#shiobi

Nothing terribly original, truth be told. Good dinner at a nice restaurant, wine flowing as freely as the conversation; neither of them had minded it was a bit mundane. A shinobi could use some more of it, probably. ‘Normal’ things, like a pleasant meal and the time and headspace to laugh at stupid shit. Made you forget, at least briefly, about the kinds of things that can break a man; whether it’s the blood and the endless fighting, or the struggle between clan-family-village-hierarchy. Made even easier, with Shisui at his side. 

He has this knack to befriend just about anyone - either with his utter charm and quick wit, or by the finely honed ability to make anyone smile. He’s lovely, and kind, and Obito very nearly forgets about his errant woes just by being near him. For a time, at least - distracted as he is by Shisui’s laughter, by the way his hands move when he speaks, and the way he watches rapt when Obito lets his own thoughts slip free, hanging on his every word. As though he were worth the time. It causes a warmth in his chest, something beneath his ribs clenching tighter by the minute. 

It’s a shame the evening went a bit to hell. 

He’d felt like a teenager, sneaking off with a stashed bottle of wine into the forests outside the village walls. Shisui at his side, hands linked behind his head and staring at the stars with a whimsical smile curving his mouth. Wandering into the shadows beneath the high trees to find a hidden grove, just outside Uchiha lands. Obito had bought two bottles, had even grinned when Shisui suggested they take a walk; still he can't shake the feeling of doing something wrong. A feeling that’s dogged his heels since childhood; the perpetually misbehaved idiot. 

(Shisui makes him forget about the lack of self-worth that drags him down to the depths. Someway, somehow, able to sense when Obito’s on the edge of losing his temper or his mind. Hand clenched into a fist tight enough his knuckles bleed white, yearning to prove himself - Shisui is there with a smile, a distraction or words of encouragement. It’s - nice. It’s more than he deserves.)

Moonlight bleeds pale across the trees, lending an otherworldly feel to the forests he knows as well as the back of his hand. Obito sits beside Shisui where he lay flat on his back, head cushioned by an arm and hair shifting in the breeze. Free of his hitae-ate, he looks almost younger. Smaller, even. Like there isn't as much responsibility on his shoulders, like - like he’s just a man, relaxed and happy, at Obito’s side.

He takes a deep pull from the bottle, glancing away so his flush isn't visible. Probably fails. 

He’s working up the courage to lay at his side, maybe even brush Shisui’s hand with his own before he actually combusts, when he feels it.

Eyes on him. He’s honed in on the sensation - Shisui feels it, too; he doesn't sit up, does not reach for the tanto Obito knows he has hidden under his shirt. Doesn't so much as lose his smile - but his body goes motionless as still water, the mirth in his eyes vanishing as they spin red, his gaze sharpening to a point as he sweeps his eyes across the treeline.

Obito thinks he feels his dick twitch. Not the time.

He huffs a put-upon sigh, takes another pull from the wine. It lingers in the back of his throat, bitter as tears. Hopes for a moment that it’ll come out unscathed, groans deeper when he knows it probably won't. Obito goes to his feet in one fluid motion, rolling his neck and shifting to a low stance. He sees Shisui move to kneeling at his side, one hand lifting to form a sign - and disappears in a flicker.

He hears what he thinks might be a choking gasp break through the night, sharingan alighting until he can spot three people in the treeline. He narrows his eyes, spots the telltale glint of a hitae-ate - struck through, a deserter. Another sigh, accompanied by a roll of his eyes so grand he can practically hear it. Two missing nin, two Uchiha.

It’s a formality more than anything else. He can't even manage the capacity to give a shit about why they’re here, what Konoha did to dishonor them or whatever, blah blah blah. It’s been a long day, week, year; he’s more annoyed than anything, as he snags a few kunai from the pouch around his thigh and sends them singing towards the deepest shadows with a flick of his wrist. 

“I was having a nice night, man,” he grumbles as he hears a body drop, scrubbing a palm down the side of his face. Shisui’s laughter dances on the breeze, landing at Obito’s side with a ripple of air and a bright smile. He looks up at Obito with a grin turned wry, single brow arched.

“Is that right?” He asks, sounding far too pleased with himself and if that doesn't make something in Obito’s gut clench.

He looks away, crushes some grass beneath the toe of his shoe. He feels about fourteen again, but without goggles and a loud mouth to hide behind this time. He’s a bit miffed about the interruption, struggles to find the silver lining as he realizes this is just yet another failure notched on a long list. 

He’s too deep in his own head to fully register Shisui stepping in front of him, though he’s embarrassed to realize he jolts a bit when he feels a palm sliding along his scarred cheek. Obito blinks to see Shisui with a ponderous look in his eye, brows slightly furrowed and smile wiped clean. 

Obito swallows around the lump in his throat, is already opening his mouth to say something halfway clever, maybe take a step back (run run run away, that’s all he seems to do when he’s under any sort of emotional strain, isn't it? must be an Uchiha thing) in order to regain his bearings - when Shisui steps closer, bridging the gap. Fingertips dancing over the line of Obito’s jaw, watching him with dark eyes that see far too much.

He has to shift himself up on his toes to reach him, which Obito makes a mental note to dedicate proper brainspace to at a later date. For the moment, however, his entire mind is wiped clean at the first touch of pressure on his mouth, and out of the blue Shisui is kissing him. 

The pound of his heart is nearly audible. Obito goes still as stone, hands clenching at his sides. It takes an extra moment or three for him to remember to close his eyes, a thousand differing emotions and sensations beating down into his skull - a shudder runs down his spine, and he realizes Shisui is kissing him.

His palms find Shisui’s hips, rocking him forward to press into his chest. Obito tilts his head down, closes the distance between them; he can feel Shisui smile, pressed intimately like a secret to his mouth. It’s chaste, just a small press of their lips; but even still Obito sighs quietly at the feeling, and lets himself drown beneath it.

Shisui traces aimless patterns on his cheek, puts his entire self into it; lips parting and coming together again, a lazy cascade of kisses that has Obito wondering if Shisui can feel the heat of his flushed face. Thinks for a moment that he should probably be embarrassed about it, and swiftly shuts those thoughts down in favor of memorizing how Shisui’s mouth feels against his own.