KissMeDeadlyT-T: I decided Fuck it, I'm too impatient to wait for people to review. Whatever. Barely anyone even favourited, lol, but it's okay; I decided to update for the two that did. Thanks guys haha :P Hopefully more people will find this and review? :( Yes, I'm a review/fave whore. (:

-Edited March 21 2012

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Denial and Acceptance

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"Deidara," a voice said, and the blond jumped, nearly dropping the clay bird he'd been placing on his table, which was now standing next to his bed, rather than by his closet like in his previous room. How he liked it, goddamnit. He didn't like this room at all; it smelt like Itachi. It fucking smelt good. Almost like cinnamon, a highly addicting scent that made him feel sort of woozy, and made his cheeks feel warm and his stomach churn. And he hated every goddamn second of it. He would not, could not live with this! Every damn second he was alone with the Uchiha, he wanted to tear his hair out; those damned calm, ruby/black/whatever the fuck color they were at the time eyes made him crazy! They made him and and homicidal, and warm, and fuzzy, and aroused and—wait, come by that again? He frowned, shaking his head. I'm just overly stressed and my brain is thinking up weird shit, he thought to reassure himself. That's definitely it.

Thank god Itachi had left the room for a while, or Deidara was sure he would have lost his mind by now. Whenever he saw the bastard, was anywhere near him, his heart would start racing, and his stomach would flutter, and he'd feel all hot—It had to be his burning hatred, had to be, there was no other rational explanation! Plus, it was crazily cold in here. He hated being cold. Sighing, he finally turned to the source of the familiar voice.

"What is it, Kisame, hmm?"

"I was just wondering... er, why is the closet on fire?"

Deidara looked at the shark-man. "I was practicing my art," he said, because that explained everything.

"Ah, I see. Well—"

"Just douse it in water, shouldn't be too hard for you."

"Yeah, I know, but I found—"

"Spit it out, un!"

"I would, if you'd stop interrupting me," Kisame said icily. Deidara rolled his eyes as Kisame went on, "I found this," he said, shuffling in his pocket, "and thought you'd want it back before it burnt to a crisp..." He took out a small paper and handed it to Deidara, silently slipping out of the room as the blond's eyes widened.

"Sasori," he whispered. His partner in crime, his rival when it came to art, and his best friend. Sapphire eyes started to swim with tears as he quickly sat down before his suddenly shaky knees could give out, gaze glued on the photo. It was of him and Sasori, a few months ago; Deidara had his tongue out, as usual, peeking out from behind Sasori's messy red hair as the puppet man gave a tiny smile to the camera. His heart throbbed painfully. Sure they'd argued, sure Sasori could be a cold-hearted bastard, snd their age difference was nothing to laugh at, either. Sure there were times when all he wanted to do was turn around and blow the little redhead up. But they were best friends. Or rather, they used to be. "Sasori..." he whimpered again, grinding his teeth together. Damnit, he'd promised himself he wouldn't cry! If he was there, Sasori would have scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Deidara couldn't help it. Despite his efforts one tear slid down his face, and he sobbed; it was like a dam broke, and suddenly, he couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

Why did he have to die? Why did that cursed old lady and stupid pink-haired girl have to kill him? Why? Bitterness towards everything in his life that had gone wrong tainted his heart, and he felt himself shaking, in utter anguish and anger. He used to love life, but now... There was no one he needed anymore. No one that needed him.

He didn't want to admit it, but that hurt.

He didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the picture, with tears wetting his tanned cheeks. He forgot everything except for the haunting memories of his best and only friend. He didn't even notice when the door opened.

At first, when Itachi walked in, he thought Deidara might have been reading, but no—Something was wrong. Deidara's usually cheerful and bright face was contracted in pain as tears washed down his face. It hit Itachi with an almost physical hurt; he'd admit it now, he cared about Deidara, more than any of the others. There was something about his passion for life and his art that drew the icy Uchiha to him, and to see him broken and defenseless like this made him feel horrible and faintly sick.

So, despite how he knew Deidara felt towards him, and despite the fact that he was supposed to be a cold-hearted, emotionless bastard, he gently sat next to the blond, who seemed the be in a trance as tears fell freely from his pretty eyes. Itachi glanced down and saw the picture. Ah, so it was Sasori. The two had always been close, and since his death, Deidara had changed. He was almost... jaded. Like he was afraid to get close to anyone again.

"Deidara," he said softly, shaking the bomber's tense shoulder gently. Deidara shuddered and seemed to snap out of it, his eyes widening and his breath hitching. With big, watery eyes he looked up at Itachi. Resentment flooded them, but didn't completely erase the sadness. Itachi stared coolly back, careful not the let his sharingan activate; Deidara hated that.

