Written for The Great Ita/Shi Advent Calendar on the LJ community bitter_nakano. A huge thanks to Skyward Shadow for beta-ing.
Uhm...so... I feel that I should warn you that this is kind of the result of combining the song "Moonlight and Vodka" by Chris de Burgh and faint memories of James Bond movies in my twisted mind. I wrote this like...three times. In the first version, Itachi was ...extremely slutty. Then I caved in and made him behave as he'd usually do in my fics, but that didn't work either. This final version is the middle way between both extremes, and if it's crappy, I deeply apologize. Also, to all the people from Russia who might be reading this, I mean no offense! ^^
Moonlight and Vodka
Moonlight and Vodka
It was cold. As in, very, very cold. But that was to be expected, right, with all the harsh wind and snowstorm going on every day of this particularly cold winter in this icicle country?
Shisui just hoped his toes weren't going to freeze and fall off. Because it sure felt as if they were.
He had never before been so glad to finally reach 'The red comrade' before, a gloomy and dodgy bar in the centre of Moscow, which, although being the creepiest establishment he had ever seen, was always a good place to gather information he would never have found out otherwise.
It kind of sucked, he thought, that he was even working when it was clearly leisure-time, but he guessed being a spy you took your job with you wherever you went. It just wasn't in the job description. Or maybe it had been, and he just hadn't read it thoroughly enough. It wouldn't be the first time something like that happened to him. But really, espionage had sounded great when first offered to him – full of adventures and heroic and stuff. No one had told him it actually consisted of dark alleyways and hidden daggers, of paranoia and moving every second week into unheated and cramped and dark and dirty flats to make sure that even if anyone found out he was a mole no one would know where he lived. And not to mention the payment was abysmal, especially if you considered you had to put your life on the line every day.
When Shisui had been asked to join the FBI and work as a spy in Russia, trying to detect the commie rats' plans to build nuclear bombs, he had imagined he would infiltrate the higher social strata of the Russian Mafia; he would certainly join their festivities, drink vodka and champagne and eat caviar, he would get to wear fine suits, maybe even to lay down some of the beautiful Russian women (or men, preferably), and mostly just indulge in life, and somehow save the world along the way.
He had to admit that had been a bit unrealistic. But honestly, why had his supervisors insisted on sending him to this shithole over and over again? All the group he was currently 'working' for was doing was selling drugs and working as contract killers once in a while. Not exactly peanuts, but no sign of them being involved in nuclear bombs whatsoever either. They were criminals, yes, but they weren't endangering the USA, so why did he have to waste his time here?
Shisui half-stumbled into the bar, and a harsh gust of the cold wind slammed the door shut behind him, turning the attention of every person in the room to him for a second, before most of them either shrugged and tuned away or greeted him with a short nod - seeing Shisui in this establishment wasn't exactly a rare occurrence. In fact, one could almost call him a regular, so there was nothing exciting about his presence at all.
Shisui sniffed and wiped his nose (which had, due to the sudden warmth it was exposed to, begun to run), before trotting over to the bar counter and letting himself fall onto one of the bar stools.
"Vodka," he ordered, his voice hoarse. He didn't particularly like the national liquor (it was better than the beer, though), but he had to admit one could get used to it, especially in winter. It was the only thing that kept him warm here. No wonder the Russians drank so much of it. At twenty-five degrees below zero, most of them probably would have frozen to death without it. In a way, Shisui admired how they were able to live through such a winter every year and just shrug it off as if it were nothing. With the constant blizzards going on outside Shisui usually didn't even feel motivated enough to get out of his more-or-less warm bed.
In moments like those Shisui realised it might not have been the smartest idea to go to a country where he was bound to get a temperature shock. And thinking about that only made him miss his home even more. He wanted to go back to L.A. where the sun was shining almost constantly and where it was never really cold, where he was safe and didn't have to be careful with every move he made, where there were decent bars and life was good.
"Damn it all," he thought and downed the content of his glass within seconds. The bartender cast him a glance and refilled the glass without asking for permission, and Shisui was thankful for that. Another drink would be good. He hadn't been warm in a week, so getting drunk was definitely preferable to working now.
"You want something to eat, comrade?" the bartender asked, and Shisui figured he must look like shit if the bartender of all people seemed to be concerned about him not feeling well. However, he declined the offer. The food here was even lousier than the so called beer they served here, and he didn't feel like getting food poisoning. The mere thought of having to chew on the rubber-like stuff the cook prepared made him shudder, and his stomach twisted painfully at the memory of gulping down a bite of this...this thing once.
Shisui felt like throwing up again.
Two hours and six glasses of vodka later he still didn't feel much better. His head wasn't mushy at all, he didn't feel dizzy, and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he would prefer to be home now. He glanced at his watch. Almost midnight - that meant it was lunchtime in L.A.
