I've been bored at work lately, which is why I'm writing more. And I'm trying the whole "shorter chapters" thing. I figure it might be easier for people to digest.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

XXX

"What's with that grin on your face?" Deidara jumped slightly. He had been lost in his thoughts, his fingers digging into the moist clay in the pouch on his hip without molding it into anything in particular - he just liked to keep his hands moving in time to his thoughts. His eyes had been focused on a random crack on the wall as he zoned out. He didn't realize he was smiling in any particular way and he certainly wasn't going to tell his wooden, redheaded partner what ... or who ... was on his mind.

"It's nothing, hm," He quickly retorted. It was his secret and he would be too embarrassed to divulge it with anyone. Especially the stuffy, conventional puppet master. "What's up, Sasori no Danna?"

"We have a mission, remember? And we were to leave an hour ago," Sasori said pointedly.

Deidara glanced up at a clock on the wall and noticed that it was, in fact, later than the time Sasori had explicitly told him to meet him. "Shit."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry!" Deidara knew he was going to be scolded for the first few hours of their journey no matter how much he tried to apologize, but he figured it couldn't hurt, right? Might mitigate the impact.

"I hate waiting," Sasori responded coolly.

Deidara tried not to roll his eyes. If he had a ryo for every time he heard that ...

Still, he did hate disappointing Sasori. He really liked and respected his wooden partner, although he fundamentally disagreed with his ideologies. "I'm sorry, hm! It's not too bad. ...Only an hour. Could've been worse, right?" Probably wasn't the best approach, but whatever. Deidara was used to being in this position with his master.

Sasori sighed grumpily. "I swear, Deidara, one of these days..."

Deidara just laughed as they headed out. They were on their way now, right? He wasn't one to dwell on something that he couldn't change. You just had to live in the moment. What's done is done.

But he knew the old-fashioned Sasori didn't feel that way, so the blonde teenager always made a good show of acting like he cared about some of the things he did, like being on time.

"C'mon, Sasori, hm. I said I'm sorry. And I'll never be late again! Let's talk about the mission now instead, hm."

Sasori shook his head at the artist's nonchalant behavior and the apology he used so much that it had lost its genuineness. Ignoring Deidara's request, Sasori began lecturing the teenager on why it was important to be on time, how it showed dishonor and disrespect to be late, it made one seem arrogant and selfish, and on and on.

Deidara wanted to interject on several occasions, but he decided to shut his mouth. If it had been anyone else, he would've said something witty and impudent by now. But he knew if he tried that approach with Sasori, the older partner, who knew how much Deidara despised being bored, would probably just start talking about the origin of clocks: why they were made, how they were made, where they were made, the man who made them, and what was his background again? Oh yes, this could go on forever.

Besides, although Deidara rarely went out of his way to dislike people, there were only two people in his life that actively liked. And one of them was Sasori, for sure.

And the other ... Deidara tried not to blush.

Even if Sasori was busy talking about "other types of common courtesies someone as young, hotheaded, and erratic as you has no respect for," Deidara was pretty sure he would notice if the blonde's cheeks turned crimson for no good reason.

Although it wasn't no good reason, really. Any time an image of that "other" person - with his slender, gorgeous body, his piercing eyes that sometimes were deep red when activated but usually as dark and pure as onyx, and his thick black hair tied back in a messy ponytail - popped into Deidara's head, he felt an automatic physical reaction: heart beating faster, a smile working to creep onto his face and ... you know... maybe other stuff, too.

What was his favorite part of the silent genius? Now, that was a fun game and could keep the bomber entertained for hours.

Maybe if he could just manage to keep his face still and unemotional, he could silently, secretly indulge on thoughts and images of Itachi Uchiha while his Danna continued his severe speech, which now was heading into a lengthy segment about how the position of the sun is a good way to tell time if you are nowhere near a clock...

XXX

It had only been a day since Sasori and his imp of a partner had returned from Getsugakure when Itachi was instructed by Kisame that Leader needed to speak with him about something.

"What is this about?" Itachi quietly asked the shark ninja, moving with his typical controlled agility as he stood up and fixed his coat.

"How should I know?" Kisame drawled. "All I was told was that he had a request of you for some mission."

"Well, that's something," Itachi muttered coolly. "He didn't give you any instructions for a mission for you and I?"

"Nope." Kisame plopped down into a chair and stretched his arms. "And I'm not complaining. Leader is planning something big and it's going to be a bitch, so I'm content with laying low for a day or two. Getting some rest and only doing easy missions for awhile like destroying smaller villages and the likes."

"Hn," Itachi took his time walking to the meeting room to converse with a projection of the Leader, who was currently still in the Hidden Rain Village.

Itachi supposed Kisame was right. The temporary façade of tranquility was nice, although the current arrangement was unfortunately making him have to spend more time with Sasori and Deidara than he normally did when he and Kisame were on the move.

Deidara ...

Itachi shut the door behind him, hoping to completely shut out any mental image of the unruly teenager, as well.

However, that hope was short lived when the Akatsuki leader, or a diluted mirage of him, slowly materialized and then promptly told Itachi that he needed one of his two-man groups to go to Kirigakure to take out a small group of ninjas that were in the process of plans to "try and destroy the Akatsuki."

