So, I think I might have slightly messed with the actual timeline of the canon ... I'm not sure ... but hopefully you all can just go with it.
Rei, Man on the Moon, and Seasponges ... you all are so awesome for following and commenting. Like I said, this is just a story I wanted to try out for myself and it might not be my best work, since I'm kind of unused to certain elements, so I apologize for any mistakes ... but it's extremely nice and fun to have a few people who diligently follow .. :).
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or profit financially from this work.
XX
They sat across the room from each other, a dozen feet or so of actual space between them and countless miles of invisible tension. At least that's how Deidara felt - annoyingly hot, bothered, and distracted, though he tried with all his might not to be.
They were seated with their respective partners nearby: Itachi looking cool and relaxed beside his huge, blue shark of a teammate; Deidara leaning forward in front of Sasori, intent, restless, and twitching, but no more so than usual.
He felt like it was more than usual, though. He had never been this self-aware of the placement of his hands or the precise angle he was using to cock his head or the manner in which he twisted the blue ring on right index finger. Everything felt a little off and he thought it must be glaringly obvious to everyone that he was struggling to focus. Could the other shinobi see the bruises on his hips and ass, or was it just his imagination?
He tried to avoid looking at Itachi at all costs, mostly because he couldn't possibly bear to see Itachi glance back at him lethargically or with unimpressed disdain, as he was sure to do. It would hurt too much, even though Dei knew in his mind that it was the right and rational response given the circumstances. Still, the sensitive artist steered clear of putting himself in that situation. But as he worked to keep his eyes glued to the filmy hologram of their Leader, Pein, he couldn't help feeling even more self-conscious and wondering if that seemed more suspicious.
"Do I usually stare this intently at only one person? Don't I usually look around? Or play with my clay? Oh fuck, this is so stupid."
They were going to start hunting Jinchuriki to obtain all of the nine tailed beasts. That's what the mysterious Rinnegan-eyed leader told them. It didn't seem like that big of an announcement, especially since there was little to no explanation of why this was the group's next course of action.
But every one of them was fully aware that Pein was setting into motion his master plan and it was obvious it had to do with world domination. What other reason could there be? For each, that held a different meaning as every single member had a unique and specific reason for participating in the Akatsuki.
Pein told them he would give them more details later and then the Jinchuriki were divided up. Deidara and Sasori were instructed to start with the One-Tail from Suna and Itachi and Kisame the Nine-Tails from Konoha, and then move onto the Four-tails.
Deidara finally let his eyes settle on the composed raven for just a second and was surprised to note the way his long, pale fingers were curling a little too tightly around the edge of his cloak. It was a small sign, one that would never be noticed except by someone who had studied the young man with obsessive diligence and had learned to read even the tiniest physical changes as they were only way of understanding the silent Uchiha.
But Deidara was immediately able to tell that something about this mission was causing emotional distress, although the exquisite, pale face didn't move at all.
That realization shocked him and sent him into a mental frenzy to figure out the source of this distress. Deidara knew it couldn't be the level of difficulty of the mission. There wasn't a single one of the tailed beast hosts that could hold a candle to the talented, brilliant Itachi, Deidara was positive.
"But why then?" Deidara couldn't stop his own concern from rising in response to capturing that miniscule insight into Itachi's feelings. As always, any pain Itachi experienced was not only mirrored in Deidara, but also magnified because of the artist's proclivity toward emotional extremities.
He was curious and that only served to make him feel frustrated that he wouldn't have a chance to speak about it with Itachi before the two-man cells all split up and left to do information gathering before putting concrete actions in motion.
Pein said that might take some time as they wanted to continue operating under the radar for the most part, which meant stealthy, well-thought out plans were better then abrasive, impulsive attacks.
After Pein's image disintegrated, the group members who were staying at the hideout began to disperse.
"Come on," Sasori said dully, standing to his feet.
Deidara glanced once more at Itachi and then followed suit. He was young and unpredictable, but also competent and professional and he wouldn't let any damn romantic feelings get in the way of performing to the best of his abilities, as usual.
"Guess we'll see you two in a while," Kisame said, picking up his large sword and securing it on his back.
"Shouldn't be too long. We'll have the One-tail in no time," Sasori answered, his voice never carrying any sort of inflection.
