Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.


Chapter Two

It's a Date

October 6, 4:23pm – Iwagakure Bayou Swamp Mansion

"You need to dent it." Sasori stated flatly.

Deidara looked up to the mysterious visitor in surprise and annoyance. He hadn't noticed the redheaded boy sneak up on him. The very thought of it irked him. He didn't like it when people told him what to do, either, so that was two strikes down for the new guy.

"Otherwise it won't hold." Sasori pressed. Deidara rolled his eyes and mindlessly followed Sasori's advice, not really expecting anything to come out of it but surprised when something did. Maybe he's not so bad after all, Deidara concluded.

"What do you want, un?" Deidara refused to admit to the redhead that he had been playing around with the sculpture for thirty minutes straight just trying to figure it out before Sasori gave him the life-changing hint of denting it.

"I'm Sasori. Onoki told me to ask you for a room." He fingered the strap of his satchel for effect. Deidara stared him down for four seconds straight before rolling his eyes and deciding to play along.

"I'm Deidara, though he probably already told you than, un." He sighed. Pushing the metallic sculpture of his simplistic owl aside, Deidara walked back into the house and gestured for Sasori to follow him.

"He didn't tell me you were an artist." Sasori purposely ran his fingers though the paintings he passed by. He absolutely loved touching art, even paintings. There was just something about the wonderful texture, let it be smooth or rough, that captivated him even more so than the colours. "These are rather impressive."

"He never cared for my art, un. All he's ever cared about was military school and guns and avoiding lawsuits." Deidara watched Sasori's appreciative stroking. "Do you like art, un?"

Sasori smiled, albeit slightly. "Yes. Very much. I actually immigrated to Italy just to be surrounded by it." They had stopped walking now, with Sasori continuing his silent admiration and Deidara growing more and more curious by the second.

"What's it like there?"

"In Florence?" He paused, thinking quickly. "I like to think of it as the perfect semblance between Renaissance, Gothic and Romanesque architectural styles. For most people they all look the same, but to me there's just a distinction between those types of structures and others. The history is so overwhelming and beautiful."

Deidara pursed his lips as he pondered on what Sasori had said. "I don't have a problem with old art, and I do know it, but I don't get why you'd be so enamoured by a dead city so much." Suddenly, he flashed a broad grin. "If I could move anywhere, I'd move to New York, un."

"Florence isn't dead." Sasori argued. "It's bursting full of life with its timeless art!"

"'Timeless' is just another term for outdated, un." Deidara rolled his eyes. "Florence's art was at its peak six hundred years ago and it will always be remembered for it. But that peak has gone and died and you're living in the modern age now, un. Those who adapt live the longest; why are you so stubborn to accept that modern art is the art of now?"

There was some truth in it, Sasori knew, despite how much he loathed that small truth.

"But that's what makes them beautiful, don't you know, how eternal their art has become, surviving even the test of time. New York's modern 'art' will die soon. Florence's art will endure forever." They stared each other down. "Art is something beautiful and amazing left long for the future; art is everlasting."

"No, it's not, un." Deidara snorted. "Art is the beauty of a transient moment of explosion."

"Clearly, you are demented." Sasori rolled his eyes. "Explosions aren't art; in fact, they destroy art. If anything, they are anti-art, brat." He tinged the last word with irritation.

They continued to stare each other down, two stubborn male artists with their murderous eyes that emanated the loathing they felt for each other's views on their passions. They could have continued bickering like that for several hours if Sasori's phone had not begun vibrating in his pocket at that instant. Deidara turned to his paintings the moment Sasori placed the infernal contraption to his ear and answered, pretending not to eavesdrop.

"What do you want?"

"Touchy, touchy," Itachi's voice was teasing at first. Sasori rolled his eyes. But then Itachi's tone turned cold and serious. "Did I wake you up? Have you been sleeping these past few minutes?"

"Of course not; why would you even think that?"

"Because it's as if you have been." Itachi's voice was laced with irritation. Sasori could hear traffic in the background. "You were supposed to keep an eye on Onoki's grandkids."

"Cut to the chase." Sasori hissed bitterly. He felt the irritation and the anxiety well up inside him. He really didn't like it when Itachi baited him like that. Nobody did.

