Warnings: malexmale smut and strong, insulting language

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of its characters.

Nicotine and Alcohol - 1/3


Gaara Sabaku was furious. He was bitter and angry and irritated. He might even go as far to say that right now, he was feeling every single strong, negative emotion possible. And why, you may ask? Because right now, the young man was stood, fuming behind a greasy counter. A small hand tapped cantankerously on the cheap plastic whilst his foot repeated the same rhythm on the oleaginous floor on which, Ino just a few hours ago had managed to spill the remaining fat in the chip fryer.

Luckily, he hadn't been there to witness the scorching liquid spill everywhere, nor had he been ordered to clear it up. Yet, he was the one who had been told to take over the evening shift after his screeching, obese manager had been rushed to hospital with mild burns. So…in a way, the reason the red haired man was practically festering in a pool of his own anger behind the counter at eleven in the evening, was Ino's fault.

Still, Gaara actually somehow managed to tolerate the blonde woman and her flirtatious behaviour so he had quickly concluded that the fault was his manager's; if everyone else had managed to avoid the burning liquid, surely his manager could have moved those chafing thighs of his a tad faster rather than standing like a complete oath and letting the grease touch him. Yup, it was unquestionably his manager's own fault.

To put it blandly, his manger was…a creep. And not one those creeps that people might feel sorry for. He wasn't one of those kind, passionate men who'd simply gone down the wrong path. More like…life hadn't quite lived up to expectations and instead of fighting for it, he's simply accepted it. But honestly, the guy was a bit of dick for expecting a good life to be handed to him on a silver platter with little trimmings and herbs whilst sitting at a candle lit table anyway. So really, Gaara didn't feel sorry for him in the slightest.

Particularly not during all those times when Gaara had watched his beetle-like eyes be drawn to anything with breasts that entered the café. Although, the red haired man disbelieved that half the time, the breasts even mattered. For he was convinced that more often than not, his manager's chubby, clammy hands had passed a bit too close to the red haired man's butt, causing Gaara to flinch and shiver in a displeased, uncomfortable manner.

Gaara scratched at his knee through his jeans. Well…there was perhaps one reason why the young man might have one day learnt to endure his boss. And that was his decision to abolish the rules regarding their work uniform on their lower halves. Sure, he was still forced to wear the disgusting burgundy coloured shirt which proudly read Sunagakure, as well as the hideous name tag which mockingly read 'Hi, my name is Gaara. I work here. Come ask me questions, I will bring a smile to your face' followed by an obnoxious smiley face. But at least he didn't have to regularly iron smart black trousers as his jeans were much comfier and happier substitute.

Then again, the only reason the rules had been disregarded in the first place was because of the pained, effort filled grunts that escaped his boss whenever he had tried to sit down in his tight suit trousers. For a long time, the sight, along with its noise effects had been both comical yet deeply disturbing and Gaara along with the rest of his colleagues couldn't quite decide if the disappearance of this regular performance had been a disappointment or a huge relief. Gaara, deciding to go for the optimistic view-point had decided it had been a widely accepted and approved choice.

The pale man glanced at the digital clock situated behind him for what felt like the hundredth time. His eyebrow twitched. Really? Not even five minutes had passed? He continued to glare at the clock, convinced that some bitch had obviously tampered with the time and that it was actually close to twelve and he could leave soon. Maybe it had been Kiba? That man had always been a bit of cunt and the young man wouldn't put it past him to do something like that.

Gaara sighed. It was a fruitless assumption anyway, possibly even more absurd then that time when he had unsuccessfully prayed for Hinata's massive breasts to suffocate him to death, just so that he didn't have to come in the next day. Unfortunately for him however, his plea had not come true and instead, he had spent the following day mopping the same one metre area of the café until the floor glared blindingly up at him whilst snarling at anyone who had questioned his strange behaviour. For ever since Gaara had gotten his job at Sunagakure, the man's luck hadn't been particularly good. He wouldn't say that he had been cursed or whatever…just that his idle wishes never seemed to be getting answered. Then again, the red haired man wasn't predominantly religious to begin with.

