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Fic - 1117 - 3/?
Title: 1117
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: T - NC-17
Pairings: established Kakuzu/Hidan, future Kisame/Itachi and Sasori/Deidara
Genre: Humour
Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, details of the hospitality industry, and probably OOCness.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Backpacking through Cloud, Itachi runs out of money and runs out of luck. He ends up working for accommodation in a hostel, surrounded by crazy people and flagging hygiene standards. Good lord.
Itachi snaps awake. A sound like mechanical crows screaming fills the room and his bed rocks as Kisame shifts and rolls over beneath him. From the other side of the room there’s a rustling noise and incomprehensible muttering. The noise shuts off. Itachi peeks over the rail of his bed to see Sasori sit up in his bunk. He can only see the other boy’s shadow in what little light filters into the room under the door, but he’s easily recognisable with his short, messy hair and his legs missing below the knee.
Wait, what?
Itachi can’t help but stare as Sasori picks his lower legs up off the floor and reattaches them to the stumps where his legs had been. He lies down again when Sasori starts to stand. He doesn’t want to be caught staring like some sort of idiot. He hadn’t realised that Sasori was, well, was an amputee.
He listens as clothing rustles and the door clicks before sitting up again. Sasori is gone. He checks his phone. It’s quarter to six in the morning. The part of his brain that isn’t still boggling over the fact that Sasori has no legs cringes in horror at the thought of being awake so early in the morning. He flops back in bed and covers his eyes with his forearm. Maybe he hallucinated the leg thing. He’s never been good with mornings, especially after being jolted awake and Sasori’s evil demon crows had certainly been a shock.
He feels Kisame shift again, groaning softly as he does so, and he realises that he’s smiling. It’ll be nice to have consistent roommates for a while. Waking up to a room full of strangers every day grew tiring after a while.
…
Itachi barely notices the free breakfast. He can’t really taste any of it, and he thinks that might be a good thing judging from the expression on Deidara’s face as he chews his toast. The other boy looks like he’s torn between throwing up and starvation, which results in a desperate sort of grimace revealing itself between bites.
None of them speak, save for a boy with silver hair pulled into a ponytail, glasses, and a Fire Country accent that Itachi takes a second to recognise. He’s been away for so long that he’s half forgotten what the people at home sound like. “You’re an Uchiha, aren’t you?” is his conversation starter. “I’m Yakushi Kabuto. Nice to meet you.”
“Itachi,” he mutters after a while, neither confirming nor denying the guess at his family name. He likes being away from home and completely anonymous. He likes not being the Uchiha heir.
Kisame sits down opposite them, holding a tiny mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal. He stifles a yawn and, relieved of his burden, runs his fingers through his dark, blue-grey hair making it spike up more than usual. He mutters something that might have been a ‘good morning’. Itachi murmurs a reply and averts his gaze. Kisame looks far, far too attractive for someone still half asleep.
“Look at you three,” Kabuto says – he’s horribly, horribly awake and Itachi wishes he would just shut up – “you’re all so sleepy. What would Sasori say?”
Deidara glares at him. Itachi’s surprised by the amount of hatred that he manages to put into it. He knows that morning people are annoying, but disliking them that much was a bit unreasonable. Then again, he can see himself becoming hostile if Kabuto ever brings up his connection to the Uchiha again.
“’Sori wouldn’t give a shit,” Kisame mumbles. He downs half of his coffee in one gulp and then eyes the remains of it. “These mugs are too small.”
…
He’s paired off with Deidara to work on the odd-numbered floors. They work from the top downwards. On the ninth floor, Deidara is moody and silent. On the seventh floor, he breaks his silence to teach Itachi how to make the beds in the girls-only dorms, which – inexplicably – have a completely different kind of duvet and require extra sheets because of it.
“The white makes it look more virginal, un,” he says, tucking in the final sheet with practised ease. “Apparently. Something like that, anyway. Does anyone really care? It’s just an extra pain in the ass, un.” His tone doesn’t exactly encourage conversation and Itachi remains silent. Minutes pass in silence until Deidara huffs.
