"I just did." He hitched up a shoulder. "Everything tired me. Apparently growing my chakra pool helped. Made it so I had more to live off of I suppose."
"Makes sense." He nodded, then was quiet as he thought for a moment. "What's the last thing... before I was missing, I mean. What's the last thing you remember us doing together?"
He watched him and then just kept watching him, thinking, before he got to his feet and starting taking what was finished over to the sink and running water over it.
He stepped back, letting him get to the sink if he wanted to. "I don't eat. I haven't needed to since that rock, and everything." He paused. "I like the smells. And I could I guess, if I wanted to, but I usually don't bother."
Obito hummed. He certainly didn't mind getting out of the cleaning. He watched for a moment and then retreated to the room beyond the kitchen area, thought for a moment and then began plucking books from the shelves. He sat on the edge of the bed with them, flipping through their pages, trying to find the most entertaining one.
It was a little while before he came over to him, watching him with the books for a moment before moving to set about stripping, putting the clothes in a neat pile on the dresser.
Once he was bare, he padded over to the bed to crawl under the covers, putting his hair tie on the side table. He decided not to comment on the staring.
Ohhh, this was going to be difficult. But potentially quite nice. So. He waited before stripping his own shirt off, leaving the pants. He took the book that he thought might prove most distracting with him as he slid under the blankets as well.
He peered at him for a moment, considering him from under the covers before sliding over to rest against him, tucking his face against his side as he wiggled more securely under the blankets.
It felt good. The warm weight of him against his side, the sense of--he wasn't sure what. Peace. He did his best to ignore the slight itch of arousal that came with it all and simply shifted to fit Itachi more snugly against him, sighing.
"Nah." He hesitated and then brushed his fingertips over that arm, tracing up toward the shoulder and across the edge of the collar bone. "Stay, it's comfy."
He kept grazing his fingers against him, for a moment. Touching his throat, his cheek, his lips. Then he pulled his hand back and settled, lifting the book up and opening it to a random spot in the middle.
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