First of all, thanks for your patience as I get things in order after my website went down. I'm going to start uploading this beastly story onto fanfic now, but as I was going through the chapters, I realized that I didn't like a lot of it--mostly because I wrote it several years ago, and I'm a little more mature (hopefully) now. So. There's been a major rewrite of many of the chapters.

Enjoy! And I'd love feedback on the new version.

The bridge I crossed

The First

My first glimpse of the world that morning was Shikamaru, an empty bucket in his hands. I stared down at the wet patch on my pillow and wiped away at the water on my face. It wasn't what I was expecting, but for the sake of manners, I cracked him a smile anyways.

He didn't look amused. "Get up." I blinked once, and then twice at the command.

"Um--" I made a gesture that may or may not have been profane. "I don't think so." Slowly, I swung my feet over the bed and cradled my head in my hands, careful not to move too much, because really, my stomach was unlikely to stay inside for the day.

"It's eight thirty," he informed me. I cranked open an eye, but let it close again when the time didn't ring a bell-of-importance in my mind. "Your job. Remember? You need to be there at nine." I sat up straighter. Today was Wednesday, July the seventh, two thousand and four, the first day of my first employment. And I was drunk.

"Oh." My tongue was heavy and dry against the roof of my mouth.

"Oh?" Shikamaru stared at me, and then, with a painful thud that made my teeth clatter, knocked me on the head with the bucket. "You're so troublesome, Naruto."

"Right. I'm--I'm--" I blinked at the digital clock on my bedside table. 8:34. "Late." Growling, Shikamaru latched onto my wrist and pulled me out of the bed and towards the bathroom. "Idiots getting drunk the night before--Take a quick shower. I'll put out some clothes for you on your bed and knock on the door in ten minutes, but then I have to go to work myself. When you come out, drink some hot coffee or tea with some aspirin. I'll call a cab."

"Breakfast?" I asked, fumbling with the faucet to the sink water. Cold water came gushing out with a twist of my wrist, and I cupped my hands underneath to wash my face. This was all Kiba's fault. By this time tomorrow morning, he would be a dead man, I decided.

"--wouldn't be a good idea to eat right now, with your hangover," Shikamaru's words filtered through my thoughts, slow and slurred as if he were drunk too. But Shikamaru had always talked like that, with that slow drag that made me want to slap him so he would speak faster. He took my silence as willingness to follow his directions, because he shut the door. I scowled at the door and began stripping, interrupted only by Shikamaru's shout from the other side of the door.

"Don't forget to brush!" And so I stopped undressing and returned to the sink, wondering when I'd gotten so disoriented that I forgot something as mundane as brushing my teeth. When I spit out the foam in my mouth, I straightened to get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My blue eyes were dilated, I had small but noticeable bags under my eyes, my skin was pale, and to top it all off, I looked mildly unstable with a shock of blond hair messier than usual.

And it was all Kiba's fault--the man had come barging into my house the night before, his brown eyes twinkling with mischief as he had revealed a pack of beer which he had bought on his way to my house. I had stayed up till one thirty, watched Kiba go back up the stairs to his own apartment, and sometime between watching reruns of I love Lucy dubbed in Chinese, and feeling mildly idiotic for having drunk so much on a weekday, I must have fallen asleep.

"Celebration, my ass," I muttered as I stepped into the shower, and stopped short when I realized that I saw two faucets, not one.

This, I thought, trying not to accidentally swallow some of the water from the shower head, was not one of the finest moments in my life.

--

It was 8:47 by the time I made my way downstairs to the cab that was waiting for me. The driver was standing outside, cigarette hanging at the corner of his mouth. When he saw me, he straightened and dropped the cigarette on the pavement. "Uchiha Corps, right?"

I nodded, and the man jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Friend of yours paid already. Get in."

I didn't pay much attention to the drive there--I closed my eyes and tried to slow the dull throb in my head--but when the car finally began to slow down, I perked up. We were curving around the entrance to the Uchiha Corps building, a tall, daunting structure with deep blue windows all along the sides. I looked up, and caught the red of the Uchiha clan logo as the car rolled to a stop.

