A/N: These are simply short drabbles done for the Livejournal community entitled 30 Romances and are to be about Sasori and Deidara. Enjoy!


Cold Hands

Deidara sat pensively by the warm blaze of the fire, watching wearily as flames of molten red and orange flickered in a seducing dance, lulling his eye shut as its effect slowly began to lure him into the land of slumber. It was only when he suddenly remembered his duty did he straighten his back and try to focus on the area of forest around him, attempting to take his job as sentry seriously but finding it extremely hard—trees swayed in a soothing breeze, the rustling of leaves and the ascent of a bird's throaty warble making him once again long for sleep.

"I always get first watch, un," Deidara grumbled tiredly under his breath, rubbing his hands together and huddling under the blanket he'd brought for heat, the eerie howl of wind ringing noisily in his ears, raising to a crescendo that he fought to ignore. Perhaps it was his own tiredness that increased the sound, but nonetheless it made him aggravated to the point of throwing a twig angrily into the shrubbery, muttering incomprehensible words darkly whilst glaring at nothing in particular.

Sasori emerged from the undergrowth, startling Deidara; on instinct he reached for his pouch of clay but was stopped by his partner's chakra strings before he was able to mold something, whereas he realized it was him from the familiar signature. Perking visibly, he grinned widely. "Are you here to relieve me?"

The stoic young man released his hold and snorted, replying, "No. I came to tell you to shut up."

"Oh. You heard me, un?"

Sasori decided merely not to acknowledge him and sat with his legs outstretched beside Deidara. He waited a moment before murmuring blandly, "I can't sleep, so you might as well try." Sasori tilted his head back to gaze lazily at the stars above, twinkling merrily. The moon was simply a sliver of white amongst the tiny lights, having begun its cycle again. For reasons unknown to Sasori himself he found his conscious wishing for it to be full and in all its glory—maybe because it reminded him of Deidara's cheerful face, or his bright smile.

Deidara needed no second bidding; he laid on his side facing Sasori, curling in a ball and trying to fall into a light slumber. It was at that moment that a particularly forceful gust of wind decided to blow the small fire Deidara had so painstakingly made, making him groan aloud and roll on his back. "Can't sleep now, it's too cold… un." Sasori rolled his eyes, shifting positions so that he was hovering over Deidara.

"Shame, it feels nice to me."

Deidara reached up and touched his face, making him flinch. "You're not cold?" Sasori shook his head in reply, taking his hands in his own and holding them to his chest, a kind gesture on his part. Deidara stared at him strangely, unused to such affection from the normally withdrawn puppet master.

"I'm not, but you are. You have cold hands." Sasori responded, urging Deidara to sit up. He wrapped an arm around his waist and let him snuggle against him, scowling when he looked up with a happy expression. "I'm only doing this to warm you, so don't hold it against me."

Deidara shrugged, pressing his cheek against his shoulder. "I won't, un."

Sasori opened his mouth to say something else when he glanced down and realized from his light breathing that he was asleep. He sighed heavily before listening to the howl of a wolf in the far distance, moving to stretch only to have Deidara grip subconsciously at his cloak, encouraging him to stay put.

"Danna…"

Sasori smiled slightly—apparently he wasn't going anywhere tonight. It was a good thing he could sit still for long periods of time.