Another sigh left him; at least he was getting paid for his extra hours…even though that thought hardly boosted his spirits. It's not like announcing to the world that he'd be getting an extra twenty quid today would bring any extra life to the café. It's not like anyone would start amusingly dancing in joy. His eyes looked to the drunken group of teenagers in the corner in a slightly hopeful manner. Nope. They were way too pissed to even stand up straight, let alone put on any sort of dance show that might have amused the red haired man. He turned his head to face the only other customers in the cafe: a slightly overweight couple eating quietly. He scoffed, 'slightly' and 'quietly' had been grave understatements. The couple were practically drowning each other in fast food and Gaara quietly pondered whether he should go over to them and offer them another chair to seat their overflowing buttocks. They certainly wouldn't be dancing any time soon.

"Stop callin', stop callin', I don't wanna think anymore.

I left my head and heart on the dance floor."

Gaara groaned inaudibly and resisted the urge to slam his head against the plastic counter. Why the fuck did Ino need to leave her phone behind while she went on her fag break? Grumbling and cursing quietly, he dragged himself over to the phone and peered somewhat curiously at the caller ID. Kiba, huh? Ino's little fuck buddy. Or, 'friend with benefits' as most people would have called it. Though most of the time, Gaara couldn't care in slightest what his work colleagues were up to. As long as they weren't trying to steal money or cigarettes from his bag, he couldn't give a shit.

But even he couldn't deny that the blonde woman and tattooed man were perfect for each other. Both were complete idiots. Drug and alcohol dependent addicts who slacked off work as soon their manager turned his sweaty back. Although…she'd probably end up pregnant within the year and then Kiba would just ditch her, just like he did with all the other sluts he'd knocked up. Gaara highly doubted that his fingers were enough to count the number of kids the brunette man had helped to create and then just thrown aside. The young man might have needed to borrow a few toes as well to get the exact figure.

"Excuse me." The red haired man spun round, breaking off his glaring competition with the ringing phone and faced his customer. Wow. She'd actually managed to stand up without causing herself a heart attack? Impressive.

Gaara cocked an eyebrow at the overweight woman before him and smirked. "Welcome to café Sunagakure, where every day, we aim to put a smile on your face. What can I get you today?"

"The toilet." She replied gruffly, eyes leaving Gaara's and drawing to the neat pile of muffins situated just off the red haired man's hand. Gaara blinked. Was that drool collecting up at the corner of her mouth? God, she was disgusting! He watched her greedy tongue emerge from her mouth, sliding disgustingly across her lips and making a hideous slurping sound in the process. The young man grimaced, only to realise the woman's attention was back in him and she was staring at him impatiently.

"What?"

"Could you show me where the toilets are?" Her beady eyes narrowed at his tone and her lips disappeared into a thin line.

"Woman, I sell burgers. What do you expect? A fucking tour guide of the place?" He grumbled out in an exasperated tone, taking pride in the way the woman had shuffled back a few steps at his words. He then watched in mild glee as her toes curled unpleasantly within the god-awful neon yellow crocs she was wearing whilst the brunette gaped at him.

"Excuse me? I wasn't asking for backchat! I was just -." She spluttered out, eyes wide and shocked.

"Hold on. Let me go turn this bullshit off first," He barely spared the brunette another glance as he marched over to the phone and practically punched at the cancel button. Fuck off, Kiba. As he then strolled leisurely back to his original spot, he allowed a yawn to escape his mouth. Giving the flustered woman his signature blank look, he said. "What?" And cocked his eyebrow once more.

"You kids need to learn some manners." She said shortly. Lifting a chubby finger, she waved it in the air as she left in search for the toilet, frown cemented firmly across her face as she occasionally turned to send deadly glares at the pale man.

"Learn to diet and I might." He grumbled after her. Gaara followed her waddle-like movements lazily with his eyes, wondering if the woman would even manage to push herself into the cubicle without getting stuck in the doorway.

The pale man scoffed at the thought; tongue emerging from his mouth as he scraped his metal piercing across his teeth carelessly. A bad habit of his, yet a soothing one. Much more civilised than punching his frustrations out of an innocent customer at least.


