Deidara arrived home after driving back from his meet-up with Hidan. He felt out of sorts, almost as if his mind and senses were plunged underwater. A sense of disconnection. Deidara could see what he was doing, yet his brain felt detached from his body. He locked the car on autopilot and trudged towards his front door. Deidara had made it to his kitchen, bags lay forgotten at his feet, before he came out of this trance.

He gnawed a fleshy part of his lip. It was a habit, one that increased in frequency when he was particularly agitated.

What he had told Hidan earlier meant he had upped the ante of his and Sasori's…thing. What could Deidara even call it? It wasn't like they were properly together or anything. No labels, no promises.

They just fucked. And talked.

And fucked some more…
Whatever it was, now someone else knew about it; it meant the reality of the situation existed beyond his bedroom.

And that was another thought that cast a shadow in Deidara's mind…why was it always his bedroom?

Deidara made tea and later took a long draw from the steaming mug. It bathed his hands with warmth as earlier musings simmered within his mind. It was true; Deidara had never come over to Sasori's house properly, never mind Sasori's bed…at most, Deidara figured he had been in the redhead's doorway.

It was a strange situation. Where Sasori might have a grip on Deidara, it was done so at arm's length.

Deidara attempted to push the bothersome thought away for now, though it took root, buried within.
Fortunately, he did have ample distraction as over the next couple of days, he was busy at work, staying away for the week and returning home on Friday. In a week's time, it would be the stag party. He had a few last-minute details to nail down with Sasori, but otherwise, he was eager for the party and to see if Hidan and Kakuzu enjoyed what they had planned.

Despite his recent realisation prompted by Hidan's observations, Deidara was actually pretty excited to see Sasori that Friday night. That night, when Deidara returned home he greeted the redhead with a beaming smile.

One thing led to another, as it invariably did. They stayed up talking for a while afterwards, only this time, Deidara saw an opportunity to test the waters on getting Sasori to open up to him more. Deidara angled the conversation towards Sasori's private nature. "I've never seen you bring anyone back. Maybe I would have worked out that you were into guys sooner, un!" Deidara chirped as he lounged back in bed, still naked save for the tangle of sheets cloaking his body.

Sasori was sitting a little away from Deidara, his back hunched, as he perched on the end of the bed. Sasori ran fingers through his hair, tugging at messy, scarlet trends. "Hmm," he murmured, offering nothing else in response.

Deidara rolled his eyes at Sasori's limited engagement. Not willing to let the point drop so weakly, he continued, his remarks a little louder this time, yet a smile played around his lips.

"No, seriously - I lived here for nearly nine months now, and I've never seen anyone else at your house, un. What's that about?" he continued to pry, now notably curious. Deidara didn't even mean solely sexual partners anymore, just any kind of company. Deidara watched, his grin slightly faltering, as Sasori tensed. Deidara could see it in the stiff movements of Sasori's shoulder.

"Can you just—" Sasori began, his voice rising towards the end. When he resumed speaking, the redhead's voice was more measured, as if Sasori was trying to regain better control over it, "Can you just stop? Please."

Taking in the redhead's body language, Deidara dropped the subject and manoeuvred closer to Sasori. He shuffled up the bed, dragging the bedsheet with him. Deidara nudged right behind the redhead and wrapped his arms loosely around Sasori's waist from behind, Deidara's legs sticking out on either side of Sasori's body.

Deidara could feel Sasori's sharp intake of breath as Deidara pressed his skin against Sasori's back, feeling the redhead's diaphragm moving. After a pause of a few seconds, Sasori began inhaling steadier. One of his hands rested lightly on Deidara's forearm, which was now looping around Sasori's waist.

In a calmer tone, Deidara casually asked, "You wanna see some of my artwork later, un?" Knowing this was one discussion that would pull Sasori's attention away from whatever nerve Deidara touched just now, he actively changed the subject. Even if they didn't see eye to eye on superior art forms, the conversation would pique Sasori's interest.

At first Sasori merely grumbled "What the hell do you mean, later? It's already 2 am, no, I bloody well don't!"