He sighed. The only thing that could keep his mind off this was the dance show which was about to begin. To be honest, the only good thing about this bar (aside from the pretty good and strong vodka) were the dancers. Shisui always came to see them. Every Friday they exchanged the female dancers with male ones (which was why there were more women present on these days, ogling the guys although the latters were clearly not heterosexuals) and Shisui hadn't missed a single show, because they never ceased to amaze him. He didn't care that most people back in the USA, especially his devout Christian family, would probably think he was kinky for being interested in men. They didn't have to know. After all, it wasn't like he was planning on binding himself anytime soon, so he didn't have to worry about telling them just yet.
Shisui was just taking another sip of his drink when the last of the dancers emerged, and nearly choked on it. Was this just his lucky day or was today some kind of official holiday which he had missed? Because this guy didn't dance except on very special occasions.
His name was Itachi, as Shisui had found out after a while, and apparently he was Madara's special trophy, a particularly sweet piece of candy, which wasn't surprising because Itachi was the most beautiful man Shisui had ever laid his eyes on. Long silky black hair, creamy white skin, high cheekbones and incredibly long legs, and god, the way he moved...
The owner of 'The red comrade', who was also the dancers' procurer, barely ever let him show in this establishment. It was understandable, because he was basically a high-class whore who was only available to those spending a horrendously huge amount of money for it – and hardly any of the guests coming here would ever be able to afford this price. As far as Shisui knew, he was usually working in one of Madara's nobler establishments in the city centre. It made him wonder why he had come here tonight. Not that he was complaining, of course. Seeing this Itachi guy dance could be nothing but the highlight of this day.
Shisui grinned and rested his back against the counter, trying to make himself comfortable to enjoy the show.
He didn't get to see much, because all of a sudden, there was a feather-light touch on his arm and a warm breath close to his ear. Startled, Shisui turned his head only to lose control over his jaw and stare at the person behind him incredulously. It was Itachi. As in, the real person. And he was making eyes at him.
'How the hell did I not notice him slipping away and turning up behind me?' was the only coherent thing Shisui was able to think before completely freaking out (only inwardly, of course). Itachi, the most exclusive male prostitute of this establishment, maybe even of Russia itself, was making eyes at him. Something was seriously going wrong.
Shisui could think of exactly two explanations as to why Itachi might be doing that. 1) he was attracted to him (highly unlikely), 2) he was mistaking him for someone else (more likely) or 3) he was working for the KGB and was trying to seduce him in order to gain information and/or make him give away he was an American spy (very likely – everyone seemed to be working for the fucking KGB here).
Itachi leaned forward, the strands of his hair brushing lightly against Shisui's cheeks, and whispered into his ear. "Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice was smooth like velvet and deeper than Shisui would have expected. And seductive. Highly seductive.
Shisui swallowed hard, as Itachi's hand began to travel up his arm and then made his way down again before ghosting over his stomach. He was too busy screaming in his head to answer. He shifted uneasily. His pants suddenly felt uncomfortably tight around a certain area of his lower body and he didn't exactly want Itachi to notice. And damn, he knew the eyes of every person in the room were on him now, observing every move he and Itachi made.
"I believe I know something you would enjoy even more," Itachi continued, his warm breath tickling Shisui's ear and sending shivers down his spine. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to my room?"
Shisui gulped as he felt the words having an immediate effect on his groin. This couldn't be real. This must be a trap. "I think you are mistaking me for someone else," he forced himself to say, although it was really, really hard to not accept the offer.
Itachi smiled. "I don't think so, Shisui Uchiha."
Shisui froze. This couldn't be. How did he know?
Itachi's voice wasn't half as seductive anymore. "I would highly recommend you follow me upstairs so we can talk in private," he announced coolly. "Unless you want me to tell Madara just exactly who – or what, rather – you are."
Slowly, as if in a trance, Shisui stood and followed Itachi who had gripped him by his hand and guided him to the staircase, through the narrow corridors which were only lit by red light (how cliché was that?) until they reached what was apparently Itachi's room, at the far end of the hallway. Itachi shoved him into the room unceremoniously and quickly closed the door behind them before leaning back against it, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and eyeing Shisui speculatively. Shisui couldn't help but thing that he looked even sexier that way.
Urgh. Not a good thought to think. He should really concentrate now. Shisui had to admit that he still hadn't fully recovered from the shock, but at least his brain was working well enough to notice that they were alone, which might mean that Itachi hadn't given him away. Yet. So this was probably going to be interesting.
His brain wasn't working well enough to remind him it might not be exactly smart to be cocky in this kind of situation, though. "Well?" he asked boldly, breaking the short silence that had ensued and let himself fall on one of the cushioned armchairs. "You wanted to talk to me? I'm kind of busy, so if you would be so kind as to hurry up..."
"If I were you, I would watch my tongue," Itachi remarked calmly. "You are in no situation to make fun out of me."
Shisui shrugged. "It's true, though. You wanted to speak with me, not the other way round. I'm curious, though. How did you find out?"
Now it was Itachi's turn to shrug lightly. "I have my ways," he said mysteriously, avoiding answering.
"Probably sleeping with one of my supervisors, eh?" Shisui sighed.
"That's none of your business," Itachi snapped. "You should be glad I haven't reported you yet."
Shisui half-smiled. "Well, let's talk business, then. What do you want from me in return for not giving me away?"
