A/N: Wow, I did not mean to take over a year to update this. I've been pretty busy this past year and my free time has been equally full of distractions (protip: don't get into an entirely new fandom when you don't actually have the free time for it).
Thanks for the reviews to those of you who've left them! Hopefully you're still reading.
She awoke to sunlight and the smell of frying bacon.
"I'm in heaven," she mumbled, snuggling down and burying her nose deeper into the pillow.
There was a familiar snort from somewhere outside her cushy dreamland. Raising her head she found Sasuke watching her from the kitchen, spatula in one hand.
"Must be heaven," she replied, "your cooking never smelled this good."
Sasuke scoffed again.
"Trust me, living with Itachi could create miracles in anyone."
As if on cue, Sakura suddenly recognized the low hum of one of her favorite electrical appliances, perking up and turning in the direction of the doorway Itachi had escaped through the night before.
"Kami forbid he not be able to do his hair." Sasuke responded to the unasked question, and she found herself staring at him in surprised disbelief.
"I've learned more about your brother in the past couple of hours than I have in all the years I've known him."
"One hesitates to ask what conclusions you've drawn from your observations up until now."
Itachi appeared in the doorway tugging a comb through his unbound hair. Sakura felt her mouth go dry.
"We're out of eggs," Sasuke said, ignoring his brother with the ease of long practice.
Though he denied it, anyone with half a brain cell could tell that Sasuke had a brother complex a mile wide. He'd confided once that he didn't think his brother was completely human and Sakura had to agree. Her hair certainly didn't look that good right after blow-drying it. Actually, there was something just a little too perfect about their entire clan. Nobody should be able to achieve such flawless hair without several hours of fussing and fighting with styling products.
"The shower's free," Itachi murmured, glancing at her as he moved past the couch and into the kitchen.
Sakura was instantly reminded that she was bloody and probably smelled and had gone to sleep lying in her own filth in the same house as the Perfect Heir (Hair) Brothers. Damn, she was going to develop a complex too.
Rising, she started checking around the couch for the small pouch she kept clipped to her belt. Someone—probably Sasuke—had set it neatly by the foot of the couch within easy reach, and she untangled herself slowly from her blanket cocoon with visions of blissfully steaming water floating through her head.
Pouch in hand, Sakura made to retreat down the single mysterious hallway when her stomach rumbled.
Sasuke placed a large plate overflowing with eggs and bacon on the countertop and glared at her.
"Eat." As if to prove a point, he put a glass of milk and one of orange juice next to the plate as well.
Itachi was hovering in the back of the small kitchen and attempting to hide his amusement in his orange juice glass.
Huffily, Sakura moved towards the plate and reached for the fork. Then the smell of the steam wafting from the food hit her full in the face and it was like someone had flipped some hidden switch in her brain. Sakura would later swear that she didn't know what happened, but in a matter of seconds the food was gone and she was cradling a half-empty glass of milk and blinking as her vision cleared.
Both Uchiha were staring at her as if they couldn't believe their famed eyes. Sasuke had one arm extended towards the fridge, milk carton in the other. Itachi's juice glass was suspended two inches from his mouth. Sakura coughed slightly in embarrassment, set the glass of milk down, and burped.
Sasuke dropped the carton and turned away, shoulders shaking in silent mirth. Itachi's eyebrows constricted and the corners of his mouth twitched up, then down as if fighting the urge to smile. It was his expression that did her in. Sasuke would laugh, really laugh if he was caught off guard, though his natural Uchiha-ness led him to try and hide the action. Itachi looked as if he wanted to laugh, but after years of suppressing the feeling he found his facial features unable to create the appropriate motions.
Slumping over the countertop, Sakura felt tears of mirth leak from her eyes as she gasped in laughter.
Some time later once she and Sasuke had recovered themselves and Itachi's facial features had been rearranged back into orderly lines, Sakura slipped into the bathroom and sighed in bliss.
Though the house was small, the bathroom boasted an actual tub instead of a cramped shower cubicle. Practically skipping, Sakura cranked the hot water on full blast and started rummaging around in her little pouch.
Carrying an actual pack was the most inconvenient thing in the entire world. As a nukenin her pack had been destroyed, stolen, set on fire, waterlogged beyond recognition, and simply lost. It was impossible to get anything out of it in the heat of battle and the one time she'd tried she'd ended up flinging dirty clothing at an enemy nin just to buy herself enough time to find her actual kunai.
Retrieving the slim storage scroll that contained all of the items she didn't carry on her person at all times, Sakura spread it on the floor and activated the seals, focusing her mind on exactly which items she wanted.
