Hi people! My first Naruto Romance, and my first Sasodei! A random idea that I decided to do straight away for once. If you guys like it enough, I was planning on making it into a twoshot. But you'd have to let me know, for that of course. :)

Summary: When Sasori agreed to chaperone his stalkers for friends, he didn't expect to end up with the stalkee in his home. Or his heart. Sasodei.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto

He didn't know why he wielded to Tobi's will, really. He didn't know why two out of his four closest friends are bipolar. He also didn't know how he got brainwashed into babysitting them on their little trip to Tokyo's most elite modelling company, where one of their idols, Deidara Iwa, was possibly going to join their ranks as, not a model, but an artist. From what he'd heard from the non-stop chattering of his two comrades, he'd always been more interested in the designing side of the coin of fashion, but hadn't been lucky enough to have been acknowledged until recently. This, he could sympathise with. A fellow artist, he knew all to well the pain of people no understanding your art.

In actual fact, the soon to be former model had arrived yesterday evening, and wouldn't be hanging around for long. Sasori couldn't fathom why they'd chosen to integrate themselves into the crowd of intellectually-challenged bimbos and shameless guys who needed to get laid on this day instead of the prior. Surely by now the model would have caught on, and snuck out the back? He considered for the briefest of moments telling them this, but knowing them and their psychotic tendencies, they'd go snooping for themselves. He had no tolerance for, nor could he afford to pay the price of a lawsuit, or collateral damage; to the artist, or the building.

And so he'd been sitting rather conspicuously outside of the colossal tower of a building on a bench for the better half of three hours, sketching aimlessly into a beaten-up sketchpad, thin from tons of pages being carelessly ripped out, and the paper neither sounding, nor looking quite as beautifully crisp as it had been when he'd purchased the little book. But that was okay with him; the more used his products were, the more love and care that had gone towards his art. He thought that it was a worth sacrifice.

He sketched, the 6B pencil grinding roughly into the paper to cover up and smoothen over the wispy 2B skeleton of a person underneath, finding himself making the image more refined; more definition in the jaw line, though still a delicate curve. The person would be a female, he'd decided. Though not a normal one. A puppet. Sasori was a painter, above all, and puppets were one of his favourite still life images to portray. He wanted fervently to capture the very essence of the meaning of his art in his work. He wanted everyone to know that his work would be eternal, a prominent masterpiece that would overcome and outlive his very existence by an eternity. That, was the kind of art Sasori Akasuna adored. To be a part of his own art was something he could only dream of. For his name to go down with his art was more than he could ask for. From somewhere in the crowd, he could clearly make out 'white' Zetsu's panicked cries for 'Tobi', as they'd dubbed him when in that mode. He simply shook his head, eyes not darting off of the paper for the briefest of moments. He was sharp, and precise, yet some would argue he lived in a lethargic manner. He couldn't argue with that.

"Jeeze. Those goofballs." He murmured to himself, flicking his tongue against his pencil for a moment as he imagined his next move. So absorbed was he in his actions that it didn't even register with him that he'd been being observed for quite some time.

"That's a pretty picture, un."

He froze.

Craning his head stiffly to the side, shoulders now taut with suspicion, his eyes flittered over to the side. He couldn't make out much more about the figure rather than at first glance they looked quite ridiculous. Swathed in a plain black hoodie that was clearly too big for them, they concealed their face from him, with the help of a matching pair of sunglasses. The sky was quite overcast, and he couldn't comprehend any other reason for them other than that this person had something to hide. But then he found himself appreciating, as he looked again, that although he couldn't possibly identify this person as they were, they had a rather…delicate profile. Smooth, sunny skin, and a dainty curve of the nose, just peaking out from where it was obscured by the thick curtain of lemon hair, that was defying it's previous prison of the hood. The person was lean, with long limbs, almost feminine. But instinctively, he could tell the person was a male. Or…at least he hoped he was right. Usually if he looked more than twice he lost a night's sleep, and so he left it at his second deduction. However, there was still his first to be concerned about; that this person, who had sat beside him, was indeed, a threat.

"What do you want?" He replied evenly.

He could plainly see the amusement in the voice, and struggled not to feel patronised by it. "Oh nothing. Just, I'm trying to play it low, and I don't really know how to do that. You seemed like a pretty inconspicuous guy." He'd been right. And although the voice was masculine, the way his words flowed was still very…elegant, to him.