Itachi kept silent for a moment, clearly listening to see whether there were any sounds indicating that someone was coming their way who might overhear them, before continuing to speak quietly. "You want information about the nuclear bomb research in Russia," he stated. "That is what you are here for, aren't you? I can provide you with the information you need. All I want in exchange is for you to get me out of here. I want to be granted American citizenship and have a guarantee that you will get me out of this country safely."
Shisui just stared at him with disbelief. "That's it?" he asked in the end, taken aback. "That's all?" And here he had thought Itachi would request a lot of things he wouldn't be able to provide. And he certainly hadn't expected Itachi to betray his country. Now that was something new. Not that he minded, of course. This was going way better than he had expected.
Itachi raised one if his delicate eyebrows. "Do you want me to demand more?" he asked dryly.
Shisui chose to ignore this. Instead, he cocked his head and gave him an appraising look. "Wouldn't have figured you to be involved with that kind of dangerous stuff."
"Ah, but I know people who are," Itachi said pointedly. "Do you really think Madara only makes his money with prostitution and drug dealing?"
He had a point, Shisui guessed. "How long until you can give me proof of that?"
"How long until you can organize the documents and the flight?"
Shisui frowned. "Shouldn't take too long. I'll talk to my boss tomorrow. A week, maybe. How can I contact you?"
"I-" Itachi suddenly stopped short, cursing under his breath. And before Shisui could even register what was going on, he had crossed the room with a few long strides, dropped to his knees in front of Shisui, all but ripped the buttons if his shirt open and was planting a trail of kisses down his chest. Shisui was too stunned to push him away and ask what the hell he was doing – which was what the tiny sane part of his brain was telling him to do right now – and a second later he knew he certainly wasn't going to complain. It was almost ridiculous how strongly his body reacted to Itachi's actions, but damn, the boy really knew how to use his mouth, Shisui thought, shuddering and desperately trying to suppress a moan when Itachi dipped his tongue into his navel.
And then the door slid open.
"Oh. I didn't know you were occupied, Itachi."
Shisui flinched. He knew this voice. It belonged to family-name-unknown-and-first-name-definitely-fake Madara, the procurer and owner of this place. So this was why Itachi had jumped him all of a sudden - unlike him, he had obviously heard Madara coming to his room.
Itachi turned his head towards Madara, not at all affected by his sudden intrusion. "Is there something you need? Do you want me to come with you?"
Madara waved his hand dismissively. "It's not that urgent. Come to me as soon as you've finished up, though." He gave Shisui one last appraising glance before turning to leave. "Forgive me the boldness, but I would not have believed you to be able to pay for Itachi's services."
"He is capable of paying, Madara. Indisputably so," Itachi hastened to interject, flashing a mesmerizing smile at Madara, who merely nodded and left the room without any further comment, shutting the door behind him. As soon as the sound of his footsteps had faded away, Itachi sighed in relief and got to his feet again. "That was close. We will have to be more careful, for we cannot afford for him to become suspicious," he commented, cocking his head and frowning slightly as he looked at Shisui. "I will contact you again in a week," he announced and moved the leave the room and follow Madara.
"Hey!" Shisui shouted angrily, irritated that he was being ditched like that.
"What?" Itachi asked, turning around indignantly.
"Are you going to leave me here in this...condition?" Shisui gestured towards his lower regions, where his pants were still uncomfortably tight. Screw it all. "After all, you are the one who got me into this situation in the first place, so you can fucking well finish what you started to help me out of it."
Itachi raised an eyebrow and pointed towards a wooden door on the other side of the room. "There's a bathroom over there. You can take care of it yourself. Please be so kind as to clean up afterwards, though."
And with that, he turned around and left, leaving Shisui to stare after him, enraged.
Shisui hummed blithely as he ascended the steps leading to his new apartment. The collaboration with Itachi had brought more benefits with it than he could have hoped for. For one, his new, shiny, furnished and heated flat which he had been provided with after subtly hinting that Madara, who was clearly involved in this, had seen him and would certainly check whether Shisui was indeed as rich as Itachi had claimed him to be and that it might be good to act as if he was. And because he'd always been good with talking people into doing something, his boss had caved in and actually agreed to spend some money on this. Because, after all, this was the first real hot lead that had been pointed out to them ever since Shisui had come to Russia, the first one with an actual chance of being a success.
As Shisui fumbled for his keys, he made plans to indulge in the gloriousness that was a hot bath and the size of the bed, which was bigger than the one he had possessed in L.A. and which was just perfect to sleep in. And then he stopped short, because his front door stood open ever so slightly when he was absolutely sure that he had locked it upon departing.
His front door. Stood. Open.
Someone was in there. Someone who was not him.
Shisui swallowed, hard, and reached for his gun. Then he took one deep breath, braced himself and slid through the narrow gap, trying not to make the door creak. The corridor was empty. So was the kitchen. The living room, however, wasn't. Narrowing his eyes, Shisui pushed the door open – there was a loud bang when it collided with the opposite wall – and entered, pointing his gun at the intruder, who whirled around at the sudden noise.