If either of them noticed the sexual tension between their younger teammates, who were avoiding eye contact, they didn't say anything.
Itachi was staring forward; his beautiful face looked like it was carved out of stone. Deidara simply busied himself making sure his pouch full of clay was secure on his slim hips, although he already knew it was.
"Hmph," Kisame responded, his mouth stretching into an arrogant smile at Sasori's insinuated challenge. He continued boldly, "We'll be meeting to extract the Nine-tails before we meet for the One-Tail."
Already fully cloaked and ready to go, Kisame and Itachi walked past the puppet master and his blonde subordinate, who was about to reach down and pick up his cloak when he was suddenly shoved back roughly. Itachi had swept past him, intentionally pushing his shoulder into the artist's.
Confused, Deidara let out the appropriate, indignant humph at what appeared to be just a normal display of arrogance on the part of the Uchiha.
But then, concealed by the meeting of their thick cloaks, he felt a slight squeeze on his wrist. It was extremely gentle and gone in a flash, but it made his flesh burn and sent thrills throughout his lithe body, nonetheless. Itachi didn't turn his head.
Deidara willed himself not to shiver at the delicate touch and instead scowled at the long black ponytail hanging from the back of Itachi's head as he and Kisame left the hideout.
Inside, however, his heart was doing all sorts of complicated acrobatics as it flipped from warm affection to dismal sadness at seeing Itachi for the last time for awhile and then over to discontent with himself for being so easily jumbled and distracted.
"Are you ready?" Sasori asked with an impatient sigh.
Deidara nodded, running his fingers gently over the place where Itachi's had just touched for an instant. He tried to sear into his brain the details of even that miniature, but no less intimate physical interaction with his beloved Uchiha.
"Let's get this over with," Sasori continued, settling into his puppet and heading out the door.
Deidara nodded vigorously. He couldn't agree more with his Danna, although he had his own secret reasons for wanting to hurry through this mission and get back to a mutual meeting of the members ... or maybe a meeting with just one in particular.
XXX
After Dei, Kisame was Itachi's favorite person in the Akatsuki, although the distance and nature between his positive feelings for the two had been greatly extended and twisted over the past few weeks as he fell deeper and deeper in ... he wouldn't finish the sentence to himself.
"I don't love him," he thought with disproportionate disgust at the notion as he tried hard to hastily bury any inclination of admitting such a stupid thing.
The thing he liked most about his teammate was that Kisame was easy to understand and often had a one-track mind. He respected Itachi enough to let the younger Uchiha prodigy call the shots most of the time. And in the simplicity of their relationship, Itachi found it effortless to get comfortable. He never had to worry about Kisame, he never had to analyze Kisame, he never had to clean up after Kisame: it was a nice, clean deal with the shark nin.
Did he particularly like Kisame's style of fighting? Hell, no. As a secret pacifist, Itachi only harmed or killed others out of necessity, a trademark that the other members found particularly confusing, sometimes even humorous, even though Itachi chalked it up to not wanting to waste his time with people who weren't worth it. The same was not true of Kisame, who thirsted for violence and blood, and claimed his sentient sword did, as well.
"I have to keep Samehada fed," he would often joke with a vicious glint in his piercing eyes before finding every excuse to destroy.
So that vastly varying personality trait did cause Itachi some disgust and dislike at times, but he kept it hidden. And when they weren't being forced to engage in physical combat with other ninjas, the two got along just fine.
As they walked along a path, heading toward a small village outside Konoha where they could station themselves, they talked about their impending mission.
"So, what's the game plan?" Kisame asked, a devilish smile spreading across the face. He loved talking about missions. He loved getting to plan out how to do the most damage possible. One-track minded for sure, Itachi thought.
"We need to take our time. We aren't going to just waltz into the village, especially since, for all we know, Na-the One-tail Jinchuriki isn't even there. We'll do some reconnaissance work first."
Kisame nodded. "Yeah, that's true. Good idea. It's a good thing we were given this Jinchuriki since no one knows Konoha better than you."
Itachi knew Kisame just meant among the Akatsuki members, but he couldn't help thinking about how he really did know Konoha as well as or better than most everybody.
As a teenager he had spent hours in the archives, learning about the village's history and studying the nature and histories of all the clans. He could recite without mistake detail after detail, fact after fact, going back decades. He also knew particulars about the village elders - awful, horrifying, heartbreaking particulars that made him cringe.
