Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Naruto and all its affiliations (including, but not limited to: its characters, objects, places, and events) are owned by Masashi Kishimoto.

Warning: Contains spoilers related to the Akatsuki.

It was late. Darkness had already fallen outside and stars flickered in the night sky. It was the night of a new moon, so no extra light lit up the surrounding area. But who cared? No one, really. At least he didn't.

Unlocking their hotel door, Deidara stormed inside the unlit room with his hands crawling along the walls for a light switch. Slender fingers discovered the hidden protrusion and, with a soft click, illuminated the humble accommodations. Two beds, a wooden nightstand betwixt them, a lit lamp standing in the nightstand's center, a bathroom to the immediate left, a closet to the right, a desk at the far right corner of the room with a chair pushed into it decorated the room. Simple.

The blond stood there scanning the room with one sapphire eye, hand still hovering over the light switch when motion and noise from behind alerted him of his partner's want to enter. With a grunt Deidara stepped toward the bed farthest from the door, taking a seat to watch the brunet come in carrying a single black suitcase. Said suitcase he settled at the foot of the parallel bed.

Tobi looked over to his sempai. Blinking slowly, lazily, the blond nodded his head once and stood up. The bed creaked as the weight lifted.

He gently pushed the taller man aside and clicked open the case. Inside were a folded pair of extra shirts, pants, a few weapons, brush, and other essential items of daily care. The blond took a clear, blue toothbrush, toothpaste and the hairbrush. "Don't unpack," he ordered heading for the bathroom. "We're only staying for one night. Make yourself comfortable, un."

His arm snaked around the doorframe to the bathroom and found the light switch. The bright light overhead bounced off the mirror and into his wide pupils, making him squint and groan in discomfort. The items he carried slammed onto the hard surface of the sink. Rubbing his eyes Deidara stared into the blurry reflection standing, slouched, in the mirror.

The thing that stared back with glazed eyes was unkempt, tired, and vulnerable. At least, he looked vulnerable. There was still plenty of suppressed energy inside him to take out any enemy, any attacker. But to look it was almost like being it, which he loathed.

Ignoring the undesirable reflection, Deidara started the cold water running in the sink. He wet the toothbrush, lathered on peppermint toothpaste (using more than necessary), and started brushing his teeth. The water continued to run as he paused to undo his ponytail. Golden locks cascaded down and flooded his vision.

He tucked the strands behind his ear and finished, pulling his hair back and spitting out the foamy saliva. He growled again and tied back all his hair and removed his scope to wash his face of the daily sweat and grime.

Cold water chilled his fingers and produced a slight shiver as droplets rolled down his neck, awakening his senses. He gave another quick glance into the looking glass. With the water dried off he did not look so displeased or displeasing. Good.

Leaving the toiletries by the sink, Deidara exited the bright, white room, leaving the light on for his companion, who sat in just about the same place he'd been hovering before Deidara disappeared.

Raven head hung low, the masked man stared at the dark-gray carpet with the rest of his body hunched over. Smiling softly Deidara rustled the man's dark hair on his way to the unoccupied bed. "Your turn, un."

It was only after he'd removed the characteristic black and red Akatsuki cloak and hung it, carelessly, over the back of the chair that he realized Tobi had not made a move. He still sat there at the edge of the bed with his swirled mask caste downward. At first Deidara guessed it was simply because the man had fallen asleep. But, glancing at the electric clock on the nightstand, it did not seem likely.

Even at this time of night Tobi was usually hyper and jolly, wanting to adventure through the streets of the town, dragging the Iwa nin along for whatever reason. It didn't bother him, not by much. Slowly his internal clock had adjusted to the masked man's desire to explore. And, in truth, he liked it.

But tonight Tobi wasn't acting like his usual self.

Perhaps it was due to the long hours spent traveling through rough terrain, or the recent capture and extraction of the Bijuu and Jinchuriki. But even that seemed unlikely. Tobi, no matter the event, always had energy to spare.

Averting his gaze for the moment, Deidara mulled over what to do. He opened his mouth, ready to say something, to call his partner's name and shake him from sleep or whatever trance he was in.

Tobi suddenly shifted.

He crawled backward onto the bed and leaned against the pillows and headboard. Hands laced together over his stomach, the masked man gazed up at the bland hotel ceiling and sighed heavily.

