*warning* This chapter kind of blows. There, that's my warning. Um, enjoy?

Deidara felt like a scolded child who'd been sent to his room. Sasori, feverish with chakra from an entire pouch full of food pills, had practically dragged his bawling, snotty ass from Kisame's side and told him to (these were his actual words) 'sit on the bed and stay there' in the room that had served as his quarters for these past few days. Deidara had been a spoiled brat as a kid so he'd heard those same words from his parents more times than he cared to remember. But expressing grief wasn't the same thing as throwing a tantrum, for crying outloud! Sullen and embarrassed, he sat obediently on the bed. He wasn't sure what else to do.

Then, five minutes later, he heard a few muffled words coming from Kisame's room, followed by a clattering sound, like a cord of wood had been dropped on the floor. He adamantly sprang from the bed before remembering his leg was broken and was met by a pain so severe it made his vision go blinding white. A sorry curse escaped his lips and he crumpled to the floor, curling into a ball and clutching his shattered shin. Broken bones fucking sucked. He'd never had one before, not even a sprain, and he couldn't begin to imagine how terrible it would be to lose a limb. He was shouting something like fuck, fuck, motherfucker, as though it was a chant and he couldn't stop it for the world. The pain... it was just so intense.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" sneered a voice.

Deidara looked up to find none other than Hoshigaki Kisame himself, standing in the doorway with an apathetic non-expression on his face. He wanted to break down, wanted to swoon with joy, wanted more than anything to say thank god you're alive, but that stupid chant of curses was all that would come out of his mouth. The pain, god the pain!

"They obviously didn't teach you how to suppress pain in Iwa," Kisame muttered. "I can train you when you're more coherent." Strong arms lifted Deidara from the floor and placed him on the bed - the blonde noticed that the arms were more healthy and muscular than just minutes earlier. Kisame's emaciated, wasted body was gone, returned to the formidable composition that had kicked his ass and taken his virginity back in the Land of Rivers. In short, the swordsman actually looked normal... relatively speaking. It was weird that chakra could actually replace the role of a good meal for Kisame. Did it mean that theoretically, he didn't even have to eat food?

Once on the bed, Deidara bit his lip to stop himself from cursing. Suppressing the pain immediately caused tears to brim in his eyes and flood down his cheeks, as if he had turned off one pipeline only to burst another. After crying for days straight, he was genuinely surprised he still had any tears left. He reached up a trembling hand to touch Kisame with but before it met its goal, the swordsman turned and headed for the door.

"Get some rest," he growled. "I'll find you something for the pain. Also, Sasori kinda... disassembled... and I guess I gotta put him back together."

Deidara tried to say 'Sasori does that all the time... just give him back some chakra' but all that came out was a bunch of gibberish. It sounded like he was speaking in tongues.

Kisame narrowed his eyes, his hand clenching on the doorframe so hard it actually cracked the wood. "Are you still tripping?" he asked coldly. "You're sure as hell acting like it." He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. "You know, they used to kill wingnuts back when I lived in Kiri," he added after a pause. "Public executions." And then he was gone, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Deidara bit his lip even harder but it didn't help the emotions that were flooding through him. Anger, pain, and more guilt than he could bear. Earlier in the day, Sasori had asked him how he'd been captured by Orochimaru. Did he have a sensory type with him? his partner had queried. No, Deidara had replied, his voice coming out in a choked, pathetic sob. No, I disobeyed orders and flew so low that he saw me. And even then, I could have escaped... but I thought I could take him on... and...

Sasori's response had been absolutely nothing. No reprimand, no sign of rage. His face had simply blanked out, then he'd calmly walked away. In so many ways, it was far worse than whatever reprocussions Deidara had been expecting. Silence, apathy... it was like giving up.

It was a vast reduction in respect.

And Kisame had just done the same thing, hadn't he? After all, it was the swordsman who'd gone to hell and back to save Deidara from his own brick-headed stupidity. If anyone had lost respect for him, it would be Kisame. How horribly unfortunate.

Biting his lip still, Deidara tried to mull these facts over in his mind. For a while it was nothing but Kisame hates me, he hates me, he hates me, but after a while of extreme concentration and lip-biting, his thoughts cohered into I have to become stronger, I have to become better, I have to rise above myself to earn back the respect I've lost. Then Kisame won't hate me anymore. Then Sasori won't treat me like a child.

Suddenly, his broken leg didn't hurt anymore. A trickle of blood oozed down his chin from puncturing his lip with his teeth but that didn't hurt either. Nothing did.

I have to become stronger, he echoed. Then...

He sat up in the bed and glared off at nothing. The only thing of note that he saw was his lingering hallucination, bubbling in the peripherals of his vision.

Then... only then... will Kisame love me.

X X X

Sasori wasn't difficult to fix. Kisame had recovered from near-death experiences more times than he could count and it was always the same scenario. Samehada stole chakra from whatever unfortunate motherfucker happened to be around and used it to revive him. In return, he had to give some chakra back to said motherfucker so they didn't die. He took life debts very seriously, regardless of the situation. Hell, he'd even revived a few enemy shinobi for this very reason. The only life debt he'd ever disregarded was Zetsu's... and how long had that lasted? A month, maybe. Then he'd joined the Akatsuki, just as he'd been told to do.