Itachi eyed the gun for a second, obviously completely unimpressed, and raised his eyebrows. "I really don't think this will be necessary."
Shisui felt like smacking him on the head, but refrained himself. "Kindly explain why you are standing in my living room...half naked?"
"I wear my working clothes because I am to meet a client later. Since I didn't know how long I would have to wait for you, I decided it would be better to already be dressed for the occasion," Itachi mumbled, slightly embarrassed.
Shisui sighed in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you would have dressed up for me. What a shame." Ignoring Itachi's glare, he went on. "However, I see you somehow failed to answer my earlier question by just giving me information on your attire. So, what can I do for you? I sure hope you have a good reason for breaking into my flat and nearly giving me a heart attack."
"What about my documents?"
"They are in progress." Shisui cocked his head. "Now, I am sure you have something for me, too."
Itachi nodded. "You might want to watch Sergei Dolohow more closely. Rumour has it that he and Madara are planning to make some joint investment in the nuclear research."
"We already know that," Shisui interrupted him impatiently. "The problem is that we can't prove they are trying to have atomic bombs built."
"If you stopped whining and paid a bit more attention you would be able to get the proof you need," Itachi replied sharply. "Now, if you would excuse me," he continued after glancing at his watch. "I need to get going. When I have some more information, I will know where to find you."
This time, Shisui didn't even bother to ask how he had found him in the first place. It wasn't as if Itachi would tell him anyway. "Next time, just don't break in!" he called after him as Itachi he strode out of the room. "Or I will grab you by your non-existent balls!"
The threat didn't serve its purpose. In retrospect, Shisui wasn't sure whether Itachi had heard it in the first place. Or maybe he had and was simply ignoring it. From what he knew about Itachi, the latter was more probable.
It became a habit. At least once a week, Itachi would show up in his apartment, giving him bits and pieces of information which were, as he had to admit, quite useful. Shisui enjoyed the part that usually followed much more, though. It wasn't like he didn't know Itachi only agreed to let Shisui fuck him because he needed the money – and no, Shisui had no qualms whatsoever about using taxpayer's money to pay him – but still, even knowing that Itachi wouldn't have let him come closer than a five-mile-radius had he had a different job, Shisui had to admit that it was the best sex he had had in his entire life, because hell, Itachi was one seductive little slut.
Something changed over time, though: the more often Itachi came, the longer he would stay. And they wouldn't only talk about business anymore. The most significant change, though, was that, at some point, Itachi refused to let Shisui touch him. Every time he would try to, or would just subtly hint that he was kinda sexually deprived and really wanted to fuck Itachi into the mattress right now, Itachi would quickly excuse himself and tell him he needed to see a client, leaving Shisui behind fuming in ire.
Shisui grew increasingly frustrated the longer this charade went on, and it was not only because his human needs were left unsatisfied (no, his own hand did not count!), but also because he just failed to comprehend what their kind of relationship turned into. It started off as some quick screwing sessions, turned into polite small-talk and ended in something Shisui couldn't quite define. Was it respect? Yes. Was it friendship? Maybe. Was it desire? On his side, hell, yes.
Was it more?
He seriously didn't know. He only knew that he liked spending time with him, talking to him, watching him. He didn't like to think about the dangers Itachi exposed himself to every day by betraying Madara, because he knew that if the procurer found it, he would have no qualms about doing Itachi in. None at all. So yes, he was worried.
He didn't like the thought of Itachi being with other 'clients' either. Heaven knew why...Shisui couldn't say he was completely comfortable with this.
It was a cold day – again...as if it wasn't always cold – and they sat by the window, watching the snow fall before Itachi finally stood, telling him that he had to go to work.
"Why do you do it?" Shisui asked gravely, just to keep him back a little bit longer.
Something in Itachi's face shifted. His eyes were fixed on a point behind Shisui's shoulder, refusing to look at him. "My family," he began slowly, "used to be wealthy. My father owned a big company – however, he made deals with the wrong people. Or maybe he betrayed them – I suppose I will never find out what really happened. What I do know, though, is that he was murdered, and that it would now be my duty as the oldest son to support my family. I had big plans, you see. I had always been the best student in my class; I wanted to study and, slowly but surely, rebuild my father's company. Things ended differently, though. It seems that my father displeased a lot of higher-ups, and when they found out I was his son, they made sure no university accepted me, despite my marks, so I tried to find a job. Only two weeks after I had started working, though, I met Madara, who was apparently one of the persons my father had made deals with. He threatened to draw Sasuke, my younger brother, into his world if I didn't agree to work for him. Back then, I had no idea what 'working for him' would include, but I accepted anyway. I couldn't watch my brother being forced into this. He was the single purest and loveable person I have ever known, and I would have done anything to protect him. Anything."
Shisui tilted his head and examined him. "If you love your brother so much," he asked, "why do you plan to leave him behind?"
"My brother is dead," Itachi said, and the words hung in the air like bullets, threatening to kill him.
"I am sorry."
Itachi's lips were pressed into one thin line, and Shisui couldn't help but think he had never seen anyone so bitter and grim before. Especially not him. The transformation was quite shocking. It hurt in his chest to see Itachi like this. "Madara promised to me that he would make sure no harm would ever be done to Sasuke," Itachi whispered.