The entire world turned black as he closed his eyes, the side of his orange mask blocking disturbing light emanating from the lamp. For a while all was peaceful; he could think clearly, believing his partner to already be asleep.

"What's wrong?"

The words were firm yet soft with suppressed concern. Tobi opened his eyes and, through the single eyehole, spotted Deidara standing beside the bed with his bare arms folded. He noticed the blonde's left forefinger rub against the thick stitches and wrinkled skin of his right limb. Though never admitting it, the Iwa nin was a self-conscious individual, fully aware of anything unnatural (hand-mouths did not count; they were necessary modifications to better and quicken his art).

"Nothing," Tobi responded unsteadily, gaze drifting to the opposite wall. Deidara came into view again, leaning forward with his arms supporting him on the left side of Tobi's legs.

"You're no good at lying, Tobi." Brutal honesty—a good trait if somewhat hurtful. "What's wrong?" he prodded, this time devoid of any sympathy.

"It's just…" he bit his lip. The words that came to mind did not fit or seemed silly. He was like that for a while, until Deidara knocked against Tobi's wooden mask with the back of his right hand. The turquoise ring produced a hollow pecking noise. While the hard surface of the mask may have protected Tobi's skin from damage, it did not protect his ears. The sound was disturbingly irritating; it was a cue for him to hurry up and answer.

"I've been thinking."

"That's a first, un." The fact Tobi did not answer with some foolish retort made the blonde's eyebrows grow steadily closer.

The bed creaked and rocked as Deidara plopped down near Tobi's legs with his arms folded again. "Akatsuki—well—it's not doing so good now, is it?"

Instead of the blank stare he had expected, the blonde's face crumpled in mild anger. It was so easy to upset him, even when it wasn't intended. Were all artists this emotional or was Deidara just special? "Where do you get off saying that, un?" Deidara didn't even try to hide what his body language clearly showed.

"Well," now Tobi had to choose his words carefully or else risk a bop to the head. "I mean—we've already lost three members in such a short amount of time."

Deidara snorted. "They were weak, un."

"I-I guess. But so were their opponents. I mean, Hidan and Kakuzu—"

"Hidan and Kakuzu were a couple of cocky idiots who relied too much on their 'immortality'"—Deidara lifted his hands to put quotations around the word—"to win their battles for them, un."

The room went silent after that. Deidara waited as Tobi considered mentioning the other deceased member of Akatsuki. He resolved to nod in silent agreement. "So what's wrong with losing a few members? People die everyday, un. Get used to it!"

"That's…what I'm worried about."

Another moment of silence. Tobi turned down his vision, no longer desiring to stare at his sempai directly.

"I'm worried about who's gonna be next. Considering who killed the others, it's not unlikely someone else is going to be killed soon."

His blond partner scoffed at his obvious naiveté. "We aren't weak like Hidan and Kakuzu, nor dumb like Sasori, un." By now Deidara had learned to let go of calling Sasori "master." In order to have one, the person had to be alive. Sasori wasn't alive. Ergo, Sasori was no longer to be considered his master, his senior.

"He left himself wide-open, leaving his weakness in clear view." Deidara stared down at the floor, brow furrowed and twitching undetected.

There was a growing pain in Tobi's stomach. He felt stupid and guilty for bringing up the memory, for making Deidara remember. He never asked about what kind of relationship he and the redhead had shared, but guessed it must have been like the one between Deidara and himself.

"Though…" the blonde's rich voice cut into Tobi's clouded mind, "considering you're like all three of them, you'll be dead before the end of the week." The man's tease succeeded in lightening the other's spirits, if only just a little.

His shoulders jolted with a repressed chuckle. "Yeah, I guess." Tobi shifted his gaze again, concentrating on the pair of gloved fingers twiddling over his stomach.

The mask kept Deidara out of his vision. Good. He didn't want to see him, to think about him. It made his heart skip a beat and stomach churn as thoughts of a crumpled figure—blanketed in crimson splashes, golden hair floating in thick pools of blood, slanted blue eyes wide, breathless and dead—swirled in his mind. Soon more images came, with a different corpse laid out in the same situation. But it was always the first image that hurt him the most; made his slow breathes stop and only continue when his lungs pleaded and ached for oxygen.

