This is what happens when I decide that I want to write a fic in which I explore the relationship between Sasuke and Itachi, had the whole massacre-thing not happened. They have grown up with both a mother and a father, so they're far more normal than they are in the canon. Of course, being me, I had to throw in some yaoi too. What's the result? A whole lot of arguing, scheming mothers and awkward sex.

You're welcome 8D

Now, on with the fic.


Uchiha Mikoto knew that she was a good mother. She wasn't being big-headed by saying that. It was a simple statement of fact. She must have done something right to raise two such beautiful boys, because heaven knows Fugaku, the workaholic that he was, hadn't had much of a hand in bringing them up. From the moment she'd fallen pregnant with her eldest son Itachi at the age of 22, she had settled into her role as mother and housewife with great pride. She had witnessed each and every moment of her sons' lives, from first teeth to breaking voices. She'd been there in the audience, dabbing her tears, as her eldest son graduated from high school at the age of thirteen, and, when her youngest had become a martial arts champion when he was eight, the proud tears had flowed then aswell.

Her two boys were so different, yet she loved them equally. She knew that, to the outside world, it may have looked as though she preferred Sasuke due to the endless amount of time she spent with him when he was not busy, but, in reality, she just worried about him more. He lived constantly in his brother's shadow, and she knew that Itachi's shadow was not a nice place in which to be. She could tell that he didn't resent Itachi; on the contrary, her sons were so close that it was almost like they were best friends rather than two drastically different ;. But she saw the way his eyes dulled a bit when Fugaku extolled Itachi's virtues to his colleagues and mentioned Sasuke as an afterthought.

"You're upsetting him, Fugaku!" she had protested angrily after a dinner party one night, still in her black dress and pearls, "Itachi isn't your only son!"

"Sasuke can take it," Fugaku had said with a grin, "He knows I'm proud of him,"

"No, Fugaku, I don't think he does," Mikoto had snapped.

Fugaku had slept in a guest room that night.

Of course, this hadn't really changed Fugaku's behaviour, stubborn mule that he was. But it had felt good to lash out at her husband like that.

The side effect of her bond with Sasuke, however, was that Itachi was constantly left with only Fugaku's cold company and proud, militaristic speeches about Uchiha pride. At first, she'd worried that her son would change; that he'd morph into a miniature of her husband in all but looks. But, as the years passed, Fugaku's influence didn't stop Itachi from lying to his father about Sasuke's whereabouts or deciding to make himself sick from eating too many sweets, so she was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

She hadn't been so lucky with Sasuke. Her baby was a little colder and less innocent than he had been in his early childhood, due to Fugaku and those foul girls that wouldn't leave him alone. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd had to shoo one off the property, and it was even more often that she sent Itachi, with his glare that could melt iron, to persuade those girls to leave her youngest son alone. While she was proud of how handsome her boys were, she hated the way that Sasuke's looks attracted those awful girls. They were persistent and delusional- a bad combination.

But Sasuke did seem to mellow out slightly around his brother and his few true friends, so she supposed that all was not lost. And he didn't shove her away when she kissed his forehead, despite the clear embarrassment this caused him. So she was sure that her baby was still her baby, even if he behaved a little differently than he had when he was a carefree four year old.

Her sons were as different as night and day, even if they looked incredibly similar. One of Sasuke's friends had actually confused Itachi with Sasuke the first time they'd met, although quite how the little blond boy had managed that, Mikoto couldn't fathom. Itachi was, afterall, a good foot taller than Sasuke at the moment, and his hair was much longer. Mikoto was close friends with Naruto's mother, Kushina, and had quickly phoned her up to tell her that amusing anecdote, to much laughter from Kushina.

She was pleased to note that her boys got their exemplary looks from her. With their striking dark eyes, black hair and pale skin, they were a sight to behold, and she liked to thank her genes for giving her sons such beauty. But their personalities were so different that she sometimes wondered how they could be related at all.

Sasuke was quiet and cold. He seemed to exude confidence when he wasn't in the presence of his father, and his sense of humour extended to sarcasm and barbed insults. He was very bright, although he was not quite on Itachi's level, yet he was much better at sports than his brother. He enjoyed Mathematics and Science, at which he excelled. He liked to read classic literature and practice his martial arts, and he owned a black cat named Tsuki, who could be a vicious little thing.

Itachi was also quiet, but it was a contented kind of quiet. He had this little smile that always made Mikoto think that he knew something he wasn't telling her, and that, whatever he was thinking, he was probably right. Itachi didn't seem to have much of a sense of humour. He'd sometimes tease Sasuke a little, but that was really it. He was a genius who had filled his time after high school with collecting degrees before he reached 18 and was able to do something with them. He sometimes studied two subjects at once, much to Fugaku's pride and Mikoto's exasperation. He didn't have much time for sports, although he, too, practiced martial arts. But this was out of an effort to keep fit and healthy rather than because he had any interest in them. He enjoyed cooking, eating sweets and drinking tea, writing and (of course) studying. He was her little nerd, which she told him fondly, and Sasuke told him mockingly.

They had their faults, of course. For example, Sasuke was moody and apt to snap at people and had a foul mouth that she dearly wanted to wash out with soap sometimes, and Itachi was a perpetual know-it-all that couldn't restrain the impulse to answer rhetorical and sarcastic questions, and questions that nobody would need to know the answer to.

But Mikoto loved her boys, faults and all. So, when she realised that Itachi was less happy than he seemed, she resolved to fix the issue. It didn't take her long to realise exactly what Itachi was so fixated on, and, while she didn't exactly approve, she wasn't like other mothers. She was the right combination of protective and nurturing, and she was going to make Itachi happy, even if her method was slightly unorthodox.

Now she just needed to figure out a plan of action. It didn't take long before she felt a happy little grin come to her face.


Uchiha Itachi was not the kind of person who was easily ruffled. He prided himself on his endless composure, so it was therefore a shame that his mother had managed to make him freak out when he'd been doing so well at acting as though nothing fazed him.

"Well don't you look pretty," Sasuke smirked from where he was sitting on Itachi's bed, dressed up as the cult character V. At least he was dressed up as something fairly decent. And the seventeenth-century garb suited him, oddly enough. On anybody else, Itachi had no doubt that the wide-brimmed hat, knee high boots, cloak and dark jerkin would look ridiculous. Sasuke actually managed to pull it off.

"Please tell me you'll be putting the mask on soon," Itachi said flatly. Sasuke scowled.

"It's not my fault your costume's shit," he snorted, playing with the little plastic Guy Fawkes mask. Itachi had a sneaking suspicion that Sasuke had chosen that outfit so that he had an excuse to wear a mask in order to hide from his legion of adoring fans.

"And it's certainly not mine," Itachi retorted, tugging at the hem. If anything, it rode higher. Sasuke snorted, and Mother slapped Itachi's hands away.

"Itachi, leave it alone," she said, lacing the outfit up at the neck. Stepping backwards, she appraised him silently, while Itachi avoided her gaze and Sasuke smirked.

"You look adorable!" she finally pronounced, ignoring the snort that Sasuke let out, "It really suits you! Well, of course it does; you have my legs!"

Itachi felt his sense of masculine pride dwindle as Sasuke, unable to help himself, buried his face into Itachi's pillow. The sound of sniggering was still able to reach them.

"Oh, hush, you!" Mother scolded. Sasuke obediently turned around to face them with a straight face. The illusion was ruined by the way his lips continued to twitch slightly.

"Mother," Itachi said, pronouncing the word slowly, "Why on earth do I have to wear this?"

"We've been through this, Itachi," Mother sighed sternly, brushing creases out of Itachi's costume, "You need a costume for Sasuke's party,"

"Must it be this one?" Itachi asked, "Mother, it barely covers me!"

"Yes, dear, that's because you have my butt aswell," Mother responded brightly as she rummaged through a cardboard box that sat on the floor. Sasuke, having given up all pretences, was shuddering with silent laughter while Itachi attempted to look unfazed. He failed dismally.

"Shut up, Sasuke," he sighed.

"Wait, wait!" Sasuke said with a smirk, "What are you wearing underneath?"

"I'm not discussing this with you," Itachi said, unable to prevent himself from becoming steadily redder as Sasuke stared at him with something close to delight.

"Man-thong? Jock strap?" Sasuke paused for effect, "Nothing?"

"Tonight," Itachi responded, enunciating every word, "The baby pictures are coming out,"

Now it was Sasuke's turn to look horrified.

"You're evil," he stated.

