Author's note: hello and welcome to this story! okay, so that was cheesy. what can i say, it's one in the morning and my hyper friends are playing boggle next to me. (this is after the food fight and perverted youtube vids... don't ask). anyway, this was written sort of on request by thesepeopleareus and sort of 'cause i wanted to do one of these anyway. so it's an AU high school Akatsuki fic. enjoy!
Disclaimer: no dear, i'm not the creator of naruto? did you think i was? that's why it's called fanfiction, you know! lol.
--kyra

First impressions

Sasori stepped into the high school for the first time, scanning the crowd of people for any of his friends. He spotted Kisame's trademark navy blue hair straight away and made for the tattooed boy. Kisame grinned when he saw the redhead.

"Hey! How was your summer?"

Sasori shrugged noncommittally. "I spent it hiding from my grandmother."

"Again? What did she do to you?"

Sasori shrugged again. "She wants me to perform with her. I keep telling her that I have no talent with making little kids laugh, even if they don't see me, but she won't believe it."

Kisame snorted. "Oh, you coward. Afraid of being laughed at by five year old brats?"

"Watch it," Sasori warned. "I'm not afraid. I'm just not interested. Where's Itachi?"

"You're changing the subject."

"However did you guess, genius? I am indeed. I also haven't seen your black-haired friend all summer and want to make sure he hasn't killed anyone lately."

Kisame grimaced. "It was a near thing," he muttered.

"Who?"

"Who else? Sasuke."

Sasori snorted. "Does killing brats count as killing people?"

"The police think so."

They both whirled to find the subject of their conversation standing behind them. He'd come up without a sound, as was his custom, and now stood, arms crossed, looking at them.

Kisame grinned widely. "Itachi! How've you been?"

Itachi shrugged slightly. "I've been good," he informed the taller boy. "I haven't even gravely injured anyone in months."

Sasori, watching the pair, wondered yet again what their relationship was. Kisame managed to get whole sentences from Itachi while everyone else, including teachers, had to be content with monosyllables. Itachi, on his part, was the only one able to reign in Kisame's exceedingly short temper. No one knew if they were dating or not, though no one would be surprised. They themselves only shrugged off questions, answering that it wasn't anyone else's business. Well, Kisame did. Itachi just glowered until whoever it was decided they didn't really want to know and remembered some pressing business elsewhere.

"Have you seen any of the others yet?" Sasori asked, distracting Kisame.

"Zetsu," Kisame replied. "He should be around here somewhere. Konan and Pein are probably somewhere, but I didn't try to find them."

As if on cue, a pale boy wearing copious amounts of black makeup sidled up to them, nodding at the group. He received a blink from Itachi, who treated everyone but Kisame to the same greeting. Kisame got a whole nod. Kisame and Sasori greeted Zetsu, getting soft replies. Zetsu spoke more than Itachi, but his volume was so low that he might as well not be saying anything at all.

"Anyone seen Hidan or Kakuzu?" Sasori asked, looking around for the remaining members of their group.

Kisame snorted. "Knowing them, Hidan's still off scaring the middle schoolers and Kakuzu's trying to figure out the best way of robbing the school's account."

Sasori had to admit that this was a fairly accurate portrayal of their friends.

"Or Hidan's looking for girls," Zetsu pointed out, shifting his weight slightly and adjusting the hood of the green hoody he never took off.

"Already?" Sasori asked skeptically. "We haven't even been here a full fifteen minutes yet."

Itachi glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. Sasori shrugged. "I suppose," he agreed.

"It is Hidan," Kisame pointed out.

Before they had a chance to discuss the matter farther, the bell rang, informing them that they had all of four minutes to get to class. Why the passing period couldn't be a round five minutes, Sasori didn't know, but that was the way it was.

He pulled out his schedule. History. Wonderful. He loathed history. It was all about people who were dead, and dead people meant nothing to Sasori. The very fact that they were dead meant that they'd done their bit and now deserved to be forgotten.

Unfortunately, none of the others had class with him. Itachi and Kisame had biology together, which left Kisame grinning, though whether it was because he had class with Itachi or because he liked biology, Sasori didn't know. Zetsu apparently had English, something he claimed to enjoy. That left Sasori alone heading glumly off to a subject he hated.

