Summery: "You like him," my editor stated. And though I had a feeling I would soon be eating my words, I opened my mouth. "Prove it"- And it all started with a fat lady, though it hardly ended with her singing. SasuNaru AU

Warnings: Slight OoC, though I'm trying my best to stick to the characters. =/

Mentions of a lemon and bad language

Also, I gave Sai and Naruto a very adventurous sense of style

Disclaimer: Plot © Me, Naruto(+characters) © Masashi Kishimoto

Sequence One: Coffee

I hummed somewhat softly to myself, totally oblivious to its off-key quality, as I stepped onto the seven o'clock morning tram, swaying lightly to the music singing from my headphones to my eardrums. It surprised me at first, how packed it was- though, it made sense being a weekday- and the only seat I saw open was one between a small girl and a man whose face was hidden behind a large boring looking book.

Checking for any of the female populace or senior citizens before taking the space, I worked my way over and plopped into the place. I was wary not to bump into the anonymous man next to me as he took a sip from his coffee and I removed my iPod plugs. The girl- who I noticed had eyes as blue as mine- looked up at me and smiled, her front teeth riddled with gaps and the first signs of adult teeth coming in.

"Hi," she whispered, smacking on her bubble gum, "You have really pretty hair,"

"Thank you," I said, a grin, "Yours is too,"

"Wanna piece a' gum?"

I laughed a little as she dug around in her dress and held out the pack to me. I was about to decline when I felt a rather rough tap on my shoulder. I looked up and came face to face with a hefty woman wearing a gaudy red dress and too much makeup. I half expected her to reek of cigarettes and booze, but wasn't unlucky enough to be that close to find out.

"Excuse me," she said, as if she didn't already have my attention, "Would you mind giving up your seat for a nice woman? These heels are killing my ankles!"

I chose to ignore that it was early morning and she had probably only been wearing them half an hour and nodded politely.

"No problem. Ma'am," I said, standing and moving to the side.

Maybe it was just a continuum of my bad luck, or maybe I had pissed off that prude Karma for laughing at a Helen Keller joke- the tram jerked and the robust lady sailed into my previous seat, while I sailed into a cup of hot coffee. I gasped as the steamy liquid clung to my sleeve and ribs, cringing when I realized I had crash landed into some poor guy's unsuspecting lap. Ignoring the wetness of my shirt, I stood and regained some balance.

"Are you okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned, turning to the man, "Jesus, these trams are so unpredictable. I'm sorry about the coffee,"

He made a snorting noise, scowling as he picked up his soiled book and empty Styrofoam cup from the floor. It was a shame his face looked so twisted in frustration- I was sure he would be pretty handsome under normal circumstances, "Moron,"

Until he opened his mouth, that is.

I blinked in shock at his blatant lack of common conduct before crossing my arms and snarling.

"Who are you calling moron? It was an accident!" I demanded, loudly, ignoring the attention it got me from my fellow passengers.

"An accident caused by your ineptitude to stand," the pale man replied coolly.

I growled. This guy was saying stuff that was totally uncalled for! I shoved a finger to his chest, gaining his attention again.

"Look bastard-" a few mothers promptly covered their children's ear while shooting me a glare- "I don't know what decided to shove itself up your tight-ass self, but don't you dare question my brain capacity! You don't even know me,"

"Hn. The more you open your mouth the more stupid you sound," he hissed back, the side of his mouth pulled up in mockery.

"Teme!" I yelled, shoving his chest again for good measure.

Ebony eyes narrowed into pits so fascinatingly deep, I was a little taken aback. But the intensity in them only kept me further grounded on the situation. This guy was a total ass. An incredibly good looking ass, but that wasn't the point. You'd have to be dirt stupid to want to get with this piece of work.

"Beach,"

I furrowed my brows in confusion and turned to the source of the random input. I found it to be the little girl from before.

"Beach," she repeated a second time, twirling her red curls on her finger, "You are the beach at day time and that scary man is the beach at night time,"

"Suki," a woman I could only assume to be her mother hissed, obviously embarrassed her kid had said something to a total stranger.

I smiled at the innocent logic of a child and patted her head.

"Maybe you're right. But even night and day can mix a little at dawn and dusk,"

She smiled up at me again, showing her gaps, and my heart melted. God, I was such a sap with kids.

