Kisame woke the next morning to a band of sunlight bursting through a crack in the shudders to land directly on his closed eyes. He groaned, pissed, and rolled over.
Despite the rude awakening, a smile melted across his face like butter when he remembered who was with him.
Itachi.
His arms outstretched to pull Itachi's slight, warm body into his.
His groping hands came up empty.
"Itachi," he groaned tiredly. No response.
With a very loud sigh of protest, Kisame rolled back over, ran a hand over his face, and pushed himself up. He glared sleepily into his room, mood thoroughly dampened. Eyes scanning the floor, he noticed Itachi's clothes had disappeared, and his own were folded neatly on a chair on the other side of his room.
"Must be downstairs," he muttered to himself. Itachi wasn't a morning person, if the last times he spent the night was anything to go by, so Kisame was somewhat miffed that his lover was up before he was.
Regardless, he pushed himself out of bed completely, feeling a proper soreness in his muscles. He wondered how Itachi was faring—probably much worse than him. He chuckled, then, imagining a moderately grumpy, sleepy Itachi waiting for him downstairs. He didn't bother dressing before he trudged downstairs, a yawn escaping his mouth as the remnants of sleep still hid in between his joints and clung to his muscles.
"Babe?" he called, moving through the hallway. Still no answer. "'Tachi? Where are you?" He turned the corner into the kitchen, a hand moving through his hair.
Itachi was standing in the corner by the window, hunkered down over his phone.
"Babe," Kisame said gruffly, frowning. "I've been calling you."
Itachi snapped his head up. "Sorry," he murmured, pressing the screen of his phone to his chest. "I was looking at something."
Kisame sidled up next to him, grasping his face between both hands and nuzzling into his hair. "Morning, baby," he grunted.
"Good morning," Itachi replied, voice chipped. "Why are you not wearing any clothes?"
"Why are you?" He chuckled, sliding one hand down Itachi's waist. He hummed and pressed kisses to Itachi's temple. "Come back to bed, baby," he crooned, slipping his fingers under Itachi's shirt.
"Ah—" Itachi stiffened, pulled away just a hair. "I'm actually waiting for my Uber."
Kisame pulled back, alarmed. "What?"
Itachi cleared his throat. He wouldn't meet Kisame's eye for more than a second.
"Why are you—" Kisame tilted Itachi's face up, studying his expression. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Itachi replied.
"Baby, tell me what's happened." He ran his fingers through the bangs framing Itachi's face.
"Nothing has happened, Kisame."
Kisame narrowed his eyes. "Everything's alright?"
"Yes."
"Then why did I wake up alone just to find you huddled in my living room waiting for an Uber." He paused, feeling his stomach twitch. The backs of his fingers rested against Itachi's cheek. "Are you upset about last night?"
"No, Kisame, nothing like that." Itachi offered a small smile. "I just have a lot I need to get done today. Okay?"
Kisame was still frowning. "Hm." He tried deciphering Itachi's eyes, but they were especially closed off today. "You were just going to duck out on me without saying goodbye?"
"I did not want to wake you."
"Hm."
Itachi's phone buzzed, then, and he jumped a little. "Ah—my ride is here."
"I'm your ride, now," Kisame joked, grin cracking of its own accord. He grabbed Itachi's forearm, pulling him close. "Isn't that right?"
It took him a second, but Itachi eventually gave a reluctant smile. "Right." He pulled his arm free.
"Hey." Kisame caught his hand again. "If you gotta go that's fine. But call me tonight and tell me what's up?" He rubbed his thumb against the top of Itachi's knuckles. "You're making me worried."
"Please do not worry," Itachi asked sincerely, retracting his hand again. He bounced up on his toes to give Kisame a brief kiss to the cheek. "I'll talk to you later."
"I'll be waiting."
Kisame ended up staying standing, stark naked, in the living room for a minute or two after Itachi left.
That was…not how he was planning the morning to go.
He ran a calloused hand over his face, morning officially fucking ruined.
Maybe he had to get back to Sasuke or something—but he could have at least said that. It wasn't even 7:30 yet; Kisame had wanted to have breakfast together.
Whatever—if Itachi was anything, he was a mystery. He could call him later that day and badger him for not giving a proper goodbye.
A few hours later and Kisame was showered and dressed, working on a long overdue sink of dishes. He didn't want to be pushy, or needy or clingy, but he really wanted to call Itachi and see if everything was alright. He had this uncomfortable little feeling in the very pit of his stomach, and he wanted to make sure it was unprecedented. The hum of a running dishwasher accompanied his gnawing thoughts, and eventually he gave in, shooting Itachi a text.
You got home safely, right?
He tapped his phone against his hand for a moment, and then wandered back upstairs to strip his bedding for the wash.
After over two hours of preoccupying himself without a single word from Itachi, Kisame headed to the gym. He hoped that, by the time he went back to the locker room to retrieve his bag, he would have a text or a missed call or something, but his notifications were blank.
Kisame's heart and body were still humming from the night before. He had imagined taking Itachi to bed…so many times, imagined how wonderful and perfect and good it would be. And it was infinitely better than he could have ever constructed in his mind.
He was getting sappier, he could feel it. It was fine, though, he didn't mind as long as Itachi was the cause.
He wanted to spoil Itachi all through the morning. He wanted to run his lips across every inch of Itachi's soft skin, to imprint the shape of his hands on Itachi's body.
Itachi had promised him many more mornings after, though, so he supposed he wouldn't mind waiting. Itachi did have a habit of making him do that.
He shot Itachi another text, just a Baby and a heart eyes emoji.
He ordered pizza that night and watched television until it was late. Before he climbed into bed, he sent Itachi a, Night, baby. I love you. I hope you call me soon.
He already had all the lights out and was settling into his pillow when he got back a, Goodnight.
It was like a weight off of his chest, getting confirmation that at least Itachi was alright. He couldn't analyze the strange behavior, but at least Itachi wasn't ignoring him.
It was a little hard to fall asleep alone.
"Bro, where are you?"
Kisame blinked, eyes refocusing on Mangetsu's pale face. "Right in front of you?"
"Dumbass," Mangetsu muttered over a swig of beer, "you know what I mean. Your mind has been out to lunch this whole party. You aren't even drinking that much. What's up with you?"
"Nothing," Kisame answered aloofly.
Mangetsu narrowed his eyed over his beer bottle. "Fine, do not tell me. I'll just get you wasted enough that you'll crack."
"I don't want to get drunk," Kisame countered.
