Author's note: Another re-work of a fic I wrote years ago that I decided I had written in the wrong order. Hope you enjoy!
Muse
Sasuke exited through the glass doors of the Waterloo Campus, glancing down at his phone as he shouldered his way through the exit.
'Just finished my tutorial.'
His text flashed on the screen, peering down against the sunrays he waited for Gaara to respond, a series of dots appeared under his message.
'Cool, meet in 5'
Meet where exactly? He shut the screen off and rolled his eyes, typical Gaara.
Sasuke peered around at the concrete surroundings knowing full well there was no secluded place to sit for several hundred meters. The noise and smell of traffic was everywhere around him, drilling into the back of his head and accentuating his slight headache. He never enjoyed the tutorials, a few hours of being in a small room with an even smaller group of people where he had to pretend to be … pleasant was too strong of a word. Tolerable at least. He pulled his water bottle out of his bag and sitting down on one of the stone steps took it upon himself to wait 'patiently' for Gaara to finish.
"Sasuke Uchiha!" Someone to his right said very loudly which made him jump, a handsome auburn man was grinning at him with wide amber eyes and several fashionable metal piercings glinting at him in the afternoon sun.
"Um, hello?" Sasuke said hesitantly, having no idea who this was or what they wanted with him. He was now regretting offering to meet Gaara for food.
"We've met a couple of times before in passing," the auburn man said with a wide attractive grin, "We chatted a little at that event Sai held a few months ago."
What Sasuke wanted to say was 'I have no recollection of that and I hated every moment of it' but he held his tongue instead saying in polite curt tones: "How…nice."
Seeing that Sasuke obviously did not remember his name the young man confidently stretched out his hand. "Kiba Inuzuka!" Said Kiba Inuzuka and Sasuke had the distinct impression he was being introduced to the Pope.
Sasuke opened his mouth to say something but no sound came out, he stared at Kiba with his dark grey eyes much in the way you might stare at something you had accidentally stepped on. Behind him the glass doors swung open again and a larger throng of students made their way onto the pavement.
Sasuke's attention was suddenly alerted to the broad shoulders and pleasant features of a blond youth who clapped this Kiba in a familiar manner on the back.
"Kib what you doing? We are going to be late."
Kiba leant back and said something inaudible to his friend; whose expression turned into a wide generous grin, his full attention turning to Sasuke. For a moment Sasuke felt caught in his deep blue eyes and was unable to look away.
"Have a I met you before?" the blond youth asked in warm husky tones, he was stunningly attractive Sasuke thought reluctantly. He was smiling at Sasuke with a small half frown wrinkling across his forehead as if trying to retrieve a distant memory.
For some reason Sasuke felt himself start to blush.
"I don't think you were at Sai's drinks thing." Kiba said with a dismissive shake of his head, "you were out on that date." The blond raised his eyebrows in a pleasant expression of contemplation and put both his arms behind his head, smiling and for some reason Sasuke felt his stomach squirm uncomfortably.
"I wanted to ask you a question Sasuke about the student elections." Kiba said quickly dragging Sasuke's attention back to him as the auburn youth dodged forwards, allowing a tide of students to make their way out of the building.
"Come around to ours to discuss it later if that works for ya, it's not too far away from here. And there's a house party afterwards if you're interested."
"Sorry, I'm busy ton-" Sasuke began automatically, he hated house parties, he hated socialising, he couldn't think of a worse way to spend an evening.
"He's not busy, he'll go." A voice piped up behind him and Sasuke span around to find Gaara standing expressionlessly behind him in a suede leather jacket, the collar turned up around his neck looking like he had just emerged from a punk rock scene.
He scowled at him, fighting back the urge to mouth 'what the fuck?' at his friend.
"Great!" Kiba said looking elated and sporting a wide canine like grin, "It's on Lambeth road, I'll send you the details."
Behind him the blond youth with the bright blue eyes bounced on the spot impatiently and again Sasuke felt himself almost unwillingly assessing his physique appreciatively.