"What do you want, un?" Deidara snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He wiped roughly at his eyes, blinking rapidly as he took in a shaky breath.

Itachi hesitated, and then, careful not to let too much emotion into his words, asked, "Are you okay?" His voice was deep, calm, soothing. Deidara relaxed a bit and stopped glaring, his eyes softening. He looked down at the picture for a moment, before carefully placing it on the table next to his bed.

"I'm fine," he said quietly, his hands wringing together in his lap. He seemed almost nervous. "But why do you care, hmm?"

Itachi didn't know what to say. He couldn't explain himself; he knew what he was feeling was wrong, stupid, and definitely not mutual. "Well, you're crying," he said, tilting his head to the side a bit. Deidara's eyes never left his, and it made him feel a little bit jittery, especially since there were no negative emotions in them towards him at all; just something like curiosity, and fear. Not fear of him... fear of something else, something Itachi couldn't place. "I just... I thought you might want to talk, so... I..." He was kind of shocked; he, Uchiha Itachi, was actually speechless? Sure, he didn't talk much, but he always had a snide remark in his mind. Searching quickly for words, he couldn't up with anything better than, "But I guess I was wrong, so forget about it."

He made to get up and awkwardly slink away to his side of the room, but was met with a resistance; upon looking back, he saw Deidara's hand clutching the sleeve of his coat. The blond's eyes were downcast, and his cheeks were a little pink, though Itachi supposed that must have been from crying.

"You don't have to leave, un," Deidara said. It was weird, Itachi thought, how quickly he could fall for someone. His heart did a stupid little stutter when blue eyes looked up to meet his black ones. "I... well, I don't really want to talk, but... I don't want to be alone," he finished in a mutter, like he was ashamed. "Can you just sit with me for a bit?" He looked so sad and hopeless that Itachi couldn't have refused if he wanted to.

"But why would you want to sit with someone you hate?" he asked, trying to remind him. Maybe if Deidara punched him or something and told him how much he hated his cold-hearted bastard attitude then he would feel semi-normal again and these troublesome feelings would disappear- before they had a chance to bloom into something even more troublesome.

Deidara shook his head, and Itachi wasn't sure if the funny feeling in his stomach was dread or excitement. He settled for surprised as the blond shrugged and said, "Well... I guess I thought I hated you, but... I really don't, I kinda just don't like you and sometimes want you to die but other than that, you're okay." Itachi felt stupidly relieved, and very amused. Deidara smirked, and it seemed he was going back to his usual self. Itachi felt a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he turned away to hide it.

"I never did understand that, you know," he said, sitting back down next to Deidara, a bit further than necessary but a lot closer than he usually would have. "What did I do to make you... dislike me?"

Deidara stared at him as though he'd grown a third head. "Duh? You insulted my art, 'Tachi, hmm."

..."'Tachi?" "I don't remember that," Itachi murmured thoughtfully. "Did I?"

"Yeah! It was a while ago, when you guys were getting me and stuff, and I know you don't respect it, ever since that day, and it honestly pisses me off!"

Itachi didn't particularly remember saying anything bad about his art, but nonetheless he said, letting some wry bemusement into his voice, "I apologize."

"Oh, nu-uh! Sorry doesn't cut it." Deidara stood, and apparently forgot that he was crying his heart out mere minutes ago as his eyes flared, their usual fire coming back. He held out his left hand, and the mouth on it stuck its tongue out crudely at the other man. "I was originally going to blow you up and force you to see its beauty, but I decided against it, since Pein is already pissed at me. Don't want him to kill me, hmm." A tiny butterfly fluttered out of the palm mouth and landed on Itachi's nose; he forced himself not to go cross-eyed to look at it like most people would do, and end up looking like a fool. He stared coolly at the blond as he went on, "So, I'll make it simple. If you admit that my art is beauty and tell me, truthfully, that you respect it, I'll stop disliking you and maybe consider that you're not so terrible after all."

Something told Itachi that there was more to it than that, that there was some other, unrelated reason Deidara wanted his approval so bad, but he ignored it. That little voice in the back of his head really needed to start shutting up.

Black eyes stared flatly at Deidara, who was worked up to the point where he was panting, his cheeks flushed with anger. Ignoring the fluttering clay bomb on his nose, which he could blow away if he wanted, he knew, Itachi warily said, "Look, Deidara; I never said I didn't like it. You assumed that on your own. As for respecting it, I respect others' skills and interests, no matter what they may be. So—"

"If you're lying..." Deidara's voice held a threat, one that Itachi knew he'd have no trouble avoiding. He felt his eye twitch and he sighed. Sure he might have a...thing... for the bomber, but that didn't make him any less annoying.

