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Chapter Text

Chapter 1 – Breakfast Can Be Intense

Itachi kept his eyes down at the table as he sat for breakfast, Shisui surreptitiously opposite him. Sasuke immediately shifted closer to his brother. Itachi could feel Fugaku glaring at him.

“I think,” Fugaku said slowly, his tone deadly. “If Shisui is going to be spending yet another night here, it might be prudent to give him his own room.”

Shisui cocked one innocent eyebrow.

“Don’t worry, Father,” Itachi still refused to look up. “Shisui won’t be staying again tonight.”

There was a short silence wherein Fugaku levelled his death glare at Shisui, who met it stoically, and, when it failed to reproduce the results it was named for, turned it to the top of Itachi’s head, which also declined to decease on the spot.

With a grunt, Fugaku stood up. “I must leave for work.”

“Good bye, Father,” Sasuke said enthusiastically, oblivious to the tension.

Shisui grinned sunnily. “Good bye, Fugaku-san.”

Itachi finally raised his dark eyes to his father’s face, looking at him for a brief moment before flicking his gaze down to the table again.

Once Fugaku left, Mikoto cleared her throat softly, keeping her eyes on the cooking. Both boys looked at her. “You needn’t look so nervous. He doesn’t know.”

Itachi paled slightly.

There was a brief second for Shisui to think of something to say, before he stammered out, “Doesn’t know what? There’s nothing to not know.”

“Sasuke,” Mikoto said gently, garnering the attention of her youngest son. “We have run out of eggs. Won’t you go and find some?”

“Okay,” Sasuke hopped to his feet happily and sprinted from the kitchen.

Mikoto set a plate in front of each boy and sat down at an open side of the table. “You two are not as subtle as you think.”

Shisui’s jaw almost dropped open. “What? I don’t – What? Wait-“

“Shisui,” Itachi said, stopping his cousin’s rambling before it got too out of hand.

“I won’t pretend I approve,” Mikoto continued. “Because I don’t. I had hoped you two might remain children for a bit longer, but,” Itachi’s face fell slightly, “You were forced to grow up too fast. In every way, it would seem.”

Itachi’s expression was mortified, but Shisui began eating his breakfast without complaint.

“But if you want to not get found out by your father any time soon,” Mikoto continued, and Shisui paused in his eating to send her a curious glance. “Whatever you were doing on Tuesday and Thursday, don’t.”

After a brief second of recollection, the reactions from both boys were polar opposites. Shisui’s face morphed into a thoroughly smug grin, with a razor-sharp look that he threw at Itachi, who had turned instantaneously bright red and buried his face in his hands.

Mikoto nodded briefly. “You have been warned.” She stood up again, just as Sasuke came bounding through the door with an egg in each hand.

Shisui continued with his breakfast unaffected, the rakish grin still in place.

When Itachi was brave enough to come out from behind his hands, he stood up and left the kitchen without a word, his cheeks still flared red.

Shisui found him a few minutes later, sitting on the dock with his toes almost touching the water, his weight on his hands, face cast down.

Shisui flopped down beside him, not minding when he garnered no reaction from the younger boy.

“So,” he studied Itachi’s face carefully, noting that it was back to its usual pale colour. “What do you want to do today?”

“Never show my face at the breakfast table again.”

Shisui couldn’t help the rumbling laugh that burst from his chest. He nudged his shoulder into Itachi’s affectionately. “Probably not an option. I meant tonight, after work.”

Itachi’s cheeks burned again. “Nothing.”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. Clearly, Tuesday and Thursday were a great success. I think I’m going to call that technique the Tuesday-Thursday.”

“If you do, I will never speak to you again.” Itachi was making a careful study of the lake’s surface.

“We could probably use more practice at it, though.” Shisui continued conversationally, ignoring the tangible rage emanating from the ninja sitting beside him. “You certainly could. All your screaming is going to give us away.”

“I don’t scream,” Itachi hissed, eyes narrowing.

“The Tuesday-Thursday thinks otherwise.”

“Nii-san, what’s a Tuesday-Thursday?”

Neither boy had noticed the approach of Sasuke, and when they looked back he was standing wide eyed behind them, infallible smile in place, head tilted questioningly to one side.

“It’s a new jutsu,” Shisui said smoothly.

“Can you teach me?” Sasuke asked eagerly.

Itachi’s glare burning into Shisui put every genjutsu he had ever learnt to shame.

“Sorry, Sasuke,” Shisui shook his head. “You’re much too young.”

“But it sounds really powerful,” Sasuke argued, blissfully unaware that he was arguing against his own case. “You said it made Nii-san scream, and he never does.”

Lesser men than Shisui would have turned to ash under Itachi’s gaze. “We’ll teach you something else,” Shisui promised, knowing this would placate the child, and hopefully get him to change the subject before Itachi’s all-encompassing eyes of doom enveloped the poor kid as well.

“When?” Sasuke asked eagerly, and Shisui mentally patted himself on the back.

“On the weekend,” Shisui said. “Deal?” He held out one hand, and Sasuke grasped it enthusiastically.

“Deal,” he said, smiling broadly. He trotted happily away, no doubt to spread the word that he was going to learn something new to everyone who would listen.

Shisui turned his full attention back to Itachi, the smug grin back in place. “Problem solved.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Nonsense,” Shisui brushed this threat aside. “You love me.”

Itachi threw him a look that said that last statement was, at this moment, doubtful at the very least. He turned his attention back to the still water of the lake. He seemed unsettled.

“Hey,” Shisui said, softly now, all the humour from his voice replaced with gentle encouragement. “Still worried? About your father finding out?”

Itachi nodded shortly. In truth, it terrified him. The mere thought of Fugaku finding out about the two of them made him immeasurably anxious. They had been ‘together’ for three months, if ‘together’ was the right word. Even before they had moved their relationship to a more physical manifestation, they had very rarely been apart. Everyone was accustomed to seeing them together, so, as Shisui had said, it wouldn’t arouse suspicions that they were spending so much time together.

And he had been spending nights with Itachi since they were much younger. It was only during the last three months that ‘spending nights together’ had become a lot less innocent.

“He won’t find out,” Shisui assured his cousin. “We’ll just have to be a bit more careful.”

Itachi hummed a vague agreement before moving to stand up. “I should go.”

“M’kay,” Shisui said, staying where he was.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, if we don’t get an overnight mission.” It didn’t sound like a question, but Shisui knew it was. Itachi liked to check everything, make sure everything was correctly scheduled.

“Yup,” Shisui said. “Make sure to get plenty of sleep tonight.”

“… Why?” Itachi was immediately suspicious, pausing in the act of turning away from his cousin to flit away.

“Because,” Shisui tilted his head back to grin at Itachi, “When we’re together next, we’re practicing the Tuesday-Thursday until you can learn to keep your mouth shut, and I’ve got a few ideas to help make that happen.”

Kakashi looked up from his book when Itachi stalked into the room. He studied the young ninja for a moment, before commenting lazily. “You don’t usually come to work looking like you want to murder someone.”

“I’m fine,” Itachi muttered.

Kakashi took note of the faint pink tinge to Itachi’s cheeks. There was only one person in the world who could rattle the young Anbu. He asked casually, “What’s Shisui done this time?”

Itachi stiffened at the mention of Shisui’s name. “Nothing.”

“Hm,” Kakashi turned his attention back to his book, casually turning a page. “Clearly. You don’t have a mission today.”

Itachi looked slightly surprised. “Why not?”

“Physical exams. There’s been some rumours that other villages are thinking of trying to infiltrate, so Hokage ordered everyone to have a physical and make sure we’re prepared for anything.” Kakashi looked up. “You’re in pretty good shape, I wouldn’t worry.”

“I’m not worried.” Itachi shrugged. He trained hard, and took care of himself. The only complaint anyone could make about his health was his inclination to develop a cough in the winter, and even that had never affected his work.

“You can head over to the hospital then,” Kakashi said. “Anbu take priority, so you shouldn’t have to wait long.”

“Thank you.” Itachi said. Kakashi dismissed him with a vague wave of the hand, and Itachi headed off in the direction of the Konoha hospital.

“You seem a bit stressed,” the medic nin said, with a frown, upon concluding his exam of Itachi. “But, I suppose, in your line of work that is to be expected.”

Work wasn’t the problem. Itachi could handle that. Shisui, on the other hand, was a whole different kettle of exotic, stubborn, bull-headed fish who seemed to delight in frustrating Fugaku, which, in turn, wound Itachi up into a tightly coiled spring.

“All in all, no complaints from me.” The medic marked a few things off on his clipboard.

Itachi slipped his shirt on again. “Thank you.”

“We’ve been told to expect an increase in missions, especially for you Anbu level ninja. So, don’t overdo training. We can’t afford to have anyone injured right now.”

“I’ll be careful.” Itachi was always careful with his training, but sometimes training with Shisui got a little bit wild, and nerve wracking. Not that Itachi minded, any time they spent together was enjoyable. And lately, in the last month or so, training had ended with much more enjoyable activities, which, Shisui always maintained, was just as good exercise.

Itachi wasn’t sure about the statistics regarding it, but he couldn’t argue that it was more entertaining.

He had just set foot outside the hospital when his Anbu team appeared, with the message that the Hokage wanted to see the team for a mission briefing. It was annoying, but not unexpected. Itachi was a little irritated that it was so sudden; he wouldn’t be able to see Shisui before leaving and let him know – he liked to let the older boy know where he was, and vice versa – but there wasn’t much he could do about that.

Shisui would hear about it from someone else soon enough.

Said boy was, at that moment, waiting to be allowed into Fugaku’s office at the Konoha Police Station. He had been summoned shortly after arriving, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was to be yelled at. Not that he minded, Fugaku had no idea he and Itachi had a physical relationship, and Shisui wasn’t about to let the secret out. But Fugaku had looked less than amused with him at breakfast that morning, and Shisui had the feeling the man was growing annoyed with Shisui being ‘around’ all the time, and taking Itachi’s focus from training and work into more pleasant territories.

“Fugaku-san,” Shisui bowed shallowly. “You asked to see me?”

Fugaku glared at Shisui, making his irritation at the young nin no secret. He got succinctly to the point. “I don’t know what you are doing with Itachi, but I would like it to stop.”

“I’m not doing anything with him.” It wasn’t a lie, Shisui told himself, since at that very moment he was nowhere near Itachi.

Fugaku’s glare deepened. “I don’t like you spending so much time with him. He has more important things to think about than whatever you are trying to occupy him with.”

Shisui certainly wasn’t going to volunteer details about that. As far as he was concerned, it was private information. It was his self-appointed mission to help Itachi relax once in a while, and, like many missions, the details were . . . classified . . . “What exactly are you saying?”

“Stay away from him,” Fugaku warned. “If it’s not an official mission, you two have no business being together. Certainly no reason to be spending nights at my house.”

“What if Itachi feels differently?” Shisui asked coolly. “We’re friends after all. He’s allowed to do whatever he wants with his time off.”

There wasn’t an argument Fugaku could make against that, but his expression showed his displeasure. “I will be watching you two.”

“Go ahead.” You probably won’t like what you see. Shisui made a mental note to be a bit more careful. In the privacy of Itachi’s room was one thing, but he might need to be a bit more vigilant about the stolen kisses and unasked for touches that he was wont to doling out in public places. It might be time to pay closer attention to Itachi’s insistence that he keep his hands to himself.

Not that he would ever be obvious about it, he was too careful and too well trained for that. But now that he knew Fugaku was suspicious, and rightfully so, he would need to keep a closer eye out. Maybe not grope Itachi by surprise too much because, while the younger boy was an exceptional and unflappable ninja, he was prone to over reacting around Shisui and Shisui’s obnoxious ‘grabby hands’. Shisui assumed this reaction was due to lack of practice and had been helpfully remedying it.

He grinned internally. The challenge would be fun.

“You’re dismissed then,” Fugaku said gruffly.

Shisui bowed politely. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

Shisui left the room, biting back a grin. He loved pushing Fugaku’s buttons. He knew it was wrong, and he was playing with fire, but he was an Uchiha. He had been playing with fire from a very young age, and had yet to be burned.

His next stop was the hospital for his tedious physical exam – hell, he seemed quite physically fine last night, and he even had Itachi to vouch for him. Shisui hoped they might overlap at the hospital, but unfortunately the nurse informed him Itachi had already left – summoned by the Hokage for a mission briefing.

Shisui shrugged it off, disappointed, but that was the life they signed up for. Itachi would be back in two days. It wasn’t the longest they had been apart, but Shisui knew, no matter how brief the time, it affected Itachi just the same either way.

And Shisui knew, when he returned, that Itachi would want them to spend time together, even if all Shisui did was lie next to him while Itachi collapsed in an exhausted sleep. Although, this time, Shisui would probably not just mosey into their house with Itachi and casually announce he was staying over again. Fugaku seemed to be seeing through that little ploy.

So, it seemed like it was time for Shisui to start climbing oh so subtly through windows.

Anything for you, Itachi, Shisui thought fondly. I’ll be waiting.

Itachi returned from his mission dead tired; after two days with barely any sleep, almost constantly moving. He wanted nothing more than to fall down into bed and stay there. He wiped some sweat off the bridge of his nose, trudging dully through the Uchiha compound. He had to stop at the Police Station before he went home. Shisui was leaving for several days, and he wanted to see him before he left.

Itachi waited patiently outside the large building, around the corner and out of sight. Shisui always left this way, on the off chance that Itachi would be there. He leant against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and focused hard on not falling asleep. A weary, unvigilant ninja was a dead one.

“Hey.”

Itachi raised tired eyes when he heard Shisui speak, mentally kicking himself because he had not heard the older boy approach.

“You look exhausted,” Shisui said, cupping Itachi’s cheek with one hand. Itachi leant slightly into the pressure. “You should go and rest.”

“I wanted to say good bye first.” Itachi’s eyes were drooping slightly. The sunset light was warm and he wanted to stay in that moment forever.

Shisui’s gentle smile made Itachi’s insides flutter a little. “Glad you did.”

Itachi let his eyes close, whole body relaxing. He heard Shisui move closer, couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes, just let himself be pressed back against the wall, Shisui’s body hard against his and mouth seeking contact. Itachi’s arms moved to grip Shisui’s hips, pulling the older boy closer.

“That’s not fair,” Shisui murmured against Itachi’s mouth, “I have to leave in, like, a minute.”

“Then make it count.”

“Nasty little pervert,” Shisui grinned, biting down on Itachi’s lower lip and thrusting his hips forward. He loved the sound Itachi made when he did that, so satisfying to hear, even muffled by his own lips. He moved to Itachi’s neck, biting gently, one hand reaching for the back of Itachi’s neck, to squeeze there. He felt Itachi sigh, and he grinned.

He bit on his neck again, squeezing with one hand and pushing his hips forward, and Itachi actually whined; it was the most intoxicating sound Shisui thought he’d ever heard. He captured Itachi’s lips once more, the younger boy unresisting. “Love you so much when you do that.”

Itachi just hummed vaguely in response, hands gripping tightly around Shisui’s waist.

“I have to go, though,” Shisui said with a lazy swipe of his tongue across Itachi’s bottom lip. He drew back slightly. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Fine,” Itachi sighed.

“Try to rest.” Shisui gave him one more soft kiss on the lips before leaping away. Itachi kept his eyes on Shisui’s vanishing form, before dropping his gaze to the ground and beginning to walk home.

Shisui glanced back with a bright smile, and as he was about to turn away something else caught his eye. He paused on a rooftop, looking uncertainly back. Was that . . . was that Fugaku?

Surely not.

Shisui hesitated, until his team called to him to hurry up. He turned away, shaking his head. Itachi would have noticed if his father was nearby. But there was a sense of unease in Shisui’s stomach. He swallowed hard.

Please let me not have seen what I saw.

The feeling of unease was so strong that he paused again, Sharingan activated for extra benefit. And yes, it was unmistakable now. Fugaku’s deadly glare was levelled directly into Shisui’s red and black eyes. Shisui swallowed hard.

