"What the fuck?! You were trying out with Akatsuki?!"

Itachi looked up from his plate of microwavable pancakes to blink owlishly at the teenager that decided he was going to start out his day by shrieking. With anyone else he would ask a traditional "What?" but knew that Sasuke most definitely did not require a prompt to continue.

"Were you going to tell any of us?! Or were you just going to high-tail it out of here once you found a new team?!"

His eyes flitted over to the oven clock that read 7:32. When teenagers were so notorious for sleeping in until late afternoon, how was Sasuke finding the energy to create a shitshow in their dining area so early in the morning?

"Answer me!"

Itachi set his fork down next to his syrupy pancakes as he began to understand that Sasuke wouldn't leave without some sort of an explanation, "How did you even find out?"

Scoffing, the teenager dramatically lifted the phone in his hand to flail the screen in front of his teammate, "Their coach posted a video on fucking Instagram!"

Did she? Itachi took the phone from the outstretched hand so he could get a better look at it. Sure enough, the Akatsuki eSports Twitter had a cross-posted Instagram link that read 'We have a visitor today. Think he knows we're looking for a support player? - Angel'

When he opened the link, there was a video of him laughing in time with Hidan and Kisame at the smack-talking banter Deidara was in with Suigetsu and Zabuza. Itachi had been so absorbed in the moment that he was completely unaware that Konan was getting a video for their social media.

Imagine that.

Itachi handed back the phone and looked down at his rapidly cooling pancakes with a frown, "Players change teams, Sasuke," he couldn't keep the mild annoyance out of his voice, "It's a regular occurrence."

What was ironic was that Sasuke had transferred to Team Uchiha from Taka, which he joined after Leaf eSports kicked him off for not being compatible with his teammates, so he was already well aware of how little time many players spent with organizations.

"Why didn't you tell us?! Fuck, Itachi, were you even going to give us a heads up before you left?!"

There was an unfamiliar ring in Sasuke's voice that Itachi couldn't put his finger on, so he knitted his brow and looked up from his sad plate of sodden, processed breakfast to meet his gaze, "I don't understand why you're so upset."

Except, he wasn't looking at him. Sasuke's eyes were glued to the counter that the older man was sitting at, and his mouth was set into a hard line.

That was when it clicked.

His hands tightened into fists and he dropped his eyes to the floor, "I know… We never really got along, but… Couldn't you have at least said something before leaving us?"

He didn't want Itachi to leave.

Sighing, he pushed his plate away to let Sasuke know that he had his attention. For as insufferable of a brat as he could be, Sasuke wasn't a terrible kid that was always angry. He just had a loose handle on his emotions, acting on what his heart wanted as opposed to thinking things through, and was probably suffering from a profound loneliness that came from being in the professional gaming industry.

It was difficult to make friends when you were only with a team for maybe six months at a time, and it sure as hell wasn't any easier for a kid that was still trying to figure out what kind of person he was, and where he fit into society.

Guilt settled down on Itachi's chest like a weight and, without thinking, he slid off of the barstool and rounded the counter to wrap his arm around Sasuke's shoulders.

"You're right, I should have brought it up sooner," he admitted, "I'm sorry, Sasuke."

He didn't return the embrace, but Itachi could feel the teenager turn his head down so his forehead was buried into the crook of his neck.

"Nothing is set in stone. It was simply a trial run."

Sasuke huffed, "A trial run in their house. In person."

Well… Yes, alright, he had a point. It was pretty strange, and relatively unprofessional, to host tryouts in the manner that it had been handled, but Itachi had no answer to that so he stepped back enough to meet Sasuke's downcast gaze.

"Look at me," his voice was gentle, but authoritative, and he didn't continue until the teenager's eyes slowly crawled upwards to look Itachi in the eye, "You're right in saying that our relationship has been rocky, at best," he tilted his head down to keep Sasuke's gaze when he tried to look away, "However, that's not to say that it has to remain like that. Plenty of teammates stay in touch with one another long after their careers take them in separate directions."

Haku and Shisui immediately came to mind but, because Itachi figured that bringing up a Melee player that Sasuke didn't know would only confuse him, he ignored the urge to make the reference.

"A lot of organizations are based in San Diego and LA so if I do end up leaving, and if you're willing, I would be more than happy to meet with you when possible."

Pursing his lips together and to the side, Sasuke's eyes dropped to pointedly stare at Itachi's chest, spiky bangs which were mussed from sleep covering most of his face.

He was pouting.

Itachi fought the urge to laugh for Sasuke's sake and turned back to grab his pancakes off of the counter so he could reheat them. After a second of thought, he also grabbed his coffee and threw it in with the plate.

Before he could try to liven the mood with whatever small talk he could manage, which honestly wasn't much, his phone started to ring from where it was sitting on the countertop. Itachi typically liked to start out his day with reading news – both eSports and real-world news – so before Sasuke marched into the kitchen with guns blazing, he had been reading an article on his phone about Trump winning the most recent primary. Until now, the poor piece of technology had been lying off to the side, forsaken by its master.

More importantly, though, who was calling at nearly eight in the morning? Didn't that go against some sort of marketing law?