Brushing his bangs out of his face he said, "I'm not lying. Your art is very... intriguing, and I respect it." He resisted the childish urge to add, "Happy?" snidely to the end of his sentence, and sat there calmly. Years of practice at being an ice cube could really pay off. Deidara looked close to exploding himself out of victory, but it seemed he still had more to complain about. Itachi felt like a student being scolded by a teacher, which made him imagine Deidara with a long ruler, threatening to beat him with a sadistic smirk on his pretty face... which aroused some very interesting sensations in his stomach, ones that he would prefer not to feel right now. He ignored it, swallowing the image away.

"Okay," Deidara said begrudgingly, and the butterfly flitted away from Itachi's face. "And there's one more thing. Your eye jutsu thingie, yeah."

"...My sharingan?"

"Yeah, that."

Deidara shifted uncomfortably. "Can I see it?"

"Why?"

"Because."

How descriptive. "Well... I don't see why not," Itachi murmured. He wouldn't ask any more, he didn't want to make it seem like he cared. Although he kind of did. Damn he hated these unfamiliar emotions... He activated his sharingan and looked at Deidara. The artist paled slightly, but he swallowed and nodded thoughtfully.

"Maybe it's not so bad," he mumbled under his breath, so quietly Itachi might have been imagining it. "You should turn it off, it's freaking me out, yeah."

Itachi did. "Why does it bother you?" he asked. He felt so... weird. He never spoke this much. But for whatever reason, he actually liked speaking to this brat. What has become of me? he asked himself, feeling a sliver of guilt. I feel like I'm betraying myself or something.

"It's just... you. And all the Uchihas I've ever met. You all look down on me with that stupid sharky-ham."

Itachi snorted and covered a bark of laughter with a cough. "Sharingan..."

"Whatever, un. I just feel like you go and flaunt that fancy jutsu and look down on my art, and I hate it. I don't care if you're more powerful than I am. I just care that you treat my art like shit, all of you, your brother Sasuke or whatever, both of you just stare at me with those stupid, calm, emotionless eyes and I hate it! You think you're better than me!" By now he was all worked up again, his eyes feverish and his cheeks a nice pink color. Itachi found himself really liking that sight, and was slightly frightened by the sudden image of a panting, moaning Deidara that popped into his head, so he kicked it in the face, quickly cleared his throat and responded,

"I told you earlier," his voice was shaky from the arousing visual, "I don't look down on you, or your art, and I only use my sharingan if I absolutely need to. I don't flaunt it."

The blond looked like he wanted to argue, but he just shrugged. "I'll admit you're not such a huge ass once you let down the facades and actually say something... besides that little 'hn' thing you're so fond of. But lemme make this clear; I don't hate you, but I don't like you."

Itachi didn't know why Deidara felt the need to clarify this, since it was obvious, but he shrugged too. "Fine by me," he murmured, standing up. Deidara didn't stop him this time, and got back to work setting up his half of the room, humming idly. For some reason, though, Itachi felt strangely light, and pleasant—and completely fucked up. Well... he doesn't hate me anymore... I suppose that's an improvement. He didn't know how, or what, but he felt like something bigger had changed. He wasn't sure if he wanted it; this wasn't like him. He felt almost... happy.

Fuck. He never really cursed, but this certainly warranted it, when something dawned on him. I had better not be falling in love with that idiot...

Every once in a while he thought he caught Deidara looking at him strangely, but every time he looked up, the blond was facing the other way. One time he glanced up and caught him, but Deidara hurriedly looked away, stubbornly setting his jaw and muttering something to himself, his cheeks reddening. Itachi wondered vaguely what he could possibly be thinking, but he didn't want to overthink things; so he looked back down at his book, ignored Deidara's presence, and everything felt almost normal again.

Almost being the key word.

Maybe sharing a room won't be so bad after all...

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KissMeDeadlyT-T: Well, that was pretty much just a filler chapter. :P

Do I have to get on my knees and beg? D: I'm a whore for this shit, I'll do it if that's what you want Dx Heck, even favourites and story alerts are enough for this lady. I swear to God I need mental help, lol imagine me getting a review in the middle of class... I nearly die every time, and my teachers are always like "-_- Damn that freak in the corner is orgasming again..." Well, it's not that bad O.o But I do grin like a fool and sit there grinning for a bit.

So please? :)