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The Night Hath Come	By : SSShitstorm Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female Views: 1345 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor do I profit from this work of fiction

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A/N : I'M NOT DEAD YET.

Apologies for not updating in so long. Now that convention season is over, expect to see more from me. A lot more.

Short chapter is short. Might re-upload, might not. Just wanted to get SOMETHING out.

(Sorry about all the spaces, I'm having some sort of formatting problem )
Enjoy

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It's dark, even by the stone-encased hideouts standards. Which meant nightfall was nigh.

By the narrow vein of light the wall mounted torch cast, you couldn't be positive, but reasonably sure that you'd unpacked everything. There was only one closet, but there also happened to be a large wooden trunk under the windowsill, large enough to fit most of your clothes into, most of the weapons, scrolls, poisons, elixirs, etc had been shoved into the spare end table's drawer, and while there was only one bed, you rolled out your sleeping mat in the opposite corner. As far away as you could get from the bed without actually being in another room.

Perfect.

As you stretch out on your bed-mat, you notice something fallen haphazard fallen out of your pack-the last one you'd emptied, and you stretch to retrieve it, struggling to make out what it was in the poor light.

Your heart sinks. Just a little.

It's a picture of your older brother and you. Back in academy days. You weren't totally sure who'd taken it, both of your parents had been long absent from your life at that point. He was pushing you on a swing outside the academy, your chubby face fixed in a permanent toothy smile.

Part of you is infinitely glad he'd never pursued a career as a ninja-he's such a pretty boy, it'd be a shame to scar up that face. He could be a model, or an actor, or something. Part of of you is saddened- while still close, the inevitable rift between siblings only grew wider as your ninja duties consumed more and more of your life.

And part of you was filled to the brim with stone cold fear. He was hiding. He was safe, for now. But if anyone ever uncovered your relation, as if your defecting from Iwagakure wasn't bad enough, your involvement in the Akatsuki would just make things infinitely worse. Likewise, if anyone from Akatsuki found out you had a brother-

You shudder. Well, at the very least, he's safe. And he'd stay safe. You'd die before letting any shinobi, village or rouge, anywhere near him.

“I'm going to assume you have a good reason for being in my room.”

You freeze, your first reaction to roll up the picture and slowly, carefully slide it between your top and fishnet undershirt. Maybe he'd seen you hide it. But as long as he didn't see what you hid, you'd averted disaster. You'd find a safe place to keep it later.

“I do,” you start, slowly turning your head to the Uchiha, instinctively avoiding the permanently activated sharingan, deep red reflected menacingly even in the pale light.

“And that would be?”

“Pain-sama told me I had to move in. Immediately And since I figured you were the least likely to try anything-” it takes all of your willpower not to leave the previous statement an open-ended question.

“Try anything?”

“Like the kinda shit Deidara would pull.” you mutter, trying to find an appropriate body part for your eyes to land on, neck, chest, legs, waist-no. You settle on his face. His lips. Just enough to avoid being rude.

“You assumed correctly.” He turns his head away-presumably looking over the half of his room you'd taken over. “Just keep everything clean and we won't have any problems.”

“Right.” you sigh, walking over to the chest you'd relegated your clothes to, and under the guise of pulling an article of clothing out, slip the photograph into one of the inner folds of a spare shirt.

Actually- you WERE going out drinking tonight with Deidara, right? And you were supposed to be unwinding, having fun, right?

So it wouldn't hurt to put on something other than your standard ninja attire and cloak, right?

Right.

So you dive headfirst into the chest, hellbent on finding something at least quasi-fashionable. Too homely, too short, too hot, too thick, too low cut, too slutty, not slutty -enough-

...Aha!

“What is that?”

The mild amount of disgust in Itachi's voice surprises you, at least a little. It's not like he normally has any semblance of emotion in his voice. You actually feel goosebumps forming on your neck.

“This?” you hold up the dark green sleeveless one-piece. “You're kidding me right? This is a dress. Not everybody wears a uniform 24-7.”

His eyes narrow, but he says nothing, instead sinking onto his bed and looking out the window. Or something. Whatever. Not looking at his eyes or anything.

You undo the snaps of your cloak with one hand, letting it fall down over your shoulders and puddle on the floor next to your bedmat, and it's not until your have your shirt halfway off that you realize there's another person in the room.

“Uh...”

“Go ahead.”

your eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“Go ahead. “ he repeats. “It doesn't bother me.” his eyes don't stray from the thin sliver of a window across the room.

You remain statuesque for a moment, unsure of how to feel. Eventually, you settle on a mixture of relief, insult, and mild disappointment as you slide the top on, and, deciding black sandals don't exactly match, opt to kick on a pair of come-fuck-me heels.

