![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
«0346» effervescence.
JUKEBOX—
- bad suns "daft pretty boys"
- bastille "good grief"
- all-american rejects "gives you hell"
Repulsive.
The platter of sweets set on the coffee table caught his eye first, as he hooked the jacket on the coat rack by the door and shuffled off his shoes. His toes, numbed from being crammed into school-standard loafers for the better part of the day, jolted with tell-tale pins and needles.
Sasuke spent his initial moments home hissing curses under his breath as he padded across the room and flopped onto the couch. Tucking himself into the corner, he regarded the male sitting on the other side with narrowed eyes.
To his credit, Itachi’s attention never visibly moved from his textbook.
“Did you raid a candy shop or something?” He questioned, reaching for a throw pillow. No sooner than he gripped the corner, it slipped out of his grasp—tugged out of reach.
“Hardly, little brother.”
Again, to his credit, Itachi’s only tell was the faintest quirking of his lips—before he tossed the lifted cushion back and resumed digging through his pile of caramel-filled chocolates. Among the empty wrappers, he managed to find one whole, and popped it into his mouth.
Sasuke watched with a dawning sense of horror.
“How am I related to you again?”
His incredulous look only earned him a chuckle; a rich sound that called to mind the many painful (embarrassing) years that he endured puberty—perpetually whispering like some damned idiot while Itachi seemed to transform overnight. Sasuke still hadn’t forgiven him for that.
“One can only guess.” Itachi remarked absently, leaning forward to grab a can of soda from his stockpile—cracking it open with a crisp pop. The liquid inside sloshed and fizzled, loudly enough to give Sasuke pause before he focused again on the mischievous twinkle in his brother’s eye, “Maybe mother had a lover. It would explain why only you inherited father’s tendency to pout.”
Hackles raised, Sasuke all but launched his cushion across the gap between them. He did not pout. To his delight, the other male nearly spilled his drink in swatting it away.
“Better that than having your ridiculous obsession with junk food.”
no subject
no subject