Yo.
This thing has been fully written for weeks now, but this is the first chance I've had to upload it. Sorry to the five people that are reading this, because I hate that you've had to wait this long. Unbeta'd, and definitely not my favourite chapter, though it may be the longest. Not sure how I feel about it honestly. Ugh. Anyway, happy reading.
Cheers!
Marx
Chapter Eight
On My Way
"Suffering, once accepted, loses its edge, for the terror of it lessens, and what remains is generally far more manageable than we had imagined."
Lesley Hazelton
Itachi watched the city of Konohagakure fly by.
The beautiful sunlight, bathing the world in a bright glow even as it stripped all of the colours out of the buildings surrounding, so much more vivid than the pale blue walls of a hospital room. The feel of the humid wind through the open window in his hair, the sun hot and delicious against his skin, skin that hadn't felt the sun or the wind in too many weeks. The sound of the car down the motorway, the wind loud as it entered the car, honking in the distance, so different than the low voices and the steady beeping of machines. The smell of the exhaust from vehicles surrounding, of the trees and the heat from the concrete, the opposite of the antiseptic.
Even despite half a year of being in and out of hospitals due to his cancer and the check-ups since then, he had never spent more than a week in any hospital. It had been utterly exhausting sitting there for two weeks, doing nothing except reading, and even that had been a chore. Moving around wires, half of his fingers being broken on each hand...he just hadn't had a lot of room to manoeuvre in that place. They had been constantly worried about him moving this way, or doing that, or going to the loo on his own. He had been continually doted on, to the point where he had nearly snapped and told everyone to bugger off for a few hours at the very least. He hadn't though, because that would've been rude, and so he smothered the outburst and suffered through it.
He felt like he had just been released from prison, to tell the truth.
The only person that hadn't treated him like a breakable doll had been Naruto, of all people, who had been in and out as much as the Prime Minister and his porcelain entourage. Naruto at one point had even leant up close to Itachi's ear and whispered teasingly, "I bet this shit's driving you nuts, isn't it? I would've already ripped someone's head off if I was in your position...or staged a breakout by now."
Itachi had fancied the idea of making a runner for a split second before he sighed dejectedly and answered quietly, uncharacteristically, "Please tell them that I am perfectly capable of taking a piss on my own."
At least Naruto's loud, cheerful laughter had stopped Fugaku and Sasuke from strangling each other.
Getting out of the hospital had been terrible but Itachi had luckily been able to avoid the majority of that, leaving through a side exit and into an unmarked vehicle with his family to escape the press. The windows had been up then, heavily tinted, and the reporters had banged on the car frantically as they screamed questions. It had been a miracle no one had been bulldozed over by Fugaku or the two cars that were ahead and behind as they had exited the hospital grounds.
However, now they were making their way quickly back to the Uchiha estate, where a whole other dinosaur was lying in wait. Sure, the press was there too, just dying for a glimpse of him and his family that were on the cover of papers and magazines in regards to the attack and Proposal Delta, but they would be held out by the gate that would actually be used for the first time since moving in; they had kept it open due to having relative privacy, but now that was a pipe dream with everything that was going on. However, who it would be guarded by was the real fiasco.
ANBU.
After literally hours of discussion by Fugaku, Mikoto, and Minato while Sasuke and Itachi listened, they had finally come up with a reasonable game plan. There would be at least two cells of four at all times at the Uchiha estate, and possibly more due to functions and guests and the sort. They would all be on shifts of eight hours a piece, and two separate captains would operate in conjunction with the two cells on a single shift – this meant twenty-four operatives and six captains, all working constantly and with the sole purpose of guarding their home and person. The first shift was to start at 0600 to 1400, then 1400 to 2200, and then 2200 to 0600, and most of them would overlap, leading to increased security during the switch between cells.
If anyone was to leave, two operatives were required to tail them at all times for security's sake. It wasn't any different for Itachi, thankfully, but it was still a hassle, though ANBU was pretty good at being discreet as well.
Sasuke had complained about needing a personal life, especially with a new girlfriend, which had utterly scandalised Itachi into being speechless. As far as Itachi was concerned, his little brother was fifteen, almost sixteen, and that was much too young to have a healthy sex life – Sasuke could start doing all of that madness when he was, say, thirty or so. That would've been a good age for him to start messing around, indeed, but no earlier than that. Sasuke would remain that little petulant toddler in Itachi's mind until he could grow a full beard like an adult, and not a day sooner.
Fugaku had laughed and said, "That's my boy."
Mikoto had simply muttered under her breath about talking to Sakura about birth control.
Itachi had refused to speak to anyone after that.
The ex-heir could see the mild crowd near the gates to the estate, and the vehicle procession slowed down in order to keep people from dying outside. It took a good two minutes to clear a section, but eventually they got through, making the way down the circular drive and stopping in front of the doors.
Itachi took a deep breath, glanced at Sasuke, and then opened the door.
He wasn't at one hundred per-cent yet, but he would be fine in the long run. As long as he never went scuba diving, that was. His bruises were either gone or, in the case of his face and chest, a sour yellow colour in the late stages of healing, and the white of his right eye had turned a weird greenish-yellow colour due to the bruise from the bleed. His arm was in a sling to help support the cast, but his left hand was free to swing about and open doors despite the casts on three fingers. His lung was fine for the most part now, but his chest still felt uncomfortable, partly because of the surgery but mostly because his entire chest was taped up due to the ribs (although he had been told by the nurses to take the bandages off once he got home, to let him heal naturally without constricting his breathing).
Because of said ribs, in regards to the pain and awkwardness of manoeuvring around them, it took help from his mother to get out of the car. He refused to grimace or show his pain, instead turning towards the reporters and gingerly raising a hand to wave lightly. He usually would have ignored them and gone into the house, but it was important that people out there knew that he was okay, just in case they were in the same boat. People had physical proof now that Itachi had survived it, and if Itachi had survived it, then anyone could. It meant that there was hope, and that the government wasn't going to give up fighting despite setbacks.
He was pleased that something good had come of the attack, at the very least. He could deal with pain and not moving around and ANBU in his home if it meant that a law could be passed sooner rather than the later previously stated.
He was helped up the stairs and then he entered the house himself, confidently and without expression, though when they shut the door he grasped the side of the stair railing to steady himself. He heard Sasuke behind him, and he allowed his brother to assist him up all of the stairs, not entirely confident that he could make it now that he didn't have an image to withhold.
It took ages, but eventually he found himself in his bedroom, exactly the same as he had left it. He cautiously got into bed, irritated that he had to, but endured it, knowing that he would only be in bed longer than the many weeks it would take for his ribs to fully heal if he didn't take it easy.
Itachi was convinced that he was going to start carrying around a gun. People wouldn't fuck with him if he carried a Glock around with him, because Itachi would shoot them dead in the face if anyone tried to do something like this to him again.
Except he probably wouldn't, but the thought made him feel a bit better.
Sasuke hid a grin.
