Title: Seraphic Cemetery

Author: tir-synni

Beta: Thanks, Arete!

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. And thanks for all the reviews! ^_^

Addy: relisprince(at)hotmail(dot)com

              Uchiha Itachi had been in his home, had eaten at his table. Air raced in and out of Naruto’s gaping mouth. A renowned killer had slipped into his house while he had slept. He had snapped at said murderer about his breakfast habits. Oh, by the Leaf! A distant corner of his brain pointed out helpfully that he was hyperventilating. A not so distant part retorted that of course he was hyperventilating, he just shared his ramen with a killer, he fucking deserved to hyperventilate! At that time, the distant corner remembered why it was distant and shut up.

              This is my home! Naruto wailed. Shit like this isn’t supposed to happen in my home! This is MINE. Not even the villagers have ever bothered me here before.

              His chest heaved painfully, his lungs growing frantic with each swift, shallow breath. Ashamed and confused, Naruto buried his face in his hands. He had to calm down. Such behavior wasn’t worthy of a genin, much less a chuunin. Sucking in another desperate breath, Naruto lowered his hands and stared deliberately at the back of one. Even if the scar from that first C-class mission was gone, he could still feel its shadow. He could take care of this, fuck Uchiha Itachi.

              Big deal, Naruto snarled. So a guy who wiped out his entire family snuck into your home while you were sleeping and chilled in your kitchen waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t murder you in your sleep; that’s a plus. He was a very, very polite guest, and you did your job as a good host. He could’ve killed you anytime, sure, but he didn’t–

              Naruto’s head fell back into the cabinet. “Hey,” he said aloud. “Why didn’t Itachi do anything to me?”

              His breathing calming with this new distraction, the young chuunin stared at the ceiling. His nose wrinkled; his blue eyes scrunched. Okay, first off: Uchiha Itachi had been in his home who knows how long before he woke up and didn’t (that he knew of) do anything. Secondly, he had come alone when the pervert hermit had said the . . . group worked always in pairs–how the hell did they do that with nine members? Naruto wasn’t that bad at math!–and sharkface hadn’t been anywhere in sight. Thirdly, Itachi had been perfectly polite, almost nice if it wasn’t for the stick shoved up his ass to his tonsils, but Naruto was generous enough to attribute that to genetics. No harm had–

              Scritch. Scritchscritch.

              –come and what the fuck was that? Every frayed nerve aflame and heightening his demon-enhanced senses, Naruto listened to the sharp clicking and scratching noise coming from the other end of his apartment. Someone’s picking my lock, Naruto realized. Shit, someone’s entering my apartment–again!

              His breath speeding up again, Naruto’s hands slipped back into his clothes to grip his kunai. Still on the kitchen floor, Naruto braced himself in case he needed to move quickly. On the far side of the room, the sunlight flowed through the lone window and lit up the fridge and cabinet. The table was close to the opening leading to the living room; it was out of his way in case he needed to lunge towards the door, in his way if he had to go through the window. Still, it was his home; he could maneuver within it quicker than any intruder.

              Neither Itachi nor any of his group would be so obvious! Naruto snapped at himself, flinching when the door slammed open. No enemy would be so loud! Knock it off, Naruto!

              His knuckles were white within black gloves.

              “Dunce!” a familiar voice roared. “Where the hell are you?!”

              Naruto blinked. And then he blinked again. Vaguely amused with this game, he blinked for the third time, just for the hell of it. A weak laugh tore from his cold lips. Peeling numb fingers away from his weapons, Naruto dropped his hands into his lap. Hearing that “beloved” voice roar again, Naruto threw his head into the cabinet, oblivious to the dull ache it caused, and giggled a high, odd giggle. Of course! Why the hell not? It fit perfectly with his day. His giggles fading into harsh panting, Naruto called, “In here, asshole!”

              The furious stomping in his living room changed direction to the kitchen. Uchiha Sasuke lacked his typical grace and dignity as he stalked to stand in the doorframe. Pale face flushed, those fiery eyes swept over the kitchen. “You’re late! Even Master Kakashi arrived before . . . you. . . .” Sasuke’s voice trailed off as his black eyes finally found his friend. Naruto took in Sasuke’s stunned features with a weak smile.