Oh shit.

“Shisui!” One of his team mates called insistently. “We need to go now!”

Shisui tore his gaze away from Fugaku’s, setting his mouth in a grim line and speeding off after his team. Well, there went that secret.

His only real regret was that Itachi would have to take the brunt of his father’s displeasure alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 – When It All Comes Undone

“Nii-san, I need help.” Sasuke made the plea the instant Itachi stepped into the kitchen. The older boy was exhausted, functioning on auto-pilot. He nodded mechanically, practically falling down next to Sasuke.

Sasuke shuffled his papers closer to Itachi. “It’s extra homework, but I don’t think I understand it.”

Itachi stared blankly at the pages. Sasuke continued rambling on, and while he talked Itachi was able to gather his scattered thoughts and figure out what he was looking at. At some point in his monologue Sasuke helpfully inserted a pencil into Itachi’s hand.

He began to explain what Sasuke had to do, showing him the first example, and then encouraging the boy to try the next one himself. He heard Fugaku come home, shutting the door louder than usual, and for some reason Itachi felt his heart speed up.

Sasuke continued his homework, talking his way through it. Itachi heard his parents begin to talk, and his blood ran cold.

“Did you know? Did you know what the two of them have been doing – in our house?” Fugaku was talking in a low voice, one barely containing raw fury. Itachi couldn’t hear Mikoto’s reply. “It is unacceptable, it’s immoral and wrong.”

Mikoto said something else that Itachi didn’t quite catch.

“I always knew that boy would be trouble.” Itachi guessed that was referring to Shisui. “Look at what he’s done to our son.”

There was more murmuring, Itachi kept his attention fixed firmly on Sasuke. The youngest boy was chatting happily now, doing his homework without any trouble. Itachi heard his parents approach, he felt cold again, then they were both in the kitchen, carrying an almost visible cloud of disapproval with them.

“Itachi, look at me,” Fugaku said, in a low voice that even Sasuke recognised as threatening.

The youngest boy lifted his head unsurely from his homework, but Itachi’s remained down.

“Itachi.”

The air in the room felt too thick, Itachi could barely find the strength to look up. But he did, dark eyes unwelcoming and deadly in their intensity. He could feel the argument coming. His heart was beating faster, his chest ached.

Fugaku did not waste time with pretence. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He roared; Sasuke flinched at the loud and violent tone. “What were you thinking?”

Itachi’s gaze dropped down again, his lifted one shoulder in a passive, half shrug. His head spun, the world didn’t feel real. He felt sick. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Look at me, Itachi, and tell me what the hell was going through your head.” Fugaku allowed only a half second of silence before his tirade continued. “Answer me! Now!”

“I don’t care.” Itachi looked sullenly at the table below him. He had to hold his breath for a moment, it was threatening to become loud and ragged and out of his control. He felt his stomach turn, the sickness rising slightly.

“Don’t care? About what? Your family? Your honour? Your duty? Your reputation – the entire clan’s reputation!”

Mikoto put a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder and tried to lead her son gently from the room, but Sasuke remained rooted to the spot, enormous eyes darting from his incensed father to the impassive, stony-faced Itachi.

“What if someone hears about this? What if word gets out? Do you have any idea how damaging this could be to us? To everyone?”

“No one knows,” Itachi said in an anxious, barely audible whisper, because if he spoke any louder his voice would break into a thousand pieces. “So no one can tell anyone else.”

“No one bloody knows?” Fugaku echoed. “Then how in the hell did I find out? What possessed you into thinking what you were doing was okay? What is going through your head?”

Itachi stood up. He looked like he was trembling. The room spun momentarily, the whole world nauseatingly off kilter. Don’t throw up. His eyes flicked to Sasuke, then he turned and ran.

“Itachi!” Fugaku moved to follow him, his voice furious. He stormed after his oldest son.

Itachi didn’t stop to put his shoes on. He grabbed them as he ran out the house, swiping them with one hand without even pausing, and burst outside.

“Itachi! Stop this immediately!”

He was in the trees with one leap, and gone mere seconds later.

Fugaku stopped at the edge of the house, looking grimly at the direction Itachi had gone. There was no trace of him now. The entire garden was still.

Itachi’s chest felt tight. He couldn’t breathe properly.

His breath was rasping in his throat by the time he stopped, eyes watering. His heart was going too fast, and it hurt so, so much. He clutched at his chest, breathing open mouthed, and slowed down to a shaky walk. He was at the top of the Nakano waterfall.

His sandals fell from his fingers, he stumbled, tripping over the pieces of his broken dignity. He dropped to his knees, one hand still at his chest, one hand palm down on the ground supporting his upper body, and he tried to breathe.

It wasn’t easy; he couldn’t get the air he needed, his head was swimming, everything hurt. And his vision blurred with angry, broken, sad, rebellious, regretful tears.

No one was supposed to know.

No one was supposed to find out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The tears spilled out, dragging sobbing, wrenching gasps from his throat at the same time. He couldn’t remember crying this hard since he was a very, very young child. And the reasons for crying back then seemed inconsequential – this reason, this situation right here, felt like the world was ending.

He wanted to press his face to the ground and sob into the sand, and hit the dirt with clenched fists, but he stopped himself, because he still had a final shred of dignity left. He hoped.

He watched the tears drop onto the sand for a few minutes, and he found that the more tears that fell, the easier it became to breathe. He was able to shift his weight back, sitting on his heels, both arms hanging limply by his side. His chin rested almost on his chest, taking in more shuddering breaths, feeling the tears begin to slow.

He sat motionless for several minutes, until his chest no longer felt gripped by a giant fist of iron.

He needed to go home.

He had to face his father eventually.

It was hard to stand up, he felt rooted to the ground, his limbs were heavy and uncooperative. The burning levels of stress and adrenaline, and output of heavy emotions, had left him feeling drained of all energy.

With hazy eyes and heavy limbs, he pulled his sandals onto his feet, and trudged slowly home.

It was long dark when he reached the house, and saw the place in complete darkness, with the exception of the inevitable single light on, that Itachi knew he would have to go towards.

He swallowed hard. His chest felt like lead again, heavy and tight and his stomach twisted madly. Every step was a battle, but he edged forward, into the house, and towards the one and only light.

Fugaku was sitting in the room, looking deep in thought. He looked up when Itachi appeared in the doorway. Neither of them said anything.

Itachi sat down opposite him, wishing his hands would stop shaking. Every mission he had been on, every heart-breaking slaughter and violent killing felt like nothing. This right here – this was what he didn’t know how to accept, process and live with.

“Your mother and I were talking,” Fugaku spoke coldly, after what felt like an age of obdurate silence. He was almost quivering with ill-contained rage.

Itachi stared at his hands. Stop shaking. Please stop.

“Shisui will not be coming over here again. At all.” Fugaku paused, to see if Itachi would volunteer something.

The young ninja remained silent, trembling.

“Furthermore, you will not be anywhere unsupervised for as long as I deem necessary.”

Itachi looked up.

“After you finish work for the day, you will come straight home, and not be allowed to leave.”

“I have to train,” Itachi mumbled.

“Your mother will go with you, and watch you until you are done. Unless you are on a mission – and if I have to I will request that you and Shisui are not sent on any missions together – you will be where I can keep an eye on you.”

Itachi’s eyes flashed, a spark of defiance breaking through the agony. “You can’t decide who is sent with me on missions. That is up to the Hokage, and even if it wasn’t, Shisui and I are a good team, and it is in Konoha’s best interests to have us working together.”

“This is not up for debate,” Fugaku said in a low voice. “Also, you are not to speak to anyone about this. No one can know about this . . . incident . . .” His voice sounded poisonous, as though he was disgusted by the idea of Itachi and Shisui together, and the thought made Itachi’s frown deepen, made the darkness in his stomach feel even darker.

“I don’t have to tell you how disappointed I am with you.”

Itachi squeezed his eyes shut, because that hurt, far more than he had been prepared for. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.

“I expect far better things from you. More . . . savoury things.”

Fugaku let that hang in the air around them.

Itachi remained silent.

“You may go to your room. Go to sleep.”

Itachi stood up soundlessly, and left the room without a word or a backward glance. He went to his bedroom, closing the door and quietly preparing for bed, all his motions monotonous and calculated.

It was only when he was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the wind whistle gently outside, that the steel strong hold he had kept on his emotions came loose. He turned onto his stomach, face buried into his pillow because he wanted to scream and cry, and didn’t want to wake Sasuke by accident. The wind howled, and his heart howled even louder, he could hear the trees outside twist and shake, and his stomach was doing the same.

He could hardly believe the day had gone the way it had. The same thoughts kept swirling, pounding, screaming in his head.

No one was supposed to know.

No one was supposed to find out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I’m sorry, Shisui. I’m so, so sorry.

I’m sorry.

Shisui. Father.

Please.

I’m sorry.

The breakfast table was deadly silent the next morning.

Sasuke looked puzzled at the palpable tension in the room, but he felt it wasn’t right to question it. He did wonder why Itachi’s eyes looked slightly puffy, and why he and his father were refusing to look at each other, and why his mother was making sure not to look at either of them. But he kept quiet, because everyone else was quiet.

Once Itachi finished eating, he stood up just as silently, and Sasuke watched as he quietly gathered the rest of his Anbu gear, and slid out of the house without a word to anyone – not even a good bye to his little brother.

Itachi stared at the ground as he walked, hoping today would be a day of challenging work, something to get his mind off everything that had happened yesterday. He wanted to work hard, and think about nothing, just lose himself in the complexities of being a ninja.

He wanted to speak to Shisui.

Kakashi was sitting on a wall outside the building, clearly waiting.

This was different behaviour to most days, and it made Itachi stop and send the ninja a curious look. Kakashi hopped off the wall, and fell into stride beside Itachi.

They walked in silence for a while.

“My team has a special mission today, without me,” Kakashi said, looking lazily up at the sky. “So, wanna train together instead?”

“I don’t-“

“You don’t have a mission,” Kakashi interrupted Itachi before he could protest too much. “I made sure of that. They will need you tomorrow, though. But for today, I’m bored and have nothing to do. Figured maybe you’d like to help out with that.” It was an outrageously clear attempt to get Itachi alone so they could talk.

Kakashi sent Itachi a sideways glance. He knew Itachi would see right through the ploy, the boy was the very opposite of stupid. To his surprise though, there was the barest hint of a smile on Itachi’s face.

“Thank you.” He barely mumbled it, but Kakashi shrugged and nodded anyway.

“I know a nice spot. Follow me.” Kakashi flashed away without waiting, and Itachi’s smile grew just the tiniest bit more before he followed with ease.

“I’ll give up,” Kakashi said suddenly, flopping down where he stood and sitting with his back against a tree. “Time for lunch.”

“What?” Itachi stared at him. They had been in the middle of sparring, something Itachi had been enjoying immensely because Kakashi was a serious opponent, challenging to face, and required Itachi’s full attention. It had meant his mind hadn’t been able to wander anywhere, and the black knot that had been in his stomach since Fugaku spoken to him had been temporarily forgotten.

“Yeah, that’s enough for now.” Kakashi settled down more comfortably. He watched Itachi’s movements carefully.

The boy hesitated, then came to sit nearby. He sent Kakashi a sideways glance, clearly confused, but said nothing. Minutes of silence stretched out, and Itachi watched a crow flying overhead. When it flew from sight, he lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Shisui left on a mission last night,” Kakashi said. “He’ll be back in a few days.”

Itachi let out a sigh. “I know.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Kakashi saw Itachi stiffen. “I know you’re fine. You’re always fine, there’s nothing you can’t handle.” Kakashi sounded like he was parroting something Shisui said. “I meant, are you fine with what happened last night? Shisui told me everything.” They had crossed paths briefly as Shisui had left last night.

Itachi swallowed.

“I knew about the two of you. Shisui said you didn’t know, though, that I knew.”

Itachi finally looked at the older nin, expression incredulous. Itachi had no idea Kakashi had been aware of them. It was supposed to be a secret, although clearly not as well kept as he had thought. When had Kakashi found out?

“Three months ago,” Kakashi supplied helpfully. “Shisui knew I was close to you. He wanted me to keep an eye on you.”

“How did you know?” Itachi whispered. Three months was as long as it had been going on.

“Well,” Kakashi stared at the sky. “It didn’t take much skill. Shisui told me.”

“Why?”

“He got worried.”

“About . . .?”

“Hurting you.”

That was not the answer Itachi expected, but two seconds after hearing it his cheeks flared red.

Itachi could see the grin on Kakashi’s face even without his face being visible. “Not like that, Uchiha. Get your mind out of the gutter.” Kakashi waited until the pink tinge on Itachi’s face faded. “He meant emotionally. He was worried you might regret what the two of you were doing. Worried it would damage you. He asked me to just keep an eye on you, let him know if anything was wrong.”

“What did you tell him?”

Itachi could see Kakashi’s smile under his mask. “I told him you never looked better. That there was a difference in you, something positive I thought you’d lost years ago. Shisui’s good for you. Keeps you grounded. Keeps you human.”

“Not anymore,” Itachi muttered. “My father doesn’t want me to see him anymore.”

“Fugaku has his own views on the world.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Itachi’s head hung, eyes dull. Kakashi remembered the day the boy started in the Anbu, how full of life he was. Keen to learn and push himself. That spark had faded fast, he had become jaded by what he did. Itachi had always been quiet, but as the months had rolled by, he had been even quieter.

Kakashi recalled the day Shisui had come to him in a blind panic, freaking out about what he and Itachi had done the night before. Shisui had blurted the whole story out – with a bit more detail than Kakashi wanted to know – and then sworn Kakashi to secrecy, since they were both certain Fugaku would flip his lid if he knew.

Kakashi had seen the immediate change in the younger Uchiha, however. Itachi had come to work that day with a shy smile on his face; he would occasionally get distracted by some thought and fall into a reverie of what looked like peaceful memories. And the way he’d moved in battle had been transcendent, the same fluidity he’d had as a young child, without the stilted tension that had been within him lately. You would have to be blind to not notice that Itachi had been different.

“Well,” Kakashi leant against the tree. “That’s up to you, I guess. I would start by getting through today. Then worry about tomorrow.”

“He’s so angry at me.” It was not a well-known fact but Itachi lived to please his father. His stomach turned again, twisting in unsettling remorse. He hung his head in defeat. “What would you do?”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t be sleeping with my cousin,” Kakashi drawled, ignoring the irritated look Itachi shot his way. “But if I were . . . I guess I’d do whatever worked for me.”

Itachi looked puzzled.

“You and Shisui,” Kakashi continued, “Seem like a good combination. At least, from what I’ve seen . . . and heard, from Shisui’s overly detailed explanation.”

“Sorry,” Itachi mumbled.

“It’s fine,” Kakashi waved off Itachi’s discomfort. “I’ve read much, much worse. So, I’d say, that if you’ve found something that helps you survive day to day, and cope with your duties as a ninja, hold onto it. Everyone needs someone in this world.”

It wasn’t as helpful as Itachi would have hoped. He stared at the sky again, unsure. He had a few days to think, since Shisui was away. Maybe, when he was back, the gnawing, painful feeling of guilt and bitter anxiousness would have lessened, and he could think more clearly.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3 – Where It Began

He remembered how it had started.

They had arranged to meet at the top of the waterfall, where Shisui liked to watch the sun set and the stars appear. Itachi was there first, waiting patiently for Shisui to arrive. Waiting longer than he thought he would, getting worried at the lack of his friend.

Then Shisui had arrived, out of breath and babbling, but not the way he usually did. Not carefree, and wistful, and excited and rambling. This was different babbling – like he felt he had to. Like he was covering something up. Like he didn’t want Itachi to see that something had rattled him to the core, left him shaken and unsure.

Itachi had been silent.

Shisui held out a hand; he knew it was shaking, he couldn’t stop it, he needed desperately to feel Itachi, to feel someone alive and real, who could understand what he was going through without needing an explanation.

