#tw naruto

itachi doesn’t look up from the documents in his hands, but nods. he hears shisui drape his uniform jacket over the back of his desk chair across the room before lowering himself into it with a tired groan.

“good work today,” shisui speaks again as itachi’s pen scribbes a note onto the corner of a report form. “you ought to head home soon. you’ve been here almost 15 hours.”

“i only have a bit more to finish,” itachi replies. he wants to get this report done so that when he’s due back at the station in a mere 7 hours he can get started on the rest of the mountain of paperwork he has waiting for him. it seems never ending.

“you should take a break once and a while, it would do you good.”

itachi pauses, his pen mid stroke in the middle of a word.

he looks up.

“shisui-san,” itachi says, and his senior meets his eyes from across the room. “we’re not supposed to get romantically involved with victims.”

he’s not sure how he expects the older man to respond, but the easy grin he shoots him from across the room is surely not the reaction he anticipated.

“figures,” shisui says with a light laugh, “the minute i saw your desk light was on i knew you spotted us.”

“you weren’t being particularly covert.”

that’s not necessarily true—itachi is probably the only one who did, or could, notice.

“relax,” shisui says with a carefree wave of his hand. “she’s hardly a victim anyway. she just happened to witness the robbery.” 

“she works at the establishment that was robbed.”

“establishment?” there’s a bit of mirth in the elders tone. “you can call it a host club, itachi-kun. it’s not a bad word.”

it doesn’t feel like a particularly civilized word either, considering the kind of business conducted there.

“she asks about you, you know,” shisui goes on to say, and that startles itachi. the older man must recognize the surprise in his face because he conceals a laugh under his fist. “you must have made quite an impression on her that night.”

itachi had been the one to interview you at the scene of the crime. had wrapped a jacket around your shoulders because the night air was cold and all you wore was a slinky black outfit that provided too much exposure to your skin. he remembers how you trembled a little, clutching at the sides of the coat as you held it around your frame. remembers how the streetlights caught in the shine of your glossy lips as you recounted what you’d witnessed in the club that evening, all while he took detailed notes down in his notepad. 

he doesn’t know how long shisui has been seeing you. or what seeing you even entails—whether business, or pleasure, or in your case something between the two. itachi’s mind wanders for a moment.

shisui laughs again from the other side of the room, and there’s something frustratingly knowing in the sound.