Scar Tissue

Chapter Fourteen

"What did you *do*?" the medic yelled at him, pressing a clean cloth to his eye so he could remove the blood soaked one.

"I was practicing this jutsu--" Kakashi began.

"Just stop there. What have I *told* you about overtaxing the Sharingan? Souls preserve you, no one else will! This way!" the medic snapped, dragging Kakashi by the head to a gurney.

Kakashi just went with her, half stooped, one of her hands on his eye and the other against the back of his head.

"Sit," she snapped, and grabbed his wrist to put his hand on the cloth.

Kakashi held it in place while she scurried off after supplies. Sighing, he laid down on the gurney with the Sharingan eye closest to the ground. He was seeing spots, and had a monster of a migraine developing.

Still, he felt better than he had in days. He'd figured out how to shove something through to another dimension, *finally*, and things were going well with Obito.

Just the thought of the other man made him smile slightly. He didn't think about that slim body or glossy black hair that matched a single black eye, the dark eyepatch cutting across pale skin and somehow attractive anyway. If he started thinking about that, about the way Obito shivered over *every* little touch, he'd get uncomfortable rather quickly.

Damn.

The bar had been closed the day before. He'd heard about that, though he hadn't been in the village. He'd taken several new ANBU recruits out for training--'off missions' didn't mean he got to slack off entirely. They were too short-staffed for that. He'd planned on going over this afternoon, once he'd nailed this jutsu, but a stop at the hospital had seemed in order.

"All right," the medic said, bustling back up with two silver pans, one spooned inside the other. "Move the cloth."

He did, blinking out blood.

"We're going to rinse it, first, see how bad the hemorrhaging is," she chattered, despite the fact that Kakashi already knew all this. He'd tried to convince them to just send him home with the medication they used and he could do it himself when this happened, but they wanted everything on record. He didn't know why. If three delicate, dangerous chakra surgeries in his teens hadn't helped, having it on record wasn't going to make a difference, either.

He lie still while she pressed one pan to the side of his face; he lifted his hand to hold it there before she could ask. The other pan she set on the gurney beside him, taking out dripping cloth. Water ran off it, splashing back into the lightly medicated liquid with cheerful little drops. The medic squeezed the cloth over Kakashi's face, and he blinked rapidly as it sluiced out his Sharingan eye. The sensation was odd, but he'd grown used to it over the years. Water dribbled into the empty pan he held, gathering in the bottom. It was several minutes of this before the medic bent to look, pulling a tiny brush-pen from her pocket. The strokes tickled, and then the seal burned for a moment as chakra sank into his flesh, going deep into his tissue to stop the bleeding and mend the damage.

"Not too bad," she said, stepping back to eye her handiwork. "Still, try not to use it for three to five days, and come back if there's any redness or swelling."

"The instant I see redness," Kakashi agreed blandly, pulling his hitai-ate down as he sat up, handing the pan back over.

The medic gave him a sharp look, then snagged her tools and strode quickly away.

Such a simple procedure, and they wouldn't let him do it himself. He sighed, wandering to a dispenser and pulling cloths free to dry the rest of his face. Now, though, he had three to five days to visit with Obito. Maybe the hospital was good for that. Significantly more cheerful, Kakashi tossed the cloth in a hamper and headed out the hospital doors.

**

He'd spent the evening with Kakashi. Sitting in the bar after it closed, easy conversation and fixing drinks, making out hot and heavy in one of the booths, nearly coming in his pants before the Copy Ninja finally left.

He really liked spending the evening with Kakashi.

But…

"H-hurts!"
"Sorry… does it hurt? It's been a while. I couldn't hold back!"

Obito put the manga down and, as if hoping things might have changed, picked up another one.

"Don't look there! It's embarrassing!"

He scowled and flipped through pages.

"No! Wait! I can't!"
"Even if you say to stop, I can't hold back!"

Obito groaned miserably and let his head fall back against the recliner. *Why* did the little guy have to be on the bottom? Why couldn't *Kakashi* be on the bottom? It wasn't Obito's fault he was short!