Itachi took his hand softly, not even hearing the words that were still tumbling from Shisui’s mouth. He understood. He knew what it was like. Sometimes missions shook you. Sometimes they were too much to handle, too much to process. Too much to live with. Sometimes you didn’t know what to do when the heat died down, and the adrenaline left, and the horror was fixed into your mind.

“I’m sorry,” Shisui said, voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.” He kept apologizing, gripping Itachi’s hand. Itachi didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but he knew his hand was shaking too, and he realized it was because of the violent tremors from Shisui.

“I . . .” He didn’t know how to help. Didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do when the person in his life who had thus far been unbreakable suddenly broke in front of him.

Shisui pulled him close, arms around him, gripping hard. The sheer desperate force of the hug startled Itachi, but he gripped back anyway. Shisui’s unsettled terror was infectious. Itachi had never felt so out of his depth before. And Shisui was still mumbling in his ear.

It took a few minutes for Shisui to calm down. Itachi had closed his eyes by then, head turned so his nose was in the crook of Shisui’s neck, breathing in his scent, finding the familiarity grounding. He was still unsure of what was going on, only that Shisui needed him right then. And he wanted, oh so desperately, to be needed.

Shisui loosened his grip; Itachi backed off carefully, wary lest Shisui grab for him again. Shisui wiped a hand roughly over his eyes, sniffed loudly a few times. He wasn’t shaking anymore.

“Bad day?” Itachi asked rhetorically.

Shisui just nodded, drawing in a deep breath that he let go in a loud whoosh. “Yeah. Bad mission.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” his voice cracked slightly on that one word. Itachi didn’t say anything else, but after a moment Shisui gushed out a garbled story. “There was a kid. Just a kid, just like you, like when we met. So good, a genius. Had to . . . had to kill him . . . and . . . just a kid,” Shisui’s red eyes locked onto Itachi’s black ones with such force that Itachi took one more step back. “Just a kid,” Shisui repeated.

Itachi moved closer again, his mind sorting through Shisui’s jumbled story. The apologies made a bit more sense now, and Shisui seemed to need to know that Itachi was fine – just as good as ever.

“I’m fine,” he said, looking directly back into the frantic red of Shisui’s Sharingan. “Shisui. Everything is fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” Shisui’s eyes turned black, he moved forward again, this embrace less worried and powerful. “I know you’re fine. I know I never need to worry about you.” He pressed their foreheads together. “But I do. And this was just a kid.”

Itachi wished he could say something to help. But his mind was blank. Shisui was too close, the situation was too out of his control. He just stared, his dark eyes staring into Shisui’s dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Shisui said again, and before Itachi could say anything back – not that he had anything planned – Shisui pressed his lips to the younger boy’s. It was barely a second, but Itachi didn’t know how to process it. When Shisui pulled back, looking much, much calmer than he had been, Itachi just stared at him blankly with slightly parted lips.

Shisui waited patiently for Itachi to speak. To object, maybe. To move away. Run away.

Itachi was waiting for his voice to come back, it had taken an immediate and urgent sabbatical three seconds earlier. He was only able to whisper, “You should do that again.”

Shisui’s shoulders heaved, his mouth quirked up slightly. He pressed his face into Itachi’s shoulder, holding him tightly again. Itachi stayed still, staring blankly into space, with his heart pounding and fingers crushed into Shisui’s shirt. Several minutes passed, Itachi could feel Shisui swallowing a few times, occasionally sniffing loudly.

“We should go home,” Shisui finally murmured.

Itachi would have happily stood there all night.

“We should sleep.” Shisui stepped away, eyes still cast down, and rubbed his forearm across them.

Stay with me, Itachi wanted to say. But he didn’t, he just nodded in agreement.

Shisui closed a hand around Itachi’s wrist as he began walking away from the edge of the cliff. Itachi followed willingly, heart thrilling slightly at the contact.

He stayed awake for ages that night, replaying the evening in his mind over and over again.

Itachi had been waiting for the ‘next time’. It had been on his mind since that first kiss, the very sensation of it prickling at the back of his neck, burning behind his eyes, and filling his chest with a lightness he didn’t know existed in him anymore.

Every day was tension, every mission was harder and more stressful. He could feel his body tightening day by day, there was a heavy pit of black in his stomach that refused to go away. But the mere thought of Shisui (‘s lips, on his…) made the blackness fade just a little.

When Shisui lay on his back in the grass by the lake, eyes closed and mouth smiling, Itachi wanted to snuggle in close and let the day’s tension go, let it drift away on the gentle wind. He was hesitant, though, because he wasn’t an instigator, and he felt like what they were doing – what he was thinking – was wrong.

“Are you still thinking about that kiss?”

Itachi froze in place, on one elbow. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Shisui opened his eyes. “Me too. All the time.” He sat up suddenly, Itachi flinched but didn’t move. Shisui’s eyes darted around. When he was satisfied that the coast was clear, he settled opposite Itachi, mirroring the younger boy on one elbow, his other arm draped casually over Itachi’s side, and they stared at each other, Itachi’s eyes wide and wild, Shisui’s tender and peaceful.

“Can I kiss you again?” Shisui asked, voice just a murmur.

Itachi nodded, unable to formulate a coherent verbal reply. Luckily, Shisui didn’t need verbal confirmation. Itachi let his eyes slide closed as he felt Shisui’s lips touch his, a little harder than last time, a little longer than last time. Shisui’s arm, resting casually over Itachi’s side, gently closed a fist in the boy’s shirt, pulled softly, and Itachi let himself be pulled down onto his back, the kiss breaking.

He felt different. He felt . . . freer. As though the weight of his previous mission had lifted. A different thrill thrummed through his body, one that tingled in all the right places, made him feel light headed and light hearted. He marvelled at how such a simple, inconsequential act could have such an effect on his body.

Shisui was staring at him unashamedly, hovering mere inches away. “It’s nice to see you looking more relaxed for a change.”

“Feels nice,” Itachi admitted. It did, the lines of rigid tension down his back seemed to be easing. The persistent, nagging ache behind his eyes was slowly fading away.

Shisui’s hand left Itachi shirt, and moved up to gently cup his cheek. “No one can know about this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think they’d be very happy.”

It didn’t matter who ‘they’ were, Itachi was in complete agreement. He smiled at Shisui, and Shisui’s face lit up.

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in ages.”

“Haven’t had a reason to.”

“I have a few reasons.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, but when Itachi sat down to dinner that night, the smile was still on his face.

They were kissing almost every day, and it still felt thrilling and exciting, and thoroughly forbidden. Within a week, just kissing was turning into a bit more. Hands wandered slightly, mouths explored other places, fingers tangled into hair, chests pressed firmly together.

“I like how relaxed you get after this,” Shisui murmured one day, fingers pulling gently through Itachi’s hair as the younger boy lay across his chest on the dock, eyes half closed and muscles lax. “You get too tense sometimes.”

Itachi hummed a vague agreement, feeling the sound reverberate inside Shisui’s chest.

Shisui cleared his throat. “Ugh, better move. Sasuke’s coming.”

Itachi bolted upright immediately, making Shisui groan in defeat.

“We’d just got you all calm and relaxed,” he sighed.

Itachi’s hands straightened his ponytail, made sure his forehead protector was straight and in place, and he shifted away from Shisui on the edge of the dock, putting an unsuspicious distance between them. He heard Sasuke calling mere seconds after he had moved.

“Nii-san!” the young boy ran enthusiastically into Itachi’s back, hugging him tightly.

“Hi, Sasuke,” Itachi smiled back at his brother, Shisui rolled his eyes.

“Are you done with missions for today? Can we go train together?”

Itachi sent Shisui a sideways glance. The older Uchiha shrugged. “Do whatever. I’ve got stuff I can do anyway.”

“Come and train with us,” Itachi offered, blissfully unaware of the raging death glare Sasuke levelled at his cousin at the mere thought of having to share his brother.

“Nah, it’s okay.” Shisui stood up. “I’ve got somewhere else to be. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Itachi tilted his head up with a smile. Shisui leant down, lips close to Itachi’s ear, and whispered softly, “I love you.”

He was gone before Itachi had a chance to respond, leaving the young Anbu siting in a dazed stupor with his brother tugging at his shirt, trying to get him to hurry up.

It did not take Shisui and Itachi long to learn to depend on each other. After each mission, both of them stressed and exhausted, they sought the other out, finding comfort in stolen kisses and forbidden caresses, getting more adventurous each time.

Passionate whispers soon accompanied gestures, encounters being laced with gasps of “I love you”, “Love you so much . . .” “Love it when you make that sound . . .”

Itachi found himself physically straining for Shisui after a particularly brutal mission. It had been more than his young mind had been ready for. It had been one he wanted to block out forever. He hadn’t slept well in the week he had been gone, and he yearned for Shisui, to sleep beside him and keep him safe, to banish the tightness in his back with gently caressing fingers, to drown out the haunting sounds of victims screaming with loving kisses.

So when he had seen Shisui waiting outside his house – arms crossed over his chest, and head cast down – his heart had thrilled for a moment, because this was all he had been waiting for all week. He wanted to run to Shisui, throw himself into his arms, but they couldn’t. Not where anyone could see. He still moved eagerly, wanting to close the distance between them, turn it to nothing.

Shisui looked up when he felt Itachi approach, but he did not smile. Itachi felt his own brief, light mood vanish. His whole body ached, he was beyond exhausted, and his mind was screaming for sleep.

“I have a mission.” Shisui said dully. “I’ll be gone five days.”

Itachi felt the world crashing down. He could feel his parents watching them, pleased to have him home relatively unscathed. He cursed their presence then, because they were the reason he couldn’t be with Shisui, couldn’t touch, couldn’t get some of the intoxicating relief to his weary body that Shisui was so good at delivering.

But the separation could not be helped. When Shisui returned, Itachi looked drawn and tense. He flinched at loud noises, kept looking over his shoulder. There were dark marks under his eyes, evidence of sleepless nights. Shisui had returned after sunset, and met Itachi at the top of the waterfall.

“You look tired.” He reached a hand out to touch Itachi’s cheek, surprised when the boy drew his face back. He let his hand drop to his side.

“Come home with me.”

“Okay.” Shisui didn’t question it; Itachi looked like he was at breaking point already. He needed Shisui, needed anything the older boy could give him.

They got into Itachi’s room without being seen, which Shisui supposed was half the battle. He didn’t want to imagine what Fugaku would think if he caught them sneaking around with flushed cheeks and hair in disarray.

Shisui was prepared for Itachi to be . . . different . . . because the boy was so on edge, but he hadn’t expected Itachi to grip at him desperately, press against him with a need and urgency he had never seen from him before.

“Are you okay?” Shisui asked between light kisses, even though the answer was clearly no.

Itachi didn’t answer, which in itself was the clearest answer he could give. He guided Shisui to the bed, pulled him down onto it without hesitation. He was shaking slightly, but when Shisui tried to get some distance between them, to look at Itachi and try to figure out what was wrong, Itachi pulled him back, keeping them close together.

“Don’t leave.”

“I won’t leave.” Shisui gave up on studying the younger boy, instead moving one hand to the back of Itachi’s neck – a place he knew the young Anbu loved to be touched – rubbing his thumb in gentle circles. It had an immediate effect; Itachi’s shaking stopped, the death grip he had on Shisui’s shirt relaxed slightly.

Shisui wanted to ask what was wrong, but wasn’t sure how to. So he spent his time instead peppering light kisses on Itachi’s mouth and neck, every movement soft and slow. He could feel Itachi calming down, the shallow quickness to his breathing was replaced with Itachi’s usual pattern of thoughtful inhalation and silent exhalation. The silence seemed to be working, so Shisui stayed quiet.

Itachi was tugging insistently at Shisui’s shirt, and Shisui’s mind swam. Would they . . .? Was Itachi trying to . . .? He had thought about it – them - before. Lots of times. Had spent several nights on his own running through different scenarios – sometimes not just thinking about them. Itachi’s breathing was calm now, but Shisui’s sped up dramatically as Itachi finally removed the offending item of clothing and dropped it off the side of the bed.

Shisui sat back on his heels, the hand behind Itachi’s neck pulling his hair tie out as he did so. His chest heaved, he saw Itachi’s eyes flicker down to watch the muscles there move. The younger boy remained motionless, lying on his back, face calm but dark eyes raw with . . . something . . . that Shisui had never seen in him before.

When Shisui stayed still for just a little too long for Itachi’s patience to allow, the boy wriggled his way out of his own shirt, letting it fall to the floor on top of Shisui’s, and it suddenly seemed dramatically real. They both froze in place then, each staring at the other. Watching the way moonlight slid over newly exposed skin. Watching as Shisui swallowed hard, suddenly feeling so out of his depth, but at the same time, as though this was the only place he wanted to be right now.

Itachi was like a dream, all smooth skin and tight muscle, but better than a dream, because this time Shisui could touch as much as he wanted to, anywhere he wanted to. He felt hot, overwhelmed, but so content with how things were playing out. He licked dry lips once, mind flashing with images of fantasies passed, and finally, finally, it was real.

Itachi’s eyes were fixed on his mouth, and Shisui figured they’d been still for long enough. He leant down again, meeting Itachi’s lips in a bruising kiss that had the younger boy arching his back off the bed. Skin to skin. The contact almost burned. Shisui could barely believe it was happening.

So soon.

So very soon, he had thought it might take years to come to this. Years, before Itachi was ready, and Shisui was ready, and oh god, he wasn’t ready. Neither of them were. Itachi was just a kid . . . just a kid . . .

“We have to stop,” Shisui gasped, pulling back suddenly, heart thumping loudly.

“What?” Itachi shook his head, looking disoriented. “I . . . why?”

“I can’t do this.” Shisui edged away, sitting on the edge of the bed with both feet on the floor. He tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. The moonlight cast dramatic shadows on his back.

“Is it . . . me?” Itachi sat up slowly.

Shisui let out a loud breath. “You’re only thirteen.”

“So?”

It was Shisui’s turn to shake his head, firmly. “I just . . . you’re so young.”

“Where is this coming from? Why would it matter?” Itachi tried to move closer to him, but Shisui stood up abruptly and began the pacing room. Itachi watched him for a few moments, and spoke impassively. “Yesterday, you killed someone. You ran a sword through his chest. Last week, I did the same. We are not children anymore, Shisui.”

“You are,” he replied quietly.

“Not by any common standard,” Itachi said. When Shisui did not stop pacing, Itachi frowned. “So this is the situation where your morals return? This? This is where you draw the line?”

Shisui sent Itachi a pained look.

“I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you,” Shisui replied passionately. “Which is why I’m saying no. This is too much for you.”

“Or for you?” Itachi snapped his gaze away when Shisui turned to face him. “If this is something I want-“ Need, his mind screamed- “Why should age matter? When has age ever mattered to a ninja?”

“I don’t want to fight about this-“

“Well, we’re going to,” Itachi stood as well, dark eyes blazing.

The silence in the room was thick and heavy, Shisui came back to stand in front of Itachi. His hair was loose and wild, eyes dark, and his upper body leanly muscled. There were fading scars from old injuries littering his arms. Shisui reached out a hand, and cupped Itachi’s upper arm, thumb moving softly over the Anbu tattoo there.

“I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later . . .”

Itachi shook Shisui’s hand off his arm, face darkening. “Regret? Regret? Do you know what we are doing with our lives? Do you not remember the things we’ve done? We’ve slaughtered dozens, wounded countless others, tor…” Itachi hesitated. “Tortured people.”

Shisui’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You’ve done what?”

“Anbu missions,” Itachi mumbled. All his fury, all his rage, misplaced as it might be, evaporated. He stumbled back until he felt his legs hit the bed again, and then slumped down, defeated, head hanging. “I . . . I didn’t want to talk about it to you . . .”

Shisui’s own ready argument died down. He stared at the top of Itachi’s head.