Anyway, it barely took any chakra to re-assemble Sasori. In a few mere seconds, the redhead's bodyparts snapped back together and the hollow eye sockets filled up with the illusion of sullen, grey-irised eyeballs. The puppet clicked a few more times as hinges fit into place, shivered unnaturally, then jerked a hand up to clutch its forehead in a display of seeming frustation.

"I saved your life," Sasori muttered, his face hidden by his hand. "And you'll only embarrass me further by thanking me. So don't bother."

"Thanks," Kisame mused, watching Sasori's hand clench even tighter around his face. "But no, I'm just joking. I'd rather be dead than suffer whatever punishment Pain has concocted for me. I also..." He trailed off, deciding not to mention his nightmarish flashbacks.

"You also what?" Sasori snapped. "Saw the light at the end of the tunnel? Was there God at the other end?"

"Nah," Kisame muttered. "There's no such thing as god. Don't tell me an immortal like you believes in religion."

Sasori gasped, or maybe he was just snorting with cynicism. "I believe in death," he chuckled. "And for some reason, I didn't want to see you go through it." His hand ruffled through his hair. "I swear, if you question me further, I'll change my mind and disembowel you. You'd make a decent addition to my puppet collection."

KIsame laughed genuinely. "Wow, you're an asshole," he mused. "But I guess this makes us comrades, doesn't it? I take life debts very seriously. And I can only hope I wasn't too much trouble when I was, uh, dying."

"Oh, shut up," Sasori said. "You weren't more trouble than anyone else suffering from death throes." His hand suddenly dropped to his side and his face became stoic. "It was Deidara who caused most of the trouble," he mumbled. "I gave him an antidote for hallucinogens but he's still out of his fucking mind. The fact that he's obsessed with you doesn't help matters much. While he did help you recover by finding Orochimaru's snake bites - which you should have told me about, you dick - he mostly spent the last three days bawling like an infant."

Kisame cupped his chin in his hand, feeling the mirth drain right out of him. "So he's really off the deep end," he said. "I knew as much when I rescued him. Orochimaru-"

"Orochimaru's not at fault here!" Sasori interjected. "Deidara disobeyed our orders and initiated a fight with him! Can you blame bees for stinging you when you attack their hive?! This whole mess-" his hands gestured wildly "-is his fault! And now you have to be punished for it?! That's fucking bullshit!"

"Fuck, stop acting so human," Kisame muttered, bristling. "It's out of character." He'd been half-joking about Pain punishing him but now it was glaringly obvious that there was no joke about it. For crying outloud, Madara, he seethed inwardly. Are you seriously angry at me for saving Deidara's life? I can't consult with you every time something goes wrong with a mission!

"So I'm guessing you had to attend a meeting while I was out," he sighed. "And I'm also assuming it went badly?"

"The only way it could have gone worse would be if Pain had actually been there in person," Sasori replied. "He looked like he wanted to murder me, which he's definitely capable of doing. And everyone was there to hear me get chewed out, saving you and Deidara."

Kisame raised his eyebrows, his skin prickling.

"Yes, everyone," Sasori said. "And that includes Itachi. He told me how to revive you... all this time and it was just chakra you needed. But he was cold as hell when he talked, like he couldn't have cared less whether or not you died. I'm pretty cold myself but I was shocked. He's even more of an asshole than I thought."

"Don't call him an asshole," Kisame suddenly snapped. The interjection spilled from his lips before he could stop himself and he actually clamped a hand over his mouth, stunned. "Damnit," he muttered, his voice muffled by his hand. "I, uh... I didn't mean to say that."

Sasori's eyes widened with surprise. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "How can you possibly defend that prick after what he did to you?!"

"I'm not," Kisame sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's just things you don't understand." I ignored his advances for ten years, he thought. Hell, I blocked him out entirely. Did my training in Kiri make me fuckin' autistic or what?! He crossed his arms and shrugged. "I don't want to discuss this," he stated. "All I'll say is that he and I need to have a really long talk."

"A talk," Sasori scoffed. "What he needs is a severe ass-kicking! I mean, how could..." He trailed off when he saw the warning glare in Kisame's eyes. "Fine," he relented. "I guess it's none of my business. But it's hard to be impartial at this point."

"I appreciate your concern," Kisame said. "But this is something I have to handle on my own."

"Eh," Sasori muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "I get it. There's more important things to talk about anyway. Mostly this mission we botched."

"Botched is an understatement," Kisame growled, glad to be off the topic of Itachi even though this subject was just as shitty. "Orochimaru still has a psychic link with Pain and I'm sure he's already given him an earful. I broke the truce we had by destroying his lab... now he's probably going to search and destroy as many Akatsuki hideouts as possible." Well, 'truce' wasn't really the right word. But the Akatsuki did have somewhat of an agreement with the sannin to stay out of each other's hair as much as possible. Even though they were enemies, they had completely seperate agendas that, for now, didn't interfere with each other. It just didn't make sense to waste time and manpower going up against someone who didn't pose an immediate threat. What would happen to their goals if they all died clashing with one another? There would be no Tsuki No Me... and Orochimaru would never gain his ultimate knowledge (or whatever he was after). So up until now, both parties had been avoiding direct confrontation, hoping that the other would be conveniantly picked off by a riled shinobi village. In short, spying was allowed but wrecking entire hideouts definitely was not.

Well, that was over now, wasn't it? Now it would be full-on war.

