A/N: Yay for failed attempts at Sasodei fanfiction! This is really freaking OOC and I am so sorry for that. I am apologizing to you so much right now because this sucks. Not entirely; the writing is pretty good and the semistory is decent, but this is just something that was bothering me and bugging me until I wrote it. This might become more than one chapter. I am not sure yet, but I have an idea that I could roll with on this one. It would only go for a few chapters. We'll find out though, won't we?
Ink
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
God damn it.
The clock is ticking far too slowly for him, putting the high-school senior in an awkward position. If he was impatient before, then this was absolutely killing him. Time was turtling along, being very antagonizing. What would he not do to get the hell out of the class? (As he had the worst art teacher in this history of history's history.) Worse yet, the class was teeming with lunatics and blissfully ignorant bastards. Only a few people created anything the redhead deemed artwork; it was more like interesting coincidence to the people that did the work.
The bell rang.
Fuckin' finally!
Sasori dashed out the room so fast he was barely visible. He wanted to get out of there so he could make his appointment. What appointment? It was not anyone's business, but if one must know, he was getting his scorpion tattoo finished. The only reason he did not finish on the first run-through was that he allowed himself to get wasted ahead of time. His favorite tattoo artist was a blonde girl that never allowed him to do anything stupid or irrational when it came to permanent markings since she believed that art should be short-lived and go out with a bang. Her favorite patron believed the exact opposite. The woman had done his past four tattoos and enjoyed the constant flattery that came with doing her job. Did it ever occur to Sasori that he could just ask her out? Not really; quite honestly he never considered a serious relationship with anyone at all a possibility no matter how much he cared for them.
His little black Mazda Miata pulled into the lot of this really professional-looking parlor called Masterpiece. He had gone so fast that no one on the road saw him, but a couple squirrels had the pleasure of meeting his front tires. Masterpiece though was his favorite tattoo/piercing place. This was where the object of his manhood's affections worked. Knowing this, he leaped out of his car. He pulled up his pants and tugged down on his shirt. He walked through the black-barred door.
There, in all her lovely glory, a blue-eyed angel kicked back in a rolling chair behind a tall, l-shaped desk. Her shoulder length blonde hair shadowed oceanic eyes. Her body is long and lean, but her bust is non-existant. Not that it bothered her one bit- breasts had a tendency to get in the way of things. Her lips were curled lightly into a half-smile. Her face was softly structured and kind, but at the same time mischievous, challenging, and devious. Her voice was considerably lower than most females, but Sasori definitely preferred stronger women to clingy, dependent girls.
The blonde's eyes lit up upon the sight of her favorite canvas. She rose to her feet and leaned over the desk. Sasori matched it and they hugged each other. "You are always early, Sasori no danna, yeah?" Sasori laughed and nodded into her shoulder before they pulled apart. "Ah, it is good to see you."
The flame blushed. "You too, Deidara."
Deidara scratched her head. "So we are finishing the scorpion today, yeah? Can I check up on the others before I get started?" She tugged her skin-tight black V-neck shirt and shifted her white shorts. The best thing about Deidara's clothing choice was that it left so little to the imagination, but at the same time just enough. It was very visible that she was all woman, otherwise someone would have seen it by now.
"Sure," Sasori agreed.
He followed her into the back to a room of mirrored walls and the central stereo system for the entire shop. They had an extreme variety of music, maybe even every song ever played. Right now it was a piano cover of Hallelujah by Paramore done exceptionally well. Sasori lifted his shirt off over his head, revealing a fine set of abs and a thin build. You could question if he was even the right weight for his height. The first thing someone would notice about him- not the nice body or the smooth skin. First thing visible were tattoos. First, the kanji for 'wake' was on his left pectoral. It had been done by Deidara about a year ago. On the man's left forearm laid an amazing sleeve of vines, wires, and water, all entwined, pushing each other to move further up their master's arm. This intricate design took three separate appointments on three different dates, each session about two hours long. Then, tucked into the nape of his neck, Sasori had Vini Vedi Vici done in his handwriting (tattooed by Deidara, of course) in the shape of a ring. This is from about half a year ago. Finally, sitting on his right hip beside his abdomen is the start of a black scorpion waiting to be inked the color of its artist's eyes. It was started last week.
How does Sasori- the man with a hard-on for art –manage to see Deidara between random tattoo appointments? Relatively easily—he shows up twice a week because his older sister Elva works there. Even better, Elva and Deidara are good friends at work. That means they talk a lot and a certain girl-addict heard through the grapevine that a blonde known as Dei liked him. Why not randomly drive an hour out of your way to see a completely hot chick that has a thing for you?
"Aw, sick!" Deidara cheered while beaming, tracing the design on the forearm of the only other person in the room. "I think you are my most successful project, Danna."