Swiping the phone from the tiled surface, Itachi felt his stomach flip and his heart leap into his mouth when he saw the caller ID. He quickly swiped right on the touch screen and brought it up to his ear.

"Good morning, Kisame."

Sasuke bristled.

"Oh, hey!" Kisame sounded genuinely surprised that he had answered, and there was an awkward pause as if he didn't quite know what to say next.

The microwave beeped, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, desperately trying to keep his voice even as his nerves were sent into a frenzy. Was this about the tryout? Was this a rejection call?

A beat.

"Are you busy today?"

Itachi nearly spilled his coffee, "Pardon?"

Kisame laughed, a breathy, nervous sound, "Yeah, I guess Nagato wants to see you play with us."

"I thought your coach recorded everything, though," he looked down at his pancakes longingly and tried to pretend he was just content with sipping at his coffee.

"She did, I just guess he wanted to see everything himself," Kisame yawned and made a noise one would make on the tail end of a satisfying stretch, which led Itachi to believe he may have been woken up by his manager's demands, "Anyways, I told him I'd give you a call to see if you're available to come by the house again."

Sasuke huffed and stomped away; it didn't take long for the slamming of his door to be heard.

"We don't typically practice on Saturdays, so I don't see why there would be a problem," Itachi tried to keep the sigh out of his voice as he set his pancakes back into the microwave so he could reheat them once the call was over, "I don't suppose you have a time in mind?"

There was another pause, and Itachi opened his mouth to make sure that they hadn't lost their connection until he heard Kisame ask, "You wanna get breakfast?"

This time, he really did spill his coffee. He hissed and reached over for the dish towel hanging on the oven handle.

"I mean, if you haven't eaten yet. I figured I could come get you so you don't have to waste money on an Uber - ."

"Kisame..."

"And since it's so early, we could wake up by getting some food - ."

"Kisame."

"That way by the time we get back to the house, everyone else will be up - ."

"Kisame, you don't need to make up excuses to hang out," Itachi would have laughed if there wasn't an underlying current of panic in the older man's voice. What happened to the abundance of confidence from earlier that week? Was Sasuke so irritated with the situation that he was somehow channeling himself into Kisame?

That would be a circus show if he ever saw one.

Kisame chuckled nervously again, "I'll, uh, keep that in mind. So…?"

"I would appreciate it if you gave me time to shower this time but, yes, breakfast sounds lovely."

His poor, untouched pancakes would have to be passed on to Shisui, it seemed, or anyone who happened across where they were laying in the microwave. It was just as well, Itachi lost his appetite the second he caught a glance at the caller ID.

"I gotta jump in the shower, too, so I'll be there in about an hour?" He could practically hear the smile in Kisame's voice, and his own lips twitched upwards.

"Drive safe."

The call ended and Itachi spent several seconds just staring at his phone in silence as his mind slowly worked to process the conversation he just had. The manager for Akatsuki eSports wanting to personally observe a potential future player interact with his team made sense, but there was something about the breakfast invite that felt… Less related to his candidacy than he would like.

When Itachi looked up from his phone, he couldn't hide his surprise at seeing Shisui leaning against the fridge.

"You know I'm your friend, Itachi - ."

"It's isn't like that," he stuffed his phone into the pocket of his pajama pants and took a sip of coffee to give himself time to think of what else to say, "Their manager wants to see how we interact with each other."

Shisui frowned, bringing his hand up to his face to rub at the sleep in one of his eyes, "But you still took an invite to breakfast, even though you already had something ready for yourself."

His body stiffened from head to toe as his eyes drifted towards the microwave. Shisui wasn't wrong – he had breakfast prepared, and Itachi knew he would like the heavily-processed pancakes more than he would the higher quality ones at any restaurant, yet he still accepted an invitation and even acknowledged that Kisame was just using Nagato as a reason to see him.

"I just…" Shisui sighed heavily and ran a hand through his curly hair, "The thing with Kakashi… I mean, it wasn't even that long ago, Itachi. I don't even know if you've gotten better, or if you're just so focused on the game that it seems that way."

Eyes dropping to watch the coffee that swirled in his mug, Itachi shifted uncomfortably at the reminder.

"And if you do end up joining Akatsuki, what if it happens again, and you're trapped in a contract - ?"

"It won't happen again," he nearly whispered.

He looked up in time to see Shisui's gaze soften, who pushed himself off of the fridge to find his way over to the coffee pot. "I'm not saying you can't look out for yourself," he explained quietly, in case others in the house could hear them, "I just don't want to see you like that again. And if something does happen, I'll be across the country in New York and… I won't be able to be there for you."

Itachi watched him pour his coffee before reaching over for the sugar, regret settling onto his chest like an anvil from a Wile Coyote animation. It was too late to call Kisame and cancel, which could create tension between them that would ultimately hurt his performance in front of Nagato, but he found himself dreading seeing the Akatsuki's team captain in forty-five minutes.

"Just… Just promise me you'll be careful," Shisui mumbled, stirring his beverage even after the sugar dissolved, "I don't wanna see you get hurt again… Especially not like that."

There weren't enough words in the English language to describe how much he appreciated the caring man that twirled his spoon through his coffee nervously. Shisui was like a brother to him, he really was.