The trolley lurched for a second time and I was relieved to see it was my stop. Shooting one more look of distaste at the dark haired youth- which he eagerly returned- I popped my headphones back in and made my way to the front, trying not to think about the stickiness of the coffee on me. Taking a full breath of air when I stepped off, I resolved to shove the morning's events out of my mind. I'll never take the morning tram again.

Before me was my new home: very expensive, very chic apartment complex designed by yours truly's dad- Namikaze Minato. It was the only apartment- the only place- that my mother- Kushina- was okay with me living in that wasn't home.

After I my graduation from high school, Dear 'ol Mom wasn't ready for me to leave the nest, so I spent all of college without dorms. Not that I minded much, since Mom's home-cooked meals to die for.

So, finally, after college and after my father and I spent hours talking over safety and healthy features of the complex Dad had built so-conveniently close to home and my workplace- Barnes & Noble (co-manager thankyouverymuch)- Mom caved. Under the condition that I called every other afternoon, came home on the weekends, answer all emails within a reasonable time-frame, and only eat ramen twice a week. You'd think I was still in grade school- and sure, I didn't technically have to listen to my parents since I was an independent twenty-three year old. But I also understood that I was the only child in my family- a sacred baby that was to be kept safe at all times (my mom still had no idea I went skydiving with Kiba last fall or that I used to part-time at a zoo, with all of the lions, tigers, and bears-oh-my)

I lived on the fourth floor- right in the middle of seven- room 19. Every floor had five rooms, and the sixth was a nice, large bathroom with shower stalls and multiple urinals and toilets. All of my possessions that I had decided to take with me were already in boxes, waiting for me to unpack them. My dad and I had driven them a whole fifteen minutes from the house.

Packing with Mom had been a nightmare. Did you pack everything, dear? Underwear, toothbrush, deodorant, underwear, stuffed fox, ramen, underwear, clothes, cell phone, soap, underwear (was it just my mom that was obsessed with her son's underwear?) And after the checking and rechecking, she would burst into tears, just when Dad and I thought we were making progress. Really, I love her.

Fishing through my keychain mess, I grabbed my new key with a panda cover, and stuck it in the key hole. There were too many boxes on the other side of the door, and I had to practically barrel a crater into it just to get through. I sighed at the mountain of junk. Home sweet home.

After changing into something not stained with some asshole's coffee, I started with the stuff in the door which was mostly books and clothes. I had quite the collection and I spent a lot of time shelving from least favorite to most favorite on the gargantuan bookshelf Dad helped me install. By lunch, half of my stuff was settled in, and I was dying for a break. I already knew the layout of the building, having helped copy the blueprints myself, but I decided to roam around anyways.

My room was on the end, so I was closest to the little balcony that people could use to smoke or chill on and farthest from the bathroom and stairwell.

I made my way to the lobby, where an eating area was next to a little shop and kitchen. I grabbed a Pepsi and gave the cash to the …boy(?) at the cash register. He(?) smiled and we exchanged change.

"You're the one who just moved in 419, right? I'm in 416" he said, large brown eyes taking me in.

"Yeah," I grinned, extending my hand and taking his, "Namaikaze Naruto,"

His hand was delicate to touch.

"Haku," he introduced himself with a sweet smile and his femininity struck me (okay, so I was pretty damn pretty myself, but still! This guy was girlier than my friend Ino)

"Awesome! I've already made a friend," I replied, flashing a grin and finding it interesting that he supplied me with no last name.

He giggled as I returned to the stairs.

"I hope you enjoy living here,"

I 'hmm'ed as I made a list of what was left to unpack. Toiletries and beauty enhancers (I wasn't afraid of conditioner, so why be afraid of a little nail polish? I was currently wearing blue- it made my eyes pop, if I do say so myself) and a few family photos.

I grabbed my work vest and threw it on a coat hanger next to the door so that I would have it for tomorrow. All of the cardboard boxes were empty and piled in a corner. I would have to eventually take them down to the dumpster that was across the parking lot, but I would invite Gaara and Kiba over for that.

I lifted my arm and sniffed my armpit, mostly out of curiosity of whether or not Old Spice really did last sixteen hours. Either way, it was time to go wash off the day's grime with a three hour shower. I stripped off my jeans and t-shirt and grabbed a towel before abandoning my boxers.

