AN: "Naruto" and its related subsidiaries are copyright their original creators. Original content belongs to me. This one-shot is based within the Modern AU "Forest Fire"-verse.

Now, on to what you really want to read...

Sasori and Deidara bickered behind Itachi as they wiped down tables at Akatsuki, shortly after three a.m. on Saturday morning.

"What's up with them this time?"

Itachi shook his head, turning to look at Pein. "Unknown."

Pein nodded once and unloaded the dishwasher, wiping the glasses as he set them back in their cupboards and on their racks.

Itachi finished mopping behind the bar and gave the area by the register a quick wipe down before he went to sign off by the duty roster. "Done," he called, collecting his bag.

"How come Itachi had the easy job tonight!"

Pein frowned at Deidara. "He did the same job you did last time, he just did it faster. Shut up and work."

There was another mild scuffle between Sasori and Deidara, and Itachi shook his head as he passed by them.

"No, you can ask him," said Sasori, turning away to move on to the next.

Curious, Itachi slowed and turned his head to look over his shoulder, a brow raised as he met Sasori's cognac gaze.

"He wants to know if it would bother you if he contacted some of the girls who've been throwing themselves all over you. He needs a model."

"Another one?"

"Long story," interrupted Deidara, throwing a Shut It Now glare at Sasori.

"Why would it bother me if you did?"

"Well, if there was anyone you were attached to, I wouldn't want to poach on your preserve, yeah."

Sasori shook his head. "I told him you wouldn't care, but he wanted to hear it from you directly."

"You are welcome to anyone you want who frequents the club," confirmed Itachi. "Anything else?"

Deidara's jaw slackened. "You seriously aren't into any of them?"

"Hn."

"Like, girls or guys?"

"Yours."

Deidara just stared at Itachi.

"HOW?"

Itachi sighed and moved on, while Sasori whacked Deidara over the head with a broom handle. The pair continued their conversation, much to Itachi's irritation.

"He is a one-woman man."

"He's never mentioned anyone, though!"

"Then it isn't for us to know."

"What if I hit on her by accident and he kills me?"

"You will know who it is; and then the world will move on quickly."

"Do you know who it is?"

"I think you missed a spot."

"Argh! Don't change the subject, yeah! What do you know that I don't?"

"Too much to catalog. You missed another spot."

Itachi heard as the scuffle escalate as he left. Remembering his request for Hidan, he stopped by the Staff Room on his way out. The tall, silver-haired man waited for him, eyes shifty as he glanced behind Itachi when he locked the door.

"You look worse. Headache still bad?"

"Hn."

"You need to stop burning the candle at both ends. It won't end well for you, mate. You sure you can handle another of these?"

"Not that it concerns you, but I'll be fine. I need to be able to clear the pain out long enough to sleep, that's all." Itachi stifled his sigh, rubbing at his temples. Catching a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror, he noted just how sunken his eyes had become from his migraine. "What do I owe you?"

Hidan shrugged. "We'll call it a favour to be called in later."

Itachi's eyes sharpened and he shook his head.

Hidan lifted his hands. "Or you can do without. No skin off my back, mate."

"What kind of favour?"

"We'll find out, won't we?"

The pain behind Itachi's eyes focused into a drill boring out his brain. If he didn't get something strong in his system soon, he wouldn't be able to drive himself home.

"Agreed," he said, his voice a touch weaker than he would have liked. "What is it?"

"Mangekyou. Not for general sale or distribution, yet, so make sure you're already in bed when you take it. If this gets out—"

Itachi held out his hand, closing his fingers around the small, unlabelled pill-bottle Hidan offered.

"It won't."

"Remember, lights out, in bed, then swallow with a glass of water. Drink all the water."

"Hn."

He really should have listened to Hidan.

There truly was a first time for everything.

Closing the door behind him, Itachi didn't bother turning on any lights at his apartment. He dumped his supple leather boots by the door instead of lining them up properly; his fitted leather jacket he dropped on the floor when he missed its usual hook. His beloved satchel, containing his sketchbook, received only the barest of consideration when he fumbled it down on the bench in his room instead of its usual spot, carefully set on the shelf between his headboard and nightstand.

