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C is thirty-one when he realises he and Darui don’t see eye-to-eye anymore.
Literally.
It’s a testament to just how accustomed they are to sharing a living space that they, despite their kitchen being the approximate size of a shoebox, rarely ever have trouble navigating around each other. Somewhere along the line they just ended up developing a sort of sixth sense for which overhead cupboard the other was about to reach for or when the other needed something from the spice rack passed over.
Which makes it all the more jarring when, one particularly dark night, as C’s rummaging through one of the aforementioned overhead cupboards for a late night snack something knocks into him and nearly knocks him off his feet.
C curses and almost immediately Darui’s got a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there.”
“S’fine.”
Somewhat disoriented, C straightens up and Darui must have reached for the light switch because suddenly light is flooding the kitchen and C squeezes his eyes shut to shield them from the brightness.
When he opens them again he blinks once, twice, three times until stars stop blocking his vision and then several more times when he doesn’t see Darui.
Or rather, doesn’t see Darui’s face.
Later on, C would go on to blame it on the late hour, but it takes several seconds and some heavy squinting for him to realise that he is, in fact, looking at Darui.
Darui’s collar bone, to be precise, and something strikes C as odd.
It’s a whole lot of chest and shoulders he’s looking at and not a lot of face and C briefly has serious doubts about his perception of time and space.
“Darui.”
“Everything all right?”
“Darui,” C repeats, slower and more deliberate and not entirely devoid of suspicion, “did you grow taller?”
Darui is about to object and ask C if he hit his head when he is hit with the realisation that he has to look down to meet C’s eyes.
“Were you always this short?” Darui asks, and his voice sounds much closer to a squawk than he’s comfortable acknowledging right now.
C glares but he’s too perplexed to put any real heat behind it. He looks Darui up and down, trying to reconcile the present situation with his memories and, for all his troubles, ends up more confused than before.
Memories from the academy, from their teens, their early twenties come back to him. He distinctly remembers being seven and arguing about who’s taller, turning 13 and teasing Darui how he finally caught up with him after his latest growth spurt and, at the ripe age of 19, finally resigning himself to the fact that Darui would probably have exactly one and a half inches on him for the rest of their lives.
If he’s entirely honest with himself, C is offended.
“What did you do?” C’s tone is accusatory even though he has no idea what exactly he’s accusing Darui of.
“Me? How on earth should I know?”
Instead of distant memories from when they were kids, C concentrates hard on visualising some of his more recent memories.
He thinks of tangling his hands in Darui’s hair as he’s being lifted on to the kitchen counter the day before. Thinks of reaching up to wrap his arms around Darui’s neck just as his back makes contact with their front door. Thinks of last month, when he fixed Darui’s collar just before an important meeting. Half a year ago when he was just about ready to fall asleep standing up and resting his forehead against Darui’s shoulder blade. Of last year’s inauguration ceremony, the stolen kiss behind the stage that had preceded it and countless many more before that one. He finds that he can’t pinpoint one particular point where thing’s shifted. It must have been a gradual change, without either of them realising that it was happening at all.
C smiles wryly because, fuck him, if that doesn’t describe the progression of their relationship in a nutshell.
He lets his head drop forward. It knocks against Darui’s collar bone. He laughs to himself.
“A fine pair of shinobi we make.”
Darui is kind of perplexed but puts his arms around C anyway and rests his chin on top of his head.
“Can’t say that I mind all that much.”
C snorts. “Comfortable?”
“Very.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow I’ll have you haul your ass to the hospital for a check up. Growth spurts like that are not normal at your age.”
“Your concern is heartwarming.”
“Shut it, beanstalk.”
“Getting awfully cocky there, short stuff.”