As Kakuzu headed up to the Heath to walk his dogs, Konan was stepping with some trepidation into a branch of Wetherspoons on Old Street. 'The Masque Haunt' - as it styled itself - wasn't the kind of establishment she was used to frequenting; it smelt a bit of stale gravy, and seemed to be populated largely by unattractively ageing men whose heads made a brief turn from the television screens at her entrance. But that wasn't the problem - after all, she was at heart still the same girl who, at fourteen, had blagged her way to getting all three of them served in the grottiest old-man pubs in Merthyr with various cunningly made fake IDs. But Nagato had asked her to meet Tobi here, and they both knew a request from Tobi wasn't something she could very well refuse.

She spotted him in a little side booth, waving amiably at her - and to add to her unease there was a woman with him who she recognised as one of Nagato's pet Akatsuki Magazine columnists. In fact, she'd sent her up to Nagato herself a few years ago as an inexperienced young journalist. Since then she'd made quite a name for herself as an interviewer; she'd done a pretty devastating hatchet-job on an ex-tutor from Goldsmiths only a few months ago...

"You know Ajisai, don't you Konan!" Tobi said excitedly. "She's doing a feature on your old friend Jiraiya Gama for the magazine! She wants to hear all about when he was your art teacher!"

Konan sat down and didn't say anything for a moment. One look at Tobi was enough to confirm the angle he wanted for this. She felt a little sick, but then all the old anger came surging back up, and, he deserves it, she let herself think. She thought of her own train wreck of a personal life, of Yahiko's shattered dreams, of Nagato's bitterness. Sending Tobi to the bar to get her a gin and tonic, she leant her elbows on the table and started telling Ajisai everything. Starting with that icebreaker disco, and working every nuance, every touch, every closed door and ill-advised compliment and finally his parting words to her - 'come and see me when you're eighteen' - for maximum damage.

An hour out on the Heath with his dogs had gone some way towards dispelling Kakuzu's nagging sense of unease, but by the time he was back in the warehouse - sitting in the 'front row' and waiting for the show to begin - it was beginning to regroup.

The front row at men's fashion week wasn't somewhere he'd ever expected to find himself - after all, he'd had all his suits handmade by the same Savile Row tailor for the last decade. He briefly entertained the idea that perhaps it was simply the unfamiliarity of the setting that was bothering him but that was rubbish, really. Kakuzu wasn't the type to be bothered by his surroundings.

'Irritated' was a whole other ball game though. A few sidelong glances showed him that all around people were talking with exaggerated intensity about what seemed to him the utterly inane and banal. They all seemed to greet each other with the kind of social kisses he particularly hated, but none of them seemed to even like each other. And the amount of subtle undermining that was going on! Well, he could almost admire their prowess at that. He'd been pretty expert at it himself during all his previous relationships... and if he'd been in the mood for excoriating honesty he'd have had to admit that he'd been guilty of doing it to Hidan a fair few times as well.

Pushing that thought out of his head, he looked determinedly straight ahead of him and allowed himself to fantasise about ways to escape this horrendous situation. An urgent call, perhaps? A deal that couldn't wait? A once in a lifetime chance to acquire something fabulously rare..? A Hashirama Senju perhaps. Hidan would of course be angry with him - and deservedly so - so it would have to be an excuse that would stand up. He'd have to actually find a Hashirama to buy, and then probably give it to him... The idea made him smile for a moment, but he quickly schooled his features back into their habitual forbidding expression in case anyone saw it as an opening and tried to engage him in conversation.

He looked at his watch; the show was now running more than ten minutes behind schedule. Kakuzu hated waiting and his fingertips started to beat a subconscious tattoo on the arm of his chair. He risked glancing around to see if there was any sign of the show getting underway.

But he wasn't surreptitious enough, and a massive guy with bleached cornrows managed to make eye contact. He was very obviously dressed head to foot in couture - of the type that most people would consider a catwalk-only look - and, horrifyingly, instead of letting his eyes slide decently away with the merest of nods as Kakuzu was doing, he leant in and started nodding with a really disturbing amount of rhythm.

"Yeahh, keep that beat going..." he grinned.

Kakuzu immediately froze, but his new acquaintance was unperturbed, and - after a prolonged pause in which his whole body seemed to pulse to the now non-existent beat - spoke to him in what seemed to be some kind of loosely rhyming doggerel. "Man, a brother on the front row, makes a change from fashion crows, yo; I haven't had the pleasure of an introduction homie, but I know you from the street - lets not stand on ceremony!"

And before Kakuzu had quite processed what was happening to him, the guy was actually fist-bumping him. He had no idea how it was that his own hand was responding in kind - it seemed to have been an automatic reflex. He was uncomfortably aware of the flash of a camera flash at the edge of his vision and tried hard not to think about tomorrow morning's front pages.

"You ... have the advantage of me, I'm afraid," he said, his tone as chilly and repressive as he could make it- although actually the man did look familiar.

"Call me Bee - Killer Bee - you mighta heard my name," his new friend was continuing, seemingly oblivious to Kakuzu's discomfort. "I have to run a fashion house but rapping is my game."

It wasn't so much the having to listen to the awful rhymes as the continuing to exist afterwards - and more specifically to exist in conversation with their creator; Kakuzu wanted the ground to swallow him up. "Forgive me, I'm not really very familiar with - uh - rap music..." he stated, making it sound as damning as he possibly could.

Killer Bee wasn't done though. "I'm a musician, yeah, of my own volition - people say focus on the fashion but I ain't gonna listen!"

"I'm ... really not enough of a connoisseur of the genre to be able to fully appreciate your... uh... your..." Kakuzu claimed, desperately hoping this would be enough to persuade Killer Bee to stop. But no.

"Come along, Kakuzu, don't be shy!" he replied, utterly unperturbed. "You might be reserved but I think you're pretty fly! You're art scene nobility, exuding virility, hanging with a crowd that's into social mobility. The other collectors better watch their backs -

"Their net worth is less than my capital gains tax?" Kakuzu suggested drily, finally deciding that all resistance was futile.

"Fucking-A man!" Killer Bee seemed delighted and burst out laughing. "Kakuzu, Kakuzu, Kakuzu!" he said, shaking his head. "Not such a novice after all, are you?"

"I can assure you I'm as ignorant as they come," Kakuzu demurred with the tiniest hint of a smile. His own foray into rhyme seemed to have improved his mood a little - and perhaps he also felt better for having someone to talk to who wasn't trying to kiss him. He allowed himself to thaw a little. "Though I'll admit to reading a lot of poetry. We're ... neighbours, aren't we?" he added, suddenly placing Bee in his memory. "I've seen you around Parliament Hill..?"

"We are indeed!" Bee agreed. "I'm just around the corner from you in Tanza Road - in fact I can see your house from my doorstep! I know because I always notice you coming out in the morning with your beautiful dogs. Ah, man, I love animals, I'd love to have pets of my own, but my schedule takes me away such a lot..."

"Mm-hmm?" Kakuzu opted for a vaguely questioning but noncommittal demeanour but Bee didn't elaborate.

"... there's a beautiful grey cat in the neighbourhood who's kind of adopted me though..." he was saying instead, with a fond smile, "but she's very independent. I'm not even sure where she goes half the week but she's a total sweetheart - ever so cuddly!"

"Is that so," Kakuzu murmured. He didn't consider himself a cat person - particularly after the damage Kisame's demon in feline form had done to Hidan that morning - but he was saved from having to say so by the house lights beginning to dim. Out of the gloom - just in time - Konan was suddenly slipping into the seat next to him. She squeezed his hand.

"Sorry I'm so late!" she whispered. That made Kakuzu begin to wonder why she was. The gallery was only round the corner and one might almost call punctuality one of Konan's defining features. Something must surely have come up.

But before he could ask the lights dimmed further and a sort of pulsing sound made him think there was some kind of alarm going off on the street outside, or maybe a lorry reversing- then it was joined by a sort of metallic descending grind. By the time he'd figured out it was the screech of an electric guitar, a floodlight effect was bathing the runway, then dropping to an almost strobing flicker before a spotlight picked out the top of a sort of scaffold at the far end of the warehouse. And there was Hidan, black and white smeared down one side of his face like a smudged handprint, like some kind of grim reaper. He was also on his bike - or some kind of BMX version of it, anyway - and suddenly Kakuzu's heart was in his mouth. There was only one way he could go from there. His palms tingled and his heart seemed to swoop down into the pit of his stomach. He could kill Hidan for not warning him about this!

Konan was squeezing his arm. 'There's a brand new dance but I don't know it's name-' came the unmistakable voice of David Bowie and on cue Hidan was riding full tilt down the scaffold staircase. Kakuzu wanted to close his eyes but he physically couldn't. Every nerve in his body was straining to follow Hidan's every move. You're going to kill yourself! he was screaming inside, and someone actually did scream as Hidan hurtled down the runway and stopped dead with half the front wheel over the end. He was motionless for a moment, staring unseeingly over the crowd, then abruptly pulled a wheelie and hopped the bike around, then cast it casually aside. 'We are the goon squad and we're coming to town... beep beep...' sang Bowie and suddenly Kakuzu noticed what looked like other male models completely in the buff - but probably wearing nude body stockings - swarming up onto the runway. They surged after Hidan in a kind of commando-crawl, grasping for his heels as he worked his way back along the catwalk and vanished through a dark scaffold arch under the staircase.

