As always, thank you so much to everybody who was kind enough to review. Also, sorry for the long wait for this chapter, although I had lots of fun writing Age Of Consent…and was subsequently struck by a case of writer’s block. Depressing much?

-

Chapter Seven: Romantic Misadventures

-

“Say what?” Sakura gasps, totally horrified, as she has finally overcome her initial reaction of being too shocked to even string a coherent sentence together.

Itachi raises an eyebrow, obviously amused at the vehemence of her reaction. “I believe that you heard me the first time, Sakura.” He brushes past her lightly into the apartment, shutting the door behind him, before leaning casually against the counter that separates her kitchen from the living room.

Still somewhat lost for words, Sakura trails after him, before brandishing the blackened rose that he had given her. “What the hell? You should know that you can’t just come rampaging in here and ordering me to go on a date with you!”

Upon being subjected to such rough treatment, one of the shriveled petals falls off the rose and spirals to land on the floor, and Sakura stares at it, her curiosity warring with the impulse to knock Itachi to the ground and physically stuff the rose down his throat in revenge. “…What is this, anyway?” she asks disbelievingly.

Itachi just smirks at her. “I felt as if it would be more memorable and original than the traditional pre-courtship offerings.”

Sakura just shakes her head mutely. Figures that somehow, she ends up with the only man in the world who thinks that it’s a better idea to gift a woman with a blackened, dead rose than a beautiful, red, alive one.

She wouldn’t think it is humanly possible, but Itachi’s smirk only becomes more pronounced as he regards her smoothly. “Sakura, are you capable of dressing yourself for dinner, or will you require my assistance?”

This statement has the intended effect; Sakura has to stifle a horrified screech as she backs up a pace, and inadvertently ends up tripping on her boots again and nearly falling over onto the couch. “I – oh my Buddha, no! I can do it myself!”

Itachi makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, as he eases her to her feet again and escorts her down the hallway, one hand firm on the small of her back. Sakura glares up at him, fruitlessly trying to bury her feet into the wooden floors with every step, even as she keeps up a running commentary on how many ways he could be arrested for sexual harassment. “This is reprehensible behavior, you know. Totally and completely reprehensible. Threatening to physically strip me of my clothing and, therefore, my dignity in an attempt to force me to go on a date with you…”

“You’ll live,” Itachi replies dryly, as he gives Sakura a gentle push into her bedroom and closes the door after her.

“I hate you,” he hears Sakura’s muffled voice through the other side of the door.

“Yes, dear,” is his sardonic response – from the sound of it, he is leaning against the hallway directly opposite of her door.

From her bedroom, Sakura shudders deeply as she flings her closet open. “Don’t touch anything!” she yells, as she hurriedly pulls her shirt and shorts off, and tosses aside a pile of training clothing in her attempts to get to a more appropriate sector of her closet.

“My apologies, Sakura, but I am too engaged in the act of violently and wantonly defiling all of your personal property that I can get my hands on, so to speak, to properly respond to that request,” Itachi fairly purrs evilly, as he inspects his fingernails with an air of scholarly interest.

Sakura ceases her search for appropriate date clothing in order to take a moment to cheerfully give her bedroom door – and, by extension, the handsome ANBU Captain on the other side of it – the finger.

“Sakura, you are taking quite a long time,” Itachi says, bored. “Do I need to check up on you?”

Even though she is halfway in the process of pulling on her favorite evening-worthy top, Sakura manages to grab her hairbrush off her bed and pelt it at the door. “Don’t you dare!”

Itachi sniffs, sounding unimpressed with her efforts at self-defense. “You have five minutes.”

Sakura tries her best to stifle a twitch of displeasure as she adjusts her emerald silk off-shoulder top and stumbles into a short black skirt and a pair of matching high heels. “Where are we going?” she asks, as she hurriedly sits down at her dresser and begins working on makeup.

“Nowhere outdoors, if that will affect your choices for attire,” Itachi replies evenly, and she can practically hear his subsequent smirk. “Although, considering what you were wearing during our encounter in the forest not too long ago, I doubt that it will.”

Sakura blushes at the very memory of the revealing tank top in question as she brushes out her hair. “Don’t worry; that was a one-time deal only…” she mumbles under her breath.

Itachi is in the middle of flipping through a photo album featuring the visual evidence of the misadventures of Team Seven through the years, when Sakura finally emerges from her bedroom. Her eyes widen alarmingly as soon as she sees what he is holding, and despite the high heels and fancy clothes, she quickly lunges toward the taller male with visible killing intent. “What – no, don’t look at that!”

Even as he easily lifts the photo album out of her grip, Itachi eyes Sakura up and down appreciatively. “If you would prefer that I look at something else, all you would have to do is ask politely.”

