When the changes that have been expected for so many years suddenly appear, we often don't know how to manage them. Kisame had spent the beauty of more than five years fantasizing about his encounter with the weasel, thinking about the impact that his face, his eyes or his name could have on him. He had thought of his body making love with Tayuya, he dreamed of being able to see the color of his eyes through the holes of that disturbing mask, imagined touching his long raven hair by passing his fingers through it. In recent times it had also happened to him while making love with Naruto, that was why his correctness made him feel the utmost urgency to clarify how things were with the blond.

Naruto had always been a fundamental person in Kisame's life and would continue to be so, so Kisame hadn't considered it honest to make a mystery of those images that invaded his mind every time he happened to touch a body other than the slender and supple one that he had seen under that mask.

Now the door Naruto had handed him the keys to was open, he hadn't taken any tumbles yet Kisame was still there as he lingered in the doorway. His friendship with Naruto would surely have been strengthened by all this, he had always been dedicated to sincerity and mutual aid, things that came naturally to both of them without any forcing.

Kisame had never realized that in all this, he had ended up almost completely forgetting about Madara and Obito who was desperately looking for him together with his wife. Over time he had never given up hope that the phone call might come and he had done it on a day when he would have expected anything but that. The weasel ended up canceling everything by forcefully taking first place in his list of priorities. Kisame had imagined everything except finding him in his arms one evening and hearing his confession from his own mouth. He had imagined anything but Itachi. Now he had finally managed to recompose all those fragments that had been swirling in his head since the day he had answered the phone, understanding what the real reason was.

I met you over five years ago, not now.

That's why he didn't use his right hand while doing his stunts dancing. He still hadn't told him how he ended up breaking his shoulder. Actually Itachi hadn't confessed a lot of things, Kisame had immediately guessed how that dark-haired man was as fascinating as he was mysterious.

I know you haven't had an easy life, I wasn't born yesterday! However, I'll leave you all the time you need, I know that you already felt something born inside you the night I came to talk to you at Susanoo, we'll both soon discover the destination of the third track. It will be your hand that I will shake during this journey, at least of this I am sure.

Kisame still lingered on the threshold, there were so many questions that prevented him from taking the first step. He still didn't quite understand why Itachi didn't want to go home, he could have been even a momentary argument with his companion Nagato.

However, although you've obviously been linked to Nagato for a long time, you made that phone call. You launched into an exhausting walk under the sun without water and food to reach me, it must mean something.

Kisame's gym was not even a five-minute drive from his home. When Itachi sat in the passenger seat of his Land Rover, his scent had come clear to him. It was a slight fragrance of the soap that he had used to wash mixed with a slight trace of residual sweat that he had on his tight black suit, on the other hand he had used the same clothes both for walking and for training. This was enough to make some shivers run on Kisame's smooth skin.

They didn't say a word during the journey, Kisame had turned on the stereo keeping it at low volume anyway, it only served to dampen the tension. He looked at Itachi sideways as he drove slowly through those dusty streets. The dark-haired man kept his gaze fixed on the now dark street, sometimes it seemed that he wanted to exclude the world to shut himself up inside a bubble.

Maybe you want to keep the pain away from you.

Itachi didn't say anything until they entered the house; he did not comment on the spacious living room with the large window, he did not express needs, wishes or opinions.

Kisame felt compelled to break that silence: "Can I offer you something? Come and sit down, the kitchen is small but that's enough for us."

Itachi had sat down continuing to watch the living room above the small wall that divided the two rooms, only from this the landlord had guessed that he liked the place. The dark never changed his expression but he could catch the changes of light in the obsidian of his eyes. Kisame had only recently known him but was already able to read him like an open book.

Kisame had sat in front of him with two glasses of orange juice, he handed one to him across the table: "Do you feel better now?"

Itachi sipped calmly, Kisame's emotion was awakened only by seeing his breath fogging the glass.

"Thanks for everything Kisame, do you mind if I ask you one last favor? Could you take me to my brother's house?"

Kisame's large and robust fingers squeezed the glass tightly, it was inevitable for him to wonder for a moment if by chance this brother had the perfect face of that moretto Susanoo.

However his gaze and his voice softened: "I was thinking that maybe for tonight you could have dinner with me and sleep here, you need rest after the day you've been through. Forgive me, I was an idiot to even let you train, it's true that you didn't tell me anything but I had seen what a pale face you had while you were sleeping in front of the door. I was so taken by the happiness that you had come to me that I got carried away by enthusiasm."

