Disclaimer: Don't own them, never will. But I do own the plushies!

Nothingness
Chpt. 3 - To Live Here


It had only been their second time together, but already Kisame knew that there would be no pillow talk; no sweet words or tender phrases were to pass Itachi's reddened, slightly swollen lips. But such things didn't seem to matter any more – the Uchiha's body had told him everything he needed to know.

This was right, at least for now.

Now that they had the day off, Kisame decided to be productive. He moved outside and began clearing away the slush surrounding their temporary shelter. Using the few logs still dry after yesterday's onslaught of harsh weather, he built up a small fire.

The skies at the moment, though, were crisp and clear, and the shark-nin felt the corners of his soul lifted towards them. The day was perfect, he had time to replenish their supplies and last, but surely not least, he was beginning to feel younger by the hour. Love was truly invigorating.

Kisame had seen a spring nearby, on the wayside of some small path – hopefully, if it was warm enough to keep the snow melted, the sun had kept the water from icing over.

Normally, he would have used a water jutsu to get what they needed, but the atmosphere was just too perfect to waste. Besides, he reasoned, Itachi-san would be grateful that this had come from some tangible place, not from some summons inside of his partner.

He stood, his back straightening with an audible pop. Checking to make sure that the bonfire was not giving off too much smoke, Kisame took off towards the creek. It was great that he would be able to do the laundry today.

About halfway through the sparse forest, a black shape ghosted through the threadbare boughs above him. Kisame's head snapped up, surveying the world around.

"What was that?" he muttered questioningly.

For some odd reason, a curtain of foreboding dropped onto him. Could that blur have been Sasuke?

He dismissed the notion easily. It was Itachi's odd countenance rubbing off on him, his paranoia becoming contagious, nothing more. Still, Kisame kept his guard up.

When he finally found the tiny creek, he knelt down to fetch a bit of water. Luckily, there had been an old bucket behind the abandoned cottage, and he was using it to fetch the spring water;he could boil it back at their "campground."

Happily, he had traded his sword for the metal pail, leaning Sameheda against the aging wall.


The water was brisk, and chilled his fingers to the bone: an almost penetrating cold. It was exhilarating, and he picked his way back through the woods with renewed energy.

As yet another testament to his growing disgust with fighting (and growing obsession with the settled life) he plucked a few clusters of pine needles from the surrounding trees.

Back at the fire site, he poured the water into the laundry pot and waited for it to heat. The leaves he had grabbed left a heavy, yet not unpleasant, scent in the air; one that Kisame hoped would linger in the cleaned clothes.

The smell was familiar, nostalgic. His mother – may she rest in peace – had taught him the trick, always wanting her son to be a neat little boy. The rogue shark-nin could recall many hours spent beneath the stone wash basin just outside his home.

Her hands, soft with the wet of the laundry, would hold his face to her chest, whispering words of comfort.

"Mommy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Kisame. Just remember that your mother loves you – she always will."

Then, they sat there and watched the washing water boil, then evaporate into the early air.

His father had killed her not long afterwards. He, in turn, murdered the drunk in revenge. That, Kisame supposed, was the root of his old history. He could blame that man for his defection from the village, the multiple murders he had committed later on in life.

But that would only have shamed his mother's memory.

While his memory was in the mood to wander, Kisame pulled it further into the future and let it roam freely. Handling the garments again, he reflected on the two events that had left the stains imbedded in his.

Every feeling, every heady fragrance and emotion found itself coursing through his veins once more, blood singing in his temples. It was almost enough to make him come again. Humorously, Kisame wondered why the afterglow had taken so long to set in.

As the water bubbled, its gurgling joining the soft orchestra of morning sounds, he tossed the pine bunch into it. He watched as the green spines spun in lazy, clockwise circles. A breeze wafted through the hills, whistling loudly, yet singing softly all at once. It was all far beyond comforting.

Would it be such a bad idea to start a home here? To live here?

Kisame could see the small cottage repaired – it was humble but practical – the children he had fathered playing happily in the new spring grass. If that was Itachi standing in the front threshold, for all that, where had they come from?

