I realize Sasori is 35 in the show (But he made himself into a puppet so he retains the IMAGE of a teenager), but obviously I cannot have him 35 (and obviously I cannot have him regenerated as a puppet; This story is supposed to have MINIMAL supernatural elements in it, if any at all), and Deidara 19-ish, so I am making him a few years older than Deidara for the purposes of my fic. I tried hard to keep everyone at their respective ages (+ 2 years, because Haku was 15 in the show, and I wanted him to be 17, so I just aged everyone by the equal amount of years) EXCEPT Naruto and Sasuke, and apparently now Sasori D:! I hope nobody is getting really anal-retentive about me changing so much stuff to fit my twisted story~ (. . . Obviously me)


Deidara paused at the tall, oak door, glancing down at himself one final time. He was dressed in his usual attire, which consisted of jeans that fit him like a second skin, and usually a t-shirt of the same clingy proportions. He didn't think anything of it, it was kind of how everyone dressed. Everyone with a good body, anyways. But today he was self-concious, about his hair, his clothes, everything. Everything had to look good.

He had been to this house many, many times, been to parties here a lot. But this time we different. Sasori Akasuna was behind this door somewhere, in the big house. Not as big as his, but it was still a nice house, in a nice neighborhood. Lots of bedrooms and space. He tried not to think of the things he had done in some of the bedrooms of this very house.

He sighed, discouraged. It didn't matter, anyway. Sasori wasn't interested in him. That had been made painfully obvious, numerous times. Why was he still clinging to the pathetic ideas that maybe the auburn-haired man was harboring anything but contempt for him? He wrinkled his face up in disdain at his whiny thoughts. He was Deidara-fucking-Hoshigaki, damn it! He could get anything he wanted. Anyone he wanted, for that matter!

Rolling his eyes up at the sky, he opened the door and entered the party, much to the delight of several of the attendees, as they greeted him amicably. He smiled, immediately feeling at ease. And anyway, he didn't see Sasori. Maybe he wasn't even here yet. Maybe he wasn't even coming. He couldn't decide if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.

He decided to forget about being perfect to impress Sasori, and just be himself, like Haku had told him. After all, who was the one that had a real man for a boyfriend, who was nice to him, paid lots of attention to him, and had obviously just been doing something sexual down in the darkroom/basement? Deidara wasn't an idiot. He knew when two people were knocking boots. He made a mental note to ask Haku all about it later.


"Eh? Are you sure you should be mixing alcohol, Deidara?" One of the blonde's best friends asked him, raising an eyebrow calmly, as the pretty Hoshigaki heir downed a shotglass of pink tequila, and immediately after, reached for a tall clear bottle.

"I'll be fine, Neji."

"You've never even had vodka."

"I'll be fine!" He repeated, frustrated. It had been at least 2 hours since he had arrived, and already Sasori had given him one of those looks. A look that plainly said 'Go home, little boy. I'm not interested.' It had made Deidara nearly grit his teeth in annoyance, but being the stubborn boy he was, he had disregarded it, pretending it wasn't there. And had exited the room, heading determinedly to the kitchen where there were dozens of tall, glass bottles filled with whiskey, liquor, rum and any other kind of alcohol he could drink himself into feeling better with. There was a keg, but the taste of beer made Deidara sick.

"If you say so. I suppose this means you're designating me to carry your limp, unconcious body from here later this evening, then?"

"If that's your perogative." The blonde answered irritably. "Or just leave me, I don't care, un. I want to get wasted."

"What is your problem?" He hissed, leaning down close so they could speak at a volume that everyone in the room wouldn't hear, despite the ear-shattering music blaring from the large, expensive stereo system.

"Nothing."

"It's that guy, isn't it?" He asked bluntly, his eerily light-colored eyes dull. Deidara didn't answer, just poured more of the clear liquid in a shotglass, downing it in one swallow, coughing when it was all down. It burned his throat like embers, but it made him feel warm inside. "I knew it. Get over it, Deidara. He's a creep, anyway. Do you see the way he stares at people?"

"He's deep." The blonde snapped. "You just don't understand him. . . He's an artist." He finished, pouring something he didn't exactly know what was, into a large glass, about 3/4 of the way. It was fizzy and fruit-flavored. In total aggravation, he filled it the rest of the way with vodka, and set all of the bottles down.

"Oh, and you do? You've barely talked to him."

"I can just tell." He said, resting a hip against the counter, sipping his concoction.