In a flash she had a new change of clothes, a towel, her hairbrush, bottles of bathing supplies and a small container of actual scented bubble bath. Discretely checking under the sink, she found Itachi's blow dryer and smiled to herself. Then she leaned into the mirror and checked her roots.
Satisfied that she had at least another couple of days before she started thinking about a touch up, Sakura shed her clothes and dripped some bubble bath in the water, watching happily as bubbles started to froth. Idly, she checked the contents of the bottles sitting on the small shelf built into the shower wall. To her amusement, she realized that Sasuke and Itachi apparently shared a bottle of men's two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. She was tempted to use it just in case their hair care products were magical, but decided that three people using the same shampoo was just a little too weird for her.
Sakura was piling bubbles on her chest and trying to make her "boobs" bigger than Tsunade's when someone knocked on the door. Guiltily, she dropped the bubbles she'd gathered on her head, which she hoped was less incriminating should whichever of them was outside be able to see through the door.
"I'm going to the market," Sasuke's voice said. "Don't drown yourself in there. Itachi is outside if you want him. Do you need anything?"
"Pocky!" She said, smirking. "And strawberries!"
There was a pause.
"Should I get you champagne too, and one of those books with a half-dressed pirate woman on the front?"
She laughed and blew some bubbles at the door, though he couldn't see her do it.
"Lots of fruits and vegetables," she said. "Maybe some of those vitamin-boosted electrolyte drinks."
"Anything else?"
"I was serious about that pocky. Chocolate—I don't like the strawberry kind."
There was the sound of a clearly audible snort.
"Alright. Itachi says that he's checking the traps and not to leave the house until he's shown you where they are."
Then it was just her and the bubbles. Sakura smiled and started piling suds onto her head.
After the bubbles were all gone she scrubbed until her skin was pink and shiny, borrowing Itachi's blow dryer and painting a new coat of clear protective polish on all her nails. Sakura emerged from the bathroom feeling clean and beautiful for once in a very long time.
Itachi was sitting in the living room waiting for her, sharpening a small pile of shuriken and kunai.
"Is this the part where you threaten me and ask me what my intentions towards your brother are?'
He paused, glancing up from his whetstone.
"I was under the impression that you intend to drive my brother crazy as frequently as possible. Was that incorrect?"
For lack of anything better to do with it, Sakura tucked her small pack next to the couch again. Someone had already folded her blanket from the night before and set it on the back of the couch with the borrowed pillow.
"Your words, or his?"
"His."
Sakura processed that, staring at the man across from her.
"Does Sasuke tell you… a lot?"
"I am sworn to the utmost secrecy," Itachi said solemnly.
She goggled for just a moment, before she had the sudden realization that Itachi was teasing her.
"There is a certain 'fish lips' incident that I have been told to never mention again."
"We don't talk about Operation Fish Lips," Sakura responded immediately, and then stood up straighter. "You do not know about Operation Fish Lips!"
Itachi smirked. "I am the soul of discretion."
Sakura narrowed her eyes at him. Either he meant that literally, or he meant 'sole' like the fish… Slowly, she made her way around the couch and sat down.
"If Sasuke told you about Operation Fish Lips I'm going to kill him," she declared, not even trying to hide the mortified blush.
Every time Team Seven got it in their collective heads to attempt to see underneath Kakashi's mask they made a new Operation and named it after one of his potential distinguishing facial features. They'd never had an Operation that wasn't a miserable failure, but the most miserable and embarrassing of all were sworn into SSS-Class friendship secrecy on pain of Ultimate Friendship Punishment, whatever that was.
Sakura herself may or may not have been guilty of telling Ino about Operation Fish Lips, but since that particular Operation had involved all three team members sneaking into the male side of the Konoha public baths, she couldn't in good conscience have kept that from her best girl friend and then been subjected to Ino's particular Ultimate Friendship Punishment. If Naruto had something in mind worse than being forced to wear scandalous clothing and go on an awkward double date, she would gladly get down on hands and knees and beg forgiveness.
"Many of my suggestions for future operations have regrettably been turned down."
She raised an eyebrow at this unexpected statement, prompting him wordlessly to continue.
"Sedatives."
"We tried that one—Operation Cleft Lip."
"His hospital stays."
"Tsunade-shishou got mad," she pouted at the memory. The paperwork had been worth it when she saw the D-rank missions Naruto and Sasuke had been assigned.
"Stealing his masks."
She frowned. "We think he keeps a storage scroll of them somewhere on his person." Explaining why they were in his apartment and why all of his stuff was out of place had been interesting and had led to the excuse that they wanted to surprise him with a clean apartment that they'd then had to actually follow up on.
