Advantage

Obito walked with silent footsteps down the deserted corridors of the hospital. At three in the morning, there were only several nurses on overnight duty, and he made sure he avoided them. Still dressed in his ANBU uniform, the few smears of dirt and ash on his flexible armour appeared filthy in contrast to the impeccably sterile building. As he continued to stride noiselessly to his destination, Obito idly mused that he didn’t hate the smell of the hospital. It reminded him of Rin and all she had meant to him. 

But that was the past, and while he would always love her, he was not naïve enough to devote himself on wishing he could bring her back to life. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop him from hating the person responsible for her death.
 

Hatake Kakashi. 

The name was not written on the small plaque outside the private room, but Obito recognised the chakra signature, no matter how weak, leaking from just beyond the door. So the rumours he had heard in the Headquarters were true – the Hound had been brought the hospital upon immediate return to the village. And anyone who knew something about Kakashi knew that he would rather die than be treated at the hospital. As such, conditions must have been severe for Kakashi to still be lying in a here, after almost two days since his – non consensual, no doubt – hospitalisation. 

Obito stepped inside and allowed the door to roll quietly shut behind him. The small room was lit dimly, offering a clear view of the various medical equipment and monitors that stood close to the single bed. He moved closer. 

The body tucked under the crisp blanket lay so still it was difficult to make out the shallow rise and fall of the chest. The left arm was positioned over the duvet, and from the crook of the elbow protruded two IV lines, each connected to a different sac hanging overhead. The palm lay upturned, fingers lightly curved. 

Before he knew it, he was already sitting down on the bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much. His eyes travelled up and gazed down at the face. The medics had removed the mask, but this was nothing new to Obito. Kakashi’s face was almost as pale as the pillow his head was resting on. 

Obito reached out and brushed his fingertips lightly along his brow, pushing away lone strands of silver hair. Unhurriedly, he ventured lower, and his index finger traced the ragged scar that ran over Kakashi’s left eyelid. The eye beneath the mutilated skin was blind. Obito had seen it twice before – the iris a light shade of grey. Like the lower half of his face, Kakashi kept it hidden from public view. He couldn’t use it. The medics, through some highly technical operation, had barely managed to keep it from rotting in its socket. 

The Blinded Hound of Konoha, as he had come to be known by the world. 

His fingers continued down, over the curve of his nose and defined cheekbones. Sliding over the side of his face, Obito cupped his cheek and with his thumb, lightly caressed the slightly parted lips. With every breath Kakashi exhaled, he felt a tingle of warmth against the very tip of his finger. 

His hand lingered on Kakashi’s face as his eyes flicked down to his bare neck. He was so vulnerable. It would be so easy for Obito to take a kunai and swipe it across his throat. No resistance, no pain. Quick and simple. Or he could wrap a wire around his neck and strangle him. Hell, he didn’t even need a wire to be able to suffocate Kakashi in his current condition. Or he could look under the covers, see what kind of injury he had sustained, undo the medical help he had received and leave him to bleed to death. Or – 

A faint twitch. Obito snapped his eyes up, certain he hadn’t imagined it, but not removing his hand. He applied a little more pressure to the thumb still touching his lips and was awarded with a crease around Kakashi’s brow. 

“Kakashi,” he said quietly. Even a whisper sounded loud in the silence of the night. 

A low moan, sounding like a strained breath. Kakashi was struggling to surface from unconsciousness. Obito waited, watching his breath become a little more laboured, his face twisting ever so slightly, in what, he could not tell. 

“Kakashi,” he spoke again. In response, lashes flickered and both eyelids slowly lifted. The pupils were widely dilated and it seemed that even his good eye could not be brought to focus well. 

“Kakashi.” It had been so long since he had uttered that name, it sounded foreign on his tongue…and new – fresh. 

Kakashi’s mouth moved several times without producing a sound before he managed to control his voice. Obito could tell it was taking a lot of effort.

“…O…Obito…?” It was barely audible, but he caught it. 

It was pitiful, seeing Kakashi like this – weak and injured in bed, and drugged out of his mind. Obito knew this was unfair, cowardly and probably morally wrong. But he didn’t care. He hated Kakashi – he had all the reason to – so what did he have to feel sorry for, for taking advantage of the situation? 

Kakashi blinked sluggishly up at him, far from comprehension. Obito removed the hand from his face, and bracing it on the mattress beside the pillow, he leaned down and pressed his mouth over Kakashi’s. 

He took his time, since he knew Kakashi wasn’t going to be able to string things together enough to fully understand what was happening and its implications. Obito breathed deeply through his nose as he accustomed himself to the texture and curve of Kakashi’s soft lips. Flicking out his tongue, he ran it along the lower lip, as an imitation of his thumb just a few moments ago. He felt Kakashi’s breath tickle his skin. 

And when the exterior was not enough anymore, Obito coaxed Kakashi’s mouth open with his tongue, prodding a little and pushing against his teeth. He complied with sickening ease, parting his mouth and letting Obito explore every inch of it. When their tongues rubbed together, Kakashi moaned softly in the back of his throat, and Obito felt goose-bumps bristling along his arms. 

He pulled back, breathing a little quicker than normal, and looked down at his former team-mate. His mouth was still partly open, lips a shade pinker than they had been. His half-lidded eyes were no sharper, as they stared unseeingly at the ceiling. Obito reached out and closed Kakashi’s eyes.

“Sleep,” he said. The eyelids remained closed when he lifted his hand. Again, he trailed his hand down the smooth skin of his face until he came to his lips. They were slick with saliva when he ran his fingers along them. 

Obito stood, withdrawing his hand and with one last look at the prone figure on the bed, he turned and left the room.

Kakashi’s taste still lingered on his lips and the context of his mouth remained on his tongue. Had Kakashi been even half conscious, he would never have allowed such a thing to happen. He would never have been so submissive and compliant - would never have moaned. 

Obito knew he had taken complete advantage over Kakashi. He had known, but had done nothing to prevent it. Maybe later, he would figure out what had driven him to kiss him. Why he had wanted so badly to touch him. Why he had thought taking advantage of him in the hospital was the best time.