Itachi stepped over to him so he could pluck a bit of fuzz out from his messy locks, "I'll be careful this time."

Shisui's cheek twitched, and he straightened up from where he was leaning on the corner to pull the slighter man into a brief hug that was tight enough for Itachi to have to struggle to breathe.

"You better go get ready, then," he said warmly, squeezing Itachi's shoulder as he walked by with his mug in hand, "Let me know how everything goes."

He didn't respond, knowing that it wasn't expected, nor needed, so Itachi washed out his mug in silence and nearly dragged his feet on his way to the shower. It wasn't Shisui's intent to unsettle him like he did, but Itachi found himself thoroughly mulling over every detail he could recall as he washed his hair longer than necessary.

In the back of his mind there was a small voice that reminded him that they could be completely overthinking the situation, that Shisui jumped the gun and Itachi allowed himself to be swept up in his worries, and that Kisame was most likely a perfectly harmless straight man that was nothing short of genuine.

However, in the forefront, Itachi was remembering what pushed him to run away from Team Anbu long before his contract was set to expire.

The he more he thought about it, the more anxious he felt.

It was common knowledge that seeing superiors outside of a work setting wasn't advisable, because of the power imbalance, and it was generally accepted that only sleazy businessmen looking to further tip the power scales in his favor took candidates out for meals.

Did that exist in the professional gaming industry?

What if this was Akatsuki's way of convincing him to get roped into a bad contract?

What if Kisame was really like... Him?

Itachi grew nauseous at the thought. Kakashi made use of his position in Team Anbu as a way to wrangle him into submission and, even if they had completely different demeanors, he wasn't so naive that he couldn't spot the similarities.

So when it came for Kisame to knock on the door, long after Itachi threw a hoodie over his t-shirt and jeans, it was difficult to keep his face neutral as they started to walk to his car.

"I wish I could say that I know of some hole-in-the-wall place that's a magical discovery, but we're just going to a First Watch that's near the team house. Is that okay?"

Itachi shrugged and hummed.

Kisame was seemingly oblivious to the tension in the younger man's face as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "It's just the only place I know that has breakfast that isn't just essentially fried batter and greasy bacon," he explained. A thought must have occurred to him, because he suddenly reached out for his iPod and handed it over without looking down at the screen, "Oh, and I was on Soundcloud the other night, just sort of letting it run through random songs, and I found this artist called Louis the Child. He does remixes, which I know isn't the same as Of Monsters and Men, but I thought you might like it."

Itachi raised an eyebrow, unsure of what to make of that, and looked down at the iPod that had been all but tossed into his lap. After a few seconds of scrutinizing the object like a bomb squad member would look at a mysterious bag left in an airport, he eventually unlocked the screen and scrolled through the list of artists until coming across what Kisame had mentioned, playing the first song he found.

A small part of him felt triumphant for at least getting the part about computer-generated music right about Kisame, even if the song was technically just an electronic-slash-deep-bass remix. Itachi bit his smiling lips between even teeth, letting his eyes slide shut as the chorus for Paris rolled around. Some of the tension began to bleed out of his muscles, and his suppressed smile fought to expand when Kisame turned the volume up.

It really did sound nice.

His eyes opened to roll over the contours of the other man's body, lingering on the intricate patterns of the tattoo that wrapped around his entire upper arm. There was so much going on, with octagonal circles, straight lines, triangles, tilted squares, a circle that almost resembled a lotus, that Itachi couldn't help but find himself almost entranced by the plain black ink that squirmed and twisted as Kisame's arms moved with the steering wheel.

The system of earrings adorning his ear were just as intriguing. While not as complex as the tattoo on his arm, or as peculiar as the ones under each eye, the ear facing Itachi was full of jewelry. At first it almost looked as if he just kept adding more and more piercings until he began to run out of space but, the more he looked at it, the more he realized that a fair amount of planning must have gone into it. If you ignored the tragus stud and started at the daith, the assortment of jewelry followed the shape of Kisame's ear to form a conch-like spiral that ended with a small stretched lobe.

In a way that Itachi didn't quite understand, it was like a beautiful piece of art.

Itachi raised a languid hand to the stereo to turn the volume back down as the song came to a close, almost seamlessly rolling into the next one that had an almost tropical beat.

"Kisame."

His flitted over to steal a glance in his direction, "Hm?"

"Why did you ask me to have breakfast with you?" he asked surprisingly casually. Maybe it was the music, or the way Kisame seemed so comfortable, but Itachi found himself almost at ease with the situation as they pulled off of the highway. When he opened his mouth to respond, Itachi added, "If you tell me it's because of the team, pull over so I can go home on my own."

If this had anything to do with the team, at least one of the others would have been in the car with them.

Kisame grinned sheepishly, and the muscles in his forearms flexed as he tightened his fingers on the steering wheel , "Yeah I kinda figured I wouldn't be able to get away with that," he half-laughed.

Itachi stared.

"I just really enjoyed being able to talk to you the other day," Kisame shrugged, "I wanted to spend some time with you before getting to work."

Not even the music could keep the remains of Itachi's smile from settling into a hard line.