Groggy by the time he exited his steamy bathroom and realizing he'd forgotten his glass of water by the sink, Itachi groaned softly before dropping the last of his clothing and climbing into bed. Everything hurt by that point.

The pill he'd swallowed in the bathroom would hopefully kick in soon. He needed a night of uninterrupted sleep.

He needed to get his mind off his pain, though, or it would consume him.

"Positive thoughts will help you release endorphins, a natural happy-drug, into your system," one of his physicians had told them when he was younger. He'd wanted to punch the condescending doctor in the face, but knew it would upset his parents, so he'd sat quietly, listening—until his mother had punched the doctor in the face.

When Mikoto sat back down and re-adjusted a sleeping Sasuke on her shoulder again, her voice had been calm and composed, which Itachi found all the more frightening.

"He can barely breathe from pain, and if you don't figure it out you'll find yourself in the same predicament. 'Think happy thoughts' isn't a solution, doctor. If you can't help, say so, so I can move on to someone who can."

Itachi had always loved and admired his mother, but that day, she'd become his hero.

The next visit to the hospital, they'd been met by an intimidatingly tall, busty, blond physician who'd leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed, her stare even.

"My name is… Well, Dr Tsunade will do. I understand you were not satisfied with the care you received by one of my specialists recently."

"That is correct."

"What was his diagnosis and what was it about his suggested treatment that you took objection to?"

"He could provide no diagnosis, and suggested Itachi 'think happy thoughts' to help cure crippling migraines. Itachi is an otherwise extremely healthy young man with no other history of disease or illness, outside of a spell of pneumonia when he was a child."

Dr Tsunade turned her seat to look at Itachi.

"Did he really tell you to 'think happy thoughts'?"

"Essentially yes, ma'am."

Tsunade nodded, then turned back to Mikoto.

"I understand you assaulted him in retaliation?"

Chin high, eyes clear, she nodded. "I did."

"Good. I looked into his files after he reported that incident, and rest assured he's accepted a more appropriate opportunity, elsewhere. If you come across any other instances of unsatisfactory quality in your care, advise me directly. Here's my personal line here at the hospital, and my own practice just below. Now, Itachi, get up on the table and start answering my questions. When was the last time you suffered one of these migraines…"

Finally, someone had taken his headaches seriously and Tsunade had prescribed him a far more potent regimen of narcotics; however he hadn't had time to get his prescription refilled in the last three weeks due to his work and course load. He only called on Hidan in cases of near-crisis; he didn't want to think about what would happen if there was a medication conflict and it got out that he was using street drugs to cope.

Positive thoughts, positive thoughts, positive thoughts, he reminded himself with a touch of derision. Strangely enough, Hidan had often reminded him to be thinking of 'positive things' when he took the 'self-prescribed' meds he provided. Something about the power of persuasion or some such nonsense. Not that Itachi had ever had a bad reaction to anything Hidan had ever given him, but there was no sense tempting fate.

But this was where Itachi struggled sometimes. What was positive?

Compliments about his appearance, his work, his work ethic? His participation in the martial arts club, the awards and medals he'd received? His family, mother, father, brother?

No, it wasn't working. He took pride in those things, but they weren't happy thoughts, per se.

Something he enjoyed, just for himself…

Was there anything he enjoyed, just for himself?

How sad is it I don't even know how to relax? he mused, blowing out a long, low breath. He needed someone to teach him how to let go of his stress.

That's what the drawing was for.

No, the drawing is an outlet for the obsession, he was honest with himself about it, at least.

The wonderful, wonderful obsession.

Itachi felt his eyelids relax, his fingers release from their curled clawing of the bedspread.

You promised yourself you wouldn't. You promised.

But, Itachi argued with his conscience, it hadn't been this bad in a long, long time. And it was only a few minutes.

This is wrong.

