Two people rush past him, laughing and clutching at each other, urgency hidden behind bright smiles. Shikamaru rolls his eyes very slowly and sighs, disturbing the wisp of smoke curling up from the end of the cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. He leans a bit more heavily against the wall of the bar, head tipping forward, and growls as his hair falls in front of his eyes, partially obscuring his view of the street. He pulls a hand out of his pants pocket to angrily push the stray strands back behind his ear, muttering darkly about uppity ninja and broken hair ties. If a certain person didn't insist on removing his hair tie every time they were anywhere near each other, the elastic wouldn't strain so much as to snap in the middle of a mission. At least, he didn't think so. It was good enough to have someone else to blame for this particular misfortune.

Speaking of, Shikamaru thought darkly, watching as a few more inebriated fools stumbled out of the bar and onto the dark street. There were things he was supposed to remember. For a moment, nothing came to mind, and he cursed under his breath for not having Chouji write the damn thing down for him. He could have written it down himself, but that would have been too troublesome. He'd remember it all soon enough. Probably.

Come back in one piece.So far, he'd upheld that one to the letter.

With most of your blood. That one, too. He'd only suffered a few scratches. Well, the gash on his arm hardly qualified as a "scratch," but Ino had bound it tight enough, and she said that if – or when, to put it in her words – he ripped the wound open again, he'd only need a stitch or two.

Don't be lazy.He'd been as true to that one as he could possibly manage without wanting to scream. He was only good with so much activity.

Don't be late.They were running ahead of schedule, as of this morning. Bonus points.

No-

Someone new stepped out of the bar. Someone he'd not seen go in. Someone wearing impossibly tight leather pants and a fishnet shirt that hugged all the right places. Someone with the strangest air of familiarity, accidentally moving into Shikamaru's bubble of personal space. When he realized who it had to be, his eyes widened fractionally, but he held back the urge to reach for his kunai and shout an alert to the rest of his team.

The man's face was almost startling. If not for the ponytail and the lines under his eyes – ignoring the height difference – he could have been Sasuke. He registered the barest hint of shock, as well, before he started to smirk, shifting a little – closer to Shikamaru, not further away. It crossed his mind briefly that although Itachi undoubtedly knew he was a shinobi, it was very possible the traitor Uchiha didn't realize he was from Konoha, especially considering his current lack of identifying markings of any kind. That might account for his seeming unconcern with personal space.

Or he might just be a slut. Whichever.

Shikamaru took a long draw on the cigarette to buy a moment, and then removed it from his mouth, flicking the ash onto the ground. He gave a huffy little sigh and raised an eyebrow at the Uchiha, who still hadn't moved. Perhaps he'd be lucky enough to survive this encounter.

Itachi's smirk grew a little wider, making it actually perceptible. "Waiting for something good to come along?"

Shikamaru suppressed a wince at the line and made a mental note to tell Sasuke his brother was a whore. Before he could think of an answer, the Uchiha was much closer than he'd remembered. Little warning lights went off in his brain, and his laundry list of things to remember came up again, the last objective conspicuously empty. Shit.

"…Depends. Does "something good" involve sex or death today?"

The older man looked amused at his response. Possibly. He was harder to read than Sasuke had ever been, but Shikamaru had some practice on troublesome idiots who didn't always remember how to smile. One of the less focused parts of his brain wondered vaguely if Itachi ever used any sort of inflection while speaking at all, or if he really did always talk with that constant monotone. It had to be incredibly annoying to the people who dealt with him every day.

"Both, I think. Nara, is it?" It didn't even sound that much like a question.

But still. That sent the situation from only slightly bad to so much worse in half a second. He nodded nonchalantly and took another draw of his cigarette, cursing silently for not having an immediate way to alert his team that severely bad shit was going down, right now.

Ah, well.

Some of the more intelligent systems in his brain kicked into overdrive, immediately reminding him not to meet the other's eyes under any circumstances. He let his focus wander and ended up, much to his dismay, realizing how completely hot Itachi was. He had a sudden flash of Sasuke glaring darkly at someone for mentioning Itachi, a memory of the younger Uchiha's strange hate/worship relation to his brother. What he wouldn't give right now not to finally understand that strange look on Sasuke's face when Itachi was mentioned. The elder Uchiha fairly reeked of uncaring sexuality. There was no word for pants that tight other than sinful, and in his quest to ignore the other's eyes he noticed that the fishnet shirt was slashed across the front, torn and fraying, exposing his abdomen. Fucking hell.

Warning lights went off again, more urgent this time. No sex with strange men.

Damnit, it had to be that one that I forget 'til the last minute?he thought wryly, a little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sorry, Uchiha-san. I've got orders against that sort of thing."

"The dying part, or the sex?"

"Both, actually."

"Hn." Kami, he even sounded like Sasuke sometimes. That was way too creepy.

Itachi shifted back out of his space bubble, though, much to his quiet relief. The older man was still way too close, but at least he didn't have to feel the heat coming off him anymore. He could certainly live without that.

The Uchiha left without another word, stalking silently down the dark road. Shikamaru saw someone peel off a building further down – someone decidedly taller, with a sword that looked, in the shadows, to be bigger even than Asuma-sensei was – and followed Itachi, handing him something that a streetlight nearby revealed to be an Akatsuki robe. He hadn't realized the man wasn't wearing it.

A warm hand slid into his chilled one and squeezed, familiar and soft. He turned back and smiled at Ino.

"Anything interesting happen, Shika?"

"…Nah. Nothing." No need to worry her, after all. He'd report it to Sensei, and it'd get to the Hokage that Itachi had been here.

"Mmkay, then, Asuma-sensei wants us all back now."

"Hn, all right," he grumbled, stubbing his cigarette out on the wall before tossing it in the trash off to the side of the building.

He was following all the rules. I'd better get something for this, he thought darkly, before following her off down the road in the opposite direction from the one Itachi had gone.