Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.
Special Thanks: goes out to rao hyuga 18, Guest, DSaph, kiti4life, k, and Ami1010 for your reviews! Also thanks to everyone who has added this story to their favorites and follows lists!
Author's Note: And after seven months, another chapter! I'm so, so sorry the waits for these chapters is so long. But this story has required so many rewrites, and my co-author (I adore working with her!) and I want to give you the best story we possibly can. We're going for quality instead of quantity, and though we hate making you all wait, we don't want to rush things. So I really hope this chapter was worth the wait, and thanks for reading!
*~Chapter XXIV~*
~Shock~
At the end of their first sparring session after the wedding, Itachi suddenly found himself staring at the callused sole of his younger brother's foot, poised a hairsbreadth from the tip of his nose. After a couple of seconds' worth of absolute shock, he carefully reached up to take hold of the appendage and fastidiously move it somewhat to one side.
"At least I have the courtesy always to aim for your temple," he commented mildly. "But seriously, Sasuke, you have to plant your foot in my nose?"
The look of fierce, focused concentration faded from Sasuke's face, to be replaced by one of mingled disbelief and wonder. Relaxing out of his arrested attack, he asked hesitantly, "Did I - just get you, older brother?"
Itachi smiled warmly. "You did indeed, younger brother." Grasping his sibling's forearm, he pulled him in for a quick, hard embrace. "Congratulations. You've been working very hard to improve your technique, and it shows."
Sasuke's expression glowed at the praise, even as he lifted one shoulder in a deprecating shrug. "Maybe married life is just making you soft," he countered teasingly.
Not married life, of which there isn't any; it's my illness that's slowing me down. Itachi kept that grim realization between his ears and off his face, though. Aloud he said lightly, "If that's the case, then you and Lady Hinata need to hurry up and get married so the playing field will be level again."
A dark look flickered through Sasuke's eyes, abruptly dimming the shine in them. Apprehension seized Itachi by the throat, making him ask more sharply than he intended, "Sasuke? What's wrong? I thought the whole reason the two of you entered into this was with marriage being the predetermined outcome?"
Sasuke paused for a long moment, visibly torn between conflicting urges. Then, heaving a deep sigh, he folded down onto the tatami and gestured for Itachi to do the same. "I didn't want to bother you with this while you were, you know, getting used to being married," he said in a low voice. "But since you've asked: Did you know that Gaara," he invested the name with an alarming harshness, "is courting Hinata? With her father's blessing?"
The breath whooshed from Itachi's lungs as though he'd taken a hard punch to the solar plexus. "I noticed how - interested - Gaara seemed to be in Hinata the couple of times I saw them around each other," he admitted slowly. "But this news about Lord Hiashi is totally unexpected. There are laws, though, protecting her as the Heiress of the Hyuuga. She cannot be forced by her father to abdicate her position and marry outside Konoha. Surely she knows that. Her father might do his best to make her home life a living hell; but miserable as that would be for her, gentle soul that she is, legally he can't do anything else." He cleared his throat before asking delicately, "What does Hinata have to say about the situation?"
Sasuke's lips twisted in a grimace of pain that went straight to Itachi's heart. "That if marrying Gaara would keep Konoha, and me, safe, she could be - content." Seemingly without being aware he did so, he rubbed the sleeve of his gi that covered his left forearm.
After a moment's hesitation, Itachi said quietly, "The dog attack. She thinks you were the intended target. Even though it might have been her."
His brother's black eyes met his, blazing with barely-controlled emotions. "Yes, that gods-blasted dog attack." He lightly pounded a fist on the tatami next to his knee. "I love her, big brother. And she loves me. I could see it in her eyes after I kissed her. I can't," his voice cracked slightly, "can't let her give up her life here in Konoha because she believes my courting her puts me in danger. I told her she belongs here, with me. But even if she's right and the attack was meant for me, how do I convince her, Itachi, she's worth any amount of danger, worth any risk, as long as we're together?"
