is not recommended for very young children as beads can present a choking hazard.
Would that include me? The Uchiha? We had been bickering like two year olds just a minute ago, and here I was handling something that was clearly meant for the more mature part of humanity. I continued to read, settling down comfortably in the newly sprayed, and soft love seat.
Top Ten Good Things About Smiling:
1. It gets you in bed with someone hot faster than a frown
Hey, maybe that was true. Maybe I was smiling when I met Orochimaru. And Naruto scores once again.
2. It makes you look mentally unstable if you do it continuously, and people won't mess with you.
I thought about this one, wondering if it would be affective on the Uchiha. What would the poor dolt do if I actually walked in with a grin on my face and stared at him with a sadistic glint in my eyes, still grinning from nine in the morning till five in the evening? Maybe he would have me in his bed in a fraction of a second. I mean, the first thing said that a smile would get me in bed faster than a frown. Or maybe he would fire me. I put my money on the second one.
3. It tells people that you have a lot of money because you can afford to buy toothpaste, and occasionally switch your toothbrush and have the time to floss.
I rarely flossed, and still managed to have "a perfect set of healthy teeth" according to Kiba. What were the authors of this list talking about? Does anyone floss now-a-days? I considered it for a moment, mentally ticking off the people I knew and wondering if they ever flossed or not. Kiba didn't floss. That canine-resembling drunken idiot probably forgot how to brush. But he still managed to have perfect teeth. Shikamaru was lazy so it would be a hassle for him to floss.
And there was Zabuza who brushed once every two days. I think that was the reason why he covered his face with that abominable cloth, so he could spare his companions from having to look at his teeth. Probably. Haku flossed like hell. Sometimes I wondered if his teeth would weather away under the intense brushing sessions he subjected them to twice every day.
Uchiha? He wouldn't need to floss. He had a perpetual frown etched into his face, and so no one would be able to look at his teeth at all. On the other hand, his buddy Kakashi was always smiling as if he was up to something, and he had perfect teeth. But he looked like one of those guys who would rather sit down with a porno book rather than get up, walk to the bathroom, and twirl a bit of string around their finger so they could maneuver it between their teeth to get those 'nasty little gingivitis causing twitters.'
I glanced quickly at the wall clock, panicked now. 7:15. I was contemplating the flossing records of people I knew, slowly edging towards something of a panic attack. And as if on cue, the door bell rang. Putting the bookmark in between the pages 12 and 13 (over a period of seven months, I had only managed to read 13 pages. Kiba had once estimated that I would be done with the book in a matter of a decade or so if I got nervous often enough), I placed the book neatly on the glass table in front of me.
I got up, steered myself around the furniture to the front door, and opened it, willing a blush down. But the minute I opened my door, the blush resurfaced again. Orochimaru was dressed in a navy blue, casual shirt that had white snakes on the sleeves. It showed off his well-built muscles, and I felt my eyes drawn to the way his hair was tied back into a high pony-tail to reveal his perfect neck. And to match his black shirt, he wore a similarly dark pant.
"Hi," I managed to find my voice and moved aside so that he could come in. Orochimaru took the cue and entered, glancing around with an approving look before I led him to one of the seats, my heart beating away as if it was trying to keep me alive and standing. He sat down in the two-seater, where I had just been and picked up the book, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Is it good?" He asked, casually flipping to the bookmark.
"Well, it's well written, but its a bit boring," I said, glad to be talking about something that didn't have me fumbling with my words.
Orochimaru flipped the bookmark over, a soft smile gracing his features as he read. "Kiba...the guardsman?"
I chuckled at that. "He gets a bit overprotective about his friends," I explained, hoping that my statement would do justice to Kiba's actions in the hospital when he found me and Orochimaru together.
Orochimaru read the first one, and he chuckled. "Well, the first reason is understandable," he glanced up at me, a smile on his face. "Am I lucky enough to venture and say that its true?"
I blushed, realizing what he was saying. That was...blunt. "I--uh--"
"Sorry, Naruto." He stood up and walked over to sit down next to me, the sofa molding to bear his weight. His hand was around my shoulder in a second, and he made me look up at him by cupping his hand under my chin. "I shouldn't have assumed..."
"It's all right." He considered me for a second before moving closer. I blushed when his lips touched mine briefly. He pulled back a little, his breath warm against my lips. "Do you mind?"
I hesitated a bit, fearing that everything would go well until I did something stupid and made Orochimaru hate me forever like I did with Haku. But then I remembered Shikamaru and Kiba and realized with dawning relief that the two of them had remained by my side for over five years. What was the point of leading the rest of my life in fear of every doing anything that might make it better. "No."
An instant later, he was kissing me, taking his sweet time with every little detail, pulling, tugging, angling until he got it just so--and it was heaven. I sighed into the kiss and moved closer, pushing up against him, threading my fingers into his hair, and he returned the favor, pushing me into the sofa and pressing down. I pushed at his shoulders a little and he pulled back for a second. "I thought," I muttered, "We could eat first."
"Hungry?" His voice was deep, gravelly, and it vibrated through his chest. He dipped down to my neck and kissed lightly. I closed my eyes, and imagined, in a flash of guilty pleasure, Sasuke instead of Orochimaru.
"Yes...sort of--need to--uh--this isn't--"
And then the phone rang again. Orochimaru didn't pull away, so I reached over and picked up the phone, pushing at him a little weakly. This would be a good excuse, maybe I could call off the date, get my thoughts in order. "Hel--ngh," I trailed off into a small whimper when Orochimaru bit down on my neck.
