A/N: Written for Daydreamer79, for the Itachi Uchiha Club's Swap at Y!Gallery. This is part I of IV.

WARNINGS: BLIND!ITACHI,YAOI, INCEST, AND WILL CONTAIN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE BETWEEN THREE PEOPLE (THREESOME). DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ!

Pairings: Sasuke/Itachi, Itachi/Naruto, Sasuke/Naruto, Sasuke/Itachi/Naruto.

Disclaimer: Naruto and co. belong to Kishimoto Masashi.

The title means 'The Voice of Fate'.

Un-beta'd for the time being.

DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW ;)

EDIT: I have corrected the title of this fic. Fate/Destiny is Unmei in romanji, and not Unme. Thank you to loveandallthat for pointing it out to me.

Unmei no Koe

Part I

Being born without something considered essential to many human beings was, more often than not, considered a disability. However, if said 'disability' is everything one has ever known, something they have always lived with, rationally it can hardly be considered as such.

In his thirty years of existence, Uchiha Itachi had been blind as far he could remember. Even if he knew that it wasn't considered normal to not be able to see, he had good ears and an outstanding natural perception of the world around him. It wasn't like he was handicapped, like he knew others out there to be.

The train station was rowdy and noisy as usual, but it wasn't something that upset the tall, elegant blind man as he waited for the train that would take him to work.

"And I'm telling you, that damned kid was trying to get the best out of me!" A loud, rather obnoxious but energetic voice echoed through the walls around him. "Me! She was, like, five! Can you believe it? The shit I'm being put through, seriously."

Itachi's head turned to the side pugnaciously towards the direction from which the voice came. Even though his ears were extremely sensitive to certain sounds and noises that most people wouldn't bother to notice, throughout the years he had effectively learned how to tune out unimportant chatters in public places so he could focus his senses in other important details that were crucial for his ordinary routine of walking around the city by himself. More than people's words, he focused on the noises that filled the streets, like the wheels of vehicles on the road, the sound of shoes on the ground and the rustling of the wind as it hit gently the buildings and possible obstacles in his way.

The doctors had always said that his senses were something out of the ordinary, and Itachi knew that, had it not been because of them, he would probably not be able to move about and go about his life as independently and easily as he did. Of course, he was lucky that he wasn't completely invisual, or so it was said to him. He had a good perception of light and dark, which allowed him to also distinguish night from day. Also, he had a vague perception of solid contours, but it wasn't good enough for him to correctly identify objects without touching them unless the lines were sharp, like a table or something with a similar consistency.

Even though his perception was very accurate, he still had to use a cane to guide his way because, no matter how well he knew the city, it was wise – and polite – of him to have something to help him without bumping into people and missing unexpected obstacles in front of his face and feet.

Itachi didn't know how to live differently. Sometimes people he knew asked him if he didn't feel curious about what it was like to see the world like a normal person, if he didn't feel frustrated, and he would tell them that he couldn't feel frustrated about something he didn't know. He didn't know what it meant to see because, as far as he knew, he saw things just fine in his own way and didn't feel bad about himself since he felt perfectly normal and autonomous. He had always been this way, and had always managed to take care of himself without needing help from others – at least in most things.

Being an exceptionally intelligent man, Itachi had never once questioned himself or his confidence as a blind man. He had always been at the top of his classes in school and in college and was now an accomplished writer. People said that he was attractive, too, so even if he didn't acknowledge it with arrogance, it was certainly something else to provide a boost of self-esteem for him. He never once felt sorry for himself, and the confident way he acted didn't leave room for others to feel nothing but admiration for him.

Being a calm, composed man who was more than used to the environment surrounding him, seldom did something or someone catch his full attention.

However, that voice sure did, and Itachi had no idea what the person's tone held in it, but it was one of the most enticing voices that he had ever heard.

Like a rush of adrenaline, his brain was violently assaulted by phrases, words and feelings he instantly grew fascinated with, luring him into the urgent, pugent need to write.

"I mean, can't parents teach their kids properly?" the person kept on saying, unnecessarily loud, followed by someone's laughter. "Honestly, it's a five start restaurant!"

"Dude, I would so get the fuck out of there," another male voice added, amused. "I hate those kind of jobs, seriously, I have no patience to deal with shit like that."

"It pays the bills, Kiba, considering the number of hours I work."

The arrival of his train was announced through the polite voice of a young woman, but the words were lost in Itachi's ears. As the transportation approached, the chatter between the two boys was muffled by the noise of engines and the screeching sound of wheels as they came to a halt.

Itachi felt himself rooted to the spot, his blind eyes searching desperately for the person whose voice he seemed to have lost amidst the crowd, even though he knew he would not be able to see him. Where had it gone to? Where was it? Where was him?

A distinct tingle of panic filled his gut as the voice got lost while people boarded the train hurriedly, passing by him. Still, he couldn't move.

He would give anything to hear that voice again, just for one second, but he had missed it, he had lost it, and now he would never hear it again.

For the first time in his thirty years of life, Itachi regretted not being able to see like any other person, because if he did, he would've known how the person looked like and he would most definitely try to find him.

What was it about that person's voice? It sounded so lively, so…nice. It struck his soul like a well composed symphony, caressing his intellect like a soft, silky imaginary sheet.

