This chappie's a lil fluffy...but not too much :D
R&R if you can pwease!!
Tolerance
(Communication)
"And so he says, 'No Deidara, art is meant to be something everlasting that never fades' and I'm all like, 'Like hell, un! Art is a big bang! A quick explosion of beauty and then gone before your eyes!'"
Tenten thought of herself as a fool for making the mistake of thinking that Akatsuki members weren't a loquacious bunch. Sasuke's brother and his partner, of whom Tenten liked to call, "fish face" when she was referring to him in casual conversation, were from what she heard, not the chatty type. Naturally she generally applied that trait to all the members, but she soon learned that Deidara was the exact opposite. He talked so much one would think that excessive amounts of speech were what kept him alive.
Worse, Tenten also found that Deidara had another talent besides making her feel helpless. He had the skill of talking for hours, but somehow say exactly the same thing the whole time. At first she didn't notice, but soon all his rephrasing and redundancy piled up and she could only twitch her eye in aggravation as he said the word 'art' for what seemed like the millionth time. He had mastered many different ways of stating the same opinion in different context, over, and over, and over again.
She never spoke back, and he didn't mind. He just kept on going, droning on about how "Sasori-danna" (Who the hell is that? Tenten thought repeatedly) couldn't see his point of view and didn't understand his "creative soul", how his masterpieces only bored and disinterested him, and how he couldn't come to respect Deidara as a serious artist. It was all highly overdramatic.
Just kill me, pleaded Tenten.
Then, as if her karma had taken a positive turn, Deidara stopped talking. It wasn't abrupt; Tenten could register the fact that he had been talking for awhile and she just wasn't listening anymore, but the soothing silence that met her ironically grabbed her attention again. Though, as relieving as the quiet air between them was, Tenten still cast Deidara a suspicious glance.
She wasn't surprised to see him smiling that creepily happy smile that she had come to identify with. Opening her mouth, she was about to shoot him a scathing remark when…
"Wow, un!" chirped Deidara happily, unashamedly slapping her behind, "I really have to thank you—"
Tenten went stiff.
…did he just…spank me?
"—I've never had anyone listen to me this long, un—"
Did he just SPANK me?
"—and I've got to say I really appreciate it, un—"
THAT BASTARD JUST SPANKED ME!
"—so thank you, un!"
…DAMNHIMTOHELL!!
Tenten ignored his gratitude on account of all the foul words running through her mind in reaction to him violating her. That was quite all right with Deidara, since he apparently didn't need a "you're welcome" or something of the like. However, he did start to look concerned with her current position.
"Hey," he asked worriedly, "why are you twitching like that, un?"
She fumed silently and didn't respond, too angry to even speak.
"You don't talk a lot, do you, un?" said Deidara.
She glared.
"I don't make it a habit of conversing with people like you." spat Tenten poisonously. To her chagrin, he just kept grinning. She desperately wanted to make him angry at the moment. She wanted to somehow piss him off so she wouldn't have to look at his agonizingly happy face, which only seemed to mock her.
He pinched her cheek again, "So sassy, un. You brunettes are feisty ones!"
She bit back the urge to retort with, "And you blondes are dumb" in respect for her friend Ino, who abhorred the stereotype.
"Why. Do. You. Keep. Touching me?" Tenten growled through gritted teeth.
"Don't act like you don't like it, un." Deidara admonished with a smirk.
"I don't like it!" snarled Tenten.
"Hey, whatever, un," Deidara brushed her comment away like it was nothing, "so what about you? What do you think of it, un?"
"What do I think of what?" asked Tenten, exasperated with his vagueness.
Deidara stared at her like she was an idiot. Tenten stared at him like she was ready to commit vicious homicide.
"Of art, un. What do you think of art?" said Deidara, as if it was the meaning of life, "It's only what we've been talking about for the past hour, un!"
We? Tenten inquired in her head. Deidara had been the one going on and on about the subject. She could care less.
"Do you want me to agree with you?" asked Tenten.
Deidara paused and thought for a moment.
"Well, that'd be nice, un," he said; his eyes suddenly glittered, "but I want your honest opinion!"
Tenten sighed.
"Well I don't know," she replied dully, "everyone interprets art in different ways."
"I know that," said Deidara, rolling his eyes, "but what is art to you, un? Everlasting, or fleeting?"
He emphasized his last word with raised eyebrows. At his question, Tenten thought momentarily about the topic. In all honesty, art to her was her jutsu—the way her scrolls danced and twirled around her, the beauty and perfection of her weapons and the way in which they yielded to and worked so gracefully with her expertise, not so much acting like tools of destruction but more like another being fighting alongside her with it's own chakra and spirit. It was the way she leapt about, agile and elegant when wielding a jian, tonfa, or nunchaku, with the unquestionable feel of smooth metal against her fingers.
