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Fic - 1117 - 4/?
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.
Sasori is sitting on the stairs outside of their dorm when they return from their shift. There’re only two of them, raising the room only by a couple of feet, but they’re a good spot to perch and eat. Sasori’s not eating, though; he’s cradling a mobile phone to his ear and looking faintly irritated with whoever’s on the other end.
He snags Deidara’s pants as they pass. “Don’t shut the door,” he says, before switching to a different – completely unrecognisable – dialect with more consonants than can possibly be necessary.
“Sure, un.”
It's strange to hear one of the others speaking their native dialect. They usually speak in Fire dialect since that’s the one most commonly used throughout the continent, and even though Itachi knows that he is the only one in the room who’s actually from Fire, it’s still a strange thing to actually hear it.
“What’s with that face?” Kisame asks him.
“I was just wondering where everyone was from,” he says. “I knew that Deidara was from Earth, but…”
“Water,” Kisame says. “Sasori’s from Wind. Kakuzu’s from Waterfall, and I keep forgetting where Hidan’s from. Some tiny place no one’s ever heard of.”
“Yuugakure, you dick,” Hidan says. He’s sat leaning against his bed, painting his toenails green – it’s a shocking contrast against the pallor of his skin. “It’s in Steam.”
Itachi casts his mind back to geography lessons at school. Steam’s an independent state rather unfortunately located between Wind and Earth, with a rocky and extremely volatile landscape – the geothermal energies that spill over from Earth’s endless volcanoes have made it famous for its hotsprings but very little else. It had been something of a footnote in his textbook.
“My point exactly,” Kisame says, and it strikes Itachi that he’s probably the only person who does read the footnotes in textbooks.
Hidan flips him off before starting in on another nail. The smell of the varnish is thick and tickles the back of Itachi’s throat. He’s glad Sasori insisted on leaving the door open – the air conditioning in the room is broken and the heat combined with the nail varnish and the atmosphere of the room in general isn’t brilliant. As usual, he feels disgusting, but there’s not much point in showering today. He’s not going to waste his time when he’ll just end up sweaty and gross just from being in his own room. It’s not like he’s going to go anywhere today.
He sits on the floor with his legs folded under him and watches Hidan. He shifts slightly as Kisame settles next to him, and shoots the other boy a smile. Deidara has settled himself on the edge of Sasori’s bed and taken his hair down from its ponytail. He brushes his hair out with infinite care and patience – there’s so much of it.
Outside the door, Sasori’s voice raises and then drops suddenly though Itachi can still hear him muttering. He sounds angry. Part of Itachi wants to know what he’s saying, because Sasori’s usually so stoic that he could put Itachi’s father to shame.
“Na, Itachi? What made you come travelling?”
It’s Deidara who asks. He’s still occupied with his hair, but his brilliant blue eyes peer out at him from under his long bangs.
The question makes Itachi’s stomach flip. As much as he gets on with everyone here, there are things he isn’t sure they should know. “I just wanted to get out of Konoha,” he says. “It’s like everyone there thinks it’s the centre of the universe. I was sick of it.” He couldn’t have stayed even if he’d wanted to, not with his relationship with his family the way it was. “Why did you?”
“I couldn’t get a job, un,” Deidara finishes brushing his hair and separates it into three sections. He starts to weave it into a braid as he speaks. “No one would hire me, so I left, un.”
“I just left because Yuugakure’s a hick town no one’s ever fucking heard of.”
“Surprise,” Kisame mutters. Hidan flips him off again. Kisame grins, flashing sharp white teeth. Itachi was surprised the first time he saw them, and even now he’s curious as to how they ended up like that, but he’s used to it. He also doesn’t want to offend Kisame in any way. Besides, pointy teeth suit him somehow.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I came here for a kenjutsu tournament,” Kisame says. “I liked it, so I applied for a visa and came back. It’s pretty easy, when you’re from Water.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re neutral, un,” Deidara says. “I got one for Cloud because they’re allied with Earth, but if I’d tried for Fire? No way, un. Or for any of their, uh, their…” he says something in what Itachi can only assume is his native tongue. It’s a lot more flowing than Fire dialect and the Wind one that Sasori is using to snarl at someone in. It sounds like it would echo well in mountains. “You know, un, the other countries. Like Waterfall.”
