He's pretty sure Sasori doesn't like fireworks. He doesn't jump at loud noises, but the little glances being sent to every table they pass are enough to convince him. He wonders what's happened to Sasori to make the demon dislike fire. Unfortunately for him, Deidara loves fire. He loves fireworks and explosions, and he's told the demon several times today that Sasori would love it if he gave it a shot. He wonders if that's true.
"Do you like roman candles?" Sasori's been too quiet since breakfast, he wants to make him say something that sounds like himself. He doesn't feel right without Sasori's scathing remarks littering his day.
Sasori sends him a look that just screams disgust, before he turns away again and drops the tiny bag of smoke bombs back in the bin. "I fail to see anything likable in your screaming color balls." That's a no, but it's something, and Deidara just grins at him and grabs two four-packs. Sasori will love them, he knows.
Deidara carries the bag when they leave, because Sasori doesn't want them anyways. Still, he hasn't done anything to sabotage this, so Deidara's pretty sure it's just a front. He knows he shouldn't be so relaxed on the streets, but with Sasori at his side it's hard not to be relaxed. Something about him just creates a feeling of safety, he's not sure it's not some sort of magic that works on humans in the demon's presence or not.
Still, it means that he doesn't realize what's happening until there's a gun pointing at him and a voice telling him to drop the fireworks. He freezes and he can almost taste Sasori's tension. "No." He wonders why the man doesn't seem to care that there's two of them, but his ears catch the scuff of a boot on asphalt too far away to be holding the gun and he realizes that they're not alone.
The man scoffs softly. "I could kill you. Put the fireworks down, blondie. And then I want you to empty your pockets for me." He notices Sasori's tension is gone, his racing brain momentarily wonders what nightmares Sasori is expecting to come for him if a gun pointed to his head is so unconcerning.
"I said no." He's not sure what prompts him to fight against this guy who's holding a gun to his head and doesn't seem to be at all new to this. Maybe a feeling of masculine pride, but he's fairly certain that's long gone and all that's holding up is his desire to impress his demonic companion. Folly, he knows, it would take much more than this to impress him.
He's not really sure what happens, one second he's hearing the gun cock behind him and the next he's on the ground, looking up at blood-red wings spread in front of him as sprays of blood leave the exit wound of the bullet to fall across his face. He hears a scream, he's not sure who of, and then he's being hauled to his feet. He holds still, staring at Sasori as the small man starts piling his fireworks back in the bags in his arms.
He hardly hears him when Sasori starts talking, just remembers sprays of blood leaving the bullet wound through his chest. "You got shot." He can tell by Sasori's tone of voice that he's saying something sarcastic, but he's not listening because Sasori got shot, he's sure Sasori is dying and the only part of his brain that's moving at a decent speed briefly wonders if he's going into shock.
"Deidara, we have to go. People heard that shot, they'll be coming to investigate." Sasori snaps in front of his eyes and lets out a somehow aggressive-sounding sigh. He's practically boneless as Sasori's arms wrap around his waist and he suddenly leaves the ground, he's not sure how he'll survive without Sasori after so long. He glances up at Sasori and for the first time he sees Sasori as what he is. He doesn't see the serpent he's always seen, he wonders if that version of Sasori even exists or if it's just a projection. For the first time, he sees Sasori as a soldier of Hell, an aged demon all too used to pain and destruction that a bullet wound doesn't concern him anymore. For once he doesn't see someone who needs to be coddled and pampered but the protector he summoned. He wonders if it's his own fault that Sasori has shown such indulgent sin during the time they've been together.
They land on his balcony and he knows Sasori knows that the balcony is locked, but it opens easily at his touch and Deidara follows behind him in a daze. "You got shot. You've been shot." He can see the blood leaking sluggishly from the wound and wonders if demons bleed slower. "Your blood is black."
Sasori sends him a cross look, pulling off his shirt and Deidara winces at the gaping hole left behind the bullet. "Yes, and it's all over your face. You ought to go wash that off, it doesn't suit you." He wonders how Sasori can be so nonchalant as the bullet wound starts closing on it's own, steam sluggishly rising from the new skin. Deidara does as he says, returning with a wet cloth to wipe away the blood still staining his skin. Sasori makes no move to help him, he's forced to look at every drop of black blood. It makes him feel sick, that used to be inside Sasori.
He wants to say that Sasori could have died, that he's reckless and foolish and needs to take better care of himself, but suddenly he feels every year that separates them and stays mute in the presence of the man that he's not entirely sure could kill him with a thought. He wonders if God takes prayers for demons. He doesn't think so, and he's not religious, but he debates sending one up anyways because Sasori is too much and nothing at all at the same time and he doesn't think he can handle it. He wonders if God could. He doesn't think so.