Found
H is for Horology
O O O
He didn't know how it had happened. And even as he stared up at the dark ceiling, counting the rocks stuck in it, counting the minutes that passed, counting every breath that the girl drew in, he wondered at the way things were looking at this particular moment.
He'd made it abundantly clear to both her and Kisame that he didn't want her around anymore. He didn't want her presence always hovering beside him, he didn't want her pink hair just skirting the edges of his vision, he didn't want her hands smoothing over his flesh, healing his wounds before he could even think to lick them clean like the dog he was so proud to be.
He didn't want her anymore.
But he was also lying horribly.
He did, he didn't, he did again, then he didn't; it was always a mental tug-of-war. One day he'd remember the hotel and her reactions to his bloodline limit, to the thing that left most people laughing or grimacing at him, and he'd want to sneak behind her and put a hand to the small of her back. Because Kisame wouldn't notice if he just slipped the other hand under her shirt, kissing without moving his head an inch and leaving delicious little love-bites all down her sides that she had to heal in the morning.
Then another day he'd look at her and his heart would ache, because this lovely creature couldn't be and never would be his to coddle and cherish. And it wasn't that he was prone to jealousy or selfishness by any means, it was just that he really, really wanted to be able to wake up and see her smiling over him and smile back. So perhaps Kisame wouldn't notice if he just leaned over her shoulder real quick and stole a small kiss from the corner of her lips.
Still on other days, though, he hated her. He despised her very being and wanted to blow her to pieces and feed the remains to the insects at his feet. She disgusted him because she was so clean and demanding and sure of herself. She disgusted him because she was so innocent and such a do-gooder. And hopefully Kisame wouldn't notice if he just slit her throat with a kunai while she slept, tossed her in the ocean, and blamed a group of rogue bandit-nomads.
He could do it now, too. Kisame had woken up at the break of dawn, as usual, and was out scouting the area. The girl—Sakura—was still asleep, defenseless. He had a kunai strapped to his left leg. Just pull it out, roll over quietly, press the blade to her neck, and slide it across, taut, thin skin. And blood would fill in the incision, pool, spill over her collarbone, between her breasts, and it would stain her shirt so deeply that he'd have to burn her clothes just to rid himself of the reminder of her presence.
Perhaps unconsciously or perhaps not, he pulled the kunai slowly from its holster at his thigh. He turned to Sakura, still sleeping soundly, and got on one knee and then two, hovering dauntingly over her.
The hand gripping the kunai started to sweat, and he kept the mouth there tightly closed. He'd never liked the salty taste. Just one of the downsides of having mouths on his palms.
He lowered the weapon to her throat carefully—anxiously—as he moved one knee to the other side of her. He sat back slightly, so close to straddling her that it was almost disturbing. And the kunai inched closer still, pressing the sharp point once against her throat and tracing a thin line from the base to beneath her chin. The fine streak of blood that appeared almost instantly shouldn't have surprised him, but it did.
The blood formed a small dot at the beginning of the score before growing to race down the side of her neck, hitting the ground below them. It really wasn't much blood at all, so why was he panicking?
His hand clenched around the kunai before he tossed it backwards in anger, straight out of the cave and into the trunk of a tree, where it stuck perfectly. He leaned over her, took her face in his hands, and gritted his teeth, pressing his forehead against hers. "What are you doing to me?"
He could feel her chest rising and falling beneath his, breasts pressing into him, every precious breath pushing past his level of consciousness. When he pulled back to see the results of his work, that small, almost unnoticeable strip of blood, an overwhelming flash of guilt passed over him.
He'd just tried to kill her, hadn't he?
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the beginning of the cut, kissed it once, and then darted out his tongue to taste it, copper and salt and something purely primordial in the rush it gave him. He slicked up along it, sucking and licking particularly hard at the places where the blood had begun to dry, erasing any and all evidence that he'd inflicted any sort of wound upon her. And even when all traces were gone, he continued, confused but not entirely disappointed with the quickening of her breath and the arching of her back.
He slipped one arm behind her shoulders, holding her propped up a bit for better access. He moved his mouth to the curve of her jaw and then to the corners of her lips, skirting just on the edge of a kiss and never daring the plunge even further. He was pushing his luck as it was. How long did he have before she woke up and beat him to—?
She awoke with a gasp. "Deidara?"
He pulled back almost instantly, but she caught him by the collar with two strong hands.
