Sasori couldn't help but be shocked when he saw him.
Thiswas his new partner?
His shocked expression grew into a smirk, surely they couldn't be serious. The man, no, the boy in front of him was no Akatsuki member. The open cloak revealed his slight figure, and his blond hair fell carefully over his pretty face, hiding one eye…
Ah, his eyes.
This, Sasori decided, was what must have convinced them so strongly. In the young blue eyes, he saw a light, a fire that fed on death and destruction. Yes, he was strong. Underneath his delicate appearance, there was a burning personality perfectly suited to the work of Akatsuki. Pure evil.
A curious, amused look found its way into Sasori's eyes as his smirk widened. This would be interesting.
He turned to the rest of the room.
Reaching back over his shoulder, he gestured with one hand.
"Come with me."
It had only been one month.
Missions together had let Sasori see Deidara in action, and confirm his initial beliefs beyond a doubt. During battle, he watched his new partner's eyes light up, burning as he watched his little clay figures explode. That little destructive fire never went out.
When Sasori instructed the youth, he saw that same fire. It flared up whenever he referred to Deidara as inferior, whenever he put the boy down, or even scolded him. It would flash in his eyes, and Deidara would snap back an irritated retort.
And how Sasori loved to see it shine.
After a while, Sasori couldn't help it. He purposely riled the young blond up, forced him to react.
But eventually Deidara learned.
As he became comfortable with his new life he snapped back at Sasori with increasing courage. Then he began to reply with irritation comments of his own, and finally, after he learned that Sasori probably wouldn't kill him, he was the one to start it, to make an annoying, infuriating comment.
So inevitably, there were fights.
Sasori didn't mind their fights, he got to see the fury in Deidara's face, watch the fire build in his eyes. But Deidara flustered easily, Sasori could see that he hated it, and he never lasted long in a fight, stalking off after only minutes, annoyed beyond belief.
It wasn't long before Sasori realised other benefits attached to their fights.
He got to listen to a different side of Deidara's voice, for one. he noticed that when his partner wasn't being purposely annoying, or whining in his ear, his voice wasn't so bad. It was almost harmonic, and Sasori could hear the passion in his eyes reflected in his voice.
He also got tot see Deidara blush. He watched every time the blood rushed to his pale cheeks as it never would in Sasori's wooden face.
He watched the golden mane of hair flick around as Deidara shook his head, a gleaming halo to frame his face.
Fiery eyes burning all the while.
He fit, Sasori decided, the description of an angel rather well. Pale, flawless skin, golden hair, a pretty face, and beautiful, fiery eyes.
If he was an angel, thought Sasori, surely he would have fallen by now.
An angel of destruction, he thought, fallen at the feet of a demon with red hair.
"Deidara," Sasori said as he walked into the room "get your ass of my chair and your worthless junk off my desk."
As expected, Deidara spun around in the chair, eyes flashing.
"I'll sit wherever I want, and this 'junk' is my art, so you will leave it be."
Sasori watched calmly as Deidara turned back to the desk, and then he slowly, deliberately, walked over to his partner. He saw Deidara freeze as he stepped behind the blond and leaned forwards, resting his hands on the desk either side of his partner.
He felt Deidara stiffen as he leaned forward over the boy, and swept his arm across the desk, knocking ever one of his precious clay figures to the floor.
"I'm the master here, and you will listen to me."
Neither of the moved until Sasori slowly drew back. Then Deidara snapped.
He stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the side, and shoved Sasori against the nearest wall, fury written all over his face.
"You may be the master of killing techniques," he yelled into Sasori's face, "or the master of art, for all I care. But you are not. The master. Of me!"
Sasori smirked at this, and saw Deidara's frustration grow, his eyes burn.
"Stop smiling! Stop being so arrogant!"
He kept yelling, but now Sasori was getting impatient. He smiled again at an idea though…he wanted to try something…he leaned forwards, slowly, and placed his lips on Deidara's in a cold, passionless kiss.
As was expected, every inch of Deidara froze, and he stared in shock as Sasori drew back, leaning against the wall he was currently pinned to in a very relaxed manner, a satisfied look on his face.