He hated it, this worry and concern. They made him weak, made him useless. But worst of all, they made him ache.

And it didn't help when the next thing his mind woke up to was the one causing such pain in the first place.

Deidara's face hovered inches from Tobi's mask. He was straddling the other man, sitting just above his knees with his hands gripping his clothed shoulders. The artist's eyes were stern yet…there really didn't seem a word for it. Kind, maybe—or seductive. It was hard to tell what with half his face hidden behind a waterfall of gold. Whatever it expressed, the large pupil lined with blue, shimmering in the nearby light, did the trick in capturing his attention.

"Don't worry so much." Deidara ran the back of his hand down Tobi's mask, turquoise ring producing a dull tink, tink, tink against each groove in the mask's design. Once his hand reached the bottom edge, Deidara lifted the mask and settled it on the bridge of Tobi's nose.

Now blind, all Tobi could do was wait and twitch as ghostly hands skated over his cheeks and down his neck, inspecting each wrinkle and scar and clean patch of ivory skin. It was not unusual for Deidara to take up to a minute's time just staring at the flesh now exposed. Rarely, if ever, did they have chances such as this where they could simply be with one another. Though they may have been in each other's company 24/7, the trials and tribulations of being part of Akatsuki often left them too busy or too tired for personal matters. So, sitting there, Deidara had to soak in all he could; he would likely not have another chance for some time.

Eventually the artist's curious hands, hardened and callused from artistic venture, settled around Tobi's throat. This time, unlike others, the hold was loose and gentle.

As the weight on Tobi's legs shifted, a fresh, damper weight planted itself on his mouth. A warm, wet tongue slid from between Deidara's soft lips and coated Tobi's dried pair in saliva. Hesitating for only a second, Tobi consented to the light prodding and opened up.

There was no fight for dominance, no insistence to lead; just a simple, passionate kiss.

It was innocent at first (Tobi wasn't exactly a master in the art of tonsil tennis like Deidara—having trained his tongues to manipulate clay into beautiful figures), but as they broke apart for breath and commenced the second then third round the dance turned heated and erotic.

Both pairs of hands moved unconsciously: Tobi's gliding over the contours of the blonde's effeminate body on their way up underneath his shirt; and Deidara's descending and unsnapping the cloak Tobi still wore. They were both in their own little world now, separated from the cozy hotel room of reality, but still together in fantasy.

It was only when, in the heat of the moment, Deidara's fingers tugged at Tobi's waistband that reality was (unfortunately) thrust back. Tobi broke from the kiss and captured Deidara's wrists, holding them hostage in the air. After a moment he let go, hoping the negative gesture would be adhered to.

A second later Deidara's hands were back near the raven-haired's crotch.

"Sempai!"

"What?" the blond snapped back as his hands were once again caught and hung in Tobi's strong grasp.

"I don't think…" he trailed off from there, biting his lower lip. Though he may have been blinded by the mask, he could clearly picture Deidara's discontented expression. Thin lips pulled back in a frown, golden head lowered to an angle emphasizing the furrow of his eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes darkened with murderous intent—the mental image was enough to silence anyone.

"Don't think what?" Deidara repeated, emphasizing each word like an individual statement.

"Don't think—" a sudden rush of embarrassment heated and colored his face "—we're ready."

The resisting strain of Deidara's hands ceased. He considered the man beneath him with the same menacing eyes as before, but with his mouth slightly agape. The tactical part of his mind noticed the slackening grip around his wrists, and, taking a chance, Deidara ripped his hands away. Leaning forward slightly, the blond muttered, "That's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard!"

Shocked by both the statement and the action, Tobi raised his head, which had become downcast during the short silence. "I'm sorry, Sempai!" he stuttered, apology lacking true sincerity.

Deidara snorted in reply, folding his arms and jerking the upper half of his body sideways. Tobi turned down his head again, curling his upper lip over his teeth. Thinking an explanation was in order, he again opened his mouth but found the words gone. What was one supposed to say, he wondered, after denying sex? A silence thick with tension set in, broken only by the sounds of their own breathing.

"Then," came Deidara's voice at an almost imperceptible level, "when?"

Not willing to face the blond directly, Tobi kept his face averted. "Some-sometime," he answered after a moment's thought, face reddening.

