So, am I going to explain why Neji did what he did? Sure. Did I do it here? Maybe. Am I being coy? Yes. Am I drunk? Most likely.

Let's get ready to rumble.

Chapter 13

A while back, Gaara and I got smashed on some schnapps and discussed philosophy. Most of it was incoherent, mind you, but at the time, it was the most profound thing in the world, and from what I remember, we came to the conclusion that karma existed, and that it fairly balanced out the good with the bad. You know, what goes around, comes around, the great wheel of justice, et cetera.

If that's the case, if karma is a universal truth, somewhere in the last couple of months, this great wheel went off track, lost a spoke, broke an axle and decided to run me the hell over.

I freaked out just a tad when Sasuke told me that the point of Neji's task to me had no point, that Neji, for some unfathomable reason, decided to pick me, someone he'd never met to force him to do something for him that had nothing to do with anything.

My impromptu loss of sanity came with yelling, flailing, a red haze before my eyes, and a growling voice in my head insisting on violence. If I had been in that closet by myself, most likely I would have gone running out of it like an extra from the battle scene in Braveheart (I was in a skirt, after all), and attacked the nearest being with long hair.

Good thing Sasuke was there to restrain me – you know, by punching me in the face as soon as I yelled and started for the door.

So I ended up on my ass, my back and head hitting the wall behind me, because Sasuke knows how to hit a guy. I guess he's not in the martial arts club for nothing – I'm going to have a spectacular bruise on my left cheek and I may have something for the tooth fairy later on tonight.

"You stupid moron," Sasuke breathes out, "do you want to get discovered? You have no discretion, I swear to god."

"What does it matter anymore?" Yeah, I'm pretty despairing, really down in the dumps, I should write a bad blues song, "my life is done. No more. You know, shufflin' off this mortal coil, kicking the bucket.." I would have gone on, but my face hurts. Hmm, maybe I should ask Sasuke how to punch like that so I can practice on Neji.

"No one's seen you, except me." Sasuke squats down to my eye level, sighs, then puts a hand over his eyes in what I think might be exasperation.

I don't respond, but hey, at least I'm being quiet now. Good Christ, why me? Why was I singled out by that sadistic bastard for this? Did I kill and rampage through the countryside in my past life eating sacks filled with kittens and bunnies? What?

"Look, we can't stay here. It's pretty quiet now, so we should go, okay?"

And then there's that. Why is Sasuke of all people being nice to me? Didn't he hate me for that kissing thing and then the pestering for a ride, then.. I mean, he hardly spoke to me while I was dodging Lee and Kakashi through the hallways like I was playing ninja tag, and now, suddenly, he's my savior. And he tried to cheer me up, is trying to get me out of here, and I might even argue that the assault was for my own good. My mind can't take this kind of abuse, damn it, reeling from one end of the spectrum to the other in this demonic pendulum. So, I decide, why not just signal a shut down of all systems, zone out, and drift into a calm, happy coma.

I think I must've done that, or I had a small aneurysm, because suddenly, I'm in Sasuke's car as it's speeding down the road to.. somewhere not St. Gabriel's.

"What the fuck?" That's going to become my trademarked catchphrase from now on. I seem to say nothing else.

"Why am I doing this?" I hear Sasuke say, I don't think he heard me coming back to life, "I'm supposed to be watching Sakura hit a white ball around like I care. This has nothing to do with me, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, why, why, why.."

So he went, litany of the why punctuated by punches to his steering wheel. I guess he's agitated, but hell, I can't give him any answers. Can't give what you don't got, I think that's some saying.

I clear my throat, and finally, Sasuke notices I'm no longer a drooling vegetable, and shoots me a glare that should rightfully be a classified weapon of mass destruction, it can level cities, so I don't feel like a coward sinking in my seat.

"Where are we going?" I ask in a voice reserved for confessionals, and Sasuke barks out something that sounds kind of like 'your house, you freaking idiot.' Or it could have been 'goulash coloring rabbit.' Either way, not good.

"We can't go to my house, Sasuke," I have some sense left in me, after all, "if my guardian sees me, he's going to put me in electroshock therapy until I'm thirty."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do with you?" Sasuke's left eye is doing that mad twitching thing and I'm pretty sure he's hyperventilating.

"I don't know. I mean, you're the genius, you figure it out!"

Well, I probably should not have said that. Or more accurately, I definitely should not have yelled that, because Sasuke's going to toss me out of his moving car head first, and some poor family of five going on a fun picnic outing is going to find my bare-assed, cross-dressed body in the ditch. I'm going to have the most embarrassing obituary this town has ever seen, that is certain.

But Sasuke's all about surprising me today – instead of introducing me to my much needed demise, he makes a sharp left turn that should only be done in Mario-Kart, guns the speed up to 'please arrest me officer,' and when my gibbering fear subsides from his insane maneuvers, we're at his house.

Yeah, his house. The one place I never thought I'd see again.

