Yo everyone, and welcome to my second fic!

Just a warning to start things off, I'm Australian and know bugger-all about Japanese food and whatnot, due to paying almost no attention in Japanese lessons unless it's learning the actual language. So sorry in advance for being so downright western with this story except for the occasional word here and there.

But despite that, it was fun to write and I hope you enjoy it! Tell me if there's stuff I need to pick up on – I'm trying different writing styles and was going for kind of humour/angtyish (well, typical teen) in this one. I don't think I did it quite right… but anyway, read on and don't forget to review! –big grin and wiggly eyebrows-

Oh yes, and I don't do lemons – sorry to all you lemon lovers out there! I'm just not comfortable writing anything other than make-out scenes (and I honestly don't think I'd be any good at writing more anyway), and if there is a little more it'll be very sketchy and skim over it briefly – please don't yell at me! I've told you how I roll so you can't say I didn't warn you. So… if you want a lemon go find some other story to amuse yourself with… after you've read and reviewed this one of course… -cough-

I'll try and update once a week. I have up to Chapter 8 written, but I don't want to post it too fast and catch up with myself.

Trust me, I don't own anything to do with Naruto (apart from a t-shirt and the books). If I did... weeeeell... You know those books of Kakashi's? Yeah, they'd have a shit load more to do with it. -mad cackle-


"Tell me."




"Oh, come –"


"I'll give –"


"How about –"

"Not happening."

"But –"

"Don't care."

"Why not?"


She huffed, and I smirked at her defeat. Hah, take that.

"Fine. I'll just have to get you when you least expect it."

"But now that you've said that, I'll be expecting it, so you won't be able to get me."

She cocked an eyebrow and turned on her heel as she said, "Shut up, smart-arse."


Who's got a crush? Saskue's got a crush!

Yeah, yeah, cringe, cringe – whatever. It's true, I don't deny it, I just wish that damned pink stalker of mine hadn't found out. It must be that sixth sense girls have where they can read people's minds, I swear. I didn't tell her, she just guessed. Well it's not like I go professing my love to him every day, or at all for that matter. I just watch him from a distance, bag the crap out of him occasionally, and delight in how he tries and fails to change the way I am. I'm not happy enough, apparently. Well, happy can go get stuffed – I'm cold and that's the way I like it.

So this guy, right, he's all loud and obnoxious and blonde. He loves ramen way too much, he has this obsession with needing attention, and a fixation with orange. No, not the fruit, the colour. Wearing it. All the time. Blinding, much? But he's gorgeous, really. I don't mean just gorgeous, I mean melt-into-the-floor-due-to-sheer-and-utter-awe type gorgeous. Seriously.

Oh you might coo and squee at how adorable this all is, but it's not – trust me. I hate him purely, but at the same time want to tackle him on the spot and snog him senseless. And the feeling's mutual, as far as I know – well, apart from the whole tackle-snog thing. (1)

I hate him, he hates me. Oh yay, the world's a happy place, let's all drink martinis on a boat in fancy hats.

Not so.

It's because we hate each other, that we spend so much time together. We're sort of friends, in a mutual hate kind of way. It's pretty much always joking around, but sometimes we get really into it and he starts shouting really loudly while I'm being my usual cool, calm and collected self. We have the same group of friends, we just stay as far away from each other as possible when we go on group outings and whatnot. But teachers seem to think it's funny to watch us almost blow-up the Chem. Lab, or purposely throw the ball at each other's heads in P.E., or even try to stab each other with the drum sticks in music. Any class that pairs are needed, and we happen to be in together, it's always us.

"Uchiha, Uzumaki, you'll be working together today."

And I do a little dance inside. Or not.

"Try not to kill each other."

Or not.

So anyway, how did that little verbal war with my pink-haired stalker happen? (Okay, so we're friends now, but she really did used to stalk me). Well you see, it's like this. We were in Food Tech, right, the one class with partner possibilities where I'm not with the damned blonde kid, and then the stalker-girl starts yabbering on about him. About how she never realised how cute he looked when he tried to suck-up to the teachers, or how drop-dead gorgeous he was with the sunlight in his hair, or how blue his damn eyes were, or how strong he looked in his sports uniform.

She might not have noticed, but I sure as hell had. I noticed quite a while ago, actually. But I'd never tell her that, no way. We may be friends now, but there was still a limit to how much I told her. Telling her I was gay was one thing (although I'm not exactly one to deny what's true), telling her I had my eye on the guy shefinally began returning the feelings for was another.

Oh yes, in case you hadn't picked up on it – I'm a guy. Oh don't look at me like that, I'm perfectly comfortable with my sexuality, thank you very much, and I don't care if you aren't. And yes, the object of my affections is after my stalker – always has been, always will be. That sucks.

