I
Tea for Two, Part 1
A/N - Hey everyone! So, this is my first serious attempt at a story (it's probably for the best that you ignore the other two... -_-' ) DeiSaku is one of my very favorite pairings, but unfortunately is not very popular, so there are not many stories written (good ones anyway--but you should definitely check out Cynchick's stories and read each and every one of them) so I decided I would add another (hopefully decent) story to the woefully small pile. I've already got the plot (mostly) worked out, and it will be a decently long one, and I will try my darndest to stick with it. (Reviews help encourage me to write.... *wink wink nudge nudge*) So, read and review, and enjoy!
~o0o~
Solo missions sucked, Deidara decided.
It had sounded easy enough on paper: break into such and such fortress, steal some top-secret mystery scroll, take out this nobody crime lord in the process... Pretty routine stuff for an S-class missing-nin. Shouldn't have taken more than three days.
But of course things could never just run smoothly, could they? He grudgingly supposed it may have gone better if he had planned ahead, but that was something he just did not do. He was, in fact, fundamentally opposed to the idea. Plans, especially elaborate ones, required you to predict that events would turn out a certain way in order for them to work: and life almost never went the way you expected, so they were pretty much doomed to fail from the start. In his opinion, it was better to just act and see what happened, then adapt to the situation. What were quick-ninja reflexes for, after all? Plus, planning just wasn't in his nature. Art wasn't art if it was planned.If he felt inspired, he had to express it right in that second. Because if he didn't, then the moment of creation would have passed and art would have gone unfulfilled, and that was just unacceptable. Deidara lived for his art, and the spontaneity and explosions and thrill that accompanied it. Plans were nothing more than rigid barriers that stifled his artistic inspiration and killed his mood.
Not to say that his mood wasn't killed anyway, sans planning. During the course of the past week, he had been caught breaking and entering, had his ass kicked (though he did manage to get the scroll and kill whats-his-face), been forced to run for a day straight immediately after said ass-kicking, been stuck in the rain with no shelter, caught a cold, gone hungry, lost his money, almost had his ass kicked again when the enemy caught up with him and because of that ended up nearly clay-less, then had been forced to henge into a Geisha of all things to avoid being followed again, and then couldn't even bomb the place when one of the okiya's patrons tried to fondle him.
And now he was walking down a road somewhere in the middle of River country, tired, hungry, injured, under the weather, nearly out of clay, and extremely grouchy.
But, it could have been worse. At least he didn't lose an arm this time. Or two.
And at least that swirly-faced nightmare wasn't anywhere in sight. He shuddered.
Yes, solo missions sucked, he had decided. But missions with Tobi were hell.
His stomach growled.
"This is getting old, yeah," he muttered to himself, putting a hand to his abdomen. There was a teahouse not too much further down the road that he visited on occasion, but he was unfortunately out of cash. He would normally just leave without paying, but he wasn't exactly in the mood to deal with the scene that would cause. Plus, he knew he would probably want to visit the place again next time he was around, which he couldn't do if he wrecked the place. (His was not a face that was easily forgotten.) But, he knew a few ways to get cash when he needed it.
Sticking his hand into the clay pouch at his left side, the mouth there closed around his last, tiny, near-worthless scrap of clay and began to chew. A minute or so later, it spit out a small clay spider. There was a man walking towards him on the path. When Deidara and the man passed each other, he discreetly tossed the spider on the man, where it proceeded to crawl down his back and into his wallet.
Deidara slowed his pace and held his hand out behind him, palm up, and waited for the creature to return to him. When it did, it dropped several tightly folded notes of paper into his hand. He took them and stuck them in his pocket, and, just for good measure, tossed the spider in the air.
"Katsu!" he whispered, and the clay went off with a 'pop'. He sighed. He never got tired of that.
His mood now marginally improved due to his art and the promise of food, he set off at a quicker pace.
He reached the teahouse five minutes later, and his mood abruptly dropped again. The place was absolutely packed. The seats farthest from the entrance, facing it, (less conspicuous, easier to keep an eye out for danger) were all taken. In fact, the only unoccupied seat in the entire establishment was at a table for two near the back wall, across from some civilian girl.
He ground his teeth together in frustration,: all three sets of them. All he wanted was a nice quiet meal with minimal to no human interaction. Was that too much to ask for?
He walked up to the seat. The girl looked up. Lank brown hair, small dark eyes, unimpressive face. How boring.
"This is the only seat left, yeah." He motioned to the seat with his hand. The girl just stared at him, mouth slightly agape.
