I have always wanted to write a deiita story. This is something I haven't done before, writing not in the Naruto world. This story is set in the 50's. I'm not sure if anyone will like this, but this idea has been in my head for a while. Enjoy!

Deidara was quick with a gun. He knew it and so did every unfortunate soul that crossed his path. He could recall the moment he first held a gun. He was only a child, maybe six at the time. He found it hidden amongst all the trash and random belongings that consumed his mother and his childhood. Once his cerulean eyes fell upon the metal object, his breath hiccupped. He trembled slightly, lifting the weighted object up for inspection. It felt cool in his hands. He turned it around, eyes wide with curiosity. What he felt flooding from the gun into his being was something completely foreign to him.

Power.

Deidara lived in a world where he was powerless. He watched his father leave, his mother fall apart. He watched drugs and men ruin his mother's sweet attitude, leaving nothing but the shell of a woman behind. Deidara had no power to stop it. Recently though, a new man in particular had been coming around. He was tall, good looking, but he was a crule man. He took every chance he got to swing at the child. He would smack Deidara up, right in front of his drugged out mother. She looked on, sky-blue eyes unfocused and glazed.

Deidara tried to fight back, but the man simply over powered him. Deidara hated him. He hated him with such an unbelieveable passion. He hated his mother as well. He hated how she let these men come into her life, their life and ruin it.

Then, one early October morning, Deidara stumbled upon his dead mother. She had died peacefully in her sleep. It was the first time since his father left that Deidara could remember her looking so happy. He felt sad of course, but had no proper time to mourn his dead mother, for the nameless man had chosen to stick around their home. He said he felt obligated to stay, since he was with Deidara's mother for so long.

After the funeral, the man moved in and even tried to take Deidara under his wing. Deidara refused. This man was a parasite and leached off of whomever he could. Deidara hated the man, and he was terrified of him. Some days were good; the man would seem kind and friendly. Then other days the man would wake Deidara by striking him. Deidara felt helpless and trapped. He felt that no one could save him. He couldn't count on anyone but himself.

Then the day he found the gun changed everything.

It was so pretty, beckoning him to hold it. Deidara placed a sun-kissed finger on the trigger, feeling a surge of power in his body. He trembled at this power.

"What the fuck are you doing with that?!" Roared a voice that made Deidara nearly jump out of his skin.

Deidara quickly turned to look over his shoulder at the nameless man. He was dressed in a gray suit, his hair unkempt and his shirt un-tucked. He was leaning against the door, holding a bottle of scotch. He tried to glare at the kid, but his soulless-black eyes refused to focus on anything. Deidara remained where he was on the ground, head turned slightly to face him. They stated in silence for a moment before the man stepped forward on shaky legs.

"I said what the fu-"

And that was it. Deidara shot the man right in the chest. The action happened so fast, that Deidara felt his breath catch after he pulled the trigger. He watched the man fall, lifelessly to the ground as a pool of blood grew under him. Deidara's heart pounded as he stared at the body. He looked at the gun in his hands, closing his fingers around it.

This was the first man he had ever killed.

But, certainly not the last.

Deidara left his horrid home, filled with despicable memories. He held no guilt in his heart for what he did. He moved town to town, gaining experience with the gun. Many people questioned why someone so young had such a terrible thing. Deidara grew impatient always yelling how no one would understand.

Deidara grew into a loud, cocky teenager. He lived couch by couch. Sleeping where he could, and always moving. Money was never a question though, he was a free range thief, hired to steal. He was quite good at it too. He wasn't fancy though, he usually went where he needed to go, shooting the place up. He was deeply depressed by his life, but hid his unhappiness with a cocky grin and obnoxious attitude.

Deidara sat at a bar he frequented. He was hunched over the bar, head resting on the table. He golden hair fell like a pool on the counter next to his tanned cheek. He was drunk. He sighed, trying to sit up, but immediately felt sick. He grumbled to himself, hearing the bartender laugh.

"I'd shut up if I were you." Slurred the blond, trying to scowl at the elderly bartender.

The man laughed. It wasn't a laugh of mockery or a nervous one; it was a genuine laugh that put Deidara at ease. The man had been good to Deidara. He let Deidara stay with him whenever he was in town, which was a lot lately. He even served the nineteen year old alcohol.

"Better take it easy with this," the elder said, pulling the glass of scotch away from the drunk blond. "You don't want a repeat of last time."

