Title: SasoDei vs. the Mona Lisa
Author: MatsuoChiharu
Rating: T
Warnings: Yaoi. Don't like, don't read.
Inspiration: Both Sasori and Deidara have very unique forms of art (I mean, do you know anyone else who explodes their own sculptures and makes human puppets? I didn't think so.) But they never have addressed classic paper art nor Konan's origami. I don't think they'd appreciate it very much. -.-'
~/~/~/~
"I don't understand why Konan liked this so much, un! I mean, look at it! Is she smiling or frowning or smirking, un? And what is up with those creepy eyeballs, yeah!"
Sasori rolled his eyes as the blonde known as Deidara continued to trash the so-called masterpiece before them.
". . . .and the colors are so dull, un! Black, black, black. Everywhere, un!"
The puppeteer raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure DaVinci would love to hear your critiques."
"He better! The improvement needed here is so obvious, un. And why would he name it the Mona Lisa anyway. I know that her expression is undetermined, un, but I certainly know she's not moaning."
The elder redhead smirked.
"But, come to think of it, this entire exhibit is messed up, un! Konan and Pein said it was so full of 'life,' but all I see is a bunch of colored paper, yeah."
Sasori had to dip his head in consent. "Well, you can't blame them. Origami isn't a true art after all, and, unless I'm missing something, neither is piercing."
The passionate blonde threw his hands up dramatically. "Thank you, un! I've been trying to tell her that for years. But does she listen, un? No."
An old woman sent the pair a disapproving glare, muttering something under her breath in French as she haughtily adjusted her purse.
Deidara returned the glare with vengeance and cracked his glove-covered knuckles dangerously.
The smirk widened on the redhead's lips as she daintily sniffed, suddenly becoming interested in a nearby sketch of some random, nude woman.
The bomber snorted, taking a step forward to give the grandma a piece of his mind, but Sasori decided to take pity on her. He wrapped an arm around the fuming blonde's shoulders, gently guiding him towards the stairs. "Ignore her, brat. She doesn't understand art."
Deidara glanced at him, confused, before a grin spread its way across his face. Yes! He's finally come to understand true art, un! Art is an explo—
". . . .after all, paper decays after a few centuries. And, as we both know, art is supposed to last forever."
—spoke too soon.
Sasori snickered as an emo-cloud suddenly appeared over his partner's head, and he opened his mouth to continue, only to be cut off.
"Not. Another. Word. Danna. Un."
The redhead smiled mockingly. "Or what?"
Deidara turned towards him, a taunting—no, evil grin plastered on his lightly tanned face.
Sasori paled. He didn't like that grin. Not. One. Bit.
"Or, you don't get any tonight, un."
The puppeteer glowered at him. "You wouldn't."
The blonde smiled innocently. "Wanna bet." He playfully ran his gloved hand along the puppet's jawline, the tongue of his hand-mouth purposefully twisting beneath the cloth.
Oh, he's good.
Sasori licked his lips in pleasure, eliciting a dirty smirk from his lover.
Yep, Kisame's right. I'm totally whipped.
"Fine, fine." The redhead held up one hand in a placating gesture, allowing the other arm to go slightly, well, actually a little more than slightly, lower than Deidara's shoulder. "So, brat. How would you improve dear Leonardo-sama's masterpiece."
The pair was already half-way out the door. Time flies when you're having fun, right?
Deidara grinned as they stepped out into the bustling side-walk of Paris, France. "Easy, un. Like this."
Sasori's eyes widened as Deidara made the one-handed seal that he knew oh so well. Well, Konan definitely wouldn't be happy when they got home. Of course, he could claim that it was all Deidara's fault (which it was) but then he'd be sleeping on the couch for a week, and there was no way in hell he was going through that again.
"Katsu!"
Besides, he was dead either way.
BOOM!
~/~/~/~
Konan sneezed for what must have been the fifth time in under thirty minutes.
Wonder who's talking about me.
Shaking her head clear of the thought, she stared down from her balcony at the Russian auction house below, where some van Gogh had just sold for 85 million US dollars. She snorted. Impressionism just wasn't her cup of tea.
The bluette reached for the remote on the table beside her, turning to flip through the channels, all of which were in Russian of course. However, she didn't need to understand the language to realize what was going on on the news channel (but it should be noted, that she could understand Russian, therefore the language barrier was rendered ineffective.)
Embers rained down from the now flaming Louvre, showering the panicking crowds in a smoke of scarlet and ebony.
A gasp escaped her lips, and her steely gray eyes widened in horror as giant Russian letters filled the screen.
'Mona Lisa consumed by flames.'
"NOOOOOOOOO!"
Konan nearly ripped the TV's cord from the plug-in as she embraced the electronic, anime tears pouring from her eyes as images of desecrated, now flaming paintings and sketches filed across the screen.
"Vat vas that?"
Russian and foreign entrepreneurs alike glanced suspiciously around the auction hall as echoing wailing encompassed them.
"Wolves?"
Konan froze as the murmuring crowds began inspecting the adjoining halls and balconies from their viewpoint on the ground. Remaining still so as not to be publicly humiliated, the bluette clung to the TV, tears still dripping from her eyes.
"Anyvay. Here ve have an origami sculpture from the renowned, up-and-coming artist known as Kounaan."
Her eye twitched slightly at the butchering of her name, but she continued to listen, anxious to hear the result of her auction.
A banana-like grin split her tear-stained face as the sculpture went for a whopping 89 million US dollars. Not too bad for an 'up-and coming artist.'
She couldn't wait to tell Pein about her accomplishment. Eighty-nine million shattered her previous record of 77 (in millions, obviously.)
But more importantly, she couldn't wait to rub it in Sasori and Deidara's smug faces!
An evil smirk traced its way across her face.
Sasori with his stupid puppets and Deidara with his corny explosions wouldn't stand a—
Then it clicked.
A cloud suddenly appeared over the bluette's head as she ground her teeth together.
"DEIDARAAAAAAA!"
She made no attempt to halt her rant this time.
Screw the entrepreneurs.
~/~/~/~
Thousands of miles away in a French cafe, Deidara sneezed.
Sasori glanced up from his menu, concern fluttering across his face. "Need a tissue, brat?"
The blonde shook his head, trailing his gaze over the restaurant's other patrons almost suspiciously. He then turned back towards his partner, anxiously rubbing his hands together. "Nah. I just have a really bad feeling, un. . . ."
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R&R please so I can improve my writing! :)
Chiharu