Current mood:	tired
Entry tags:	fanfic, house falls down, narusasu, naruto: fic

More House. No, not that House.
Title: When the house falls down (3/?)
Author: sowell/
Rating: R, for language; not sure yet if I'll be going to the NC-17 place
Warnings: Teenage ninja swear a lot. Also, spoilers up through the latest issue of the manga (418), both in fic and author's notes.
Genre: Action, adventure, friendship, romance, aaaaaaaaaaaangst
Wordcount: 3,363
Summary: When the house falls down, all that's left is to rebuild. Naruto/Sasuke friendship with subtext-y goodness.
Disclaimer: They belong to Kishimoto-san. I apologize for my extreme western-izing of them.
Author's Note:1) Chapter 1 notes 2) Chapter 2 notes 3) Very much un-beta'd 4) Thanks for all the lovely feedback so far. You guys are awesome!

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

 

And Sakura-chan’s stomach,” Naruto says dreamily. “And her legs, when she’s training with the old lady… Everything bunches up, and you can almost see right up to that little curve where - ”

“If she catches you talking about her like this, she’ll put you in the hospital,” Sasuke remarks blandly.

Naruto grins loosely. “Nah. She has it bad for me. She tries to pretend, but I can tell.”

“You’re a moron,” Sasuke tells him, for probably the thirtieth time in the last hour.

Just like the previous twenty-nine times, Naruto only sighs happily. He holds out the thermos for Sasuke’s consumption and, very slowly and carefully, Sasuke drinks. He’s not sure why he’s indulging this latest bonding attempt on Naruto’s part. He tells himself it’s in the name of escape, but the truth is that the wine is making him feel warm and relaxed in way that’s far too dangerous to his own resolve. Maybe all the orange has hypnotized him, he muses.

Naruto’s had about four times the amount of alcohol Sasuke’s consumed, and it’s beginning to show. He figures it’ll be another thirty minutes, tops, before he’ll be able to catch the blonde off guard. In the meantime, Sasuke merely has to wait and watch Naruto weave his own downfall.

His captor takes the thermos back, black whiskers turning down without warning. In his current state, it only makes him look vaguely befuddled. “That damn Sai,” he mutters. “Always trying to show me up in front of Sakura. Ass.” He swallows again, frowning.

As far as Sasuke can tell, Sai has no interest in anything outside of mission parameters and a strange fixation with Sasuke’s and Naruto’s bonds, but trying to convince Naruto of that in his current condition would be like trying to shove a square peg through a circular hole. He merely says, “I don’t think you have to worry about the painter.”

As quickly as they appeared, the clouds flee from Naruto’s face. “Heh. That’s right. You showed him, didn’t you?”

“How would you know?” Sasuke replies. “You were already unconscious.”

Naruto gives him a sloppy-drunk grin and clumsily pokes him in the chest. It’s so reminiscent of Itachi that Sasuke feels the bile rise in his throat.

“I forgive you,” Naruto says, obnoxiously cheerful.

“I didn’t ask for forgiveness,” Sasuke reminds him too quickly, and Naruto’s grin takes on a feral edge.

“I. Don’t. Care,” he says emphatically. “I forgive you anyway. That’s what friends do.”

“We – ”

“"We’re not friends',” Naruto cuts him off, mimicking Sasuke’s deep tones. “I know.” He waves his hand dismissively. “You’re like a broken record.”

“If you’d get it through your thick head, I wouldn’t have to say it all the time,” Sasuke shoots back.

Naruto smirks. “I get it. I just think you’re full of shit. There’s a reason you didn’t kill me three years ago, and it wasn’t on a goddamn whim.”

“The reason doesn’t matter,” Sasuke says tiredly. “Any friendship that might have existed between us was purely by accident.” Naruto’s mouth tightens in an angry line, but Sasuke keeps going. He has a driving desire to make Naruto see, to make him finally understand what Sasuke’s been telling him all these years. “My emotional ties to Konoha ended the night Itachi left. Nothing after that day had any meaning to me, except to prepare me to fight my brother.”

 Naruto takes another long pull of sake, glowering around the rim of the thermos the whole time. “You’re more annoying than I remember,” Naruto says after he swallows.

Unbelievably, inappropriately, Sasuke has to squash down a small smile. He can’t suppress the faint curl of nostalgia that drifts through him, though. Three years hasn’t crushed Naruto’s single-minded determination and, in spite of Sasuke’s frustration, he can’t help but be glad of that fact. Sasuke spent his time with Orochimaru carefully carving out the few emotions that Itachi’s slaughter left intact. But Naruto’s emotions are as close to the surface as ever. Sasuke wants to be disdainful, but he can’t deny a deep, underlying relief.