The classroom was fairly full when Sasori got there, and he slipped into the only empty seat he could find, beside a blond… actually, was it a boy or a girl? Sasori couldn't tell. He settled for the ever-ambiguous "it." It seemed to be playing with a piece of white clay, folding it and refolding it idly. Sasori couldn't help watching its fingers as they played: clearly whoever it was knew its way around clay.

It seemed to sense Sasori's gaze, because it looked up, meeting the redhead's impassive eyes.

"I'm Deidara, yeah," it… he offered. Yes, definitely male.

"Sasori."

"You like sculpting?"

Sasori shrugged. "Not really. I'm more into models."

"Models? Like cars and stuff, yeah?"

Sasori wondered why he did that. Did he have to end every sentence with that word? It got old very fast. He shook his head. "No. Puppets."

Deidara's eyes lit up with interest. "Oh yeah? That's cool. You consider yourself an artist?"

Sasori shrugged. "I guess." He'd never really thought about it that way, but, now that he did, he decided he was. There wasn't really anything else to call what he did.

At that moment, the teacher walked in, and they shut up. Sasori examined the woman, wondering if she would be even remotely interesting. His experience with teachers in general, and especially history ones, was that they weren't.

She looked around at them, her eyes landing on Deidara and his clay.

"What is your name?"

"Deidara."

"Please put that away during my class. This isn't art."

Deidara scowled, but did as she bid, stashing the lump in a pouch he produced from his pocket. Sasori noticed the lips tattooed into his palms as he did so and wondered how much that had hurt. Then again, it couldn't have hurt anymore than the gills Kisame had had put in last summer. He shook his head slightly. People had the oddest tastes.

The teacher, a Mrs. Cummings, began droning on about classroom rules. Sasori tuned out. He didn't feel like wasting his first day listening to this kind of thing. Glancing up to make sure that she wasn't watching him, he pulled out a sketchpad and began doodling a new idea he'd had: puppets shaped to look like his parents. After all, if he couldn't have them in real life due to the stupid car accident, then he could at least have models, right?

He was shading in his mother's hair when Deidara whistled softly. "Wow, you're good, yeah."

Sasori grimaced slightly. Enough with the 'yeah'! He shrugged. "Drawing isn't my strong point. I work better in 3-D."

Deidara grinned slightly. "Me too, yeah. I can't draw on paper at all."

Sasori turned back to his sketch, trying to decide how he would improve them. After all, it wasn't much fun making puppets exactly like the real thing, right? He'd just decided on giving his mother a retractable dagger and his father a sword when the bell rang again, signaling the end of the class. He tucked his sketchpad away and stood, pulling out his schedule to see what class he had next. Art. His face brightened slightly. At least he would have something to look forward to during history.

"What'd you have next?" Deidara asked, walking out with him.

"Art."

"Hey, me too, yeah! Cool!"

Sasori didn't respond, threading his way through the crowd of people down the stairs and to the art room. Deidara stayed by his side, chattering about art and fire. A lot about fire. What was he, some kind of pyromaniac?

They arrived at the classroom, only to find the way blocked by a boy and a girl, both older, arguing with each other. Sasori sighed. At it already? They hadn't seen each other for more than a couple hours, surely!

"You know, some of us want to get in too," he commented dryly.

Pein glanced away from Konan, his angry expression fading into one of surprise as he saw Sasori and Deidara. "You have art too?"

"Obviously," Konan cut in before Sasori could reply. "Otherwise he wouldn't have asked to get in."

Pein scowled. "I wasn't asking you," he snapped, whirling to face his blue-haired counterpart. "I was asking Sasori."

Sasori grimaced and stepped between them. "Save it for lunch," he advised. "Or you'll make us think that you don't like each other after all."

"We don't," they replied at the same time. They glared at each other over his head. He snorted.

"Keep telling yourselves that," he agreed cynically. "Are you going to let us in or not?"

Konan stepped back, letting Sasori and Deidara into the classroom. Behind him, Sasori heard them start up again. He grimaced.

Deidara glanced back at them. "They really do hate each other, don't they?"

Sasori snorted. "Them? They've been going steady since 7th grade."

"Wow…"

Sasori stepped away from the bickering couple and towards the center of the room, looking around. It appeared to be stocked with the usual assortment of things: paints, brushes, paper, pencils, charcoal, crayons… everything a basic classroom needed. Deidara deserted Sasori for a kiln in one corner, which he looked at reverently. Sasori grimaced. He didn't know if he liked Deidara yet, but there was no denying that the other boy had more than enough energy. Heck, he could even rival Tobi for hyperness. Sasori's grimace deepened at the thought of Tobi. Thank God the boy was still in middle school. Let him deal with Sasuke and his followers all alone. Sasori certainly wasn't bailing him out yet again.

