| [Apr. 20th, 2009|11:03 pm] |
Genius he might have been, but even Kakashi had a hard time following Ryouma's line of thought from I was molested to Hey, wanna have sex?
But the laughter smelled real, rumbling deep in Ryouma's chest with a catch of sweetness and summer forest. It didn't hide the bladed edge of stress cut through old pain, but it mellowed it. Cleared the air a little.
Behind the grin, dancing dark eyes begged him just to go with it. Forget the rest.
"You're not even on speaking terms with subtle, are you?" Kakashi muttered, shifting up until he could sit level with Ryouma's head. Hair fell across his face, wilder without his hitai-ate to keep it back, silvering the edges of his vision.
He was grey hair and a yellow grin.
Shiki's hair had been silver.
Rage boiled up again, clenched in the muscles of his jaw. But Shiki was dead, Ryouma's attacker was probably dust, and Kakashi was damned if he'd be the third man on the list to inflict more hurt.
Even if he already had.
He lifted his hand, found no trace of hesitation, and slipped his fingers through the soft, shower-spiked mess of Ryouma's hair. Felt the hard outline of delicate bone against his palm as he paused briefly, cupping Ryouma's skull, before moving his hand down to sweep his thumb carefully over the arch of one sable-black eyebrow. Old scars marked across his forehead, so pale they barely gleamed in the light, made Kakashi pause again. A remnant from their second mission together, when a mace had shattered Ryouma's mask against his face.
He hadn't died then, either.
Kakashi leaned down until he was close enough to feel the catch of Ryouma's breath. "I won't be your therapy," he said, finding a rasp in his voice that went with the nervous liquid flicker in his stomach, "but if you're looking for a piece of oblivion, I don't mind helping you find it." |
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