"He asked you how you were?"

"I know, right? It scared the crap out of me too."

"You fucking liar, there's no way that asshole could have ever asked you, out of every shit-head in this room how you were! It's not in his coding!"

"Yeah, well, it happened."

"Look," Jirobo said, frowning, "we all know that pretty much the only way to get Kimimaro to ask how anyone is is to get him shitfaced."

"Which never happens, dumbass," Tayuya snarled, grabbing a brownie off the counter and ignoring Jirobo's protests ("They're not done yet, Tayuya!"). "Look, did he even say it how you said it? It wasn't 'you are well, you insignificant mortal,' or 'how have you, the irritating scum on the bottom of my shoes, been?' I mean, fuck, he couldn't have just said 'how are you?' That's impossible! It's practically been scientifically fucking proven."

"Watch your language, Tayuya," Jirobo said out of reflex, only to get the remains of the unfinished brownie hurled at his face.

"But dude, she's right," Sakon snorted, glugging down some tap water. "I mean, Kimimaro's a cold-hearted bastard. We were kind of dubious he asked you out in the first place - "

"Let alone saying he has a crush on you - " Ukon interjected.

"And now he asks you how you are? Dude, what the hell? You've got to be high on soldier pills or something," Sakon finished, setting the overused plastic bottle down on the table. "Seriously, if we didn't see you and him walking together, we'd have probably thrown you in the dishwasher or something to clean out your brain."

"Which wouldn't be the first time," Ukon muttered, chomping on a brownie (Jirobo had pretty much given up on people stealing them, as he only sighed and continued trying to figure out the techniques of the French croissant). "The point is that Kimimaro's socially retarded, Kidoumaru. There's no way he could have even come up with the idea to ask how you were. He's - "

"A robot," Tayuya finished, stretching out her legs on the couch and yawning. "Fuck, man, I'm still having a hard time believing you actually went on a date." She snorted, pushing her red hair out of her face. "Faggots."

"Mutation," Kidoumaru shot back at her, avoiding her swiping boot at his head. "Hey, it's true."

"You're the mutation, you six-armed freak," Tayuya snapped, scowling deeply.

"Enough," Jirobo sighed, sitting down on the floor with a carton of milk and a recipe book in front of him. "The point is, Kidoumaru, that there's no possible way that Kimimaro could have actually asked you that question. You had to have been tripping out on the ramen or something. We all know that stuff's poisonous anyways."

"It tastes good!" Kidoumaru protested. "And neither of us got sick afterwards, so."

"Kidoumaru." Jirobo gave him another dead look. "We're talking about the guy that broke your arms, ran you through with his thigh bone - whatever that's actually called - and nearly murdered you when we were thirteen."

Kidoumaru shrugged. He couldn't tell them of his plan yet, of the game he was trying to play. After all, while they were all good at keeping secrets, it would still change their attitudes towards Kimimaro subtly, and Kimimaro would be, indeed, able to detect that. "I know," he yawned, grinning at his large teammate. "Trust me, man, I know what I'm doing."

"I hope you do," Ukon groaned, swallowing the last of his second brownie. "You're walking on a bomb, Kidoumaru. Don't let it blow up in your face."

When Kidoumaru laughed, he didn't feel so confident anymore. "Sure thing."

The truth was that, while Kidoumaru was still scared shitless of the Kaguya, he had indeed seen something that he would have never thought he'd have ever seen before (actually, that was happening a lot with the white-haired man lately) - a sense of empathy. Well, at least a tad. Maybe a smidgen.

Preposterous, right?

Kidoumaru sighed, running his hand through his hair - or, at least, he tried to. In the knots of his hair, his nails caught and he had to viciously yank his fingers at least three times to free them from his frizzy mane. "Smooth," he muttered to himself before snickering and pulling out his ponytail. He was glad he hadn't acted like this in front of Kimimaro - that would have been disastrous.

Well, he thought quickly, trying to make up for the fact that yes, he did indeed care to a certain degree of how Kimimaro thought of him, if had been deemed unpresentable, there had been a slight chance of being run through (again) because when Kimimaro realized that the things he actually liked were not suitable, there would be hell to pay. Especially for the thing that he himself had deemed suitable.

At least, that was only what Kidoumaru could assume. It wasn't though he knew the guy on an extremely personal basis, though that thought was amusing, since they had known each other from childhood. Only in name, he reminded himself, and in strength. He began to pick out the knots from his hair, ignoring the stares of the others.

Well, Kimimaro wasn't as much of a bastard as he had originally thought, was all Kidoumaru could think of, pulling the third knot out from the tangles. And, you know, maybe he'd turn out to be nice. Maybe even have more feelings than just animosity and twisted semi-affection.

Okay, okay, he was stretching it a bit, but hey, it was as close to the truth as most were ever going to get, right?

"So, is there going to be a next time?" Jirobo asked slowly, still staring incredulously.

Kidoumaru shrugged before giving up, wringing out his fingers while pulling up his hair back into its frizzy ponytail. "I don't know. He didn't say anything about it, so I didn't bring it up."

As a matter of fact, it had come up. Once, when they were back, Kidoumaru had cleared his throat slightly before turning to face the white-haired man. "So," he said slowly. "That was pretty nice."

Kimimaro had stayed silent for a few moments before nodding deliberately. "Yes."

Kidoumaru hesitated. "Do you - " Man, he couldn't believe he was even saying this. He still couldn't believe that he had suggested that, but it was all for the game. The pros were outweighing the cons at the moment. "Do you, uh, want to go on another date? Later, I mean?"

Kimimaro tilted his head. "Is this customary?"

"Well, yeah." Kidoumaru shrugged. He was beginning to see the changes in Kimimaro's features - while they were still as controlled and emotionless as ever, there were slight flickers in its movements that only after several hours of being in the same room with him could you tell the differences. And right now, they were not pointing towards good signs. "We don't have to, if you don't want to, or - "

"I will think about it." The reply was terse, controlled before Kimimaro turned towards the door and proceeded to push it open. "I will seek you out when I have my answer."

When he vanished from sight, the door swinging shut with Kidoumaru still outside, staring incredulously at the metal gate, there was only one thought in his mind.

"You son of a bitch," Tayuya swore, picking through the (now empty) platter of brownies. "The fuck you just ate the last brownie."

Kidoumaru shrugged, licking off the last oily residue from his fingers. "Ask Jirobo to make more."

"But I wanted that piece."

"Yeah, and so did I," Sakon muttered, staring with steel-plated eyes as Kidoumaru. "Wanna tag team?"

"Fuck yes."

And, with all thought of Kimimaro banished from his head, Kidoumaru ran for his life.

So this was more interaction between the members of the Sound team rather than Kidoumaru with Kimimaro. Sorry if you were expecting more of that than this.

Tayuya is so much fun to write. :D And she is technically a mutation - red hair is genetically not supposed to exist, so that's why Kidoumaru, being the nerd he is, called her that. Do they have that genetic knowledge in the ninja world? For now, yes.