Sakura blushes furiously and attempts to tug the hem of her skirt down with one hand, as she jumps to reach the photo album with the unoccupied one. “Shut up!”

Itachi just turns another page, unconcerned with her efforts. “Sakura, why is there a photograph of you, my foolish little brother, and Naruto – in a shower?” He smirks at her aghast expression. “Don’t worry, though; I accept your previous forays into, ah…experimentation of that nature, as long as said experimentation ceases now…”

“Augh!” Sakura shrieks, aiming a chakra-laden fist at his chest, which he quickly evades. “Don’t make it sound like that! We were all fully dressed, you jerk!”

In her attempts to cause Itachi as much physical harm as possible, Sakura reduces herself to kicking him in the shins viciously, with all the force she can humanly muster; despite spending almost a decade as an active-duty shinobi, Itachi had most certainly not expected that. He cannot suppress a quick inhalation of pain, before collapsing onto the nearest one of Sakura’s sofas, landing flat on his back.

In turn, Sakura overbalances in her heels, and collapses onto him, landing with a screech of dismay right on top of Itachi’s chest. Quickly, she confiscates the photo album, before hitting him hard on the forehead with it, regardless of their…slightly compromising position. “This was all a plot to make me throw myself at you, wasn’t it?” Sakura asks heatedly, hastily struggling to pull herself upright while retaining her modesty – which is much more difficult then it sounds. Meanwhile, Inner Sakura collapses into a pile of goo upon feeling herself mostly pressed along the warm, leanly muscular length of Itachi’s body, and promptly orders Sakura’s conscious mind to do something smart for once, and stay.

For his part, Itachi merely adjusts his head into a more comfortable position, surveying the agitated kunoichi on top of him with an expression of amusement in his veiled, dark eyes. Then he takes the debate over whether to get up or not out of Sakura and Inner Sakura’s hands, by wrapping an arm casually around Sakura’s waist, pulling her back down on top of him, so that the top of her head lands squarely underneath his chin. Ignoring her squeak of protest, Itachi trails his fingers down her spine with delicious slowness, smirking as her protest turns into something that may possibly be a strangled moan of pleasure. “Now, Sakura,” he drawls smugly, rather enjoying himself. “It was my impression that people normally end up in this position after a dinner date, but I have no qualms about doing things a little out of order…”

Infuriated, Sakura struggles out of his grip, regardless of how good his toned chest feels against her own, while hurriedly adjusting her top and skirt back into some semblance of decency. “You – oh, let’s go now, before we end up with your blood on the floor.”

Itachi is hardly likely to let her have the last word, even as he stands up easily. “However you want to do it…”

He lets his statement trail off wickedly, and Sakura can’t help but laugh, even as she hits him on the chest playfully. “You and Genma have been friends for way too long.”

Itachi steps out of her apartment door beside her, letting her lock up behind her. “Yes, well, he grows on you. Rather like moss, or lichens.” They walk together for a few paces, before he clears his throat a little uncertainly, placing one hand on the small of her back.

Sakura is surprised at the sudden contact at first, but smiles up at him, before subtly inching closer, so that his arm ends up slipping more around her waist, instead. She feels Itachi’s fingers twitch reflexively, but he makes no move to remove his arm. The gently intimate contact is difficult for somebody of his nature, but not uncomfortable by any means. And in all honesty, even without the complications of stupid seduction or counter-seduction plots, Sakura has to admit that it’s a rather comfortable feeling, to say the least. Which is an incongruous sentiment; Itachi is hardly the kind of guy whom most people feel at liberty to relax around.

“We’re going to the café across from the hospital,” Itachi informs her evenly. It is a short walk, and the café is already within sight.

Sakura beams brightly. “That’s my favorite – how did you know?”

“On the morning that Sasuke first announced his intent to date a certain kunoichi,” Itachi replies, letting his arm tighten around her waist momentarily. “Our mother misinterpreted his statement somewhat, and told him that the little café near the hospital would be a lovely place to take dear Sakura-chan.”

She doesn’t have to look up to hear the subtly humorous undertone in his voice, and Sakura giggles. “Oh, the irony. It’s almost unimaginable.” The pink-haired kunoichi hesitates slightly, glancing up at him. “Did you, um, tell your parents…”

Both of them know that Mikoto loves Sakura like the daughter she never had, and even Fugaku bears a tiny amount of affection for her in his heart, but the Lord and Lady of the Uchiha Clan have always taken it for granted that Sakura and Sasuke would be the eventual couple. Itachi smirks, reveling in the ever-present irony, and opens the door to the café for her; the two of them are promptly greeted courteously and led to a table for two near the window.

