Oh. My. God.

TWO YEARS. Raaaaah!

So much has happened! I'm so sorry; I haven't had my own computer in years, and I literally got my new one a week ago. So, here, FINALLY, is the new chapter.

And, please, welcome my beautiful baby boy Soeren! He's now all of 5 months, and gurgling and drooling away.

Dusk Boulevard

"Ugh.." Naruto opened his eyes a crack and groaned again as an earsplitting headache made its nasty self known. Right after the pain came a wave of extreme nausea. He sat up, holding his mouth with both hands, and bolted to the bathroom.

He was never drinking again!

"Ack." He wiped his mouth and got up from his crouch over the toilet. Staggering to the sink, he brushed his teeth, wincing at his haggard reflection. Only some of the paleness and the dark rings under his eyes were from the night before, and he knew that even without his hangover he would have had a roiling stomach. Something wasn't right.

It had been fun at the Konoha, though. They had still played some slots at the Arcade, and Sarutobi had even poured them a round on the house, which was unheard of for the stingy old geezer. But it had probably been a long time since there'd been so many laughing people at his bar. At around six they'd all drifted their separate ways, and Naruto vaguely remembered staggering home and giving a disgruntled Gaara lots of cuddly hugs.

He winced again. Amazing that he was still alive.

Speaking of Gaara...

He rubbed his temples and returned to the bedroom. The light filtering in through the windows was a grayish-white, and the futon was empty. The redhead must have gone to work already... well, no surprise there, it must have been past ten. Naruto went to the closet and found a clean shirt and jeans, pulling them on over his scabs and bruises. He didn't even think they'd had sex last night; he'd been really wasted.

He turned on the radio in the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea, sipping slowly and listening to some tinny modtechno.

He fuzzily remembered taking a pregnancy test. One that had turned out positive...

"Heh, yeah right." Funny stuff.

Once the tea was done, he heaved himself out of his chair and started cleaning up the apartment; there were empty shotglasses littering the living room floor around the couch, and clothes scattered throughout the bedroom. The genkan was scuffed and gravelly from the icy, wet weather, and the kitchen was a mess.

Something was niggling at the back of this thoughts, but he resolutely ignored it.

He was never drinking again!

000

Sasuke was always beautiful, but in sleep he looked almost angelic, his face missing its usual scowl. He was lying on his belly, head pillowed on one arm and hair sticking up in all directions, breathing slow and shallow. The covers were twisted around him, sheets tangled around his hips and baring the long sensual curve of his spine. The bedroom smelled of cigarettes and sex.

The teenager had come staggering in, drunk as could be, in the early morning, had flopped into bed next to Kabuto and woken him up thoroughly. They'd gone at it like animals until Sasuke had fallen into a drunken, hazy slumber.

Kabuto watched him sleep, eyes skipping over the sharply defined angles of his shoulder blades and the lean muscles of his arms. Bite marks varying from light pink to an angry red dotted his pale skin, and Kabuto was pretty sure they were his doing.

Pretty sure.

He grimaced. He'd tried his best to tell himself he didn't care about Sasuke's job, but it was a bad lie from the start. The more he got used to having Sasuke around, the more he wanted him there all the time. Not seeing him was bad enough, but knowing he was touching other men... it made him want to break something.

The clock said it was ten—he would normally have been at work a while ago, but he'd go in later today. He'd slept so little that it had been hard to get up and make them breakfast earlier. Thankfully the family they carpooled with had had driving duty today. He didn't think he'd have been up to it.

The balcony doors were open a tiny crack, letting in a cold draft. The sky outside was slate gray, dark rainclouds threatening on the horizon. Sasuke's clothes were scattered on the carpet.

Sasuke shifted in his sleep, turning over to lie on his side, facing Kabuto. The man reached out and gently ruffled his hair. "Sasuke."

The boy stirred again, and groaned. His eyes opened a crack. "Oh, fuck." He muttered hoarsely. "You're an asshole."