The car pulled into a parking stall, and was put into park, but no effort was made to kill the engine and neither of the men removed their seat belts.

It didn't take a Jedi to sense how dissatisfied he felt with the response delivered, so Kisame's grin faltered. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, words laced with what sounded like genuine concern.

The tone of his voice wasn't what got to Itachi, though – it was the sheer intensity in the way he was looking at him. His eyes were incredibly blue, but so light that they were almost silver, or cyan, and had a dark ring outlining the iris. It was the type of eye color you never saw outside of heavily edited photographs, and Itachi marveled at how they could so quickly change from looking warm and bright, to startlingly keen and almost hypnotizing.

It threw him off balance, and he had to avert his gaze.

"I just don't understand."

Kisame sighed, releasing the steering wheel to shift his body so that it was facing the passenger seat, one arm propped on the center console.

"Look, I like to think I'm an easy guy to get along with," he started, all traces of his enthusiasm having vacated his voice, "But I don't click with a lot of people – I don't usually walk away from conversations wanting more. Even if it was just small talk about music and our mutual friends, I wanted more of that."

Itachi's frown deepened in a way not entirely unlike Sasuke's pout from earlier.

"Hey… If it's what you want, I've got no problem with taking you back to your place, or skipping breakfast and going straight to the team house for the tryout," Kisame said quietly, "But, first, can you at least tell me why you agreed to meet with me if it makes you this uncomfortable?"

As he spent more time under the almost burning gaze of the man next to him, Itachi found himself beginning to feel more and more like a piece of shit for being this distrustful. He felt his body shrink in on itself, and he unconsciously reached over his shoulder to rub at the ache in his back.

If Itachi was one hundred percent honest with himself, he would admit that he agreed to meet with Kisame because he wanted more of that connection, too. It wasn't often that he had the chance to meet people he genuinely liked talking to, and their conversation from before seemed to flow so organically that Itachi almost couldn't believe that it was their first time meeting. That same chemistry even made itself known during their gameplay, and in their mindless chatter on the way back from the Akatsuki house.

"I… Have a couple of demons I have yet to shake," he nearly whispered, "I was letting them get to me, and that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

"But you did want to see me?"

Itachi looked up from beneath his eyelashes to meet Kisame's expectant gaze, "I want to see you."

Just like that, the clear intensity vacated the other man's face and a slow smile spread across his face. It wasn't the bright, cheery smile from before, but a soft expression that was surprisingly gentle.

It made Itachi feel light.

"I mean it, though," Kisame's voice was low as he readjusted himself, leaning more into the seat than on his elbow, "The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. You'll tell me if you are, right?"

Itachi's hand drifted away from his lap so he could brush the back of his pinky along Kisame's, but stopped himself partway through, and tried to disguise the movement as simply returning the iPod back to rest in one of the cup holders.

"Of course," he returned Kisame's smile with his own, "Are you ready to head in?"

The way Kisame's eyebrow twitched told him that it wasn't the smoothest recovery, though he didn't bother with asking any questions and they both stepped out of the car and made their way across the parking lot without much conversation other than commenting on how lovely California's weather was in March.

They were seated almost immediately, which Kisame claimed to be "Damn near a miracle" on a Saturday morning, and Itachi made a noble attempt to not scrunch his nose in disgust when their drink orders were taken.

"Kale juice?"

Kisame half-frowned, "You ordered coffee and chocolate milk, but I'm the weird one?"

Itachi rolled his eyes with a slight grin, "Once I show you, I guarantee you will be asking for my extensive list of restaurant hacks," he thought back to what he said earlier about other breakfast places, "You aren't one of those crazy health nuts, are you?"

"I take care of my body, Itachi," Kisame gave him a once-over, "Something you should probably do, too."

Now it was Itachi's turn to frown, "Meaning?" Um, rude.

With a laugh, Kisame rubbed at the back of his neck, "Sorry, that came out real dickish, didn't it?" When the only response he got was a deadpan stare, he chuckled again and held out his hand, "Here, let me see. You can tell a lot just from someone's hands."

Itachi gave him a suspicious glare, but he was beginning to find himself more and more drawn into that lopsided grin and found himself setting the menu on the table to slide his hand over.

Kisame's hands completely enveloped his, and the first thing Itachi noticed was how pale and delicate it looked in comparison as he rolled his hand over to look at the top. They were also calloused and warmer than he expected, but not uncomfortably so.

"Judging by the thinness and flakiness of your nails, and these little white spots," Kisame used the hand not cradling his own to tap Itachi's ring finger, which had the most prominent spot, "You're probably deficient in zinc, or protein. And, if how fucking freezing your hands feel is anything to go by, your circulation could be better, which could probably be improved by exercising…" his hand shifted so that his index and middle finger rested over his pulse, "And you're anxious."

For a fleeting moment Itachi bristled and immediately parted his lips to defend himself but, when Kisame's eyes lifted to study his face, he realized that the other man wasn't trying to make fun of him, or make him feel bad about his lifestyle choices. If anything, he looked thoughtful – concerned, even.

"You also drink too much caffeine, and not enough water, and don't get anywhere enough sleep…" Kisame's brow furrowed, "And I'd bet money on you having a vitamin D deficiency."