Itachi raises his eyebrow as he responds to Sakura’s query, as the waiter fills up two glasses of icy water for them. “Yes, well, I intended to tell them tomorrow morning. Of course, my foolish little brother and I have to stage a performance of sorts, before then – after all, Mother and Father would expect Sasuke to have a rather violent reaction, since as far as they are concerned; as far as Sasuke should be concerned, if not for his meddling ways…I have stolen Sasuke’s intended…girlfriend.”

Sakura smirks at the intended mental image of a staged confrontation over her relationship with Itachi versus Sasuke, and Itachi’s fingers brush the top of her hand lightly, and she knows that he is as amused as she is. “Even though I don’t think I’m a commodity to be stolen,” she says in a carefully lighthearted tone, as she glances down at her menu, “that statement does have…um…certain implications about the nature of our…relationship?”

Sakura lets the last word hang in the air between them, in a tentative question; it takes Itachi a moment to catch her exact meaning, but when he does, the usually stoic ANBU Captain struggles with his words for a few moments, before reaching out again and taking Sakura’s hand. She looks up at him so fast that she almost cricks her neck, obviously startled, and then she glances back down hastily; maybe it is just her, but he looks a little unsettled by his actions as well. Even though Itachi smirks at her like he always does upon noting her reaction, his voice is a little less emotionlessly smooth than usual. “It was intended to.”

Sakura blinks.

What the hell?

Had Itachi – the infamously frigid, icily inapproachable, Demon Spawn, scary Itachi – seriously just (very, very subtly) asked her out?

There are a million things that she can possibly say in response to his ambiguous statement; a million questions that she would like to ask, all while fighting the temptation to take his vital stats and see if he’s suffering under the influence of hallucinatory drugs, or something else that would mess with his mind, but right now, one issue takes precedence above all others.

“Itachi,” Sakura says at last, and her voice is strained. “…You’re hurting me.”

Itachi directs an alarmed look at their hands; true enough, his fingers have laced around hers in a grip that would have broken a lesser shinobi’s fingers by now. “Oh.” And then, a heartbeat of silence, as he eases his grip. This is all almost painfully new to him, and he lightly rubs his thumb along the top of her previously-crushed hand. “…I apologize.”

Sakura’s expression brightens as she smiles at him. It isn’t the infamous I-will-seduce-you-in-the-name-of-Team-Seven-if-it’s-the-last-thing-I-do smile, or an I’m-going-to-rip-your-pretty-eyes-out-Uchiha smile, but rather like the laid-back, affectionate smile normally reserved for only individuals of the caliber of Ino and the rest of Team Seven. Itachi is a bit thrown, for a moment, but then he gives her his most affectionate smirk – after all, he thinks that he could get used to this.

-

“Do you see that?” Sasuke hisses, from his position hiding out in the back of the café, skulking near the broom closet. “She’s giving him our smile, dumbass. Our smile.”

Naruto fairly growls at the very thought, even as he tugs at his attire distastefully. “That aside, why did we have to wear these stupid things anyway? We could have spied on them in our normal clothing…” he shudders slightly as he notices that Sakura looks even more heart-stoppingly beautiful than usual, tonight. “Buddha knows that Sakura-chan isn’t wearing a trenchcoat…” Naruto mutters in an undertone, trying not to look jealous of Itachi.

“The trenchcoats add an aura of subtlety and mystery,” Sasuke explains, for at least the fifth time that night. “Besides, those two wouldn’t expect us to be dressed like this anyway, so if they happen to take a mysterious detour in the area of the broom closet, they’ll probably just think that we’re…part of the Aburame clan, or something.” Then Sasuke glares. “Damn it, Sakura should be wearing a trenchcoat. How annoying of her. We should have stopped by earlier to talk about an acceptable dress code.”

Naruto tries not to twitch as he imagines what their beloved female teammate’s reaction to such a conversation would be, before his mind drifts to another disturbing aspect of Sasuke’s statement. “Why would Itachi and Sakura-chan take a mysterious detour in the area of the broom closets? Unless,” – he blanches, flashing back on the horrible thing that they had walked in on in Sasuke’s kitchen last night – “…oh, ew.”

“Which is why we’re supervising,” Sasuke replies grimly. “They look like they’re having fun already. Too much fun.”

Naruto peers out of the closet at the unlikely couple. “They’re just talking, Sasuke.”

Sasuke gives Itachi and Sakura a jaundiced eye. “Yeah, but their hands are still touching. Well – kind of, a little. And they’re not just talking – they’re deep in conversation. Who knows what they’re scheming? One of them could be propositioning the other, for all we know.”

Naruto sighs deeply. “Sasuke-bastard, you’re so paranoid. This whole Itachi-and-Sakura-chan thing was all your plan, anyway.”

Sasuke leans against the wall of the broom closet and broods silently. “I know. It’s just…strange. And, I mean, look at Itachi! He looks damn near happy, and there are no dead bodies or onigiri in the vicinity. That’s just not right. And…” he frowns. “Sakura looks practically overjoyed.”