When I got out, the noise made me reel a little. I looked up the steps that lead to the entrance of the building, and bracing myself, began my trek. The main lobby of the building was eerily silent with only a few people, and I realized guiltily that it was because I was late and everyone else was already at work.

I was tempted to go towards the information desk and ask someone for directions, but I was late enough, and I already knew my directions. Vaguely. The woman at the phone, a Yamanaka Ino, had told me to go to the ninth floor, and that there would be someone to direct me to the office if I identified myself. So I turned my head and scanned the large lobby. There were several elevators at the other end, and one of them had just shut. Another elevator's door was open but it had just begun to close slowly.

I was late as it was, and I knew that I would never be able to catch the elevator if it left. It took me a split-second to come to a decision against the headache and nausea that was starting to overwhelm me.

I ran.

I heard a distant "hey" from one of the guards, but I was already near the elevator. Turning sideways, I slipped in between the doors and felt a slight gush of air as the doors closed shut. To my right, I could vaguely make out the numbers on the buttons, and I pushed one that mildly resembled a '9'. And the elevator began to climb.

By then, I was sweating slightly, my head was pounding, and I could feel nausea overwhelming me. Slowly, gratefully, I leaned against the cool metal doors for support, closing my eyes against the bright lights of the elevator. Maybe, I could make it seem as if I was sick to explain my tardiness, and not my stupid decision to drink the night before. Then they might sympathize and let me go. Tantalizing as the idea was, there was no way it would work. But maybe I had taken a job that didn't require me to think or pay attention. But that was unlikely. It was the first day, and first impressions were lasting impressions.

When I opened my eyes again, my vision blurred and my stomach lurched. I leaned more heavily against the doors, wondering if I would even be able to say a single coherent sentence at this rate.

And that was when the doors for the elevators slid open. There was a moment when I felt suspended, as if someone was holding me up for a few seconds. And then, gravity noticed. My head cracked against the floor, and bounced back up with the force of it. My vision blacked out for a moment, and then, sound: a 'diiing' sound in my ear, disturbingly familiar to the 'ding' of the elevator.

I opened my eyes, blinking against the light, black spots and bubbles in my vision, and the blurry figure staring down at me.

I'd gotten drunk before, not too often, but often enough to remember the aftermaths. None of my previous experiences resembled this, and I felt a sense of alarm starting to take over. Maybe Kiba mixed something--My mouth opened, and I began to talk, auto-pilot. "I'm Uzumaki Naruto, the new secretary for Uchiha Sasuke. Could you direct me to his office?"

There was silence. I took a deep breath, and held out my hand for him to take and help me up. He didn't move, so after a few seconds, I let my hand drop. Maybe--I smiled at him. "Please?"

He said nothing. Then, "Move."

Was this guy serious? "What?"

"Move."

He was serious. The insult registered, and as if on cue, my anger flared. How dare he? "All right mister, you might be having a cruddy day, so I understand if you're in a bad mood, but could you at least have the decency to answer my question?"

Silence. "You're fired." His voice held no hint of emotion. He just said it, and I knew in that instant, who this man was.

"Uchiha-" I began to pronounce his name to solidify my doubts, but he stepped over my body and walked into the elevator. I pushed myself up off of the ground using my elbow as leverage to watch his actions. He glanced down at my feet, which were still in the elevator doors' way. I didn't move, so he kicked my feet out of the elevator, and then finally, the doors slid shut.

The blood rushed to my face in one single wave. "Oi!" I stared indignantly at the elevator doors. In the next minute I was up, and was pushing the buttons of the elevators, hoping to make the doors open again, but they didn't. I turned and finally faced the other occupants of that floor in the building.

"Where's he going? And where are the stairs in this building?" I was surprised to see that my mind functioned at such a basic level that I knew to go chase him down and punch him in the face--I was itching for a fight now. Someone had the sense to lift his hand and point in the general direction of the stairs, and someone else said "sixth floor" but I was already bounding down the stairs.

