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-

"Now, Itachi-san, I'm not saying that you aren't nice." Tobi paces around the kitchen agitatedly, wondering how to word his language in a way that will not hurt his comrade's delicate feelings. "You're very nice! You're one of the nicest people I know, actually! It's just that you can be kind of – intimidating. Sometimes."

Itachi listens to Tobi expressionlessly, before killing a nearby ant with one twitch of his eye.

"Kid just doesn't get the fucking point, does he?" Hidan whispers to Kisame from the sidelines.

Tobi grabs a nearby chair and flings himself into it, so that his mask is about an inch away from Itachi's nose. "Deidara-senpai says that Sakura-san thinks that you're a psychopathic clan-killing mass murderer who's the number one enemy of her village…right?"

"Correct," Itachi replies tonelessly, while trying to move his chair away from him as discreetly as possible.

As customary, Tobi fails to take the social cue, and reaches forward to pat Itachi on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion. "Personally, we have no problem with that, right, guys?"

Deidara sneers. "My problem with the Uchiha is that he's a jackass with no sense of artistic appreciation or talent, not that he's a psychopathic clan-killing mass murderer, un."

"Yeah, I fucking love you, little red-eye," Hidan drawls sardonically.

Kisame says nothing, but discreetly shows Itachi his half of their "best friend" necklace.

Tobi actually wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. "That is wonderful testimony!" He beams around at the kitchen. "Group hug?"

Despite his deep-seated feeling of extreme revulsion, Itachi manages to pick up the nearest steak knife without Tobi noticing.

"…Eh, we'll pass on that," Kisame croaks. Hidan and Deidara nod frantically in assent.

Itachi smirks and replaces the steak knife to its original location.

"Anyway!" Tobi clears his throat, and regards the Uchiha prodigy thoughtfully. "While we, as open-minded and accepting individuals, have no problem whatsoever with your past…Sakura-san might consider it as a reason to be afraid and uneasy in your presence." He frowns. "And that is not conducive to romance in the least!"

Hidan looks dismayed.

"So, our task is to make you a bit more – personable!" Tobi says, clapping his hands together in a businesslike fashion. "Realistic! Humanitarian! Tangible! Articulate! Nice!"

It takes a few moments for Itachi to fully absorb the depth and seriousness of his current predicament, but when he speaks, he chooses to address only one of the unjust charges. "I believe that I am one of the most articulate individuals within this organization. My grammar, enunciation, and diversity in word choice are unparalleled."

"Holy shit, un, that was like…two decently-sized sentences!" Deidara gasps, before turning to Kisame. "Record?"

"No, I think he managed three sentences once, when I first met him."

"Damn, un."

"I think swirly-face over there meant the ability to not talk like a fucking robot, little red-eye," Hidan clarifies helpfully.

Itachi fights the urge to take hold of the steak knife again. "I do not have conjunctivitis. And I am most certainly not little."

Tobi waves his arms, trying to restore some order. "Never mind! What I am trying to say is that if you make Sakura-san come to trust and like you as a person, despite her current idea of you as a psychopathic clan-killing mass-murderer, she will eventually see other facets to your personality that she may find admirable, and, well, you know the rest!"

As Itachi is completely unfamiliar with the barest concept of romance, he does not, in fact, know the rest, but something tells him that having Tobi explain it to him would just cause a massive and unnecessary headache.

"Where do you come up with this shit, anyway?" Hidan asks incredulously.

"He stays up all night watching ANBU Romance sometimes, un," Deidara whispers.

"But I do not wish for Sakura to trust and like me as a person," Itachi says inconsequentially.

"Of course you do, silly," Tobi beams. "Everybody needs love!"

The Uchiha frowns – obviously, his youngest and most eccentric teammate will not be discouraged by the customary iciness of his personality. Perhaps Tobi (and the rest of the idiots) will come around, once he proves himself a complete and utter lost cause. "…Very well. How, exactly, do you propose that I become more – realistic, humanitarian, tangible, nice, trust-worthy, and admirable?"

Tobi opens and closes his mouth, momentarily stumped, and looks around to his comrades for suggestions. Itachi arches an eyebrow, thoroughly satisfied with himself.

"Nice. Itachi." Deidara gives a heartfelt shudder. "Does not compute, un."

