In the dark of night, it was done, finished. He deactivated the Mangekyou and then the Sharingan altogether, saving his waning eyesight for something that mattered. Blinking rapidly, the assassin pulled the kunai out of his target’s chest, wiped it unceremoniously on the man’s clothes, and pocketed it again. A silent signal to his partner and within seconds they were gone again.
The Akatsuki headquarters was innocuous enough for holding a good portion of the world’s S-Class criminals. Missing-nins from Rock, Falls, Mist, Sand, Leaf—all had come this way and all were going to be at the forefront of a new age of shinobi. Akatsuki’s roster read like a Who’s Who of every Bingo Book from every nin-hunter organization from Leaf to Sound, and those paltry few pages devoted to each person were not enough by half.
Itachi and his partner made their report to Sir Leader immediately upon returning. The ex-Leaf was a stickler for ritual and formality, even when he knew it wouldn’t matter anymore when Akatsuki’s dream was realized. Perhaps he did it just to keep routine, to keep his old habits from ANBU. Perhaps he did it just to annoy Kisame.
“Mission successful,” he said briskly as he signed his name to the scroll signifying completion. His face was impassive.
“Excellent as usual, Ita-Kisa team,” Leader-sama replied. Eyes bright with intelligence studied them both and gauged their need for rest to a deadly accuracy. “Your next mission will not come out for another few days. Take the time to rest and relax; you have earned it. Dei-Tobi team will cover you.”
“Thank you, Leader-sama,” Itachi said formally but only nodded his head. In effect, he had said I respect you, but I am your equal. After all, it was his claim to S-class fame; his brutal slaughter of every Uchiha save himself and one other. And the other had run mad, it was said. Revenge did funny things to people.
One of the perks of being an Akatsuki was being given a full apartment to call your own. It wasn’t terribly big—the entire complex of residences, administrative offices, and training grounds was hewn in to the center of a mountain. Kisame’s was on the third level; Itachi’s on the second. The swordsman preferred to teleport himself there, crying off the stairs due to his sword being too heavy. Itachi found this a load of bullshit, but never bothered to say anything. It was Kisame, bullshit was to be expected. Rubbing his eyes absently, Itachi took the stairs and walked tiredly down the corridor to his door, fumbling for the jutsu-encrusted tag that let him into his room.
Once inside he slipped out of the cloak and hung it on the back of the door and surveyed the room quickly (Always con yer vantage his gruff jounin teacher had always told them, and Itachi had taken it to heart) before walking silently over to the couch and lifting Neji’s head to sit and replace it in his lap. The Hyuuga stirred sleepily, cocooned in the big blanket they often curled up next to the fireplace in, sometimes clothed, sometimes not. “You’re late,” he said blearily.
Itachi stared down at him, one hand playing with the hair that escaped the ponytail his lover sported. “The mission took longer than expected.”
“Mmm…” Neji’s hand snaked out from the blanket and curled around Itachi’s thigh. “Successful?”
“Yes.” Itachi moved out from under Neji and silenced his half-begun complaints with a kiss. No matter how disillusioned he now was with Akatsuki, no matter how pointless he thought it all, everything grounded again once they were able to touch like this, touch and caress. He remembered he was doing this to free the young man and help him attain his full potential.
Scooping Neji up, blanket and all, he carried him into the bedroom and set the genius down on the sheets. Unwrapping himself, Neji rolled to the edge of the bed and watched Itachi get ready for sleep, pulling off his shirts and pants and pulling on more comfortable pajama pants and a shirt. In the time he’d ostensibly been held as prisoner of the Akatsuki, he’d come to memorize every swell of toned muscle on his lover’s body, every hair on his head, the gleam of desire in red Sharingan eyes. He had come to find that Tsukuyomi had many, many alternate uses, and some of them were not meant to be used on a battlefield at all.
Itachi pulled the tie out of his hair and shook it a few times, not bothering with the brush on the dresser. He turned round and saw Neji laying stomach-down on the bed, wearing boxers and one of Itachi’s shirts, hair falling out of the ponytail and eyes half-closed. “If you’re a prisoner, you’re the most spoiled one I’ve ever seen,” he said emotionlessly, nudging the Hyuuga over so he could lay down in the bed.
Neji curled up next to Itachi in the bed, one hand wrapping around the missing-nin’s waist. “You’re not a very good captor, either.” Already the warmth and comfort of his lover’s touch was lulling him into sleep.
“If I tie you up you like it too much.”
All the answer Itachi got was a soft snore. Scowling a little to cover the inner smile, Itachi turned off the light and rested his chin on the top of Neji’s head.
Each of the Akatsuki had something to come back to—money-counting, sculpture, rituals, swordplay. Itachi had Hyuuga Neji, and to his prodigious mind, that was worth any peril in the world.
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Chapter notes: 'nother requested ItaNeji fic. Although it's gnawing at my brain and now I want to write them more often.
So this is fluff, and I know ItaNeji + Fluff = DOES NOT COMPUTE, but I tried. It was for a friend! I cannot deny my friends! And so I wrote FOR GREAT JUSTICE.
Also, Itachi's "gruff jounin teacher" and "Always con yer vantage" are callouts to one of the greatest works of literature of modern times--Stephen King's The Dark Tower. The gruff teacher and the quote both belong to Cort, and are mentioned in the last book of the series, The Dark Tower VII: The Dark Tower I recommend you all read the series.