Itachi shifted uncomfortably – just because he knew that he wasn't being attacked didn't mean he wasn't bothered by how easily read he apparently was.

"It's customary to reveal that you're a witch doctor before inviting them inviting them for breakfast," he mumbled, averting his gaze.

Kisame laughed, which made the fingers still wrapped around Itachi's flex, "Shit, you don't need to be a witch doctor to be able to pick on your body's cues, Itachi!"

He wanted to keep pouting, but damn it all if the sound of the ever-present smile in his voice didn't pull at Itachi's cheeks. Peeking up through his lashes, he met Kisame's warm gaze and bit back a grin, "Forgive me."

A welcomed distraction came in the form of their waitress returning with their drink orders. Kisame ordered enough food to feed any normal human being for three days, including a bowl of fruit, a clusterfuck of an omelet with vegetables and salsa, some sort of muesli bowl and a side of chicken sausage.

To say that Itachi's order of toast paled in comparison would be an understatement.

Kisame frowned when the other man began mixing his chocolate milk into his coffee before reaching over for a sugar packet and one of those little cups of hazelnut creamer, "You've gotta be shitting me."

Itachi sniffed and set the remainder of the milk off to the side, "I don't like bitter things."

"Itachi, I don't even think that counts as coffee anymore," there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he spoke, "You drink this every morning?"

He shrugged, downing nearly half of his mug and raising a suspicious eyebrow when Kisame slid his glass in his direction.

"Try it."

Itachi couldn't keep the expression of disgust off of his face.

"I promise it's good."

He raised his mug to back his lips in defiance, "Kisame, I have tried kale before and I have no intention of ever allowing it back into my life." He made the mistake of trying it in the form of a salad that Haku made years ago.

With a disapproving frown, which was twisted by that stupidly charming grin that never seemed to leave his face, Kisame nudged the glass forward, "You can hardly even taste it over everything else. I swear it tastes more like apple and cucumber than anything else."

That still sounded incredibly off-putting, and did not appeal to Itachi's admittedly picky palate whatsoever, but he sighed dramatically and reached out to drag the glass over the rest of the table. He eyed the straw, wondering if he was expected to drink from it or not and dreading the fact that he would have to feel the unsettling sensation of glass against his teeth as he nudged the it to the side.

It was cold, and a little thicker than he expected, and Itachi had to admit that Kisame was right in saying that the apple was the most distinguishable flavor out of the medley even if there was still an undeniable taste of kale. The ginger was probably the most surprising, though it was mostly because Itachi wasn't expecting it.

After a second, he took another sip that was noticeably larger than his experimental one.

Kisame beamed.

"It isn't awful," Itachi huffed, sliding the glass back to its rightful owner and biting back a grin when Kisame laughed at his refusal to admit how refreshing it was.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping at their beverages and simply enjoying each others' company. It was nice to just be able to relax and enjoy the morning for what it was, which was something that Itachi rarely had the opportunity for, as raucous as Sasuke and Baru could be. He normally found himself counting down the minutes for them to wake up and start jumping at each others' throats, or hiding with Shisui in one of their rooms with their laptops, or playing Smash.

There was a lightness to the current mood, though, and Itachi thought that he wouldn't mind having more mornings like this.

Their quiet was interrupted by the server bringing by enough plates of food to feed a family, setting most of them in front of Kisame. In Itachi's eyes it definitely looked like a daunting task to try and consume in one sitting but, given the other man's size, he wondered if it was necessary for him to maintain that level of muscle mass.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, though, Kisame scooted the bowl of fruit over so that it was in the center of the table.

"You need more than two slices of toast," he said gruffly.

Itachi paused in the middle of peeling back the flimsy foil seal of the single-serving strawberry jam packet, "Do you normally make a habit out of getting on other peoples' cases for what they eat?" It wasn't meant to sound as accusing as it did, but Itachi's tone was sharp enough to make Kisame pause in cutting at his omelet with a fork.

A guilty smile pulled at his lips, "Only when I like them."

He… Had no response for that.

Heat flared in Itachi's cheeks and he picked up a fork to stab at one of the smaller chunks of honeydew, "So what did you do before Shippuden?"

"I was a massage therapist," Kisame explained once he swallowed his mouthful of omelet, "Worked in a clinical spa for about four years. You?"

Itachi's brow furrowed in confusion. He had been expecting something along the lines of him being a college student, which was a pretty common story in professional gamers that joined the scene in their twenties, not an actual occupation. "What made you shift paradigms into gaming?"

There was a pause while Kisame thought. "I never really thought about it, actually," he admitted, "I guess I just wanted to try it while I was still young enough."

He did it on a whim? "But what about your career?"

Shrugging, Kisame dug into his muesli bowl now that his omelet was annihilated, "It's not going anywhere. Our careers usually only last about five years so, unless I end up going balls-deep and start an organization of my own, it's really more of a break than anything else."

Itachi hummed and tore away a piece of toast, "Even so, five years is a considerable amount of time to be away. Aren't you worried about falling out of practice?"

"Nah, I take refresher courses to stay up to date, and a lot of the Akatsuki people are more than willing to let me work on them."

