EMO ANGEL part 10

Kisame awoke to the feeling of small pinpricks in his hand, like he’d fallen asleep on it. Which was highly unlikely, considering that he always slept on his back, and could feel the mattress of his bed pressing against his spine at this very moment-“You’re awake.”

The shark blinked his eyes open and turned to his right. Itachi was lying on his side, looking up at the shark. Kisame’s hand was tucked under his head, in between his face and the pillow. That explained why his poor limb felt so funny. “Itachi?”

“Hn?”

“My hand’s asleep,” the teen said sheepishly, an embarrassed grin on his face.

The weasel blinked, waiting for the thought to process, before gently lifting his head up, allowing Kisame to retract his hand. As soon as it was free, the shark began flexing it, trying to get the blood flowing, wincing now and then. “Dear lord, how much does that freaking brain of yours weigh?” Kisame muttered quietly.

For the briefest second, Kisame saw a hint of a smile on the weasel’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. If it had even been there in the first place. “Hey, what time’s it?” the shark asked.

“Noon.”

“What?!” Kisame shot up in bed, swinging his legs over the side. “Itachi, we’re beyond late! Oh man, we’re dead-“

I called the school, forged a doctor’s note, and faxed it to them. You and I ate Chinese take-out and have come down with food poisoning.”

“Your dad?”

“Told him the same thing. I’m to stay over here until I’m well.” His eyes shifted, looking at his feet now. “No point in going home if you’re just going to puke, after all.”

“…”

“What?”

“This is the most you’ve said in days, Itachi. Weeks, maybe.”

The weasel rolled his eyes and turned over, back to the shark. “I’m going to sleep. Make lunch.”

“Alright,” Kisame replied, rising from the bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that were lying on his closet floor. As he was about o exit he room, a thought occurred to him. “Itachi?”

“Hn?”

“Where did you get a fax machine?”

“Your landlady,” the Uchiha replied, pulling the covers up over his head, indicating that their conversation was over.

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Half an hour later, the scent of ramen and eggs invaded Itachi’s nose. Not the most appetizing scent in the world, but he was getting hungry, and not about to refuse a meal. Grumbling softly to himself, the weasel crawled out of bed, finger combing his hair as he pulled off his clothes, grabbing one of Kisame’s shirts off the floor. The shark had been decent enough to not undress the weasel the night before, but Itachi couldn’t stand staying in the clothes that he had not only worn the day before, but also slept in. Still, this meant having to wear Kisame’s clothes until his own were washed.

The Uchiha briefly considered grabbing a pair of pants to go with the shirt, but soon decided against it. Compared to the shark, he was an anorexic runt. A pair of the shark’s pants on him would look comical, at best. Sighing quietly, he exited the bedroom.

Kisame had set their brunch on the table and was halfway to the bedroom, indicating that he’d been meaning to wake the weasel. “Oh, you’re up,” he said.

“Hn,” Itachi replied, crossing the room.

The Uchiha sat down at the table and slowly ate the eggs, eyes widening slightly. “Well?” Kisame asked.

“You burnt them.”

“Burnt eggs taste better,” Kisame justified. “What?” he asked, seeing the look on Itachi’s face. “They do.”

“Hn,” the weasel murmured, munching on his food.

“So, what do we do now?” Kisame asked. Today was Friday; they could stay here over the weekend, and on Monday go back to school. Three days was enough time to get over food poisoning, right?

The Uchiha shrugged. Clearly he was hoping Kisame would know what to do.

As a matter of fact, Kisame had a few ideas on how they could kill time, but wasn’t about to suggest any of them. Mostly because they involved him and Itachi in various places, sucking face. He wasn’t sure how well that would go over with the Uchiha. The shark knew he’d been pushing his luck last night when he pulled the weasel into his lap, then carried him to the bed. One more stunt like that could very well get him killed.

Itachi frowned. When Kisame was quiet like this, it usually meant that he was thinking about something that he didn’t want the weasel to know about. “Kisame, talk,” he ordered, monotone voice carrying an edge to it.

The shark started; damn that weasel for being so observant. “I was just thinking about how to kill a little time,” he answered.

“And?”

This was the part where Kisame drew a blank. What exactly was he supposed to say? ‘Hey, Itachi, I just wanted to spend a few hours making out with you because I need more practice kissing, since I suck at it?’ Wonderful plan, Kisame.

The glare coming from Itachi very nearly made him spit the explanation out. “Look, I was just thinking that since we’re home alone, we could…I never kiss you in public, and barely ever here at home, so I know I’m not too good at it…it’s not like we have much else to do with our time…”

“You want to make out,” Itachi stated, face expressionless. He made it sound so much simpler than it had been in Kisame’s head.

“Yeah,” the shark confirmed, not entirely sure what to expect from his boyfriend now.

To his shock, the weasel went back to eating, finishing his breakfast, then rising from the table and taking his dishes to the sink, running water to clean them. “Brush your teeth. We both have egg breath.”

“So…you’re ok with this?”

“Hn,” Itachi replied, nodding as he poured the dish soap onto his plate. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno…it just seems like…I dunno…”

Itachi dried his plate, putting it up before walking over to the table, grabbing Kisame by his arm and pulling him up. “Come on,” he ordered, pulling the shark into the bathroom with him thrusting a toothbrush into the shark’s hand.

“Honestly, what did you think I was going to say?” Itachi growled, scrubbing his mouth.

“That you’d say no. only in a more violent way.”

“Why?”

“It just seems like something you’d do,” Kisame replied, brushing his teeth fervrently.

Itachi took a swig of water, swishing it around before spitting into the sink. “Kisame, we’re dating. We’re supposed to do things like that.” Itachi walked out of the room, presumably to the nearby living room.

As the words sank in, Kisame grinned. Itachi expected affection. For them to make-out. To hold and be held. He wasn’t going to kill the shark for this; only enjoy it.

Spitting into the sink, Kisame left the bathroom, praying silently that he didn’t have egg breath.