As Kakuzu calmed down a little he realised he was experiencing another of those bouts of arrhythmia. Quite a prolonged one this time. Perhaps he wasn't looking too good either, because Konan was asking him in a whisper, "are you alright, Kakuzu?"

But he didn't answer, because Hidan was back - on the other side of the stairs where there must be another doorway - looking over his shoulder with an almost comical attitude of alarm. He had another smear of black and white down the other cheekbone. Kakuzu didn't even notice if his outfit had changed at all, but he took a deep breath and did manage to relax slightly. The music was now a kind of electrofunk remix of the Bowie song and it seemed that things might be more like a regular fashion show now. Suigetsu appeared behind Hidan - dressed now - and after him a steady stream of other models, all of them with their hair styled like Hidan's and echoes of the streaks of facepaint. Even to Kakuzu's un-fashion-educated eye they were clearly wearing variations of the look that Hidan was leading with. He started to calm down a little more and patted Konan's hand reassuringly, taking the opportunity to detach it from his arm.

"Well, that's put about twenty years on me," he murmured, attempting a wry tone. "What's a fashion show doing trying to be so radical?" The wry tone didn't really come off that well. And he wasn't feeling much better yet to be honest; breathless and sweaty. Unwillingly, he admitted to himself that he had to do something about these strange turns. He'd call Kabuto tomorrow - just to talk it over, he told himself.

"It's just because it's Men's Fashion Week..." Konan murmured comfortingly. "It's got a reputation for it. There was a giant papier mâché blob one year..."

Some macho thing then, Kakuzu thought letting out a little hmph of annoyance. He decided to ignore the fashion entirely, and he soon found he wasn't bothering to look at any of the other models either; just waiting for Hidan to come around again. It was like a form of exquisite torture watching him up there, illuminated and so beautiful, but untouchable, distant. The arrogant self assurance of his expression, the swagger, the look in his eye like he was on his way to kick his worst enemy over the edge of a cliff... there was no doubt he was good at this, and more than that, he was enjoying himself - being the centre of attention suited him and this fashion with an edge of performance art was exactly what he needed to stop him feeling like he was selling out.

There was one more slightly disturbing moment at the end when Hidan picked up the bike again, then went speeding for the staircase and actually climbed right up it. Kakuzu had previously had no idea such a thing was even possible and frankly he wished he didn't now. The other models melted back off the runway, the spotlight picked Hidan out one last time, and then went black.

Then it was all over and Yugito was stalking down the runway to rapturous applause. She took a little bow, then went backstage for a moment and emerged with Hidan; a little tousled and flushed and suddenly human-looking again. They walked back again hand in hand, and the applause became even more rapturous. Kakuzu winced a little watching Yugito put her arms around his neck and practically snog him. Hidan's arm going around her waist disturbed him too - he knew it was ridiculous, but he just didn't like to see it. He looked away a moment and by the time he looked back they were both heading backstage.

Kakuzu would have quite appreciated a nice wind-down chat with Konan at this point, but the second the house lights went up she was excusing herself, murmuring something about having to make a phonecall. She looked particularly resolute, as if she'd made up her mind about something during the show. He wasn't left alone for long though; Yugito's publicist - clearly having been told to keep an eye out for him - descending on him and led him unprotestingly through to where the after party was being held, in the shorter leg of the large L-shaped room.

As soon as he was backstage again Hidan began to feel flat and exhausted. The performance adrenaline drained away horribly quickly, and suddenly he felt like he didn't even have enough energy to even get his makeup off. He wandered through the rails of clothes and - despite the bright lights and the other models half out of their couture, talking and laughing - to him everything seemed dingy; used up and discarded.

Not everyone was happy though. He found Suigetsu in a corner staring disconsolately at a small bag of brightly coloured pills. "I don't want to wait forty minutes for a high," he said, weighing them in his hand, "and I don't want to be depressed as shit tomorrow, but I don't know if I can go out there feeling like this." He flashed Hidan a little half smile that exposed a pointy out-of-line tooth, but he was clearly feeling as dejected as Hidan was himself.

"So parachute it?" Hidan suggested. "That's fifty percent of your problem solved." He sat down next to him. "Have you run out of coke already? Where'd you get those?"

He felt a surge of a strange sort of protectiveness - Suigetsu reminded him strongly of himself at that age, only of course, he'd found God by then. He had half a thought about trying to talk to him about Jashin then and there, but he was just so fucking knackered that he wasn't sure he'd do it justice and Suigetsu was clearly too emotional to be very receptive. Which meant he was probably a bit emotional for candyflipping too...

"Booze," he said, cutting into Suigetsu's long-winded explanation involving a dodgy sounding bloke in a minicab in the Majestic Wine Warehouse car park round the back. "What you want is fucking booze, baby boy. Booze is the cure for all your ills. Put those little fuckers away for now - you're in the wrong mood for them."

He managed to grab a magnum of champagne from a trolley that was just about to be wheeled round to the after party, and popped the cork with a practised one-handed technique that was the product of working in a wine bar for his first few years of living in London. Suigetsu started to visibly cheer up a little bit. They found some glasses in a plastic crate and set to work.

"What's up with you, anyway," Suigetsu asked, after draining his first glass and steadily sipping away at a second. "Isn't your life like fucking perfect right now? What do you want to get shit-faced with me for?"

"Why would I need a reason to get shit-faced?" Hidan refilled his glass and topped up Suigetsu's. "I just want to fucking chill out, man." He knew it was bullshit though. Although the first two glasses of champagne had taken the edge off slightly, he knew he was a ticking time-bomb tonight; if he wanted to get home and do this ritual with Kakuzu the way he wanted it he had to tread carefully, and that meant not being in the kind of state where things could upset him.

They'd drained the bottle by the time they were changed and out of their make-up. Hidan, of course, was dressed again in head to toe Yugito Nii - she wasn't about to let him be seen wearing anyone else's designs at her own party - and perhaps as a consequence he felt depressingly like he was still on the clock. But Suigetsu, with the resilience of youth, was now as effervescent as the bubbles they'd just consumed, and Hidan was making a valiant effort to keep up. Suigetsu was trying to tell him about what he'd got up to with Kisame in the field behind the holiday chapel, but he was giggling too much to be fully audible and not making a lot of sense anyway. Hidan got the impression that Kisame might have introduced him to a few more new experiences than he was quite aware- and that Suigetsu might have charmed and cajoled his way into something he was way out of his depth in. Either way, every time Suigetsu reached an interesting bit he seemed to lose the power of coherent speech.

"Fucking text him for me, Hidan," he begged, trying to drain the last drops out of the bottle. "He won't even look if it's my number, he probably just deletes them as they come in-" he descended into giggles again.

"Nah, mate," Hidan said, not telling him that he'd already texted 'baby boy's sad and popping pills come quick we need you' and Kisame had replied 'stop trying to replicate you and Kakuzu- not everyone wants a little fuckup to take care of'. He sighed and pulled Suigetsu up off the bench he appeared to have melted onto. "Come on, you won't get any more goodness out of that fucking dried up husk, we'll have to join the fucking throng to get more..."

Yeah," Suigetsu snorted with laughter. "Alright, alright, I'm coming. Did I tell you he is fucking hung! Shit, Hidan, I really fancy him so much, just ever since the first time I went round to his flat I can't get him out of my head, he's like, serious, you know? But at the same time he's fun and chilled... kind of like a massive student, you know what I mean...?"

Out in the warehouse Kakuzu was amusing himself by monopolising Yugito's publicist Samui and finding absolutely everything he could about Yugito's prospects. Samui was making repeated attempts to introduce him to other high-profile guests but he wouldn't be palmed off, having absolutely no desire to talk to any celebrities and at least a marginal interest in how an emerging fashion business was run.

But seeing Hidan emerge with Suigetsu distracted him for long enough for Samui to make her excuses and escape. He saw Hidan's eyes rake the crowd for him and waited to be seen, wanting the slightly indulgent pleasure of watching Hidan notice him - seeing his face light up in the unbelievable way it almost always did. But unexpectedly - while he was still looking past him and over towards the door - Hidan's whole demeanour suddenly changed. He'd seen something else, and, following his gaze, Kakuzu saw it too - it was Deidara, complete with Tobi all over him like a bad rash.

"Fucking hell!" Kakuzu winced as Hidan's voice cut through the babble of the party crowd. He started making his way through the crush of people as fast as he could, even as Hidan launched himself at Tobi. "You fucking piece of shit!" he screamed, and he was clearly ready to do some serious damage. He was holding nothing back at all, but somehow Tobi managed to dodge him, he just wasn't there anymore, and Hidan landed hard on the polished concrete. He picked himself up, shaking with rage, breathing hard, and he hurled himself after Tobi again.

"Tobi, you fucking cunt!" he snarled. "Get out of my fucking sight before I rip you limb from limb!"

Tobi just flapped his hands placatingly and dodged behind Deidara. "Hidan, mate, what are you so angry about?" he asked, disingenuous in the extreme.

"Don't play so fucking innocent, you fucking predatory creep!" Hidan spat. "You know full fucking well what you did!"