"I can imagine," he responded mildly, popping the last of his toast into his mouth. Working at a desk was rough on your back and hips as it was, and a lot of pro players started developing all sorts of issues as their careers wore on – especially in their hands, wrists and necks. A lot of them suffered from deteriorating eyesight, too, from staring at computer screens for so long.

As if on cue, the ache next to his shoulder blade flared up.

Frowning, Itachi reached into his pocket for his usual stash of a drugstore's worth of Tylenol.

Kisame eyed him as he popped the white pills into his mouth, tossing his head back with the last of his milk, "You okay?"

"Just a headache," he lied. Itachi kept his gaze on the rapidly diminishing collection of fruit, spearing a sliver of strawberry with his fork. He could feel Kisame's eyes still on him as he chewed.

"So what about you?" he asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, "You never answered."

Itachi's shoulders relaxed as best as they could with the pain and he tried to not make it too obvious how relieved he felt when Kisame chose to not press the issue. "I was a pianist."

"Yeah? Like, were you one of those people that played in restaurants or…" Kisame hummed, brow furrowed, "I've actually got no clue where piano players play."

His lips quirked upwards, "Many are instructors, and some travel to events across the country year-round, sometimes as an accompanist or in orchestras. However, I suppose that it's generally more common to see many pianists wind up working in restaurants or churches as a side job."

Finishing off his muesli bowl, Kisame set it onto the plate that used to hold his omelet and sipped at some of his water, "So where did you fit?"

Itachi stiffened and realized almost immediately that this turn in the conversation wasn't any better than what it was before. He peeked up at the man sitting across from him from under his eyelashes, wondering how he would respond.

"When I wasn't teaching freelance, I worked in a brothel," he said matter-of-factly after a moment's hesitation.

He watched Kisame's fingers twitch in response but, otherwise, he didn't react.

"I didn't know those places hired piano players," he answered stiffly.

Itachi could hear the question he was trying to subtly have answered, and he picked up his napkin to tear the corner to keep his hands busy. "Most don't, but the owner of that particular establishment prided himself on provided what he called an up-scale atmosphere," he explained, "He felt it would help customers feel more at ease if we presented more of a hotel lobby experience, as opposed to most Vegas brothels that were…" Itachi tore another chunk of napkin and scrunched his nose, "Lamentable."

In other words: No, Kisame, I was not a prostitute.

The chair Kisame was seated in creaked with the weight shift as he leaned back, folding his thick arms over his chest, "Fair enough. Why'd you leave?"

Itachi looked up from his partially-shredded napkin to raise a delicate eyebrow, "You're asking why one would choose to quit working in a whorehouse?"

Picking up on the incredulous undercurrent to his voice, Kisame shrugged wordlessly. He looked simultaneously curious and uncomfortable but was making an admirable attempt at suppressing the latter, so Itachi pinched his fingers together on a frayed edge of the thin paper to pull at it until the fibers separated, deciding not to further the teasing.

"The establishment catered to a wide variety of tastes, so it featured both men and women," he shifted uncomfortably, "I found out that my employer decided to change my position in the company, without my consent, after a number of patrons displayed an interest in me."

Kisame hummed, "How'd that go?"

"I was given the option to accept the 'Promotion,' or I could find work elsewhere. My teaching jobs didn't pay nearly enough to even pay rent, so Shisui suggested I get into competitive Shippuden with him."

A breathy, sardonic chuckle escaped Kisame's lips, "You'll tell me all that, but you won't talk about why you carry around thousands of milligrams of Tylenol in your pocket, or why you left Team Anbu?"

Itachi matched his soft laugh with one of his own, "I suppose my priorities are somewhat skewed," he admitted, "The Tylenol is just for a bothersome ache in my back."

"And Anbu?"

He lifted his gaze just long enough to meet Kisame's, before tearing another shred of napkin away, "That's hardly a story to tell over breakfast."

There was a moment where that same intense expression from earlier returned, where those clear blue eyes stared at him in a way that felt almost piercing, as if Kisame was staring right into his head, but after a quick pause he shrugged as if to say he wasn't going to push the issue.

Proving herself to be a hero for the second time in one morning, the waitress returned with two black check books, effectively saving the pair from another bout of uncomfortable silence. They both scooted their chairs back and navigated through the mass of tables and booths towards the counter, with Itachi plucking one of the complimentary mints from the tiny wicker basket next to the bucket of pens.

The air had warmed significantly by the time they made their way back out to the parking lot, and Itachi was flirting with the idea of removing his hoodie when Kisame stopped in front of his car to turn back and face him.

"Thank you."

Blinking owlishly, Itachi came to an abrupt halt just a couple paces away, "What?"

Kisame stepped back to sit on the hood of his car, arms folded over his chest, "You came out with me even though you were in a pretty shit mood, and I could tell you weren't all that comfortable talking about where you used to work, so…" he lifted his head to meet Itachi's softened gaze, "Thank you."

"I should probably be the one thanking you," Itachi shrugged off his sweater and lowered himself onto the hood next to him, "I don't get out often, so I ended up overthinking the situation by the time you came by," he folded his arms across his hips and gave Kisame a soft smile, "It was nice, though. I enjoyed myself."