My wife won't sleep with me. And you're asking me for advice? That was another thought Itachi kept unspoken. Ducking his head briefly to make sure no trace of the bitter truth escaped through his eyes, he finally said carefully, "I wish I could tell you an absolute, foolproof way, Sasuke. But I don't know that there is one. All I can say is, don't be afraid to let her know the depth of your feelings for her." He paused for a moment's further thought, then added, "And it couldn't hurt to point out that it's been almost a month now, with no other attempts on your life."
"There is that." Sasuke loosely clasped his hands together in his lap and studied them intently. "Do you think," he finally said slowly, "that it could have been just a crazy, random attack? From what Shikamaru and Shino have been able to dig up, the cult of Jashin was officially stamped out a long time ago. But maybe there's a stray devotee or two still wandering around, committing acts of violence like the dog attack, and killing Naruto's parents, to satisfy his twisted belief system."
Itachi heard in his brother's voice a longing for that to be true, so Hinata's fears could be put to rest. He wished for that, too. But, much as it hurt, he had to speak the truth as he felt it in his gut. He said reluctantly, "As I understood their report, the cult was all about causing as many deaths as possible to satisfy the bloodlust of the demon they worshipped. With that being the case, surely the dogs would have been released on the household staff either as they set up or broke down the pavilion for the picnic, instead of on a couple obviously under the watchful eye of a bodyguard. I don't understand how the two Jashin-related incidents are connected, but I feel it in my bones that, somehow, they are. And that those dogs were meant to injure or kill either you or Hinata." He briefly rested a gentle hand on Sasuke's knee. "I'm sorry, younger brother. I know it would be easier to be able to tell her it was just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. But in good conscience..." He let his voice trail off.
Sasuke sat very still for a long several minutes before his shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh. "I know, older brother," he said. "That's my gut feeling, too." He looked up with a crooked grin. "Sorry to unload on you, 'Tachi."
With a small, nostalgic smile, Itachi lifted his right hand, leaned slightly forward, and very lightly poked the grinning Sasuke, who sat perfectly still, in the forehead with his index and middle fingertips. "That's what older brothers are for," he said.
Sasuke's grin turned a little wistful. "I'm glad we got to spar today," he said. "I know we may not get to as often as we did before you got married, but I've missed our sessions."
"So have I," Itachi agreed; truthfully, yet at the same time wondering how long he'd be able to keep up these morning meetings, even if less frequently than before. Not only did he feel as tired as though he'd gone through more than the one albeit extended round; but although the brothers practiced light contact sparring, with the emphasis on precision and control, he was acutely aware of the unaccustomed hot soreness of bruises stiffening under the concealing fabric of his gi. "I wish we had time for a rematch so I can get you back," Sasuke puffed a mock-scornful laugh, prompting Itachi to try, and fail, to look stern, "but I've got meetings the rest of the day. How about you? Will you see Hinata at some point?"
"Not today. Instead," Itachi saw the effort the younger man put into an obvious attempt to sound nonchalant, "I've got to get started studying."
His brows shot up. "Studying? May I ask what?"
Sasuke's excitement broke through his shining black eyes and washed over his face. "Just the course material for cadets at the Uchiha Police Academy."
"What-? How-?" Itachi's voice broke in astonishment. Has Father relented about training Sasuke to be the future chief of the police force? He couldn't bring himself to utter the thought outloud, even though he felt the surmise hanging in the air between them.
"Nobuo-sensei," came the equally unexpected reply. The look in Sasuke's eyes went distant, as if he were reliving it. "After I scored a hit on him in two consecutive matches - this was while you were still on your honeymoon - he showed up at my door with the materials and gave them to me. He didn't say anything; just handed everything over, kinda tilted his head at me, and left. He also gave me a link where I can submit my exams to him directly for grading."
Leaning forward, Itachi hooked one hand behind his brother's neck and gave him a quick, congratulatory shake. "I am so proud of you, Sasuke! Didn't I tell you you'd earn his respect?"