Sometimes Sasuke wonders what would happen if he met Naruto years down the road, only to find the ninja hardened and hollowed out. He thinks that maybe that Naruto would be someone to fear, and it’s been years since he was afraid of anyone. Sasuke never, ever wants to look into Naruto’s face and see himself staring back.

He reins in his wandering thoughts with effort. Maybe he’s a little drunk after all, he thinks wryly.

Naruto is silent for a few minutes before his face pulls into a semblance of seriousness. His forehead scrunches in concentration as he tries to give his slurring words some gravity. “I never told you,” he says, carefully dropping each syllable like a stone. “I never told you about Itachi.”

Sasuke’s heart rate trips over itself, then doubles its previous pace. “What about him?”

“Jerk,” Naruto says darkly. “That jerk tried to tell me you’d attack Konoha. He used his stupid eyes on me, and his stupid birds…” Naruto trails off, glaring violently at his own reflection in the aluminum thermos. Sasuke leans forward, waiting for him to finish, but Naruto just tips his head back and drinks again, mouth pulled down into a frown.

He raps his heel against the ground to get Naruto’s attention. “Naruto, focus,” he says harshly. “When did you see my brother?”

Naruto scratches his head. “Uh….a while ago, I guess.”

“A while ago, when?”

Naruto looks annoyed. “Before you killed him, obviously.” His mouth puckers into a frown. “That two-faced freak said you might have died, too. We were worried, you know.” His voice is accusing. “You couldn’t have sent a memo, or a snake, or even one of those weird teammates of yours to let us know?”

Sasuke’s pretty sure that, if his hands weren’t tied, he’d be throttling Naruto. He takes a deep breath. “He didn’t try and take you, then?”

“Who, Itachi? Like he could,” Naruto says loftily.

Sasuke fights the urge to roll his eyes. Naruto is looking down again, and the wheels in his brain are almost visibly turning. Painfully, creakily, but turning nonetheless.

“Itachi, he…” Naruto stops, and Sasuke sees his fingers curl.

“What?” he asks in dread.

But Naruto only looks puzzled when he raises his head. “He…did something to me,” he says slowly. “He was talking about you, and Konoha, and choices, and then…” Naruto shudders.

The back of Sasuke's neck begins to prick with unease.

“He says…he says he gave me power. And that he hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.” Naruto looks him in the eye. “What’s with your family and power, anyway? You’re all obsessed.”

Sasuke’s mind is racing. Itachi never did anything without a reason. Had Itachi been trying to warn Naruto, just in case Madara got his way? Was his devotion to Konoha still that strong? Sasuke can’t help it; he feels the resentment gathering in him. Damn Itachi anyway. Sasuke’s not sure he’ll ever be done sorting out his brother’s secrets.

“Anyway, he’s gone now,” Naruto says, yawning. “I always knew you could take him. And you didn’t need Orochimaru, either. Me and Sakura-chan would have been enough.”

Sasuke’s stomach drops. Even with Orochimaru’s training, he would have been no match for Itachi if Itachi had truly wanted to kill him. The thought of Naruto and Sakura facing his brother's spinning eyes makes Sasuke’s blood run cold.

Sorry Sasuke, this is the last time.

“Now that he’s dead, everything can be like it used to be,” Naruto continues. His eyes are starting to droop.

“No,” Sasuke says. “It can’t.”

Either Naruto doesn’t hear Sasuke’s words, or he chooses to ignore them. He settles comfortably against the wall, closing his eyes. “You’ll see,” he says, faintly slurred. “When we’re back in Konoha, everything…will be fine.” A peaceful smile crosses his lips. “When you’re back home…everything…will be great.”

His head sinks slowly to his chest, and he lets out a little snore.

Trust Naruto to pass out on the job, Sasuke thinks in exasperation. Naruto’s slumped gracelessly against the wall, totally unconscious. Knowing Naruto, it would take an earthquake to wake him at this point. All Sasuke would need to do was get one hand free…just one hand and he could lift Naruto’s kunai, slit his throat, and escape before anyone was the wiser.

He’s pretty sure Naruto would haunt him until the end of time, though, if he killed his old friend while he was unconscious. He already has one ghost following him; he doesn’t need another. He can almost imagine the taunts. Too much of a coward to fight me while I’m awake, eh? Nevermind that Sasuke had won nearly every one of their confrontations to date. Naruto lived in his own reality. Always had and always would.

But the leaf ninja looks awfully vulnerable at the moment, silent for once. His chest is rising and falling evenly in a sign of deep, undisturbed sleep. Sasuke doesn’t think he’s ever slept so easily. Not since the night his childhood was ripped to shreds, and maybe not even before that.