The Uchiha certainly could not bear them. Unless… A transformation jutsu?

It didn't really matter. The shark-nin felt rather than imagined his future self pull that breathtaking man into his arms, and place a still-passionate kiss on those still-welcoming lips.

As embarrassed as Itachi looked at the open display of affection, Kisame could tell he was pleased.

If his desertion from Akatsuki didn't kill him, he decided, this would be their life. He would live for his partner, their future children, and their probable, new home.

The shark-nin barely even registered how easily his anxiety had fled.

Thusly entertained, Kisame gathered the clean, sopping wet cloaks and brought them inside. The wind that had frolicked outside now rustled the torn screen that hung bleakly from many of the window frames. He hung their coats between the most of the gale and the tiny fire inside. The current would dry them well, and they would keep the flames from guttering out.

Around the side of the house, he could hear the unmistakable ring of target practice. Itachi was up and running, then. As the hours dragged on, and he surveyed the surrounding forest, the ring changed to a hum – practice morphing into the steady grind of a sharpening blade.

The sounds, much like his suspicions, trailed him late into the afternoon.

Kisame spent the remaining daylight finding and completing small chores about their chosen hideaway. He smoked and preserved the last of their venison, (a gift from a rather large deer he had taken down three days ago) and repaired a small rip in his still-damp cloak.

As an added precaution for their dwindling food supply, the shark-nin searched out a few wild fowl eggs to eat later.

It surprised him that, once again, Itachi had returned to bed after a scant two hours of training. Kisame's biggest concern was that perhaps his energy was fading, his interest in living close behind. After all, hadn't the Uchiha questioned the fate of the clan he had maliciously dispatched?

A little extra protein had never killed a man, he reasoned, and threw about half the pheasant eggs he had collected into the waiting pan over the flames. They sizzled satisfactorily, taking on an omelet-like consistency as they mixed with the fried rice.

With the extra downtime, the shark-nin picked up the trail of thought he had been following earlier. What kind of family life could he have if one partner were dead?

Surely, Itachi-san was not the most trustworthy when it came to the family dynamic, but Kisame held a sick kind of faith in the man. Who could kill their own children?

For the second time that day, he thought of his father; his appetite fled in a hurry.

When everything was finished frying, he stood to find his partner – only to discover the object of his scrutiny standing in the hallway. "Itachi-san. Finally awake?"

"Dinner smells good, Kisame. Are those fresh eggs?"

The small talk was irritating, but Kisame figured that it was the best way to coax the other man out of his self-induced hermitage. "Yup, I found a nest a little ways from here. There's a few more if you'd like them made differently.

"It doesn't really matter to me." A short pause, then, "I had the strangest dream after you left this morning."

Well this was new. "What about, Itachi-san?"

"My brother. He was so close to me, Kisame. I could feel his hands about my throat." His eyes betrayed the simple alarm the Uchiha must have felt inside. "And would you believe what he told me? 'You will not survive, Itachi, not even in an unsightly way.' It was… so real."

"Itachi-san…" Some of that alarm had drifted across the room, and caught the shark-nin in its deadly snare. Could he lose his partner even now?

"At least you do not lack hatred."

His inappropriate attempt at levity worked. A rare smile tugged at Itachi's lips, pulling them upwards at the corners. The levity interspersed with the air, the atmosphere became noticeably lighter.

The Uchiha gratefully took the fried rice he was offered, sitting cross-legged on the floor. They spent the meal in relative gaiety: Kisame dictating little accounts from his day and light-hearted stories, Itachi listening in silence. Both gathered around the efficient, yet little heat of the cooking fire.

Their conversations were steady, – normal – only ever interrupted by the rustle of a branch in the night, a light-hearted comment from his partner, or a recherché chuckle.

When the dinner was finished and the equipment packed away, both agreed it was a good idea to retire for the night. Kisame prepared for another night spent in the dim parlor, setting down his pack as a makeshift sleeping mat.