"Sasuke, I'm not going to tell you again!" Mother said, extracting herself from the box and turning to Itachi, "Now, put these on,"

"Mother, you can't be serious," Itachi said, eyeing the objects in his mother's hands with distaste.

"Now, Itachi!" she said. Not being one to disobey his mother, Itachi consented and, bending down, he began to lace the hideous things up, silently seething.

"Itachi, there's a mirror behind you," Sasuke said, a smirk dancing on his lips, "Nice thong,"

Itachi jerked upright and tugged the back of his outfit down again angrily.

"Baby pictures," he hissed. Even this wasn't enough to make Sasuke stop laughing.

"Sasuke, leave your brother alone," Mother warned sternly, "Or I won't stop him,"

Sasuke's expression soured immediately and he resumed fiddling with his mask.

"Don't forget the hat," Mother reminded Itachi sweetly, placing it on top of his hair. She frowned for a moment, and then pulled Itachi's hair tie out and arranged his hair around his shoulders. Itachi stared at the ground, willing it to swallow him up.

"Oh, you look gorgeous!" she said, seizing his face with two small hands and bringing his face down to her level so that she could kiss his cheeks.

"I look like a gay stripper," Itachi replied.

"No change, then," Sasuke quipped, ducking as Itachi hurled a hairbrush at him.

"Sasuke, stop it right now or I'll leave you in that pink haired girl's company for the entire of your party!" Mother snapped, "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Mother," Sasuke sighed.

"And your brother looks wonderful," she said, "I knew you'd be perfect as Peter Pan!"

"I look more like Tinkerbell," Itachi said, drawing another smirk from Sasuke. But it was true. The costume was essentially a scrap of green cloth. It had short sleeves with dogtooth edging, and the same pattern edged the cloth that currently rode up his upper thighs. It laced up at the collar, and there was a leather belt around his waist and a dagger at his hip. On his feet were soft brown shoes that resembled those a ballet dancer might wear. If nothing else, they were comfortable, Itachi thought cynically. A green, three-pointed hat with a garish red feather completed the outfit.

The outfit had originally belonged to his mother. She'd worn it to a party during the early months of her pregnancy when she was in her early twenties, which explained why it fit Itachi well. However, sometime in the intervening years, she had managed to lose the green tights that had originally come with the costume. This resulted in an entirely respectable (if not a little ridiculous) costume morphing into something a woman might wear to a party if she wanted to get laid. Itachi had never been so humiliated in his life.

"Your ass is practically hanging out of that thing," Sasuke informed him blithely, "I hope your dick's not going to fall out in the middle of the party,"

"Uchiha Sasuke!" Mother said, "That's enough of that language from you!"

She cuffed her youngest son around the back of the head, despite the fact that he was now several inches taller than her.

"Now, come with me into the dining room," she said to her two sons, clapping her hands together cheerfully, "We need to get everything absolutely ready for Sasuke's birthday party!"

"You realise that I hate parties, right?" Sasuke snorted, holding the door open for Itachi, who folded his arms across his chest with a cool glare.

"Your dress is riding up," Sasuke informed him blandly.

"Sasuke, for the sake of my masculinity, call it a tunic," Itachi sighed, "Please. And I'm not going before you. I don't want to contemplate what you may do,"

"Whatever makes you happy," Sasuke shrugged, leaving the room with a spring in his step. Itachi trailed behind him, constantly tugging the back of his costume down with a pained look on his face.

"If you hate it so much, why are you wearing it, anyway? Why not buy another costume?" Sasuke asked.

"Mother told me that there was no need, and that she had the perfect costume here,"

No further explanation was needed as Itachi resumed his paranoid tugging of his costume.

They found Mother in the dining room. The table had been removed for the occasion, leaving a wide, airy space that the hired help were busily decorating. One woman, who was teetering on a ladder, giggled when she saw Itachi, and he pretended not to notice.

Father was sitting off to the side, reading a pile of documents and sipping coffee.

"Mikoto," he said, "How are the preparations coming along?"

"You'd know if you dragged yourself away from your work for once, Fugaku!" Mother scolded. Father sighed and replaced his papers in his brief case.

Then, he saw Itachi.

And blinked.

And blinked again.

"Mikoto," he called slowly. His wife, who had been arguing with the hired help about whether or not a banner was wonky, practically danced over to them with a happy little grin on her face.

"Yes, dear? Itachi, stop that!"

Her voice had the ability to go from cheerful to angry in about two seconds. Itachi sighed deeply and pressed his back to the wall so that he wouldn't have to continue attempting to cover himself. Sasuke snorted into the coffee he had pilferred from Father.

"Sasuke, stop drinking that rubbish!" Mother continued as her husband continued to stare at Itachi with his jaw hanging, "Drink tea like your brother does!"

"Should I wear a dress like Itachi, t-Ow!"

Itachi blinked guilelessly at his brother, who had somehow ended up on the floor, having been kicked off his chair from behind. It was lucky that he'd already put his coffee mug on the table. Sasuke's narrowed glare told Itachi that his innocent face wasn't fooling anybody.

"Mikoto, dear," Father said again, his eyes still fixed on Itachi. He seemed unable to look away from the disaster, "What is Itachi wearing?"

"Don't you recognise it, Fugaku?" Mother demanded with a pout, "It's my old Halloween costume!"

Father coughed lightly into his hand while Itachi attempted to become one with the wall, and Mother continued to smile sweetly. Sasuke was choking on his coffee, but managed to take another gulp to calm himself down.

"I don't recall it being, dear, the majority of the outfit must be missing," Father stammered, avoiding looking at his son for any more than a second at a time. Sasuke had never looked happier. Itachi had the irrational urge to kick him in the face, immature as the urge was.

"Oh, no!" Mother laughed, "No, it's all there. Well, other than the tights, of course. I couldn't seem to find them. Do you have any idea where they could have gone to?"

Father shook his head, his face a sickly green. Itachi shared the sentiment.

"Well, it doesn't make much of a difference," Mother continued, clapping her hands together briskly.

"Hn," Sasuke smirked, "You won't be saying that when there's a good breeze and-,"

"Baby pictures," Itachi interrupted, red-faced. Sasuke shrugged, appearing absolutely unruffled. He was enjoying Itachi's misery way too much.

"Mikoto, I could always go out and get Itachi another costume-," Father began, and Itachi had honestly never loved his Father more than he did at this moment.

"There's no time," Mother interrupted quickly, "I need him here to help with food preparation,"

"Can't we hire caterers?" Father asked, "Mikoto, this is making Itachi uncomfortable, it's making me uncomfortable, and- Sasuke, wipe that smirk off your face. Birthday or not, I'll still ground you,"

Itachi briefly caught Sasuke's glower before his little brother slipped that V mask on, hiding his features. He was clearly sulking.

"I don't trust caterers, Fugaku, as you well know!" Mother said, poking Father in the chest with a stern expression, "It's impossible to know what they're putting in their food! And, besides, I know what my baby likes!"

Baby? Itachi glanced at Sasuke with a smirk, but he didn't need to look at his brother's stiff posture to know that his face was probably fire engine red at the moment.

"Yes, dear-," Father began again. Mother's narrow eyes stopped him dead in his tracks, and he took a large gulp of coffee before hiding himself behind the newspaper. Mother smiled sweetly, seizing Itachi by the wrist.

"Come on, Itachi," she chirped, "We've got a lot of food to make!"

Sasuke nearly killed himself laughing later on when he stuck his head into the room to ask how many people were coming and whether Mother had really invited those annoying girls and saw Itachi, who was making savoury tarts with a dark expression while wearing a hairnet and an apron over his costume.

"Read the apron," Itachi said flatly, turning around so that Sasuke could see the acid green letters on the front which warned "Be nice to me or I'll poison your food." Sasuke seemed to take the threat a little seriously, as his sniggers subsided to smirks as he ducked out of the room and closed the door, leaving Itachi to fill the centres of the pastry cases with a red mixture while he imagined that it was blood.

"You're sixteen years old, Uchiha Sasuke!" Mother shouted through the door, "Start acting it!"

Sasuke grumbled an apology that lacked any sort of sincerity, but Mother appeared satisfied, as she returned to what she was doing with a sweet smile.

"Who is coming?" Itachi asked curiously, after a beat. Mother had not been able to answer before Sasuke had nearly fitted due to laughter on the kitchen floor, and Itachi was curious. He was also vaguely worried, as Sasuke's fangirls tended to transfer their affections to him when the main focus of their vagina-clenching fantasies was suspiciously absent. He suppose it could be expected; they did look uncannily alike, even for brothers.