But anyway, so when she'd finally finished her rant about how adorable the Uzumaki kid was (like I didn't know already), she noticed I hadn't said a single word the entire time.

"You're quiet today - even for you."

I'd grunted in response, and crushed the garlic beneath the knife before peeling it. Man, that stuff stinks.

She'd let it go then, knowing when I didn't want to talk, and we worked in silence. But then when we were doing the dishes and she was putting the last few things away in the cupboard, she started up again. I must've gotten this far away look in my eye or something as she blabbed on about him (my imagination can get a little bit carried away at times), because she suddenly stopped, picked up her books and raised an eyebrow.

And thus, the war began. Me flat-out refusing to tell her what I was thinking about, and her trying to pry it out of me. Oh she knew, the sly she-devil, she definitely knew. She just wanted me to admit it – like hell I would. So she sauntered off, pink hair swishing, schoolbooks held loosely at her side, and though I couldn't see it, a know-it-all smirk was plastered across her face. I could just tell.

She could shove her suspicions up her arse, for all I cared. There was no way she was getting this out of me, but no doubt she was going to try. Its times like these that I wish I had some sort of fortune-telling ability. But of course, I don't. Which downright sucks.

I glared at my books for a moment before grabbing them and slouching out of the cooking room, turn right, left, up the stairs, left again and then to my locker. And there he was, in all his blonde and orange glory. Dammit.

I waited patiently for him to move out of my way, but he seemed to be out to get me today. He chatted with Gaara for a while, talking animatedly about something or other that no one really cared about but was too polite to interrupt, until I got fed up.

"Dobe, I'd love to hear you rant all day, but I really gotta get to my locker."

He looked up at me and grinned, I did the usual wait for my stomach to stop flipping, and forced myself to keep my blank mask in place. Damn those eyes.

"Oh, is this your locker? My bad, go for your life."

I rolled my eyes and pushed past, saying a quick 'hey' to Gaara before kneeling down. I hate bottom lockers. They're knee-killers. I stuck my tongue out in concentration as I worked at the lock – it's a habit I have, and don't tell me it's cute.

I was just about to do the last number when I felt someone nudge me in the back with their foot, and I went past it. Crap. I looked up and met pineapple boy, otherwise known as Nara Shikamaru, genius of year ten, and probably the whole school. Also a total lazy-arse who I wouldn't put it past to sleep through a nuclear explosion.

I huffed and flicked my black hair out of my eyes, turning back to my lock.

"What do you want, Shikamaru?"

"Don't be so moody, I just wanted to see if you were up to crashing at mine tonight."

I thought for a moment, my lock clicking open. "Sure, why not?" I finally said. "Just let me call my brother and tell him, then I'll let you know."

He nodded and slouched down towards his own locker, ignoring Naruto when he said hi. Hah. I threw my stuff in my bag and stood up, wincing as I only just missed colliding with Naruto's elbow.

"Oi, dobe, watch where you're putting those elbows."

He shrugged and kept talking. I looked at Gaara with a smirk that said 'that's what you get for being nice to him' and went right, down the stairs, right again, then straight out the door, pulling out my mobile and calling my brother.

"Yo, what's up?"

"Hey, can I stay at Shikamaru's tonight?"

"The Nara kid?"

"Yeah, that one."

"You'll have to make your own way home tomorrow."

"Yeah that's cool. Can I swing by and pick my stuff up now?"

"Yep. See ya then."

"Bye." I hung up. My brother might be just a little bit insane, but he's cool. I like living with him, even though our parents are terrified of him killing me in my sleep. You see, Itachi thinks that our parents are dead. No I'm not kidding, he really does. He's totally and completely convinced that he killed them and he did such a good job the police never found out. It's strange to hear him talk about it when I know for a fact that they're living in New Zealand. It's also a little bit creepy.

I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and I turned around to see Gaara. Man that kid's hair is bright. I smirked my all-famous smirk and said, "So, he finally shut up, did he?"

"No, I had to walk away from him."

I gave a slight chuckle and nodded as Shikamaru came out of the building.

"Bro said it was fine, I just gotta go get my stuff."

He nodded and we started our trek home, Gaara mumbling about all the numerous ways to kill our English teacher, Shikamaru telling him off for being so troublesome, and me laughing on the inside. Because Uchiha Sasuke doesn't actually laugh. That would require showing emotion.

So.. Like? No like? I have to know if this is funny as of yet, and if it isn't then tell me what I should do. I really want to learn how to write humour, and so far all my attempts have been flushed down the toilet. Not literally, but you get it.