“I can’t get the images out of my head,” Itachi whispered, voice trembling. “Unless I’m with you. You . . . you take the pain away. Even if it’s just for a little while. They scream, and they bleed, and the voices wake me when I sleep.” He looked up, eyes shining bright. “So don’t tell me I’m a child, because I’m not. If I . . . If I choose this, with you, ask for this . . . it’s because it helps me. Helps me deal with the life I have. With the choices I need to make. I know I’m young, but so are you, and life for us could end tomorrow. There’s so much . . . wrong . . . with my life, why can’t I have one right decision? And why can’t it be you?”

The last sentence was barely audible.

Shisui clenched both hands at his sides. Why would Hokage ever order that? Who would ever make Itachi torture someone? He’s . . . he’s just not that type of person.

“I’m sorry, Itachi. I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to.” Itachi moved to lie down, his back to Shisui, his body language clearly stating he wanted to be left alone. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking carefully measured breaths. Shisui could see the muscles down his back tighten.

He stood unmoving in the centre of the room, watching Itachi breathe. The blanket had been thrown half onto the floor. He picked it up, shook it out thoughtfully. Picked up both their discarded shirts, folded them absently and put them on the open space on Itachi’s desk. Itachi had not moved, he only shifted when Shisui climbed onto the bed behind him, slinging the blanket over the both of them.

He placed an arm over Itachi, felt his breath hitch and shudder, and nuzzled his nose into Itachi’s hair. “It’s okay. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

Shisui laced their fingers together, and squeezed Itachi’s hand. “I’ll protect you.”

“You can’t change what I see in my mind.”

“Yes, I can.” Shisui pressed a soft kiss to the side of Itachi’s face. “Turn around.”

Itachi looked curiously back over his shoulder, his black eyes meeting the blood red of Shisui’s Sharingan.

“You can sleep safely tonight,” Shisui whispered. “I can give you any kind of dream you want.”

“I just want to sleep,” Itachi whispered back, voice broken.

“Okay.” Shisui could make any illusion he wanted, could put any thought, any feeling, any idea into anyone’s head. And Itachi was unresisting, looking into the blood red eyes with absolute trust, waiting for the genjutsu to take effect, putting his very life into Shisui’s hands.

Shisui could show him anything he wanted, and Itachi was helpless to resist.

All Itachi wanted to see was nothing. The Sharingan flared, and Itachi’s eyes started to droop. Shisui felt him relax in his arms, the tightness in his breathing eased, and sleep came blissfully fast.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 – Tension Builds, Itachi Falls

Itachi vaguely wondered how long Fugaku was planning to give him the silent treatment.

It had been two days already. Even Sasuke had picked up on the fact that something was not right between his brother and his father, and was seeming frustrated that no one wanted to supply him with a reason.

“Why are Nii-san and Father not talking to each other?” he asked Mikoto at breakfast on day three of ‘No one in this family talks anymore’.

“It’s complicated,” she replied, finishing packing Sasuke a bento to take to the Academy.

“How complicated can it be?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Sasuke pouted. “Why won’t anyone tell me anything now?”

Itachi quietly entered the room, fully dressed in his Anbu gear.

“Nii-san,” Sasuke said eagerly. “Mother won’t tell me why you’re not talking to Father. Can you tell me?”

“I can’t, Sasuke. Sorry.” Itachi brushed him off rather uncharacteristically. “I have to leave.”

“Good luck with your mission,” Mikoto said, and Sasuke rolled his eyes because everyone in this family was acting weird lately.

“I’m training today when I get home.”

“I’ll come with you.”

This awkward and unusual exchange did not go unnoticed by Sasuke, and he pouted because he felt thoroughly left out of whatever was going on.

Itachi left the house, silent as ever.

It wasn’t a hard mission today. All he and his team were doing was trailing a group of dignitaries from Suna, and even then they were spending most of the day in the Hokage building in meetings. It wasn’t a challenging day at all. There was no reason to be suspicious of anything happening.

So Itachi found himself perched on a rooftop, watching the day go by, rather bored. The rest of his team were inside; he had elected to remain on the outside to keep watch (For what, he wondered.) It was about mid-morning, on a day too hot to be sitting outside. He repositioned himself in the shade, wondering if the rest of the day was going to be this dull.

He had barely finished the thought when he felt someone approaching, and leapt to his feet, a kunai already drawn, senses all on high alert.

“It’s just me, settle down.”

“Shisui?” Itachi said, incredulous. Sure enough, there was his cousin grinning in front of him. “You’re meant to be on a mission. Kakashi said you’d be gone for a few days.”

“I’m still on a mission,” Shisui said. “Had to go escort some boring old dignitaries from the Village of Sand.” He beamed. “But now there’s a very capable Anbu team keeping an eye on them so I have most of the day to myself.”

Itachi just stared at him.

“Thought you might like to talk,” Shisui flopped over in the shade. “We didn’t get a chance to after your father found out about us.”

Itachi sat down beside him with a heavy sigh. “Not much to talk about. He basically said we can’t be near each other, and no one is allowed to find out about it.”

“Did his little speech change anything?” Shisui asked. At Itachi’s questioning look, he clarified, “Between us. About us. About how you feel?”

Itachi shook his head. “Not at all.”

Shisui waited patiently, in case Itachi added something.

“I still want to be with you. I still love you. I don’t care what he says, or what he thinks.” That was a lie, and they both knew it. Itachi cared very much about what his father thought of him. But with Shisui around, the world always seemed a little bit different.

“It’s a pity you’re on duty,” Shisui said.

Itachi sent him a sideways glance.

“We could have sex right here.” Shisui grinned, and his blatant, brash statement made colour flare on Itachi’s cheeks.

“On the roof?” Itachi said, somewhat mortified by the thought.

Shisui chuckled at Itachi’s obvious discomfort. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t make you do that.”

Itachi did not look as relieved as Shisui had hoped, still keeping a suspicious eye on the older boy.

“Want to hang out later?”

Itachi shook his head. “I can’t. Father won’t let me.”

“You’re probably the first Anbu in history to get grounded.”

“I’m not grounded,” Itachi sounded indignant.

“Sure, you’re not. You just can’t leave the house.” Shisui raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like being grounded to me.”

At Itachi’s sulky expression, Shisui laughed. “No need to look so down. It’s just the two of us here, right now. So, want to talk about something?”

“Not really.” Itachi stared at the sky.

“Come here.” Shisui waved an arm vaguely around.

Itachi raised a dubious eyebrow at this behaviour.

“Come and cuddle,” Shisui finally clarified.

With a shrug, as though he could take it or leave it, Itachi shifted closer, until he was leaned into Shisui’s side, the older boy’s chin resting on the top of his head. Shisui wrapped an arm around Itachi, pressing his lips softly to his hair.

“Isn’t this a better way to keep watch?” he asked, pressing another kiss onto Itachi’s hair.

Itachi had to admit that it was. He felt boneless, completely at ease. It brought forth the startling realisation that Kakashi was right – he and Shisui were a good fit, were dependant on one another. They were the grounding forces in each other’s lives.

And Itachi never wanted to let Shisui go.

That thought was with him that night when he sat down next to Sasuke for dinner.

As was common as of late, there was silence around the table.

Fugaku levelled a scowl at Itachi, who kept his head down. Sasuke looked confused, he still had no idea why there was this sudden tension between his brother and father. Mikoto did not provide any helpful explanations either.

“Father,” Sasuke spoke eventually. “My teacher said I’m doing the best in class right now.”

A flicker of a smile appeared on Itachi’s face.

“Good,” Fugaku said. “I expect that from you.”

Sasuke beamed proudly. “And I’ve been getting extra homework to do that the others in my class can’t.”

Fugaku nodded. “Keep doing your best. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Itachi flinched.

Mikoto looked at him with concern. “Itachi, how have missions been going lately?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“We’re very proud of you, you know.” She felt like he needed to hear it.

Itachi flicked his eyes up to his father, who did not meet his gaze. He swallowed slightly, but stayed quiet. Fugaku did not seem like he wanted to talk. Itachi stared at his food, stomach churning. He wanted to say the right thing, but he didn’t know what it was. And doing the right thing seemed even more impossible.

When he looked up again, Fugaku was watching him, expressionless. Their eyes met for a moment, Itachi hoped maybe he wouldn’t look so coldly at him. That maybe, just maybe, his father would say something to him. But Fugaku’s expression just hardened, and he stared blankly at Itachi until the boy had to look away.

He felt sick.

“Excuse me.” Without waiting for approval – which he was clearly not getting, ever again – he stood up from the table and went to his room. No one tried to stop him, although he did notice Sasuke’s puzzled expression following him.

In his room, he slumped on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes and trying to ignore his heaving stomach. He opened his eyes cautiously, staring at the wooden floor. There was a bit of navy fabric sticking out from under the bed. He pulled it out curiously.

It was one of Shisui’s shirts, and, oh god, he remembered the night it got there so vividly. It was not infrequent for Shisui to stay over, and he had taken to leaving a few changes of clothes with Itachi. So, one shirt left behind might go unnoticed by both boys.

Itachi let the shirt drop back to the floor, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes to try squash the headache he felt forming. He moved to lie down, at first on the edge on the bed, before remembering that he could use the whole bed, because no one was going to share with him, and hold him, and help chase away the horror-filled nightmares that flared up so frequently these days.

Shisui was the only thing that helped, and he was not there.

When Mikoto came to check on him an hour or two later, opening the door quietly so as not to disturb him, he was in an exhausted sleep. She closed the door again, knowing how rare it was for him to sleep soundly, and not wanting to do anything to interrupt it.

She wondered where the navy shirt he was wearing had come from.

“Itachi,” Kakashi called for him before he could leave for home one afternoon.

“Yes, Kakashi-san?” Itachi asked, ever so polite in his Anbu mode.

“I need a three man team to help me get rid of some bandit ninja a few hours away. They’ve been attacking travellers. I’d like you to come with me, you’ll help me get the job done fast.”

“Okay.” Itachi sounded slightly resigned. It had only been a week without Shisui – his father’s rules regarding that had been non-negotiable – and Itachi was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. He hadn’t realised how much Shisui had been helping with that, it had been hard adjusting to not having him in the bed at night, and even harder knowing that he was right in the village, so close and yet so agonizingly out of reach.

Fugaku had been watching him like a hawk, and the stress was visible.

“Might as well leave now,” Kakashi said, sounding ridiculously cheerful. Itachi wanted to punch him in the teeth.

“Where’s the third person?” he asked, trudging behind the Copy Nin.

“Waiting outside the gates,” Kakashi said breezily. “I just needed to fetch you, and we’re good to go. Shouldn’t be a long mission, less than a day, I would guess. All being well.”

All was not well, Itachi decided, because he was tired and tense, and the last thing he felt like doing was pretending to be civil to whomever Kakashi had procured for their team. Itachi followed Kakashi blindly out of Konoha, barely paying attention to anything. He would have to get his mind in gear soon, he knew, before he got himself killed by being so out of focus. He rubbed at his eyes, wondering if the nagging headache behind them would leave with more sleep.

“Yo.” The familiar voice was all it took to wake him up, apparently.

Itachi’s eyes shot open, he stared incredulously at his cousin. Shisui grinned at him, arms crossed, leaning casually against a tree. Itachi turned his stare to Kakashi, who shrugged. “I was told to pick two ninja to come with me. I picked the best two for the job.”

“But . . .”

“Your father doesn’t know,” Kakashi added. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

Itachi was still standing a delighted stupor, feeling the dullness of the last week zapping away. He obviously took too long to react appropriately, because Shisui rolled his eyes, unfolded his arms, and stepped forward to grip Itachi hard and kiss him firmly on the mouth.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow. “Guys, I’m standing right here.”

“Then leave,” Shisui said cheekily, taking advantage of Itachi’s near comatose state to push the younger nin back a nearby tree and press his body against him. Itachi finally caught up a few seconds later, raising his hands to tangle into Shisui’s hair as the older boy continued to assault him.

Shisui was hauled away a few seconds later by Kakashi yanking the back of his shirt. “Okay, that’s enough. We have a mission to do.”

“But I have something else to do,” Shisui whined, and Itachi had to look away with a slight flush.

“After the mission,” Kakashi stated firmly. “I don’t care what you two do after we’re done.”

Shisui winked at Itachi. “Hear that? He doesn’t care.”

Itachi frowned slightly. The conversation was heading into uncomfortable territory.

Kakashi rolled his eyes and began walking away, Shisui and Itachi fell into step beside him. After a short, thoughtful silence, Shisui added, “But you’re not allowed to watch.”

Itachi wanted the ground to swallow him. He had to settle for a face palm, though.

It was wonderful to have Shisui back at his side, and tired as he was, he was still thrilled at his cousin’s presence. Shisui nattered happily, not too concerned that neither of his companions were contributing much to the conversation. After about an hour, he sidled closer to Itachi, slinging an arm casually across the younger boy’s shoulders.

He said nothing, and Itachi said nothing at the action, but he did lean his head against Shisui’s shoulder as they walked, a peaceful smile on his face. If he hadn’t been walking, he could have fallen asleep right there, leaning into the warmth of Shisui’s body.

He barely even noticed when Shisui and Kakashi stopped walking.

“I count four,” Kakashi said softly, not turning around and not giving anything away.

“Same,” Shisui said. “The two on our left are the closest.”

“And moving closer,” Kakashi observed. “I’ll check the surrounding area once the battle starts and make sure there aren’t anymore. You two can handle things here, right?”

“Of course.” Shisui removed his arm from Itachi’s shoulders, and the movement jolted his sluggish mind into a more alert stance. For a fraction of a second, nothing, nobody moved. Then the four enemy nin – from Kiri, Shisui noticed – attacked at once.

Kakashi vanished from the scene to scout for any outliers, leaving Shisui and Itachi to handle the four that flew at them from all sides. Shisui drew his sword instantly, Sharingan flaring to life, immediately on the attack. The first enemy was down within seconds.

Itachi took a moment longer to respond, dark eyes only flaring red when he had already dodged the first attack. He almost, almost stumbled, but caught himself in time and was flashing through the seals for his fire jutsu within seconds.

If Shisui noticed this delay, he gave no indication, occupying himself with the two ninja facing him. They were not very skilled, but they were very enthusiastic, flailing and throwing weapons with abandon, in a manner Shisui recognised as panic. He got some distance between himself and them, self-preservation kicking in after observing their devil-may-care, fight-desperately-for-your-life attitude towards battling.

His Sharingan easily incapacitated the second nin, who dropped to the ground with a gut wrenching wail, clutching at his head.

“These people are a bit loopy,” he muttered to himself, moving back again as the third nin facing him drew a long sword and began thrashing about with no visible semblance of technique. He glanced about, seeing Itachi’s opponent fall into the shallow water of the river side, nowhere near the young Anbu, who was standing calmly a few metres away. Shisui grinned.

The last enemy nin was flailing his sword around in a panic, obviously out classed by the two remaining Konoha nin, and trying desperately not to die. His comrades flopped around in the shallow water like fish; they were no longer of any concern.

Shisui turned to the last ninja standing, his own sword drawn, eyes red and narrow, only to jerk back in surprise at the madly waving blade, narrowing avoiding having his nose cut off. “What the hell?”

Itachi was at his side in an instant, drawn by the outraged yell, but the past week had been draining, the battle intense, and he recognised the blade arcing towards him, Sharingan eyes already seeing where it would slice, and he began to move, a split second too late.

The enemy’s blade hit flesh, the most unlucky strike Itachi had ever experienced, with the smooth, sharp metal finding its way into the narrow, unprotected space above his left hip. The blade did not go far; Shisui had already turned around, swung his body and levelled a kick at the Kiri ninja, sending him flying, tearing the sword from Itachi’s flesh before it could go too far. One swing of his sword was all it took to nullify any further threat, and before the enemy’s heart had even stopped beating, he was at Itachi’s side.

“Itachi!”

