Author's note: So the story continues. You can pry fake dates and bed-sharing from my cold dead hands.

Thank you Renaerys for the beta read! Any remaining oddities are mine.

VVV

It was high noon by the time Ino and Deidara returned to consciousness. Deidara got up and made more of his horrid soggy waffles, which Ino refused, and then he offered her an apple of dubious provenance, which she was too hungry to turn down.

Then Ino lay on the mattress, nursing a headache, and watched Deidara potter around with enough C-4 to decimate the whole building.

"Let's talk about last night," said Ino when her headache had subsided enough to make conversation bearable.

Deidara, in the process of adjusting a mechanical lens of some kind over his left eye, froze. "…What about last night?"

"The stuff Teruo said. The little prince thing."

"Oh," said Deidara, relaxing visibly and resuming his fiddling with the eyepiece. "Right. Yeah. Let's talk about that."

His blatant relief made Ino raise an eyebrow as she munched on her sketchy apple. What the hell did he think she'd wanted to talk about? The fact that he'd gotten excited about her in the elevator? The fact that he thought she was stupid hot? The fact that they'd cuddled like idiots all night long and neither of them had voiced any objections? And the way they'd ended their cozy night with a nice fluffy sharing-caring conversation about his hands?

Yeah, no, she wasn't touching any of those fantastically awkward subjects with a ten-foot pole.

"The little prince," said Deidara. "What kind of lame-ass name is that…?"

"It's a story about a little boy–"

"I know the story," interrupted Deidara. "That doesn't make it any less lame." He frowned as he twisted away at something with a screwdriver. "I've been thinking, though. There's something weird about this. This ten million."

"Weird how?"

"You saw Kakuzu yesterday."

"Yes," said Ino. "The most terrifying man I have ever met."

"Yeah. He's also the most money-hungry bastard around. But that much cash – it's spooking him. He didn't want to touch it. He thinks it's some kind of a sting."

"You think he's right?"

"No, I don't think it's a sting, 'cause Teruo doesn't, and he knows more than Kakuzu. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it's not the big leagues; maybe it's just someone rich who has no idea what they're doing, who wants your dad dead."

"Oh…?"

"I mean, think about it: a mob boss would know that the Kakuzus of the world get skittish with that kind of cash. They'd offer something less spectacular, something less noteworthy, and it'd get done anyway. There's mercs who'd kill their own mothers for 500 grand…"

Deidara put down the screwdriver and looked at Ino. "So here's a question. What dumb rich person would stand to benefit if your dad died? If Yamanaka Incorporated lost its leader and eventually went under?"

"Rival telecom companies, obviously," said Ino. "USNet, SkySat, and, of course, Telwave's the big one…"

Ino trailed off. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Deidara quirked an eyebrow at her. "What?"

"I have to go," said Ino, leaping to her feet. Her half-eaten apple rolled off the mattress, forgotten.

"Where?"

"Telwave. I think I know who did it."

"You do? How? Who's at Telwave?"

"Seigo Tadaaki," said Ino, darting around the apartment to collect her scattered work clothes. "The CEO. He's rich enough, definitely ambitious enough, and there might be an additional motivating factor…"

"What does that mean?" asked Deidara as the whirlwind that was now Ino breezed by him. "What factor?"

"He happens to be an ex of mine."

Deidara gave Ino an open-mouthed stare. "…What? Your ex? You dated the CEO of a rival company?"

Ino disappeared into the bathroom to see if her underwear had dried overnight. "There was a…a time when we thought a merger might happen, actually," she called through the door as she pulled on cold, damp panties. "Between our two companies. But it turns out Seigo was a controlling jealous creep. Who also cheated on me."

"I see…"

"We didn't end on good terms," said Ino, hastening out of the bathroom and into the rest of her clothes.

"So, uh, what are you about to do?" asked Deidara, watching Ino wiggle into her pencil skirt while pretending not to be watching Ino wiggle into her pencil skirt. "Just barge in and ask him if he wants your dad dead?"