The distinct sound of doors slamming closed awakened him from his daze rather abruptly, and the next thing he knew, he could hear the train leaving without him inside it.

Had Itachi been one to swear, he would've let out the most grotesque words existing in that twisted, unfair world.

oOo

I Drove All Night from Cyndi Lauper could be heard throughout the small, contemporary apartment coming from the stereo in the living room. Itachi hummed the tune vaguely, barely aware that he was doing it as his fingers worked at carefully chopping a carrot over a wooden board in the kitchen. The song was a welcomed distraction from his weird thoughts about the voice he had heard on the train station that morning, but even though he had somehow managed to tune it out of his brain during the day, he was now being assaulted by all kinds of internal – and rather stupid – conflicts about his feeling towards said voice. His eyebrows were knitted together in light frustration, and he not-really looked down to the spot where he supposed the carrot was.

He didn't know what the hell was so special about that person's voice other than it had transmitted a certain energy that was unbearably contagious. It had been the voice of someone who, obviously, held the soul of bright, positive person. Not many people sounded like that, so carefree and so horribly happy about nothing in particular, as if that man – younger than Itachi, he was sure – had a whole new, more vibrant perspective on life than most ordinary human beings.

Itachi found himself wondering many times in a short period if that person looked as vibrant as his voice sounded. Now that he thought about it, the voice could definitely be considered annoying, and people – Itachi included – didn't usually appreciate such loud displays of vocal eccentricity in the first place.

Still that voice...something about it had made him want to lose himself in his own mind and delve into hundreds of philosophical theories about it. His brain had been so violently stuck by unending adjectives and sentences it had been impossible for him to stay still and allow them to torture him. As soon as he had arrived to his workplace, he had sat on his desk near the window, grabbed his large notebook and started to write to expiate the monster that had invaded the very core of his being in the form of an exuberant voice.

Even though Itachi rarely lacked in imagination, it had been a while since he had been so thoroughly violated by raw inspiration.

He had descanted for hours about the faceless stranger, mindless of the frantic movements of his fingers as he wrote them down on paper, for once not really caring if he was writing words over other words.

There was no logical explanation for it, only that lingering after feeling of simultaneous loss and longing that seemed to have come to stay.

For the first time ever, he wished he had been able to see the guy, because now there was no way he would ever know if their paths would ever cross unless he was talking. Or laughing. Hell, Itachi could hear that stupid, resonating laughter even now and it was driving him crazy.

For years and years, his muses had been insignificant and more than many. He had moved from one fixation to the other rather frequently, his intellectual hunger devouring information like some kind of cultural deviant.

Of course, like every writer, Itachi himself was cursed – or blessed, depending on the perspective – with one substantial muse that always took his inspiration to a whole other level whenever he needed it the most. Not that he should count, Itachi always thought, ever with a bit of shame and regret. He wished he wasn't fueled so often by him, but after all, hehad been the one to inspire his first best sellers.

In a way, it felt good that he had something so consistent in his life when so many other of his interests could change as fast as the speed of light. Only it wasn't exactly right to begin with.

Hopefully, his new found fixation would also dissipate soon enough, unlike his permanent one.

Stop thinking about it! Itachi scolded himself, setting the knife down and carrying the chopped carrots in his shell-shaped, joined hands to the pot on the stove. There was already olive oil in the bottom, along with other various vegetables sprinkled with salt.

At that same moment, he heard the faint sound of keys entering the locker of his main door and opening it.

Speaking of the devil…

"Itachi! Are you home?"

Itachi sighed in irritation at himself for his own mixed feelings of happiness and annoyance at the person's arrival.

"I'm in the kitchen," he called out lazily, easily finding the buttons and turning on the stove. He opened the drawer to his right and searched for a wooden spoon, and once he felt the texture around his fingers, he took it out and started stirring the contents inside the pan. Something was heavily dropped on the ground in the other division, followed but huffing and shuffling, and soon enough, firm steps approached the kitchen.

"Hey," Sasuke, his younger brother said tonelessly upon entering.

"Welcome back," Itachi mumbled, not bothering to turn around to acknowledge him "How was work?"

"I fucking hate Paris." Sasuke said immediately, coming to stand beside him, his tone cold and unsatisfied.

"You're probably the only person in the world who does," Itachi commented, smirking lightly to himself. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"Yeah, sure," Sasuke said easily, and Itachi felt him moving to lean against the counter. "Do you need something? Any help with anything?"

Even if the younger one was asking, he was already fumbling with his pockets and taking something out, a pack of cigarettes, by the sound of it. Confirming Itachi's prediction, the click of a lighter made itself present as the scent of tobacco filled the air beside the sweetened smell of food.

Itachi's head turned to the side and he fixed his unseeing eyes on where he believed his brother to be, not exactly at the level of his own eyes, since Sasuke was only a bit shorter, but a little lower. "Yes, I need you to remove your luggage from my living room."

Sasuke made an unpleased sound with the back of his throat because he was, obviously, taking a drag in the cigarette.

"I haven't had the time to go home, I came straight here after leaving the airport," he said nonchalantly, as he expelled the smoke. "I came to check up on you, and this is how you treat me?"

Letting out a small chuckle, Itachi used his free hand to pat Sasuke's arm condescendingly. "You are always such a good babysitter, little brother."

"Fuck you," Sasuke snarled.