The rest of the class filtered in, and Sasori was relieved to see Hidan walking through the door, albeit only seconds before the bell rang again. He strolled over to where Sasori sat, dropping down next to him.

"How you doing? Any decent shit happen while I was away?"

Sasori shrugged. "Not really. How many people did you sacrifice?"

Hidan's answering grin was all the answer Sasori needed.

"Never mind. I don't want to know after all."

Hidan leaned back, balancing expertly on the chair's back legs. "You need models for your puppet-things?"

"No. Thanks for the offer, though."

"No problem."

The art teacher rushed in then, his graying hair windblown and his shirt flapping untucked as he walked. Sasori glanced up then away. The man might have something to teach him, but he doubted it. The only person who could even attempt to rival his skill at puppetry was his grandmother, and she wasn't here.

"Everyone settle down." This was directed especially to Konan and Pein, who were still shouting at each other.

"They'll never shut the fuck up, will they?"

Sasori shrugged. "You know what they say about married couples."

Hidan guffawed. "Don't tell them that," he warned.

"I have some sense of self preservation," Sasori informed his friend wryly. "I'm not the suicidal one here."

"I'm not suicidal," Hidan snapped. "It's ritual self-mutilation."

Sasori snorted. "Sure it is."

"Shut the fuck up."

The teacher turned his eyes towards them, frowning. "If I could have you attention?"

Neither Sasori nor Hidan said anything. Deidara reluctantly left the kiln and went to sit next to Sasori, glancing at Hidan.

"Thank you. I'm Mr. Smith."

Sasori tuned out again. It was probably the same lecture he'd failed to listen to last hour. He pulled his sketchpad out again, flipping to a fresh page and sketching out what it would look like if one of his puppets disemboweled Tobi. Hidan, catching sight of the drawing, snickered.

"That's not nice," Deidara commented under his breath, turning to see what Hidan was snickering at.

Sasori shrugged. "The brat deserves it."

"You mean that's a real person?"

"Unfortunately."

"What's with the orange face?"

"It's a mask. He thinks it's cool."

Hidan snorted. "That's 'cause he's a Goddam idiot."

Sasori nodded and continued drawing. With a crookedly ironic smile, he added in a speech bubble, reading, "Tobi's a good boy, right? Tell Tobi he's a good boy, Sasori!"

Mr. Smith turned towards them, his arms crossed. "Would you boys care to share the joke?" he asked.

Sasori shrugged and handed the teacher his sketch. It didn't really matter. Mr. Smith handed it back after a moment, his face disapproving.

"Please refrain from drawing while I'm talking," he said stiffly.

Sasori nodded, flipping the sketchpad closed and stashing it back in his bag again. Pein glanced at him questioningly. Sasori shook his head. No point getting it out again.

Mr. Smith babbled on until the bell rang, promising them as they left that they'd get to do some real art next class. Deidara grinned at that, obviously looking forward to it. Sasori noticed that he had his clay out again.

The next class, math, passed quickly enough, and Sasori soon found himself waiting in the lunch line, looking for something only mildly repellant, instead of overwhelmingly repulsive. It wasn't easy. Finally, he settled for salad, paid for it, and headed into the cafeteria to find the others. Kisame, spotting him first, waved him over to their table.

"Hey! How'd the morning go?"

Sasori shrugged. "About as well as could be expected."

Pein looked up, his eyes curious. "What were you drawing in class earlier?" he demanded.

Sasori pulled out his sketchpad and flipped it to the right page before handing it to the older boy. Pein glanced at it, then burst out laughing. "Oh that's good," he gasped. "Man, that's completely priceless!"

"Let us see!" Kisame, of course. Pein handed over the sketchpad, and it got passed around amid gales of laughter. Only Konan, the last to see it, remained silent, though her eyes twinkled with repressed mirth. She slowly flipped through the rest of the book, pausing to examine certain images. Sasori, knowing what was in that sketchpad, winced. Sure enough, she lifted her eyebrows, glancing over to meet his eyes. He knew he would have to deal with her questions later, but he didn't want to do it in front of witnesses. He shook his head slightly and reclaimed his sketchpad, flipping it closed and stuffing it back into his bag. He carefully didn't look at the image of the two blank faced individuals hugging a sad looking little boy.