Sasori smirked in triumph. He loved things like that. He loved when girls loved him, especially if that girl was going to be Deidara. "Really?"
"Un, yeah. You are probably my favorite, too," she said, cluing him in. He beamed, enjoying every moment of the woman's attention. "So let's get down to business, yeah? What color is this bad boy going to be, un?"
Sasori started to blush as Deidara's hand ran over the scorpion gently, making him shudder. Deidara smiled, eyes shimmering childishly. "What color are your eyes? "he asked. He fumbled to add, "I mean, I know they are blue, but what shade?"
Deidara's cheeks flushed bright pink. She dropped her hand from the man's hip and scratched the back of her head nervously. "Uh… I, un, guess that they are sky blue or aquamarine." She hung her head. Oh geez I am blushing like hell. This is not embarrassing or anything. He can tell I like him now. Damn it!
"Yeah that is the color I want my scorpion."
Yipes! Deidara's face was rainbowing. Oh sweet mother… "A-are you sure? Red is a more powerful color and far more bold."
Sasori nodded. "Yeah, but I want aquamarine."
"S-Sasori sama, are you coming on to me?" Deidara fumbled with her words. Why? She hardly knew. She rarely got nervous around anyone, but the idea of this man coming onto her made her very, very happy.
Sasori raised an eyebrow. He could have easily answered one of three ways.
We have not had sex so no, I cannot say I have come onto you.
I always hit on you. Are you honestly telling me you never noticed? (Insert dumb blonde comment here.)
Or C. Like hell you dumb bitch.
He opened his mouth to answer her question, but Deidara interrupted him. It was probably best, seeing as he was about to pick B and lord knows he would have gotten a smack across the face. Contrary to his belief though, Deidara would have actually melted into him like marshmallows into an ember. Too bad Sasori did not speak up. He could have gotten exactly what he wanted.
"Anyway, let's get started, yeah?" Deidara nervously trailed off to her station and prepared for a long, long, long afternoon.
"Dei." Sasori leaned against the wall, ignoring that he was shirtless in a room full of ladies staring blankly at his figure. "What's wrong?"
In her head, she tried to think of anything that qualified as a plausible excuse for her reasoning as to why having a thing for her coworker's brother was wrong.
Well, shit. There was an answer right there. "Listen, danna," Deidara started then stopped. Honorifics like that would lead him on. "Sasori, you're the brother of my friend and to add to that, I'm older than you, un."
"Yeah by what, a year? I'm not smaller than you or weaker than you or any less talented than you. In fact, I beat you in all three of those categories." He could have gone on forever about why he was great for her, but a woman's pride allows her to come up with two excuses for every single one that a guy can come up with.
"Not the point, un!"
"So is it a matter of I'm not good enough?"
Deidara rolled her eyes. This was not the first time this topic came up between them. "I am not getting into this with you. Just drop it, yeah?"
Sasori sat down in the reclining chair that victims of tattoos had to lie in. They were victims because, to Sasori at least, getting a tattoo felt like all of your pubic hairs being rapidly plucked out. Deidara had an all-too-gentle touch though, so when she started cleaning off the figure of the scorpion with antiseptic it tickled and ended up being awkwardly intimate.
"Come on, Deidara. I'm really sick of waiting. You know how impatient I am and you have never even given me a chance. I can be anything you want and better," he pointed out.
"You are sick in the head, un." She shook her head. "What do you want from me? It has to be something."
"One chance, that's all. It happens to be the only thing I want from you."
"So I do not have to finish this scorpion."
"Like hell you don't! I still want it blue!"
"Fine! Geez, stop yelling at me!"
"I'm not yelling at you. I just want you to go out with me one time. If you don't like it- or me for that matter –then I won't bother you again and I'll even take my services elsewhere."
Deidara frowned. Life without Sasori would suck. She found herself excited on Wednesdays and Saturdays when she knew he would be there. She rubbed her forehead with the hand she was not using to dip a needle in sky blue ink. "Fine. You win, un. I'll go out with you one time."
Sasori beamed. "How about right after this? The Miata is out front and could use some more miles."
Deidara patted his stomach. "Don't push it, un," she said stiffly as she pushed the needle onto the scorpion on his hip. Sasori spazzed in momentary pain, but recovered instantly.
You are so lucky you're hot; she felt like saying that but did not. Some things were just better off unsaid—especially when you are holding a tool that leaves permanent marks. It takes the utmost focus to do it. It takes more focus when you hardly think tattoos make sense because everlasting art is a nonexistent concept to you. (Still talking about Deidara, here.)
"By the way," Sasori interrupted the silence as he laid back in the chair, finally relaxing. "Have you seen Elva?"
"…What?"