"Concussion."
Sakura sighed sadly. That had been her favorite suggestion. "He dodges everything with deadly force behind it. One time he tripped on an apple, but that was an accident and all he did was bang his head."
"His bets with Maito Gai."
Ready to reject his suggestion, Sakura froze with the words on her tongue. They hadn't actually tried that one. Kakashi-sensei and Gai-sensei got so carried away with their stupid bets they were liable to do just about anything to one-up each other. It was ludicrous that Kakashi refused to let anyone see his face but was willing to run one hundred laps around the village on his hands.
Just then Sasuke walked into the room, two large brown paper bags balanced in his arms. He shot them both a suspicious look as he moved to place the groceries on the kitchen counter.
"Sasuke, I am happy you have been listening to my advice, though it sounds as if the implementation of your plans could use greater finesse."
"Sasuke!" She shot to her feet and rounded on him, reminded of what had prompted her conversation with Itachi in the first place.
"You told your brother about Operation Fish Lips!"
Most likely the part where she'd had to Sexy-no-jutsu into a man and walk through a men's bath with her chest bare feeling exposed the whole time. The amount of embarrassment she felt to this day at remembering the way eyes had widened and blood had started dripping from noses of men unable to resist the allure of Naruto's pervert jutsu even from one of their own gender was the stuff of nightmares, and his brother knew about it.
"I'm going to tell on you to Naruto and then I'm going to kick your ass."
"Please don't threaten me in front of my brother," Sasuke frowned.
Curious, Sakura glanced at Itachi and found him completely unconcerned by her words. In fact, he'd gone back to sharpening his weapons.
Sasuke sighed and reached into one of the bags, tossing the item he retrieved straight at her head. Snatching the projectile out of the air, Sakura gaped in surprise.
Pocky! Two fresh, whole packages of deliciously sweet processed sugar! The one dietary indulgence she'd most missed in her dirty, malnourished nukenin state.
"Alright," she declared imperiously, already tearing open one box. "I shall spare your life this once."
"Thank you, Sakura-sama," Sasuke drawled, stacking a cluster of bananas and a container of strawberries around the apples in the fruit bowl on the countertop.
Sneaking a glimpse of Itachi's face she saw him smirking. To someone else, the sight of a well-known and deadly shinobi smirking and sharpening weapons would have been bone chilling. Sakura smiled broadly and concentrated on not shoving all the pocky in her mouth at once like she had with her breakfast.
The battle was grueling and intense, but Sakura had restrained herself to eating only half of the first box by the time Sasuke finished putting away the groceries. Apparently the brothers traded off cooking duties, because Itachi put down the kunai he was sharpening to a fine point and slipped behind his brother into the kitchen.
Sasuke gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was trying not to do, sitting in the armchair Itachi had vacated and reaching for the abandoned whetstone. He ignored her watching him trade his brother for chores, methodically dragging the whetstone along the edges of the blade.
He only stopped when Itachi handed him a plate. Lunch, Sakura realized, accepting the sandwich she was offered with a murmured word of thanks.
There was a fat piece of ham, some cheese, several slices of cucumber, and some juicy slices of tomato wedged between two pieces of perfectly grilled bread. The cheese was even melted. Sakura wondered if the brothers were doing this to her on purpose as she felt her mouth start to water.
Beside her Itachi was eating his sandwich with exquisite grace, somehow managing not to spray crumbs everywhere with each bite. Sasuke—who had extra tomatoes and no cucumbers she noted with amusement—was also demonstrating the fine eating skills one could seemingly only acquire in a clan. Sighing, Sakura gave up on decorum and took the smallest bite possible, eyes crossing at the discovery that she could barely open her mouth wide enough to eat the sandwich.
Lunch was silent, but not uncomfortable. After she finished she wasn't asked to help clean up and Sasuke handed her a glass of water without a word. They were both babying her, she realized, but since she probably needed it and wasn't going to get her way even if she argued she decided not to say anything just yet.
Instead she watched the way they moved around her with the same ease of teammates breaking up camp on a mission. Itachi put away the fixings for lunch and was there the moment Sasuke finished washing the frying pan, dishtowel in hand.
Frankly, to Sakura a domesticated Sasuke was a laughable notion. Sasuke, who'd been banned from spit-roasting fish after turning dinner into charcoal too many times, who somehow managed to shed like a cat all over her white medic's apron. That Sasuke could not cook, or clean, or grocery shop to save his ass. Though from his comment that morning she wondered if the sudden display of these skills spawned from long cohabitation with his brother.