As they left Sasuke rounded on Gaara furious, there was a look of knowing on Gaara's face that simultaneously made him want to throttle him and cross examine him at the same time. That technique probably wouldn't have gone down very well in court.
"What are you? My agent now?"
Gaara gave him one of his impossible to read looks, crossing his arms and examining Sasuke with his lime green eyes in a way most people would probably have found unnerving.
Sasuke didn't have many people who knew him well or cared for him deeply. As a person he was distrusting, brusque and somewhat antisocial in behaviour, those he was closest to in the entire world boiled down to a grand total of three. The list consisted of his brother, his cousin, and Gaara.
Being close to Itachi wasn't something Sasuke could really help. They'd gone from admiring younger sibling and cool older brother to: I tolerate you, then: you really irritate me, then: you irritate the hell out of me I hate you and then back to: I tolerate you again.
Itachi was obnoxiously perfect; he always knew everything and how to deal with it. He was serious when he needed to be serious and funny when it pleased him. There was no situation he couldn't deal with an he knew it, confidence made strangely attractive and alluring, but he'd never in his life made a stab at a committed relationship.
Itachi had looked after Sasuke, argued with him, bickered, bitten, rolled on and hit him on a number of occasions when they'd had full on fights. But it was still Itachi that without fail had always been able to wiggle information out of Sasuke.
Sasuke had always been the family black sheep. He'd purposely avoided Oxbridge not wanting to stand in his brother's shadow. Even when his headmaster had called Itachi demanding to know why one of their scholars had refused to go to even an open-day. Itachi had given a reticent smile, said Sasuke had his reasons and then taken his brother out for dinner the following evening.
Sasuke had imagined he'd get a grilling from Itachi. Things like: don't snub this opportunity just because you feel like being awkward, don't be a fool and what's wrong with you? But all Itachi had done was order the most expensive wine on the menu, raise his glass to Sasuke and tell him that if their father had still been alive, then he probably would have been proud of both of them.
Sasuke hadn't been sure whether or not this was true, after all their father had been strict to the extreme, and it had always been hard to determine whether you had done something right or wrong from the domineering quirk of their father's eyebrow without going to their mother about it first. But that was long gone now, now it was just the two of them in this together. And that would have been alright, maybe even allowed Sasuke to open up a little, had it not been for the fact that Itachi was very nearly always out, he was always doing something, some prior engagement that he couldn't break, or some commitment about work.
Itachi would disappear off with the words "We'll talk about it later."
Only when later came he was usually so exhausted the only thing he could manage to do would be to collapse into bed with all of his clothes still on. Sasuke would then habitually remove his shoes whilst he was sleeping. This was more out of practicality than common courtesy. As Itachi had once had something over the bottom of his shoes which had gotten all over the sheets, and as Sasuke had insisted contaminated the washing machine and had badgered Itachi into buying both new sheets and a new washing machine. Itachi thought Sasuke was slightly neurotic, Sasuke didn't tell him that it was because the washing machine had eaten his favourite pair of socks and he was bitter about it.
Sasuke's problem was probably more along the lines of not being able to express himself, he was bad with words, and communicating his feelings in a house where his father believed in keeping a stiff upper lip had stunted his skills of communication even further. He'd developed a temper; a somewhat unconscious arrogant expression and a magnificent way of raising his eyebrows that would make the person on the receiving end feel three inches tall.
To call him self-important would have been a mistake; he was neither driven nor obsessed with absolute perfection. He'd lost his drive a while back, along with his parents. He was however filled with the confident notion of the fact that he was in fact better at certain-most things then the average person was.
It didn't make him perfect (he'd leave that to Itachi) but it made him superior to most. True excellence in another person was always to be recognised and admired from a distance and a few of his peers impressed him, but never to the point of actually starting up a conversation or, heaven forbid, smiling at them. So he carried on in the way that he was, formal, almost cuttingly polite, the air of a public schooled upper-middle class University student from an influential background. He had nails that were perfectly manicured and hair that was jet black and dark eyes, which were an ashen shade of grey. In a forgiving mood Itachi might have described his little brother as handsome. Sakura on a normal day would call him beautiful, and Gaara would have told you he was 'passable'.
