I hope you're happy, I know I am! :D This is all for you, so I hope you all like it… sorry it took a million years, but I never forgot it (really!)!
Merry Christmas, happy New Year, have a great Hanukkah, happy Easter and happy birthday to me, here's my present to all of you! :D
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Dedications to my darling, as always! .O.
Oh and btw, if you're interested, I posted a chapter of SasoDei somethingsomething, you can find it in my profile as well! Consider it a… Halloween present?
Warnings: The usual?
Disclaimer: I wrote it but that's all! :D
Words: 2,185 pieces of nightly fun~
Here's chapter 40 (woaaaah), namely, 'Talking'!
"So lovely," Deidara murmured aloud, leaning against the wall and looking out from the window despite of Sasori's numerous warnings that he shouldn't go near the walls, door, windows or any other kind of small or big openings that might be even slightly harmful to him in any way. Sometimes he felt like he was taking care of little toddler that would stuff anything, literally anything, he could find in his too big a mouth. And Sasori really, really despised all of those little people, kids or brats or whatnot.
They had spent days and probably weeks leeching in Hidan's home. Despite his normally ill manners, Hidan had insisted on them staying at least until Deidara would feel better and they would know where to go… it seemed like the whole world was simply smitten by the blonde, and the swearing Queen was no exception.
"What's lovely?" he asked aloud, only disinterested for half of what he was. He wanted to know, yes, but then again, all of that which came out of Deidara's mouth was not exactly important. Maybe he just wanted the attention.
"This," Deidara responded ever so helpfully, "this, un. Us being here and, you know… Hidan left in the morning and I… I think," he drifted off with the speed of a little girl upon seeing a bright-coloured butterfly. For all Sasori would know, he was lost for the world. In the corner of his mind, he wondered why exactly he felt the need to compare his partner to a child. He had, after all, had his childhood ripped away from him before he was even old enough to fully comprehend it. Despite it, he seemed to find the good sides of things almost neurotically. Maybe because he had experienced enough horrors to last him a lifetime.
"Apple?" Deidara offered, holding the red fruit in his fingers. Sasori didn't understand how he could act so nonchalantly about it all. Was he dethatched from his own being? Where was the burning, scorching passion that determined him as a person?
Sasori would have voiced these thoughts aloud, found nearly poetical expressions to get his point across. He would have asked and Deidara would've answered in riddles, they wouldn't reach a decision, he'd be frustrated, Deidara would be upset, they would fight and storm away, the would make up without any words, they would kiss and Sasori would find himself with more questions than what he had begun with.
He would never really see the point, so he took the apple and took a bite, he glanced at Deidara and continued with his life.
He would grow to regret his decision.
Deidara yawned so wide Sasori could see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes as he fingered his half-eaten fruit. That was when he realized that Deidara probably hadn't slept for more than a few hours, since he was talking about something that had happened hours before Sasori had even considered opening his eyes. Was he incapable or simply unwilling? The brown-eyed man thought it was both, knowing the Joker. After his mind had taken that path again, he was startled enough to drop his apple and stare at it with detachment. He would never be safe, would he?
"Hey, did you break yourself, un? Anyone home?"
"To which question?"
He didn't bother offering an answer to such a stupid question, and picked up the apple instead. Deidara would never live a normal life and have a loving family and a house of his own and he would never really be happy. Now that they had gotten to know each other, Sasori thought that he would never achieve true happiness either. How could he, knowing that Deidara would always be paying the price for something that he could do nothing about? It wasn't like Sasori would always be thinking about it, conciously, but he knew he could always feel it as a blank spot on the back of his mind. Deidara was blank, despite all of his colours and emotions.
"I was thinking about-"
Sasori traced the table's sides with his fingers. It was captivating, just draining out the world and withdrawing into his thoughts. Part of it was just something he had learned from Deidara (he was always there but never there maybe he had a dream world of his own maybe he had already given up on the real one), part of it was something he had maybe done all his life. Maybe it had been on another level, but it had been there for a long time.
"-taking a bath, un." Even though the blonde wasn't in his line of sight, Sasori could practically feel his whole being flinch at the thought that he had just expressed the wish to waste something like drinking water on himself when he could live without. In his world, it could even be a sin worse than taking his knife and putting it to use for once.
"I mean," he tried to reason feebly, "Hidan said I should 'fucking do something about myself before spending another fucking night in his house', and, he said it would be… good, un?"
"I'm not going to stop you," Sasori assured him with disinterest. Maybe it would really be good for him to wash away some of the dirt in his wounds, to clean up and cheer up hopefully as well. Since he hadn't even seen the blonde without a thick layer of dust and sand and mud on him, Sasori was even slightly curious. However, he didn't exactly wish to see this bathing take place, since he didn't wish to take a closer look on Deidara's numerous scars. The thought sickened him, to be honest. It was not right that one man would need to go through such misery and hurt.
Deidara stood up, slowly, carefully, seeming to have lost his former grace as he swayed slightly on his feet. Was it from laying in bed for so long or had his wounds gone worse?
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, danna, I am very much capable of standing up straight and taking forty-three steps to the other side of the house without your assistance, un."
"Wouldn't have guessed, looking at you."
Deidara leant his lean frame into the table, looking at Sasori. "Could you… maybe help me just a little bit?"
Sasori groaned, no I can't. "With what?"
"The… bath thing. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," Deidara admitted with a slight flame to his cheeks. "Un."