"Oh, just a few people," Mother said, waving her hand breezily and causing flour to settle in her hair. When she took her hairnet off, there would certainly be a diamond pattern of white in her dark hair.

"And who are these people?" Itachi persisted, "You know that those girls-,"

"Let's see," Mother interrupted, placing her finger on her chin and putting down her rolling pin as she turned her eyes skywards in thought, "Hm...there's obviously me, you and your Father,"

Itachi nodded.

"There's also Inabi, Tekka and Yashiro-,"

"Sasuke hates them," Itachi pointed out, also pausing in his task. He didn't point out that, he, too, disliked his cousins, who were always trying to get one up on him because of their own inferiority complexes.

"They're still family, Itachi," Mother sighed, as though she was explaining a difficult concept to a child who didn't seem to be paying attention. Itachi ignored this and motioned for her to continue.

"I've also invited your Uncle Teyaki and Aunt Uruchi," she continued, and Itachi didn't interrupt, because he liked his Aunt and Uncle, "And their kids. Well, put simply, I've invited all of our family and a few of mine and your Father's friends. Goodness knows that we need a few extra pairs of hands in case Sasuke and Naruto start to brawl over the punch bowl- again,"

She rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Itachi shared the sentiment entirely. It was not healthy, or normal, for two boys who were so inseparable to be so violent towards one another aswell. But Itachi supposed that a great deal of their fights were caused by a desire to touch one another, even if it was in a violent way. Itachi didn't miss being a teenager, even if he had skipped over the customary awkwardness that seemed to permeate that era of most peoples' lives- including that era of his brother's life. Sasuke, at times, didn't seem able to decide whether he wanted to punch Naruto or fuck him.

"I'm sure Minato will be able to pull Naruto away from Sasuke quickly enough," Mother continued with a smile, "And Kushina's furious temper will soon stop those boys dead in their tracks!"

"Indeed," Itachi said dryly, "You haven't invited his fans, have you?"

"I extended an invitation to the entire of his grade," Mother shrugged, now making a sandwich filling in a gargantuan mixing bowl, "Which will, no doubt, include his fans. I didn't want to leave anybody out. I'm sure we can handle a couple of teenage girls!"

Her "hmph!" was left unsaid, but was very much apparent.

"Maybe so, but their flirting will be unbearable," Itachi pointed out, "I'm not the designated bodyguard, am I? Because I'm fairly certain that they won't take me seriously when I'm dressed as such,"

"I'm sure Sasuke can handle himself," Mother said, glancing at the clock, "Oh, would you look at the time! Your Uncle Madara will be here soon!"

Itachi slipped and nearly severed his finger as he chopped tomatoes for chutney. He thrust his smarting finger into his mouth, ignoring health and safety concerns for the present.

"Uncle Madara?" he demanded, washing his hands, "The patriarch of the Uchiha family?"

"Do we know any other Madara's?" Mother asked, rolling her eyes, "It's a fairly uncommon name. I sometimes wonder whether his mother hated him. Spots? Really, who would call their child that?"

"Who would name their child weasel?" Itachi asked pointedly, receiving a slap on the arm for his cheek.

"He should be here at around four," Mother continued, as though she hadn't heard Itachi, "No doubt he'll bring along that bodyguard of his. I don't see why. It's not as though anyone will attack him here!"

If she noticed the way that Itachi stiffened beside her, she didn't show it.

"What's his name again?" Mother continued, checking on her baking, "The bodyguard's, I mean. It's something ridiculous to do with sharks. I'm sure of it,"

"Again, you named me weasel, Mother," Itachi commented, attempting to calm his beating heart, "His name is Hoshigaki Kisame,"

He suddenly felt a little hot, and pulled at his collar nervously. He hoped that he wasn't blushing.

Saying the man's name was enough to make him hot and bothered! He didn't want to imagine how he would react when placed in the same room as his uncle's bodyguard while wearing this costume. Talking to Kisame would be entirely out of the question. Even when not dressed as Cher's version of Peter Pan, he could never manage to come across as anything more than the nerd he was. Granted, he was rather more physically attractive than most nerds, but a nerd he was.

To make matters worse, Itachi got the impression that he was very formal and curt on the few occasions he had managed to dredge up the nerve to actually hold a conversation with the man who seemed to have the magical ability to make Itachi instantly hard with no effort.

"He's a very good bodyguard," Mother continued, "Or so I've heard. I believe it, too. Madara always makes sure he has the best,"

Itachi nodded mutely, trying to concentrate on what he was making. Now add the currants to the mixture and-

"He does have certain charms, though," Mother commented airily, "Oh, Itachi! You're not usually this ungraceful!"

Itachi scowled. He privately felt that it was a feat to have caught the bowl after knocking it off the side in shock and embarrassment. And not a drop of mixture had been spilt.

"What do you think, Itachi?" Mother continued, pottering around the kitchen doing who knows what. Itachi couldn't look. He was too mortified to.

"Could you clarify what you mean, Mother?" he asked, pouring the mixture into cake cases on a tray.

"Itachi, there's no need to act coy!" Mother laughed, nudging him with her elbow, "You know what I mean!"

Oh, this was not happening! It couldn't be possible that his 43 year old mother was attempting to drag him into a conversation about her sexual attraction to a man Itachi had wanted since Uncle Madara had started to hire him when Itachi was sixteen.

"You're married," he retorted flatly, "And old. Sex should stop at 40,"

"I am not old!" Mother said, scandalised at the suggestion, "Although I agree about the married part. But a girl can look, can't she?"

"You can't be serious," Itachi muttered, wondering if it was at all possible to drown yourself in cake mixture. He doubted it, but he could try. And, when Mother inevitably fished him out, his costume would be beyond salvage and he would be able to take the hideous thing off.

"Well," Mother hmphed.

"Trying to have girl talk with a man is never the best course of action," Itachi advised.

"I'd assumed that your obvious homosexuality meant-"

"My what?" Itachi asked, shocked, "Mother, I've told you before that I wear my hair like this because I have a fascination with feudal Japan, a period in which men with long hair, particularly samurai, were the norm, and-,"

"So you don't use L'Oreal Anti-dandruff shampoo and conditioner?" Mother asked.

"I don't want dandruff. It shows up clearly in black hair," Itachi justified himself with conviction. Mother patted his cheek sympathetically.

"Whatever you say, honey," she said a tad patronisingly. Itachi didn't respond, and decided to work out his fury beating his filo pastry into submission.

"I never get to talk about things like that!" Mother continued, "Kushina is too obsessed with watching wrestling and crushing Strongbow cans on her head to talk to me about men!"

Why can't you crush cans on your head and leave Kisame alone! Itachi thought, but wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

"And I wasn't looking much," Mother said, remaining oblivious to Itachi's despairing thoughts as she pulled some baked treats out of the oven, "I'm Japanese! I'm not used to such wonderfully muscular men! I remember one time that he took his suit jacket off, and let me tell you-,"

She made a hideous purring sound, which Itachi tried to block out by covering his ears.

"Mother, please," Itachi said, "Can't you talk about something else? He must be at least ten years younger than you!"

And he's at least ten years older than you, you hypocrite, Itachi thought to himself, but pushed that thought aside for examination at a later date.

"But, on Cougar Town-,"

"Mother, what have I told you about tasteless American sitcoms?" Itachi sighed, "They pollute your brain without you realising it. Soon, you'll be getting spray tans and buying a small dog only to abuse it by imprisoning it in a handbag,"

"I will not!" Mother gaped with horror, "Wanting to talk about a younger man does not mean-,"

"Will you please stop talking about Kisame like that?" Itachi asked, cheeks reddening as he caught a glimpse of Mother's knowing look. He shouldn't have been so obvious. She was an Uchiha afterall, even if only by marriage. And she had the added bonus of being a woman. She was bound to be overly perceptive.

"Kisame?" she said slowly, "I had no idea-,"

"Mother, would you please stop?" Itachi interrupted yet again.

"Can a woman not gloat that her gaydar is as accurate as ever, even when it's aimed at her own son?" Mother asked rhetorically.

"No, she cannot," Itachi said, "As nothing I have said confirms what you have been-,"

"Sorry, Itachi, but when the needle on my gaydar flies past rainbow, it makes a loud screaming noise in my head," Mother said cheerfully, "It's a good thing, too. It drowns out the sound of denial,"

Itachi glowered and, to his relief, realised that all food preparations were now complete, and he could get out of this room and return to Father's side, where they would talk about business and Uchiha honour and not about how gay the heir to the Uchiha Clan was. Even if Mother was correct in her assumptions, Itachi didn't want to discuss it with her. She had a tendency to gloat endlessly when she was right.