Ino rolled her eyes. "Yes. That is exactly what I'm going to do because I have no intelligence whatsoever."

"Well you sure look like you're about to stomp off without a plan…"

"Tss. I never stomp," said Ino. "I'm just going to drop by and say hi to Seigo, and see where the conversation goes from there."

Deidara did not look convinced that this was the best means of proceeding.

"What?" said Ino in the face of his skepticism. "It'll be fine. I'll know if he's lying to me. Seigo can't hide shit from me, like when he started fucking his EA…"

Okay, so that last part had popped out a little more shrilly and bitterly than she had intended. Ino cleared her throat, buttoned up her suit jacket, and resumed her businesslike demeanor. "Ahem. Where did I put my shoes…?"

After some fussing Ino eventually found her shoes, found her purse, and made for the front door, only to find Deidara leaning against it with his arms crossed.

"Yes?" said Ino.

"What, you think you're leaving? Just like that?"

"Um, yes. I have a good idea as to who the rich dumb person is who might be out to kill my father out of professional and personal spite – it would be just like him, the asshole – and I'm going to intercept him—" Ino interrupted herself to tap at her lip, "—actually, maybe intercept isn't a strong enough word. I might stab him in the throat with his fountain pen and say it was self-defense. I'm not sure yet. We'll see how I feel. Anyway, I'm leaving."

"I'm coming with you," said Deidara, shrugging on the beaten-up bomber jacket that had so offended Ino's sensibilities when she had first encountered it.

Her sensibilities remained offended. She looked him up and down – the brown jacket with its worn sheepskin lining, the scruffy jeans, the fraying corduroy gloves. "You? Are coming with me? To see Seigo?"

"Yeah."

"…No."

"Uh, yeah, I am. You think I'm letting you fuck off without me? When you're my one chance at not getting killed next week?"

"I'm not fucking off," said Ino, reaching for the doorknob. "I'm just gathering some information, and then I'll be right back because I'll need you to–"

"No," said Deidara, wedging his hip between Ino's hand and the door.

"I signed your stupid contract! I promised I wouldn't fuck off, and I won't."

"Great, so I'll just show that piece of paper to Kakuzu when he catches me next week and you've gone crying to daddy and the police and I still don't have the money. Good idea. It'll give him a laugh while he puts a bullet in my head."

This was kind of a joke, but also kind of not, realized Ino as she looked at Deidara. He was genuinely worried because he was genuinely in shit if she walked away.

But she had no intention of walking away. "You know, it really offends me that you value my word – and my signature – so little—"

Deidara's shrug amply communicated quite how little he cared about offending her.

"And as if those things weren't enough," continued Ino, "I owe you. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know about this contract for my father's life. So believe me, I'm not just walking out of here and leaving you to die."

"But that's exactly what you're doing."

Ino stomped the ground with an impatient heel. "I told you, I'll be right back."

"No."

"You can't come with me," said Ino. "Seigo will take one look at you and fly into a rage; he's stupidly jealous…"

There was a moment of silence as Ino stood there with her mouth half-open for a moment and processed a new possibility.

Because…because when Seigo flew into his rages, that was when he was more likely to speak the truth. That was when he lost the filter between his brain and his mouth. It was how she'd learned about the EA, actually; he'd spat it out during one of their fights. (And, later, it was how Ino had learned that Seigo saw her as nothing but a trophy wife, and a convenient means to get his hands on Yamanaka, Inc…)

Ino tapped her lip with a finger and looked Deidara up and down.

"What?" said Deidara.

"I just had another idea. I think – I think it could be a better idea than just dropping by to say hi out of the blue, which might make Seigo suspicious if it's really him." Ino pressed her fingertips together and began to pace. "Okay, okay, so what if we play this differently? What if we're more strategic? What if we line this up more naturally than me just showing up at his office? If I just happen to be out and about with my new boyfriend—" here Ino interrupted herself and shook her head "—but? This guy? Would it be even remotely believable? Could I pull this off?"