"Deidara?" she repeated incredulously, still panting, still staring at him with wide, brilliant eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn't. Instead he just gaped lamely, inches away from her, slightly embarrassed that she could probably feel his erection pressing into her lower stomach pleadingly. "I…I…"
She tried to move out from underneath him, turning and twisting and clutching at his arms to get away, but he pinned her tight, the friction of her movements making him shudder and struggle. "Ah…"
She stopped instantly, apparently feeling the result of her endeavors. "Deidara, what…?"
He licked his lips. "Right. Um…"
Her eyes narrowed, and all traces of sexual tension drained, thankfully. "If there's some way you can explain this to me without getting your teeth knocked out, all three sets of them, then by all means, be my guest."
"Well, you see…"
"And why is my neck bleeding?"
He held up a contradicting finger. "I can explain that."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Then please do."
The finger drooped. "I…uh…I have an S and M fetish."
"Sadist-masochist?"
"Yes."
"Really." No humor. Just warning.
Deidara was suddenly very, very afraid for his masculinity. "Yes, really. Sadist part. I like…inflicting pain."
"And did it ever occur to you that perhaps I do not enjoy receiving pain?" she asked sweetly, able to appear dangerous even as she was pinned securely beneath Deidara.
He glanced up and to the left. "Yes, it did cross my mind, but I never really paid attention, yeah."
A well-placed knee into his groin had him reeling, cursing, and hacking up nothing. And of course Sakura healed it. But not after not-so-gently informing him that if he ever tried anything like that again, she'd ingrain chakra next time.
Needless to say, he was very, very glad when Kisame made his appearance moments later, three fish in hand.
O O O
"Where are we going?"
"The northern peninsula."
"Why?"
"Because there's a harbor there."
"I see. And after that?"
"Rock."
"Why?"
"Because we need a place to settle down."
"Ah."
And thus Deidara watched them from the background, arms crossed in front of him, snorting and harrumphing and occasionally rubbing his jaw in annoyance. Who did Kisame think he was, anyway, acting so friendly? This was strictly disobeying the unwritten rules of their engagement.
"Hey, Kisame!" he called, even though both the shark man and Sakura were barely ten feet in front of him, "I think we'd all appreciate it if you stopped fraternizing with the captive, yeah. You're making us look soft."
"Actually," Sakura replied, grinning charmingly at Deidara over her shoulder, "I'm really enjoying his company. Right, Mako?"
Deidara sneered. "Mako? Who the hell is Mako?"
"Kisame's new nickname," Sakura stated proudly, tugging on one of Kisame's sleeves. "I just made it up. I think it suits him."
They kept walking, but Deidara was shocked into silence. "Mako," he repeated slowly, disbelievingly, trying his hardest not to stare at Kisame's smug face. "As in the Mako Shark." Statement. Not a question. He didn't want to know the answer.
"Exactly!"
If Kisame was Mako, what was he? Caucasian Male? This was getting ridiculous.
And then, apparently out of nowhere, what looked like a fishing line was cast straight into Kisame's head, where the hook tangled in his hair.
Sakura blinked, and Deidara watched, amused.
Kisame scowled. "What the hell?" He removed the offending item, turning it over in his hand. A small, dried fish—most likely a sardine of some sort—was strung through the fish hook, staring blankly at nothing with its shriveled eyes.
Deidara approached his comrade and captive, following the glint of the fishing line carefully. It carried far off into the forestry, and he used his scope to zoom in on the exact location of the base. Someone was crouched in the bushes far off, hiding, most likely. "What is—?"
The line tightened and tugged, and the fish hook somehow managed to catch the side of Kisame's mouth. Kisame yelled out an obscenity or two, unsuccessfully trying to detach himself while keeping the line from pulling him.
"Hold still, hold still!" Sakura shouted, urging him to stop with two hands on his shoulders. He didn't obey though, and just kept spitting and damning everything to the deepest bowels of hell.
The telltale sound of reeling and hurried footsteps through the brush alerted the three of them that someone had fucked up somewhere and was now rushing to them. Each shinobi crouched into battle positions, Kisame still fighting to remove the hook in the process.
"I caught him; I caught him!" The person jumped out from the foliage, fishing pole in hand, still reeling it in and making Kisame thrash around wildly. "Whoa, look at the size of that sucker! I'm gonna have good eatin's tonight!" It was a boy of about eight or ten, dirty from head to toe.
Deidara couldn't take it anymore. He doubled over with laughter, tears stinging his eyes.
Sakura looked horrified. "S—stop that! You're hurting him!"