Only later, as he bathed and changed clothes in preparation for the rest of his day, did it occur to Itachi to wonder if Mikoto might be complicit in getting Sasuke the training he deserved. As he assumed more duties within the clan, it hadn't taken Itachi long to realize his mother wielded a good deal of influence beyond her own domestic obligations over what went on inside it. If she disagreed with her husband's assessment of their younger son's ability to assume his own destined role within the Uchiha, he could readily believe her capable of taking steps to rectify the situation.
As he tucked his laptop under his arm prior to leaving the empty suite, he chuckled softly under his breath. Today was the day Temari was to receive her own duties within the household. Perhaps, he thought whimsically, along with the more mundane matters like the differences between running the Uchiha household as opposed to the Sabaku, his mother would be instructing his bride in the subtleties of managing their Uchiha menfolk.
He had no doubt Mikoto would find in Temari a very apt pupil.
When Itachi returned to their rooms early in the evening, he found Temari sitting slumped in one of the two low chairs in the corner of the living area, looking utterly worn out. Even her spiky ponytails looked, he thought, frazzled. Setting his laptop on the low table he used as a desk, he quickly crossed to stand in front of her and bend over her slightly.
"Temari?" he queried quietly, lightly touching one of her lax hands where it rested on the arm of the chair.
Her eyelids slowly lifted, and he nearly quailed at the baleful expression in her turquoise eyes. As she glared at him, her taut lips relaxed enough for her to say, with great precision, "Your mother is about as subtle as a sledgehammer."
He blinked down at her, bewildered by her pronouncement. "My - what? Didn't you and Mother spend the day going over household procedures and such, divvying up areas of responsibility?"
"No. Oh, no. Nothing so simple." Temari's voice took on a growling note. "Do you know where Lady Mikoto has assigned me to work for the next several months?" She swept on without giving him a chance to respond. "In the daycare facility for the children of the staff who work in the main house during the day. With lots, and lots, and lots of pretty Uchiha babies and toddlers."
Giving in to his nearly uncontrollable urge to laugh would not, he sensed, be a good idea. Sinking down into the other chair, he said uncertainly, "I'm - sorry?"
She flashed him a suspicious look. "So, you didn't know what your mother had planned?"
Itachi lifted placating hands. "No, I swear I had no idea. Certainly not that she, er-"
"-Would make it flagrantly clear that she wants to be a grandmother?" Temari snapped acerbically.
Feeling impelled to defend his mother, Itachi said as reasonably as he could, "She's only anticipating what should happen in the normal course of things." He almost instantly regretted his words, however, when Temari's expression went flat and closed.
"As in, if I were a proper wife to you, you mean." Her tone was brittle as thin ice. She gripped the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles went white. "I - know - you're being very patient with me- And I do appreciate it-"
"'Mari." He desperately wished he could reach over and take her hands in his, smooth away the tension in them with the gentleness of his touch. Remembering his conversation with Sasuke that very morning, he met her gaze openly, laying his heart out for her to read if she wanted to do so. "I didn't mean it that way," he said very quietly. "It wasn't my intention to try to get a dig in at you. I understand why you're holding yourself from me. I understand you need time to learn to trust and, hopefully, come to love me. I'm willing to wait for however long that takes." As he spoke he resolutely ignored the clock of his life ticking away in the back of his mind.
Temari's eyes widened slightly as she returned his gaze, an unaccustomed vulnerability coming into hers. Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue darting in a moisturizing pass across them-
-Just as a soft knock sounded at their door. She visibly startled, bright color rushing into her cheeks.
"That's, ah, probably our dinner," she blurted out. "I didn't feel up to facing Lady Mikoto across the dinner table; didn't know if I could keep from saying something - impolite - to her. I hope that was okay?"
Ordinarily, on a day-to-day basis, members of the main house Uchiha were discouraged from taking advantage of their positions and causing extra work for the staff. But since one: he and Temari were still newlyweds; and two: Mikoto, along with probably the entire kitchen staff and who knew who else, very likely thought they were planning a cozy evening of working on engendering a pretty Uchiha baby of their own, Itachi very much doubted anything would be said to either of them.
