Adoration

Three Daily Life Snippets

ONE (NON-MASSACRE AU)

Hinata enjoyed brushing his hair.

Enjoyed it so much that it had become a silent routine when they were both home. At the end of the day, when the village was quiet and there was no overflow of lust between them, Itachi would sit down on his side of the bed after his bath, waiting for Hinata to take her usual seat behind him, brush in hand, ready to smooth out his long strands that he never bothered properly drying.

He didn't know why she liked it so much. Her hair was longer, thicker, and infinitely nicer in comparison. Surely, she'd prefer brushing her own. But to his surprise, she took greater care of his hair. Much greater care. He knew by how gently she'd untangle the knots, how carefully she'd slip her fingers in his bangs to brush them away from his face.

It must've been a Hyuga thing.

They seemed to value their long locks, evident by every single member of her clan. That was why he wanted to see what she would say if he decided to... look more like the rest of his family.

"I'm planning on cutting it," he suddenly declared, hand waving vaguely to the back of his head. "I'm afraid it might get caught on a stray branch when I'm out on missions."

"No!" came the horrified shout from the woman behind him. It was so loud that Itachi winced. But by the time he turned, she was merely blushing and looking down. All traces of disapproval gone from her face. "I... I mean if you want to cut it, then that's okay."

"I don't want to," he corrected. "It's just hazardous."

"But that would be such a waste. Your hair's so long and... pretty."

"Pretty." It wasn't a question. Just a disbelieving reiteration.

"Pretty," she said once more, complete with an enthusiastic nod.

"Unless they're undergoing seduction training, I don't think aesthetics should dictate a ninja's appearance."

"Th-That's true," Hinata said dejectedly after mulling over his words. She fiddled with a strand of her own flowing hair. "Maybe I should cut mine, too?"

"No!" came his own horrified shout. It was sudden and loud enough to startle even him. "I mean," Itachi coughed uncomfortably, "no, never mind. I think I'll keep it."

He wasn't seriously considering cutting it in the first place. But her appreciative smile in the end was worth the brief bout of embarrassment he suffered.

TWO (MODERN AU)

Itachi had a tendency to pace when highly upset.

Hinata watched him from the corner of her eye, opting instead to begin dinner, rather than silently stare at him until he mastered himself enough to stop. It wasn't a long wait. Itachi never did have much of a problem getting his thoughts in order. He was so in control of himself that there were times when they were still dating that she questioned his humanity. But then quickly realized that if he wasn't in control, then he'd more than likely be a threat to the purpose of millions of men on this planet—and a father to too many children for even him to support.

When she heard footsteps approaching the kitchen, she knew that he had sorted through whatever it was he was dealing with and would now either talk to her about it or ignore the matter entirely. She had an inkling it would be the latter. He never did like to burden her with talk of his work and overly demanding clients.

Unhinged, he called them, after she gently prompted him one night to speak about his stresses.

Before she could prepare herself, strong arms wrapped around her middle, swaying with her in two wide strides. One frisky palm slid up to squeeze at the skin just under her breasts, then slid away.

"What are you making?" he asked in that deep, sultry voice of his.

His mood had obviously improved. Not that she was surprised. Itachi's anger was of the self-limiting variety. Give him enough time to cool off on his own, and it ebbed away like the tide across sand.

Grudges, however... those he held close to him.

"Root vegetable stew," she told him, delighted when he pulled her closer.

"Smells delicious."

She smiled at the compliment. His chin moved to rest upon her shoulder. The height difference must've hurt his back, but she didn't mention it.

It can't be that bad, she decided then. He'd let it go so easy after all. Perhaps it would be okay to ask.

"Itachi," she prompted, turning slightly to shoot him an inquisitive glance. "Is everything okay?"

"Just another unreasonable client making empty threats."

"Were they any good?"

Itachi smirked. "Nothing I haven't heard before."

"You looked angry though."

"His personality leaves much to be desired."

It really did if he could make someone as collected as her husband lose his cool.

