| [Feb. 21st, 2010|04:52 am] |
Kakashi choke-laughed, getting Genma's plan in a heartbeat. "Does smoke count?"
"Did it have calories?"
"It's appetite suppressing," Kakashi rasped. He released Genma's knee and gestured mockingly to himself. "I've been meaning to shed a few pounds. What d'you reckon?"
Genma laughed. It sounded almost completely natural, if you ignored the faint undercurrent of barely-leashed hysteria. "Yeah, I always thought the famine victim look was a good one for you." He coughed, cleared his throat. "Compliments your colouring."
"I thought so. Matches the refugee-chic, too." Kakashi ran a hand over his brutalized hair, avoiding stitches, and didn't quite wince. It was just hair; it'd grow back. Even if it left him feeling almost as naked as his missing mask, and strangely light-headed. Cold on the back of his neck. "We make a hell of a pair, with your half-naked look going on."
Genma's eyebrows arched; he glanced down at himself as if he'd forgotten. Kakashi leaned, swiped the folded shirt from the other mattress with a still-shaking hand, and dropped it into Genma's lap. Genma stared at it for a second, then shrugged it painfully over his head. It was too big for him, like Kakashi's shirt, but the pale-stone shade actually did set off his colouring. Made hollow-bruised, amber-brown eyes and tangled, light brown hair stand out in sharp relief.
Bastard, Kakashi thought, with something like resigned malice.
He lifted his desert-dry voice. "So, if you had the choice, what would you want now? Besides a full rescue team and a good-looking nurse?"
"Decent tea," said Genma instantly, quick enough that Kakashi wondered how long he'd been fantasizing about that. "Rice porridge. A poison test kit. And some painkillers. Also sheets and blankets. And a pillow. You?"
Weapons. Armour. My real clothes. And a hundred other things besides, including almost everything on Genma's list, but mostly Kakashi wanted his mask, his own bed, and the peace to sleep for a week.
Or Takajin's head on a stick.
"A shower," he said instead, touching his hair one more time. It still carried the lingering traces of cigarette smoke -- something he'd probably be smelling to his grave. "A full med-kit. Something to read..."
Thoughts failed, broken by exhaustion. He tried to get them back and hit nothing but I want my mask. And my hitai-ate. It wasn't easy to keep one eye-lid closed for any length of time, not without provoking an already-savage headache.
Then he almost kicked himself. He was wearing a shirt. Shirts ripped.
Genma's eyebrows flew up again when Kakashi finally dropped the hand covering his mouth, grabbed the hem of his t-shirt, and bit through it with a jerking slash of his head. The paper-thin cloth tore easy. He ripped off a long strip that went all the way around, about two inches wide, until he had something that looked like a ragged bandage, and tied it proficiently around his head. Then, aching-cautious, he relaxed. The eye stayed closed.
Kakashi let out a quiet breath.
A mask would be harder, but it was something to do. He eyed his left pyjama pant's leg speculatively, then paused. Went still.
He reached out and gripped Genma's knee again, tapping so urgently he fumbled the message twice. What happened to Baiji? |
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