And five seconds after I follow him into the house, I remember why it was a good thing that I never see his house again. Before I could even properly admire the foyer and take off my shoes, an arm drapes over my shoulders and I'm pulled into the naked torso of Itachi, Sasuke's scary brother.

If I weren't such a staunch and manly dude, I think I'd have screamed and started crying.

"Welcome back, Sasuke's sweetie," Itachi coos, and I wonder if being dead on the side of the road might be the better choice, "you are such a cute little bag of mysteries and intrigue, aren't you?"

I don't know how to get the hell away, because I can't shove him – it would mean I'd have to touch his bare chest – and I sure can't elbow him in the gut, knee him in the balls and karate chop his head. I guess at this point, I should just give up and be glad that Itachi at least had pants on instead of whatever travesty he was wearing last time.

And for the second (or is it third?) time today, Sasuke rescues me. And I use that term loosely, because this time, he grabs me by the v-neck collar of my fuzzy yellow sweater top and yanks me out of Itachi's hold – effective, but painful. Like most people, I like my head attached to my neck.

"Oh, Sasuke, aren't you just so possessive," Itachi can really coat everything he says in sex, it's an achievement, "just make sure you call me if you two need anything. I'm making lunch!"

Itachi's yelling by the end of that, since by that point, Sasuke had dragged me up the stairs (still by my neck, ouch) and to his room.

Once again, I see Sasuke's room, so clean that the hardwood floor portion is reflective enough for me to clench my legs together and walk like a duck. Love of my life is a bit of an anal neat freak, and that thought leads me down a dirty slide into the sewers where my mind permanently resides. Reminder to self, do not say anal in anything related to Sasuke, at least not where he can see me.

As I stand in the middle of his room uncertain of what to do, Sasuke, being the in-charge guy that he is, commands me to sit. Like I'm a dog or something, just 'sit, damn you,' not 'would you like to have a seat, my dear guest?'

So, what do I do? Instead of taking a chair like a civilized person, I flop to the floor, cross my legs indian style, and bury my face into my hands, all the while being grateful that the skirt is knee-length, just long enough that I can sit on fabric instead of making an Uzumaki butt print onto Sasuke's spectacularly clean floor.

"Chirst all mighty," I hear Sasuke say, "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

I wish to the fictional being in the sky that I could say something to calm Sasuke, but I'm up to my damned eyeballs in my own problems right now. I have no room to sympathize with anyone else, even if it is Sasuke.

"I can't believe I brought you here. Itachi's never going to let me live this down."

As I figure it, Itachi teasing you until the cows come home and the entire school tormenting you for being a totally gay S&M freak, I would have to ask for an option C – and it better involve severing of an artery.

"You!" I lift my head to see Sasuke glaring at me like I shit in his bathtub, "get changed." I receive a face full of tee-shirt and jeans. "And try not to step outside of this room unless you want Itachi to attack you."

Sound advices, all of them. In my hands I hold Sasuke's shirt and pants, his own clothes that have hugged his chest, brushed against his stomach, fondled his ass, and he wants my parts to rub against them. Wow. Of course, I ruin it by having a vomit of words.

"I aint' wearing underwear, man. You still cool with me putting on your pants?"

So, yeah, I thought if a human being turned that pale, then boiled lobster red and back to pale, all in less than five seconds, you'd have to pass out from the strain. Not Sasuke though, he's fucking superman – that is not a double entendre, so stop the snickering.

"You.. you.." I think Sasuke has finally run out of ways to call me an idiot. "The hell are you doing running around in a goddamned skirt without.." I gotta say, I've never heard Sasuke blather so incoherently before, and it's kind of cute. And that maddening ticking of his eye – he might want to get that looked at, it's spasming pretty badly.

Then, Sasuke gives up, or he just ran out of steam in his weird-shit-I-can-take meter, because he just goes boneless and sits across from me with a deep sigh.

"Just wear the clothes," he says, and if he were not such a stud, I think he'd be whimpering, "I don't care if your wang's in my pants."

I cough, because I choked on air at that, too many exciting, perverted things going on in my head to really make sense of any of them, and Sasuke belatedly realizes just what the hell came out of his lips.

Is Sasuke immensely adorable when he blushes to the roots of his dark hair? Oh hell yes.

But hey, I'm a nice guy, I don't want to prolong my crush's embarrassment any longer, so I gather his clothes (drooling is not good, stop it) and walk over to the bathroom that thankfully is connected to his room, not the hallway. At the door, I turn to ask Sasuke if he has objections to me using his private bathroom, only to see him dial a number with vicious strokes of his fine fingers.

"Who're you calling?"

"Neji." His reply is clipped and his lips twist into a smirk. "He better explain what the hell is going on, or I'm going to sic Itachi on him."

Well, why not, that's something I'd like to know as well. And is it wrong that some part of me wishes Neji will decline explication so that I can see Itachi molest the crap out of him?

God forbid.