Intolerance

[kasarin]

TITLE: Intolerance
AUTHOR: kasarin (kasarin/kasarin)
FANDOM: Naruto
RATING: Teen and Up
CHARACTERS: Kisame, Obito
RELATIONSHIPS: Kisame/Obito
TAGS: AU - Pacific Rim Fusion, The Drift, Experimentation, Protectiveness, Established Relationship
EVENT & PROMPT: Kisame Week 2022; prompt: bad habits
SUMMARY:

The growing field of Drift Studies is full of people desperate to study Kisame and Obito's unique bond. On unfortunate occasions, Kisame and Obito find themselves ushered into separate rooms and observed through one-way mirrors, their foul moods mingling despite the distance, hands itching for each other's caress.

This is one of those times.

Intolerance

Few long-term studies about the Drift exist, mainly because the Drift itself has not existed for very long. That, and those who are Drift-compatible have more important things to do than sit around while scientists poke and prod them. Theories abound regarding everything from health benefits and disadvantages, memory recall and degradation, cognitive function and atrophy, and even physical and psychological dependency. "Drift Studies" is a rapidly growing field across science, medicine, philosophy, and many other disciplines.

As far as Kisame is concerned, Drift Studies is absolute nonsense. Most so-called theories are concocted by people who have never experienced the Drift. They speak of it in numbers and data, symptoms and signs; they try to categorize something that is—by its very nature—entirely unique to the individuals experiencing it.

Obito takes an even dimmer view of Drift Studies. He understands the "theories" better than Kisame does; as a result, he knows precisely how flawed they are. The only theories he gives a passing glance are those created by people who have personally experienced the Drift. But even then, their weeks, months, or years of occasional Drifting fail to compare to the constant, permanent, intense Drift that Obito and Kisame have.

Unfortunately, their mutual disdain for Drift Studies does not insulate them from the community's hunger for answers. They do their best to ignore the endless evaluations of their bond, just as they ignore the paparazzi's obsession with their "relationship status." But it is difficult to ignore the disturbingly personal questions interviewers fling their way, fueled by whatever "in-depth analysis" is the current favorite.

(The worst questions come after a mud-slinging book entitled Devious Drifting: How Manipulation and Dependency Fuel Kamui's Pilots hits the shelves. The PADC steps in on that one, getting the book pulled from circulation and slapping the author with charges related to defamation of character, among other things. It ostensibly stops sales but does nothing to subdue the press' interest.)

But sometimes, Kisame and Obito cannot ignore the people desperate to study their unique Drift. Sometimes, those people have enough funding and connections to grease the right wheels, opening doors that would otherwise remain closed. Sometimes, Kisame and Obito receive orders to cooperate with researchers who have paid a premium to examine them. And on those days, they are shut in separate rooms and stared at through one-way mirrors, their foul moods mingling despite the distance, hands itching for each other's caress.

On one of those days, Kisame sits with his arms folded, staring at the researcher busy flicking through papers, a plain metal table separating them. The room is cold enough that gooseflesh prickles Kisame's skin, and his metal chair does nothing to help. However, he refuses to ask for a coat; if he had his way, he would refuse to speak altogether.

"Sorry about the temperature," the researcher says. He is tall and balding, with a face that might be called handsome were it not for the smugness etched into his skin. "The whole building is like this."

Kisame raises his eyebrows, feeling precisely how warm and stuffy Obito's room is. "Please don't lie to me."

The balding researcher chuckles, then he makes a note. Kisame somehow manages to keep his sigh internal.

Great, Obito mutters in their shared Headspace. They're the type who think they can poke holes.

Kisame drums his fingers on his bicep. Those seem to be more common lately, don't they? Do you think it's because of what happened when you lost consciousness?

Only Kabuto has that data. I doubt they know the details. Obito pauses for a moment, reflecting on how protective Kabuto is of them—albeit in his own way. However, they likely suspect that our Drift was affected.

So these tests will probably be…?

Extremely annoying.

Kisame bites back a smile just as the balding researcher deposits a collection of wooden blocks in front of him. Grudgingly, he shifts his attention to the blocks, listening to the monotonous explanation of a test he has undergone dozens of times before.

The day passes with agonizing slowness. The researchers' tests are basic at best and irritating at worst, measuring how quickly and accurately Kisame and Obito can communicate information. They perform flawlessly, of course, relaying things in real time, just as they always do. But it is all so dull that Kisame's attention eventually begins to wander, his focus increasingly turning to Obito.