“Kabuto’s a dick, un,” he says. “He always puts me in a bad mood. Sorry, un.”
“What did he do?” It’s probably not a good idea to ask, but he’s curious.
“You’re from Fire, right?” Deidara asks. Itachi nods and Deidara rolls his eyes. “He is to. I’m from Earth, un. First thing he did was bring up the fucking war, un.”
Itachi winces. The war with Earth Country was brutal, bloody, and something his family prided themselves on being involved in. Itachi only really remembers it because it claimed the life of his cousin Obito, who had been – up to that point – his favourite relative and babysitter.
“It’s nothing to gloat about,” he says quietly. He picks up the dirty sheets from that room, bundling them into his arms while Deidara spritzes the place with a bright green spray that smells of…pleasantness. He can’t really describe it in any other way, nor can he tell what it’s supposed to smell of. Something vaguely fruity, he supposes.
Deidara glances at him and smiles thinly. “You lost someone.”
“So did you,” Itachi replies. It’s a guess, but the way Deidara’s eyes darken let him know he’s hit home. “So is that why he doesn’t stay in our room?”
“No, un, there’s more than one housekeeping dorm. There’s a girls’, a couple of mixed…oh, and there’s the dorms for the people who work in the bar downstairs, un.” He glanced at Itachi from the corner of his eye. “None of us like him, un, so it’s just as well. He keeps taking the piss out of Sasori, un. He shouldn’t.”
Itachi thinks back to that morning and the sight of Sasori putting on prosthetics and can only agree. Besides, Deidara seems like the kind of person who would have an explosive temper, and he wouldn’t want to see Kakuzu provoked either. Something about the guy just creeps Itachi out.
They finish the seventh floor without drama and make their way down to the fifth. They only have six beds on that floor, so Itachi is optimistic. They’re almost done.
Then they open the door to five-oh-one and he gags. He knows, now, what trench foot smells like. He can’t say that it’s something he’s ever wanted to know, but the universe has gifted him with the knowledge regardless of his personal opinion. The air is filled with the stench of wet, rotten feet. Opening the door to it is like walking into a wall. Next to him, Deidara coughs.
“Fuck me,” he gasps out.
The bright green spray materialises in Deidara’s hand and he immediately starts squirting it. Everywhere. It dissipates the smell just enough for Itachi to be able to breath and he enters slowly, breathing through his mouth and pretending that he can’t actually taste it.
The stench belongs to a man passed out on a lower bunk. He’s still fully clothed and his body is twisted awkwardly. If it wasn’t for the occasional phlegm-filled snore, Itachi would have thought he was dead. Deidara looks at him, at Itachi, and at the spray in his hand. Then he comes to a decision and twists the top off the bottle, splashing the man liberally with the oddly scented liquid. The man doesn’t stir.
“What is that stuff?” Itachi asks as Deidara screws the top back on.
“Green spray,” Deidara says, shrugging slightly. Apparently he doesn’t have any knowledge beyond that. “Your new best friend, un.”
…
Their dorm is filled with chatter when they return after their shift. Deidara grins at Itachi as he passes him to enter first, and he bounds inside to sit next to Sasori on the red-head’s bunk. Hidan is sprawled out on his bed, using Kakuzu as some sort of mattress. Kakuzu’s fingers kneaded at the skin of Hidan’s lower back. It looked slightly painful, but Hidan didn’t seem to mind.
“Trench foot,” Itachi announces and heads to his bed and his shower things. He foresees a great deal of showers in his future if this continues. He’s sweaty and uncomfortable again.
“It was gross, un,” Deidara confirms. “We had to pour green spray on the guy before we could breathe, un.” He laughs suddenly, bright and cheery and at complete odds to his mood all morning. Itachi turns to stare at him in disbelief only to realise that Deidara is breathtaking when he laughs. He’s also not the only one who’s noticed it – Sasori has as well, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.
“Itachi’s been broken in, un,” Deidara says, explaining the laughter. His eyes are sparkling with mirth and there’s a light flush developing on Sasori’s cheeks.
Itachi grins.
