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Night falls without Itachi's notice or approval. The lights in the hokage's office flicker on with the momentary appearance of an ANBU guard, and Itachi stops having to squint at his paperwork. The rest of the tower grows dim. His chief assistant leaves at seven in the evening, followed by the rest of the staff. The cleaning crew does their work, and then the tower is silent.
If he concentrates, he can hear his ever-present shadows. Itachi pays them no mind, nor does he apologize for staying so late at the office. It's their job to guard him. If he weren't at the office, then they would be watching him at the hokage's home. It's not in their duties to be lax. Itachi once did guard duty for the former hokage, and now he sits in this chair, and men and women watch over him in turn.
Duty compels him to stay, but Itachi allows himself a few comforts. He removes his ceremonial robes, leaving on the standard outfit he wears underneath. There is no Uchiha crest in sight, unlike the outfits of his childhood. He prepares himself a cup of tea. He closes his eyes for a moment, two, three. There is a steady ache behind his eyes that he just as steadily ignores. Itachi intends to return to his work until he hears the familiar, fast-paced approach of his cousin. After a moment of deliberation, Itachi chooses Shisui's favorite tea and opens the window.
"You're still here?" Shisui asks, slipping in through the window. He is the only one Itachi welcomes to do so, though a few still continue to make the attempt. "I'll complain to Tsunade. Don't think I won't. You have a healing regimen that you're supposed to be following."
"I'm drinking her tea," Itachi says, mildly. "Would you like some, if it's that healthy?"
Shisui shudders. "No. It tastes like shit."
Itachi gives a quiet sound of assent. It is difficult to drink the tea, no matter how much it helps with his eyesight and the steadiness of his hands. For the rest, he sees Tsunade monthly. It's better than before, when he went every week, hiding his visits so as not to cause panic within the village. One day, he will only have to go every few months, and perhaps the day will come when he will be completely cured. Until then, Itachi does as he is told, and makes an attempt to not spend every moment of his days in the hokage's office.
Shisui dumps more sugar than ever necessary into his tea, swirling it around with a hint of chakra. The ANBU guards don't even twitch at it, long used to Itachi's oldest companion. Shisui glances back to say hello to each of them, no doubt partially to annoy them with the fact that he can even sense them at all, while Itachi simply sips his tea and rests his gaze against the curl of Shisui's hair. It gets like this on windy days, all messy and wild, not helped at all by the speed of Shisui's shunshins. It is Itachi's favorite look on him and it helps with the bitterness of the tea. Shisui, in any form, always helps.
"It went terribly, not that you asked," Shisui says when he turns back to Itachi.
Itachi inclines his head. "Of course. How could I forget? You met with the love of your life today."
"It was supposed to be a good date," Shisui huffs, rolling his eyes at Itachi. "I know you're all—" He waves a hand.
"In an extremely complicated political position where even looking at someone for too long seems to result in complaints of undue favoritism, let alone the scant possibility of a date?"
"Yes, repressed, that's exactly the word I meant," Shisui replies with a cheeky grin. "Come on, being hokage doesn't mean you have to be a monk. It just means you have to find someone who can be discreet."
Like you? Itachi thinks to say, but he knows better. He has been taught better, trained better, forced to be better. He is the Uchiha's last and best attempt at building a stable presence within Konoha. He is the Third's successor, his parents' pride, and the product of too much training to be able to say and do what he likes. Instead, Itachi simply says, "Tell me about her?"
"Him," Shisui corrects without a care. For Itachi, it had taken years to carefully imply to Shisui that he does not see women as another man might, while Shisui is cheerfully indiscriminate. "I've had better dates with Anko. I mean come on." He goes on to complain about the man's rank, his general demeanor, the way he held his chopsticks, the pitch of his voice.
When Shisui reaches to the point of complaining about the part of his date's hair, Itachi says, "The two of you don't seem to be well-suited."
Shisui huffs at him, loudly. "What gave it away?"
As with the rest of the conversations following Shisui's failed romantic encounters, Itachi says, "There are plenty of men and women out there who can make you happy. The past is not indicative of the future; I'm sure you have happiness ahead of you." He prepares for Shisui's addition of 'or at least some good sex' or some over-dramatic moping about how he already hit thirty and will die alone except for maybe the cute civilian in his building who will hopefully take pity on him.
Itachi isn't prepared for Shisui to look down at his tea in an oddly sober, contemplative way.
There's no hint of laughter to Shisui's expression when he lifts his gaze to Itachi once more, his eyes dark and and steady. "I need a break from this."
"One evening spent with someone who doesn't suit you—"
Shisui doesn't even let him finish. "It's not one evening, Itachi. It's—" he waves a hand in frustration "—what feels like a lifetime of evenings with people who don't suit me. Or people who do, perfectly good, attractive shinobi who don't manage to keep my interest the way they should. I should be able to choose one of them, or hell two of them, any number of them, and be happy, and yet here I am. I'm always here instead."
"We're friends," Itachi replies, a note of caution entering his tone. "Longtime friends." Friends through childhood and young adulthood, training and ANBU, through all of Danzo's bullshit. It isn't surprising that they would have a bond.