              “Good morning,” the blond greeted cheerfully. His cabinet felt oddly cold against his back, with its icy handle jabbing his spine. His forehead protector felt even colder. “What’s up?”

              Two Uchiha in one morning, Naruto thought dizzily. Hell, two guests in one morning. I’m ready for more ramen.

              Sasuke’s lips twisted into a familiar frown, unfamiliar concern darkening his eyes as he crossed the small room. Any other time Sasuke’s aggressive approach would have sparked a similar aggressive response from Naruto, but now the young man could only lean limply against the cabinets, too weary to even move away from that damned handle. Fuck. His adrenaline rush was gone. He had been rather fond of it.

              As Sasuke kneeled beside his former teammate, he gracefully slipped his gloves off and dropped them to one side. Naruto jumped when the brunet’s cool hands felt his cheeks and forehead. “What’s wrong with you, dunce? Did you drink old milk again?”

              Sasuke’s casual insults helped alleviate Naruto’s shock. He bristled, barely noticing how Sasuke’s fingers lingered on his skin. “No!” he retorted. “I–“ Naruto cut himself off. Slowly widening eyes took in Sasuke’s faintly concerned face, absorbing the soft black strands framing the pale face, the masculine beauty the other young man represented. He looked so much like his brother. “ . . . I. . . .”

              My dream is . . . to kill a certain person.

              Naruto’s chest ached, right beside his chest, and he clutched it with a gasp. He could almost feel the strong hand ramming through his lung. Naruto stared hard at the floor, avoiding Sasuke’s worried eyes.

              Orochimaru will help me kill that man. Konoha was only holding me back.

              Biting his lip, Naruto struggled to distance himself from that heat pressing against his legs. Even after Sasuke had tried to kill him four years ago, Naruto had welcomed back the broken young man with open arms. Naruto had forgiven Sasuke for the heartbreak he had caused, forgiven Sasuke for the tears he had coaxed from Naruto. However, Naruto could never forget how far the brunet had gone for his revenge.

              Yeah, Sasuke, Naruto thought, your big bro ate some ramen with me this morning. Nah, he didn’t mention you, but next time he sneaks into my apartment, I’ll be sure to ask.

              Naruto started when he felt Sasuke grip his shoulders. “Hey, Dead Last!” When Naruto remained silent, Sasuke shook him hard. “Snap out of it.”

              Sasuke. . . . For the first time in years, Naruto allowed the memories of that day to flood him. Nausea roiled within him. Sasuke shook him again, but Naruto could only look at him with beseeching eyes. If I tell you, you’ll go berserk and maybe turn traitor again. Sasuke. You’re my best friend, my precious person. I can’t let you hurt yourself or others like that. He clenched his fists and trembled lightly. What am I supposed to do?

              Hands tight on Naruto’s hunched shoulders, Sasuke peered into his friend’s face. Sasuke’s worried frown warmed and simultaneously chilled him. “Naruto. Are you all right? Are you ill?”

              “I. . . .” Naruto repeated helplessly. I don’t want to lie, Sasuke! Please, go away! Another thought occurred to his frantic mind, and Naruto’s eyes widened in horror. What would the hag do if he told her how an S-class criminal had snuck into his home, one known for his desire for the fox demon? She might put herself and others at risk trying to stop Itachi. Naruto couldn’t let that happen.

              Sasuke’s hands loosened from Naruto’s shoulders and awkwardly rubbed the blond’s arms. Naruto swallowed thickly at Sasuke’s shy attempts at comfort. Anything he chose would be a betrayal, and Sasuke obliviously sat with him, doing his best to comfort him.

              Damn you, Itachi, Naruto cursed. Think, Naruto, think!

              Unfortunately, only one conclusion occurred to Naruto. Feeling sick to his stomach, Naruto closed his eyes and flashed Sasuke a brilliant smile. “I’m fine!” he chirped. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.”

xoxoxox

              If nothing else, Sasuke mused wryly, looking down at the pale, sweaty boy sitting in his arms, Naruto is a terrible liar.