He snorts. "Yeah. Inconspicuous. If you're trying to blend into the crowd, you don't want to be dressed in that getup that makes you look more like a mugger than a simple fan."

Tentatively, as though weighing up his options first, he turns to look Sasori in the eye, before bringing his glasses down to reveal a dazzling pair of cerulean eyes, with an impressively coy grin to boot. "Oh, on the contrary, un. I'm actually looking for the first ticket out of here. Would you, good sir, be kind enough to show me the way?" His lips widened further over his mouth.

He weighed up his options. Those two buffoons were surely going to be standing by the entrance until they found their man, and would not follow otherwise. Sure, they'd be pissed that he'd left, and he might have to watch the locks on his house and every ounce of food he ingested for the next three months, but this person had appeared out of no where, and indirectly asked him for somewhere to stay. It was dangerous for both of them, and he'd never know what made him act in such a way, but the challenge was ebbing away at his sanity. For just a moment, would it be so bad to let go of his composure, and 'live a little,' as he was always instructed?

One final impish wink was enough to tip the balance, and Sasori blinked at the man, not willing to give up on the little game he'd waged just yet. "Oh, but certainly. As long as you stop goddamn mocking me."

A delighted peal of laughter spilled from his lips, his head falling back and his hood with it. The rest of his fine tresses spilled carelessly down his back, and into the crevices of the hood. It was sort of…Artistic, he found it. Artistic was the right way to describe him. "I like you."

Ignoring the curious bubbling in his stomach, he stood, turning his back to the man before stepping forward a few casual steps, pleased to hear the jovial patter of another behind him.

I like you too. He decided.

"So, you're into art, un?" He spoke, boldly climbing into shotgun of the crimson car without permission. He scowled slightly, although he didn't quite mind as much as he led on.

"Evidently." He scoffed, comforted by the purr of the car engine. In actual fact, he never would have purchased such a death contraption himself, but his Granny Chiyo was inclined to spoiling him with gifts he certainly didn't want. Unfortunately, after a good six months of prodding from his friends, he'd grown quite fond of the little beast. Maybe it was the thought of his sacrifice fanatic of a friend getting his fingers on the wheel that had brought him around.

"Well, yeah. But my friend Itachi is always telling me that I shouldn't just assume people are into art, and that-"

"Uchiha, Itachi?" He raised his brow. He could certainly see why this kid might need protecting. He wasn't very good at covering his tracks. Speaking of which, he needed to remember that he'd need to be covering his own after this… At any rate, he hoped that he could help keep him on his toes, before he let him relax. To teach him a lesson about talking to strangers. Or maybe he was just a sadist. It was probably that.

He stiffened. "Unnn…Yeah. You know him?" At least his voice had returned to its normal octave by the end of the sentence.

"Well, he is one of the leading models." Sasori had to admit he was having a little bit of fun knowing what discord must have been going on inside of him at that moment. The fact that he was the one who had caused it only made the glee increase tenfold.

Rather than answering in a coherent sentence, he mumbled something he imagined was out of agreement, as he ducked his head, clearly attempting to hide his scarlet blush behind the shield of his hair. Even with his eyes on the road, he could see that the attempt was pitiful.

And suddenly, his heart clenched with a horrible, almost scarcely registering feeling…Was that guilt? "No…To be honest, I wouldn't know him by myself. But my friend is a relative of him." He sent him the lifeline.

He grappled on with both hands. "One of the ones that you were with today, un…?"

Sasori nodded. "Yeah. But like I said, he's a goofball. An excuse for an Uchiha. But all the same, he is an Uchiha. You have to know how to handle him."

A noise of recognition fell from his lips. "Augh, Madara? Itachi introduced him to me once. Damn pervert." His head shook irritably, hair swishing teasingly in each direction. Sasori could have sworn one wisp had tickled his face. And perhaps he was allergic to whatever hair product he used. Why else would his cheek be tingling, burning in that place?

His hands tightened on the wheel. Of course, he knew his friend's…other side, had a habit of being manipulative. He'd regret thinking it later, but it was lucky that they scarcely got to see it. "He touched you…?"

"Un…Not exactly." He gave a nervous laugh. Sounded guilty, to his ears. "Well, uhm…I guess he just took a liking to me is all. Just a harmless little crush."

Nothing emotional was harmless when it involved Madara. But he was doing the opposite of what he'd intended to do, and decided he'd drop the conversation again to avoid any unnecessary awkward ambience creeping up on them later.