Each step seemed like a wave of pain that started at the soles of my feet, and made its way up all the way to my mind, but I ignored it as much as I could and continued until I saw the sign saying '6' by a door on the stair landing. The door made a clicking noise--sounding too loud, louder than any door should sound--when I wrenched it open and entered the office space.

I saw the man walking down the aisles towards a door at a measured pace, and I followed him, weaving through a few cubicles. When I was a few feet away, I collected my breath, and then, "Uchiha!" He stopped and turned to face me.

"I thought I fired you," he said at last. We were a few feet away from each other, but still, I couldn't tell what he looked like. I could feel the unexplained, and uncontrollable anger rise up in me again. It wasn't my strong suit, I knew from experience. I had a short temper, but never--never as bad as this.

Te dull thudding in my head was thunder as I strode over and grabbed him by his collar, t. "Look-it asshole," I was slipping back into my comfortable thirteen-year-old-self in my anger, a side of me that could draw out a colorful string of insults if necessary, however ineffective. "Who do you think you are, huh? When someone falls in front of you, you help them up. If you want to fire me, then fine, but repeat after me: I'm so-rry for being a mannerless fuzzball."

The man slapped my hand away, and stared at me for a second or two before walking away. I knew he expected me to leave, bow my head and just go crawling home after hearing his edict, but he had no idea--no idea at all--who he was dealing with. He didn't offer to help me get up. Fired me, and what more? He hit me. And now, he was walking away, calm and steady, as if he had not just insulted a fellow human being without even a scrap of decency, as if I didn't exist--

He was about five feet away when I attempted to catch up, grab him by the shoulder and force him to face me again. The man had turned in response to the flurry of action behind him, I think in hope to ward of my attack. I attempted to stop our collision. The last thing I wanted was another bump on my head. Whether it was an accident or not, I didn't know, I began to topple forwards. I attempted to grab onto something, anything that would stop my fall, which happened to be the man in front of me. I grabbed hold of his collar again, a few inches away from him. My action seemed unexpected, because the man didn't stand his ground but went in the general direction of my fall. It sent both of us toppling to the ground, and our foreheads collided. The pain was momentary, sharp and blinding, and to avoid any more wounds from hitting each other, I tilted my head at an angle, and then I felt his lips against mine.

The first thought that crossed my mind was that his lips were a little brittle. He opened his mouth for a gasp of air. And that was when it happened--My tongue gravitated into his mouth, a complete accident. He tasted good, like lightly spiced water, and then his tongue was pushing up forcefully and into my mouth. Retaliation, I realized. I pushed back down, not about to be bested, and he pushed back up, growling slightly, our teeth clacking a little. Distantly, I felt his hand closing on my hip, gripping hard. I made a fist and punched him as hard as I could in the shoulder, annoyed now. What was he doing? And then he tilted his head, leaned his head up slightly, and bit my bottom lip.

I broke it then, his teeth still pulling at my bottom lip a little and our lips making a loud smacking sound. Coughing gagging, cursing, sputtering, and holding onto my neck, I sat up, straddling him still.

That was it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a nerve tethered and broke, and with it went my sanity. "Oiii! You bastard! What the hell was that?" It was a stupid question because both of us--and the entire office now--knew what that was. That was the stupidest, most childish, public french kiss in history. And as far as french kisses went, it wasn't bad. I blushed at the thought, the words running dry in my mind. He stared at me, calm still.

"Your lip's bleeding."

I wet my bottom lip and tasted blood. "Yeah, cause you BIT me, you animal."

I pushed myself off him and stood, watching as he smoothed wrinkles from his suit and got up as well. His face was still fuzzy so I couldn't tell his expression. "First you don't help me when I'm in severe pain. And then you fire me for no reason. Which will ruin my near future because how the hell am I supposed to feed myself with ramen if I don't have any money--and then--then you physically harass me! And to top it all off, you sexually harass me!" He shrugged. "You bit me. You little prick, if I get a hickey on my face, I'm going to kill you."

