Part 3:

"As punctual as always, Itachi-san."

Sarcasm. It was the first thing Sasuke noted about this Orochimaru person. Instantly, he did not like him. Not because of what he said, although that didn't help his case, but it was the way he looked at Itachi that made Sasuke uncomfortable even as a bystander.

Orochimaru looked at Itachi like he was a slab of meat on a chopping block. Like a lion looks at its prey. However, Itachi was in any position, but that of a prey.

In fact, Sasuke admired how the man's countenance remained blank as a piece of paper, an oddity compared to the myriad of emotions Sasuke knew he was able to exude in his presence.

No wonder Itachi didn't want to come here. Had Sasuke known, he would have easily deleted the appointment from his boss's calendar.

"Who's this lovely boy behind you?" Orochimaru hissed, casting a glance over Itachi's shoulder. "A little too young for you, isn't he?"

If Sasuke was too young for Itachi, whatever that meant, then the transference of the same gaze to him or rather to his entire body, was incredibly hypocritical.

The boy inwardly shuddered.

He jumped slightly when Itachi turned in his direction, lowering his voice to speak with him while simultaneously ignoring the man sitting at the round dining table.

"I came. I did my job. Are you happy now? Can we go?"

It almost sounded like the older man was whining. Sasuke bit his lip. How incredibly cute.

He found himself nodding. "Absolutely."

They stepped back into the elevator wordlessly, leaving behind a sneering man.

"Why did you have to meet with him in the first place?" Sasuke asked as soon as the doors closed with a ding.

"The board wanted to hear his proposal of a merger. I was designated the martyr."

Sasuke snorted. "Definitely a martyr. He was creepy."

He found something heavy on top of his head and turned to look at Itachi. It was his hand. He found himself ducking as his spikes were ruffled, a pout forming on his lips.

"What?" He whined as the palm slid off his head and he began rearranging his hair, missing the slight twitch of Itachi's lips.

"Nothing," Itachi said. "Just make sure you walk in the other direction if you ever see him at the company or anywhere."

"You don't have to tell me that," Sasuke muttered. "No, thank you to that man."

The doors dinged again, opening to the garage. "Come," Itachi said. "I'll drive you home."

Itachi had taken his car this time instead of having Deidara chauffeur, and Sasuke found himself in the passenger seat.

It was a little past six, rush hour, and they sat at every single red light through the district. Sasuke didn't mind though, humming underneath his breath as he looked out the window at the bright lights and billboards.

It didn't matter to him that his boss was the person next to him in the driver's seat, that he was as carefree as he was calm, nor that he'd only known Itachi for about two weeks. Everything just seemed… right. He couldn't explain where it came from or why, but somehow his gut was telling him that he'd be okay right here next to the man.

Another fifteen minutes passed before Itachi pulled up to the curb. Outside it: Sasuke's apartment. It was located on the second floor of a two story complex. Two rows of four apartments each lined up facing one another, separated by a meadow and garden, while one of those two buildings had a second story attached to it. A balcony lined the top row, connected at the center by a flight of stairs.

Sasuke lived on the second story in the apartment at the very end. The right one to be exact.

He didn't realize at the time that, without him giving Itachi directions or telling him his address, the man was able to get him there without making one wrong turn… or using the GPS system.

He turned in his seat, shooting the man a small smile. "Thanks for dropping me off, Itachi."

"Of course, Sasuke," the older man replied. His hand shot out to ruffle Sasuke's hair again and this time, instead of pouting, his smile stretched into a grin.

"You're a weird one, you know that?"

Itachi's brow arched up, looking as if it was chastising him. "Is that any way to talk to your boss?"

"You're my friend, too," Sasuke replied cheekily, eyes crinkling.

"And you're a brat," Itachi muttered, a full smile blossoming on his lips.

Sasuke's laughter rang in the car. "Thanks again for the ride. Have a good night."