"You'd definitely be missing out, come on," Deidara drawled, as he began to tempt Sasori into a stimulating discussion, regardless of the lateness of the hour. "I've been experimenting with combining my clay sculptures with firecrackers, wait until you see it - fine art is truly the beauty of that single fleeting moment of explosion, un!"

Deidara's words had an actual physical response on Sasori, as he clumsily shook Deidara off his back, halting their embrace. "Urgh," He groaned as he moved away from Deidara, the sound was filled with each shred of exasperation Deidara's brainless interpretation of art offered, "I would rather stick pins in my eyeballs than see that. How on earth is that art?! Art is something that lasts for all posterity. Art is eternal."

In no time at all, Sasori was waxing lyrical about his latest puppet creation, a magnificent recapturing of a crow. "Now, that's real fine art, it will preserve the beauty of the wing, and razor sharp keen eyes forever - i'd like to see your explosions evoke such a response."

Deidara half-listened, less bothered about Sasori's rebuke and more interested in how the shine in Sasori's eyes returned when he talked about his latest passion project.

...

The next evening, Deidara was trying to relax on his sofa after having showered, his damp hair fanned around his shoulders. Being alone, in the quietness of his house, turned his mind calm. In the hush, thoughts that had shaken round Deidara's mind arranged in a more discernible pattern.

Sasori definitely put the walls up on him last night. Maybe he wanted to keep their arrangement purely physical, mutually beneficial…

The first times, Deidara was fine with that; the fact that Sasori was down to fuck with him exactly when he needed it was a release - an overspill of passion right when and where Deidara yearned for it.

Thinking about the sex still made Deidara's skin quiver, like the rushing crackle of fireworks before they overwhelmed and exploded. He remembered Sasori roughly holding onto his forearms from behind, as their bodies moved together. He squirmed in delight, thinking of Sasori's tongue against his skin, moving from the nape of his neck, down the curve of spine, to lower and lower…

Deidara sat up on the sofa a little straighter, wrenching his mind away from that memory, however pleasing it may be.

Physicality aside, Deidara was eager to see Sasori when they had been apart.

Deidara found himself saving tidbits of funny stories from his day or ridiculous things he had seen online to show the Sasori later, even if it was met only with a raise of eyebrows or a single despairing remark from Sasori, like 'You watch some rubbish, Deidara' after Deidara had laid out his intricate headcanon for a new TV show he had been watching. Whilst enjoying reliving those moments, Deidara was more excited to find the next one with the redhead. Reality seemed to slot in place.

Deidara was beginning to like Sasori an awful lot.

No wonder he had felt so jittery after speaking to Hidan. Deidara could have kept his mouth shut, denied it or been more detached during their conversation. But no. Deidara was excited. And hell, it was ok to feel excited about this!

If Sasori decided to keep it all under wraps, it was his choice - It didn't have to be Deidara's
It was fine keeping things private…so long as they were on equal terms. Although Deidara realised the terms had shifted somewhat if he was beginning to feel deeper for Sasori.

Fuck it. It wasn't that late. Deidara was overcome with a burning need to broach the subject with the man himself, before he stewed on it any further.

The blond rose from the sofa and headed out to the door, his destination Sasori's house. He was thinking of a way to get through to Sasori tonight. For them to really talk, not deviate from the subject anymore, when -

"Deidara?" The voice of the person he sought the most cut through the night air.

The blond spun round on their shared porch, catching the lump of shadow that was Sasori's frame. The puppeteer had been curled out on his outside chair on the deck.

Deidara reacted as if he had been whipped backwards. His hands clenched, and his legs felt wobbly like jelly.

Sasori, by contrast, was still as stone bashed by a tide, stubbornly fixed in place.

Deidara heard his neighbour speak up again.

"…You wanted to see me?" Sasori's inflection was measured as low.

At that moment, the hairs on the back of Deidara's neck stood up. Deidara chalked up the tone of Sasori's voice as another sensation that could make him flustered.

Deidara gingerly sat down next to Sasori. He didn't know the best way to approach what he really wanted to talk about, so he began with a blunt fact.

"I can barely see you, un."