Deidara, even at the best of times, was not a patient person. And it was definitely not the best of times for him right now. So with every second that ticked by, waiting for a response, his annoyance doubled. What, was she stupid? Could she not take a hint? He shouldn't have to ask for anything, but here he was, waiting for her permission to sit in a seat that wasn't even hers. He should just take-
"'Would you like to sit here, sir?" she said evenly. He had been in the process of sitting anyway, but decided to respond.
"Hn," was all he cared to manage. He slid into the small booth, removing his straw kasa and placing it on the bench beside him. He stretched a little and tried to relax, staring at a fixed point on the wall behind her head, waiting for someone to come and take his order. She stared at him for a few seconds, then dropped her gaze to the plate of dango in front of her. He could tell that she was trying to look like she was focused on her food, but failing miserably. He could feel her eyes flicker briefly to his face and body every few seconds, and it was starting to bug him. He was just about to tell her off when the waiter came to their table.
"What would you like?" he asked. Deidara was pretty hungry, so he decided to get a couple of things.
"Some green tea, an order of gyoza, a bowl of sticky rice, three chicken yakitori, some bean cakes," he glanced at the girl's plate on the table, "and an order of dango, yeah."
"That's all?" the man chuckled slightly. "We'll have that right out, then. Suki!" He walked off and started yelling out Deidara's order to the cooks.
Deidara sat back and waited for his order to arrive. He rolled the fingers of his right hand in a drum-like ta-ta-tap on the table in front of him, keeping a steady rhythm. He casually watched the people around him from the corner of his eye, listening in to bits and pieces of their mundane conversations, keeping his ears open for anything suspicious. Because this place was just bound to be full of dangerous people. He snorted. He doubted anyone in here had ever even seen danger, let alone been the danger. Other than himself, of course.
He grew bored of listening to the constant chatter around him and turned his attention back to the girl in front of him. She was still just as unimpressive to look at as before, but at least it was something to do.
She had dull, shoulder length brown hair with absolutely no highlights, and her eyes were tiny and depthless. Her lips weren't small, but they weren't big either. Her nose was straight, and somewhat petite. Her face was slightly round, but not fat, and she appeared to be of average height and build. She wore a plain brown and green civilian dress, with no frills or accessories. He wondered what her name was, and if it was as boring and average as the rest of her. He might have even asked her, but his dispassionate observation was interrupted when she spoke in a low tone.
"It's impolite to stare, you know." She sounded like she was trying to be threatening, but was too nervous to pull it off. And nervous she should be. After all, he was an S-class criminal, as evidenced by his crossed-out hitai-ate that even a civilian should know the significance of. He was also a member of the most powerful organization in the world, though his cloak and ring probably meant nothing to her. But still, what could she threaten him with?
"No one's ever called me polite, yeah." Her brow furrowed minutely and her jaw was slightly clenched: she was annoyed with him? This was actually starting to be amusing. She looked like she was about to reply, but the waiter came with his food before she could.
"Here you go, enjoy!" The man set several platters of food down on the table in front of him and left. Deidara tore into his food immediately, starting with the dumplings. He ate for several solid minutes before he bothered to look up at the girl again.
She looked even more annoyed than before, and was watching him eat with mild disgust. He smirked. He started chewing with his mouth open and smacking his lips as he ate, making sure to swallow as noisily as possible. He grabbed his cup of tea and took a long, drawn-out slurp, before setting it down and burping. His smirk widened. He thought he could actually see a vein bulging on her temple.
"I can see why nobody has ever called you polite." Her tone was clipped and icy. She continued to scrutinize him--glare at, might be a more accurate term--until the waiter came around for refills on drinks.
"Please," she said, holding up her cup.
"Here you go, miss."
"Thank you." The words were out of her mouth before the waiter had even done anything. It was slightly sickening.
He refilled the girls' cup and turned to Deidara.
"And you, sir?" Deidara scooted his cup closer to the edge of the table with the back of his hand and nodded; the waiter refilled it and left. And now the girl was back to glaring at him. She looked like she wanted to punch him through a wall.
"Something wrong?" he asked in a concerned tone, trying his best to look sincere and not wickedly amused.
She just stared at him for the longest time, with that irked expression. Then suddenly she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Then her face opened up and she smilied at him, brilliantly.
"No, nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?" She was still smiling at him, like she would love nothing more than to have his continued company. It was actually a little creepy. And he told her as much.
"That's a freaky smile, yeah. I bet you could scare people with it." People that weren't him, of course. He wasn't scared of anything.
The smile faltered for a second, and he saw the anger that was just underneath the surface. But when the smile was plastered back in place, it was even stronger than before.
"Actually, you're right. I can. And have." She paused to take a small bite of her dango, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, "But only when it's deserved." And apparently, he deserved it.