He heard an irritated sigh come from his partner, and instantly felt the void of guilt grow in his stomach, engulfing the previous butterflies.

Whatever apologetic or idiotic actions Tobi took Deidara ignored. No matter what, he refused to look at the imbecile. That was to be his punishment. Not until his disappointment subsided or he received a true apology (or better yet an "okay") would he consider talking to the raven-haired man. That was what he swore, even if the white wall and floral design of the bed sheets did feel rather dull in his vision.

"Deidara-sempai?" Tobi's voice was soft with a hint of sorrow stirred in. "Can I—may I ask you something?"

"What?" Deidara snapped, forcing out more annoyance than he truly felt.

A warm, gloved hand lifted and combed through the fringe of Deidara's hair, tucking it behind his ear and exposing the rosy complexion underneath. The action was startling enough to have Deidara break his earlier refusal and stare back into Tobi's face. His expression softened slightly as his cerulean gaze, widening, got caught in the comforting darkness of Tobi's exposed and shimmering eye.

The orange mask was set to one side of his head, revealing more of the disfigurement of the right side. A cheerful smile bloomed on his face at the astonishment plastering Deidara's visage. No surprise.

Before now, all the blond had seen of Tobi's face was the bottom half; Deidara never requested to see more than that modest amount. In fact, the artist often pondered if he'd rather not see more. The way the orange wall protected the top half of Tobi's head was, in a way, sexy. But that was nothing compared to now, in the close light, with the bright circle settled over his left ear and black band covering his left eye like an eye patch.

Noticing, for the first time, the clothed hand rubbing his cheek and forming to the side of his unobstructed face, Deidara captured Tobi's forearm and held it steady, taking a moment to glance at it.

"Will you promise me something?"

Now the sorrow was evident, and not just in his voice but in his face as well. Now that Deidara had a perfect view of a window into Tobi's soul, he could easily see the worry and concern form. "Promise me you'll never go away, that you'll always stay—here—with me."

The artist's brow crumpled and he averted his gaze, staring at the end of Tobi's elbow. "You know I don't like making promises, un."

"Yeah." Tobi sighed, disappointed and regretful.

In response to the descending stare, Deidara leaned forward, releasing Tobi's arm, and cupped the man's chin in his hands. They were nose-to-nose now, and Deidara's half-lidded blue gaze jolted unsteadily as they drank up the jet-black color of Tobi's iris and pupil. Slowly, their mouths brushed together.

"But I can promise," he said with the softest trace of a smile, "that I'll try."

That alone was enough to bring the sunshine back to Tobi's face. He grinned widely but stopped as Deidara, frowning, pushed forward for another kiss.

---

It was midnight. Somehow conscious of the hour, Tobi awoke with a jolt. He grunted and turned his head away from the blinding lamplight that greeted him. As his body moved he became aware of a pressing weight and heat on his legs and chest. Glancing downward, all he could see was a stream of gold and a lump of black behind that.

Deidara.

A sleeping Deidara, Tobi noted. As much as he may have liked the fact the blond found him to be a suitable bed, he could not help but notice the uncomfortable feel of the headboard against his back. Soreness was already starting to spread up his spine and neck.

Grimacing and resisting the urge to stretch, Tobi wrapped his arms about his sleeping partner and, slowly, made to stand up. He turned around and settled Deidara back down on the bed, managing to pull down the covers and drape them over the sleeping form without jostling his partner too much.

For a while he just stood there, staring at the being before him. Tobi gently tucked a few wisps of hair back behind Deidara's ear and admired the placid, delicate face.

He blinked.

Delicate was one word to never cross his mind when considering Deidara. Yet, staring down at him—mouth parted to reveal pearly-white teeth, golden eyebrows set inexpressive on a wide forehead, bed sheets rising and falling to the steady rhythm of placid breathes, and body curled into a loose ball—the word seemed fitting. His sempai was like a delicate glass doll when asleep, one he, as the owner, had to nurture and protect.

As Tobi lumbered the short distance to the restroom, shut off the light, slipped into the vacant bed, removed and set his mask on the nightstand, turned off the light, and settled into sleep, a single thought plagued him.

When would the doll fall from its shelf and shatter into millions of miniscule shards?