/*/*/*/

When he checked on him in the morning Kakuzu seemed more alert, giving Hidan hope he would wake soon. It was obvious now that he was dreaming - his arms and legs twitched, his eyes moved under the lids, his mouth formed silent words that he couldn't make out no matter how he tried.

Pulling his armchair close, the priest watched him like a hawk whole day. He wanted to be the first thing the miser would see upon waking. He wanted him to recognise right away that Hidan had been taking care of him.

That's right - over a week he'd looked over, carried to shelter, washed and even tried to feed him (which hadn't been a success, but he didn't need to know that, and anyway the old bastard never ate too much, Jashin knew where he got his energy from).

Not to mention that he very valiantly resisted all his urges, and neither sacrificed nor fucked his partner. He felt he deserved the highest praise for that alone. And some compensation preferably.

He imagined it a million times, how Kakuzu would react upon waking up and finding Hidan looming above him. Each version was more exciting (and, he could admit it, less probable) than the previous one.

So yeah, it wouldn't happen in a million years, but he still wanted Kakuzu to wake up and be grateful. Happy to have Hidan there - or whatever passed as happiness for the sour old bastard. He had even less chance for have him playing along with the the priest's newly found fascination of him, but a man can dream. So he prayed to Jashin for help, not that his god dealt with such things, but he thought it couldn't cause and harm. He also tried to convince himself that it didn't matter that much anyway - he would settle for the usual sarcasm - he could work with that later. He just wanted the other to finally get out of his coma. He wasn't fit for the role of a nurse. Not at all.

"Just wake up already," he muttered, leaning even closer. "You can thank me later, for now it's enough if you open your eyes." He might had been imagining things, but it seemed as if Kakuzu's lids fluttered open to a crack. Holding his breath he waited.

/*/*/*/

"Have you heard it? The battle of the century..."

"... lost in the end, but it was a close thing..."

"I don't know who leads the Uchiha clan now..."

"Senju is seriously injured as well..."

"The battle lasted two days..."

"...three days..."

"...a whole week..."

"Dead. Madara Uchiha is dead, it's certain. The Hokage survived."

"I tell you, that's the truth. I heard it from my cousin, and the sister of his wife lives in Konoha..."

Kakuzu pulled his newly acquired mask down below his chin to take a sip of his sake. No one payed any attention to the deep wounds on his face, now pulled closed by rough stitches. The whole inn was buzzing with the newest gossip. It seemed to hold the interest of everyone. Shocking as his new appearance was, the defeat of the notorious leader of the Uchiha clan kept the attention of the other clients away from him.

He would have welcomed it, this lack of attention if there were a different reason for it. Although weeks have passed since his flight from his village, he was still trying to get used to how his body looked. He was still startled whenever he caught sight of his reflection somewhere. Not to mention how other people stared at him. Getting a heavy overcloak that covered the clay figures that now deformed his back and a mask and hood to hide his face helped. Like this it was only his eyes, coloured to an unnatural green and red by the kinjutsu that stood out. It was the first time spent amongst people that he wasn't drawing attention to himself. Well, he guessed nothing competed with the battle of the century.

The stories people told got more and more wondrous as the afternoon turned into night and the level of alcohol they consumed rose. Madara had summoned a demon to fight by his side. Hashirama commanded a whole forest to bend to his will to fend off the Uchiha's attack. The whole landscape changed beyond recognition where they clashed.

Kakuzu would have discarded these as gossip blown up, as simple malarkey... but he had felt on his own skin the power of that two. He thought that some of the stories, even the very wild ones, may held some truth.

He left the money on the table for the drink and went to roam the streets of the small town. Crowds were mingling still, despite the late hour, talking about the same as the guests of the inn. Contradictory as the tales they told were, on one account all agreed: that Madara was dead, beaten down by Hashirama Senju.

Only the strong survives, you said.

He felt oddly at loss. His vague plans of trying to find the Uchiha were thwarted. He told himself that it was all for the better. What would have he done, if he found him? Challenged him? Offered his services to him? Shown him that he was now so much stronger? That he was a survivor? Ask him to teach him, to accept him as an apprentice...?

The whole idea had been ridiculous, fueled only by the fact that he was suddenly without an anchor. For the first time in his life there was no one to give him orders, to tell him what to do. He was his own master now. He had no idea what to do with himself, without a village and mates to fight for, superiors to handle him assignments.

He was roaming the dark streets aimlessly when he caught sight of a faded poster. "Are you a strong warrior? Then this job is for you!" large letters announced above a picture of a bald man. It promised ten million Ryo for the head of the guy who must have been a serious thorn in the eye of the town.

Fighting and killing for money. His old village would have disapproved of it sorely and that in itself was an enough reason for do it. He knew nothing else than to fight anyway. To do it on someone else command or simply for his own living - he didn't see the difference.

He tore the poster from the board and tucked it into his pocket. It was time to shed the remaining idealism that bloody Takigakure planted into him. It was time to see things for what they were. It was time to wake up.

/*/*/*/

He saw it again - a flutter of eyes. Hidan leaned in closer still, his face now only an inch away from Kakuzu's. There it was - a sliver of green under the lids.

"Kakuzu," unintentionally he was whispering. He cleared his throat and tried louder. "Kakuzu!"

The other's eyes opened further, although they were still unfocused, looking somewhere above the priest's head. Hidan grasped his hair, in his excitement rougher than he intended, to turn his face towards him, calling out his name for the third time. He had been afraid, he could admit it now, that the old bastard wouldn't wake at all.

Those strange green, pupilless eyes blinked at him, trying to focus on him. The brows above them furrowed as if trying to work out a puzzle. Kakuzu's lips were moving, so Hidan leaned down closer still so he could hear what he was saying in a raspy voice.

"You...? How...?"

"I've been here you miserable old grouch, waiting for you to wake up finally! You fell from that bloody cliff and hit your fucking head and..."

"Shiro,"

"Who?" Hidan wanted to ask, but didn't got the chance as Kakuzu threaded his fingers in his hair and yanked his head down.

"Wh..." he started again, just to be silenced as the bloody, cheating, stitched bastard kissed him. It wasn't any peck on the lips either, but drawn out and sensuous, with Kakuzu's tongue pushing into his mouth and his fingers caressing the nape of his neck.

Heat ignited where the old man's pads stroked his topmost vertebra and run down through his spine to finally center in his groin. The priest moaned into the other's mouth as his prick started to get interested in the happenings. By Jashin, who would have thought of his partner that he could kiss like that? And he hardly looked really conscious of what he was doing...

Just when he was running out of breath, Kakuzu pulled back. Hidan gawked at him stupidly, his brain still trying to catch up with the happenings. He hoped against hope for some gratitude, but this was better than anything...

"Shiro," the scarred fuckhead had the audacity to whisper again then, as he sighed, closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

"Who the bloody flying fuck are you talking about?!" the zealot demanded , but he received no answer. Kakuzu for all intents and purposes was lost to the world again.

Hidan took a deep breath and resisted the urge to tear out his own hair or pick up his sacrificial pike and run it through his partner's remaining heart in frustration.

Whoever this Shiro guy was, he was going to find him and send him to Jashin-sama, he vowed. In bloody little million pieces.

TBC...