Sasuke gently nudges Naruto’s leg with his own. “Naruto,” he says softly.

Nothing.

He nudges a little harder. “Hey moron, wake up.”

It’s no use. Naruto’s dead to the world. There’s no excuse, then. It may be his only chance to escape. He has to take it. He didn’t come this far just to be defeated by a sleeping Naruto.

Sasuke shifts surreptitiously until his bound arms are brushing Naruto’s warm shoulder. He fumbles for the kunai attached to Naruto’s hip, cringing as the circulation returns to his limbs. He painfully walks his back up the wall until he’s upright and the knife is level with Naruto’s throat. The skin there seems paper thin and very pale in comparison to the rest of Naruto's tan. Naruto swallows, and his adam's apple bumps against the knife. Sasuke takes a deep breath, noting with a detached sort of wonder that his hands are shaking. After all these years, he’s about to kill Naruto.

He has a sudden vision of the eight-tailed ox rising up before him, preparing to crush him and his whole team to death. In that moment, it should have been Itachi’s face that rose up in his mind, but it wasn’t. It was Naruto, accompanied by Sakura and Kakashi. He’d almost been able to feel the three of them standing solidly at his back. Even now, he can’t manage to hate them. Not with the same clean, pure malice he’s able to direct toward everyone else.

You have no choice, he tells himself. He forces the vision of Itachi’s dead body to the front of his mind, makes himself picture the elders of Konoha, sitting on their thrones above the slain bodies of the Uchiha clan. No. There’s no choice at all. He hardens his jaw and begins to press.

Naruto makes a little sound in his sleep, and Sasuke freezes.

“Pork miso…please,” Naruto mumbles again.

Sasuke stares at him. Naruto’s brow is crinkled in sleep, but other than that, there’s no sign of distress, no sign of fear. He’s dreaming all right, but it’s not the same brand of tortured nightmare that attacks Sasuke on a nightly basis.

Why? Naruto may not have a murdered brother to haunt him, but his life has been far from peaceful. Naruto’s seen people die; he’s seen people leave him. He’s been shunned and ridiculed and defeated and lied to. He’s walked around in the same body as a demon for his whole life, and still he sleeps soundly. How?

“Sasuke,” Naruto breathes, soft and plaintive in sleep, and Sasuke jerks away. The knife goes clattering to the ground.

Shit. It hits him in a rush, and he thumps back against the wall, sweating. He can’t do it.

It’s just like it was back in Orochimaru’s lair. Sasuke knew, he knew from the moment Sai said Naruto’s name that he’d have a chance to rectify the mistake he made at the Valley of the End three years ago. He’d have a chance to kill Naruto, to get rid of the final tie standing between him and vengeance.

And then he’d seen Naruto and realized he still wasn’t strong enough. Instead of just driving a sword through Naruto’s heart, he’d baited him; instead of simply wiping all of them out in one blow, he’d stepped inside Naruto’s mind and seen the thing that Naruto had lived with, day in and day out. He’d felt nothing but relief when Orochimaru put a stop to the confrontation.

All this time, all this distance, for all his vows and all his sacrifices, he still can’t kill Naruto. Shit, shit, shit.

God, he’s fucked up, he thinks emptily. This is his chance. He needs to escape. He needs to get back to his team, to continue on to Konoha, and maybe then he’ll be able to find a little peace. He’ll never avenge Itachi by cowering helplessly in this prison. He needs to get out.

Naruto slumbers on, oblivious.

He can’t do it. He inches away from Naruto, staring at the blonde ninja. His hands are shaking too badly to even think about picking up the kunai anymore. Weak, his brain taunts him. Sentimental. Frail. Not worthy of the Uchiha name. It’s all true, he thinks numbly. And it doesn’t matter.

He watches Naruto sleeping until he hears Sakura’s light footsteps coming down the hallway. He closes his eyes, feigning unconsciousness until they come to bring him his morning meal.


In the end, the solution comes to him born of desperation and a fear that, if he stays for much longer, he might not want to leave.

Sakura is the first one he targets. She’s the one who brings his meals, and Sasuke has noticed her shoulders slowly beginning to relax around him over the last few days.

Her mistake.

Using the Mangekyo is still very, very tricky. His control isn’t even close to what Itachi’s was, and it’s exhausting even when he isn’t drugged and tied. But it’s the only option he has.

He waits until she sinks down in front of him. He keeps his eyes closed until he senses her at face level, and then he springs the Mangekyo on her. She goes stock still when she catches sight of his eyes, and for a despairing moment, Sasuke thinks he must have failed. But then her own eyes turn heavy-lidded, and he knows he’s got her.