"So, what's so important that I had to leave Kurenai all toasty and warm in bed and come *rushing* over here--" Anko stopped in the doorway, hips canted, short black skirt showing off pale skin under her fishnets. "You look awful."

Obito glared at her. "You're not helping!" With more than a little difficulty he wrangled his cane into place and stood, hobbling into his little kitchen. It didn't have much; a hotplate, an icebox, and running water. The bar had a large kitchen, and if he really needed anything he went there. But all he wanted now was tea, and the hotplate got warm enough to make the kettle water boil.

"Have you slept at all?" Anko asked, standing in the doorway when he turned around.

His grip on his cane was white. He glared at his feet, one of them slightly cockeyed from the twist in his broken leg. "No."

"What's so important that you stayed up all night and called me out of bed at six in the morning?" Anko asked, voice equal parts alarm and exasperation.

Obito steeled himself, already feeling a blush rise to his face. "Kakashi and I... that is, we..."

"I see. Did he hurt you?" Her tone, normally so full of life--whether it was joy or anger or laughter or despair--was flat and dead.

Obito's head snapped up. Anko stood squarely now, expressionless, the hair spiking up behind her head from her messy ponytail more like a weapon than a style. "No! Damn, Anko, we haven't even gotten that far!" He stomped past her, limp pronounced, shoulder aching every time he braced to lean on his cane. She moved aside quickly when he went past; he picked up one of the manga and turned, not surprised to see the doorway where she'd been standing was now empty. He had to look around for a moment to find her, then imperiously shoved the book toward her. "How do you *know* it's not like that?" He lifted his chin, trying for bravado and horribly afraid he'd failed.

Anko took the book, then sighed and sat down, letting it flop between her knees. "Oh, 'Bito, it's not like this," she said sadly.

Obito bristled but sat, refusing to look at her. He twirled his cane instead. "You can't know that. Have you *had* anal sex?"

There was a moment of silence. Obito didn't look up. Then Anko spoke. "Yes. And you have to be careful, but it doesn't hurt unless you're rushing things."

He thought about his experiment in the bathtub and nearly blushed crimson. "But you're not a guy. Maybe it's different. Maybe they just say it doesn't hurt because that's what they want you to believe."

"You . . . need to talk to another man," Anko said at last. "Why don't you talk with Kakashi about this?"

Obito hunched his shoulders, putting his elbows on his knees and curling inward. "I--I can't." It would just be too humiliating.

"All right," Anko said slowly. "What about Raidou? He'd know the answers to all these questions."

Obito bounced the end of his cane off the floor. The way Anko had said that implied--"I thought Genma was the slut of the two of them?" he asked, because talking about other people gave him a welcome break from talking about himself.

"Genma talks a good game but," a pause, "he's walking wounded."

Obito looked up, bringing Anko into his limited field of vision. "What's that?"

Anko frowned. She was still holding the manga, and now stared down at it thoughtfully. "When someone's emotionally damaged, and people know to be just a little more gentle with them."

Obito thought about it. Then a rather disturbing thought came to mind. "Am I walking wounded?"

Anko didn't answer right away, but she didn't need to. Obito frowned down at the floor again and pressed on, not wanting to hear whatever she might say. "Raidou's discrete, if he's sleeping around."

"Yes," Anko said. "He is." She paused again, then added, "And you should really talk to him about this, if you can't talk to Kakashi and you won't believe a girl."

"Yeah," Obito muttered glumly.

He heard Anko stand, heard the book flop to the ground. A moment later her boots were in his field of vision, and then she knelt to stare up at him. "I promise it won't be like that," she said, putting her hands on his around his cane. "If it is, we'll tell Ibiki and he'll have Kakashi castrated."

Obito laughed reluctantly. "Great," he muttered.

Anko leaned up to kiss his forehead. "Now, I'm going back to Kurenai. Seems like one or the other of us is always gone these days…"

He listened to her close his apartment door, heard the bells ring over the bar door when she exited the building. He stared at the veins of red running through his cane.

Damn. She'd just tossed that book aside. With as little as he saw, it was going to take him forever to find it, now.

**

"Did you ever really hate someone--I mean, *really* hate someone--only to realize later that you might be falling for them?" Because that was the only reason he could think of that he was even contemplating gay sex.