"Sure." Neji answered cooly. "You know, I've never seen you so hot for anyone before. Especially not for a guy like Sasori."

"Hush!" Deidara griped. "Someone will hear you, un."

Neji nearly smiled. His friend didn't realize that his little crush on the strange, chestnut-eyed man was pretty obvious to anyone with half a brain. Then again, thinking was never Deidara's strong suit, he thought, nearly sighing. Neji had always been the brains of the operation, the blonde acting as a charmer. They were a good team. He watched in only slight annoyance as the enchanting boy stumbled slightly, partly feeling a sense of endearment toward him. Maybe getting drunk out of his mind would help get rid of the ridiculous feelings of affection for that freak, Sasori.


He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he stumbled over to the sliding glass door, peering out of it, the sky was navy blue, dotted with silver, twinkling stars. It was pretty, but he had no time to dwell on it. He turned back towards the much smaller now crowd of people, several of the, he knew very well, several of them he didn't know at all.

"Feelin' okay, Dei?" He heard a slow drawl from somewhere behind him and agonizingly turned.

"Yeah everything's cool." He answered, his words slightly slurred from the excessive amount of alcohol in his system.

"You look like hell." He answered, tilting his head. "Maybe you should lay down."

"You thinking laying down is the answer for everything, Shikamaru." The blonde answered after a minute of registering the words.

"Yeah, but. . . Come on. Look at you."

Deidara tried to look at himself, but then remembered his eyeballs were inside of his skull, not on the outside. "I can't." He answered flatly. He felt the tall, black-haired boy's hands wrap around his upper arms, pushing him towards somewhere he didn't know. He stumbled, falling flat on the ground, Shikamaru tumbling with him onto the hardwood floor. He giggled, despite the pain in his stomach from the fall. "Jeez, can't you even walk, Nara, un?" He asked, his blue eyes hazy and unfocused.

"Sure." He answered, glaring. He stood, heaving the boy up with ease, and shoved him into a doorway. The blonde fell directly into a soft bed, with a down comforter over it. However, he was far too intoxicated to appreciate the softness. "Sleep it off, Hoshigaki." He instructed, flicking off the light and leaving the blonde in the room by himself, closing the door.

Deidara sighed, straightening himself on the bed, his head smashed into the soft pillows. Did he have his shoes on? You should never wear shoes in bed. He tried to sit up to check, but couldn't. Fuck.

Giving up, he tried to slide into sleep.

On the other side of the house, Shikamaru approached Neji and the owner of the house, Lee. "Hey. I tumbled Blondie into bed a minute ago. He's still in there. Just lettin' you know."

"Excuse me?" Neji asked him, eyes narrowing slightly. The lazy guy gave him a weird look.

"He's drunk as fuck. I put him in bed and left him there to sleep it off." He rephrased the sentence.

"Oh." The long-haired brunette said quickly. "I thought. . . Right. Yeah, thanks. I'll get him out of here soon. I kinda want to let the edge wear off before he goes back home. He doesn't like to be wasted at home."

"Whatever." Shikamaru said, walking off unconcernedly. Lee gave Neji a look, eyebrows raised almost comically.

"Do you think he is alright?" The overly-expressive teenager asked.

"He'll be fine. I'll give him an hour or so to nap." They continued to talk amongst themselves, neither of them noticing the auburn-haired man standing near them, somewhat hidden in shadows, in the corner of the room. He grinned a little, stalking off toward the direction Shikamaru had come from.


Oh god he was sick. So, so sick. He could feel his stomach rising up to his throat like a rubber band, but he was afraid if he moved at all, even his pinky, he would puke everywhere. And he loved these jeans. He whimpered, his eyes fluttering pitifully. Rolling so slowly it was hardly movement at all, he looked beside the bed. There was a wastebasket. There really was a God.

He grabbed it quickly, sitting up with difficulty, resting his forehead on the edge of it. Fuck, what had he drank? It felt like there were living things in his body, rolling and shaking. He hated throwing up. It was disgusting. But he was quite afraid he didn't really have a choice in the matter at this point.

Retching, his body went limp, surrendering to the sensation of releasing everything bad in his system. He barely heard the door open, and close nearly immediately. "Neji?" He managed to groan before throwing up more, his body trembling.

"Guess again." The voice was deep, and gravelly. A voice unlike any other he had heard before from anyone else, but a voice that had echoed in his mind for the past several nights. It wasn't a playful tone, despite the mocking words.