"Make sure you lock your windows and doors, Sasuke."

"Yessir." The boy grinned and stepped out the car, waving before he shut the door, hopped onto the grass, and began climbing the stairs.

As he fished out his keys, Sasuke noticed that the man was still parked by the curb, staring up in his direction. He waved again with another grin before he opened his door and locked it behind him.

H.J.

Watching Sasuke walk away from him at the end of every single day cut Itachi's heart to pieces. It didn't hurt any less no matter how many days he experienced the same thing. In fact, each time was worse than the last. He knew what to expect, but it cut deeper and deeper with each breathing second that sometimes it felt like his lungs were swimming with water.

His hands tightened on the wheel as he watched his Otouto turn his back on him, climb the stairs, and close the door behind him.

He was gone. Just like that.

Itachi could not get himself to put his vehicle in drive. Instead, he sat there as if he was in a coma, eyes staring at the warm, orange light streaming through Sasuke's closed blinds. Every time he caught a flicker of his Otouto's silhouette, his eyes trailed after it obsessively until it disappeared again.

He didn't know how long he sat in his car, but it never felt too long because watching Sasuke was like a moment of bliss.

It didn't take many brain cells for Itachi to understand how desperate he was. He would do anything to bathe in his Otouto's presence a little longer, even if the distance between them was two hundred feet away and separated by a door.

At some point, he must have dozed off, comforted by Sasuke's nearby presence, when he was jolted awake by a knock on the passenger side window. When he glanced over, he was greeted with a small smile.

"You haven't left yet?" His Otouto asked, tilting his head curiously.

"I…"

I don't want to leave you.

Itachi opened his mouth to respond, but paused and closed it again. He had such a hard time getting any words out of his mouth, and it seemed like the boy had taken pity on him, judging by his slight smile.

It didn't appear as though Sasuke thought he was a creep for lurking around. A glance at the time notified him that he'd been parked there for the last half hour.

"Did you want to come in? I'm making dinner," Sasuke offered, the same smile still firm on his features.

"Yes," Itachi breathed without hesitation. In fact, he immediately turned off his ignition and was at Sasuke's side in seconds.

"I'm almost done with dinner," Sasuke began as he climbed the stairs. Itachi was close behind. "Did you want to wash up or something while you wait?"

"Okay," Itachi said as if his vocabulary had been replaced by a two-year-old's.

When he stepped inside, Itachi noticed that he was in the living room, which was attached to the kitchen. There were two doors in sight, one to the left of the room while the other was on the right.

Sasuke walked toward the door directly in front of them and opened it and Itachi followed, nearly bumping into the boy when he stopped to open a closet door to grab something.

He took that moment to glance around the new room he entered, and he immediately knew that it was the master bedroom. There was a large bed, a nightstand, a TV propped on a stand, and a desk, which sat in the corner.

To his right, the glowing light and steam from a recently used shower filtered into the room.

His curious gaze returned to his Otouto when something brushed against his arm.

"Oh," Itachi mumbled, staring down at the towel in front of him. "I can shower here?" he asked stupidly.

He looked up into Sasuke's eyes, which were brimming with amusement. "Yeah, why not? You look like you're tired of being in that suit."

Gingerly, he grabbed the towel from his Otouto, his fingers slightly brushing against Sasuke's. Itachi shuddered slightly, the warmth of the boy's fingers seeping into his.

Sasuke turned his back on him again, reaching back inside his closet. "I've got some extra clothes here," Itachi heard his muffled voice say. "I can lend them to you. They should be able to fit you."

Itachi's arms were stuffed with some clothes, which he hung onto listlessly. His attention was focused solely on his Otouto, who smiled sweetly at him.

He found himself smiling back. "Thank you," he whispered, heart warming to an impossible degree as he stood within the hearth of Sasuke's life.

"Of course," Sasuke grinned. "Consider it a thank you for all those lunches you pay for for me."

