Dedication: to les, for telling me to "just write" & not over think it, like I am wont to do, to all of the itasaku writers out there who keep inspiring me to tell their story, & to chapter 590, which inspired the feels that got me here.
Disclaimer: I do not own or make money from any concepts from Naruto. This is just me dillydallying while I ignore real life.
Notes: The chapters for On The Mend will be relatively short, I think. Not that long. Still, I haven't any plan on how many chapters it will be, though. Genre-wise, it's going to be a mix of humor, angst, romance, & family.
Enjoy!
Itachi used to pride himself on being unpredictable for no other reason than to note how everyone else fell into their niches and patterns like cowed cattle into and out of their pens whenever the fence lifted and the clock ticked. They wake up at seven for their nine to five o'clock job, grab the newspaper that always sits neatly on their doorstep, and read it while they stir cream and sugar into their coffee at seven-thirty. Eight means throwing themselves into the shower, shaving, applying makeup, and everything else that made up their morning routine while the eight-thirty sun sees them throwing their briefcase and purses into the passenger seat of their car before backing it out of their driveway. The car radio will natter on about the Euro crisis, the Middle East crisis, the persistently high levels of radiation in northern Japan, the American election, and every other problem under the sun while they get stuck in traffic behind the multitude of people just like them.
But none of these mundane things were his Achilles' heel.
Not at all.
It was Something More Devious; otherwise known as the homemade vanilla frozen custard melting over the sweetest apple pie with just a nip of tart and cinnamon, the city-famous specialty at Hana's.
Sometimes, he wished it were something more normal, like taking a bubble bath every night at seven o'clock.
Case in point:
"I suppose that what they say is true: some things never change."
If it hadn't been for the fact that, at some point in his earlier youth, he'd subconsciously decided that he would neither be nor act surprised, he would've whipped his head around at the half-familiar drawl as his younger brother sat down across the table from him.
As it was, he barely managed to keep blinking normally, though he was pretty sure he hid the shock.
After he'd ordered the Last Resort (Layered cake with dark chocolate and a hint of vanilla), Sasuke studied him with his head tilted while Itachi alternated between eating and observing him in turn.
The last time he'd seen him, his brother had been on the verge of graduating high school, and, from what he could see, he hadn't changed too much, physically, from then. His hair was still groomed away from his forehead, sticking behind his head, and he still looked painfully like their mother. His eyes were clear and focused intently on him. Itachi wondered what his purpose was, in being here. Unlike before, he wasn't dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt; he'd exchanged those for a pair of black pants and a deep blue collared shirt.
It was hot outside; he remembered the weather report on the radio on his way to work ("- a high of one-oh-one and a lot of eighty-five-") and the sun hadn't gone down yet, so it was near the peak. Having dressed similarly that morning, he knew Sasuke would had to have been sweating all day like no other, but, like him, he had been raised to ignore the discomfort.
Air conditioning didn't hurt.
"You haven't cut your hair since you left home, have you? Okaa-chan would have a fit if she saw the state of it now."
"I take a reasonable amount of care with it. On the other hand, I see you still use enough hair product to style a runway and a half in Milan," Itachi said as he cut off another portion of his dessert before neatly placing it in his mouth. "How'd you manage to find me?"
Sasuke snorted. "I meant that, if she saw me now, Okaa-chan would think I was on a date. Shisui says you come here every Friday for dessert."
"Hardly. You talked to Shisui?"
"Come off it, aniki, you look like our cousin, Misa. Well, I probably could have found him without you. You gravitate to sweets like a moth with a bright diabetic death wish, and this place is rumored to have the best bakery this side of the city. Two and two, then you."
His uninvited companion crossed his legs, leaned against the back of his chair, and stared at him, serious now that they'd gone through the requisite sibling insult match. Itachi simply cut through the crust of the pie with his fork and continued eating. He wouldn't be the one to get to the crux of the conversation, even if he had known what it was.
Two years was a long time to wait to break the ice, even though Itachi did not place even a microgram of blame on his shoulders.
It just made him wonder what had happened in order for Sasuke to come to him now.
The waitress brought the slice of cake to their table; before she left, Itachi asked for his tab. As she went to retrieve it, Sasuke dug in and Itachi watched him.
Neither of them talked. There was a flow of conversation around them, but, now that it had been initiated between the two of them, it was like neither Sasuke nor himself knew what to say.
When the waitress brought the receipt, Itachi whispered in her ear and slid his credit card between the creases of the black book. She brought it with her back to the cash register, returning with it in a minute. He signed the receipt and replaced his card in his wallet, and waited patiently for Sasuke to finish. He knew that, despite his greeting, Sasuke was still angry, and all he could do was wait for him to disclose one of the few things that would convince him to come his way.
No sooner had Sasuke finished his cake and set down his fork on the napkin did he look up and said quite seriously, "I need a favor."
He didn't explain, though, until they were on their way to Itachi's apartment. The sun had started to set and darkness approached quickly, like it always did, cooling the air as it did so to more bearable levels.
His little brother still slouched atrociously, Itachi thought with slight amusement, like he had when he was in high school, hands deep in the pockets of his pants. Their father used to get on his back about his terrible posture and how it was unrepresentative of their good breeding. Being a fine example of an insolent teenager, Sasuke had scoffed until Mikoto had tugged on his ear insistently to listen.
Other than the children running down the street towards the restaurants, parents far behind them, it was quiet between them once again.
Itachi was, for once, sick of quiet.
"Aren't you going to explain?"
Sasuke shrugged his shoulders. "I will, once we get to your place."
It was peaceful for a little longer before Itachi tried to start their talking again.
"So what have you been up to?"
He didn't even look at him.
"Since you left or the last time you had someone check up on me?"
Itachi pinched the bridge of his nose. "Since I moved out."
"Just finished my second year of college. Working at a music store on the east side. Friends. All you really need to know."
He had never been so glad to live so close to downtown Konoha without actually leaving in it.
A black car that he could only assume belonged to Sasuke sat in the tiny lip of the sidewalk that served as his and Shisui's temporary driveway, a girl leaning against it. She had familiar pink hair, just as short as it had been the last time he'd seen her.
As they walked toward her, she pushed off it and began to walk toward them. She was dressed for the weather in a pair of jean shorts and a flowing green tanktop, brandishing her sunglasses at his brother.
"Sasuke-kun, you took almost half an hour longer than you said you would. Do you have any idea how hot it was out here?" she scolded, putting her right hand on her hip and cocking it outward.
"I hadn't plan on staying for very long," Sasuke mumbled, his hands sinking even deeper into his pockets.
Itachi lifted an eyebrow slowly at her, and Sakura mimicked him.
"Nice way to greet an old friend," she told him.
"I'm not sure we qualify for friends."
She turned to Sasuke.
"You were right, he hasn't changed much. Just as charming as he was when we were six and he kept poking you in the forehead whenever we invaded his room. Too bad Naruto had to work tonight; I'm sure he'd have enjoyed the… reunion."
Itachi blinked. "Why are you both here, again?"
Sakura tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. "Didn't you tell him, Sasuke-kun?"
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, a nervous habit that Itachi's eyes zeroed in on, something that made Sakura sigh. Looking from one to another, Itachi waited for one of them to explain themselves.
They all looked up the stairs to the door to the apartment Itachi shared with his cousin since he had moved out of his parents' house on the north side of town.
"I guess we should go in?" Sasuke muttered darkly.