They had converted the upstairs den into a makeshift dining and kitchen-esque area so Itachi wouldn't have to continuously go down the stairs for food or have to ask for someone to bring it up. Itachi's reaction to the upgrade of sorts had been amusing, a spark of annoyance flashing in his eyes, mostly because it was another dig at his condition. It was pretty legitimate, of course, and would help Itachi out, but it was the fact of the matter.
In a few weeks, Itachi could get right back into the thick of things, but for now he was stuck with the upstairs portion of the house unless he wanted to leave, of course, and even then he would be confined to the house and the backyard, due to the scragglers that sat at the gate with cameras.
They all sat down for dinner, happily alone and away from doctors and nurses and ANBU operatives and Prime Ministers. Well, as far as they knew on the ANBU front, since there was no telling where those spooks were lurking. Just the four of them, as a family, eating a simple dinner and conversing in low, amiable tones with each other, getting back into the groove of being at home. All cell phones and other communication devices had been banned, so it was just old-fashioned family camaraderie.
It was weird, because they had always plopped into the living area for dinner unless they were doing their Sunday dinner or having a function. They were pretty standard when it came to meals, getting whatever they wanted six nights a week as they all ate when they felt like it. Perhaps a bit different than other families, who cooked dinner and then ate in front of the telly, but they thrived on it, especially since everyone's diets were different. It was hard to have a standardised dinner every night when they all ate so differently, with Itachi's veganism and Fugaku having to be forced to eat vegetables by his wife. Sasuke was pretty picky about his foods too, not really caring for sweet meals, and preferring to have highly nutritious options. And Mikoto didn't eat red meat, so there was that to consider, especially since Fugaku and Sasuke both thrived on lean steak.
It was a Wednesday, and they were eating the same dinner, Fugaku grumbling good-naturedly at the vegan menu as he picked at his cabbage. Itachi smiled lightly at him, scooping up a humble bite in his spoon (which he wasn't happy about using such a Kiri-inspired utensil, but he couldn't use chopsticks with his fingers being broken on his left hand and had no other choice) and toasting almost teasingly before eating his morsel.
They had a fruit dessert afterwards, which even Fugaku couldn't complain about since it was healthy and delicious, and then lounged at the table for a good hour, just talking. They chatted about everything between school and algorithms and idiots at work/school and art and the Prime Minister being utterly whipped when it came to his wife and Sasuke's girlfriend and what they wanted to do with the rest of their lives.
On the latter, Fugaku said predictably, "Retire. That's all. I want to retire and move to Lightning and never speak to another fucking Uchiha that isn't direct family until I die. And then I want to haunt them all."
They had laughed about that, Mikoto eventually saying gently, "I doubt we'll ever get so lucky, dear, but cheers to hoping for a miracle." They all toasted to that, Fugaku beginning to go pink in the cheeks with the wine, and Itachi glancing at Sasuke with bright eyes shining in amusement.
They passed the time, Sasuke receiving the brunt of the jokes due to his recently 'taken' status, and assured his father under pain of death that she would join them for a more formal Sunday dinner. And by formal, it meant a dining table with three courses made by the chef, and Sasuke was a tad bit nervous about that. Sakura would likely fret about it even though she had eaten over loads of times already, and he wasn't looking forward to the teasing from Naruto about the predicament.
Eventually they all retired, closer to midnight than their usual time frames, Fugaku and Mikoto leading the way as Fugaku grew steadily more intoxicated. It wasn't often that Fugaku would even sip alcohol, but Sasuke had always encouraged the behaviour. Fugaku was a pleasant drunk, always cracking jokes and making statements that he never would've sober, and it never ceased to raise the spirits in the house. They were a relatively tight-lipped family, but occasionally it was nice when Sasuke could just sit back and listen to even Itachi and Mikoto participate in the increasingly inappropriate discussion while throwing in his own witty comments when the time felt right.
Sasuke accompanied Itachi to his room, hopping on the bed and stretching. Itachi bustled around, making a valiant attempt to brush his long hair and teeth in the bathroom and change into pyjama bottoms, opting to go shirtless just to keep himself from moving too much. He didn't need help in the end, though it did take him quite a long time, which Sasuke didn't comment on. Itachi would figure out his methods at his own pace, up until he felt little to no pain from his injuries and went back to normal.
As Itachi sat gingerly on the end of the bed, hair falling down his chest and shoulders, Sasuke teased, "So now that you're a whole different brand of famous, Mr Poster Boy of Delta, does this mean that you're never gonna get out of the house except for school to find yourself a boyfriend?"
Itachi sent him an unamused look before laying down on his back beside Sasuke. For a moment, while Sasuke snickered at Itachi's expense, there was silence as Itachi got comfortable, but then Itachi answered dully, "I'm not going to become a hermit, Sasuke."
"I don't care if you're a hermit, as long as your potential boyfriend doesn't mind that is," shot back Sasuke.
Sasuke could sense more than see Itachi's eye roll, and grinned wickedly to himself. It was always so much fun to get under Itachi's skin playfully, trying to break through that careful veneer that Itachi always put on in front of other people, though he knew that Itachi genuinely made an effort to be transparent in front of Sasuke when they were alone. Sasuke appreciated the gesture at any rate, because he hated when Itachi closed off from everyone, including Sasuke himself, and took advantage of every moment he could. Therefore, Sasuke continued innocently, "Besides, you need to loosen up anyway."
Itachi smacked him with his left hand, Sasuke grunting a bit at the casts on Itachi's fingers lending more weight, but the grin on Sasuke's face didn't waver. He didn't necessarily want to know about Itachi's sex life – or lack thereof, to be entirely honest, because Sasuke would bet his hands and eyeballs that his brother was completely inexperienced – but it was still entertaining. So much easier teasing Itachi than guys who dated girls, because Sasuke didn't know a lot of gay guys and couldn't use the plethora of potential jibes on them due to propriety's sake.
When Sasuke's mirth died down a bit, he grew serious. He had always worried about Itachi finding someone, because he didn't want to see Itachi age and die alone. Unfortunately, that had always been a legitimate fear in Sasuke's thoughts, and he knew that he wasn't alone. Though he would likely be unbearably uncomfortable with the development when (if) it ever occurred, Fugaku had made statements regarding Itachi finding someone, about wondering if it would ever happen. Mikoto had gently tried to talk to Sasuke about it before, asking if Sasuke had ever noticed Itachi getting close with anyone, really, friend or otherwise.
Sasuke had always responded with a negative.
Itachi was so guarded, so apt to tear himself away from possible companionship because of many reasons, some of which Sasuke would likely never know. Sasuke knew that his brother was afraid of putting himself out there platonically or romantically, so he simply didn't do it, and that would be hard to manoeuvre around should anyone of authentic persona actually become interested. Itachi would drive someone away just by being his seemingly cold, emotionless self just so he didn't open himself up to disappointment and hurt.
