The blond was finally warm. His legs ached, the chill having somehow seeped into the core of his body. Deidara had only just got back from his solo mission, arriving in their room to see Sasori sitting at his workstation. The elder man hadn't reacted to the blond entering the room, bar a slight tense of the shoulders.
Deidara sat back on his bed, just for a moment savouring the relief of his limbs being lifted off the ground. The sculptor's eyes were dry. He felt like he still had to glare out; his body not yet calmed down from mission adrenaline.
Sometimes his eye took awhile to adjust after removing his scope. He pushed his long hair away from his face, trailing fingers through it.
No thoughts came, just emptiness.
After a while, a rustle to his right caught his attention.
Sasori was lining up an adjustment to an arm piece. Deidara's heavy eyes watched the pieces snap into place with a clack-clack-clack.
The redhead felt the stare on his back. He cleared his throat, and shuffled closer to his desk.
Usually, the former Suna-nin was pretty good at ignoring the blond. He was adept at becoming completely sunk into his art. It filled his being; hours could pass without him stopping work on a particular piece.
Tonight, however…
Sasori gripped the wood just that bit tighter as he clicked an arm joint into the shoulder.
There was a heavy silence between them.
The puppeteer's top lip twitched.
Why was he so bothered. He had said his piece. That should be all there was to it.
For Deidara, the anxiety had already passed. That was a few nights ago.
Being shoved up against a wall.
Those fingers in his peripheral vision, reaching out as if they wanted to rip into his face.
Inexplicably, stopping…albeit twitching as if they wanted to carry on.
Deidara let out a low sigh.
Sasori wanted to look behind him, curiosity tempting him. Every time the puppeteer thought he had willed himself to do it, he changed his mind and carried on resolutely looking at his artwork. The redhead felt a pulse at his temple as he considered that.
Separately, both Sasori and Deidara thought back to the last time they were both in their room together, three nights ago.
•••
Deidara's motion stalled as the puppeteer got that close to him. He held his breath.
The sculptor could see the slight rise and fall of Sasori's own chest as the elder man had him backed against the wall.
The redhead was just a few inches away, the blond unable to slip past him now.
All this because Deidara had wanted to talk about what happened.
Sasori was severely rattled, and the blond had fair suspicion he was going to bear the brunt of this surge.
Deidara looked straight ahead at the puppeteer.
Go on then, he willed him internally. Just get it over with it.
And still, Sasori hadn't said or done anything further. It prompted the next statement from the blond.
"I thought you didn't hesitate, un." Deidara called out his partner harshly, the bite emanating in his words. If the redhead was going to hurt him, he should just stop stalling and actually do it.
Sasori's pupils narrowed.
How he hated the blond at times.
Rather than grab the sculptor's face, the puppeteer's dexterous fingers instead grasped against the wall. Sasori dug his fingertips against the cool surface as leaned in even closer, his eyes two protuberant orbs.
Deidara stood his ground, although his hands felt sweaty. The former Iwa-nin gripped one of them into a tight ball. His hand mouth let out a muffled groan in response.
"You talk so much trash, brat." Sasori spoke icily. He still hadn't blinked, eyes fixated on examining his younger partner.
The sculptor's lips writhed. He licked his lips slightly before speaking; "And you can't stop getting near me…why is that, un?" The blond taunted. "Have you ever thought, maybe that's why I thought I had a chance before, un?"
Deidara moved one foot to the side, in case he wanted to move rapidly away from the redhead. Sasori caught the movement, and very quickly grabbed Deidara's wrist.
He found it so frustrating.
The accusations that the blond threw his way made him agitated, as the redhead recognised the slither of truth buried in them. His inability to deny it completely caused him to be furious.
Sasori took his anger out on his partner. In a sudden movement, he whipped towards the sculptor so his frame was blocking Deidara's completely, closing that small gap.
His nose was a fraction away from the tip of the sculptor's own. He had a deadly expression as his hand gripped Deidara's lower arm tighter.