"You say that now." He tapped the table. "Get up, I think Ryoko is doing body shots. Maybe that will encourage you to have a good time."
Kisame shrugged one shoulder dismissively. "Nah thanks."
Mangetsu looked at him incredulously. "You're turning down Ryoko? If I recall, you made something of a fool out of yourself trying to sleep with her during college."
Kisame rolled his eyes, stretching one arm back against the chair behind him. "Yeah, I know."
"I saw her eyeing you earlier."
"If I was looking at her, it was for nostalgia's or curiosity's sake alone." He sighed. "I don't want to do body shots off of anyone. I'm kind of dating Itachi, remember?"
Mangetsu raised an eyebrow. "I am not suggesting that you bed her. I'm suggesting that you have fun."
Kisame glared up from under his eyelashes. "Itachi would not appreciate me licking a woman's stomach and eating out of her mouth, but thank you for the suggestion," he said dryly.
"Then do not tell him."
Kisame ignored him entirely, studying his nails.
Mangetsu eyed him for a moment, thinking. "Fine. Do as you wish." He stole Kisame's drink. "If you're going to drag my mood down, at least give me an explanation."
Kisame gave him a disinterested look.
Mangetsu sat back down across from him. "You should be on cloud nine, that Itachi actually wants to kiss that ugly mug of yours. Yet here you sit." He spun the red cup on the table. "What happened, cousin?"
Kisame shrugged. "Nothing; I guess I'm just not in the mood to get wasted like you always are."
"Something happened."
"Nothing happened. He's a really…cheeky guy when he wants to be. He's just being extra aloof right now and I don't know why." Kisame gave a little shrug, looking off. "That's all."
"When did it start?"
"After our date on Thursday."
"What did you do differently that would make him avoid you?"
Kisame rolled his eyes. "I never said he was avoiding me, I just haven't heard from him. It's not a big deal, don't make it something it's not." Then, muttering a little, "He's going to call me real soon. He'll tell me what's wrong. He'll have an explanation."
"You haven't talked at all?"
"No," Kisame answered, shaking his head. "We have a little. Just—something's up, and we aren't talking about that."
"Up?"
"Wrong, whatever. Itachi's acting all…strange all the sudden and he won't tell me why." His leg started to bounce on the ground. "But something happened."
"Retrace your steps, obviously you did something to piss him off if he's being distant all the sudden."
"I didn't do anything."
"Nothing," Mangetsu restated incredulously. "Nothing at all."
Kisame shrugged again, stealing his beer back from his cousin. "We had sex for the first time."
Mangetsu raised his eyebrows slowly. "…ouch."
"You're such a little bitch sometimes, you know that? That's not why he's ignoring me—which isn't even happening in the first place."
"Right," Mangetsu said sarcastically, flicking a beer bottle cap between his fingers. "And that's all?"
Kisame stared at the ground for a second. "I told him that I love him."
Mangetsu leaned back. "First of all, I'm gonna kick your ass for not telling me that you fucking fell in love, but that's for a different time." He tilted his head. "Dude…."
Kisame shook his head, knowing what Mangetsu was getting at. "That's not it." His stomach twanged a little. "He said it too."
"Right after you had sex? Is this…not clicking for you?"
"That's not it." Kisame insisted.
Mangetsu paused. "Whatever you say," he muttered, taking a long swig of beer.
Kisame crossed one ankle over his leg and tapped his fingers against the table top.
"Damn, remind me to never invite you to a party again."
Will you at least let me know if you're alright? Is everything okay? I'm worried that you've gotten hurt or something.
Fuck, please? Itachi? Baby?
It was Tuesday morning, and Kisame was edging from the territory of worried and confused to worried and confused. Scared, even. What if something really had happened to Itachi? He had said at their date that Sasuke was out hanging with friends, what if something happened to him?
But wouldn't Itachi tell him if something was really that wrong? Of course he would, right? What could be so bad that Itachi wouldn't tell him?
That evening, he decided to text Suigetsu.
Hey man, you talk to Sasuke lately?
A few minutes later, yeah, I'm with him now. why
He hasn't gotten hurt or anything in the past week, right?
what the fuck are you talking about? i'm at his house now, hes the same stuck up bitch we all know and love.
It's nothing, thanks.
Whatever you say, weirdo. Also, dude, help me out. sasuke and I are trying to get itachi drunk and play cards against humanity with us. do you know what kicks his ass? tequila? vodka?
Kisame blinked. Itachi is there?
uh, fcking duh? why would he not be at his own house?
If that wasn't a slow punch to Kisame's lungs. And he's alright? He's been around?
did you get into the good weed without me or something?
Sorry. Long day at work.
bitch. just tell me how to get him drunk!
Don't get anyone drunk. Itachi has work tomorrow, don't you dare get him a hangover. Tomorrow was Wednesday, which meant that his deaf student would be coming for history lessons. Kisame remembered, because he remembered lots of little pieces of Itachi's life.
God damn he missed him.
c'mon man! i almost got them to make out when they were both drunk one time. can you imagine the blackmail material?!
Don't do it, Suigetstu. Have your fun with Sasuke all you want, but don't you dare be selfish enough to fuck with Itachi's responsibilities. He works harder than you ever will your entire life, the least you could do is show some respect.
what the fuck? haven't you ever heard of having fun? Itachi needs to lighten up, anywyas!
Kisame tossed his phone to the other side of the bed, suddenly not in the mood to deal with Suigetsu's antics.
So…Itachi was ignoring him?
Why?
He groaned into a pillow, collapsing into his bedsheets. It just felt too weird, that after a huge milestone in their relationship, after an intimacy that he knew was really important to Itachi—they should have gotten closer. He thought that they would be inseparable.
Not that Itachi would fall off the face of the earth for five days.
Something must have happened, something happened. Maybe Itachi really was hurt? Injured? Sick?
The thought alone made his stomach drop. He scrambled to the other side of the bed, snatching his phone. He thumbed the home button until Siri came up. "Call, 'Baby.'"
The dull ringing sounded hollow in his ear.
Not at all surprising to Kisame, the first call went unanswered. He didn't hesitate to dial again, but the results weren't any different.
"Fuck!" He cursed, grip tightening. He opened the texting app.
Please just
fuck, Itachi, please just let me know if you're alright
I don't know if you're okay and it's driving me crazy
I just need to know that you aren't hurt
please
He ran a shaky hand through his hair, yanking on the dark strands over his occipital bone.
Please. Baby, Itachi, love.