"There isn't anyone more important to me than you are," Shisui says. "There hasn't ever been, no matter how hard I try."
Itachi searches for places to turn. "I'm your hokage."
"You know what I mean. I didn't feel anything close to this with the old man, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to, either," Shisui says, rolling his eyes. "So you can take your hokage hat and stuff it. I'm done with dating. I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you."
Itachi says nothing for a moment, then says, "I'm aware of your feelings." It's all he feels he can say, all that he can give Shisui.
Shisui scoffs. He points to the direction of the door. "I don't need an audience for this, Cat. Shoo. I can humiliate myself just fine all on my own."
"I'm your hokage," Itachi says again, although he can't imagine that Shisui could have forgotten.
Itachi hasn't done so even for a moment in all the years he's worn the hat. It sits on his head, heavier than even his duty to his clan. It leaves him more tired than even his parents' expectations and Sasuke's jealousy, and not even Shisui's light can fully let him forget. He's abandoned many of his bonds to other people, or even the possibilities of bonds to them, so as to keep the village steady. He has sacrificed so much, and yet he would do it again, for it means that his clan lives on. It's such a terrible, precarious balance, even all these years later. Itachi looks forward to the day when he can place this hat on Naruto's head, but that day isn't here yet.
"You're not only the hokage," Shisui says, placing his cup onto the desk that for nearly a century, shinobi have signed the most important agreements in the world. Where Itachi himself has sent shinobi to their deaths, young and old alike, with only the knowledge that someone must go. It is not Itachi who carries these missions anymore, not unless the countries once again enter war. "You're my best friend. You've been my best friend since you jumped on me during a shunshin when you were two and nearly got both of us killed."
"I prefer to think of our friendship starting when I asked you to teach me," Itachi can't help but cut in.
"You would. You like to think that you came into being as a tiny adult without a single bad decision made in the process." Shisui gives him a fond look. "I fell in love with you. Granted, that wasn't smart of me, but that's how it is. Do something about it."
"Do what," Itachi huffs, and then thinks better of it. "Don't give me any suggestions. There is nothing I can do."
"As you're fond of reminding me, you are the hokage. Even the old man had some vices. You remember his literary porn collection? I can be your porn. I'm very good at that. You'll see." Shisui stands from his chair and takes a few steps, until he's so close that Itachi could reach out and touch him. "You're not just the hokage. You're my best friend. You're the shinobi who saved me time and again, the ANBU who guarded the Third with his life, the pacifist who still believes we can do better than the system we have now, the system that you're trying so hard to change. The son who still won't tell his parents he hates tomatoes, just because they're Sasuke's favorite food and he'd be secretly crushed to know." Shisui leans against the desk without looming. He doesn't take a single step further, nor does he lean in. He just looks at Itachi the way he always looks before a prank or a dare, his eyes bright with anticipation. And this time, with hope. "And you're an Uchiha. We do what we want, don't you know?"
"We doom ourselves," Itachi corrects. He means the plans of revolt, but what he actually thinks of is years and years of looking at Shisui like he personally arranged the stars in the sky. "There will be hell if I'm seen favoring the Uchiha clan."
Shisui's lips twist, but he still offers, "I don't care. We can do this in secret—come on, two of the best shinobi in this village, we can do it—and no one has to know."
Itachi swallows. His hands are still, and his mind has entered the same calm that sets in during meditation. He knows that what Shisui proposes will never work. Maybe once, maybe twice, provided that his ANBU guards keep their silence, but he cannot have both peace and all that he wants from Shisui. He cannot finally be the man that Shisui takes out to dinner without weathering the storm that is Konoha's political sphere. Danzo may be gone, but there are so many other players that care too much about the Uchiha clan's loyalty, and Itachi's personal loyalty to the village. If he's not careful, then he really will be strangled by the tightrope he walks on. The Third warned him of it early, when they devised a plan that would make Itachi his successor in the hopes of healing the fractured village.
That is, if he doesn't wind the tightrope around them, first.
Reaching out, Itachi rests his hand against Shisui's chin and guides him closer. There is no hesitation in Shisui, not in the slightest.
"We need to plan this thoroughly," Itachi says. The blades of thought in his head are already sharpening. It won't do to hide this, not in a shinobi village. He'll just have to find a way to encourage the most virulent of his political enemies to think of this as a good thing. Or perhaps to focus on something else until they're ready to accept it. Itachi has loved Shisui in secret for too long; it's time to find a way to love him in the light of day.
It would be easier to not have this. So much easier to send Shisui on his way and pretend this moment never occurred. Itachi carries his ideals of peace within his heart and it's never easy to bear infighting from within his own nation. But Shisui was there first.
Shisui surges in, pausing only enough to say, "We'll plan later," before he kisses Itachi on the lips. It's just about everything Itachi has ever wanted. Judging by the stark relief in Shisui's face and shoulders, his feelings are no different. Until the kiss deepens, and Shisui leans back and says, "I love you. Fuck do I love you. But before we do this, I need you to drink something to mask the taste of that gross tea."
Just for that, Itachi kisses him again.