There is a series of ruffling, a cool breeze sifting through his comforter and making his skin crawl at the sudden coolness.
Then, there is a voice, quieter than it usually is, almost timid-like.
"It is cold."
Tobi didn't argue. He could hear the howling wind blow outside, rattling the wooden frames of the window of the hotel room they are staying in.
As a response to the sudden gust of stronger wind, Tobi grips his comforter tighter to wrap around himself to seal the barrier that Deidara had broken when he slipped inside his futon.
As he does, he tries to ignore the way Deidara's legs are beginning to tangle themselves with his own, the smaller man attempting to bury himself in Obito's hesitant embrace.
"Deidara," Obito says, forgetting himself in the moment and then Tobi hastily adds the usual honorific with his sleep-thickened voice. "It is hard to breathe."
His partner doesn't respond immediately, which makes Tobi fear for the moment that he had gone to sleep, leaving Obito to suffer the surprisingly cuddly artist - who gave Obito the impression that he is a loner when they were first introduced, so this is certainly a shock - for the entire night alone.
But his fear is unfounded when Deidara grunts, shifting in his embrace but remains where he is, albeit slightly loosening his grip on Tobi's torso.
"Sorry, hm," Deidara whispers a heartbeat afterward.
Tobi furrows his eyebrows, lips pressing into a thin line underneath his mask.
He lets it slide, literally embracing the fact that he would be spending the night with Deidara in his arms and forced himself to be okay with it.
As he tries to close his eyes, to once again fall asleep despite the angry howling, he hears yet another noise that jolts him to awareness.
There is a slight shift in Deidara's breaths, from soft inhales to deep breathing, indicating that he's already fallen asleep once more. Well, that isn't so much a noise than some generic sound, but with Deidara so close to him, face quite literally buried in his chest, he could hear his breathing even over the loud, moaning wind.
He blinks, sleep beginning to fade from his eyes as Deidara's gentle and rather soothing breaths wash over him.
Eventually, it is the only thing he could hear, as the stuttering of the wooden blinds bleeds into silence. In the quiet, his world zeros in on Deidara, the softness of his hair and the gentle brush of air each time he breathes. It's hypnotic and yet Obito finds himself wide awake as opposed to feeling the comforting drag of sleep.
He finds himself staring. First, he sees the top of his head, those blonde strands somehow still glowing in the minimum lighting of the room. With each rise and fall of his chest, Deidara's head moves along it, and there are tufts of blonde hair that enjoy dancing with the rhythm.
In their dance, they catch whatever light that seeps in through the gaps of the blinds and twinkle, as distant and small as a faraway star, but no less beautiful.
Obito allows his gaze to move on, breathing in deeper strokes as a sense of heavy calmness settle in his chest. His gaze trails from Deidara's hair and settles on his eyelashes.
Blonde is his natural color.
He tries to stifle a laugh at the suggestive nature of his phrase, but it's true. Deidara's eyelashes are only a slightly darker shade of blonde than his hair.
He watches those fine hairs closely, lips pressing tightly together when he notices them flickering. His eyes are moving in his dreams, and Obito wonders absentmindedly what he's dreaming about. It must be a peaceful dream because he could see that Deidara is very relaxed, his expression soft and perhaps even what he would consider as happy.
The expression seems familiar, even though he isn't quite sure where he's seen it before.
He tries not to remember the times he catches glimpses of Deidara when he thinks that Obito was not looking.
He moves on. Obito allows his gaze to trail down from his eyelashes to his nose. It is a special nose, something that Obito would never think he'd even consider as possible. It's dainty, perhaps one would say it is unfitting for a guy but Obito finds that it compliments Deidara's face very well.
And at this angle, it's rather hard not to describe it as small. You couldn't even see half his nose if you're staring at it from the top.
He tries and fails to suppress his smile. He admires Deidara's lips now, fascinated by their color. They're a soft rose, not unlike the color of the rest of his face, but a few shades darker.
A hint more pink, a dash more life.
It looks almost soft. He's mesmerized by the way they lightly part with each intake of breath, trembling so lightly that it would be impossible to catch it if weren't for his Sharingan.