He didn't say anything, still hadn't said anything. By then, I had gotten worked up into a complete anger. Then and there, I decided that Uchiha Sasuke was the reason for all my miseries that I had experienced so far in my life, that I was experiencing, and I would experience in the future. So I stood my ground.

"Shut up."

I opened my mouth, and I could feel my tongue moving in an attempt to form some words. So: "Oi!"

"If you said 'oi', that would've been enough. No need to screech like a parrot." His voice was crisp, but muted against the rushing sound in my ears. My head was pounding, and I could feel a constant ringing my ears. I was shivering visibly from the cold now, and I hoped he thought it as a sign of my anger. My previous desire to throw up was gone now, replaced by the man's sweet-spicy taste.

"Oh, and you would know how a parrot sounds like, would you? Do you abuse your parrot like you did me? Pet-abuser," I blinked at what I had just said. There was absolutely no logic in my accusation. What was--my mouth opened and I was about to say something else, equally stupid, probably, when I heard "Hey, YOU," and felt a hand on my shoulder. I slapped at the hand and turned around, only to come face to face with two security guards.

This, the thought dawned on me suddenly, was not my day. "Are you serious?" I threw up my hands.

"You didn't sign in at the lobby," one of them said, a little meekly. He looked over my shoulder, caught a glimpse of the Uchiha and bowed his head a little. "Mr. Uchiha."

"We," I said, indicating the Uchiha, "Were having a conversation. If you don't mind."

There was silence, and then one of them reached forward to grab me by the arm. I moved back, trying to avoid him and walked right into the Uchiha again. "Tell them," I snapped, turning to look at the Uchiha. We were close now, too close maybe, but I still couldn't see his features against the black clouds in my vision. "Tell them that we're having a conversation."

The Uchiha waved his hand at the security guards, dismissing them. "I fired you," he said to me, monotone.

"I realize that, you half-spined excuse of a man," I seethed, turning to face him and grabbing hold of his collar again. I pulled him down so we were at eye-level. "But I wasn't done insulting you."

"You were at 'pet-abuser'," the Uchiha supplemented.

"There's a law against abusing pets, you know. You'll be put in jail, and how would you like that, huh?"

"Is there a problem here?" I looked over the Uchiha's shoulder and saw the vague outline of yet another man. He was not wearing a suit from what I could tell from the white color on the black pants. He began to walk towards Uchiha, but then stopped when I scowled at him.

"It is a law. You'll probably be arrested like the man in Florida who was found having sex with his pet porcupine!" This was directed to Uchiha.

"And why exactly do you know this?" The other man asked with mild interest.

Uchiha shook his head. "You don't want to know, Kakashi. Really."

I was sending the signals to my mouth to shut up, but they didn't seem to be registering. "It's called the news! Hello! The media broadcasted the stupid lawsuit for two months!" I prayed that the media did take the time to do so, but I knew that it was just another silly fact that Kiba had come across while working in his office. As an assistant editor of the A&E at the Tokyo Daigaku Shinbun he was bound to come across random jokes. And Kiba had a tendency to try them out on Shikamaru and me.

The second man--Kakashi, was it?--stayed silent for a while before saying, "That's from Come, Come Paradise, isn't it?" The name sounded familiar, and then I remembered that Kiba had made me buy it for him as a birthday present. It was apparently a best-selling porn novel series from the nineties.

I took Kakashi's comment and used it to--what I thought was--my advantage. "Now it's a lawsuit against two people! You, Uchiha Sasuke," I jabbed at the Uchiha's chest viciously with a finger, "You're being influenced by a perverted old freak to abuse your pet parrots!" I glared at Kakashi, and poked at the Uchiha again for added effect. "You'll lose your job for influential behavior that will affect a CEO of a company," I paused. Then, "Which in turn affects his working subordinates." Another jab.