"So this is about revenge?"
"Maybe," he answered vaguely. "Why are you here?"
Shisui shrugged. "I don't know. It sounded fun at first, you know? The action, being a hero, and stuff. It isn't all that glorious when it comes down to it."
"So you came here because you wanted to be a hero?" Itachi sounded amused. "I am afraid I have to tell you that you didn't pick the right country for that."
"...No, it wasn't only that," Shisui said, pensively. "I think I also wanted to...to get to know my father, in a way. You see, my father fought in Vietnam. Died before I was born. Mom never talks about him, and I thought, if I did what he did, then maybe I would come to understand what kind of person he was. That it would help me to get a picture of him in my head." He laughed awkwardly. "That's completely stupid of course."
"No, it is not stupid." Itachi's voice was soft, softer than he remembered it, and his eyes held the most mesmerizing glint. And then he continued: "I really have to go now," and the moment was gone.
Shisui swallowed and tried to gather up all his courage to ask the one question he would never be able to ask if he didn't do it now. "Can't you stay?" It sounded pathetically like longing.
"I could pay you."
The second the offer had left his mouth Shisui knew it was the worst thing he could have said. Itachi whirled around, his eyes full of anger. "That is exactly the problem, Shisui," he hissed. "I am not your fucking sex toy, and neither am I your personal whore! We are equal partners, and if you cannot accept it and respect me that way, then I can go and find someone else to help me get out of here."
"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Shisui ran after him and grabbed him by his arm before he could leave. "Please, I – I didn't mean it that way!"
"Oh really? What way did you mean it, then?" Itachi all but seethed.
"I – I just..." Shisui didn't really know what to tell him. What did he want, after all? He wasn't so sure, sometimes. But there was one thing he knew for certain, and he figured it would be best to simply tell Itachi the truth. "I just want you to stay."
There was a moment of silence in which Itachi only looked at him as if he wanted to see right into his soul, contemplating. "Okay."
"O-okay?" Shisui spluttered.
"Okay." Itachi sighed. "I will find some excuse to explain to Madara why I didn't show up on time."
"Great!" Shisui grinned. "Uhm...so...can we have sex now?"
"Oh, come on! What's the big deal? You want it, I want it. Don't even try denying it. I really don't see the problem. People sleep with their colleagues all the time." Itachi's expression didn't change one bit, and Shisui sighed, reaching out one hand to pull him closer. "Come here," he murmured and leaned forward to place his lips on Itachi's, who turned his head away, frowning.
"You know I don't kiss on the mouth."
"Are you trying to make this difficult?" he groaned, but gave in when Itachi's determination obviously didn't waver at all. "Fair enough. At least stop sulking. Relax."
"I am not," Itachi glared at him, "sulking."
"Relax," Shisui ordered again, ignoring his protest, and got down to business.
Itachi was never more beautiful than with his head thrown back in pleasure, his eyes firmly pressed shut and his mouth open and lips rounded into a surprised 'Oh', and his long fingers buried in Shisui's curls as the orgasm of his probably first received blow-job washed over him.
Shisui grinned as Itachi fell back onto the mattress, panting heavily, and slipped out from under the covers. Lighting a cigarette, he leaned against his desk and settled for simply watching Itachi, who soon rolled around and returned the look questioningly.
"You shouldn't smoke," he said in the end, frowning. "It isn't good for your health."
"Uh-oh, are you worried for me?" Shisui taunted, but stubbed it out anyway. It wasn't the appropriate time to joke around. Not now that they had shared something that, somehow, wasn't at all like the quick fucks Shisui had previously engaged in. So instead, he slowly walked towards the bed again, and bent down steadily to press his lips on Itachi's, always giving him the chance to pull away.
He didn't. In fact, he kissed back. Hesitantly at first, but he did. For a few seconds, at least. Then he pulled back, a grimace on his face. "That," he said slowly, "was the single most disgusting thing I ever did."
"You taste like cigarettes. The next time you want to kiss me, brush your teeth and wash your mouth first."
Shisui grinned slyly. "So you are implying there will be a next time?"
"I – where are you going?"
"Brushing my teeth," Shisui called, already halfway to the bathroom.
It turned out that Itachi had no experience at all when it came down to kissing. It made Shisui feel as if he was fourteen all over again, trying to work out the mechanics and refining the sloppy movements of mouths glued together. Luckily, Itachi got the hang of it quickly, which didn't particularly surprise Shisui, because, well, he had proven he was extremely skilful with his tongue on various other occasions prior to this one.
Falling in love with Itachi – at least that was what Shisui expected it to be – had an effect on him no one could have anticipated, and he was probably shocked about it the most. Why had he been whining about his crappy dangerous job and the cold winter again and the disgusting food again? He couldn't really remember, because suddenly, the world seemed to be a lot brighter, and the cold wasn't so bad anymore when he was lying next to Itachi, their limbs intertwined and their eyes telling secrets neither dared to speak out loud. Shisui had the distinct and frightening suspicion that he was walking through the streets of Moscow with a huge idiotic smile on his face all the time, but he couldn't be bothered to care about it enough to change anything about it.