“Oh,” Itachi says. “Territories.”
“Those, un. I couldn’t get in if I tried. Wind would be tricky too, un, but not impossible.”
He glances towards the door and the direction of Sasori’s voice.
Itachi hides a smirk and resolutely doesn’t comment on their mutual crushing. From the corner of his eye, he sees Hidan do the same. “I doubt I’d get into Earth,” he says instead.
Deidara bares his teeth on what might be either a smile or a grimace. “I doubt you’d want to, un.”
“I can go anywhere,” Hidan says. He caps his nail varnish and stretches his legs out, flexing his toes. His skin on his feet is so pale and thin that Itachi can see his veins clearly and, if he looks a bit closer, his tendons shifting as he moves. “Neutrality fucking rocks. ‘Kuzu would have problems with Earth too, mind. Being from a territory.”
Itachi knows that Waterfall wants independence. It’s become something of a political bugbear over the last few years, but the truth of the matter is that their economy relies almost entirely on Fire’s, and that their new laws have to be reviewed by the central government in Konoha before they can be passed.
He can remember his father’s indignation every time it was brought up in the newspapers. He would scoff and slap the paper down on the table and preach about ungrateful foreigners until Itachi’s mother would soothe his temper with ‘yes dear’s and a refill of his tea or more grilled mackerel. Uchiha Fugaku is very firmly of the opinion that Waterfall would completely collapse without Fire’s rule. Uchiha Fugaku has opinions on a lot of things but Itachi learned long ago that that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s right.
“Where is Kakuzu, anyway?” Kisame asks.
“Job interview. Some shit like maternity cover in an office.” Hidan stretches his arms above his head. His T-Shirt rides up revealing chalky skin marred by a hickey – complete with teeth marks – on one hip. “And since we’re not going anywhere for a while…”
“You’re just going to stay here?” Itachi asks. He can’t think of anything more abhorrent than living in this hostel for an extended period of time. While he likes the company, the place itself is…barely habitable. The snob in him can’t stand the showers that turn off every three seconds and that don’t have adjustable temperatures – it’s a lottery whether you end up blistered or with hypothermia every time you wash your hair – or the lack of privacy, or the special circle of hell that is the kitchen.
“We’ve already travelled round Cloud. We’re saving for visas and transport to Water.” He flashes Kisame a grin. “Neither of us really want to go home yet, so why the fuck not?”
Sasori chooses that moment to stalk into the room. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of nail varnish and dried sweat and leaves the door open. His phone is tossed unceremoniously onto his bed and he sits next to Deidara. “Fuck going home,” he says, obviously having caught some of their conversation. “I’m emigrating. Somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t Suna.”
“Even Iwa?” Deidara teases, though Itachi suspects that a part of him is serious. Although there doesn’t seem to be any love lost between Deidara and his country, Itachi supposes they’re a little alike in that regard – that no matter how much they hate their homes, they’re still home.
Sasori reddens. His blush clashes with his hair. “Why not?” he murmurs and bites his lip as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Kisame mutters something coarse and low and guttural and even though Itachi doesn’t understand it, it sends shivers down his spine. He glances over at the other boy – Kisame is running his fingers through his hair and looks like he’s just caught on to the sexual tension running between Sasori and Deidara. It’s about time, Itachi thinks, they’re only as subtle as a punch in the face.
Kisame catches his eye and raises an eyebrow, as if to ask if he’d noticed this before. Itachi laughs at him quietly but can’t quite stop himself from blushing at the intensity of Kisame’s expression.
Hidan snorts. “Subtle,” he mutters.