I groaned at the end of my rampage. What was I saying? It was Kakashi who spoke next. "Are you really Uzumaki Naruto?"

"Damn right, I am," I snapped. "And you better remember it, you son of a--"

"Did somebody drop you on your head when you were two-years old?" The Uchiha this time.

I growled in anger. "Nobody could pick me off my feet when I was two--" a pause. Could they? I hoped they couldn't -- "I was too stubborn."

I heard Kakashi's amused chuckle, and then it hit me. "Wait-Oi! Are you implying that nobody could pick me up because I'm fat? Do I look fat to you? You're the one who's fat!" I knew I was guessing blindly with this piece of information because I couldn't see very well any more. I was starting to get scared now--what was happening to my body?--but I continued in a hope to vent all my anger before I got kicked out.

"And you," I jabbed at the Uchiha again, but this time he caught my wrist and held on, "you overly arrogant prick." I tried to pull my hand away, but he held on, grip strong. "You could have at least helped me up. If you had, I would have let you eat ramen with me." He didn't seem phased. "RAMEN," I said again, bringing up my other hand and stabbing him in the chest. He didn't seem to understand what I was offering here, so I tried again, giving him another jab. "R-AAA-MEN." He caught my other hand.

"But anyways, you-OI! Do you not even blink when I'm insulting you? You--you prideless freak of nature!"

In "blinking" I was referring to his lack of response. But I doubt that I would have gotten very far in provoking him even if I had been conscious. I learned later, that Sasuke is like that: un-provokeable except in reference to his brother, Itachi. So by then, I had expended my energy to its greatest reserve and I saw blackness for a second before I blinked again and saw the Uchiha bending over me.

--

When I came to myself again, it was surprising to see a calm face peering down at me. I could see much better now, and I noticed that his features were soft, and very relaxed. His hair was long, and stray wisp of it fell over his shoulder, almost touching me, while the rest was tied back. His lips were thin, but still were soft to look at, and his skin was pale, so pale that it might have made anyone else look sick. But it made this man look...beautiful.

It took me a while to notice that the man was smiling at me, and I turned away, embarrassed at my own open stare. That was when I was assaulted by the whiteness. A hospital.

"Why am I-," I stopped because my mouth was too dry to continue, and I looked at the jug of water resting serenely on the table next to the bed. I reached over with my hand and noticed that there was a transparent line going into my wrist. IV. Damn I needed to get my hands around Kiba's throat.

The man reached over and touched my wrist slightly, moving to help me with the water. I felt the blood rush to my face again, and I noticed two things in that moment: there was no longer a thundering headache, only a dull thudding, and that I didn't want to throw up anymore. I looked up and caught the man's uncensored stare. His eyes were...my face heated up at my train of thought, and the man laughed at me.

"You blush a lot," his voice was rich and low, almost sensual in the way he said the words. "Do I make you feel shy?"

His blatant question took me off guard, but I responded. "No! it's just that I--I remembered what I was doing before I ended up here."

"Kakashi told me about it," he said. The name sounded familiar, but before I could identify who exactly Kakashi was, I was distracted by the man as he hooked the stray strand of black hair behind his ear. He had a mug of water ready, so I got into a sitting position.

Which was when I noticed that I was no longer wearing a shirt, but was only clad in pants. I pulled up the sheets a bit higher in an attempt to conceal the spiraling tattoo on my stomach. It was a mark that was left on me by Zabuza, and I'd once gone to a tattoo artist and asked to have it burned off. The artist had refused to burn off the tattoo, saying that she wouldn't do it to mar my beauty. Right. Beauty indeed. And where was my beauty when I was forced to confront Mr. Sexy Doctor?

"He was a bit...let's say, surprised," the man's carefully chosen words bought snapped me out of my thoughts.

I feigned a laugh. "So was I."

"Well, that's to be expected from someone who was burning up with a high fever. And a hangover."

I laughed guiltily at that. "Oh, that might explain it."

