"What are you talking about?"
"What can I be talking about?" Sasori countered calmly. "I said you grew soft, Itachi. Shall I amend my statement and call you a fool as well?"
The lines below Itachi's eyes seemed to increase in their severity.
"I am not going to kill another Akatsuki member," Itachi said first up. In actuality, he was unsure of whether or not Sasori was planning the wrong type of revenge. And he, Itachi, knew he was being stupid. Since when did I become so second-rate? Even if Sasori had the most outrageous of intentions, the possibility that they went ahead all fell to Itachi. Sasori couldn't do anything but keep an eye and ear out without getting hurt. Itachi grit his teeth, grateful for the tall Akatsuki coat collar that covered his mouth. He didn't want to show his inner frustration at being so un-Itachi.
Sasori blinked.
"If killing is not on your agenda, then I am afraid our partnership won't work,"
"There are other ways,"
"…,"
Then Sasori disappeared. Just like that. To a witness, Itachi would have looked like he'd just been talking to no one. He scanned the hallway for movement and registered none.
Deidara shifted a little in his bed. He didn't realize it—he was asleep, after all—but his left hand was closed tightly, almost desperately around a bit of his mattress cover. He was sleeping on his stomach, with his hand turned to the side. His brow was furrowed with dread.
"Why don't you want to give it to me?" Sasori says with a laugh. The laughter rings through the Lair, but no one else is here. There is no one here to save me. I turn to run. I feel his hand on my shoulder and he pulls me back. I feel his tongue flick against my ear. My skin crawls and my temples are damp with sweat.
"Come here, Deidara," he whispers. His left hand creeps around my waist, his fingers inching forward like a spider slinking behind its unsuspecting prey. He reaches my belly and he suddenly presses me back against him. The tips of his fingers just graze the buttoned flap where my Akatsuki coat closes and opens.
"Come on, danna," I urge, clearly grasping at straws. I put a hand on top of his, the one that is resting on my stomach in that not-too-firm, not-too-subtle way he uses when he's trying to seduce me without giving himself in to me completely. I gulp. The silence, for once, is dreadful. I would have been grateful for this silence—without Kisame swinging Samehada around and demolishing parts of his room, without Hidan chanting incoherently and loudly in a language that was foreign, without the clack of Sasori's puppets—but right at this moment, I wanted nothing more than all of those noises at once. I knew it was a desire that would never be met. Not now.
"We have a mission to attend to,"
Sasori exhales in my ear. The pressure of his palm increases. I feel the blood pumping through his hand. No…that has to be my imagination. Master Sasori is a puppet. He is a human puppet. He does not have—
"The mission can wait,"
His hand slips between the folds of my coat. I try to wriggle out of his hold, but for some reason I cannot begin to fathom, I cannot. Sasori was not physically strong—why—?
Sasori seems to sense my struggle and even though I cannot see him (for if I turned my face our lips will touch), I can tell he is smirking.
"Let go…danna…,"
"You want this," Sasori says, his hand now on my bare stomach. He had pushed my netted shirt up and was now sending shivers all over my body. I cast my eyes downwards. The sight repulses me…yet…
I am young. Maybe too young to understand—except to understand that this, what Sasori is doing, is wrong. But the Akatsuki…are we not wrongdoers already? I, after all, delighted in large-scale explosions. I am so confused. Sasori's hand slides upwards and he fingers the large, stitched mouth upon my chest. I stand frozen. Then he says: "Let's go back to my room...brat,"
His hand leaves my body and I turn around. He is standing there. I am almost up to his height. As I tilt my head slightly to look at him, I notice for the umpteenth time that he has the most hypnotizing eyes. The way he looks at me, I cannot help but want to see him look at me forever like that. Even though I know that it scares me, I follow him to his room.
Deidara sat up in bed, panting heavily. What the fuck was that? He looked down at his left hand, the one grasping at the bed sheet. The sight widens his eyes and he lets go like it suddenly grew legs and started talking. His blonde hair was matted to his face and the back of his neck.
What…what was that? He thought again. He swallowed hard. Just a dream, Deidara. Just. A. Dream. He was about to bite his nails but then realized there was not much to bite anymore. He looked down at his chipped nail polish. Gross. Catching his breath and composure, he slid of his bed and glanced at the wall. The candles there flickered unpromisingly. The glow-in-the-dark, digital bedside clock beeped 2:33 am. Deidara looked nervously outside his room. It could have been pitch black if it wasn't for the few torches alight every two rooms down. He stepped forwards slowly and looked cautiously outside. The torches created unwanted and chilling shadows along the hall, and the bumpy roughness of the stone that the Lair was carved from did nothing but emphasize that. Deidara felt like he was fourteen again, when he was first inducted into the Akatsuki and he had childishly found the hallway "scary". Why, out of all things, was I scared of the dark? He scoffed inwardly at his own cowardice, not daring to make a sound. He wondered if Kakuzu was awake. They all knew Kakuzu never slept, and if he did, it was only for a few hours. Deidara wished he was. At least it meant he would not be alone if Sasori decided this was another prime time to visit him. He took one step into the hall. It was a soft step, but in the silence of the place, its sound was magnified. His ears moved a bit, straining, wishing to hear a noise that reassured him that someone was awake…or at least sleeping lightly.
He took a deep breath and walked quickly. Passed Kisame's, Zetsu's (who wasn't there half the time anyway), Itachi's…Kakuzu. Deidara slowed down. The light coming from Kakuzu's were dim, but he knew the man had a small extension somewhere else, just like they all did. He peered in, trying not to look furtive. The room emanating from that room was bright. Deidara saw a shadow, and wasn't sure if it was Kakuzu's. He walked past the room completely and turned to look over his shoulder. Kakuzu's bed was made. He was nowhere to be seen. Deidara let out a slow sigh of relief. Good.
He went out to the kitchen, which was still brightly lit, something the Iwa nin was grateful for. He eyed the potted plant in the corner, the only other sign of life besides him in the area. Then he opened the fridge, not intending to get anything. Opening the refrigerator, Deidara was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. He put a hand to his temple and shook his head. What is wrong with me tonight?
He was about to close the refrigerator and go take a seat when something caught his eye for the second time that night. A blue box.
Deidara's eyes widened as he reached for it. He took it out. It was perfectly sealed, as if it had never been opened. He tore it open. Inside were neatly packed Popsicles. Deidara dropped the box with a thump.
Sasori watched him from afar.
I may be dead, brat. He thought with an odd mixture of satisfaction and displeasure. But I am everywhere.
Author's Note: If you're a reader of my other fic An Akatsuki Valentine's, you'll know that I made Sasori a fan of Popsicles. Why? I don't know. I just thought it would be a cute quirk.