Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Naruto and all its affiliations (including, but not limited to: its characters, objects, places, and events) are owned by Masashi Kishimot.
Author's Note: I apologize for the cruddy ending. I honestly can't think up a good one.
It came before he could stop it—that instinctive response to pain. As the knife clattered to the floor he leapt back, clutching an injured hand close to his chest with the other. Another yelp of surprise escaped him, and he quickly moved to pick up the knife, turn back to the counter and continue working before the sound traveled throughout the house. But before his fingers ever made contact with the knife's wooden handle, he was there.
Greeting Deidara's black fingertips was an equally black glove. Turning his gaze upward a moment Deidara shot the orange mask hovering just above him a dangerous glare. The gloved hand retreated and Deidara grabbed the knife's handle, still warm from being held moments ago. Meanwhile the blond hid his other, cut appendage close to his thigh.
"You okay, sempai?" asked Tobi as Deidara gently pushed him aside and made his way to the counter where sat the tomatoes he'd been slicing. Deidara unconsciously gave the red fruits a nasty sneer, blaming their sticky juices and slimy insides for the bleeding cut on his fingers which now started to sting due to said juices drying.
"Fine," the blond spat.
After Deidara washed the knife, cleaned up the spilled juices and seeds, repositioned the tomatoes, and was poised to start slicing again, Tobi asked, "Then what was that noise I heard?"
Deidara let out an airy groan and almost slammed the knife down on the counter. He sent the taller man another glare. This downward tilt of the head was not as potent as it usually was, mainly because the veil of hair characteristically covering the man's face was pulled back into a high ponytail, along with the rest of his golden locks.
So instead of shutting up, backing away and returning to his room like he normally would, Tobi felt free to run his eyes over the blond and let his mind wander. Both migrated to the left fist rhythmically tightening and loosening next to the cutting board, and the crimson flowing down it.
"Sempai you're bleeding!" Tobi gasped, pointing to the blood and approaching the blond, who took a step back in return.
Deidara stared blankly at the swirled mask. "Yeah," he answered rather snappishly, glancing at the crimson skin and popping three fingers halfway into his mouth. A well-trained tongue ran over the broken skin and cleaned off the blood, only to let more flow.
"You shouldn't do that Deidara-sempai. It could get infected," he added when an eyebrow rose on Deidara's large forehead.
Despite the warning, Deidara continued to suck on the fingers, somewhat enjoying the metallic and dirty taste of both blood and skin (not to mention the sweet taste of knowing he was bugging Tobi). The victory did not last long, however, as Tobi wrenched the glistening hand out of Deidara's mouth and held it in the air at shoulder height.
"Hey!"
"You really shouldn't do that." It sounded more like an apology than anything else. And because of that, it went unheard.
"Let go Tobi!" Deidara ordered and strained to pull his hand out of the man's grip. Tobi shook his head and the hold strengthened.
"Here—just let me heal it for you."
"I said, 'Let go!'" The knife, gleaming in the dull kitchen light on the counter, flashed through Deidara's mind. For a moment, he considered grabbing it. But his current position, twisted slightly with his left arm crossed over his chest (left hand in Tobi's left), prevented him from doing so.
"Oh come on! Here, just let me have a look at it."
"No!"
The incident was, after all, partially Tobi's fault. If the idiot would just take off his mask maybe he could be the one cooking instead of Deidara. He would be the one with the cut right now. And would it bother him? No. The fool could survive basically any injury, no matter how deadly. A slice from a kitchen knife probably wouldn't even break the skin.
But no matter the occasion Tobi flat-out refused to remove the swirly orange mask. And there was no way Deidara was about to let someone with no depth-perception heal him, much less cook for him. The klutz might mistake rat poison for sugar.
Now Deidara's arm was starting to ache from struggling to rip his hand out of Tobi's grasp. With each passing second the hold seemed to strengthen and the blood poured faster and heavier. But unless Deidara calmed down Tobi could not properly heal him. And the chances of that happening…
Tobi blinked. The strain of Deidara's arm slackened to almost nothing. For a brief moment the masked man smiled, glad his sempai was finally allowing him to help.
Without warning Deidara made one final yank for freedom. His hand, smooth with red blood, slipped easily out of Tobi's loosened grip and collided with the side of the counter. Deidara yelped over the loud smack! of flesh against granite and, like before, clutched his injured hand close to his chest.
