Title: Tuesday, the Washing
Author: desbutterfly
Genre: gen, humour, crack
Characters: Hidan, Kakuzu
Rating: PG - 13 for Hidan's filthy mouth
Summary: Even evil villains have to do their laundry sometimes.



Kakuzu turned from where he was sorting the laundry into 'dark' and 'also dark but with more blood' piles to see Hidan grinning and holding out his hand expectantly.

"What is it?"

"Gimme a quarter."

Kakuzu frowned. He didn't like giving up money for any reason. He only agreed to do Hidan's laundry in the first place because he got to keep any spare change he found left in the pockets.

"No," he said.

Hidan's grin quickly turned into a scowl and he kicked the edge of the washing machine viciously.

"Fuck you, it's only a quarter," he muttered. "You're such a cheap ass, seriously."

Kakuzu shrugged and went back to stuffing soiled Akatsuki cloaks into the wash. He scratched at a bit of dried spinal fluid on one of the red clouds with a fingernail, then gave up and just dumped two cupfuls of extra soap granules on top of the whole mass.

"We need quarters for the wash," he said. "All the quarters, since you insisted on slitting that guy's throat all over our spare pack of clothes. Just because he made fun of your necklace."

"It's a fucking rosary and you know it. Don't make me kill you for being a blasphemous shithead Kakuzu."

"Yeah, yeah." There were too many buttons on the machine. He pushed the quarters into the slot and stabbed at the biggest button with his finger, then smirked in satisfaction as the washing machine switched on with a whrrr and a click.

Over in the corner, Hidan had apparently found a quarter of his own, because he was now shoving it into one of the vending machines lining the window of the launderette.

"What are you doing?" Kakauzu asked.

"None of your fucking business you cheap bas—what the shit is this?" There was a clink of metal against metal, and then Hidan held something small and round in his fist. Kakuzu squinted at it.

"Looks like a ball of candy," he said.

Hidan held the bright red ball up to his lips and gave it a lick. Then he scowled.

"Fuck, it is candy! In what fucked-up shit-hole of a universe could this weak little thing ever break a jaw, seriously?"

"It's supposed to break your jaw?"

"That's what it said on the label. Lying shits."

Kakuzu shrugged and started putting the next stack of laundry in another washing machine. "You don't need a candy to break someone's jaw anyway. Just use your hands."

"Yeah, that's true, I guess. I just wanted this place to be cool enough to sell torture devices in vending machines for a quarter."

"It's a laundromat."


Kakuzu was about to saying something withering regarding Hidan's intelligence but he was interrupted by a slightly balding man waddling up beside him and poking his nose over on Kakuzu's side of the washing machine.

He glared at the man. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah." The man combated with a glare of his own. Clearly, this was a suicidal citizen.

"You see this here?" the man said, fingers flicking against the washing machine dials. "This is my washing machine. I always use this one. My laundry was all lined up here to put in. I just went to get soap two seconds ago."

Kakuzu looked down at the basket of clothing by the washing machine, and then looked back up.

"…Hey, Hidan?"


"I think this guy wants us to move our stuff."

There was a moment of silence, and then Hidan stepped forward, a smile on his face as he flipped the gumball between his fingers.

"That's really fucking interesting," he drawled. "Know what's even more interesting?"

The balding man paled a bit but by that time it was too late. Hidan slung an arm around the man's shoulder and squeezed tight.

"I think that if you shove this—" Flip. Flip. "—far enough down a man's throat, it'll suffocate him."

The man's eyes widened and he whimpered as Hidan pressed the bright red gumball to his lips. The buzzer on the first load of laundry rang off, and Kakuzu began to shift that group over to the dryer, making sure to put a scented sheet in to take care of any static cling.

He hated when his cloak stuck to his knees.