Itachi brought out sides of him he hadn't even known himself, even some he would've preferred to stay hidden, because not all of them were pleasant. For example, he had never expected he could feel so possessive over anything (or anyone, in that case), and being jealous when your maybe-boyfriend was a male whore wasn't exactly helpful or smart. Shisui couldn't help it, however, and it scared him shitless. He had never been one for relationships, always preferring loose sex-based liaisons which involved no feelings at all and thus no danger of getting hurt, but this...this thing he had with Itachi rapidly progressed and developed into something else, completely overwhelming him and obviously fucking with his mind because he didn't even have the sense to stop it and break up before he became utterly addicted to and dependent on Itachi.
"Wait," he muttered drowsily one day when Itachi was about to slip out of the bed to get dressed and ready for work, gently tucking at his somewhat dishevelled ponytail to make sure Itachi wouldn't dare to go anywhere. "I have something for you."
Itachi didn't turn around and sighed, making a point of telling Shisui to hurry up and not keep him much longer. Pouting, which was totally futile because Itachi had his back towards him and consequently couldn't even see his face, Shisui let go of Itachi's hair and brought it back to his neck to unclip his necklace and then leaned forwards to put it around Itachi's neck instead. "There," he concluded, satisfied, ignoring how his lover flinched just the tiniest bit as the cold metal touched his skin and grinned as he placed a kiss on Itachi's shoulder. "Mine."
Itachi was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Madara will ask questions."
Leave it to him to totally destroy their romantic moment. Shisui sighed in exasperation. "Tell him I gave it to you should he discover it. You can tell him I paid you with this for all I care."
Itachi scoffed. "With this piece of plastic? How much did it cost, one dollar? Two?"
"Ten," Shisui growled, visibly offended when Itachi failed to stifle his laughter. "But it has emotional value!"
Itachi smiled and turned around to give him a peck on the lips. "It is beautiful," he assured him, and danced out of his reach before Shisui could even start to pull him on his lap again. "Will you come to see me tonight?"
That was a stupid question. Of course Shisui would come to see him dance. He still did, always; the only difference was that he now also saw the shows in the nobler establishments, because after all, officially he was a rich man. Not to forget he liked to ensure Itachi wouldn't be snatched away by any other guy afterwards.
Shisui scowled as he made his way to the establishment's entrance a few hours later. He thought he might just explode if he ever had to witness Itachi giving this Orochimaru-creep another lap dance like last time. The problem was that he couldn't exactly prevent it – not at all, to be precise, and that made it all even worse.
He was still only halfway in the establishment when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Shisui turned around and was surprised to see someone entirely unknown to him standing there, a bored expression on his face. "Madara wants to see you," was all he said before walking away, indicating Shisui to follow, not even bothering to wait for an answer. One didn't defy Madara's wishes.
The corridors he was led through were nothing like the dark and cramped ones in 'The Red Comrade' – they were broad and decorating with ridiculously expensive furniture and chandeliers. Shisui couldn't help but think that if Madara felt the desperate need to show off his wealth, he was probably lacking something in other departments and was trying to compensate that by hoarding luxury goods.
Madara awaited him in one of the biggest rooms Shisui had ever seen. He supposed he would have been impressed had the décor not aroused the longing to puke. Honestly, with that much kitschy gold in this room this guy must have had serious problems. Attention issues, maybe? Inferiority complex?
Madara himself was not exactly what Shisui had imagined him to be like, either. He had suspected to procurer to confirm every prejudice one might have about a procurer and a member of the Russian Mafia; be brawny and have a slight stomach, wear great amounts of golden jewellery and possibly show off his chest hair, and already have a mean look on the face. However, he was none of that. He was tall and lean and decently dressed (except for the golden jewellery, which was indeed abundant) and an elegant bearing that suggested aristocratic derivation.
"Ah, finally," Madara said, turning around to flash him a sly smile. "I have been waiting to finally meet you...Nikolai Petrow, isn't it?"
"It is," Shisui replied smoothly, knowing that Madara was just trying to test him and irritate. Of course the procurer knew his fake name very well. In fact, Shisui was pretty sure Madara knew almost everything about the persons he was interested in, and since Shisui seemed to be one of them, Madara was sure to have made some investigations. But well, two could play that little game. "Pardon me, your name was...?"
Madara laughed. "Touché," he acknowledged. "You have some guts, comrade Petrow. I like that. And you seem to have a lot of money, too."
"Of which I spent a considerable amount in your establishments of late," Shisui remarked dryly. "No wonder you noticed."
Madara laughed again. "Ah, yes. You seem to have taken a particular interest in Itachi, is that right?"
Shisui shrugged nonchalantly. "Who wouldn't? Besides, I wouldn't settle for less when having the chance to get the best, would I? Only fools settle for less."
Madara nodded, and handed him a glass of vodka. "I like you, comrade Petrow. Men of your league are exactly who I need."
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I already have a job," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"Which one?" Madara asked, visibly amused. "The one at Iwanow's little bully group?"