The man laughed, and I felt warm while listening to his voice. "I forgot to introduce myself so far. I'm your doctor," he stated. He cocked his head at me and smiled again, a sweet, seemingly innocent smile that made the the hairs at the back of my neck stand. There was something mildly sinister about this man, a gut instinct was telling me, but dear god, his shoulders were--"Orochimaru." I nodded, tempted to say his name and see how it sounded coming from me, but refrained and instead offered a thank you. He smiled at that again, and took the glass of water from me and put it on the table.

"A nurse will come by to check on you later. You can call someone to let you know you're here." I recognized the closing sentence to a conversation, and felt a pang at his departure.

He was still sitting by the bedside when he said this, and now he stood up in a graceful motion. I saw that he was wearing the doctor's white vest, and it hung limply on his well built frame. My heart was hammering away in my ribcage, as if the space between my bones was not enough for it. Then, before he turned to leave, he bent down a bit and placed the back of his hand against the skin on my forehead, feeling for any heat. He shook his head with a sigh and straightened up. The touch was noncommittal, and it served his purpose, but I had learned in that one instant how cold Orochimaru was to touch. I could warm it for you, I wanted to say. "Looks like I might not need to check on you again," he said, breaking me away from my reverie.

He walked to a wall of cabinets in the room and fumbled around before coming back with a thermometer. I opened my mouth dutifully and he placed the thermometer under my tongue. When it beeped, he took it out and showed me the number. 99.8. "You can go home if you want."

I opened my mouth, surprised that my fever had broken so early. Why did I have to get over sicknesses so fast? Why? And the one time I wanted to stay in the hospital so badly. Damn Kiba for not making me drink some more. But then again, I didn't need a doctor to watch over me for a simple fever. This was a lot of attention to a pretty simple diagnosis. I looked around, my eyes widening at how pristine and well-equipped the room was. There was a flat screen TV across from my bed, an entire wall of glass windows, and even a vase of fresh flowers.

"You're still feverish, but its not as bad as it was when you came in this morning. We ran a cat scan because Sasuke said you fell pretty hard on your head. Everything seems normal," Orochimaru was explaining as he walked over to the foot of my bed. "So if you would like, you can go home, and rest there. If you don't--" he paused at this and winked with a sly smile that made the blood rush to my face again, "You can stay here since Sasuke is paying for all of this."

"What? The Uchiha bastard?"

"You don't like him?"

"Well, he didn't exactly flatter me the first time he saw me." I remembered the Uchiha's voice and his flat command when he looked down at me on the floor by the elevator. I hadn't gotten a chance to glimpse at his features very well, even when I had kissed him, so I didn't expect Orochimaru's next comment.

"Most people don't say that after they see him. You're the first." His head was tilted in a questioning angle, and I could see the line of his jaw that trailed down his neck and into the folds of his shirt. The stethoscope that hung around his neck, something that usually seemed like a burden was a jewel on Orochimaru, emphasizing his perfectly chiseled neck. It made me want to trace his jaw line.

But I didn't. Of course, I didn't. What was he saying again? I paused, trying not to look too lost. Right, the Uchiha Bastard. "Uh--Why?" The anger in my voice had faded in the past few seconds.

"Why?" Orochimaru's voice held a hint of surprise. "Didn't you get a good look at him? Kakashi said that you kissed--"

"Accidentally," I added quickly. Accidental as that kiss was, it wasn't just a peck. Far from it, even. I looked away, feeling an all-too-familiar heat in my face.

"Well, either way," Orochimaru continued, "he's a handsome man."

I wanted to point out to Orochimaru that it would be unlikely for the Uchiha to be more good-looking than he was, but bit my tongue and left the comment dangling in my mind. "Does that mean that I should just ignore his--his indifference to me?"