"I'm getting near…as it seems to be the only language you understand." The puppeteer began, his voice firm and quiet. "…Based on your actions." Sasori continued. Both men knew what Sasori was inferring to.
Last night. Both of them together, in the redhead's bed - Deidara kissing him, Sasori pushing the blond away.
The redhead had frozen, mind blank. Unable to reconcile what had happened immediately, Sasori had stared back at the younger man after shoving him away, his expression disturbed. Only a few moments passed until the puppeteer left their room without a word.
And now tonight, the repercussions.
"You need to leave me the fuck alone. You don't want to go down that road." He snarled, voice becoming more vicious as he felt the warmth from Deidara's arm underneath his fingertips. Right now, he wanted to crush that feeling out of the other man's body.
Yet again, the tempting idea of converting the blond into one of his puppets crept into Sasori's mind's eye. It would have certainly have prevented…that.
The sculptor was reeling, taking in the action that unfolded - with him right in the thick of it.
It seems what had transpired between them recently really had taken Sasori over the edge.
The blond felt the grip on his arm; it was painful but not enough to make him cry out. His pulse increased as he tried to think through the rush of emotions what to do next.
Deidara hesitated, he was almost certain, as the anxiety from being threatened by Sasori in this manner was mixed with just a smattering of excitement.
It's why he pushed Sasori's buttons so much. The sculptor couldn't help himself around the redhead.
The more of a reaction he got, the more Deidara wanted to see it again and again. He felt the rise, it propelled him forwards.
When Sasori was wound up like this, it was usually because he had let his humanity shine through. Deidara knew the redhead despised himself for it.
He knows I'm right, the blond mused.
Deidara nudged his head to one side, locking eyes still with the redhead. He gave a nonchalant expression, as if to say he was unbothered by Sasori's threat. Which was mostly, but not entirely, true…He knew Sasori could still severely hurt him should he really want to.
"Fine. I'll leave you alone, un." The sculptor extended his arm out, insinuating for Sasori to let go. He continued to speak, his own voice quieter than usual "…But I'll wager it's you that comes back for more…" Deidara let his words trail off, leaving his lips a little open. As if he was tempted to say some more.
First.
That's what else he wanted to say. A grip of yearning pierced him, as he wavered on saying the words out loud.
Sasori would be the one to come back for more first.
Deidara knew it wasn't just a lapse; he wanted the redhead, even if the elder man didn't want him back.
At the blond's insinuation, the redhead finally lost it. He dug his fingernails into Deidara' wrist where it was already holding onto him. With Sasori's other hand he grabbed the blond's face at the left hand side, shoving him against the wall with a thunk.
For the first time, Deidara's eyes flashed with a semblance of uncertainty.
The puppeteer wanted to shake Deidara, but held himself back from it at the last moment.
What would it take to get through to his partner?! He needed the blond to leave him alone, and pronto. He would end up killing the sculptor at this rate if he continued, and then Sasori would have to deal with the wrath of their leader.
Heart hammering in his throat, Sasori strained over that thought; it took a second for it to smooth over and cool his head. He thought of a way of tempering the situation.
"…I don't want this." The redhead began. "It would be a mistake - a weakness. Nothing good can come of it." His voice became more frantic as he lied to the blond, and himself.
He let go of the blond, who moved away a pace. Deidara still hadn't said anything following Sasori's outburst, but was watching the redhead with an unsure countenance.
The sight of his younger partner's expression had a curious effect on the redhead. Sasori took a shallow breath, pushing his fringe away from his eyes as he looked back at the blond, his own demeanour drained.
This whole thing is ridiculous, he thought.
All of this; the argument, the strikes - because Deidara had to stupidly cross their boundaries last night. Sasori berated himself for ever letting it go this far.
It hadn't even been a small kiss. They had been talking about the future, of all things. What life might be like once they had captured all of the jinchuriki and carried out their Leader's wishes.