Obito tears his gaze away from Deidara then, refusing to keep focusing on such embarrassing things. He'd be disgusted with himself if he isn't too busy trying to calm his heart. He silently gives thanks to whatever that's listening that Deidara is asleep. He's sure that he would have sensed his quickened heart rate with his ear pressed right up against the left side of his chest.
He shifts and unconsciously, his arm moves up to wrap around Deidara. To keep him there, Obito reasons with himself. He doesn't want him to toss and turn in the middle of the night and risk waking him again. He values the times he gets to finally rest his eyes. Resting isn't a privilege Obito gets to indulge in often.
He keeps his gaze drilled to the ceiling, forcing himself to either stare at that or close his eyes. His mind settles on the latter once his vision begins to squirm at the corners. His hand rests flat on Deidara's side and he strokes it once.
No, too much.
Obito swallows and squeezes his eyes tighter. It doesn't really help it that with the added body heat, it is indeed much warmer now. The howling of the wind outside doesn't even bother him at all - not that it has in the first place, though it was always a thing at the back of his mind he dully keeps note of.
The next time he blinks his eyes open, the room is brightly lit. Tobi isn't even aware of the fact that sleep had overtaken him last night. It didn't feel like he had rested at all. He feels cheated, but then the feeling of something on his chest sets the thought and feeling aside.
At first, he panics a little, getting reminded of the time when he is trapped underneath the boulder, but then Obito realizes that this boulder is too light and soft to be life-threatening, and he calms down.
Even though it is often not a boulder, Obito still rarely allows anything to cover his chest. It triggers bad memories and feelings, no matter how calm the acceptance of death might be. Strangely, once Obito remembers what - or who, to be more exact - is laying on his chest, he doesn't feel the desire to toss him over.
Instead, he peers down once more, staring at the same mop of blonde hair he's been seeing almost every day now. Ever since pairing up with Deidara, he hardly ever leaves his side. He fears suspicion if he disappears for long periods of time, especially if they're on a mission.
Deidara isn't weak, but there are many times where he just drags on the battle longer than necessary. While Tobi might not have a problem with it, since the only thing he needs to do is to stand back and make funny comments, Obito often wishes to interrupt it so that he could finish it much quicker so that he could get on with other things.
It is never an option.
He reaches up, arm still wrapped around Deidara's torso. He removes his hand from Deidara's side - and takes note of Deidara shivering at the removal - and touches the bottom of Deidara's long hair.
Sometimes, he wonders if that's impractical. Why have such long hair? When he had an impressive mop of hair, it mainly just hindered him. He doesn't understand how Madara does it, honestly. He couldn't resist cutting it all off once he helped Itachi out.
How does Deidara stand it? As far as he's concerned, he's had long hair most of his life. Shrugging the question off, he allows himself to run his gloved fingers through said locks.
Soft.
Obito quickly catches himself, sneering when he realizes that he felt that through his gloves. Sure, the material isn't necessarily thick, but the entire thing shouldn't even happen in the first place.
What a dangerous thing it is to notice the feeling of another person's hair.
He tries his best to look anywhere except for Deidara, but it is surprisingly hard to ignore someone when said someone is laying right on your chest.
Every time his eye threatens to drift back to his partner, Obito snaps himself aware and forces his gaze to linger on the windows, or the blinds, or the slight crack of the paint at the corner of the wall, instead. He thinks he's trying his best, but when he blinks the next time and finds himself staring down at Deidara's peaceful expression, Obito realizes that he is weak.
Since he's here already, he might as well just indulge himself.
He turns slightly, sliding Deidara off of his chest and onto his left arm but careful not to jostle him too much, and gently touches Deidara's cheek with the tip of his fingers. Even though the fabric of his glove, he could feel the softness of his skin. Obito smiles at that.
He continues to trail against his skin, a slight smile on his face and brushes the bang that covers half of Deidara's face to the side. He tucks most of it behind his ear and even though there are stray strands that eventually found their way back, Obito is too captivated to fix it.
Obito curls his fingers lightly, running the first knuckles of his fingers against the newly exposed part of Deidara's face, which had, up until now, been covered with his lovely, golden hair.