He shucked his apron off quickly and hooked it behind the door while Mother began to cover all cold food items with clingfilm to keep them clean and fresh. The hot food sat on the side to cool down.

It was with little regret that he yanked his hairnet off and threw the thing into the rubbish, then traipsed into the living room where Father turned as green as the Peter Pan costume that was causing his distress as soon as Itachi sat down beside him.

"It never gets old," Sasuke pointed out with the smirk that turned his fans into adoring piles of goo. Itachi narrowed his eyes.

"Itachi, I've been meaning to ask- it's been puzzling me- what are you wearing under there?" Father interrupted, "I hope, for the sake of Clan honour, that it's something decent,"

Of all of the questions he could have asked, he asked that one. Sasuke, mindful of Father's earlier warning, muttered a quick "excuse me" as he fled the room. He was probably going to the bathroom, Itachi thought. It was the perfect place in which to piss oneself laughing.

"Ah," Father said, correctly interpreting Itachi's blush and stoic silence to mean "You don't want to know". Father opened the newspaper again and hid behind it.

Eventually, Sasuke was persuaded to come out of the bathroom again. It seemed that he had locked himself in there when he'd found out from Mother, while on the way to piss himself laughing, that his fangirls would be in attendance. He had promptly sobered up. Then, he had locked himself in the bathroom and had refused to come out until Itachi had threatened to show Naruto a picture of three year old Sasuke grinning at the camera while wearing a Care Bear suit. He was missing a tooth, and he was, appropriately, Grumpy Bear. Itachi expected that Sasuke would pay him back tenfold at the party.

"When's Madara getting here?" Sasuke said to Mother as she chivvied him into the decorated dining room. He was glancing pointedly at Itachi, who ignored him, "Is he bringing that bodyguard?"

"Well, Madara should be here at four. And, yes, Madara's bodyguard is coming," Mother smiled sweetly, "We hope,"

There was an innuendo in there somewhere. Itachi could sense it.

"What's his name again, honey?" Mother asked Itachi.

"Hoshigaki Kisame," Itachi said, ignoring the looks Mother and Sasuke were sharing. There were several unwritten rules in the Uchiha Clan. One was that you were likely to find yourself in deep trouble if an Uchiha plotted against you. But, if two joined forced to plot against you, your downfall was inevitable. This Itachi knew. So he felt that his trepidation was justified.

"Do you think he'll like your dress?" Sasuke asked with a smirk, earning two smacks on the back of the head, one from Itachi and one from Mother. Itachi felt his dwindling affection for Mother undergo an upsurge as she berated Sasuke.

"Don't annoy your brother!" Mother scolded.

"You're doing it too!" Sasuke protested. Itachi pulled the mask back down over Sasuke's face and let it go with a snap.

"Itachi, you fucker, that hurt!" Sasuke protested.

"Boys, stop fighting!" Mother snapped, yanking them apart by the hair as a vein throbbed in her forehead. Itachi winced at the pressure she was exerting on his scalp and apologised, rubbing his head when she let go.

"Now, Sasuke, go and listen to music," Mother ordered, harried, "Itachi, go and...put on eyeliner or-,"

The rest of whatever she had been about to say was drowned out by a snort of laughter from Sasuke and an indignantly hissed "Mother!" from Itachi.

"Oh, alright!" Mother sighed, "I'm sorry for doubting your masculinity, Itachi,"

"I'm not," Sasuke added. Itachi kicked him in the back of the knee, sending him sprawling.

"You two!" Mother bellowed, and both brothers assumed identical fearful expressions, "Right, Itachi, come with me! Sasuke, go and sit with your father!"

"Where are we going?" Itachi asked as Mother dragged him along by the arm. The parting smirk Sasuke had sent him did not give Itachi much confidence that he was going to like the answer. He knew they were plotting against him!

"To greet your Uncle Madara at the door!" she answered, her ghoulish expression daring him to protest.

"He'll be laughing for the entire of the party," Itachi reflected morosely, "And-,"

Finally, he remembered who would be accompanying his Uncle to the party tonight and dashed up the stairs as soon as they neared them, locking himself in his room.

"Uchiha Itachi!" Mother shouted, "Get back here right now! And don't you dare take the outfit off, or I'll tell Kisame exactly what you think of him!"

Itachi froze in the process of ripping the offending garment off and rebuttoned it morosely. He didn't reply as he lay down on his bed with his face in his pillows. The feather in his hat jabbed him in the head through the material, and he threw the stupid thing across the room before smothering his face into his pillows once more.

"Itachi, they're here!" Mother called frantically, "Come down now, or I'll send your Father up there to get you!

Itachi burrowed his face further into his pillow, ignoring her. Father was more uncomfortable than Itachi was about this whole situation. At most, he would come upstairs, awkwardly ask Itachi to come day through the door, and then leave again with a shrug when Itachi said no.

"Uchiha Itachi!" Mother repeated, "I'm warning you!"

Itachi tensed as the sound of the doorbell ringing filled the house. Mother stopped attempting to make him leave his room and Itachi heard low voices fill the hall. The sound of Kisame's identifiable baritone gave Itachi the urge to obey his mother and go downstairs to get a better listen, and to possibly catch a glimpse of the man himself. He didn't, though. He was too concerned that he would be spotted, and he could just imagine how much Kisame would laugh at him.

There was a knock at the door.

"Itachi?" Father called, "Your mother wants you to go downstairs immediately,"

"I refuse," Itachi replied, "I won't, not while I'm dressed like this,"

"Be that as it may, your mother is threatening to withhold sex for a month if I don't get you out of that room immediately, so-,"

"That is underhanded!" Itachi said, aghast that his mother had sunk so low as to blackmail her own husband in her pursuit of Itachi's utter humiliation or whatever goal she was aiming for.

"Yes," Father conceded, "But, considering that your mother will definitely follow through with that threat, I don't dare complain. I'm unlocking your door now,"

"Where did you get a key?" Itachi said, eyeing his pillows and wondering whether he would get in too much trouble for hurling them at his father as a diversionary tactic so that he could escape from his bedroom and lock himself in the bathroom instead. Itachi heard the sound of the key turning in the lock and gripped his hair in frustration. This was turning out to be the worst day of his life.

"It's a master key," Father called, sticking his head into the room and once again turning a very interesting colour at the sight of Itachi's costume, "Do I have to drag you?"

Itachi narrowed his eyes.

"Go away," he enunciated slowly, then turned onto his front and covered his head with a pillow. Father sighed.

"Have it your way then,"

Downstairs, Sasuke joined Mother, Uncle Madara and his uncle's bodyguard in the hall just in time to witness a spectacle that he had never thought he would see and hear. Even Mother, who clearly felt that she knew her sons, seemed shocked and then embarrassed by the din Itachi was making as Father dragged him across the landing. At least, Sasuke thought it was Itachi, but it sounded more like a cross between Hidan and clumsy Juugo due to the distinct crashes and cursing that travelled downstairs.

"What do you think prostitutes are for?" Sasuke heard Itachi demand. Apparently, that phrase meant something to Mother, whose lips thinned as her eyebrow began to tick.

"I heard that!" she called.

"I can't be seen like this!" Itachi said, apparently not having heard Mother.

"Itachi, your behaviour is unbecoming of the Uchiha Clan!" Father admonished even as he manhandled his eldest son across the landing while hoping that their movements would not cause Itachi to have any wardrobe malfunctions.

"I suspect that this costume will reflect far worse on the Clan than my unwillingness to let people see me wearing it!" Itachi retorted.

"What is he wearing?" Uncle Madara asked quietly.

"My old Halloween costume," Mother answered, still glaring up the stairs and waiting for Itachi's inevitable appearance, "Minus the tights. I lost them,"

Madara smirked, coughing to hide a chuckle.

"Ah," he said, "It's little wonder he's reacted like that,"

"Is it that bad?" Kisame asked with interest. He was so large that Mother had to tilt her head nearly all the way back to look into his face.

"You'll see," she smirked as Itachi slowly came into view, being pushed along by Father even as he tried to push back, "Itachi, where is your hat?"

"On my crotch," Itachi said sarcastically, "To hide what this costume doesn't!"

"Oh, Itachi!" Mother scolded, "Stop being so dramatic and get down here! You're ruining your brother's birthday!"