It was so pessimistic of his brother, especially since he didn't have first-hand experience about the cruelty of human beings emotionally speaking and therefore couldn't make his own decisions, but that was how Itachi operated. Statistic and fact and his own well-being in the long run. That was how Sasuke operated for the most part too, so he understood the sentiment. Sasuke made friends easily, but he didn't like people easily, because all too often people were just there for money or the popularity or the notice in Sasuke's case. It was hard determining the genuine people out there from the multitudes of fakes.
But that was where Itachi and Sasuke differed. Sasuke made attempts to get to know people, and at the first instance of phony disposition or cruelty he was gone like his arse was on fire; Itachi, on the other hand, didn't even try. Sasuke's attempts to find actual companions had led to friends in the past, and he held onto his friends for life no matter how irritating they got. Sure, he'd distance himself a bit if he needed some time away from massive amounts of stupid, but he latched on to the few important people that he had gathered over the years.
Itachi had Sasuke, Mikoto, and Fugaku, and that was it. He hadn't even tried to find friends of like-mindedness, or a guy just to let off some steam with.
That was important too, letting off some steam. Even Sasuke wasn't a stranger to that. He was reluctant to get into relationships but that didn't mean he was dead either. He had lost his virginity the day before his fifteenth birthday, though he hadn't told his family that since he was certain their heads would explode, and hadn't been exactly celibate before that either. He had had flings in the past, though none since coming to Konoha, and having a girlfriend like the spitfire he had now was likely going to lead to more here too.
He wouldn't force Sakura into anything, obviously, since she could clearly murder him and get away with it due to her intelligence, but judging by the heated make-out session right before the call from Itachi's phone, they weren't going to have any problems in that department ether. They just had chemistry, sexually and otherwise. Sasuke and Sakura just meshed well, though a tiny part of him wondered when that would inevitably crash down. Sakura almost seemed too good to be true, so he was almost waiting for a bombshell in the future.
He wished against it, but still.
Sasuke wondered how Itachi knew that he was gay in the first place. Sasuke had realised that he himself was straight when he was thirteen and an older girl in school had bent over to stretch, showing off her rather nice arse and legs. Sasuke had wondered before then if he would end up gay like Itachi, because he found guys and girls aesthetically pleasing, but that had at least cemented his belief that oh yeah I like girls a lot.
An acquaintance in Iwa had explained it perfectly to him one night, when he had been fourteen. 'You can find people hot, or attractive, but that doesn't mean you want to bone them. It just means you're human and you like good-looking things around you.'
Sasuke couldn't even remember the guy's name now. Could see him perfectly in his head but he'd forgotten his name.
Had Itachi just gotten the same feeling when looking at a guy one day? Somehow, Sasuke couldn't even imagine his brother in the same boat, feeling all googly-eyed looking at another guy's arse. To be entirely direct with himself, as homophobic or judgemental as it sounded, Sasuke had been operating under the assumption that Itachi had been using 'gay' lightly, perhaps in an artistic sense, because clearly Itachi was asexual.
Yes, just because someone didn't have sex before they turned eighteen didn't mean that they were asexual, and just because someone stuck to themselves didn't mean that either. But Sasuke just got the impression that Itachi would never really be willing to be vulnerable like that, to give himself to another human being even half-way in any manner. Sasuke couldn't even picture his brother having sex at all, and while that would normally be a weird, incestuous thing to be thinking, it really wasn't. Itachi just didn't seem the type to lose himself in that kind of passion, even in a committed relationship should he ever get into one.
Partly because he really was curious, and partly because he knew Itachi would be entirely honest with him, Sasuke asked out loud, "How did you know that you were gay?"
There was a beat of silence, and then Itachi stated blankly, "Please tell me you are not having identity issues so soon after snatching a girlfriend."
Sasuke was startled out of a laugh, though he understood why Itachi would ask. It was one of those stereotypical phrases that people used when trying to admit something about themselves, though it didn't have to pertain to being gay or whatever. Regardless, he really wasn't having 'identity issues', and was extremely confident and comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex with girls, though he thought both guys and girls were attractive, and flirted with close friends of both genders just because he could. Naruto was the most amusing subject to practise his flirting skills on, because it never ceased to ruffle the boy's feathers and, more often than not, lose the game he was currently playing on his PC or console. Sasuke was completely comfortable with who he was as a person.
"No," Sasuke assured his brother, glancing over at him lazily. "I'm not having a crisis. I know who I am and what I like. So no, that's not why I'm asking. I just...wonder sometimes, how you knew that you were. What had happened to make you realise it, like that point in your life where the lightbulb above your head flickers on and everything makes sense in the world."
Itachi turned his head as well, eyes curiously devoid of expression except the barest hint of confusion. They stared at each other in a comfortable silence, side-by-side, before Itachi answered honestly, "It wasn't a point in my life where everything made sense in the world, Sasuke. I never looked at someone and the stars aligned, showing me my future."
Sasuke frowned. "That's sort of what happened to me though. I'd been conflicted for a while, wondering if I was going to be gay because you were gay and we were brothers, but just one day I saw this girl and everything just clicked for me."
Itachi's lips curved into a small smile, that tiny smile meant only for Sasuke and the brotherly affection they shared. Sasuke's chest felt tight at seeing it, knowing that his brother would always humour him and be there for him, with that smile on his thinner lips, even if Sasuke was being ridiculous.
Itachi closed his eyes, eyelashes falling gently on his golden cheek, and finally answered softly, earnestly, "I've always just known. I've always just felt it inside of me. It was never a particular person, more of an idea even, that I've always had in my head, of what I want. When I close my eyes and picture what I want my future to be, I see myself on a beach with paint and a cup of good tea and a cat and a man is just there. A man that can shield me from the world out there, keep everything at bay and keep me sane."
Sasuke just watched him, watching Itachi's eyes flicker behind his thin eyelids as he imagined it in his head, relishing in the moment. Itachi rarely was deep about his own personal thoughts, preferring safer subjects like talking about other people or world events or even art, and Sasuke was touched in a way that Itachi chose to share this particular tidbit with him. Itachi had spoken a few times on what he wanted to do when he got out of the house, but it had never involved the person he had in his head. As far as Sasuke was aware, Itachi had never spoken about what it meant to him to like guys before, what he wanted and expected from it (if he expected anything at all). It had always been an abstract concept to Sasuke: Itachi liked men and that was all there was to it.
Except that wasn't true, because there was an entire depth of Itachi that had never come out of the ex-heir's mouth before. No one had never really asked Itachi about any of these things, maybe out of discomfort or perhaps out of consideration of Itachi's highly-valued privacy. Sasuke had gone off on tangents about girls before to his brother, but the same had never been returned from Itachi about boys, which made Sasuke feel guilty. There was no telling how alone and cut off Itachi might've felt simply because the only three people he spoke to could never possibly understand and had never even made an effort to try.
Itachi opened his eyes, and there was a wistful expression on his face, something Sasuke had never seen on Itachi's countenance before. "I'm not sure when I became consciously aware of it, but I've always been like this. That's never changed and it never will. I wish I could be more specific to your question, Sasuke," confided Itachi, still looking lost in his thoughts.