Kabuto laughed, lowering his voice when Sasuke winced. "I'm going to work—do I at least get a goodbye kiss?"

Sasuke growled, but beckoned for him to move closer. The man chuckled and pressed his mouth to the soft, smoke-flavored lips. Sasuke tasted of cigarettes and alcohol, and a little bit of ramen.

He broke for air and said, "Stay as long as you want. There're still leftovers in the fridge. "

"Hn." Sasuke had already buried his head in the sheets again. Kabuto grinned and kissed his spine. He stood up from the bed, shivering in the chilly bedroom. Sasuke grumbled something and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders.

Suit, shirt and socks from the closet, and a quick wash in the bathroom, and Kabuto was ready to go. He pulled on his jacket and shoes on the genkan, and stepped out into the frigid morning. He let himself hope, a little, that Sasuke would still be there when he got back.

He knew it wouldn't happen.

000

"See you tomorrow, Temari-san," the bored, Solitaire-playing receptionist called.

"Yeah, see you." Temari replied.

She stepped through the doors of the institute, shuddering. It had turned icy cold this morning—the rain had stopped, but it seemed like the usual year-round winter was setting in. Thankfully, the winds hadn't started yet.

The sky was a cloudy, freezing gray, and the bedraggled, constantly dying plants that decorated the Institute's path to the sidewalk were decorated with little white crystals. It was amazing they still bloomed occasionally.

She pulled her coat tight around her and slipped her hands into her pockets, hissing. Damn weather control.

Temari hurried to her car—she'd actually managed to find a decent parking spot this morning—and started it up, backing out. She was meeting up with Kankuro, for their habitual coffee and sandwich on City Plaza. They usually did it once a week, for no real reason. It was just their little sibling thing. No pierced freak, and not much talking.

She drove slowly; the roads were icy, gleaming dangerously in the gray light. Her radio played some weird modtechno crap, but she didn't turn it off. Tenten usually fiddled with it all the time. She'd been in the car with Temari often in the past weeks, since she'd gotten sick.

She'd been so sick she had stayed at Temari's place for almost ten days straight now, longer than they had ever spent together before. Temari had to admit, it wasn't as irritating as she'd always expected sharing her apartment with a lover would be.

Tenten had been asleep when she'd left this morning, pretty face still fever-flushed, and dark rings under her eyes. She'd slept horribly these last two nights.

Temari made an exasperated noise. She had told her not to go to Whore the day before yesterday, had told her she wasn't healthy enough yet-

Well, on the other hand, Tenten being so sick meant that Temari could wake up with her and have great sex and interesting conversations for a few more days. There was a good side to everything, it seemed.

Temari found a parking spot not too far from City Plaza—the weather had emptied the streets. A light snow had started falling, a thin white layer of flakes coating the sidewalk. She locked the doors and set the alarm, and made her careful way along the icy sidewalk towards the sibling's usual cafe.

Kankuro was already waiting in the warm little place, empty except for them and a few scattered lone customers. The waitress was cleaning the countertop half-heartedly.

Temari pulled out a chair next to her brother and draped her coat over it before sitting down. "Hey."

Kankuro nodded in greeting, pushing one of two coffees towards her. "What's up?"

Temari shrugged and sipped at her coffee. The cafe had horrible coffee, but then most places had horrible coffee. State coffee was disgusting, always had been. And Western coffee was impossibly expensive—their father had always had a little silver tin of dark, creamy stuff which he'd only used when he was scolding them or entertaining a doomed 'business partner'. She had loved that tin of Western.

"Not much," she finally said. "Tenten's still sick, work's going as usual. You still at that supermarket?"

Kankuro grimaced. "It's a shopping center, not a supermarket. Yeah. They've put me in the kiddie section now. I have to sort baby clothes all the time. Fucking sucks."

Temari chuckled.

"Hey, you know what?" Kankuro asked after a moment of silence. He was fiddling with the zipper of his black sweatshirt. He was wearing red face paint today.