"Actually, I'm having a very good day so far," Sasuke admitted with a smirk.

"I'm letting Sakura into your room," Itachi retorted, still standing at the top of the stairs. Father was panting against the wall, covered in sweat. The things a man would do for sex...

"You fucker!" Sasuke yelped, "Don't you dare!"

"I'll even give her the guided tour," Itachi continued, "And some complimentary underwear as a souvenir,"

"Mother!" Sasuke hissed.

"Well, darling, you have been antagonising him all day," Mother pointed out with a honey-sweet smile.

"Pot calling the kettle black!" Sasuke pointed out, "You're the one who forced him to walk around looking like one of Lady Gaga's backup dancers!"

"You're a fan of Lady Gaga, Sasuke?" Madara asked silkily.

"No," Sasuke snorted, "I actually think she's a cracked-out, talentless hermaphrodite with bad fashion sense,"

"Not another Lady Gaga rant, Sasuke!" Mother scolded, "You hate her so much that you might come full circle and start liking her soon! And where do you think you're going, Uchiha Itachi?"

Itachi sighed and aborted all attempts to sneak past his exhausted father.

"It was worth a shot," Sasuke told him. Itachi was inclined to agree.

"Now come down here and do something useful!" Mother ordered.

"The food is done. The only other thing he's good for is stripping," Sasuke smirked. Of course, that smirk soon turned into an expression accurately described as "Fuck, I'm dead!" when Itachi leaped down the stairs faster than a cheetah on amphetamines and attempted to strangle him as he hid behind Mother.

"Itachi!" Mother growled as Uncle Madara leaned against the wall, crowing with manic laughter, "You may not maim your brother!"

"Not...even...a...little?" Itachi hissed as his exhausted father attempted to hold him back. Sasuke, possibly remembering that he was the better fighter, or realising that Itachi was sufficiently restrained, proceeded to snigger quietly.

"Kisame, if you would?" Madara said smoothly. Kisame, who didn't see the necessity, appeared confused, but obeyed immediately. Itachi went weak at the knees when Kisame restrained him with two powerfully built arms, falling limp almost immediately with glassy eyes. Mother giggled to herself.

"Honey, now that you've calmed down, would you like to take your Uncle to the living room?" she prompted. Itachi snapped out of it and nodded with a slight flush appearing across his nose.

He must think I'm an idiot, Itachi thought to himself, A violent idiot.

And he'd given Mother even more evidence that she was right. She was going to be insufferable later. Sasuke's smirk didn't bode well, either. Itachi suspected that Sasuke would soon be leaving gay porn and dildos in his room for their mother to find.

"Of course, Mother," he said politely, "Would you please follow me?"

Uncle Madara handed his coat to the maid, who took it with a blush and an unsteady bow. Itachi wondered whether she would still be flushed and enamoured if she knew Madara's true (and considerable) age. Madara noticed, if the gleam in his eyes was anything to go by, but he focussed his attention on Mother, who continued to smile sweetly at him.

"Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't," he mused. Mother's smile did not budge, but Madara's smirk widened until it was a leer. Then, he abruptly turned to Itachi questioningly.

"This way," Itachi said politely, leading the way. He didn't want to draw attention to how short his tunic was by tugging it down, especially not in front of Kisame (who he wanted to bed) and Madara (who would never let him hear the end of it). Nevertheless, muted voices reached his ears, suggesting that he was being talked about. His cheeks flamed, especially when Kisame laughed at whatever Madara had said. He was sure they were talking about him.

"Should I make myself comfortable, then?" Madara sighed as though it was a chore, sitting down on the leather sofa.

"Do you expect me to fan you?" Itachi asked blandly, "Or perhaps you were expecting cognac?"

"That would be nice, yes," Madara said with a smirk. Either he hadn't detected Itachi's sarcasm, or he was ignoring it. It was probably the last one.

"Kisame, would you like anything?" Madara said, ignoring Itachi's cool expression, "I'm certain Itachi, bend over backwards to accommodate your needs. I hear he can be very...flexible, if you will,"

That was definitely an innuendo. Kisame, who had been seated on the sofa with his legs parted as he polished his gun lovingly, shrugged.

"A drink would be good," he said nonchalantly in that deep voice. Itachi swallowed and nodded.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, practically fleeing the room to hide the reaction he'd had to Kisame's voice.

"Every. Single. Time," he muttered, slamming a glass onto the counter and pouring a generous glass of pomegranate juice into it. He avoided looking at Kisame entirely when he returned, almost thrusting the glass into Kisame's hand. Their fingers brushed, and Itachi had an extraordinarily girly moment in which his mind shrieked He touched me!

"Thanks," Kisame grunted, downing the juice entirely in a few gulps. But, then again, he was an abnormally large man, especially in comparison to the people of Asian descent that Itachi normally associated with. He was six and a half to seven feet tall by Itachi's estimations, with incredibly broad shoulders and thick, muscular arms. Even his dark hands dwarfed those of the largest of Itachi's family members.

He handed the glass back to Itachi silently, watching him carefully. Itachi didn't know why Kisame was examining him so closely, but it made him uncomfortable. He longed to excuse himself. He was becoming warm, in spite of the air conditioning that was keeping the large Uchiha mansion cool in the blistering July sun.

"Nice outfit," Kisame said at last. Itachi could have sworn he was near to collapse. There was definitely a flicker of black around the edges of his vision then.

"Won't you sit down, Itachi?" Uncle Madara advised, pointing to the space beside Kisame innocently. Itachi followed his advice, settling himself down far enough away from Kisame to avoid touching him, but close enough that he didn't look like he was desperately trying to reduce the chance of any more physical contact.

Kisame, for his part, seemed not to notice the miniature breakdown Itachi was undergoing in front of him, and returned to polishing his gun. Itachi didn't realise that he'd continued to stare until Kisame looked up again with an expression that asked "Do I have something on my face, or am I just that sexy?" At least, that was the interpretation Itachi's foul mind came up with even as he imagined bashing his head against the wall till his brain fell out.

"What?" Kisame asked suddenly.

"Your gun," Itachi said quickly, proud of his quick thinking. At least there was some of his normal personality buried deep underneath the banners and hormones that the fanboy version of Itachi had brought with it when it had taken over his brain.

"What about it?"

"Yes, Itachi, what about it?" Madara said slyly, "You seem awfully interested in Kisame's...gun,"

Itachi decided that the world was against him today. Or, if not the world, at least his family.

"I have not seen such a gun before," Itachi explained neutrally. It was true; while the gun was, if not ordinary, due to the gold filigree pattern twisting over the silver barrel, it was at least not completely unorthodox. However, the grip was made from a strange silver-grey material that Itachi could not identify.

"That's because Samehada has no equal," Kisame smirked. Itachi nodded, willing his mind to cooperate with him.

"Shark skin?" Itachi asked, "Why such a name?"

"Because," Kisame explained, "It has a sharkskin grip. Want to feel it?"

He twirled the gun around beneath his fingers so that the grip was facing Itachi, who stared with wide eyes.

"Will the dermal denticles-?" Itachi began, nevertheless reaching out.

"No," Kisame shrugged, "It's ground down shagreen. It feels smooth. Don't worry, it's not loaded. Only stupid bastards leave a gun loaded while cleaning it,"

Itachi took the gun in one hand, and then quickly used his other hand aswell, to support its significant weight. In Kisame's hand, it had looked like a fairly ordinary handgun. In Itachi's, it was huge, the barrel being about nine or ten inches long. It was probably custom built specifically for Kisame.

He surrounded the barrel with his fingers, stroking it with an expression of wonder on his face. It really was an intriguing piece of craftsmanship. The precise gold filigree was raised slightly. He ran his fingertip over one of the lines, all the way to the tip, and then felt the grip again, noting that it was smooth and warm because Kisame had been holding it.

"Would you like us to leave you and the gun alone, Itachi?" Madara put in with a snort of laughter. Itachi scowled and handed the gun back to Kisame without comment as Sasuke walked in. Judging by the smirk on Sasuke's face, he was planning on prodding at Itachi some more without Mother around to reprimand him. He threw himself down on Father's favourite chair with his feet on the coffee table.

"What a rebel," Kisame commented. He was polishing his gun, presumably in order to remove Itachi's fingerprints from it, but found time to look at the scowling teenager, who was once again not wearing his V mask. Slowly and deliberately, Sasuke raised his hand into the air and showed Kisame his middle finger...

And then clutched his shin as Itachi accidentally kicked it while in the process of stretching his legs.

"Language, Sasuke," Itachi warned.

