Once again, my persistent addiction for ink. Well not really, but I like ink quite a bit for use in my short stories. It's sorta like how people like the use of blood see? Except not so morbid. It's similar though. I like ink better because the stains are much much more evident, and doesn't change colour like blood when it dries; blood turns crusty and copper-brown when dried instead of the nice fresh crimson it is. Dried blood is bleh D<

Naruto had once told him how much of a bastard he was, well actually, it was more than once. But the emotion was the same and the rude way it was put was also the same. The same words, the same tone, the same... emotion. "Sasuke, you bastard! Yes you, teme, you should just write that all over yourself! Bastard bastard bastard!"

Really, was he joking? But it would be amusing if he really had that written on himself. In ink... on a small slender paintbrush... He could imagine, every single stroke, every single hair of the brush slowly tracing a path of ink across the pale skin, his skin. He rolled his eyes, smirking, now that would be highly amusing...

But somehow, there was an undeniable shred of truth in there, was he really that unbearable then? How was he supposed to know how good his social skills and general attitude was when nobody bothered to tell him? Maybe he should change, like the fox would absolutely love him to. But how? He'd need to know which direction to change towards, how the hell he was supposed to be, and not to mention a constant check. Altogether, it was too much trou- But why the hell was he caring anyway!? He coughed, and turned from the window, swinging both legs to rest on the pale sheets and to pause, before...

He sneezed.

Damnit, he must be allergic to the stupid fox boy.

The thought of whom seemed to trigger the urge to sneeze again. He was contemplating on how the hell he was supposed to get back to Naruto for giving him this hopefully temporary cold when the door creaked open. "Sasuke?"

"sniff. Eh?" Apparently while suffering an allergic response to foxes, loud sounds gave him a headache. Now that was annoying, Naruto was most certainly going to pay sooo bad. "..." Sasuke glared at the long haired individual outside, breaking the sudden pause, "What?"

"You're sick," It wasn't a question. Sasuke rolled his eyes, why oh why did he have to come him right when he just realised he had a suppresed immunity when it came to foxes? He came in, holding out the tray with the ink bottle, brush and paper, Sasuke glared at it. Another reminder of the stupid fox-"Ahh.. " and he choked on his sneeze halfway through to break into a coughing fit. "..." And now, Itachi had one pale hand on his forehead, the fine eyebrows sharply arching with a mild surprise. "Sick?" Sasuke could've sworn he saw Itachi smirking. Unintentionally, he clenched his fist, oh the dobe was going to pay so very bad. He glared at the elder of the two, challenging him to continue smirking with a harsh demand for an explanation.

Of course, like how he expected, Itachi went on smirking like a cheshire. It rattled Sasuke.

[Unfinished! Get to it soon.]