Tobi wonders why he must hide it. Tobi thinks that it is a shame that he never gets to see Deidara's full face, the only time he gets to is when Deidara deems something worthy enough to brush his hair aside to use his scope.
He thinks that Deidara should wear all of his hair up more often.
Obito bites the inside of his cheek when he catches himself thinking that.
Slowly, as he tries not to succumb to whatever it is that is swirling in his mind, the room's noise slowly bleeds into his consciousness. The sound of birdsong twitters into his mind, accompanied by the ticking of the clock that he didn't even know existed. He hears the sound of every moment a soft gust a wind batters against the wooden blinds, quieter than the wind that had blown last night.
The sound serves enough to distract him and he forgets where he is. He just knows that he's there.
When Deidara begins to slowly stir in his arms, he doesn't even recognize it until Deidara opens his eyes, peering up at him almost curiously.
The two of them stare at each other until Obito suddenly remembers where he is, or more specifically, where his hand is. Tobi tenses and means to remove his hand, but Deidara stops him, slim fingers wrapping gently around his wrist.
Obito sees something in Deidara's eyes that he doesn't know what to make of. It is bright, a warm feeling that he swears he could almost physically see. Obito swears that, if he tries hard enough, he could probably reach out and touch it, too.
Deidara tugs Tobi's arm and directs it to his waist. When he's certain that Tobi is not going to move, Deidara shuffles closer and closes his eyes for a moment, as though he is enjoying this feeling.
Obito is stunned, unsure what to make of the current situation. He has never had to deal with something like this, after all.
Obito feels Deidara's leg between his, a warm and solid presence that he has forgotten up until now. How has he not moved the entire night? Is his body not sore? Obito wonders if he is sore and then suddenly feels the numbness in his right arm.
When Deidara blinks his eyes open again Obito deems the feeling trivial and waits with bated breath.
Neither of them moves for a while and Deidara seems to be focusing on his mask. Obito feels a foreboding sense of dread chill down his spine as his mind supplies him with the idea that maybe he's going to finally crack the question. Obito knows that he's wanted to for a long time now.
But instead of talking, Deidara surprises him by reaching up with his left hand, his right hand still resting palm up between their faces. He blinks when he feels Deidara's hand resting against the side of his mask, where his right cheek is.
Obito could feel the air growing heavy with the unasked question and he braces himself for it, eyebrows furrowing from the stress.
Still, Deidara doesn't talk. His eyes just search, his gaze so soft that Obito feels as though he can, perhaps, begin to once again lower his guard.
"Isn't it uncomfortable wearing this to sleep, hm?" Deidara's sudden and unexpected question shocks Obito and it leaves him speechless. It doesn't help that this isn't the question that he had expected Deidara to ask.
He doesn't respond for a while, wondering why Deidara would ask this. He purses his lips.
"Yeah," Tobi answers quietly, aware of the time and state of his voice.
The corner of Deidara's mouth twitches but he otherwise remains rather stoic. Deidara gives him a feeble nod as acknowledgment and continues to stare at his mask, his thumb unconsciously beginning to stroke against the material.
Obito feels as though now is unwise to speak up, so he remains quiet even if it doesn't really suit Tobi to be quiet. Maybe it is time for Tobi to grow up and learn to gauge the weight of the situation.
He twists his left arm and toys with the soft strands of Deidara's hair. Deidara doesn't seem to mind.
Then, Deidara breaks away from him to yawn. He pulls away from Tobi and rolls onto his back, pressing the back of his left hand on his mouth as he tries to cover it, tears prickling at the edge of his eyes.
Obito couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, which Deidara ignores. Obito leans forward and presses his masked face against Deidara's neck, wrapping his arms tightly around Deidara's torso.
"Good morning, senpai," he mumbles.
Deidara just hums in response, strangely accepting of Tobi's touch.
Neither of them says anything again, but Obito now knows that they don't have to. As the wind continues to blow outside the inn's room, he feels as though he is where he belongs and whatever it is that the two of them refuse to say out loud is carried away as a whisper in the wind.