Shisui's cowboy phase was sort of adorable.
In an annoying, scientifically fascinating way.
It was rebellion, of course. More about rebelling against Madara than his father, but rebellion still against the dominant male authority in his life. Itachi always got the urge to pull out his notepad and make notes when he was around Shisui now. The extent Shisui was taking this too was just astounding. And everything was so different for them both.
Itachi had to admit, the fussing about the clothes was probably most amusing. Shisui's faded, well loved and comfortable jeans stayed the same. The cowboy hat was just ridiculous, jammed on Shisui's curling riot of hair. Sort of charming in its own way, but still ridiculous. There were cowboy boots to be bought and fitted, belts and buckles and an entirely new posture that needed to be practiced until it was brought to perfection-or a fair imitation of people in Western movies.
There were many Westerns watched, books read. Shisui turned over and start listening to Country, another fascinating phenomenon Itachi hadn't ever really been exposed to. That peculiar drawl and whine stopped being indecipherable and annoying after a while. Itachi wasn't sure Shisui really liked it, but it fit with this new persona he was trying to cultivate for himself. Compared to the people Itachi knew, Shisui was starting to look very country/Western/cowboy.
When they actually attended a rodeo, Shisui looked half-baked. He just lacked something everyone else exuded like the musky smell of sweat. Itachi didn't really care. Shisui leaned against the arena railing, watched the cowboys and girls and horses with that bright fascination in his eyes. Itachi didn't point out how Shisui didn't fit, how he would never really fit into this world for hundreds of different reasons. He just sat down, shut up, and helped Shisui find how-to videos on youtube for hours of covert training.
If Shisui wanted to be a cowboy, Itachi was going to help him be that in any way he could. It was exciting, getting pulled into that little secret rebellion filled with almost lies. It made Itachi feel important and special. At twelve, even a genius wanted to feel special to someone. Maybe that was why it seemed important instead of pathetic. Why he stayed up too late letting Shisui talked and got up too early to load a horse into an old trailer and drive for an hour to a show he didn't really want to go to. Maybe it was just because it was Shisui, and people were stupid where love got involved.
A horse show where everyone knew each other but them, Where Shisui's Spanish* Bach stood out from all the Quarter Horses and Walking Horses and even more than Shisui stood out against the true minted country people.
Shisui won nothing, of course. Coming from someone used to stealing first place ribbons, Shisui should have been disappointed. He was exuberant.
"We need to do this again, soon," Shisui demanded as Itachi helped him unsaddle Bach. The sixteen hand horse was almost to tall for Itachi, always small and trying to catch up with everyone. If he stood on his toes he could barely drag the saddle from his back.
"Really?" Itachi looked at Shisui under Bach's neck. "You're not humiliated enough?"
Shisui laughed. "Are you kidding? That was the most fun I've had in a long time. This place is so cool, and that one guy without a finger gave me some good tips. He was in the team roping-big guy with the scar."
"You just described half the people here, Shisui," Itachi pointed out as he eased the bridle from Bach's mouth and adjusted the halter to fit over his nose. "Bach didn't like it."
"He'll get used to it." Shisui swung the heavy Western Saddle from the horse's broad back, setting it on the side of the truck. He looked at Itachi, still beaming, still out of breath and tousled. His hat was off, his sleeves rolled up. His jeans were dirty, his boots mud crusted at the edges. Maybe Shisui was starting to look a little more natural.
But if he started chewing, Itachi was stapling his lips shut.
"No, he won't. If you're really going to be serious about this, you're going to need another horse." Itachi grabbed a rag to rub Bach down with. The heat of the spring day wasn't bad, but the sun was bright enough Bach had gotten damp under the saddle. He'd itch like crazy if they just let it dry.
"Maybe, but..." Shisui shrugged and reached over to stroke Bach's nose. "Uncle'd never let me board a horse like that at his stable." But his eyes had that dreamy look Itachi knew. Shisui was imagining his new dream horse, fantasizing about being amazing at his newest obsession.
"We'll work on that. First we have to figure out what kind of horse you need." One of these horses had to cost less than the jumpers Madara turned out, right? Itachi knew nothing about bloodlines of Quarter Horses or any of the other horses here, if they were as vaunted and needful in the show ring. Any horse in his Grandfather's stable he could trace lineage back like he could his own family, but a name was half the performance for them.
"We'll work on it? Do my ears deceive me? Have I converted a die-hard fanatic?" Shisui asked. Itachi glared, but the thousand pound beast between them killed the effect.
"No, you just don't have enough sense to do this on your own, so I'm going to make sure you don't make anymore of a fool out of yourself than you already have. For the family honor." Itachi dropped the rag back in the brush bucket and looked at Shisui. Shisui was giving him that dopey grin. That stupid dopey grin that made Shisui look like he was seven kinds of stupid. And kind of made Itachi's stomach a little too warm.
"You know, you're adorable sometimes."
Bach was so used to them he didn't even spook as Itachi kicked Shisui in the shins.
Yes, Shisui's cowboy phase was kind of adorable-in an annoying way only Shisui could manage.