itachi/anko;; ten short fic snippets for ten different genres, written for a livejournal meme.
(a/n) Same meme, different pairing, posting it here for the lolz, whatever.
(disclaimer) not mine.
He traces gentle fingers over the seal, causing goosebumps to rise at the back of her neck.
She says aloud, "You know, sometimes I think I'm lucky."
He waits a while for her to elaborate before giving in. "Why?"
She says, "At least my chains are visible."
"They're hiring young in the software business these days, huh?" Anko Mitarashi leans across her desk for a better view of the ass of the tech kid, who can't be more than twenty-one and doesn't look like he's even left college. "He's dressed nice, for a guy fixing a server."
"That's the CEO's son," Genma says as he materializes next to her with an armful of papers, causing Anko to choke on her coffee.
"Anko-sempai. It's an emergency. May I hide here?" Itachi asks.
Anko stares at him, standing in the doorway of her flat. "Why are you covered in barbecue sauce?"
"I may have tripped into a festival stall while running from--"
"Never mind. I don't want to know." She looks him over one more time. "I swear, if you make my furniture stink, I'll kill you," and he's already in the bathroom, locking the door. Anko sighs. "Why do I do this?" she moans to the heavens.
4. Crossover (WEWY)
"Come on, make a pact with me!" The strange girl vaults over a concrete barrier and latches onto Itachi's hand. Meanwhile, the strange monsters are hot in pursuit of the both of them.
"What are you talking about?" he snaps.
"It keeps the Noise at bay! Make a pact with me, now!"
He hisses through his teeth with frustration, but nods, and five minutes later, they're sitting on the curb while people walk past, and she's saying, "My name's Anko! How'd you die?"
5. First Time
"You ever have dango before, kid?" she inquires of the little boy (must be what, five years old?) watching her eat with a look of uncommon suspicion.
He shakes his head, and she rolls her eyes. "Here, have mine. I just finished a mission anyway. My treat." She wanders back to the stand to buy another serving for herself, and by the time she gets back, he's licked the skewer clean.
"I heard you got made jounin," Anko says, forcefully sliding into the seat across from Itachi with an obnoxious grin, thoroughly ignoring Shisui's protests at being squished against the wall. "Shaddup, you, I'm older and smarter," she snaps at him, before returning her attention to the quiet boy in front of her.
"And?" For all that this is a celebratory dinner for him, Itachi seems like he could care less, even with an obnoxiously loud half-stranger barging in right in the middle of it.
Anko hands him a small package. "Here. It's a present. For you."
"Like he couldn't figure that out," says Shisui. "OWW!" he adds, as Anko stomps hard on his foot.
It's a necklace, a simple design of three silver loops on a black chain. "Why?" Itachi says, holding it by one end up to a light with two fingers, as if expecting it to explode.
Anko smirks and reaches across to ruffle his hair. "I thought it accentuated your eyes, Itachi-chan," she says, venomously sweet. "You have such lovely lashes, you know."
He puts it on, to Shisui's gaping protest and Anko's momentary surprise. "Thank you very much, Anko-sempai," he says, simply.
Itachi meant to take it off later, but never did.
He's put up with her weird kinks before with good grace, but this is a step too far.
"I am not," he says, staring at the French maid's dress with distaste, "wearing that."
"Good," she says, with that evil twinkle in her eye that usually means she's been setting him up for a stupid comment the whole time, "it totally wouldn't flatter your hips."
"Sometimes I think," Itachi says, staring into the dregs at the bottom of his mug, "I should have taken Orochimaru up on his offer."
Anko flinches, and he continues, "Because he wouldn't have needed Sasuke. Maybe I was selfish. I pushed him too hard. I wanted him to want to kill me. And now..."
"Now he's made a choice that he has to live with." Anko pries Itachi's fingers off his sake, grips his hand tight. "Like you. Like everybody."
Itachi rubs his eyes and says, "I should have--"
"I should have killed him, anyway. So if you're going to blame someone, blame me." She tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.
Itachi regards her gravely. "That would be very hard for me to do."
Anko kisses his cheek gently. "Consider it a challenge."
"So that's what that means," Itachi says, breathless and all of twelve years old, sprawled across her mat.
Anko's sitting on top of him and putting her bra back on. "You could have just looked it up, you know," she says, but she's smiling.
She's never seen a Sharingan up close, she tells him, and he places one palm to each side of her head and lets her have a look.
She knows they're red with black patterns just from hearsay, but never knew that the red looks like blood drying on the surface of the moon, the three tomoe pitch-black holes in the center of the universe. She could swear they shift as she watches, too slowly for her to catch but just enough to make her feel a little dizzy upon staring, pinwheeling in an intangible wind. The harder she tries to pin down their movement, the less she can tell, and the dizzier she feels, until she thinks maybe it's an optical illusion and his pupils are just dilating, inviting her in...
She notices, suddenly, that they're standing much closer than when they'd started out, that his hands have shifted slightly and one of his thumbs is softly stroking her lower lip, that her hands have inexplicably wound up on his shoulders, that her heart is pounding and she's hot and cold all at the same time.
"Interesting," she breathes, and they're so close that she can feel her own breath ghosting across his face.