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"Hn." 'Question Deidara again at a later date' was quickly filed away in the 'to do' part of the puppet's mental filing cabinet. There was definately something that the blond wasn't telling him. Now he was curious. And when Sasori was curious... He eventually found out whatever it was he was curious about. Somehow.

The silence that followed the little Q'n A session was slightly irritating to the red-head. He didn't know whether it was an awkward silence or just... 'Normal' silence. Then again, when the hell was silence between him and Deidara ever normal? ... When the hell were they ever normal? The puppet frowned, looking back up at the ceiling as well, trying to think of something to say to break the vile silence.

However, he found he didn't need to; the blond broke it first. Once again looking from the ceiling to the sculptor, he blinked. Then growled. "'Do I' what, Deidara?" He was not going to let the idiot get away without saying whatever the hell it was he started to say this time. Plus, his patience was running precariously short. "Say what you were going to say. Now."

Maybe asking Sasori if he liked guys was not a good idea, considering the tone of his voice when ordering Deidara to finish his question. The blond quickly changed the queer little question around to something a bit more innocent. 'Do you like me?' he asked, looking over at his partner. If Sasori’s answer was no, he wouldn’t ask any more questions. But a yes…well…then things would get just a little bit more personal.
He was hoping for a no, seeing as he didn’t want to go any further and keep his thoughts to himself. Although, a part of him was praying for the puppet to say yes. Not to use it as another excuse to kiss him again. But to know that he did have a heart. Not the physical heart he had only for chakra. A heart mentally to show that he actually could feel.
The sculptor had let his thought dance around just a tad too much and he had forgotten to avert his gave back onto the ceiling again. He quickly did so, feeling slightly foolish.

The question caused the puppet to blink. Then blink again. Did he... Like the blond? Given recent events, he figured that it was a justifiable question... Sort of. But one, Sasori knew, he'd actually have to think about; answering carelessly, knowing his luck, would lead to a hell of a lot of frustration.

So. Did he? The red head continued to stare at Deidara after the sculptor looked back to the ceiling, mind a whirl. Well, for all the damn arguments they got into about art, he offered a different point of view other than his own 'art is forever' ideal. Which - not that he'd say so - gave him something to think about during quiet nights when, for whatever reason, he didn't feel like tinkering with his puppets.

And... They did make a good team. Sometimes. Sort of. They were both artists, at any rate. And at least the blond wasn't as annoying as that masked idiot...

Even so, he hadn't the faintest clue how to answer that question. Deciding he'd hesitated long enough in answering, he sighed, looked back up to the ceiling, then closed his eyes in mock-tiredness. "... Maybe." He would really have to do some thinking on that question.

The ceiling was preoccupying Deidara whilst he awaited the answer to his question from Sasori. And, it was pretty crap at doing that. He began to wonder if he had even heard his question and looked over at him. Well…it seemed like the ceiling was help him think as well, so he must’ve heard it, otherwise he would still be glaring at him, awaiting the question.
But when the answer came, the blond’s heart sank. Maybe? Not yes. Not no. Maybe. The reply had slightly frustrated him. Had he just said maybe to annoy him? No…he looked like he was deep in thought again. He’d have to just accept it. ‘Oh…okay,’ he mumbled.
Should he just add a friendly little response? To kill the tension and sound unphased by the “maybe” Yeah, might as well. ‘I like you,’ he grinned, glancing over at Sasori again. He made no move to add that he liked him. That would just bring the awkwardness crashing back.

Ha, it sounded like Deidara wasn't exactly thrilled with his reply. Sasori smirked slightly; well. Too bad - 'maybe' was all he was getting. For now, anyway... The smirk froze on the puppet's face when the blond followed up the mumbling with an 'I like you'. At least it wasn't the other 'l'-word... But still.

He turned his head to look back over to his partner. For a moment, the red head's expression seemed almost innocent, before it was overtaken by the usual blank and indifferent stare. "Hn..." And that was all it seemed like he was going to say. Though, due to earlier, his curiosity had been awoken, and now it had found a new target.

"Why do you like me?" He wasn't the most agreeable person ever... And he was as friendly as a cactus, most of the time. Plus, he hadn't exactly been the nicest person towards the sculptor. Thus, it was sort of a mystery for him. Hell, the blond was a mystery to him, sometimes - one that made as much sense as a roof full of holes.