"I'm not too concerned," The voice was thick and dull, the curious purple Rinnegan staring forward at the Uchiha without ever blinking. "There's only about ten dozen or so of them. Which is why I'm only sending two members. You and Deidara ..."

Something akin to anxiety, anticipation, or disappointment, he wasn't sure which, swept over the Sharingan user.

"What about Kisame? He's from that village. And, regardless, why do I have to go with him?" Itachi asked, his eyes unwavering and his voice as even as the one that had issued the directive. A thousand objections to this arrangement were fighting for attention in Itachi's mind, but he knew there wasn't a chance in the world he would ever lessen his stoicism enough to mutter even one.

"Because," the Leader answered, "Sasori is recovering from some casualties from their mission to Getsugakure, and I need this done now. Might as well get it over with. Even if their mission likely will be useless and pathetic, it could be a hindrance that gets in the way later on. It's an easy mission. You all will be back in no time. And I think you and Deidara will be more suitable to get it done quickly and effectively as long-range fighters."

"Hn, very well," was all the Uchiha said. He wasn't one to whine or protest, and he definitely would not try to fight the Leader. Besides, he already had been given more of an explanation than would have been afforded any other member, as Itachi was a favorite.

He left to find his new temporary (hopefully only three-day) partner. Hearing a loud explosion out back, he knew that was his best bet to find the little blonde nuisance.

Sure enough, he was out there, his hair flying wildly about his face, his azure eyes on fire, a huge, cocky smile painted on his face, his slight body tense and still caught in the stance he used for his jutsu with his muscular arms outstretched. The sunshine hit his hair perfectly, endowing it with a bit of its own golden glow.

Itachi shook his head, trying to get his mind off of that and get it back focused on their impending mission.

"Hey ... you," Itachi called out.

Deidara spun around at the sound. He looked so excited, almost giddy.

"Did you see that, Itachi?! Did you, hm? What a masterpiece! For one minute, a solitary minute, absolute perfection was captured! Beautiful, hm!"

Itachi knew Deidara could go on, and on, and on about his art if he wasn't stopped early, so Itachi gently interrupted.

"Yeah, beautiful," he said quickly and dismissively. "We have a mission. Come on."

Deidara grabbed his coat, which was lying sloppily in the gravel collecting dust, and slipped into it as he hurried over to Itachi.

"We have a mission, hm?" He asked, blue eyes locked on Itachi's face even as the Uchiha turned to lead the way. Deidara quickly got his steps in time with the other young man's. "What about Sasori no Danna, hm?"

Itachi looked quizzically at the teenager, his refined black brows drawn over dark, pensive eyes. "Leader said he's recovering from injuries. He's your partner. I thought you'd know that."

For a mere instant the natural playfulness and mischievous smirk were wiped off Deidara's face and he looked legitimately concerned.

"I knew he was hurt, hm. But it's Sasori. I didn't expect the injuries would linger this long. Damnit."

Itachi was honestly shocked to discover that Deidara had the capability to be serious and subdued. It was a nice discovery, but unfortunately, made the blonde seem more real and less like a caricature, which in turn made Itachi feel an emotion he had tried not to for a while: compassion.

"I'm sure he'll be alright, Deidara." It was the first time Itachi had used the teenager's name in a one-on-one conversation. "Sasori is an S-ranked criminal and he's more wood than man. I'm sure injuries for him simply mean he has to fix his puppets or something." It was the nonsensical dribble friends give each other when they want to offer support but, in all actuality, have no sort of logical justification to turn their sentiment into facts. And it was odd for Itachi to hear himself speak like this after so long.

But when he saw the shadows over the blonde's blue eyes lift a little and his face break into a smile, Itachi remembered how much he liked it - true camaraderie.

"Yeah, you're probably right, hm. Thanks, Itachi. Well, what about Kisame? Why isn't he going with you?"

"You think I asked Leader all these questions? How should I know?"

"Ah, well, so much for the Uchiha's renowned intelligence and insight, hm. You're supposed to be like a fucking master when it comes to figuring things out and stuff, right? Better watch it, Itachi. Your reputation will be tainted if you keep this up, hm."

Itachi felt his temper flare slightly and he glared down at Deidara, who merely grinned in return to let Itachi know he only was teasing. The smile helped a little, but still ... the squirt was asking for it.

Itachi's fingers were itching to shove the blonde artist roughly, but playfully, just as something inside of him was awakening and making him wish that he could let his guard down and be as easygoing and fun-loving as Deidara, if only for a few moments.

But no one ever saw Itachi mess around or be light-hearted. It wasn't in his nature ... at least not anymore, as years of living as a secret criminal - disconnected from a life he had known and loved - had hardened him to that sort of nonsense.

Nothing could change that for Itachi.

"Nothing," He repeated mentally again and again, trying to ignore the blonde and the odd, annoying feelings he was inducing in the normally detached young man. Nope, not even those sky blue eyes looking up at him with mockery as well as an underlying shine that showed the mockery was delivered in good fun, or the somewhat mischievous, yet precious face through which they peered at the dark, guarded Uchiha. Or the adorable way in which he had to walk quicker to keep up with Itachi.

The raven determined right then and there that none of that did, could, or would ever matter to him.