His phone stayed still in his hand for a few seconds.
"Fine," he muttered to himself, plugging his phone in to the charger and setting it on the nightstand. "Fine. Don't talk to me. Ignore me. Fine."
But it wasn't fine, because he didn't know what the fuck was going on. He just wanted to be able to understand. Understand why Itachi would give him his heart and his soul and his body and then just…act so cold and standoffish?
Was Itachi mad at him? Did he do something wrong?
Was he too rough during sex? Did he get carried away? Itachi didn't say anything, Kisame didn't know…he wouldn't have, he would never hurt him….
Did Itachi think that now that Kisame had gotten sex he didn't want him anymore? Could Itachi possibly think that Kisame would do that to him? No—that was—Itachi knew how much Kisame cared about him, that he never was with him for the sex.
Right?
Maybe he didn't, though. After all, Kisame had said the magic three-word-phrase only once.
He should have confessed his love sooner, maybe then Itachi would have been more reassured, maybe then he wouldn't be avoiding him.
Or was that why he was acting so distant? Maybe Itachi felt pressured into saying 'I love you, too,' because Kisame said it first, but he didn't really mean it. Maybe they went too fast, and Itachi really didn't actually feel that way yet and didn't know what to do, so he said it anyways, and felt too uncomfortable to face Kisame afterwards.
He could have regretted having sex. Maybe it was too soon. What if Itachi just felt like he owed him after so long? Fuck, he should have been more cautious, shouldn't have done anything until he knew that Itachi was ready.
The more he thought about it the more it knotted his stomach—the thought of Itachi sleeping with him out of obligation or—or whatever fucked up string of thought he could produce.
This was Itachi, and the options were near endless.
"I owed you something," Itachi would say.
Maybe he would reason, "I know how much you wanted to, you at least deserved it."
Or, even worse, "If I didn't have sex with you, I would have just been wasting your time all along."
Or maybe—maybe he was just really fucking overthinking this.
He wouldn't have to overthink anything thought if Itachi would just talk to him.
Kisame groaned out loud, gritting his teeth—
His phone buzzed on the table.
Kisame damn near catapulted himself over the bed to the night stand. He tried to grab it off the surface and knocked the whole thing off and onto the floor. "Fuck!" he cursed under his breath, dropping to his knees and scrambling for it. He unlocked it as quickly as his nervous fingers would allow.
I'm not hurt.
Kisame knocked his head against the wall, rolling over into a sitting position and sighing.
Thank gods
Tell me what's wrong, love. Tell me what's wrong, I know you're not okay.
Please
Itachi
He waited seven minutes for a response.
I cannot.
Yes you can, Itachi. You can. I won't be angry, I promise.
Itachi.
It is nothing to worry about.
Then talk to me, sweetheart.
He didn't get any messages after that.
Kisame drove to Itachi's house during his lunch break. He was skipping the mid-day meal entirely—what was the point of eating when his stomach was turning itself into a pretzel?
God, he was nervous, just driving to his boyfriend's house.
Never in a million years did he think he would ever feel dread at the prospect of seeing Itachi.
Fuck.
He glanced to the plastic bag sitting on the passenger seat. He drove all the way to the next city over to get Indian takeout. Itachi had mentioned, a little offhandedly, that he had only eaten Indian food once or twice, and thoroughly enjoyed it.
The crunch of gravel under his tired and whir of the air conditioner weren't loud enough to drown out his thoughts of impending doom. The crank of his emergency break echoed loudly in the quiet truck. The quiet clicking of the engine rattled around inside of his head.
The slam of his door shutting made his heart thump irregularly.
He jogged up the staircase, lunch in hand.
There was no reason to be scared; he just needed to see Itachi, to talk to him and straighten things out.
Itachi would have an explanation—Kisame knew he would, because this wasn't at all Itachi's normal behavior. Itachi would never do this to him without a good reason. Itachi loved him.
The first knocks to Itachi's door went unanswered.
He tried again.
He even pressed his door to the wooden surface, trying as hard as he could to hear something from inside the apartment.
"Itachi?" He eventually called, voice cracking a little. "Itachi, are you home? Hey, I brought you lunch." He paused. "Uh—will you open up? I want to make sure that you're eating." He knocked his head against the door a few times. "Baby, you've got me worried sick."
Two doors down there was a gentle click, and a young lady poked her head out to look at Kisame. He gave her an awkward thumbs up and turned back to knock on Itachi's door again.
How strange and pathetic he must look, he thought.
He waited for a minute or so longer, fingers pressed against the door. No signs of life presented themselves to him. He dropped his hand from the door.
"If you're in there, I'm leaving the food in front of the door. If you're not," he paused, and then muttered, "then I should stop talking out loud."
He turned back to the stairs and to his car.
Okay, so Itachi wasn't home right now. But that didn't make sense, because Itachi tutored usually right about now. Maybe the session got cancelled? Maybe he stepped out to get groceries or something.
He pulled out his phone and dialed his cousin's number. "Hey, Mangetsu. Can I come over tonight? I'm in the mood to drink."
There was a snake coiled up on the welcome mat of his front door.
A snake made of chicken tikka masala and vegetable korma.
Itachi stared at it, halfway recoiled, frozen because he was too scared to touch it.
Why would he bring him food? This was a total curve ball—the flowers, the text messages, the pictures, those all added up. But Indian food? He was breaking his pattern, and now Itachi had no idea what to expect next.
He swallowed, bouncing the key ring on his finger.
"Is everything alright?"
Itachi fucking jumped, snapping his head around to the source of the voice.
The woman looked confused, hand halfway raised. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's quite fine," Itachi murmured, recovering.
She smiled. "I think the food should still be good," she said, a conversational lull to her voice, "he only dropped it off a few minutes ago."
Itachi stiffened. "You saw him?" he asked quietly.
She snorted out a laugh. "Kind of hard to miss him. Not everyday you see someone with tattoos like that." She tapped her finger to her chin. "The hair, too. Blue. Strange."
Kisame.
Itachi's head jerked back in surprise. "Oh." He swallowed. Kisame. Kisame brought him the food, of course….
She smiled. "I think he was looking for you."
Itachi looked back down at the food on the floor. He gently squatted down to pick it up. "Thank you for telling me."
"Of course," she responded, passing by him to head down the stairs. "Have a nice day!"
"You as well," Itachi murmured, jiggling the key in the lock.
He collapsed shakily into a chair once he got inside his apartment.