              When Naruto had been late for their usual meeting, Sasuke had thought nothing of it. Next to vegetables and kanji, alarm clocks seemed to be Naruto’s greatest enemy. Only when Master Kakashi arrived, his nose in Come Come Paradise, did Sasuke worry. It was a rule: Kakashi always arrived last. The worry quickly transformed into fury as he imagined Naruto snoozing peacefully in bed. Leaving Kakashi standing in the training grounds, Sasuke had followed the pervert teacher’s helpful directions to the idiot’s apartment, maliciously planning on ripping the dunce out of bed. He had not imagined finding Naruto collapsed on the kitchen floor.

              Sasuke sighed heavily, his worry dissipating somewhat at Naruto’s expected lie. Pulling slightly back from the blond, he trailed his hand from Naruto’s elbow to his neck. Naruto stiffened a little, but Sasuke only focused on the skin under his fingers. The boy’s pulse was racing, although he didn’t feel very warm. Perhaps a slight fever, then?

              Expired milk again? Sasuke wondered. What is this, the third time? Naruto, you dunce.

              With the blond in front of him and looking fine, if slightly dazed and flushed, Sasuke finally relaxed. Pushing his frenetic emotions back into their familiar box, Sasuke examined the blond. Naruto was still pale, but his familiar blinding smile made it difficult to look for symptoms. Like all the former members of Team Seven, he knew better than to trust that smile. Sasuke continued looking the young man over. A little sweaty, faint trembling, definite disorientation judging by how long it took him to adequately respond. Perhaps a bad cold? Sasuke eyed Naruto’s usual morning workout clothes; the other chuunin had obviously prepared to go out this morning. I guess he didn’t want to admit to himself that he was sick.

              Reassured, Sasuke slipped an arm around Naruto’s back and heaved him to his feet. The blond instantly stiffened, and Sasuke paused, hurt by Naruto’s automatic response. He quickly shook the hurt off. Focus! “Dizzy, idiot? You shouldn’t be up if you’re sick.”

              The young man blinked at Sasuke. Restrained energy replaced the momentary rigidness. “I’m not–“ he began hotly before snapping his jaw shut. Naruto stared at the floor again. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

              Sasuke scowled at the shorter chuunin. “It’s probably all that ramen you eat,” he grumbled, tightening his grip on the subdued blond. He nodded in satisfaction as he felt Naruto stiffen again. Heh. The brunet knew he was right.

              Deja vu flashed through Sasuke as he helped Naruto out of the kitchen. How many times had they limped off the battlefield together? To this day, Naruto didn’t realize why Sasuke had been so determined to kill him four years ago. Sasuke couldn’t bring himself to tell Naruto that it was for this reason, the warmth he felt holding Naruto like this.

              Balancing the oddly silent blond against his side, Sasuke’s eyes swept over the living room. Besides the front door and the kitchen, there were only two rooms left. Only one of the rooms had a door: the bathroom, he guessed. Glancing in the other room, Sasuke spotted a rumpled bed and dragged Naruto in that direction. Fortunately, Naruto had carved a semi-clear path to the small bed through the ramen cups and scrolls and plant leaves. Sasuke eased the blond onto the bed. Naruto allowed the motion and stared at Sasuke with oddly tentative eyes. Sasuke clenched his fists. Naruto hadn’t looked at him like that for a long time. Then Naruto closed his eyes and curled onto his side, disturbing Sasuke even more. The brunet sat beside Naruto on the mattress and felt his forehead again. The younger man seemed warmer than before.

              Naruto stirred but didn’t look up. “You don’t need to stay, asshole,” he mumbled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

              Sasuke snorted. Don’t you understand, dunce? You’ve always been at my side, even when I didn’t acknowledge you or treat you like you deserve. I want to be–

              Aloud, Sasuke shot back, “You always need a babysitter, idiot.” One hand clenched when Naruto didn’t snap back. He really was sick. The Uchiha sighed. “Get some sleep.”

              Instantly, blue eyes shot open again. The fear in them took Sasuke aback. “Sasuke,” Naruto said softly, “don’t–“ The blond bit his lip. Sasuke frowned in confusion. Don’t what? Don’t leave? Don’t get mad? And since when has Naruto censored himself? Naruto sighed. “Don’t tell Sakura I’m sick. I have an image to maintain.” Shooting Sasuke a weak smile, Naruto snuggled into his pillow and closed his eyes again.