"I didn't say anything," Sasuke pointed out, rubbing his shin.

"The same principle applies,"

"Go ride a dick," was Sasuke's response. He glanced pointedly at Kisame with a new smirk.

"Are you two always this pleasant to each other?" Kisame asked with an amused chuckle.

"Yes," Itachi and Sasuke answered in unison. Sasuke opened his smirking mouth, probably to say something else that would make Itachi want to use his face as a floor brush, but Mother stuck her head into the room at that moment, and he closed his mouth, assuming a serious expression.

"Sasuke, come and help me lay the food out in the dining room," Mother said.

"Why? It's my birthday," Sasuke said.

"Because I said so," Mother smiled. Sometimes, Itachi wondered whether she'd had children just so that she could say things like that to them. Sasuke didn't seem to find a fault in her argument, even if he glowered like a fat kid who has been told that he can't have thirds as he traipsed out of the room after her.

"I think I'll take my leave too," Uncle Madara purred, standing up and dusting off his trousers pointlessly, "That maid looked awfully interesting. I may pay her a visit,"

"She's younger than me," Itachi stressed, "And she's a servant,"

"Well, you're not capitalising on the army of willing bodies you have here," Madara smiled, "I wonder why that is,"

The look he sent towards Kisame couldn't have been more blatant if he'd tried. Even so, Kisame appeared not to hear him.

"Kisame, please stay here," Madara said.

"I wasn't going to follow you," Kisame said, wrinkling his face up with disgust, "Even I'm not that dedicated,"

Madara cackled loudly and made his exit. When the door slammed shut, Itachi realised that he and Kisame were alone for the first time ever. Madara had definitely planned that. Itachi was going to kick his crotchety ass when he came back from screwing that maid.

"Perhaps I should check whether Mother needs help in the-," Itachi announced, standing up quickly.

"No you don't," Kisame interrupted, yanking Itachi back down onto the sofa so forcefully that Itachi fell forwards, landing face first in Kisame's crotch.

In the moments before panic, Itachi reflected that his day was going from bad to worse. And, also, Kisame's trousers were definitely made from silk.

"Kindly take that gun and blow my brains out please," Itachi asked quietly, unmoving. Kisame wasn't moving either. Itachi thought that he must be frozen with horror.

A second later, Itachi felt it. At first, he thought that Kisame was having a muscle spasm or something. Then, he considered the possibility that Kisame had replaced his gun in his pocket, but it didn't feel like metal, even if it was around the right length to be the barrel of Kisame's beloved gun. That led Itachi to one conclusion.

"While you're down there...," Kisame said pointedly, amusement clear in his voice. Itachi's face coloured and he yanked it out of its very comfortable resting place.

Yes, that was definitely what he thought it was.

"Is that a no?" Kisame sighed.

"No," Itachi blurted out, before closing his eyes with a groan. Foot, meet mouth.

"No, you won't?" Kisame asked.

"No, I meant no, it's not a no," Itachi hurried in a butchery of the English language. Why had he seen the need to use so many "no"s in one sentence? Had his mental capabilities dwindled? He couldn't look at Kisame's face. The blank television would be a good place to look. It couldn't make him drop fifty IQ points just by sitting there.

"That's good," Kisame sniggered, "Because you've been so obvious over the past few years that it would be a shame for you to decide to play hard to get now,"

Itachi stared. And stared. And blinked. And then he stared some more. If his brain was a radio, the static would have been unbelievable.

"I-well...Why didn't you say anything then?" he spluttered, Kisame's words slowly penetrating his brain and leaving it mortified.

"I thought you'd get over it after a year or two...or three...or even four," Kisame laughed, "It was only when Madara mentioned that you were er...what were his words? "Especially eager" to see me that I realised that you're serious about this. Don't get me wrong. You're easy on the eyes, but you were practically a kid compared to me, so I didn't take you all that seriously,"

"And now?" Itachi said, "You talk in the past tense,"

"I didn't know until I came here today, and you were wearing this," Kisame replied, placing his gun down on the coffee table. His eyes roved over Itachi's body. Itachi watched, breathless, sitting against the armrest where he had fallen in shock.

"You suddenly changed your mind? Because of this costume?" he asked, drawing in a deep, shaky breath when Kisame laid one massive hand on his raised knee. Those fingers crawled higher, skittering up Itachi's thigh like a rat on floorboards, only Kisame's hand felt much better than Itachi imagined a rat would, because Itachi hated rats and would have been busy trying to bludgeon it rather than nibbling his own lip and staring, face rather flushed.

Itachi concluded that, if Kisame was able to provoke such reactions with just a hand on Itachi's thigh, the bodyguard was probably a veritable genius in bed. And bed was where Itachi wanted to be. As long as Kisame was there too, of course. But there was no bed, so the couch would do. He supposed they would be alone for long enough for him and Kisame to make out.

So, without informing Kisame of his intentions, he abruptly straddled Kisame's lap, grabbed his face between his hands, and kissed him forcefully. He had no idea if he was doing this right, and hoped that sheer boldness and enthusiasm would make up for lack of skill. He knew he was doing abysmally, because Kisame soon took the lead. Itachi experienced a strange sense of vertigo as the world tipped upside down before he realised that Kisame had simply thrown him onto his back and had then leaned over him to continue their activities.

Itachi could not have hidden his reaction if he'd tried. He knew his erection had sprung out of the top of this ugly green thong, because it was now dribbling onto his stomach as Kisame did things with his tongue that should have been illegal. Itachi's eyes were nearly crossing, and he'd never been so unbearably aroused in his life. This beat the time that Kisame had arrived at the mansion dripping wet because of a freak thunderstorm when Itachi was 17. One look at that hard chest through that almost transparent material, and Itachi was muttering a quick "Excuse me" before locking himself in the bathroom for about four hours. It had been an enjoyable four hours, but the after affects of so much masturbation had left him applying Mother's moisturiser to his sore cock for days afterwards.

He had thought he was being discreet when he opened his legs for Kisame to settle between them. But, then again, he'd thought he was being discreet while gawping on every single occasion on which Kisame had accompanied Madara, and that clearly wasn't the case. So it was little wonder that Kisame laughed into Itachi's mouth and arranged himself so that the hard burning line of Itachi's cock met his. It was better than sweets and books. And, from Itachi, that was saying a lot.

The look that Itachi gifted Kisame with when the bodyguard pulled back was as black as death itself. Kisame wasn't insulted, and seemed to find Itachi's annoyance amusing.

"I'm just checking Samehada is within reach," Kisame mollified Itachi.

"Why?" Itachi asked bluntly with a frown towards the coffee table, where the gun sat.

"Because-," Kisame started. The door slammed open at that moment. Kisame aimed his gun at the greenish face of Itachi's father, who looked both horrified and shocked. The level of Itachi's sexual drive nosedived.

"-of that," Kisame finished.

"Kisame," Itachi sighed from underneath the bodyguard, "He's my father,"

"Exactly," Kisame said, "I have my tongue down his son's throat. It's only a matter of time before he recovers enough to start verbally attacking me and throwing heavy objects,"

"Ah," Itachi said in realisation just as Father recovered somewhat, his face turning an ugly red.

"Mikoto!" he bellowed, "Mikoto! We have a situation!"

"Fugaku, I don't care what you tell your colleagues, you are not a retired SEAL!" Itachi heard Mother scold, "Stop trying to talk like one. Or like you think one does!"

"I did the training!" Father insisted, forgetting the reason for his panic until he glanced back at Itachi and Kisame on his sofa, "Mikoto! Look at them!"

He was waving his arms as though he was attempting to flap them quickly enough to fly off, his eyes wide. Mother tutted as she entered the room.

"Fugaku, you're probably over-oh!"

She regarded their position with a giddy little grin, and then squealed and began to jump up and down happily. Father's eyes bugged out of his head, his arms flopping to his sides limply. This wasn't the most normal reaction to such a situation. Itachi pressed his face into Kisame's shoulder in embarrassment.

"Finally!" Mother groaned to the heavens, hands spread wide, "Finally! I thought this would never happen!"

"What?" Itachi asked in shock, jerking to face her. Kisame moved backwards with a regretful sigh, pocketing his gun.

"Well, you didn't think you were being discreet, did you, Itachi?" Mother said flatly, "Everybody knows. I had to intervene, for the sake of everybody's sanity,"

"This was what you were planning?" Itachi demanded, staring at his feet.