People were starting to stare and come around but that didn't stop Hidan. He swayed this way and that, looking for an opening. His knee hurt where he'd landed on the concrete, but he didn't care; he wanted it - welcomed it. He could hear Deidara laughing and Suigetsu egging him on, chanting his name, but his focus was all on Tobi and he suddenly felt ten times more alive than he had all day.

"Come out and fucking face me like a man, you piece of shit," he spat.

"Yeah - get out of there, Tobi, I'm not your fucking human shield," Deidara said nastily, and jabbed Tobi just under the ribs with his elbow in a particularly vicious way, sending him stumbling into the open. Hidan found, perversely, that it upset him quite a lot. Tobi was clearly winded and his appetite for violence began to abate a little, but not enough to stop him throwing himself onto Tobi while he had the chance.

They went over together- another hard landing but at least Tobi was underneath this time, but then somehow he'd slithered free before Hidan could even land a decent blow. And he was up again and beating a retreat before Hidan was even off his knees. At that point, though, Deidara stuck his foot out and as Hidan finally made it off the ground Tobi tripped theatrically, sprawling hard at his feet. Deidara prodded him with a toe, then gave him a swift kick that could certainly in no way be characterised as play-fighting.

Hidan straightened up slowly, appalled. "Dei, fuck!" he said, staring at him. "Chill out a bit, man!" He didn't know what to do anymore.

Tobi gave something that was between a laugh and a groan. "Stop it baby," he begged as Deidara jabbed at him again. "Ow! Ow! Stop it!"

Hidan's lip curled in distaste. He was so disconcerted that he barely felt Kakuzu's hand landing on his shoulder; even the reassuring stroke along his upper arm didn't really register. But his voice in his ear - deep and quiet and blessedly authoritative - did get through. "Hidan. Let me deal with this, love."

"Tobi." Kakuzu's voice hardened, though his touch was gentle as he pushed Hidan back towards Suigetsu, shooting him a swift and regretful glance. He offered Tobi a brisk and unsympathetic hand up. "A word, if you'd be so kind," he said shortly, gesturing towards the door.

Seeing Kakuzu walk off with Tobi just when he wanted to lose himself in him made Hidan - who had been momentarily soothed - distinctly angry again. He shook Suigetsu's hand off his arm, and despite the warning signs, despite the fact that Deidara was obviously way beyond the stage where good advice was going to have any impact, he just couldn't resist having a go. "Look, you don't have to be with him!" he said, incredulous and exasperated. "If he fucks you off so much, just - just why? Why are you with him Dei? It's making you fucking crazy man, I can see it-"

"I can be with who the fuck I want," Deidara spat. Even though he was clearly high, he wasn't in the slightest bit mellow; he seemed at once brittle and breakable and powerfully savage. "What do you want, a black crepe armband? A fucking six foot veil? You didn't even fucking like Sasori!"

"Okay - You brought it up, man!" Hidan took half a step back. Keep calm, he told himself. Keep fucking calm - not long now til we can go, and I can finally do my ritual- "Maybe we did used to rub each other up the wrong way," he admitted. "The point is, you liked him, Dei. And you don't like Tobi. Whatever else you feel for him - like isn't really on the fucking spectrum, is it?"

Deidara didn't answer, just stared at Hidan blankly. He was compulsively chewing gum - it had always been a thing he did, but not quite like this. It was as if he just couldn't keep still, his jaw moved almost jerkily, automatically. It made Hidan uncomfortable. Now he spat it out onto the floor and put another piece in.

"Fuck! That's disgusting!" Hidan exclaimed reflexively. "Fuck's sake, Dei!" He stared at him for a moment, and Deidara stared back. It seemed like they were at an impasse. Suigetsu, showing a modicum of tact, sloped discreetly off to talk to Killer Bee, and they were finally alone.

Seriously, though, Dei," Hidan said finally. "You shouldn't do that. You can't hit someone you're fucking. It makes things so fucking messed up!"

"Oh you can talk, hn, shagging Mr. Hospitalise-his-boyfriend!" Deidara replied coolly.

It was an easy shot, of course, and Hidan knew he'd laid himself open to it. "That was-" he started to say, ready to jump to Kakuzu's defence, but suddenly he found he was really upset; he'd lost his train of thought and didn't know what to say. He just wanted to be out of this conversation and away from this shell of Deidara that seemed to bear no resemblance to the man who - just a few weeks ago - had been his closest thing to a good friend. "He's never-" he started again, but no. He wasn't going to make excuses to Deidara. "Shut up, Dei," he said. "Just shut the fuck up. You don't know the first thing about it so just leave it alone!"

Deidara just chewed languidly and looked at him with a coolly speculative gaze, as if he was trying to decide where to aim the next barb. Hidan had no doubt he had one ready and he almost wanted to physically flinch away.

"You ever consider that you might not know the first thing about what's going on with me?" Dei said finally. He blinked and jerked his head in a strange staccato way. "But you probably couldn't get your head around it even if you did know, could you? Honestly Hidan - you're getting out of your fucking depth. Leave the philosophical pronouncements to Kakuzu, hn?"

Hidan's eyes narrowed. "Alright," he said, turning away. "I've had about enough of this crap. You know where to find me if you want me."

"Wait a minute, mate," Deidara said softly, and against his better judgement he turned back.

"Aren't you even going to try and tell me the Good News?" Deidara mocked. "Daddy in the sky not got a place in His heart for me anymore?"

Hidan's jaw clenched and his hand jumped instinctively to his rosary. "Of course I'll pray for you, Dei," he hissed emotionally. "How can you even ask that?!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Deidara lost interest in tormenting Hidan and started looking around distractedly. "Where are the toilets? I need to..."

He trailed off. Hidan pointed, mutely. He didn't suppose that what Deidara 'needed' was really what the toilets were intended for, but what was the point of arguing about it?

Outside, Kakuzu had read Tobi the riot act extremely thoroughly over hitting Hidan with his car, but it seemed like water off a duck's back. Tobi made glib and slick apologies and he wasn't in the least satisfied. So he went on to lecture him about his massive irresponsibility and the obvious fragility of Deidara's mental state.

"Kakuzu, mate, don't worry, ay?" Tobi said innocently. "I've got it under control."

"Honestly, that's what I am worried about, Tobi." Kakuzu's expression hardened. "But whatever you choose to do in your private life - and whatever Deidara chooses - I'd thank you to leave Hidan out of it. And keep your ... substances well away from him too."

"Oh, Hidan doesn't need that!" Tobi said lightly, almost admiringly. "Hidan can get himself out of his head on pure religious ecstasy. Drugs are just the cherry on top for your boy."

Kakuzu's hand instinctively balled into a fist. "Don't even talk about him, Tobi," he warned. "I am losing patience very fast here. You need to maybe think twice before pitching up at places you know we'll be."

"Alright, alright," Tobi fluttered his fingers in mock submission. "Consider me well and truly warned off! My lips are sealed!"

Kakuzu sighed. It was impossible to get though the veneer of amiable facetiousness, but he felt like he owed it to Hidan to have one more try. "Look, Tobi," he said wearily, "I don't pretend to be any kind of relationship expert, but Deidara's clearly not ready for this. Would it have killed you to wait a few months? Couldn't you just have been a ... a friend to him?"

"He didn't want that. And I'd do anything to be with him, Kakuzu, you know that." Tobi's eyes bored into him, impenetrable, walled-off. "If I'd waited, the chance would've been gone."

There wasn't much to say to that. "That's... " Kakuzu shook his head. "I don't even understand how you can want him in this state, but-"

He stopped. All of a sudden he just couldn't be bothered - he didn't want to plumb the depths of Tobi's fucked-upness. He shrugged and started to turn away - but then he remembered something. "Oh, by the way, Tobi, do you know Kakashi Hatake?" he said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "He asked me about you, at the funeral."

"Hm?" Tobi's whole demeanour changed. "What did he say?" The playful note was entirely gone.

"He said, 'who is that?'" Kakuzu said flatly, wishing he hadn't mentioned it now - what had possessed him? - he just wanted to get away. "I said, 'oh that's just Tobi', since it occurred to me that you might want to remain incognito..."

Tobi's eyes shifted about, searching the little crowd of fashionistas as though he might catch sight of Kakashi here. "Oh," he said, and there really was something strange in his tone now. "We knew each other a long time ago. We were just kids really. He probably wouldn't recognise me since-" he gestured at his face; the scarred side he rarely talked about. "You know. This."

Kakuzu nodded, a hand automatically going up to rub along the faint scars on his own cheek. He supposed it had always made it easier for him to relate to Tobi, but that wasn't enough right now. "Mm," he said. His eyes narrowed slightly. The first time they'd met, Tobi had told him that Madara had had to live outside the UK for a while as a tax exile and, "I thought you grew up as an expat with your uncle," he said.

"Oh, uh, yeah, we met out there," Tobi said glibly. He kicked a metal cap from a beer bottle off the edge of the kerb, didn't meet Kakuzu's eye. "Kakashi used to hang out with one of my cousins." His eyes flicked quickly up to Kakuzu, then away again. "Obito, who drowned on his gap year in Laos in '92. It was fucking tragic - Kakashi was there, and there was another friend, a girl, who died too. I was with Uncle Madara in Indonesia - all the rest of the family were back in the UK, of course - so we went up there to, you know, pick up the pieces..."