The elder Uchiha was a mystery to her. They'd exchanged maybe a handful of words in the length of their acquaintance, most of those impersonal greetings. He drifted in and out of the main clan household the way he slipped through the cracks of village life. Quite simply, Itachi was a busy person and was away on ANBU missions roughly eighty percent of the time. The last twenty percent was divided between training and who knew what.
In battle she knew him mostly by reputation. She'd seen him train with Sasuke several times and had seen him in the field maybe twice, most recently when his team had rendezvoused with hers during the mission to save Gaara. Having little grasp of his personality or any of his combat skills other than "coldly professional" and "crazy strong," it was little surprise that she'd believed him capable of murder while under the influence of high stress and less than the daily-recommended amount of sleep. In the situation following Pein's attack it was easy for people to believe that the dispassionate Uchiha heir had snapped, especially when other Uchiha who held him in just as much combined fear and awe had corroborated the story.
This Itachi, displaying surprising warmth and an even more surprising sense of humor was a completely different being from the Itachi whose reputation preceded him. Perhaps he was humoring her, likely knowing that after her experience the last thing she needed was to be alienated and ignored. Sakura had had quite enough of being treated like a pariah and a criminal when she was a nukenin.
"Sakura," Sasuke said, rubbing his hands with a dishtowel. Her head snapped up; she'd almost descended into bitter memories she was trying her best to avoid.
"I'm going out to train, do you want to come?"
Go outside…? When Sasuke had told her earlier that Itachi was outside she'd ignored the inherent offer. Experience had taught her that outside was dangerous. Far better to bunk down somewhere safe and wait for potential threats to pass by unaware.
It was irrational she knew, but she wanted to stay inside, take a day off. Shinobi were allowed to take a day off, weren't they? Especially after the year she'd just had. She was owed a day off—a day where she could be normal Sakura complete with banter and threats of violence and bubble baths and sugary goodness. Going outside meant turning back into mangy, rabid dog Sakura.
"Uh, no thanks," she laughed awkwardly, trying to downplay her sudden discomfort. "I'm still pretty tired. I think it would be better if I stayed inside and rested."
Sasuke's eyes were sharp, but he didn't say anything of what he was actually thinking, instead trading one of those silent glances with his brother.
"Are you sure? Itachi has to meet a contact and I'm going fishing for dinner afterwards. If you don't leave with one of us you'll be stuck here or you might risk activating one of the traps."
She nodded, hoping Sasuke would get the hint and drop the subject. "I'm sure. I really just want to-" to be safe, sane, Sakura- "to rest for a while."
After a moment Sasuke inclined his head and she watched both brothers walk out of the room. A few minutes later she heard the front door open and close and then she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
With both of them gone, Sakura reached for the storage scroll in her pouch. A moment of concentration later and she held a ratty book, its spine well-creased and a large water stain wrinkling the pages. Knowing that Sasuke would roll his eyes at her reading material didn't stop her from curling up on the couch with the book in hand.
It was a comfort read, one Ino had introduced to her, that she'd snagged by pure chance when passing through a larger town. While Sakura normally balked at stealing non-essential items, the familiar cover had called to her and she'd palmed the small paperback without a second thought.
Supposedly set in the warring-clans period of shinobi history, it had just enough historical accuracy to suspend disbelief and made up for any other deficiencies with an intriguing plot and sex. Flipping to a dog-earned page, Sakura willed herself to forget everything but the drama of fictional people and their fictional problems.
She awoke to a rustle of cloth and blinked up at the sight of Itachi, poised to drape a blanket over her.
"Go back to sleep," he murmured in a voice that sounded like silk.
Sakura blinked again, sure that she was dreaming. Handsome Uchiha men cooking for her and putting her to bed certainly didn't seem like reality. Oh, but Itachi was still wearing a shirt. Too bad, she thought sleepily.
"'M awake," she insisted as he started tucking the edges of the blanket around her body.
"Rest. Sasuke or I will wake you for dinner," he said and Sakura struggled harder against her tiredness. Didn't Itachi know that a voice like that encouraged a girl to wake up just to see what happened next?
"Weren't you out?" The memories were foggy but growing clearer as she reached for them. "Where's Sasuke?"
"My business was concluded more quickly. Sasuke has poor luck with… fish." There was the slightest inflection on the word. "I believe it will be some time yet before he returns."
Rubbing at her eyes, she reached for the blanket but frowned in surprise when Itachi covered her hand with his.
"Rest."
Narrowing her eyes at him, she attempted and failed at concealing her mulish pout. "If you let me nap too long I'll be even more tired and cranky later when I can't fall asleep."