"Kisame, join me tonight?"

Caught off-guard, the shark-nin spun rapidly on his heels. "You mean now?"

"Yes, tonight. I believe it will get a bit too chilly for me." This mischievous glint in his eyes made Kisame's blood rush to his face… and elsewhere. His morning anxiety was still fresh in his mind, the embarrassment still tingling just below the surface.

One eye was obscured by a coy wink, and Itachi turned away, allowing his cloak to drape seductively off one shoulder. "I'll see you inside."

He shook his head, but followed Itachi into the bedroom anyway. He found the other splayed across the bed, legs parted, waiting. It was a tempting sight, but Kisame forced himself to look away. This behavior he wouldn't tolerate.

"This isn't like you, Itachi-san." The Uchiha glanced up. "You're not a cheap whore."

"I didn't know you could consider anyone that, Kisame."

"Enough with that fake surprise. I can if you're going to look like that." He nodded at the display. "Move over."

Slightly ashamed, Itachi obliged, sliding to one side of the cot. Yet, as soon as he lay down beside the Uchiha, joining him for the night, he rolled on top, his fingers pulling harshly on the hidden buttons of the shark-nin's clothing.

Kisame felt the rip he had just repaired tear, and his patience with it. He was angry; he cared for this man, deeply, but his lover seemed much too eager to exploit the physical aspect of their relationship.

It was, however, impossible to deny how arousing the situation was.

He tried valiantly anyway. "Please, could we just sleep now?"

"You're sure you don't want me to take care of you? In that regard?"

Kisame silently cursed his body's unnecessary (and unwanted) reactions to his partner. "I don't feel like it, Itachi-san."

Reluctantly, the Uchiha spun off, giving him an incredulous look as he surrendered for good. He covered his naked body with a corner of the tattered rag of a blanket.

"I just… I just feel like I'm running out of time. I want to be here, Kisame. In the now."

Right then, Hoshigake Kisame felt something deep within him shatter; the feeling of foreboding, of helplessness returned in full force. Again, Itachi's slight frame – quivering muscle and pulsing flesh – desperately fought to get some message across.

The unconscious communication was preparing shark-nin for the inevitable end, and it scared him shitless. Still, it would explain the desperate love-making, the contemplation, the extra sleep…

"Don't leave me now."

"Leave you? Am I really even with you?"

It was all happening too abruptly, the emotions hitting him too fast. Kisame let his hands come up to his lover's face, let his fingers rover across the soft and supple skin of the young face. He placed a gentle kiss on exposed lips, gradually deepening it until he was fully exploring the mouth with a ready tongue.

He pulled back for air and considered the man before him. "You seem like you're here."

Quiet laughter filled room's silence." I should have known," he sighed. After a moment of careful contemplation, "I can trust you."

Guilt washed over the other man. He wasn't sure why, but Kisame felt his mouth open to answer the unasked. "I haven't been completely honest."

"What do you mean, Kisame?"

"This morning," he paused again, carefully weighing the consequences of what he was going to say. "This morning I saw something above me in the woods."

He studied his partner's expression – this was much more difficult to do than he had first imagined.

"I don't know why, Itachi-san, but I was sure it was Sasuke."

The expression contorted, slowly but surely; disbelief, shock, anger… "I- I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"What! You kept this from me!"

"I know, I was wrong, but—"

"You're damn right you were! My brother!" Itachi tore out of bed, dressing quickly. All the relatively romantic moods had fled, following his lover as he readied his weapons and left the room. "I'm going to find him. I'm going to defeat him."

Kisame managed to pull himself up and trail him to the cottage's front door. The Uchiha turned and gave him one final, fleeting look filled with malice and distrust.

His legs threatened to give. The shark-nin could only watch as he whipped around once more and disappeared into the night.

"Itachi-san!"


A/N: Posting this in honor of the fish-man's birthday. XD There was a rush to get this posted! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Wonder if anyone knows where this is heading... Okay, I leave you all with the typical wish that you review, and the update thatI will be working on the new chapter of my KakuHida fic.