one_long_mission | how did this even happen...

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how did this even happen...

It wasn't a bad sort of place. Lots of things to do and people to see. Plenty of freedom to dart over the rooftops and down the alleys--or out of the village and into the woods and rocky wild places beyond. Obito liked Michi no Sato.

He had stopped for lunch and was eating at a table outside the restaurant, watching people walk past. The food was good. The cold breeze was nice. Ah, yes. Years and years trapped in a cave with a crazy old man and a bunch of plant monsters--it had left him really able to appreciate the little things.

[ooc: here is an AU Obito in his twenties. Got through the time with Madara, and Rin's death, but didn't go completely evil after all of it...]

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The side table was still covered with Kabuto's supplies. Pills, herbs, syringes, a small basin of water. And Itachi looked as though he'd been on the receiving end of all of it. Especially the muscle relaxants Kabuto had been using to, well, not quite sedate him... but... force him to stay in bed.

He'd answered and had flopped back over the bed. His body was loose, relaxed. A wrist dangled off the edge.

His sharingan were off. And, as drugged as he was, he found the blue blur of Kisame's face to be more amusing than it should have been. He smiled. It looked... strange.

Mikoto had warned him about what he might find. The smile was... a little unsettling. Itachi's smiles were so infrequent. Kisame approached the bed, frowned at the supplies on the bedside table and then carefully took the dangling wrist and lifted it to tuck it back beneath the covers.

"Itachi-san, how are you?"

Especially a smile like this... It was obviously medicated.

"Kabuto... wants me to stay in bed."

His voice was slurred. His body, the little it moved, was like a limp doll. There was no resistance in his arm when Kisame lifted it, which made it seem even more frail than it was.

"Gave me a shot..."

It was easy to feel the delicate bones under the skin. Kisame hesitated a moment and then sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed, where he had sat last time. He turned enough to watch his partner. The paleness, the fragility of him was disturbing.

"Kabuto," he murmured. And the distrust there was obvious in his tone.

It took a surprising amount of effort to pull his hands toward the edge of the blanket. But when they got there, they had no grip. He pulled a little, but nothing happened.

Itachi wasn't sure what felt more disconnected - his mind or his body. Either way, he didn't care for Kabuto's methods. He just couldn't quite articulate that at the moment. All he could really do was wait until the drugs started to wear off.

"... it's cold..."

Kisame stood again and gathered the blankets, pulling them up easily over his partner. He moved the pillows around as well, trying to get them to where they seemed like they would be more comfortable. And then he stood over him, watching his face. Concerned, but silent, and still.

"I'm tired of being in bed..." he slurred with a half-sided grin. "Can I lay on you instead?"

...After a moment of trying to understand whether or not he had heard that right that just got a sudden bark of a laugh, and a sharp-toothed smile. "On my, Itachi-san?"

"... You always were big and warm..."

He tried to push himself up, but couldn't manage to do anything more useful than flop his limbs a little.

"... And safe..."

He glanced back at the table. As long as Kabuto kept injecting him, he couldn't protect himself. He couldn't even move properly.

He stayed still a moment more before glancing back at the doorway. There was no one there, and no noise from the hallway. No noise from anywhere else in the house. Looking back to Itachi, he sat on the side of the bed again and then slowly moved to lie down on it, beside his partner.

Itachi leaned in and a pair of fragile hands reached up and tucked themselves against his cloak. Kisame was indeed warm. And this close, all Itachi could see was black and blue.

"...think I was better off... dying..." he mumbled.

He hesitated and then lifted a hand to touch his head, to smooth the dark hair a few times.

"Hm?" was the only response he gave to the statement, along with a slight frown.

He felt the touch and managed to inch closer, burying his face against Kisame's chest.

"...I'm tired of being tired... Haven't got a lot of energy... the shots... wasting the time I've got it... Hate it."

He half-spoke, half-mumbled. His body shivered.

It felt strange. He wasn't sure they had ever been this close before. Well, the time he had carried him, perhaps. But that had been out of necessity. He stroked his hair a last time before throwing an arm over him. He felt so delicate, beneath the blankets.

"You'll be okay," he said. "It's not wasted time if you make a recovery."

"I'm powerless... I'm scared..." he mumbled into Kisame.

The fact that he admitted it with absolutely no hesitation was a tip off to just how doped up Kabuto had left him. He was relaxed, all right. His body almost paralyzed, there was no escape. No second thoughts, no filter. If he were to be interrogated right now, there was no telling what secrets Itachi would inadvertently reveal.

"Don't leave me alone with him..."

The arm over him tightened, just a fraction. It was startling and painful to hear such an admission from Itachi, who had never admitted to any weakness, any doubt or fear while they were partners in Akatsuki.

"You're safe while I'm here, Itachi. And I'll stay if you want me to."

When Kisame's arm tightened, Itachi smiled. Whether it was natural or drug induced was impossible to determine.

"Stay..." he whispered. His voice slurred. It was difficult to understand in places. "I like you... You like me? "

He moved his hand and very gently and touched the pale cheek, grazing his thumb first along Itachi's brow and then over the delicate skin beneath his eye. It was a gesture he would not have made, if his partner had been fully lucid. But here, in this odd and raw moment, it felt all right.

"I do, Itachi."

"...You're not as scaly... as you are soft..." he mumbled in a state of awkward contentment. "

"Am I?" That amused him.

"Yeah..." Itachi mumbled. "Gentle shark..."

"But I am not gentle." That part was spoken only softly, and more to himself than to Itachi. Truthfully--he was being very gentle as he soothed and petted the other man.

"I was gentle... when I killed them... Mom said so. As the sword ran her through..." he whispered sadly, but didn't dwell on it. "It's okay to be gentle... I like you..."

Kisame simply continued to brush his finger's against Itachi's cheek and his hair. Little, light touches. He had never killed anyone gently. His sword did not slip and steal life with a whisper, it tore people to shreds. Still. It was interesting. Nobody had ever called him gentle before and he was being gentle in this moment, he supposed.

Itachi, of course, was a very gentle man. Even when he killed, he did so as painlessly as possible. He was merciful. And yet, life was completely merciless to him in return.

But Kisame's touch was soothing. Gentle fingers traced over sunken cheeks and dull, limp hair.

"How come you never touched me... when we were Akatsuki?"

He stumbled over that last word.

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