"…What's happening right now?" asked Deidara as Ino circled around him, mumbling incomplete sentences.

"The jacket, the hair," said Ino, "too scruffy. It wouldn't work. The gloves. The fleecy sack coat. Are those Timberlands? God help us. Seigo'd never believe it…He'd ask where I found the hobo and die laughing…but what if I…?"

Ino took a step back and bit her lip and studied Deidara from the front and muttered some more. "Maybe there's potential? Maybe? I could go to Pierre? Pierre can fix anything, right?"

"Who the hell is Pierre?"

Ino ignored Deidara's question, brushed his hair to one side, flipped the collar of his jacket up and flipped it back down, tugged up his jeans, poked at his abs, ran a hand down his arm and squeezed it. "I mean, the base is decent…More than decent, even…"

"I'm feeling objectified," said Deidara.

Ino gave him one last look, grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him out the door.

"Wh–? What's happening?"

"I've decided you're coming with me," said Ino.

"…Who's Pierre?"

"You'll see. You think the elevator's fixed? We need to get downtown."

"Probably. Okay, we can take my car—"

"The Prius? Does it have to be the Prius?"

"I can borrow Sasori's PT Cruiser…"

"His PT Cruiser?" repeated Ino with a bit of a shriek as they disappeared into the dark hallway.

"Hey, it's kinda cool, it has all these scorpion decals; he likes scorpions—"

"Jesus Christ. We're taking the Prius."

VVV

Moments later, and with exclamations of delight, Ino was reunited with her phone, which made the journey in the Prius far more bearable. Only two missed calls and a handful of unread texts: as far as the people in Ino's life were concerned, she was still MIA at her spa getaway until Tuesday morning.

This was convenient, given that she had recently taken to being Nancy Drew and traipsing around the city looking for murderers.

"I thought we were going to this Seigo guy," said Deidara as Ino's directions led them to the environs of Central Park. "Isn't Telwave's HQ down near Wall Street…?"

"We are going to see him," said Ino. "But first, I need to change."

"Change? Into what?"

"Something that's not a rumpled Yves Saint Laurent skirt suit that I slept in two nights ago," said Ino. "Which Seigo will notice immediately. Don't question me. Turn right."

"Right? Where?"

"The parking garage, right there…"

"Parking…?" said Deidara, veering right. His eyes travelled up the glass tower looming above him. "Where are we going?"

"My place."

"You live here?"

"Yes," said Ino.

"Like, next to Central Park?"

"Yes."

"Wow…"

The parking attendant in his little booth peered with great suspicion at the approaching Prius. Then he peered with even greater suspicion at Deidara, and with reason, in Ino's opinion, because Deidara was looking particularly disreputable this morning with his dishevelled hair in a man-bun and his sketchy-ass car.

Then the parking attendant recognized Ino in the front seat and just looked confused.

Ino smiled at him brightly and waved and muttered through her teeth, "Keep driving, keep driving, I don't want to have to explain what the hell I'm doing in a car like this with someone like you…"

The attendant raised the gate and waved back, bemused.

"Visitor's parking is on the left," said Ino. "And for god's sake, don't ding anyone's doors; I promise you can't afford the repairs."

Deidara followed her instructions in silence. She saw him eyeing the other cars lined up in the pristine parking garage. The few Mercedes-Benz and BMWs scattered about looked downright modest compared to the Bugattis, Lambos, and Maseratis that glimmered in the garage's white light.

And the rusty taupe Prius, well, it just looked ashamed to exist when Deidara parked it between a stately Bentley and a Jaguar coupe in the visitor's parking.

He locked it out of habit and then laughed, but the laugh was almost pained. "Don't think anyone here is gonna steal that piece of shit…"

"You never know, someone might find it, um…" Ino paused as she tried to think of something nice to say about the beaten-up, pathetic thing, "quaint…?"