"No – that one was merely for entertainment. I did not earn that much money by being a sluggard. However, I doubt you are interested in how I earn my money and I do not feel like wasting my time when I clearly could do something far more interesting, like, say, enjoying myself with your little trophy. So why don't you just tell me what you want?"
"Straight to the point, I see," Madara noted, put his glass down on the table and walked around to stand in front of Shisui. "Well, then. Are you a patriot, comrade Petrow? Because if you are, I might have an even better project to invest your money in than my employees. Not that I mind, of course, but I am sure a man like you would like to serve his country in every way possible."
"Of course." Shisui wasn't sure whether this sounded convincing enough, but apparently it was good enough for Madara.
"Good. Now, if you would let me explain what I have to offer..."
Shisui couldn't believe his luck. Here, in front of him, was sitting Madara, one of the most dangerous criminals in Russia, and was calmly setting forth every affiliation and plan of his concerning nuclear bombs. So either this was a giant trap or he really believed that Shisui would be the kind of person to go along with this. Or maybe he just needed money. However, if he didn't do him in first, he was just giving Shisui more than enough of the information he needed to fulfil his job.
Sometimes life was great.
"What do you think, comrade Petrow?" Madara asked finally, once he had finished.
Shisui tilted his head, contemplating. Yes, Madara had told him everything, but that probably wouldn't be proof enough. He needed more witnesses. And he needed to make sure everything he had just told him was true. He needed to see the nuclear power station where the bombs and weapons were built. He needed plans and contracts, anything official-or-maybe-not-so-official-but-at-least-written-down.
He would just have to go for it.
"This is a large sum you request, Madara," Shisui remarked. "I have to admit I am quite intrigued by your plans and work, but frankly, I do not know whether I can trust you with my money. I need securities to ensure my money doesn't go to waste."
Madara nodded and thought for a moment. "That is understandable. I shall present to you our latest progress on weapons to convince you this investment is absolutely safe. Meet me in three days time. I will have Itachi tell you the explicit time and meeting point once I have conferred with the man who is in charge of the organisation. Now, enjoy the rest of the evening. I am looking forward to seeing you again soon."
And with that, Shisui was excused.
"You are completely out of your mind!" Itachi hissed. "Do you even have the slightest idea what will happen if Madara knows about your true identity by then? Or if he already found out?"
"He will try to kill me, I suppose," Shisui shrugged, unimpressed.
"How can you be so calm about that?"
Shisui tried very hard not to roll his eyes, and failed miserably. "In case you haven't noticed, I am a spy. This is what I deal with every day."
"In case you haven't noticed, you are not James Bond," Itachi snapped back.
"I know. I am way cooler," Shisui grinned.
"This is not funny!"
"No. But it is incredibly cute how worried you are," Shisui answered. "However, there is no need to get all worked up about this. I have the entire gang of the FBI behind me to watch my back. What could possibly happen?"
"You shouldn't underestimate Madara."
Shisui sighed in mock desperation. "Honestly, your lack of confidence in me is disappointing. Now, would you kindly stop bitching around – no pun intended – and tell me where the meeting point is?"
Itachi glared at him, but gave in eventually. "There is an old deserted stone quarry just outside of Moscow. I am supposed to guide you."
Shisui nearly choked on his spit. "What? You are going to be there?" Itachi didn't have anything to do with it. Why was he dragging Itachi into this shit? Why?
Itachi gave him a sore look. "Of course. I am not quite sure what Madara's plan is, but I suspect he is trying to keep you in line and guarantee you don't try anything stupid."
"That bastard." Shisui inhaled deeply. "Okay. Okay. I'll think of a plan to make sure you will be alright. Okay? But first, I will have to talk my boss into giving me the five million roubles Madara wants me to bring along."
Itachi raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he will give you that much money?"
"He will have to if he doesn't want this coup to go wrong. So, yeah, I am pretty sure he will. He will have his eyes on me all the time anyway, so...yeah."
"Shisui," Itachi asked, alarmed. "Are you planning anything?"
"I?" Shisui tried to look innocent. "Never." Before Itachi could grow more suspicious, he basically fled the apartment. "See you later!"
Being a decoy wasn't as great as Shisui had hoped. He was nervous. Very much so. Mostly because Itachi was there by his side, and, although he had assured Shisui at least a hundred times that he would be fine because he was used to those kinds of situations, seeing how he was a part of red-light milieu and all, Shisui still felt as if he needed another pair of eyes, arms and legs to protect him, because, unlike him, Itachi didn't have a gun. And even if he had, he probably wouldn't have known how to use it.
Shisui tried to look relaxed even though every fibre of his body was tense and he was waiting for Madara to strike any second. Itachi's warnings had had their desired effect in the end and Shisui earnestly wanted to strangle Itachi for that. It would have been so much easier had he not been all agitated. And it would have been so much easier if they weren't standing outside in the middle of a fucking blizzard.
God, he really hated this country.
Madara watched him intently while he studied the plans and photographs he had been given. "Now, is this convincing enough for you?"
