I found this while I was looking through some of my old work and thought I might as well post it. This is an introduction to severel sketchy outlines about what therapy sessions for the different Akatsuki members would be like that came as a result of a discussion with my lovely Muse. I worship the Muse (you know who you are). This is a crack fic and it was made for my own amusement so the spelling and grammar might not be up to par. I apologize in advance. Please review, I'm in a bit of a slump because of the lack of feedback on my last piece of work.

Introduction

There are very few truly scary things in this world, but the most prominent has to be frilly pink aprons. Therefore it is not surprising that the sight of Deidara, smiling widely and moving so that the little hot pink apron strings swirled through the air behind his sauntering form, was greeted with general terror by the rest of Akatsuki. Kisame would later argue that Deidara did make good pancakes, and that if one squinted at just the right angle they could fool themselves into believing that the apron wasn't there, but the fact remained that Akatsuki was becoming more fucked up by the day. Despite Deidara's humiliation as he explained the events surrounding the "Apron Terror", mainly involving Hidan, a lost bet, and a pancake fetish, Sir Leader decided to take matters into his own hands…and shove them into someone else's.

Akatsuki Base: Front Room

"Stupid fucking lamp…I'm supposed to be fucking praying!" The Saturday after the incident found five S-Class criminals and Tobi armed with feather duster, mops, and plenty of Windex. They had been told to clean the base thoroughly; they sent Tobi out into the bright morning to attack the dirt path with a sponge and some warm, soapy water, because an important guest would be arriving soon. Sir Leader hadn't been explicit about the visitor, but it was generally assumed that he was going to help speed up the Taking-Over-the-World™ process.

"Shut up or you're going to get killed." Kakuzu shot his partner a look that was either meant to convey homicidal intent or the signs of a mental break down. He was positioned precariously on the stairs; still trying to understand how there was a second floor in a cave as he vacuumed the cold stone. In the living room directly below him Hidan continued to fiddle with the with the crooked lamp shade of the light on the mahogany end table.

"Shut the fuck up you…Jashin fuck it!" A single quiver of the elaborate golden tassels caused the perfectly balanced shade to tip completely off and land onto the nearby brown leather sofa. Furiously Hidan grabbed the decorative lighting fixture and chucked it across the room. On later consideration, after he had managed to reattach his legs, Hidan would realize that throwing a lamp at a brand new plasma screen is not the best idea…

Akatsuki Base: Guest Room

Kisame did not think his assigned room was at all appropriate or that the subtle inference was at all amusing. He had spent the last two hours of his life crouched in the tub trying to pull all of Itachi's hair out of the drain with a broken comb. Why the prodigy had been using the guest shower was beyond Kisame, but at least the bastard had left some de-clogging supplies behind.

Compared to the growing pile of soggy black hair that was building up beside the bathtub, the rest of the bathroom looked surgically clean. The mirror had only a few streaks, he was a KILLER not a MAID dammit, and the toilet had gotten a badly needed sanitation scrub down. Overall the place looked semi inhabitable.

"Hey Kisame, un. How does this thing turn on anyway?" Deidara stood in the doorway, holding the cord of an ancient vacuum cleaner and looking completely lost.

Kisame could physically feel the vein pop out of his forehead. "Take the pronged end and stick it into the electrical socket you idiot!"

"Electrical socket, un?"

"The little box in the wall!" Kisame's knees felt like they were on fire, otherwise he would have already been shaving Deidara's ribs into little white chips.

Deidara disappeared momentarily and there was an ominous silence as the boy searched for the socket. "I found it, yeahhhhhh!" Wisps of smoke floated into the room, and the sound of a falling body reached Kisame's ears.

With a grunt the large blue man turned back to his drain.

Akatsuki Base: Kitchen

Itachi stared blankly at the pile of unwashed dishes all that remained of the grimy mess. Without batting an eye he created another set of shadow clones and turned back to his nails. Itachi Uchiha did not clean.

Path to the Akatsuki Base

Kenka Sukete was relatively new to the trade, but even the newly graduated rookie knew something was wrong when she spied a boy washing the dirt of the front path beyond her with a sponge.

He kneeled on the ground, consumed in his work as he rubbed the once blue object in the mucky trench he had created. All the while he muttered under his breath in a sing song tone, "Tobi is a good boy, Tobi is a good boy, Zetsu-san says Tobi is a good boy…"

"Hey there," Kenka adopted a motherly tone as she knelt beside the obviously delirious boy. "I'm here to accept the position for resident psychiatrist. Can you tell me where to find," here she fumbled in the small blue back pack she had brought with her and produced a scrap of paper, "Sir Leader?"

The boy turned to look at her, and Kenka was met by the hypnotic orange swirl that decorated his face mask. He gazed at her, which was difficult because she was blocking all of his light, and took in the shimmering halo that accented her deep purple hair, yanked back into a professional bun. Her gentle eyes focused on the single hole in his mask, and the muddy brown of her iris' was only sharpened by the rectangular, wire rimmed glasses that rested low on her nose.

"Itachi-san says I have to finish washing the walk way!" Kenka's slim eyebrows went up at the boy's cheerful tone.

"Well, I could use a guide, and you must be really hot under that black cloak." Before the kid could protest Kenka pulled him to his feet and frog marched him towards the door. A tattered piece of newspaper fell from her back pack as she opened the door and shoved the psycho, lovingly, into the dark hall beyond.

WANTED

Trained psychiatrist, experience not necessary, for a live in position at secret hide out. Must have a strong stomach, hatred of humanity, and must be willing to face mortal peril.

If you are interested, apply in person at the following address…

Yep...that's it...PLEASE REVIEW!