From the feel of it, there was already some sauce starting to form at the bottom of the pan, which meant it was time to add the meat pieces of meat he had already prepared. He always cooked more than enough for two of three meals, even if Sasuke didn't come to have dinner with him – it was useful for him to have food ready if he someday came home without feeling like cooking.

Sasuke moved, crushing the cigarette on the ashtray not too far from the stove just as Itachi was feeling around the counter for the bowl of raw meat. Not even two seconds went by when firm arms wrapped around his waist from behind and lips were pressed to the right side of his neck. As if injected with adrenaline, Itachi felt his heart start beating a lot faster than usual as surge of longing, completion and simultaneous anger washed over him.

"Sasuke," he said in a warning tone, his fists clenching over the stony surface of the counter.

"Just shut up, Itachi," Sasuke said, his tone firm and cold in Itachi's ears, unparalleled with the gentle brush of his hands over his stomach and chest. "You can't stop me from missing you."

The older one gritted his teeth as his body itched all over with the overwhelming urge to respond to the affection.

Itachi prided himself for being a calm, collected man who always knew what action to take and what reaction to have at the right place and time. There were few things that managed to break his unshakable balance, but whenever his little brother was around, his resolve was thoroughly put to the test.

"If you found yourself a nice girlfriend, I'm sure things would be different," Itachi replied, willing Sasuke's hands away inside his head, but not really having the physical strength to just push him away. After all, Sasuke had been away for a whole month, and of course, it was impossible not to miss the only constant in his life – the only constant in his heart, so far.

Sasuke planted a small kiss in the back of his ear; the contact was soothing, simple but inviting. His younger brother lacked many qualities and subtleties as far as courting and seducing went, but Itachi knew that Sasuke's personal appeal was strong enough to cover for any of his flaws.

"I already told you that I don't want a fucking girlfriend."

Itachi cleared his throat, his intellect somehow displeased with the foul language.

Sasuke was a thickheaded and arrogant sort of person who always spoke his mind independently of the person he was facing. He never backed down, never gave up on getting what he wanted, and that kind of stubbornness attracted people to him like magnets. That strong determination of his was something that Itachi admired greatly. However, it was another thing when said determination was directed to him.

"A boyfriend, then," he pressed on, his tone even, dispassionate.

"I don't like anyone else," Sasuke grumbled, offering a careful bite to the curve of his neck as his fingers wrapped around the fabric of his sweater, his body pressing itself to Itachi's back, the action sending all sorts of oh so very wrong signals all the way down his body and into his cock. "You're so stubborn, Itachi."

Itachi let out a small, dry chuckle to cover the frustrated moan that threatened to escape his throat.

"Not as stubborn as you, it seems."

"I hate you."

In a way, Itachi knew he was the one to blame for Sasuke's behavior. Itachi had always wanted a little brother, someone who could depend on him, someone he could take care of, so when Sasuke was born, he had done his best to be a big brother he could be proud of, even as blind person. They had always been close, something their parents felt immensely relieved about. Probably moved by Itachi's feelings of protectiveness, Sasuke had always looked up to him, and never once did he belittle him as a human being. Things were great, absolutely perfect until that stupid day when they had kissed.

Sasuke had been thirteen and Itachi eighteen. They still lived in their parents' house back then, and somehow, in the middle of an awkward conversation about sex – because his little brother had been mortified of even thinking about asking something like that to their father – Sasuke had leaned over and kissed him; out of sheer curiosity, Itachi was sure, but the truth was, curiosity had quickly escalated into a hormonal rampage on both their parts and an insignificant peck had turned into a full make out session.

At the time, Itachi hadn't known what had possessed him to feel such an instant need for Sasuke, so he had simply followed his instincts and just gave in to Sasuke's own enthusiasm. Needless to say, that afterwards, bliss turned into shock, horror and disgust at himself, as he realized that he had all sorts of feelings – wrong, unnatural feelings – for his baby brother. However, while Itachi had forced himself into creating a wall between them, refusing to acknowledge what had happened and not wanting to profane his younger brother's innocence, the truth was, Sasuke had confessed his own, twisted feelings to him, but Itachi hadn't taken him seriously. How could he, when Sasuke had been a child, just barely a teenager with all sorts of questions and desires and stupid ideals about sex and love and the whole world in general?

It sounded like a wonderful not-love story, and had Sasuke been older and not his brother, Itachi wouldn't have said 'no' because, no matter how many girlfriends he had had until then, no-one had made him feel so much like the spoiled brat did. Besides, the younger Uchiha would most certainly grow out of his crush in no time.

Sasuke resented that ideology, because he had remained certain of his feeling to this very day.

Shortly after the incident, Itachi had written his first novel based on what had happened to them, instead replacing himself and his brother for a boy and a girl who were stepbrothers. The success had been immediate.

That had been twelve years previously, and after all that time, Sasuke's brain seemed to have frozen and glued itself to that one day when that terrible mistake had happened.

Nothing had changed for Itachi, either, it seemed, and it maddened him beyond explanation.

They had even stopped addressing each other as siblings altogether, only calling each other by their first names.

Of course, they both had had lovers, but neither seemed to be able to stay in a relationship for long. Itachi knew he valued work above romance, and he considered that Sasuke was just being stubborn into believing that he would, someday, give in.

