Kisame was sick. Oh yes, very sick. And he was supposed to accompany Itachi on a mission today.

Shit!

Kisame loved going on missions with Itachi. The stoic Uchiha wouldn't associate with him otherwise. Although, he did that with everybody. Kisame loved watching Itachi move, he was like sinew. He just kind of flowed. And Kisame loved hearing Itachi talk, because his voice was so deep and sonorous. And Kisame loved Itachi, because he could.

Well, he kind of couldn't. There wasn't a human alive that knew that he was in love with his partner, for fear that his partner himself might find out. Kisame was sure that Itachi would reject him, though probably not without a decent dosage of torture first. If only he knew that just being around him was the most terrible torture possible for the blue man.

Itachi probably didn't give a fuck. He'd probably just tell leader that Kisame was sick, let Kisame get chewed out for it, take another member and go. It was the way he was. And, even though it hurt Kisame greatly, he loved him for it.

So, Kisame couldn't be sick today. Especially not can't-get-out-of-bed sick. But he was, and he hated it.

Kisame just waited for Itachi to come in. Once he had pulled his little no-show, Itachi was sure to wonder why. He'd come in, see how sick Kisame was, and leave. Then leader would yell at Kisame for screwing up the schedule. He'd most likely be restrained from going on missions for a while.

He waited, and, just about an hour after he should have met Itachi, the ravenette walked in. He blinked his dark eyes, like Kisame knew he would. He was, as always, emotionless. Then, instead of leaving like Kisame had expected, Itachi took off his cloak. He hung it on the hook where Kisame's was and walked over top Kisame's bed. He reached out, and Kisame pulled back. What was Itachi doing? Was he going to hurt him for messing with his day?

Itachi kept coming, and set his hand on Kisame's forehead. He didn't move, and neither did Kisame. It was the first time Itachi had ever touched him voluntarily, and that kind of turned him on. A slight crease appeared in between Itachi's slender brows. Kisame had never seen him like that before, and it really worried him. He'd known the kid for five years- he had been 13 when he joined, and was now 18. And in all those five years, he had never, ever, EVER thought that Itachi could look concerned.

Well, he did now. He pressed a little harder with his hand before removing it. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Kisame's forehead. Kisame's heart leapt. He had never imagined- no. He had imagined, many, many times. But to have it become real...

Itachi didn't move, making Kisame anxious. Was there something wrong? Was he just toying with him? Had he somehow known? Itachi pulled away.

"You have a fever," he announced. Oh. Kisame heart fell. Of course he was telling his temperature. After all, the lips were far more sensitive than the palm. Maybe he couldn't tell with his hand? That must have been why he looked concerned. Of course.

Again, he surprised Kisame. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his shoes off. He then got up and walked out of the room, shoes in hand. Kisame lay there, thinking about what had just transpired. He was amazed. It had been a few moments of firsts. Even if those firsts were entirely reasonable.

Itachi walked back into the room, dressed in his black button-down pajamas. Kisame did a double take. What?

Itachi kept on walking. He had an empty trash can in one hand, and a bowl of steaming soup in the other. He set the trash can down on the floor by Kisame's bed and the soup- apparently chicken noodle- on the bedstand. He walked over to the in-room refrigerator that all of the members had. They also all had microwaves, since no-one could agree on what to eat. He took out a water bottle and uncapped it.

He sat down on the floor next to the trash can. "Eat your soup," he ordered. Kisame picked up the bowl and began spooning it into his mouth, still staring at Itachi. This was rather unusual behavior for the young man.

Itachi grabbed the phone that was on Kisame's bedstand and dialed. Kisame looked on, mystified. "Leader?" Itachi said. "Yes, it's Itachi. I'm feeling terrible. I can't even get out of bed. I'm afraid I won't be able to take the mission." Wait, was Itachi covering for him?

"Yes, sir, I understand. No, I know. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience. Kisame? No, sir, he needs to stay here and take care of me. I'm really si-BLEH!" Itachi leaned away from the phone, making barfing noises. He tilted the water bottle, letting the water run into the trash can beside him. Over the phone, it must have sounded like he really was vomiting.

He 'recovered' quickly, and turned himself back into the phone. "I'm sorry sir, that was very- oh, you understand? Wonderful. Thank you. I promise that I'll- yes sir. Understood. Thank you." Itachi hung up the phone.

Kisame stared. "Itachi, did you just...?" Itachi said nothing, only getting up and taking the neglected soup from Kisame. He spooned a little up.

"Open your mouth."

Kisame did. He got a mouthful of hot, brothy soup. He smiled.

Maybe he should get sick more often.