Deidara walked into his and his partner's quarters to finish gathering the supplies for the mission they were about to begin. It was odd seeing Sasori out of Hiruko, and Deidara couldn't help but wonder what the puppeteer was up to.

Sasori looked up as Deidara directed a question to his back, "Danna, what are doing, yeah?" Sasori straightened and turned to look at his blond comrade.

"Just getting things ready." The redhead's face remained blank as Deidara asked again, "Ready for what, yeah?"

"For when you die." The blond kept his face impassive, but he was hurt that his partner thought him incapable of keeping up on the next mission. He had gotten into Akatsuki perfectly well, hadn't he? He was surely a capable ninja. So what was his Sasori-danna's problem?

"You will make a perfect weapon for me." The puppeteer explained.

"I already am a perfect weapon, yeah." Deidara growled.

Sasori reached up towards Deidara's pale face, stroking his cheek and then tapping him roughly on the forehead, smirking, "Not quite, you do not yet last forever."

The blond turned from his partner and muttered, "You can't, danna, yeah."

Had Sasori been able to show any real emotion, he would have been surprised as the clay artist continued, "I don't want to last forever, we've fought over this hundreds of times, yeah. Art and beauty are transient. No one is going to live forever, not you, not me, not Hidan-san, or Kakuzu-san, not even that Orochimaru, yeah.

Sasori glared at the blond for mentioning his previous partner, one whom he missed now and again. The snake man's presence hadn't made his insides churn and choke the way Deidara's did.

"People aren't art, your puppets made from people aren't art, yeah. They're imitation life, and I don't need a fake one." The blond glared defiantly at the puppet master.

Sasori glared right back, but Deidara gave him a sly smirk in return. "Besides, Sasori-danna, I'm going to go out with a bang, yeah. I'm going to be a part of that final moment of explosion; the thing which I live for, yeah, what I create for. I'm going to explode into a thousand different pieces, and the sky is going to rain blood, yeah—my blood. And that, Danna, is art."

Sasori looked at the blond with mild distaste, "That's sick."

"Maybe, but so is turning dead bodies into puppets, danna, yeah." Deidara replied scathingly.

Sasori could only blink as he watched the clay artist walk out of their little room saying, "Respect my sick wishes Sasori-danna, yeah, and maybe I'll respect yours."

As Sasori watched him go, the only thoughts that could break through his muddled head were, "Why doesn't he understand. The only reason I wish him to live forever, is because I can't live without him." At this, he threw the screw driver he had been holding at the closed door, cursed under his breath, and moved to finish preparing for the mission.

On the other side of the door, Deidara cursed sourly and slammed his fist into the hard rock lining the hallway. "He'll never understand. Why do I have to feel, when I know he can't?" Deidara sighed and stalked off to find someone, anyone; anyone capable of living, breathing, and feeling.