"Itachi," Mother smiled patronisingly, "For a genius, you are extraordinarily dense. I know you want to rip Kisame's clothes off and do the dirty-,"

Itachi's face reddened again.

"-I know that you didn't because you were too worried about his reaction-," she continued, pinching Itachi's cheek fondly as Kisame continued to snigger at her first remark.

"-and I know exactly what you used that moisturiser for that time you claimed you had chapped hands!" Mother finished triumphantly.

"Mother!" Itachi hissed, slamming a hand over her mouth even though the damage had already been done.

"No, I want to hear this story!" Kisame protested with a grin.

"You're not!" Itachi said, "Mother was just leaving. Were you not, Mother?"

"What's going on?" Sasuke asked, sticking his head into the room, "Your dress is riding up,"

"It's a tunic!" Itachi protested, fixing it and hoping that nobody had seen anything, because it would be a shame if he had to go to prison for the murder of his family.

"Tomato tomahto," Sasuke smirked.

"And baby pictures are always baby pictures," Itachi added, "Especially the ones in which you are naked and covered in chocolate with Father's underwear on your head,"

Sasuke's face contorted as though he had a very bad case of constipation and some rather awful haemorrhoids. It was very amusing to see.

"You're a bastard!" Sasuke spat, ducking out of the room at the sound of the doorbell.

"Oh, they guests are arriving!" Mother panicked, hastening out of the room and dragging a comatose Uchiha Fugaku with her. Itachi, glad that everybody had left, sat down on Kisame's lap with a smirk which was returned by Kisame, whose hands were seated teasingly on Itachi's lower back. Itachi leaned in for another kiss.

"I almost forgot!" Mother announced, dashing back into the room. Itachi drew away with a roll of his eyes. His annoyance increased tenfold when Mother threw a very suspicious piece of green cloth at him. Kisame caught it and handed it to Itachi.

"You said you'd lost them!" Itachi accused, staring at the pale green tights with anger.

"I found them again," Mother said sweetly, "I should go and rescue Sasuke from those little sluts,"

With that interestingly worded goodbye, Mother slipped out of the room and closed the door.

"Your mother is a conniving bitch," Kisame chortled, his insulting words at odds with his amused expression.

"Yes, she is," Itachi agreed, unravelling the tights fully. They would probably fit. They were certainly stretchy enough. He unlaced and toed off his shoe and hooked one foot of the tights over his toes, beginning to roll the nylon up his leg. A firm jerk on his arm stopped him. He tumbled on top of Kisame, the tights hanging bizarrely from one foot. He was breathless, and he didn't think it was from the fall or the shock.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Kisame asked suggestively. His deep voice rumbled through Itachi's chest, making him shiver.

"No," Itachi said, "Of course not,"

He spoke evenly, but he was shaking like a building in an earthquake, so he doubted that he was fooling anybody.

Kisame sat patiently, his expression almost asking "Well?" Clearly, he wanted Itachi to take the lead. Naturally, Itachi panicked.

It wasn't his fault he was nervous. He was excellent at almost everything: Mathematics, Science, Linguistics, History, Geography, Law, Sociology, Psychology, Anthropology...

He was terrified that sex would be the one thing he'd be bad at. If he was bad in bed, Kisame would probably abandon him, and Itachi would remain celibate for the rest of his life like Dumbledore when Grindelwald left.

Itachi would be a sad, old, lonely man, all because he was a bad lay.

And possibly because he used Harry Potter references.

"Itachi, my dick's not getting any softer," Kisame informed him, "Do something,"

"Why don't you?" Itachi shot back, "It's not as though I have any idea what to do. I didn't get a reputation as a nerd because I spend my Friday nights drinking and getting laid,"

"You don't?" Kisame asked sarcastically. Itachi pinched him warningly, since he wasn't quite brave enough to punch Kisame.

"I know about your nerdy lifestyle, Itachi," Kisame said, rubbing the spot Itachi had attacked, "If you suck in bed, I'll teach you how to suck in bed,"

"That was terrible," Itachi deadpanned, even if his cheeks did feel a little warm.

"So stop complaining and suck my dick," Kisame said crudely, already unbuttoning his trousers. Itachi's eyes nearly fell out of his head.

"Here?" he sputtered, "Now?"

"Is there a problem?" Kisame asked, pausing.

"I'm rather worried about somebody walking in here and finding me on my knees," Itachi explained, glancing towards the door even as he spoke, "If my father found out, I don't know what he'd do. If the shock didn't kill him, he'd certainly kill me,"

Kisame nodded solemnly and pensively for a moment, and looked Itachi in they eye.

"Well," he said slowly, "Let's hope the shock kills him then,"

With that, he unbuttoned his trousers and yanked them to his knees with his boxers while Itachi's face turned so red that it would probably have been possible to see it from Saturn, let alone the moon.

"Is this the part where I put my mouth on that thing?" Itachi asked weakly, sinking to his knees before Kisame. Itachi didn't know whether that action was voluntary, or whether he'd just been unable to stand due to the mingled fear and lust. It was a really awkward combination that made him want to both move closer and run away like a little girl.

"That's the general idea," Kisame said, looking down at Itachi seriously.

"If I choke to death, it will look terrible on my death certificate," Itachi stated, eyeing Kisame's groin warily, as thought it was about to attack and bite.

"Just suck it already," Kisame said, rolling his eyes. Itachi nodded and shuffled forwards nervously, seizing Kisame's cock in his hand. Up close, it looked even more impossible to do anything with!

But Itachi tried. He suspected he was terrible in comparison to most people, because he just stuffed the thing as far into his mouth as it would go and hoped that it felt pleasant. He was able to surround only a few inches without gagging and quickly pulled back.

"I think I've finally found something I'm terrible at," Itachi sighed.

"You're doing fine," Kisame said shortly, guiding Itachi's head back to his crotch. Itachi took on board that encouragement and attempted to give Kisame a passable blow job in the living room while the family portrait smiled down at them. It was creepy.

After a while, Itachi's nerves began to settle, and his position sunk in. And what a nice position it was, even if Itachi was drooling more than a dental patient. His knees were beginning to hurt aswell, but Kisame's hitched breathing and that hand in his hair more than made up for a little ache. He didn't appear to be too bad at this, even if he was willing to bet his testicles that he was hardly to the level of a porn star. Of course, Itachi did come with the benefit of no STDs, which he believed more than made up for this lack of finesse, since neither him or Kisame would be getting much release if they were covered in sores and oozing puss.

That attractive image caused him to grimace slightly, his tongue pressing against the bottom of Kisame's cock. Kisame seemed to like it if his reaction was anything to go by, so Itachi did it again, and again. He judged that Kisame would soon be coming, and pulled back to ask Kisame to ask him to warn him when he was about to come, as Itachi knew that it was all too likely that he would choke if not given enough notice.

Unfortunately, he misjudged how close Kisame was to orgasm, and ended up with a face full of semen. The ensuing silence was awkward, to say the least.

Itachi's eyes were wide, as were Kisame's, and Itachi's hand was still clutching Kisame's now softening penis even as cum dripped down his face.

Kisame was bound to recover eventually, and it came as no surprise to Itachi that, when he did, he nearly cracked a rib due to excessive laughter.

"I came...on...your face!" he managed to say.

"It's in my hair, isn't it?" Itachi said, tugging his long bangs forward to inspect them. The streaks of white showed up all too clearly, and caused Kisame to slide down on the sofa weakly, his cock still hanging out of his trousers.

"Best blowjob ever," Kisame snorted, "No one's ever let me do that so soon in a relationship,"

"It was an accident," Itachi explained, "How am I going to clean this off? I can't leave the room like this,"

"Do you have a handkerchief?" Kisame asked, still grinning at Itachi's red, cum-smeared face.

"No," Itachi snapped, "I don't,"

"You're wearing underwear, right?" Kisame said, ignoring Itachi's tone, "Use them,"

"You want me to wipe my face on my underwear?" Itachi demanded, appalled. But he could see Kisame's logic, even if the idea was excruciatingly embarrassing.

"Have you got any better ideas?" Kisame shrugged with an abnormally solemn look. Itachi glowered.

"Laugh," he sighed, "I know you're dying to,"

Kisame's sniggers renewed on cue even as Itachi put his hands up his tunic and began to pull the skinny straps of the ugly green thong down. He wasn't going to bother washing it; it was going directly into the trash, where it belonged. It was only when the thong was almost visible below the hem of the tunic that he realised that Kisame was watching him with rapt fascination. His face coloured. Thankfully, Kisame had already put his cock away, or the situation would have been even more awkward than it was already.