Needless to say, Itachi thoroughly scoured the bathroom he was in: the medicine cabinet, the cabinet under the sink, and the body wash and shampoos that lined the sill above the bathtub.

He pressed the towel and clothing against his nose, breathing the scent in deeply. Itachi's heart rate accelerated, a sense of euphoria washing over him. This was, quite possibly, the closest he had ever felt to Sasuke in the last two weeks since the boy walked into his life.

"Otouto," he whispered, nuzzling into the articles of clothing.

When he was done showering, Itachi stepped out with the towel over his shoulders. He finally took a moment to inspect the clothing Sasuke had given him.

When he lifted the borrowed shirt in the air, a frown grew permanent on his countenance. Where did his Otouto get such a large shirt?

It was definitely not the boy's size. In fact, Itachi surmised that it would go all the way down to his knees if he were to put it on. His Otouto should not have owned any clothing that big.

So Itachi refused to wear it, but he did pull on the stretchy pair of sweats that were given to him. They hugged his muscular thighs like his workout tights, but it fit so he didn't mind.

That's how he stepped out of the bedroom, naked waist up as he toweled off his hair. He went in search of his Otouto, spotting him setting a low-rise table in the living room.

"Sasuke," he called, causing the boy to swerve around. He finally got a good look at his Otouto, and his frown continued to grow heavier on his face.

He hadn't noticed earlier, because he was stunned stupid for being invited in, but now that he got a good look at his Otouto, his gaze lingered on his choice of clothing.

Sasuke wore a large navy sweatshirt, which draped down mid-thigh. Underneath, he wore a pair of matching shorts, which were peeping out from underneath the top.

"Whose clothes are those?" Itachi said, his voice low. He couldn't keep the growl from slipping into his tone. He didn't even think to curb his words. He couldn't not ask. He needed to know.

His Otouto tilted his head, looking at him oddly. "They're my clothes," he said. "Is something wrong?"

"They don't look like yours. Why are your clothes so big?"

Sasuke blinked, surprised, before he smiled sheepishly. "Since before I can remember, I've always bought myself really big shirts and sweatshirts to wear at home. I don't know why. I guess I just like them and find them comforting."

Itachi stared for another second, the reasoning entering his brain, before the tension in his body began to ebb away. "Oh."

"Yup. Aren't you cold? Did the shirt I gave you not fit?" His eyebrows furrowed cutely. "Your hair's still wet, too. I left the dryer on the sink counter for you."

Subconsciously, Itachi lifted his arm to continue to towel dry his long hair, which had cascaded over his shoulders, hiding a smile from Sasuke's nagging. Some things never change.

"You have a lot of tattoos."

Itachi looked up at Sasuke through his wet hair, bicep flexed mid-air as he did his deed. His Otouto was staring at his upper body, the part he left unclothed because he freaked out and thought that it was clothing left behind by an ex-lover.

Sure enough, beginning just shy of his wrists were tattoos, which wrapped up his arm and cascaded up his bicep, covered by his long hair. In fact, both biceps and shoulders were covered in dark ink. Some were shaded while others were not, but the commonality was that they were all black in color. Not a speck of colored ink other than black was present.

"Yeah," he mumbled. How was he supposed to tell his Otouto that, each tattoo on his body, symbolized a moment in his lifetime he felt so much agonizing pain that he wanted to drink himself to death?

But he couldn't touch alcohol because he had promised. Maybe not in this lifetime, but if he knew his Otouto, that part of him would not change. So he replaced it with memories of them, embedded in the tattoos that littered his body. His chest and torso remained blank, but his upper back was filled to the brim with intertwining images…. snippets of Itachi's beloved memories.

"Do you hate them?" He asked, looking over the boy's head and refusing to make eye contact. Silently, Itachi gritted his teeth, preparing for his Otouto to tell him that they looked awful on him, that he hated them and wished he'd never done such a thing to his body. Maybe Sasuke would be turned off and think he was somehow affiliated with the yakuza or something. If his tattoos were the reason Sasuke would never touch him, then he'd shoot himself… or get laser surgery to remove them.