"I guess my kind of art is rather…fleeting." replied Tenten soberly, thinking of how the more elaborate of her best long-range of her jutsu were rather short lived, but packed a strong force within a matter of minutes.
Deidara looked ecstatic.
"Well of course it is, un!" he chirped, teeming with joy, "I should have known, weapon summons and all that."
Her sober expression disappeared.
"Yeah, and I hate you for throwing my stuff into the river, asshole." said Tenten, quickly recalling how he had showed his appreciation for her "art". She thought sadly of how the merciless water would quickly bring about rust to the pristine steel of her blades.
"So sorry about that, un," nodded Deidara, "but I couldn't take any chances. With access to your weaponry you could've been quite a problem for me, un. But let's not kill the mood here."
"It's already dead." remarked Tenten, throwing her head to the side to avoid his gaze. He chuckled and patted her head.
"Well, at least you agree with me, un." he commented endearingly.
She paused before turning her head towards him again, smiling just the slightest bit.
"But I don't agree with you." she stated flatly. Deidara, surprised she would be so bold, gave her a confused look.
"Un?" was all he could say.
"I don't think that true art is entirely fleeting." she responded coolly.
"You think that it lasts forever, un?"
"Of course not," said Tenten like it was elementary, irking Deidara, "nothing lasts forever."
"Then what do you mean, un?" he asked in annoyance, but curious nonetheless.
"When I perform long-range jutsu," explained Tenten, "I unleash a sudden burst of offensive attack as I throw my weapons, but to speak of my weapons specifically, is another story…"
Deidara looked sincerely baffled. "I…don't understand, un."
Tenten was euphoric with her own thoughts.
"A good weapon…" she said dreamily, "one crafted with skill and care, can last a lifetime…a good weapon, isn't just a weapon…it's a work of art, shining with beauty, but it can be deadly in the right hands."
"The right hands?" asked Deidara amusedly, "a four-year old can throw a kunai, un. Nothing special."
She shot him a dark look, "You're a fool."
"You're delusional," he scorned, "you play with toys that you don't even make, un. How can that be art?"
"Moron," replied Tenten tersely, "the weapons by themselves cannot complete the masterpiece, as beautiful as they might be. The art is in the form of a shinobi and her weapon working together as one entity—but this is tricky, since only a competent and adroit user can be powerful enough to make the weapon acquiesce to her. A scythe or jian will not simply let a completely ignorant dolt have control over it. Give a four-year old my weapons and he'll slaughter himself."
The cave was quiet once again, but this time Tenten wasn't silently boiling with fury like before. On the contrary, this time she was quite pleased with herself. Deidara seemed to be at a loss for words, much to Tenten's satisfaction. She lay there on the ground, looking up at him triumphantly.
"Should I put it in simple words for you?" asked Tenten with a smirk.
Instantly, he snapped out of his daze.
"No, I get it," he said smiling slowly, "your kind of art is deadly to those who can't appreciate it properly, un. Your kind of art is fleeting in some senses, but long-lasting in others. It is a combination of sorts—the tool and the artist becoming one to make the ultimate creation, sometimes in short bursts, and enduring in others, un."
Tenten nodded, watching him with neutrality. In truth she was actually little happy that they had found some sort of common ground.
"Yeah," agreed Tenten, "no dumbshit is going to be able to make my kind of art."
Deidara howled with laughter.
He grabbed Tenten and wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh, kunoichi!" he cried happily, "I do so enjoy our time together, un!"
"What—the—hell?" Tenten choked out as she gasped for air.
Her eyes widened when she felt his cheek rub up against her own.
"Let—me—go!" she demanded, trying to push away from Deidara. Though she didn't have to for long, because he cheerfully obliged to her wish. As she was thrown on the ground yet again, Tenten miserably started to realize that this was becoming a trend with the criminal.
Deidara laid a hand on her thigh and spoke affectionately.
"You truly have an artistic intellect worthy of myself." he complimented.
"Thanks." mumbled Tenten sarcastically. She started to relax on her familiar spot on the ground, ignoring the pent-up rage she felt when he started stroking her leg. It would be pointless to get angry again.
"You're something, un." he remarked warmly.
She rolled her eyes. After seconds of continuous stroking, an idea struck her.
Might as well take advantage of the situation.
"So…" said Tenten after moments of silence, "you gonna let me go now?"
Deidara smiled.
"Not on your life, un."
TBC.