"Ah. Right." Sasori agreed. In the dim light, Deidara could just about make out a slight shift in the redhead's frame. Then Sasori leaned over.

In a wild moment, Deidara thought Sasori was coming in closer towards him and parted his lips just so.
Instead, Deidara sensed the motion changing as Sasori stood up and pointedly back to his house.

As the door clicked behind him, Deidara stared outwards, his pulse rushed.

Argh, ground, swallow me up, Deidara thought internally. He felt foolish, having caught himself hanging onto Sasori's actions, anticipating affection that wasn't offered right then. Deidara didn't like the way he immediately latched onto his affection. It reeked of desperation.

Sasori had got him coiled on a tightly wound spring - whether intentional or not.

Not long after, the redhead's door re-opened, and Sasori came back, holding a packet of tea-lights and matches. He set about to work, placing each one on the small outside table. As he lit each miniature candle, the feeble light illuminated his face as the smell of burning lingered. Soon, there was enough light for Deidara to see Sasori's careworn expression.

Deidara realised he might not have been the only one going over things in their mind tonight.

"I need to talk to you, un," the blond called out. He decided to steer the conversation to where it needed to go.

At Deidara's words, Sasori paused, crouching down near the furthest candle. His eyebrows slightly nudged together, causing a crease in his brow.

"Oh…right," Sasori finally responded, his voice hollow, "Well?" His grey eyes flashed towards Deidara. Bathed in the flickering candlelight, the blond took in the whole of Sasori's face and the intensity it radiated.

Deidara's heart was swelling against his ribcage.

"…" Sasori was silent, yet his eyes pushed Deidara to continue.

Deidara took the hint, diving straight in."I've been thinking about me and you, un."

Sasori watched Deidara carefully with half-lidded eyes.

Deidara continued, buoyed by the lack of interruption thus far.

"And…I think I might…feel differently from you, un. How come—" he hesitated, rolling around the next sentence in his mouth before continuing, this time with an added edge to his voice, "how come I get the feeling you're not really into this, un?"

Sasori slowly moved up from his crouching position, backing up onto the chair opposite Deidara.

Deidara carried on, spurned on by having broached the subject, "Like tonight…I couldn't shake you from my brain. But you - I can't get a read on you, un. You don't let me in, un."

After a long pause, Sasori finally responded in a tense manner, "I see."

Deidara felt the tremor of overwhelming heaviness in the air. Neither was it lost on Deidara that Sasori avoided answering the question directly. But you don't get anywhere by burying yourself away.

With this in mind, Deidara spoke up again boldly, voicing his recent turbulent thoughts into action, "What do you want from me, un?" His voice was direct, yet if Sasori had listened carefully enough, he might have detected the traces of exasperated longing etched into each syllable.

The slowness with which Sasori responded to Deidara's query indicated that he was apprehensive.
He leaned forwards, observing for any discernible expressions, signals, anything, from his neighbour.

The silence weighed between them.

Deidara felt agitated under the weight of the pressure.

He reached a hand forward. It caught Sasori's attention; his grey eyes following the blond's palm reaching forwards.

And yet, Deidara had not reached for the redhead's hand; instead, he danced his fingers just above the tip of a nearby candle's flame; the movement and rush of having to avoid singeing his skin was helping Deidara steady his turmoil.

Deidara peered at Sasori, who was gripping his own hands together, one spread palm clasped over a bunched finch. His jaw was clenched, as he directed narrowed eyes at Deidara's fingertips dipping in and out of the flame's edge. Still, he said nothing.

Deciding to comment on the long pause, Deidara spoke up in a harsh, sarcastic tone, "Your silence is just what I need right now, un. Super encouraging."

The comment seemed to rile Sasori as he finally retorted in a strained voice "It's complicated. We've…" he paused, considering the best way to phrase this,"we've made it complicated." His words were weak and disorganised - worlds away from Sasori's usual astuteness.

Deidara glanced over to Sasori as he spoke up, and almost snorted at the redhead's reply.

"Yeah. Yeah, I get that," he said snidely. "You know, just 'cause something is complicated doesn't mean it's a bad thing." Deidara chuckled bitterly "No one else cares, un."