Zetsu, who watched more than he spoke, tactfully turned the conversation away from Sasori and his drawing, giving the redhead some much needed time to regain his composure. Sasori shot Zetsu a supremely grateful look, which the pale boy answered with a slight noise.

They chatted about nothing at all until the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. As they gathered their things, Hidan suddenly turned to Sasori, demanding, "Who the fuck was your friend?"

Sasori shrugged. "He says his name's Deidara."

Kisame glanced over, curious. "He worth getting to know?"

Sasori shrugged again. "He's reasonably tolerable. Hyper as hell, especially when it comes to art, but he seems fairly decent."

Kakuzu's eyes flicked up. "Is he rich?"

"How should I know?" Sasori demanded. "I've only known him for two class periods, you know."

"You say he's an artist," Pein cut in, interrupting Kakuzu's reply. "What kind of art?"

"Sculpture, I think. He tends to go on about fire as well."

Pein's eyes turned speculative. "He could be useful."

"Useful?" Konan demanded scathingly. "In what sense, pray tell?"

"I don't have anything in particular in mind yet," Pein snapped back. "I'm just thinking ahead."

"To the day you need to incinerate the evidence?"

"Possibly."

Konan grimaced. "Boys. You never go for the subtle approach, do you?"

"Contingency plans are a wonderful thing."

"Not when they send you to jail they aren't."

"Um, guys?" They both turned to stare at Sasori. "Don't you have classes to go to or something?"

They both nodded, glowering.

"I don't," Kisame announced smugly.

"Lucky you," Itachi muttered.

"Hey, just because you're taking advanced college level physics for geniuses doesn't mean all of us are that talented."

"You just don't apply yourself enough," Itachi informed his friend.

"Because I have a life!"

Itachi's expression didn't change. "I'm not looking for one."

"Obviously." Kisame turned away from Itachi to look at the others. "What do you guys have?"

"Chem," Sasori answered. Chem was okay; not his favorite subject, but not actively evil either. Zetsu had it too, which made Sasori happier. At least he would know someone.

They walked into the classroom together, finding seats near the back of the room. A girl with blond hair looked up from a notebook as they sat down, they away. From the way she scribbled, Sasori guessed she was writing some kind of story, not taking notes. He dug out his sketchpad, turning to the half-finish sketch of his parents. Zetsu, being Zetsu, didn't comment, choosing instead to watch the girl as she wrote. Seeming to sense his gaze, she twisted in her seat to meet his eyes.

"What are you writing?" Sasori looked up, amazed that Zetsu was talking of his own free will. To a girl, no less!

"A story."

"What's it about?"

"Vampires. Sort of."

He nodded. "That's cool. Wish I could write."

She shrugged. "I've only been doing it for a year.

The teacher, a young-ish woman with short brown hair, entered the room then, cutting off whatever Zetsu was going to say. With a grimaced, he pulled out his own notebook and ripped out a piece of paper. Flipping the notebook closed to give himself a soft surface to write on, he began writing feverishly, his handwriting switching back and forth from cursive to print as he argued with the voice in his head. Sasori didn't bother trying to decipher the words. The pale boy and his voice got along about as well as Itachi and Sasuke, and any conversation between them was sure to involve more insults and wear words than even Hidan could manage, something was definitely an accomplishment.

The class, the introduction to an introduction to chemistry, passed quickly enough. Zetsu spend most of the period arguing with himself, and the girl didn't look back at him again. Sasori listened with half and ear to the teacher, continuing to polish his design as he did so. He already itched to get home to his workshop, where he could start actually building the things.

When the bell rang, he flipped the sketchpad closed and replaced it in his bag. Seeing that Zetsu was still deep in conversation with the voice in his head, he reached over to shake the boy's shoulder.

"Hey. Whichever one you are right now, class is over."

Zetsu looked up, blinking slightly. Glancing down, Sasori saw that his friend had filled up at least two pages front and back with his argument.

"You get anything decided?"

Zetsu shook his head, grimacing. "We still can't agree."

"What is it this time?"

Zetsu shrugged, clearly not wanting to say anymore. Sasori nodded, heading out of the room. He knew the feeling well enough himself.