The young Anbu stood still, doubled over, one hand pressed to his shirt, and Shisui could see blood running from between Itachi’s fingers.

“Let me see,” Shisui gently took Itachi’s bloodied hand away, lifting the bottom of his shirt. The wound was small, but Shisui had no way of knowing how deep it was. It was bleeding freely, bright red against the paleness of Itachi’s skin. He felt Itachi shudder, and straightened up just in time to catch him as his knees buckled.

Shisui lowered them both to the ground, sitting carefully on folded legs as Itachi doubled over onto his side, his hand going back to clutch over the bleeding gash. “Itachi?”

“Hurts,” the young nin mumbled.

“Yeah, a sword in your side will do that.” Shisui looked around, hoping Kakashi would come back soon. He didn’t want to turn his full attention to Itachi in case there were more ninja hiding, so he laid one hand on Itachi’s shoulder instead and kept a watchful eye on the surrounding area.

Kakashi flashed back within minutes. “No one else around. I see you’ve managed to . . . What happened to Itachi?”

“That guy stabbed him,” Shisui jerked his head towards the body of the offending nin. “It’s bleeding a lot.”

Kakashi picked up the blade, and sent a glance at Itachi.

“Itachi, get up.” Kakashi raised an eyebrow as the young Anbu remained firmly where he was on the ground, shaking his head.

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Shisui said, sighing. “It’s just a little stab.” He hauled Itachi up into a sitting position; Itachi let himself fall limply over Shisui’s lap. “You’re just not used to getting hurt, that’s all.”

“Well, it was bound to happen sometime,” Kakashi said flatly, studying the enemy blade. “You’ve come back from too many missions unscathed.”

Itachi’s reply was a pathetic groan. Shisui held onto his hand worriedly. “Should it be bleeding that much? Should it hurt that much?”

“This blade has poison on it.”

“What?” Itachi yelped, sitting upright and almost knocking his head into Shisui’s chin.

“Nothing to worry about,” Kakashi sounded infuriatingly calm. He turned the blade around, watching the fading light catch on it. “It won’t kill you.”

Itachi muttered something that sounded decidedly like a curse as he fell back against Shisui’s chest. Blood was seeping out from between his fingers, and tendrils of burning pain were spreading slowly through his body. He drew in a sharp breath, jaw clenched tight.

“Are you sure?” Shisui asked, starting when Itachi’s free hand suddenly gripped onto his knee with crushing force. “Ow!”

“Yes,” Kakashi threw the sword aside. “The pain will last for a few hours, but he’ll be fine.” He straightened up, looking around. “We should find somewhere to hide for the night, though. He’s not moving anywhere.”

“I can-“ Shisui was interrupted by Itachi’s grip getting tighter, and a strangled, agonized groan from the young boy. Shisui gritted his teeth. “I can carry him home.”

Kakashi shook his head. “Better to let him rest. Keep watch, I’ll find us somewhere to hide.” Kakashi vanished, leaving Shisui to wonder if Itachi would ever let his knee go, and if he would ever be able to use that leg properly again.

“You okay?” he asked, voice laced with worry.

“No,” Itachi would have snapped, but his voice was strained. He pressed his body back against Shisui’s chest in a futile attempt to move away from the burning pain in his side. Shisui could see a faint sweat breaking out on his skin, his breathing harsh and shallow. Itachi couldn’t keep still, he writhed, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down hard.

Shisui rested his cheek against Itachi’s hair, wrapping his arms around his cousin, and wishing he could do more to help. And wincing at Itachi’s grip on his knee. One of them injured was enough; he cautiously pried Itachi’s fingers off him, yelping when Itachi took to gripping his hand with crushing force instead. “Hey, hey, don’t break my hand.”

Itachi cursed again under his breath, but did not let go.

“Yo,” Kakashi reappeared. “Found a nice cave nearby for you two to make out in.”

Itachi groaned, writhing again in Shisui’s lap.

“I don’t think he’s up for that,” Shisui said. “Which is a pity.” He ignored the glare Itachi shot at him.

Itachi had forgotten that Shisui and Kakashi together usually ended up mocking everyone in the immediate vicinity, especially, it would seem, when they were in no position to fight back. He made several pathetic noises when Shisui hauled him to his feet and slung an arm around his shoulders to keep him up.

The exhaustion seemed to be coming back, Itachi felt the world swim around him, the voices of his teammates seemed very far away. Shisui was saying . . .  something . . . Itachi wasn’t sure what. It didn’t really matter, Shisui was warm and comforting, and Itachi let his eyes slide closed, vaguely feeling the older boy stagger slightly as Itachi became a dead weight.

“Is that normal?” Shisui asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Kakashi dismissed. “I’ve dealt with worse before. The poison isn’t anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, but,” Shisui followed Kakashi slowly, “He’s been a bit . . . under strain lately. Will what make it worse?”

“Shouldn’t.”

Kakashi didn’t sound at all worried, and his blasé reaction to Itachi being poisoned was encouraging to Shisui. “Okay.”

The cave Kakashi had found was not far, but it was fairly small. Shisui had to duck ever so slightly to not hit his head on the ceiling. Itachi had been relatively silent for most of the journey, drifting blissfully in an out of consciousness, but when Shisui lowered him down to try get him to rest he seemed to spring to life again, clinging forcefully at Shisui.

“Ow,” the older boy complained. “Do you have to hold so hard?”

“Everything hurts,” Itachi mumbled rather pathetically.

Shisui sighed, his expression softening. “Sorry about that. There isn’t really anything we can do.”

Now that he was awake again, Itachi was on fire. He tried to move away from the pain, but it kept following, and he couldn’t find any relief. Shisui held him sympathetically for a while, until there was a break in the agonizing burning spreading through the young Anbu’s body.

“Rest,” Shisui ordered gently, pressing a soft kiss to Itachi’s sweaty forehead. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Itachi swallowed, and nodded, eyes half closed, flashing irritably between red and black.

Shisui went outside, sitting down next to Kakashi on a downed log, sending worried glances back into the cave every few minutes.

“He’ll be fine,” Kakashi said, starting a fire.

“I know. But it’s kinda hard to see him like that, you know. Itachi . . . doesn’t get hurt.”

“He seemed a little slow today,” Kakashi speculated, watching the flames.

“I noticed.” Shisui knew Itachi’s movements well – in every aspect of their lives. He pursed his lips. “I think he’s tired. He doesn’t sleep well.”

Kakashi did not reply.

“Do we need to worry? If he’s tired enough to be screwing up on missions . . .”

“He’ll only do it once,” Kakashi said. “Consider it a lesson learned.”

That doesn’t sound very sympathetic, Shisui thought rather grumpily, but he knew Kakashi was right. He and Kakashi sat in silence, both watching the fire, and Shisui wincing occasionally at the pain filled groans that came from the cave. After a period of silence, Kakashi glanced back.

“He hasn’t made a noise in a while.”

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” Shisui said hopefully.

“Maybe it’s a bad sign.”

“Hey,” Shisui shouted back into the cave. “You still alive in there?”

There was a short pause, followed by Itachi’s strained and somewhat frustrated yell of, “No!”

Shisui grinned. “I should probably check on him.”

“Check if that wound’s still bleeding,” Kakashi suggested. “We should keep track of how much he’s losing.”

“Yup.” Shisui got up from his seat and wandered into the cave.

Itachi was spreading a small puddle of blood around where he was lying, on his back and with both hands clutched into his side. When he heard Shisui approach, his eyes – which had been scrunched closed – shot open and glared angry red Sharingan at the older boy.

Shisui held up both hands. “Okay, that’s a little aggressive.” He surveyed the blood on the floor. “Kakashi wants to know if it’s still bleeding.”

“What do you think?” Itachi choked out.

“Hey,” Shisui dropped to his knees next to Itachi, his voice soft. “Sorry we can’t do anything for you.”

The Sharingan narrowed slightly.

Shisui brushed some hair off Itachi’s cheek. He pressed a soft kiss there, thoroughly surprised when Itachi grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands. The boy’s red eyes were locked on his, intentions clear. “Stay with me.”

Shisui spent a long time staring at him before answering. “I’ll stay, but we’re not doing anything. You need to rest.”

“Who knows when we’ll have another chance to be together?” Itachi’s raw and vulnerable gaze was interrupted by another wave of pain, his whole body tightening.

Shisui lay down at Itachi’s side; the younger boy immediately turned to face him, burying his face into Shisui’s chest. “We’ll figure something out. But for now, just get through this. Once you’re better, then we’ll worry about the two of us.”

Shisui put his arms around Itachi, holding him close. It was a little unsettling holding him, every few minutes his body would convulse slightly, his breathing would catch erratically, and Itachi would try, and fail, to stifle a groan of pain.

Kakashi joined them a while later, staring blankly at the sight of two cuddling teenagers on the floor of a cave. He shrugged, “Well, clothes are all on, so I won’t complain.”

Shisui glared at him.

“I’ll take the first watch. Try get some rest.”

“Okay.” Shisui closed his eyes, trying to focus on something other than Itachi’s squirming. He wasn’t getting much rest tonight, that was certain.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5 – Get to Shisui - Faster

Itachi looked better in the morning. When Shisui came inside the cave to wake him and Kakashi, the boy was lying peacefully, the deep crease between his eyes gone again. The pool of blood that had been widening around him all night had stopped growing several hours ago, much to Shisui’s relief.

“Hey,” Shisui knelt down and kissed Itachi softly on the forehead. “Wake up.”

Itachi’s eyes flickered open.

“How are you feeling?”

Itachi took a moment to assess. “Better,” he said slowly.

“Good.” Shisui inspected the wound, then stood up. “Looks okay.”

Itachi sat up slowly, wincing slightly. He took Shisui’s outstretched hand; grateful for the extra pull to get him to his feet.

They made the journey back to Konoha slowly, with Kakashi moving slightly ahead of them. Shisui wasn’t sure if it was to keep an eye out for any danger, or if it was to give the two Uchiha some privacy. Either way, Shisui made a mental note to thank Kakashi later.

He and Itachi walked back side by side, not speaking much, but it was still wonderful to just have Itachi there after their forced separation. As Konoha came into view, Itachi’s face changed to a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Shisui asked.

Itachi stared at the ground. “We won’t be allowed to see each other again.”

“Yeah, we will. We’ll figure something out.” Shisui smiled sunnily at him.

It took some effort, but Itachi returned the smile. Shisui held out a fist expectantly towards the other Uchiha. Itachi’s smile softened, and he affectionately bumped Shisui’s outstretched fist with his own.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Kakashi dropped down beside them. “Itachi, you should go get that wound seen to.”

“I will.”

Kakashi sent him a sideways glance. “You know, since it’s so debilitating that we had to delay our return home by more than twelve hours. Poor Itachi, with his little ouchie.”

Itachi glared at him. “It’s not an ‘ouchie’, it could have been very serious.”

“I’ve gotten bigger cuts than that doing paperwork,” Kakashi said, and Shisui snorted inelegantly.

“It bled for ages,” Itachi huffed indignantly, feeling like he needed to defend his pride here. “And I was poisoned.”

“And Shisui didn’t even offer to suck the poison out,” Kakashi tutted, amused at Itachi’s flushed reaction, and Shisui’s subsequent grin.

“I’ll be sure to offer on the next one,” he assured Itachi, patting his cousin rather condescendingly on the back.

“Both of you, shut up,” Itachi mumbled. If this was the sort of sympathy one got from being injured in battle, he was going to be sure to avoid it ever happening again. He strode purposefully forward, ignoring the other two sniggering behind him, trying to get some distance from them.

“Need me to carry you?” Shisui offered cheekily, skipping slightly to catch up, and leaving Kakashi strolling at a leisurely pace behind.

“No,” Itachi grumbled, pointedly not looking at Shisui’s ridiculous grin.

“Wait a minute,” Shisui said, facing turning serious. “Before we go home.”

Kakashi’s relaxed stroll through the trees was interrupted by a young Uchiha being tackled to the ground in front of him by his older cousin, and pinned down with Shisui’s knees tight against Itachi’s hips, and his hands on his shoulders pressing them back into the dirt. If Itachi had protested this treatment – and Kakashi doubted he had – his protest had been cut off by Shisui’s forceful kiss.

“Seriously!” Kakashi threw his hands up in the air. “Right in front of me? The hell is wrong with you two?”

Shisui lifted one hand and made a carefree, obscene gesture with his fingers, that Kakashi ignored. He stepped purposefully around them, rolling his eyes as Itachi’s hands came up to fist into Shisui’s shirt and hold him close.

“I’m reporting the mission,” Kakashi said, wondering if they were listening. Neither was in a position to reply, both mouths being occupied by the other. “Don’t take too long.” He beat a hasty retreat when Shisui rolled his hips, because the sound Itachi made was not one the older ninja needed to know he was capable of.

Itachi was still breathless when he got home, mind swirling and thoughts unfocused. When he reached the front door, however, reality came crashing back. He felt a slight twist of nervousness in his belly, but ignored it, and padded delicately into the house, heading for the family room where he was certain Mikoto would be.

“Mother?” he asked softly, peering around the door but not stepping into view. The blood on his side might be alarming for the unprepared.

“Itachi,” Mikoto smiled fondly, putting aside the book she had been reading and standing up. “Everything okay?”

“Is Father home?” Itachi sounded nervous, and it made Mikoto frown.

“No, he’s still at work.”

Itachi’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I got hurt on my mission. Can you help?”

“Of course.” She wasn’t sure why he looked so on edge about it, anyone could get injured. She walked towards him, “What’s the matter?”

Itachi looked at her, dark eyes almost desperate. “Don’t tell him I was hurt, please.”

Itachi was already disappointing enough, he didn’t want to imagine how much it would displease his father that he had returned wounded from a mission. He didn’t want to face even more displeasure from Fugaku.

Mikoto pursed her lips, clearly understanding Itachi’s hesitation. “Alright. We won’t tell him.”

“Thank you,” Itachi breathed.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”

Itachi wished he could believe her. He went to his room, and was accosted by Sasuke flinging his arms around his waist and shouting in delight, “Nii-san! You’re home!”

“Ow.” Itachi gently disentangled his brother.

“What’s wrong?” Sasuke demanded. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“A little,” Itachi admitted. Mikoto entered the room, and Itachi carefully stripped his Anbu gear and shirt off, wincing a little at the movement. The cut had scabbed over the previous night, but ‘fun with Shisui’ had opened it again, and it was bleeding slightly. Mikoto shook her head slightly, and Itachi sat on the edge of his bed a little guiltily, hoping she wasn’t too worried.

“It’s fine,” he assured her.

Sasuke stared wide-eyed at the wound on Itachi’s side, jaw almost dropping in amazement, sitting on the bed next to his brother.

“You’re usually so careful,” Mikoto cleaned it as gently as she could, but even so Itachi had to hold his breath.

“Did it hurt?” Sasuke asked.

“Yes.”

Mikoto tutted. She finished cleaning the wound, bandaged it securely to stop any more bleeding, and smiled at her oldest son. “It’ll be fine in a day or two.” Then she frowned slightly, “What’s that?”

She pointed to a mark midway down Itachi’s chest, it was clearly an older injury, small and inconsequential, but puzzling since she knew Itachi wore armour when training these days.

Itachi’s face coloured dramatically. That particular mark had been from a small argument with Shisui about what counted as ‘too hard’. Itachi had won the argument, but still ended up with a clearly visible bite on his chest because of it. Not that he had minded much at the time, but he was certainly minding it now.

Mikoto looked at his reaction. “Ah, I see.”

She gathered up her things. Sasuke remained happily glued to his brother’s side after she left the room. He touched gentle little fingers onto the skin below the bandage. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Itachi smiled affectionately at his little brother. Sasuke beamed back at him. “I just need to go report back to the Hokage, but I’ll be back in time for supper, okay?”

“Okay.”

Itachi pulled a clean shirt on, pleasantly surprised that his wound didn’t hurt very much, especially since he had had to put up with Shisui and Kakashi mocking him relentlessly once they were inside Konoha and any danger of Itachi dying had passed. The sooner it was healed, the better.