Deidara 'tch-ed' in annoyance. The elder was referring to the last time he drank himself into a stupor and he picked a fight with the sheriff's son. The two strong armed one another until they took it outside to finish the job. Deidara would have been the victor, he was faster with a gun, but the elder knew this and stopped the fight. The sheriff was called in and Deidara was put in jail for one night. Deidara didn't mind, just meant he had one less night where he would have to find somewhere to sleep. Deidara had been in and out of jail so many times since he found the gun. He had never spent much time in the slammer though. A couple nights here and there. But the sheriff of the town had been gunning for Deidara since the spat between him and his son.

Deidara sighed, feeling the effects of the alcohol wearing off. He rested his strong jaw on his crossed arms, looking lazily about the bar. The bar was old, probably the oldest in town. It was dark and cool, with paper lanterns that lined the celling, giving the bar a soft, hazy glow. Deidara eyed the other people in the bar. There were only a couple people drinking, but overall the place was dead. Then again, it was only ten in the morning.

Deidara shut his eyes, burrowing his head into the sleeves of his crossed arms. He would probably pass out here, then wake up and drink some more. Drinking always helped him deal with the shit that was his life.

"Well, would you look at that?" The elder mumbled under his breath.

Deidara stirred. Probably some blond bimbo that waltzed in. The elder was a horn dog and eyed every pretty young thing that entered through those old reed doors. Deidara had no idea why the elder pointed these women out to him, Deidara was very gay. Deidara had never felt anything towards women. He had slept with so many, yet never felt anything for them. He slept with quite a few men as well, and though he never really felt anything spark between them, he felt the sex was much better. Well, he had fallen in love once. It was with a red headed man with tan, sleepy eyes. He was wonderful, not only in bed but in what Deidara regarded as his passion, art. The only thing that conflicted between the two was their concept of what real art was. But, Deidara loved the man so passionately, that the day he had to kill him he nearly broke.

But, that had been so long ago.

"Deidara, hey check that out!" The elder said, smacking Deidara's pounding head.

Deidara felt his fingers twitch as he considered pulling out his gun and blowing away the kind bartender. He reluctantly dismissed that idea and lifted his head. He swung his pounding head so that he was looking over his shoulder, his eyes fell on the specimen that the elder was referring to.

"My god.." Deidara breathed when his eyes fell upon the man whom had just taken a seat at the corner of the bar.

Deidara had never seen anyone so beautiful. The man whom had just taken a seat had such a striking face, that Deidara felt unworthy to look upon it. His skin was pale, but glowing. He cheeks and lips were a soft, rosy color indicating how young and healthy he was. His hair fell like a waterfall down his back, held back by a scarlet ribbon. He had inky black bangs that framed that perfect face, and his eyes. Deidara immediately turned away once those coal optics looked into his cerulean ones.

Deidara's face was flushed from exchange of looks. He felt nervous and sweaty, something he had never felt before. Deidara looked desperately at the bartender who could barely contain the silly grin that had spread on his face. Deidara sunk into his chair. Jesus, what the hell was he thinking?

"Now, I am straight as an arrow and even I gotta admit, that is one sexy man." The elder said with a shake of his head.

Deidara's face was still beet red.

"Go talk to him."

'Are you mental?" Deidara asked, tapping the counter indicating he wanted a drink.

The elder acknowledged this, and poured Deidara's usual drink. Scotch on the rocks.

"No, but this guy is here to take you away from this." The elder said, gesturing to the bar.

Deidara flicked his long, blond hair away from his eyes, sighing.

"I like it here.." It wasn't a total lie.

The elder rolled his eyes, slamming the bottle down on the counter.

"This is what he is going to take away from you."

Alcohol.

Deidara sneered at this. He hated the fact that he drank, especially scotch. He sighed again, glancing over his shoulder. The man was gone. Deidara felt his muscles relax, but the bartender shook his head in annoyance.

"Don't be such a wimp." He muttered.

Deidara tried to muster up a scowl, but all he could do was stare blankly at the elder. That man had completely infiltrated his mind. His brain was bombarded with questions. He suddenly regretted not going up to the man. Usually when Deidara found a man attractive, he sashayed over and asked if they were interested in a good fuck. But no, not this man. That sort of behavior seemed so insulting if he were to pull that crap on that man. Deidara sighed. It was a good thing the man left. Deidara wasn't worth his time.

TBC