A smile. A flash of emerald eyes. The honest happiness behind her laughter.

His heart warmed, his body relaxed, his breathing released.

Oh, that did feel better, he realized, his blood warming gently in his veins, his tension smoothing and soothing out as he melted into his mattress.

Well, if it helped a little, perhaps it wasn't so bad.

Slippery slopes, he reminded himself. But, for just a few minutes, was it really so bad?

And he could control himself. He always had.

He had complete control.

So, he decided, he would give in to his imagination, just a little bit, just until the edge wore off.

Shaking off the last of his apprehension, Itachi felt the tension in his face relax and let his inhibitions go.

A village. He was in some kind of rural, hilly village with faces carved into the side of a mountain.

Looking down at himself, Itachi found his snug black tank top was covered in a light mesh shirt, and his looser cotton trousers were strapped close to his legs from his shins down to his sandaled feet. Heavy, leather sandals with reinforcements along the soles and straps. A bump against his back and a peek over his shoulder confirmed the weight strapped there was a sword.

A ninja again? This was getting to be a recurring theme in his imaginations.

"Itachi-nii—uh, Captain!"

Itachi turned upon recognizing the voice. Naruto, his brother's closest friend. But he'd thought they were on a mission—

"You gotta go to the hospital—we just got back, Sakura's working on Sasuke and—"

Quicker than lightning, Itachi disappeared in the direction of the emergency ward for shinobi. 'Trauma Central', as Sasuke's friend Sakura had always referred to it.

His heart beat strongly in his chest as he leapt over rooftops in his rush. Naruto said Sakura was there; she would never fail Sasuke, or him. She was too good, too strong, too determined.

Too good for you, he reminded himself. Too good a person. He accepted the horrific parts of himself, the parts which had enacted unspeakable ordeals upon others in the name of his village. But he could not bring another into that confidence. It was his alone to be burdened by.

He arrived at the epicentre of controlled chaos in the hospital, and listened carefully.

There.

He strode towards the sound of her voice. He'd always been able to locate her voice in a crowd. She was there, beyond the surgical theatre's doors. And where she was, Sasuke was, which meant he was almost within reach—

"Only one Uchiha in the ER at a time. You need to step back, Captain," said a nurse. She stepped in front of him calmly, making Itachi pause and forcing him to restrain his initial reaction.

In polite tones, he met her eyes and gestured to the surgery. "My brother—"

"—is in the best of hands, barring the Hokage herself," said the nurse pleasantly. She smiled up at him. "She's never going to let him go, Captain. You can relax and enjoy a cup of our fine coffee. Freshly brewed just two days ago," she added, touching his arm with a gentle hand and indicating he follow her to the nearest waiting area.

"You keep flaring that chakra of yours, and we'll have more attention and noise on this ward than we need. There we go, you settle down, and I'm sure Dr Haruno will be out as soon as she can to give you some good news," she patted Itachi's arm and offered him a cup of water.

His brow furrowed and smoothed minutely. "Are you not discouraged from providing false hope to families and loved ones?"

The nurse's smile widened and shook her head. "We know who she has in there, and what he means to her. There's no risk of anything happening to him outside of a good telling off once he wakes up for worrying her," she said with a wink. "Especially right before her week off."

With a small nod, Itachi sat, though he faced the door to the surgery with unflinching patience and focus.

As he waited for news of his brother, he considered the nurse's words carefully.

Sakura stumbled to the door of her apartment to answer the polite knock that had sounded for at least the third time.

"Coming!" she called. Itachi sensed her fluctuating chakra and mentally winced. Hmmm. She was more tired that he'd expected. He had no doubt that she would be taking this suffering out of Sasuke's hide when he was released from hospital, so much that there was a good chance the same staff who released him would re-admit him by the time she finished with him.

She unlocked the door and opened it, rubbing at her itchy eyes… and promptly shut her gaping maw. Her eyes were shadowed, her hair a mess, and by how she held her head, it was likely aching from fatigue, dehydration and chakra depletion. He recognized the signs from when she'd assisted on his ANBU missions as their medic.

