Okay, so, finally, I wrote a Kankuro fic. x3 I've been wanting to write one for a long time, since I LOVE HIM but, eh, now it's here. XD
THE WORLD NEEDS MORE KANKUROXKIBA! HELP SPREAD THE PLAGUE!
Kankuro: -glances at Kiba- Fangirls like her terrify me.
Kiba: -stares at Kanky's ass- Beg pardon?
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It was dark, and it was cold. The bathroom's tile was like ice against Kankuro's bare feet, and the bathtub edge that he was perched on was like a frozen steel bar beneath him. The cold was penetrating the black lounging pants he wore, seeping into the skin of his legs. It was the only thing he wore to protect himself from the midnight chill of a Kohona December.
Pain lanced through his shirtless torso as tender fingers gently traced the dull crimson wound on his left shoulder, near his collarbone. The Junin winced, keening softly as he applied gentle pressure to the bite.
"Damn," His voice came out in a harsh whisper, with the hint of a whimper to it. The torn skin on his collarbone was no longer bleeding, as it had been moments ago. Good. Fumbling around in the dim light for the switch, fingers roaming for the tiny dial...
As he switched the dial, a soft light illuminated the room and Kankuro winced against it. After being in the darkness of his bedroom basement for the past four or so hours, any sort of light was blinding.
Now, anyways, he could see where the puncture wounds were now, clearly. He grit his gently pointed teeth together with a small clack and sighed. "I'll kick his ass," Came a mutter.
The mirror in front of the sink showed a tense-faced, brunette 17 year old in smudged Kabuki paint. One hand resting on the sink, Kankuro leaned forward to inspect his face in the mirror. Eyes so dark green that they were nearly black, brown, choppy haircut touseled and damp with sweat. The puggish nose, sadist grin with the jagged teeth... Facepaint smeared all to hell...
Rolling his eyes, Kankuro turned on the faucet and stuck his hand under, jumping a bit as the icy water hit him. Damn plumbing. It always took forEVER to get it to turn warm. He wiggled his fingers under the water for a few seconds before the temperature changed, then cupped his hands underneath the water. He ducked, and pushed his hands up to his face, scrubbing with his fingertips at the paint. It came away fairly easy, now that it was overdry and already chipping. Letting the water fall back into the sink, stained violet, Kankuro squinted through the soaked eyelashes of his left eye to find the running water once more and to scoop up more water into his hands.
He splashed his face once more, and used his palms to rub the water out of his eyes to check his reflection and make sure it was paint-free. Yup, he was in the clear. Dripping steadily down the back of his neck and the front of his chest, he turned around and snatched a purple-stained seafoam green towel from the edge of the bathtub and pressed it to his face. The towel smelled of Kabuki paint (no surprises there) and of himself, since it was his own personal towel for the daily paint on/paint off routine. Once satisfied with his now paint-free face, he tossed the towel into the bathtub.
He reached up and opened the mirror-plaited medicine cabinet, clearing his throat with a small hack as he did so. "Mmmm... peroxide, alcohol, pills, pills, pills... oh my GOD," Feral, feline-like eyes flew open in horror. "WHY does Temari not HIDE stuff like this?"
He closed the medicine cabinet in a hurry and dug under the sink. Shifting aside a package of unopened toilet paper, as well as all manner of foul-scented cleaners and disinfectants. Behind a container of liquid soap, he found what he was looking for- a roll of bandages and a tiny scroll of medical tape.
Wincing, he tore off a strip of bandage and while eyeing himself in the mirror, pressed it to the wound, holding it there while his other hand searched for the tape. He couldn't remove his hand from the wound yet, so he reclined on the bathtub again and steadied the tape with his foot while he peeled off a couple strips with his hand. Musing to himself about his own hand-foot coordination, he pressed the tape to the bandage to hold it there.
He stood up, and kicked the cupboard door shut, leaning on the sink once more to steady himself. The wound was a hasty tape job, but he really wanted to go to bed.
Making a mental note to sleep on his back instead of his usual spread-eagle-on-stomach-with-arms-over-head fashion, he switched off the light and wandered back into the living room, where Gaara was crouching atop the couch with a dead expresson on his face, apparantly watching an infomercial for a meat slicer.
Gaara did not look up as Kankuro passed through the living room, rather, he appeared to be in a kind of zombified trance. Kankuro waved a 'goodnight' to his younger sibling and crept back down the stairs.
Once he collapsed into his purple and black bedsheets, staring at the ceiling, he made one more mental note:
Talk to Kiba about his damn biting habits.
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Auri's Afterthought: Mwahaha. Kiba likes to bite. xD