"Are you a child?" Itachi asked, amusement obvious in his tone. "I would have thought a fully-trained medic-nin to know better than to ignore the needs of her own body."
"I'm not a child," she said, only to be interrupted by a yawn that made her jaw crack. "I'm an adult," she continued, ignoring the smirk growing on his face, "and I'm already awake. You can't force me to go back to sleep."
In an instant Itachi's eyes had flickered red. Sakura paused, not sure how to react.
"I could," he said evenly as if he wasn't threatening her with his very deadly doujutsu.
Sakura was not unfamiliar with using the Sharingan as a tranquilizing device. While the members of Team Seven normally succumbed to threats of physical violence and withheld mission privileges, Sakura had found it expedient to turn to Sasuke for help in the cases where he was not the injured party. While he hid his mothering instincts well, he was an inner worrywart and didn't object to a little sedation between teammates when the teammates in question were being resistant to bed rest.
He knew better than to use that tactic on her, but it wasn't a great leap of logic to assume he'd mentioned the chance of her being difficult to his brother, and what the possible methods to counter it might be.
Sasuke was in for it, Sakura mentally decided. Once she figured out what hers was he was going to be subjected to both her and Naruto's Ultimate Friendship Punishments for selling SSS-Class friendship secrets to his kami-cursed aniki…!
Plastering a too-bright smile on her face, Sakura reached under the blanket for the book that lay open across her chest.
"Alright," she said in the syrupy-sweet voice that sent the rest of Team Seven scattering for cover, "I promise to stay here and rest if you read me a bedtime story." She proffered the book, fluttering her eyelashes theatrically the whole time.
Itachi let the Sharingan fade as he reached for the book. She settled back against the cushions and waited, ready for the smug look to be wiped straight off his face.
About five minutes later Sakura realized she'd grossly miscalculated. Itachi had somehow managed to single out the dirtiest, most dog-eared section and proceeded to read it in that voice.
Sakura's face was brighter than her hair and she felt so hot she was having trouble breathing either from intense mortification or from the ideas that the words combined with Itachi's voice were evoking—No, bad Sakura. She was not having inappropriate thoughts about Sasuke's brother, she was just feeling woozy with dehydration because all the water in her body was venting out her ears.
Even if it was embarrassing, Sakura couldn't help being a little impressed. Kakashi-sensei could read his porn in public with a straight face but he certainly didn't read it out loud.
Itachi reached the part she normally read with baited breath, the moment x body part verb preposition y body part and she heard a small choking noise. For an instant she thought the sound had come from her until Itachi stopped reading and looked up.
"Hello, Sasuke, how was the fishing?"
Sakura craned her head back against the couch armrest so she could see Sasuke upside down. He was standing in the hallway just outside the living room with four good-sized fish attached to a string, two points of color burning high on his cheekbones and two more spreading along the tips of his ears.
"Why—" he started before the words abandoned him.
"Sasuke," she complained, hoping to appeal to the saner of the two brothers, "he was trying to keep me in bed against my will."
Sasuke closed his eyes for two, maybe three seconds, and in that brief period of time Sakura saw an almost pained expression cross his face. Then he was striding into the kitchen with a stiff-backed posture that clearly said they were being too troublesome and he didn't want to deal with them.
"Aniki, stop flirting with my teammate."
Sakura gaped, eyes darting towards Itachi, but as far as she could tell he thought nothing of reading bits out of dirty books to convalescing kunoichi.
Itachi handed the book back to her with a casual air of nonchalance Sakura would have thought impossible if she wasn't seeing it with her own eyes. In her experience, particularly with Naruto and Sasuke, men seemed to have an almost phobic reaction to romance novels, as if the inked pages were liable to come alive and attempt to brainwash them into some secret cult of femininity.
Kakashi was the one notable exception, but since he was rather infamous for having no shame when it came to reading material he didn't count. They'd had a conversation once while she was setting his ribs back at her apartment, The Will of Desire unwisely left out on the coffee table.
He'd commented that it was unfair for her to call his books perverted when her reading material was hardly better and she'd pointed out easily that her books were plot with porn, not porn with plot. Kakashi had either been uncomfortable talking standards of literary porn with her, or thrown by the fact she'd basically admitted to reading Icha Icha, if only to have a basis of comparison.
Either way, she'd noticed some time later that the book had gone missing, and when it failed to reappear after a couple of weeks she'd very casually remarked at a Team Seven Ichiraku dinner that it was one of her favorite books ever and if she couldn't find it she would be quite upset.