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.
Sasori is sitting on the stairs outside of their dorm when they return from their shift. There’re only two of them, raising the room only by a couple of feet, but they’re a good spot to perch and eat. Sasori’s not eating, though; he’s cradling a mobile phone to his ear and looking faintly irritated with whoever’s on the other end.
He snags Deidara’s pants as they pass. “Don’t shut the door,” he says, before switching to a different – completely unrecognisable – dialect with more consonants than can possibly be necessary.
“Sure, un.”
It's strange to hear one of the others speaking their native dialect. They usually speak in Fire dialect since that’s the one most commonly used throughout the continent, and even though Itachi knows that he is the only one in the room who’s actually from Fire, it’s still a strange thing to actually hear it.
“What’s with that face?” Kisame asks him.
“I was just wondering where everyone was from,” he says. “I knew that Deidara was from Earth, but…”
“Water,” Kisame says. “Sasori’s from Wind. Kakuzu’s from Waterfall, and I keep forgetting where Hidan’s from. Some tiny place no one’s ever heard of.”
“Yuugakure, you dick,” Hidan says. He’s sat leaning against his bed, painting his toenails green – it’s a shocking contrast against the pallor of his skin. “It’s in Steam.”
Itachi casts his mind back to geography lessons at school. Steam’s an independent state rather unfortunately located between Wind and Earth, with a rocky and extremely volatile landscape – the geothermal energies that spill over from Earth’s endless volcanoes have made it famous for its hotsprings but very little else. It had been something of a footnote in his textbook.
“My point exactly,” Kisame says, and it strikes Itachi that he’s probably the only person who does read the footnotes in textbooks.
Hidan flips him off before starting in on another nail. The smell of the varnish is thick and tickles the back of Itachi’s throat. He’s glad Sasori insisted on leaving the door open – the air conditioning in the room is broken and the heat combined with the nail varnish and the atmosphere of the room in general isn’t brilliant. As usual, he feels disgusting, but there’s not much point in showering today. He’s not going to waste his time when he’ll just end up sweaty and gross just from being in his own room. It’s not like he’s going to go anywhere today.
He sits on the floor with his legs folded under him and watches Hidan. He shifts slightly as Kisame settles next to him, and shoots the other boy a smile. Deidara has settled himself on the edge of Sasori’s bed and taken his hair down from its ponytail. He brushes his hair out with infinite care and patience – there’s so much of it.
Outside the door, Sasori’s voice raises and then drops suddenly though Itachi can still hear him muttering. He sounds angry. Part of Itachi wants to know what he’s saying, because Sasori’s usually so stoic that he could put Itachi’s father to shame.
“Na, Itachi? What made you come travelling?”
It’s Deidara who asks. He’s still occupied with his hair, but his brilliant blue eyes peer out at him from under his long bangs.
The question makes Itachi’s stomach flip. As much as he gets on with everyone here, there are things he isn’t sure they should know. “I just wanted to get out of Konoha,” he says. “It’s like everyone there thinks it’s the centre of the universe. I was sick of it.” He couldn’t have stayed even if he’d wanted to, not with his relationship with his family the way it was. “Why did you?”
“I couldn’t get a job, un,” Deidara finishes brushing his hair and separates it into three sections. He starts to weave it into a braid as he speaks. “No one would hire me, so I left, un.”
“I just left because Yuugakure’s a hick town no one’s ever fucking heard of.”
“Surprise,” Kisame mutters. Hidan flips him off again. Kisame grins, flashing sharp white teeth. Itachi was surprised the first time he saw them, and even now he’s curious as to how they ended up like that, but he’s used to it. He also doesn’t want to offend Kisame in any way. Besides, pointy teeth suit him somehow.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I came here for a kenjutsu tournament,” Kisame says. “I liked it, so I applied for a visa and came back. It’s pretty easy, when you’re from Water.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re neutral, un,” Deidara says. “I got one for Cloud because they’re allied with Earth, but if I’d tried for Fire? No way, un. Or for any of their, uh, their…” he says something in what Itachi can only assume is his native tongue. It’s a lot more flowing than Fire dialect and the Wind one that Sasori is using to snarl at someone in. It sounds like it would echo well in mountains. “You know, un, the other countries. Like Waterfall.”