"There must be something I can do to mend this," Kisame brooded. "A way to restore the pact."

Sasori looked worried. "If there is a way, it's going to be extreme," he said. "Orochimaru is out for blood and I doubt he'll be satisfied until a few Akatsuki members are dead."

Kisame shook his head, deep in thought. "No, there must be something I can do," he repeated. "I'll consult with Pain about it. Deidara might be initially at fault but it was me who did all the damage to that lab. Honestly, I'm glad that horrible place was destroyed... but all actions have consequences and I'll pay for it in any way I can."

Now Sasori looked appalled. Or maybe upset. Both? "You shouldn't be the only one to blame," he seethed. "Deidara and I will share the burden with you. All three of us are responsible for this mess!"

Again, Kisame shook his head. "Deidara's in no state to do anything right now," he said. "And you're his partner so you need to take care of him until he gets better." He bit his lip and sighed, suddenly exhausted. There was no rest for the wicked. "I'm gonna go outside for a while," he muttered. "I need to do some thinking. And I also need to talk to Pain. Oh, speaking of pain, Deidara fell out of bed and worsened his injury. Will you tend to it?"

"Uh," Sasori stuttered. "Yah, sure. But don't take this all on yourself, I swear!"

"I'll do what's necessary," Kisame replied, heading for the door. When he shot Sasori one last glance, he saw emotions he didn't think the man to be capable of. Compassion, guilt, and maybe even a touch of jealousy.

What the hell was there to be jealous of?!

X X X

Sasori wasn't sure what the hell he was jealous of. There was just a nobility to Kisame, a virtuosity, that baffled him. He'd never met a man before that was so ready to sacrifice himself for the good of others. It was a characteristic that he wasn't even sure he wanted in himself... but he still felt a twinge of envy. Kisame was one in a million, a diamond in the rough, and why he'd chosen the life of a criminal evaded Sasori. He could be a Kage, he thought. But instead he's an outlaw with a price on his head. How did that happen?! What choices or events could have possibly led him here? Is he happy with where he is?

No, there was just no way Kisame could be happy with his position in the shinobi world. He was the kind of person destined for greatness but something had obviously occured to block off that path. But what? It was a question Sasori sorely wanted to ask but he knew he'd never get an answer. The truth was locked somewhere deep in the swordsman's mind and no amount of interrogation would ever work as a key.

Hoshigaki Kisame would always be a mystery. It aggravated Sasori that he wanted to solve it so badly.

X X X

Kisame wandered around on the beach for a while, embroiled in thought. He felt like his mind was in a million places at once. The flashbacks he'd had while comatose were still vivid, haunting him and hindering his ability to think. He'd locked them up on purpose - important as they seemed, they only served to distress him. Mei, Zabuza, Fuguki... they were all gone from his life. There was no point in dwelling over their involvement in his past. What was done was done and the only way to handle it was to lock it away. He'd done it so well upon joining the Akatsuki that he'd barely thought about their intertwining histories even once in the past ten years. But here those three souls were again, agonizing him.

Mei, if only things had turned out differently, he mourned. I would have married you, you bitch! Now you're the freaking Mizukage. If I was weaker, I'd turn myself into Kiri just to see you one more time. And Fuguki, Zabauza... neither of you should've died! I loved you both, even though we didn't always get along. Fuck, at least I can visit Zabuza's grave... but Fuguki's grave is in Kiri so I'll never get to pay my respects. Damnit, and I owe them so much. Without them, I wouldn't be half the man I am today.

And what kind of man was he, anyway? He was a criminal with enough murders under his belt to fill a graveyard. He was a callous bastard who'd shunned his lovesick partner for an entire decade. And ultimately, he was an enemy of the shinobi world.

That last realization brought him back into perspective. I may be an enemy, he thought, but I'm working for a goal that will end violence for good. It's a goal I believe in. But god, the things I've done for that goal...

He shook his head and cursed under his breath. Now was not an appropriate time to indulge in introspection. There never really was an appropriate time for it. Especially when the past only made him sad. No, there's no time for this, he told himself. I have more important things to focus on. He decisively sat himself down in the sand and prepared for his meeting. Samehada was swimming around in the ocean... he stared dully at the blissful creature, wishing he could be even half as carefree, before closing his eyes and summoning Pain.

The summons was answered immediately. The cave housing the Gedo statue appeared behind his eyelids and both Pain and Madara were perched on two of its massive fingertips. Their frightening, powerful eyes bore into his, making him uncomfortable and painfully aware of the weight of the situation.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Pain said dryly. "I'd be tempted to bring you back to life just to kill you again!"

Kisame bowed his head. "I take full responsibility for the mission," he growled. "And I apologize I couldn't consult with you sooner." He realized he'd just apologized for being in a coma and it made him feel pathetic.

"You'll be apologizing a lot more before we're done here," Madara snapped. "Now tell us exactly what happened with Orochimaru."

Kisame obediently explained but he left the part out about Deidara initiating the mess. Well, he didn't exactly lie... he just left out a few bits of info. The blonde had been tortured by Orochimaru. That was punishment enough for his actions. When he was done with his explaination, he waited patienty for his superiors to mull over their response.

"So... basically you're trying to tell us that all of this is your fault?" Madara questioned.

"Yes," Kisame replied. "Like I said, I take full responsibility."

"Do you regret your actions?"