"Captain? How can I help you?"

"I apologize for disturbing you on your day off," he began, but Sakura was still staring at the bouquet of tulips in his arms, and the tray of—

"—coffee?" She breathed, reverent, as she inhaled the scent.

His low chuckle reverberated through her and he offered her a cup. "Black, with milk, with cream, with sugar?"

"Oh, just black with a splash of milk, I can—oh, er, sorry, please come in," she said, cheeks warming. She stepped back and opened her door wider. "Please excuse me while I change out of my pyjamas. I'll be right back," she said, ushering him through to her living room. "Just… one sec."

As she ducked down the hall, her hands in her hair and mumbling to herself about messes, and brushing her teeth, and more apologies, she missed the small smile that tugged at Itachi's lips.

"Can I get you anything for your coffee?"

"Hn," he said, in a negative tone. He'd loaded his full of sugar and cream before leaving the coffee shop that morning. It was practically au lait as it was.

"I wasn't expecting anyone, and today is up on the chore board as a cleaning day," she said, still apologising about the mess of dishes in the sink, the laundry piled in the hallway. Her cheeks pinked as he looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

Her rushed ponytail was a bit crooked, she hadn't applied any make-up, and her t-shirt and shorts were clean though a bit skewed. Best of all she was barefoot. He could see her toe nail polish was in desperate need of redoing, and in her attempt to hide her feet (tucking them beneath her as she curled up on the couch across from him), they peeked out every so often as she shifted. He shook his head, revelling in how adorable she looked that morning.

"What can I do for you? Are you looking for an update on Sasuke? I haven't heard anything since I left early this morning, so nothing new, sorry. As far as I know, everything's going well." Her lips quirked and her eyes danced. "Though we will need to reassess once he heals and I get my hands on him for being so sloppy out in the field. Sometimes he thinks with his Chidori instead of his head."

Itachi's expression softened and he lowered his cup, holding it in both hands. "Sasuke is doing well. I came to deliver my family's expression of thanks to you." He indicated the vase of flowers.

"Oh, there's no need, Itachi. Really. I was doing my job, that's all, and Sasuke's practically family."

"Hn… Be that as it may, we would also like to invite you to one of our family retreats, to enjoy your time off in leisure. Without interruption."

Sakura's eyebrows rose, her back straightening. "That's… that's too much. I'm sorry, I couldn't accept. I don't know… I don't think I can accept, actually. Hospital policy," she grimaced, looking down at her hands. "We aren't allowed to accept gifts above a nominal value. Especially when it comes to the Great Clans," she said, quietly. She bit her lip and looked up at him once more, apology sincere in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Itachi. Please tell your family I deeply appreciate the gesture, and normally I'd love to take them up on it."

He nodded. "I understand."

Her shoulders sagged with relief. "Thank you."

"Would dinner be an acceptable substitute?"

He swallowed a chuckle as she went a flattering shade of pink from her throat to the roots of her hair, and her eyes widened in surprise.

That night was many weeks and months ago. Now they often communicated without words.

When he kissed her the first time, she was surprised. When she kissed him, he hadn't been able to contain his moan. Sometimes he wondered how they got to this point, but after cold showers stopped working and invitations to dinner became invitations to stay in, then invitations to stay, Itachi began imagining what it would be like to stop leaving her, entirely. To no longer return to his quiet room in his family's home, but rather her apartment when he came back from a mission. To listen to her talking to herself as she worked in her apartment, or sang along to the radio under her breath. To have an eager sparring partner who wasn't afraid of him, who didn't put him on a pedestal, who saw him as a friend, a lover, a person, instead of an untouchable, soulless killing tool, a machine for his village. Someone who would wake up next to him in the morning and treat him like a man.

Through all this reflection, Itachi realized Sakura made him think and act like a man his age.

When he'd finally gotten control of himself at that conclusion, he'd realized, also, how much he'd been repressing his long-dormant hormones. And just how much of a bother cold showers were, when he had a perfectly, wonderfully, enthusiastically willing solution.