              Naruto’s alarm clock clicked away as Sasuke stared at Naruto. Finally, he shook his head, as if shaking away his bewilderment. “I’ll never get you, dunce,” he murmured, scooping the covers off the floor and securing them around the still boy. Propping himself back on the bed, the brunet leaned against the wall and listened to Naruto breathe. Naruto didn’t move an inch from his fetal position. His breath escaped him in terse, mechanical huffs. Sasuke rested his hands on his lap and waited. Only when the tense breathing calming into a sleeping rhythm did Sasuke allow himself to relax. Again, he checked Naruto’s temperature and pulse. All good and even.

              Sasuke stood up and stretched. He should be fine, but I’ll keep an eye on him just in case. It might be old milk, in which case I’ll check out his fridge. He might’ve strained himself accepting too many missions. He hates admitting his own limit. Pointedly, he ignored the memory of Sakura scolding him for the same thing. Sometimes, he wished Sakura still had that crush on him. She didn’t have the guts then to snap at him about his health.

              “I’ll be back,” he whispered to the sleeping boy. He raised his hand, hesitated, and then reached out to finger the soft blond hair. Oblivious, Naruto snored on. It mildly surprised Sasuke that no drool yet drenched the pillow. A tiny, affectionate smile played on Sasuke’s lips before he schooled his expression. “Someday, dunce.”

              With one last look at the sleeping shinobi, Sasuke stepped over the miscellaneous items to the small living room. His eyes wandered to the equally small kitchen and bedroom, noticing how Naruto’s room seemed to be the only messy room. His sharp eyes also noted the flourishing plants in every room. Uzumaki Naruto, the botanist. Who would have thought.

              Mentally shrugging, Sasuke walked to the door and began exiting the apartment. As the brunet moved to close Naruto’s door behind him, he hesitated. It’s almost noon, he told himself, glancing back at the oddly quiet apartment. The building seemed to have great sound-proofing. The door wasn’t even shut yet, and he couldn’t hear Naruto’s snores. He’ll be fine. Sasuke paused a moment longer before shrugging and locking the door. I picked the lock earlier; I can just pick it again. Satisfied, Sasuke closed the door and vanished towards the training grounds.

              In the other room, sharp ears caught the telltale click. Hard blue eyes stared at the ceiling.

xoxoxox

              “Sick?” Hatake Kakashi mused aloud, staring at the young chuunin in front of him. Blank black eyes stared back.

              “Sick,” Sasuke confirmed dully. Kakashi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Uchiha Sasuke was the only person he knew whose good health could be determined by the presence of their monotone. Except when Naruto was around, of course. Naruto was the exception to every rule.

              And until today, he thought being sick was among those rules. “Symptoms?” he asked casually. “Any unusual itching? Sores around the mouth?”

              Sasuke’s mouth twisted in disgust, and Kakashi reflected that it was for the best that his mask hid his grin. “Dead Last isn’t a pervert like you,” the Uchiha growled. Ah! There was some emotion in those cold eyes. Hee! He loved pissing off his students.

              Humming cheerfully to himself, Kakashi whipped out Come Come Paradise and resumed reading. He waved negligently at the seething young man: Continue.

              To Kakashi’s disappointment, Sasuke schooled his expression before listing the symptoms: “Presumed dizziness, disorientation, slight fever, irregular pulse and significant lack of color.” He stopped, and dull eyes stared at Kakashi. Still reading his book, Kakashi hummed and flipped a page. Mentally, he reviewed the symptoms.

              Not necessarily signs of illness, perhaps shock or strain. A combination of both? Problems with the fox demon? Simply stress? Behind his mask, Kakashi frowned. If it is related to the fox, I had better keep an eye on it. It just might be related to his recent increase in workload, but it’s better to be cautious.

              “Probably found a bad cup of ramen,” Kakashi mused aloud. “With the amount of ramen that boy eats, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

              Amused, Kakashi eyed the subtle relaxing of Sasuke’s shoulders. Young love. It was so cute! Eagerly, Inner Kakashi packed the memory under the Blackmail folder. Inner Kakashi frowned, eying the overflowing folder. After a small shrug, Inner Kakashi broke into a joyous dance. Only one thing to do then: Start writing stuff down! Bwa-ha-ha! Make a book! Become rich! Come Come Paradise collectibles! Kakashi coughed.