"Oh, well," Raidou began thoughtfully, playing with his food as they sat in the little outdoor café. "No, not really," he said at last. "Trouble with Kakashi?"

Obito blushed. He knew everyone knew about him and the Copy Ninja, but it was still a little strange. "I don't know. Maybe I’m just fooling myself."

Raidou looked up at him, eyebrows rising under his hitai-ate. His shoulders were arced upward, elbows braced on the table, scars showing from under a black tank top. "Well, Kakashi likes you enough. I think he's smitten."

Obito felt his blood rising to his cheeks, and leaned back to close his eyes and absorb the sun. "Smitten, huh?" he asked, secretly pleased to hear it.

"And they say hate is just the flip side of love," Raidou pointed out idly.

Obito thought about that, listening to the clink of plates and the murmur of other patrons. Maybe it wasn't so weird that he liked Kakashi, then. "I'm pretty sure I didn't love him when I was twelve."

"Well, no. That's because he was an ass."

Obito laughed, picking his head up and opening his eyes. Raidou was smiling at him, scars making it lopsided. "Do you really believe that?" he asked. "The love/hate thing, not the ass thing."

"I believe both things," Raidou said, twirling noodles onto his chopsticks before eating them.

Obito thought about that, limited gaze traveling over the patio. He saw one table at a time, less than he'd seen a month ago. The doctor said he was over-using the Sharingan. He wondered what the world would be like when he went blind, and hoped it wouldn't happen too soon.

There, two girls laughed over a bowl of ramen. A father and his daughter sat beyond them, the girl chattering about something animatedly. All things he wouldn't see, just like he couldn't see the world continuing to either side or behind him.

It was a strange thought.

He dragged his focus back to the table he was sharing with Raidou, remembering that he'd suggested lunch because he'd wanted to ask about gay sex.

The words just wouldn't come. Maybe if he eased into it… "So… have you dated a lot of people?"

Raidou slanted him an amused look. Obito glared down at the handle of his cane, both his hands on top of it.

"I suppose," Raidou said slowly, "that I've had an average number of relationships."

"Both men and women?" Obito hedged.

There was a long pause, though Obito didn't look up to see Raidou's face. "Yes," he said at last. "Both men and women."

Obito debated his next question carefully. "And do you prefer, um, things with one over the other?" Okay, 'things' probably wasn't the clearest way to phrase it.

"I tend to prefer relationships with people I trust," Raidou said finally. "Is that what you meant?"

Obito flushed bright red. "Yes," he mumbled. "That's what I meant." He tried to force himself to just come right out and ask about sex, but couldn't do it. Frustrated and angry, he thumped his cane against the ground several times. "I should get back to the bar," he said at last, when the words still wouldn't come.

"Sure," Raidou said.

Obito stood, looking around carefully to plan how he was going to leave the patio area--these things became important, when your vision was cut down.

"'Bito?"

He paused. "Yeah?" he asked over his shoulder.

"When you want to talk to me about whatever it is you're upset about, you can just tell me."

He blushed again. "Yeah," he mumbled. Then he headed out around the first of many tables.

**

The sun was warm, skin growing damp, the air humid. Bees hummed in the trees above, and the lit candles at the base of the Uchiha monument spread a soft, vaguely sweet smell through the clearing.

"If you hadn't become a ninja," Obito asked absently, sprawled out in the sun and letting his dark pants and long sleeved shirt soak up the heat, "what would you have done?"

Kakashi sat just a few feet away, in the shade of an overhanging tree. He thought about the question, running his fingertips absently up Obito's arm, to the overly sensitive flesh on the underside of his wrist, at the pulse point. It was the only bit of Obito he could reach without braving the sun. "I don't know," he answered, more interested in the blue veins hidden under smooth skin, vanishing beyond the black of the man's sleeve. "Maybe I've have become a professional hobo."

It tugged a laugh out of Obito, scars shifting across his skin. "You really have no aspirations for anything else?" he asked, eye closed. His hair lay feathered across his skin, casting half shadows in the afternoon light.

"Porn star," Kakashi murmured with a smile, just to needle Obito.

