A/N: This chapter is horribly, horribly rough. I don't like it at all but, I'd figure I'd update with at least something because I haven't in a couple weeks. The first half was written a while ago at like, 5 in the morning and then I finished it yesterday. Go ahead and slap me if you want. Because I would.

Black Balloon
Chapter Three: Calling All Cars
"Calling all cars we've got another victim, 'cause my love has become an affliction. Well what did you expect from me?"-Senses Fail

Deidara slid his gaze to his left where Itachi sat. He didn’t know why but, he was slightly nervous sitting there with the judge at the podium, the cop standing up front too, the handful of people that decided to sit in (were they family of the ass that stole his painting? Had to be.), and of course, said ass sitting with his meek looking lawyer at the table adjacent to his.

Itachi caught his gaze slightly and the corner of his lips twitched up slightly. Deidara glared at him.

They had already gone through all the questioning. The blond found it kind of extensive even if it was his painting they were trying to gain back.

Itachi had questioned the other man who spewed some bullshit about that he “would never steal! I’m a devout Christian”. Deidara watched both of them. Itachi was stoic, as always, gliding through his questions and keeping his eyes always on the man he was questioning. The man started fidgeting and tried to look anywhere but Itachi’s eyes. Deidara wanted to laugh.

That urge to laugh though, faded as he himself took the stand and was set through a round of questions.

Itachi never broke eye contact with him and Deidara found himself biting his cheek instead of looking away. Because looking away would be loosing and he couldn’t have that. He stared back just as hard as he said his answers. There must have been some bite to his answers because the judge cleared his throat uncomfortably.

When his questions were done with Itachi, he let out a sigh. Damn, I would hate to be against him.

The judge was in the process of making his decision. It was pretty clear that Itachi had won them the case though. The other two were looking like they were ready to shove a gun in their mouths and pull the trigger. Deidara smirked but let it slid off his face when Itachi shook his head at him.

The judge cleared his throat, “I hereby claim the defendant guilty.”

The smirk returned to Deidara’s face. He stopped listening to what the old man had to say. He didn’t need to really know what else he had to say. They guy was guilty; he’d get his money, not to mention his painting back. It was all good.

He stood when Itachi did. “Thanks, yeah,” He held out his hand, “For dealing with me and stuff.”

Itachi shook his hand and started walking away. “I still hate your accent,” he called, not turning around.

Deidara stood there, staring. The comment didn’t faze him but, the handshake did. He looked at his hand. It had felt weird…his skin against his. Weird…but a good weird. He hadn’t felt that since…since…

Aww hell.

“Hey, kid, are you going to leave?”

Deidara looked over quickly to the cop that had questioned him. He nodded and quickly ran out of the building.

“Cataclysmic.”

“Exactly. That’s what it was, yeah.”

Deidara sighed and sat down in the chair next to him. It had been three weeks since his and Itachi’s victory and he hadn’t even seen a glance of him. After he left the courthouse, he thought he’d be fine to forget about the Uchiha and be on his merry way. But no, even as he sat in his old boyfriend’s presence, he couldn’t stop thinking about him. Deidara looked over to the red head that was standing in front of his newest painting, his back was too him.

“You’re painting, Deidara, is crap,” the other man turned around.

“Well thanks, Sasori,” Deidara said blandly.

“Compared to what you can do, it is,” Sasori shook his head, “I’m not your agent anymore but, I can tell you this much, you’re not going to go anywhere unless you get your head off of that lawyer of yours.”

The blond glared at him, “It’s none of your concern, yeah.”

“Your right,” Sasori shrugged, “It’s not. But take it from me Dei; you get too attached to people. You’re going after something you can never catch and it’s bringing you down.”

“I’m not ‘going after’ anyone, danna,” Deidara smirked, “I’m just…stuck on him.”

Sasori gave him a pointed look, “Whatever. You said he was getting married, right? That doesn’t even throw you?” He paused, “And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“It’s a habit,” Deidara waved his hand and sat up on the edge of the chair, “I’ll get over him eventually, yeah.”

“You better,” Sasori shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the blond’s leg lightly.

“Yeah, you never know, I may come crawling back to you,” Deidara laughed.

Sasori raised a brow at him and rolled his eyes, “And that’s what we all want.”

“Yea huh,” Deidara stood and grabbed the small canvas he had brought with him, “It’s still there danna, my need for you.”

Sasori rolled his eyes again, “Get the hell out of my house Deidara.”

The blond laughed as he walked towards the door; they had an odd relationship.

“I’ll see you later Sasori,” He sighed as he opened the door.

“Yeah, bye,” Sasori called after him, “Why Cataclysmic, Dei?”

