Kisame's Sick- a KisaIta

Kisame was sick.

And no, I don’t mean “coughing occasionally and snot that’s a yucky green color” sick. We’re talking about “head about to explode from massive fever and constant puking” sick. And when someone is as sick as this, it’s almost impossible for said person to fend for themselves, seeing as they’ll puke if they try to move enough to get out of bed. Which means they’ll need someone to take care of them. And the only other person in the base at this time was Kisame’s partner, Itachi.

Kisame wasn’t just sick. He was doomed.

“Ne, Itachi-San?” Kisame did his best to keep his voice from sounding too feeble, so it wouldn’t annoy the Uchiha. He’d considered his attempt a brief success before succumbing to the coughing fit from hell. Itachi merely stood in the doorway, doing his best not to twitch as he waited out his partner’s episode. When it was finally over, he considered it safe to respond.

“What?” The usually cold and detached voice held clear undercurrents of annoyance, and Kisame could easily understand why. People like Itachi and himself were built for going out and doing things, like assassinating people. Not for sitting around and waiting on someone who was holding them back. In fact, he reflected with a slight grimace, had he and Itachi not been in a relationship, the younger man would have probably killed him for his weakness so as not to slow the team down.

“It’s just…well, could I have a glass of water? Please?” Itachi rolled his eyes and stalked out of the room. He wandered down the hallway into the kitchen and moodily grabbed a cup sitting on the counter by the sink, then filled it violently with water before returning to his room, never mind the fact that he’d managed to spray water from the sink all over the floor.

“Here.” Itachi unceremoniously thrust the cut into Kisame’s hands, turning to leave and ignoring his partner’s mumbled thanks. He paused at the door when he heard something that sounded suspiciously like water spraying across the room, a theory that was proven to be correct as he turned around and saw the disgusted look on his partner’s face and the liquid dribbling down his chin.

“What?” Itachi asked again irritably, folding his arms to let his partner know quite clearly that he wasn’t about to replace the water Kisame had wasted. Kisame merely frowned in disapproval.

“This cup is dirty. You found it by the sink, right?” Itachi’s eye twitched slightly. Admittedly, he had known it wasn’t clean but there didn’t seem to be any reason not to use it in his mind.

“What if I did?” Kisame’s scowl deepened.

“Itachi, did you even LOOK in this cup? The walls are encrusted in BLOOD! This is Zetsu’s mug!” Itachi shrugged slightly, doing his best to keep himself from slamming his head on the doorframe.

“Too bad. You aren’t getting another one.” And with that he left, ignoring his bedridden lover’s protest and slamming the door behind him.

Itachi paced the kitchen in annoyance, half certain he would create grooves in the floor from his constant walking back and forth. He was feeling unusually restless and, even more unusually, guilty. The Uchiha shook his head in wonderment. Honestly, he wasn’t guilty for killing his entire clan, but refuse to help a sick shark…He had to admit that abandoning Kisame like that, though it wouldn’t be unexpected coming from him, wasn’t the best option. Plus, now he had nothing to do. The Uchiha flinched slightly when he heard the sound of retching coming from the bathroom. His partner was really suffering…

Deciding it would be too obvious that he cared if he was open enough to go check on Kisame, Itachi merely paused in the doorway to the kitchen and watched as his partner shuffled back to his room, a curious green tinge encircling his gills. Another stab of guilt hit Itachi as he watched the swordsman before he shook his head again and decided he needed to help somehow. But not in a really touching way.

And that’s how it came to be that, twenty minutes later; a certain Konoha prodigy was standing over a stove, wondering how the hell he was supposed to turn the damn thing on, and whether he needed to take the soup out of the can to heat it. He tried turning the knob, but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge, and after about two minutes of tugging Itachi decided to admit defeat and use the microwave. He glanced at the can before shrugging and figured it wouldn’t hurt to put the whole thing in, and that twenty minutes would probably be enough. After all…that’s how long it took to cook a pizza, right? And most foods were pretty similar so…

The fire alarm going off ten minutes later disproved his theory.

“Itachi!” Kisame bellowed from his room. “What’s going on!” The Uchiha wasn’t really paying attention, he was a little busy dumping water on the flaming microwave. When the fire had been tamed and both he and what was once a functional food preparation device were both sufficiently soaked, he called back.

“Nothing! The microwave just caught fire, that’s all!”

“Did you put metal in it or something?” Itachi blushed slightly, thankful that his partner wasn’t there to see him do so.

“N-no! Of course not! I know better than that!” Hastily he turned around and disposed of the evidence, which was mainly the ruined can of soup. Sighing slightly, Itachi decided the best thing to do would be to go to his room and change out of his soaking clothes. The only problem was, there was a bedridden shark in said room. After carefully weighing his options, the Uchiha decided it would probably be more comfortable to get rid of his wet clothes before they gave him the ultimate wedgie. He cautiously walked down the hallway and slipped into his room, hoping that, impossibly, Kisame would have fallen asleep since he’d last called him. Luck was not on his side.

“Geez Itachi, you look like crap!” Itachi glared half heartedly, before stalking over to his dresser with as much dignity as he could manage while looking like a drowned cat. Kisame chortled slightly, causing him to narrow his eyebrows in anger.

“I take it you’re feeling better then?” He asked waspishly, keeping his back to his partner as he rooted around for a decent shirt. Kisame sobered up slightly, but still couldn’t completely quell the wide grin on his face.

“Not really, but right now I feel a little better.” Itachi grumbled slightly and Kisame laughed softly. “Thanks Itachi. I needed that.”

“You needed to laugh at me?” Itachi shed his shirt and threw it into the hamper with perfect aim before pulling a black tank top over his head, still keeping his back to his partner. “Or are you talking about the fact that I’m stripping?” Kisame smiled again, leaning his head back on his pillow slightly.

“No. I just needed to know you cared.” Itachi whipped his head around, his wet ponytail meeting his cheek in a dull smack. He narrowed his eyes and mouth in annoyance as a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“I do NOT care.” Kisame’s smirk grew slightly as he watched his partner with amusement.

“Yes you do.” He closed his eyes with contentment…and as a precaution in case the Uchiha decided to whip out the Sharingan.

“I’m not going to play this silly game. I told you I don’t, and that’s final.” Itachi’s blush had died down completely as he finished putting on a pair of dark blue sweatpants and tied the drawstring. “Tell me when you have something intelligent to say.” He added, heading for the door.

“Alright. I will. Oh, and Itachi?” Said man turned around in the doorway, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Thanks for the soup.”

“…Bastard.”