Itachi took his soft lips away from the glass, Kisame shivered again seeing how they remained glued to the glass for a moment. Now he knew their softness, Itachi had placed them on the sensitive skin of his neck revealing that he was the weasel. The dark-haired man took his last sip of orange juice making Kisame lose again in the evident ribs of his neck.

"Kisame, I don't know how to thank you, but I have a very important pending talk that I need to address with him."

Do you have to tell him the same things you told me? What the weasel are you?

Kisame struggled to recover from his spell: "It's late now and it's not good for you to face a discussion now, you could feel bad again and I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink in anguish. Tomorrow morning I'll take you but for tonight stay calm here, okay?"

Itachi couldn't tell him no, Kisame every time, with a few words, gave him all the attention he had been without all his life. The dark didn't even think that there could be such concern towards someone who has just met.

"Surely they will go a little big but I can lend you some of my clothes, if you come and see we can choose them together."

Every word had the power to leave Itachi stunned, he was tempted to take Kisame's hand as he followed him in the small and short corridor towards his room, however he didn't, those powerful brakes he had imposed on himself from practically the whole life would have been tenacious to be eliminated.

Tenacious, like that clutch.

Kisame had opened his white lacquered wardrobe starting to rummage inside it, constantly moving his eyes from the dark hair he had next to the clothes he was examining.

These all look pretty big on you.

You're a twig, that would make you look like a bride in a train.

You'd better be comfortable.

Forgive me, I can't find anything better.

Finally, he had turned out to be an old gray pajama with a yawning bear drawn across the front.

"Um... sorry but this is the only thing I have left since I wasn't very big yet." Kisame lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Itachi brought the tips of his elegant fingers to his lips smiling amused, his eyes narrowed in the transport of that emotion that came out like a flight of butterflies kept too much watching the spring through the walls of a transparent cage. An explosion of colors that infected Kisame, he too smiled reaching out a hand to ruffle his black hair. Not only the smile but every single emotion, every gesture and every look of Itachi were rare, and consequently beautiful. Kisame thought for a moment about Tsunade's words.

I don't know what happened to him in life, but I think you have the key to his heart.

Perhaps that lock had begun to unlock revealing a flash of clear sky behind the blanket of clouds. That was Itachi, a loving, gentle person who had been layered with years of misunderstood pain. Kisame realized in that instant that he would have had the task of scraping them away as one cleans a beautiful white statue buried for centuries under the earth. He would bring out that pain Itachi had mentioned to him on the infirmary couch, the one that had tormented him since he was very young. When that moment would come, Kisame would be ready to accept and welcome him.

Are you Obito's cousin who suffered the misfortune he had to witness? you and the brother you were telling me about a while ago? Are you related to Madara? Are you looking for it too?

Kisame let out a slight sigh resisting the temptation to hug him again.

"What would you like to eat, do you have any particular preferences?"

It was easy to guess that Itachi ate little, the suffering occupied almost all of his stomach making him always stop after a few mouthfuls. If Kisame had prepared something he liked, surely he would have been able to swallow something more.

"Do you know s'mores? They're fun to make together." Itachi made this proposal quite naturally, tilting his head slightly to one side. Kisame already adored the way tufts of raven hair veiled his eyes while making this gesture.

Kisame's gaze became intransigent as did his tone: "Of course I know s'mores, anyone who has seen at least one American film in their life knows what it is. However they are real rubbish, Itachi, the fact that you have had an illness does not authorize you to eat sugar in scoopfuls, given the situation you have to feed yourself in a healthy way. For the s'mores, let's do it one more time, okay? I'm sure we'll have a lot of laughs, but right now you need something different."

Kisame let out a disconsolate sigh certainly noticed by the dark-haired. Itachi's fondness for sweets was a clear symptom of depression, the fact that he had made such a request for such an important meal as dinner confirmed his assumption about him. Those who suffer in life very often seek consolation where they can. He was sorry to scold him like this after the proposal that he had made them to prepare them together.

"I see, I also like onigiri" Itachi stared at him with his usual detached calm, however Kisame had noticed how that apparent coldness, which he probably used as a defensive mechanism, had now disappeared towards him.

Kisame's face calmed down showing that understanding that in reality had never faded: "Okay, I can do this for you, it's not much so if you want anything else, don't compliment me. If you want to rest you can lie down in my bed of course, I'll come and call you."