"Well, I suppose that explains why Kakashi looked like he'd seen a ghost," Kakuzu said slowly. "If there's some family resemblance there. Sorry to bring it up, anyway."

"Nah, nah, man don't worry." Tobi shrugged. "Long time ago. I haven't thought about poor little Obito for years, actually. Water under the bridge, and all that."

He gave Kakuzu a quick grin. "I'm gonna go back in," he said, already slipping away into the crowd around the doors. "Don't worry about your boy, I won't give him anything!"

Kakuzu followed him back in, but was relieved not to be able to see him anymore when he'd made it through the crowd. He couldn't see Deidara either - he seemed to have been replaced by Suigetsu, now distinctly the worse for wear.

"Hidan," he was saying emotionally, "You're a good guy. A fucking good know that? You're like, my best friend and I really love you man. I mean it. It really means a lot, seriously, man, the way you've been here for me today, when nobody else even gives a shit..." He put his arms around Hidan and flopped against him, burrowing his face into his shoulder, then began to cry. "Hidan..." he moaned. "I don't feel good. I'm so fucking tired, and thirsty. I want to lie down. I wish my brother was here ... did you know my brother? Seems like everyone fucking knew him... everyone fucking wants a piece of him, wants to fucking talk to me about him!"

Hidan gave Kakuzu a martyred stare. "Nah, mate, I didn't know him," he said, sighing. "Maybe best not to lie down right here..."

"Oh..." Kakuzu looked at him with some dismay. "Oh dear. Where are his friends, anyway? What about that Jugo character - he seemed reliable... aren't any of them here?"

Hidan looked doubtfully at him over the top of Suigetsu's head. "I dunno, man." He shrugged. "There there," he said to Suigetsu, patting him gingerly. "It's all gonna be alright..."

Kakuzu thought it was more likely that Suigetsu was going to vomit all over Hidan's personalised couture and then go to sleep on the floor. He got out his phone and rang Karin. "Can you suggest who I can call to take Suigetsu off my hands?" he snapped into her voicemail. "I think he's about to be sick on Hidan."

He didn't feel particularly hopeful, since he never had any faith in people listening to their messages, but Karin rang back before he'd even got the phone in his pocket.

"Jugo'll come and get him," she said matter-of-factly. "Are you still in Great Eastern Street? We're at the Old Street Wetherspoons..."

"Well, for God's sake don't take him there!" Kakuzu was appalled. "Tell Jugo to get a cab and take him home!" It was far more likely that he'd be able to hail one in Old Street than down here...

"That's what he's doing," Karin explained patiently, but with an edge of steel in her tone. Kakuzu apologised.

"We'll take him outside now, then," he said, ending the call. With any luck - if Jugo got a cab quickly - it would only take five minutes even with bad traffic, and much better for Suigetsu to be sick in the gutter than in here.

"Look, I'll take him out," he said to Hidan, getting a hand under Suigetsu's armpit and starting to prise him away. "You do the socialising you need to do and then when I get back we can go."

It was a nice plan; just unfortunate that as soon as Kakuzu left with Suigetsu, Deidara sloped back in. Now he was as chipper and excited as could be. He came up to Hidan with a manic intensity in his eyes and not even the slightest acknowledgement of the way things had just gone down between them. Hidan wondered if he even remembered.

"Hidan, man, I've just had this fucking sick idea, hn, you wanna come and try it now? I've got everything I need in my studio already. I'm thinking like a controlled explosion, yeah, and I want this after-image of you, like, projected on the studio wall where the debris doesn't hit it, like the negative space of a presence, yeah..."

Hidan watched Deidara talk in fascinated horror. Several times he tried to cut in, but Dei barely seemed to see or hear him. He gulped down another half glass of champagne as if it was lemonade and let the words flow over him, trying not to listen because it was kind of upsetting, actually. Particularly after talking about the IRA bomb with Kakuzu the other night.

"Yeah? So what do you say, man?" Deidara said excitedly, bouncing on the ball of his feet. "Pretty fucking sweet, yeah?"

"No." Hidan shook his head emphatically. "No, no no, man, I am not being in any fucking explosion, okay? There's your work with me and there is your work with fucking explosives, and they are separate, man. Separate."

"Nah, nah, Hidan, you're not getting it man," Deidara went on. "It'll be cool, yeah - I'm just talking, like, a small explosion, yeah? A bit of shrapnel is the worst damage you'd come away with..."

"I get it Dei." Hidan shook his head again. "You're fucking coked out of your skull and you don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about. Cast me in whatever the fuck you like and blow that shit up, but you are not fucking blowing the real me up, okay?"

Deidara stared at him for a moment. His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to make sense of something completely alien to him - as if the world wasn't behaving the way he expected it to. "Then what's the point?" he asked finally. "What's the point of it if it's not real."

"It's art, isn't it?" Hidan frowned. He felt an uncontrollable stab of hate for this shell of Deidara. "It's a fucking idea," he said harshly. "Who the fuck cares if it's real or not? What's the fucking point of it if it is real, come to that? Then it would just be fucking life."

"Or death," Tobi added helpfully, coming up behind Deidara. "If we blow you up."

"Yeah, thanks, Tobi, that's really fucking encouraging," Hidan snapped, angling his body to try and shut him out of the conversation.

"Shut up Tobi," Deidara said tensely, barely sparing him a glance.

Once again Hidan had that unsettling sense of being on the wrong side, and, "Where's Kakuzu?" he asked Tobi abruptly, meeting his eyes for an uncomfortable moment. "Have you seen him?"

"He's, uh, talking to someone outside," Tobi said, absently. He started stroking the back of Deidara's neck, then whispered something in his ear and Hidan thought Dei would surely lamp him one this time, but he just nodded, angling his body in towards him.

"I need to stop thinking," he heard Dei say, quick and almost under his breath.

"Okay, babe," Tobi murmured. "We can do that. I've got something that'll do exactly that. And maybe put you in the mood for something a bit more fun as well."

Hidan stared at them and the urge to punch Tobi started to rise again, along with nausea and a strange lightheadedness. They turned away together and he took a deep breath. Everything seemed darker than before as he looked around him at the vacuous crowd; the mindless chatter seemed high-pitched, unbearable. Clocking the backstage door, he made a beeline for it. His palms felt sweaty and his heart was beating fast. 'I was fine,' he'd said to Kakuzu the other night - but it didn't mean he didn't still think about it every day. 'I was lucky,' he'd said as well, just to shut the conversation down quickly, but it hadn't actually been luck. It had been the touch of Jashin, the first time he'd felt it. And he needed that touch again now, badly.

Crossing the room felt like being in a dream; like wading through treacle. He felt like he was stumbling - every step felt like the floor was coming up to meet him. People spoke to him and he replied on autopilot, with no idea what had come out of his mouth as soon as he'd said it. No one seemed surprised, but then all of them were probably off their face on something by now. He could feel the pain and frustration and hunger and loneliness coming off them in waves and it felt disgusting, unclean.

He groped urgently for his rosary, held it to his mouth like it was a lifeline. "Lord Jashin," he mumbled into his fist, "Truly the earth and the heavens will flee from your presence, there will be no place for them. Forgive these fuckers who haven't let you in to their hearts; they don't know you - they don't see you - but fill me with Your glory and I promise you I'll shine like a beacon on your path." His shoulder slammed into the doorframe as he stumbled through and he moaned in frustration. "Please ... just fucking ... get this bullshit out of my head... What the fuck's wrong with me tonight?"

He was holding the rosary so tightly it cut into his palm, his prayers getting more and more disjointed. "Let me see you, Lord; my body is your temple and I will bleed for you, I will destroy for you, I will be laid bare for you. Let me be part of you, let me be one with you..."

No sooner had Kakuzu offloaded Suigetsu onto an apologetic Jugo (and paid the cab fare) than he bumped straight into an utterly distraught looking Konan.

Her usual poise was conspicuously absent, and even though Kakuzu really really wanted to get back to Hidan and go home, he couldn't just walk away from her like this.

"Konan, whatever's wrong?" he asked. Someone must have died, he thought. Not Nagato Pein, surely? Or had something happened to Yahiko?

"Oh Kakuzu!" Her voice was almost a wail. "I've done something awful. Really awful."

So no-one was dead. Maybe. Kakuzu didn't suppose it could be all that bad then. "Tax fraud?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I'm sure we can find a loophole - I'll get my accountant to give you a call-"

"What? No! It's nothing like that!"

"You haven't killed anyone, I hope? Caused criminal damage to property?"

"Kakuzu! Stop projecting, would you?!"

"I'm sorry, Konan, I'll listen. What's wrong?"

And he did listen, for at least five minutes as Konan told him some long and involved story about a press interview, and her English teacher back at school in Merthyr Tydfil who was now a successful novelist, and how angry she'd been for years but now that she'd ruined him-

"Hold on, Konan," Kakuzu cut in. "How exactly have you ruined him - it's not exactly a walk in the park, ruining people. I'm sure he'll bounce back."

"Sex," Konan said flatly. "I said he tried to initiate an inappropriate relationship with me. I said he abused a position of trust."

"Oh." The one smear that generally did stick, whether you'd done it or not. "And..." He paused. Was it indelicate to ask...? "Did- did he?"