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: T - NC-17
Pairings: established Kakuzu/Hidan, future Kisame/Itachi and Sasori/Deidara
Genre: Humour
Warnings: AU, yaoi, swearing, details of the hospitality industry, and probably OOCness.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Backpacking through Cloud, Itachi runs out of money and runs out of luck. He ends up working for accommodation in a hostel, surrounded by crazy people and flagging hygiene standards. Good lord.
Itachi snaps awake. A sound like mechanical crows screaming fills the room and his bed rocks as Kisame shifts and rolls over beneath him. From the other side of the room there’s a rustling noise and incomprehensible muttering. The noise shuts off. Itachi peeks over the rail of his bed to see Sasori sit up in his bunk. He can only see the other boy’s shadow in what little light filters into the room under the door, but he’s easily recognisable with his short, messy hair and his legs missing below the knee.
Wait, what?
Itachi can’t help but stare as Sasori picks his lower legs up off the floor and reattaches them to the stumps where his legs had been. He lies down again when Sasori starts to stand. He doesn’t want to be caught staring like some sort of idiot. He hadn’t realised that Sasori was, well, was an amputee.
He listens as clothing rustles and the door clicks before sitting up again. Sasori is gone. He checks his phone. It’s quarter to six in the morning. The part of his brain that isn’t still boggling over the fact that Sasori has no legs cringes in horror at the thought of being awake so early in the morning. He flops back in bed and covers his eyes with his forearm. Maybe he hallucinated the leg thing. He’s never been good with mornings, especially after being jolted awake and Sasori’s evil demon crows had certainly been a shock.
He feels Kisame shift again, groaning softly as he does so, and he realises that he’s smiling. It’ll be nice to have consistent roommates for a while. Waking up to a room full of strangers every day grew tiring after a while.
…
Itachi barely notices the free breakfast. He can’t really taste any of it, and he thinks that might be a good thing judging from the expression on Deidara’s face as he chews his toast. The other boy looks like he’s torn between throwing up and starvation, which results in a desperate sort of grimace revealing itself between bites.
None of them speak, save for a boy with silver hair pulled into a ponytail, glasses, and a Fire Country accent that Itachi takes a second to recognise. He’s been away for so long that he’s half forgotten what the people at home sound like. “You’re an Uchiha, aren’t you?” is his conversation starter. “I’m Yakushi Kabuto. Nice to meet you.”
“Itachi,” he mutters after a while, neither confirming nor denying the guess at his family name. He likes being away from home and completely anonymous. He likes not being the Uchiha heir.
Kisame sits down opposite them, holding a tiny mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal. He stifles a yawn and, relieved of his burden, runs his fingers through his dark, blue-grey hair making it spike up more than usual. He mutters something that might have been a ‘good morning’. Itachi murmurs a reply and averts his gaze. Kisame looks far, far too attractive for someone still half asleep.
“Look at you three,” Kabuto says – he’s horribly, horribly awake and Itachi wishes he would just shut up – “you’re all so sleepy. What would Sasori say?”
Deidara glares at him. Itachi’s surprised by the amount of hatred that he manages to put into it. He knows that morning people are annoying, but disliking them that much was a bit unreasonable. Then again, he can see himself becoming hostile if Kabuto ever brings up his connection to the Uchiha again.
“’Sori wouldn’t give a shit,” Kisame mumbles. He downs half of his coffee in one gulp and then eyes the remains of it. “These mugs are too small.”
…
He’s paired off with Deidara to work on the odd-numbered floors. They work from the top downwards. On the ninth floor, Deidara is moody and silent. On the seventh floor, he breaks his silence to teach Itachi how to make the beds in the girls-only dorms, which – inexplicably – have a completely different kind of duvet and require extra sheets because of it.
“The white makes it look more virginal, un,” he says, tucking in the final sheet with practised ease. “Apparently. Something like that, anyway. Does anyone really care? It’s just an extra pain in the ass, un.” His tone doesn’t exactly encourage conversation and Itachi remains silent. Minutes pass in silence until Deidara huffs.
