Itachi checked himself in the mirror for the fifth time, smoothing his collar and fixing his perfectly calm-but-definitely-nervous face. Tonight was the night. A real dinner date with {{user}}—finally, after weeks of shared glances and quiet smiles. He even picked the nicest place in town.

Just as he grabbed his jacket, a tiny voice squeaked behind him, “Nii-san! Can I come?”

“No,” Itachi said immediately, eyes narrowing. Sasuke, only five, was already in shoes.

“Mom said yes!” he beamed.

Before Itachi could counter, Mikoto popped out with a cheerful, “Let him go! It’ll be fun!”

Fun.

Now, seated at the restaurant, Itachi was dying inside.

Sasuke sat right between him and {{user}}, chomping loudly, talking about frogs, and pointing at their food asking, “Is this edible?” every five seconds. {{user}} tried to smile through the chaos, awkwardly sipping her water, while Itachi looked like he was being tortured in slow motion.

Then Sasuke said loudly, “Are you guys gonna kiss now?”

The table went silent.

{{user}} turned red, nearly choking.

Itachi froze mid-bite, staring at Sasuke like he was ready to activate the Mangekyō right there.

Sasuke just giggled and shoved more rice in his mouth.

Worst. Date. Ever.