Naruto actually sniffles and wipes at the corner of his eyes. “Aww, our little Sakura-chan is growing up and experiencing her first real romance…” he snickers, very well aware that associating romance and Itachi is a recipe for nothing more than the world’s largest oxymoron. “Talk about beauty and the beast, hm?”

Sasuke crosses his arms and mutters resentfully and incoherently. “Fine. Whatever.”

Then, to Naruto’s shock, he makes to charge right out of the broom closet. Looking horrified, Naruto grabs him by the back of the trenchcoat and drags him back inside. “What the hell, Sasuke-bastard? You can’t crash Sakura-chan’s date! She’ll kill you, if Itachi doesn’t get to you first!”

Sasuke’s left eye twitches in resentment as he growls somewhat. Naruto, seeing that he is actually forced to act as the voice of reason in this situation, promptly grabs the younger Uchiha in a headlock. “Sasuke-bastard! Don’t you want to live to ask out your mystery kunoichi?”

Sasuke’s struggles slow after a few moments. “…Yeah,” he mumbles, with something that could almost be classified as an actual blush spreading across his face at the mere thought of her. “I do.”

Naruto laughs nervously, patting his duck-butt-haired and emotionally unstable teammate on the head reassuringly. “Well, then, if that’s the case, it’s time to sit here and spy peacefully without doing anything stupid, because if Sakura-chan or your Demon Spawn of a brother find out about this…well, then let’s just say that Itachi’s going to be the sole heir to the Uchiha clan, and Konohamaru will have to be the Sixth Hokage instead of me.”

Sasuke looks aghast at the very thought. “Yeah. That was stupidity on an almost suicidal level, wasn’t it?”

Naruto nods fervently.

“So…” Sasuke crosses his arms and looks at the oblivious and wittily bantering Itachi and Sakura unhappily. “We can’t do anything. We just have to stand here and wait.”

“But if the two of them stumble in here after dessert with any, uh, less than pure intentions, then we can take action,” Naruto assures him earnestly.

“And, by take action, you mean castrate Itachi?” Sasuke sniffs.

Naruto grins in a very fox-like manner. “Hell, yeah.”

-

In the end, the two most overprotective members of Team Seven end up standing in the cramped broom closet while stifled by their ridiculous trenchcoats for almost two hours.

“Ugh,” Sasuke croaks at last, looking deeply disgusted. “I never thought I would say this, but Itachi and Sakura’s obvious chemistry even on the non-physical level and, therefore, propensity for lengthy and intellectual conversations, has just proved to be as irritating as their strange habit of mysteriously ending up with their tongues down each other’s throats whenever they are isolated from others.”

Naruto shakes his head disapprovingly. “And here I thought nothing could be worse than Itachi and Sakura-chan’s seemingly incurable habit of making out whenever they get a few minutes alone…” he pauses, narrowing his eyes, and then grabs Sasuke’s arm tight. “Sasuke-bastard! Look! They’re leaving! Finally! We can ditch these stupid trenchcoats and go get some ramen – I’m freaking starving! Wait…” he catches sight of the somewhat strangled expression on Sasuke’s face. “This is a good thing, right?”

“Not…necessarily,” Sasuke mutters, before slinking out of the broom closet once he is sure that the remaining waiter’s back is turned. “Well, unless Itachi’s just going to be a proper gentleman and drop her off at her door.”

Naruto frowns at the very thought. “Somehow, I kinda doubt that.” On that ominous note, Naruto follows in Sasuke’s wake out of the café, totally blind to the admiring stares from the rest of the Konoha shinobi that are experiencing Konoha’s nightlife, that follow him and Sasuke as they lurk behind Itachi and Sakura at a distance, because after all…they are totally working the mysterious and sleek tan trenchcoats.

-

Under normal circumstances, as has already been proved numerous times, Sakura can easily sense Sasuke and Naruto’s chakra, even when it is cloaked. Therefore, as Sasuke and Naruto trail her and Itachi very subtly and at a distance, they are wary and already have most of the signs for their respective escape jutsu planned, for several good reasons.

However, these are most certainly not normal circumstances (again, as has already been proved numerous times over), and Sakura is fully prepared to deny it if interrogated at the very moment, but being in Itachi’s presence is enough to distract her from anything else besides…him.

Sakura is too irritated at her own behavior to register their arrival at the door to her apartment; it is on the bottom floor and just a few steps away from the street, anyway, a fact which has always caused her much woe. For his part, Itachi raises an eyebrow, amused at how easy his kunoichi is to read – it is only too obvious that she is troubled about something or another; troubled enough to still be fairly unaware of their surroundings.