"Is he really that bad?" she asked anyway, making sure to do so in her best lighthearted tone. But even that wasn't enough to keep the frown off of his face at the memory of the nameless man.

"I envy those that haven't met him."

Hinata couldn't quite help the spike of concern in her chest when his face clouded over. Her voice was suddenly trapped somewhere in between the tightness of her throat and a swollen emotion she couldn't name. In that moment, all she could think about were words—and how utterly worthless they were in the face of her own sudden, irrational desire to make sure he never made that face again. Those lines that marred his features didn't belong there. Not now. Not with her.

Not knowing what to say, Hinata bumped their heads together for a tick, before reaching up to smooth the wrinkle between his brows with her thumb.

Her reward was a smile, dazzling enough to chase away the image of the faceless man in her mind's eye.

"Did you at least remember to eat lunch?" she asked instead. For both their sakes.

He hummed vaguely in response.

THREE (NON-MASSACRE AU)

They hadn't seen each other in over a month.

Not out of choice of course or some random argument—neither were that petty—but because he'd been sent to the land of waves to safeguard some rich heir that paid Konoha triple the usual price. And with a pouch as fat as the one he'd passed to the Hokage, he was given the cream of the crop, or in other words, Uchiha Itachi.

The mission wasn't hard. B, at best. They ran into half a dozen ninjas and a few thugs along the way. Really, it was more the slow pace that made the whole thing unbearable. He had to match the man's average walking speed. While Itachi didn't mind taking his time on missions, this was different. This had been suddenly thrust on him in the middle of his honeymoon because the Hokage was a damn sucker for money. Itachi swore that as soon as he got back, he'd demand an extension for his lost vacation days. Paid.

All he wanted to do was stay home and spend quality time with his new wife. In peace. Was that so much to ask for?

Apparently it was.

Since he was still forced into going.

Thankfully, his charge wasn't the snobbish sort like he had expected him to be. The man didn't complain often, and when he did, it was typically due to an unusual discomfort that even Itachi found aggravating. Like entire paths covered in mud or the smell of some dead, unfinished lunch left behind by an already full predator.

He was... tolerable. For a noble anyway. Even if he did ask a disturbing amount of questions about his private life.

But hours after he returned home, he thought that perhaps he'd been too hasty. That he should've fixed his appearance more before rushing to see her.

"You've gotten paler," Itachi noticed, pressing the pads of his fingers to her cheek in an effort to distract her scrutinizing eyes. "Did you go somewhere cold while I was gone?"

Though he already knew the answer. The purple scarf she liked to bring with her on missions to the land of snow was folded neatly on the counter after all. The Hokage was a damn slave driver.

"Oh, stop it," she said, gently brushing his fingers away. As she began fussing over his clothes. He didn't know what she found, but his wife always managed to notice the tiniest details about him. "You've been skipping meals again, haven't you? You're thinner. The doctor said that if you were going to up your training regimen, then you needed to eat more, regardless if you were hungry or not."

He hummed ambiguously.

"Are you listening to me, Itachi?"

"Of course."

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. "I'm going to make an early dinner, okay? Make sure you wash up properly."

And then she was gone.

He heard the stove turn on, followed by the high-pitched clink of something being placed on top of it.

Itachi smiled to himself. She was already starting to sound like an old, nagging wife. Any other day, Itachi would've just sighed and reluctantly followed her words. But he'd just gotten back, so he trailed after her into the kitchen instead, reveling in the way she squeaked when his arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

"I—Itachi," she called, breathless.

He buried his face in her shoulder, kissing the soft flesh.

"I'm back, Hinata," he whispered, hating how much like an overgrown child he felt. He wanted her attention. Nothing more. This was the best way to get it.

Itachi knew she wouldn't turn him away. That was only proven when she slumped against him. Warm and soft and his. Itachi's stomach heated in delight at having her so close once again. She was near enough to make his chest swell.

"Welcome home," she whispered back.

And he kissed her.