Fading Light

A/N: Much thanks and love for skinst_bomb, who helped me so much to clear out the ideas of this fic in my mind, and who then betaed it for me. So, skinst, thank you!

FADING LIGHT:

When he met the huge man that would become his partner, he had not yet turned fourteen. So young, so filled with awe and admiration for the man who had created his clan, Uchiha Itachi had been a somewhat different person back then.

Still, he would never forget how Madara had safely spirited him away of Konoha after that fateful, bloody night in the Uchiha compound and had taken him on the long trek through the wilderness to reach Amegakure.

The man had dropped him off in Pein’s office and with a cheery “Bye bye, be a good boy!” had skimped out of the place to go to Zetsu and play the town fool.

Itachi had turned back to look at the red-head who stared back at him behind his surprisingly undecorated ebony desk with that sad, almost inscrutable expression on his face, then began to brief him on his newfound status and situation. In the end, he told him where he could find his rooms and that in the evening, he would be meeting his new partner.

Said partner turned out to be something completely different than what Itachi imagined he would be.

It was in Pein’s office that he saw him for the first time that same evening after his arrival Amegakure, standing before the simple black desk.

He was a huge, muscled man who had to bend his neck quite a bit to be able to take a good look at the boy who had just come in his presence, just as Itachi had to crane his up to stare at a chiseled, masculine face.

He had seen Mist nin before, even had killed a few of them and he was used to the sharp, shark-like teeth that they all sported, but the bluish skin and the gills were something that made even him raise his eyebrows and cock his head to the side like a curious bird, just as he felt the man’s annoyance at being stared at like he was a circus freak and Pein’s exasperated eyeroll behind the massive shoulders.

“Itachi, meet your new partner” the red-head announced neutrally. Itachi remained silent and kept staring at the man with mild curiosity.

“Hoshigaki Kisame, this is Uchiha Itachi. Your new partner” quipped the Leader.

Itachi could practically see the words “A runt” forming in Kisame’s head, and he narrowed his eyes threateningly, letting the black slowly bleed into the crimson of the Sharingan.

The man though, was either a fool or incredibly brave, seemed unphased.

“Pleased to meet you, Itachi-san” he said mildly, giving him a full view of his all too sharp teeth as he smiled at him and then bent slightly in greeting.

Remembering manners taught by the mother he slaughtered, Itachi bowed a little as well and looked back towards the red-head who just looked at them.

“You are dismissed. You have a week to train together and get used to each other’s moves before you are given your first mission” and that was that.
Itachi had been apprehensive about the huge man, worrying he was all brawn and no brains, but once the two of them sparred together, he quickly realized that he was facing a brilliant tactician who on top of everything else possessed almost unlimited amounts of chakra and the knowledge of many extremely destructive jutsus.

Naturally, he had taken advantage of his Sharingan and had memorized quite a few, only to discover, much to Kisame’s well-concealed mirth, that he simply did not have the sheer chakra capacity to execute more than a few in a row before he keeled over. The Mist nin actually had the gall to reassure him – he said that he was still growing and his power was developing, as if Itachi didn’t know that. Still, the unexpected moral support had felt good, despite his determination not to let Kisame know that he felt that way.

Cohabiting with the man had also turned out to be somewhat of a surprise – the large nin was almost as freakishly neat as he himself and preferred to keep his corner of their small apartment clean and tidy. As surprising was the fact that he kept all sorts of various mementoes from his previous life, including a picture of what appeared to be a genin team that was apparently well-loved. When Itachi had asked him why did he care about all that stuff since he had left that life behind, Kisame paused, the usual polite mirth he tended to exude faded and in its place had creeped an almost wistful expression.

“One should remember one’s past, Itachi-san, if one is to have a future” he said and went to take a shower. Itachi didn’t ask again for any sort of a clarification.

Their first mission also helped him get to know his new partner. The Mist nin liked to fight. A lot. He could feel the gleeful pleasure in his aura as the man slaughtered their opponents with expected ease. But for all his enjoyment, his partner didn’t loose control, or sight of their goal. He was quick, ruthless and efficient. He could learn to admire that, Itachi decided as he watched the graceful swipes of the Samehada – the nin swung the monstrous weapon around with a single hand like it weighed nothing, though Itachi was sure that it probably was heavier than he was.

Kisame’s grace was one of the neverending surprises that the man seemed to never stop serving in the boy’s plate. For all his size, he moved lightly, elegantly, like a dancer, his steps practically noiseless, each movement carefully measured. One would think that he’d be like a bull in a glass store, but nothing was farthest from the truth. The man liked drinking green tea, and he held the delicate china cups with utmost care, never dropped or squeezed one into breaking, even if the small vessels looked completely dwarfed in his huge, sword-callused fingers.