"Indifference?" Orochimaru asked with another laugh. I watched the vest ripple around his frame as he moved towards me. He was at my feet, but still close enough for me to reach out and touch him. "Kakashi told me what happened. He said that Sasuke was the one who actually ordered someone to call for a doctor. He also caught you when you fainted." Exactly who was in hell's name was this Kakashi, and couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

I scoffed and looked away, the anger inside me building again. "Anyone would have. I was unconscious--"

"Sasuke wouldn't have bothered. Trust me, I've known him since he was twelve," Orochimaru said with emphasis. He paused, considering me for a while before continuing. "Kakashi actually said that Sasuke was rather disgruntled by your...your outburst. No one's ever spoken to Sasuke like that before."

I sighed, the weariness starting to take a toll on me. "Either way." It annoyed me that Orochimaru defended the Uchiha. I couldn't pin point the origin for this feeling, but I knew immediately that it was jealousy. The same green, festering emotion that had once led to my disaster before with Zabuza and Haku. "He was wrong to not offer any help when he saw me lying on the floor. His attitude bothered me, and he just fired me without even getting to know--"

"It wasn't the smartest thing to get drunk the night before your first day of employment, you know." Orochimaru pointed out my mistake as if casually noticing the weather. I cringed at his frankness, but I finally convinced myself to accept the fact that I did bring this on myself, and heaved yet another sigh in resignation. I stifled a yawn with the back of my hand.

"Well, I've kept you up long enough," Orochimaru said a little suddenly, "I'll be leaving now." He walked towards the door for the second time, and turned to reiterate his previous offer. "You could stay here for another day, you know. Recover completely and then go back home."

I nodded, grateful and excited that I might see the man again. Did he want me to stay? Good heavenly gods above, make it be so.He tilted his head with a friendly, yet not completely innocent smile before leaving the room. I blushed thinking of all the possibilities that the smile could have meant. Damn he was hot. But maybe he wasn't gay. Who was I to assume that every good looking guy on this planet was gay?

I shifted deeper into the sheets, and closed my eyes, deciding that no matter how good-looking Orochimaru might be, I still needed my sleep.

--

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark outside. I had slept through most of the day, and I felt relaxed and rather happy considering the fact that someone else was paying for all the costs. I stretched, arching my back until it was suspended from the bed and let out a moan when the bones in my body cracked and then relaxed. Perfect. I fell back onto the bed and pulled the sheets around me, staring out the window.

It was too dark to notice anything except the faint glow of Tokyo night life in the distance. I sighed and turned onto my back, blinking up at the ceiling. I had lost a decent paying, easy job, one which would have funded me through grad school.

Which meant I had to find another job, at least until I applied and got into grad school. Maybe I'd find a job on campus, maybe a grant. I had a year and a half of experience already, filling my resume--copy editor, PR assistant--but they hadn't paid very well. And just when I found a well paying job, six months away from applying to Tokyo U., I'd gotten fired. I pressed the butt of my palm against my eyes and breathed out deeply.

I turned onto my side, my back to the window and my eyes still closed. I could do this, I told myself. I could do anything I set my mind to. But still. It was a golden opportunity and I messed up. I opened my eyes, ready to make a call to Kiba or Shikamaru to put my mind at ease, when out of nowhere, I saw the silhouette of a man sitting by my bed. I scrambled awake, jerking away from him and towards the edge of the bed. "Holy shi--"

"Hatake Kakashi," he introduced himself in a leveled voice, ignoring my surprise. I took deep breaths, my heart pounding still. Kakashi. The man who couldn't keep his mouth shut in front of Orochimaru. How long had he been here? I didn't hear the door open or close, and I had been up for at least a few minutes. He held out a hand for me to shake, and I took it, surprised at his strong grip. "We've met. In sorts."

I raised my eyebrow at that, unable to place the man in my mind except in relation to Orochimaru. Then, it suddenly came to me: this was the same person who had talked to the Uchiha bastard. "Come, Come Paradise, right?" I asked.

The man laughed guiltily. "When I was young, a long time ago," he said with a sigh. "But, anyways, how are you? Orochimaru said that you're in fine condition."

I opened my mouth to say something when Kakashi continued. "Just fine," he said looking up and down at me. I bristled under his inspection. Ignoring me, he stood up. "Do you mind if I turn on the light?"