Hidan cannot reply, as he is too busy laughing hysterically at the very thought of it.

"It's lunchtime!" Kisame exclaims, having suddenly been struck with a spectacular idea.

"Now, now, Kisame-san, finding a solution to Itachi-san's romantic problems is more important than lunchtime," Tobi replies sternly.

Itachi fights the urge to slam his head down onto the table; needless to say, he never thought that his name and any derivative of the term romance would ever be used in the same sentence. Ever.

"No! I mean, yes!" Kisame stands up, suddenly animated, and points at his partner. "You cook for people when you care about them, yes?"

"No," Deidara, Hidan, and Itachi chorus simultaneously.

The shark-man scowls, determined to get his point across. "In a normal environment, as in, one that isn't populated by seven homicidal males…and Konan…you cook for people when you care about them – right?"

"…Right."

"Where are you going with this, un?" Deidara inquires, as he spoon-feeds the mouth on his hand a small serving of Itachi's leftover breakfast waffles.

"It's lunchtime," Kisame reiterates. "The kunoichi needs to eat. And – apparently she has an adversity to Deidara's ramen."

"What the hell, un?" Deidara yelps. "My ramen is perfectly delicious! The garnishings of clay add flavor!"

Behind him, Hidan pantomimes the act of projectile vomiting.

"Therefore," Kisame continues doggedly. "If you, Itachi, ask her what she would like for lunch, and then take the trouble to prepare it, I am sure it would go a considerable way toward alleviating your cruel and uncaring image."

Itachi regards his partner incredulously. "Does the best friend necklace mean nothing to you?"

Kisame shrugs apologetically. "You'll thank me in a few years."

"Okay, then!" Tobi stands up and strikes an action-ready pose. "Let us begin!"

Itachi glares at his unbecomingly cheerful tutor, his bad mood having transitioned to positively ornery, thanks to his traitorous partner. "If I refuse?"

"Don't make us vote on this, un," Deidara warns. "Now, shall we go upstairs and do this in person, or should we send a letter?"

"Letter," Itachi replies immediately.

Tobi looks off into the distance thoughtfully. "Allow me to respectfully disagree, Itachi-san; I think it would be a lot more powerful if we do it in person. Actually," he adds, "you're going to do it in person! We will just wait downstairs and aid you in the culinary process."

"…I despise all of you a great deal."

Kisame waves good-bye at Itachi as Tobi ushers him out of the kitchen and up the staircase, quite unconcerned by his partner's proclamation. "Good luck!"

-

Itachi does not believe in the usage of profanity; unlike Hidan, he believes that vulgar language is the indication of a weak mind. However, he finds it within himself to curse his all of his fellow Akatsuki members to oblivion in three different languages – two of them ancient and long since obsolete – as he proceeds up the staircase and toward the kunoichi's room.

Once he arrives at his intended destination, he flattens himself against the wall directly opposite it, before flinging a shuriken at the door. It embeds itself in the solid oak with an echoing thud, and he has the satisfaction of hearing a startled shriek at the other end of the door.

Haruno Sakura flings said door open, looking ready to do battle. "You're the one who ran out of here crying after I said that your mother did a cow and that's how you were born, so that means I won fair and square – oh," she fairly squeaks, upon seeing exactly who she has the pleasure of addressing, and shrinks away. The Uchiha has regained some of his customary intimidation factor by donning his Akatsuki robes again, and besides, opening a door and finding herself face-to-face with the most deadly shinobi of her generation is something she is hardly used to. "…You're not Hidan."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, while mentally filing away the fact that Hidan seems to be susceptible to your mother jokes. "I should hope not."

It takes Sakura a few moments to recover, but it is a dignified recovery. She gestures at the shuriken that resides in her door angrily. "Is that how you knock?" She smirks at him. "I wouldn't have figured you for the type to have sensitive knuckles, Uchiha."

Normally, pithy retorts are his specialty, but at this moment, Itachi is unpleasantly surprised to find that rebuttals against insults directed toward the strength of his knuckles are not his area of expertise. "Do not make the mistake of flattering yourself, kunoichi – I have no doubt that I have more strength in one fist than you have in your entire body."

Sakura snorts humorlessly. "Yeah, of course, since your little sharky friend did me the favor of leeching all the chakra out of my body and you have all these fancy chakra-suppressing seals all over the doors. Under normal circumstances? I could probably give you a run for your money – or your Dior sunglasses, as it were."