"Could you look away?" Itachi asked, pausing with his thong around his upper thighs.

"You're getting shy now?" Kisame asked sceptically, "After you just sucked me off?"

"Just...look away," Itachi said, "I'm not letting you watch me wipe your semen off my face with a green thong,"

"A green thong?"

"Look away!" Itachi snapped. Kisame rolled his eyes and stood up to face the wall, one hand in his pocket. Itachi quickly shucked his thong off and wiped the worst of the cum off his face and out of his hair, deciding that, as time constraints didn't permit him to have a shower, he would have to wait for the remainder that still sat in his bangs to dry so that he could brush it out.

Whose idea was this quickie again?

Itachi glared at Kisame, only to realise that Kisame was staring back.

"I told you to face the wall!"

"You thought I'd listen?" Kisame asked. He was serious. And, what was more, Itachi knew for a fact that Kisame wasn't stroking his gun through his pocket.

"Already?" Itachi gaped. He didn't know whether to be turned on or worried about this particular aspect of Kisame.

"You were slipping off a thong in front of me. You're wearing a tiny outfit. I have the stamina of the Duracell bunny. Do the math," Kisame explained pointedly.

"Think about Amy Winehouse in stockings and suspenders," Itachi advised, looking around for his tights.

"Fuck! I think my brain has an STI!" Kisame groaned. Itachi looked up from the sofa where he had sat down in order to put his tights on (ignoring the way the leather was cold against his ass), noting that, not only had Kisame's erection completely deflated, but Kisame was intensively rubbing his eyes in horror.

"It worked, didn't it?" Itachi replied, tugging the green tights up. He felt so much more covered with them on, even if he did look an utter idiot. He would have to keep his legs firmly closed when he sat down, though, because his dick, which was lying against his right thigh, would be clearly visible otherwise. Once he was satisfied, he allowed Kisame to sit down next to him.

"Ready to go?" Kisame asked, tapping his gun against his thigh.

"Soon," Itachi purred, leaning in for a lingering kiss that involved a lot of tongue and panting. Suffice it to say, they weren't ready to enter Sasuke's party until they'd once again gone through the traumatic experience of attempting to imagine crack addicted celebrities in various states of undress. Kisame commented that he needed to scrub his brain with wire wool after that. Itachi was incline to agree.

After Itachi had snuck to his room to brushed the worst of the dried semen from his hair and had recovered his hat to cover as much of his hair as possible, they entered the dining room, hoping that they were being discreet. However, Kisame was such a ridiculously large man that this was a doomed endeavour from the beginning.

"Itachi!" Mother sang, skipping her way over to them while everybody else attempted to look as though they weren't staring, "Come and say hello to Aunt Kushina!"

"Mother, would she not prefer to talk to Sasuke, as-," Itachi began weakly. Mother didn't seem to hear him. She grabbed his arm and pulled, forcing him to follow her while Kisame followed him. They passed a smirking Madara, who raised his glass in a mocking toast. Kisame responded with a very unprofessional finger gesture.

"Itachi!" Kushina squealed as soon as she caught sight of him. She crushed him in a rib-cracking hug, her red hair tickling his nose.

"So?" she asked impatiently.

"So what?" Itachi returned.

"Are you two-?"

She used a very crude hand gesture to get her point across without using words. Itachi groaned while Kisame sniggered.

"I knew it," Kushina crowed, "Naruto, get over here, you little brat! You owe me 20!"

Naruto, whose only clothing happened to be a ramen bowl costume that covered his buttocks and groin, threw a literal tantrum, waving his arms and not noticing that he'd sent the drink in his hand flying everywhere.

"Fuck off, you old hag!" he squawked, dodging a bruising punch, "I'm your son!"

"Give me that 20 or your head's going in the punchbowl!" his loving mother growled. Naruto seemed to take her threat seriously, and reached down the front of the ramen bowl to pull out a rumpled bill. Kushina took it with two fingers and a grimace.

"Ok, that's just nasty!" she exclaimed, "Ew!"

Kisame roared with laughter as Kushina then decided to chase her half-naked, screaming son around the dining room, attempting to wack him with the broomstick that she carried as part of her witch costume. Itachi had his suspicions that she had chosen that costume just so that she would have an excuse to carry a weapon with her for use on Naruto. With parental skills like that, it was little wonder that many speculated that her son was brain damaged.

"I love that woman, but she's too much sometimes," Mother sighed fondly. On the other side of the room, Naruto was attempting to hide behind a furiously blushing Sasuke. With a firm hand, Mother dragged Itachi several feet away so that he was out of Kisame's hearing range.

"Well?" she asked over the din. Itachi knew that Kisame was unlikely to hear them even if he was standing right next to them, as he was too busy watching the spectacle unfolding in front of him with as much glee as Itachi imagined the man might get from watching a particularly gory thriller.

"Your plan worked," Itachi admitted, blushing a little, "He liked it. How did you know he...?"

"Wanted you too?" Mother finished for him, "Honey, I've never seen a man stare at somebody's ass as much as he stares at your's!"

"Thank you," Itachi said quietly. And he meant it. She patted his cheek affectionately, and the hug she gave him nearly cracked a few ribs, but the pain was worth it.

"Oh, it's no problem!" she muttered, her eyes curiously wet. Itachi grimaced on the inside. He hoped that she wasn't going to make this awkward by crying all over him.

"There's something that's been bugging me, though," she continued, a crafty smirk replacing her watery smile. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Itachi waited for her to continue.

"Hung?" she asked, glancing to Kisame, who was now watching them with a grin.

"He'd make horses jealous," Itachi admitted, feeling not a little smug.

"And once again, I'm right," Mother sighed dramatically, "I'll have to remember to get you some ointment for when you two finally-,"

"That is too far," Itachi interrupted hastily. Throwing her head back, Mother let out a peal of laughter at his expense. Yet, he couldn't even bring himself to be angry. Not when she had helped him get what he wanted, and especially not now that Kisame had decided to join them and was resting his hand on Itachi's backside. Itachi supposed that Kisame wasn't the kind of man who would not beat around the bush, and had bypassed the customary hand-on-the-lower-back position to go for gold. He pressed his backside against Kisame's palm more firmly, gratified when Kisame couldn't help but sneak a firm grope.

"Men," Mother sighed, throwing her hands into the air with exasperation.

Clearly, they hadn't been as subtle as Itachi had hoped.

"Want to get out of here?" Kisame asked, his fingers sneaking underneath the tunic to wedge between Itachi's thighs, brushing his testicles.

"Oh, go already!" Mother ordered with an exasperated grimace, "Before these kids see things they shouldn't,"

She placed her hands on her hips with a roll of her eyes as her son and...kind-of son-in-law scarpered out of there faster than Speedy Gonzales with a rocket up his ass. She smiled in triumph...


...And then jumped as a talking potted plant scrambled over to her. She only relaxed when she recognised her husband's face peering out from between plastic leaves.

"Are they gone?" Fugaku hissed.

"Yes," Mikoto sighed. She didn't need to ask who her husband was referring to.

Fugaku sighed and extracted himself from between the fake bows of the plant, dusting himself off and glancing around to make sure that nobody had seen him do that. At least one person had; Madara was plainly cackling to himself, as his drink was spilling as it jerked wildly in his grip.

"Mikoto, dear, the next time you decide to play matchmaker, inform be beforehand so that I can make sure I'm not in the country when you do," Fugaku told her. She nodded placatingly, but she was only half-listening. With a smirk, she watched a red-faced Sasuke shuffle away from Naruto, while his dark eyes darted from chest to ramen bowl and back again.

"Fugaku, dear...," she said slowly, "I hear that France is nice this time of year,"

He followed her line of sight.

"Oh for-! I'm packing my bags. Now," he muttered, already racing in the same direction Itachi and Kisame had ran in.

"Fugaku, not that-," she warned with mild alarm.

A high pitched scream and the thud of her husband fainting.

"Nevermind," she sighed rolling her eyes. He would get over it. But, while he recovered from mild trauma in the idyllic French countryside, she had a job to do.

Yes, Uchiha Mikoto was a good mother indeed. She'd even left lube and condoms on Itachi's pillow for him. And she was about to make sure Sasuke got what he wanted matter what obstacles stood in her way.

Wasn't she considerate?


Cracked out, yes? I thought so. I hope you look past the general OOCness, insanity and cripplingly cringe-worthy moments and decide to review!

On a more sombre note, look away now if you don't want the manga spoiled for you.

RIP Kisame. You went out like a fucking badass.