Sasuke was still sitting on Itachi’s bed, a bit of a pout starting on his face.

Itachi looked at him. And smiled again. “Want to come with me? We can stop for dango afterwards.”

Sasuke lit up visibly. “Yes!”

“Okay then,” Itachi held out a hand, Sasuke grabbed it and the two of them left together.

The heavy tiredness that Itachi had been carrying felt as though it lifted slightly.

Itachi needed his mind to go somewhere else. It wasn’t helping him.

It was constantly circling around thoughts of Shisui, and while they were, for the most part, pleasant thoughts, it still hurt that he couldn’t do anything about the thoughts, because he wasn’t allowed near Shisui. It ached, and it sat painfully in his stomach with the black pit of guilt that was the manifestation of Itachi’s father being disappointed with him.

He needed something to happen. He wanted, desperately, to lose himself in something, in some difficult mission. Something that would draw his entire focus.

But, he was not getting that today, because he was on Anbu duty guarding the Hokage which, while he understood was important, was also boring as hell and he wanted to beat his face against the wall until he walloped all his confused thoughts out.

He obviously thought that a bit too loudly, because Kakashi, from his post nearby, sent the young Anbu a slightly quizzical look.

Itachi resisted the urge to sigh. Think of something else. Stop thinking about Shisui. Stop thinking about Father. Just stop thinking.

Kakashi continued to ignore him, which Itachi was very grateful for.

The silence stretched on. Seemingly unending.

And Itachi’s thoughts wandered back to Shisui. He would be home later that day; returning from escorting the Suna dignitaries back to their village. And Itachi would not be allowed to see him, even though it had been days and he was feeling so lost.

He was so lost in his brooding he almost didn’t sense the frantic approach of someone. Kakashi was alerted at the same time, “What in the-?”

A white-faced genin ninja came running at them, his face ashen. “I need help! There’s going to be an ambush! By the river!”

“Slow down,” Kakashi said. “What’s the matter?”

“Tell the Hokage, it’s urgent!”

Itachi sent Kakashi a doubtful look, but the older ninja held up a placating hand. “Alright. I’ll see if he’s available.”

“What ambush?” Itachi asked, as Kakashi turned away.

The young genin rounded on him; Itachi took a step back. “I overheard! I had to run, I thought they heard me!”

“Hokage-sama wants to see you,” Kakashi said loudly, and stood to the side so the rattled shinobi could enter the room. Itachi followed curiously. The genin was barely standing, shaking visibly, and looked out of place before the calmness of the Hokage.

“There’s a huge group of ninjas,” the genin stammered out, pale faced and out of breath. “At least thirty, maybe more. I – I couldn’t count them all without being seen. All high level shinobi. I overheard them, saying they would ambush the Konoha team as they – as they crossed the river.”

“It’s hard to track people over water,” Kakashi mused. “Easy to make a getaway.”

“They said they’ll slaughter them all,” the genin continued in a raspy voice. “The team coming back from Suna.”

“That’s Shisui’s team,” Itachi said, all the colour draining from his face. He had never been more thankful for his mask.

“Hokage-sama,” Kakashi said, “My team is present and ready to leave immediately.”

Itachi nearly bolted there and then.

The Hokage nodded. “I will gather another Anbu team and send them after with, with proper medics. They will be less than ten minutes behind you.”

“Thank you, Hokage-sama,” Kakashi bowed shallowly, before flitting out the room with Itachi right behind him. The rest of the team, stationed outside and listening in, appeared a few feet behind them.

“We better hurry,” Kakashi said gruffly. “A surprise attack is never good. And there’s only four of them.”

They were out the village and in the trees in a matter of moments, with Itachi abandoning the usual formation to stay by Kakashi’s side.

“Itachi, freaking out will not help.”

He wanted to deny that he was ‘freaking out’, but for some reason his throat felt tight and he couldn’t.

Don’t be too late, he thought desperately. Please don’t let me be too late. Let him be fine. Let him have everything under control, and wondering why we’re coming when he could handle everything on his own . . .

He knew it was wishful thinking. There was no way a situation this dire would play out in their favour. Shisui was incredible, of that Itachi had no doubt, but even he had limits and being out numbered ten to one was probably one of them. Especially surrounded by high ranking ninja. Even Shisui’s teleportation wouldn’t be enough.

Itachi pushed the pace even faster, drawing slightly ahead of the rest of the team. He could feel Kakashi’s eyes burning into the back of his head, but he didn’t care. He needed to be faster, he needed to get there NOW.

Every second counted.

Kakashi did not stop him from widening the gap between them and the rest of the team. He did not call Itachi back. The kid could handle himself, and Kakashi was less than ten seconds behind him. He knew how desperate Itachi was to reach Shisui, and, in his experience, it was best to let the young prodigy loose to do what he did best.

Itachi heard the battle ground before he saw it, stomach churning at the obvious sounds of distress – screams of pain, weapons crashing against other weapons, the too loud thump of bodies hitting the trees around them.

He assessed the situation in a glance, keen eyes taking instant note of the carnage before him, of the scattered bodies, of the harsh clank of metal against metal. And Shisui, Shisui, who was not moving as fluidly as usual, who was surrounded and overwhelmed by at least seven other ninja.

Itachi’s sword was drawn before he hit the ground, and within that instant two enemy ninja fell to the ground spraying red blood from fatal wounds. Itachi attacked like a madman, the usual tight hold he had on his emotions and self-control coming lose because, god damnit, he could see Shisui bleeding and it made his blood boil.

He cut ninja down without a thought, uncaring how many came at him, focused only on the goal of slaughtering his way to Shisui’s side. His deadly focus was interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of Shisui crying out in pain, and the sound rent through Itachi’s composure, and he fought even harder, even more brutally, until the screams of others drowned out any sound Shisui could make.

“Itachi, stop!” Kakashi yelled, dispatching a final enemy nin and leaping to the young nin’s side. “Leave one alive.”

Itachi’s blade was already against the last ninja’s neck, his narrow, deadly red eyes staring uncaringly at the pure terror in the other man’s eyes. It took effort not to let that blade slice into flesh, he had to concentrate on stopping himself. He didn’t want to stop himself. Every instinct told him to kill.

“Itachi!” Kakashi yelled again, his voice more warning this time. “Stop it!”

Itachi’s frown deepened. His sword did not move. But he could see Shisui’s blood on this ninja’s hand and kunai, and that was something he could not accept. He wanted to push his blade right through this ninja’s throat, slowly. His hold on the sword’s hilt shook slightly.

“Itachi.” It was not Kakashi speaking that time, but the strained, hoarse voice of Shisui. Itachi’s attention was drawn to his cousin, who stood almost doubled over, blood dripping off him from numerous wounds, one arm hanging limply by his side.

“Shisui.” He whispered back, his voice almost frantic, his heart suddenly beating faster because he had been so scared Shisui would get hurt, and now he was.

Shisui grimaced, his whole body ached and breathing was becoming a bit challenging. “You can stop, Itachi. It’s fine.”

“But you . . .” Itachi’s agitated gaze went between the ninja on the ground, staring up at him in abject terror, and Shisui.

Kakashi was suddenly at Itachi’s side, cautiously moving the young Anbu’s sword to a less fatal position. “We’ve got this, Itachi. It’s over.”

Itachi hesitated, then drew his sword back and sheathed it again. He took a trembling step towards Shisui.

Shisui still managed to smile at him, even while the colour drained from his face. “What’s with that worried look?”

Before Itachi could think of some sort of reply – sarcasm wasn’t one of his talents – Shisui’s eyes closed and he swayed forward. Itachi darted towards him, catching him before he hit the ground. “Shisui!”

It was a good thing Shisui was breathing calmly, although that may had been an inadvertent side effect of being unconscious, because Itachi was panicking and gulping for air, and the rest of the Anbu team raised their eyebrows at Itachi’s unusual display of emotion.

Itachi could feel hot blood soaking into his clothes. “We . . . we need to get him home . . .”

“Another team is already on its way,” Kakashi said. “There’s a medic with them.”

Itachi just nodded, wishing that Shisui would wake up, and maybe say something reassuring, because seeing Shisui deadly still was incredibly terrifying. Shisui was never still. He was always moving, he even fidgeted in his sleep, Itachi had quickly discovered. Nights that they spent together more often than not ended up with Itachi waking frequently to Shisui’s night-time contortions.

His stillness was chilling. Itachi settled on the ground with him, ignoring the chaos around him. The rest of the team was sorting through bodies, seeing who was alive, who was dead. Surviving enemy ninja were being dispatched of, the Konoha nin were being assessed by the rest of the squad.

Itachi felt Kakashi nearby, and looked over his shoulder.

He was staring at the ground. “Two of Shisui’s team are dead. The last one should make it though.”

Itachi didn’t care about the rest of the team. He brushed Shisui’s wild hair back; there was a bruise starting on one of his cheeks.

Within minutes, the second Anbu team appeared, scattering to assess the wounded. Itachi stayed protectively at Shisui’s side, by now in vague control of his breathing. He watched, hardly daring to move, as the medic nin stripped Shisui’s upper body to check the damage. He was littered in cuts, of varying length and depth.

“How’d they get that close to him?” Itachi whispered in disbelief. He couldn’t believe anyone could get close enough to Shisui to deal this amount of damage. And his arm didn’t look good, it looked slightly twisted; Itachi was well acquainted with Shisui’s body by this point and he knew when something wasn’t right.

“Looks like mostly blood loss, and a dislocated shoulder,” the medic said. “We need to get these wounds stitched fast, before he loses anymore.” He cast a quick jutsu over Shisui’s body. “That will help for now. But getting back to Konoha is the priority.”

Itachi nodded. He stayed close to the medic’s side as they swiftly wrapped up what they were doing, and hoisted Shisui onto his back. Itachi wanted to carry him, but he knew that would only delay things. Shisui’s wasn’t large, but he was larger, and heavier, than Itachi. Itachi’s legs almost buckled when he stood up. His clothes felt sticky, Shisui’s blood was drying rapidly. He had to take a few deliberate breaths before he felt able to follow the medical team home.

One of them went ahead to prepare what was needed for the injured.

When they reached Konoha – a journey that felt agonizingly long – Itachi trailed the medical team to the hospital, not willing to let Shisui out of his sight. He knew he would have to wait for a while, but he didn’t mind, as long as he knew something was being done.

He sat despondently after Shisui was taken away, waving off the offer of another medic. “I’m fine,” he said. “I wasn’t hurt.”

Minutes ticked by. Itachi remained where he was.

Kakashi returned to see him after what felt like hours. Itachi glanced up at him, and then continued his careful study of the floor.

“I filed the report,” Kakashi said. “You’re off duty until the Hokage calls for you. Thank you.”

“For what?” Itachi asked, surprised at the show of appreciation.

“Those enemy ninjas were tough,” Kakashi stated. “You might not have noticed – you seemed rather focused on one thing – but the rest of our team took some hits as well. They will recover, but two of them will be in this hospital for several days. Were you hurt?”

Itachi shook his head.

“Are you staying here?”

“I’m waiting for Shisui.”

Kakashi nodded briefly. “I’ll let your family know you’re home.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, barely audible. He knew Kakashi left after that, he had no idea how long ago it was. He just waited, waiting until Shisui came out from behind the doors they had rushed him through. Was it too much to ask that he emerge on his own – smiling and standing, and making some comment about how worried Itachi looked?

After what felt like an age, the medic nin that had carried Shisui home came through the doors. He was smiling. “Want to see him?”

Itachi nodded, not daring to speak.

“Follow me. I’ll show you his room.”

Itachi followed on autopilot, dragging his legs, sheer relief making them heavy. It didn’t matter what Shisui looked like, Itachi was pleased beyond words that they would be able to spend more time together. He hadn’t realised how much he feared losing him.

The medic stopped by an open door. “You can stay, if you’d like.”

Itachi just nodded again, taking a deep breath and entering the room. He wished Shisui’s voice would greet him, but there was nothing but silence. Shisui was lying peacefully on the bed, hair even more tousled than it had been before, but he looked clean and peaceful. The angry mark was still on his cheek, but he was dressed in a clean white shirt, which hid all the terrifying wounds from Itachi’s view.

There was a chair next to his bed, and Itachi dragged it close and slumped down. He stared at Shisui, at skin that was too pale, not lively enough for who’s skin it was. But he was breathing, albeit feebly and slowly, but still breathing.

Still alive.

Itachi felt his eyes burn, and he closed them tightly, unwilling to let any tears fall. Shisui will be fine, he told himself. He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.

He settled himself comfortably in the chair, opening his eyes when he trusted the tears not to fall, and just watched Shisui breathe.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6 – Boiling Point

Itachi could recognise Fugaku’s footsteps anywhere. When he heard them echoing through the quiet of the hospital halls, he fixed his gaze firmly on Shisui’s unmoving face and refused to look up, even when he knew Fugaku was standing in the doorway.

“I’m not leaving,” Itachi stated dully, keeping his eyes on Shisui’s face.

Fugaku said nothing. He stepped into the room, coming to stand at Itachi’s shoulder.

“He wouldn’t be hurt if I had been quicker. I’m not leaving.” Itachi flinched when he felt his father lay a hand on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Fugaku said gently.

Itachi tore his gaze away from Shisui, looking up in mild surprise at his father.

Fugaku patted Itachi’s shoulder softly. “You went as soon as you could. You did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Itachi murmured. He focused again on the faint movement of Shisui’s chest, struggling to rise and fall.

“Come home and rest,” Fugaku said, and it didn’t sound like an order, but rather a caring suggestion.

Itachi shook his head. “I want to stay with him.” He didn’t like how his voice sounded hoarse.

Fugaku removed his hand from Itachi’s shoulder with a slight sigh. “I thought you might. Here.”

Itachi turned his head to his father, surprised to see Fugaku removing a backpack from over his shoulder.

“Your mother sent you a change of clothes.”

Itachi wanted to smile, but his face wouldn’t cooperate. He just nodded slightly instead.

“I’ll come and check on you two in the morning.”

There was a slight flicker of warmth in Itachi’s chest when Fugaku said ‘you two’. He watched Shisui’s chest again, unconsciously matching his breathing to his cousin’s, and barely even heard when Fugaku left the room.

The stress of the day caught up shortly afterwards, and Itachi felt his eyes drooping slightly. He was still dressed in his full Anbu gear, and had Shisui’s blood drying all over his arms and upper body. With a heavy sigh, Itachi hauled himself to his feet, giving Shisui a final glance before trudging into the adjoining bathroom to shower.

Shisui had not moved by the time Itachi returned. Itachi slumped into his chair, folding his arms on the bed next to Shisui’s side, and rested his head on them. He fell asleep fast.

Itachi was fine tuned to wake up to any variations, any indications that something in the environment had changed. But the stress of the day before had dulled those senses ever so slightly, and when Shisui was beside him he knew he was safe, so he didn’t snap alert instantly when fingers wound their way gently into his hair.

He was vaguely aware of it, hazy mind coming to the conclusion that Shisui must be awake, but his eyelids were too heavy to move, his tired mind brushed it off as inconsequential.

A good minute passed before his brain screamed rather urgently, “Wake up! Something has changed!”

Itachi opened his eyes with effort, taking a moment to adjust to the bright light of the room, and the hand in his hair caressed gently. It took even more of an effort to lift his head up, turn his face to see Shisui looking at him with a soft smile.

Itachi nearly passed out again from sheer relief, letting his eyes close and his head fall back down onto the bed.

“Did you spend the whole night here?” Shisui asked, sounding quiet and hoarse. Itachi heard him swallow a few times.

Itachi nodded into the blankets, not lifting his head up.

“Come here.” Shisui tugged a little on Itachi’s hair when he didn’t get a response from the younger boy.