Sweet, merciful gods, were they both willing.

Itachi stifled his groan as he savoured the silky skin beneath his firm grip, Sakura's hips and waist kunoichi-taut and lithe as she writhed in his arms against him.

She pressed her lips together and buried her face in his chiselled chest, muffling her appreciation against the firm pectorals that supported his tall, athletic frame.

"Not yet," she begged, feeling him lift her torso off him, separating them and feeling the cool draft of air sneak between their bodies.

"You want more?" he asked, kissing his way down her jaw line and throat. "What else would you like?"

"Don't let me go yet," she sighed, nuzzling closer to him once more. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, twisting her fingers through his long, loose hair. She groaned as they pressed their bodies together. "Never let go."

He smiled as he pulled her closer. "Never."

His heart soared as they came together, joining and pushing and squeezing and gasping, moving as a single entity where legs pulled hips in tighter, and lips whispered secrets of the heart.

"I love you, Sakura," Itachi murmured softly in her ear. Slowly he sank into her, finding his way home, being drawn even deeper into her with every thrust and roll.

She moaned in delight as he ran his warm hand across her belly between them.

"Love you so much, Itachi," she sighed, rubbing her cheek against his. Her eyes fluttered as he reached further down, her breathing gasping, heart shuddering as she came apart around him.

"Stay with me," he breathed, pulling back enough to look down into her clouded eyes. He reached up to cup her cheek, resting his forehead against hers as their heartbeats raced.

"Itachi, are you…"

He swallowed, and lifted Sakura's hand to his heart—and she made a small noise of surprise in her throat when she saw the ring on her finger.

"Yes," he answered, smiling at her softly. "Will you—"

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes!"

He smirked. "That sounds familiar."

She smacked his chest as he chuckled, but it lacked her usual vigour and she was quickly distracted by the ring once more.

"Yes," she said quietly, looking up at him.

Renewed, Itachi's smile widened. He rolled them over until she was on top, he was leaning up to kiss her, and then pulled her down to him once more as he thrust up again.

Her eyes going wide, Sakura laughed aloud and braced herself on his chest. "Already?"

"Hn," he smirked. His heart was going to explode in his chest, and he wouldn't trade the feeling for all the gold in the world.

In his room the following day, Itachi woke once more and looked around, disoriented.

His headache was a minor twinge now, and when he glanced at his clock he noticed he'd slept for more than fourteen hours. With a low huff he realized he'd completely slept through his alarm and his usual Saturday morning practice with the MA club. His phone was blinking with messages, likely from Kisame, and he sighed. He'd lost a number of productive hours. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, wondering what in Hell was in the drugs Hidan had given him.

But then fragments and images of his dreams filtered through and he paused, staring at the wall. A picture of her in silhouette hung there, black and white, and nearby the outline of the hospital where she often volunteered. He'd hung them side by side, always drawn to the strength of her character and her dedication to others.

The fact he struggled to summon the requisite guilt and shame about the thoroughly enjoyable events in his dream, even as he peeled his sticky sheets from his lap, were even more significant. That his body was ready for another imaginary round didn't unsettle him nearly as much as it used to, either.

With a soft sigh he fell backwards again to his pillow, and covered his eyes with his hand.

He'd gone too far, this time.

Taking himself in hand once more, consciously this time, though, Itachi wasn't sure he wanted to go back.

"Yes," she'd said in his dream, as his thumb traced the small slit, applying a hint of pressure, and he groaned aloud in pleasure and anticipation.

She'd said yes.

Hope warmed Itachi as he closed his eyes and relaxed his head back against his pillow. Once more wouldn't change anything, anyway.

AN: At the request of a number of readers, here's a short spin-off fic from "Forest Fire", from Itachi's POV (mostly). "Forest Fire II" is still in production. Thank you very much to pokesimmo for assisting and beta'ing "Forest Fire II", and to uchiha.s for running through this one-shot with me! Happy New Year!