Several months later she'd gifted The Will of Desire and its sequel Desire's Shadow to Kakashi for his birthday, both signed by the author who was an old friend of Tsunade's and more than happy to sign a few copies for her friend's apprentice.
Bonding with Kakashi-sensei over romance novels had been unexpected, but when he smiled his one-eyed crease and said she was his favorite she knew it was the truth.
Naruto and Sasuke would have asked uncomfortably searching questions if Kakashi had borrowed their books without asking. They also wouldn't have gone out of their way to recommend potential new reads.
For a second Sakura had a vision of Kakashi-sensei and Itachi discussing the finer points of the Desire series, which was one of the best shinobi romance novel series out there, and had to stifle the urge to laugh.
Meanwhile, Sasuke and Itachi appeared to be cooperating on dinner this time, Sasuke preparing rice while Itachi handled the fish. Wanting to help Sakura stood up, draped the blanket over the back of the couch, and turned around.
Itachi was staring at her, kitchen knife poised over one of the fish. Sakura paused, her eyes flicking to the rigid line of Sasuke's back; there would be no help from that direction.
Itachi wasn't glaring, wasn't threatening her in any way, but there was an obvious command in his eyes. Crossing her arms over her chest, Sakura huffed and threw herself back against the couch cushions. The muscles in Sasuke's back relaxed, and Itachi returned his attention to de-boning the fish.
Feeling like they'd just ganged up on her, Sakura opened her book and attempted to pick up where she'd left off when she'd fallen asleep. Except that now all she could hear was Itachi's stupid sexy voice in her head reading the words and it was ruining everything. Frowning viciously, she reached for the storage scroll in pursuit of one of the difficult medical scrolls she'd barely touched since fleeing Konoha.
What felt like five minutes later Sasuke was shoving a plate under her nose. Sakura blinked myopically and suddenly realized she was starving. There was baked and salted fish and miso soup and rice balls. Sakura goggled first at Sasuke, then at his brother. They wore identically insufferable expressions and she decided she hated them. Then she stuffed one of the rice balls in her mouth and declared the time she'd spent as a nukenin entirely worth it if the reward was being cooked for and taken care of by the Uchiha brothers.
Sakura ate everything and didn't protest when Sasuke took her plate without asking and came back with seconds, which she also ate. The brothers cleaned up while she sat in a dazed food coma, wondering why she'd ever questioned karmic justice before this point in her life.
Sasuke came back into the living room, sat on the couch beside her, and cleared his throat.
"We rejoin Naruto and the rest of the rebels in five months."
Perking up at the news, Sakura sat up and turned to face her teammate.
"Five months seems like a long time." A long time to stay separated from her other best friend when she was already so close to seeing him again.
"We-" his eyes flicked briefly to his brother who was settling into the armchair- "Naruto and I, felt that it might be better if you had some time to recover before then. When we return—"
"The fighting will begin," Itachi cut in. "With Tsunade-sama present your skills as a medic are not urgently needed. It would be best for you to regain your strength now."
Sakura felt a brief flicker of annoyance that they had not only contacted Naruto, but also decided what she would be doing without asking for her opinion. But the slight resentment faded quickly. Her teammates knew what she'd been through and were doing their best to keep her in the most stress-free environment possible. She could tell from the way Sasuke was sitting as straight as humanly possible that he was nervous about having gone over her head in making this decision and was anticipating a fight.
"We can send you ahead early if you feel up to it," he said, words just a little too fast.
"By myself?"
"You are more than capable of taking care of yourself," Itachi said in a matter-of-fact tone that did good things for her ego.
"We have things we will have to take care of here before then," Sasuke explained, "Passing information through the ANBU contact network and letting the rest of the rebel forces know it's time for the invasion. Not everyone is with Naruto at the main camp."
"And if I stay here, will I have to do anything?"
The two traded glances, and she wondered if they were surprised by how easily she'd accepted the news.
"Not if you don't want to," Sasuke answered. "There might be times when both of us have to leave, but your main priority is to concentrate on recovering your strength."
Sakura sighed and settled deeper against the cushions while taking stock of herself. They'd found her operating at about fifty percent chakra capacity the night before. That was not unusual: The poor diet, high stress, and constant fighting had made a full recovery impossible. She'd been lucky to reach seventy percent chakra capacity as a nukenin, but she'd never dropped below thirty percent since the first few months of evading hunter-nin and ANBU squads when she'd routinely scraped the bottom of her chakra reserves, forced to fight with nothing but blind luck and desperation.
She was already at sixty percent or higher, and it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. Another couple of days being fattened up by the Uchiha brothers and allowed to sleep whenever she wanted and she'd be fully recovered. It was very tempting to suggest that they allow her to leave before the week was up, especially when she thought of the people waiting for her.
