Author's note: i have been corrupted by my good friend thesepeopleareus into writing about the akatsuki. please know that i know nothing about the world of naruto except what she has told me and what the wikipedia "list of naruto villains" has to say. any errors are therefore not my fault. lol.
anyway, i don't own this. i don't even know where it came from. i just fell in love with the pairing. but they're still not mine. -sigh-
--kyra

Homecoming

Deidara pushed the door open, creeping in silently. He closed the door behind him and made his way to the bed, wondering as he did so why he even bothered coming her anymore. It wasn't as though this room's habitual occupant would be here. He'd been gone for weeks, off doing something dreadfully important for the good of Akatsuki. Or, at least, that was what Sir Leader claimed. Deidara didn't give a damn about the good of Akatsuki. He wanted Sasori back.

He slipped into the bed, relaxing despite himself as the familiarity of the room worked on his senses. There was the shadowed figure of a puppet, broken and awaiting repair. There was the sculpture, given to Sasori by Deidara himself on his last birthday. The blond knew every square inch of this room, knew it by sight and by feel and by smell. He'd spent more of his time here since Sasori's departure than in his own room. His room was bare, containing nothing more than was absolutely necessary. Sasori was the packrat, not Deidara. One wouldn't think it, to look at the two, but Deidara attached himself far less to objects than his redheaded love. Or maybe it did make sense. Sasori had nothing but objects. Deidara had more.

The gentle sighing of the wind through the open window eventually lulled Deidara to sleep. He slept almost motionlessly, clutching Sasori's pillow to his chest. He looked far less like a hardened assassin and far more like a lost child, the kind you want to bring home and give presents to.

A voice pierced his dreams late into the night, calling him back from his dreams.

"Deidara. Dei-kun. Wake up."

Deidara shook his head, unwilling to leave what he was sure must be a dream. His lips parted slightly, and he shifted ever so slightly towards the voice, wanting it to be real and knowing it couldn't be.

"You do realize you're taking up the entire bed, don't you?"

Deidara's eyes popped open despite himself, and he gazed up into the serene face of the very man he'd been dreaming of.

"Sasori?"

"Who else?"

"When did you get home?"

Sasori shrugged. "About half an hour ago. Are you going to let me in?"

Deidara shifted, giving his love room to slip in beside him. Sasori plucked the pillow out of Deidara's grasp, setting it back at the head of the bed and resting his head against it. Deidara didn't complain. He didn't need the pillow anymore. The man it reminded him of had returned to him.

"How did it go?"

Sasori shrugged slightly.

"As well as could be expected. We failed."

Deidara winced. "How bad will it be in the morning?"

"Bad."

Deidara grimaced. He reached over to touch Sasori's face, partly in comfort, partly to reassure himself that the puppet really was back. His fingers froze, unwilling to believe what they felt.

"What is it?" Sasori reached up to touch his face in the same place Deidara's fingers had stopped.

"You're… you're hurt."

"I don't feel it. You know I don't."

"How?"

Sasori shrugged, taking Deidara's hand away from his face. "It was a dangerous mission."

"But… Sasori…"

Sasori brought Deidara's hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "Hush. I'm here. I won't leave you again."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Deidara subsided, comforted if not completely content. Sasori drew him closer, brushing his fingertips down Deidara's back. Deidara returned the embrace, burying his face into Sasori's hard chest, doing his absolute best not to worry. It would work out. Sasori was here again, and Deidara knew that he would never, ever let the redhead go on his own again. They were partners. If they were going to die, they would do it together. Always together.