Deidara's eyes were blank as he released Sasori and he drew away slowly, letting his arms drop to his sides. He tore his eyes from Sasori's and walked over to the desk, falling into the chair once more.
Sasori watched all this in mild annoyance, which only grew as Deidara picked up his work once more and buisied himself with the clay figures as if nothing had happened. He gave a small growl of irritation before stalking over to the desk.
He spun the chair around to look Deidara in the face and smirked to see what he had been after all along; the fire in Deidara's eyes, burning brighter than he's ever seen before.
That was all the incentive he needed to shove Deidara against the chair and capture his lips once more.
It wasn't long after that incident that Deidara started to call him 'master'. The other members of Akatsuki were slightly amused to hear this, convinced that Sasori had finally beaten some respect into his young student.
And Sasori was falling, finding himself more attached to his blond angel as the days went on. He hated himself for it, and took it our on Deidara, becoming more violent, harsher with each kiss they shared.
Once he had Deidara pinned against the floor, and he explained to the boy between rough kisses.
"This body. Is not meant. To feel."
Deidara's reply was simple;
"But it does."
That was enough for him, but not quite enough for Sasori. The puppet master saw his feeling body as a failure, but much as he hated failure, he was certainly not going to change anything now.
It felt too good.
Sasori walked swiftly through the base, the leader had told Sasori of a new mission and he and Deidara were to prepare that night, ready to receive the mission and depart before daybreak the next day.
As he turned the corridor to where the doors for his and Deidara's rooms were, he froze.
Deidara was holding Itachi's wrists to the wall; bodies pressed together, heads ridiculously close.
Sasori's eyes were locked on the pair, an expression of fury on his face. He knew if he had blood, it would be boiling.
He finally managed to tear his eyes away, and storm silently through his open door. He looked around the room slowly, then made his way over to the desk, yes, that was safest, not much to break over here. His hands knew this puppet well, and he busied himself with it immediately, still furious, until Deidara entered the room.
They both froze, and then Deidara quietly, cautiously, walked up behind Sasori, leaning around to kiss his cheek gently. He drew back and straightened as Sasori rose from his chair and faced Deidara, the blankest expression on his face.
Deidara heard the slap before he felt it. It sounded through out the room before he realised he hadn't turned his own head, and a burning pain was spreading over his cheek.
When he turned back, Sasori was in the same position as before, frozen, with a perfect, emotionless mask on his face as he hissed an order.
"Never touch me again."
Sasori never asked why Deidara had done it. Neither did Deidara. Sometimes, Sasori wanted to tell him exactly why he had hurt his angel, but he would not be the one to give in first.
He noticed, though, that Deidara's eyes were filled with a different for him now. Whenever he met those particular orbs of blue, he knew exactly how Deidara felt. Every time he looked into his eye, he saw that old fire, that destructive fire that he knew wanted to tear him limb from limb and burn them to a fine ash in vengeance.
Most of Akatsuki never found out. The little drama played out meters from them was never known but to three of them. Deidara and Sasori still talked as they always had in front of the others, acted as if it had been the same since the day they met. The only thing the organization could notice was an even more pronounced hate for one Itachi Uchiha.
Sasori saw the hellfire burn in Deidara's eyes whenever he saw the Uchiha, the exact same flame that burned for himself. Vengeance would be sweet, if Deidara ever had the opportunity to take it.
Vengeance, as Sasori saw it, was a disgusting emotion, it consumed you, until you could think of nothing else, and you weren't yourself anymore. But as the weeks progressed, he realized that Deidara was the better off of the two of them.
Because it was better to feel vengeance than to feel nothing at all.
Steph, you'd better appreciate this, because this just took a ridiculous amount of time to type and spell check etc.
And there's also the fact that you might just be the only one to appreciate this, if at all…Jessie doesn't support these two, as far as I'm aware. And I'm not sure I like it either.
Everyone else, if you've gotten down to here that means you've read it all, and for that, I thank you. Feel free to drops reviews of any kind, I enjoy knowing what people think about my writing, and it helps a lot.