"Oh, he did a lot of things that could certainly be interpreted that way." But instead of sounding bitter, Konan looked anguished. "But. The thing is, Kakuzu - I wasn't damaged. I was angry, when he left - so angry, it clouded everything. I told myself he'd been inappropriate, taken advantage... but... really... it wasn't that. I- we all... felt like he'd abandoned us. But, I wouldn't be here today without him. He inspired us, he set us on our path-"

"Konan, I have no doubt at all that you'd be here whatever had happened-"

"I'm not so sure, Kakuzu. Sometimes you need someone... not just to tell you that things are possible, but even that they're there. We- Nagato and Yahiko and me. We... grew up in care, did you know that? And we went to the shittiest comp in Merthyr, and we didn't realise art and culture and—" She waved her hand around them "—and all of this even existed and he was- he was-" she covered her mouth suddenly. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Konan." Kakuzu took her gently by the shoulders. "What's done is done. And I have to say, it sounds at the very least as though he was less than careful with you than he should have been."

"He knew we were tough," Konan muttered into his chest, muffled and strained. "He didn't need to mollycoddle us..."

"You were a child." Kakuzu was uncompromising. "And after all these years you can't let it go? That's what damage is, Konan."

"Yahiko is going to be completely furious, Kakuzu, he loved him. I don't know if he'll be able to forgive me for this..."

"And since when did you need anyone's forgiveness, Konan? You do what you need to do - you always have."

"Yes, but. Yahiko- back in the beginning he founded Akatsuki, really, just inspired by Jiraiya and what he did for us." She sighed, getting sidetracked a little. "He lost everything, of course. Back then, it really was about outreach and education, and bringing the arts to kids like us. We were young and hopeful, and I suppose naive - we'd committed our funding before we actually had our hands on the money..."

Kakuzu nodded. "Rookie error..." he said sympathetically.

"And then Danzo Shimura from St Martin's talked the chair of the Welsh Arts Council into stripping the funding. I always thought, if Jiraiya had stepped forward then - because he had a lot of influence at St Martin's - if he'd acknowledged us and wanted to be part of it, maybe things would've gone differently. As it was, Nagato took a massive informal loan from Tobi Uchiha which paid off almost everything. Yahiko was ruined though. Bankrupt. Nagato had to take over the business. He's always hoped - and I have - that Yahiko will try again with that vision. But Yahiko says he doesn't have a vision now. Nagato doesn't either - he's been letting Tobi lead for a while now and it's all about control, it's not what we wanted in the beginning."

"Hm." Kakuzu thought that, lovely and idealistic as the original Akatsuki vision sounded, it was very far from a sound business model and he had some sympathy with Tobi there. "Well, my dear, unless you can get this thing pulled from print - which you can't, because it's Akatsuki magazine and Tobi owns it - then you've made your bed and you might as well make the best of it. Put it behind you and maybe - as a long term plan - focus on trying to wrest a little bit of executive control back from Tobi."

"It's too late for that, anyway," Konan said flatly. "I'd made up my mind to withdraw it all. But they published it on the blog half an hour ago. It's out there."

There was nothing Kakuzu could say to that. Konan picked anxiously at her lip piercing. "Maybe I should reach out to him-" she began.

"Don't do that." Kakuzu was definitive. "It would be terrible for your reputation. At best you look weak. At worse you could look like an apologist for child abuse."

Konan just nodded tiredly. "Speak to Kisame," Kakuzu suggested. "As the editor, maybe he can speak to Jiraiya on your behalf..."

Konan nodded again. "And speaking of Kisame," she said after a little pause, with a little more of her customary businesslike air. "We were hoping that he could bring Killer Bee into the fold - we'd like to do a feature on him, with a view to eventually getting him under Akatsuki management. You seemed to be getting on well; perhaps you can arrange an introduction."

Kakuzu looked at her doubtfully. "It's pity Kisame's not here himself," he ventured unwillingly.

"Isn't it," Konan agreed briskly. "I'll leave it to you then, Kakuzu."

Kakuzu thought to best to cut their conversation off before she could make any more requests, or remind him that he was supposed to be acquiring Naruto Uzumaki's degree show, which was going to have to be done through a third party now that he and Hidan had made themselves so unpopular with the student crowd. "Well, no time like the present," he said darkly, looking over to where Killer Bee was holding court with a portable drum machine and wondering if he could possibly face another dose of him now. He decided - as soon as he was out of Konan's line of sight - to go and look for Hidan instead. Glancing inside as he passed the double doors that led inside the warehouse - propped open now - he couldn't catch sight of him anywhere, and a familiar sense of unease started to nag at him again. A more thorough tour around the room yielded nothing. And no sign of Deidara or Tobi either.

By the time Hidan had reached the room where he'd left his bike he was a mess, and he knew it. He had to do the ritual now - right now - or it wouldn't just be doorframes he was walking into. Lamp posts, fist fights, traffic... anything might happen. Once Jashin was calling he knew he didn't have much control. But the room reminded him of Kakuzu and his heart sank like a stone. He'd wanted so much for Kakuzu to experience the presence of Jashin with him. Now he wasn't sure now how he'd ever thought he could keep such a promise. His head wasn't clear enough to think how to even get him here and he just couldn't wait any longer. He groped urgently for the scalpel blades taped under the saddle of his bike, and it didn't surprise him that one poked through the paper wrapper and pierced his fingertip as he tore open the foil. Jashin was taking what was his already.

He winced, and sucked off the bead of blood that appeared. In the moment of clarity it gave him he remembered about the existence of mobiles and got his old flip-phone out of his pocket. And he didn't even have to call Kakuzu because Kakuzu was already calling him.

"Kakuzu, where are you?" he said, aware of sounding like a little kid but beyond caring.

"In this bloody hellhole of a party - where d'you think?" Kakuzu's voice was irritable, pretty much a growl, and he could hear the senseless bantz bantz bantz of the party crowd behind him. "Where are you? Can we please go now?"

"Where- where we were earlier." His throat felt constricted; it was hard to talk to another person - even Kakuzu - he needed to be praying now. "Can- can you come down here?" he forced out.

"I-" Kakuzu's voice changed abruptly. "Of course I can - stay there, Hidan - don't go anywhere-"

Finding he couldn't cope with the human intimacy of the conversation any more, Hidan dropped his phone onto the trestle table and turned towards the small window to get the last of the light. Where to cut, this time? He shed the paper wrapper from the scalpel blade with a flick of his fingers and let it flutter to the floor. Holding the blade lightly against his skin he felt excitement tingle through him like little electrical pulses - and waited for Jashin's hand to guide him.

It felt to Kakuzu like it was taking him forever to find the right room, and by the time he finally did he was more frustrated and unsettled than ever. Most uncharacteristically he pushed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall and came back to hit him on the elbow. "What's up? What's the matter?" he barked. Ignoring the pain, he strode over to Hidan and took hold of him by the shoulders, his voice rough with urgency. "Talk to me, Hidan!"

Hidan briefly leant his head against his chest. Too briefly - already Kakuzu could sense that manic energy and a strange detachment. "Nothing's the matter," he said finally. "I'm ready; you're here - let's fucking do this!"

"What? No!" Kakuzu's reaction was instinctive. He caught Hidan's wrist and Hidan looked at his hand as though it had betrayed him. He brought the same look up to Kakuzu's face.

"You said you wouldn't try to stop me," he snarled. "I trusted you - I let you be here! I fucking shouldn't have done, should I?"

Kakuzu held his accusing gaze with a level stare of his own. "Hidan." His voice held a distinct warning note. "We can be home in twenty minutes. We're not doing this here. Are you insane?" Hidan just stared at him, blank and outraged and he took a deep breath and made an effort to soften his tone a little.

"Everything's ready at home - we won't have to worry about people interrupting us, and getting back afterwards, wouldn't that be nicer, more relaxing-"

"Jashin's calling me now," Hidan stated simply. "Please just let me the fuck go!"

"Hidan..." Because he seemed calmer Kakuzu did risk letting him go, and held up his hands in a gesture of compliance. "Can you at least think this over...?"

"There's nothing to think about, is there?" A cold-eyed stare that Kakuzu found suddenly unbearable.

For a moment neither of them could find anything to say. Hidan was tense as a bow-string, practically vibrating, and Kakuzu tentatively reached for him again. Don't look at me like that, Hidan!" he pleaded.

"Don't be a dick, then," Hidan muttered, but still, he let Kakuzu hold him, even draped his arms over his shoulders and leaned up against him, pushing his face into the crook of his neck.

"I'll try not to be," Kakuzu murmured, stroking his back. "I'm sorry. It's mayhem up there and I've let it get to me..."

"Forget about all that," Hidan's voice was authoritative suddenly. "None of it matters."

Kakuzu massaged some residual tension out of Hidan's lower back. "I know-" he began, "I know that..." and Hidan's head suddenly jerked back.

"Aaah, yes! Fuck, yes! Oh my God, Jashin, that feels good," he moaned, a little catch in his throat as he gasped a shuddering breath inwards. And Kakuzu began to realise as his eyes rolled upwards and his head tipped back further that his focus was somewhere way beyond him. Nothing he was doing was eliciting these blissed-out utterances. He stopped moving and let go of him, his hands hovering a few inches away. And he registered a very particular sound behind him - a drip, drip, dripping sound, and a faint scent of iron.