Sasuke was his muse, and throughout the years, that stupid, stupid messed up love had been the perfect fuel for him.

Itachi didn't believe in God, but he was sure that the world would eventually turn against him if he dared to give in. Truth be told, he thought about that one kiss a lot, and he had almost cracked a few times, but his resolve was strong.

There was nothing he would love more than to see his little brother happy and freed from the imaginary binding he assumed Itachi had put on him. Sasuke was perfectly able to find himself a suitable, stable partner, be it a man or a women; he should do it and move on.

"The luggage, Sasuke."

Sasuke instantly released him with an angry hiss, the warmth of his body abandoning Itachi and leaving him unexpectedly cold but considerably more relieved.

"You never take me seriously!" Sasuke grunted, picking up something from the counter – the bowl of meat – and taking a few steps towards the stove.

The meat was unceremoniously thrown into the pot. Sasuke settled the bowl down brusquely as Itachi turned his head towards him. "That's because you are still too much of a child," he muttered, frowning in exasperation. "You always act so impulsively and just do whatever you please."

"If I did whatever I pleased, you certainly wouldn't be standing there with your clothes still on," Sasuke snapped, stirring the contents in the pot angrily, wood hitting metal loudly. "You have no right to talk to me about my attitude, Itachi, because I've been insanely nice to you in spite of your stupid..."

"Please," Itachi begged, pinching the bridge of his nose, with his index and thumb. "You have just arrived, and I did miss you, so let's not argue for once and just..."

"Whatever." Sasuke groaned, irritably. "Whatever you say, whatever you want. I'm sleeping over, just so you know."

Another sigh escaped his lips and Itachi ran a hand through his loose long hair – sometimes, it was best if he didn't argue with Sasuke at all, because it wouldn't lead them nowhere; never had, never would, even if the other thought otherwise. There was no future for them, no prospects of simplicity and brightness, therefore, no happiness. Something so devastatingly wrong could never feel right. That was what he believed.

"Suit yourself."

oOo

Even though most writers worked from home, Itachi personally didn't like mixing up his job with his personal life, so he had rented a small office in the center of the city. For him, that sort of discipline was very important.

His best friend and editor, Hoshigaki Kisame, often helped him with work, but he was a busy man, so usually, it was Sasuke who often played the part of his personal assistant whenever he wasn't busy with his own work. Sasuke ran his errands, sent his e-mails for him, copied the drafts Itachi wrote on his notebook to the laptop, and sometimes, Itachi dictated his plot and Sasuke typed it for him.

Although Sasuke knew Itachi could take perfect care of himself, he was always making sure he took care of him in his own way, basically doing everything he could so Itachi didn't have to overwork himself. While Itachi appreciated it and found it endearing, Sasuke's life was all about his own work and about Itachi, and that tore at the older one's heart, even if Sasuke just wanted the best for him. It had been that way for years, and he knew Sasuke's competence couldn't be matched, but he wanted his precious person to be able to live his life and not worry so much about him.

That's why, for the first time in twelve years of being a best-selling author, he decided to find himself a personal assistant.

After contacting Kisame about it, his friend had efficiently taken care of everything, and on the next day, he already had a solid list of candidates ready to be interviewed by Itachi himself.

"My choices were based on the energy they transmitted and on their writing skills," Kisame had informed Itachi in his brute but proficient way. "Only two of them actually graduated in something related to literature and such, but everyone seemed eager to work hard. There's six candidates, so hopefully one of them suits your tastes."

In that same afternoon, Itachi and Kisame held the interviews in the office.

There were four women and two men. Two of the women already had enough experience on similar jobs and seemed very professional. However, one of them knew nothing of his work, and the other said she didn't exactly like his books. While Itachi didn't condemn it, he seriously thought that it would be better if he could work with someone who understood what he was about. Then, there was another girl who sounded very shy and was applying for her first job. She wanted to become a writer and was a fan of him, so she wanted to be able to assist him and, if possible, to be guided by him. Itachi thought she was adorable and she sounded vexingly humble, which might be a good thing for the time being. However, she lacked the kind of personality he was looking for.

And then, the first of the two male candidates entered. Kisame opened the door to the corridor and called out the name 'Uzumaki Naruto'.

The strangest feeling invaded Itachi's stomach as the person entered the office. His steps were firm but casual, relaxed, and at once, the invisible heaviness that filled the room seemed to be sucked in, lightened by the aura of that single human being.

It was inexplicable, and probably only someone with such a sensible perception as Itachi could feel it.

Kisame closed the door as the man came closer, and Itachi, who was already standing up from having said his goodbyes to the previous candidate, stood still, listening as the steps came closer and came to halt in front of his desk.

"Uchiha-sensei," the man said, and by the sound of it, he was smiling. "It's an honor to meet you."

Itachi's muscles tensed reflexively as his eyes stared ahead, in the direction from which the voice came from.

For a brief moment, he was caught off guard as an abrupt sense of recognition struck him. The tone used had been one of politeness, definitely a lot different from the loud, obnoxious one he recalled from a few days previously, but there was no mistaking it – it was the same voice he had come across on the train station, the one that had haunted and inspired him until then.

A wave of warmth filled Itachi's stomach as his heart skipped a few beats. Even though he didn't believe in fate, he had to admit to himself that some things – coincidences – sometimes couldn't be explained by a logical mind alone.