When he went to the door to accept their dinner tray from a young woman, whose hair was tidily covered by a kitchen worker's white kerchief, the tiny, not-quite-suppressed grin on her face only confirmed his suspicions.
During their meal Itachi managed to draw out of Temari some of the details on how her day had truly gone. They were laughing over one particular incident, in which a toddler had decided to fingerpaint a funny face on her sleeping brother's diapered bottom, when she abruptly broke off with a muffled exclamation. Leaning sharply forward, she caught his right wrist in her left hand and pushed the cuff of his sleeve a little higher with her thumb. "Itachi! Is that a bruise?" she demanded.
Oh, crap. Resisting the urge to yank his sleeve down again, Itachi glanced at the large red, purple, and black mark, then lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Sasuke and I met for a sparring session this morning. Even though we employ light contact, inadvertently blocking bone on bone isn't a good idea."
"This came from light contact?" Temari looked and sounded horrified.
Glad for once his wife would have no opportunity in the near future to see the patchwork of bruising on the rest of his body - another reminder of his progressing illness - Itachi crookedly grinned in what he hoped was an endearing fashion. "Well, we are Uchiha, and brothers. We might occasionally get a little - overenthusiastic. This is the exception rather than the rule. We know our distances."
Muttering something that sounded a lot like "Men are such idiots!" under her breath, Temari released his wrist and returned to her meal.
Later, after dinner, Itachi and Temari played their usual game of shougi before retiring for the evening. Though not nearly as experienced a player as Noriyuki, her game showed steady improvement, at times even presenting a real challenge to Itachi. Tonight, though, her fatigue showed in her play, resulting in a shorter than normal game.
"Sorry," she said around a wide yawn as she helped Itachi stow the pieces in their box, "but those kids really took it out of me today."
"No need to apologize," he said. Standing, he extended a hand to help her to her feet, which she accepted. "I'll be quick about my routine so you can get to bed sooner."
He hurried through his bath, then quickly gathered up the bedding he'd need for the night. As they passed in the doorway, Temari laid a hand on Itachi's arm, causing him to pause and look a question at her. "Thanks, Itachi," she said, her expression verging on being uncomfortable. Taking in a sudden deep breath, she stretched up and lightly touched her lips to his cheek. "I - really do like you, you know," she added all in a rush. Blushing deeply, she stepped fully into the bedroom and hastily closed the door between them.
Itachi stood, thunderstruck, for a long moment, staring at the rice paper panel separating him from his wife. Hope blazed up within him as, with a silly little grin plastered across his face, he made up his futon as usual. This was the first time since she'd awkwardly hugged him the evening after that disastrous picnic that she'd initiated such contact with him; and it made his heart soar. He settled himself to sleep, which was a long time coming as he tried to discipline his unruly, but thoroughly natural, thoughts.
He woke what felt like only a short time later. His eyes snapped open on darkness, his senses on high alert. He was sure he'd heard movement somewhere in the suite. Was that Temari? He raised up onto an elbow, listening intently through the muted murmuring of his blood pulsing in his ears for a repetition: for the soft scuff of a bare foot on the tatami, or the door to the necessary whispering shut. . .
A muffled scream from the bedroom shattered the silence of the night, closely followed by the sound of a short, sharp scuffle and a man's snarled curse. Reacting on pure, adrenaline-fueled instinct, Itachi leapt to his feet and across the room in what felt like a single heartbeat. Stars swam in front of his eyes from his sudden change in altitude. Blinking them away, he ripped open the shouji between the living area and the bedroom. He lunged for the low bed, sensing more than seeing the dark, half-crouching figure swinging around to meet his rush.
Something about the man's movement sent a subliminal clue to Itachi, alerting him in time to dodge the wicked slice of a knife. Tracking the hissing swish as it cut the air from left to right toward his midriff, he stepped forward in an attack of his own. He grabbed hold of his opponent's wrist with his left hand, catching him above the elbow with the crook of his arm as he bore down in a joint lock.