"Right…"

They made their way to the elevator, and Deidara remarked, as they waited for it, that he didn't see Ino fainting or puking, so where was her claustrophobia now, hm?

Ino said nothing in response. The elevator doors opened.

"Oh," said Deidara.

The elevator was a gorgeous feat of engineering: glass from floor to ceiling and offering, as it flew them up twenty-one stories so smoothly they couldn't feel the movement of it, a stupendous view of Central Park.

"It's hard to get claustrophobic in here," said Ino as she looked out. "Even for me. It's part of why I bought here…"

A pleasant man's voice announced that they had reached the twenty-first floor and, to Deidara's delight, bid them a good day as they stepped out of the elevator.

"You too, man, take it easy," said Deidara to the elevator, eliciting a laugh from Ino.

Her heels click-clacked along the white marble floor as they made their way down the bright hallway towards her unit. The corridor was lined with comfortable chairs and low tables offering the day's newspapers, bowls of fruit (Deidara swiped a banana), little jars of imported Belgian chocolates…

"Huh," said Deidara.

"What?" asked Ino.

"No bodies to step over," said Deidara. "This feels weird. And that smell…"

"What smell…?"

Deidara inhaled deeply. "Lack of piss."

"Shh, don't be vulgar," said Ino as they reached her door. "I have neighbours who would be upset at that kind of language…"

Deidara rolled his eyes, peeled the banana, and watched Ino press in her code. "Wow. You don't just have keys like normal people?"

"No. Stop looking, creep."

"Too late," said Deidara as Ino pushed open the door. "Good number, though, 7700…"

"Why?"

"Detonation velocity of nitroglycerin."

Ino pushed open the door and sighed a happy sigh – she was home. So much had happened since she had last been here some seventy-two hours ago – so much to make her appreciate what she had. Look at this place. Look at these spotless white floors, these pale grey walls dotted with tasteful abstracts perfectly matching the decor, look at her cherished baby grand piano gracing the space with its sculptural elegance. And she had an actual kitchen, and an actual bedroom with an actual bed, and everything was clean, and clutter-free, and there were no cats and no rats…

Deidara, as he wandered in behind her, looked dodgier than ever against the hypermodern minimalism of the place. Ino realized, as she watched him slouch around in his grunged-up, bohemian way, that three days ago she would've screamed if such a man had turned up in her condo. And she would've called the police. And she would've had whatever marble tiles he'd stepped on sanitized, or maybe even replaced.

Which was dumb, because she knew now that though he looked disreputable and grimy, he was actually quite clean, and kind of smelled nice, and didn't have communicable diseases as far as she could tell.

Anyway, three-days-ago-Ino was kind of a baby.

Ino's thoughts were interrupted by Deidara as he stuck his head into the kitchen: "Hey, are you sure you live here?"

"Obviously," said Ino. "I mean, no. I broke in. This is someone else's place. You caught me."

"But where's all your stuff?" Deidara popped out of the kitchen and waved his hands at the sleek, mirror-clean surfaces around him – the spotless coffee table, the almost-bare shelves, the dining table adorned with a single white tulip in a vase.

"Put away where it belongs," said Ino. "Clutter is gross."

"You live in a magazine."

Ino sniffed. "I like it this way."

Deidara moseyed into the living room where he discovered the piano. "Huh. D'you play, or is this just another magazine prop?"

"I play."

Deidara examined the little bookcase next to the piano, upon which Ino's scores were arranged by composer – Liszt, Chopin, Schumann, Brahms, Godowsky – all with spines well-worn from use.

"Weird," said Deidara. "You didn't strike me as the type…"

"You really don't know anything about me," said Ino.

Deidara gave her a long look. "Yeah. I guess I don't."