This took Kisame a minute. "I don't regret saving Deidara's life," he finally said. "But I do regret the consequences. If there'd been a way to rescue him without using violence..." He trailed off and shrugged.

"You're not in this organization to play the hero," Pain grumbled. "We don't need members doing stupid things because they fancy themselves to be knights in shining armor."

Kisame bit his lip to stifle a surge of anger. "Perhaps we also don't need to risk our lives trying to complete impossible missions," he said curtly. "And furthermore, I don't think of myself as a hero... that's childish. I was simply put into a situation where I was forced to act."

"And you acted like an idiot," Madara countered. "Deidara is replaceable, you hear me? There are a million shinobi out there who can fill his position!"

The anger Kisame had bitten back let loose all at once, beyond his control. "Then why don't we have a milllion shinobi in our employ?" he snapped. "I swear, I've heard Pain bitch about how hard it is to find shinobi who'll join... a million times, if we're speaking in gross exaggerations! And I also don't like the way you talk about Deidara like he's a damn spare part! He's a human being and should be treated as one! How can you assholes just use us like pawns when-"

Suddenly, his tongue froze in his mouth and his limbs went cold. He tried to shake off the feeling and continue his rant but found that he couldn't even begin to form the words. A genjutsu? he wondered, incredulous. This meeting is just an illusion... how could a genjutsu even work?! Illusions within illusions!

"Kisame, you're being insubordinate and one more word will force me to destroy you," Madara said quietly. "So be grateful that I tied your tongue."

Kisame felt his body - his real body, sitting on the sand - turning into ice. He wanted to shiver but couldn't. If Itachi's paralysis jutsu had been intense, he didn't even know what to call this. It was a higher level of ability and thus a higher level of believability. His flesh tore at itself from the water within it freezing. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest in a feeble attempt to continue circulating blood. His fingers became brittle icicles that threatened to snap clean off the second he tried to flex them. And his eyes froze in their sockets, unseeing yet unable to un-see the illusion of his superiors. In reality, a person subjected to this much physical stress would fall unconscious... but this wasn't reality. It was a genjutsu. He was extremely, unbearably aware.

Itachi's genjutsu literally gave me hypothermia, he lamented. But at least it felt warm.

"Now that we have your undivided attention, let's continue," Madara chuckled. "So where were we before you so rudely interrupted?"

"I think we were getting to his punishment," Pain stated. "And, well..."

A long, possibly awkward silence ensued. Kisame wouldn't know - he couldn't give a shit about awkwardness through the genjutsu's pain.

"Okay, the punishment we had planned actually went to shit," Madara said, sighing. "We've had contact with Orochimaru but surprisingly, he doesn't want to tear you to bits for what you did. For once, he's going to let bygones be bygones."

"Water under the bridge," Pain contributed.

"Let sleeping dogs lie, that's how the cookie crumbles, let the chips fall where they may," Madara muttered, grinning faintly. "Whatever term you prefer, he's chosen to let this matter rest. He said, oddly enough, that he's not a villian... as if someone had been lecturing him about his moral shortcomings."

Kisame's nerves were so out of whack from the genjutsu that even forming a thought made it feel like the soft matter of his brain was being brutally fucked by an icicle. But he was still able to deduce one simple hypothesis - Sasuke Uchiha. Who else among Orochimaru's confidantes would hold the position to criticize? This was just a guess... but it seemed to hold a shred of truth in his mind. Sasuke was obviously trying to become a more ruthless shinobi under the sannin's guidance but perhaps he still possessed a shred of empathy. So did that mean Kisame owed the kid now? He felt uncomfortable with debts he didn't know how to pay.

"However," Pain said, breaking Kisame's train of thought, "that doesn't diminish the fact that we're still angry with you for acting like an idiot. Such insubordination can't be allowed without a punishment - it'll make us look like soft leaders, understand? So you're going to join up with Itachi all the way back up in the Land of Earth and do this mission for the Tsuchikage. You remember... the one you gathered intel on? The one that's probably a trap? And while Itachi will be there with you, he's only going to aid you as a sensory type. I'm not having him put his ass on the line."

Well that's just great, Kisame thought. I think I'd rather be tortured by Orochimaru.

"You have one week to make it up there," Madara said. "And before you even ask whether Sasori and Deidara can accompany you, the answer is 'no.' It's obvious the three of you make for a terrible team. Now, any other questions?"

Kisame found that his tongue had loosened enough to allow him to speak. "I guess not," he said. "And I'm assuming you'll give me more details on the mission when I get up there?"

"Of course," Pain growled. Since the Akatsuki shared a telepathic link, information was kept on a strictly need-to-know basis. The more a member had in his head, the more might be extracted by the enemy.

Kisame managed a shrug. "Okay, I'll leave in the morning," he stated. "Is that all?"

Madara sighed. He seemed disappointed. "I recruited you because of your fearlessness... but just for once I wish you'd look even slightly afraid," he said. And suddenly, Kisame found himself sitting on the beach, shivering even though the genjutsu had ended along with the meeting.

What did they mean, the mission's probably a trap? he wondered. The intel we gathered said otherwise. It seemed that as usual, his superiors had left him in the dark. However, he was more anxious about having to see Itachi again - he'd rather fall into a million traps than have to look his partner in the eye. Just because a 'talk' was necessary didn't mean he wanted to do it. He wanted to fucking disappear. He rubbed his arms, which were still covered in gooseflesh, and sneezed.