Oh god. Fabulous. Deidara could barely muster up the energy to groan, before his body tensed. Before he felt himself begin to vomit again, he felt a hand that wasn't his brush across his forehead swiftly, tucking his extraneous bangs back. He whimpered weakly. It was Sasori. Nobody could speak like that. Why of all people, was his crush the one seeing him puke his guts up in a spare bedroom?

"Wouldn't wanna mess up your signature, now would we?" The man asked quietly, almost getting a sadistic feeling of pleasure from watching the stupid boy get punished for his alcohol indulgence.

"Signature?" Deidara whispered, resting his heated forehead back on the cool ledge of plastic.

"Your hair." He answered shortly, watching the boy dry heave for another 10 seconds or so, before he figured he was probably finished.

The blonde didn't answer, but pushed the trash can away from him for a moment, finally feeling as though he was done. His eyes widened in surprise as a hand towel was shoved into his face. He took it gratefully. It was damp with cold water.

"Drink this."

"I can't drink anymore, un. I'll die." Deidara answered, shaking his head pitifully.

"It's water." Sasori growled. He watched as the boy drank it quickly, eyes closing in pleasure as some of the awful taste was dispersed from his mouth. "Not too good at keeping your liquor down." He commented, earning a glare from melted sapphire eyes, framed in black. "Tolerance to alcohol is directly related to your body size and weight." The man said. "You're too skinny to drink so much." He added, feeling as though he were doing the blonde a favor by putting it in layman's terms.

"I'm not skinny." Deidara answered quietly. "I'm toned."

"Not from where I'm standing." And where he was standing, the view of the teen's long, slender body in form-fitting clothes was impossible not to notice.

"I can't help that you're in a distorted position, un."

"What position would you prefer me in?"

Deidara blushed, crushing the little paper cup between his fingers, not looking up into those sexy chestnut-colored orbs that had the tendency to lock onto something and keep there for minutes at a time. He didn't want to get hypnotized. "Err. Sasori. . . I appreciate you-"

"You would make an excellent puppet." He interrupted, and watched those baby blue eyes finally raise up to look at his face, puzzled.

". . . Pardon, un?"

"You." He repeated. "Would make a good puppet." He leaned forward, their faces so close their eyelashes nearly brushed. "I can tell you want someone to take control of you." His voice was deadly quiet. Deidara opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off. "I like to take control of people."

The blonde froze, staring, his mouth trembling open. Sasori pulled back slightly, smirking. He didn't know what to say. "Tell me I'm wrong." He prompted, referring to his claim that he wanted to be taken control of. "Or can't you?"

"You're not wrong." He found himself whispering, his cheeks heating up.

"I rarely am." Sasori retorted. He pushed the teen back onto the pillows, gathering up the towel and the mangled cup, and then the horrifying wastebasket.

"What are you doing?" Deidara asked, afraid to move off the pillows that he had been shoved onto. Sasori was awfully pushy, but he guessed he didn't mind. It's not like he was some wuss who got freaked out about a guy being a little rough with him.

"Cleaning up your mistakes. Or are you blind as well as ditzy?" He walked into the connecting bathroom, and Deidara heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on. He frowned, rolling over onto his stomach, hiding his face in the cold cloth.

"You don't have to."

"I'm aware."

". . . Are you drunk?" The blonde asked, not knowing what else to say. What was the sudden helpfulness? An hour ago, he had gotten the feeling the man would have rather spit on him than be in the same room with him, especially cleaning up his vomit.

"Drinking lost it's fun after I became old enough to do it legally." (1) He answered, setting the clean can back beside the bed. "I like to be in control of my mind as well. I don't want my judgments and actions to be hazy and clouded."

"Oh." Deidara answered somewhat weakly, letting his head drop back down. "Thank y-"

"Tell me something." He asked casually, scraping a wooden chair across the floor, letting it stop beside the bed, and sitting in it. Deidara huffed. He was tired of getting interrupted. All he wanted to do was thank Sasori for helping him. But when he looked into the eyes that reminded him of the color of a penny, he forgot his aggravation. All he could do was nod helplessly. "Why are you so obsessed with me?"

Nobody had ever been that blunt before to him. Then again, he thought, though he could feel his cheeks hot as fire and knew they must have been red, nobody had ever been so rude to him before, either. Then again still, nobody had ever taken care of him while he was vomiting into a trash can in someone's spare bedroom. He held my hair, Deidara realized with a slight jolt, his heart tumbling in his chest. "I don't know." He answered honestly, and buried his face back in the pillows.