Kisame…
Fuck. He was so preoccupied, he didn't even consider that Kisame was the one that brought him lunch when really, it was so, so obvious.
Kisame was such a sweetheart.
Itachi's face screwed up, anxiety contorting the curve of his lips and corners of his eyes. He pulled his phone out, hovered his finger over the phone icon.
He could just call him and thank him for the food. He didn't have to say anything. He didn't have to do anything.
He just missed his voice….
He chickened out of actually calling him, instead opening the texting app. He typed out a bunch of messages he wanted to send—I'm sorry, I love you so much, please forgive me, I miss you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
He settled on 'Thank you for the food.'
He was getting ready for his next student when his phone buzzed on the table.
Were you home
Hm?
Were you home. When I dropped it off.
Itachi typed slowly. No. I was out running errands.
Okay.
Can I come over sometime?
Itachi closed his eyes. I'm busy.
Will you please tell me what's going on? Are you angry with me? Have I done something to hurt you?
Itachi's heart whined. No, Kisame, I swear. It's nothing like that. I'm not upset with you.
Then why can't I see you?
Itachi hesitated. Just not right now.
I miss you.
After a moment of deliberation, Itachi flicked his phone locked again and hit the do not disturb button.
He knew he was being shitty, but—
But what was he supposed to do? Face Kisame in the flesh? And say what, do what? Kisame would just make him melt, like he always did, and Itachi wouldn't be any closer to—fixing anything.
He knew that he…was hurting Kisame, and that made him nauseated in the very pit of his stomach. Made his bones sore. Made his head feel heavy.
Kisame would probably get sick of it soon. Probably end things soon.
And that—that made him panic, but part of him almost…wanted it to happen.
It was, of course, the simplest solution. Besides, Kisame could do better than him. Anyone was better than him, for fucks sake. Kisame didn't deserve to deal with all of Itachi's baggage. He knew that Kisame loved him, didn't doubt that for a second.
But Itachi wasn't special, wasn't irreplaceable.
Theoretically, if they were to break up….
It would hurt Kisame for a few weeks, but then—he would find someone else. Someone much, much better than Itachi could ever be. Had ever been. He would fall in love again, and Itachi would become a memory as small and insignificant as he felt. Kisame would move on, recover, and find someone even better to spend his life with.
The thought of it made Itachi's slow-beating heart twitch. Everything they shared, everything they could share…Itachi could tear it all up with one phone call. All of it would stop, everything that made Itachi feel so happy he could barely function—he could end it.
He had never felt so morbidly powerful over his own life. He had never had anything that made him so happy, never had so much leverage to destroy himself before.
And, continuing this strictly theoretical train of thought of if they did break up—
He would never get it again. This love, this endless spring of happiness that bubbled out of him from every more, from every inflection of his voice. He could never risk someone else getting sucked into the fucked up vortex of his life. If Kisame wasn't safe, why would his next boyfriend be?
Besides, the thought of falling in love again…just exhausted him to the absolute core.
Kisame would make a fast recovery. Part of him wanted to wish that maybe someday Kisame would forgive him, but that was too much to ask. It was a strange, morbid mixture of pain and pleasure to imagine Kisame touching someone else, loving someone else.
It was selfish to want to keep him. Terribly, terribly selfish, especially when Kisame was at risk of getting hurt. When he was in danger maybe. And for what? For Itachi?
How could Itachi ever possibly ask that of him? If Kisame ever got hurt because of him….
He just wanted him to be happy. To be safe. And Itachi was starting to think that…he couldn't do either of those things anymore.
Besides, a broken heart certainly was better than a broken skull.
His hand trembled against the table top, and he was getting jittery. The thought of breaking up was….
He stood up and moved to the kitchen to wash the dishes laying at the bottom of the sink.
He could do it. He could end everything, could walk away from all of it. He was already half way there.
His eyebrows pinched together as he filled a mug with water.
He could break up with him, he could say goodbye…it would keep Kisame safe, it would ensure that Kisame would be happy….
It's not like he deserved Kisame's love anyways.
It would be so easy. Easy as a call, easy as a text message.
Even easier—he could just keep ignoring him. Kisame would let it go eventually.
He could do it. He really could.
There was a knock on the door.
Itachi—damn his jitteryness today—fumbled the porcelain coffee mug he was cleaning. It smacked against the sink, cracking into wicked shards and chalky chunks.
A pointed chip nicked Itachi's thumb. The sharp red color of his blood diluted as it streaked into the water droplets on the handle. Itachi dumped the broken cup into the trashcan, using a paper towel to carefully clean the pieces out of the sink.
It took an embarrassingly long time for him to remember that he was expecting a student.
He ripped a paper towel off the roll and quickly wrapped his finger, slamming the water off at the sink. He darted to the door, pretending he wasn't a haphazard mess.
He answered the door with a fake smile.
He spent the rest of the day with his thoughts lodged in his throat and his heart.
Kisame held the bottle away from him, grimacing and wrinkling his nose. "Shit," he muttered. "That burns."
"190-proof," Mangetsu replied, grinning. "It's Polish."
"Crazy motherfuckers," Kisame muttered. He grabbed the pack of ginger ale, popping open a couple of bottles. "I'm crashing here, you know,"
"With that vodka? Damn straight you are."
Kisame got the Moscow Mules ready, sliding his cousin a copper mug.
"Alright, cousin," Mangetsu drawled, settling into a couch. "Tell me your woes."
"You aren't my therapist," Kisame rumbled. "I just want to get drunk."
Mangetsu hummed, taking a sip. "Well, this'll do that just fine." He looked at Kisame for a moment, contemplating. "This isn't like you. You don't like getting drunk when you're sad. You're a happy drunk."
"Amazing."
"You shit-head," Mangetsu snickered. "This still about Itachi?"
Kisame glared over the brim of his mug.
"Ah. Not putting out anymore?" He ducked the pillow hurled towards him. "You come to my house, drink my alcohol, and physically assault me? I'm wounded so."
"Why the hell are you in such a good mood," Kisame grumbled, eyebrows set in.
"Maybe I just want to share a good time with my favorite cousin. Why aren't you in a good mood?"
Kisame rested his head against the back of the couch. "Itachi."
"I mean, duh."
Kisame ran a hand over his face, taking another fiery swig before answering, "He's still avoiding me, and I don't know why."
"Dick-2-bomb," Mangetsu chortled.
Kisame raised an eyebrow. "Are you already tipsy?"
Mangetsu waved a hand. "I started drinking before you got here. How else was I going to listen to you whine about your girl problems?"