It worked. Obito opened his eye and sat up, looking at Kakashi with horror. "You would not!"

"Oh, sure. Jutsu could make it bigger, if it wasn't big enough," he said mildly, gesturing at his crotch.

Obito's gaze fell to the anatomy in question. He colored and yanked it back up, jaw closing with a snap. "You're pulling my leg."

"I wouldn't do that," Kakashi said, leaning back against the tree trunk and closing his eyes. If he kept looking at Obito, he was going to laugh. "Your leg's injured. Besides, I think I'd be good at being a porn star. I have lots of stamina." He slitted an eye. "My parents were ninja, you know."

"Gods! You've got this fabulous mind and you're going to go be a porn star?" Obito wailed. "You--you could *invent* things!"

"Like new positions," Kakashi said mildly, thoroughly enjoying Obito's horror.

"Like weapons or tactics or--hell, even new types of food!"

"Well, they already have edible lube," Kakashi said thoughtfully.

"Toys or electronics!" Obito nearly yelled. Kakashi could practically feel the man's blood pressure rising. It was hilarious.

"Jiraiya has the market with Icha Icha, though there're never too many sex toys--"

Obito interrupted. "Prosthetic arms and legs for injured ninja! You could make peoples' lives better!"

"I think most people would think their lives were better for having watched me and some buxom young thing hump like bunnies." He was rather proud of himself for keeping a straight face, even when Obito made wordless noises. He sounded like an irate squirrel, really. Or Pakkun, when he had those bicycle-chasing dreams.

There was a stiff silence. The bees did their best to fill it. "Your parents would never approve," Obito said finally.

"Well, if I weren't a ninja, they wouldn't approve no matter what. Besides, they're dead." He opened his eyes and smiled brightly.

Obito was sitting up, leaning on his good arm, giving Kakashi a frustrated look. Flags of red rode his cheeks, and his nose was turning pink--from sun, not anger, Kakashi thought. The black clothes made his hair seem darker, his skin paler. Like fine cream, most of it was smooth and nearly unblemished. There were the big scars, of course, but unlike other ninja Obito hadn't spent a lifetime gathering small cuts and scrapes until the tiny, almost imperceptible scars were so numerous they no longer registered. At least not until Kakashi saw someone like Obito, who didn't have them.

"You would not really be a porn star!" Obito yelled.

Kakashi laughed softly, the picture so perfectly Obito: petite, beautiful Uchiha… with vocal chords like a fishwife's, opinions he refused to silence, and the willingness to use that voice for those opinions.

Obito lunged far enough to punch Kakashi in the thigh in retaliation. Kakashi grabbed his wrist, watching as first he struggled and then he just glared impotently. Slowly, with a warm smile, he began to pull the smaller man closer. Obito didn't struggle. Lips parted slightly as Kakashi tugged him near, then over his lap, wrapping a hand around the slender waist and snugging him close. Leaning back against the tree, Kakashi put his feet flat on the ground, lifting his knees so that Obito couldn't scoot farther away.

Now this was comfortable.

He traced the man's jaw with one finger, brushing across thin lips. "You wouldn't help me fulfill my fantasies as a porn star?" he asked teasingly, his voice quiet.

Obito's pupils were rapidly dilating, his breath catching slightly. The dark gaze drifted down to Kakashi's mouth, uncovered by the mask he'd shed for their afternoon trip. "No," the Uchiha said, and had to clear his throat before continuing to speak. "I'm not helping with that."

Kakashi made a small moue of disappointment, tracing Obito's upper lip. "Not even if it were my life long dream?"

"No," Obito said, voice going husky.

"Jealous of all those other people looking at me?" Kakashi suggested, teasing.

Obito flushed. "No!" he said sharply. "Of--of course not!"

So that would be a yes, then. Interesting. "Of the other people I'd be screwing?" 'Fucking' was too strong a term, he'd learned. It made Obito uncomfortable. Kids weren't allowed to say such things, much less do them, and the other man hadn't grown up learning to use those terms as he aged.

"Maybe--maybe they'd be screwing you." Obito licked his lips, and Kakashi slid his thumb past them to brush against teeth.