X X X

"Wait... what?!" Sasori stammered. "You've gotta be kidding me!" He was trying to cook something in the kitchen but whatever bubbled in the pot didn't look or smell even remotely like food.

"Nah, I'm not," Kisame said. "And I have to leave at dawn if I'm going to make it there on time."

Sasori shook his head and stirred the steaming pile of shit in the pot. "That's ridiculous," he muttered. "Orochimaru evidently forgave you so why can't Pain?!"

"The nuances of leadership," Kisame sighed, falling into a nearby chair. "He doesn't want to seem weak by backing down. And plus, someone's got to do this mission..." He wrinkled his nose at the foul odor wafting through the kitchen. "What in the hell are you making?" he asked. "Smells like hot garbage."

Sasori shrugged. "Deidara hasn't eaten in forever and neither have you," he said. "So I found some stuff in the cupboards and figured if I added water and heat, it would turn into food. Isn't that how cooking works?"

"Apparently not," Kisame replied, hiding a grin. "Throw that crap away and let me handle it."

Sasori looked like he wanted to argue but didn't. He allowed Kisame to take the slop and, holding it at arm's length like it was a biohazard, toss it outside. He then watched, amazed, as the swordsman cleaned out the pot and put things in it that miraculously transformed into soup.

"There," Kisame said, washing his hands and wiping them dry on his pants. "Now it's food. But Deidara can have it all... I must confess, I don't have much of an appetite."

"Give me a break," Sasori said. "When's the last time you ate something other than a food pill?"

Kisame waved his hand apathetically. "Doesn't matter," he stated. "I'm not hungry after you gave me all that chakra. Plus, the prospect of seeing Itachi again makes me sick to my stomach."

"Oh come on," Sasori urged. "You gotta eat at some point."

Kisame laughed. "You're really starting to seem like a human being," he mused. "But no. Sorry. Not unless you wanna watch me take two bites and puke it back up."

Sasori actually seemed to ponder this, as if watching his comrade hurl would give him some weird satifsaction. "Well, whatever," he finally said. "I'm obviously not going to force you."

"No, you're not," Kisame agreed. "Now I'm gonna go outside and train until it gets dark. I probably got weak laying around in a coma all that time."

Sasori snorted. "You don't look it," he said. "And don't you think you should go talk to Deidara for a while? He really misses you, you know. And he's finally stopped crying... he's remarkably coherent, for once. I even tried to give him a painkiller earlier and he refused."

"Nah," Kisame muttered. "I don't have much to say to him. What would we talk about? How I'm about to go blindly into a possible trap with the asshole who almost killed me? How I never, ever seem to get a fucking break?! I'm sure it would upset him even more." He'd tried to hide the bitterness from his tone but it still seeped out. "I'm afraid that if I try to talk to him, I'll end up yelling," he confessed with a shrug.

Sasori nodded but he looked angry. "Well, it's not our fault Pain won't let us come with you," he said. "So don't get mad at Deidara about it."

Kisame snorted. "I'm trying not to," he said. "That's exactly why I'm gonna go train... maybe it'll help me calm the fuck down." He went outside before Sasori could say anything else, shutting the door firmly behind him.

X X X

Deidara mechanically shoveled food into his mouth, glaring at Sasori who sat at the foot of the bed. He was incredibly hungry and the soup Kisame had made was delicious... but he had a hard time not scowling as he finished off the bowl. He was furious that he was stuck with a broken leg when all he wanted to do was train and get stronger. "You're good at making stuff," he growled at Sasori. "Can't you make me a cast so I can get around better with this leg?"

Sasori shrugged. "Sure," he said. "If I had the materials. But I don't, so..." He trailed off and shrugged again.

"Then what?" Deidara snapped. "I'm gonna be stuck in this bed until my leg heals completely?"

"Well, I can make you some crutches," Sasori offered. "But you'll have to be really careful with just a splint."

Deidara almost threw the empty bowl of soup. "That's bullshit," he hissed. "I'm just going to get even weaker!"

The redhead sighed and ran a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "Your problem isn't physical weakness," he said. "It's self-control. You're too impulsive and emotional. I've told you this about a hundred times but you just don't want to listen."

Deidara shot his partner a sullen look. "Then why don't you train me?" he asked, embarrassed. "Kisame already said he'd help me-"

"I've offered to train you and you've always refused," Sasori sharply replied, cutting him off. "And Kisame is leaving in the morning so I doubt he's going to have time."

Deidara's heart dropped. "He's leaving?" he echoed. "But he's barely even recovered!"

"He has a... mission... to attend to," Sasori said haltingly.

"Seriously?" the blonde asked. "With who, Itachi?" The thought of Itachi Uchiha made him so angry he nearly went blind for a second.

Sasori didn't say anything but he reluctantly nodded his head.

"Oh, come on," Deidara practically screamed. "That is fucking bullshit!" When he saw Sasori scowl and pinch the bridge of his nose, he managed to get his voice under control. "That's bullshit," he repeated quietly. "I should've murdered that bastard when I had the chance."

"Give me a break," said the puppetmaster. "Bitching about it now isn't going to change anything. Plus, Kisame can handle himself."