Fuck. He hadn't stopped to consider whether his Otouto would like him inked or not. He screwed up.

"They look cool," Sasuke responded, grinning cheekily as the next words came out of his mouth. "Very suiting, I think. Is that why you wear your suit properly all day?"

Itachi huffed a breath, out of relief and amusement at the same time. Of course Sasuke wouldn't judge him based on what he looked like. What was he thinking?

"I wear my suit because it's company attire," Itachi said. "And it looks good."

"Mhmm," his Otouto hummed. "But I think you look good like that, too," Sasuke said, waving a palm at Itachi's current state.

"Half-naked?" Itachi inquired, a smirk curving its way onto his lips. The boy's eyebrows shot up, and he consequently blushed and looked away.

So fucking adorable.

"I meant comfortable," Sasuke muttered petulantly, rearranging the chopsticks at the table before he plopped himself down. "Are you ready to eat? I made unagi, miso, some side dishes, and rice."

"That sounds lovely. Thank you."

They sat side-by-side, sharing an intimate form of domesticity that made Itachi feel warm inside. His Otouto was a great cook, as always, and every bite of food he had shot streaks of electricity through him in the form of nostalgia.

"Do you always walk around half naked in your house, Itachi? I mean, I don't mind, but aren't you cold?"

Itachi choked on the rice he was in the middle of swallowing, setting his bowl and chopsticks down as he coughed twice. "What?" he rasped, staring at the boy with slightly widened eyes.

Sasuke regarded Itachi with a mulling stare for a second before he gestured to the man's rippling muscles as he moved to sit back. It was one thing for him to say something, but it was surprising when Sasuke pointed it out.

"Why do you want to know how much clothing I wear in my own house?" he asked, clearing his voice when he croaked slightly. But he said he didn't mind, his brain whispered as an afterthought.

Sasuke looked at him weirdly. "Are you like one of those people who always walks around their house naked? Is that why you choked on your food when I asked?"

Ha. Honestly. Itachi didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Besides, he only walked around naked during and after sex with Sasuke. He didn't walk around all day in a birthday suit unless he was fucking his Otouto throughout the house. His precious Otouto would realize that soon.

"What are you asking me, Sasuke?" Itachi responded, flabbergasted. "Is this how you normally talk to people?"

Sasuke's face twisted cutely. "Of course not. I only asked because of the way you looked. What I mean is you look like you're at home," his Otouto said with a shrug, gesturing at Itachi's relaxed posture on the couch. "You use your chopsticks, that you put in your mouth by the way, to put food in my bowl. You walk around half naked like it's a normal thing to do. You lounge on my couch like you're at home. It doesn't help that you look super comfy in those sweats."

Itachi couldn't tell if Sasuke was bullshitting him or teasing him…. He looked closely, but a kind of pensiveness blanketed the boy's usual expressive face. He might have been stating an observation for all he knew.

There was only one thing that Itachi heard out of all of that though. "Do you mind that I use my chopsticks to put food in your bowl?"

Sasuke snorted, mirth finally filling his eyes as if he'd been holding it back. "If you haven't noticed, you've been doing it since the first day we went out to lunch."

Itachi paused. Honestly, he never thought about it. His body moved reflexively each time, doing things that he would always do for his Otouto. Things like using his utensils to place lots of nutrient-rich food in Sasuke's bowl was one of those things.

"I… I'll stop," Itachi muttered, turning away. He didn't really want to though. It wasn't fair.

"That's okay," his Otouto piped up. "I don't mind. It's sweet of you. I was just pointing out that you seem really relaxed here."

Of course he was. Sasuke was his home. His haven. And he- wait. Did his Otouto just say….