Sasuke's features gave the impression of someone who was lonely and melancholy, as attractive as an icicle. He gave an impression of distance and a cold wisdom that was intriguing. It might have been that which made him so attractive to other people, the idea of saving himself from well, himself.
But as far as Sasuke was concerned he didn't need saving. He was happy getting good grades, impressing his Professors, doing adequately as well as Itachi had done at his age; he sometimes played tennis when Itachi challenged him to a match, and he'd been a champion fencer at school but that was behind him now. He didn't sing, he didn't paint, he didn't draw, he didn't write, he didn't dance; he didn't like bossing other people about, and he didn't laugh. No. He was quite content with becoming a lawyer building up a successful career and then marrying some quiet dispassionate strong woman who wouldn't object to raising children and he would never have to think about anything ever again.
"He's handsome." Gaara said simply as if this was all the information Sasuke needed to go on as they descended the steps and made their way across the bridge.
"He was alright." Sasuke said defensively, swinging his bag over his shoulder as they approached the embankment.
"No not him, his friend. I saw the way you were looking at him."
Sasuke froze mid step as his companion sidled past, hands in pockets. "What about his friend?" He asked hotly, fully aware that a slight flush had crept up into his cheeks.
Gaara gave him another impenetrable flat look, "Do you think I'm blind?"
"That's not… anyway, I thought we were…"
"Kankuro has some sort of band performance tonight," Gaara said despondently with a dismissive wave of his hand, "they're playing an evening gig and apparently I made some sort of pre-commitment to be there. Not that I was ever told." He finished irritably his eyes an almost iridescent green, mouth curled down.
"So, you're ditching me?"
"I'm not ditching you, I'm saving you from getting wailed at all evening."
"Hn." Sasuke made a disapproving noise from behind his teeth, swinging his heavy bag onto the nearest restaurant bench as Gaara meandered off to find the food menu.
Sasuke was annoyed for allowing himself to be so easily navigated into an uncomfortable situation. It was most unlike him, normally he was extremely eloquent at blowing people off without a second thought, but something about that blond man had thrown Sasuke's sensibilities off.
"He's Kiba's housemate." Gaara said seemingly reading Sasuke's mind, coming back with the menu and sitting down nonchalantly as if nothing strange had happened.
"How…? What….?" Sasuke spluttered, glaring at his friend from across the wooden bench.
"I've met him a few times before." Gaara said indifferently his lime green eyes scanning the menu, "Do you want to share?"
"Gaara if you change the subject one more time I swear to God."
Gaara put the menu down and stared at Sasuke dispassionately, "But I thought you liked eggs benedict?"
"GAARA!"
"Alright fine," Gaara said rolling his eyes almost petulantly his pale hands picking up the menu again, "His other flatmate is going out with Temari."
God speed to him, Sasuke thought. He said nothing but Gaara must have read the expression on his face because he said coolly after a moment's pause, "He seems robust enough to tolerate her for the moment anyway."
Robust was a funny way to put it Sasuke thought as Gaara ordered for the two of them.
Sasuke arrived home immediately tripping over the cat who was lying in a patch of sunshine by the front door. She glared at Sasuke for interrupting her sleep as he cursed, narrowly missing breaking his ankle and throwing his lecture notes and audio recorder all over the hallway. He was in something of a seething temper by the time he got home, having worked himself up on the hot and sweaty tube ride home.
Itachi was supposed to be back by now he thought opening the fridge moodily, the door swinging forcefully on its hinges and clattering into the wall wondering grumpily if he would have to make dinner again, he scowled as he lifted the glass top of a bottle to his lips and let the liquid slip down the hot rough insides of his throat.