But even as the guttural sound of the man's grunt combined with the muted thump of his knife hitting the tatami matting, the unknown assailant launched a counterattack: pivoting in toward Itachi he launched a somewhat foreshortened punch to Itachi's right kidney, then repeated the blow. As Itachi gasped and doubled over, he lost his hold on his opponent's right arm, which quickly grabbed him in a chokehold. An instant later, he felt himself pulled in closer and a hoarse whisper sounded in his ear - "If you're not interested in the little woman, maybe next time I'll help myself to her" - before a shove sent him sprawling down backwards to land on top of Temari, who went "Oomph!" There was a brief scrabbling sound across the tatami as he retrieved his knife. Then his retreating footsteps thudded away, toward the window. For one second, maybe two, the intruder's silhouette showed black and solid against the softer darkness of the night beyond-
-And then he was gone.
Gasping, in pain, but furiously determined to give chase, Itachi rolled onto his hands and knees on the bed, only vaguely aware of his wife squirming beneath him. Scrambling to his feet, he half-ran, half-staggered toward the window. He actually had his hands on the frame ready to vault out when a light snapped on behind him, effectively destroying his night vision, as Temari said sharply, "Itachi, don't! He's armed and you aren't."
Swallowing back a growl of frustration, he turned back into the room, guilt over not immediately thinking to check on Temari's welfare belatedly piercing through the fight impulses coursing along his nerves and arteries. Standing as straight as he could, he approached the bed where his wife was pushing herself upright. His eyes went directly to a splatter of red across the upper edge of her sleep top, and the skin showing above it.
All thoughts of pursuing the intruder vanished as he hurried the last few steps, exclaiming, "Temari! You're bleeding!" Dropping onto the edge of the bed he reached for her anxiously, eyes searching for the source of the blood.
Not unkindly, she batted his hands away. "It's his, not mine," she said impatiently. She gestured to one side, where a pair of bladed fans lay next to her. "I think I managed to get him across the cheek. -You've got blood on your yukata, too," she added quite prosaically.
"You sleep with bladed fans?" Itachi blankly blurted out the first thought that came into his head. He didn't know whether to feel hurt, or offended, or both.
Temari's cheeks pinked. "Not because I'm afraid of you," she said hastily. "It's - just a habit I got into when I was a kid."
And you had to protect your younger brother from your father. Itachi gave himself a little shake. "Thank all the good spirits and ancestors you do," he murmured, unable to forbear from asking again, "You're sure you're all right?"
"Mostly." Glancing down at herself, she paled and swallowed convulsively. "If it's all the same to you, I think I want to get his blood off me, though, and put this top to soak." Throwing her covers back, she broke abruptly for the other side of the bed, the one closer to the washroom. "Hand your yukata around the corner when you've changed, I'll put it to soak, too," she tossed over her shoulder. "And d'you think you should call the guards?"
Probably, Itachi thought as he hastily stripped off his soiled garment and replaced it with a clean one. But a gut-deep sense of unease kept him from doing so - which was crazy, considering. And how was he going to explain to Temari why he hadn't?
The decision was taken out of his hands when a heavy knock sounded on the frame of the door giving onto the verandah. Temari, scrubbed and wearing a fresh top, bounced out of the bathing room. "Is that the guard?" she queried.
"No," Itachi said slowly as the knock came again, even more emphatically. "I think it's Father." And what is he doing at our door at this hour, unless- He swung around and swiftly moved to take his wife's shoulders in a light but urgent grip. "Temari," he spoke hurriedly in a low, earnest voice, "I don't have time to explain, but can you trust me enough to follow my lead and say nothing about our intruder unless I do?"
Temari gave him a look compounded of suspicion and curiosity before jerking her chin once in the affirmative. As he gave her a grateful nod and started to turn away, a call of "Itachi!" accompanied by several harder raps penetrated to them. A sudden look of alarm flashed across her face, and she caught at his arm.