Itachi clears his throat softly, and has the satisfaction of seeing Sakura’s alarmed green eyes snap back up to him quickly. She blushes upon feeling the weight of his dark, silent gaze on hers, and then begins to heatedly chastise herself for the involuntary physical reaction. “…Um,” she manages, at last, looking rather lost for words. Despite both of their positions as a prodigy shinobi and ANBU Captain, and Konoha’s most skilled medic-nin and foremost taijutsu specialists, respectively, awkwardness at this very new situation suddenly radiates over both Itachi and Sakura in almost tangible waves.

From their place hiding behind a pillar outside, Naruto groans softly, smacking his hand into his forehead. “…Damn, Sasuke-bastard, I mean this with all due respect, but your brother and Sakura-chan are a trainwreck.”

Sasuke has other thoughts on his mind, as he smugly envisions the certain kunoichi who has a mere one day remaining in her mission. “…Heh, that means that I did inherit the suave genes! Take that, Demon Spawn…”

Meanwhile, Sakura glowers up at Itachi, her glare masking the fact that she is completely uncertain as to what to do. They have already seriously – very seriously – made out twice, which means that she shouldn’t be dithering at her door without inviting him in, of course. There should be nothing to be nervous or unsure about, at this point. She already knows Itachi quite well on a personal level, not to mention that he’s a damn good kisser…denying her attraction to him, on a physical, emotional, and mental level, would be a completely pointless endeavor.

For once, Itachi seems to have nothing to say; he just watches her almost warily, waiting for her to come to a decision. Their rather flirtatious interactions in her apartment prior to their date itself aside, he has no intention of pressuring Sakura into making an invitation of that nature.

Sakura clears her throat quickly, cursing her uncharacteristic almost-shyness. “Do you want to come in?” she asks, trying her best to avoid tripping over her words nervously.

The expression in Itachi’s eyes is inscrutable as takes a small step forward, shelving his own reservations by placing his hands on her hips, lightly drawing her closer to him. After all that they have done together – and he has initiated the contact both times – Itachi is fairly sure that he has not felt this way before…perhaps because this feels a great deal more serious than their previous encounters, both in his office and in his kitchen.

Before he can change his mind, Itachi leans closer to her, and Sakura stands on her tiptoes, stretching up to him instinctively. She expects a full sensory assault, similar to the other times, but unlike the previous kisses that they have shared, this is a great deal more gentle and…chaste, surprisingly enough, even as Sakura lightly wraps her arms around his waist, returning the embrace.

Unbeknownst to both Itachi and Sakura, Sasuke and Naruto’s eyes narrow in unison from the other side of the pillar. “That’s it,” Sasuke mumbles. “It doesn’t look like they’re making out, but if we notice even a hint of a stagger toward Sakura’s apartment door, we’re charging.”

Naruto nods tersely, even though, before their eyes, Itachi withdraws from Sakura gently, regaining his customary control. She blinks up at him, obviously thrown for a loop. “I thought—“

Itachi places a finger on her lips, unconscious of how fundamentally sensual the act is in nature, before rubbing his thumb lightly against her bottom lip. “Just go to sleep, Sakura,” he says softly. “We have a mission tomorrow morning, after all.”

Warring emotions flicker through her eyes, before predictably enough, they settle on anger. “Wait, what? You can’t do that!”

Itachi makes a soft sound of amusement in the back of his throat, before leaning down again and giving her another quick kiss. “Good night, Sakura.”

And, just like that, he disappears in a swirl of ash, leaving behind a secretly triumphing and high-fiving Naruto and Sasuke…and a very confused Sakura. With a snarl of displeasure, she unlocks her apartment door rather viciously and storms in, slamming and locking it behind her.

Once inside, she removes one of her high heels as quickly as she can without accidentally injuring herself, and then collapses onto the nearest couch, trying to sort her thoughts out. Then, Sakura realizes with a groan that it was the very couch she had been lying on top of Itachi on, just about two and a half hours earlier, when he had touched her like that…

Mumbling her discontent, Sakura undoes the straps on the other heel, and when it tumbles off, she stretches her legs out in front of her, glumly observing the flawless emerald green pedicure that Tenten had given her on their last sleepover. If she remembered correctly, she had given the weapons mistress a manicure with a deep plum shade of nail polish, despite Tenten’s protests that it would just chip off, anyway.

Sakura buries her head in her hands, raking her fingernails through her long hair, and tries to resist the temptation to call Ino and beg for serious counseling. Had Itachi just asked her out in order to comply with the original details of Sasuke’s plan – now that the ‘seduction’ stage is over, after all…or, could it be something else?