He pulled back. "What the-? What've you done?!" He shrugged Hidan off him. It was just instinct - not thought through - but there was a lot of force in the movement and Hidan stumbled helplessly backwards. Blood smeared down Kakuzu's shirt front; somehow it was all down his arm and on his hands as well, and the heat and stickiness and just the godawful mess of it all was suddenly overwhelming. "You fucking little idiot!" he growled, catching him by the upper arm before he tumbled into the stack of folded chairs behind him and jerking him unceremoniously back onto his feet. Hidan's mouth fell open in shock; for a moment he looked like he might cry, and the shame and guilt that suddenly flooded through Kakuzu only made him rougher. He stumbled again, so Kakuzu jerked him up again, and then another time, shaking him violently to rouse him before he was steady enough to stand unaided.

"Huh..?" Hidan said, raising up dreamy eyes and smiling beatifically. He hardly seemed to be aware of what was happening to him anymore. "Where are you going?" he asked as Kakuzu let him go and backed away, disgusted with himself. "Stay here." He seemed transformed, transported; all nervous energy calmed, tension melted away. Swaying precariously, he raised his arm up - clenching his fist - and blood was pulsing out, running in rivulets over his forearm, splashing onto the concrete floor.

Kakuzu gripped the edge of the table with one white-knuckled hand and watched Hidan swap the blade into his left hand. The thought of how rough he'd been with him made him cringe and he physically couldn't go back to him. I might as well have hit him, he thought. There's no reason to pretend it's any better than that. And shame made him helpless as he watched the blade flash silver against Hidan's arm, watched it being engulfed in velvety blackness that quickly spread into crimson trails, then slip from Hidan's fingers and drop to the floor, a glittering ruby shard. Every sense on high alert, he even registered the faint ting as it hit the concrete and bounced glancingly away.

So, should he try to stop him now? And how? Reason with him? He's not going to listen to you, said a snarky little voice in his head. He's barely even seeing you. So force him? But a struggle could easily do more damage than just waiting it out. And, for what it was worth, he had promised not to stop him. So he just stood there, and watched, and hesitated.

Hidan was on another plane, utterly unaware of Kakuzu's vacillations. He felt closer to Jashin than he had for a while, distant from the world, a floating, spinning feeling. As a counterpoint the ache inside his elbow was grounding him just enough, it was comforting, real. So was the pulsing throb of it as more blood flowed down. He breathed in deeply, letting the clean metallic scent fill him, and looked up at Kakuzu with an angelic smile. "Come back here, babe," he urged him again, holding out his arms. "I want you with me..."

"Christ Hidan!" Kakuzu's voice sounded far off and echoey. "What do you want me for? Haven't you done enough to me?"

He almost felt like he could hear music as well - jaunty fairground music - faint and off key, and shook his head to clear it. He was suddenly not sure how much longer he could stay upright, but that didn't matter anyway because Kakuzu was there, coming back towards him, supporting him now. And sure, he was frowning and looking like fucking thunder, but that would be okay, he could work with that.

Shaking his head again, he lifted a bloody hand to Kakuzu's cheek. He could feel a muscle twitching under the surface, could feel the tension radiating from the clench of his jaw. "I'm fucking never going to be done with you..." he whispered intensely, smiling more, "I want you to feel this with me."

And now it was that slightly psychotic smile that always got Kakuzu's heart racing.

Even so, he mustered the discipline to brush Hidan's hand away. "Idiot," he said, as dismissively as he could manage. "Cut it out - just get this over with. You've barely even got the strength to stand!"

Somehow Hidan managed to pull himself a little more upright and he locked an arm around Kakuzu's neck to stay that way. "Yeah, fuck you," he said triumphantly. "Next excuse?

"Ugh." Kakuzu passed a hand across his eyes and turned away. "Do I need one? With anyone else this sort of thing would be a deal breaker! End of story! I don't deal with mess like this." He found himself shaking as he said it, his heart pounding loud with a sick thump, thump, thump - just at the awful thought of being without him, of going through with it and saying those few angry uncompromising words that could break this apart. Calling an ambulance and walking out of here. Having to go home alone...

"Yeah, right," Hidan murmured, not buying it at all. He gave a reckless little hiccup of laughter and let his head droop forward onto Kakuzu's shoulder. "This is me we're talking about though..."

Kakuzu only had a moment to marvel at such unbelievable, unquenchable arrogance - and to wonder whether he should mind more about being taken for granted like this this - when most unexpectedly and without warning Hidan was pressing up against him; kissing him, his potent mixture of the spiritual and sensual taking his breath away. "Stop fucking worrying..." he murmured intensely. "It's okay. Man, you get so fucking tense about everything ... you need to let go a bit ... this isn't even a big deal... stop fighting me..." Another kiss; a bit more tongue now, his whole body against Kakuzu's, moving against him, and it just felt so nice that for a moment Kakuzu actually did begin to relax.

"Alright," he agreed helplessly. "Alright," and because Hidan didn't really seem to be able to stand anymore he supported him down until they were both kneeling.

"What now, then?" he whispered.

"Now we pray." Hidan took Kakuzu's face between his hands, looking intensely into his eyes but also somehow beyond him and his eyes gleamed as they turned to follow the path of the hot drops of blood, splashing onto the polished concrete, joining together into a little pool, almost black in the dim light. Blood curved around his forearm and dripped from his fingertips and he trailed them through the pools of blood on the floor, pulling his arm around him in a lazy curve. Muttering under his breath, too rapidly for Kakuzu to follow the words, he swapped arms to complete the symbol around them,

Straightening up again, he passed his rosary through and through his fingers until the beads looked like red glass, then wrapped it around and around his own bloody wrist, winding in Kakuzu's as well, binding them together. "Let us show you the pleasures we can make on your Earth, in your name, Lord, for your delight and your glory," he uttered in a throaty whisper. "Be with with us, fill us, make me your vessel, I give myself to you body and soul." Pulling Kakuzu towards him, he leant back a little, his hand tightening around Kakuzu's, pulling him after him. His knees widened and he slid along the floor until Kakuzu was kneeling between his thighs. "Kakuzu!" he said breathlessly. "How about bumping you up that fucking list?"

"Hidan ..." It took him a moment to process what he was being invited to do. "Really? Now...?" he asked hesitantly. He hasn't finished, has he? he asked himself. This isn't after; this is during - you need to say no.

"Fuck yes now!" A bloody hand grazed his fly, inviting violet eyes finally looked right into his own and Kakuzu felt his resolve beginning to crumble even as Hidan dialled the persuasion up a notch. "Fuck, Kakuzu, I need you inside me, I need to be fucking penetrated, I want to feel like I'm fucking impaled on your dick, fucking now!"

"Hidan, this is a really bad plan..."

But dextrous fingers were easing his zip down and Kakuzu had to admit, he'd already given in. He was practically panting with desire, and although a small voice in the back of his head was still telling him this was a really, really bad idea, it was small enough to be easily squashed down and ignored. He ripped open Hidan's fly and yanked his trousers down with no regard for their couture status. Sliding his hand out of the tangle of rosary and getting it slicked with Hidan's still free-flowing blood in the process, he guided his cock into him lubricated with just that, and thrust in hard.

Hidan gasped, head thrown back, and pushed towards him with a shuddering moan. "Jashin, yes, fuck!" he cried out, and Kakuzu started to pound into him even harder. For an intoxicating, drawn-out moment he even felt like he was with him in his all-consuming religious ecstasy. But that didn't last. Blood made a strange lube, sticky and viscous and quick to lose any slipperiness; it kept bringing him back to the reality that - far from a sublime and holy union - this was one of the most down and dirty fucks they'd yet had. And normally that would have been no small turn-on. What he didn't like quite as much was not being on the same page as Hidan. Hidan was clearly having a very different experience indeed and their usual simpatico was conspicuously absent. He supplemented the blood-lube with spit and more blood as he went. There was certainly no shortage of it - it seemed to be everywhere - but he didn't let himself think about that too much.

There was some thrill to be found in owning him in this state - however much he thought he was giving himself into the hands of his God, it was Kakuzu's dick inside him, Kakuzu fucking him into the concrete. He let himself enjoy the brutality of it, the desecration - it became a 'fuck you' to Jashin, to the money-grabbing manipulative Jashinist Church, even to Hidan's inconvenient beliefs that kept throwing these little obstacles between them. And for a short while that provided a much needed outlet for some nasty pent-up emotion. But it wasn't long before that pleasure palled as well.

Now Hidan was straining up towards him, gripping on to his shoulders, looking so intensely right at him, but unmistakably so far beyond him, to that place he would only ever be able to go to alone. Well aware that he was making himself bleed a lot faster like that, Kakuzu chose to ignore that too, as each gasped 'Jashin!' began to sting a little more than the last. He wanted to yank him back from his mental sanctuary; he felt used and sidelined and lonely. Where was their perfect partnership now that he was pounding anger and resentment into him with each stroke and hating himself for it? Not that Hidan seemed to care. "Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, I'm close..." And then he was there, coming hard, thick hot ropes of it, again and again, thrusting up towards Kakuzu. "Oh God, oh God, fuck, feel it with me Kakuzu, come on, come on!"