Temari looked at him expectantly.

"You think Yasha's ever gonna have kids?"

"Uncle Yashamaru? Of course not, he's as gay as can be. And Baki's not a fatherly sort of guy." Temari muttered, wondering where Kankuro was going with this. "Why? Did he say he wanted kids?"

Neither of them had much to do with their uncle unless something had happened to Gaara. Yasha never really left the bar he worked at on Slum Street, and so they barely ever saw each other. Temari didn't like going down there; besides, the image of her last painful experience there, which had left her with a cleanly broken wrist, was still quite present.

Kankuro stopped fiddling with his sweatshirt. "No, I just... you know, his deathday was Saturday."

Temari's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh."

She never remembered their father's deathday—she'd never missed him much, and he'd never been much of a father to her. She doubted Gaara remembered it, either. But Kankuro had always been the eldest boy, and their father had been the nicest to him when their mother was still alive. After that he hadn't noticed any of them much, but Kankuro had always been the most forgiving of the three.

"You remember, he used to always spout stuff about his heirs and all that?" Kankuro said, grinning a little. "I was thinking about that the other day, wondering who's actually gonna have his heir."

Temari laughed. "No one," she said. "I'm not having kids. Neither is Gaara—that's a sick image. You mean you want to adopt a baby? Or are you breaking up with Ukon and marrying some lawyer chick?"

Kankuro shook his head, grinning. "Nah, I don't want kids. Ukon'd probably strangle them after a week or so. I was just thinking about old shit."

Temari chuckled at the image of Ukon with a kid, then grimaced at the mental image. "Ugh. That's sick."

Kankuro laughed.

The door to the cafe opened, and a tall man slipped in. Kankuro glanced at him, and his eyes widened. Temari followed his gaze.

Was that that kid off Whore—Sasuke? No, this guy was taller, and his hair was different... and so were his eyes. He sat down at a little corner table, and Temari and Kankuro turned away.

"He looks familiar," Kankuro muttered.

"Like Naruto's friend."

Kankuro nodded, and they shrugged simultaneously. Temari ordered new coffees. They made pleasant, distracted small talk, and the next time the door opened to the cold, they whipped around to look who had come in.

Predictably, it was Sasuke, who looked paler than usual and had slight bags under his eyes. Temari realized, after a moment, that this was perfection with a hangover.

Sasuke didn't look around, making a beeline for the table his older look-alike was sitting at. He sat down and they began to talk, at which point Temari looked away. "Brothers," she said.

Kankuro nodded, and they finished their coffees in silence.

Sasuke collapsed into the chair across from his brother, stifling a yawn with one gloved hand. He felt like he'd been dragged over hot coals and then run over by an army truck. Thank god for Kabuto's great shower.

He was never going to drink that much again.

Itachi just stared at him, wearing an expression of tightly controlled incredulity, And amusement.

Sasuke snarled at him. "What?"

"Long night?" Itachi asked, a slight undercurrent of contempt in his neutral voice.

Sasuke scowled. "An unexpected and idiotic party."

"Ah."

Sasuke lit a cigarette and gestured slightly at the hot chocolate in front of him. "Why is it always hot chocolate?"

"Healthier than coffee." His brother answered blandly.

This was turning out to be pretty peaceful—Sasuke simply didn't have the energy to be pissed off. He shifted and tugged off his gloves and sweater. "Tastes better, too."

He busied himself with his hot chocolate. Itachi was staring at him, as usual. After a good couple minutes, he took a sip of his grog. "What would you do with twenty thousand?"

Sasuke looked up from his whipped cream. That was random. "Cel? You been taking your meds lately? How the hell would I get twenty grand?"

Itachi leaned back in his chair. His gaze always swirled red, unlike Sasuke's mood-dependent eyes. Shrugging sinuously, he said, "Hypothetically speaking."