Here was yet another pretentious snob in the seemingly endless line of pretentious snobs that always seemed to parade through Deidara's life. People who didn't know a damn about him yet automatically assumed they were better than him. People who, because he didn't adhere to whatever standards they projected onto the rest of humanity, be it punctuality or levelheadedness or manners, scorned his very existence. And, most unforgivably, they were the people that ignored his art.
"And what have I done, hm? Offended your better sensibilities? Am I disrupting your peaceful little lunch, princess?"
The look of pure, unadulterated fury that flashed through her eyes was brief, but Deidara caught it. For a wild second he imagined she would crush the ceramic cup she held in her hands to dust, but she calmed down almost instantly and set down her tea. She leveled an even, cool gaze at him, and spoke calmly:
"You know nothing about me."
"Likewise," he scoffed. Her eyes widened slightly at his response, her mouth pressed into a thin line, and... was that a real smile emerging at the edge of her lips?
"True," she said, after a long silence. Then, taking a sip of her drink, seemed to ponder him for a moment as she stared over the edge of her cup. She spoke slowly, calculatingly, "But it doesn't have to stay that way."
He quirked a brow. Doesn't have to stay that way? What did she...? Suddenly it came to him and he felt laughter bubbling up from the depths of his chest. She was... hitting on him?
"I apologize for being so rude before," she continued. "My name is Uroshi Hana. And you...?" She looked at him expectantly.
Deidara felt amused, disgusted, and uncomfortable all at once. Here was a girl who not thirty30 seconds ago hated him for no apparent reason other than his lack of table etiquette, and now wanted to pretend like it had never happened because she thought he was attractive. At least, that's the only explanation for her sudden change in attitude that he could think of. Well, he could play along, for now, at least. It might even be worth it if he could get another rise out of her: a big one this time.
"I'm Deidara. And I'll accept your apology." Though he really didn't. "But just so you know," he paused to scratch at an imaginary itch on his chin, "you're not really my type."
There it was again, that flash of anger and annoyance in her face, and he couldn't help but smirk when he saw it took her a little bit longer than before to compose herself. When she did, her tone was not quite as polite or sweet as before.
"I'm sorry if Ii've given you the wrong impression, but that was not what I was suggesting." She looked appalled at the very thought. Well, there went the 'attractive' theory. But then why the hell would she suddenly want to start a conversation with him? "I simply meant that there was no reason why we couldn't just have a civil conversation instead of annoying the hell out of each other."
So she was bored? That was her given reason for wanting to interact with him? He was resentful that this girl and so many other people seemed to feel he was an object to be used to entertain themselves, but, then again, wasn't he doing the same to her? He would call it even, then. This time.
But really, things were not completely even between them. Because so far, he was the one winning this petty little game. Miss manners had slipped and cursed towards the end of her little spiel, and though she had definitely gotten under his skin with her 'holier-than-thou' attitude, he had not yet lost his temper. This only confirmed his suspicion that it would be very easy to get her mad enough to make her completely drop her pretense of civility, an event he was looking forward to immensely.
"So," she continued, "what brings you to River country?" She took another bite of dango.
"Just passing through." He was still waiting for an opportunity to insult her.
"Where are you going?"
"Fire country." Her eyes widened a fraction.
"Really? So am I. I live there." She paused. "What are you going to do when you get there?"
His eyes narrowed. Why did she want this information? It had been so long since he had had a 'civil conversation', as she put it, that he couldn't remember what qualified as just small talk and not suspicious questioning.
"I have some business to take care of there," he answered with guarded honesty. Then, as an afterthought, tacked on: "I'm an artist."
"Really?" She glanced at his forehead. "An artist and a shinobi? That's...different."
At this point he was sorely tempted to waggle the tongues in his hands at her and show her just how different he really was, but checked himself. He wanted to get a rise out of her, sure; but displaying his bloodline limit in public would definitely go against his plan of not making a scene.
"What kind of art do you do?"
The best kind. The purest. My art is the ultimate expression of ephemerality and sublime-
He really had to check himself that time. He had nearly launched into a passionate explanation of his life's work to this complete stranger. Not that he didn't love talking about his art, but...
"You wouldn't understand." Or care. Oh, sure, she might nod occasionally and pretend to look interested in what he was saying, to be 'polite', but someone like her would never truly appreciate what he did. Nobody seemed to...
Except maybe Tobi. But his attention to Deidara's art was less appreciation and more of Tobi's healthy respect of the powerful explosions they caused, which had the potential to blow away both enemies and Tobi. Which, he would admit, happened on occasion.
He had hoped that this comment would make her angry, and it did. But for some reason, he just didn't feel as victorious as he thought he would.
"Oh really? What makes you think that?" She thought he was insulting her intelligence, and, he supposed, he was, in a way... but he was mostly insulting her obvious shallowness. He didn't feel like responding, so he figured he would just wait until she got so angry that she left, or got so uncomfortable with the silence that she would start another topic of conversation. To his surprise, it was the latter.