I mentioned before that every floor had a bathroom that the whole level shared. It consisted of three toilet stalls, three shower stalls, a big joint sink, and two urinals. It was coed, but everyone living here was adult enough to not really care, I guessed. I mean, if someone did, I guess they would just go without a shower. I shuddered at the thought while tossing my towel on a hook. The water was hot- the hot that's so hot it felt cold- and I yanked the curtain closed behind me. Thus, the wonderful experience called hygiene.

After a gruesome battle with drippy suds in my eyes, I twisted the faucet off and stepped out into the cooler air of the open bathroom. I looked at my tan skin, made slightly raw from the heat, pleased with its cleanliness.

My stomach growled loudly in the silence and it made me laugh a little. The thought of dinner had my belly making more noise than before. Mom was probably having a brain hemorrhage since I hadn't returned any of her calls (five, I would later see).

I slipped a black turtleneck on and a pair of grey skinnies before leaving my apartment to go get some food. Ino once told me a while back that the dark colors brought out my hair and eyes.

My iPod plugs in place (the music created a wall between me and the world- which meant the less likelihood of me getting hit on my creepy men), I grabbed my shoes, keys, and phone, and stepped out into the hall. I shook the last bit of dampness out of my unruly blonde spikes and whistled to the song playing (Anything You Can Do from Annie Get Your Gun) I was lost in my own world, eyes closed, twirling my keys on my pointer finger after locking my door. I turned to the stairs, finally opening my eyes, then stopped.

I wish there was a better way to describe this besides 'dead in my tracks', but that's exactly what I was- or wished to be. Dead. In my tracks. So dead, that my soul that my soul had slipped out of my shoe, did a little jig with itself, then slithered back in my nose before I had the time to register what my brain wanted so desperately to reject. For five seconds- one, two, three, four, five- I stared into equally alarmed black, 'fascinatingly deep' eyes, moving less than that really tall guy that ends up sitting in front of you in a theatre.

I took in his weird, chicken ass hair style, his frown lines around his mouth, his no-doubt studly body underneath those semi-obnoxious clothes, but more importantly, his pants. His coffee stained pants. I knew that sour face anywhere. It was the trolley guy.

I snapped out of my stupor before he snapped out of his and pointed a blue-painted finger at him.

"You!" I shrieked, hand shaking.

My overly loud cry (I overestimated since I was still wearing the earphones) shook him to life and his now seemingly blacker than black orbs shrunk to two killer bee stingers. I saw the key in his hand, standing in front of room 417 and instantly knew. We lived next to each other. Next to each other! What did I ever do to deserve this? Oh, the horror! (Oh, the deliciously coincidental, plot-driving horror!)

If I had been a princess, I would have fainted from the dread and impending doom. But I was not a princess, nor did I ever faint (even I had my limits).

He opened his mouth and said something with a glower, but I didn't hear him because of the loud volume of my music. It was probably a good thing, since the guy had a spear of a tongue on the tram.

Dear Mother, I silently wailed, tempted to actually get on my knees, please tell me it isn't true.

zZzZzZzZz

Blonde and blue. Blonde, blue, and loud.

My new neighbor was my own personal nightmare- and it seemed he was quickly becoming the type that haunted. He wouldn't get out of my head, and I was seriously debating knocking on his door one night, jumping him, and beating him until my head stopped hurting.

I knew that this blonde devil was one of those obnoxiously loud people who demanded attention that I always ended up hating. I smelled annoying from miles away and this new thing in the recesses of my life reeked of it.

He was supposed to come off as stupid and insufferable. But instead, I found myself obsessing over his raw emotion, his pure outbursts. Where I was intended to see senselessness, I saw determination; where I told myself he was to bright, he was brightly beautiful. And I had only seen him twice.

"Shit, he inspires me," I cursed under my breath, removing my wire glasses and dropping my pen on the crowded table.

Sakura looked up from my manuscript through a sharp emerald gaze.

"Sasuke, get focused before I kill you. Your latest chapters from last night are so scatterbrained I have the mind to ask if you were drunk,"

I winced at my editor's words and quickly put my glasses on again. I was not an easily controlled man, but Haruno Sakura's fury was one of the few things any smart man should respectfully fear.