They laid there in companionable silence for ages, likely around fifteen minutes, and Sasuke was nearly on the cusp of dozing off when he asked tiredly, glancing at his brother curiously with heavy eyes, "D'you have a type?"
Itachi looked confused again, and asked, "Why the sudden interest, Sasuke?"
"Maybe I just wanna know your type so I can find you a future husband," remarked Sasuke with a shit-eating grin, causing Itachi to blink slowly and sigh lightly in exasperation, but then Sasuke let it taper off so he could say quietly, "No, but seriously? I've always told you things like this, and I think it's fair to return the favour. Besides, who better to talk to than your brother, and this brother has always been curious if you do or not."
Itachi looked up at the ceiling, clearly thinking about it. Sasuke gave him a moment, watching Itachi's face flicker in unreadable emotions, before Itachi said, "I'm not sure what you mean by that."
Sasuke didn't know if Itachi was really unsure of Sasuke meant or was trying to get out of it, but Sasuke wasn't going to let him get out of it that easily. Everyone had a type, even if that type was everyone or specific, and Itachi was no different. Might be like pulling teeth, but he needs to express himself somehow, Sasuke thought to himself. If he gets it together in his head on what he's actively interested in instead of simply ignoring it for the sake of staying distant, then maybe it'll clear it up for him and he'll start looking at other people curiously, which could lead to more with someone in the future. Itachi can't be alone forever, and I'm considering it to be my ultimate mission to make sure he's not, even if it comes to bite me in the arse later.
"Well," Sasuke mentioned evenly, not daring to smile or snark in case it spooked his brother to the point of clamming up, "d'you prefer dark hair or light hair on a guy?"
Itachi glanced over once again, eyes confused yet again, and that just proved that Itachi had never really allowed himself to think about it before. "Why does that matter?" Itachi asked. "A person isn't just based off of hair colour or body type, Sasuke. I'm not vain."
"No," Sasuke shot back, "you aren't, but there's nothing wrong with having a fantasy of the perfect man in your eyes. I sure as hell have an idea of what the perfect girl is in my eyes, and I guarantee you that it's not my girlfriend, and I can assure you that the thought is mutual when it comes to me. Besides, Itachi, you're also an artist, and you appreciate beauty, do you not?" Sasuke could tell that he had stumped Itachi just by the slight raise of Itachi's right eyebrow and continued, "I'm not asking you what you want your potential life partner to look like, Itachi. How're you supposed to know if you haven't met that person yet? No, I'm asking you to describe the most perfect vision of a man, no matter how improbable it might be. It's not that hard."
"'It's not that hard,' he says," Itachi repeated, distinctly disbelieving and sounding slightly uncomfortable. Sasuke, however, refused to back down, because this would be good for Itachi, perhaps put things into perspective for him.
So to try and relax Itachi enough to elaborate on himself, Sasuke said honestly as he stared at the ceiling, "The perfect girl in my eyes has long, wavy red hair, dark eyes, tan skin, and a body that isn't too feminine. Small hands, small breasts, narrow hips, thin, on the shorter side...I've never been too fond of overly busty girls that focus too much on their assets. Anything more than a handful is a waste, in my opinion, and I don't like large hips even if apparently that's easier on a woman when they're, y'know, having babies and stuff. Regardless, I want to be able to be strong enough to manhandle her all over the room I'm ravishing her in, be able to tower over her when we're standing face-to-face. She's beautiful without make-up, because that's what judges how beautiful a person is. I don't want this girl to paint her face on. She has to be genuine. I want her skin to be smooth and tanned, because I want her skin to stand out from mine so I can see where I touch her better. Even teeth that are blindingly white when she smiles, because I want someone with good hygiene that takes care of their teeth. That's the perfect girl in my eyes, in just a physical sense, because I'd be here all day if I talked about what I wanted her to be like."
Itachi was quiet for a second and then he said, "Well, it's almost midnight. You must not have a very long list of attributes you'd like her to be as a person."
Sasuke groaned and brought his arms up to cover his face in mock annoyance. "You suck," Sasuke grumbled, hiding the grin beneath his arms, but eventually let his arms fall back down and glared good-naturedly at his brother. "See, not hard at all, Itachi. Not even painful. Now it's your turn, and in case you're wondering, I'm not going to use this against you or start bringing guys home for you to meet or something."
Itachi looked mildly uncomfortable, but Sasuke didn't back down. "Okay," Itachi said, voice blank, and then took a long moment to think, eyes falling shut again as he pictured it behind his eyelids. Eventually, he said, "I like hands. Bigger hands than mine, stronger. I...like the idea of someone strong in general but I think those overly built men are rather unappealing. Something in the middle, perhaps, lean and not thin. His voice has to be appealing too, masculine instead of feminine. Tall, or at least taller than me I think, and moving with grace and precision because I don't want someone that will trip and fall over all my art when I allow them inside. I want them to look different than me in a way...pale skin, light hair, eyes that can stare at me and jus—"
Itachi's eyes snapped open, with an expression on his face that was so alarming that Sasuke immediately shot up and demanded, "What? What is it? What's wrong?"
Itachi's eyes were glassy and distant, mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something to alleviate Sasuke's fear but couldn't get his vocal chords to work. Sasuke's first thought was that he was in pain, but the expression on his face was more than that. Fear, perhaps, or shock.
"Itachi, you need to talk to me. What's wrong? You need to tell me what's wrong or I'm going to get Father, okay?" Sasuke placed a hand on Itachi's right arm, right above the cast, and could see how the blood had left Itachi's face though the pulse point in his neck was fluttering rapidly.
Nevertheless, Itachi finally blinked and focussed on Sasuke, though his eyes were still conveying the panic that he was feeling in his head. Why, Sasuke didn't know, but he instinctively knew that Itachi wasn't going to tell him anything. It didn't stop him from making a final attempt though, asking gently this time, "What's wrong, Itachi? Are you okay?"
Itachi's voice was shaky, oh-so uncharacteristic, when he answered, "I'm okay. I just thought of something that was disturbing, that's all. I'm sorry for frightening you."
Despite knowing that Itachi was not giving him everything, Sasuke backed off. If he attempted to get more aggressive in determining Itachi's internal emotions, Itachi would simply break down and refuse to talk at all. "It's alright," he said gently, understandingly. "I just want you to be okay."
Itachi slowly was getting himself back in order, and Sasuke was alarmed when he closed off completely, becoming totally unreadable as he squashed his thoughts out of his head. Sasuke opened his mouth to say something, anything really, but Itachi interrupted him with a carefully blank tone, "I need a bit of time alone, please."
Sasuke sighed, concerned, but sat up and convinced himself to get to his feet. "Are you sure?" he tried once more, almost pleadingly, though he respected that Itachi would need time. At Itachi's short nod, Sasuke managed a smile, and replied, "If you say so. If you need me, I'll be in my room. G'night Itachi."