The redhead hadn't ousted the blond from his bed as they lounged on there; he wasn't being particularly annoying so that was the reason he let him. Or so Sasori told himself anyway.
The puppeteer glared back at the blond, before sweeping out of the room.
•••
The redhead stalked out of the Akatsuki hideout until he found a safe refuge within the woods. He found a nook to rest against a tree for a while, brooding over what had transpired.
After a while, Sasori considered how it had all happened.
He must have said something Deidara took the wrong way, as before he knew it, the blond had shifted over, too close. He had climbed on top of the redhead's lap and kissed him deeply, holding the back of his head, fingers grasping at his hair.
The redhead could still remember the taste of the sculptor. He frowned, as he thought back to it.
It took a moment until Sasori finally gave in to thoughts that had threatened to spill out from that very night. He sighed, the breath jittering with unease.
Alright, so maybe he had gone along with it too. Before the kiss.
Maybe he had humoured the blond too much; shamefully, Sasori had liked the attention. He had caught on that Deidara had been warmer with him recently, the way the blond had sometimes leaned that bit too closely towards him as they flew out on missions together.
He had accepted it with various reciprocations, from downright ignoring it or mildly enjoying it.
Maybe that's why he was so fucking stressed right now, and why he had rounded on Deidara earlier. He knew there was a part of him that had found some weird pleasure in it…
This ambivalence was torment. How could he be drawn to Deidara at the same time as he could readily despise his actions right now?
The expression the sculptor had that night swam in front of his mind's eye.
But there was no way they could—
They couldn't take it any further.
It wasn't worth thinking about.
•••
A few days later from that event, here they were. In that same shared room. It was a surprise for the redhead that by the time he had returned back to their room some hours later from their altercation, having stewed, he found it sculptor-less.
It seemed Deidara had been called out on a mission. Sasori thought he would be relieved that his partner had vacated their shared space and relished in avoiding in the younger man.
However, in actual fact his time had been peppered with feelings of unease. He felt jumpy, restless.
The redhead found he got angry at stupid instances; he'd make a callous mistake when crafting one of his latest pieces yesterday; an idiotic lapse that made him feel discontented.
He figured some of his bad mood was down to his last run-in with Deidara. Yet he found when the blond finally returned, he wanted to avoid the younger's man eyes.
The sculptor had too much of a discerning eye, sometimes.
Instead, they were both in this strange standoff, rigid awkwardness ringing through the air.
Deidara leaned forwards, pulling his legs upwards, arms leaned against the knees.
He placed his chin on the arm, looking over at the puppeteer. He felt a multitude of emotions right now.
Part of him felt drained, too.
He had felt…exhilarated.
That moment, when he decided to kiss Sasori, he had been grasped with the courage to act on intuition. It seemed he had been wrong.
Deidara mulled the thoughts over in his head, deciding what to do. The minutes trickled by as the blond thought. He eventually settled on one course of action; they couldn't sit here in uncomfortable silence forever.
"Sasori-Danna…we need to talk, un. Again." He didn't need to explain himself; they both knew what he was referring to.
The redhead heard the younger man. He acknowledged the words with a short intake of breath in his nostrils.
The puppeteer felt a sense of dread and adrenaline at the proposal. He didn't like what was happening, yet felt strangely shaken by it.
Sasori did not know the right phrase to match with the blond. He was quiet and still. After how badly the last occasion had gone when they had last tried to 'talk', he wasn't relishing in having to do so again.
Deidara, irked at the lack of vocal response, unfolded his limbs.
He got up slowly, and moved away from his bed.
The blond artist stood close to the puppeteer; Sasori could see him in his peripheral vision.
"Un?" The blond crossed his arms, gesturing with his tone and nod of head that he was waiting on the redhead.
The thought made the puppeteer's eyeball twitch. Gah. Another annoyance.
This is why such things as this were to be avoided. It seemed like he wasn't going to be able to any longer, however.