"Got any scars?" He asked conversationally, giving Deidara a look that was nearly genuinely nice, if it hadn't been for the arrogance behind his eyes, and the cool amusement. But the blonde had always found arrogance incredibly sexy.

"Only two, un." Deidara answered. "That I know of."

"Where?"

"One on each palm." He said, holding them out so he could look. Somewhat large X shapes covered his otherwise delicate-looking palms. They weren't neat or straight like what a doctor would make. They were messy, white scars against white skin, and looked like the cuts had been extremely deep.

"Self-inflicted?" Sasori asked sharply.

"Yes." Deidara answered. "But probably not for the reason you're thinking. I wanted to be blood brothers with someone." He smiled a little bit, a pretty smile, that was neither arrogant nor cold. Sasori effectively fooled Deidara into thinking he didn't notice the sweet grin, but he noticed.

"You're lucky you didn't end up with AIDs or Tetanus." The man retorted cruelly, but his eyes had softened. "You have actual blood brothers, don't you?"

"Yes, two. One younger, and one older."

"Ah. Of course."

"Of course what, un?" Deidara asked, confused.

"The middle child always craves attention." The blonde frowned at this. "You disagree?"

"I don't crave attention. I get plenty of attention."

"That's because you crave it, so you work to get it."

Deidara opened his mouth to argue, but stopped. "You don't know as much about me as you think." He retorted haughtily.

"Is that so?"

"Whatever your friends have told you is probably exaggerated, un." The blonde said angrily. Of course Sasori knew about him. Everyone did, didn't they? Why else would the man have come in here and pretended to actually care if he lived or died?

"Can you tie a knot in a cherry stem with your tongue?"

". . . Yes." He said quietly, looking at the bedsheets, his fists clenching. He felt himself tremble, but not in weakness this time. With rage.

"Then not all of it was exaggerated." Sasori shrugged. Deidara jerked up, flying out of the bed with the speed and force of a freight train. He pushed past the copper-haired man in his chair, determined to go through the door and get out of here. Before he embarrassed himself further.

"What are you doing?" He asked loudly, his arm gripping the blonde's elbow hard enough to bruise. Deidara hissed in pain, yanking his arm away.

"Let me go!" He snapped, pulling back hard enough to make himself stumble back and land on his ass, hard. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Are you insane?" Sasori asked, nudging his shoe against the boy's hip with more force than was necessary.

"Yeah!" The teenager cried.. "I'm so fucking insane. Now let me out of here."

"Not until you tell me what's the matter with you." He leaned over, grabbing the boy's arms and lifting him, knowing he would most likely leave bruises. He was all too satisfied to see fear flicker in the azure eyes, before they narrowed.

"I. . . Misunderstood your intentions." It was humiliating to have assumed someone like Sasori had actually been interested in him for anything more than a quick fuck. What had he been thinking? He must be drunker than he thought.

"Intentions?"

"Yes." God, he didn't care about being embarrassed anymore. He didn't care about anything anymore. He just wanted to get away from Sasori. Now. "Please let me go." He could feel it welling up inside him, his frustrations every day thinking of how Sasori wasn't interested in him coming to a screeching climax. He could feel the waves of emotion building, seconds away from crashing and exploding inside him.

"I'd like to know what you seem to think my intentions are." Now he was angry as well, but Deidara was too upset to see it.

"Please please please, un, let me go." He said, wriggling to no avail. He felt his back hit the wall, Sasori still looming over him, eyes stormy. He wouldn't cry. He wasn't a crybaby. He was Deidara. He could handle things. He didn't need to be some pathetic damsel in distress. He wouldn't shed a single tear over a guy, not ever.

"Tell me." Oh god, his eyes were stinging. He was fighting the tears. . . And losing miserably.

"You want to fuck!" Deidara screamed, bursting into tears. He went completely limp, and would have slid down the wall if it hadn't been for Sasori's hands holding him up. "You want to fuck me." He sobbed, tears pouring out of his eyes and down his cheeks, so hot he wouldn't have been surprised to see his skin scarred with burns later. He was quivering, his whole body shaking. He didn't want to look into those copper eyes.

He had always known that was all guys wanted him for, until that fucking bastard Sasori had made him forget. Made him forget that he wasn't good for anything except for a guy to fuck. He was too stupid to be someone's actual boyfriend, and too much of a slut. Who would want him for a boyfriend, anyway? He felt sick again. He wanted to stop crying, but it was like once he had began, everything needed to pour out of him before his emotions could close back up again, and be guarded. He was all too vulnerable right now. It was dangerous.

