This is a, in my opinion, pointless, slightly (VERY slightly) angsty One-Shot, but I hope you like it anyway...and I always wanted to try out and write a vampire-fic, so please tell me if it was good, 'kay?

Disclaimer: Do not own Naruto or its characters

Warnings: Vampire-fic. May be confusing at some points.

His whole body was shaking,

Adrenalin was pumping in an insane pace through his veins,

Blood trickled down his chin.

But not his.

He panted and he stared at the unmoving body on the floor.

The man changed into a standing position, straightening his back in order to calm down.

People would get a little bit suspicious, if he walked around, with traces of blood on his porcelain skin, his eyes wide open like a psychopath and his hands shaking, also covered with droplets of the red liquid.

When his breathing became normal again and his eyes closed a bit, now looking like an ordinary pair of eyes, he took out a handkerchief and removed any signs of what just happened.

Only the bloodless corpse was still lying in the dirt, a wound on its arm.

That was something to get rid of, the police would get alerted.

Without those traces, it was just another homeless man, who died of unknown reasons.

Wouldn't be the first one,

Wouldn't be the last one,

And the stupid police would give up to figure out who their killer was.

Without wasting another look at his latest victim, the redhead left the alley, stuffing the handkerchief back in his pocket, so nobody would see the dried blood on it.

Only a few people crossed his path, when we walked home. It was late and this was not a place where you wanted to be when it got dark.

"Hey, you over there!"

Hm, should he kill this nuisance?

No, he wasn't hungry now and the next time that he would eat again would be in a few months. A second dead body would raise suspicions.

Scaring?

Good idea.

He turned around to whoever called him.

It wasn't a surprise anymore, to be faced with a tall, perverted looking guy, who didn't care if his victim was a female or male.

After all, Sasori was very pretty.

He had curly, red hair that was neither too short nor too long, a pair of stunning, beautiful grey eyes, and flawless skin.

In other words, he was perfect, perfect to attract too much attention.

The pervert edged closer, the alcohol in his breath pestering the redhead's nose, and his arm slung around Sasori's shoulder.

"Hel—"

Before he could even start with his pick-up lines, his eyes met those of his 'prey'.

They were uncaring, indifferent, but there was something inside them, something scary, dangerous, and the pervert did not like that. Even though they were lifeless, like the ones of a doll, a puppet.

He backed away and stuttered something, right before he ran away.

Alone Sasori's eyes could have that effect on people.

A little smile tugged at his lips.

He hated those persons, who tried to get their victims drunk and then to rape them.

He may be coldblooded, but he had morals.

Yes, Sasori looked down to rapists and the like; they disgusted him.

As soon as he was sure he was alone again, he resumed walking towards his destination. It was almost one in the morning and he was quite far away from his home, so he had to hurry a bit to be there at one-seventeen.

He had promised his friend to be there at that time, and he knew that that someone had picked that time to test his accuracy concerning time.

Because both of them knew that the redhead was never too late or too early, he came exactly at the time promised. Always.

Even as a little child, you could always rely on his sense of time.

So it had become a ritual between the two. His friend would always pick the most uncommon time and Sasori...he would come just exactly on time.

It had always been like that and it would stay that way, and he had actually started to look forward to their meetings, just too see him pout because his friend was punctual.

Today was not going to be an exception.

So he went home, ignoring the stares he got from girls and boys that passed by.

He stayed unaffected by the rain that was pouring down on him, even though it was soaking the coat he was wearing, and he wandered through the streets as if he hadn't had a care in the world, his face emotionless.

Finally, he reached his destination, and unsurprisingly, a dark figure was sitting at the top of the stairs to shield him from the rain. He was waving, most likely with a watch in its hand.

The closer the redhead got, the more the curtain of rain allowed him to see.

Like expected, the figure was none other than his friend, a slight frown on his face, which was rare, and the blond hair tied in its usual kind of style, a high ponytail and the hair covering the left eye.

He wore the same cloak like Sasori did, the red clouds on it being a great contrast against the black material.

"You're on time, like always, un." one of them stated with a slight pout.

"What did you expect?"

Sasori now stood beside his friend and stared down to him, not missing the questioning look in his azure blue eyes. "You ate?" the friend asked, sounding slightly disgusted. "Yes, I did. It was time for me."

The blonde didn't like the fact that they fed off from humans very much, for he still felt like a human himself, while the red-haired of them only remembered fragments of his life as a human. He still couldn't bring himself to just bite somebody and steal all their blood, so Sasori provided for him, collecting more of the red liquid than it was necessary so that it would be enough for both of them.

"Come on, I know you're hungry too" muttered the standing man and pulled back the sleeve of his cloak, offering his wrist to his friend. The friend took his arm with both hands and slowly allowed his teeth to sink into the cold flesh.

While he was eating, Sasori watched him. Did he regret making the blonde one of his kind? Not really. It was a cursed existence for him, thinking of short lively things as perfect and beautiful, but Sasori loved the eternity. That way, they would always be beautiful, just like puppets.

It took long to feed his friend, but they were not in a hurry. After all, they had all time in the world. They had eternity to wait, they had eternity to live. They had each other. For them, there would always be a friend with whom they could talk, to whom they could entrust themselves to, and with whom they could argue.

They were a blond, loudmouthed and usually very emotional friend, and a cold-hearted, quiet and indifferent one with red hair. One who thought of everything that was there one second and gone the next as perfection and art, and one who adored eternal beauty.

They were Deidara and Sasori, cured existences, friends.

And Sasori would always, even if he would never admit it, look forward to come to their meetings at his home on time, just to see his friend sitting at the stairs, waiting for him.