All of this seemed to stem from his personality – as vicious and almost bestial that he was in battle, Kisame was actually quite mild-mannered in every day life, infinitely polite and appeared to be patient, although he was definitely a lot more talkative than Itachi. Still, he never engaged in idle, empty chatter. He was well-educated and could discuss a large number of topics, not to mention that he possessed a wicked sense of humour, even if his wit might be considered a tad morbid by an outsider. As the time passed, the Uchiha ealized that he was one of the few people capable of bringing a genuine smile on his face.

Being quite older than Itachi, Kisame slowly assumed a somewhat protective and guiding role in their relationship at first. Not that the Uchiha needed someone to take care of him on the battlefield, and the Mist nin was perfectly aware of that fact, so he never presumed to do that. Still, he was absolutely infallible in watching his back, a steady, solid presence that made him feel secure in his environment.

In day to day life, he had taken upon himself to guide Itachi through the wiles of growing up and becoming a teenager. It had been quite amusing really, when he realized one day that there was hair sticking out of his cheeks – small, soft and silken, not to mention sparse, hairs, but hairs nonetheless. And they needed shaving. He hadn’t had even the slightest idea how to go about that. Kisame had noticed his frustration and confusion, of course. He was incredibly observant and had learned how to read Itachi’s minute body-language quite well by that time as he watched the boy struggle with the razor and the shaving cream through the open door of the bathroom. Finally, he had come in and had showed him, patiently, carefully, not a hint of amusement or annoyance on his chiseled face. Then, when Itachi managed to cut himself, he cleaned the cut without a word of reproach. The callused hands had been warm and gentle on the sensitive soft skin of his throat.

As he looked back now, it wasn’t really all that surprising that they had become as close as they did. The initial wary distrust between them quickly melted away and in its place settled a wary companionship which transformed into a tentative friendship that became complete trust and a bond stronger than steel.

Itachi had never forgotten his goals, but Kisame quickly became the center of his world, and unsurprisingly, the deep friendship he felt for the Mist nin evolved into what could only be described as love. Not that he realized that immediately. Well, perhaps he did, but he had spent quite a long time denying even before himself that new development. He was not capable of love. He was Uchiha Itachi, missing nin, member of the Akatsuki, the man who had slaughtered his own family in cold blood, there was no way that he could fall in love.

It all had come to a head the day when his failing eyesight had finally gotten the better of him. He had been nineteen and it was actually quite anticlimactic. He had tripped. A simple, silly trip over a stone on the road that he had not seen because his peripheral vision was weakening. In the world of a nin of his caliber, this was an event of massive proportions. He had tripped, and swayed and would have probably fallen on his face if it had not been for Kisame to reach and grab him around his waist with a steadying hand that had been as gentle and as careful with him as the Mist nin was with everything else that he touched. It was then when Itachi admitted to himself that he loved Kisame.

He didn’t tell him, of course. Being in love was a shameful, demeaning, weakening secret that he was determined to take to his grave. So he had slapped the hand away more roughly than necessary and had hissed that he was okay. Kisame didn’t say a word all day after that and it made Itachi feel infuriatingly guilty.

Still, his eyesight continued to fade and the nightmares came – wicked, grotesque and macabre ghosts that occupied every sleeping hour and tormented him unfailingly.

The first time he woke up with a scream Kisame rushed to his side and held him in an attempt to comfort him. Of course, he was promptly chased away with a rude growl not to touch him, which elicited a frown and a hurt and angry pressing of lips on his partners face, but he nodded and left without looking back, shoulders stiff and back ramrod straight. Itachi felt bad all over again.

The second time he woke up from a nightmare, wailing and crying, Kisame was not there. He felt strangely alone and abandoned, but he had no intention of apologizing to his partner, nor did he intend to ask him to come back.

The third time he woke up with a scream, the large man was already there and he almost flew right into his arms, strong and warm and protective. Kisame looked at him challengingly, strange eyes saying ‘Make me go away!’ He did not. Itachi held on and trembled, sucking fast, large gulps of air. The huge hand rubbed gentle soothing circles on his back, as if to tell him that he was safe now, that Kisame would chase away any monster that came to eat his heart. It was not a promise that his partner could keep, and they both knew it, but it made him feel better anyway. He fell asleep in the warm embrace.

He told Kisame how he felt when the nightmares became waking visions, first voices and then horrifying shadows that inhabited the edges of the rapidly fading light. He still wondered how he had gathered the courage to do that, but maybe it had more to do with the fact that he was so tired by the constant fighting that it had finally eroded his will and his determination to keep quiet. Itachi had expected a frown and a polite explanation why they couldn’t engage in a relationship like that, but the damn infuriating man served him with yet another surprise – apparently he really did like to keep him on his toes – he smiled, a genuine, happy smile, the likes of which he hadn’t seen on Kisame’s face before, and he had leaned down to kiss him. It was his first kiss, and Itachi feared that he was embarrassingly clumsy about it, but the large man seemed to enjoy it greatly because he was still smiling when he pulled back.