No he can't, Deidara seethed. If he could, Itachi never would've... His thoughts sunk into a red haze of incoherent rage. Before he knew it, he'd thrown his empty bowl of soup - it shattered against the far wall, raining bits of miso broth all over the place. So much for self control.

He was shocked when he felt Sasori's hand settle on his shoulder. It almost seemed comforting. But the look on the redhead's face was cold, threatening. "Get a handle on yourself," he said, his voice bitter. "None of us Akatsuki have it easy. Feeling so strongly about Kisame is just going to drive you off the deep end. Why do you think shinobi are taught to avoid empathy in the first place? It's for this exact reason, Deidara." The hand on his shoulder clenched briefly then dropped away. "If you care about him so damn much, let him fuck you or whatever it is you two do. Just don't act like this-" he gestured wildly at the broken bowl, "-cuz it'll only piss him off."

An out-of-place shiver raised the hair on Deidara's neck - there was always something darkly sexual about the way Sasori said his name. Like it was a dirty word. Nonetheless, the lecture hit home. He remembered, painfully, how sharp Kisame had been with him earlier. A man like him who'd had his emotions squeezed out by the Bloody Mist would see Deidara's emotional surges as childish, even alien. "I didn't have the same training," he muttered - it sounded whiny even to his own ears. "And if I knew how, I would've trained myself long ago!"

"Enough," Sasori said, rising from the bed with that strange fluidity that came from pulling his weight around with chakra threads rather than muscles. "I'll train you, alright? We can start tomorrow, after Kisame's gone. But in the meantime, give the man a break and don't act like such a fucking psycho. He's been through enough."

Deidara snorted, a grin briefly flashing over his lips. "You sound pretty empathetic yourself," he mused.

"Perhaps," Sasori said. "But I'm not crying and throwing tantrums, now am I?" When Deidara opened his mouth to argue, Sasori dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "This conversation is over. I'm not a fucking therapist. Now I'm gonna go make you some crutches before you fling yourself out of bed again." And then he drifted out of the room, his sandals making no noise whatsoever against the wooden floor.

Deidara sighed and shifted uncomfortably. His muscles were already feeling stiff from lack of exercise - Sasori was right to assume he'd attempt to get out of bed before long. He did a few awkward stretches, trying to wring out some of the stiffness, then focused his gaze on the window that overlooked the sea. For some reason, he was shocked when he saw Kisame training on the beach. So little time had passed since the swordsman was on his death bed that it felt like he was looking at an apparition. It seemed paradoxal that just a few hours earlier, the guy had been rail-thin and waxen, little more than a breathing corpse. Now he looked healthier than Deidara had ever seen him, like he could take down an army with a casual swing of his fist.

Or not. Kisame had stopped in the middle of a suiton move to sneeze, looking briefly pathetic as the water splashed down around him. He rubbed his arms as though he had a chill, looked around in a daze, then holstered Samehada and began trudging toward the house, sneezing at least two more times before he was out of range of Deidara's view. Damn, the blonde thought. One minute he's dying, next he has a cold. He really doesn't get a break, does he? A snort of laughter escaped his lips - ashamed, he tried to stifle it which only made it worse. Soon, he was laughing so hard he got a stitch in his side. Sometimes things were so morbid they were funny.

X X X

Kisame knew he was getting a cold - his bones ached, he couldn't stop shivering, and he could feel that shitty tickle in his throat that would inevitably transform into a cough. As he scoured the kitchen cabinets for something resembling tea, he cursed Madara's freezing genjutsu, Orochimaru's poison, anything he could think of that had brought this on. He hated that he could take down something as powerful as a jinchurriki but be left helpless in the face of a stupid, microscopic virus. Perhaps in the distant future, shinobi would learn to battle things internally... but unfortunately, he wasn't far enough down the evolutionary path for such a feat.

His hand, which was blindly groping in a cabinet that was too high up even for his tall stature, bumped against something made of glass. Curious, he tried to grab the thing but only succeeded in pushing it further out of his reach. Finally he resorted to climbing up on the counter, feeling like a little kid as he awkwardly shifted his balance to get a look in the cabinet. The glass thing was actually a bottle of sake and he had a brief, vivid memory of himself balancing on this same counter ten years ago to stash the bottle. Even before Itachi had hit him with that Tsukiyomi, he'd thwarted the swordsman's attempts to get drunk whenever possible, pouring out any booze he came across and not saying a damn thing about it. Typical passive-aggressive shit. So Kisame had eventually resorted to sheepishly hiding his alcohol in hopes the Uchiha wouldn't find it. It was a pathetic detail in his life he'd deliberately forgotten.

He grabbed the bottle and hopped down from the counter, wrinkling his nose as he examined the label. If this hasn't turned to vinegar, it's probably a vintage by now, he mused. Since his search for tea had come up dry, he hoped for the latter. Sake wasn't exactly good for a cold but it did warm you up, at least until the next morning. He wrenched out the cork and sniffed it. It smelled like booze, not vinegar. Shrugging to a non-existant audience, he raised the bottle to his lips and took a slam. It tasted... strong. After ten years of fermenting, this shit had transformed into something more formidable than its rice wine descendant. And it did the trick - a few slams later, he was buzzed enough to forget about his cold.

"Giving youself a hangover, I see," muttered a voice. "You must be a masochist." Kisame turned to find Sasori glowering in the hallway, something wooden tucked under his arm.