A warm, gentle smile slowly spread across Kisame's face, and he lifted a hand to brush Itachi's bangs out of his face, "Good. I'm glad to hear that you don't regret coming out with me."

Itachi's eyes lingered on that smile for several seconds longer, feeling his own expand a little at the sight.

He was really beginning to like Kisame's smile.

Eventually he very, very slowly leaned over to rest the side of his head on the other man's shoulder, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction when Kisame didn't stiffen up or pull away. Instead, he felt him gently rub the back of his knuckles against Itachi's, who nudged back until their fingers were lazily entwined.

"Kisame?"

He felt him turn his face down so that his cheek was resting atop Itachi's, "Hm?"

With the tip of his finger, he traced the design at the bottom of Kisame's tattoo, "Can we stay like this for a while?"

Itachi watched as his fingers squeezed his in their backwards hold.

"Yeah, I don't wanna go back yet, either."

The warmth of the sun on their backs and the soft feeling of Kisame's body must have made him drowsy because, the next thing he knew, Itachi was opening eyes he hadn't realized had closed to see the parking lot almost completely full of cars.

Surprise prompted him to flinch almost violently, and he pulled away to whip his head around as if surveying the lot would answer the questions that flew through his head.

Kisame didn't seem the least bit perturbed, though, because he only chuckled and released his fingers to rub the small of his back, "Relax, it's only been maybe half an hour," he said with a teasing lilt in his voice, "The church crowd usually shows up in one big wave."

"What time do we need to meet with Six?" he asked blearily, adrenaline rush from waking up in an unfamiliar place wearing off, as a breeze rolled through the parking lot. It was one of those cool winds from the ocean that felt even colder from the warm sun, and Itachi subconsciously snuggled into Kisame's side in a vain attempt at using his body to shield him.

"He said he doesn't have anything else planned, so pretty much whenever we feel like dropping in," Itachi felt the hand on his back smooth over to rest on his waist, "But… Can you do me a favor and keep quiet about this?"

The light, happy sensation in Itachi's chest was almost instantaneously replaced by an uncomfortable weight not unlike the feeling earlier when he first felt doubt over meeting Kisame for breakfast. Twisting out of what previously felt like a comforting hold, he slid off of the hood of Kisame's car and began fishing his phone out of his back pocket.

Kisame swore under his breath and immediately followed suit, "Wait – shit – Itachi, that came out wrong."

"Did it?" Itachi hummed, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice as he pull up his banking app to make sure he had enough spare money in his checking account for an Uber. As much as he loved Shisui to bits, he wasn't prepared just yet to call him with the news that he was, in fact, right to be suspicious.

He nearly dropped his phone when Kisame grabbed his upper arm to pull him to an abrupt stop, "Yes, it did," he released Itachi's arm when he was given a particularly caustic expression of faux interest, "If you wanna go, I won't stop you, but at least let me explain what I meant, instead of running off thinking I'm some sort of asshole."

Itachi paused long enough to give himself a moment to think. On one hand, this was the team captain of Akatsuki eSport's Shippuden roster who, if he wanted any chance of joining, he should be getting along with. On the other hand, Itachi had allowed himself to get involved with exactly two people who demanded they keep things under wraps, and both of those people ended up proving themselves to be a special brand of guy-you-absolutely-do-not-introduce-to-mom.

On a third hand that was thankfully only metaphorical… Kisame was looking at him so earnestly that it was making Itachi feel like maybe he actually had genuine intentions in bringing him out here.

Without closing out the app, Itachi locked his phone and shrugged away from the hand on his arm to stuff it back into his pocket.

Realizing that he was being given a chance to a explain himself, Kisame sighed in relief and rubbed a hand over his face, combing through his hair.

"I said I enjoyed my time with you, and so did the rest of the guys," he spoke in a carefully measured tone, as if processing what he was saying before actually saying it, "We agreed that you came off a little clumsy during scrims, which we guessed was because you've been with lousy teammates, but we still thought you were a really good fit," Kisame folded his arms over his chest when Itachi's eyes narrowed, "This whole thing with Nagato is basically to just stick to protocol."

And this had exactly what to do with why Itachi was feeling as if his heart had dropped into his stomach..?

With a heavy sigh that shook with his nerves, Kisame continued, "They want you on the team – I want you on the team – but if they found out I used them as an excuse to invite you out, Nagato and Konan might think that it's the only reason I was so adamant on getting you into tryouts."

Which could potentially lead to a bad impression of Itachi, and the diminution of Kisame's legitimacy – it could possibly even lead to legal ramifications if that kind of rumor got out to the rest of the community.

For the second time that morning, he began to feel like a real piece of shit.

"I want to be able to spend time with you, but not at the risk of damaging all of our reputations," Kisame explained, taking a step forward so that he was close enough for Itachi to smell whatever sinfully fantastic body wash he used, "That's why I want to keep this quiet until you get settled in."

A half-hearted laugh made its way past Itachi's lips, "This," he echoed, still having no clue what this entailed.