Just as the appendage started to throb, Tobi grabbed Deidara's hand again. Deidara opened his mouth wide, prepared to protest, to exclaim he was "fine," but stopped.
The pain was gone. In its place came a new sensation, one which crawled over the skin, across the bones and into the veins of his hand. It felt as though his hand, as best he could describe, was slowly slipping into a purifying water.
Furrowed eyebrows loosened and the frown marking his face subsided, leaving a mouth parted just enough to reveal a top row of teeth. His sapphire eyes stared, glowing, into the equally blue light emanating from Tobi's hands.
Tobi's doing this, his registered. It's…nice.
Just as the thought ended so did the artificial sensation of submergence, as well as the soft glow from Tobi's hands as life energy flowed from one being to another, giving new life to the dead cells and willing them to quicken the healing process.
"You're so stubborn," the raven-haired man muttered.
Reality thrust back to him, Deidara scowled. "Better stubborn than stupid, un."
"Ooh, harsh. Hey sempai," Tobi said, tossing the blond's limp hand between both of his. A spark of deadly annoyance cut the man's fun short. The hand landed palm-up in one of his, and he pointed to the orifice marking it. "Where'd you get these anyway?"
This time Deidara managed to rip his hand from Tobi's without incident. Blood still marked where the cut had formed, running into and emphasizing the wrinkles of skin and tiny hairs. He flexed the appendage, making sure it worked properly.
"What's it to you, un?" Deidara asked heading for the sink.
Tobi gave a half-hearted shrug as his response was lost behind the rush of water.
"Just curious," Tobi repeated in answer to the slightly raised eyebrow on Deidara's face. "Plus I wanna know how they work to make your art look so good," he added.
Despite how he felt about the masked man, a small wave of pride swelled in Deidara's chest at the compliment. "Well," he said with a curve to his words similar to the curve of his smile, "it's really just a simple jutsu, un."
"Yeah, and?"
"And I trained the tongues to work like fingers and manipulate the clay."
"And?"
The smile morphed into a frown, and Deidara crossed his arms over his chest. It wasn't so much that he didn't want Tobi to know all the secrets to his technique, but rather that he could not further analyze it himself. How can anyone express how an artist works? Even the artist in question would find it difficult to answer.
Then again, maybe that wasn't even what Tobi was inquiring. It could have been simple eagerness to know how instead of why. And if that was the case, then Deidara had nothing more to say; the answer, though vague, was given.
Deidara mentally shook himself out of the stupor; he was analyzing Tobi's question far too much.
"Let me ask you something." It was more of an order than a suggestion or request. "Why do you wear that mask?" Deidara tapped said mask. "And why don't you ever take it off?"
Tobi went silent with thought. "Isn't that kinda the same question? Oh! never mind," he quickly added, coming to full comprehension.
Tobi crossed his arms loosely and leaned against the counter. "I think it's kinda cool. You know? Kind of like a 'Mysterious Stranger'-type look," he said with a hoarse, low voice while wiggling his fingers in the air as though casting a magical spell.
Deidara only stared blankly back at him, irritation kindling in his eyes. "Then why wear it everywhere, un?"
"Why do you always say 'un' every few sentences?" Tobi poked Deidara accusingly in the chest.
"Force of…habit, I guess," he answered slowly, hesitantly. "What's wrong?" Tobi's body had slumped forward slightly.
"You were supposed to say, 'Ah! Touché.'"
The blond growled; Tobi laughed. "See? It's just kinda force of habit."
"Tobi," Deidara said sternly, "wearing a mask every day, everywhere isn't force of habit. It's like you're—"
"Hiding something?" Tobi finished. Deidara nodded with a contemptuous expression. The raven-haired man shrugged, "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not." Even if he could not see it physically, Deidara loathed the smile clearly marking the man's words.
Deidara's frown grew. He never liked being kept in the dark about anything nor the gnawing sense of curiosity, both of which plagued him in that instant. But before he could open his mouth to further inquire Tobi's character and ask him all the questions that suddenly overflowed in his mind, he was interrupted with a barrage of interrogations.
"Can you eat with those mouths, sempai? Do you have to brush their teeth? That's gotta be a hassle. Wait, can they talk? You have any others? Can I see? Uh…scratch that, maybe not!"
And before long, left dumbfounded by the same person he'd considered a being of purity in that moment of blue, healing light, Deidara was once again alone in the kitchen with only evil tomatoes as company.