But she knew she'd already made her decision. Looking at the worry Sasuke was trying to keep from his face only cemented her choice.
Quirking one eyebrow, she smiled. "But what if I want to help?"
Sasuke's expression cleared, his eyes warming fractionally. Even Itachi became more at ease, a tension vanishing she'd only noticed when it was gone.
"When you've recovered," Sasuke said and she grinned, cracking the knuckles of first one hand and then the other.
"Oh yeah? Let's go outside and I'll show you just how recovered I am."
Sasuke smirked. "Tomorrow." It was as good as a promise and Sakura smirked in return.
Itachi shifted just slightly in his seat and they both glanced towards him. "Bedtime," he said.
Her internal clock was telling her it was close to nine at night.
"You Uchiha need your beauty rest to maintain your vampiric good looks?"
Sasuke gave her a disapproving look, probably for sassing his aniki, but Itachi looked completely unruffled by the comment.
"Yes," he said simply. He gave her a mild, searching look. "If you are not tired I can read you a bedtime story."
Without conscious thought Sakura's eyes drifted to the edge of the couch where she'd left the novel. She couldn't hide her blush any more than Sasuke could stop the mild coughing fit that suddenly afflicted him.
"No," she murmured, trying not to act like a spooked deer, "that's ok. I, uh, first dibs on bathroom!"
Utilizing the shinobi-cultivated speed that would have seemed rude in any other social situation, Sakura grabbed her pack and practically flew into the bathroom. Only when the door was shut did she sigh at her face in the mirror, knowing that Itachi had manipulated her but that she'd had no choice, not if she wanted to escape with her sanity intact.
There was a little voice in the back of her head, one she'd nearly forgotten after a long stretch of silence, that was insisting she go back out there, let Itachi read to her, and then suggest they try a little roleplay. Groaning, Sakura reached for her storage scroll and summoned the necessary toiletries and a change of clothes.
By the time she'd brushed her teeth and changed into an old, stained and badly mended shirt she felt more in control of herself and the voice that was ample evidence of the damage from her previous lifestyle where men, pretty or not, were out to get her and not potential flirting or makeout partners.
Though he was very pretty, she reminded herself that having untoward thoughts about Sasuke's brother was highly inappropriate, even if he seemed to enjoy baiting her. Uchiha were born difficult. It was common knowledge, and she rather thought Sasuke and his brother had inherited the antagonistic gene in spades. She stomped back into the living room muttering under her breath about men who didn't know when to quit.
Sasuke stopped talking when she walked in, lips pressing into a tight line as he stared at her. She would have ignored him, but she made the mistake of glancing at Itachi who was projecting an identical air of displeasure without using as many facial muscles as Sasuke. Not sure if this was a new form of mental torture, Sakura came to a halt and glared suspiciously at them.
"What?"
"Is that…blood?" Sasuke's voice was very soft and she had to strain to hear, blinking down at her shirt when his words registered.
There was a smattering of holes right over her heart that she'd stitched until the shirt was pulled in tightly to create several puckered spots of bunched fabric. There was a large rip in the left sleeve, over the shoulder, and at the bottom hem that went a little higher than was strictly modest. And, yes, there were some sizeable stains, even darker against the washed-out fabric, the biggest of which spread tellingly across her stomach, where a rent in the fabric had been stitched closed as if by a line of drunken ants.
"Yes," Sakura agreed cautiously, glaring at him in case he decided to mock her mending abilities. "I didn't exactly have the superfluous income to buy extra clothing just to sleep in, you know."
Sasuke made a sound in his throat that sounded like a growl. Then between one blink and the next he was gone, striding in mere seconds later holding two items that he quickly threw at her.
"Put those on."
Bemused, she stared down at what had to be one of Naruto's old shirts, though the orange was faded to create a strange spotted tie-dye effect. Underneath was a pair of navy blue boxers that had to be Sasuke's. There was a little red fan on the ass, which had been one of Naruto's more hilarious ideas back in the day.
He'd been convinced for some inane Naruto-esque reason that they needed matching clothing items to help team solidarity. And so he'd had four pairs of men's boxers made, each with a little symbol identifying who they belonged to emblazoned proudly right beneath the band at the back. Her pair was red and had the Haruno clan crest in white. She'd left them in Konoha when she'd fled and still felt a pang of sorrow for the loss of the silly gift and the peaceful times it represented. That Sasuke apparently still had his and hadn't put them to death with a Katon jutsu warmed her heart and made her less annoyed with how heavy-handed he was being.