"Itachi!" she hissed under her breath. "The futon! If he sees it-"
He briefly covered her hand with his own and pressed it reassuringly. "No time to do anything about it now, love," he said, the endearment slipping past his lips so naturally he barely registered it. "Maybe - you had better stay in here." Unconsciously standing straighter for the confrontation to come, Itachi went into the living room. Just as he reached to switch on a light, the outer door slammed open and the overhead light flashed on. His father strode commandingly to the center of the room, and halted.
One glance at Fugaku told Itachi his father was in a towering temper, even though the older man was making an effort to hide it. He didn't miss the squinting, half-second flicker of his father's eyes to where his abandoned bedding lay, confirming his suspicions: Fugaku already knew about their separate sleeping arrangements and had come to see the truth of it for himself. Steadying his nerves, he arched one brow and said dryly, "Yes, Father?"
Fugaku's dark brown eyes bored into Itachi's. His fingers flexed ever so slightly, as though he were struggling to keep them from clenching into fists. "A couple of guards thought they saw a dark figure skulking around in the gardens," he said abruptly. "I wanted you to be aware of the situation so you could be on the alert. Though it seems you were already up."
"Yes." Itachi refused to act nervous, or embarrassed, or in any way discomposed. And to his faint surprise his strategy seemed to have an effect on his father, who seemed somewhat uncertain of how to proceed.
"So everything's okay here? Nobody's - sick, or anything?" Fugaku's gaze darted past him just as Itachi sensed Temari's presence behind his left shoulder. He felt his first stab of apprehension. He wanted desperately to turn and shut her into the bedroom, away from the explosion he was sure was only seconds away.
"We're both fine," he responded, maintaining his outward air of calm even as his abdominal muscles tightened. He added with perfect courtesy, "Though we thank you for asking." Go back, Temari, please go back-
The attack came, as suddenly as a snake striking. Fugaku jabbed an accusing finger at the futon and demanded harshly, "Then what is that?"
Itachi heard Temari's soft intake of breath even as he halfway expected the bedding to burst into flames. It cost him not to react, but he said evenly, "That is a futon, where I sleep."
Fugaku's face, already flushed, turning an alarming shade of red. "Don't get smart with me! Where - you - sleep." He spaced the words out, giving them the force of physical blows. His heavy shoulders hunched and now his hands did clench into fists. "Are you saying," his voice came out in a grating roar, "you have never done your duty to your clan and slept with your wife?"
Itachi met his father's glare squarely. "That is exactly what I'm saying," he said quietly.
The older man's burning gaze went past him again, centering on Temari, whose trembling Itachi could feel across the small space separating them. Lips twisting in a sneer, Fugaku growled contemptuously, "Are you a man, or not? Just take her, and be done with it. She'll get used to it soon enough."
Behind him, Temari audibly gasped. Deep within Itachi a previously unsuspected, primitive part of him leapt up, roaring, Yes! Yes! Finally, mine! Shamed and shaken, feeling somehow soiled, he ruthlessly suppressed the beast, sealing it away. Very much aware of Temari at his shoulder, he said with cold, deadly precision, "Surely I mistook your meaning, Father. Are you ordering me to rape my wife?" Angrier than he'd ever felt in his life, he went on, "That will not happen. You arranged this marriage for us. You even set our wedding date. But in this you have no say. This you cannot control. Temari and I will consummate our marriage when we both decide the time is right."
A vein throbbed over one of Fugaku's temples. He ground out, "You have a duty to this clan-"
Itachi cut him off. "A duty that will be fulfilled at a time of our own choosing. Not yours. The subject is closed."
Scowling fiercely, Fugaku uttered a harsh crack of laughter. "Oh, it's far from being that, boy. You're not the head of this clan yet. Just keep in mind that a childless heir is no heir at all. You have a brother who can take your place." He stomped toward the outer door and through it, not bothering to close it behind him.