Well, the silence was once again broken, but the tension was rising at an alarming pace. So was the pain in Deidara’s stomach. ‘Uhm…’ That was actually a good question. Sasori usually acted unpleasant and mean towards him. But the blond respected him greatly. Mainly because of his fighting and artistic skills. He didn’t really like the puppet’s personality, but he liked having his attention. And he felt pretty happy when he did have his attention.
And Sasori was the only person who really talked to Deidara. Crossing out Tobi. He certainly didn’t enjoy it when he was forced to hang around the stupid Uchiha.
‘Coz I respect you,’ he replied, sincerely, looking over at the puppet again. ‘I wanna get closer to you, un.’ When it suddenly occurred to Deidara that what he had just said may be taken the wrong way, he quickly added, ‘By that I mean I wanna be your friend, un.’
He hoped his answer wouldn’t result in more rejection. He was feeling a little more comfortable telling his partner the truth instead of lying. Maybe it was because he felt much less awkward.

While awaiting an answer more to his question more than 'uhm', the puppet took a moment to study his partner from where they lay, filling in what he couldn't see from his vantage point mentally. Fine features; rather girly. Nice on the eyes. Shame he'd grow old, wrinkle, and eventually die and rot. Assuming he lived to that old... But either way; worm food. Unless...

Thankfully that train of thought was interrupted by an actual reply. Fiery red eyes widened a fraction, however. Well, he could have guessed the first thing; it was the second thing that worried him slightly. Until the blond added the third sentence. Ah, friends...

Then what the hell had that kiss been all about? Psh. Friends. He wasn't buying it - although... To save them both some grief, apprehension, or whatever, he didn't bring that up again. Instead, he frowned thoughtfully.

When it came to friends, Sasori had none, really. Except his non-living puppets, and they didn't really count. He didn't really see the point in them. "... Fine." But for the hell of it, he might as well humour the blond with his whole friend-thing. He didn't want Deidara to get any more depressed.

Not really noticing his partner’s gaze that was upon him, he smiled a little. At least the puppet hadn’t made a cruel statement such as, “I dun need friends blah blah blah.” Hopefully that was the last of the questions for a while now.
Blue orbs were then drawn to the lump of wetness at the end of his bed. Urgh, he’d have to go get that sorted out. He sat up, picking up his sodden clothes and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. ‘I’m gunna go take these to the washroom,’ he announced, getting to his feet. Luckily, by lying down for a bit, he’d managed to get enough chakra back to let him walk a bit more freely.
He headed to the door and stopped when he was about to reach for the doorknob. Seeing as he wanted to be friends with Sasori, surely a few friendly acts wouldn’t hurt. He looked over at him and grinned. ‘Want me to take your clothes too?’ he asked. His clothes were never going to dry whilst lying in a heap on the floor, were they? Plus they’d get all creased when they did eventually dry.
It wouldn’t hurt to call his mum whilst he was downstairs as well. There was only one phone in the building, which, much to many of the residents’ annoyance ran on money. Thinking he might end up being a while, he placed his clothes on the bed again and knelt down, digging under his bed for his rucksack. He took out his wallet and poured a few coins into his hand. Enough for a half an hour phone call. Maybe that was a bit too much…

The red head watched the sculptor get up, announcing that he was going to take his clothes to the washroom. Good - he'd be able to think without his thoughts wandering off to puppetizing the blond, or being interrupted, or something like that. Then maybe he could come up with a better answer than just... Well, 'maybe', to the whole 'do you like me' question.

He turned his eyes to the ceiling - only to look back to Deidara seconds later when he heard the blond offer to take his clothes down, too. He stared at his partner for a moment more while the blond dug under his bed for something... Ah. The only thing he could think of that needed money downstairs was the phone and - assuming he was downstairs - Kakuzu. And although he was curious as to who he was going to phone, Sasori didn't see the need in asking. He also didn't want to appear... Nosier than usual.

So, letting that curiosity go free, the puppet 'hn'd quietly, as if thinking. Then, he shrugged. "Go ahead." Truth be told, with everything else occupying his thoughts, he had forgotten all about his own little pile of wet clothing. He probably wouldn't get around to bringing them downstairs until hours later. So, why not let him take them down, instead? It might just wind up getting him a little bit more uninterrupted thinking time.