Sasori stared, blankly, weighing his options. It would be cruel to decline, to leave Deidara to handle himself and his scars and wounds and everything on his own. Then again, when did he ever care about being cruel? He wasn't a people person, so other people's feelings had never really done much to him… and Deidara was a well-established exception to the rule, he knew. Deidara mattered on a whole new dimension.
"Yes," he responded simply, ignoring Deidara's widening eyes and the smile that was grazing his features for the first time in a long time. "Do we have warm water ready?"
"Yup," Deidara murmured, suddenly seeming perky enough to regain his grace again. "I… yes, un," he continued, seemingly pointlessly. He pressed a warm kiss to Sasori's cheek before leading the Sasori exactly forty-three steps to the other room. They filled the small, probably rarely used bath tub in no time, but the difficult part seemed to be ridding Deidara of his clothes. He fiddled with his yellow shirt, he stared at his feet. He looked at his hands.
"I changed my mind, un," he suddenly announced, "I don't want to do this."
Sasori rolled his eyes, pushing Deidara closer to the tub. "Yes you do. I'm here for you."
The Joker seemed to consider the possibility of not changing his mind after all. He blinked his eyes, winced and stared into Sasori's eyes. "But… I keep the gloves on, un."
"Why?" Sasori asked, dumbfounded, "In the bath?"
"Yeah… I thought I told you that I have awful scars in them? Besides, they don't like water, un." He seemed to talk about it like he knew something he wasn't sharing, but Sasori would probably have to live with it. Deidara would share it when he was ready, like with his Card Mark. He always would.
"Fine. Show them to me sometime," the Ace of Clubs muttered in defeat. He looked away while Deidara took his clothes off, very unwilling to see anything more than absolutely necessary. He seemed to shy away before slowly lowering himself into the tub, and when Sasori looked his way, the water was already tinted with red and brown. It wasn't a pretty sight, to say the least.
"When exactly did you last wash yourself?" he asked, sneering. He didn't wait for an answer before taking a piece of soap and starting to scrub away whatever he could out of Deidara's skin.
"I don't… like water," Deidara offered, "It's… wet, un."
"I can see that," Sasori muttered, careful not to agitate the taller man's wounds but minding even the old scars. "Does this hurt?" he asked, trailing his hands over a long scar on his back. "Where did you get this one from?"
"It… it tickles, I think," Deidara responded, really seeming to actually consider his answer before letting it pass his lips. To the second question, he replied with a shrug and "Mirror."
"Right," he replied, not finding any better words to express himself with. The task wasn't as unpleasant as he had previously thought, actually. Deidara's wounds and scars were not pretty, but they told the whole story of his life. They spoke in tones, melody and dark hues the man himself would never voice aloud. They did all the talking and complaining, crying and remembering in his place. They were a part of him, wounds from battles where he was a survivor rather than a victim one should feel sorry for.
Sasori felt like at that very moment, they were closer to each other than ever before. They hadn't fought for a few days and he felt like he was finally giving something back to Deidara for his endless affection; he was giving him intimacy he had never really got before.
After Deidara's body was more or less cleaned up (even the scars looked way less painful after a good scrub), Sasori let his attention switch to his flowing blonde hair. He didn't really know what terms he should have used to describe it, but it was beautiful. He really did look like he was from a noble family, royal even. His genes seemed to be the kind that provided him with all the visual features that were to be sought after, but betrayed by a royal disease like haemophilia. His Card Mark was one of his only flaws, but it was his only feature that really mattered.
Sasori didn't have much experience of washing long hair (obviously), but he did the best he could, trying to restore as much of its vitality as possible for him. To be completely honest again, he actually even liked what he was doing. Deidara seemed fairly content as well, closing his eyes and disappearing into himself as he absorbed the warmth that was around him. He seemed happy.
Such happiness didn't last for long; after Deidara was clean from head to toe, Sasori insisted on combing his hair to make sure he really had done everything that was in his power. And honestly, Deidara's hair was tangled enough for a croup of sparrows (his darling Itachi, too) to make their nest in it. The Joker seemed incapable of simply sitting still and letting Sasori complete his mission; he preferred to complain and yank and cry out and whine.
"You're a true brat," Sasori hissed, yanking the comb with unnecessary force.
"Ouch, fucking hell!" Deidara cried, "What are you doing, trying to whack the hole house down?! It's my hair, un!"
"Stop being such a girl, I'm almost done."
"And I'll be bald by the time that happens! Do you not know what gently means, un?!"
"Nope, I haven't had the pleasantry of doing many things gently in my years," came another hiss.
"Well I can see that, un! Let me go, I'm getting cold, un!"
"If you would just stop screaming into my ear, we'd be done already."
"I didn't see it helping when I was quiet and I'm cold and you'll be mad at me when I get sick, un!"
With a final yank that cleared (ripped open) the final tangles, Sasori sighed. "Go get dressed and back to bed before you really do get cold… I'll make you some tea."
Deidara was up and away before Sasori was even finished, hurrying to get away before the devilish comb returned to torture him even more. "Yes, thanks! I love you, un!" he announced before dashing off.
"Yes… You too," Sasori muttered to the closing door, pile of dirty clothes and comb full of blonde strands of hair, "You too."
H-hope you liked it, and even if you didn't, it would be really great if you could review… Let me know you're there because I'm here too? :3
See you sooner than last time!