Sakura snorts at the very thought, before rising and going to her kitchen to fix herself a cup of warm milk – she does love to live the vicarious life, after all – and returning to her sofa, still deep in thought. It – tonight, this whole thing – has to be just to comply with Sasuke’s plan, because Itachi…he’s just not the ‘dating’ kind of guy. He is an incurable workaholic and, aside from occasional dinners with her, Genma, and Shino after missions, he is also completely antisocial and a confirmed loner. Because those particular character traits are totally conducive to romance, you know, Inner Sakura comments sardonically.

This is a fact, of course; a fact that she has known for almost as many years as she has known Itachi himself, but…why does it bother her so much now, damn it?

Sakura sighs deeply, drawing her knees to her chest and curling up in a ball, before resting her head on her arms. Somehow – and she isn’t at all sure how – and irrationally enough…Sasuke’s stupid plan has led her into being in way over her head with a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed ANBU Captain.

Note to self: after mission tomorrow, track down and tranquilize Uchiha Sasuke, before stringing him upside down by his ankles from the roof of Hokage Tower.

…Drastic, yes, but he so, totally deserves it.

-

The Next Morning

-

At sunrise the next morning, Itachi is already dressed in his full ANBU regalia and is waiting outside of the bedroom door of none other than his foolish little brother. His expression is completely inscrutable, and he examines his fingernails patiently, even as he keeps his narrowed eyes trained on the door, like a predator waiting for his unwary prey.

When Sasuke finally emerges from his bedroom, wearing his customary jounin uniform, he promptly makes to head down the hallway toward the kitchen, still looking mostly-asleep and adorably ruffled – while, in his sleepy state, totally failing to notice Itachi’s distinctively menacing presence lurking in the shadows near his door.

Upon faced with such downright insulting treatment, Itachi rolls his eyes minutely, counts the ways that his younger brother is a total and utter waste of oxygen, and catches up to Sasuke, before slamming the younger jounin against the wall unceremoniously. “Good morning, foolish little brother,” he pronounces silkily.

Sasuke promptly looks horrified, and rubs at his bleary eyes, obviously convinced that this is a terrible nightmare. “What the – Itachi?”

Itachi sighs deeply, before putting his brother in a merciless chokehold. “Where are your manners, Sasuke? I said, good morning.”

Sasuke glares at Itachi hatefully, now fully awake. “Good morning,” he sputters.

Itachi releases him, looking bored. “I intend to tell our parents about my romantic attachment to Sakura over breakfast.”

Sasuke massages his throat resentfully. “Good. We’ll all throw a party or something.”

Itachi just blinks at him. “…You have all the intelligence of a brain-dead and fungus-infested goldfish, don’t you?”

Sasuke glowers, practically radiating killer intent as he tries to shuffle back towards the kitchen. “Sorry, but I make it personal policy not to deal with evil psycho bitches until noon, at least.”

Itachi jabs a few of Sasuke’s pressure points viciously, and smirks as his brother slumps against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. “I make it personal policy not to deal with idiotic, moronic cretins like younger brothers until noon, as well, but I’m making an exception for you.”

“Love you too, aniki,” Sasuke mutters sarcastically.

Itachi smirks. “Yes, well. As I was saying, I intend to tell our parents about my…relationship…with Sakura over breakfast. Make sure that you are appropriately disgusted, horrified, heartbroken, outraged, and murderous. The order is up to you.”

Sasuke blinks. “…I can do that.”

Itachi sweeps off down the hallway, toward the kitchen. “Very well. I assume Mother will ask where I was last night at the beginning of breakfast. I will tell them then. Be ready.”

Sasuke glares at Itachi’s back vehemently and subsequently flips him off.

“I hope you know that I fully intend to break that finger sometime within the next week,” Itachi says, out of the blue.

Sasuke pales drastically and sticks both of his hands behind his back.

-

Itachi enters the kitchen to find their father sitting at the table and methodically eating his blueberry waffles, as usual. Mikoto is pouring glasses of orange juice for everybody, and Itachi nods at his parents in greeting as he slips into his customary seat at the table, followed closely behind by Sasuke. “Good morning.”

Sasuke mutters the requisite greetings as well, while giving the kitchen table a fish-eyed stare – after all, their parents are innocently eating on it with absolutely no idea of what Itachi and Sakura had been doing on it a mere two days ago. It’s sickening, really.

“Itachi,” Mikoto frowns slightly, as she slides two waffles onto Itachi’s plate. “Where were you last night? You always help me make onigiri…”

Fugaku looks up from his waffles expectantly, while Sasuke’s fingers tighten on his butter knife in anticipation.

“I took Sakura out to dinner,” Itachi announces impassively, elegantly shredding his waffle into shuriken-shaped bite-size pieces. “At the café across from the hospital.”

Fugaku is the first to react; he actually chokes on his orange juice, his normal icy composure shattered. “What? You – what?”