"Bad time, I'm guessing." He sounded angry, his voice curt and pinched.
I took in a deep breath and pushed away at Orochimaru and stood up, straightening my shirt a little. "Um. Hi. UB?"
I took in a deep breath, and waited for his response. "You'll work for me." It was not a request, it was not a hopeful thought, it was a statement. A blunt, cold, and extremely biting statement that I wanted to counter with a string of curses, which I suppressed in the nick of time only because I realized that Orochimaru was sitting in the living room and could probably hear me.
"I will not."
"You will."
"You were supposed to call me and ask me nicely with a 'please'," I said. "Look, I have to go. I'll fight with you later."
There's a soft sound, as if Sasuke had exhaled into the phone. "The date is that good, then."
I tried to think of a clever answer to that, because only two mintues ago, I had imagined Sasuke instead of Orochimaru. But that was to be expected, I reasoned to myself. Sasuke was a good-looking man, it was only natural. Finaly, I managed to counter, "Yes. I'm having a wonderful time, thanks for asking."
There's a moment's pause again, and then a little quietly, "Naruto, I've known Orochimaru since I was twelve. If--If--" He stopped, abruptly. "Everything's all right?"
An odd question, by any standard, but then again...even Shikamaru had sensed something off about Orochimaru. "Just not going according to plan, I guess," I muttered into the phone. The previous heat of the argument had left me entirely. I had known Sasuke for long enough to recognize the hint of concern there. I needed to get out of this situation with Orochimaru. Something was off, especifally if both Kiba, Shikamaru, and now the Sasuke were all cautioning me against getting involved with Orochimaru.
And strangely, Sasuke offered a way out. "Tell him you have to come into the office," he said, and his voice was back to normal, insulting in just the way he said his vowels.
I raised my voice without even realizing. "That's assuming I come back to work, you jerk!"
"Funny...I'm looking at your contract right now, and it looks like you signed off for five weeks."
I closed my eyes at the reminder. I had been hoping the UB wouldn't actually come knocking on my door again, that they would ignore that contract in its entirety after what happened yesterday. But something had changed in our relationship, something had happened at my desk, and ours wasn't just a simple friendship anymore. It wasn't healthy, what I was feeling. At least not towards a man who was engaged. In the living room, Orochimaru was looking at me politely, and it was obvious that he overheard my half of the conversation.
"I really, really don't like you, UB," I hissed into the phone. "I really, really--"
"I'm getting another call. I'll call you back." There's a click, and then silence. He hung up on me, I realized. The son of a bitch hung up on me.I put the phone down, breathing deep to control my anger even as Orochimaru walked towards the kitchen.
Orochimaru was about to reach towards me when I moved away, back towards the living room. This wasn't right. I wanted the Uchiha, not Orochimaru, and I wasn't being honest about it to either of them. Which was worse than a lie.
"Is everything all right?" Orochimaru asked politely.
"Problems at work," I answered, and it wasn't a lie. Before Orochimaru could answer, I offered, "Is it okay if we don't go on our date tonight?"
Orochimaru must have sensed my reluctance because he immediately took the offer. "I'll call you again." I nodded and without further ado, held the door open for him. He must have been expecting another kiss, but I only mumbled an apologetic, "Good night," and watched him walk down the stairs.
Then, I was left alone again, with an instant-ramen packet in place of the exotic dinner that I was promised. The water was warming when the phone rang again. By way of hello, I said loudly, "I want a raise."
"I pay you too much as it is," he responded, and it was as if our conversation hadn't even ended. It was always like that, though. We'd start a conversation at nine in the morning and pick it up again later that afternoon as if nothing had interrupted. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with the man, no matter how much of a prick he was. "Is your date still on?"
The microwave began to beep its finish. "No." I dumped some ramen into the hot water, considering the pros of going into more detail. I couldn't talk to the UB anymore, especially not about Orochimaru. We weren't at the same place anymore. "I can't work for you, Sasuke."
He sounded petulant when he demanded, "Why not?"
"We're--On Friday, what happened in the office--"
"Nothign happened. You said so yourself."
I stared at the ramen, becoming soft and stringy in the hot water. It smelled good, but I didn't want to eat it anymore. It was a little difficult to sound casual when I answered, "Well, as long as we're on the same page."
"I want you at the office at 9:00 tomorrow. I might need you to get access to my--"
"It's a Sunday!"
There's silence. "And that is of concern to me because..."
"Oi!" I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it. When nothing intelligent came into my mind, I shouted again, "OIII! You can't stick me with office work on a Sunday, you ass hole!"
"It's either that or--"
"Fine," I said quickly. "I'll take the other option."
"You do realize what's on my schedule tomorrow, don't you? If you want to be my body man for the weekend--"
"Anything but the office," I groaned, letting my head fall onto the table. "My job is so boring sometimes."
There's a brief pause, as if "Fine, then. I'll send a car over for you around six thirty in the morning. You don't need anything."
Early, but the Uchiha worked insane hours. And as long as I wasn't stuck answering phone calls in the office, I was fine with anything. "Great, I'll see you tomorrow then."
He cleared his throat, a little too louldy over the phone. "Good night." And then he hung up. I put the phone back, and closed my eyes against the headache that had managed to make its way into my mind.
My appetite was gone, and even though it was only eight, I settled down in bed for the night on an empty stomach. Grumbling uner my breath still, I reached over and set the alarm for 6:00 A.M.
End of the Fourth