"God, you know what?" Hidan said brassily. "Deidara getting stabbed and all was kind of weird. Any idea who did it?"

Itachi said nothing. He was busy staring into his cup. Water…

Kisame shrugged. "He probably stabbed himself. That kid always wanted attention,"

"And what especial attention was he going to expect from such a light show?" Kakuzu put in. He made a neat incision in the steak and popped it into his mouth. "If you ask me, more bloodshed would've been more effective,"
"Man after my own heart," Hidan quipped, running a finger along one of the blades on his three-pronged scythe. He was the only one who brought his weapon along to the dinner table. Even Kisame left samehada in his room.

"Hmm…," was Sasori's two cents to the discussion. His lifelessly murky eyes were deadpan, and gave away nothing.

After the stab, Deidara had obviously blacked out. He was still out. Sasori wanted to make it clear to his budding artist that he was to be obeyed, and a reluctance to comply with what he wanted resulted in a poison-induced coma that would last for about a week. According to Hidan, who was the only one who had visited Deidara since he was "hospitalized", even the hands on his mouths looked sick.

"They were kinda swollen, I guess," he'd said when Kakuzu asked. "Purpley…bluish…lumpy…,"

"Cut the bullshit" Kakuzu had interrupted. "Just say 'bruised' and our lives'll be easier,"

"Hey, you're the one who asked, asshole," Hidan had given Kakuzu the finger before storming towards his room, from which insanely fast (and loud) incantations could be heard minutes later.

Because of Hidan's incredibly observant description, Sasori had to personally visit Deidara later that day to analyze the true extent of the poisoning himself.

Deidara was lying on his back. The giant stitch that stretched across the left side of his chest was partially obscured by the bandages that criss-crossed neatly around his body. There was a fresh bloodstain on one of them. Otherwise, Deidara appeared to be thoroughly clean.

"Hey, you," Sasori whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking Deidara's hair. It was one thing that had first attracted Sasori to him. The long, yellow hair. It was mysterious. It was sexy. After a few moments of running a pale finger across Deidara's still face he reached over and lifted one of the sculptor's hands. Sure enough, the edges of the mouth there was "purpley, bluish and lumpy". Or "bruised". It was a deep purple such that it could almost be black. The skin was tough and was overall disgusting. Sasori smiled at his handiwork and carefully used three fingers to open the mouth. It didn't resist. Inside, the tongue was lolling around uselessly, not having anything to do except wait patiently for its exterior to recuperate. It gave Sasori's finger a small lick when he pulled away.

Sasori stuck the licked finger in his mouth and stood up to leave when he saw Zetsu, king of creepy, protruding from the wall. Sasori raised an eyebrow.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Zetsu asked. The light tone made it clear which personality was speaking to Sasori. He waited for the sharper version of the question but it didn't come.

He said nothing, choosing to avoid Zetsu's interrogative question. Since the other guy seemed to suspect him already, what was the harm in stretching that suspicion? Not like he was going to do anything about it.

"It could only have been you," came the nasty remark from black Zetsu Sasori had been waiting for. Now it was going to be an interesting conversation. "You're the poisons expert here. Those hands were a dead giveaway,"

"Really?" Sasori said, smiling a little. "The bruises on his hands? Couldn't they have been caused by, you know, an experiment gone wrong in the workshop of Iwagakure's bombing expert?"

"Heck no," Zetsu snapped. "They wouldn't cause bruises. There'd be cuts and such. Incisions into the skin. Shrapnel doesn't cause bruises, dammit,"

"You sure?"

"Yes,"

Sasori paused, his mouth grim. Then the corners turned up in a sly smile. Life returned to his eyes again, making them appear somewhat watery and shimmery.

"Well, you never know. New types of clay bombs?"

"Pfffttttt," Zetsu offered. But he let it go. His form molded into the wall again and Sasori knew he was gone.

Too easy, Sasori thought. He wasn't stupid enough to directly poison Deidara. That was too obvious. He'd chosen the least externally potent of his poisons and had used one of those that attacked a person's insides rather than cripple them on the outside. He knew that the bruises were just about the only thing that would show on the surface. Inside, Deidara's blood was circulating slower, which Sasori had confirmed when he'd touched his hand; it was icy cold and hard to the touch. Deidara was also low on blood, which Sasori had tasted through the saliva he'd tasted from the lick he'd received. It had that metallic taste in it that Sasori had counted as a symptom of the poison.

Perfect, he thought. He got up and gave Deidara one last look before walking away.

Deidara was having morbid dreams. About Sasori. Of course the fucking puppeteer didn't even relent when it came to taking over his brain and mind as well as his body.

Dream Sasori spoke to Deidara in the exact same tone as Real Sasori did. He taunted Deidara. He was telling him that the next time would be worse until he made the next time they did it better.

"I mean…come on, Deidara," he was saying. "If you want it, why hide it? It's only natural,"

Sasori was back in his own room, sitting amongst his vast collection of golems and wondering about just how he was going pass the time until Deidara came to his senses again. It was only a little more than a week but Sasori knew he wouldn't be able to last that long without touching a body that wasn't his. And despite popular belief, he wasn't going to have sex with his puppets. That was called necrophilia, and Sasori didn't do necrophilia. He considered trying the other Akatsuki members but none of them were as easy to approach in such a way as it was to Deidara. Sasori knew there was something up with Itachi. He saw the appeal of the Uchiha, pale skin, jet black hair, interesting eyes, but it didn't speak to Sasori. Itachi Uchiha would be a good fuck, given his mystery, but he wasn't exactly Sasori's type. Sasori liked to be fully in control. Itachi wasn't going to hand that control to Sasori on a silver plate. He wanted to be in control, too, Sasori could see that. Kisame was a goddamn demon shark and looked kind of…lumpy…and Hidan? Hidan was just—

Hey…Sasori thought, another devious smile creeping across his delicate, boyish features. Hidan…