"Kurotsuchi left the manor minutes ago and it seems you haven't even noticed." Sasori's eye widened. "Kisame and I can't tail her right now. We're stalking what we think may be Orochimaru's right-hand man. Still, Kisame's unnerved. Go fetch her right now."

Sasori didn't waste time in pulling out Kurotsuchi's files. His eyes scanned it quicker than Deidara would have liked. More than anything, this was what the files were for: forming a somewhat false understanding of their target. Deidara couldn't help himself when he slowly started to crane his head to the side in an attempt to view the papers. He lost his balance as soon as Sasori's head snapped to his direction, carelessly but neatly sliding the folder back into the satchel.

"What's the hottest club less than one hour away from here?"

"Boom, but that's in Baton Rouge." Deidara's face depicted honest confusion. "Why, un?"

"Because I'm taking you there. Right now." Sasori quipped, swinging the satchel over his shoulder effortlessly despite its size versus his own and stalking out the door, hand firm around Deidara's wrist.

"I'm not going out with you, dammit, un!" He yelled exasperatedly, trying desperately to free his arm from Sasori's iron grip, but the redheaded man was stronger than he thought.

"Really, now? My treat." He clucked his tongue sardonically.

"Fuck you, I'm not poor, un." Deidara countered defensively and decided to plant his legs as securely as he could on the ground instead of squirming uncomfortably. Apparently, it worked better than his last strategy. At least now Sasori had stopped to look at him, albeit a little too smugly. Deidara felt really uneasy with the other man's smirk directed right at him like that. "I'm not going out with you." Deidara repeated, more to himself this time.

"Fine, you don't have to be with me. Just drive me there and wait at the car or something. I'll find some other random attractive stranger to go with." Nothing escaped Sasori's trained eyes. It was apparent to him that Deidara had already begun warming up to the idea of going to the club with him, though the rate of it was much too slow and Sasori was not a patient man. "I haven't gotten laid in a while."

Deidara's eyes bulged. It wasn't just that it had come out of nowhere; it was that he had said it so nonchalantly as well. He swallowed thickly before replying stubbornly and slowly.

"Fine, un."

Sasori didn't even get the chance to grin at him. The younger man was already red at the face and dragging him out of the house and into one of his favourite cars. That was easy, Sasori concluded.

Boom was more than just a hot club. It was the hot club in not only Baton Rouge but the entire state of Louisiana, Sasori figured.

Standing at about twenty stories high, the place doubled as a theatre, a casino, a lounge, and so much more. It featured more amenities than most others especially in the area. Sasori thought of it as Las Vegas packed into one huge ridiculously glass themed building. From where he stood, even in the dark, he could tell from the glass walls that some of the higher floors had been filled with water.

Great, a ginormous pool club. He gritted his teeth together in annoyance. I hate water.

"Park it, Bob." Deidara tossed his keys to the man that greeted us. He was dressed in a gleaming turquoise tuxedo with an oceanic design. Sasori wasn't particularly fond of seahorses – in fact, he thought of them as something out of a child's toy – but whoever designed the man's uniform had blended the creative images of marine life perfectly with the garment.

"The usual, then." Bob chuckled softly as he did his job.

"You're a regular?" Sasori raised a curious eyebrow in inquiry. Deidara shrugged it off like it was nothing.

"I guess you can say that, un." Noticing Deidara's quick replies, Sasori changed the subject.

"I thought you were going to wait by the car."

"The fuck, un. Where's the fun in that?" Deidara grinned. It was a big, bright and natural but somehow scary smile. Very attractive.

"So you're coming with me?" Sasori smirked again, earning him an elbow to his chest.

"Don't get your hopes up. You find your date, I'll find mine." After they had gotten in without fuss – Deidara was a special member, whatever that meant – Deidara was planning on going ahead, but he was stopped by a hand to his shoulder. He turned around, clearly irritated. "What now?"

"Don't get too drunk. I'll expect you back here as soon as possible. Don't keep me waiting."

"Whatever, un. This was your idea, anyway." He brushed Sasori's hand off with the back of his palm before diving head first into the sea of bodies. Sasori watched him go until he was completely out of sight.