"Who said I want to fuck you?" Sasori asked, his voice no different that it had been. It was almost as if he had no emotions at all.

"Why else would you come in here, huh?" Deidara asked him loudly, glaring through his wet, shimmering eyes. His head lolled forward, hanging, as the rest of his body was forced to be stiffly pressed against the unrelenting wall. Neither of them spoke for a long time, the russet-haired man just listening to the sobs and whimpers becoming softer and less frequent.

"You know." He began, for just a moment, pressing even that much harder into the boy's soft skin, making him gasp and jerk his head up, eyes wide. "You're cute, Hoshigaki. But you're awfully conceited."

"Then you tell me." He challenged. "Tell me what you were thinking when you came in here."

"Before or after I saw you vomiting?" He sneered slightly. If the blonde hadn't been so distracted, the thought might have occured to him that Sasori had come with a towel and a cup of water, before he had ever seen that he was sick.

"Before." The tears had stopped now, Sasori concluded, although the teen's face was still wet with the proof of them.

"I was thinking you would make an excellent puppet." His voice came out low, like a growl. "You're aesthetically pleasing. Like art."

"Yes. I know. I know I look good, okay?" He said, feeling worse by the minute. "If only my body could have come with brains or something."

"Well, you can't have everything." Sasori replied. "Why don't you just appreciate what you have, instead of making yourself miserable over what you lack?"

"I-" He began to speak, but for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, was interrupted. The guest bedroom door flew open, the backside of it slamming the wall, and Neji stood, looking livid. "N-Neji." Deidara wondered what it must look like to his friend, him being held against the wall by Sasori.

"Deidara. I'm leaving. Come on." When the blonde didn't move, the Hyuga heir heaved a sigh. "I know you can't drive right now. Just come on." He turned, stomping uncharacteristically off. Deidara glanced back at Sasori, who immediately loosened his grip, and let the blonde step away from him. He wondered what on Earth his usually mild friend was so pissed about.

"Don't get into any trouble before the next time I see you." The man instructed.

"Next time?" Deidara asked, feigning puzzlement, turning away and heading toward the door. He thought it was a decent exit line as they went, but Sasori spoiled it by grabbing his shoulder and yanking it back.

"Yes, next time. And for the record, I don't share." He hissed. "So don't let me hear talk of you and some other guy until then."

Deidara stared at him incredulously for several seconds, before turning on his heel and racing out of the door, and out of the house. He slammed his friend's car door, peering at him questioningly.

"Neji, un! What is the matter with you?" He asked, blatantly ignoring any thoughts of that damn Sasori until he knew what was going on with his friend.

"I'm just pissed." Neji deadpanned. "My cousin just called me and told me she saw my mom and dad going through my stuff, looking for something. I need to get home and catch them doing it. I can't believe they would go behind my back like that."

"Oh!" Deidara said, eyes wide. "Wow, I'm sorry, un. . . I thought you were mad at me about Sasori. . . "

"No." Neji said oddly, head tilted. "I know how much you like him. Sorry for, uh. . . Interrupting."

"You weren't interrupting." Deidara sighed. "We weren't doing anything. Just talking."

"I usually manage to talk to people without having them against the wall, looking at them like I'm about to eat them alive." Neji pointed out, but he was clearly still miffed about his parents.

"Thanks for driving me home." Deidara said, obviously dodging Hyuga's words, and nearly threw his hands up in amazament at being able to actually get out a sentence to thank someone.

"No problem." He said, and smiled a little. "Call me tomorrow." He said, pulling into Deidara's driveway, a few minutes later.

"Sure." Deidara answered, bouncing up the stairs to his house, still a little tipsy.

He tried not to think of the hangover he would have in the morning. He tried even harder not to think about the next time he would see the scorpion(2), and the fact that the over-possesiveness that should have given him a creeped-out feeling made him feel wanted.


(1); The legal drinking age in the US, which is where I reside, is 21. Sasori was referring to the fact that he's 21. I didn't want anyone to get confused since I know legal drinking age varies among countries.

(2); Sasori's name translates to scorpion, and I have a tendency to use the animals in which correlate to the characters (Naruto kyuubi or fox, Itachi weasel, Kisame shark - If Iruka were a character, dolphin for him) as a reference. Didn't want anyone confused ^^;