Itachi didn't answer, already staring silently out of the window and lost in his own thoughts again, and Sasuke sighed again, softly leaving the room and closing the door behind him. As he walked to his room, he wondered what had spooked Itachi to the point of shutting down.
He reached his room, changed into his own pyjamas, and settled down to sleep. He had his first day of school since his suspension for fighting and Itachi being in the hospital, so he was almost looking forward to getting away from his family and seeing his acquaintances. And girlfriend, of course.
Sleep didn't come for a long time though, due to his brain's unwillingness to shut off.
Itachi stared out of the window and tried to force his mind to other things.
He watched as a black-cloaked ANBU operative traversed the grounds, the porcelain mask the only indicator that anyone was lurking at all due to the lack of moonlight. The movements were stealthy, graceful, animal-like almost as the figure moved about, checking for any intruders or simply just out to enjoy the hot, humid weather because it was extremely unlikely anyone would dare try anything on Uchiha grounds.
Itachi wondered if he was hot out there, since it had been an unforgiving day in regards to the heat and humidity. Surely he was dying in that cloak, and Itachi was curious as to why he didn't take it off. It wasn't like it was a secret what ANBU wore underneath the cloaks – occasionally Itachi had seen squadrons of them without them – and furthermore the ANBU had no reason to really be stealthy. If there was, for instance, a sniper out there that was preparing to take all of the ANBU out, however unlikely that might've been, all one would have to look for was that porcelain mask that shone starkly in the darkness surrounding. So what was even the point of not taking off the cloak and showing that bone-white armour and tattooed skin? They wouldn't be any less noticeable with the cloaks, after all.
Thinking of ANBU, even practically, was not helping his situation.
He wanted to paint but he didn't think that he could hold onto a paintbrush confidently, and certainly didn't want to get paint in his casts or on his body in the first place. Besides, he was terrified to paint as well, knowing that if he did paint everything would be silver and black and red and he wouldn't be able to stand it.
No, he needed to think about this, not to convince himself that he was wrong but to acknowledge that he was being foolish.
That was not what this was about. He was adamant about that. Itachi had admitted to himself very early on that Crow had had an attractive voice, but that was all. The other likenesses were just coincidence, the silver hair and the gaze that saw through him, the hands covered in gloves that had gently touched Itachi's artwork and the grace in which he had moved around the room. Just because Crow had those characteristics didn't mean that Itachi was forced to be attracted to him, a man that murdered and a man that Itachi knew literally nothing about.
He really was being foolish.
It was logical for Itachi to think that Crow was alluring and mysterious, because he simply was. And yes, Itachi had gotten the impression that Crow was of a different sort, someone who was driven and yet honest and kind, so it made sense that Itachi, who Crow had broken protocol with, would feel enamoured by the captain. Crow had disobeyed a direct order, for whatever reason he had had, if only to talk to Itachi, and that was...flattering even though it was also ominous.
But it also didn't mean anything. How could it, when they knew nothing about each other? Well, it was safe to assume that Crow knew a lot about Itachi from files, but that was different than hobbies, habits, thoughts, dreams. Hell, Itachi didn't know Crow's name, and had never seen his face, so how could he possibly be attracted to a person that, for all intensive purposes, didn't even exist? That was illogical in and of itself, and Itachi was a logical person. He thrived in logic.
He stood up, grimacing to himself at the twinge of pain in his chest, and wrapped himself awkwardly in a fleece blanket. He quietly padded down the hallway barefoot, the hardwood floor cool against his feet, and stepped into his studio.
It was dark and still, and he half expected Crow to be here, waiting for him. Though they had only met twice over the weeks since moving to Konohagakure, he still anticipated the man coming from the shadows, porcelain mask trained on a window or on Itachi's art. He wasn't though, and the room was empty and stifling, the air circulation having been turned off in Itachi's absence. The central air was running, but it was so quiet, and he flipped on the ventilation just to have the hum of noise in the background.
Without turning on the lights, he carefully made his way to his cabinets, where the bag of silver, white, and black iridescent paints sat on the canvases innocently. It seemed like only yesterday now that he was picking them up from Sasori-senpai's shop, completely consumed by the need for silver, but now he stared at them and didn't even feel the slightest urge to paint.
He felt a pang of anxiety then, not feeling any inspiration to create something. After months of the inspiration practically keeping him feverish with need, it was frightening to think that maybe it was gone. What if he never gained it back, and he was stuck in this rut for the rest of his life? What if there was a block now and he never gained the ability to paint or draw again?
He went to the windows and watched the ANBU operative disappear. When the slithering figure was out of his site, he used his right hand and cast to hold his blanket in place and the other to begin opening the windows, pulling them open like doors and thankful that he didn't have to yank them up. The blast of hot, humid air was comforting, the smell of the grass and trees and the downpour of rain assaulting his senses after so long indoors, and he simply stood there and took it all in, still clutching the blanket around him with his cast-covered fingers and arm despite the heat that was accumulating.
He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and whipped to the shadow, clenching his teeth to hide the hiss of pain.
It was a captain but it wasn't Crow. The white cloak seemed more menacing than Crow's cloak in a way, the much taller and bulky body more threatening, and the mask with a beak and painted with razor sharp strokes appeared more sinister as well. It caused his heart to jump into his throat, his fear palpable in the studio, but he refused to show said fear outwardly, staring death in the face and refusing to blink.
They stared at each other for a long moment before the foreign captain raised a hand and signed something that Itachi couldn't comprehend. Itachi watched the gesture, trying to understand, and the captain finally simplified it. He pointed to Itachi once, then made an O with his fingers and then a rough version of a K.
Itachi blinked, then nodded once, tense and defensive. The captain watched him for a moment, then pointed for the second time, with two hands made a sign like a bird flying away, then pointed again.
Itachi still didn't understand, but he took a guess and answered in a blank voice, "I'm not leaving, if that's what you're asking. It's just a window."
The captain stilled, completely motionless like a statue, before suddenly he spoke in a rough, gravelly voice, "Would you prefer Crow, Uchiha-sama? He is on duty and can be here in two minutes at the most."
Itachi's eyes, narrowed behind his glasses, took in that baleful mask and asked through the fear, "Why do you speak to me? I do not understand." And he didn't. Why were all of these people talking to him? It was against their code of behaviour, against their swear when they had joined the secretive ranks of the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai, and this was the second captain that had spoken to him as if that didn't matter. Were the captains bound by different rules? No that couldn't be, because one of the first things Crow had ever said to him was that they were not allowed to speak to anyone unless they were the Emperor, and therefore they couldn't have been held by different standards. Well, unless Crow had lied through his teeth.
"It is not my place to enlighten you, Uchiha-sama," answered the captain in his rough, deep voice. "We simply ask that you do not mention it to your family or acquaintances."