"You think I'm sweet?" He choked out again. As soon as the words left him, he inwardly punched himself for sounding like a fucking idiot.

"Yeah." Sasuke smiled like an angel. "You're nothing like the rumors say."

Itachi blinked and returned back to normal, picking up his bowl of miso for a sip. "Rumors?"

"Well, more like horror stories. I'm telling you this because I like to think that, outside of work, you are my friend. So if I do tell you, it's not going to come back and bite me in the ass during work hours, is it?"

"Of course not. I'm honored you see me as a friend, Sasuke," he said softly.

The only thing that would bite Sasuke's ass would be Itachi's mouth, and currently, there was none of that because he was on his best behavior. Good behavior. Good choices. Kind, sweet Itachi. That's what he was going for.

"I'm glad you're letting me be your friend," the boy responded. "And I know that you are nowhere near ignorant to not know that there are rumors flying left and right about you at your company."

Itachi shrugged.

His Otouto snickered. "Thought so."

"So… what kind of horror stories?"

"You promise you won't be offended?" Sasuke inquired. He was worried about Itachi. His sweet Otouto.

Itachi looked pointedly at the boy. "Offended by gossip?"

That brought laughter out of Sasuke's mouth, and Itachi smiled, triumphant.

"Yeah, I guess I should have guessed that."

"So tell me, Sasuke," Itachi said, scooting closer. "What did you hear about me? That I'm a gentleman? Was featured on the cover of GQ as one of the most successful and eligible bachelors in existence? Or did you hear that one of my favorite pastimes is hanging out half-naked in other people's homes? Perhaps, someone mentioned to you that I'm the image of perfection with a mixture of gorgeous and ruggedly handsome?"

The boy was laughing so loudly that, by the time Itachi was done, a wide smile was plastered on his face. It was music to his ears. A godsend.

Sasuke laughed so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "You're a completely different person outside of work. Did you know that?"

No. That wasn't true. He was a completely different person because he was with his beloved. That was why.

"You've yet to stroke my ego, Sasuke."

The boy snorted. "I think enough people stroke your ego."

"So you agree that I'm ruggedly handsome," the man tried again.

Again, Sasuke snorted, but he didn't respond, and that, to Itachi, was a response in itself.

"So tell me about the rumors."

Sasuke paused, hesitant, before he just went at it. "Well… I hear that women run from your office crying hysterically."

Itachi tilted his head, mulling it over as if he had to think hard on whether that was the case. Women were hardly on his radar, and that was putting it lightly, so it was hard for him to recall the situations, much less the actual faces. Finally, he shrugged. "Occasionally," he stated. Better to ballpark it if he didn't recall how many.

Sasuke looked at him closely, startled, as if he hadn't expected Itachi to respond. What he didn't know was that he would tell his Otouto any and everything if he wanted. All the boy had to do was ask.

The boy continued. "I also heard that you're scary when you're angry… and that you're in a bad mood often."

"Sure," Itachi agreed casually.

Sasuke found himself laughing and shaking his head. The man looked big, brooding and stoic most of the time at work, but he was surprisingly amenable and easy to talk to.

"I also heard that you've fired every assistant you've ever had."

"That's true."

"Why is that?"

"They weren't suited for the position," Itachi said, brushing them off as if they were a speck of dust on his coat.

"And I am?"

"Absolutely."

"How so?"

"Because you're you."

"Okay…. Um, how about that one story about you demolishing an entire story in this building because you didn't like how it looked?"

"… Guilty."

"Wow."

"I'm full of surprises, Sasuke. What can I say?" Itachi grinned.

"You're like a little devil, aren't you?" Sasuke gasped, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

Absolutely not. In Sasuke's presence, he was an absolute saint. Good choices. Good behavior. He'd hurt himself just to be kind to other people in his Otouto's presence, but at least he did it.

