Ah, okay, so I tried a different kind of format for this chapter, so tell me what you think. Is it confusing at the end? I don't know. I was re-reading Brave New World, and I like the montage scene in chapter 3 so I tried something like that; for anyone who knows what I'm talking about. Anyway...the story is going to start getting more cannon, set to the shippuuden time period. Ahm...yeah.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. really.
Deidara bit his lip harder, and narrowed his eyes at the red head, who was shaking uncontrollably. Why won't he look at me? Deidara fidgeted on his bed as he watched the red head remain facing the wall. Now the blond was angry, if Sasori had the balls to say that he didn't care about him then fine, but do it to his face.
"Danna, if you're going to tell me that, look at me, yeah." Deidara mumbled, his voice strangled and choked.
Sasori's trembling ceased and he became frighteningly still, like a snake before it strikes. The red head turned slowly to face the blond, his face devoid of emotion. Deidara watched the puppeteer's mouth open, but heard nothing come out. Sasori shut his mouth, eyebrows furrowing. Deidara held his breath, trying to calm down his raging emotions, and the fluttering in his chest.
"Say it, danna, yeah. Say you hate me. Say you don't feel anything for me but contempt, yeah." Deidara pressed, a sneer on his red face.
Sasori opened his mouth again, and Deidara's breath caught in his throat. "I—" Sasori coughed. "I hate you."
Deidara smirked, Sasori's eyes fluttered away from him to gaze at a spot on the chipped wall behind his head. "Look at me, yeah, not the wall, danna."
Sasori set his jaw angrily and his eyes flickered over the blond's hopeful face. Deidara felt the weight of the look, tilted his head to the side, and rose from the bed.
"Danna…" Deidara reached out to touch Sasori, who drew back quickly. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel anything for me, yeah."
Sasori backed himself against the wall, desperate to get away from the advancing blond artist. Sasori refused to look at the blond hovering inches before him. He wanted to lash out, to push Deidara away, to run away and never have to think or feel again. That wasn't going to happen and he knew it, but he could imagine. If he had really wanted to get away he would have been gone by now. Why did he want to stay? He was genuinely furious with the blond before him studying his reactions, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything else to him. He couldn't take back what he'd said earlier, but he wished he could, and wishing had never gotten him anywhere.
Deidara advanced still closer, his gaze sweeping over Sasori's look of discomfort and guilt. "Sasori-danna, yeah…" Sasori's eyes flickered to meet the blond's. "…tell me you hate me." Deidara was a breath away.
Sasori struggled to focus on the clay artist in front of him, "…I can't..." His whisper was barely audible. "…I'd be lying." Sasori closed his eyes. Why had he said that; why had he put himself out in the open to get hurt? Why, when he had the opportunity hadn't he run away again, why hadn't he acted on the pent up anger, why was he allowing the blond to get so close?
Sasori felt a swirl of chakra dance across his lips. "Oh, this is why," was the only thing that crossed the red head's abused brain. Sasori forgot to think, and lost himself in a kiss he had promised himself he wouldn't submit to.
-
Kisame was pacing wildly, muttering to himself, displeased with the information he had just received. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all; it was too soon, they had just recovered enough members and already they were starting the third stage? "Damn."
Itachi wouldn't be pleased, however good it would be for him to be away from the manipulative blond. He hated to crush the brunette's misconstrued hopes, but he wanted to protect him, and make sure he was happy…maybe it was easier this way. Maybe it was a jab from fate. Hell if Kisame cared, it was a chance. "Even if it seems too soon, it's too late."
Deidara urged Sasori on, sweat coating his body, slipping down his throat, hitting the sheets. Sasori grunted, and Deidara arched off the mattress, chakra surged. Light-headed-ness, lethargy, warmth.
Itachi felt nauseous. An ominous shiver went down his spine. He let his knees buckle beneath him, and he retched. A sign, thought, a bad one at that. Itachi wiped his mouth and rose to his feet, legs shaky beneath him. He felt tired, so tired. He tried to keep his eyes open, but it was dark out. Dark meant sleep. Itachi's body crumpled on the floor as he lost consciousness.
Kisame was returning from his jaunt through the compound's grounds. He narrowed his eyes at the all-encompassing silence that filled the air. "Strange…"
He took his time strolling through the hallway, wondering where everyone was. He opened his door. He saw Itachi.
Sasori lay next to Deidara on the bed, mixed up thoughts in his head as he traced intricate patterns on the blond's arm.
Kisame checked Itachi's pulse, slightly elevated. Fever? Check. The shark-nin carefully picked up the brunette and laid him across his own bed, tilting his head slightly to the side. He ran to the bathroom to dampen a cloth to soothe the sharingan wielder's fever.
Deidara stirred, sleepily tightening his grip on the red head's waist.
Itachi shifted as something wet dripped down is forehead and cheeks.
Kisame breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Sasori smiled to himself.
"So you forgive me, yeah?"
"You've got a fever, Itachi-san."
"Do I?"
"Obviously."
"You've overworked yourself."
In two different rooms, four people sighed simultaneously.
Sasori shifted to get up and Deidara stiffened. Kisame turned toward the door and Itachi bit his lip.
"Don't go."
"I'm not going anywhere."
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