Why the hell not? You haven't been out in ages, might as well dress to impress and have some fun. Besides, it's not like you were going out alone. All you needed was one of Deidara's well-timed explosions to get you out of a sticky situation.

“You're wearing that?”

Itachi's sudden mother-hen mentality was really starting to get to you.

“Yes.” you sneer. “And?”

“You disgust me.”

“So do you, Itachi-senpai” you mutter, sliding open the door.

“I can walk straight, y'know.”

It's past midnight, you can be sure of that much, and try as you may to stay quiet, you were pretty sure just about everyone in the vicinity had heard your and Deidara's drunken banter on the way back, as he'd insisted upon walking you back to your room.

“No, you can't” he deadpans, a slight lilt to his voice. “It's those fucking heels you're wearing. Why do women wear those stupid things?”

You snort in disdain, or just trying to avoid hiccuping.

“Don't pretend that you don't like them, Deidara-san.” you taunt in a singsong voice

“I didn't say I didn't like them, un.” he smirks. “And drop the suffix would you? It's getting creepy.”

“Fine /Deidara/” you grumble, still teetering on your heels as you attempt to find the doorknob to your room, only to realize there WAS no doorknob, and-”

“Deidara-” you growl a low warning.

“What?”

“This /isn't/ my room.” you snarl, or at least you try to-it tapers off into a giggle. Because that's funny. Everything Deidara does is funny. Probably because you're drunk. That's funny too.

“My bad, un.” he smirks, sliding the door open with one hand and maneuvering your body through with the other.

“Deidara I'm serious...” you mock-whine and he slides the door shut behind you. “Take me back to my room.”

“He raises an eyebrow. “Aww, c'mon now. You don't wanna wake Itachi up, do you? He'll get pissed. Wouldn't it be easier to stay with me tonight?”

You're aware of what he's trying to do-vaguely- But he did have a good point. You were on thin-ice enough as is with the stoic Uchiha. It probably wasn't worth waking him up at this point, especially as intoxicated as you were.

“I- I dunno.” you pause.

He doesn't.

The world spins. Up is down, you wonder briefly why you're looking up at the ceiling before realizing that you're pinned flat against the bed and Deidara.

“Deida-”

He cuts you off. Lips rough against yours, breath hot, mouth open as he forces a kiss onto you. There's no maneuvering room. There's no nothing except Deidara on you, above you, between you.

You want to protest, you really do, what's left of your resolve waning, thoughts, fuzzy, vision fuzzy, you search yourself for any ounce of willpower, any reason to push him away.

You can't find one.

He bits your bottom lip softly, electing a weak mewl from your throat and he forces his tongue in to tangle with yours, hands weaving up your legs, under your dress. He dips his hips into yours, body heavy, cock heavy and straining against his pants and try as you may to meet his dry thrust your coordination is shot.

You want to kiss him back, to move with him, feverish grinding beckoning but you can't, you just /can't/ and just as you've resigned yourself to lay limply as he used you you feel the weight disappear, and through your hazed vision see not only is Deidara being held several feet in the air above your body, but it's Itachi's arm that's holding him.

Briefly, that is, before slamming him so hard into the adjoining wall it cracks.

There's sputtering, coughing, swearing profusely on Deidara's part before a comprehensible response makes it out.

“The FUCK?!”

“I was under the impression,” The Uchiha begins, voice laced with dry venom. “That you were aware of the “No sex between teammates” rule?”

“What the HELL makes you think you have the right to enforce it, un?!”

“Depends.” Itachi pauses, glancing in your direction. “I think '____-san'” has the right to know exactly what you slipped into her drink.”

Deidera's visible eye widens in fear.

“How the fuck did you-”

“I can smell trace amounts of nightshade.” the Uchiha states plainly, unblinking. “Not enough to kill, not enough to cause any lasting damage, just enough to throw some naïve young kunoichi off that, god forbid, actually trusted her teammate.”

He loosens his hand, just enough to let the feminine blonde fall into a heap against the wall.

“Go.”

Deidara glares up at him from the floor, mouth askew, as if willing to risk a finaly retort.

“Go /now/ before I decide that Pain-Sama might like to know who dipped into the poison reserves without asking.”

Eyes wide wide fear (and face flushed with humility) Deidara scrambles to his feet out of his own room, still coughing and sputtering on his way out.

You, still having enough trouble as if keeping your eyes open and focused, are only dimly aware of the much taller, much quieter, and decidedly less-asshole-ish helping you to your feet.

Wait, helping?

No, that can't be right, he's forcing you, /dragging/ you back to your bedmat, plopping you unceremoniously onto the thin mattress. You want to thank him, to say something, anything,

“I owe you.”

He stops abruptly on his way out. You silently curse yourself for speaking so quickly. Like Itachi would ever accept a favor from you.

“No, you don't. Deidara had that coming.”
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The Night Hath Come