But Kakuzu couldn't feel it. He tried; redoubling his efforts, scooping up Hidan's cum to use as a bit of extra lube, but even that didn't send him over the edge. "Look at me, Hidan," he entreated, feeling pathetic, needy. And Hidan did look, but, as he came back down from his ecstatic high there was something about the set of his mouth and a tension around his eyes made Kakuzu lose his edge even more. He slowed down again. The nagging awareness that they'd been going way too hard without any proper preparation because rather more insistent. And now that he'd lost his stride it was going to take quite a lot more than a handful of cum and a bit of eye contact for him to shoot anyway. It seemed that this ill-advised fuck was going to be cut short. Just a few more shorter thrusts, maybe? Maybe then he could just manage to- but no, that elicited a discomforted little 'mn' from Hidan and… no. It was over.

And for the final nail in its coffin: "Shit, Kakuzu, that hurts," Hidan whimpered as he pulled slowly out of him. With that the last shreds of feeling okay evaporated. He tucked his cock, which looked like a murder weapon, back into his trousers as well as he could given that it was still mostly erect, and for a moment all he could do was stare at Hidan - wincing, ashen, blood-spattered - in horrified speechlessness. He couldn't even apologise, because that made it too real.

Hidan sagged back down onto the floor, his head tilting away from Kakuzu. "Ohh... shit..." he murmured, and then he passed out.

Kakuzu blinked, still taking it in. The carnage was incredible and he could hardly believe what they'd just done. Or what he'd just done, mainly. Hidan, well, you could believe anything really, but, You fucked him til he lost consciousness, he told himself brutally. What the hell's got into you? Why couldn't you just say no?

He groaned, easing Hidan's trousers back up and pulling him out of the symbol he'd daubed on the floor as though it was the culprit here. Prioritising all the wrong things. It doesn't matter, he had to tell himself sternly. If someone walks in and he's half naked, well, if they read the papers it's nothing they haven't seen before anyway. Far more pressing was the fact that they were looking at a medical emergency if he let this bleeding go on.

"Christ!" he muttered. However turned on he'd been, however much Hidan had been asking for it - there was no excuse for this - Hidan was in a state. The exertion, the excitement, the heightened heart-rate - it had been a recipe for disaster. He was so pale. He looked wildly around him for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He'd spotted a paper towel dispenser by a grubby little sink earlier and leapt up to grab a handful. Hidan's left arm was much worse, and it occurred to him now that maybe Hidan had still had the blade in when he'd pushed him away so roughly, in which case he'd made this worse in more ways than one. He pressed down hard, trying to elevate the arm a bit, and miraculously Hidan stirred a little.

"Kakuzu, I've been a fucking idiot..." he murmured.

"Well, that goes without saying!" Kakuzu got a firmer grip on his arm and cleared his throat to disguise the fact that his voice was cracking with relief. "But it's not like you were the only one this time."

"What?" Hidan attempted to lift his head off the floor and let it fall back with a light thunk after only a few centimetres. "I feel a bit sick..."

"That's passing out for you."

Hidan took a deep shuddering breath. "Shit..." he said again, misty eyed with emotion. "It was fucking worth it, though, that was fucking out there. I seriously think I actually saw the face of God!" He was lost in rapt contemplation a moment, then, suddenly coming back to himself, gestured towards a crumpled paper bag on the floor beside them. A familiar paper bag. "It's just I ... I haven't really..." he started, then trailed off, looking sheepish.

Kakuzu looked inside and three quarters of a rather sad looking sandwich looked back up at him. He sighed. So Hidan hadn't just passed out from blood loss. Impending hypoglycaemia or just plain exhaustion were at play here too. "That's the last thing you ate?" he asked making a mental note to carry glucose tablets in future. Hidan nodded.

"I'm fucking bummed out about it - it could have been even fucking better if I hadn't fucking fainted like a total pussy! Seriously! I feel like I can't actually even move..."

"Well, never mind," Kakuzu said, trying hard not to think about the 'face of God' having overlaid itself between them. "We'll sort it out. And I don't want you to move - I've got to stop you bleeding first. You haven't got a puncture repair kit stashed anywhere, I suppose?"

"Oh, very fucking funny," Hidan drawled with as much sarcasm as he could manage in his weakened state, and closed his eyes again. "No... I carry a fucking spare inner tube don't I, fucking repair kit my arse, what the fuck'd you take me for..."

"Do you?" Kakuzu smiled. "Well, I suppose I could tourniquet you with it if the worst comes to the worst.

Hidan didn't answer, and with a nasty little jolt Kakuzu realised he'd drifted out again. He laid him carefully down on the floor and looked down at him, trying to detach - looking in vain for that dispassionate calm he was used to being able to draw on to insulate him from unsettling feelings like this. He felt stripped of his defences; raw and tired. Unequal to the task ahead. Hidan might pass out and take no more responsibility, but he had to stop this bleeding, get him out of here, get him home- He was almost considering giving Konan a call to see if she was still at the party - if only for some moral support - when a now all-too-familiar voice came from the door.

"Ohh maaaan!" Killer Bee was standing in the doorway, which he now realised had been open all the time. "Is he alright?"

"Yes. Yes!" Kakuzu said far too quickly to be remotely convincing. "He's. Ah. Had an- a-" He stopped. There was no explaining this away, was there? "This is something he does," he admitted tiredly. "He'll be- he's going to be okay."

Killer Bee came into the room and Kakuzu almost expected to see an entourage file in behind him, but thankfully he was spared that. He suddenly felt acutely aware of how this must look, crouching on the floor by a barely conscious Hidan, blood on his hands, blood on his shirt - hell, blood fucking everywhere, why not fucking admit it? But Bee didn't seem shocked, or judgmental - and Kakuzu found he could forgive him a lot for that.

"Kakuzu," he said, seriously, and it took a moment for it to sink in that he wasn't rapping anymore. "My friend - you need some help with this, don't you?"

It was unexpectedly hard for Kakuzu to acknowledge that he did, but in the end good sense had to prevail - this was godsend he couldn't turn away. He managed to swallow his pride enough to ask Killer Bee to get them a cab and find a way out that wouldn't involve everyone seeing Hidan in this state.

"I can deal with the rest," he finished, hoping he sounded more confident that he felt because suddenly, uncharacteristically, he was doubtful. He had nothing with him. Everything was ready and laid out in the bathroom at home. Sutures, saline, sterile dressings. Still. No battle plan survives contact with the enemy, he reminded himself grimly. Come on, man.

"You sure?" Killer Bee seemed inclined to linger. "Do you think he should be checked over by a doctor?"

"I am a doctor." After all these years the line came so naturally. It was still part of his identity... "Look ... and ... get me some crisps and lucozade from the newsagents, could you?" he added quickly, angling his body to shield Hidan from view as much as he could. "The idiot boy hasn't eaten all day..."

It seemed that Hidan was not quite as oblivious as he appeared, because a faint but indignant "Hey!" piped up from the floor, followed by a request for the crisps to be barbecue flavour. Kakuzu felt simultaneous relief and violent irritation - surprisingly violent.

"Sure they can!" Killer Bee said indulgently, and clearly extremely relieved. I'll be right back. Glad you're alive, man!" Killer Bee headed back towards the door and Kakuzu let out the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

Feeling a little calmer now they were alone again, he looked around the room with a professional eye for anything that could help him. And spotted the pack of surgical blades dangling from Hidan's bike saddle on a strip of duct tape. Well, he could certainly work with that. He carefully peeled it off and tore it into smaller strips, then taped down the wound in Hidan's left arm directly. It would be a bitch to get off, but Hidan would have to put up with it - he wasn't risking any more blood loss. On the right he thought he could probably get away with taping down a pad of tissue as firmly as he could, although remembering how well that had gone in Edinburgh he'd reminded himself that he'd have to keep an eye on it.

As he finished, Killer Bee - on the phone to a taxi company - came back with the supplies and then went out again, gesticulating to Kakuzu in a way that seemed to suggest his negotiations weren't going entirely smoothly. Kakuzu was past getting worked up about it though. He shook up the lucozade, then released the pressure with a soft hiss. In between a few more rounds of shaking and releasing he hauled Hidan into a sitting position and leant him up against his chest, holding his head up with a hand along his jawline. He wasn't completely out of it, and it was quite easy to feed him sips of flattened lucozade. He even had enough energy to bitch about it not being fizzy enough anymore.

"It's better this way," Kakuzu said unsympathetically, opening the crisps for him. "I'm not dealing with you vomiting in a cab."

And it was the right decision to have removed one source of stress from the equation, he considered ten minutes later - leaning in much the same position in the back of a minicab that smelled strongly of marijuana - and feeling very very tense. It had been a nerve-wrecking escape from the warehouse, manoeuvring an unwilling Hidan though a maze of corridors to the fire exit, out across an overgrown vacant lot and through a broken fence into the carpark of the Majestic Wine Warehouse, where Killer Bee had arranged for the cab to be waiting. Hidan had seemed to have missed the memo about the desirability of a discreet exit - in fact he'd kept loudly moaning about how he only wanted to sleep and why wouldn't they leave him alone, and also that the crisps were not in fact barbecue flavour, but prawn cocktail, and couldn't people tell the difference between a fucking pink packet and a fucking brown packet these days? Kakuzu had very quickly had more than enough of his shit and was frankly surprised, by this point, that Killer Bee was still willing to help them at all.