Itachi didn't even know what to say so he simply said nothing at all. How could he respond? They were asking him to keep secrets now and it terrified him. He knew that the captain could see his pulse fluttering dangerously in his neck, the defensive way that he had clenched the blanket around his half-naked form. Surely he knew that Itachi was on the verge of a heart attack because he didn't know what the hell was going on or why it was happening.
One thing he did know was that he wanted this captain out of his studio, out of his head, but before he could think of how to politely ask the spook to bugger off, he heard himself say without accord, "Yes, I would prefer Crow, thank you."
The captain didn't respond, instead immediately leaving Itachi's studio with the door wide open.
The second the white cloak disappeared Itachi nearly lost his head. Why had he done that?! Why had he asked for that?! It made no sense! He should've just asked the captain to leave and never come back, but instead he had asked for Crow? He was trying to figure out his thoughts about that man, for crying out loud! He had practically described him when trying to tell Sasuke what he wanted in a man, and he needed to distance himself before he went completely insane!
Itachi tried, he honestly did, to pull himself together, turning back towards the window to watch the rainstorm so he could calm himself down, but he was starting to hyperventilate. He couldn't even stop himself, and his legs went weak through the surge of alarm and oxygen that burned in his blood. What would he say? How would he react? Well obviously he was going to give a terrible impression since he was having a panic attack on the fucking floor, because he felt his legs give out and his knees hit the hardwood hard, sitting on the backs of his legs and bending over despite his aching ribs.
He tried to breathe, his lungs and ribs burning from overexertion and his knees aching, and suddenly there was a soothing voice in his ear and hands touching his shoulders and a body behind him, attempting to coax him out of the attack but how could he? Itachi wasn't stupid, and he knew that these fucking ghosts only spoke to the Emperor and to each other, and what did that mean then? Crow had made statements regarding it before and Itachi had merely tried to not think about it, about the fact that apparently he would be a good operative if only "he could work a bit harder on masking his genuflection," as Crow had said before.
He wasn't doing a very good job of that now, that was for sure.
"Breathe with me," Crow's voice said, and arms were pulling him up until Itachi's back was flush against another body. He could feel Crow's chest expanding against his back, and he vaguely realised that he was following the pattern instinctively – five seconds inhaling, holding his breath for two seconds, and then slowly exhaling – over and over again, until the carbon dioxide evened out with the oxygen and Itachi could feel his racing heartbeat slowing and his awareness returning.
He could feel tears on his cheeks, but he didn't have the energy to wipe them away. Furthermore, his arms were pinned by his sides by Crow, his gloved hands gently holding Itachi's clenched fingers in Itachi's own lap, and he wondered if he was supposed to feel fear because that was what those men had done to him in order to keep him from fighting back or running away. His legs hurt from the position he was in, all the blood not circulating in his lower legs, but he couldn't even move himself, content to just sit there and attempt to feel normal again.
"You speak to me because you want to recruit me, don't you?" he asked, his voice raw from the hyperventilation, and he almost didn't want Crow to answer him. If he answered in the negative, Itachi would be just as confused as before, because why would they speak to him if that wasn't the case? On the other hand, if Crow answered in the affirmative, then what was he supposed to say, let alone think or feel? Could he even turn something like that down? Would they kill him if he said no, and therefore would be pressured to accept the invitation? He didn't know, and that petrified him.
He knew, perhaps instinctively and because of Crow, that all ANBU weren't sadistic freaks that got off on their violent and despicable jobs, but he still wanted no part in it. Besides, he wasn't cut out for it. Between the cancer that would inevitably return, the fact that he apparently couldn't defend himself enough to escape the beating he had lived through, and the inescapable reality that his family would never allow it to ever happen, he wouldn't even be applicable in the first place. The scandal that would result would completely destroy the Uchiha, and Delta no doubt, because it would solidify that the Uchiha were nothing more than emotionless, sadistic freaks that could only hurt and destroy things, and that gay people were only good at hurting people and fucking little kids like some of the more conservative opposition thought.
People respected the ANBU, but they were disgusted by them just as much. Itachi himself had believed that too before meeting Crow, and even now he was disgusted by the idea of it.
Crow said nothing for the longest time, his gloved thumbs absently brushing the sides of Itachi's hands and his chest continuing to expand and contract against Itachi's back. Despite the frantic thoughts that bulldozed through Itachi's head, Itachi felt incredibly safe in that moment, just being cradled in another person's arms. Was this what it felt like, feeling content with someone besides his family? What was the flutter in his stomach that almost felt like nausea, and why was his heart pounding fast despite the fact that he finally felt a semblance of calm? He didn't understand why, despite his aching chest and legs, he felt so comfortable and protected here.
Then, almost with a pang of regret in his tone, Crow answered plainly, "Yes."
Itachi shuddered violently, and he knew that Crow felt it because his arms tightened around Itachi's body. He felt so small surrounded by the man, so utterly fragile because he knew that the captain could break him to pieces if he wanted to. It wouldn't be hard, especially because his body was still healing from the previous breaks, and in a way he almost wished that Crow would do it, if only so he could stop thinking.
Crow continued in a low timbre, "The idea was brought up months ago by our delegation. We continuously survey younger individuals spanning over years, to see if we can find apt persons that fit the criteria. There has been mixed feelings about you, because while you are incredibly intelligent and fit the temperament of a good operative, you are still a potential liability."
"Liability?" Itachi heard himself say, almost pleased that he was being considered as such. The less positive things they could come up with to induct him, the better, though he almost felt upset that the ANBU were considering him a liability in the first place. After all, it was normal for human beings to seek out individuals stronger than themselves in order to achieve validation that they were worth something, and Itachi was not immune.
Crow answered lightly, "While your family would be an issue, this is not our primary concern. Your illness would be a liability, that is all. It is very likely that it will return, though there is no viable evidence that proves that it will be any time soon, which is the argument that is being made. We have had operatives within our ranks before with debilitating illnesses and further issues, and they have done phenomenal work. If you were offered an invitation, you would likely be in an intelligence and recon cell, without much field work past yellow restrictions. Essentially, you wouldn't be out there killing people. You wouldn't be part of that eleven per-cent, just-Itachi."
"No, I would be helping that eleven per-cent get the information necessary to complete said mission of killing people," Itachi whispered, lowering his head and allowing his hair to hide his face like a veil. In his line of vision, his sight surrounded by long strands of soft black, he could see that the sleeves of the cloak Crow wore had been pulled up slightly, showing the tops of his black gloves and pale, masculine arms dusted with silvery hair before the first hint of the arm-guards that shielded his forearms. Itachi's hands and arms were swallowed by the cloak and the large hands that gently held and stroked his own, and the fluttery feeling in his stomach increased ten-fold at the sight. He tried to stop it, to calm himself down, but watched as his fingers moved without reason, interlinking their fingers together, only lightly due to the casts.