"Well, if you don't want to talk about it..." A pause, then, "what do you do as a shinobi? Surely something exciting."
His main focus of being a ninja centered around his art, but just like every other shinobi, his real purpose boiled down to one thing:
"I carry out missions." Which was just a nice way of saying you did whatever you were told for money. Though for him, this was not completely true. In fact, the main reason he was so often out of money was because he really didn't like being ordered around. Of course, there were some orders that you just did not disobey, but he made a point of getting away with as much insubordination as possible.
"Like what?" She looked genuinely interested now. Hm. He wasn't sure what kind of glorified, romantic image this girl had of the shinobi life, but he was pretty sure he was about to shatter it.
"I kill people. I do robberies and bombings..." He took a sip of his tea. "Occasionally take a hostage or two..." He made sure to keep his voice as offhand as possible, watching her face intently from the corner of his eye.
She barely even flinched. Well, that certainly wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. Considering her rather extreme response to his lack of manners, his admission of crimes far blacker should have sent her into a righteous outrage, or perhaps made her act in an even more outlandish way than he could imagine--he had secretly been hoping for the latter, just for the novelty of it. But the fact that she'd reacted in much the same way had he instead answered 'filing paperwork' and 'crunching numbers' was both disappointing to him and vaguely disturbing. What kind of person got irked about chewing with your mouth open but didn't bat an eye at murder?
He tried to repress a shudder as the image of a certain genteel clan-killer rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head to clear it. No way in hell this girl was as cold-blooded as that damn Uchiha; even he wasn't cold blooded about killing; he felt some emotion during the act (though whether his was an entirely appropriate or sane response was debatable.) Their only similarity would have to be their pompousness. So why the calm, then? Maybe she just didn't hear him right, or maybe she chose not to believe him. Yeah, that made more sense.
"So is that the kind of 'business' you'll be attending to in Fire, then?" He told himself that her tone was teasing, and didn't contain the barest hint of a threat. Because if she was trying to threaten him, then she must think he was going to wreak havoc in her country, and if she believed he was going to harm her country, then she'd believed what he said, and if she'd believed what he'd said, then... well, then, there was another theory down. Her stoic reaction just didn't make any sense...
Outwardly, though, he let none of his mental circle-running show.
"That would be telling." Ah, there it was again: the anger. And again, it was caused by nothing more than a mild quip.
Before he even had a chance to contemplate what her return to 'normalcy' meant, she asked him a surprising question.
"Would you mind watching my stuff for a minute? I have to use the bathroom." And without waiting for more of a response thant his garbled "errr.." she promptly left the table.
It was a surprising question because it was one that people just didn't ask him. He wasn't exactly the most trustworthy of people and for her to assume that he wouldn't steal her stuff galled him enough into wanting to, just out of spite. And if it wasn't for that small, easily distractible part of his brain that was busy wondering at the fact that she had said 'use the bathroom' instead of 'powder my nose', along with another part that was still trying to puzzle out her bizarre behavior and coming up with nothing more than a vague sense of unease, he might have done it: but before he could act she was back at the table.
She seemed, once again, to completely forget their previous interaction as their conversation turned--or rather, she turned it--to the typical boring gambit of stranger-to-stranger small talk. How was the weather? Visiting any family in the area? Stop at this teahouse often?
Despite the innocuous topics they discussed he could not shake his uneasiness at her presence. Surely something was amiss when a mere civillian girl set off an S-class nins' warning instincts? But those instincts were what usually kept him alive, and, though he felt ridiculous for thinking it, he knew he needed to get out of there A.S.A.P.
The waiter came to refill their drinks again about five minutes later, and another two minutes after that the girl got up to leave. Feeling that he should follow suit, he downed the rest of his drink in one quick gulp and made for the exit.
"Sir?" He stopped and looked behind him to see the waiter standing there with his hand held out, palm up.
It actually took Deidara about three seconds to realize what was going on. Oops. Here he had gone to through the trouble of getting money so he wouldn't cause a scene by dining and dashing, and he almost did it anyway. What was wrong with him?
"Here." He put some money in the mans' hand--he was pretty sure it was enough--and continued through the exit.
Something mustreally be wrong, because, he thought as he walked down the path, he didn't forget stupid things like that, and he was still feeling jumpy for some reason, and why did his legs feel so heavy? Surely he hadn't been sitting that long... how long had he been sitting? And why was everything all fuzzy? He didn't remember being this tired, and oh now he couldn't feel his legs at all and where was he again and when had he lain down and why was he even thinking about this because he was trying to go to sleep....
You've been drugged, a quiet voice in the back of his head told him, but Deidara was already gone.