He quickly regained his composure, allowing a small smile to grace his lips.

"Uzumaki-san," he said, with equal politeness, offering his hand cordially – which the young man shook with vigor – before gesturing towards the chair he knew to be in front of his large desk. "Please, do have a seat."

"Yes, thank you!" the man exclaimed with obvious satisfaction. The sound of rustling clothes could be heard, followed by the clumsy screech of a chair being dragged backwards. "And thank you for this opportunity."

"Not at all," Itachi replied, a bit overwhelmed by the electric energy emanating from the restless person in front of him, sitting down as well as the chair screeched once more, an indication that the man was adjusting himself in his seat. "Now, Uzumaki-san…"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I ask you a question?"

Itachi's eyebrows rose, and he heard Kisame move to stand behind his chair, an imposing figure who was probably already looking down at the candidate.

"Go ahead." Itachi encouraged.

"Are you blind?"

In his ears, Itachi could hear Kisame's muscles stiffening.

"I'm sorry, Itachi, he wasn't this blunt when I first interviewed him," the man said, through gritted teeth. "Maybe it was a bad idea to have selected him after all."

"Heh? I didn't mean to be rude!" Naruto said apologetically with urgency. "It's just…I mean, you have these really intense eyes, so I didn't really notice it at first, but…I mean, I didn't mean anything offensive in asking, I was just really surprised…"

Itachi raised one hand, effectively silencing Naruto's highly amusing burst of explanations. "It is perfectly alright, I'm not offended," he leaned back into his chair and smiled a bit, staring straight into the spot where he was sure Naruto was. "I am, indeed, blind, but it's not an important issue for me, so hopefully, it won't be an issue for you?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Naruto exclaimed. "I'm a really big fan of your work, so that only brings my admiration to a whole new level."

Itachi's smile grew at the man's raw honesty. Was he for real? The person whose voice had chased after him like some decadent nightmare also happened to be a fan of him. Of course, this could also be a strategy for him to win points, but still, there was something about the timbre he was using that was very genuine. It was intoxicating.

"So, Uzumaki-san, tell me a little about yourself."

Naruto shifted in his seat.

"Well, I am 24 years old," He began, his carefree words coming out easily. "Right now I'm working at a five star restaurant not too far from here. I finished high school, but recently I've been thinking about going to college, only I can't really afford it at the moment since I live by myself; that's why I need a second job."

"It is quite impressive that you are willing to work that hard," Itachi commented softly. "Also, very ambitious. It's not easy, having two jobs."

"I've done it before," Naruto stated simply. "I just slacked off a bit because the money I make at the restaurant is enough to pay my bills. It's just not enough to cover for the college fees."

"I see," said the Uchiha, with a light nod. "Why did this particular job offer appeal you?"

Naruto seemed thoughtful for a while.

"Well, being someone's assistant sounds easy," he said honestly. "I like to help people and be useful, so I thought it might suit me. Also, I was really excited when Hoshigaki-san told me to write something. I mean, when I was in high school, my teachers always told me my grammar was good, but, you know, even though I do like to read and write, I don't really think I have the imagination to write professionally, so I kind of think that it would be awesome if I could be the hand behind someone else's genius. Now that I know about you, this job offer makes a lot more sense."

Naruto let out a loud, slightly nervous laugh that caused Kisame to snort.

"Are you excited about this position?" Itachi asked, curiously.

"Yeah," Naruto confirmed, and Itachi perceived the exuberant nod coming from him. "I mean, I've read all your books! They are novels but not really like any other novels out there. I really love how you aren't afraid to bring up uncommon topics and stuff. I have an autographed copy of "Reaching Through" that a friend of mine got for me for my birthday. I was really happy."

There was something about Naruto's voice that overflowed with transparency, his feelings reaching out to stroke Itachi's very core and providing the strangest feeling of accomplishment he had ever felt.

The person who he had been obsessing over, over the few days was a lot plainer than he had ever imagined, but at the same time, something about him, his straightforwardness and his conviction was very different from everybody else he knew.

Naruto reminded him of Sasuke, even though he could tell they were as different from each other as day was from night, and maybe that was what had awakened his interest in him in the first place.

All of a sudden, he was possessed by the urge to reach out and touch Naruto's face – he wanted to see what he was like – but quickly controlled himself.

"Well, I am happy that you seem to have a good grasp of what I do," Itachi replied in approval, trying to will the pang of his intellectual craving towards that person away. He had to be rational, he couldn't just hire Naruto out of the blue, and he might as well be an incompetent, no matter how much his very existence inspired Itachi. "What I need right now is someone who can help me, mainly with work. I am highly self-sufficient, but I do need someone to bring shape to my ideas and the words I scribble down. You will need to send e-mails for me, run errands for me and so on. I expect my assistant to be highly professional, punctual and, most of all, decent. If you try to plagiarize my work, I will bring you down in the worst possible way."

"Your style is very unique, I doubt anyone could try to plagiarize it and get away with it," Naruto said between chuckles. "But I appreciate the polite threat."

Itachi couldn't help the smirk that formed in his lips.

"What is your availability?"

"Say the word and I'll be there."

He really liked Naruto's promptitude and determination, even if he was the most inexperienced person he would interview that day.

"You really liked this one, I can tell." Kisame observed smugly, once Naruto had left.