"It's not all my blood," she grumped at him. Sasuke crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her.
"Alright, kaa-san," she snorted, stomping back to the bathroom.
When she emerged Sasuke gave her a nod, told her goodnight as if he hadn't just been acting like a moody, overprotective parent, and vanished into the bathroom.
Which left just her and Itachi.
Who was in cahoots with his brother to drive her up the wall. Her eyes narrowed and she moved to fold the rejected shirt on the couch with her back to him, intent on giving Itachi the cold shoulder.
"He was worried about you," he remarked into the quiet.
There was no censure in his voice, no rebuke though he could have easily chastised her. Sakura paused, tracing one finger along the stitching that marred the largest bloodstain.
"I know," she sighed, the memories rising within her unbidden.
For a second she closed her eyes and smelled burning hair and singed fabric, the hot flush across her cheek a scalding reminder that the last attack could have been very, very lethal. Sometimes the squads suggested she come with them and escape from the violence that would be done to her person otherwise. She'd rejected the offer, snapping a neck before her opponents could rally themselves.
In exchange for her near immolation she'd ruptured the organs of another, whipping out a kunai to deflect the barrage headed towards her. Then she was slammed painfully against a tree, her entire spine nothing more than one big bruise. Her attacker had hissed unkind things in her face she hadn't bothered to hear, large hand gripping her at the shoulder with enough force to threaten dislocation.
Sakura did not hesitate in head butting him, slotting a kunai backwards into his heart as she moved around his dazed form. She dimly registered the ripping sound, the clench of force on the bottom of her shirt the waning strength of a death throe, but brushed the fingers off absently.
The one in the clearing was furious, she could sense it even from beneath his blank porcelain mask. They grappled briefly, he bearing down on her with a sword and an inarticulate cry of rage. But in close quarters she had the advantage and after only a few seconds she was twisting her body around his and ignoring the painful sting of a cut across her forearm as she kicked him back fifteen feet and into a tree.
But the last one had been hiding the entire battle and biding his time, and Sakura was not fast enough to evade the shallow slice across her midsection. The pain was instant and burning, but she ignored it in favor of sizing up her enemy. He was angry and sloppy with it, just like the last shinobi. Sakura wondered vaguely if she was getting better or if the squads being sent to retrieve her now were less competent than the ones that had made her flee for her life only months before.
Vision blurry, she made a split-second decision and stood still just a moment too long, prompting the other shinobi to charge at her moment of weakness. The instantaneous kawarimi left him staring into the mask-less, glazed eyes of one of his companions as his sword bit into unresisting flesh up to the hilt. Sakura severed his spinal column from behind with a brush of her fingertips, staring blankly at the tableau of destruction around her, then at the blood that was liberally soaking her pants.
She felt cold suddenly in the room with Itachi and the faded shirt. Feeling her lifeblood slipping through her fingers as she desperately pushed chakra into her wound and prayed to the whims of fate had left her chilled, as if her own emotions were buried under ice, unable to thaw until she knew she'd live and have another opportunity to use them.
"It's not his fault he wasn't there," she whispered.
Wasn't there to hold her in the aftermath while she tried not to shake with the knowledge of what she'd done and what she'd almost lost, shivering and cold, so dreadfully, achingly cold she thought she'd never be warm again.
Itachi said nothing and she was glad her back was to him. She didn't want to know what her face looked like in that moment.
"That will not stop him from blaming himself," he finally replied, voice equally soft. "There are many people who worried for you. Many of them still do."
She wondered suddenly if he included himself among their number. If Sasuke had been here in his place she might have gone to him for the sense of protection he offered. But this was Itachi and she didn't know him, not really, even if he seemed determined to assist Sasuke in providing for her. Seeking physical comfort from him wasn't something she could ask for, not yet.
Down the hall there was the click of a door opening, footsteps, and then the sound of another door being drawn shut; Sasuke was out of the bathroom.
Methodically, Sakura's fingers finished folding the shirt and she dropped it carelessly beside her pouch. The pillow was placed at one end of the couch and the blanket spread across it before she slowly lay down and tucked herself in. Only then did Itachi move, reaching for the light switch on the wall as he crossed the room.
"Goodnight, Sakura."
She murmured something that might have been a reply and closed her eyes when the room was plunged into darkness. They'd barely spoken and yet somehow she was so tired she felt the exhaustion singing in her bones. Wearily, Sakura pressed her face into the pillow and willed herself to sleep.
A/N: The Will of Desire is a very obvious pun on "the Will of Fire" with Desire's Shadow punning on the literal meaning of Hokage as "Fire Shadow." Yes, I'm proud of myself.