The floor-to-ceiling windows at the other end of the living room caught his attention next. Ino thought she heard an intake of breath as he walked over to take in the view. She joined him where he stood and found him staring not at New York City's iconic skyline, but rather higher – at the skies above and the sun.

"You know, most people look at Central Park from up here," said Ino after she had observed this peculiar behaviour for a moment. "Or, like, the Chrysler Building over there…or Rockefeller Centre, down there…"

"Is that right?" Deidara said, glancing to where she pointed with an indifferent sort of politeness before turning his face skywards again.

Ino breathed out a huff of annoyance; this dork was so not appreciating the amazing, multi-million dollar view of NYC she was presenting him with and opting instead looking at the sky, which he could look at from anywhere, so what was the deal?

She looked up too, trying to understand the fascination. It was just a late-afternoon July sky. It was blue. The sun was bright, as the sun is wont to be on summer afternoons. Altogether unremarkable…

Ino blinked away the sun-spot in her eye and patted Deidara on the shoulder. "Okay, Icarus. I'm going to go shower off the dirt and the memories of poverty. Don't touch anything, don't break anything—"

"Thanks for the instructions." Deidara awoke from his reverie with snark. "Good thing you mentioned, 'cause I was going to take a dump on your piano and then maybe smash some vases or something…"

Knowing that it would rankle more than responding in kind, Ino ignored his sarcasm. "Good, I'm glad we cleared that up. There's food in the fridge, so help yourself to whatever. Kiyoko always leaves groceries after she's done for the week…"

"Who's Kiyoko?"

"My housekeeper," said Ino, tottering off to her bedroom.

Deidara rolled his eyes. "Your housekeeper. Of course."

"I work seventy-hour weeks," said Ino over her shoulder. "Do you think I want to waste my precious free hours scrubbing toilets and cleaning floors? Don't give me that judgy look."

Deidara was still giving her the judgy look, so she shut the bedroom door in his face.

VVV

"Jesus Christ," said Deidara when Ino came out of the bedroom an hour later. "Are we going to the Oscars?"

"No," said Ino. "But we're going to see Seigo. I wanted to do myself up, to remind him of what he lost, you know…"

What Seigo had lost was this: this stunning woman rocking this little white dress (Valentino) and these peep-toe pumps (Miu Miu), her white-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder in a profusion of wavy curls, her eyes shining cold and blue as glacier-melt, and her heart glittering as she thought of Seigo, colder still.

Deidara stared at her and said, "I don't know this Seigo guy, but I can tell you he's a goddamn idiot."

Ino drifted towards Deidara in a cloud of beauty and delicious smells. "Isn't he, though?"

Then she touched Deidara's hair and tilted his face up to the light. "Hm. Your turn. Let's see what we get."

"My turn to what…?"

"Shower and get pretty."

"I'm already pretty," said Deidara as Ino pulled him towards the bathroom.

"Prettier, then," said Ino, stripping off the bomber jacket.

"Excuse me? What are you…? I can undress myself, thanks."

"Can you? That would be great. We have an appointment in an hour and I need you to look at least somewhat presentable…"

"An appointment? With Seigo?" asked Deidara as Ino pulled his shirt over his head.

"No," scoffed Ino. "Not with Seigo, not yet. With Pierre."

"Who's Pierre?"

"My father's tailor," said Ino, undoing Deidara's belt.

"I don't wanna go to your father's fancy-ass tailor," said Deidara, trying and failing to stop Ino's quick hands from whipping his belt out from around his hips.

"I really don't care what you want," said Ino, now working on tugging off Deidara's jeans.

Deidara fought to hold them up as he eyed the rain shower and its profusion of bottles with suspicion. "Hey – I can do this myself – and why are there like a million bottles of shampoo?"

"Because we aren't savages who use two-in-one Clorox in our hair," said Ino.

She gave up on the jeans and reached to take off Deidara's gloves. He swatted her hands away. "Get out. I think I can figure out the rest of this showering stuff by myself, like a big boy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," said Deidara.

