Hello! This is just a little something I wrote a while back, I decided that now would be as good a time as any to post it. Hope you enjoy it, it's my first finished fanfiction (no, wait! Please don't hit the back button!). Criticisms welcomed, flames not so much, but at least they're good for roasting marshmallows. Now I just need to get some marshmallows...

Summary: Even if Naruto had met Itachi when they were younger, before their long list of tragedies, nothing much would have changed. Just their feelings. One-shot, Ita/Naru.

Warnings: Some slight self-harm (not graphic) and shonen-ai.

Disclaimer: If you ever see Sasuke and Sakura committing a joint suicide while Itachi tries to seduce Naruto with promises of ramen, then you can assume Kishimoto has given me the rights to Naruto. Haha, yeah, I wish.

The first time Naruto had seen him was when he was only four- it had been a brief glimpse of someone clad in the faded gray of a chunin vest and the obligatory black pants chasing off the drunks that had been beating him. Naruto had passed out before he could see the face of his savior for the night, although the man…? No, he had been too short and the proportions were too slim and delicate for a full-grown adult, so a boy then, had haunted his dreams ever since then.

Those dreams were by far the worst he had ever had, even worse than the recollections of past insults and humiliations from the villagers that unfurled darkly whenever he closed his eyelids. It was terrible because the dreams always had someone whispering to him comfortingly, holding him the way he had never been held, the way he had seen a mother hold her son or a an older brother pick up his younger sister before they noticed him watching and cursed him until he fled.

The ache it caused started in his chest and expanded for an entire body length, turning Naruto into a trembling huddle of hurt and desires he could not allow himself to have if he wanted any measure of happiness.

The worst part was not the dreams but waking up after, discovering he was still all alone in the apartment he lived in but did not truly call home. Many years later, Naruto remembered laying in his small bed and pretending that maybe it wasn't all a dream and that he could still feel the warmth of stealthy fingers brushing against his cheek or pulling up the blankets to cover him.

And when he was particularly drowsy and too tired to tell himself to stop imagining these fake affectionate actions since they only brought more pain, he let himself believe that the soft touch of a pair of lips he had felt against his forehead was real, and not an imaginary goodnight kiss.

Naruto didn't see him for three years after that, but in between those two chance meetings he would receive clothes, new blankets, sometimes he'd come home to find his refrigerator fully stocked or his cabinets stuffed with instant ramen. Every time he saw one of these new additions to his room, closet, or kitchen he felt like crying tears of gratitude and relief.

Instead he smiled, knowing instinctively that whoever it was could see him and liked seeing him smile. He instinctively knew this the same way he knew that his hidden benefactor was male and the same person from that night.

The meeting that took place after three years could not really be called a meeting; it was more like what had happened the first time Naruto had laid eyes on the man. In that respect it was almost the same, as laying his eyes on him was as far as Naruto got, but at least this time he learned something about him.

Some drunken (why did it always have to be drunks?), angry villagers were beating on his door, demanding entry into what they called "the monster's lair." Naruto decided not to answer their insistent knocks.

He awaited them, armed with a kitchen knife and crouched behind an overturned chair, and shaking at the thought of what would happen to him if the door gave way. By the intensity of their shouts and the rage that carried it to such volume and past experience, he hazarded a guess that it would be nothing pleasant.

Then the next moment- a heavy silence, terse words spoken in a forced whisper, muttered apologetic noises, killer intent, and the sound of running going, miraculously, in the direction of the exit.

Against better judgment, Naruto ran to the door and flung it open. A bone-white fake face met his anxious gaze. An anbu.

Naruto was about to ask him if it had been him who kept him alive when he noticed the eyes behind the slits in the mask; the three petals of a black flower against the backdrop of a red moon.

Then his own eyes drooped closed and he saw a blackness that was mercifully without dreams come towards him and cradle him.

He woke the next morning in his own bed from the sunlight streaming in through the open window. Red and black eyes, Naruto mused. He had listened to the gossipers talk about them while hiding on rooftops, but even if he hadn't he would have known, as everyone in his village of Konoha knew, that red and black eyes meant an Uchiha.

A few days later, the Uchiha clan was dead. Massacred. Naruto spent the week after that inconsolable and crying, stopping only when the Third Hokage stopped by his apartment to take him out for ramen.

Ramen had been one of the foods his Uchiha had brought him most often. Naruto wondered if it had been the man's favorite, and ate from his bowl reverently.

The final time the man appeared to him nameless was right after Mizuki betrayed Konoha and broke one of its strictest laws: he told Naruto about the Kyubbi.

After Mizuki had been taken away and Iruka had taken him out to dinner (ramen, of course), Naruto strolled home with a bounce in his step. He was a genin!