"I'm actually inclined to Art myself, un." He murmured, a wistful expression suddenly taking over his face. It had been a long time since he'd seen Serenity like that on a face other than his own. The face of one truly in love with their livelihood.

Sasori raised a brow. He hadn't expected to hear it coming from him, what with how he'd been trying his best to manoeuvre the conversation away from his job for him. "Oh, and what interests you?"

"I like sketching; of course, it can set the foundation for a big project. But it's bringing it to life, that's the most important part. I love art to be quick, to be a part of its era and then disappear. That's why fashion interests me, un. It's fleeting, the way art should be."

He almost crashed the car. "Art, is Eternal, you brat."

He heard an incensed snort, and his eyebrow rose in challenge. "It's fleeting. Nothing lasts for ever."

"That's exactly why art is eternal. You leave your work behind, to continue to live for you."

"No, for your art to truly be a part of you, it has to leave with you!"

"Are you suggesting that you plan to die doing your foolish idea of art?"

"No! But I certainly don't intend to hand around until I'm decrepit, either!"

He wasn't sure when they'd begun to yell, but they both seemed to realise at the same moment. The debate settled into silence with a cough of finality, and the two glared out of the window, thoroughly offended. Gradually, however, they relaxed, unconsciously gravitating towards each other as they had before. And both knew, through some unexplainable mutual agreement, that this was okay. Art would never be something that broke them apart. Although neither would relent to converting the other to their way of thinking, either.

And not long after, the two were already out of the car and standing outside of his apartment door. The man had taken to placing his hood up again, but Sasori hadn't commented. In fact, he was rather irked about the fact that he was slightly shorter than the blonde man before him. How can I show my superiority if I'm inferior in height?

Opening the door, they stood there awkwardly for a moment, Sasori waiting, waiting expectantly for him to step though the threshold, before he realised that there was no reason for him to be any more chivalrous than he already had, and then both stumbling through the door together as the man caught onto the meaning of Sasori's actions. But he had no intention of letting things get awkward now.

"So this is your apartment, un?" He plopped himself down on the first comfortable piece of furniture he saw, which was- luckily for his lifespan- the sofa, before planting his feet on the coffee table, feet still clad in shoes.

"Remove your feet from my coffee table. And your shoes. Do you know nothing about Japan you barbarian?"

He simply laughed, although he complied with the instructions. He was a very intriguing person. In fact, he didn't follow orders well at all, which was probably his fatal flaw. But he liked him. It was…exciting, the way he spoke to him. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that it had crossed his mind more than once that he was definitely handsome. And it was so refreshing to have someone his height, if not shorter, as company. Everybody in the industry was taller than him. Carrying instructions out that came from those pretty lips, with that gruff voice was not a chore at all.

"Oh? You're sharp, un. I'm Japanese, but I didn't really grow up in Japan."

"That explains things. So, how old are you now, then?" By now, both had retired back to the sofa. The blonde with his feet curled under him and curious, dark-rimmed eyes hanging on Sasori's every word, and the redhead just generally curious.

"Nineteen."

"So young?" He cocked his head to the side inquisitively, though retaining the bored expression. He knew that models were generally recruited young, but for some reason, he'd pictured the blonde to be more around his age.

He scoffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "That's not so young." He sulked. "How old are you?"

"Twenty six." He answered with a smirk, blissfully awarded with the sight of the blonde's eyes flashing and his lip jutting out to form a tiny pout. "And shame on you, brat. Asking for my age before my name." This is it. And he found himself both with bated breath and sadness to reach the climax of their little game. He shifted uncomfortably, though he doubted that the blonde would notice.

He rose to the dare, yet again. "Then, what's your name, un?"

With a light breath, his eyes travelled over to the blonde before him. He found himself getting slightly bothered by how tense the two have them had gotten. The blonde's shoulders were exceptionally rigid, the hand that wasn't lolling over the back of the sofa balled into a tight fist, and his pink tongue running over his lips absent-mindedly. He himself was sure his hands were slightly clammy. "Sasori." He murmured quietly.

Relaxing slightly, he flashed a genuine smile. "You have a pretty name, Sasori no Danna."

He could have let it play out for itself, but he was rather impatient, and now he was glad to see the game gone. "You too, Deidara." He said, no honorific, as opposed to his abnormal one. As if the brat thought he was his master. He was probably just mocking him again.

