|The Beautiful and the Damned
Author: Shuriken to the face PM
AU. Deidara is a fast-living, hell-raising, iconic artist with a drug problem. Sasori is a reclusive, lonely artistic genius with a serious commitment complex. SasodeiRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Drama - Deidara & Sasori - Chapters: 11 - Words: 15,348 - Reviews: 86 - Favs: 59 - Follows: 57 - Updated: 10-11-10 - Published: 08-25-08 - id: 4498716
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Here's an AU fic I wrote a while ago and completely forgot about. And anyone waiting for the next chapter of Make Me Bleed: it is on its way, I promise! I've just been busy getting married and such like.
Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto I wouldn't be struggling to pay the rent on my flat, would I?
The Beautiful and the Damned
Deidara woke up feeling like death; sweaty, hung-over, and with his hair sticking to his face. He sat up in his queen sized bed, clutching at his head and groaning.
'What the fuck did I drink last night? No, scratch that. What the fuck did I take last night?' He thought as he tried to focus on stopping the room spinning round his vision. He felt someone moving about in the space next to him,
"Morning, sexy," a woman.
"Yeah, morning," another woman. He looked down to see a blonde haired girl and a pink haired girl naked in his bed, both looked thoroughly shagged. Deidara sighed as he stood up, mornings were always awkward,
"I don't mean to be rude, last night was great and all," he lied. In truth he could not remember anything past arriving at the V.I.P opening party for a hot new club in the city, "but you need to go. There should be a guy in an orange mask hanging around here somewhere, he'll pay for a taxi for you. It was great meeting you…er…"
"Sakura," the pink one.
"Ino," the blonde one. Deidara nodded, still non the wiser.
"Will we see you again?" The pink one asked as they both gathered their skimpy clothes and dressed. Deidara stopped on his way to the en suite shower room to look at them over his shoulder,
"Who knows…" he winked. The girls squealed and giggled, wobbling out of his room in their ridiculously high heels to go in search of the "guy in the orange mask". Deidara caught his reflection in the massive mirror in his bathroom. He winced, noticing his pale complexion where he was usually lightly tanned, dark circles under his eyes, and straggly long hair, 'Eugh, really what did I take last night?' He took his time in the shower, already feeling better from the hot water. After showering he went through his normal routine; drying and straightening his long blond hair before styling it into his usual – a portion of it pulled up into a high ponytail on the top of his head and his trendy layered fringe covering the left side of his face; applying thick eyeliner to hide those dark circles. He dressed casually; ripped combat pants tucked into army boots that he did not lace up and a plain black hoody. Judging that he had made the best of a bad job, he left his bedroom wanting to get to a seat as soon as possible so it no longer felt like he was trying to walk on clouds.
The open plan living space was huge, seeming even bigger for the lavish but minimal furnishings. Deidara went straight to the kitchen and grabbed a box of chocolate cereal and a spoon, then proceeded to eat it dry and straight from the box. He shuffled across the room to the enormous white leather corner sofa that had seating for around fifteen people. Sprawled out on it was a guy in an orange mask flicking through the channels on the wall mounted plasma screen. Deidara scowled,
"Tobi, remind me again why I pay you good money and let you live in my house for free, yeah?" The man called Tobi laughed,
"Because I take care of the hot chicks the morning after for you?" He grabbed his head in pain, "Ow, no more laughing. My head hurts and I can't remember fuck all from last night…"
"You can't remember fuck all?! Isn't one of your jobs to remember stuff for me so I don't have to? Ah, well, I guess we'll just find out from the tabloids today what stupid shit I did last night. So, what's on the agenda for today?" Deidara got bored of the cereal and chucked the box over his shoulder. Tobi shook his head,
"You aren't doing anything today, I scheduled in a free day for you 'cause you haven't had a break for a while," even through the mask Deidara could tell that Tobi was giving him a disapproving look, "Shouldn't you eat a bit more for breakfast saying as it seems like the only meal you bother with nowadays?" Deidara shrugged,
"Just not hungry," he said taking a long draw from a cigarette. Tobi rolled his eyes, even though he knew the gesture could not be seen,
"Maybe you would be hungry if you spent less time drinking, taking drugs, and smoking." Deidara just flashed him a mischievous smile in return. They both turned round to the sound of someone crashing into a wall and cursing,
"Fucking bastard wall!" A young man with short gelled platinum blond hair came stumbling into the room,
"Are you still here? When are you going home, or should I just rename the guest wing Hidan's Suite of Rooms?" Deidara commented. Hidan squinted at him from across the room, evidently still drunk,
"Fuck off, Blondie. I tried to go home last night but I crashed my Lamborghini down your driveway somewhere. I think I wrote it off…Ah, well, it was getting dirty anyway." Tobi sighed,
"Does that mean I have to call a tow truck?" Deidara looked thoughtful for a moment,
"No, leave it where it is if it looks cool, yeah," he stood up and grabbed his car keys off the green marble coffee table, wincing as the room shifted rather violently.
