Yo. Possibly boyxboy, so you've been warned. Obviously, I own nothing. First Naruto fic. I'll try to actually see it through, since for the first time in a long time I have absolutely nothing to do (for three months at that). I be bored. Enjoy, munchkins.

Sasuke Uchiha's first thought upon awakening was a quiet little query as to in what moment in time his pillow had been replaced by floorboard.

Gradually, he remembered that he had eyelids that should, for his convenience, be eventually opened and was subsequently rewarded with an unusual perspective of his hallway and a sharp pain in the head as the dry morning light streamed through his open bedroom door and hit him straight in the face. It was this portion of his body, slightly flattened at the moment, that he had to peel off the floor with a groan so that he could ever so tenderly lift himself up and sit back against the wall, rubbing his eyes.

Why, he asked the deities that apparently resided next to that brown smudge on the ceiling (since this was where he was adamantly staring at the moment, with a petulant twist to his mouth), why couldn't I pass out three seconds later? As in, not in the hallway?

His brain was throbbing, his mouth felt dry and acrid, and his left arm was still asleep; but all plans for gentle, slow movement (preferably involving not moving for the rest of the day) had to be abandoned when he felt an uncomfortable tightening in his abdomen and the sting of bile climbing up his throat. A few minutes later, following a hands-and-knees scramble to the restroom, found Sasuke Uchiha hugging the cool surface of the toilet and wrinkling his nose at the newly added contents.

It would appear, he thought with remorse, I have a hangover.

It was another twenty minutes before he was certain that even if he continued to retch and gag, there was absolutely nothing left in his stomach that was in danger of finding its way to the floor. He swayed shakily to his feet, knuckles white as he gripped the countertop, and inhaled sharply as a wave of nausea protested his new position. Steeling himself against the sensation, he glanced at his reflection; it was a rather unique shade of pasty, and was it just him or were the bags under his eyes cast in the most beautiful of purples?

His hair certainly rivaled the back-ends of various avian species. He poked at it for a while, warily as though the tangled black locks would consume his fingers, but presently gave up.

He wiped clear the disgruntled frown that glared back at him, schooling his features into acceptable Uchiha indifference, and proceeded to stumble his way back to his bedroom in pursuit of a change of clothes. Eau de stale beer and vomit was not preferable for a Thursday morning.

He only tripped once throughout the lengthy journey (a feat he considered worthy of congratulations) and when he finally paused before his open closet he was thinking that maybe he felt up to leaving the house and would not be subject to an entire twenty-four hours of toilet hugging after all. He was only a little shaky at this point, and as long as he didn't look down he probably (probably) wouldn't feel like throwing up again.

Picking out his favorite drainpipes, he threw on some worn chucks and a gray blazer Itachi had left behind, and glanced out the window into the cheery little street below his apartment building. Really, he thought as he stretched and yawned, it can only get better from here, right? The world is an oyster and all that jazz.

But then (and like a freight train it arrived) he remembered what day it was.

So quickly bringing up his right hand to stare at his fingers, then checking all the pockets of the clothes he had just left discarded on the floor, scouring his bedside cabinet, sprinting back to the restroom and gazing wildly around (he even looked in the toilet), scampering back and dropping down to inch along the hallway floor, and finally resting his head somewhere between his knees, the umbrella stand, and the wall with a muttered "fuck!," Sasuke Uchiha began to comprehend just how much the world hates him.

Some time later, he remembered that his state of 'fucked' could get much worse in a few hours time. And so he jumped to his feet, pausing for a moment to try and get the walls to stop tilting over, and grabbing his keys and wallet ran out of his apartment, slamming the door behind him.