"Well, aren't you a pretty one." The low voice caused Gaara to halt his movement. He had been busy leaning his head against the counter as he had idly flicked pieces of scrap food over the edge and onto the grimy floor. The more Ino had to clean later, the more satisfaction the pale man would feel.

But now he had to deal with an irritating, horny young boy. And what made the prospect even more daunting was the fact that the kid was probably no older then fifteen; undoubtedly at least four years his junior. An arrogant little twat with a probably overwhelmingly bad case of acne and a greasy mop of hair with…- oh?

Or…maybe not.

Because this man was breathtakingly handsome; with tanned skin, glistening blue eyes and blonde strands of hair that hung around his ears. The man, stood before him in black jeans and an orange zip-up hoodie which hid toned arms was certainly not unattractive. Even Gaara, whose standards were often unusually high, couldn't deny that this guy was the most striking man to enter the café in a long, long time. Not that the competition was very serious in the first place; most customers were either tired adults or teenagers on drugs.

"Oh, and look at that cheerful face! Your enthusiasm is almost blinding." And there it was again. That cocky, arrogant tone; voice filled with an unknown confidence that surrounded the strange customer in an unusual smug aura.

Gaara's blank face stared up at the blonde man; he slowly straightened up and fixed the tanned guy with a curious look. "Welcome to café Sunagakure, where every day, we aim to put a smile on your face. What can I get you today?" Gaara replied monotonously as he churned out the words in a well-memorised drone.

In response, the man gave a wide smile and allowed his eyes to scope, blatantly obviously over the pale man's skinny frame. His pierced eyebrow rose in silent approval and his grin widened. "Your number thanks." Gaara cocked his head to the side in an intrigued manner. Was this guy being serious? Really? Just because the man was mildly attractive didn't mean that the pale man was ready to bend over and submit himself to the blonde stranger. Gaara had a lot more dignity then that. Unlike Ino, who he spotted from the corner of his eye; she was currently pulling frantically at her shirt, urging it to shift lower and reveal her cleavage as she leant over a nearby table whilst giving the blonde customer a heated stare. Gaara scoffed. No matter how attractive you were, trying to look appealing whilst cleaning a ketchup covered table would never work.

The red haired man sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, separating the locks of hair that had been previously shaped into an impeccable, neat style due to the heavy insistence of Sakura after he had refused to dye his hair into a more 'neutral' colour. The idiot had refused to believe that the blood-red colour was natural and it wasn't until Gaara had threatened to flash his pubic hair in the middle of the café – crowded by families with screaming kids that she has finally backed down. It was quite ironic though. Especially when considering the pale pink hair of the bitch and the bleached locks of her number one friend – coincidently, also a bitch.

"I'm sorry, my number's not on the menu. Try again?" The sweet undertone in his voice had the stranger chuckling in amusement.

"That's such a shame, babe," his tone dropped in pitch, falling to a much lower register and his eyes once more swept over Gaara. "Sure I can't help change your mind?" The stranger chewed at his bottom lip seductively and gave a quick glance at the pale man's teal eyes from beneath thick lashes. At this, even Gaara let out a shuddering breath and gripped the counter just a tad harder than usual. No way. No way in hell was this man going to seduce him. He'd rather dive head first into the chip fryer then do anything with the guy.

"Fortunately, Sunagakure does not take customer suggestions right now. But we're sure we can provide you with something just as good." The red haired man answered shortly, voice now laced a sudden coldness. Couldn't the young man get the message by now? Or were his intelligence levels just as low as the other customers that wandered into the café with bewildered expressions?

"What? Like a fuck? Might loosen you up a bit, babe." The man smirked and Gaara focused his attention on the man's eyebrow piercing, rather than his captivating eyes. After all, staring at the tiny gold hoop was much more interesting and less embarrassing then spluttering at the handsome man awkwardly. Even though the blonde man's very forward and direct flirting had already shocked the pale man somewhat.

"Sadly, that's not on the menu either. Have you tried our blueberry muffins though?" Gaara was currently teetering on the fine line of deciding whether the man before him was just a slightly loud, obnoxious and very, very attractive man… or a complete cunt.