Itachi didn't waste time denying it, but while a part of him was screaming for him to just hire Naruto, another, more rational part of him told him that he should be impartial and interview the rest of the candidates, just to make sure he wasn't making a huge mistake. He was always professional, and he would remain so, even if Naruto's reappearance in his life had been the highlight of his week.

"Just send the next one in."

oOo

It was already nightfall when Itachi finished his last interview. In the end, even if he had tried to push Naruto to a corner inside his head and force himself to be impartial, none of the candidates had transmitted that same energy, and none seemed to connect with him as much as Naruto had. Also, none of them had been so heartbreakingly honest in their will to work with him, and Itachi had been forced to believe that Naruto would, indeed, do his best as his assistant.

As it was, he had picked Naruto for his assistant and asked Kisame to call the young man to give him the news and tell him to show up at work the following day at nine in the morning.

Even though some deep, devious part of him felt immensely happy about the prospect of having Naruto work for him, another part told him that he was being selfish. Then, there was yet another part that felt unavoidably guilty in Sasuke's behalf. Sasuke was his muse, and so was Naruto, and even if in a different context, it felt to Itachi like he was betraying Sasuke by denying his presence and allowing his other muse to be so close to him.

Because, as a muse, Sasuke was like his intellectual lover inside the holy sanctuary that he had claimed in Itachi's mind.

Moved by these disturbing thoughts of guilt, Itachi was compelled to go to Sasuke's place, and he was thankful that Kisame had offered to drive him there since he felt exhausted.

Just like Sasuke had a copy of his house keys, he also held in his possession a copy of Sasuke's apartment keys.

As soon as he got inside, he recognized the tune of The Waterboys, The Big Music song playing, coming from the living room. He closed the door behind him and shoved the keys inside the pocket of his jacket before removing it and hanging it in the coat hanger on the wall to his right. He took off his shoes and, with his toes, felt the floor in search of available slippers for him to wear. As soon as he found the familiar pair, he put them on and climbed the single step out of the genkan. The routine embed into his brain, he turned to the left, walked three steps and then turned to the right, entering the living room.

The weight of Sasuke's stare sent a shiver down his spine, and yet, Itachi didn't falter as he took four and half steps to the front before twisting his body to the right, bending over a bit and feeling the air around him, his hands connecting with the arm of the large sofa. He moved them to the seat and felt something that he was sure was Sasuke's ankle, so he pushed it aside before sitting down.

The song changed; The Whole of the Moon was now playing, but neither said anything. Sasuke's gaze felt angry and hurt, and when he broke the silence between them, his voice was cold.

"I don't understand you at all," he said furiously. "You want to push me away that badly?"

"I don't want to push you away," Itachi contradicted, looking in Sasuke's direction. "I just think it's time for you to understand that you can't waste your time with me, now that you have your own goals and your career. You don't have to take care of me. You should live your life; you deserve it."

"When did I ever complain about helping you?" Sasuke bellowed, heatedly. "When did I ever say that I wanted to live differently?"

"You didn't, but I can't allow you to let yourself be dragged by me; by my career," Itachi reached out and put his hand on the same ankle he had pushed out of his way. "Try to understand. I'm not going anywhere, Sasuke. I just think you should…release yourself from me; from this life you have accustomed yourself to and devote your existence to you, to your personal growth. You have to see things clearly and get it through your head that you can't take care of your career and mine. Soon you will become famous and you won't have time, and…"

"You can't make those choices for me," Sasuke hissed, moving his ankle away from the touch. "You have no right to tell me what I should and should not do, and you certainly have no right to tell me how to live my life."

"Sasuke…" Itachi hissed back, his patience starting to wear thin.

"You just want me to hate you," Sasuke mumbled, in a whisper. "But it's not going to happen, no matter what you do."

"I would die if you ever hated me," the older Uchiha muttered, truthfully. "I just..."

"Save it."

Itachi sighed, feeling immensely tired all of a sudden.

"I just wanted to check up on you," he ended up saying, tonelessly, getting up and staring into the space he couldn't see. "I have already chosen an assistant, you can drop by the office any time you want to meet him."

Sasuke didn't answer, and Itachi didn't press the issue any further. Things might change between them from now on, but Sasuke wouldn't just walk away from him because the bond they shared was far too strong. Still, maybe, just maybe, Sasuke could finally find it within himself to move on. The thought was painful, even if it was hard for Itachi to acknowledge it. After all, they had been there for each other since forever, and now Sasuke's place in that part of his life would be taken by some bewitching stranger. They would both move on in their own way, so it would all be fine. Things would be fine, sooner or later.

"Good night, Sasuke." Itachi said, offering a small, way too formal bow in his brother's direction before making his way out of the apartment.

oOo

Naruto's energy was palpable from the very moment he walked into the office the next morning. A natural hard worker, he was always ready to learn more and to improve himself, which was something Itachi appreciated, especially because he was an extremely fast learner. His humbleness led him to always tell Itachi if he wasn't understanding something or if a task was unknown to him. If there was a word he didn't know how to write, Itachi would spell it for him and he wouldn't forget about it ever again. He was very fast and efficient as far as running errands went. The thing Itachi liked the most about him was his constant good-mood; his presence was refreshing, he was a good conversationalist – his mind was very open and there were no boundaries to the topics they discussed – and he always knew the right thing to say or do when Itachi's mood started to sour, or when stress started to accumulate. Even if Naruto was very different from Sasuke's quiet and pro-active demeanor, Itachi was actually kind of thankful for having someone who managed to turn his mind from unwanted worries or bad thoughts.

