Sometime after Kimimaro resurfaced from unconsciousness, he swore that he was going to murder Kidoumaru.

And then backtracked, because then that would mean that he would never be cured from this petty disease.

But it was quite tempting. Kidoumaru had deliberately taken him to a restaurant that sold raw fish, a ploy that was meant to kill Kimimaro (at least, he was certain of it at the moment—it was rather hard to think around the heat swarming in his brain around the green clouds of disease). He had forced him into eating the stuff, and while it had tasted quite good, Kimimaro made a silent oath that he was never going to eat anything from the sea ever again. He would stick to Kabuto's strict diet of vegetables and meat from now on. Nothing else. Anything else would kill him, or at least come alive to kill him and then feast on his flesh while Kidoumaru laughed on in triumph.

Kimimaro was now sure that he was delirious. "What injustice," he mumbled, pressing his face further into the vehicle that was moving at least twenty miles over the speed limit. Was there a speed limit in Otogakure? There should be, Kimimaro decided. A nice speed limit, one that would stay close to the natural pace of ants and beetles and be able to fly over the heads of all the tigers that would threaten to eat such lovely creatures as Kidoumaru.

No…perhaps 'lovely' was an overstatement. 'Dashing' would be better. Or 'rogue-ish.'

Yes, rogue-ish was infinitely better than lovely.

"What injustice," Kimimaro sighed again into the seat of the vehicle. At least, he thought it was a seat. It was certainly warmer than a seat, anyway, at least the one that Lord Orochimaru had been generous enough to take him on when he was younger. Young and foolish and still ignorant of the world.

The vehicle made a quiet, panicked sound. Kimimaro scowled.

"Vehicles do not speak," he slurred, tightening his arms around the neck of the vehicle. It spluttered, staggering from side to side before continuing at its normal pace. "Nor do they choke. You need a—a—Kabuto. That is what you need. You must be fixed."

The vehicle snorted. "And here I thought that I was the perfect little darling."

The voice was familiar. Kimimaro frowned. "Only Lord Orochimaru is perfect. The rest are trash beneath his feet."

"Even you?"

"Even me," Kimimaro responded without hesitation, blinking slowly as the haze swirled in front of his eyes. "Especially—especially me."

"Why?"

There was no harm talking to a vehicle, Kimimaro decided after a long pause, and turned his face into the seat once more. It was soft and warm, with the faint scent of sweat. Far from unpleasant.

"I have become weak. I have allowed myself to be overtaken by illness, enough so that I almost died in vain when I battled the soon-to-be Kazekage. I—" Kimimaro stopped, temporarily distracted by the sudden urge to vomit again. He breathed in from his mouth, pressing his cheek further into the seat. "I cannot fight as I once did for Lord Orochimaru. Even though he took me from the cage." Kimimaro blinked back the mist that threatened to overtake his vision. "You should know this. You roam—roam free, on the terrain. You have far more freedom than I. You have no one to serve, to prove to that you are still worthy of his generosity."

The vehicle was silent, still moving at the same dizzying pace. Kimimaro could feel the heat rising from seat of the vehicle, which, Kimimaro suddenly noticed, was tilted at a rather diagonal angle. How strange. How – terrible.

"Who maimed you?" he demanded, suddenly scowling again as the vehicle stumbled against tree roots.

"Maimed me—"

"You are—crooked. Incomplete. You have no doors, no windows. Someone has forgotten to put you back together again."

The vehicle slowed. "Uh…I didn't know that you could wax poetic."

Kimimaro sighed.

And then groaned, because his stomach was gurgling with a desire to purge itself again. This time, far more violently than the first.

"Aw, shit," the vehicle cursed. Suddenly, the seat upended itself, sending a wave of dizziness straight into Kimimaro's temple, causing him to retch violently. "Are you going to puke again? Please don't puke again. We're almost back to the compound, and, uh, you can puke in there. It has toilets, you know. Nice, clean toilets. Better than the ground, most definitely."

Kimimaro frowned and tried to blink around the rolling waves of nausea encompassing his mind. The vehicle (or, what he had thought was the vehicle) was humanoid in shape, and seemed to have…eight extensions?

Yes. Eight. Just like—

"Kidoumaru," Kimimaro mumbled against the bile slowly rising in his throat. "You are…like Kidoumaru."

"I am Kidoumaru. Who do you think you were talking to all this time?"

Kimimaro's brow furrowed. "You…are not the vehicle?"

"If by 'the vehicle,' you mean the guy that basically carried you three miles through the fu—the forest, then yeah, I am the vehicle."

Ah.

Kimimaro laid his head down on the ground, feeling the cold seep in through his cheek. He had a sudden, desperate desire to reach out to Kidoumaru, to claw him closer and chase away the cold (cold, cold, he was so tired of feeling cold).

"It explains the warmth."

"The—oh." Kimimaro couldn't really tell from his addled state of mind, but he thought that the air around Kidoumaru had just increased in temperature. "Yeah. Blood flow does that to you." A pause. "Hey, are you going to puke or can we get a move on? It's almost dawn, now."

The nausea had passed, for the most part. Tiredly, Kimimaro nodded and allowed for Kidoumaru to pick him up again and shift him back onto his back.

As they set off again, Kimimaro felt a sudden surge of panic.

"You will speak of this to no one," he forced out, hating how it sounded slurred and non-threatening. "You will not—disclose of the information that we discussed earlier. Any of it."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Any of it."

"Hey, hey, cool it. Seriously, cool it. Your temperature's going through the roof. I won't tell anyone anything, I swear."

"Good."

They went on in silence for a while, and Kimimaro found himself beginning to doze off. The moon (how had he not noticed the moon?) tilted and swirled within his vision, dancing in the haze of his drowsiness. He could feel the warmth of Kidoumaru's back sinking into the side of his mouth, and while he was, in fact, aware of the…intimateness of such postures, Kimimaro decided that for now, he would accept the situation at hand and simply try and forget about it in the morning.

And underneath him, Kidoumaru trudged on.

Or, where deep, deep feelings are revealed (and possible foreshadowing? Possibly). Also, sentimentality and delusional Kaguyas.

Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I've been super busy with school and stuff (and words and things), so...my writing's probably a lot of ways off. I would appreciate feedback. Like, a lot of feedback.

Thanks for reading!