"No, I'm giving myself a buzz," Kisame replied sourly. "And last time I checked, it was none of your business." After a decade of Itachi, the last thing he wanted was another asshole who gave a fuck about his bad habits. Bottle clenched in his fist, he shoved himself away from the counter and tried to push past Sasori into the hallway but the redhead grabbed his arm to stop him. The slender hand was cold and incongruously strong. "Fuck, what do you want?" Kisame growled. "If you have a lecture for me, I'll seriously kick your ass."

"God, shut up," Sasori said. "Why in the hell would I lecture you? Just take these stupid crutches up to Deidara. I've had enough of that punk for one day." He shoved the wooden things into Kisame's arms and stomped off, looking for all the world like an exhausted parent.

Kisame sighed and took another slam of sake, eying the crutches critically. Sasori's craftsmanship apparently didn't extend beyond puppetry because these pieces of crap were just tree branches that had been roughly hacked into shape. They were even still covered in bark. But he supposed it didn't matter - why would crutches need to look aesthetically pleasing? Perhaps Sasori was simply pragmatic. He shrugged off the train of thought and headed up the stairs, only stumbling once in the proccess. When he got to Deidara's room, he paused and took a breath before going in. He wasn't sure what to expect.

He was mildly surprised that his entrance didn't evoke a hysterical reaction. Deidara, sitting in a half-assed lotus position with his broken leg sticking straight out on the bed, gave him a lopsided grin but otherwise didn't move a muscle. Considering his ragged appearance - he was still dressed in Orochimaru's prison garb and his hair, usually perfect, was impossibly tangled - he looked quite composed.

Unsure of what to make of this weird change, Kisame approached the bed and leaned the crutches against it. "Sasori made these," he said. "Looks like it took him all of five minutes."

"Damn, what'd he do, just tear some branches off a tree?" Deidara mused. He picked one up and hefted it thoughtfully. "Well at least they're functional." Only a small curse escaped his lips as he carefully swung his broken leg over the side of the bed and stood up with the support of the crutches. "Could be worse," he breathed, taking a few limping steps. "At least I can take a fucking shower and get a change of clothes now. I am..." he shook his head, "... disgusting."

"Um," Kisame said, moving out of the blonde's way. "Alright." He'd been prepared to face a tantrum or a stream of gibberish... in its absence, he didn't know what to do with himself. Part of him was even annoyed - he was so used to drama from the blonde that he almost felt like he was being ignored without it. "Want some of this?" he offered, holding up the bottle. "It's vintage... sort of."

Deidara shifted on his crutches and eyed the bottle. Finally some emotion flickered over his face. "I shouldn't," he said. "It's hard enough as it is for me to not act like a psycho right now... if I get drunk, there's no way."

"Well shit," Kisame muttered, getting irritated for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. "I'd rather have you drunk and psychotic than sober and fucking stoic. Come on, I gotta leave in the morning and I don't feel like getting wasted by myself."

Deidara took the bottle but didn't raise it to his lips. "Seriously?" he growled. "Earlier you were pissed at me for throwing a fit, now you're pissed that I'm acting sane?!"

"No, I was pissed earlier cuz I just woke up from a damn coma. And I'm pissed now for a variety of reasons, none of which involve you. So drop the act and get fucking drunk with me."

Deidara grinned uncertainly. "Fine," he said. "You asked for it." He took a huge slam that made Kisame cringe and handed back the bottle, his eyes watering. "There, you happy? Now I'm probably gonna fall on my way to the shower."

"You'll be alright," Kisame replied, giving Deidara a slap on the back that almost knocked him over. "Now hurry up before I drink the rest of this and pass out."

"You better not," Deidara warned as he stumped out of the room. "I'll beat you with a crutch."

Kisame laughed. "I'd like to see you try," he mused.

"Oh, you'll see, alright." Deidara's voice echoed down the hall. "You'll be limping all the way to the Land of Earth."

Kisame started to respond but Deidara was already too far away. It took a minute for him to realize that the blonde had been referring to his upcoming mission with Itachi. A range of emotions tested their way through his mind - anger toward Sasori for spilling the beans, guilt that made no sense, even sadness - until he finally decided on drunken apathy and stuck with it. If Deidara wasn't freaking the fuck out about it, neither should he. After a few more shots of sake, he forgot what he'd even been thinking about in the first place.

Afraid he'd fall asleep before Deidara returned from the shower, he decided to clean Samehada. Unfortunately, the work was so routine and methodical that it made him even more tired. I slept for three days straight, he thought crossly. Wasn't that enough? But whether or not it was enough, he passed out before he was even half-way through with the cleaning, dropping like a ragdoll onto the bed.

A sharp pain in his leg awoke him, accompanied by a loud cracking sound. Before he could even open his eyes, another blow struck him in the ribs. Drunk and still half-asleep, his first thought was that Konoha shinobi were kicking the shit out of him.

"Asshole! What's the matter with you?!" That insane, incongruously manly voice was undoubtedly Deidara's. "I leave for thirty minutes and you're spooning your damn sword?! Why in the hell did I have to fall for such a fucking loser?"

"Ah, you bitch," Kisame gasped, raising his arm in defense as his vision cleared. "Do you ever stop being crazy, even for one lousy second?" He looked up to find Deidara looming over him, a crutch clenched threateningly in his hands. The blonde was breathing quickly, his face flushed with anger, and he was wearing what appeared to be a women's kimono. A snort of laughter escaped Kisame's lips before he could stop himself and he was met with another whack from the crutch, on his forearm this time. "Fuck, knock it off," he growled, grabbing the crutch and wrenching from Deidara's grip. "You're psychotic, I get it."