Sasuke rubbed his aching temples. "No idea. I'd probably... buy everyone at the Konoha some food that isn't ramen... and take Kabuto on a trip. Why?"

"Hn." Itachi stared at the sticky tabletop. "I still have our father's inheritance in an account. I don't need it."

"So?" Sasuke hissed, angry that the information hurt. Of course Itachi would have gotten their parents' inheritance; it shouldn't have been a shock. He gulped down his hot chocolate to hide his discomfort.

"It's yours, under one condition."

Sasuke dropped his spoon. Had he just heard that right? He lit a new cigarette, his last one having dwindled to nothing in the ashtray. Looking everywhere but at Itachi, he muttered, "Why?"

"I don't need it." His brother repeated.

Sasuke smoked nervously. There had to be a catch. "What condition?"

Itachi raised an eyebrow. "You're stupider than you look. What do you think the condition is?"

Sasuke stared out at the gray square. The cafe windows were misty with condensation, but he could still make out the forms huddled against the cold at the bus stop, and the sluggish lines of traffic. "Tch." Yeah, he knew what the condition was.

000

Naruto unlocked the family block door and shoved his way inside, juggling bags of groceries. The door fell shut with a clang behind him, and he groaned in comfort. It was freezing outside. The stairwell felt balmy in comparison. The smell of frying meat hung in the air, and he could hear children yelling somewhere upstairs.

He started up the stairs, cursing the lack of an elevator for the nth time. At least his headache was gone; only a little nausea lingered from his hangover, and it could have just been his sickness.

Anko had been in an extra good mood today—it seemes she'd sold one of her paintings for a great price, and she'd been cackling on her couch the whole time he was cleaning. She'd given him double his usual pay.

He'd stopped at Suit Square to grab some food, since their fridge was woefully empty. It had all gotten pretty late, though; it was already dark outside the stairwell windows, the stars hidden behind thick black clouds.

He made it, huffing, to their floor, and fumbled in his jacket pockets for the keys. "Damn it... where—"

There was a soft chuckle behind him, and Naruto turned around. "You're back already? It's later than I thought."

Gaara almost smiled at him through the gloom of the stairwell. He held up a keyring with a familiar little fox on it, and fitted it in the lock.

Naruto shook his head. "I left it in the door? Shit. Good thing you came when you did."

Gaara pushed the door open and took two of Naruto's bags from him, setting them down up on the tatami before leaning down to unlace his boots. Sheetrock dust and wood shavings clung to the faded leather of his jacket.

The blonde set down the rest of the bags and toed off his sneakers, stepping up onto the tatami. "Damn, it's so cold out! Must have dropped to a hundred last night." He hung his jacket on the line of hooks by the kitchen door and pulled off the two sweaters he was wearing underneath, leaving him in a soft, worn orange T-shirt. Lugging the groceries into the kitchen, he began putting them away.

The apartment was pleasantly warm, and he'd cleaned it up pretty well this morning, so it felt cozy and not messy. He put water on and took out mugs and tea.

He'd make ramen tonight—nothing better than soup and noodles on a cold day. He still had noodles and fixings from his birthday party. Hopefully there were still fish cakes...

A cool, calloused palm cupped the back of his neck, and Gaara stepped close to him. Naruto jumped. He didn't think he'd ever get used to how quiet the redhead was. "How was work?"

Gaara pulled him against his body, hands sliding under Naruto's shirt. The blonde shivered. Gaara was still being gentler with him, even though it had been almost a month since the stuff with Shukaku. Of course gentle for Gaara wasn't the usual meaning of the word, but Naruto noticed.

The redhead nipped at the back of his neck, hands rough under his shirt. Naruto writhed. With the last of his composure, he gasped, "Don't you want to eat first?"

Gaara just growled into his ear, breath ghosting hot over the sensitive skin. The blond whimpered. He sure wasn't about to complain.