Leaning back in my rolling chair, I allowed myself to sink into the noises of a busy office- typing, scrawling of a million pens, low voices discussing prints, layouts, numbers of copies sold, etcetera, etcetera. It was Publishing Company music, an original piece by Sannin Publisher Co.

My editor and manager, Sakura, 26, pink-haired demon with the cutest face you've ever seen (a real snake in puppy's clothing) was slashing her way through my latest work- the end of a story about a man who sacrificed everything, even his own life, to keep his younger brother from finding out the truth of his family.

"More substance… Flesh it out some…" she muttered, scribbling with her red pen, "Offer a new angle…"

I was trying to stop thinking about blues, blondes, and louds, and start typing. But, god, that young man was enthralling. I could see his passions pouring out of his very being like the messiest, but most breathtaking manuscript, and I felt like I had been the one to discover him. On the trolley, I could have opened my mouth and felt his boiling anger burn and blister my tongue and throat as I drank it in.

He was a masterpiece of a human being and I longed to write about him- to imprison his essence in my pages. But how he infuriated me. Yet, if I could stand to be around him long enough to ensnare his core into my literature, I felt like it would be worth it. I need him.

"Huh?" Sakura asked, "You need who?"

The question brought my mind to the present, and I waved her off. Getting to know the blond was out of the question. He vexed the living daylights out of me, he insulted me, and he spilt my coffee. All in the expanse of less than ten minutes. Plus, he probably lived like a pig and couldn't even spell his own name (whatever it may be, since he had failed to acquire such information).

"Idiot blonde," I muttered darkly to myself, glaring at nothing in particular.

"Your face will get stuck like that if you don't relax," Jiraiya commented as he walked by my wide desk to get to his, "And you should remember that blondes are the best bed warmers,"

I rolled my eyes, but continued to scowl despite the perverted old man's advice. As if I, the Avenger (my famous pen-name), needed someone to warm my bed. I scoffed. But I still couldn't deny that I wanted to seek that man out.

"Sasuke…" a low warning growl shattered my thoughts and I sighed, a bit dramatically.

"Yes, yes, I know,"

"Oh, yeah," Sakura chirped-suddenly changing from acidic to bubbly, "I got an email from Tsunade this morning. She says that they agreed to a book signing for all of our top editors in the company on Thursday. It'll last until Saturday. So, prepare yourself for the hordes of estrogen you're about to be faced with,"

Fan-fucking-tastic.

The rest of my work day consisted of typing, retyping what Sakura had scribbled over, and ignoring the occasional ogle from one of my fellows.

Tsunade was the company's founder. She was a big-breasted woman with an even bigger ego and even bigger temper. She was somewhere in her sixties now, but somehow miraculously remain to appear to be in her thirties. (She wasn't the only one though. Her co-founder, a registered sex-offender, Orochimaru, still looked to be in his thirties as well. The only one of the three that looked older was Jiraiya, but he still only looked to be in his forties. It was a mystery.) Tsunade was known to be the most fearsome woman in the whole country, and I was proud that I didn't even flinch when she threw a filing cabinet through a wall during my interview. Thus, the Power-Puff Girls were- ah, wrong series. Thus, I was hired, and The Avenger was born. Now, I found it obvious that Sakura had been the woman's personal apprentice (next to Shizune, of course) for nearly five years before she was assigned to me.

My elder brother Itachi was actually the one who gave birth to the name. When I was in high school, Father spent all of his free time doting and teaching us that one day, we would follow his footsteps and become successful business tycoons. Unfortunately for Father, at the time Itachi was half-way through college with an Art degree, spent all of his time boozing it up with his weird group of friends that called themselves Akatsuki, and planned to work at a University as a Psychology professor (which, he had now been doing for several years). And I was right behind him- freedom was my middle name and creative writing was my game. I plainly told my father where he could shove his company and only through my mother did we avoid blood shed.

Even though it had only taken a month for Father to come around (lighting his office on fire and egging the company car might have had something to do with it- but results are what's important) Itachi was still proud that I had stuck to my choice and said I had 'avenged' him. And then the pen-name came. I still remember the first time my father had seen my first published book. He had called the name 'dramatic and over-bloated' but the copy still lay on his shelf next to one of Itachi's paintings.

My mother, typically Uchiha looking, but untypically soft and sweet once told me "All Uchihas are saps- especially the men and especially your father," I believed her when I caught Father tearing up on my graduation day. And I definitely believed her when I felt touched by it.

