NOTE; THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER REPEATED, SINCE I CHANGED MY EMAIL ACCOUNT I SWITCHED TO A NEW ACCOUNT; .net/~ZEPHYRCHAN
I will be posting the continuation of Fine Line on there, possbily under a new title. I am sorry for the lack of updates, but I will get back to this asap, okay?
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Deidara was taken aback. Feeling his back pressed against the smooth walls and Sasori pressed equally as hard against his front, Deidara froze solid. What the hell was going on? Before he could question, Sasori was kissing him. Deidara didn't know how to react. His initial reaction was to push the scorpion away, yet he had seemed to have forgotten how to use his arms. He stood, limp, for what seemed like hours, but, then again - time was always messing with Deidara's head. Mere seconds passed before Deidara regained the use of his muscles. Gripping Sasori's shoulders, he shoved the smaller frame back with all his strength. Not even watching as Sasori collapsed to the floor, Deidara stormed from the room.
"Im bloody straight, god dammit, what the hell was that all about?"
The blond didn't quite know where to go. He had left his toothbrush and soap in the bathroom, but he wasn't really bothered about that. What bothered him was Sasori. What exactly had happened back then? Deidara pressed his hands against his temples, rubbing his forehead in an effort to ease whatever weird emotions were pounding through his veins. Hadn't Sasori hated him a short while ago?
Deidara had nowhere else to go but his dormitory, and though he knew Sasori would return soon enough, he went inside anyway. The door, as usual, was unlocked. Collapsing to his bed and lying back on the sheets, Deidara's eyes traced the shapes in the ceiling lazily, trying to block out any thoughts his head had of Sasori. It worked, and Deidara found himself staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn't notice the movement in the corner of the room until it was too late. Hands pinned either side of him, the blond focused his eyes wearily. "Unn?" He murmured, eyes meeting a pair of sickly olive hued eyes, with cat like iris's. Deidara knew those eyes. The serpent hissed gently, grinning at his chosen prey.
"Deidara-kun. I'll warn you to stay away from Sasori, if you will." He murmured, his breath like silk across the blonds suddenly pink face. Deidara tensed up, intimidated by the sudden closeness and odd sense of vulnerability that enveloped him. Luckily for Deidara, Orochimaru didn't seem interested in the blond. He shifted, getting to his feet as the door clicked open. Sitting up, and throwing the snake a questioning, and slightly scathing, look Deidara ignored Sasori as he entered and sat upon his duvet.
"Ahh, speak of the devil. Sasori-kun. Having a bit of trouble containing yourself, are you?" His tongue ran across his teeth, his eyes keen upon Sasori like a carrion bird examining a carcass. Sasori didn't seem to notice, instead his gaze lay dormant upon the half clean window. Instantly uncomfortable, Deidara fled.
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He had nowhere else to go. All hopes of a worthy distraction were pinned upon this room. He faced the wooden frame, hesitating before raising his arms. Slamming his fists on the door and hoping to God, Buddha - even Jashin - that the room belonged to someone he knew. The doorknob twisted and Itachi opened the door to his dorm slowly, eyes blank as if not surprised at Deidara's sudden appearance. Deidara had thought, when asking Hidan afew days back, where his dorm was, that he had been lying. His suspicions had been true, of course, yet at least he had given directions to a fellow Akatsuki members room. Deidara sighed, almost relieved, yet he was also a little surprised. Behind Itachi was Hidan himslf, slumped against a wall, blood smears down his right arm. Okay, so Deidara was wrong to suspect the white haired guy - he really did live there after all - but what the hell was going on now? Deidara pushed his way past the expressionless weasel who merely slumped onto his bed, watching the blonds frantic movements.
Cautious, Deidara crouched in front of the white haired teenager. "H-Hidan...san?" He murmered, for a moment forgetting why he had even come here.
A low chuckle was emitted from the Jashinists mouth. "Hidan-san, now, is it? Whats fucked you up enough to come here, eh, blondie?"
Taken slightly aback by Hidan's cool demeanor, and the fact he payed little attention to his wounded arm, Deidara stood and stepped away. Hidan laughed again, louder this time, obviously amused by the sculptors reaction. "I'm paying respects to Jashin-sama." He explained briefly - at this news, Deidara took back what he was saying before and went back to begging Buddha for aid.
"...Okay...Unn." He murmered, nodding slowly, and throwing a sideways glance at Itachi, who was oblivious to the conversation.
"Stop that piss annoying noise you keep making and answer my damned question."
Deidara hesitated, then shrugged, reluctant to tell them about Sasori's sudden actions. "N-nothing, u-nothing." Getting to his feet, Deidara turned towards the door, downcast yet not finding Hidan's company as amusing as he had thought. On coming here, he thought that Hidan of all people could keep his mind of Sasori, yet his constant swearing just pissed him off. He doubted he could endure it long enough to forget about Sasori. Before he could reach the door, Itachi had grabbed his sleeve. "If you want to stay, you can. Ignore him - he'll eventually shut up." Deidara smiled, nodding gratefully at the raven haired teen. Deidara really did suck at first impressions; Sasori apparently didn't hate him after all, Itachi was nice, and not some cold hearted freak, and Hidan was quite the opposite; appearing as a crude, yet amusing, individual but showing his true colours eventually; he was some freaked up nutcase who slashed his own arm to bits to please some crazed, sadistic god.
"Fine, blondie can crash here. Aren't you Sasori's room mate?" Deidara nodded quietly and took a seat, choosing to perch on the end of Itachi's bed. Luckily, the weasel didn't seem to mind. Hidan laughed. "What did he do?" Wow, Hidan didn't swear for three whole sentences. That alone was enough to make Deidara hesitate. But in all seriousness, what could he say to that? He couldn't tell the truth, obviously, because it was too embarrassing for both him and for Sasori - though he doubted he should take the puppeteers feelings into consideration after Sasori had plainly not cared about Deidara's earlier. Deidara shrugged, deciding to tell half of the truth in a meek attempt at pleasing the Jashinist.
"Orochimaru's with him. Neither of them like me that much." He explained. Itachi narrowed his eyes, yet the totaly ignorant Hidan just grinned.
"Yeah, I noticed that. Just stay here, blondie, and let them have their fun. They'll probably hate you even more if you interrupt them."
Deidara blinked, confused, at the statement, but was instantly deterred as a pillow flew, hitting Hidan in the face. "Stop trying to start rumours." Itachi scolded, his monotone voice seemingly uncaring, yet it was obvious his emotionless words contained a harsh command. "You don't really believe that them two are gay, right? And even if they were, I doubt its any of your business, Hidan." Getting to his feet, Itachi left the room. Deidara thought of the irony of Itachi's statement, then for a moment, pondering wether or not that Itachi was angry and having some sort of private hissy fit - though the idea of Itachi sulking was laughable. Hidan didn't seem bothered, and started to cut out a pattern in his already slashed up arm. He murmured something about Kakuzu-sensei, the mathematics teacher, and something out sewing, but Deidara didn't have time to question. Itachi returned, threw a spare duvet at Deidara, then got into bed wordlessly.
Thankful for the covers, and for a hopefully peaceful nights rest - if Hidan didnt wake him in the night, which Deidara was very suspicious of - Deidara made himself comfortable upon the floor and curled up. For what felt like the thousandth time, Sasori appeared behind closed lids, yet his puppets were gone, and Deidara found his own body the subject of his strings.