Sasori hadn't been expecting to go to Boom that day. If he had known about the obvious dress code, he would have dressed up. Still, his casual clothes weren't actually too casual. Apart from the obvious lack of flashy colouring in them, he was dressed more or less like every other man in the room. Deidara hopefully wouldn't stick out too much; best case scenario, he wouldn't stick out at all.

Alright, Kurotsuchi first and foremost. Sasori told himself. Short black hair, simple pink eyes. Distinctive enough. With so many people in the building and so many floors to look through, Sasori wasn't so sure. He pulled out a black velvet cloth bag from his pocket and spilled its contents to the floor. With the music so high and everyone focused on lustfully grinding with each other, hopefully nobody would notice the little camera bots flying around.

He'd left his heavy satchel in Deidara's silver Mercedes awhile ago, packing with him only the necessary tools to get the job done and then some for the occasional emergency. He slipped on the special brown-tinted shades and the earpiece Zetsu had given him. From behind the sunglasses he could see the building from a hundred different angles and rooms, virtually covering everywhere the bots had flown into. It was a handy tool for times like that one.

"Find her yet?" Sasori asked with minimal movement to his lips.

"Nope. Under this light, virtually everyone but you seems to have black hair." Zetsu replied sarcastically through the earpiece. "You should have offered to dye her hair the same as yours."

"Hello, cutie. What can I get you?" A female bartender asked coyly.

Sasori had already walked off to the bar, knowing that just standing around would seem a bit off. He wasn't one to take chances. He ignored the way the bartender rubbed her exposed breasts together and temporarily lowered his shades to glance at the assortment of drinks more clearly.

"Just your best bottle of whiskey, please." Screw the menu.

"You've got great taste, but I don't think you're old enough for that yet, sweetheart." Her laugh was starting to irritate him.

Sasori was thirty-five years old, probably about ten years her senior. But he had the face of a fifteen year old kid, something that was entirely his fault. Not that he'd ever come to regret turning himself into a puppet. He still thought of it as the best thing he had ever done. He pulled out an ID together with one of his credit cards from his breast pocket. He didn't have anything genuine anymore. Everything, while all under the name Sasori Akasuna, was filled up with garbage information. At least, the dates were garbage. Sasori tried to keep everything as close to the truth as possible.

"Legal." He smirked. The lady's eyes grew wide when she saw that he was aged twenty-three according to the ID. After the initial surprise, she laughed softly.

"We're the same age! Who knew..."

"The whiskey?" Sasori reminded her, knowing better than to let her continue.

"Of course!"

In no time at all, Sasori found his fingers coiled around a pretty bottle of whiskey. The bartender had given him special attention after that, even bothering to slip her number into a small piece of paper as she handed him the bottle he ordered. Pointless, he thought. Sasori didn't believe he had emotions anymore. After losing the ability to feel the world around him physically, the feeling of emotions had slowly withered away as well. Not that he minded. If anything, it was an upside. The only emotion he had ever remembered feeling was the pain, anyway.

Women came and went, some alone, some with dates, but most of them had at least glanced at him lustfully. But those women were all high on the substances he knew so much and so little about. So, when the lights were finally cut off and the sound of gasps, screams, and glasses breaking filled the building in lieu of the ridiculously loud and heavily pounding music, Sasori only sighed before he took one last gulp of his whiskey and slid off the bar stool.

Showtime.

October 6, 7:24pm – Boom

"Don't get too drunk. I'll expect you back here as soon as possible. Don't keep me waiting."

But all Deidara could hear was, "Don't. Don't. Don't."

"The thought, un." Deidara had already lost tracks of how many shots of gin and tonic he had chugged down without a care that hour. He had his arm around a pretty red-haired girl with chocolate brown eyes. She was petite and a bit too thin. Overall, she was not his type. Why he had picked her that night, he may never know. "It's my club. My car. My house. I can do whatever I want."

"Is something wrong?" The girl's eyes grew wide. Deidara shook his head.

"Not at all, un." He stroked her hair sluggishly.