It clearly hadn't been easy to get a cab out to East London at such short notice either, and Kakuzu got the impression that Killer Bee had called in a couple of favours to make this happen. Or maybe he even personally knew the minicab driver; they seemed to have some kind of rapport but it was hard to tell, Killer Bee, after all, having a general tendency towards the over-familiar... Whatever, while he was extremely grateful for his help - and knew that he'd appreciate it at the other end as well because a floppy recalcitrant Hidan was not exactly an insignificant burden - he felt deeply uncomfortable and self conscious right now.

Hidan stirred. "Ka-ku-zuu," he murmured.

"We're not alone, Hidan," Kakuzu murmured pre-emptively in his ear, hoping Killer Bee wouldn't hear. He knew that tone. Things were about to get even more uncomfortable.

Hidan wasn't playing ball though. He stroked Kakuzu's thigh. "Hey," he whispered. "You feel tense. Didn't you cu-"

"No." Kakuzu cut him off, loudly. "No," he added, in a more normal level. "But it really doesn't matter."

Hidan's hand became more intimately caressive. "It matters to me!" he said, nuzzling against Kakuzu's neck. "My fucking pride's on the line! If I can't fucking get you off-"

Kakuzu placed the errant hand firmly back in Hidan's own lap. "I think sleep and recovery are more of a priority right now. And getting home. Out of this minicab. Where we have company."

Hidan gave a massive tragic sigh. "Are you angry with me, Kakuzu...?" he asked plaintively.

"No..." Kakuzu sighed too. He glanced at Killer Bee but he seemed oblivious, writing something down in a little notebook. "No." He tightened his grip a little. It surprised him, but it was true, he wasn't angry. This was Hidan, after all. It would be unreasonable to be angry, wouldn't it?

"But we're never doing that again," he added. "We were both out of control. And I don't believe you meant this to be the outcome, whatever you thought you wanted.

"I meant ... I wanted ..." Hidan shut his eyes. "Fuck control, I..." But his voice trailed off. He couldn't even deny it and he turned his face to the window to avoid Kakuzu's gaze. Kakuzu could still see his face in reflected in it - a white oval, eyes glinting defiantly in dark panda smudges, his mouth a set and sulky line.

It was seeing Deidara and Tobi, wasn't it? he thought. He thinks he's jumping, but every time - every damn time - something pushes him. But he didn't say any more, didn't want to risk rocking the boat any more by mentioning them. He sighed, watching the Hidan in the dark glass start to look more disconsolate than defiant, and resolved that - no matter what it did to Deidara - he just had to keep him away from them. If Deidara was determined to spectacularly self destruct he could do it without involving Hidan.

Hidan woke up a few hours later in the spare room. He knew it was the spare room immediately, because it didn't smell right. It smelt nice - of sandalwood and fresh sheets - but not right. He sat up and tried to remember getting into bed, but he couldn't. Actually, he couldn't even remember getting home. He looked at his arms - even in the darkness he could see that both of them were neatly bandaged. "Fuck..." he murmured.

He remembered now, dimly, that their plans for a ritual together after the party hadn't quite gone the way he'd envisaged. It took him a minute to recall exactly why, and even when he did he pushed the memory firmly away into the 'don't think about' category. Instead, he swung out of bed and groped his way towards the door.

It was probably almost exactly 24 hours ago he was doing exactly the same thing, he thought as he crossed the landing and climbed half a flight of stairs. And what a fucking long day it had been. And like last night, Kakuzu seemed predisposed to stay asleep. This time, he wasn't prepared to let him and hassled him until he woke up. But it felt like there was a tension between them - a distance that he couldn't quite bridge.

"Hey..." he said hopefully, trying to ignore it. "Kakuzu...?"

Kakuzu stayed hunched up with his back to him, and sighed. "Yes?" he said shortly. Hidan was undeterred. He leant over and pushed his cheek against Kakuzu's, and though he got no verbal response he thought he felt a bit of a twitch.

"You're trying to stay in your fucking foul mood, but you can't, can you?" he said triumphantly. "I can feel you smiling, you bastard - fucking admit it, why don't you?"

Kakuzu sighed again, in a put upon way. Then he rolled over and accepted Hidan into his arms. "You idiot," he murmured. "I'm not in a bad mood, I'm just half asleep..."

Hidan rolled them both over a little further, so that he was on top of Kakuzu. "Then what did you want to dump me in the spare room for?" he demanded.

"Because otherwise you'd have tried to get in my pants, and you needed rest," Kakuzu said firmly, reaching over to his alarm clock to see what the time was. "You were like an octopus on heat."

"Oh yeah?" Hidan smirked.

"And you need more now, so don't try anything." Kakuzu batted a questing hand away.

"Oh? I feel fine..."

"I daresay. Better than you have any right to!" Kakuzu snorted. "Perhaps I shouldn't have rehydrated you so nicely. Maybe if I let you suffer a bit you'd think twice before butchering yourself again."

It was Hidan's turn to sigh now. "Fine, there's no need to be a cunt about it," he muttered. He rolled off Kakuzu onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Kakuzu reeled him back in.

"Sorry, love, but it was awful," he said quietly. "You have no idea. What it's like to see someone you love in the state you were in. Cut up and bleeding, so spaced out you hardly recognised me-" Even in the darkness, he had to break off and turn his face away.

I should tell him I can't deal with it, he thought. That he needs to stop it or we're done. But I can't, actually.

"Did it go right?" he asked instead, conscious of the cruelty of it, but it had to be said, didn't it? At least then he could tell himself that he'd tried. "Was that how it was supposed to be?"

Hidan paused. "It was what Jashin wanted it to be." His voice was harder, more resolute. "It's not always up to me."

All the same, Kakuzu felt him relax again, or at least stop resisting his attempts to hold him again. He started banging on about it taking time and prayer to understand what Jashin was trying to show him, and about maybe being on the 'wrong path'. Yugito, fashion itself, living North of the river, the Akatsuki Group and were all held up for scrutiny, though thankfully Kakuzu himself seemed to have escaped Jashin's judgement. He smiled indulgently at first, but when Hidan didn't talk himself out in what he considered a reasonable amount of time he slid a firm and unyielding hand over his mouth.

"Shut up, love," he said, stifling a yawn. "I don't think it's working in fashion that's wrong. You were in your element - you really were." His took his hand away and looked at Hidan sternly. "If 'Jashin' was trying to tell you to be a little more discerning about the company you keep then I'd have some time for the bastard. Seeing Deidara and Tobi was not good for you. Was it? You were on a high and they brought you crashing down."

He felt Hidan's shoulder's sag just at the mention of them. "Maybe it is time we explored some other avenues, Hidan," he ploughed on inexorably, not about to let go of the advantage now he had it. "Moved into some different circles. It's not just those two, either... I'm starting to feel that the Akatsuki Group may have had its day altogether."

Hidan raised his head. "Extricate ourselves?" he said. "Already?"

"Things are different without Sasori," Kakuzu said, shrugging a shoulder. "And with Itachi increasingly out of the picture..." He gave a little grimace that was clearly expressive of his feelings about the state of Akatsuki without those two calm sane voices. "I think we should keep ties with Kisame," he continued thoughtfully, "but Zetsu is too close to Tobi, and Konan and Yahiko-" he felt a little bad at this, because he was fond of Konan, but after this evening... "well, they're heading towards a serious scandal with this Jiraiya thing. But we'll need to develop some new influential friendships - and fast - because Nagato Pein will not appreciate us stepping away from his interests. And Tobi would probably ruin us just for the fun of it."

"Fuck me..." Hidan murmured. "You're fucking serious about this, aren't you? But - you do realise - I'm a bit of a fuck-up at schmoozing influential people..."

"Any time, love," Kakuzu smirked, briefly forgetting that he was supposed to be rebuffing Hidan's advances. "But, joking aside, Yugito is tipped to take over at Valentino as creative director - and after this evening no one seems to have any doubt she'll get it. If she takes you with her - which seems likely - your position is more than secure; minimal schmoozing required."

"I'll have to be in fucking Italy half the time..." Hidan complained, making a face.

"Yugito may well set up a London studio as well - it's not unheard of."

"You know a fuckload about it all of a sudden."

"Well, I did have to make conversation with a bunch of fashion types - you know I don't do small talk."

"Hm." Hidan slid down beside him again. "Well, no-one told me the Valentino thing was a fucking done deal already!" the said sulkily.

"I like Milan - there are some wonderful art galleries there, of course..." Kakuzu went on, ignoring Hidan's grouching. "Perhaps we could acquire a nice little footpad over there... It would be a sound investment..."

"Seriously, man!" Hidan complained. "Can you just stop thinking about the money for one fucking second. And anyway, fucking rewind a minute - what Jiraiya thing? Who's Jiraiya? What the fuck's going on?"

Kakuzu groaned theatrically. "Oh, Hidan! Are you always half a step behind..?" He rolled him over and spooned around him. "Go to sleep. I'll tell you about it in the morning."

OK people! Say something please - I'd love to hear what you think! Updates will be swifter if I'm enthused, and I'm enthused when people talk to me :D