"Itachi is not a girl."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I."
"Oh, stop being a shit, Kisame. Itachi isn't talking to you? Go fix things."
"I don't know what I'm supposed to even be fixing," Kisame snapped, burying his nose in his drink again. "He won't even tell me where to start."
"Then figure it out yourself." Mangetsu shrugged, chewing on an ice cube.
Kisame let out a sharp breath. "He's mad at me?" He guessed.
"Have you done anything?"
"No," Kisame muttered. "At least, probably not."
"Probably?"
"I can't think of anything." He tugs at his hair. "We had sex, and it was—fucking amazing, and I want him ten times more now and—and he's avoiding me." He groaned out loud.
"Maybe he's scared," Mangetsu suggested. "You know, the whole break your own heart before someone else has the chance to."
Kisame furrowed his brow. "You think? What would he be scared of?"
Mangetsu guffawed. "Man, I got no idea anything about Itachi, really. Sui has only said that he gets really fucky sometimes. Whatever that means." He takes another slurp, shudders when the vodka hits him too hard. "Maybe what he needs is the opposite of distance."
Kisame stared at the ceiling. "So what do I do."
"I thought I'm not your therapist?"
"Ass." Kisame looked over. "C'mon, Mang, help me. Nothing in my life has ever mattered as much as this."
Mangetsu whistled. "You've got it bad, cousin."
"I love him," Kisame croaked, mouth buzzing from the alcohol. He was already feeling it, especially on an empty stomach. "I love him."
They sat in silence for a while. Kisame had finished his first drink and prepared a second before he spoke again.
"What if he's not really into me anymore."
"Then it wasn't meant to be."
Kisame stared at the ice cubes bobbing in his cup of vodka. "I really thought it was this time."
Mangetsu looked at him for a few seconds. Slowly, he downed the rest of his drink and got up for the kitchen. "You mean that? Like, actually?"
"Yeah," Kisame grunted. "I do."
Mangetsu quietly poured himself a new drink, squeezing a lime hard to get as much juice out as possible. "If he means that much to you, why are you sitting on my couch?"
"What?" Kisame asked.
"If you love him so much then go fucking fight for him. Fix your damn relationship if you think he's the one for you."
Kisame blinked. "Yeah, okay—yeah. Yeah, I'll go—" He jumped up to his feet, "—nowhere," he swayed, collapsing back on the couch. "Mangetsu, I am drunk."
Mangetsu snickered, taking another long drink and feeling the burn down his throat. "Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," Kisame sighed, bringing the mug back up to his lips. "Tomorrow, I'm gonna—I'm gonna fix this." He licked his lips around a swallow. "I'm gonna get my man back."
"You cheesy-ass bitch," Mangetsu cackled, spilling his drink on his shirt. "That's why Itachi broke up with you. Corny mother fucker."
"Itachi did not break up with me," Kisame corrected, glaring. "Itachi fucked me." He smacked the top of his thigh, grinning. "Rode me like a bike."
Mangetsu's laughter rang through the kitchen. "You're not gonna 'get your man back' with that language."
Kisame chuckled, closing his eyes and settling into the couch cushions. "Yes I will. 'M gonna get my Itachi back."
"I need to borrow your cellphone."
"What?" Suigetsu's voice came appalled through the phone speaker.
After nursing his hangover for a day (and calling Mangetsu on the phone, cursing him to high heavens, and swearing to destroy every last bottle of vodka he owned), Kisame decided that it was the day to end all of the bullshit.
"I need your cellphone, shit-bucket," Kisame drawled back, tapping his fingers against the rough of his jeans.
"Fuck you! Why would I do that?"
"You owe me."
"Like hell I do," Suigetsu snapped.
Kisame grunted. "Third year high school, you got caught smoking pot behind the gym. Remember who pretended to be your daddy and bailed you out?"
"There is no way you are bringing stuff up from fucking high school."
"Deal with it." Kisame crosses his arm over his chest, one foot bumping against Suigetsu's door impatiently. "I'm outside."
"You're—?!" Mangetsu cursed and sputtered, kicking something across the room. "Stupid mother fucker," he grumbled.
The line went dead, and Kisame pocketed his phone as he waited for Suigetsu to get the door.
There were a few fumbling clicks of the locks, and then Suigetsu' sleep plastered face appeared, glowering at him. "I hate you."
"Interesting." Kisame held one hand out. "Phone."
"You know, you're much nicer when you're with Itachi."
"Itachi gets special treatment." Duh. "Phone."
Suigetsu groaned, handing it over. "What the fuck do you even need it for, anyway?"
"None of your damn business," Kisame grunted. "I'll give it back to you when I'm done."
"When—when you're done?" Suigetsu squawked. "I thought you just needed it for a second. You can't just take my phone!"
"Can and will," Kisame replied nonchalantly, turning back towards his motorcycle.
"I have important people to call!" Suigetsu shouted after him.
"No you don't." Kisame stuck the helmet on his head.
"I have snapchat streaks to keep up!"
Kisame paused, snorted, and kicked his bike to life.
The motor drowned out all the curses Suigetsu continued to throw at him.
Kisame's heart was thrumming the entire ride home. He liked the rush of the wind over his skin as he pushed his bike faster, the vibration of the road under his wheels. It calmed his head and heart alike.
He didn't waste time once he got back to his house. He didn't procrastinate by making a cup of tea (Itachi had tricked him into forming the habit) or making a snack (he had willingly adopted the habit to make sure Itachi wasn't hungry, even if he had skipped breakfast or lunch that day).
He took out Suigetsu's phone (of which he already knows the password to) and typed in Itachi's number.
The contact came up as 'Pretty Boy' with a dango emoji.
Kisame couldn't disagree.
The phone rang only three times.
"Suigetsu?" Itachi's voice was surprised. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Gotcha," Kisame said, little triumphantly.
He could hear Itachi freeze on the other end of the line.
"I knew you would answer if it was Suigetsu instead of me." He paused. "That fuckin' hurts, ya know?"
"Kisame—"
"I have to trick my own boyfriend into answering the phone." He chuckled dryly. "What a change. You used to love talking to me on the phone."
"Kisame," Itachi sounded uncomfortable, and Kisame's heart ached.
"Is this what it's come to, Itachi, really?"
Itachi quietly fumbles for words on the other end of the line.
"We need to talk, baby." He swallowed, leaning around a counter. "You gotta talk to me."
Itachi let out a breath. "I don't want to do this right now. Kisame, I can't do this right now."