"No," I muttered, wondering why he had bothered to ask when he was already at the light switch. It was then that I got my first true glimpse of Hatake Kakashi--tall, broad-shouldered, lean, and even under the folds of his suit, I could tell, a good body. He had a scar over his left eye, something that may have been disfiguring on any normal man, but an accent on Kakashi.

He sat down on the bedside stool, folding himself to fit on the small chair. Smiling politely he began. "I know that it might come as a shock for you, but I'm going to re-hire you for the job."

I gaped at him, my mouth slack, and once again, I could feel my tongue moving to form some words, any audible sound.

"I saw your resume," he continued. "I don't have to tell you that you have an impressive history. With your degree in Kyoto University and all. You were the best candidate we had." He was still looking at me intently, and I shifted nervously. "We make mistakes. There is nothing wrong in getting drunk the night before your employment. I'm willing to forget what you did and re-hire you for the same reasons I did before."

I closed my mouth shut and then looked away. "I refuse." My job with the Uchiha was only temporary. Five months at best before grad school. It was for paying bills, nothing more, so I was in no desperation to take the job.

I didn't turn to look at Kakashi's expressions in response to my blatant refusal, and personally, I didn't care. But once again, I didn't expect Kakashi to say what he said next. "Hold the job for a few weeks. Five at the most, and no more," even though his voice was as leveled as he first spoke, I recognized the transformation his offer took as it became a subtly put plea.

I shook my head. "I won't work with that bastard. I refuse." With my resume, I could get a job anywhere. It would just take a while, but in the meantime, I could always room with Kiba or Shikamaru, and in the worst case scenario, I could move back to Kyoto and room with Iruka until--

"I'll recommend you. Grad school, isn't that what you said in the interview?" He held the offer like bait. I heaved a sigh, and weighed my options: if I were to refuse his offer, I would have to put on my resume that I had been hired and fired on a single day. But if I accepted his offer...Grad school. A recommendation from Kakashi would mean nothing in a School of Journalism, but a recommendation from Uchiha Corps held a lot of sway in admissions, especially within Tokyo.

The answer was obvious, and I knew that Kakashi was well aware of the stakes I was being presented with. "I want a raise in the payment," I negotiated, noticing that he was still a little worried about my answer. Did they want to hire me back that badly? "If you want me for this job, I won't settle for the initially agreed price. I want a raise."

"Four percent."

I considered. If he was really that desperate--I glanced at Kakashi. He was desperate. Daring, I tried, "Fifteen."

Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "Six--"

"Fifteen or you can go hire someone else." He wouldn't buy this, would he?

Kakashi was silent for a while. "Deal." Well that was--interesting. I nodded my acceptance, and waited for him to say something else. "Good," his reply was grateful and curt at the same time. "Orochimaru said that you would be staying for another day in his care, you can start the day after tomorrow." I nodded again, and the man stood up with a departing sigh. He hooked his fingers on his pants and inclined his head at me with a smile.

"Naruto, right?" He asked suddenly. I scowled at him, offended. "Five weeks of you in the office," he continued, ignoring my frown, "Sasuke wouldn't mind that too much."

I looked at him, disbelief overriding my sense to blush at what he was implying. Kakashi turned and was about to leave when he paused by the door, his hand lingering over the door knob. "He said," the words were thrown over his shoulders as if they held no importance, "that as far as kisses went, it wasn't too bad."

Then, the door was open and shut in a blink of an eye and I was facing an empty room. The day had held many surprises for me, and the last thing I was expecting was a compliment for my kiss from a stuck up bastard who fired me, physically harassed me, and then promptly followed it by sexually harassing me. And now, I would have to work for him. Five weeks at that.

Damn I needed some ramen.

End of The First

Footnotes:

Tokyo Daigaku Shinbun: A real daily newspaper. I'm not sure if it has a humor section. I added that part for the conveniences of this story.

Kyoto University: It exists, and is one of the best universities in Japan