Since the dark-haired man was still hesitating still with those demented pajamas in his hand, Kisame reached out a hand to give him a light caress on the nape of the neck.

He left him alone knowing that if he stayed there the situation wouldn't have budged one iota, he was realizing that with Itachi an uncommon amount of tact was needed, the risk of putting a slightly crooked foot causing him to block again was concrete. However, this time it was different from the sensation of stepping on eggshells that he had experienced with Sarana and even with Naruto earlier on. Now Kisame's actions didn't have an aura of fear and panic, but an aura of protection and sincere good. He felt all these sensations descend into his heart to warm it like a fireplace in the coldest winter in the world.

Kisame loved to cook, however he realized he had never put so much care into what he prepared as that evening. He tasted the rice several times to be sure it was perfect, two small rectangular mats served as placemats, he hoped Itachi adored their wooden fragrance as much as he did. He checked till he exhausted that there were no crumbs on the table. Itachi wasn't left-handed, the first thing Kisame had noticed seeing him dance, so he placed both the napkin and the glass on his right. To arrange the onigiri for both of them, he had used the best trays that he had with the veins of a trunk impressed on the brown ceramic in order to give the impression that it was real. He placed a small elongated jar in the center of the composition with a sprig of synthetic peach flowers inside, he regretted not having fresh ones but he would never have imagined, leaving the house that morning, that the day would end with that very welcome guest at dinner . That guest who was now lying in his bed surely asleep since he had never seen him leave the room again.

Kisame walked down that corridor again, perhaps it had only been a dream and there was absolutely nobody in his room, in which case he would only have to eat the onigiri by himself, hoping that one day that dark-haired man so in need of affection not to have the courage to admit it, he would have noticed him.

Then he had seen him, he was there lying in bed, the white light of the moon filtering through the window made his face so candid that it seemed to shine with its own light. He had let his hair down, his face was turned casually in the direction of Kisame who was now standing there, always on that threshold that he had conquered by now, looking at him in ecstasy. Itachi had pulled the covers over himself without hiding completely. Kisame's ice blue eyes were now focused on the three buttons of the collar of the pajamas with the bear, they were unfastened and moved to the rhythm of Itachi's breathing, accentuating even more the movement of the chest, Kisame softened noticing once again how it appeared slightly accelerated.

What happened to you?

Kisame had sat on the bed to have him closer without taking his eyes off him. He reached out a hand to pull the tufts of hair away from his face, the dark hair's small and slightly plump lips were just parted. The eyelashes so long and black as to seem almost fake, now they were closed in sleep giving that further touch of sophistication that Itachi had not only in gestures and speech.

Maybe spaghetti hair isn't perfect, generally those who have it hate it. Having these marked dimples under the eyes would send a lot of people into a crisis, but you in your imperfection are… perfect.

The dark-haired moaned slightly, frowning, his breathing quickened.

"What's up?" Kisame whispered touching his cheek with the back of his finger.

"Sasuke…" Itachi sobbed furiously, a tear escaped from his eyelashes, Kisame immediately caught it wiping it away, leaned over him gently stroking his head.

"Don't worry, I'm here with you."

You said this name for the second time today, surely it's someone who is important to you.

The dark-haired raised his eyelids as if they were made of stone, Kisame clearly perceived the effort. A white and slender hand rushed to rest on the wet cheek, Itachi's expression betrayed astonishment and perhaps even a hint of embarrassment for that tear that escaped almost treacherously.

Kisame decided to play down smiling and sitting straight again: "dinner is ready, I long for your company."

I minimize not because I don't care about you, it's actually quite the opposite. Ever since I first saw you swinging on that pole I've been wondering what the hell happened to you.

Itachi stood up sighing, recomposed his low tail by taking the red elastic from the bedside table, incredible how he managed to give even those crazy pajamas on him. He snatched an amiable smile again from Kisame: "I'll put your clothes in the washing machine right away, so you can feel at ease again."

"I don't know how to thank you, really, you do all this for me even though I'm only staying here for tonight. Tomorrow I'll also have to clarify with Nagato, we were both upset when I left. Then I'm going to stay with my brother until I find something else. "

Itachi followed Kisame back down the corridor. The landlord had stopped in the bathroom to seriously put his stuff in the washing machine by starting the appliance, then he had left again.

"Look, you don't bother me at all, on the contrary, in the meantime enjoy your dinner, I hope you like it. I have cooked things like this very few times."

Itachi remained motionless and entranced in front of what Kisame had prepared.