Itachi lifted his head slowly. He didn’t know what to think of the feelings crashing through his body right now, the relief was so powerful he felt faint, there was conflicting joy circling his stomach with lingering fear from last night. It was too confusing, and too overwhelming, and seeing Shisui lying there with a smile on his face, and his eyes soft, as though nothing had happened, was just too much.

Shisui shifted over in the bed a little, wincing at the movement, until there was enough space for him to beckon Itachi up into the bed beside him. Itachi was hesitant, unwilling to cause Shisui any further harm by touching anywhere that might hurt. But at Shisui’s persistent rolling of the eyes, Itachi settled himself cautiously down, suddenly realising how much his back and neck ached after sleeping in a chair.

Shisui groaned slightly as Itachi settled his head on the older boy’s chest, but by that point Shisui had sneakily got an arm around Itachi, preventing the younger from pulling away. Itachi looked so broken and afraid, Shisui was willing to tolerate a little extra pain to give the boy the comfort he so clearly needed.

“I’ll be fine,” Shisui said, holding Itachi as tightly as his tired muscles would allow. “Don’t look so sad.”

Itachi didn’t trust himself to speak. He listened to the beat of Shisui’s heart beneath his ear, and the sound was finally too much for him to take all at once. The only person in the world he could open up to, be himself with, express every raging emotion he had been commanded to keep inside, had nearly died yesterday.

Itachi pressed his face into Shisui’s chest, both hands gripping at his shirt, and his body shook with silent sobs.

Shisui said nothing, just held onto his cousin, while Itachi lay shaking in his arms. It wasn’t often he saw the younger boy so distressed, but he was thanking any existing deities that he had the chance to see it again – because it meant he was still alive.

Shisui heard Fugaku coming first, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. After Itachi’s incredibly quiet but still spectacular break down – which Shisui made a note to tease him about later – the young Anbu had fallen asleep across his chest. And when Shisui had tried to move Itachi had latched onto him unconsciously. One of his arms felt dead, and every muscle was aching. Even if he wanted to move, Shisui’s body very clearly told him he wasn’t going anywhere.

It was only when Fugaku entered the room that Itachi’s eyes flicked open.

Shisui grinned weakly. “Yo.”

Itachi glanced at his father, and, without saying a word, closed his eyes again and turned his face to bury it further into Shisui’s chest. Shisui would have applauded this blatant display of ‘I don’t give a damn’ had he not had one arm around the boy, and second arm that was refusing to cooperate when asked.

Fugaku levelled a powerful glare at the two of them, clearly displeased with walking in on two cuddling boys, but Shisui wasn’t inclined to care much. “Itachi, get up. You have work to do.”

“No, I don’t.” Itachi mumbled this into Shisui’s shirt.

Fugaku’s expression darkened. “Itachi.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere,” Itachi snapped, sitting up rather violently and causing a painfilled hiss from Shisui at the sudden movement. “My Anbu team is not working today, they have the day off because several of them were injured on yesterday’s mission. Kakashi filed the mission report last night, and the Hokage said I was off duty until further notice.”

Shisui raised both eyebrows at Itachi’s outburst. He pursed his lips, wondering how Fugaku would react to Itachi’s new found rebelliousness.

Itachi met Fugaku’s dark glare with his own steely expression.

“Itachi. I would like to speak to you outside.”

“No.”

Shisui had to bite his lip to stop himself from grinning; he didn’t think Fugaku would be pleased with his reaction.

“Anything you need to say to me,” Itachi said coldly. “Shisui can hear as well.”

Oh sure, Shisui thought resignedly. Drag me into it when I can’t defend myself. He waited to see what Fugaku would do next.

Fugaku spent a long time glaring at Itachi in silence. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. We will speak right here, then.”

Itachi stayed unmoving.

“I let you say here last night because it was important to you. But now Shisui is fine-“ (Well, Shisui thought, let’s not overstate things) “- and the rules I laid down previously are still in effect. You two are not to be together, at any time.”

“Fugaku-san?” Shisui cleared his throat softly. “What exactly is your problem with the two of us?” He wasn’t trying to be smart, he genuinely wanted to know.

Fugaku turned red, Shisui vaguely he hoped he might have an aneurysm there and then. “The problem,” Fugaku said in a steely voice, “Is that my son is fooling around with . . . with a boy!”

Shisui shrugged. “At least he can’t get me pregnant.” Probably not the smartest thing to say.

“It’s a disgrace,” Fugaku spat. “To the entire clan. To our family, and our honour. Itachi is a prodigy, one of the most powerful shinobi in this village, and he should behave as such-“

“I’m not fooling around.” Itachi’s eyes blazed. “I love Shisui!”

It was immensely satisfying to see Fugaku’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

“He’s the reason I’m even able to be as good as I am – without him I wouldn’t be nearly as good. He helps me, he’s taught me so much.”

Like the Tuesday-Thursday, Shisui added mentally.

“He’s the only one I can talk to – because I’m only human and I need help!” Itachi’s voice raised in pitch slightly. “I need help, and you won’t help me. You’re never there for me, but he is, and he’s the only one who doesn’t have any expectations of me. It’s too much, everything is too much, and I can’t do all this-“

This, Shisui thought. This right here was why he had been so hesitant about them taking their relationship to a more intimate level. Because this proved Itachi was, still is, a child. Someone ill-equipped to deal with the life he had been thrown into. There was a downside to genius – the alienation and expectations that came with it.

Shisui could relate – he felt the same way as Itachi and maybe that was one of the reasons they were drawn to each other.

“I can’t do it, not every day. Not without him.” Itachi seemed to run out of anger – and wasn’t that just like him, suddenly realising that he was being too expressive. That he had slipped out of his usual mask of subservient ninja, he had strayed from his task of being nothing but an assassination tool.

In the ensuing silence, Itachi climbed off the bed, ignoring the strained yelp from Shisui. He stood in front of his father and immediately got to his knees, bowing low. “I’m sorry for my behaviour, Father. It won’t happen again. I will leave now.”

The mask was back in place, not a trace of emotion showed on Itachi’s face. He slowly stood up and began to gather his things. Fugaku made no move to stop him.

“Wait, Itachi,” Shisui blurted out, not at all certain what he was going to say after. He would have to improvise.

Itachi paused in his movements, almost ready to leave the room.

“I just . . . thanks. I . . . I feel the same.”

Itachi gave him a short nod. He bowed to his father again as he walked silently out the door.

Fugaku stared at Shisui with an unreadable expression.

“So, you’re probably furious at me,” Shisui said. “But I’m going to talk anyway. First of all, yes, I love Itachi. Very, very much. I’d never hurt him. In fact, when we had sex-“ Fugaku winced visibly “- He had to start it because I said ‘no’ the first few times. And yeah, sometimes I regret it a little. But not . . . not what it meant. Or means. Itachi, he’s . . . he’s trying his best. And you don’t know how much it hurts him that he’s disappointed you. Really, it bothers him every day.”

Shisui ran out of random thoughts to express with a shrug. He wasn’t sure if he was helping or hindering his current situation.

Fugaku heaved a deep sigh. “Shisui, I appreciate your honesty. But this is not something that I can ignore. He is my son, and I am responsible for his actions. I cannot allow behaviour like this.”

“Just . . .” Shisui hesitated. “Go easy on him.” He wanted to say more. Wanted to add that Itachi was crushed at being frozen out by his father. Wanted to add that he had never been more conflicted; the desire to please his father contrasting sharply with the desire to be with Shisui, and neither was a thing he could live without.

Fugaku left without another word, leaving Shisui to exhale loudly, lying defeated on his bed. He felt thoroughly useless. Itachi had never needed him more, and he was unable to do anything about it.

“Damnit,” he hissed under his breath, eyes sliding closed. I’ll fix this, Itachi, he promised silently. I’ll think of something.

But I’m not losing you, and you will never, ever have to fear losing me.

Itachi was lying on his back, on his bed, arms crossed and staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn’t have anything else to do, and he was brooding over the conversation at the hospital. He heard his father approach, but he didn’t see the need to move.

He remained staring, barely blinking, at the ceiling, not even bothering to acknowledge Fugaku as he entered the room, expression dour.

“I cannot tolerate this,” Fugaku said, knowing Itachi was listening.

Itachi didn’t move.

“It’s unacceptable behaviour. You are my child, living under my roof, and you will follow my rules.”

In all fairness to Itachi, he didn’t remember ever being told the rule ‘You will not have sex with your cousin’.

“This has gone on long enough, and I want it to stop immediately.”

When Itachi remained stubbornly unresponsive, Fugaku cleared his throat softly.

“Your mother and I discussed the possibility of you taking a few weeks off from work.” Fugaku figured Itachi was just overwhelmed, overworked, and all this nonsense with Shisui was some misguided attempt to manage that stress.

“I can’t,” Itachi murmured. “I’m in the Anbu, we don’t get time off.”

“I’ll speak to the Hokage, and we can discuss it further.”

“It won’t help.” Itachi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Work is fine. I’m handling it.”

“If you were handling it, we wouldn’t have this nonsense with Shisui to sort out,” Fugaku said darkly.

“Yes, we would,” Itachi barely whispered. “Because nothing can change it. I . . . I know you’re angry at me, and you hate me,” he had to pause there, the reality painful. “But it won’t change things between me and him. I can’t walk away from him. But I . . .” He trailed off, swallowing hard.

Fugaku waited, face dour and arms crossed over his chest.

“I will do what you wish.” Itachi said, each word a struggle. “So if you order me to never see him again, then that will be the end of it. You have my word.”

He was still looking at the ceiling, eyes bright and wet.

He didn’t have a choice. He was conditioned from a young age to do what he was told, to follow orders without question. Some were hard – like killing seemingly innocent children. Like torturing people for information. Like not murdering the man who put Shisui in the hospital.

But this was definitely the hardest thing Itachi had to face. He waited, measuring  his breathing carefully, for Fugaku to speak. To say the thing Itachi dreaded to hear most in the world. To end the last few months of bliss and much needed calmness. To extinguish the light in Itachi’s life.

Fugaku left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Itachi flicked his eyes towards where his father had been, the world blurring with tears.

Sorry, Shisui, he thought, and when he closed his eyes this time a few tears spilled over and ran down his face. I guess that was good bye.

Fugaku stood grim-faced in the passage way, half way between Itachi’s room and his own.

Mikoto was standing in the doorway, her face sad.

A long silence stretched between them.

“They are going to make this happen whether you approve or not.” Mikoto said. “You cannot expect to keep two boys like them under control all the time.”

“I have told Itachi that it is not something I will tolerate.”

“Do you remember when he was younger?” Mikoto asked gently. “How he used to light up when you came home every day? How he used to spend every moment he had with Sasuke? How he tried his hardest to make you proud – every day. You were his absolute idol.”

“I remember.”

“Then he entered into Anbu, and life changed a lot. I don’t know what he’s doing on missions – I know that’s classified – but you know what Konoha shinobi do at that level of skill. Its hard work. Its tiring for him. And how many times, since he started, has he smiled at you? How many times has he asked you for help in training?”

“He doesn’t need my help.”

“Maybe not, but he didn’t need your help several years ago, yet he still asked because he wanted to spend time with you. Lately, he hasn’t been himself. You have noticed, because you’ve mentioned it to me a few times.”

Fugaku had to admit this was true, he had noticed the change in Itachi, the way the boy had become more drawn into himself, the way the tenseness of each day never seemed to leave his face. The way his posture remained rigid at all times; he was a paranoid basket case around Sasuke, always fearing that some threat would be nearby.

The world was full of threats, if it wasn’t, then Itachi wouldn’t be on Anbu missions every week. The whole village wouldn’t be constantly vigilant. The Konoha Police Force wouldn’t exist.

“Three months ago,” Mikoto continued, “Itachi came home with a smile on his face – a genuine one. He played with Sasuke the way he used to, without looking over his shoulder every minute. And it continued – you could see the difference in him. You could see how much better he felt.”

Fugaku stayed silent.

“I knew what they were doing. They’re smart boys, but they tended to forget I was in the house.”

Fugaku’s frown deepened.

“But I allowed it, because it was helping. Maybe it’s not the best solution, maybe it’s the worst one. But it’s working. Itachi’s happy.”

“Are you happy with it?” Fugaku grumbled.

“Not at all.” Mikoto’s answer surprised him. “That’s my little boy, and there is nothing about what they are doing that makes me happy. But Itachi’s not stupid. Maybe we need to trust his decisions. And Shisui would never, ever hurt him. I trust Shisui with Itachi’s life. And that boy has never given me a reason to doubt otherwise.”

Mikoto glanced in the direction of Itachi’s room. “He needs something to ground him in this world.”

Fugaku also stared down the passageway, at Itachi’s closed door. His anger was still quivering in his chest, mostly towards Shisui because the older boy should know better.

“There is nothing in the world he hates more than disappointing you,” Mikoto said. “So you know he never would if he knew he could avoid it. This . . . situation with Shisui. It’s something he needs.”

It was also the first time in many years that either parent had seen Itachi get so passionate – he was actually fighting for this, actually trying for something that was his. It had been so long since Itachi defended anything personal – everything he did seemed to be for someone other than himself. He had been so defeated the last two weeks or so, since Fugaku had found out about them. So resigned to having this happiness snatched away.

Itachi would do what he was told, of that Fugaku had no doubt. It wasn’t in the boy’s nature to be defiant. If Fugaku walked back into his son’s room and told him “You will never speak to or see Shisui again,” that would be the end of it.

And in most situations, he would say it. But Itachi had been showing sparks of life, of a passion thought long dead, which made Fugaku realise this was not just any situation. This was not something Itachi was taking lightly. This was life changing, and would forever affect Itachi’s relationship with everyone in his family, for good or for bad.

“He wants to do the right thing,” Mikoto said. “He just doesn’t know what that is.”

Fugaku didn’t know either. He frowned at Itachi’s closed door, then turned away and began walking through the house.

“Where are you going?” Mikoto asked.

“Back to the hospital.”

Shisui had been picking at his stitches and plotting his escape – the doctors had told him he should stay for a few days, which he knew was nonsense. The one night was obviously enough, if not overkill. He would have left already had he not had a dead arm; he figured it would be tricky to escape one-handed. Tricky, but not impossible, and his mind was working to come up with a solution.

He lifted his head up when he heard Fugaku approaching, slightly nervous when he recognised the foot falls. He was relatively certain Fugaku wouldn’t beat his ass for sleeping with Itachi, but also not sure he wanted to risk it. It seemed like a good move to beat a hasty retreat.

Shisui was half out the bed when Fugaku came through the door, with a stony expression. Shisui raised an eyebrow.

“We need to talk.” Fugaku stated flatly.

The other eyebrow raised. Talking was the last thing he felt like doing, and especially not cornered and defenceless. “Okay,” he agreed hesitantly, wondering if this would just be another bout of him being yelled at as though the entire situation was his fault. Which it wasn’t, Shisui distinctly remembered Itachi being more than willing, and sometimes downright forward and initiating certain activities.

Shisui waited patiently for Fugaku to start speaking, mentally preparing in case he had to run for his life. There was a long silence; Shisui wondered what he could possibly want to say that took so long to plan; largely because Shisui just blurted everything out without thinking.

“How long has this been going on?” Fugaku finally asked.

“Three months.”

“How . . . often?”

Shisui hesitated. He wasn’t sure what amount of detail was required for this response. It probably wouldn’t be right to admit ‘Well, we make out every time we see each other, at the very least’. “About once a week.”

That seemed like a safe, vague enough answer.

Had Itachi been there, he would have been able to provide an exact number, and probably a play-by-play of each one, but Shisui figured that was perhaps best left unsaid.

Fugaku’s expression tightened, Shisui entertained the idea of seeing if he was still able to use his Shunshin with his current injuries. But Fugaku remained calm, and they spoke for a few more minutes, with Shisui answering questions as honestly as he could, and Fugaku brooding over several of the answers. When Fugaku had all the answers he needed, he left, leaving Shisui reeling slightly and wondering what the hell had just happened.