When Crow stilled behind him from the action, Itachi suddenly felt everything. He felt how warm his hands were, interlaced with those slender black gloves and the hands inside of them. He felt every even breath that came from the man behind him, slow and methodical and comforting. He felt every centimetre of the arms that were wrapped around him so securely. He felt the porcelain against his hair, slightly cold but warming at the contact against the soft black strands that fell over Itachi's blanket-covered shoulders, back, and chest. He could feel Crow's legs around the outside of his thighs and hips, pushed against him securely as he was pressed against the captain's front. He could feel the heat of him, almost stifling with the hot breeze that came through the open windows and the fleece blanket shielding him, but he didn't even care that he was starting to sweat, and that his heart was beating so rapidly that it was likely pumping air instead of blood, that every part of him tingled with the contact, that his eyes closed and he had to fully concentrate on controlling his breathing.
Itachi wasn't an idiot by any means, but he could be dense about certain things in his life. In a way, he was a bit socially defective, and he had figured out ways to work around that in the best way that he could. However, he hadn't really understood attraction before, because he simply had never really felt it. There had been phantom moments, of course – he was seventeen, after all, and though he wasn't a sexual being, he still felt things like arousal – but it had never really been attraction. Just the idea of it, he reckoned, and had dealt with it accordingly.
He understood it now, though, even if every part of his head was screaming at him that he was being insane.
He hated that he felt it, and his mind warred with itself, debating on whether to pull away and get much-needed distance or whether to lean back further into Crow's embrace. He didn't know the first thing about attraction and how to deal with it, and he certainly didn't know the first thing about Crow himself. He didn't know what he was doing, or what had prompted this feeling in the first place. How could he become attracted to a nameless, faceless man that he had only seen and talked to twice?
The same way people are attracted to others when they first meet, hence one-night stands, a tiny voice said behind all of the bellowing of conflicting thoughts in his brain.
Itachi wasn't that type of person. He wasn't. He had never been and never would be. He didn't have it in him, to give away his affections so callously. And what had Crow really done to deserve such affection anyway? The first time they had met and talked, Itachi had been terrified of being murdered by the captain, and the second time he hadn't felt the fear but instead something confusing. Perhaps camaraderie? Apprehension? Crow had been inside his head that time, looking at his thoughts and emotions that he put onto canvas and paper, so delicate in his investigation.
Investigation. Because that's what they were doing, investigating him. For potential recruitment.
He opened his eyes at the thought just as Crow said in a low, almost rough tone, "This is highly inappropriate."
"It is," Itachi agreed, finally getting control over the shrieking in his head and his erratic heartbeat, mentally smacking himself. He was being highly inappropriate, and just because he felt attraction for some God awful reason didn't mean that Crow did as well. He probably had a wife and two kids at home, which would consist of a white picket fence and blue shutters and a dog.
He felt embarrassed and went to pull his hands away, only to find that Crow's grip on his hands tightened in response, refusing to let him go.
They sat there in silence, Itachi feeling unbearably hot and sticky with sweat in the comfort of Crow's body, just breathing. He didn't want to know what this meant either, the fact that Crow didn't allow him to shy away, burying his porcelain mask in Itachi's hair like he was smelling the strands or his body heat even, his grasp tight on Itachi's smaller hands and his embrace secure.
Itachi almost wanted to ask him why he hadn't allowed Itachi to pull away if he thought that the situation was highly inappropriate, but didn't want to hear the answer. He wasn't sure if he could take the confirmation of what this possibly meant, what could come of this if they both allowed it.
Because there was no other explanation to be had. There was no way in hell Crow didn't know that Itachi was attracted to him, because he had actively grasped the captain's hands and even let him into his head by granting him access to the studio freely. He had asked for Crow by name, even, and if that wasn't a telling statement then nothing could be. And Itachi knew just by Crow's reaction to Itachi pulling away that it was, even if just a little, a reciprocated emotion. He had comforted him when it would've been easier and more proper to let Itachi suffer through the panic attack alone. He had given Itachi back his scribbled piece from the hotel, and then had willingly watched Itachi work, had looked at all of Itachi's pieces and complimented them at his own free will. He had talked to him, alleviated fears and brought about more, and stared at him so consumingly through the eye-slits of that mask.
It was all but impossible to ignore the signs on both ends.
"Your heart is racing," Crow mentioned quietly, his voice oh-so deep and alluring, and Itachi finally straightened his back even further against Crow's chest, lifting his head and feeling Crow move himself to allow the shift. Itachi turned his head slightly to the left and leant back, feeling the strong fabric of Crow's cloak against his cheek. He could feel the press of his bulletproof, bone white vest through the fabric, and he could even feel Crow's collarbone as well, and he realised that he was close enough to kiss the man for the first time since becoming fully aware of his position between Crow's legs.
"Is it?" breathed Itachi, wondering if Crow would miss his words with the steady downpour outside, exhaling softly against the warm fabric as he studied the pattern of his cloak through the mediocre light that came through the windows. He could feel Crow untangling their fingers so he could caress the skin of Itachi's left wrist and the cast on his right arm, and he felt his skin erupt in gooseflesh, fighting the urge to shudder once again in Crow's arms.
"Indeed," Crow replied, just as softly, his word a mere rumble in the pit of his chest that Itachi could feel against his cheek even with all of the layers. Everything felt so surreal, so supercharged with tension and electricity, and god he suddenly wanted to press his lips against any piece of flesh he could find on the captain behind him. His mouth was practically watering at the thought of it, wondering what he would taste like, if he would be salty from sweat underneath that cloak that hid almost all of him from Itachi's eyes.
And softly, Crow touched the edge of Itachi's blanket, the stifling hot thing, and asked, "Will you let me see? I want to see how badly you're still hurt."
Itachi would be so vulnerable in front of him. He supposed it was no different than swimming in the pool at the gym, but he was a stranger to this circumstance. He would be alone with another man that was clearly feeling the same pull that Itachi was, and he would be completely bare from the waist up. Perhaps it was innocent in a way, because Itachi couldn't do much of anything in his condition, but he still felt anxiety over it.
But he was burning in his skin, both from the humidity and from his own arousal, though he had been able to control his body enough to not let said arousal be visible to any eye. And he felt safe here, although he still didn't understand why because he didn't even know this man except that he had hurt other human beings in his line of work.
Instead of shrugging off the blanket, which might've been the smarter action, he heard himself whisper, "Okay, you can do that."
He felt those hands move up his arms, the electrifying tingles following his ministrations, as the movements began slowly loosening the blanket around his form. He felt Crow shift behind him, and Itachi pulled himself up away from Crow's chest so he could move himself. It allowed the blanket that had been trapped in between the two halves of his legs to be removed, and suddenly he felt so much cooler and yet still on fire as his skin was finally on display for Crow's eyes to see. His legs were tingling themselves, the blood beginning to circulate in his lower extremities once again.
The captain lifted himself to his knees as well, pressing once again to Itachi's chest as his porcelain mask leant over his shoulder, taking in the damage of it from a high vantage point. Long, gloved fingers traced the stitches from the stab wounds and the chest tube, stitches that were nearly ready to be taken out, and the blackish-green and yellow bruises from the kicks and the punches, before tracing every rib that lightly protruded. Itachi wasn't skinny by any means but he had always been thin. Even with the definition from swimming and his trips to the gym, he could still see the vague outline of his ribs no matter how much weight he put on, and those fingers traced every single one of them so gently as to not cause him any pain.