“Kabuto’s a dick, un,” he says. “He always puts me in a bad mood. Sorry, un.”
“What did he do?” It’s probably not a good idea to ask, but he’s curious.
“You’re from Fire, right?” Deidara asks. Itachi nods and Deidara rolls his eyes. “He is to. I’m from Earth, un. First thing he did was bring up the fucking war, un.”
Itachi winces. The war with Earth Country was brutal, bloody, and something his family prided themselves on being involved in. Itachi only really remembers it because it claimed the life of his cousin Obito, who had been – up to that point – his favourite relative and babysitter.
“It’s nothing to gloat about,” he says quietly. He picks up the dirty sheets from that room, bundling them into his arms while Deidara spritzes the place with a bright green spray that smells of…pleasantness. He can’t really describe it in any other way, nor can he tell what it’s supposed to smell of. Something vaguely fruity, he supposes.
Deidara glances at him and smiles thinly. “You lost someone.”
“So did you,” Itachi replies. It’s a guess, but the way Deidara’s eyes darken let him know he’s hit home. “So is that why he doesn’t stay in our room?”
“No, un, there’s more than one housekeeping dorm. There’s a girls’, a couple of mixed…oh, and there’s the dorms for the people who work in the bar downstairs, un.” He glanced at Itachi from the corner of his eye. “None of us like him, un, so it’s just as well. He keeps taking the piss out of Sasori, un. He shouldn’t.”
Itachi thinks back to that morning and the sight of Sasori putting on prosthetics and can only agree. Besides, Deidara seems like the kind of person who would have an explosive temper, and he wouldn’t want to see Kakuzu provoked either. Something about the guy just creeps Itachi out.
They finish the seventh floor without drama and make their way down to the fifth. They only have six beds on that floor, so Itachi is optimistic. They’re almost done.
Then they open the door to five-oh-one and he gags. He knows, now, what trench foot smells like. He can’t say that it’s something he’s ever wanted to know, but the universe has gifted him with the knowledge regardless of his personal opinion. The air is filled with the stench of wet, rotten feet. Opening the door to it is like walking into a wall. Next to him, Deidara coughs.
“Fuck me,” he gasps out.
The bright green spray materialises in Deidara’s hand and he immediately starts squirting it. Everywhere. It dissipates the smell just enough for Itachi to be able to breath and he enters slowly, breathing through his mouth and pretending that he can’t actually taste it.
The stench belongs to a man passed out on a lower bunk. He’s still fully clothed and his body is twisted awkwardly. If it wasn’t for the occasional phlegm-filled snore, Itachi would have thought he was dead. Deidara looks at him, at Itachi, and at the spray in his hand. Then he comes to a decision and twists the top off the bottle, splashing the man liberally with the oddly scented liquid. The man doesn’t stir.
“What is that stuff?” Itachi asks as Deidara screws the top back on.
“Green spray,” Deidara says, shrugging slightly. Apparently he doesn’t have any knowledge beyond that. “Your new best friend, un.”
…
Their dorm is filled with chatter when they return after their shift. Deidara grins at Itachi as he passes him to enter first, and he bounds inside to sit next to Sasori on the red-head’s bunk. Hidan is sprawled out on his bed, using Kakuzu as some sort of mattress. Kakuzu’s fingers kneaded at the skin of Hidan’s lower back. It looked slightly painful, but Hidan didn’t seem to mind.
“Trench foot,” Itachi announces and heads to his bed and his shower things. He foresees a great deal of showers in his future if this continues. He’s sweaty and uncomfortable again.
“It was gross, un,” Deidara confirms. “We had to pour green spray on the guy before we could breathe, un.” He laughs suddenly, bright and cheery and at complete odds to his mood all morning. Itachi turns to stare at him in disbelief only to realise that Deidara is breathtaking when he laughs. He’s also not the only one who’s noticed it – Sasori has as well, and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.
“Itachi’s been broken in, un,” Deidara says, explaining the laughter. His eyes are sparkling with mirth and there’s a light flush developing on Sasori’s cheeks.
Itachi grins.