He spun her around and the next thing she knew, Ino was being pushed firmly out of the bathroom by two gloved palms in the small of her back.

Deidara closed the door behind her with a snap.

Then, a moment later, his voice came through it: "Uh. How do you turn this thing on?"

Ino rolled her eyes and went back in.

VVV

Ino took advantage of Deidara's showering to have her first real meal in three days. Again she found herself freshly appreciative and grateful for the things she had: this new head of romaine, this organic lemon, the feta, the hummus, the raspberries. Not a mouldy burrito or mushy waffle in sight.

She had a Good Life, thought Ino as she ate her raspberries. A Very Good Life.

This swell of appreciation, combined with the joy of being home again, and the anticipation of putting this father-murdering mystery to rest tonight, put Ino in a fine mood – a mood so fine it verged on buoyant.

So, when Deidara came out of the bathroom looking for his shirt, he was immediately accosted by a bubbly Ino who wanted to do his hair.

"No," she said, slapping his hands away when he tried to finger-comb the wet strands. "You have no idea what you're doing."

Deidara's objections were ignored as Ino pulled him to her bed and sat him down on it. Then she clambered behind him armed with her hair-dryer and brushes and a dozen bottles of things that smelled nice, and combed and conditioned and sprayed to her heart's content.

"My scalp is bleeding," declared Deidara.

"Don't be a baby."

"Ow."

Ino tutted. "You have so many knots…"

"You're making them."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Ino. "Have you seen my hair? I know my way around hair. It's not my fault you decided to start developing dreadlocks on the way here."

"Why do I smell tea?"

Ino wrapped an arm around Deidara's neck to show him the bottle. "White tea serum by Bulgari. Isn't it delicious? And it's helping me with the rat's nests…" She paused as she untangled a particularly stubborn knot. "Actually, I'm surprised I haven't found a literal rat in here, given your living arrangements…"

"Funny," said Deidara.

"I thought so."

In the mirror across from her bed, Ino could see Deidara looking around her bedroom: the large white bed they were seated on, the glittering chandelier that hung low over it, the grey shag rug on the floor, the darker grey side tables, the single white orchid on the dresser.

"So, given your living arrangements," said Deidara, "are you actually colour blind?"

"Funny," said Ino.

"I thought so."

"No, I'm not colour blind. I've always loved greys and whites…"

"Boring."

"Beautiful," said Ino. "When I was little, I wished my eyes were grey, instead of blue."

"Wow."

"Anyway, in a space like this, you can play with textures and light and reflections more when there isn't loud colour obscuring everything else…It's quieter. More serene. Modern. Clean."

"Cold," said Deidara.

Ino looked at him in the mirror and shrugged. "Then it suits me."

"It does," said Deidara. He studied himself in the mirror, sitting on the edge of her bed without his shirt on, his chest a riot of colour, his black gloves pressing into the white bed. "And I'm pretty fuckin' out of place."

"You really are," said Ino, looking down at his bare shoulders with their pastel mauves and sky blues. She passed a finger along a ray of sun that shone up from his shoulder blade and shook her head. "Tsk. I mean, look at this. This is just obnoxiously bright."

"Yeah, well—"

"It suits you perfectly."

Deidara stared at her in the mirror. "I'm not sure if that was a compliment or an insult."

"I'm gonna say insult. And if you insult me back, I will pull your hair."

"You're already pulling my hair…"

"I know, but look," said Ino, lifting Deidara's hair. She let it fall over his shoulder in silky strands. "Worth it, no?"

They watched the effect in the mirror. Ino's own hair, far longer than Deidara's, fell over both of their shoulders as she leaned into him from behind.

The contrast between his hair and hers struck Ino as quite lovely: his raw honey versus her expensive platinum. She amused herself by reaching over and twining thick strands of their hair together in a loose braid.

