This story will actually be a collection of short drabbles, each having nothing to do with each other, just so I have a place to put them all. Please review if you like one, because that's what the button's there for! And if you have a suggestion or request for another drabble, put it in a review with your other comments and I might think about writing it. Because I'm awesome that way! ((nice guy pose))


Black and Blue

Because when I think of you I think of bruises.


It's ironic, that's what it is. I hate irony.

When I look at you, I think of bruises. It's not a negative thing, of course, you just remind me of them. When we fight and I see how strong you've become, it's like you've got me by the throat, squeezing and squeezing and you won't let go. I won't survive if I don't do something about it, but even if I do I will still have these dark dappled marks in the shape of your hands.

Because whether I like it or not, you've touched me.

And like all things that have touched me--

mother father Itachi revenge

--I can't let you go.

My fingers absently trace the outline of a dark bruise on my stomach. You put it there. You're getting stronger. You getting stronger, maybe stronger than me. That will probably start to bother me later, but not right now. Because I always think of bruises when I think of you.

It's not because we're always fighting, that I think that. When I think of fighting, I think of blood. Red on red on blood. My red, your red, our blood. That is what a fight should be.

Our red eyes locking together.

My red, your red.

But this isn't about blood, it's about bruises. Because when we aren't fighting, when we aren't red, we are black and blue.

Gazes that dare to challenge.

Gazes that squeeze each other until only dappled dark handprints are left.

Our gazes are black and blue on my heart.