Sasuke’s knife and fork clatter from his suddenly nerveless grip onto his plate with a loud clang, as he stares at Itachi blankly, obviously in denial. “Say that again.”

Mikoto looks back and forth between both of her sons, obviously torn between squealing with joy that her sweet yet antisocial Itachi is dating her beloved little Sakura-chan…and rushing to comfort the obviously heartbroken Sasuke, who is turning more alarmingly pale by the second.

“Yes,” Itachi continues blithely, taking a sip of his orange juice. “I took Sakura out to dinner, Father.”

Fugaku sits back in his chair, looking utterly shell-shocked and at a complete loss for words. “…Well,” he manages, finally. “She is the apprentice to the Godaime Hokage, and the finest kunoichi of her generation. It is a worthy choice for the heir to the clan.”

At this, both Mikoto and Fugaku look toward their younger son uncertainly. Sasuke’s Sharingan is flickering on and off in a pointed display of emotional instability, and his fingers are flexing into fists as he glares wordlessly across at Itachi.

Privately, Itachi has to acknowledge that his younger brother, although extremely foolish, is quite a decent actor, and he smirks at Sasuke. “Yes?”

Mikoto instinctively moves to stand between her two sons, both of whom are glaring daggers at each other, but Fugaku takes her hand, shaking his head minutely. “This is between them,” he murmurs in an undertone.

The silence stretches on for another torturous moment, as Itachi and Sasuke both engage in a Battle Of The Menacing Doujutsu. Unsurprisingly, Sasuke is the first to crack, and he slams his glass of orange juice on the table hard enough to make it shake. “I hate you,” he hisses at Itachi vehemently, before picking up his butter knife in a white-knuckled grip.

“I hate you more,” Itachi replies, bored, as he finishes his waffle.

Mikoto leans into Fugaku’s shoulder, trying to fight sniffles. “Where did I go wrong?” she asks plaintively.

“There, there,” Fugaku pats her on the back gently. “It’s just a healthy amount of sibling rivalry.”

Both parents look between Itachi and Sasuke warily, until Sasuke flings his butter knife down on the table. “She was supposed to be mine, damn it!”

“You had your chance,” Itachi deadpans. “And after you ruined that, you had three more years to attempt to right your wrongs.”

Sasuke just glares at Itachi for a few more moments, his left eye twitching dangerously. Then, he pushes his chair back from the table and strides out of the kitchen, a murderous aura trailing in his wake.

“Well,” Mikoto murmurs softly. “That went…”

“Terribly,” Fugaku completes.

Itachi just finishes his orange juice, looking rather serene.

With a slam of the door, Sasuke storms back in, grabs his waffles off his breakfast plate, and throws the morning newspaper at Itachi’s head. “You are a blight upon my existence and you ruin everything in my life and—“

“—You hate me,” Itachi finishes.

Sasuke blinks. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I hope you die in a fire.”

With that, he storms back out, looking obviously ill-tempered.

“Oh, dear,” Mikoto says faintly, taking a fortifying sip of orange juice.

“That sums it up quite well,” Fugaku replies dryly, flipping the newspaper open.

Itachi rinses his dishes under the sink, before setting them out to dry. “I will find him, and we won’t do anything rash,” he assures his skeptical-looking parents. “Sasuke just needs some time to get used to the idea.” He kisses his mother on the cheek lightly and nods to his father in farewell, and leaves the kitchen quickly.

He finds Sasuke lingering outside of the gates of the Uchiha Compound, leaning against the gates with his arms crossed as he finishes munching on his remaining waffle. As soon as he senses Itachi’s approach, he raises an eyebrow at his older brother. “Who’s smarter than a brain-dead and fungus-infested goldfish?”

“You are,” Itachi acknowledges grudgingly, as the two of them begin their walk over to the eastern borders of the village – Sasuke has to meet Hatake Kakashi and Naruto there, and Itachi is meeting with his ANBU team. “But only by a microscopic margin.”

Sasuke smirks. “At this rate, I may graduate to having the intelligence of a mentally challenged rodent sometime by the end of the year.”

Itachi smirks right back. “Don’t hold your breath.”

-

“Hey, Sakura,” Genma’s slightly sleep-hoarsened voice neatly wakes the lightly drowsing kunoichi up from her impromptu nap at the base of the tree. “Just so you know, Itachi’s on his way – although we’re still waiting for Shino.”

Sakura mumbles her thanks, before rubbing her eyes drowsily and yawning, burying her head in her arms. In the end, she had caved and called Ino, and the two of them had stayed up late analyzing the latest developments in the ‘Seduction Project’ and the date. Late enough for her to only have gotten four and a half hours of sleep before waking up in order to be dressed and ready by sunrise.

“Sleeping on the job, Sakura? Tsk. You’ve disappointed me.”