Thankfully Kisame was a good sport and laughed with him, raising a hand to brush away the bangs that fell over Itachi's face when he began to stomp away, "Yeah, I'm sorry," he chuckled, "This wasn't the smoothest date I've been on."

He snorted and resisted the urge to lean into the fingers carding through his hair, "Oh, so that's what this was supposed to be."

Kisame groaned, "See, now you're just trying to be difficult."

"No, really," Itachi bit back a grin at the smile still in his voice, "What on Earth made you think that I would want to go on a date with you? We've known each other for a week – for all you know, I'm betrothed to a lovely girl in Nevada."

"I'm pretty perceptive. You really want me to give you a play-by-play?"

"Not particularly," he hummed, wishing that the happy feeling from earlier would replace the heavy weight that seemed to insist on being present. Just because he had a good time with Kisame didn't mean that he couldn't still end up being a problem, and the insisting on being quiet – as much sense as it made – was ruining the moment with suspicion.

Kisame's chest rumbled as he chuckled, dropping his hands down so he could lace the tips of their fingers together, "So, Itachi, will you go on a real date with me?"

He fought to hide the feeling of objection that he knew would have otherwise crossed his face. Kisame came off as a nice guy, so nice that he apparently had a taste for worrying over how well other people took care of themselves, and he sounded sincere earlier when he was offering to take him back to the team house if he was uncomfortable…

But Shisui's words and his own past experiences were floating through his head, keeping his jaw snapped shut.

"You don't have to say yes," Kisame said, voice low enough to remind Itachi just how close they were standing.

Of course he didn't have to agree to a date he didn't want to go on – he wasn't some teenager with low self esteem that didn't know how to reject someone. The problem was… Itachi didn't want to say no. He wanted more mornings like this, where he got to relax and chat and simply enjoy the kind of warm company that Kisame provided. He wanted to be able to feel the rough calluses on Kisame's thumbs when they rubbed over the backs of his hands like that, and he wanted to feel that same security he felt earlier when his arm was wrapped around Itachi's waist.

Itachi figured that the question wasn't if he was ready to take that kind of risk again, but if he was going to let that damnable man continue to control him with fear for the rest of his life.

Maybe he was over thinking this entire situation. It wasn't as if Kisame was proposing they start a serious relationship full of kinky sex like Haku and Zabuza…

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Itachi paled and felt his stomach twist. Kisame was still good friends with Zabuza, and they both shared multiple qualities, like being captains of professional gaming teams, frequenting the gym and, well, being gay, so would it be so much of a stretch to assume -?

Kisame released his hands and stepped back with an obviously restrained sigh, snapping him out of his increasingly panicked thoughts.

"Alright, so do you mind if we make a pit stop at the gas station on the way back to the house?" he asked in a tight voice, disappointment apparent in every one of his features, from the tightness in his brow to the way his broad shoulders slumped as he started to turn back to the car.

Itachi didn't know which made him feel worse – the way that Kisame was frowning, or the fact that he was the one that put it there.

He followed Kisame and reached out for the other man's arm, wrapping his slender fingers as best he could around Kisame's bicep to pull him to a stop, not too unlike how Itachi had been grabbed earlier. Despite not having anywhere near enough stopping power to bring Kisame to a full halt, the gesture itself seemed enough on its own for the older man to turn back to face Itachi.

"I'll… Try to not ruin the next date," he said with a weak smile.

There was a moment where Kisame's mouth was set into a hard line as his eyes traveled up and down Itachi's body, as if assessing his body language before answering, but his frown was soon replaced by the crooked grin that was beginning to really make Itachi happier than it should.

Kisame reached out with the arm not still in Itachi's grasp to cup his jaw, "C'mon, I'd hardly say it's ruined," he said warmly while his thumb rubbed rhythmically along his cheek, "We've gotta get all this stuff out of the way eventually, right? Maybe it's better to do it in the beginning."

Had it been anyone else, he would have subtly twisted away from the heavy hand that held his face. He would have stepped away, offered a quiet goodbye, and taken an Uber back to the team house to begin looking for a new team. Had it been anyone else, Itachi wouldn't have slid his fingers down the contours of his arm to lace their fingers back together.

But it wasn't someone else, and Kisame had a frightening way of making him feel warm and at ease.

"I wish it was just that," Itachi murmured, eyes following him as he stepped back to sit down on the hood of his car.

Kisame shrugged, "Everyone's got their issues. People who don't, are probably too young for me to be interested in, anyways."

A part of him wanted to protest, to explain that he was more than just a handful to deal with, but Itachi wondered if he would be doing it to save Kisame the time and energy, or to sabotage whatever they could have early-on so it wouldn't hurt as bad when it ended.

Instead, he let himself be guided to the passenger door by the hand, rolling his eyes and laughing when Kisame, who was walking backwards with that stupid goofy grin on his face, tripped and nearly toppled over.

That stupid, happy, lopsided grin.


Note: So, if you're an esport fan, Riot just fucking stomped out three teams within, like, an hour of each other. Good lord. I understand the decision but I'm not all that sure how I feel about Riot being the judge, jury and executioner without having any sort of third party give input.

Also, thanks for the follows and reviews 3 It sucks to write without any sort of feedback, so it's definitely appreciated when it's given.