She remains in front of him for a swaying moment, and Sasuke wills her to see what he wants – to see him obediently eating the drugged food. Sasuke watches as she eats the food herself instead, ingesting whatever was meant for him. She’ll figure it out soon enough – she’s a medic after all – but Sasuke figures he has at least a few hours before anyone notices.

When all the food is gone, he closes his eyes and breaks the illusion. He’s sweating with effort, but he can feel the triumph racing through him. It will only be a matter of time before he has the same power Itachi had.

Sakura blinks at him for a second, then looks down at the empty lunchbox in confusion. He watches her shake her head before she rises. She turns to go, then hesitates.

“Are you all right, Sasuke-kun?” she asks, brow furrowed. “You look pale.”

“Fine,” he says smoothly.

Sai is slightly more difficult. He sits in the corner with his sketchbook, painting with precise, deliberate strokes. They guard him in predictable four hour shifts, and Sasuke’s found that, without fail, Sai always follows Sakura and precedes Naruto. Throughout the endless afternoon, Sasuke feels his strength coming back in slow waves as the drug finally wears off. He’s gotten used to the sluggish feeling in his brain and body, and the sudden return to normal makes his head whirl.

He gathers up his growing power like grain in a barrel, hoarding it until he needs it. It’s a relief to feel his chakra coming back, to feel his control returning. It must have been the drug, he tells himself. It was the drug that made him lose his chance to escape the other night, the drug that called up all those old sentimental feelings. If he’d been thinking clearly, he never would have hesitated.

It’s difficult to keep the triumph off his face during Sai’s shift, but he manages it. He needs to time it just right. If he moves too soon, his energy will desert him and it will all be for nothing. If he waits too long, Naruto will arrive prematurely, and he’ll have lost another chance.

He bows his head and pretends to sleep. He’s developed a preternatural ability to track the passage of time over the last few years. He can tell, almost down to the second, how much time has gone by in any given situation. He waits until the last two minutes of Sai’s shift, until the painter is starting to squirm restlessly and Sasuke expects to hear Naruto’s sauntering footsteps coming down the hallway any second.

Like Sakura, Sai goes still when he catches site of the spiraling black pupils. It takes a little more effort to make the illusion work this time, and his vision blurs with blood as he concentrates. Two minutes, he tells himself, clenching his jaw. Sakura took at least five. This should be nothing.

It’s not nothing. It’s exhausting, but when Sai succumbs, Sasuke feels the same triumph sweeping over him. He holds the painter’s attention with the Mangekyo and, using the tiny bit of energy he has to spare, shreds his bindings with Chidori.

It almost works. The bindings don’t disintegrate like they did the first time, but they weaken. Panting, he focuses all his physical energy in one place, and pulls with all his might.

The fibers of the rope circling his upper arm give way with a soft ripping sound. The ropes loosen around him enough for him to get a hand out. It’s just in time, too. Sai snaps out of it in the same instant that Naruto steps through the door. Naruto frowns at Sai’s dazed expression.

“You look all…weird,” he says. “What’s up with you?”

Sai’s eyes narrow, sweeping the room, but no light bulb goes off in his expression.  “I – Nothing,” he says. He gets shakily to his feet, still frowning, and Sasuke watches him exit the room with a conspicuous lack of grace. He glances once back over his shoulder, but then shakes his head and keeps walking.

Sai won’t stay fooled for long, Sasuke realizes. He’ll figure out what happened sooner rather than later. Sasuke’ll have to act quickly.

One more time, Sasuke thinks wearily. Surely he can do it one more time.

Luckily, Naruto is the easiest of all of them. Sasuke doesn’t have much energy left, but then – it doesn’t take much. He waits only until Sai’s footsteps have receded, and then he simultaneously calls up the Mangekyo as he lets the ropes drop.

Naruto’s sharp intake of breath is audible clear across the room. “S-Sasuke?” he stammers. His expression slowly trades surprise for shock and horror.

Sasuke knows what he's seeing – Sasuke bleeding, dying, Sai’s sword through his chest.

“Shit.” Naruto’s by his side in a flash, shaking his shoulders, fumbling for his pulse . He’s so far gone in the illusion that he doesn’t even notice as Sasuke delicately lifts his kunai from its holster. He keeps checking Sasuke for signs of life, blue eyes churning with panic.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Naruto’s saying. "Fuck." He slams an enraged fist into the wall behind Sasuke’s head, sending out a spiderweb of cracks. His teeth are bared in anguish. “Fucking Sai. That asshole, that fucking traitor, I’ll kill him, I swear, I’ll – “

He turns his back, ready to launch himself up, presumably to get the others. He comes to a dead halt as Sasuke slips an arm around his neck from behind and brings the tip of the knife to his jugular.