              Kakashi could see the sweatdrop forming on Sasuke’s head, but the chuunin had stopped questioning his teacher’s quirks a long time ago. Only nodding shortly in Kakashi’s direction, Sasuke pushed off the ground, darting away from the training grounds . . . right in the direction of Naruto’s apartment, Kakashi noted.

              Just tell him, Sasuke, he urged. Itachi’s death is not as important as your life! But he would never say it aloud. The boy, like all shinobi, had to learn it on his own.

              Still . . . Naruto’s illness disturbed him. Only once had he ever heard of Naruto displaying any symptoms of illness, and all that occurred then was his body purging itself of foul milk. Beyond his stomach, there had been no sign of illness, not even a headache. Kakashi frowned thoughtfully to himself, his visible eye narrow.

              Guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on the brat, Kakashi reflected lazily. Until I see him having problems, I won’t call attention to it. It might be stress.

              Shrugging to himself, Kakashi leaped up and settled on the lowest branch of a tree. With a content sigh, he opened up Come Come Paradise again. Hee! The innocent schoolgirl-turned-hellcat reminded him a lot of Naruto’s Sexy Ninja Technique. He giggled, even as Inner Kakashi cheered. Hell yeah!

xoxoxox

              Naruto’s snores greeted Sasuke after he opened the freshly picked door and walked into the living room. Good. The dunce was still resting. He followed the snores back to the small bedroom, a part of him cringing at the diminutiveness of the apartment. Another part of him snickered that it was appropriate for the idiot’s size. With a smirk, Sasuke filed away that mental comment to taunt Naruto with later.

              Naruto had shifted from his earlier fetal position to sprawl completely over the small bed. Sasuke bit back a chuckle as he gently pulled the fool’s feet back onto the mattress and under the covers. Even as he dragged Naruto’s upper body off the nightstand and onto the bed–how the hell had he managed that without breaking either the lamp or the alarm clock?!–the boy never stirred, still peacefully snoring. Sasuke allowed a little smile to slip. He would like to blame Naruto’s unresponsiveness on exhaustion and illness, but he knew better: Naruto just slept like the dead. For all his ninja skills when he was awake–something Sasuke would never admit even under threat of torture–anyone could easily slip into Naruto’s house when he was sleeping. Hell, he’d done it once already!

              Sighing in exasperation, Sasuke fingered Naruto’s neck, forehead, and cheeks. Still normal. Good. The dunce was going to be fine.

              “If anyone can find bad ramen, it’s you, Naruto,” Sasuke murmured, not really believing it himself. He brushed his fingers against Naruto’s scarred cheek once again before dragging himself out of the bedroom. Who knew when he was going to be in Naruto’s house again. It wasn’t an opportunity to miss!

              Sasuke paused at the threshold of Naruto’s room. Judging by the dirtiness of this room in comparison to the relative cleanliness of the other rooms, Sasuke guessed the most personal items would be found here. Perhaps he would learn more about Naruto than his favorite food and color. Perhaps he would find out more about Naruto’s mysterious Bloodline Limit underneath all those “Defeat Sasuke!” scrolls–

              Shaking his head, Sasuke stepped into the living room. No. He was determined to be a friend Naruto could be proud of.

              After . . . that man . . . he’d ask.

              First off, the kitchen. If he couldn’t find out about Naruto’s personal life, he’d at least find the answer to a question that had been bothering him for years: Was cup ramen all the boy had in his cupboards?

              Sasuke stepped around two leafy plants into the kitchen. As if drawn by a magnet, his eyes involuntarily focused where Naruto had collapsed earlier. A split-second later, Sasuke wrenched his gaze away.

              Focus, Uchiha! he ordered himself. Fastening his eyes to the table, Sasuke trailed his gaze around the kitchen in a slow perusal of the room. From what he had seen of the apartment so far, this room seemed the cleanest. Odd. He would have suspected ramen cups everywhere.

              With a careless shrug, Sasuke reached for the first cupboard. His hand never reached the handle. His dark eyes fastened on the bowls on the cabinet.

              “Two bowls, two glasses, and two pairs of chopsticks,” Sasuke said aloud. “All fresh.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why would Naruto need the extras?”