But around other people, he made no promises. Okay, so yeah, he was actually. Part devil, that is. So he couldn't really dignify Sasuke's question with an answer. That would be outing himself too much.

"Any other whispers you've heard about me?"

Thanks to some shifting done by Itachi, they're bodies were now close enough for the man to feel warmth radiating from the boy's body. If he moved slightly, his thigh would brush up against Sasuke's.

"Um… I guess the only other one is that you have a long standing feud with the CFO, and no one knows what happened. I've been warned to steer clear of the both of you when you guys are in the same room."

The humor in Itachi's demeanor dropped in that very moment, his gaze hardening as he looked away. This time, rather than respond, he simply shrugged, ignoring the questioning gaze from his Otouto.

"Do you not like him?"

"He's just not my cup of tea," Itachi replied.

"I see." The boy left it at that.

"Do you think ill of me now that I've confirmed those stories?" Itachi asked, looking back at his baby after he had hid away the contempt in his eyes.

Sasuke shook his head. "Why would I? You've been nothing, but nice to me since day one. Why should I believe what other people say about you when you treat me so well? Honestly, I don't get why everyone steers clear of you." Itachi cleared his throat. It was because of his temper. "I enjoy spending time with you. It's comfortable. I forget what it's like having someone to talk to," Sasuke said.

His Otouto, bless his heart and soul, was the same as always. Itachi's heart clenched painfully, and the smile on his lips shifted into a nostalgic one.

"You're a lovely person, Sasuke," he said, his words coming out soft and fond. "You have a lovely, kind heart." The words came out unbelievably sad on Itachi's part and he blinked away the longing in his eyes.

Sasuke's eyes widened, not expecting to receive a compliment, and he smiled. "Thanks," he said.

"Since we're being honest, Sasuke, I want to tell you something. Between you and me, I haven't felt this whole in a very long time."

Itachi's words were wistful, full of nostalgia and pain. Sasuke regarded him with eyes full of kindness and understanding, ever so sweet and accepting as he always has been.

Next thing he knew, the boy had placed a hand on his knee, patting him lightly. "I'm here if you need me," Sasuke told him sincerely.

I love you.

Itachi swallowed those words, gulping thrice just to force them down. He wanted to smile and cry at the same time. He missed telling his Otouto that every day. He wanted to reach out and bring the boy into his arms, caress and cuddle him close to his chest, and whisper how much he loved him in his ear. He wanted to hear the sweet term of endearment 'Aniki' come out of the boy's mouth and see those eyes filled with love directed at him.

Sasuke was still looking at him, but this time, Itachi noticed that his hand was squeezing his knee. He realized it wasn't without cause. Itachi could feel pain within his chest, forcing it to rise and fall so quickly that the breaths he inhaled didn't quite make it to his lungs and brain.

"You're okay," the boy whispered repeatedly, squeezing his thigh a little tighter this time.

But Itachi did not feel okay. Nothing about this situation was okay. Sasuke sat a hair's breadth away, yet he couldn't even touch him. He couldn't even communicate to the boy through his words that he loved him with all of his heart, that he searched his entire lifetime for him, that knowing that Sasuke did not remember Itachi was like a stab to the gut so painful that it was his heart that ended up bleeding instead.

Sweat began collecting along his temple and his hands felt clammy. Cold beads of sweat formed along his back out of nowhere and trickled down it with amazing speed. One minute he felt like he was suffocating, and, in the next, a heavy weight pressed into his lap and he was wrapped tightly into slim, yet strong arms.

"It's okay," his Otouto whispered again, the words brushing up against his neck in the form of a warm breath. "I'm here. You're okay. Lean on me."

Itachi's arms shot up and latched onto Sasuke. One arm wrapped around the boy's mid-back while the other held his waist tightly to his own.

Itachi's throat burned from the degree to which air was traveling in and out of it, and he felt those arms tightened drastically around him.