"I like it," she said, tilting her head and running her fingers down the blond-white plait (sunlight and moonlight, or summer and winter, or butterscotch and vanilla, or any number of other such pretty contradictory things…).

Deidara said nothing but his eyes lingered long on the braid, as though it carried some significance beyond entertainment for Ino's idle fingers.

Ino undid the braid with care: "Don't want to ruin my curls."

"We're done?" asked Deidara as Ino sat up and began to gather her bottles together.

"Yep."

"Already?"

"Yes…?"

"Oh," said Deidara, and something in that single syllable told Ino that he'd actually been kind of enjoying himself, though he'd never admit it, and that he would've liked this impromptu hair-playing session to have gone on for a while longer.

Ino hefted her first load of products back to their respective drawers in the bathroom and was amused to find that Deidara hadn't moved from his position on her bed when she returned.

"Careful," said Ino as she leaned onto the bed beside him to collect her brushes. "If you keep sitting here I'm going to take it as an invitation to start experimenting with hairstyles on you, and you really don't want that…"

She reached with her free hand and twirled a strand of Deidara's hair between her fingertips. They looked at each other. In his eyes was a subdued struggle between pride and something softer, some innocent, comfort-seeking thing…

He caught her by the wrist before she could walk away. "Maybe I do want that."

Ino's gaze flicked down to where his glove encircled her wrist. He let go immediately.

"I thought your scalp was bleeding," said Ino.

"I'm a masochist," said Deidara.

Ino dropped the brushes back onto the bed, hitched up her dress, and resumed her position behind him with a grin.

When he managed to wrench his eyes from the flash of her legs in their tights, Deidara noticed Ino's grin in the mirror. "What're you smiling about?"

"I'm going to make you, like, the biggest beehive…"

"Oh," said Deidara, leaning back onto his hands. "Go nuts."

"Wh—? You were supposed to object to that, and then I was going to suggest a Mohican…"

Deidara closed his eyes as Ino wove her fingers into his hair. "Shh."

"Did you just shush me? Excuse me…?"

Deidara ignored her and kept his eyes closed.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting your nap?" asked Ino.

"Yeah, you are."

"Aww. Sleep tight, you poor, tired thing," whispered Ino into Deidara's ear while stroking his hair with exaggerated solicitude. Then, in an even quieter whisper, she added: "You're going to wake up with a mullet."

Deidara cracked open an eye and said, "I would actually kill you."

Ino laughed and proceeded to play with his hair, "But just for five minutes, okay, we have to go." First she made him a poofy high ponytail that totally brought out his cheekbones, then she made an intricate fishtail braid to show off, and then she made a loose chignon which, as she informed him, really made him look like a hot girl from behind.

Ino put on a good show of being amused and entertained, but as her fingers worked, she began to wonder what the hell she was doing here, exactly? And what the hell he was doing, also? Because everything they had done together until now was for their respective benefits: for Ino to keep her father alive, and for Deidara to keep himself alive. Dressing up like a prostitute to gather intelligence on who put out the hit on her father? Fine. Tidying up Deidara to make sure he looked like a plausible boyfriend for her nefarious designs against Seigo? Fine.

But sitting here, playing with Deidara's perfectly fine hair just for shits and giggles? That kind of crossed a line. Ino didn't do things for shits and giggles. And yet, here she was…

No, really – what the hell was she doing?

Ino pulled Deidara's new chignon apart with a frown. "Okay, that's enough messing around. We need to leave."

"Mm?" said Deidara, blinking around and looking dazed, like he really had just woken up from a nap.

"Do that half-ponytail topknot thing you do," said Ino, gathering her collection of combs and brushes into her arms. "And we can go."

"That? That's good enough for you?"

"Yes, it's good enough. Now get a shirt on and let's head out."

She left Deidara sitting bemused on the bed, probably wondering what had caused such an abrupt end to such a peaceful moment.

And Ino…Ino wasn't in the mood to explain something she didn't quite understand herself.