"It will be an easy mission," he lied, not blinking an eye. It could be an easy mission. It was him and Kisame, for fuck's sake. But it wouldn't be. Or more precisely, it wouldn't even be successful. But he had a few weeks to figure out how to orchestrate and spin their failure. Especially since he already knew Naruto wasn't in the village but was actually off training with one of the famous Leaf Sannin.
Oh well. What Kisame didn't know wouldn't hurt him and it'd buy them some time.
"It better be," Kisame growled excitedly. "Nice, quick, and easy. After all, we can't have Sasori and his little bitch showing us up."
Itachi felt himself going ice cold then embarrassingly hot in a quick and strange response to Kisame's words. His belligerent defensiveness shocked him, but he couldn't help himself. How dare Kisame call Deidara that?!
For sure, everyone liked to tease Dei mercilessly because he was the youngest of the group and so, so easy to pick on, even though they all regarded the 17-year-old as equal - well, almost equal - in talent. But still ... ! "Twerp" was fine; "arrogant kid" was just true; ... but "bitch" went too far.
But then Itachi felt a slight throbbing in his groin when a good deal of blood rushed down there. He couldn't stop it, try as he might to control his hormones.
He hoped his cheeks were still their normal pale color as he thought with sinful delight, "But he is a little bitch... a sweet, beautiful, fucking adorable little bitch."
He remembered with thick, oozing pleasure how simultaneously precious and erotic Dei looked with his back arching as Itachi spanked his naughty little ass, and then pounded it hard. "But he's my bitch! No one else ever has a right to call him that! How dare Kisame?!"
Back at square one in a flash. Itachi didn't move a muscle beside swallowing. "Yeah, you're right."
"We sure do make up a strange hodgepodge of criminals," Kisame mused. "Luckily there are no truly bad eggs."
Itachi wanted let out a brittle laugh as he tried to figure out what kind of gauge exactly Kisame used to determine what made someone "bad."
"Most of them present a pretty good challenge, even," Kisame continued genially, just making small talk as they walked along. They had plenty of time to address the details of their mission. "Sasori, in particular, has a way of making me feel extremely competitive ... he's so quiet and threatening and thinks he's all that ... kind of like you, Itachi.."
Itachi wasn't sure there was a single person who didn't make Kisame get all competitive, and he also wasn't sure which of the Akastuki members could be described as holding even a sliver of humility, but he said nothing.
"Hidan's just loud, but the fact that he's immortal gives him an interesting twist. Wouldn't mind going head to head with him. Kakuzu cares too much about money and collecting bounties without sharing the wealth with the organization. I'm not sure what I think about that. Deidara ..."
Itachi could feel those discombobulating feelings swelling inside him once more. He wanted to talk about Dei. But he also really, really didn't want to talk about Dei.
"Just an oddball. I think he's willing to sacrifice way too much for his stupid art. Probably going to die young, right?" Kisame asked with a knowing smile.
Itachi forced himself to nod.
They had had this conversation before: him, Sasori, and Kisame, when they had gone to retrieve some notorious terrorist bomber who hired himself out for "odd jobs" while keeping a very low, low profile after the whole mess in Iwakagure. Something about the kid had caught Pein's attention and he just had to have him.
Itachi thought back to that time. He hadn't admitted this to himself ever before, but he could now see that he had been a bit stricken with Dei's gorgeous looks even back then. Probably something about the combination of the flowing golden hair and flashing azure eyes ... and, of course, Dei's tight butt.
However, catching the trim, unruly blonde in his genjutsu had been way too easy and his quick assumption that Dei was shallow and worthless was a good way to cover up any sort of positive emotions that might have been triggered by the artist's refined, nearly supernatural beauty.
The three had simply stared, bored and lethargic, when Deidara had adamantly declared he would not be joining their organization.
He remembered Sasori's disdain: "You're telling me I have to be partners with him?"
They were so different, the two artists of the Akatsuki. Sasori firmly believed art should be something beautiful, resilient, and lasting, yet he was so impatient when it came to finishing their dirty work quickly. Dei was ... flighty, impulsive, spontaneous ... crazy. But obsessively committed to do anything to become a better artist. Those elements combined had made the three quite sure, even in their first introduction to the bomber, that Deidara would have a short life.