Now, Deidara eyed Sasori directly. "It's only our opinions that matter. Or do my opinions not matter, un?"

Sasori frowned, and what Deidara was suggesting was not lost on him. At least, this was a question he could answer.

"It's not that," Sasori started quickly. "I don't know how to deal with this. Any of this." Sasori desperately wanted to get out of this conversation, though Deidara's sullen face made it clear that this would be difficult.

Deidara huffed and jostled his position on his neighbour's seat.

"Jeez, Sasori, it's not that hard, un."

Now, the blond was beginning to lose patience; he was spoiling for a fight.

"Maybe I'm getting tired of only existing to you when it suits you, un."

Having said his piece, Deidara ducked his eyes away from Sasori, and once again focused on the flickering candlelight. In a surge of recklessness, Deidara plunged his fingertip into the flame, feeling the searing of pain.

Almost as quickly, Deidara felt a hand on the back of his wrist, pulling it back. Deidra was about to launch a tirade of abuse at Sasori for grabbing him, for getting involved, for making him feel shit before— when Deidara saw that Sasori was now staring at him, face riddled with concern, gripping his wrist tightly.
Sasori finally spoke up, after Deidara's impassioned ramble. He offered a single word in reply.

"Don't."

Deidara's gaze morphed into a glare back at Sasori, irate at the command. Don't what? Feel? Live?

"Why?" Deidara's face was impassioned as he threw the command back in Sasori's face.

Deidara knew he was behaving like a brat, yet he was in too deep. Emotions heightened by tiredness and this confrontation, he dug in even deeper, tugging his arms against Sasori's grasp.
Internally, Deidara's brain was screaming what he couldn't say out loud to Sasori. 'Why are you making me feel things for you if you don't care?'

Sasori's response was slow, wrong footed. He was still holding onto Deidara's wrist.
His lips moved as if he was going to say something, anything.

It was frustrating. Sasori's lacklustre reaction to Deidara's questions had shaken him, as did the lack of excitement from Sasori to see if this could go anywhere. It was kinda pitiful, really.

"No, no - don't bother. I get in, un." Deidara hastened a response to end this exchange, the words rushing forward in a churlish tone. With that, Deidara finally wrestled his arm from Sasori's grip, stepping back. Deidara rushed away from his neighbour's side of the porch, slipping back through his own front door.

...

Sasori sat there, alone save for the embers of candlelight jostling around him.
His eyes were wide as his brain struggled to make sense of what had just occurred. Deidara's outburst seemed to come from nowhere.

It was only later, much later, when the candles had died out, that Sasori came to the grudging admission that Deidara had pierced on an uncomfortable truth. The one Sasori had tried to rationalise before, but perhaps cowardly, avoided confronting.

Now that Sasori was alone, he stewed over that direct question Deidara had thrown his way.

What did he want from Deidara?

If he could figure this out, he would! Did Deidara think he liked not knowing what he wanted? Sasori's stubbornness was usually about getting what he wanted! He loathed this indecision.

Of course, Sasori had said none of this out loud. Instead, he sat there, bubbling with dread.

Their precarious understanding seemed to be in tatters, Sasori did not know where he stood. He did not even know where he ought to be, either.

The last few months had been…unexpected. Kind of wondrous.

Falling into this arrangement wasn't something Sasori expected to happen to him. Maybe that's why his guard was up; He was so particular and liked things his way. Deidara didn't fit his model, his anticipation for how this was supposed to go.

Deidara was never meant to be a permanent fixture in his plan. It was only meant to be a bit of a release…right? A letting go of wound up tensions - for both of them.

It had clearly spiralled out of control. Sasori hadn't known how to react, how to deal with this encroaching, overwhelming fervour.

Sasori felt extremely uncomfortable. He was drowning in this darkness as it swallowed up the porch and all other fixtures around him. Still, he remained glued to the spot, unable to move from his seated position.

Sasori replayed Deidara's expression in his mind's eye, though it made Sasori's stomach feel twisted, each knot shooting up his blood pressure. He despaired; they were supposed to be managing Hidan and Kakuzu's stag do together in less than a week's time - what the fuck were they supposed to do now?