The elation that came with the weight of a Leaf head protector on his forehead dissipated when he heard the growls and angered murmurs of civilians and ninja alike as they saw him and what was tied around his head.

Someone screamed incoherently, but Naruto understood what they meant all the same. The meaning was rather obvious as the screaming was followed by a rock sailing out above the heads of those around the demon vessel and striking him squarely on the shoulder. It triggered a barrage of trash, rocks and whatever else was handy from those people that were on all sides, surrounding him. Naruto ducked his head and took off in a sprint to his apartment, dodging what he could and clenching his teeth for what he couldn't.

Naruto had always had better hearing than most of his classmates and even some adults. He used to be proud of that, but now he was forced to reconsider as it seemed that no matter how fast his legs carried him, he still could not escape the hateful words spewing out from what seemed to be every single person's mouth.

"Ugh, that thing a ninja!"

"Kill it slowly, I want to-"

"He's a monster, this can't be allowed! Don't we have rules against this?"

Naruto said nothing in response. He wiped the few rebellious tears from his eyes and picked up the pace.

"He makes me sick…"

"Monstrosity!"

"Don't cry, I'll protect you from it…"

"Hand me that knife over there, won't you? I just found a better use for it…"

Naruto's eyes widened and he ran faster than he could ever remember running.

When he made it to his apartment, the first thing he did was slump to the floor and try to reclaim his breath while trying not to think of the villagers' reactions or the nine-tails. Then he tried to stop the water pouring out of his eyes, and when that failed he tried to convince himself that the roof was leaking again, despite the fact that it hadn't rained in well over a month.

When he could finally stand without wheezing, he walked to the bathroom while not thinking of murderous villagers and demonic foxes. He started to undress, while not thinking about villagers and a certain fox, so he could shower and get ready for bed, where his dreams would not turn into nightmares about civilians attacking him or a fox attacking said civilians because he wasn't going to think about either of those things. Nope, not at all.

Naruto stood in front on the mirror sans shirt and stared blankly at the spiral tattoo adorning his stomach. Was this it? The reason that so many despised him and blamed him, this small ink mark less than a foot wide?

He traced it with shaking fingers, the spiral, the kanji circling it. Yes. This was it, and the nine-tailed fox the tattoo imprisoned.

Naruto scowled and, without realizing what he was doing, pushed his fingers against the mark harder and harder until his nails broke the skin. He hated it, why should so many people despise him for something that was clearly not his fault, for something he hadn't even known about until today? Naruto dragged his nails straight down the man-made blemish on his stomach, creating eight perfectly straight lines intersecting with every curl of the spiral. He scratched at it again, and again, and then a desperate need to be rid of the stain overtook him.

He clawed at it without heed to the blood that ran in rivulets from the wounds, caught up in the need for it to disappear, the need to not be different from everyone else just because of this stain, because maybe this would work and maybe he could get rid of it and maybe he knew this was pointless and a few scars couldn't cover it and couldn't hide it, but dammit he wanted to do something to make it stop and if this was all that he could do then it was all he could do and, and-

It stopped. The quest for the removal of the taint on his stomach halted immediately when someone else's pale hands encircled his own and held them in check. The demon container hadn't uttered a single noise when he had tried to violently remove the evidence of demonic possession, but now he made a surprised squeak and was about to turn and look at the man holding him when he noticed a scarlet tendril of chakra he was sure did not belong to him come out of his carved stomach and begin mending his wounds.

It was then Naruto began to scream and scream until he blacked out.

When he came to he was lying in his own bed with someone hovering below his line of vision, tenderly and carefully bandaging what was left of his wound.

Naruto shifted to see better, and red and black eyes met his. Naruto's gaze intensified as he tried to remember every detail about the man. The ebony hair, the pale skin, aristocratic features, and of course the eyes, they all fit together to create a man with a rare, godlike beauty that was both confident and quiet, if confidence could indeed be described as quiet. Naruto blushed as he thought this and panicked when the man stood up as if to leave.

Naruto's hand shot out to grasp the strange cloak his companion wore, black cloth and red clouds sewn onto it. "Wait." His voice came out hoarse and unsure, but his plea was obeyed regardless.

The man, his Uchiha, widened his eyes in surprise at the request, or perhaps because this was the first time they had spoken to one another. Then his impassive face softened just enough to allow a smile, and his Uchiha leaned over and removed the injured boy's headband and replaced it with his lips. Then he was gone.

The first time Naruto learned his Uchiha's full name and used it was a couple of months later in a run-down, seedy hotel.

He had opened the door to his hotel room when someone knocked, as was polite, but evidently not the best way to succeed in self-preservation.