Itachi hated that thought now. He said nothing, letting his partner continue his analysis of each of the members. It was the only form of gossip they ever indulged in, mostly because they didn't really interact with other people or socialize in general.
While Kisame talked and Itachi gave perfunctory nods and uttered the occasional "hn," he let his mind wander ... dangerously. Even as he began to form a picture of Deidara in his mind, he knew he shouldn't. He shouldn't risk getting aroused. He shouldn't risk his feelings growing for Dei. He shouldn't risk missing Dei ... missing? Itachi couldn't believe how pathetic he was. He wasn't allowed to miss people, damn it!
But he kind of did. He knew it would be weeks before they saw each other. That shouldn't matter, right? This whole ... thing ... with Dei should be the most trivial, non-meaningful thing in his life. Although, Itachi couldn't help reprimanding himself for getting caught in the self-told lie that he was capable of such a thing.
Itachi didn't do meaningless. The reason he detached himself from all feelings and cared so little about everything and everyone was because his complex nature made him capable of caring too much. It had to be all or nothing.
He thought about that perfect face, those alluring, bright blue eyes, the slim body covered in luxurious, bronzed skin, and that undeniably winning grin. But he couldn't stop himself there, even though he could already feel blood pumping through his veins at an abnormally fast rate.
He thought of the way those slim legs looked so perfect when moonlight spilled over them, highlighting the toned muscles just right. He thought of how damn blood boiling, chest-tightening sexy it was to see and feel his hard cock slide between the curves of Dei's delicious ass and into his tight heat. He thought of the way being intimate with Dei had led him into a world that was full of the artist's cute little quirks, like the way he stuttered and blushed every time Itachi paid him a compliment, or the way he would laugh or grin in awkward situations, or the way he would bite on his plump lower lip whenever he was angry or aroused. Fuck, Dei was just cute. That was all there was to it. The quixotic, fun-loving, crazy little artist infected and affected Itachi so mysteriously and deeply. He had gotten under Itachi's skin one too many times and then just decided to stay there, Itachi concluded.
So where did this fall on the whole all or nothing spectrum? ... It didn't.
Now feeling incredibly hot and bothered but also confused and angry with himself once more, he snapped his mind shut on those stupid thoughts and images. No, no. He would not think of Dei naked, sweaty, and on all fours. No. He would not recall in perfect detail the affectionate way he had felt when Dei talked about the tragic things he had been through in his earlier life. No. He would not feel all giddy and juvenile remembering what it was like to mess around and tease with the teenager.
No. He would not.
Itachi broke the silence that had started sometime - he wasn't sure when - and brought the conversation back around to their mission so they could hammer out details. Luckily, it consumed all discussion they had for the rest of the first day of their trip.
Night had fallen when they decided to stop and set up camp. Itachi felt surprisingly weary, despite the fact their journey had not been at all strenuous. He just wanted to sit down.
"Odd," he thought, letting his brows furrow as he dropped his cloak to the floor.
His head hurt. Why? It usually only did that when he had used his Kekkei Genkai too long or too intensely. He slowly ran his hand through his silky black hair as he tried to pinpoint a reason.
"You think it's safe to build a fire?" Kisame asked.
A cold, icy wind had indeed begun to blow as the sky turned darker, but Itachi hadn't realized he was cold.
He looked around vaguely. They were pretty far away from any villages and towns at this point and he couldn't sense anyone else around. He shrugged. "Sure ... why not?"
Turning away from Kisame, he began to pick up small sticks and dry brush to use as kindling. Suddenly, without warning, a sharp, piercing cough clattered its way through his body, leaving him bent over and breathless. Odd. So very, very odd.
Embarrassed, though he wasn't sure why ... it's not like he could control his coughs, right? ... he began to stand back up, only to be attacked by another severe coughing fit. He covered his mouth with his hand to try to mitigate the sound, as if that would help it seem less weird and annoying.
"You alright?" Kisame called out casually.
Slightly alarmed, but feeling like the worst of the random occurrence was over, Itachi got control of his voice, swallowed down a weird taste in his mouth, and muttered dully, "Yeah."
Reaching down to continue picking up pieces of wood, he had to stifle a gasp of shock. His pale, long fingers were spattered all over with bulbous drops of bright, red blood.