The Mist nin did not take him to bed right away. He had apparently decided to guide him step by step into the world of intimacy, like he did with everything else that he taught Itachi previously. They spent long hours kissing that left the Uchiha breathless and aching for more, but Kisame always pulled away in the end. Kissing developed into touching and petting and caressing, and shedding of clothes – Itachi could still remember his absolute awe when he saw his lover’s naked form the first time, he was absolutely magnificent, silken blue skin and corded, heavy muscle over wide, powerful shoulders and back tapering down to slim hips and slender but muscled legs. His erection made Itachi blush crimson, really, he should have expected that the man would be large and thick, but imagining was one thing, seeing it - completely another. It made him feel inadequate at first, but the openly hungry way in which Kisame stared at him quickly dissuaded the young man of that notion.

Like with everything else, the way the large nin touched him was gentle and careful and it somehow made him remember that china cup. Kisame handled him like he was something fragile and delicate, something that could break if he clutched harder. He took his time to kiss him and caress him, to explore every crevice of his body with his hands and lips and tongue, often gently nibbling but those intimidating teeth never broke the skin. The lotion he used to prepare him had smelled of almonds and Kisame was been quite liberal with the liquid, taking his time to prepare him throughroughly before finally sliding that huge organ into his pliant body. Despite all the effort, it hurt, almost blindingly so, and he clutched the wide shoulders, face buried in the strong neck, thighs trembling on each side of the slim hips. Kisame caressed his sides, whispered sweet things into his ear and patiently waited for him to finally relax before he began to thrust slowly, one strong arm pressed above Itachi’s head for leverage, lips millimeters apart , warm and moist breath mingling as his lover moved within and over his body, his length spearing into him, stimulating him until he could feel tears of sheer pleasure fill his eyes before Kisame leaned to kiss them away. That loving action alone had been enough to make Itachi come. His partner had finished afterwards, gently taking his pleasure in his pliant and relaxed body, making him mewl with each brush against his oversensitised prostate.

He held him afterwards and kissed his shoulders silently. At that moment, words had seemed unnecessary.

Their day to day life did not change considerably. Neither of them had the habit of or need for constant displays of affection, each secure in the feelings of the other. Still, a new sense of togetherness settled in, something that they both enjoyed. As far as their sexual life was concerned, the Uchiha became a lot braver than that first time, exploring his large lover with hands and mouth, his need and curiosity practically infinite. Still, he was apprehensive the first time he slid to his knees and took the large erection in his mouth, his small, delicate hands holding the base and fondling the heavy balls underneath. Like with everything else, Kisame taught him how to do it, how to take all that in, how to run his tongue against it and how to scrape his teeth over the sensitive flesh. The large, warm hands guided his head gently, they caressed and combed his raven locks during the act, but they never clutched or pulled or pressed except when he tried to push him away right before he came, the copious bitter liquid ending up both in his mouth and on his face. Kisame tried to apologise, but Itachi grinned at him and licked his lips, and those golden eyes darkened with lust and possessiveness. He pulled him up and kissed him with unexpected roughness, then proceeded to return the favour.

Itachi stopped chasing Kisame away when the man offered his help or comfort when it came to the problems that his failing eyes caused, in fact, he reveled in the attention, his earlier shame and apprehension discarded and forgotten. He basked in the attention and offered his own, shared things about himself that he had told no other, not even Madara.

He knew that his lover worried about him though he hid that quite well. He could feel his growing impatience to get to his brother so Itachi could be whole again. Under any other circumstances, the Uchiha would have considered that Kisame was impatient because he was tired of looking after him, but he knew that it was not the case. Kisame simply cared and worried. A small, wicked part of him became convinced that if he really lost his eyesight completely, the tall nin would just dump everything and take him away somewhere, Akatsuki and their mission be damned. In the darkest hours of the night, he entertained the idea of leaving Sasuke behind for the sheer event of that happening, of running away with his lover into the proverbial sunset. Of course, those were empty dreams, and he was quite disgusted with himself that he even had them.

His stubbornness led them to their current predicament, he thought, as he laid on the cold stone floor of the temple, the crimson of his blood seeping on the ground and spreading around him like a bloody halo as the crimson of his Sharingan slowly faded into the eternal darkness of death.

His senses were weakening, but he could feel the sharp, furious bursts of Kisame’s chakra outside as he fought his brother’s cohorts in a desperate attempt to get to him. Strange, for all these years, he had never seen his partner being angry. Not once. And now he felt absolutely furious, livid beyond reason, despair mixing with the rage.

The bursts of energy were gradually weakening though, as the large man finally met worthy opponents.

Vision finally faded away completely, leaving him in complete darkness, only sound and sensation remained, but even they quickly seeped out of his grasp as his breathing became more and more laboured. Suddenly, the dream of running away with Kisame did not seem so silly, but it too late, far too late. With a one final burst, the Mist nin’s presence winked out of existence. If he could howl, he would have. His breath though came out of him in a small whimper of a garbled name and then he knew no more.