Itachi stared after his father for a long, long moment, fury and a powerful urge to break something - anything! - surging around inside him. Childless or not, I'm never going to be the head of this clan. Sasuke will be anyway. He thought about hurling those words after Fugaku. A short-lived sense of bitter satisfaction at the knowledge of his own impending death joined the tumult of emotions making him shake and feel sick to his stomach.
A muffled sob from Temari brought him back to himself. Turning, he swiftly took in the stricken expression on her ashen, tear-streaked face; how she shook from head to foot; the way she had one arm clamped around her diaphragm as she covered her mouth with her other hand. Meeting his eyes with difficulty, she stammered past her fingers, "I-t-t-achi, I am s-s-so s-s-sorry! He's as m-m-much a b-beast as m-my own father was. This is all m-my f-f-fault-"
Reaching out, Itachi carefully gathered her into his arms and cherished her against him. "Your fault my father is an overbearing control freak? I don't think so." He tried to make his tone as light and soothing as possible. Bending his head to rest his cheek on top of her head, he added, "He's not going to go straight out and disinherit me, you know, although he might want us to think so. He's just furious because things aren't going exactly the way he wants them to go."
She shivered quietly within his gentle hold for several long minutes, before taking her hand away from her mouth to ask, "But why does it matter so much to him that we haven't - slept - together yet? Didn't his reaction seem a little - extreme?"
Her question verged on dangerous ground, making Itachi wonder just exactly what he should - or shouldn't - tell her. "I don't know how it is in Suna," he replied, "but in Konoha, if a marriage isn't consummated, it can be annulled, be it days, weeks, or months later, as long as the wife proves she's still a virgin. If you were to decide you'd rather go back to your home village to live than be my wife, Father would lose a lot of face. And for a man of his temperament and position within the village, that would be very damaging."
"Oh." He sensed her thinking that over as her trembling gradually eased. At last she sighed deeply, her warm breath finding its way between the overlapping panels of his yukata to caress his skin. As he fought down a shiver of his own, she murmured, "Not to mention what it would do to your reputation. I won't do that to you, Itachi. I promise I won't." She lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "You called me 'love' earlier," she said, sounding more than a little nervous and uncertain.
Itachi smiled down at her tenderly, loosening his hold so she could pull away if she wanted to do so. "So I did," he agreed easily. "And so you are. Does that frighten you?"
"No." Her denial was instant, but she followed it up with, "A little uncomfortable, maybe, because I just can't honestly say it back to you. As I told you earlier this evening, I do like you - I like you a lot. Maybe I'm even getting - close - to loving you. But for now I-" She broke off.
"It's all right. I'll wait the rest of my life for you if that's what it takes." Itachi wondered for a brief second if it would be breaking his vow if he brushed a light kiss onto her forehead; decided regretfully that he'd better not take the chance. "One thing I can tell you, though," he said as he gently set her away from him. "Our sleeping arrangements are going to have to change slightly." And as her forehead puckered very slightly, "I'm not taking any chances. I'm sleeping under the bedroom window from now on. And if I snore too loudly," he went on in a teasing tone, "you can chuck one of your bladed fans at me."
Temari gave him a long, considering look, which Itachi returned steadfastly. Finally her lips twitched. "Don't think I won't," she said tartly. She stepped back, adding, "I'll go rinse my top and your yukata and hang them to dry while you move your futon."
All the time he shifted his bedding, not neglecting to lay a naked katana next to his new sleeping place, and long after he and Temari had settled again, Itachi heard that lewd whisper, "...next time I might help myself..." echoing in the back of his mind.
*~To Be Continued~*
Author's Ending Notes: And another seven months go by before another update... I'm so sorry! But this story has required such a massive amount of rewrites, my co-author (I adore working with her!) and I literally discuss every last little detail before we set fingers to keyboard. We hate making you all wait so long between chapters, but we're going for quality instead of quantity, and we want to make sure we present to you the best story we possibly can. Thank you all so much for your patience, we hope this chapter was worth the wait, and thanks for reading!