Gaara bent him over the counter, pushing his shirt up and biting a burning trail down his spine. His hands tore at Naruto's jeans, unzipping them and yanking them down to bunch up at his knees. Calloused fingers dug into his buttocks, kneading violently.

"Mmm... Gaara—" Naruto shook his head, trying to clear it, but then sharp teeth buried themselves in his hip, hard enough to draw blood. "Gah!"

Rough knuckles brushed over his entrance, fingers teasing the sensitive rim. The blond bit his lip. Though gentleness was good, he missed the fiery ache of Gaara's knife and the violence. Though the redhead had opened old wounds, it had been weeks since he'd used a blade on him. Naruto ached for it.

His hands scrabbled along the counter, finding the right drawer just as Gaara pushed the first two fingers inside him. Naruto groaned at the burning pain.

Gaara's breathing was just barely husky, but enough to be noticeable. His teeth worried at Naruto's ears, neck, collarbone.

The blonde yanked open the drawer, fingers closing on the first knife he found. "Gaara...wait, please, I want—"

Gaara goraned under his breath, and the fingers left none-too-gently, one hand pushing him down violently, the other grabbing the knife out of his slack grip.

Naruto panted against the cool counter, excitement thrilling through him. Finally!

The first cut was pure ecstasy, a shock of fiery ice down his side. The second even better, slicing up his thigh. Naruto moaned desperately. "Gaara.."

The redhead forced his legs further apart, the knife still circling, opening old scabs and burning new ones into his skin. Jeans rustled, and Naruto cried out, impatient.

Gaara buried himself inside him in one hot stroke, and Naruto shrieked. So good—so full—he whimpered, writhed on the counter. "More..more!"

The redhead snarled, the knife forgotten as he grabbed Naruto's hips in a bruising grip and fucked him violently. The blonde sobbed in pleasure and pain, blood slippery on his skin, Gaara's cock too deep, too hard—

He arched into him as he struck that wonderful spot deep inside, screaming. "...oh...ah...I can't...!"

Gaara crushed him against his body, mouth finding the side of Naruto's neck, sucking hard. His hips moved harder, deeper, rhythm faltering as he lost control. The blonde whimpered, body trembling with his imminent climax, frantically pushing back to meet Gaara's thrusts.

Gaara bit down hard, muffling a hoarse groan as he came. The painful bite pushed Naruto over the edge, his voice breaking on a shriek, body shuddering wildly.

Gaara thrust once more, hot cum dripping down Naruto's thighs. They caught their breath, unable to move for a minute.

Slowly, Gaara pulled out of the blonde, their bodies parting with an obscene pop. Naruto moaned shakily. "That was good..."

The redhead chuckled softly and zipped up his jeans, licking blood off of Naruto's back. He turned on the electric kettle again, and left the kitchen.

Naruto moaned again, this time in pain. He carefully straightened his T-shirt, and tottered to the bathroom to clean up. He could hear Gaara rustling around in the bedroom. He wiped himself off carefully, noticing blood seeping through his shirt. Damn, he had missed this.

He finished cleaning up and returned to the kitchen, pouring the hot water into two mugs with tea. He set them on the table just as Gaara came in, dressed in fresh clothes. The redhead sat down. "Waif."

Naruto shivered. Gaara's voice drove him up the wall. In a good way. "What?"

The redhead just shrugged slightly, eyes raking the blonde's body. He had thought the pretty thing would enjoy some gentleness; it seemed he wasn't the only one with some sanity missing.

The blonde continued looking at him, confused. His hair was mussed, his cheeks still flushed. The traces of illness were still there, but the glow of sex had taken some of his pallor away. Blood seeped steadily into his shirt.

After another moment, the deep blue eyes closed, and Naruto shrugged. "Whatever. Love you, Gaara."

0000000

Ugh, not my best. But it'll do. Thank you sooooooo much for your patience~! Please review and tell me whether it sucked too badly. I'm really out of practice.

Next up is Need! Then I'll do this, and then Need again, and so on!

Love you all!