Sakura looks up at the familiar, amused voices – and blinks when she sees both Itachi and Sasuke standing above her, smirking identical smirks. What? The now-wide-awake Inner Sakura screeches. The Uchiha brothers, actually standing together peacefully and not fighting tooth and nail or professing eternal hate for each other? Has the apocalypse arrived, or something?

The two of them roll their eyes at her, before Itachi grabs one arm and Sasuke grabs the other, and they lift her to her feet easily. “Thanks,” Sakura says, looking back and forth between them, still slightly confused.

Itachi raises an eyebrow at her slightly sleep-tousled appearance, before brushing a few stray leaves out of her hair matter-of-factly, while Sasuke mimes the act of projectile vomiting behind his back. To Itachi’s surprise, Sakura laughs, and lunges for his brother, shoving Sasuke in the shoulder. “Shut up!”

“You two are nauseating,” Sasuke informs Itachi and Sakura evenly, before crossing his arms and regarding them at length. “You know how I said that I…approved, right?”

“Sasuke, please,” Itachi sniffs aristocratically. “Do not delude yourself into thinking that your approval really matters.”

Sakura glares at Itachi, knowing that the spell of good feeling between the brothers had just been temporary. “Of course his approval matters!”

Itachi smirks, albeit in a somewhat affectionate way.

Sasuke crosses his arms and glares. “You know what?”

“What?” Itachi and Sakura chorus dryly.

“Before you two are…legitimate…” Sasuke pronounces darkly. “There’s something important that you have to do for me.”

Itachi and Sakura blink in unison. “…Why?”

“Because,” Sasuke glowers.

Sakura looks up at Itachi, trying to hide her smile. “It sounds like a perfectly good reason to me.”

“Fine,” Itachi mutters, just for the sake of the petite pink-haired kunoichi standing at his side. “Talk.”

Sasuke smirks. “You’re not going to like it.”

Sakura rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, remembering a very similar conversation in Itachi’s office a few days ago. The two of them really are quite alike, no matter what they would like to think. “You won’t know until you tell us,” and, once again, like the good and diplomatic kunoichi that Tsunade-shishou has taught her to be, she refrains from tacking on the word stupid to the end of the sentence.

Meanwhile, Itachi just regards his younger brother warily, being all too familiar with that scheming look in Sasuke’s eyes – after all, according to Sakura, it is the same look that he pioneered.

“Fine,” Sasuke says simply.

And then he tells them.

Despite their extremely disparate personalities, for once, Itachi and Sakura look like they are in complete accord regarding this issue. An incredulous expression has settled over Itachi’s normally impassive features, and Sakura looks sorely tempted to either punch him or take his vital stats to see if he is still functioning normally.

“You are joking, I presume,” Itachi says, at last.

Sakura is much less formal and restrained about expressing her sentiments. “Uchiha Sasuke, are you on crack?”

The smugness of Sasuke’s smirk reaches epic proportions. “No. You can start tomorrow. And…” he frowns. “I expect the task to be finished tomorrow, as well. Find me when you are ready.”

With that, Uchiha Sasuke waltzes off to meet Kakashi and Naruto, who have just arrived, his bad mood having been improved considerably by the always-enjoyable pursuit of tormenting his Demon Spawn of an older brother and his single female teammate, leaving Sakura and Itachi still staring after him and looking utterly aghast.

Sakura rubs her forehead, finally, looking pained. “He’s worse than you. And I never thought that I would ever say something like that.”

At last, Itachi glances over at her. “We could have fun with this, you know.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow at him skeptically. “That was either a Genma-worthy come-on or a totally evil proposition.”

“It was whatever you wanted it to be,” Itachi returns, without missing a beat.

Sakura smirks at him. “How about both?”

“That is acceptable,” Itachi deadpans, as the two of them turn and begin to make their way over to the rest of their team. “Now, this is what I was thinking that we could do—“

“—Let me guess, I won’t like it?” Sakura asks playfully.

Itachi makes an amused sound in the back of his throat. “Quite to the contrary; I think you will.”

Without being prompted further, Itachi tells her.

…And, predictably enough, Sakura likes it.

(Of course, this does not bode well for Sasuke at all, but he doesn’t have to know that. Yet.)

to be continued

And, after weeks of plotting against each other, Itachi and Sakura finally combine forces. Sasuke should totally sleep with one eye open. But…what’s his plan? And what’s Itachi and Sakura’s counter-plan? :O

This was a fairly transitionary chapter, I must admit, but the above questions, the issue of Sasuke And His Love Interest, and, of course, the story with what’s really going on with Itachi and Sakura’s relationship will all be answered in the eighth and final installment of Heartless. Stay tuned for more. Today was the last day of my winter break, though, which means that the last chapter may be up in around a week or so.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. :)