"Where are you going? Shouldn't you at least try to get some work done seeing as you have a free day?" Tobi asked. Deidara turned round on his way to the entrance hall,
"Nah, I'm too spontaneous for that. I'm going in search of inspiration, Tobi, yeah. I don't know when I'll be back!" Tobi was about to reply until he heard the front door slam.
Deidara climbed into his customised Bugatti Veyron, a smile on his face as the car sped down the driveway. He loved that car; he loved anything that was fast, and it had been well worth the £800,000 he had paid for it, 'It would be awesome if I died in this car…' the thought made him laugh. He drove round the suburbs of the city – Konoha – not really caring where he ended up. He was surprised when he came to a district he had never seen before; he had thought he knew the city he loved like the back of his hand. But then again, as he looked at the shops and boutiques that lined the road, he could think of no reason he would ever need to go there. It was all grand 19th century facades, tea shops, and antiques stores – everything he hated with a passion. Then, something caught his eye. Art. He parked outside the gallery, his car already gathering an admiring crowd, and entered the building.
A little bell rang when he opened the door, causing the redhead behind the counter to look up from the article he was reading. Then promptly look back down at it. Deidara was slightly taken aback to say the least. He was world famous, and not just in the art world. Everybody knew his face from the countless photo shoots, magazine articles, TV appearances. He mused on the fact while he wandered round the gallery, admiring the paintings. Of course, they were not to his taste, but he could still appreciate them. One in particular caught his attention - a landscape; deep, dark, morbid. It spoke of death - of oblivion - and Deidara loved it. He walked up to the counter, the redheaded man behind it still paying him no attention. Deidara could only assume that the man must live under a rock or something to not know who he was. He cleared his throat,
"Hi, I'm Deidara," he smiled. The redhead still did not look up,
"I know who you are, I just don't care." Deidara did not know what to say, he was somewhat in shock. There was hardly a time he could remember when someone did not care who he was! Everyone, whether they loved him or hated him, cared who he was! The sound of the redhead laughing broke him out of his thoughts,
"Don't take it personally; I just don't see what you do as art. And what else are you famous for? Who you've slept with, what you've done at parties, who your influential friends are, that kind of thing. So forgive me if I'm not impressed." The redhead had looked up at him while he had been talking, and Deidara had to admit that while the redhead's personality left a lot to be desired, he was stunning; pale and flawless skin, messy short hair that gave him a just rolled out of bed look, perfect features, and the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that could one second be grey, the next second a rich hazel or deep red. Ever-changing. If he had been looking for inspiration, he found it. Now he realised that the redhead was looking at him funnily, 'Dammit, spaced out again!' He shook his head to clear his thoughts,
"Anyway, you're quick to judge my work but have you ever even been to one of my exhibitions, yeah?" The redhead smirked,
"No, but have you ever been to one of mine?"
"Yes. You're Sasori. Akasuna Sasori. I saw an exhibition of the restoration work you did on a medieval triptych," Deidara replied, effectively wiping the smirk off Sasori's face. He took the opportunity to change the subject, "That landscape over there, I want to buy it."
Sasori looked surprised for a second, "I don't think so."
"Why not, it's not like I can't pay you for it – I'll even pay double."
The redhead folded his arms, "It's not about how much I sell it for, it's about how it will be appreciated. It's meant to last – not be discarded whenever you get sick of looking at it." Deidara frowned, the redhead's attitude was really beginning to piss him off now,
"Fine," he was half out of the door when he turned back to Sasori, "But I do appreciate your art, even though you despise mine!" Deidara closed the door forcefully behind himself. Ignoring the clamouring of people asking for his autograph or calling out that they love him, he climbed in his car and sped off. He drove around the suburbs, replaying his encounter with Sasori in his mind, 'Arrogant bastard! Ignorant bastard, too!' Deidara stopped his car at the red traffic lights. He could not quite work out why Sasori's opinion had bothered him so much – loads of people hated him, and he found it amusing. But this damn redhead…He was jolted back to reality when he heard the driver behind him angrily sound his horn, apparently the lights had long since changed to green. Right, he was going to sort this out. With a new sense of purpose he drove back to Sasori's gallery, the redhead more than a little surprised to find the world famous artist in front of him once again.
"What are you doing tonight?" Deidara demanded.
"I'm sorry?" Sasori replied, a little bewildered.
Deidara rolled his eyes, "Are you free tonight? I want to take you to see my exhibition. I don't care if you hate my art if you at least do the decency of bothering to look at it."
What Sasori really wanted to do was tell this blond idiot to fuck off, but he could not help but feel that doing that would make the blond the better man. He sighed, "I'm not doing anything, so I guess you can take me to see your 'art'."
Deidara looked quite smug now, "Great, I'll pick you up here at 7."
"Fine," Sasori sounded like he had been utterly defeated. Deidara was about to leave when he turned back to Sasori, smiling genuinely,