Poor girl, he thought. He wouldn't be able to give her what she expected that night. Sure, he was drunk. But he wasn't that drunk. Her eyes were a bit too big, too open. Her eyelashes were long, yes, but they didn't curl the way he thought that should. And she was too thin, much too thin. It wasn't like him to sway from his usual type of women – in fact, he can't actually remember a time when he'd picked a red-haired female over a blonde one – but he did so tonight. He thought that her hair was too fake, the red in them. Unlike Sasori's...

Fuck you, un. You're drunk. This always happens when you're drunk.

No, he didn't like Sasori. He wasn't just denying it. He really didn't. Besides...he was straight, right? Onoki would explode if he found out Deidara had begun rooting for the other team, not that he was. Deidara shook his head again. Why should I care about what Onoki thinks? The old fart... I'm getting my priorities mixed up, un.

And then the lights went out. The music, too. Deidara was probably the calmest in the room. He just waited. But then nothing happened.

"That's weird, un. The generator's not working?" He wondered aloud.

But then someone forcibly pulled the red-haired girl from his lap, causing her to shriek. The sounds of gunfire filled the room, causing everyone to scramble. He was at least five stories above Sasori now, if the redheaded asshole had not bothered to leave the first floor. Being drunk, his head was a little too slow for his taste.

"Fuck, un." He muttered right before he was restrained by two large males.

"Is this the one?" One of them asked. His voice was low and gruff.

"Yep, pretty sure of it." The other answered. Deidara rolled his eyes. Disgusting.

He took a moment to relax right before he opened his palms to reveal the little clay figurines he had pulled out from his pockets at the last moment before he was captured. He stuffed them down his captor's pants and slipped away just as they loosened their grip in surprised.

"What the—"

Boom. Nobody really deserved to die, except maybe those truly despicable people, but assholes truly deserved to lose their dicks at some point. Deidara knew that the two would eventually kill themselves over it anyway.

"He got away!" A new voice said.

"That's not fair, un. They can see in the dark." He huffed, pulling his bangs up and securing it with elastic. The lack of his thick bang over half of his face revealed the little invention he had crafted a few years ago. It was nothing really, just a little thing he liked to attach to his eye to allow him to see through virtually anything and everything. "One...two...three...looks like I'm outnumbered, un." He said, vision now clear even in the darkness. The three men that now charged towards him were leaner than the two he had just brought down – both who were on the ground at the other side of the room clutching to their destroyed crotches – but something about them was a little off. "Perfectly fair, un."

Deidara did not have a black belt. He had something better: actual military experience. Growing up in a military school as the general's only grandson tended to put a lot of pressure in one's shoulders. While dodging was not his forte, blocking came naturally. The three men were out within minutes. It wasn't easy, but nothing fun ever was.

He whipped around, grin on his face, only to meet a gun pressed to his forehead.

"Forgot one, blondie."

October 6, 7:25pm – Boom

Sasori can see in the dark.

More or less. His eyes were more inhuman than they were human; if that even made any sense. Anyhow, the blackout had forced him to take measures into his own hands. Zetsu was taking too damn slow in finding Kurotsuchi via the spy bots. He skilfully avoided collision with any of the panicked dancers as he strode past the chaos on the dance floor. His closest bet to Kurotsuchi was a lookalike dressed in a tomboyish get up about eighteen floors above him. The elevator was not an option, though. He doubted it was even working. So he took the stairs two at a time to get to his destination.

When he got into the nearly-empty room, he slid off his sunglasses and smirked.

"Kurotsuchi."

The female turned her head to him suddenly, revealing her panicked expression. "Sasori! Behind you!" She shrieked.

Sasori didn't even have time to wipe the smirk off his face when the bullet penetrated the back of his skull.

"Not so great now, are you, scorpion?" The holder of the gun said proudly and menacingly as he waited for Sasori's body to fall limp down to the ground. But that never happened. Instead, his head turned to him, twisting a full one-hundred-and-eighty degree. He nearly dropped his gun.

"Don't be so cocky." Sasori snorted. With a flick of his fingers, two small knives found their way into the enemy's throat, decapitating him. The poison, while not needed after all, seeped into his still warm blood nonetheless. That over, Sasori turned his attention back to untying the terrified Kurotsuchi.

"Y-you...I've never seen anyone...you..." Her eyes were focused on the headless body only meters away. The head had rolled a few feet from its body. She didn't know why it was called a clean cut when it spilled so much blood.