Deidara turned around and shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the painting in his hands; it was a depressing picture with a plain black and red color scheme and there was no set theme-abstract.

“Because that’s what it was,” the blond got a far off look in his eyes for a second, “this whole deal with Itachi; cataclysmic.”

There was a soft knock at the door and a blond head quirked up and made a face. Who the hell could that be?

Deidara saved his work on his laptop and snapped it closed. He scuffled over to the door and fumbled with the locks. It was too early for someone to knock on his door. Maybe one-thirty in the afternoon wasn’t early to the rest of the world but…

He swung the door open lazily and on the other side stood a woman. She was pretty, dressed in casual clothes; jeans and a t-shirt and a light jacket. She had her lip pierced and as where he normally thought piercings were gaudy, it fit her quite nicely. Though…she was taller than him by about two inches—and she didn’t even have heals on. He frowned slightly.

“Deidara, right?” She asked politely.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “And you are…?”

“Oh, sorry,” She smiled and held out her hand, “I’m Konan. I was told by a friend that you’re a fairly good artist. Do you happen to do commission work?”

Deidara stared at her blankly but shook her hand. She looked familiar but, it could be anyone. There were a lot of girls now-a-days that dyed their hair blue.

“Uhm…yeah,” he shook his head, “I guess.”

“Is it a bad time?” she asked, “I could come back later.”

“No, no,” he yawned, “I just don’t get a lot of sleep. Freakin’ tired, yeah.”

He opened the door the rest of the way and motioned for her to come in. He told her to make herself comfortable while he made his way to the kitchen.

“Didn’t mean to be so rude earlier, yeah,” He said when he came back, holding a glass of water for her.

She took it and shook her head, “Its fine. My boyfriend doesn’t sleep well either and is always cranky. I’m used to it.”

Deidara spotted the expensive looking ring around her wedding finger and his brow quirked. To each his own, I guess. But, he was curious… “Boyfriend?”

She followed his gaze and laughed slightly. “Fiancé, I mean. It’s been almost a month and I’m still not used to saying it.”

He grinned politely back at her as she laughed even though he didn’t find it completely funny.

“So, about this commission work?”

“Oh, yes,” she sat up and set her water lightly on the coffee table, “Have you ever done wall murals?”

“I’ve dabbled,” He shrugged, “Though, every time it’s been for one of my friends. People tend to not like my art, yeah. They say it’s too chaotic for them. Too modern…or some other kind of bullshit.”

“So no cherubs and Mona Lisa’s coming from you?” She laughed.

“Yeah, definitely not,” He smirked. Truth be told, he’d almost failed out of the first art school he went to because he refused to do the projects where they had to work with those kinds of subjects. Art was supposed to be expressive anyway. You can’t be expressive when you’re stuck to following something.

“That’s alright though, I’m not looking for anything like that,” She explained, “I’ve seen some of your paintings and I’m quite taken with them. I like the chaotic feel to them.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm. It would add some excitement to my day. Working at the Asian Society every day can really get on a person’s nerves.”

He must have looked at her weird because she laughed. “You’re surprised? I’m actually the President if you can believe it. Some of the older members don’t like the look I present with the hair and everything but, I know more than them most of the time.”

“How’d you become president?” Deidara asked, now interested.

“Oh, my father was a member ever since he came over from Japan. He taught me everything and I took an odd fascination to it. It’s kind of boring, I know but, I like it. But, anyway, how much do you think you would charge?”

“I dunno,” He shrugged again; “I’d have to see what I get to work with. And it’s ultimately up to you to choose what kind of paint I use, yeah.”

“Oh…well, I don’t really know that much about painting so, whatever you want to work with I guess,” She smiled a little sheepishly, “Would you be available next week to come out and give me an estimate?”

“Yeah, sure, just give me your address and time you want me to be over there,” he was getting a little bored with all the talking. Doing business wasn’t really his thing.

She pulled a slip of paper and a pen out of her purse and scrawled something on it. She stood and handed it to him.

“I guess I’ll see you next week. Call the number I have written down if anything changes.”

“Will do,” he stood and walked her to the door.

She walked out and turned before she went for the stairs. “Oh and, if my fiancé answers the phone, please don’t be offended if he’s an ass to you,” she made a small smile, “But I’m sure you already know that.”

He gave her a weird look as she turned and descended the stairs. He looked at the slip of paper in his hands and promptly hit his head against the door frame.

She just left a last name above the address and phone number. And he highly doubted there were two families with the last name of Uchiha living in New York City.

A/N Again: See...told you. Slap me now and tell me to write better! Because I can...I truly, truly can!