Sensing this, Obito smirks. "Your associate is boring my partner," he tells the researcher in his room, a woman with large eyes and graying hair. "Don't be surprised if your results become skewed."

"Do you share your partner's boredom, Mr. Uchiha?" the researcher asks. She has only ever addressed him by his family name; in contrast, Kisame's researcher has not addressed him by any name at all.

"I have a higher tolerance for it."

"I see." She jots something down. "Do you think that contributes to the difference in your academic capabilities?"

Kisame stiffens. The balding researcher takes note.

"What are you insinuating?" Obito asks, all levity gone from his voice.

A screen on the researchers' side of the table flashes a message. Both Kisame and Obito glance toward it; both researchers pull out a sheet of paper and hand it over.

"Read that aloud."

"Please read that aloud, Mr. Uchiha."

Stomach lurching, Kisame glances down at the paper. Obito has helped with his reading, bringing his skill to the point that Kisame can often manage things independently, provided the words are not too complicated. However, one glance tells Kisame that this paper is littered with long, complex words that he will likely struggle to say, let alone read.

Resentment coils tight in his chest. His fingers twitch, itching with the urge to grab the paper and jam it down the balding researcher's throat—

Then Obito curls around him, phantom hands ghosting over Kisame's wrists, lips whispering into his ear. It's technical jargon. They're trying to trip you up. He feels the sensation of a kiss against his temple. I'll handle it. Just repeat after me.

But don't you have your own paper to read?

It can wait. Obito nudges him, and Kisame slowly picks up the paper to begin his recitation.

The words are difficult, just as Kisame anticipated. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, his lips clumsy and uncoordinated. Frustration and shame war within him, and memories of metaphorical doors slamming in his face flash through his mind. He tastes the fear of failure, the certainty that if he messes this up, he will be thrown out into the cold again.

But he is not alone this time. Obito holds him, warming him with unquenchable fire. Obito guides him through each word, helping to shape his lips and move his tongue. Obito will not let him fall.

When Kisame finally finishes, he forces himself to lower the paper slowly, laying it down almost delicately. Then he drops his hands to his lap, lacing his fingers to conceal their trembling.

The balding researcher makes another note. Kisame ignores the man, turning his attention to Obito as his partner rapidly reads his own paper.

"How much of that did you understand?"

Grudgingly, Kisame focuses on the balding researcher. "Excuse me?"

The man gestures at the paper. "How much of that did you understand?"

Kisame forces his face into an unpleasant smile, baring his sharp-capped teeth. "Oh, were you testing my reading comprehension? Because if you were, that's a rather imprecise question, don't you think?"

"Just answer the question."

"I understood the purpose of the test. May we please move on?"

Somehow, the balding researcher's smugness intensifies. He writes down another note, this one appearing far longer than necessary. Kisame's laced fingers tighten their grip, physically preventing him from grabbing the metal table and shoving it straight into the researcher's gut.

The door opens. Kisame's eyes dart to the young woman who enters, an expensive-looking device held in her hands.

What's that? Obito asks, his recitation complete.

I don't know… This fool testing me hasn't explained anything yet.

The newcomer sets down the device and takes her leave. Kisame stares at it, trying to puzzle out its purpose. It looks a little like a tissue box turned on its side, only longer and narrower. Then Obito stirs as the door to his room opens, and the same researcher delivers an identical device.

"Place your hand inside."

Kisame meets the balding researcher's gaze. "What is it?"

The man makes yet another note. "Place your hand into the opening."

Kisame's eyebrows shoot up, incredulous. "For what purpose?"

The balding researcher says nothing. Neither does Kisame, meeting the man's condescending gaze without wavering.

"Please place your hand inside the device, Mr. Uchiha."

"Explain its purpose."

"I'm afraid that would compromise the integrity of the test."

"Then consider our cooperation rescinded."

Kisame smirks. He knows that tone of voice; he can feel the utter conviction behind Obito's words. If Obito says they are done cooperating, then there is nothing these researchers can do to change that.

Shall I flip this table on my way out, darling?

Not yet. Obito shows the woman with graying hair looking at a screen, apparently reading a message that Obito cannot see. Let's see how they react.

Kisame giggles. The balding researcher stares at him, then scribbles down more notes, his pen scratching obnoxiously loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

"All right, Mr. Uchiha. I've received permission to explain the basics." The woman folds her hands on the table. "This test will measure your ability to feel sensations that your partner is experiencing and vice versa. This device"—she uses her pen to indicate its opening—"will create those sensations."

