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Sasuke feels like it's an open secret sometimes.
Itachi's footsteps down the hallway, always in the dead of the night, Sasuke's hand down in his pants under the covers—the pause in Itachi's footsteps outside, right outside Sasuke's door.
Itachi wasn't an insomniac, he told Sasuke when he'd asked. He just didn't need to sleep as much, he said.
Truth is, Sasuke doesn't either. But the thought plagues his mind—in here, in his bed under the sheets, he indulges. What would he do outside, no longer so alone?
Itachi never mentions that little fact either; doesn't invite Sasuke for a brotherly talk in the drawing room unless Sasuke is particularly restless and fusses loudly in his room, completely bored. Doesn't invite him to his room to keep talking till exhaustion finally bites in and drags them to sleep. Not anymore.
Sasuke knows he—Itachi wouldn't offer, but doesn't know what would happen if he, Sasuke, asks. Probably would offer up a token protest, there's hardly enough room, and aren't you too old to sleep with someone?, tease a little more, but Sasuke would just insist and Itachi would let him. Like he always gave Sasuke almost anything, if not soon, eventually. He knows how it would go up till that point.
Maybe he'd have the best sleep in years, since he'd last slept next to his brother what seemed years past than they were. Protected in the cocoon of his arms, or if he was too old, soaking up his heat and leeching that overprotectiveness regardless.
For now, he waits, quiet and observing. As he expects, Itachi moves on, but even Sasuke can hear the difference in Itachi from his steps.
And he knows Itachi knows.
And he waits.