"You said you wanted crazy," Deidara huffed. "Well, I got plenty to go around!"

"No shit," Kisame said, struggling to a sitting position. Samehada was indeed curled up next to him, its spines bristling defensively. He was mildly surprised the sword hadn't bitten Deidara - maybe it was as used to the blonde's tantrums as he was. When he saw the bottle of sake sitting half-full on the nightstand, he scowled and shook his head. I didn't even drink it all and he still freaks out, he thought sourly. "You're lucky you're so hot," he muttered, "or I wouldn't put up with you for a second."

Deidara shrugged, leaning heavily on his remaining crutch. "You knew what you were getting into," he said defensively. "This isn't the first time I've flipped out on you, remember?"

"Oh, in the Land of Rivers," Kisame said. "Yah, how could I forget? But damn, that seems like forever ago, doesn't it?"

"It's only been a few weeks," Deidara replied, relaxing slightly. "But a lot has happened since then..."

"You got that right," Kisame agreed. "We've both been through more shit in two measly weeks than I'd care to go through in my entire life. And it's not about to stop, either."

"No rest for the wicked," Deidara said. "Well, whaddya say we forget about it for now and finish off this sake?"

"Good idea," Kisame chuckled, reaching for the bottle. "I swear, if it wasn't for booze, I would've gone crazy years ago."

They drank in silence for a while, Deidara shyly sitting down next to him on the bed. Kisame was glad for the respite in conversation - he couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't either depressing or drenched in self-pity. When the booze was gone, he still couldn't come up with anything so he leaned in and kissed the blonde instead. He was met with surprise, more shyness, and finally that crazy, obsessive lust that he'd come to accept and even desire. Their bodies tangled together and before he knew it, Deidara was out of his girly kimono and sprawled beneath him on the bed with a hard on. How did a kiss lead to this? he wondered. Sometimes getting drunk was like time traveling.

"Fuck this broken leg," Deidara huffed as he groped Kisame's chest. "I can't do shit!"

"You want me to fuck your leg?" Kisame chuckled. "That's weird even for me."

"Dude, shut up," the blonde said. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Kisame."

"You got me there," the swordsman admitted. He leaned down and trailed his tongue over Deidara's chest, biting both nipples thoroughly before moving down to his abdomen. "Well, since you're incapacited, I could suck your dick," he offered.

Deidara's erection visibly stiffened and he squirmed. "Are you serious?" he breathed. "I mean-"

"What, my teeth?" asked Kisame. "Don't worry, I got a lot of experience back in Kiri."

"No, I mean..." Deidara trailed off and looked away, his face reddening. "I mean... if you're okay with it..."

Drunk and horny as fuck, Kisame couldn't fathom what the blonde was blubbering about until his mouth was actually on his cock. He sat up so quickly it made his head spin. "Wait, what are you talking about?" he demanded. "If this is about Itachi-"

"Of course it's about Itachi," Deidara shouted, also bolting upright so their faces were uncomfortably close. "I know what that bastard did to you, alright? And he's a fucking dead man!" He was breathing quickly and trembling, suddenly so angry he looked as explosive as his kekkai genkai.

Kisame rubbed his temples and cursed. "I thought we weren't gonna talk about serious shit tonight," he muttered. "So how'd you find out, anyway? Did Sasori tell you? Or did I spill out my guts when we got drunk before the mission? Oh, wait, I almost forgot... it must've been before the mission because you told Orochimaru, you dumb fuck!"

Deidara opened his mouth then shut it, at a complete loss for words. He shook his head. "There's no way," he stammered. "I wasn't even..."

Kisame took a few regulated breaths, trying to calm himself down. "Look, it wasn't your fault," he managed to say, even though he didn't really mean it. "Now can we please stop talking about this?"

Deidara was still shaking his head. "I wasn't even..." he repeated. "I mean..." And then he started sobbing.

"Okay," Kisame said, throwing up his hands. "I can't deal with this." He was so frustrated and pissed off, he felt on the verge of tears himself. He got out of the bed and grabbed Samehada from where it rested against the wall. "For crying out loud, I just wanted to get laid," he seethed as he staggered out of the room, shutting the door behind him so hard it rattled the frame. He walked dizzily down the hall and swayed into the quarters that he'd wasted away in during his coma, collapsing onto his death bed and falling into a dreamless, shit-faced sleep.

An interminable amount of time later, he awoke just long enough to feel something warm settle next to him on the bed. An arm draped over his chest and soft hair tickled his neck. "Deidara," he stated, unsure of whether he was dreaming. "Uh, okay." And then he drifted back to sleep, hoping several more hours seperated this moment from dawn.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Sorry about the huge delay on this. I hate to say this but my Naruto fandom is dwindling. I'm going to keep working on this story but damn, it's getting tough. I couldn't even write a stupid sex scene... and believe me, I tried. That's like the whole reason I got Kisame and Deidara drunk, ha! Just, ugh. Wasn't feeling it, at all. Hey, if any of you know of another badass Kisame and/or Deidara fanfic on here that may inspire me, let me know! I'm at my wit's end!