He could almost say that he and Naruto had become friends, because they got along immensely well. As a fan, Naruto often fan-boyed about Itachi's texts, and they would spend hours ranting to each other about plots and issues spoken about in his books, which was highly invigorating because Naruto understood him, understood his train of thought like no else before. Well, Sasuke understood him, too, but they didn't really talk about the contents of his texts because doing so would probably bring unwanted topics between them.

Naruto would sometimes bring lunch for the both of them, or call him on his mobile phone to ask if he needed something, even outside of his work hours. The young man still worked at the restaurant during the night, so it amazed Itachi at how absurdly energetic he always was.

Still, no matter how well they got along, Itachi had yet to know what Naruto looked like. Considering he was a blind man, surely Naruto would understand if he wanted to 'meet' him properly, but at the same time, asking such a thing of him felt...really weird. Also, Naruto inspired his most colorful phrases, and on a certain level, Itachi feared that something might change in him – in the absurd vision of pureness that was Naruto – if he felt how he looked.

Sasuke had yet to go to his office to meet Naruto – not that he wanted to – but they saw each other often and had dinner at each other's places frequently, as per usual. Even though his younger brother was still hurt to have been replaced by some loud stranger, just as Itachi had predicted, Sasuke cared too much to simply walk away, even if he did, indeed, devote more of his time to his work and social life, or so he thought.

Naruto inspired Itachi, who was now writing a new character for one of his books based on him. There were still some Sasuke elements in there, which was unavoidable, but Itachi was quickly falling in love with his new plot, where two of his greatest inspirations came together so nicely and consistently.

In an odd, respectable way, he was enamored with Naruto and had long since given up on believing that the young man was an obsession he would soon get rid of. People like him, just like Sasuke himself, weren't easy to forget.

He often wondered if Naruto realized his influence in his writing and if Sasuke had noticed the brighter, more cheerful tone to his phrases and issues. If either of them did, they kept silent, and Itachi was grateful for it, albeit curious of their thoughts.

"I'm always amazed at the way you can write down things on a paper and not overlap the words," Naruto complimented one afternoon, on the third month of them working together. "I mean, it's like you see imaginary lines, or something."

Itachi smirked, bringing a cup of coffee to his lips, "That's because I do."

He felt Naruto's head shoot upwards to look at him from across the desk, moving a bit to the side to see him over the laptop screen.

"But it's weird," the young man said thoughtfully. "You read in brail, but you write like a normal person."

"Well, I can't really explain it since it was my mother who taught me how to write even before I went to the primary school," Itachi said, smiling at the memory. "She would kind of direct the pencil in my hand and let me feel the characters that formed the Japanese calligraphy. But it was Sasuke who actually used the same method to teach me the alphabet so I could write in English. I mean, I knew how to speak, but I had no idea what the letters they used were like."

Naruto was silent for a while, his gaze fixed on Itachi so intense it was a little disconcerting.

"Sasuke…" he mumbled, curiously. "Your younger brother?"

Itachi smiled, setting the cup down.

"Yes," he nodded. "He was always very patient with me. My whole family was, actually. They never wanted me to feel inferior just because I was blind; they wanted to show me that I could be as brilliant as anyone else. I most certainly have no complaints about my upbringing."

Naruto sighed.

"You really are amazing," he huffed. "Seriously, I'm fascinated at how well you have adapted yourself to the normal life. Most people aren't as disciplined and meticulous as you are, not even being able to see."

"Some of it might just be a part of my personality," Itachi admitted, before sipping his coffee. "I like organization and perfection. I need it, of course, otherwise I probably wouldn't be able to be so nimble on my own as I am."

Naruto made a noise with the back of his throat.

"Itachi-san," he muttered, sounding terribly shy all of a sudden. "I have a confession to make."

Itachi's eyebrows rose, and he set down his mug with extreme care over the napkin that Naruto had placed on the glassy surface of the desk before him.

"This is kind of embarrassing, but I really respect you and your work, so don't think badly of me, okay?" the young man begged. "I saw you once on a train station. I mean, there is a picture of you in every one of your books, so I kind of recognized you at first glance. You know when you see someone famous and you become hysterical even though you want to look cool?"

Itachi cleared his throat, his features relaxing and becoming more serious.

"Sorry, that has never happened to me," he said.

"Right, of course not," Naruto replied as if scolding himself for not having thought about how obvious that was. "Anyway, l remember that I started talking really loudly after spotting you, and I had this stupid subconscious hope that you'd notice me and look my way. It's a stupid thing, like being in a concert and hoping that the singer will catch you eye." He snorted at himself. "Well, you did look at me, but you didn't see me."

He stopped talking for a while. Itachi was very still, and even though he did look calm, his body was tense with surprise and a light awkwardness. "When I saw you at the interview, I was really heartbroken," Naruto proceeded, clicking the laptop lid shut. "Because my dreams had been so thoroughly shattered. One of the people I admire looks at me but doesn't see me, and there I was, thinking we had looked at each other for a while. I'm not a stalker or anything, it's just…I don't know, it's really stupid."