Sasuke swallowed the last few droplets of liquid and set the bottle down on the black marble countertop and found that he was unconsciously gritting his teeth. He wandered aimlessly for a while about the large kitchen, feet curling against the under-floor heating beneath the york-stone paving slabs, looking for something to do while he waited for time to pass.
On several occasions he caught himself peering at his reflection in the shiny surface of the fridge, even on occasion running his fingers through his hair, although he didn't know why he bothered. His hair insisted on sticking up at the back like that, no matter what he did to it.
It was when he tried brushing his fringe away from his forehead to see whether or not he looked better with his hair away from his face that he realised he was acting like a schoolgirl with their first crush. He immediately left the kitchen.
On his tour around the house Sasuke Uchiha dwelt on the fact that last month had been his birthday. He was 22, just. Not a happy thought, he had never enjoyed birthdays, his or anyone else's come to that. It just reminded him of the fact that this was another year he had spent without his parents, another year to come that they would never see. As he stood in the glass conservatory, wincing as the sun came shining happily through the windows his mind flicked back to his course, and the reading the should really be doing now instead of later.
He didn't really mean to go to this 'Kiba's' house, did he? A quick image of the blond popped into his head unbidden but he shook it off, he should really be getting on with his tutorial work. The last thing he wanted to do was end up being dragged to a house party.
He could stay home instead, say something had come up. Order takeaway, watch a film on the sofa and go to sleep in his own comfortable bed. That in his mind sounded far more preferable than whatever evening lay ahead of him.
With annoyance he lightly kicked the side of a chair that was facing him, damnit Itachi was supposed to be back early today. He had promised.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and in exasperation he withdrew it from the back pocket of his trousers.
It was Gaara again.
I expect to hear all about it later
Sasuke frowned.
All about what?
He answered being purposefully obtuse, his only reply was an annoying smug faced emjoi, that was typical of Gaara.
The prat.
Snorting he placed his phone screen down on the nearest table top, he stalked into his brother's office, if Itachi was not here then he would use his credit card to buy groceries at the very least.
Sasuke was humming some long-forgotten tune from his childhood when the phone rang off the hook, the high-pitched ring sound echoing down the corridor and into the kitchen.
Frowning at who it could be he absently padded down to answer the phone, wondering if Itachi had misplaced his mobile again and was calling late from his office handset. Sakura never called him from the landline and Gaara always texted. The second he put the receiver to his ear he regretted it.
Madara Uchiha was never kind to Sasuke even when they saw each other face to face, but then again Madara was never kind to anyone stat, but there was a certain way in which Sasuke's eyes widened as he clutched at the receiver against his ear that showed a small trace of the panic he felt inside at the sound of Madara's dusky thick voice. Immediately he felt his heart beat thump in his ears.
"Where is your brother?"
Sasuke didn't know, mistake number one.
"When will he be back?"
Sasuke didn't know this either; mistake number two. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck.
There was an impregnated pause on the phone, the silence spiralled horribly so much so that Sasuke broke out in a cold sweat, the receiver clasped to his ear as if his life depended on it.
"Give him a message for me." Madara said finally after Sasuke had stood there for a moment utterly still, too afraid even to breathe less Madara should disapprove.
He fumbled for a pen and paper, his hands shaking with repressed nerves. He wanted to slam down the phone and retreat to his bedroom, close the door and hide under the bedcovers like a child. Why the fuck wasn't Itachi here? He had promised.
"I expect to see both of you bright and early tomorrow morning," Madara said silkily, a sentence made Sasuke's stomach drop. He did not want to see Madara – he never wanted to see Madara. For a moment he had a fleeting vision of a piano lid and his long slim fingers touching ivory keys.
Just before Madara closed the conversation he slipped in maliciously: "It was your mother's birthday today wasn't it? Shame Itachi isn't there. But I suppose he's got better things to do."
The sound of the unoccupied phone signal rang in the pale shell of Sasuke's ear.