"Maybe," he agreed, nearly purring. "Given it much thought?" He really, really hoped so.

Obito's face went crimson. "What, other people screwing you?" he squeaked.

"Not other people." He slipped his finger between the man's lips again, felt Obito's tongue brush his nail.

"Not other…then…" The blush, beginning to fade, rose again. "I--I--uh--"

Kakashi smiled slightly, and when it became clear that Obito wasn't going to get out more than a stutter, he pulled his finger away and leaned in for a kiss, replacing his finger with his tongue in a soft movement. Obito opened under him, a shiver working down his body. Oh, gods, he was sensitive to everything, and Kakashi didn't quite know why they hadn't had sex yet. Oh, sure, he knew that they were taking things slow because Obito was jittery--despite the man's claims to the contrary the one time Kakashi had tried to tactfully mention it--but, really, he didn't know how *Obito* was standing the tension.

He slid his hand down the man's torso, feeling compact muscles under thin material, and caressed the side of the man's hip. Obito sighed softly into Kakashi's mouth, wriggling ever so slightly. A scarred hand rose, stroking through Kakashi's hair, a little hesitant but more assertive every day. Obito tilted his head, deepening the kiss further, weight shifting to press them still closer.

Kakashi moaned, put his hand between Obito's shoulder blades and tipped them both over into the moist grass, Obito on the ground and Kakashi braced on an elbow over him. He shifted until the man's bad leg was flat, not draped over Kakashi's lap, then bent to nibble at the nearest ear; the unscarred one, the eyepatch strap vanishing into the hairline just above it. The hand on Obito's hip rose, ghosting over his ribs and back down, as far as Kakashi could reach. Gods, he hadn't had make-out sessions since he'd been an awkward *teenager*, and Obito was going to be the death of him.

The Uchiha squirmed, sliding closer to Kakashi, nearly under him, hip resting against Kakashi's dick. When Obito squirmed again, providing friction, Kakashi nearly bit his lip in an effort to not roll on top of the other man and just start thrusting. Instead, he nibbled on Obito's jaw, neck, tracing the neckline of his shirt with gentle, teasing fingers. Obito's hands, smaller than Kakashi's, slid over the old, worn cloth of Kakashi's shirt. He gasped when Kakashi found a nipple through fabric and scratched his nails gently over it, still lipping and nuzzling at Obito's neck, keeping his head tipped up so Kakashi could better smell heat and wood oil and the now-pungent aroma of grass.

Obito moved again, good leg moving against Kakashi to brace on the ground, hips shifting not quite upward but certainly moving. Kakashi slid his hand down along them, feeling sinew and bones under thin cloth, sliding across to rub on Obito's pelvis. Obito groaned, thrusting up almost unconsciously, Kakashi suspected; the movement was so small.

Hands tickled at the hem of Kakashi's shirt, fingers sliding underneath, along his back. "Oh, gods, Obito," Kakashi groaned, telling himself over and over again that he really shouldn't have sex in the Uchiha memorial grounds. He licked Obito's neck, then paused to suck just long enough to leave the skin sensitive. Obito's breathing hitched. His hips shifted again, that little not-thrust. "Obito," Kakashi repeated, trailing just the tips of his fingers over the little bit of skin exposed between shirt and pants. "We need to either stop or take this inside." Because he needed either heavier petting or less petting to keep any sort of sanity.

Obito went still. "Well," he said, flushing red again, looking at the hollow of Kakashi's throat as he brought his head down, rather than looking at Kakashi's eyes. "We could… um… you have a mission tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Kakashi said, nodding. "Short one." Since he'd finished the jutsu, they'd put him back on active duty. Needed all their ninja. He couldn't blame them.

"You could... if you wanted…" the flush grew deeper. "Come back to my place tonight?" Obito swallowed, still staring at Kakashi's neck. "If you wanted."

Oh, Kakashi wanted. Kakashi really wanted. "Are you sure?" Because Obito didn't sound sure.

Obito nodded. "Yeah. After the bar closes." Finally, that single eye flicked up to meet Kakashi's gaze. He blushed again.

"I'd like that," Kakashi said, lowering his head to nip at reddened lips. "I'd like that a lot."

*************