"Saps- but stubborn to admit it," Mother had added quickly with a wink.

"Are you listening to me, Uchiha Sasuke?" Sakura asked.

When I remained impassive, she hissed through her teeth. I wondered if she was counting to ten.

"Barnes& Nobel will open early for us on Thursday, so you need to be there by six. Closing will be at ten each day,"

I nodded silently and glanced at the clock.

"Are you ready to go for coffee?" I asked, already pulling on my coat.

The pink-haired girl nodded, and together, we gathered our laptops, notes, and papers. Every other evening, Sakura and I would go to the café across from my apartment complex then head to my room to continue working. It was more comfortable than the office.

Not thirty minutes later, we were already in my dimly-lit room, not a sound but typing and writing. The story of my life.

Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.

My typing flow came to a halt.

Ba-boom, ba-boom.

"Sakura…"

She looked up and still: Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.

"It's just bass. It's been going for quite a while. Relax,"

But the damage was done, and now I couldn't focus on anything else. Eventually, I pinpointed the noise to be coming from the room next to mine. Of course the blonde would be bothering me and not even know it.

"Sit down, Uchiha! We have deadlines to make!" Sakura screeched as I swung my door open. I was in front of my neighbor's in three strides. I could feel the vibrations of the music in my feet as I knocked. And knocked again. And again.

The idiot probably couldn't even hear me. I lost patience and twisted the door knob which was actually unlocked. The door opened, releasing a tidal wave of heavy, sensual techno that I didn't recognize.

There was a pile of cardboard boxes in a pile and a mammoth book case, completely filled. But what really had my attention was the dancing, shirtless tan-wonder that looked to be having the time of his life.(I vaguely took note that his dark skin must be natural because I saw no tan lines and also got a peek of a tattoo before it disappeared under his low-rise jeans). Blue fingernails had vanished overnight and were now a wine red. His sweaty blonde hair that suggested he had been at this for a while was pinned back by a collection of flower barrettes. The light wasn't on, but there was a small lamp plugged in next to his small bed. Casually, I flipped the switch to 'ON'.

His swinging hips froze and he spun around, saw me, and screamed. I mean, really screamed- I didn't even think he had taken in enough breath to bellow like that; it easily blared out the music. So manly. I waited for him to stop.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he screeched, sounding a bit like Sakura had a moment ago, (Oh, yeah. So manly) "Can't you effing knock?"

During his frantic questioning, he had managed to turn off the music and throw on an oversized shirt that had "Sup, /b?" written across it.

"I did knock,"

"Is that all you have to say? You almost scared the piss out of me! I should have you locked up for sexual harassment like that Orochimaru guy!"

Sexual harassment? Sasuke thought, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. I tried not to focus to hard on the soft looking hands that were pressing urgently against my chest.

"I'm minding my own business when I look up to see your ass hovering over me! I don't dance for audiences, teme!"

One person is company, not an audience, I felt tempted to say.

"Your flailing hardly entices me, dobe. It's your fault anyways. I'm trying to work,"

"Look, I'll listen to my music as loudly as I like!"

I closed my eyes and counted to five. Killing is a crime; killing is a crime.

"I'll say it again. I'm trying to work, dobe,"

"Teme!"

I growled as he shoved me further out the door.

"Just turn the damn music down!" I snapped angrily before pivoting out, practically cutting Sakura in half who was waiting out in the hall. She quietly followed me to my apartment and closed the door softly.

"Who was that?"

I breathed heavily through my nose, an aftermath of my frustration.

"My new neighbor. Charming, isn't he?"

"Do you know his name? He seemed awfully interesting,"

"Awfully annoying," I snorted.

"You seem interested, anyways," Sakura countered, sounding almost perverse.

"As if I would ever be interested in a Neanderthal like that," I snapped, throwing myself in my desk chair.

"You are such a bad liar, Sasuke," Sakura laughed.

I felt like pouting then remembered Uchihas do not pout.

"Prove it,"

I was acting like a kid, and I knew I was going to pay for it. When Sakura's smile turned into a full-blown lecherous grin, looking positively wicked, I had a feeling I was about to eat my words.

"Is that tent in your pants my imagination?"

Sequence Once: End

TBC