| [May. 5th, 2009|09:38 pm] |
If Kakashi had been a real dog, his hackles would have settled down. As it was, his hands loosened in his pockets, fingers flexing out. A dull ache stung in the wristMatsuda had bruised; he pulled his hand out and shook it, easing the flicker-burn away.
Steam and water washed Tsume's scent away, leeching the air clean. The splash of wet blood on wetter tile had already half-trickled its way down a drain.
Kakashi snorted.
That was the thing about alphas. Behind the flash and flame, steel determination and iron backbone, they were all just snotty kids, bracing their shoulders against the world. Grabbing what they could, trying to keep it safe.
Tsume wanted Ryouma, and pretended she didn't. Kakashi's mouth quirked behind his anger. Of all things to relate to...
He waited a moment to make sure she really wasn't coming back, then grabbed his wire off the floor and stepped back into the shower cubicle. Lost his clothes and mask in a few economic moves, but kept a kunai within easy reach, and flicked the spray on.
For a few long, blissful minutes, he didn't think about anything but water and warmth and the shiver that came from slowly relaxing muscles. Across his throat, the butterfly-stitched gash tickled on the edge of awareness, but not enough to make him care. He rolled his shoulders back, stretching his spine.
Tsume wanted Ryouma...
But Kakashi had him. His hands and his scent and his dancing dark eyes, the repayed debt of a life saved on both sides. Stomach-tightening memories of a riverbank, hospital bed, an entirely different kind of shower, and a hotel room; the growing conviction that Ryouma wouldn't ever fall without getting back up.
He smiled slightly and tilted his head back. Tsume could want all she liked. For now, Kakashi wasn't worried.
And wasn't that an interesting place to be? |
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