He could feel his entire body shiver at the contact, Crow's fingers tracing every line and angle of him, outlining every bruise and cut and scar. He traced Itachi's sides with feather-light touches, before pulling away and inspecting his back. He heard the captain breathe out a small sigh and wondered how bad it looked even after two weeks since the incident, because he knew that his back had received the majority of the pummelling. A single finger drew a line from the nape of Itachi's neck to the end of his spine, right above the start of Itachi's pyjama bottoms, feeling every bump of his vertebra, before branching out and running his hands lightly up Itachi's skin.
The hands traced his arms, right to the cast on his right side and to his fingers on the left, and then back up, kneading his shoulders deliciously. Itachi couldn't even help the small sound that resulted from his own throat, biting his lip to keep it in, but it felt so good to have the muscles worked on, and he almost wished that Crow would never stop. When he did, Itachi felt those hands trace his sides once more before Crow's body heat left and Itachi was left alone.
He heard Crow stand up, but he didn't open his eyes, staying elevated on his knees and committing the feeling of Crow's hands on him to memory. There was a rustle but he ignored it, because he needed to remember this moment with everything he had, because Itachi didn't know if they would ever have this opportunity again. Talking to the ANBU in general was one thing, especially if they were seriously considering their attempt to recruit him, but being so intimate with one was likely against the rules one hundred per-cent.
He wished so greatly at that moment that he was at full health, because there was no telling what those hands could do to him if he was fully recovered and he wasn't sure if they'd ever get the chance to do such in the future.
Or if he wanted it in the first place. His mind was too clouded for sound decisions right then.
"Open your eyes," Crow murmured, and Itachi obeyed slowly, the world coming back into focus behind his glasses. Crow was directly in front of him, and Itachi's mouth went completely dry at the sight of him, because dear god he was attractive.
He still had on the porcelain mask, but the cloak was gone, mercifully gone. In its place was a man with the standard ANBU gear on, gear that accented Crow's lean, wiry body as he leant against the wall in between two windows. His hair, silver and bright even without the moonlight, shown in the dark room, unruly and beautiful. His upper body had on the bulletproof vest, but underneath it was a sleeveless black shirt with an attached mask that disappeared behind the porcelain one. It showed off his sinewy arms magnificently, every muscle and tendon and vein showing where the arm-guards did not cover, and the black ANBU tattoo on his left bicep showed in high relief against his glistening, pale skin. His hands, lusciously bare, were gorgeous, long-fingered with veins lightly protruding from the tops, so masculine and strong, and he longed to feel those fingers against his skin. His legs were propped at ninety-degree angles from the floor and his legs were lightly spread, his position utterly male, clad in loose but still form-fitting black bottoms with the shin guards in place and boots on his feet.
Itachi couldn't help but stare at the man, and was thankful that his mouth was dry because otherwise he might've been drooling, and how very teen-age of him to think such things.
He most definitely felt his age now, like an inexperienced teen-ager that was finally experiencing overwhelming lust for the first time. And that was honestly the truth too, because he honestly couldn't keep the blood from finally pooling below the waist and in his cheeks, since this utterly gorgeous specimen of man was within touching distance and he had no inclination to let such an opportunity go to waste.
"Come here," Crow said, and Itachi wouldn't have disobeyed even if the world was dying.
He scooted closer on his knees and finally stopped in between those legs, wishing that he had full function of his hands because he wanted to feel every crevice of Crow's body, wanted to feel every dip between muscles and feel the brush of hair against his fingertips as he ran his hands down those arms. He hated that he was broken, but at least he had partial functionality of his left hand, and he put it to good use.
Crow cocked his head when Itachi's unbroken index finger brushed the cool ANBU mask, running along the lines that had been painted on with scarlet, vaguely surprised that the mask wasn't actual porcelain but instead of some sturdy, unknown material. He wondered if he could take it off, but decided against it, because if Crow had wanted it off he would've taken it off, and Itachi didn't dare take things further than that. Instead, he lightly traced the thin mask that covered his throat, feeling the Adam's apple and tendons in his neck before he traced down one bare shoulder, feeling the slickness of Crow's sweaty skin. It really was unbearably hot in the studio, though the arousal wasn't helping matters at all, but nevertheless he glanced up into eyes that were glittering and shadowed behind the eye-slits of the mask and heard himself ask, "What...can I do?"
Crow sighed and replied, "You're hurt. You move and try to hide the pain from me, but I'm trained to look for it and you can't hide from these eyes." Nevertheless, Itachi could see the light tremors in his body that Crow either didn't bother to hide or couldn't hide, showing how affected he was, so Itachi simply leant forward and placed his forehead in the centre of Crow's chest, right in the middle of the armour, and breathed, trying to still his blood and racing heart.
Crow's arms wrapped around his neck, burying his fingers in Itachi's loose hair, and the ex-heir could feel the porcelain mask gently touch the top of his head. Itachi felt his eyes droop behind his glasses as his body relaxed and cooled, adrenaline and pain easing down, though the heat in the room itself only helped in bringing him to this inevitable crash.
Itachi didn't know how long he stayed there, curled in Crow's arms and warmth, on the cusp of sleep but trying desperately to stay awake. He could hear the rain pound steadily, a beating tempo that lulled him to complete comfort, and he really just wanted to sleep for the first time in ages. However, he knew that he couldn't, not here and not with this man, so he forced himself to open his eyes and blearily push himself upright.
Crow watched him as he stood, not offering to help despite Itachi's injuries, and Itachi appreciated the gesture because he was not an invalid or some masculine form of a damsel in distress. From his standing point, looking down into Crow's mask, he could see Crow's eyes glittering behind the eye-slits and Itachi knew instinctively that Crow was amused. Maybe it was front the small, sleepy smile that was beginning to curl Itachi's lips or about what had just transpired between them, but Itachi was willing to put money on it being the fact that Itachi reached out with his unbroken arm as if offering Crow a hand up.
Crow reached for Itachi and accepted the help, but judging by the lack of weight on Itachi's forearm and the nimble way Crow hopped up, it was simply for show. It made the small smile widen on Itachi's lips, and he shifted his eyes to the ground to try and hide it. He traced a pattern on the hardwood floor with his tired, bespectacled eyes as he felt Crow move close, trying to calm the urge to snicker. The blanket was draped back over Itachi's narrow shoulders, and Itachi dared to look back up as he murmured in modest appreciation.
The smile faded as he looked up into that porcelain-esque mask, and then Itachi whispered, "Good night, Crow." He felt his left hand twitch, wondering if he should do something more concrete, but Itachi had no idea what he was doing and simply nodded once before turning towards the door.
Crow did not say a word in return.
Itachi fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, a smile on his face.