Regardless of the chaos she has brought into his life during their limited acquaintance, Itachi is forced to admit that her confidence in her abilities is admirable. He would find it a lot more amusing if he had less faith in said abilities. "Apparently," he says, a little awkwardly. "It is lunchtime."

"Yeah, and if you try to give me some more of that clay ramen, I swear I'm going to cut my losses and run, regardless of the sunglasses."

Sakura tempers her words with a smile that actually isn't as menacing as the ones he has prior received at her hands. It is a nice smile, and the second that Itachi realizes that, he wonders if he should just run himself through with a kunai now, lest his mind get any more traitorous. "We don't want that," he says aloud. "And that is why I am preparing lunch this afternoon."

This time, Itachi reflects that a look of openmouthed horror is unflattering on anybody – even this fascinating medic-nin. "What?" Sakura croaks. "You – cook?"

The Uchiha frowns at the violence of her reaction. "Of course. We all do."

"And…you're…making lunch today?" she presses.

Itachi debates whether to be offended at her tone. "Yes." A heartbeat of silence. "I wish to know what you would prefer to eat."

Sakura gives him a highly skeptical look. "You're very thoughtful."

"Thank you." He has the sudden mental image of Tobi dancing around the kitchen, holding up a giant placard that reads "SUCCESS!"

"Anyway, I enjoy lightly grilled chicken bites served with slow-cooked noodles in hoisin sauce…"

Itachi blanches slightly. His mental image is overcome by Hidan, carrying a giant placard that reads, "OWNED, BITCH."

"…and if you have any lemonade, I'd rather have that than your stupid Vitamin Water…"

This time, Itachi envisions a dead Kisame, with a sad-face placard taped to his chest.

"But," Sakura adds, and Itachi returns to attention, mental images forgotten. She has a rather mischievous expression on her face, one that does not bode well for him. "If you're going to cook that, then I'm going to need another pen and some more memo paper."

"…Whyever so?"

"So I can write my last will and testament, of course."

This is said with an entirely straight face, and Itachi's last mental image comprises all of his teammates, lying flat on the floor with comical Xs over their eyes.

However, to the Uchiha prodigy, this statement – which would have passed for lighthearted banter in anybody more normal – is taken as a direct challenge to his culinary proficiency. And nobody, nobody challenges his proficiency in anything and lives to tell the tale.

Sakura steps back a pace, upon seeing Itachi's eyes narrow to thin slits. She laughs, a little nervously. "Sorry. I know how you feel about Vitamin Water. I probably shouldn't have insulted it – augh!"

Suddenly, she and Itachi are nose-to-nose – even though her nose only comes up to his throat – and she is almost backed up against the wall. Literally. His hands grip her elbows hard, and for all her bravado, Sakura is too surprised to do anything but utter a strangled squeak. "Sakura," Itachi says, his normally silky voice roughened by an unidentifiable emotion, and, irrationally, she realizes that this is the first time he has called her by name.

Her fingers are gripping the collar of his cloak, and she gasps as her back makes sudden contact with the wall. "What—"

She hadn't known it was even possible, but Itachi is even closer now, close enough that if she leaned a fraction of an inch closer, her lips would brush the strong line of his jaw. His voice slides over each syllable with a dangerous sort of precision. "I will," he says slowly, "concoct the best lightly grilled chicken bites served with slow-cooked noodles in hoisin sauce, that you have ever had in your entire life."

At this point, Sakura is too terrified to do anything but nod. She realizes, feeling somewhat horrified, that one of his purple-painted fingernails has drifted up to her face, and he brushes a stray strand of hair out of her eyes with surprising gentleness. "And," Itachi continues, his eyes never leaving hers. "I will personally ensure that Tobi squeezes the best lemons into your Vitamin Water."

"Okay," Sakura manages to squeak, wondering if it is, indeed, medically possible to die of fright.

In the next second, Itachi is gone, swirling out of the room and down the hallway, his customary menacing aura heightened to a whole new level. Sakura collapses onto the floor bonelessly.

-

Itachi is almost at the staircase when the splinter-laden shuriken almost connects with his neck; despite his single-minded focus on preparing lightly grilled chicken bites served with slow-cooked noodles in hoisin sauce – and figuring out what the hell hoisin sauce is – he still is in full possession of his customary agility. With one deft movement, the shuriken buries itself in the wall instead.