He’s probably going to blackmail me into never going near Itachi again, Shisui thought rather nervously. He picked at his stitches again through his shirt; it seemed to be fast becoming a bad habit.

The injured arm was moving slightly, Shisui opened and closed his fist a few times. He shrugged. This seemed like a good time to leave. Once he was home, he would be able to think more clearly.

Shisui stood up cautiously. The blood loss made him a little woozy, and the room spun for a few moments before settling into its normal dimensions. But he felt stable on his feet. He had noticed his sword and forehead protector neatly next to the bed – Itachi’s doing, he would guess. He took them, and walked steadily out the room.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 – Like a Dream

Sasuke had been thrilled with the idea of Itachi being off for a few days, barring emergencies, while his team recovered, and had tugged him insistently out the house after breakfast to take him training. Itachi had sent a hesitant glance towards his parents, unsure if this was allowed, but Fugaku had waved him away.

Itachi guessed his parents thought he couldn’t get up to too much trouble with Shisui supposedly in the hospital, although Itachi had strong suspicions his cousin had already left, against the doctor’s orders.

Still, it was nice to spend the morning with Sasuke; Itachi’s last few weeks had been rather stressful, and he hadn’t found the time to spend with his little brother, or even found the energy to want to. But Sasuke was energetic and blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil his brother was going through, and his carefree attitude helped Itachi take his attention off his cousin.

It turned out to be a relaxing morning, and by the time Sasuke had run out of energy Itachi was feeling much calmer. They ended up lying in the sun together, Sasuke snuggled into his brother’s side for a power nap, and Itachi staring at the clouds passing languidly overhead.

He couldn’t help it when his thoughts turned to Shisui, and the mere thought sent a tingle through his body. He was anxious to know how the older boy was recovering, but he had not been allowed to go back to the hospital since that first day. It was bothering him immensely, and he felt his body tense; Sasuke shifted against his ribs, and Itachi tried to force himself to relax.

He’ll be fine, Itachi reminded himself. This is Shisui we’re talking about. You know he’ll be fine.

His wounds would heal, and Itachi wondered if they would scar. He wanted to be able to watch that, to feel if the skin there felt different to the rest of the skin on his torso. Would the feeling of those muscles under his fingers change? Would the light catch those scars differently when Shisui moved above him? Would it feel different when they were pressed skin to skin, and breathing heavily?

He would never know.

He needed to get his mind off it.

“Sasuke,” Itachi sat up slightly to wake his brother. “We need to go home for lunch.”

Sasuke blinked at him sleepily. “I’m not hungry.”

“We still need to go.” Itachi needed to do something else, think different thoughts. Or shut himself in his room and think the same thoughts, only doing something about it. Either way, he wasn’t going to lie down with his little brother thinking about it.

Sasuke pouted. “Fine, if we have to.”

He wedged his hand in Itachi’s as they walked home, chattering aimlessly. He didn’t seem to mind that Itachi wasn’t responding, the fact that he had his older brother all to himself was enough. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

“Probably.” Itachi didn’t have anything else to do.

Sasuke grinned in delight. “I like it when you get time off.”

That made one of them. It was driving Itachi nuts, too much time to think, too much time to dwell on what a wreck he was without Shisui, on how there was a black hole in his stomach that ached, and a dull thumping behind his eyes that wouldn’t go away.

They were almost inside before Itachi realised something was different. Sasuke stopped chattering mid-sentence when Itachi stopped. “What’s wrong, nii-san?”

What was wrong was that there were too many people in the house, and based on recent events that was not a good sign.

Itachi entered the kitchen guardedly, already suspicious, because he could feel Shisui in there with both his parents. He involuntarily tightened his grip on Sasuke’s hand.

Sasuke looked at him curiously, wondering what was wrong. Everything seemed normal to him, there had been many a day when Shisui was sitting with his parents at the table.

Itachi looked around, wondering what was going on. Shisui offered his usual carefree smile, sitting opposite Fugaku and Mikoto. And clearly not in the hospital, where Itachi was certain he should be.

“Sit down, Itachi,” Fugaku said, his voice expressionless.

Itachi sat down cautiously, wondering why Shisui looked so relaxed. Sasuke immediately climbed onto his lap.

“Sasuke,” Mikoto said gently. “We need to have a private talk with Itachi and Shisui. Would you mind going to your room?”

“Okay,” Sasuke agreed readily. He climbed off his brother without questioning it further, and trotted happily away.

Itachi felt his body grow cold, throat suddenly dry. This could not be good. He glanced at Shisui for comfort, and was, for some reason, not at all comforted by the vaguely smug look on his cousin’s face. What have you done this time? He wanted to ask.

Fugaku scowled at Shisui, who kept smiling cheerily back at him. When the young Uchiha seemed unaffected, as always, by Fugaku’s glare of death, he turned his expression to Itachi, who visibly shrank back. “We have been discussing some things. Namely your . . . relationship . . .”

Itachi could feel the colour draining from his face.

“It has been decided that we will allow it, provided it does not interfere in any way with your work or training.”

Wait, what? Itachi blinked, wondering if he’d heard that right. “What?”

“Obviously any activities are to be conducted in private, and no one is allowed to know. Absolutely no one.” Fugaku returned his death glare to Shisui, who met it stubbornly with one of his own. “I wholly disapprove of this decision, but there have been arguments made in its favour. I trust you two will remain thoroughly discreet.”

“No promises,” Shisui muttered, and Fugaku’s death glare increased tenfold.

Itachi was still processing the conversation in complete and utter shock. He stared at his parents with a blank, incredulous expression. He could hear his heart thumping. He wondered if anyone else was alarmed by its noise.

Fugaku stood up. “You are dismissed, Itachi. Carry on with your day.”

Like a zombie, Itachi stood up. His knees felt weak, his stomach did an impressive, nauseating flip.

Fugaku gave his oldest son an odd look, wondering if the boy was alright. He looked pale, and thoroughly unstable. Before he could analyse the thought much further, Itachi did something he had not done in years.

He closed the distance between himself and his father, and threw his arms around Fugaku in a sudden embrace.

Shisui’s jaw dropped.

“Thank you,” Itachi murmured, pressing his face into his father’s chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, the relief and joy were threatening to spill out. Fugaku hesitated a moment before closing his arms around Itachi, hugging him back, and sending some new emotion jolting through the boy.

It had been a while. It felt strange, having Itachi almost nuzzling into his chest. But not unpleasant.

When Itachi trusted himself not to burst into tears – he still had his dignity, thank you very much – he pulled away, and gave his mother a genuine, unquestionably content smile.

Mikoto smiled back, feeling her spirits lift immensely at the pure, unhindered happiness on Itachi’s face. It had been too long since he had last looked at anyone like that.

He turned to Shisui, and his intended gesture of an innocent hug was brutally interrupted by Shisui plastering himself against his cousin and kissing him hard, both hands in his hair to hold him still.

“Shisui!” Fugaku yelled. “Were you not listening to a word I said!?”

Shisui was unashamed, and did not pull away until Itachi pushed at his chest insistently. The sassy grin on his face did nothing to alleviate Itachi’s burning cheeks. Shisui grabbed Itachi’s wrist and dragged him forcefully out the kitchen into the garden.

“I’m going to kill that boy,” Fugaku said flatly.

“Shisui, stop, they’ll know-“ Itachi’s protests were falling on deaf ears as he was towed into the gardens and away from the house. “We can’t-“

Shisui happily dumped his cousin onto the ground under a tree – Itachi was slightly grateful for that, feeling as though his legs might give out at any moment - and knelt down next to him. “Would you relax? We’re not going to do everything. Besides, my stitches still hurt.” Shisui leant forward and whispered into Itachi’s ear, “And you scratch a lot.”

“I do not,” Itachi hissed, all the colour he had lost during the previous conversation returning.

Shisui laughed heartily. “Liar.” He drew his head back, looking earnestly into Itachi’s dark eyes. “I just wanted you alone for a bit, because it’s been so long since we last able to do this,” he kissed Itachi again, softly. “And I wanted you to know how much I love you.” He kissed Itachi again, “And missed you.”

Itachi’s eyes slid closed.

“And really missed this,” he cupped Itachi’s cheek in his hand. “Not seeing you was hard.”

“I know.”

“So,” Shisui kissed his other cheek. “Now that I can do whatever I want with you again,” he smiled as he felt the heat on Itachi’s face. “Let’s take a walk.”

“A what?” That was not what Itachi had expected to hear. He opened his eyes, puzzled.

“Well, I’ve been in the hospital just doing nothing. I want to move around a bit. We can go get dango. Or lunch. I haven’t eaten yet. Dango for lunch. Deal?” He smiled serenely.

“Anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Shisui smirked, and Itachi realised his mistake. “Don’t forget it.”

Itachi just nodded, still blown away by the last half an hour. It didn’t feel real. But Shisui clearly was real, and warm, and solid. And tugging insistently to get Itachi to his feet.

The black pit that had been in Itachi’s stomach for the last few weeks wasn’t there anymore.

Itachi and Sasuke were walking home side by side, today being a rare day where Itachi had been able to meet his little brother after classes at the academy had finished. Sasuke was regaling him with tales of his exploits at school, and Itachi listened with a fond smile on his face.

By the time they reached the house, Sasuke had run out of words, but not intentions. “Can we train together this afternoon? Please? You said you weren’t doing anything.”

Sasuke darted in front of his brother, blocking Itachi from getting inside as he waited stubbornly for an answer.

And how could Itachi say ‘no’ to that face? “Sure, Sasuke.”

Sasuke beamed, “Yay! Teach me to throw shuriken even better than I do already, okay?”

“Okay.”

Itachi stiffened slightly when he noticed their father watching them.

Sasuke turned to see what Itachi was watching, and his face lit up even more. “Father! You’re home too!”

Fugaku ruffled Sasuke’s hair when the child ran at him, then looked silently at Itachi. The young Anbu smiled tentatively, eyes cast slightly downwards, unsure of what to expect. Fugaku took his hand off Sasuke’s head, and offered a very slight smile back. “Hello, Itachi.”

Itachi’s uncertain smile broadened, visible relief in his expression. “Hi.”

“Be careful training, Sasuke,” Fugaku said, about to walk off.

“Father?” Itachi surprised himself by speaking up. Well, might as well commit. “Would you . . . do you want to come with us? And . . . train together . . . for a bit?”

Sasuke would not have recognised the sheer, raw vulnerability in Itachi’s voice, but Fugaku could. He took a few steps towards his eldest son, Itachi automatically looked down, most likely in lingering shame. So he was surprised – for the second time that afternoon – when he felt Fugaku’s hand on his head, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“Yes. I would like that.”

The delight on Sasuke’s face didn’t even come close to that of Itachi’s.

Itachi hadn’t been so relaxed in weeks.

He lay serenely on his back, hands behind his head, smiling up at the dark ceiling. It had been a beautiful day. It had been the first day he could remember in a long time where his father wasn’t seething with him. It had been the first day in years that they had even spent quality time together.

He felt so light. When the moonlight laying over his body moved, he smiled even more, because he knew exactly what was happening.

Shisui’s tousled hair appeared at the window, pushing it open and hopping inside soundlessly.

Itachi heard him approach the bed.

“You look very happy.”

“I am very happy.”

Shisui sat down on the edge of the bed. “That’s good to hear.” After weeks of agony – and helplessness – it was a relief to have Itachi in a mood that wasn’t weighted by guilt, depression or anxiety. He leaned over to press a soft kiss to Itachi’s forehead, loving the way Itachi’s eyes flickered closed at the sensation.

“Ow,” Shisui said as Itachi’s hand came up to grip lightly at the front of his shirt.

Itachi’s dark eyes opened again.

“Watch the stitches,” Shisui said, “Still a bit tender.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Itachi murmured. “It’s just a little stab.”

He had spoken so softly, so normally, that it took Shisui a few seconds to figure out that Itachi was mocking him, and when he connected the dots his jaw nearly dropped. “Really, Itachi? Really?”

“You’re just not used to being hurt,” Itachi continued, because being in a good mood apparently also made him a vengeful little prick, and he chanced a look at Shisui, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You,” Shisui grumbled, “Are mean.”

“Poor Shisui, with his little ouchie.”

“That was Kakashi, not me,” Shisui growled. “Stop being an asshole. You bawled when I was hurt.”

“I did not.”

“You did. I was there. You were hysterical.” Shisui was better at teasing, and accusing, than Itachi, and the younger boy had to frown, admitting defeat at the verbal sparring match.

“Fine. I won’t make fun of you, if you never, ever bring that up again.”

“Eh, we’ll see how things work out.” Shisui shrugged casually, lying down next to Itachi. “I like embarrassing you.”

“I have noticed.” Itachi snuggled into Shisui’s side. He closed his eyes, settling down to sleep.

Sleep was short lived.

“Let’s go to the waterfall,” Shisui said suddenly.

Itachi sighed. “Why?”

“Because I’m bored, and you love the waterfall at night.”

It wasn’t the most convincing argument – Itachi also liked spending the precious time he had to sleep actually sleeping, and now that Shisui was lying next to him, and all pressure was off, he was drowsy and loathe to move anywhere. But Shisui was persuasive, had always been able to move Itachi to wherever he wanted him, and before Itachi knew it they were side by side watching the water cascade down, glinting moonlight.

“A lot happens here,” Shisui said after a silence, voice musing.

Itachi looked at him, curiously. Nothing ‘happened’ here. They were often the only people here. It was a place Itachi could rely on to be free of people, and peaceful. So Shisui’s statement made no sense.

“We happened here.”

Itachi understood that. He remembered that first kiss, that night where he had seen that even Shisui was only human, could be rattled, could be broken. He stared at Shisui’s chest, vivid images of the wounds hidden behind his shirt flashing in the younger boy’s mind. He could have lost Shisui that day.

He could have lost Shisui the day his father found out about them.

“I came here,” he said softly. “When Father found out. It just felt like the right place to be.”

“We started here,” Shisui said again, staring at the water, voice almost reverent. His intensity unsettled Itachi; he couldn’t help feeling like something would go spectacularly wrong in the future.

“Do you think we’ll end here, too?” Itachi asked softly. He shouldn’t have said it, but the thought was burning and he had to get it out. He felt as though the true danger was gone – Fugaku was not going to snuff out whatever they had together – but at the same time he just felt as though being happy in the long term was never going to be an option.

“No,” Shisui replied surely. He turned to face Itachi, hands on his shoulders, waiting until those endless dark eyes looked deep into his. “We found each other here. We will never end here. This place is a beginning.”

Itachi wanted desperately to believe him. He lifted one hand to rest against Shisui’s chest, noting the flicker of pain that ran across his face. There would be an end. There would be an end to everyone. Neither of them were immortal, or invincible. He stared at the water over Shisui’s shoulder.

It ran down, never ending.

“That’s us,” Shisui whispered, and Itachi’s eyes snapped back to his. “The water will never end. Neither will we, okay?”

Itachi nodded slowly.

“You asked me to kiss you again here. After the first time,” Shisui said, voice wavering slightly. “I never did.”

Itachi remembered. The evening was seared into his mind, something he would never forget.

“At the time, it was just . . . I don’t know. It was everything.”

“It’s fine,” Itachi said. “It was months ago, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well,” Shisui shrugged a little. “I want to give you everything you ask for.” He rested his forehead against Itachi’s. “Mostly because you never ask for anything.”

“What if I asked you to stay with me forever?” Itachi asked, gripping desperately to the notion that, maybe, with Shisui the world would be alright. That everything would work out in the end, that life would flow on never ending like the water behind them.

“I would give you the world,” Shisui replied, and he sounded so sincere, so certain. “My heart is just a small piece of that, and anything you want is yours.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

There was a crooked little smile on Shisui’s face, the one that always made Itachi want to melt, the one that promised the world and all its riches. The one that chased all his worries away, threw them to the wind, and left him with nothing but this moment here.

Shisui’s lips hovered above his. “I want that too.”

< The End >