"Okay, well, when then?" Kisame looked up at the ceiling. "It's been, what, two weeks? Itachi, I just…."
"I'll—I will, soon, okay? I just can't right now."
"But, Itachi—"
"No, Kisame, I can't—"
"You just gotta tell me what I did wrong, baby, you just gotta let me know what I did wrong because it's driving me crazy!" He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I thought I was giving you space, I thought I was being considerate, I thought I was being gentle, baby. You said that you were sure you wanted to have sex with me, baby, I would never try to pressure—"
"Stop!" Itachi shouted suddenly. "Stop, Kisame, please stop." His voice sounded pain, near pleading. "It's none of those thing, okay? You haven't done anything. Please…please don't think like that."
"Then what am I supposed to think? You ghosted me for two weeks so tell me what I am supposed to think."
"I can't right now."
"Why?!"
"I just can't, Kisame." Itachi made a frustrated noise. "I—I have to go."
"No," Kisame bites, "no, not until you tell me what's going on."
"I can't!"
"Why?!"
"Because I don't know what I'm going to do yet!" Itachi shouted, suddenly, louder than Kisame thought he had ever heard Itachi speak before.
"About what?" Kisame snapped back.
"Breaking up with you!"
Silence.
"What?" Kisame whispered.
Itachi didn't say anything for a second.
"You're breaking up with me?" Kisame asked.
"No—maybe, I don't know, yet, Kisame," Itachi's voice was shaking. "Could you just—"
"Could I just what," Kisame demanded, fingers tightening around the phone. "You haven't told me what the fuck I'm supposed to do for weeks, and now you're going to break up with me?"
"I didn't say that!" Itachi yelled back. "Just—I don't want to talk about this!"
"We're talking about this," Kisame grit. "You're going to tell me what the fuck happened, you're going to tell me why you're treating me this way."
"I don't have to tell you anything," Itachi managed.
Kisame sputtered. "You're going to break up with me and not tell me why?"
"I never said I was breaking up with you!" Itachi's voice was loud again.
"I—" Kisame snapped his jaw shut. He closed his eyes, took two deep breaths to calm down. "This isn't working."
A pause. "What?" Whispered.
"This isn't working, Itachi. I'm hanging up."
"Wait, wha—"
"Bye."
"Kisa—!"
Kisame flicked the phone off, pushed his hands into his hair, and counted to ten. A few times.
When he felt calm, he got up off the couch and headed to the garage.
Itachi looked like shit.
"You look like shit," Kisame muttered gruffly.
Itachi stared mutely. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to fix everything," he replied. "Can I come in?"
"What?" Itachi asked.
"What about that was confusing?"
"I don't—I thought you said." Itachi eyes slanted off to the side. "You said it wasn't working."
"Yeah," Kisame said, brows furrowing. "Talking on the phone wasn't working. What—what did you think I meant?" After a pause, all the anger that was still steaming in his veins fizzled out (it was that broken look on Itachi's face, that look Kisame promised himself he would eradicate, not cause) and he found his hands reaching for Itachi without thinking. "Oh, baby." He grabbed Itachi by the arms and pulled him into his chest, meeting him halfway. "Oh, baby. What's wrong, what's happened." He kissed the top of his hair, nuzzled his nose into it.
Itachi was stiff as a board, but he didn't let that deter him from stroking his hand down Itachi's arm.
"Do you really want this to end?" Kisame asked quietly. "I'm not going to force anything on you, baby, you know that. But—is that really what you want?"
Itachi didn't answer. He just looked—overwhelmed.
"Okay, okay. What do you want for you?"
"What?" Itachi asked in whisper.
"What do you want for you. Forget Sasuke, or work, or all the other stuff you prioritize over yourself. Think selfishly for a second." He lifted his hand to stroke across Itachi's jaw. "What do you want, baby?"
Itachi very slowly met his eyes. "I think…that you are the only thing I have ever wanted for myself."
Kisame grinned. It was tired, but it was there. "Yeah, babe? Yeah." He dropped his hands from Itachi's face to his arms. "C'mere, then."
Itachi let himself be pulled into his broad chest, let the thick arms squeeze him tightly. "Kisame…." Yet, his voice still held hesitation.
"What?" Kisame muttered into his hair. He started pressing kisses all over the top of Itachi's head. "Mm, baby, I missed you. Mm," he hummed, curving his hand around Itachi's waist, "Baby—"
"Stop," Itachi said suddenly, shoving back against Kisame's chest, "stop, don't touch me—"
Kisame released him the moment the word left his lips, hands hovering in the air, looking equally confused as his face. "What? Itachi, I—"
"Just—" Itachi interrupted, holding one hand out. He clamped his eyes shut again, locking his fingers into his hair. "Just let me think for a second."
"Think?" Kisame asked quietly. "What is there to think about?"
"A lot—there's a lot to think about," Itachi protested immediately.
"Like what?" Kisame reached a hand out again, stopped short before he made contact with Itachi's skin. "Talk to me. Please, baby, please talk to me." He stared at him. "You trust me, don't you?"
"Yes," Itachi responded immediately.
"Okay, okay then—tell me what's wrong. I can help."
Itachi stared at him for a while. "Why do you care?"
A long pause. Then, dismayed, "What?"
"Why do you even care anymore, Kisame."
"Why do I care? About my boyfriend? Of course I care what's wrong with you."
"But that's my point!" Itachi's near yelling again. "There's so much wrong with me." He looks around rapidly and braces himself on the door jam. "How are you still dealing with this? How are you still putting up with me when I do this again and again? Why do you…why do you care anymore." His eyes drop down to the ground. "You have no reason to waste your energy on me anymore." He's quiet for a second. "It doesn't make sense."
Kisame's whole face screwed up, confused. Maybe a little angry. He presses his hands to Itachi's cheeks. "I love you, Itachi." He cracks a cautious grin. "Didn't I mention that already?"
"You have no reason to," Itachi replied in an uncomfortably steady voice.
"I—yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
Kisame raised an eyebrow. "Actually—"
"Like what," Itachi demanded, cutting him off. "What do you love about me so much."
"I…I don't know," Kisame mumbled, looking confused, still.
Itachi stared. "You don't know," he whispered eventually.
"No, babe, not like that, I don't mean it like that."
"Then tell me." Itachi swallowed. His hand tapped nervously against his thigh. "If you love me so much you should at least be able to tell me why."
