Hey everyone! This is just a tiny one shot for Sasori's birthday which is tomorrow (8th of November). I'm very, very sorry that I haven't updated in a long time, but I am applying for Universities and a lot of research and work goes into this process as some of you already know, so please be patient! I should have it all sent off by the end of next week so I will be able to start uploading again. Chapters for two of my stories are already half written, I just need to finish them. I'm also moving house in three weeks so this will cause further delays in updates. But I haven't left you, I promise!
Also, my friend Rose of Doom has asked me to upload and manage her stories here since she can no longer do it herself for personal reasons, so I will be uploading those stories this weekend, with her name plastered on them.
Anyway enjoy this!
(Warning, OOC to all hell and some SasoDei potential, but it doesn't have to be if you aren't fond of it.)
Sasori did not celebrate his birthday. It was stupid to, since he didn't even physically age anymore, why on earth should he bother to remember the day that he was born? It was just another day in the year, nothing special or extraordinary.
Deidara on the other hand, loved celebration and took any opportunity to do so. This included celebrating Sasori's birthday.
"Why?" Sasori had demanded the first birthday that Deidara had been his partner.
"If you hadn't been born on the 8th, then you wouldn't even be here un," had been the rather daft response from the young blonde who had busily been working on something, hiding it from the puppet master's view.
It had turned out to be a birthday present. Although the gesture had been somewhat nice (the bomber hadn't even made it capable of exploding, so that Sasori could keep it), the redhead just couldn't understand what Deidara found so great about birthdays.
But he allowed his partner to celebrate it; even if Sasori refused to let him force the Akatsuki into singing 'Happy Birthday' for him (it would ruin the organisations image even more than it already had been).
Every year, Deidara would make him a small sculpture and he would accept it with a simple thank you, but he would keep it. The first year he had been given a scorpion, because of his name. The next year, a hawk, then a wolf, after that a rose and last year had been a small dragon.
After the gift, Deidara would offer to do one favour for the puppet master, as long as it wasn't degrading or inappropriate. He usually asked him to fetch material for his puppets or to take on a boring solo mission for him.
Finally, the blonde would ask him to come outside. They would sit on a grassy hillside or a rooftop and Deidara would set off fireworks, in a bursting array of red, green, purple, pink and blue. While Sasori refused to call it art, he would still admit they were pretty to watch and his partner would beam with pride at him for mentioning so.
Sasori glanced up at the calendar, issuing a small hum of acknowledgment as he realised that his birthday was in fact tomorrow. No doubt Deidara would still be awake, slaving at his desk over a piece of clay.
He wondered what sculpture he would get this year.