Sasori finally turned around, twisting his torso just-so and looking over his shoulder at the blond.
"So talk." He requested in a firm tone. If they were going to do this, he wanted it to be done with as soon as possible. Those alarming thoughts he had gone over when he retreated to the woods swam in his mind's eye once again. He figured the sooner he could nip this in the bud; the less chance those thoughts would re-appear.
Deidara's eyes narrows just a touch at the redhead's tone.
T'ch. His partner could be insufferable at times; as much as Sasori got on his case for being a brat, he knew the elder man could be equally waspish at times.
"…"
The sculptor was silent as he thought of the best way of diffusing the tension between them. Choosing his words carefully, he began to speak. "We don't need to speak about this again. Tomorrow, we can leave here, and just be partners, un."
He could see the redhead was listening intently to his each word.
Their eyes met as the blond followed up his remarks. "…Things between us…don't have to change, un."
Sasori looked back at the younger man with an unconvinced expression. He shifted more, so he faced Deidara more squarely.
"Really?" The redhead scoffed at him.
The tone made Deidara feel a flash of annoyance; here he was trying to be conciliatory.
"Yes, really, un." The blond repeated back at the former Suna-nin.
Now it was Sasori's turn to be silent. The sculptor wouldn't have been surprised if he had heard the whir of the puppeteer's brain in that moment. He took a while to consider.
Finally, he replied; "…Is that all?"
Deidara was surprised at the outcome. The younger man didn't react straight away as Sasori too stood up.
"Yes." The sculptor said again, this time a fraction of uncertainly just trickled over his words. He unfolded his arms as the redhead stepped towards him.
"I see." Sasori quipped.
He stopped just short of the sculptor. The blond realised he was holding his breath and let out a rapid exhale. A few moments passed, and the redhead said nothing more.
Deidara thought that was the end of it; as awkward as it felt, a least it had cleared the air a little.
He rubbed the back of his neck, breaking off eye contact with his partner; Sasori had a peculiar expression. The blond turned away, and flopped back onto his bed - he was still wiped from his mission. Deidara was therefore unprepared when redhead began to speak once more.
"…Funny how the accusations you were throwing around last time time seemed to have shrank away." He levied at the blond, words coming out quick. So much for the younger man being insistent that he would be the one to come back for more.
The sculptor half-sat up on the bed.
The former Iwa-nin was a little…surprised. Although it was a fair comment, he hadn't thought Sasori would want to talk about it any more than this. Especially after how he had warned him off nights ago. It made him feel uneasy.
Answering the question, Deidara raised himself fully so was perched on the edge of his bed. Sasori was still standing, countenance rigid, as he heard his partner's reply.
"…I guess I was wrong. You made that pretty clear, so I won't—" He paused. "— I won't try again, un."
The redhead started back at the blond with an unfathomable expression.
Deidara gripped the edge of the bedsheet as he looked back at the elder man.
Finally, it was Sasori who broke the silence.
"I guess we'll see about that." He spoke a little louder this time, yet Deidara inferred clearly from Sasori's tone that was all the redhead wanted to say on the matter. Proving his thoughts correct, the puppeteer returned to his work station, working in the dim light.
Deidara stayed where he was, eyebrows furred as he watched Sasori's back.
This whole situation beginning to be a strain on his mind.
He eventually sank back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was whirring.
The last statement from the puppeteer had actually opened up a sea of thought in the blond's mind.
Great.
This conversation was meant to make things clear, and yet…
"We'll see about that"
See …what? That the blond was wrong, and the redhead correct?
Or.
…If the blond would try again?
He closed his eyes, turning towards the wall.
Why would be bother trying again after what had happened?
Deidara ran his tongue against the tip of his teeth.
Did Sasori…want him to try again…?
Incredulous as it sounded, the blond couldn't shake that feeling. Agitated, considering that thought over in his mind kept from sleep until the small hours.
•••