KisaIta oneshot.

Kiri nin did not love.

They had no time for such foolish, weak sentiments. They lived and breath destruction. It was the hunt they craved and the glory of battle that had them watering at the mouths.

Love was trivial.

A childish notion of some fool found affection for another. No person was more important than the mission. No one held that sort of emotional power over a Kiri nin. They fought, bled and died for the thrill of the battle.

It had been so deeply beaten into their minds that the mission took priority.

Always.

That often meant comrades were left to die. Or be killed to ensure mission success. Kiri nin understood this fact. How could a nation function without rules and regulations? Society would crumble under a weak leaders feeble fingers. It took a strong leader to bring glory to a village. The Kiri were hunters. The Kiri were fierce and efficient. They understood their role.

Kisame was no exception. He killed for the sheer thrill of it. He maimed his enemies and at times allies with no regard to them.

Yet eventually, Kisame defected his village. He saw an underbelly of the system that ate at him and he refused to be a part of it. He would find a new way. A better way.

The Akatsuki could provide that.

He had partners throughout his time with the organization.

And they wall met rather...unfortunate ends.

Kisame did not allow some weakling to drag him down. He was still Kiri. He still had his pride. His partners were tools, as was he. And what happens when a tool becomes blunt or brittle? They are thrown away. Kisame had no qualms with being the one to snap those tools in half. Eventually his partner killing led Pein to bringing Kisame's latest and final partner before him.

There was beauty to this child that would leave many breathless. Pale skin and long dark locks, equally dark eyes with eyelashes that were so very long that they kissed the child's cheeks with each blink.

This child was lovely.

This boy was far too pretty to be among such ugliness and darkness.

Kisame would relish the opportunity to blight out this waif.

Yet, Kisame never did.

For months he despised this cold little child. Hated his cool exterior and unmatched power. He had underestimated the boy upon first meeting him. Assuming the brat was weak because of his looks. Kisame was quick to learn of his folly. No partner in the past had managed to match, or surpass him as Itachi had done with ease. No person had managed to surprise him as the Uchiha had.

Kisame always enjoyed surprised.

So he followed the boy. Watched him grow from a frail blood splattered child into a slim ethereally beautiful young man. He watched him fight and bleed and claw his way through each day. Kisame marveled at how the boy managed to gain his respect, followed by his admiration and trust within a year of first meeting him.

Kiri nin did not love.

Love was for the weak.

Love made people foolish.

Love served as a distraction from the mission. Love was inconceivable. Childish. And so very dangerous.

So what was Itachi?

Itachi was...

Itachi was a marvel.

He fought with a finesse that surpassed all those he faced. He could be ruthless and cold. Yet, he could be gentle and merciful. He did not fight and kill for the thrill as Kisame did. He killed and fought because he had to. He had a role just like Kisame had. And like Kisame, he understood it well.

Itachi was a liar.

His very existence was a lie. His motivations and desires. Kisame hated liars. Despised them. Kisame liked the truth. No matter how hard it was. He did not want to be left in the dark.

Yet, Itachi had been and always would be the exception.

It did not take long for Kisame to look at Itachi with respect. The lust came soon afterwards. He had imagined defiling the stuck up little snob. Showing him what a real man was. But...it never happened. How could he break someone already broken?

Itachi respected him. He did not look at him with disgust and fear. He spoke of life and death as if well acquainted and Kisame was fascinated by this boy. By how such an old soul existed in such a young body. It was a rare thing indeed where Kisame found himself protective of something other than his Samehada. And that lust he felt towards the Uchiha made way for affection...and one day it went further.

So in the dead of night as he spread Itachi's thighs and entered that tight heat, he hesitated.

He hesitated.

In the past, Kisame would never hesitate. He did not care for their comfort. Yet with Itachi...he grew still, staring at his partner who gripped onto his shoulders, face stony as he held in the pain. Kisame's face went uncharacteristically soft as he leaned forward. He pressed soft kisses against Itachi's brow, and felt the Uchiha relax against him.

He did not fuck Itachi.

Itachi deserved far better than a quick in out.

The only way to describe what they had done was to say 'making love'. No matter how childish and weak it sounded. There was no other way to describe it. There was a tenderness between them that Kisame and it seemed Itachi was unaccustomed to. Afterwards as he used a damp cloth to wipe his seed from those lovely thighs, he followed the cloth's path with his lips. The Uchiha trembled under his gentle touch and Kisame wondered how long it had been since Itachi had felt a gentle hand upon him.

Kisame's lips traveled over Itachi's bare body that night, kissing and lightly nipping as the Uchiha gasped under him. The sounds he made were a symphony to Kisame's parched ears.

Itachi was vulnerable with him, in a way he could be with no one else. And in turn Kisame was vulnerable with him. It was not just sex.

It could never be just sex.

Not with all the sleepless nights, curled against each other in the dirt. Or the countless wounds that they healed without a second thought. Or the whispers that they shared where Kisame learned of the little brother that haunted Itachi's dreams. Kisame failed to not feel bitterness towards the fool boy. A hatred festered towards the ungrateful boy that would take Itachi's life. A hatred that he kept in check only because Itachi would not want all his hard work to be for nothing. Kisame had always indulged his partner after all.

Like all tools do, Itachi began to chip. His eyes were failing him and an illness plagued him. His usefulness was coming to an end.

Kisame refused to throw this particular one away.

No, Kiri nin did not love.

But with Itachi.

Kisame was and always would be the exception.

And then Itachi was gone.

The beautiful, liar was dead at his brother's feet. As he had wished. Free from his pain. His clan avenged. And Kisame was silent as he was told. He had quirked a grin, saying something...he could not recall. Itachi was tiny in death. His eyes were forever closed, his skin ashen and grey. Kisame reached to touch him, fingers shaking as he touched Itachi's cheek, thumb grazing over long eyelashes.

And Kisame wept.

Kiri nin did not love.

Love only brought pain and heartache. Love only proved fatal. Love only made you cry when it was over.

If this was love, Kisame did not want it.