By the time he turns around, Sakura has dashed back into her room and locked it from the inside. "Take that, you creepy weirdo!" she yells, her voice muffled by distance and the heavy door.

Itachi stands, stock-still, for a full minute. Inexplicably enough, for the first time since he had turned two years of age, a little more than twenty years ago now, he is struck with a powerful urge to curl up in a ball and cry.

-

Deidara is lounging on the kitchen table, as usual eschewing the usage of perfectly serviceable chairs, when a noticeable spike in the aura of murderousness in the room alerts him as to the arrival of his favorite fellow member. "Oy! Uchiha's back, un!"

His smirk fades when he takes a good look at Itachi – despite the lack of Sharingan, the Uchiha prodigy looks a great deal more fearsome than usual. Hidan subtly crosses himself and mutters a prayer under his breath, Kisame immediately looks around for a calming bottle of Vitamin Water, Tobi hides beneath the table, and Deidara flinches, thinking that Itachi in a scary mood is definitely not artistic in the least.

"Kisame," Itachi says slowly, each word dripping poison. "I need you to go to the market and acquire chicken. Preferably, the type of chicken which is most conducive to being lightly grilled. Hidan. Find the only noodles that Deidara has not butchered with his excuse for ramen, and proceed to slow-cook it. Deidara. Bring me three lemons and one bottle of chilled Vitamin Water. And Tobi…" he hesitates momentarily, and Tobi peers up at him anxiously from under the table. "Please remove yourself from the shelter of the table, and inform me of what hoisin sauce is."

A few moments of dumbfounded silence comes after this formidable list of instructions.

"Kisame?" Deidara says, out of the corner of his mouth. "Record, un?"

Kisame nods grimly. "Definitely."

Itachi crosses his arms wordlessly.

Tobi rolls out from under the table, for once, correctly reading body language, and promptly dashes away from the kitchen. "Encyclopedia Of Culinary Goodness, here I come!"

"Now," Itachi drawls, "that is an efficient teammate."

"That hurts," pouts Kisame.

Hidan gives Itachi the evil eye. "Who died and made you the fucking Leader, little red-eye?"

Itachi advances on him, glowering menacingly. "Nobody has died…yet."

"Goddamn, fine, I'll get your fucking noodles," Hidan sulks, heading to the refrigerator.

Kisame salutes him with a fond look before disappearing, presumably in search for the chicken. "Little Itachi, all grown up and leading Akatsuki…"

Deidara fights the urge to vomit, as Itachi turns and fixes his expressionless gaze on him. The artist lifts his hands defensively. "I'm not picking from Zetsu's gardens myself, un. You're coming with."

Itachi sighs deeply. "…Fine."

-

In the end, it takes three hours of blood, sweat, and tears, to produce Sakura's plate of lightly grilled chicken bites served with slow-cooked noodles in hoisin sauce.

Itachi learns that using Ameterasu on a cut of chicken breast does not result in lightly grilled chicken bites; rather, severely charred chicken chunks. Hidan learns that slowly cooking noodles is a hell of a lot harder than it sounds. Deidara learns that Zetsu's lemon plants bite. Kisame learns that going to market when one is a seven-foot-tall blue shark-man is severely overrated.

And Tobi helps all of them learn that hoisin sauce is, actually, a Chinese dipping sauce made out of water, sugar, soybeans, white distilled vinegar, rice, salt, wheat flour, garlic, and red chili peppers, and several preservatives and coloring agents.

"Fuck," Hidan groans, from his place on the floor. "If I ever see a fucking noodle again, I will vomit."

Deidara shivers and trembles in the corner of the kitchen, throwing severely distressed looks at the glass of lemon-infused Vitamin Water that sits on the counter.

Tobi giggles and inhales the open bottle of hoisin sauce.

Kisame eats Frosted Flakes, trying his best to forget the horrors of being hit repeatedly by old ladies wielding umbrellas.

Itachi takes the steaming plate in one hand, the glass of vitamin-water-turned-lemonade in the other, and manages to balance everything perfectly, while regarding his teammates; all of whom have undergone various amounts of trauma in the past three hours, thanks to him. Then he mumbles something and then fairly runs up the stairs.