The boy looked at her like she'd just sprouted a second head. "Are you kidding me, lady? Of course I'm hurting him!" He looked back at Kisame, a predatory glint in his brown eyes. "And I'm gonna hurt him more when I gut him later!"
"Who's going to gut who?" Kisame bellowed, grabbing hold of the fishing line and jerking it forwards.
The boy stumbled, growled, regained his footing, and jerked it right back. Kisame howled in pain. "Stop resisting, buddy! I already got you! There's nothing you can do! I don't know how a fella like you managed to get out of the water and start walking on land, but I'm gonna eat you either way!"
Deidara thought he might die. He fell on two knees, holding his aching stomach and damn near on the verge of sobbing in joy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so hard.
"Enough!" Sakura shouted again, grabbing the fishing pole out of the boy's hands. "You can't eat him; he's not a fish!"
"What? Lady, are you insane? Look, he's blue! And he has gills!"
"That doesn't mean anything!" She snapped the fishing line with her teeth and tossed the pole down.
The boy sighed and picked up his pole, slinging it over his shoulder. "Okay, I'll make you a deal." He waved dismissively, closing his eyes in agitation. "I'm hungry, you're hungry…" He glanced at Deidara with one eye open, who was still chuckling serenely to himself and cleaning his scope, smeared with joyous tears. "Your boyfriend's probably hungry, too, I suppose. If you help me gut it, I'll share."
"To hell with that!"
Kisame grunted as he pulled the hook out of his cheek, spitting out some blood. "Little shit… Just wait until I get a hold of you!"
The boy pointed in Kisame's face. "Don't talk to me like that! Dinner can't disrespect its master!"
Exasperated, Sakura turned to Deidara. "Feel free to step in at any time!"
He grinned, took a deep breath, and did just that. He knelt down in front of the boy with the dirty face and the pout across his mouth, putting a hand on his shoulder. "As much as I hate to say this, you can't eat Kisame, yeah."
The boy's face turned down into a scowl, but Deidara leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Gradually, his face lightened again, and he stared at Kisame in wonder.
When the blond picked himself up, stifling chuckles, he nodded toward him. "You see, that's why my wife—not my girlfriend, we're far past that point—and I keep him around."
"Wow! That's so…so cool!"
Deidara waved a hand toward his blue comrade, who was busily getting healed by a frowning Sakura. "I bet he'd let you touch him if you apologized."
"Really?"
"Sure."
The boy approached Kisame, suddenly sheepish, trying to hide the fishing pole behind his back. "Uh…sir?" He scuffed the dirt with his feet. "I'm really sorry about what happened. Honest!"
Kisame stared at him in disdain, sneering. "Really."
"Yes, sir. Um…may I…may I touch you?"
Kisame glanced at Sakura, who shrugged. "Why?"
He balled his fists. "Because you're so awesome! I've never seen someone like you!"
Grudgingly, and after much prompting from both Deidara and Sakura, surprisingly, he held out an arm with a sigh.
The boy's eye glittered and he smiled wide, feeling Kisame's fingers, tapping the worn, chipped plum nail polish, and plucking one of the hairs.
"Okay, that's enough," Kisame grunted, pulling his arm back.
The boy situated the pole more comfortably on his back and turned to leave. "It was nice meeting you all!" he said, beginning to walk away. "I have to go now, though. Mom'll be worried."
Sakura waved. "You, too. Just…be more careful with that fishing pole, okay?"
"Will do." He waved to each of them individually and bounded off into the trees. "Bye, Mr. Mermaid!"
Kisame visibly stiffened. "Mr. Mermaid?"
Deidara snorted. "Someone's been demoted. From Mako to Mr. Mermaid, yeah? You're really going places, Kisame."
"What did you tell him?" Sakura asked, rubbing her temples.
The blond grinned. "Just that he was a mermaid."
"What? Why? I'm not—!"
"Hey, it was either that or let him keep believing he'd be able to take you down and eat you, yeah."
"Moving on," Sakura said forcefully, starting to walk, "we should get going. The boat's not going to wait for us."
"Where is it?" Kisame asked, bending down so that Sakura could stop what she was doing and heal the small cut inside of his mouth—quite an interesting task when she refused to put her hand inside.
"A few more hours north," Deidara answered, summoning his bird with a movement of hands and a small flash. "If the weather holds up, it shouldn't take us long."
They were climbing aboard the thing soon thereafter and taking off from the forest floor in a scurry of loose leaves and twigs, flying high above the treetops and toward the boat that would take them straight from neutral country to the place that Deidara had originated.
He sighed and rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. This was going to be interesting.