"I can do this myself." Sasori complained. Deidara twisted the paintbrush like tool in his fingers for a moment, regarding him.

"I want to, hnn" He muttered and kept carefully cleaning, the spaces between Sasori's fingers and hand yielding dark material that Deidara couldn't identify, but thought might have been the result of blood and dust mixing. "Why? Do I hurt you?"

Sasori gave him a look of slight contempt. "I don't feel pain. You are just slow." Deidara chuckled, head still bent over Sasori's hand. It was true. He wasn't experienced and it took him several strokes to remove all the debris, a job Sasori could achieve easily in one movement. He hated to be kept waiting, this was getting irritating. "Can't you hurry, I hate being..."

Deidara smirked and cut him off. "But you're NOT waiting, hn. You're having quality time." He dug carefully to remove the last of the dirt and wiped the brush against a damp cloth laying on the floor beside the bed. Sasori shifted slightly. His lack of sensation meant the soft material had no benefit to his body, and he didn't like the feeling of being off balance on it. To add to it, he wasn't entirely sure how Deidara had just shifted the conversation, so he kept quiet for awhile to ponder it.

It was stupid, he thought. This useless gesture Deidara exhibited, this 'help' in cleaning. He sometimes protested, but not tonight. Deidara had been so agitated earlier, Sasori didn't care to experience that a second time. So he submitted to this. His joints needed cleaning anyway, what harm did it do to let Deidara do it, even if it seemed an odd hobby. The blonde finished the cleaning and picked up a bottle from Sasori's pack beside his knee. He opened it and touched up the chipped polish at the ends of the fingers, careful not to paint outside the carefully shaped indention that served as Sasori's nail.

"Done." He murmured, blowing a little on the wet paint. Sasori briefly thought of how many people would be glad, ecstatic even, to have the younger artist kneeling in front of them. Pleased to have his calloused hands grasp theirs. Happy to be catered to, be submitted to. But these things were the actions that he no longer desired. Useless, pitiful instincts that he had shed, along with his flesh, bone and blood.

Deidara looked up and the two shared a slight smile. Both knew. Neither would tell.