Itachi swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

"You are telling me this because…?"

"I don't know," Naruto admitted, the hint of a smile gracing his voice. "I guess I just wanted you to know that we had met before or something. Not really met but…"

"Can I touch your face?" the question had left Itachi's mouth before he could stop it, so straightforward that he heard Naruto jump slightly in surprise.

There was a moment of tension and hesitation, the air thick between them, filled with anticipation.

The sound of Naruto releasing a relieved, yet shaky breath filled the silent room.

"Fuck, I thought you'd never ask!" he blurted out excitedly, causing Itachi's pulse to speed up a little in eagerness, his friend's words confusing him but not nearly enough to turn him away from the opportunity of seeing Naruto.

"Come closer, then," he instructed in a tone that was thankfully assertive and composed, getting up and gesturing for Naruto to imitate him. The chair in front of him screeched backwards, the massive presence of Naruto's corporeal form leaning over his desk a heavy, consistent reality palpable to Itachi's senses.

Both his hands reached out, slowly feeling the air around him so he could find the exact location of Naruto's head, but before he could do it on his own, fingers encircled is wrists and directed him.

Itachi's fingertips connected with something solid and soft, the sensation creating small jolts of electricity that ran up his arms, and only then did he realize that Naruto's face was right in front of him.

"Do whatever you want." Naruto whispered with encouraging gentleness, releasing his wrists, breath hitting Itachi's face lightly, alerting him the scent of coffee and something sweet. He could also smell peach scented shampoo and cologne, and it made his head feel unavoidably light.

Itachi exhaled and allowed his fingertips to feel the face beneath them, identifying defined cheekbones. The skin was soft there, so he moved his fingers downwards, to the cheeks, immediately finding three parallel salient lines in each of them like…whisker marks?

Scars? he wondered curiously, rubbing his thumbs over the lines, evaluating them. They felt like veins, but smoother, he supposed.

"Birth marks," Naruto answered softly, as if he had just read his thoughts. "They look like scars, but I was born with them. I hope they don't freak you out."

"They don't," Itachi muttered, trying to conceal his fascination. "I think they give you charisma."

Naruto chuckled. Itachi proceeded his exploration, fingers of the left hand moving down once more to touch the mouth – medium sized, lips full but symmetric, a little dry – while his right hand moved upwards, to Naruto's eye zone.

Naruto's eyelids fluttered shut, long eyelashes tickling the tips of his fingers. He had big eyes, Itachi noticed, a lot less narrowed than the average Japanese person, and the shape of them, along with the fine but thick eyebrows seemed to leave room for many emotions to show through.

Naruto licked his dry lips, the gesture causing his tongue to flicker over Itachi's thumb. The action took him by surprise, but Naruto didn't comment on it, so Itachi opted to pretend that he hadn't noticed.

"What do you think the color of my eyes is?" his assistant asked easily, casually even though he was still whispering.

"I don't know what a color is like," Itachi explained, moving both his hands to Naruto hair and feeling the soft, yet wild strands of it. It was cut not too short, and he had a rebel fringe that sometimes fell to his eyes, Itachi guessed. "I associate colors with…feelings, sensations, I suppose."

"So, what do you associate my eyes with?"

Naruto's hair felt good. It felt good to just brush his fingers easily through it like this.

"I'm not sure," he mused, trying to think. "Like…the wind? A soft breeze on a summer day, I suppose. Something bright, clear."

Naruto's cackle was almost seductive.

"And my hair?" he pressed on.

"The sun," he answered reflexively "Also something bright, warm…light."

"Very good," the praise sounded both teasing and impressed.

Itachi's hands finally moved down again to feel Naruto's jaw and chin.

The Kami help him, Naruto was good-looking, and the realization made him feel both overly enthusiastic and fatigued.

Only Sasuke had such good-looking lines in his face, so Naruto was, without a doubt, the second most handsome person he had ever 'seen' and it had excited him.

It just had to be his curse that his second muse had to be like this.

He was seriously beginning to think that he might be in serious trouble.

"You're a handsome person," he said plainly, dropping his hands and straightening his back, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"Thank you," Naruto said jovially, moving away as well. "I am, like, the complete opposite of you."

"What do you mean?" the Uchiha inquired, sitting back down and holding in the groan that threatened to leave him.

"You got it right that I have light colored hair and eyes," Naruto replied, slumping back into his own chair. "But you have the darkest eyes and hair I have ever seen."

The smile Itachi offered him was a bit forced.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Naruto mumbled, matter-of-factly. "Quite the contrary, you are probably the most attractive person I have ever met."

Not for the first time that day, the silence that stretched between them was awkward, but now, it was mostly on Itachi's part.

He knew nothing about Naruto's sexual preferences, but by their conversations and the way he always spoke so passionately of Itachi's gay themed novels had lead the writer to believe that Naruto might be, at least, bisexual; or maybe he was just a very, very open-minded straight man?

"Naruto," he said, carefully. "Are you hitting on me?"

Naruto didn't reply, but the secret, mischievous smirk he threw at him was so perceptible by Itachi's senses that he would've shivered from head to toe in the most undignified way if he wasn't as in control of his own body as he was.

Yes, fate was playing pranks on him, he was sure.

He was thoroughly screwed.

TBC