Disclaimer: HOLY CRAP DO I WISH NARUTO WERE MINE. THAT WAY, THESE TWO WOULD SMEX EACH OTHER UP EVERY WEEK.

A/N: Written for the superb firefly, who is in jubilee over her newly-found OTP

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Sterile

VVVVVVVVVV

..Weak or strong, tired or active, he was human nonetheless...

VVVVVVVVVV

Within only a week of her being recruited, Pein came to the -rather direct- discovery that his partner was a tad bit of a cleanliness freak.

Particularly so where piercings were concerned.

"Sir, come here. They're off-centered."

He did not even manage to squeeze in a formal greeting when he returned to headquarters -the shelves looked less dust-ridden now than they did when he left- with a new set of rings in his right earlobe, her eyes already looking him over with disdain.

"I beg your pardon?" Pein inquired, each word clipped as he spoke.

She merely rolled her eyes before she elaborated. "Your new rings were not applied correctly, Sir. I can see it from here. If you let them stay in like that, they'll drag down on your earlobe and split it clean in half. Now, please come here."

In terms of ranking, he was far beyond any entitlement to comply. After all, she, along with his eight other peons, knew that he was the ringleader of their troupe, that he stood on a pedestal higher than her own.

But, she also knew that a split earlobe would lead to an infection, which in turn would render some sort of illness which could leave him incapacitated and incompetent should dire calamity arise. And she knew that that would simply not sit well with the others, who pratically clung onto his every order.

Pein sighed.

This also meant that she knew that, all enigmatic quirks and hostile reputation aside, when all was said and done, he was still only a man.

Slowly, he made his way toward the couch, only daring to take a seat when she spoke again.

"Stay here. I'll go get the rubbing alcohol."

He watched her make for the bathroom, heels clicking out the rythym of her steps against the wooden floor, and waited until she turned a corner and out of sight before seating himself awkwardly close to the spot she had previously occupied.

The couch was warm.

Had he been anything more or less than human, he mused, he probably wouldn't have bothered to register this.

He gulped, ever so minutely.

After a brief absence, she returned, hands covered by white latex gloves. One hand carried a bundle of cotton swabs while the other clutched a bottle of 100 percent alcohol. She kneeled next to him, one long, boot-clad leg sticking out away from the couch, the foot of her other leg tucked under its thigh.

Pressing a swab to the mouth of the bottle, she assessed the poor job on her superior's ear before speaking.

"Shall we?"

Pein inhaled. "Proceed," he answered with a careful monotone.

She smelled... perfumy. Strong, but not overbearing and very hard to put a finger on.

And he shouldn't have noticed.

Unflinching, he stared ahead as she gingerly unlatched all three rings on his right earlobe and set the moist cotton swab against skin.

His position as the head of a criminal orgainization, he had come to learn, entailed about as much ease as the task of walking on melting ice. Each step had to carefully planned, every strength needed to be utilized and every weakness required patching up and fortifying before he dared to make another move. Pein certainly didn't think himself a god -all the careful planning and secrecy the Akatsuki relied on wouldn't have been necessary if he thought he was- but he was not so chidish as to overlook how the others viewed him as heads and shoulders above themselves. Weakness was neither logical nor permissible, and theoretically, it could never be applied to him.

But weak or strong, tired or active, he was human nonetheless.

And he knew it.

He felt it in the air in his lungs, the muffled rumble of his mostly empty stomach, and in the sterilizing burn of alcohol on the pierces in his ears.

He felt it in the prickling goosebumps hidden under his sleeves when her manicured nail accidentaly brushed against the skin of his neck.

"Pein..."

Greatest -or worst- of all, he felt it in the quiver of his chest when he heard her say his name for the first time.

Not "Sir". Not "Leader". Just his name.

It felt horrible. Excrutiatingly so.

"Could you tilt you head to the left, please?" she gently murmured.

Reluctant -but still wanting this over with- he complied.

He pressed his top row of teeth on his tongue as she slipped each ring back in with painstaking precision. As she latched on the last one, she let out a sigh of relieved satisfaction. Her breath reverberated against the shell of his ear.

Against his will, Pein shivered.

"Thank you," he grumbled.

She shook her head, unknowingly fanning the scent of her hair. "Not at all, Sir."

He scanned the room, noticing that the recliner was positioned at different angle than before. The windows were clearer, too. "Did you clean?"

Her tiny shoulders shrugged. "Someone has to, Sir."

Silent as a specter, he stood and made his way towards the kitchen, a twitch of annoyance tugging at his thoughts.

He knew why.

"Hey."

She looked up expectantly. "Yes, Sir?"

Pein tilted his head her way, his ringed eyes and nose piercings visible over the line of his shoulder.

"My name is not 'Sir'."

If she was taken aback at all, then she did little to show it.

She only smiled; small, but still a smile.

"I know, Pein."

Smirking, he turned away and headed for the kitchen once again.

He was human, that much was undeniable.

And knowing that she knew that made him feel awkwardly comfortable.

When she revealed to him the next day -with dancing eyes- that it was the melissa and patchouli oil in her shampoo that made her smell perfumy, he felt nothing short of relief.

VVVVVVVVVV

... And he knew it.

VVVVVVVVVV

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YES. I HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY.

Well actually, I do. Y'see I have this shower gel/shampoo at home called "Tramp" that uses melissa and patchouli oil and it smells so musky and wicked that I needed to make it a Blue scent. :D

Comments/flames/wisecracks are welcomed. Go nuts.