“Oh,” Itachi says. “Territories.”
“Those, un. I couldn’t get in if I tried. Wind would be tricky too, un, but not impossible.”
He glances towards the door and the direction of Sasori’s voice.
Itachi hides a smirk and resolutely doesn’t comment on their mutual crushing. From the corner of his eye, he sees Hidan do the same. “I doubt I’d get into Earth,” he says instead.
Deidara bares his teeth on what might be either a smile or a grimace. “I doubt you’d want to, un.”
“I can go anywhere,” Hidan says. He caps his nail varnish and stretches his legs out, flexing his toes. His skin on his feet is so pale and thin that Itachi can see his veins clearly and, if he looks a bit closer, his tendons shifting as he moves. “Neutrality fucking rocks. ‘Kuzu would have problems with Earth too, mind. Being from a territory.”
Itachi knows that Waterfall wants independence. It’s become something of a political bugbear over the last few years, but the truth of the matter is that their economy relies almost entirely on Fire’s, and that their new laws have to be reviewed by the central government in Konoha before they can be passed.
He can remember his father’s indignation every time it was brought up in the newspapers. He would scoff and slap the paper down on the table and preach about ungrateful foreigners until Itachi’s mother would soothe his temper with ‘yes dear’s and a refill of his tea or more grilled mackerel. Uchiha Fugaku is very firmly of the opinion that Waterfall would completely collapse without Fire’s rule. Uchiha Fugaku has opinions on a lot of things but Itachi learned long ago that that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s right.
“Where is Kakuzu, anyway?” Kisame asks.
“Job interview. Some shit like maternity cover in an office.” Hidan stretches his arms above his head. His T-Shirt rides up revealing chalky skin marred by a hickey – complete with teeth marks – on one hip. “And since we’re not going anywhere for a while…”
“You’re just going to stay here?” Itachi asks. He can’t think of anything more abhorrent than living in this hostel for an extended period of time. While he likes the company, the place itself is…barely habitable. The snob in him can’t stand the showers that turn off every three seconds and that don’t have adjustable temperatures – it’s a lottery whether you end up blistered or with hypothermia every time you wash your hair – or the lack of privacy, or the special circle of hell that is the kitchen.
“We’ve already travelled round Cloud. We’re saving for visas and transport to Water.” He flashes Kisame a grin. “Neither of us really want to go home yet, so why the fuck not?”
Sasori chooses that moment to stalk into the room. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of nail varnish and dried sweat and leaves the door open. His phone is tossed unceremoniously onto his bed and he sits next to Deidara. “Fuck going home,” he says, obviously having caught some of their conversation. “I’m emigrating. Somewhere. Anywhere that isn’t Suna.”
“Even Iwa?” Deidara teases, though Itachi suspects that a part of him is serious. Although there doesn’t seem to be any love lost between Deidara and his country, Itachi supposes they’re a little alike in that regard – that no matter how much they hate their homes, they’re still home.
Sasori reddens. His blush clashes with his hair. “Why not?” he murmurs and bites his lip as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Kisame mutters something coarse and low and guttural and even though Itachi doesn’t understand it, it sends shivers down his spine. He glances over at the other boy – Kisame is running his fingers through his hair and looks like he’s just caught on to the sexual tension running between Sasori and Deidara. It’s about time, Itachi thinks, they’re only as subtle as a punch in the face.
Kisame catches his eye and raises an eyebrow, as if to ask if he’d noticed this before. Itachi laughs at him quietly but can’t quite stop himself from blushing at the intensity of Kisame’s expression.
Hidan snorts. “Subtle,” he mutters.