Hidan groaned inwardly. Deidara was like his worst enemy and best friend in one. At first he thought it was an oxymoron, a contradiction of terms, but then he realized with surprising profoundness that it was highly possible.

Your best friend knows how to be your worst enemy, he thought dramatically, too freaked the fuck out to even congratulate himself on this little phrase of wit.

"You seem to be having some trouble there," Deidara said, his eyes glittering gleefully. Hidan gulped. His eyes ran from the top of Deidara's bouncy blonde ponytail down to his black toenails.

"N-no, I'm fine, really,"

Hidan tore his eyes away and tried desperately to find a distraction, some sort of excuse, because once Deidara began his delicious handiwork on Hidan's package, it was all over.

Deidara cocked his head to the side at Hidan's back. It was pocketed with small wounds and scratches. It was far too obvious that Hidan was trying to avoid him.

Does this count as sexual harassment? Hidan thought stupidly as he knocked a giant book aside and shuffled through a box.

"You know you can't keep running forever,"

Hidan scratched his head in irritation. He looked over his shoulder at Deidara, who was still standing there like he owned the place, the smug little rat. He had crossed his arms and was tapping his finger on his elbow, waiting for a retort. When he didn't get one in the preferred time frame, he said: "In all seriousness, Hidan…,"

The Jashinist turned to look at him, to analyze his features for any sign of having a nasty ulterior motive. With his thickly lined eyes, Deidara's gaze was piercing, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest that he wanted to have Hidan killed under the false pretense that he, too, raped Deidara.

Maybe I should trust him, he thought to himself. I mean, I do—Hidan swallowed hard—love him. Don't you trust people you love?

Truthfully, Hidan wouldn't know, because he had never loved anyone ever before. He was sure that he had a family, and he wondered if they'd truly loved him, and therefore placed a lot of trust in him. Then he doubted it. He had a ratty, suspicious air about him from the age of five, ever since he stumbled across that book of Jashin…and again, Hidan wanted to kick himself in the nuts for sounding like such a lovesick pansy.

"Hidan?"

Hidan snapped out of his reverie and looked at Deidara, who looked slightly dismayed.

"Sorry, I was just…thinking,"

Deidara's mouth formed a thin line. He walked over to Hidan, his coat making soft swishing noises and reached up to Hidan. From an impulse, Hidan pulled away. He felt Deidara pause, and then braced himself to expect the worst. So what if his dick was sore? Another blow job would be really good right now—

"Mmm,"

Hidan felt the scrumptious softness of Deidara's prissy little lips press against his cheek in what took him three seconds too long to realize was a kiss. They felt cool and warm at the same time, with the right about of wetness. Hidan could have imagined it, but there was probably a flick of the tongue as well, against his cheek.

Deidara was surprised at how smooth Hidan's cheek was: like the rest of his body, it had looked tough and Deidara had assumed that the skin there was probably gross because it had been scuffed and ripped so many times. But it was okay. He would smell great with cologne. Come to think of it, Hidan did kind of look like a cologne-advertisement kind of guy, also given that he was clean shaven. Deidara resisted the urge to stroke that cheek, not wanting to give Hidan such satisfaction tonight, and instead drew away slowly, giving Hidan one last smoldering look before pivoting on his heel and walking away. His blonde hair had barely disappeared from view when Hidan touched two fingers to the spot Deidara had kissed and groaning slightly. His face was on fire. His heart was racing. The kiss had seemed...loving.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Deidara was gliding confidently past Sasori's room when he caught something in the corner of his eye. At first, he didn't want to admit it, but then...he took several steps back. He was right. The edges of his lips curled up in amusement and triumph.

"Sasori," he said, grinning.

"Deidara," Sasori returned curtly. The puppeteer cursed himself. He still thought Deidara was hot, even after...? He couldn't really blame himself, could he? Admittedly, to anyone, Sasori was sure, the expression Deidara wore at that moment was nothing short of hot.

Deidara didn't even walk hesitantly. He just walked into the room like he had so many times before. He looked around at the cobwebs that had collected in the corners where the wall met the ceiling, and between the line of limp, dusty puppets. He didn't even wince at Sasori's appearance, which looked like it was rotting on the spot.

"I never knew you could come back as a ghost," Deidara began, like this was a perfectly normal conversational topic. He sounded as carefree as one would when commenting on the loveliness of the weather. Sasori wanted to punch him.

"I really thought you had left this world once and for all, Sasori no danna, hmm?"

Sasori for some reason recoiled slightly when Sasori no danna left Deidara's mouth. The motherfucker still spoke like he was guiltless, like he didn't just frame Sasori and got him killed. Had him assassinated. All these nights, especially on those when Hidan didn't pay him visits, he'd pondered over and over what he'd spit to Deidara when he finally let the bomber see him. But he couldn't say anything, and he didn't no why. Wait...was he scared?

Pffft. Scared? Scared of Deidara?

Even to himself, Sasori sounded fake. And in denial. And certainly...there was something about Deidara that was different. Sasori forced himself not to be ignorant: Deidara definitely had earned some credit for being able to control three Akatsuki members at some point, to some extent. Yes, Itachi now hated Deidara for using him, but he had believed Deidara and trusted him. Deidara hadn't even spelt it all out for Itachi, but Itachi had executed exactly what Deidara wanted him to. And that was the worst: when your reactions were predictable and someone could use you as their pawn. Second, Sasori himself. Deidara...had actually made Sasori believe that he was ready for consensual sex, that he had finally come to truths with himself and wanted to fuck Sasori. Or be fucked. Whatever- sex was an irresistable thing. Lust...lust was one of the seven deadly sins. Lechery. Sasori glanced at Deidara, who was standing there, biting his nails, his eyes skipping all over Sasori's dark, dank room. Definitely a deadly sin. It had certainly been deadly for him, Sasori.

And third: Hidan. Hidan wasn't exactly the most desirable male, whether in the Akatsuki for his brash skills or even in bed, but he was still practically invincible. It was an ability Sasori had to confess was enviable, if anything. It was the only thing spectacular about Hidan. Sasori himself had to spend copious amounts of time preparing his puppet's defences and Hidan needed pretty much zero of that.

"So," Deidara said. "Are you going to say anything, or what?"

Sasori eyed him in annoyance. Since when did he get so...so...powerful? This thought was obviously displayed on his charred features, because Deidara let out a derisive snort.

"A genius doesn't only need IQ, Sasori," he explained. He ran his tongue across his upper lip. The brat is doing that on purpose, Sasori growled in his head. It had been Sasori's favourite move, to pull Deidara's upper lip between his two own and suck it hard. "You also need EQ,"

And with that, he left.