"I don't know, Itachi, I don't know!" Kisame tugged at his hair. He reached for Itachi, who rejected him. "I don't have words, baby. I can't describe it in words, it's too hard, it's just a feeling. Could you?"
"Yes," Itachi whispered. "Yes, I can. I love you because you support me, because you care for me with every part of you. You put me first and you think of me even when you don't need to. You know what I need when I don't know."
Itachi's eyes were as tight as his jaw. "I love you for the way you voice gets higher when you talk about Samoa, how you slip into your accent when you talk about the things you did with your cousins as a kid, for the stupid grin on your face when you watch videos of sharks. I love how childishly happy you get when you show me the footage from your dives.
"I love the set of your jaw when you're trying to act extra strong for me. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you can't understand what language I'm speaking. I love the way you look up words in Japanese, love the way you mispronounce them when you try to use them for me."
Itachi slumped against the doorway, giving up. "I haven't been happy since my parents died. Or—I hadn't, but then you showed up, and everything is just so…sincerely happy."
"I don't really understand," Kisame began, "how all of this is adding up to a bad thing for you."
"Because I can never repay you."
"Repay me?" Kisame asked, absolute confusion inflecting his voice.
"I can never do for you what you have done for me." He looked overwhelmingly sad. "I'm broken, Kisame."
Kisame shook his head adamantly. "No, Itachi, no you're not. Just because you have your flaws, doesn't mean you're broken, not by any means. Don't say that about yourself."
"But—Kisame—" Itachi squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't you get it? It's always going to be like this. It's always going to be like this. I'm not going to change, you can't fix me."
"Ita—"
"You can't fix me!" Itachi repeated, louder. He stared at Kisame for a second, looking lost. "You put me first all the time, you're so sweet on me, you prioritize me, but—" his breath caught, "I'm never going to love you most, because I love Sasuke most, because it's all I know and it's all I'll ever know. And this—this thing that I always do, what I just did these past weeks—is always going to be a part of me, Kisame, I'm not going to be able to get rid of this. I'm going to keep fucking up, I'm going to keep hating myself—" he broke off, trying to get his breathing under control. When his voice was more even, he asked, very quietly, "How can you settle for that, Kisame? How could you settle for me when you know you could do better?"
Kisame didn't say anything.
"I'm not worth it, Kisame. I'm not worth all this."
"What if I say you are?"
Itachi looked so very tired. "Go home, Kisame. Just…go home."
Kisame caught the door before he could close it. He remained quiet for several seconds, patient.
Itachi frowned when he tugged on the door to no avail. "Kisame—"
Kisame kept his gaze steady. "Are you done? Did you let it all out?" He asked.
Itachi grimaced. "Don't belittle me."
"I'm not." Kisame's entire demeanor stayed calm. "Did you get it all out?"
Itachi stared blankly. "…yes." His voice was shaky.
"Good. Can I come in, then?"
Below, on the busy streets, traffic whirred and groaned like it always did. Someone blared their horn; bald tired screeched against the street. Those cars passed, and it went back to normal.
Itachi took a long pause, and then nodded dumbly, deflating.
Kisame shoved into the house, pushed Itachi back hard enough to draw from him a surprised little yip, and slammed the door shut behind him. He grabbed Itachi's face, pulled it up close to his, and stared into his eyes, shocked wide.
"I love you for how you trust me. I love your motivation, your work ethic, your selflessness. I love the playful streak you get when you're in a good mood." He smiled, tracing his finger along the curve of Itachi's eyebrow. "I love it when you flirt with me and tease me. I love it when you act like you're hot stuff—not just because it makes my dick happy, but because I so badly want you to see how gorgeous you are.
"You can dissect a book as if you wrote it. You can recite paragraphs of some Shakespeare soliloquy—do you like how I remember the difference between that and a monologue? You taught me that, baby—and Matsuo Bashou haikus in your sleep, and you look so damn happy when you do it, like you actually understand all that shit."
"Oh, for fucks sake, Itachi, you're so smart. You're so damn—" He broke off and laughed, kissing Itachi's forehead. "I love listening to you talk. You're insightful in ways I never even imagined before. I could listen to you talk all day, babe. All day." He cradled Itachi's face with one hand and reached down for his hand with the other.
"I love the way the cracks in your hands scratch my skin when you touch me, all because you're too stubborn to use lotion." Kisame kissed the backs of Itachi's knuckles and laughed. "You're so fuckin' stubborn babe, you realize that?" He kissed all the way around Itachi's wrist and up his forearm. "You know so much more than me, and I fucking love it when I say something stupid and you get that look in your eye that you know I'm wrong but you aren't going to correct me. I love it when you play the piano into my skin. I love it when you trace my tattoos, I fucking love that."
Itachi let himself be swallowed up by Kisame's arms, not resisting when Kisame squeezed him. "You're optimistic. You see the good in everyone, you give second chances to everyone. You have such a good heart." He buries his face into Itachi's hair. "You buy my shit cousin food every time he comes over, you give Karin a place to crash whenever she gets kicked out. You've struggled so much to take care of yourself and your brother," he grips Itachi tightly, "but that doesn't ever stop you from taking care of other people. And it's not always a good thing, you know, you know that, but dammit Itachi it's beautiful, the way you take care of people."
He nosed against Itachi's temple. "You listen to me tell you how to wax a damn surfboard, Itachi, you sit and watch me sketch the lines of a building longer than I have the patience to even draw them. You started watching cooking tutorials on youtube just for me, you idly draw the patterns of my tattoos on your lesson plans for your students.
"So tell me why, Itachi, tell me how you could mean anything but the world to me, huh?"
Itachi didn't have any words, so he didn't say anything.
Kisame barreled onward. "You know how I know that I love you? Sometimes, before I kiss you, my stomach still flutters. I've had you for what—almost nine months?—and I still get butterflies over you, baby." He held Itachi's face with both of his calloused hands, kept his eyes connected with Itachi's overwhelmed ones. "You know why, babe, you know why?"
Itachi swallowed. "Because you love me?"
"In the simplest words," Kisame replied with a chuckle. He stroked his thumbs across Itachi's cheekbones. "I should have told you this sooner. I've known since—way before I told you the other night in my bed. I just wanted it to be right, ya know? I wanted to take you out and treat you like a king. I wanted to make love to you baby, with my body and my words."
"You're so corny," Itachi whispered, and his eyes were still drowning, but the corners of his lips were twitching. Kisame took it as a victory. "You're so corny when you say that type of thing."
"Yeah?" Kisame cracked a tired grin.