The man he had come to know as his sometime protector stood there with another man; one with gills, a decidedly blue tinge to his skin, and an unhealthy joy in the severance of peoples' limbs.

His Uchiha called him Kisame, but he was unimportant. What was important was the fact that Sasuke had showed up out of nowhere and began calling the raven-haired man Itachi. Itachi… Naruto rolled that name around in his mind and on his tongue for as long as he was able, stopping abruptly when Sasuke claimed his right to revenge against Itachi for the slaughter of his clan. Oh god. That couldn't be right.

But apparently god wasn't listening that day, at least not to Naruto; since Itachi made no move to deny Sasuke's accusation and instead went on to harm what was left of his flesh and blood. The man that had so sweetly kissed Naruto's forehead broke his brother's wrist without a single change in facial expression, the man who had delivered necessities to Naruto and had essentially been his deliverance mentally tortured his best friend and made the usually proud, stoic boy scream and beg for it to stop, just stop it!

The very man that had saved him was now working for an organization that wanted to kill him.

Naruto's mind was trying to put together what was happening, but it felt like pieces were missing or that he was being given pieces from more than one puzzle for the sadistic amusement of whatever entity monitored these kinds of events.

It was after Jiraiya forced the two Akatsuki members to retreat that Naruto finally wrapped his mind around the issue. Itachi might have been kind to him in the past, kinder than anyone had ever been and would probably ever be, but he was a missing-nin who had killed his entire family, excluding his younger brother.

That still didn't explain why Kisame's partner turned around to look back once while they were fleeing the hotel, unlike the fishman himself who stared straight ahead at the path to their destination. But once was enough for the blonde.

Naruto met him for a few brief times in the years he was traveling with Jiraiya, but it was always in company and always in battle. The sannin's apprentice mourned the loss of his protector while he admired his skill and grace, always calm and without a single superfluous movement. Itachi (he still loved saying that name every chance he could) was perfection personified.

For one reason or another, Itachi always ordered a retreat before the capture was complete.

When Itachi's group captured the one-tailed jinchurriki, the Kazekage of Suna who was also one of Naruto's closest friends: Gaara; the nine-tailed jinchurriki reluctantly realized a truth he wished he didn't have to know about.

Itachi and Naruto's relationship was almost exactly like Naruto and Sasuke's. Only he wasn't trying to bring Itachi back with him to Konoha.

Itachi was his enemy, and Naruto knew the sooner he accepted that, the less it would hurt.

Despite knowing this, understanding this, needing to do this to be more effective against the Akatsuki, it still was painful.

This time, there would be no mysterious hero to come at the last minute to save the day and stop Naruto from hurting.

The first and last time Naruto got to really speak with Itachi, without interfering company or a battle to fight, was during a search for Sasuke. The blonde could have demanded answers about Itachi's kind gestures in the past, but Naruto had come to accept that it no longer mattered.

Itachi must have guessed Naruto's thoughts, because he offered no explanations, just questions about Naruto's bond with Sasuke.

Naruto kept a straight face the entire time (okay, so maybe he had shown a little anger, but Itachi was way too blunt about some things) and felt perversely pleased that he could follow the shinobi rule about emotions (one of the rules he tended to ignore) when the occasion called for it. And this occasion certainly called for it. He couldn't afford to show any weakness in front of this man. Not anymore.

So when Itachi appeared before him with no warning, he managed to keep his eyes from widening too much and his mouth from going completely slack with surprise.

When Itachi removed Naruto's headband, the Konoha nin tried to keep his expression blank and the confusion out of his eyes, waiting to see what this Uchiha would do.

When Itachi placed his lips against spot his headband had occupied just a moment ago, Naruto completely forgot about the shinobi rule that advised against emotions (it was a stupid rule, anyhow) and gasped.

His gasp was swallowed as Itachi pulled him flush against him and moved his lips from the jinchurikki's forehead to his mouth, silken lips caressing, hot tongue moving against his own, temptation frothing over and taking control, urging Naruto to reach up and pull off Itachi's hair band and rise to meet Itachi on tip-toe.

The curtain of Itachi's sleek, raven-dark hair surrounded him like a barricade and he felt irrationally safe inside it. Itachi pulled back, eliciting an unintentional mewl of protest from Naruto, and then settled one more chaste kiss on Naruto's swollen lips.

Then he was gone. Again.

There were kisses used to say Hello, some used in the morning to greet the day, some used as a distraction, some to earn money, some to say I love you.

Up until now, Itachi's kisses had been used to tell Naruto, Goodnight. I'll protect you.

That last one had been different though. Naruto struggled not to cry afterward.

The kiss was a goodbye.