High Noon (Has Changed Its Tune); now with added Sasuke!
Three chapters of Western fic in one go? Let's go. I regret nothing.
EDIT: So LJ doesn't like 6K posts, apparently, so...separate posts it is. I apologize a lot.
Their illustrious sheriff looks like something’s crawled up his ass and died, so when he’s got Shisui bent over (and not in the fun way), Shisui feels pretty much obliged to tell him so.
Itachi’s not impressed, apparently; just tightens the cuffs around Shisui’s wrists and hauls him off with more roughness than he usually bothers with.
Fuck if that’s not a little hot.
Any further thoughts in that direction are cut off when they reach the sheriff’s office and instead of shoving Shisui up against the nearest flat surface, Itachi tosses him unceremoniously into the cell and slams the door.
“Damn, Sheriff,” Shisui whistles from the floor. “Go a little easier on the goods next time, yeah?”
“Petty theft?” Itachi snaps back, sounding a lot more pissed than a couple lifted chocolate bars merits, in Shisui’s ever-so-humble opinion. “I do not have time for this, Shisui.”
Shisui raises his eyebrows. “Thought you had all the time in the world for us petty criminals. Thought that was your grand calling in life. I feel lied to, Professor, I really do.”
“I do not have time for this today,” Itachi growls, tossing his hat aside and running his fingers back through that long-ass hair of his. It doesn’t do much, other than pulling a few strands free of his ponytail and making them hang limp around his face.
“That’s how it is?” He knows he’s sounding more put off than he probably has a right to, seeing as he was sorta caught stealing and all, but Itachi’s being bitchier than usual and it’s not doing wonders for his own mood. “Sorry to be a bother. Send one of your damn deputies next time, they’ll see me off alright.”
Itachi’s hands tighten in his hair and then loosen, his whole body slumping against the wall all at once. The fight’s gone out of him.
“I’m expecting someone,” he admits quietly. “From home-from the city, I mean.”
Shisui ignores the way his gut twists at that, ignores it with a determination born of scraping the bottom of everyone else’s barrels since he was seven years old. He’s got nothing to be nervous about. He’s got no skin in this game, so it’s in a totally casual way that he asks, “You got a girl coming in for a visit or something?”
Itachi lifts his head and looks at Shisui like he’s lost his mind.
“No,” he says flatly. Shisui’s body eases up where he didn’t even notice it tensing. “It’s my brother.”
Shisui perks up. “Brother? You have a brother?”
Itachi nods. “Six years younger. He has some time away from school, so he decided to come here.”
“You have a little brother.” Somehow Shisui’s having a hard time picturing it. “What’s he like?”
Itachi’s eyes soften then, and the corners of his mouth tilt up. It’s kinda disgusting and it’s kinda worse that Shisui doesn’t mind seeing it.
“He is…difficult, sometimes,” Itachi says. “It is hard for him to see in shades of grey. Harder to ask for help. But he is kind, underneath it all.” He actually smiles. “Even if he’d rather fall on his own sword than admit it.”
Huh. Now isn’t that interesting, Shisui muses. The sheriff has a heart after all.
He leans back on the bars. “Can’t wait to meet him.”
Itachi stiffens like he’s been hit by lightning. “You will do nothing of the kind.”
“Why not?” Shisui smiles, making sure he shows all his teeth. “You afraid I’ll corrupt him?”
“That’s hardly-”
“Or maybe,” Shisui interrupts, eyebrows taking an upward hike again because oh shit, “you’re afraid he’ll find out how I’ve corrupted you.”
All the softness disappears; it’s like someone’s just pulled a gun. And maybe Shisui sorta has, if the look on Itachi’s face says anything. He looks pissed again, yeah, but not like he’s really pissed. More like he’s scared out of his fucking mind. Anger’s just what follows being scared because people hate being scared.
Shisui feels like he’s just had ice water dumped on him from behind-cold, and a little like a fucking moron.
Which is probably just what he deserves for forgetting.
“You want me to keep my head down while he’s around, don’t you.”
Itachi meets his eyes. That’s something, at least. Shisui can’t stand it when cowards have the balls to act like they aren’t.
“Yes.”
“So he doesn’t know?”
It’s a stupid fucking question and Itachi doesn’t even bother answering it. He doesn’t need to. Of course his precious baby brother’s got no clue the golden boy likes fucking men; Itachi never would’ve made it this far up in the world if that was common knowledge. Might never’ve made it out of his own home. Shisui’s heard the stories about men who shot their sons for being bent, and he’s not sure he’d put it past Fugaku.
What the hell did he expect?
Itachi’s still watching him with that grim look on his face, like he’s just waiting for Shisui to fuck him over. It pisses Shisui off that Itachi thinks he knows him that well-like he has any right to assume Shisui’s going to stab him in the back and not think twice.
So maybe it’s out of petulance, at least a little, when he shrugs (at least as well as he can with both hands cuffed behind his back and for God’s sake, Itachi could at least uncuff him if he’s gonna be asking favors) and says, “Well I’m sure as fuck not gonna be the one to tell him.”
The tension seeps out of the room like a canteen that’s just been punctured.
“Thank you,” Itachi murmurs.
“Don’t,” Shisui mutters back. “Just don't.”
They sit there in a silence that’s way too fucking loud for Shisui’s liking. Itachi makes his uncomfortable way to his chair and Shisui memorizes every crack in the ceiling that he hasn’t already memorized and it gets really old really fucking fast.
Shisui breaks first. So what if it’s only been a couple minutes, he’s bored as shit.
“Wanna fuck?” he offers. “Might as well get one more in before your pain-in-the-ass kid brother shows up and ruins all my fun.”
Itachi raises his eyebrows and reaches for his pocket, the one where he keeps the key to Shisui’s handcuffs, but Shisui coughs.
“Don’t, uh-don’t bother. I’m good.”
Itachi’s eyebrows disappear into his hair, but any high-and-mighty illusion is blown to pieces when he almost trips over himself getting out of his chair.
And just like that, it feels like they’re on even ground again.