If I like it? Nagato has cooked countless times for me but here he sees that little something extra. Nagato does it because he's not well and today I delivered the coup de grace, I'm also very worried. Tomorrow morning will be the first thing I'll do to go see him.

"Come on sit down, what are you waiting for?" Kisame's voice seemed to have pulled him from another dimension.

They sat facing each other, eyes that seemed to have lost the ability to detach from each other. Itachi had the ability to kidnap Kisame with every little gesture he made, the way he did it. The slow and graceful way he grabbed his onigiri to his mouth, the way his lips disappeared behind him for a few seconds.

Kisame was almost afraid that the sound of his every movement might drown out the soft noises Itachi made while eating, he found himself literally adoring them. He was perfectly aware that perhaps at that moment a slightly dazed expression had taken hold of his face, but it was equally true that he absolutely didn't care.

He wondered how Itachi felt towards him, if all those feelings were reciprocated, were different or if they didn't exist at all. Those obsidian eyes were so impenetrable that understanding anything was almost impossible, unless Itachi himself gave the green light. And sometimes he did, little glimmers with which he allowed those in front of him to peek through the pages of his heart; a few words at a time, sometimes taken at the beginning of the story, sometimes taken at the end, he totally directed this game of show and hide. Kisame found himself literally enraptured by being attentive to catch these sudden and beautiful flashes, without realizing it he had made it his life's purpose.

After dinner they relaxed on the soft white sofa watching an entertaining film on the big screen that Kisame had positioned on the right side of the large window so that he would not be disturbed by the light that illuminated both the living room and the kitchen during the day as if they were directly outside. They were both relaxed however their bodies were at the right distance which prevented them from touching each other even by mistake, it was probably Itachi who raised that invisible barrier but in such a subliminal way that there was no real certainty of this.

Kisame couldn't help but think that that moment was approaching, the moment in which he would have proposed to the dark-haired to lie down together under the covers. Nothing was going to happen, it was obvious.

You still have a lot on your mind, don't you, Itachi? You don't know if the story with Nagato is really archived and of course you have something to feel strongly guilty about there too; I still don't know what it is. Important talks pending even with your brother, and that Sasuke you always mention every time you close your eyes is certainly an important part of your life. Obviously I'm the least of your thoughts right now.

Kisame looked at him sideways in the soft light of the TV asking us if there would be much to discuss when that moment would come.

So I sleep on the sofa

No, I sleep there

There is no problem if you come on the bed, there is enough space not to even touch by mistake…

Take me to my brother now.

Kisame was sincerely surprised when the dark-haired immediately answered yes without making the slightest objection. Itachi was pleasantly amazed at how Kisame kept thinking about everything, he even lent him a new toothbrush.

They lay down side by side on the bed, Itachi had untangled again the black hair that had spread out on his pillow, his face looked exhausted; they wished each other good night by turning off the light immediately afterwards.

Although it was dark, Kisame had turned his gaze to the ceiling concentrated on the single luminous stripe formed by the moon through the glass. He was concentrating on Itachi's breathing as before he had done with the noises he made while eating, he liked every insignificant detail of him, he had the impression that by now he could no longer do without it. He sighed passing an arm behind his head feeling a slight anguish climb inside, it was not obvious that all these little things could have them tomorrow or in the future to come.

Itachi's breathing had become deeper and more regular, probably he had slipped into sleep. Kisame took the courage to approach a few centimeters to that body lying next to him, the other did not move. He came closer again, he wanted to feel the warmth of that candid skin, of the life that flowed inside him. He came to approach slowly, stopped for a second hearing Itachi let out a soft moan, however he was sleeping, his breathing was very deep. His face was so white that Kisame could see it even in the dim light now that his eyes were used to the dark. Slowly he came very close to him, there were just a few millimeters left to touch those velvet lips, Kisame breathed his breath as if it were his lifeblood, he canceled that small distance, he touched the dark's mouth with hers, it had a very intense and particular flavor much more marked than all other dark hair. His erection awoke overbearing, although it was not the case.

The times are not ripe, you are the most precious thing I have and you must be treated as such.

After that little stolen kiss Kisame brought his cheek to Itachi's chest letting himself be cradled by the beating of his heart, he was calm now but if he had been prey to some nightmare again he would have been there. The dark-haired only let out a sigh, if he dreamed it was surely something pleasant.

"I love you, Itachi," he whispered.

I know, I only said it because he is sleeping.