AN: Un-betad at the moment, so please excuse any errors. For Cydarill who asked for some more ShinoxKiba.
Warnings: shounen-ai, fluffy stuff, you know the drill.
Disc: Not mine, never will be. Doesn't mean I can't play with them though.
Sometimes, he wanted to kill him. He wanted to take the hood of that damn jacket, pull it over that cheeky, intolerable smirk of his and tie it so tight that Kiba would never be able to breathe again. Thankfully, it could be said that Shino was much too calm a person to do something so utterly rash, even if he was fairly sure the rest of the village wouldn't mind. Instead, he would draw in a long, slow breath behind the collar of his too big jacket, close his eyes behind his oh so dark glasses, and push all thoughts of Inuzuka Kiba far, far away. To his dismay, the thoughts would push right back, just like the boy himself, and Shino would once more be faced with a mind full of happy-happy, far too energetic dog boy. Then he'd open his eyes, and there Kiba would be (Where else would he be? Somewhere useful? Of course not.) grinning big, eyes bright, daring Shino to do something. Anything.
Shino, of course, would not do a thing. Not because he was scared or because he didn't want any more trouble, but simply because Shino knew the best way to make Kiba angry was to make him feel ignored. He would stand still for long, lazy moments, baiting Kiba with silence before turning around and walking off like he hadn't a care in the world. Kiba would growl behind him, warning, informing Shino that his plan was working. He didn't need it. He already knew. He also knew, without a doubt in his mind, what was going to happen next. He braced himself and kept walking. Kiba lunged. Shino stopped.
Tackle, fall, roll. Kiba on top, then Shino on top, then whoever happened to be feeling stronger that day. There were no complicated jutsu, no bugs or dogs or clones. There was nothing but the rough housing of two boys that were forced to grow up far too fast. Shino would let his composed exterior drop like his glasses as they fell off his face. Kiba fought with no intention of winning anything but Shino's attention. For all the bruises and scrapes that they gained during those rare, not quite fights, they gained a sense of peace as well. There was nothing like the press of bodies and damp grass when the world wasn't watching to remind a couple of boys that they were still just kids, and their teammates weren't just teammates; they were friends. Brothers. Maybe a little bit more.
So what if shoving happened to turn to kissing somewhere in the midst of unrestrained wrestling? No one to watch meant no one to care, and Shino and Kiba both were of the opinion that there was no point in only going half way. It felt good. It felt right like fighting didn't, like killing and hurting never did. It was something to fall back on when life was too tough and there wasn't room to admit it.
As they lay on the cool, hard ground, side to side, energy spent when all the fight and passion had left them, Shino nearly asked if Kiba did this on purpose. This taunting and teasing that got them both so riled up, and ended in such a manner that most would deem inappropriate, each and every time. He nearly asked if Kiba was playing him just like Shino had done earlier when he had turned and walked away. He didn't. Some things were better left unsaid, unexplored. Let it happen again and again, he thought. It was the last of a dying childhood and he wasn't so sure he was ready to leave it behind.
AN: It's been so long since I've written anything drabbley, hope it was up to par. Review?