Kisame ceases to nurse his bruises, and looks up incredulously. "Did he say—"

"No way, un," Deidara mumbles wearily, while attempting to prevent his blood from dripping on Leader-sama's favorite rug.

-

This time, as Itachi's hands are full, he has to resort to kicking the door in order to inform Sakura of his presence.

She answers cautiously, fully aware that the last time she had spoken to this questionable man, she had thrown a shuriken at his head with murderous intent and called him a creepy weirdo.

Itachi holds the plate and glass out at her expressionlessly. "Lightly grilled chicken bites served with slow-cooked noodles in hoisin sauce, along with lemon-laced Vitamin Water."

Sakura tries her best not to stare, astonished, at the impeccably prepared plate of her favorite food. Remembering her manners, she reaches out and takes the plate and glass from him. "Thank you."

Itachi makes no move to leave; instead, he leans against the side of the doorframe, so that his ponytail slips over one shoulder, and continues to watch her. "…You should sample it," he says at last.

The kunoichi takes the food over to the chair and dresser, careful to keep her gaze on him, lest he pounce on her again. "Would you care to sit?" she asks, somewhat unaccustomed to being watched with an eagle eye while eating.

Itachi does not reply, and merely steps within the room and takes a seat on the bed, observing Sakura – when she is not castrating men with pens, or flinging shuriken at people's heads while insulting them, her manners are flawless. She takes a delicate bite of the noodles, chews them for nearly half a minute, and then swallows.

Sakura is obviously taking a page from his book, keeping her face carefully expressionless. But at last, she looks up at him and smiles. "It's good. And I can't taste any poison."

Itachi raises an eyebrow, rising to join her. "Good?"

Two can play that game, and instead of recoiling, Sakura takes a challenging step forward. "Acceptable."

Itachi matches her, toe-to-toe. "Really?"

His voice has taken on a slightly different tone, subtly laced with humor, and Sakura allows herself to think that if it were anybody else, she would suspect them of teasing her. "No," she relents. "It's actually quite excellent."

"I am glad you think so." Upon receiving what he came for, Itachi retreats to the doorway again. "By the way, if you taste any blood in the lemonade, it is just Deidara's. Luckily, idiocy is not transmitted by contact with bodily fluids, so you should be fine."

On that cryptic note, he disappears into the hallway again, leaving Sakura with a glass of suspicious lemonade, a delicious plate of lightly grilled chicken bites served with slow-cooked noodles in hoisin sauce – and feeling very, very puzzled.

-

When Itachi returns downstairs, he looks highly pleased with himself.

"Well?" Kisame demands.

"Well, what?" Itachi returns serenely, before taking his place in his favorite armchair.

Deidara flings a pillow at him. "You know what, un!"

"He's not fucking dead," Hidan interjects pragmatically. "So she must have at least thought it was passable."

"Actually," Itachi throws the pillow back at Deidara. "It was deemed…quite excellent."

Tobi cheers, setting aside the bottle of hoisin sauce. "Success!" He throws his arms around Itachi's leg and nuzzles his knee, much to his horror. "Step one has been completed!"

Itachi winces and attempts to extricate himself, in vain. "Thank you," he says at last.

These two words are addressed to the Tiffany lamp in the corner, and there are a few moments where Hidan, Kisame, Deidara, and Tobi all look around, confused. When they finally piece it together, there is much widespread rejoicing.

"Aww," Tobi coos. "See, Deidara-senpai, I told you that he really does love us!"

"Fuckin' A, it's a miracle," Hidan exults, clutching his handy Jashin-sama idol.

Deidara leans back, smirking. "Who started all of this, un? Yes, that's right, I did. So, Uchiha, when you decide to use your massive amounts of wealth to build a statue in my honor, get back to me then."

Itachi chooses not to reply to this witticism, instead tilting his head back to look at his partner. "Kisame, you are awfully quiet."

The shark-man looks up, and offers him a decidedly worrying smile. "Now that the groundwork has been set, I was just considering Phase Two."

"…Phase Two? There is a Phase Two?"

"Well, duh, un," Deidara frowns. "This is just the beginning."

Itachi buries his head in his hands, trying his level best to restrain himself from begging somebody to finish him off right here and now.

Discreetly, Deidara and Kisame exchange high-fives.

Feedback appreciated! :)