As Shisui looked up, he saw a tiny movement from the corner of his eye. So his colleagues were there. Good. At least one thing was going as planned, then. He just hoped Madara hadn't seen them, too. "Indeed, I find this very convincing." He turned towards Itachi. "Would you mind fetching the money from the car?" Probably not a very good plan, but at least that would get Itachi out of the immediate line of fire. He felt his left foot begin to twitch nervously. What the hell were they still waiting for?
Then, finally, after Itachi had pressed the case into his hand and moved some steps back again, he saw his boss giving the other the sign to move forwards.
"I am glad to see you are a patriot," Madara said, smiling.
"Yeah," Shisui returned somewhat absentmindedly while reaching behind his back to get a hold on his gun. "Just not the way you assumed."
It was only then that he noticed that Madara's smile had turned decidedly evil. "Oh no, I think you are just the patriot I always thought you were."
His men jumped out of their cover exactly the same moment Shisui's colleagues from the FBI did.
Later, Shisui wouldn't be able to tell who actually started the fire. Or who was trying to shoot whom. Or whether he managed to shoot someone at all. In the chaos that ensued it was hard enough to not get hit by some stray bullets, let alone the well-aimed ones, especially when you found yourself situated in the fucking middle of it all. He tried to look for Itachi, but that was somewhat difficult when trying to run for cover and pulling the trigger and aiming at the same time. He just hoped he had been smart enough to stay out of this.
A bullet coming from behind him whooshed past his ear, missing him by only a few centimetres. Exasperated, he turned around. "Would you mind looking at whom you shoot, you idiots? You are supposed to aim at the bad guys!" he yelled.
It wasn't the smartest thing to do, as he had to admit later, because this one moment of losing his focus was enough. Shisui yelped when a sharp pain exploded in his right shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun. "Shit!" he cursed loudly and clutched the wound with his left hand, trying to ignore the burning pain and the blood that streamed over his fingers already and the way his stomach twisted and the mere thought of the warm liquid flowing out of his body.
And then he passed out.
When he came to a few hours later (at least he supposed it was only a few hours later, because everything else would have been embarrassing...not that it wasn't already embarrassing to faint in the middle of an epic battle in the first place), the first thing he saw was Itachi sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over him, and he could feel himself begin to grin like an idiot. "Hey."
Itachi scoffed. "I am not the one unable to take care of myself."
Shisui rolled his eyes. "Now isn't that a friendly greeting..."
Itachi immediately looked guilty. He opened his mouth to say something, but Shisui waved his hand dismissively. Or rather, he would have, but the moment he tried to raise his right hand he hissed in pain and let it fall back onto the covers. "Okay," he joked weakly. "Note to self: moving this arm is bad. What a shame, I won't be able to wank for ages. I suppose you will have to –"
"Shisui!" Itachi interrupted him sharply, his cheeks taking on a curious pink colour that Shisui found quite attractive.
He grinned. "No need to be embarrassed, love. It's not like you haven't done it befo-" Shisui stopped dead when he heard someone clearing his throat resolutely. He hadn't realised there was someone else in this room.
"I am sorry to interrupt your little...conversation, but there are serious matters to attend to first," his boss said coolly. Shisui felt all the colour draining from his face. Could this day get any worse?
"Ahem, uhm...yeah. So...what happened?"
The lips of his boss were pressed together in a thin line, so tightly that Shisui found himself wondering how his face muscles didn't get all sore "Madara escaped. We were able to catch and do in some of his followers, but that's not being of any use. Can you testify what you saw on those plans and contracts, so that we at least have some evidence what he has been up to?"
Shisui nodded slowly. "Yeah, I can do that. Later, though, if you don't mind. I kind of just got shot. Tomorrow, maybe? Because if I recall correctly, our flight back to the glorious USA is booked for the day after that."
"Fine. There is one more thing, though. You wouldn't happen to know what happened with the money you were given?"
From the corner of his eye, Shisui could see Itachi tense and shift uncomfortably. He blinked. Oh. Looking back at his boss, he tried his best innocent expression. "How would I?" he asked. "In case you haven't noticed, I got shot. I didn't really notice what was happening around me after that, and before there was too much chaos to care about that." He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking me anyway? It's not like I had the time to hide it somewhere, did I?"
"You had it when the shooting started."
"And I dropped it at some point while trying to not get shot. Seems I failed miserably at that part as well," Shisui remarked dryly, pointing at his bandaged shoulder. "It wouldn't surprise me if Madara had snatched it."
"Me neither," his boss sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Well then. I had better go and work on my report and try to find a good excuse as to why the money coming from the US will now be helping to build nuclear weapons in Russia."
"Good luck with that," Shisui called after him, and, once the door had closed behind him, turned towards Itachi with a wicked grin on his face. "You sly cow."
Itachi merely shrugged. "I thought we could put it to better use than Madara. Or the FBI."
"I totally agree. Still, don't you think that's a bit risky? If they find out..."
"They won't. I have already taken measures to ensure this."
Shisui's grin widened. "Well, then. Now that we are rich and all...how does L.A. sound to you?"
Itachi smiled as he leaned over and kissed him. "L.A. sounds wonderful."