A/N: This is a really old drabble I found and really liked still. c: I'll quite possibly be writing more some day, I love this concept.
Itachi knew Sasori needed attention. The little redhead begged for it, whether he realized it or not. Sasori needed to be hugged and kissed and loved, because he had never had it before. Itachi's parents had been kind to him. A bit strict and had nearly forced him to become what they hadn't managed to be, but his mother had always been there to hold him and his father had always given him advice.
Sasori's parents had died when he was only six years old. He had never had a mother to hold him, never had a father to play and talk with him.
Itachi had had all those things, and yet he had killed them anyway.
They were complete opposites in that way. Sasori had become a nukenin for the fact his parents had died, killing him. Itachi had become a nukenin for the fact he had died, killing his parents.
And yet, any time Sasori came to him, for the comfort that Deidara couldn't seem to give, because he didn't understand - no one understood, Itachi found himself holding the boy without question. Stroking his hair softly as he cradled the little body in his arms. It is just like he is with Sasuke again, when they are younger and a stab of guilt almost - almost - makes him stop rocking his arms softly, as Sasori clings. The redhead never says much, only "don't go" or, "don't leave me."
Somehow, this is a comfort that he cannot find in Deidara, because Itachi knew that the blond would be more than willing to do what he does nearly every night. It seems, when he is haunted at night, dreams scattered with his parent's faces, his mother's kind words and soft hands, on those nights when such things keep him awake, Sasori always seems to come. At first, he would linger at the door and wait for Itachi's permission before coming closer and waiting for the Uchiha to sit up in bed and embrace him, but now... Now he runs into the room, tears filling his eyes, clinging to Itachi's restless form and they fall asleep like that, eventually, comforted by each other's presence.
Sasori is everything Itachi can't let himself be in times like those. The puppeteer is weak and vulnerable, crying most often than not. Itachi can never be like that. It's as if Sasori gets rid of both their feelings through emotion, Itachi got rid of them through thought. Sasori wouldn't listen to reason at times like those, and the Uchiha would be caught up in comforting him, he would forget about his own problems, if only for that little while.
In that little while, when Sasori is much like Sasuke and when Itachi is much like his old self. The quiet comfort. The rock to hold onto. Sasori needs an anchor, and that seems to be Itachi's purpose in their secret nightly ritual.
He would let Sasori cry, telling him it would be alright, even though it never would.
Sasori would never get the parents love he so rightfully deserved, and Itachi would never be able to go back and, perhaps, stop himself from what he did.
And thus, the circle would continue. On and on, for an eternity.
Owari