"Shh, I'm an ally. You can trust me." It only took a split second to cut off the ropes that bound her with the use of the small knives that extended from his wrists at will.

"But...he shot your head...you should be...dead..."

"I know, I know." Sasori helped her up now. She required more help than he would have liked. "He didn't get to my brain. I'll be fine."

She nodded, forcing herself to believe Sasori. She knew they were lies, because it just wasn't possible for him to survive. But he did and that scared her. While she was pretty boyish and violent herself, she was not like Deidara. She was scared of death.

The sound of rapid gunfire forced Sasori to wrap his arms around Kurotsuchi defensively while he whipped out the blades joint into his sides and spun them around restlessly to deflect the incoming bullets. The bullets never ceased.

"Your efforts are futile." A taunting but eerily familiar voice echoed. "Even if you did manage to save that one over there, the boy is more than enough."

The boy is more than enough? What... Sasori's eyes widened. They've got Deidara. After mentally cursing to himself, Sasori carried Kurotsuchi and suddenly rocketed himself through the air, breaking the thick glass wall. He coiled himself protectively around Kurotsuchi, receiving a couple of the bullets that should have hit her. He was falling down too fast. He pulled on the hose that made up his artificial intestines and threw them skilfully to the direction of a protruding pole on the highest level. With a flick of his fingers, they wrapped around it firmly. A tug sent them flying upwards, barely catching the flat roof when gravity finally took over and pulled them back down.

"Stay here." Sasori ordered. Kurotsuchi didn't respond. "I'll get you help." He hastily whipped out his cell phone, but before he even clicked the speed dial, Kurotsuchi was gripping on to his arm.

"You're leaving me?" Her voice trembled.

"I have to. They've got Deidara. I'm supposed to protect both of you." Kurotsuchi withdrew when understanding dawned. Sasori was already out of her peripheral vision, running down the steps, eyes glued to the watch that told him Deidara was fifteen floors away. It was a damn good thing he had stuck the tracking chip on to Deidara's shoulder when he did, right before they split up.

"Man, where are you? It's all over the news—" Kisame would have given him a full review of everything he was already aware of if Sasori didn't cut him off right at that instant.

"Get a chopper or something to pick Kurotsuchi up. I left her at the roof."

"Alone? What the fuck, man?"

"I'm getting Deidara." He retorted irritably before sliding the phone back into his back pocket.

His heart was the last sentient thing in him at the moment. It was all that gave his current body life; or, at the least very, the ability to even move. He had a brain elsewhere, but that was top secret information. But anyway, his heart was going overdrive, beating much too fast. He was just so far away from what was potentially a doomed Deidara.

It's my first mission in five years and I've already failed. Sasori bit back a curse. So much for having the perfect record.

Back in the old times, when he was happily and deceitfully partnered to what's-his-face, Sasori was known for his flawless execution of any and all jobs presented to him, no matter how risky or impossible they all seemed. He was a legend to all the spies old and new alike.

He wasted no time in launching himself head-first into the scene. His eyes went wild trying to absorb what had happened. Dead and bleeding bodies were everywhere. Some may have survived whatever catastrophe had transpired, but they would be unconscious by now. But, no matter how quickly his heart had been beating on the way down the endless fleets of straits, it seemed to freeze instantly the sound of his voice.

"Took you long enough, un."


A/N: It seems that I'm revealing back stories at the pace of a limp turquoise. Assume that the characters have exactly the same abilities and more or less the same ages as the manga/anime unless otherwise said. I like keeping true to the story as much as I can. It makes it more...believable to me, I guess.

I'm not sure as to whether the first part of the story made it clear already, but I love art. It's probably one of the reasons I liked Sasori and Deidara so much. My view of art leans more on Sasori's side, but a part of me just goes "WHOAH" at everything Deidara does, so...I'm stuck in-between. Tell me, are any of you art-lovers as well? Just a thought. I've always wondered as to whether their other fans loved art as much as they do. I know I do.

Thanks for the reviews, guys. Super appreciated. The more I write, the more ideas I get (and I already have enough to begin with). Writing is both a guilty pleasure and a chore. The best things in life are always bittersweet.