Eyes dilated, the blonde gaped at him. "So you did know." He mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing. "Then you're probably not really kind at all. You're probably just like everyone else!" His voice rose, growing increasingly until it was a full out snarl. He reached for the door.

Sasori's heart jumped into his throat. Yet he found he couldn't move.

But he had to. He remembered the sudden spark of emotion that was absent to him on a daily basis. The way his chest had fluttered in a medley of diverse ways with each word that had come from his mouth. He'd regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't stop him now.

"Wait. I knew who you were, yeah. But that's only because you're shit at hiding who you are."

"Shut the fuck up!" Deidara hissed.

Sasori shook his head. "I'm not interested in the fact that you're a model. In fact, if anything, that's a turn off. Nothing good ever comes to those people. I took you home with me because you were different. Your smile, and the way you talked about your art. Although we don't exactly see eye to eye on that…" He grumbled, eyes shifting to the side. "We could probably reach some middle ground. You actually have a brain… You say what you think around me, which not a lot of people do…And…You seem… pretty cool." He stumbled over his last words, his head lowering. He felt like such a weakling now. But as opposed to his body, he now had verbal diarrhoea.

"Don't go." He whispered.

For a moment, a pin could have been heard dropping, before there was a resolute sigh, and his vision was assaulted by that of blonde. A finger tipped his chin upwards just enough to have him meet the blue irises of Deidara's. "I won't. I don't know if what you said is true, but…I'll take your word for it for now. Besides, I don't actually have anywhere to go, now. Itachi and my manager are probably gonna kill me if they find out I've run away, but I'm done with modelling now. It's too damn monotonous, un. I want to be the one creating the art."

Lost in the haziness of the thought of being so close to him, Sasori almost didn't catch what he'd said. "You're actually running away, brat? What the hell makes you think I'm keeping you?" He scoffed.

Deidara frowned. "Uh, maybe your little speech back there? And don't call me brat!" He scowled for a moment to get his point across before it evened out into another sly smile. "Besides, danna…."He breathed, leaning forward leisurely, eyes half lidded. "We both know you want me, un." His lips brushed his ear, his warm breath playing with his senses expertly. "And guess what? I want you too…"

And keeping up with his impatient streak, Sasori tutted, seizing the back of Deidara's neck and pressing his lips against his. He moved his lips against Deidara's with vigour, attempting to drag him into a long, passionate lip lock. Deidara was softer in approach, leaving light, fluttering kisses that left Sasori aching for more. Suddenly he felt like a school boy again, getting his first kiss, his first crush. Of course he'd been with many people, trying to quell the aching loneliness he often felt. But none had ever aroused any true feelings from him. His heart raced with excitement as he ran his fingers experimentally through his silky locks, using them to keep Deidara securely in place as he tilted his head back to suck and bite at his neck, hunting for any weak spots to store in his mind.

He was rewarded with a light gasp. "Danna…" He grinned against his neck. Extensive kissing was much better than transitory kissing. Pressing his lips to Deidara's jaw line, he was surprised when the other tried to start up conversation. "Danna…un…?"

"Shut up…" He mumbled.

He felt the motion of his head shaking, rather than took the time to open his eyes to look for himself. "It's been a little over an hour since I met you…"

He paused. "Fair point, brat." He pulled back and smiled when he saw the little cleft in between his eyebrows. "So…What do you propose..?"

"Well, un; I came to you for a reason, Sasori no Danna. I felt I could trust you straight away. And I'm good at sensing whether people's intentions are good or not. You have to be if you're going to be a model, whether you choose to ignore it or not. Anyways, what you said earlier…I want this to go somewhere…I want to get to know you, un. I want to be able to call you Danna with the whole of my heart."

Sasori nodded, sitting backwards to admire the view from his apartment. It was rather pretty, really, and doves flew by regularly, sometimes singular, but other times in pairs. He'd never had much of an opinion on it before that moment, but suddenly the thought of them being a little less lonely was a good one. He felt a head against his shoulder, joining him in admiring the small flock of doves.

"I've never had a whirlwind romance, before." Deidara smiled.

Sasori frowned, taking one of the hands that now rest on his shoulder on his own. "I don't want whatever this is to be fleeting."

A pair of lips met his, as if they knew they were silencing the mental distress within his head. "We'll have to see now, won't we?"

"I'll prove to you that art is eternal."

"Challenge accepted."

Thank you for reading to the end, if you have. You know what to do next!