Obito's mind whirls, rapidly running through possibilities. Kisame folds his arms, giving input where he can, their two minds thinking as one. What sensations do these researchers wish to measure? Temperature, texture, pressure…

The answer solidifies in their minds. Kisame's lip curls; Obito's scarred brow furrows in a deep scowl.

"You want to measure pain."

Of course. Obito was injured before he lost consciousness. News helicopters captured the image of his bloodied arm, as well as Kisame's sliced forehead. What else could these researchers be interested in? What else would they pay a premium to test?

Fury rises in Kisame's chest. His jaw clenches, sharp teeth gritted, the desire to punch the smugness off the researcher's face nearly overwhelming. But Obito steadies him, the phantom sensation of a hand on his shoulder more real than anything else.

Let me handle it.

Kisame acquiesces, trusting the rage burning in Obito's heart.

"This is how your experiment will end," Obito says, his voice ringing with authority. "If you injure me, my partner will go through anything and anyone to reach my side. If you lock the door, he will break it down. If that takes too long, he will throw your associate through the one-way mirror and vault through the hole. Nothing will stop him.

"If you hurt him instead, you will have to deal with me." Obito raises his chin, staring down his nose with utter contempt. "And I'm far more dangerous."

The researcher's already large eyes widen. She watches Obito for a long moment, her professional composure belying the wariness in her eyes. Obito offers nothing more, staring her down with the same indomitable attitude with which he confronts Kaiju.

Kisame slowly uncrosses his arms, then places his hands on the table and pushes himself to his feet. "I believe we're done here."

The balding researcher looks at him with apparent confusion. Kisame ignores it, cracking his neck before striding toward the door.

Obito mimics him, standing with perfect composure. "You've exhausted our patience." Then, as he starts toward the door, he adds, "You had better hope these doors are unlocked."

Kisame twists the handle. To his slight disappointment, it turns easily, releasing him into a nondescript hallway. There he stands, waiting until another door opens, revealing his partner.

"Darling," Kisame murmurs, just for the pleasure of saying it aloud. He steps closer, and Obito folds into the crook of his arm, warm and solid and his, just his.

Your skin is freezing, Obito observes, wrapping his arm around Kisame's lower back.

Ah, I'm sorry about that… You'll warm me up, though, won't you?

Obito chuckles, then cuts himself off as another door opens. A rather harried-looking man steps out, a deep frown knitting his brow.

"Rangers, we were promised your cooperation," the man begins. It is the first time any of the researchers have bothered to use their proper title. "Your commanding officer—"

"—will understand our decision," Obito interrupts. "And will be disappointed by the disrespect and lack of professionalism displayed toward my partner."

The man's eyes flick briefly to Kisame, then return to Obito. "Mr. Uchiha, your family—"

"—has nothing to do with this," Kisame finishes, feeling Obito stiffen. "Unless they're involved in funding this little farce… But that would be something of a conflict of interests, don't you agree?"

The man flushes. Kisame pulls Obito ever-so-slightly closer to his side, teeth bared in a mocking smile.

"Now, would you like to escort us to the exit?" Kisame asks. "Or would you prefer to get out of our way?"

For a moment, it appears as though the man wants to continue arguing. But when he finally meets Kisame's eyes, his courage fails, and he steps meekly to one side.

As one, Kisame and Obito move forward, walking arm-in-arm toward the exit. Although they garner looks from those they pass—some surprised, some clearly starstruck—no one attempts to stop them. They make their way from the testing areas to the lobby, then out into bright afternoon sunlight.

So, Kisame starts, turning to smile at the top of Obito's head, I would have thrown that fool through the one-way mirror, eh?

Obito snorts, looking up at Kisame through his lashes. Was I wrong?

Kisame laughs. Goodness, no. I would have enjoyed it, too.

I know you would have. Obito reaches up to touch Kisame's cheek, his smile soft, his heart filled with fondness.

Kisame turns his head to the side, kissing first the heel of Obito's hand, then the middle of his palm. He disliked being physically separated from his partner for so long. And although he does not put it into words, his emotions communicate it clearly—as well as all the ways he wants to make up for that separation.

Obito curls closer, uncaring for who might be watching, all thoughts of his family put aside. He buries his face in Kisame's chest, breathing deeply, unabashedly basking in Kisame's scent. Let's go home.

Kisame hums in agreement. Whatever you'd like, darling. Then they set off together, their arms wrapped around each other's backs, leaving those who would seek to categorize and constrain them far behind.

Author's Notes:

this fic is part of a collaboration with my friend kass. please check out the accompanying artwork on twitter or tumblr!

crossposted to ao3 here.