"Funny." This time, he licked his lips and the red haired man flicked another scrap piece of food onto the floor with his finger, watching as it fell from the counter. By now, Gaara had even admitted to himself that he was just searching for distractions. He really didn't know why though. The man was a complete idiot: a cock. Admittedly, an attractive one though; with a surprisingly entertaining attitude.

"I try to be." Gaara said simply.

"I guess I'm gonna have to settle for that muffin now, aren't I?" He faked a dramatic sigh before focusing his blue eyes on the pale man's nametag. Gaara watched his serious expression crack as the young man simpered and pouted in a way that would have been cute if the man had been ten years younger and wasn't trying to seduce the red head. "Oh Gaara! You promise to put a smile to my face yet I don't even get your number." He then proceeded to give the pale man a smouldering look and Gaara raised a small hand to cover his nametag defensively whilst a glare cemented itself onto his face.

"Nice try, asswipe," The pale man said. "Why don't you go seduce her? She looks more than happy to oblige." Gaara cocked his head to Ino and he swore he heard the poor woman squeal in delight as the blonde man leant against the counter and turned to peer at her curiously.

"She's hot," He nodded in appreciation, eyes resting on her ass. "But…I don't play for her team," He glanced back to Gaara. "I'm sure you know what I mean. You're a smart boy." At this he raised a toned arm and made an obscene movement with his hand and mouth. He laughed joyfully at his own joke.

"You sure? Her netball team sure could use a strong pair of arms." Gaara snarled back, unimpressed by the young man.

He smirked. "Not exactly my favourite sport. But you on the other hand, you can come play with me anytime." He raised his pierced eyebrow invitingly.

Gaara snorted. "Is that some sort of shitty pick up line that's supposed to make me drop my pants and bend over?"

Eyes fixed firmly on Gaara he exclaimed loudly. "Well…I never expected you for an exhibitionist. But whatever rocks your boat, babe. I'll never say no to an audience." His lips quirked slightly.

"Cunt." Gaara said before shortly slamming a blueberry muffin onto the counter.

"Actually, I'm Naruto but whatever." The tanned man said and shrugged in an uncaring manner, although a teasing undertone was detectable as he deposited loose change onto the counter.

"You're a cunt."

"And you love it," He replied and his mouth stretched into a wide grin whilst Gaara's did the opposite and instead turned into a thin line, thus presenting his obvious disapproval towards the young man and the subject of their brief conversation. "Thanks for the muffin, babe." He picked up the food wrapped in plastic and then preceded to fucking wink and then saunter slowly out of the front door. What managed to annoy Gaara even more was how the automatic doors opened with ease to allow the cocky man to pass through, instead of opening partially, like usual and forcing the fleeing customer to use brute strength to wrench open the disobeying doors.

The red haired man chewed irritably on his bottom lip, eyes having already narrowed down to small slits from his intense glare. What a cunt. What an arrogant asshole Naruto was. He huffed in frustration.

"So like…that guy was like pretty hot, y'know."

Oh god. Please no. Not now.

But unfortunately, as Gaara turned to face the young woman, Ino popped her bubble gum loudly, before smacking her lips together and chewing vociferously. Seriously? Was this woman asking for a death sentence? "So did you like, give him like, my number?" The red haired man's eyebrow quivered dangerously and his eyes shot towards the clock, ignoring the clueless woman before him.

It was quarter to twelve. Thank fuck.

Shoving past her and ignoring her idiotic question, his hand grabbed the nearest mop and he vaulted over the greasy counter before busying himself in the quietest corner of the café. As he wiped a shining layer of water over the oily floor he proceeded to lecture himself, reprimanding himself that he should have shown a much higher level of concern for his squealing pig of a manager and his 'serious' burns, just so he could escape this imprisonment (just like Hinata had), drive to the nearby hospital and pretend to fuss over his injured boss. It would have been a much more entertaining way to have spent the past two hours. Watching his leader's twisted; pained face must have been ten times more satisfying then dealing with an obnoxious young man or Ino's mortifying ringtone.

Gaara sighed and dunked his mop into a soapy bucket again as he opened his mouth and once more allowed his tongue to drag the tiny silver ball across his teeth. There. Much better.


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