His Otouto had swung his leg over his thighs, pressing each shin into the sofa and against the man's outer thighs, when he sat himself down firmly in Itachi's lap. His intent must have been to hug him, to deliver a form of comfort that Itachi had previously requested when he had a panic attack, and Itachi was forever grateful for him.

He dug his face into the boy's slim neck, burrowing into it with his sweaty face. His pants were probably cascading all over the boy's neck, and somewhere in his panic-induced mind, he hoped that Sasuke wouldn't hold that against him.

In their past lifetime, his Otouto would gently comb his fingers through Itachi's hair and leave them there while the man left bite marks and hickeys all over his body. He would hold him gently, guide him, and even stroke his hair, releasing little moans of pleasure while gasping Itachi's name.

But that was the thing. That was the last lifetime. Who knew what Sasuke thought of him now? Did he think Itachi was fucking crazy? Or a pervert? Or even a stalker? Maybe he thought he was an invalid?

"Don't… Don't hate me," he wheezed, arms cinching tighter around the boy's waist. "I-I'm sorry. Don't hate me."

"No," Sasuke cooed, "I would never hate you. It's okay. Breathe, 'Tachi. Breathe."

"I feel at home, because you're my home," he said in a hoarse voice, growing more delirious by each second. He didn't even realize what he was saying until he was lulled into a relaxed state after minutes of being embraced by his Otouto, who whispered comforting words to him.

Eventually, when he finally calmed down, he was so used to feeling Sasuke's warmth against him that he refused to let go. Even though he could feel his Otouto pulling away, he didn't release his grip.

It seemed Sasuke understood the situation so he stopped pulling away. "Are you okay now?" he whispered, stroking Itachi's hair gently. "Can I get you anything?"

The man shook his head. He had everything he needed in his arms.

"Don't get mad at me, okay?" Sasuke continued. "I know I'm sitting in your lap, and this is inappropriate, but I didn't know how else to give you a hug."

Inappropriate?

Itachi almost laughed. Inappropriate would be picking the boy up into his arms and forcing him down on his bed while he showed him how much he loved him. Inappropriate would be blurting out here and now that Sasuke needed to pack his bags and move into Itachi's house to be with him, to live with him. Inappropriate would be…. God, the number of things that were inappropriate because Sasuke didn't remember him grew exponentially the more Itachi thought about it. None of those things would be dubbed as such if his Otouto still had his memories.

He shook his head, denying that Sasuke could ever do anything inappropriate to him, face rubbing against the boy's nape.

"It's getting late, Itachi. Do you need to go home?" Sasuke asked, hand still petting Itachi's hair gently. The man's body froze, stiffened really, in his Otouto's embrace before the second part of the boy's words filtered through his ears. "Or did you want to sleep over?"

"Sleep here," he mumbled.

"I think that would be best. I don't think you'd be in any condition to drive either. I'll lend you my bed, and I can sleep on the couch."

Itachi's head shot up, upper body finally separating from Sasuke's. "Sleep with me," he blurted, the words easily misconstrued by anyone.

Sasuke looked at him oddly.

"I mean, the couch isn't long enough for either of us to sleep on, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I'm the one intruding and you're sweet to give me your bed. Let's share it," Itachi said. The output of his words were so long and rapid that it sounded long-winded and convoluted. "If you're comfortable with that," Itachi tacked on.

Sasuke was silent for what seemed like the longest time, and the man held his breath waiting to be rejected. After all, there was no reason for Sasuke to agree to such a ridiculous request.

"I'm fine with that," the boy said, and Itachi had to fight to keep the glee from shining on his face. There was a god after all. "I just thought you'd be used to sleeping on your own and wouldn't like someone in your space."

He was used to sleeping on his own, and he hated it. Absolutely loathed it. Every waking and sleeping moment he spent in his twenty-eight years of life was spent alone. Without his Otouto. Without the love of his life.

Never again did he want to sleep alone again in that lonely, big bed by himself.