"Yeah," Itachi breathed back, taking a step closer. Kisame put an arm around his back, and he shuddered. "You weren't nearly this cheesy when we started dating."
"A lot has happened since then," Kisame murmured, nudging Itachi's nose with his own. "You bring out the best in me."
"Are you sure it's the best?"
Kisame puffed. He pressed the side of his face to Itachi's hair, letting his eyes slip closed.
"I don't deserve you," Itachi whispered, fingers flexing, unsure where to go or what to do.
"Yes you do," Kisame replied immediately. "Fuck, babe, I missed you."
"…I missed you, too," Itachi eventually gave in, shoving his arms around Kisame's trunk and hugging him like he would fall apart if he didn't. "I really missed you."
Kisame let out a breath into Itachi's hair. "Yeah, well." It's your fault. He didn't say it, though, because it wasn't anything Itachi needed to hear.
They stayed that way for a few minutes. Kisame let Itachi quietly shove himself tightly into the cradle of his neck and arms. He felt the movement of Itachi's facial expressions twisting against his skin.
"Itachi?"
"Mm."
"I need you to swear that I haven't hurt you."
Itachi tilted his head against his shoulder. "What?"
"When we had sex. I just—swear to me that I didn't do anything wrong."
"Kisame," Itachi stressed, pulling back to look at him. He pressed both of his palms to Kisame's cheeks, "no, Kisame, I swear. You were…" he trailed off, slipping one hand down his jawline (it still made Itachi weak) and across his thick neck. "You were very good."
"Very good?"
Itachi nodded, melting his body against Kisame's. "Very good. It was all…very good."
"Can I say something inappropriate?"
Itachi leaned his weight forward into Kisame's hold again. "Go ahead."
"I can't stop thinking about taking you back to my bed." He took a deep breath through his nose; Itachi's hair still smelled like green tea and almonds. "Now more than ever, so I can show just how very good I can be to you."
Itachi snorted. "At least you managed to shelve the crass language," he quipped lightly, tilting his head back to look him in the eyes. He maintained the contact for a few seconds, biting one corner of his lower lip. "I'm so sorry, Kisame. I really…I really fucked up this time, didn't I?"
"Yeah," Kisame grunted bluntly, tapping Itachi's waist with his thumb, "you kinda did."
Itachi looked away, face falling.
"You know what the good news is?" Kisame grinned, more lively this time, and squeezed his waist. "It's nothing we can't get over, babe." He hesitated. "But—you need to promise me this won't happen again."
Itachi reacted very cautiously. "I just…I just tried to make it very clear to you, I can't promise that—"
"No, no, that's not—" Kisame shook his head, gripping Itachi's hand. "That's not how I meant it. It's okay if you still get this way, you just—you need to tell me."
"Tell you," Itachi repeated slowly. "That's…not always going to be easy."
"If it was easy, it wouldn't be something worth fighting for."
Itachi furrowed his brows, glaring down at the floor. "I thought I was supposed to be the wise one."
Kisame chuckled. "How about a special word."
"A safe word?" Itachi asked.
"Absolutely. But that's a different conversation." Kisame winked, poking Itachi in the ribs. "I mean something like a safe word. If you ever start feeling like this, just tell me—pancakes."
"Pancakes," Itachi repeated dubiously, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Sure, why not? I mean, it can be anything. Whatever you want. But you just tell me a word, and then I'll know what's going on." He kissed the top of Itachi's head. "Even if I don't totally know. And we can go from there, okay?"
"Pancakes." Itachi hummed. "Okay. That could work." He rested his head against Kisame's shoulder. "I'm really so sorry for doing this to you," he said in a small voice. "You didn't deserve it."
"And I really do forgive you."
"I want to make things right," Itachi said throatily, closing his eyes.
Kisame grinned. "So you're admitting you want to keep me around?"
"Forever," Itachi pressed into his shoulder, more lips than words.
"How convenient. I was thinking something similar just the other day."
Itachi pulled back to look him in the eyes. There was that grin—oh, finally, finally after so long of being starved from it. "Do you want to have sex?" Itachi offered.
Kisame's eyebrows dented inwards. "Hey. I don't ever want you to offer sex because you feel like you owe me, got it? Ever."
Itachi shifted. "What if there's something I want?"
Kisame tilted his head in close. "You know I'll give you anything you want."
"I really want to kiss you," he mumbled, stretching up on his toes.
Kisame was a twisted combination of gentle and rough at the same time as he gripped Itachi's face. His lips were demanding against Itachi's, desperation roughing out the lingering sweetness. He kissed him like he was lonely, angry, and happy all at the same time. He kissed him like he missed him. Like he loved him.
Itachi tugged on his shirt and asked for more. Kisame obliged easily, lifting him up by the grip around his lower back and setting him on the kitchen counter so Itachi could lock his legs against his sides and not have to stretch. They kept their kisses slow and soft. It didn't get sloppy, it wasn't wet with tongues and passion. It was sweet, and it tasted like apologies and forgiveness meeting and mixing and settling.
"Mm," Itachi hummed, and at first Kisame thought that it was a moan of pleasure, but then the hand in his hair pried his face away. He stared at Itachi's spit-slick lips, grunted when Itachi swiped his tongue over them.
"I'm being so selfish," Itachi whispered, dragging one hand over his hair.
"How?" Kisame frowned. "Itachi—"
"No, you don't understand, this isn't just—" He paused and searched for words. Came up empty. Stared helplessly at the ceiling.
Kisame examined him for a while. "There's more, isn't there." He shifted, smoothing his hands up Itachi's thighs. "Something else has happened besides this."
"Perhaps," Itachi acquiesced in a shaky voice.
"So this wasn't the only reason you were avoiding me," Kisame prodded, pressing his nose hard against the dip in Itachi's neck.
"Not…exactly," Itachi confessed, reluctant and tight. He kept one hand tangled tight in Kisame's hair.
"I'm gonna need you to talk to me, then," Kisame grunted.
Itachi bit his hip. He pulled Kisame a little closer, even when he tried to pull back. "Could we just…keep kissing for a little while longer?"
Kisame tugged himself out of Itachi's hold. "Yes. After you talk to me." He gave Itachi one peck, barely holding back when Itachi's lips followed after him, asking for more.
"You are going to be very angry with me," Itachi said around a swallow. "Very, very angry."
Kisame stared at him, suspicious. "What's happened," he murmured.
Itachi's gaze focused passed Kisame's head at the wall.
"It's Marcus."