Shoving the money in his pocket, Deidara grinned and nodded. It would save his partner a trip downstairs later one, wouldn’t it? He picked up the two bundles of clothing and quickly exited the room.
Now to think about what the hell he would say to his mother. “Hi mum, it’s been a while. Guess what! I think I’m gay!”…No…Maybe not. “Mum…there’s this guy who I’m with 24/7 and I really like him, but he doesn’t like me.” No. “Mum…help.” Yes…that would work.
After putting the clothes in the washroom, he headed to the kitchen where the only phone resided. But sadly, someone had got there first. Kisame was prank calling again. And, by the looks of the money he had put on the side, he was going to be a while.
The blond sat on the counter, thinking up different things he could say to his mother. Heck, maybe it would get his question answered. Hopefully it would. But Kisame’s growling down the phone was preventing from thinking properly. ‘Hurry up, un,’ he muttered, agitatedly.

About a minute after Deidara had left the room, Sasori sat up and stared at whatever happened to be directly infront of him. Which, of course, was the wall. Now, a good way to come up with an answer to 'that' question would probably be to compare good and bad things about the blond.

Now, other than what he had already come up with... 'Art is a bang'. Bad. Art lasts forever, and explosions were annoying. Effective in battle, but loud and... Attention-grabbing. He could be hyper and idiotic sometimes - which could be bad or good. Bad when the puppet was trying to concentrate, good when there was nothing else going on. Hm.

He shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged, elbows on knees, head in hands, frowning thoughtfully. The blond could be helpful; as was seen just moments ago. And, he could be... Well, either impulsive or overly... Direct, he figured, as could have been seen what... An hour or so ago? ... Well, he couldn't truly say he totally hated or despised the guy... But he wasn't going to admit to liking him, either. He was of the flesh, afterall; which brought him back to the whole 'flesh eventually dies' thing. As per usual.

Even immortals got hungry. The Akatsuki's one and only, oh-so Holy Jashinist made his way to the kitchen, grumbling something about lazy, good-for-nothing fucktards. In otherwords, Kakuzu and that stupid, overgrown weed. He'd just stepped into the room, and that asshole of a partner of his pretty much ordered him to fetch some snacks.

And after almost ending up headless for the fifth time that week, Hidan quickly went to get them.

Once in the kitchen, he paused for a moment, rose a brow at the pranking fish-man and goldie-locks, then headed for the fridge. Eh, what the fuck ever. If he took too long in bringing the grub, Kakuzu would probably end up having an aneurisms or something.

When Hidan entered the kitchen, it suddenly occurred to Deidara that he didn’t really want anyone listening in to his rather…personal conversation with his mother. It would only end up with him getting teased. Either, “Mama’s boy” or “Queer.” Names he didn’t really want to be associated with. Hardly anyone called him Deidara anyway. It was always blondie, Dei or Deidei…which he hated. Actually, his only friend seemed to also be the only one who referred to him as Deidara. Aw.
Kisame had finally finished with the phone and slunk out the room, sniggering away evilly. The blond leaped off the counter top and grabbed the phone, practically ripping it off the wall. He put a few coins into the machine, around enough for ten minutes and slowly entered in the phone number. He was being sure to enter it correctly, seeing as he didn’t want to loose his money.
The sculptor was stalling on his way back upstairs, thinking about the conversation he had just had over and over again. He was very close to answering his question now. Very close. So close that he didn’t want to go back up to his room. He was really worried. What if he ended up doing something crazy like kissing Sasori again?
He slowly opened the door, closing it behind him. He chose not to look at his partner, but at the floor. Ah…his bed. Exactly what he needed. The blond collapsed onto his bed, his face in his pillow.

By the time the sculptor re-entered the room, Sasori had made good enough progress in answering his own question. Sort of. He got side-tracked courtesy of a mental scolding he had admistered to himself after catching himself in that act of plotting how and when to turn Deidara into a puppet. Again. Something he didn't want to do - at least not at that point in time.

Though he guessed it answered the question for him, as he tended to want to make it so that what he liked would live forever. Or at least last forever... Not exactly live.

The red-head watched the blond, taking note of how he kept his gaze to the floor. His thoughtful frown deepened just a tad. Either it had been a run-in with one of the other guys, or whoever he had phoned... He decided not to say anything after he watched his partner collapse onto the bed. The idiot seemed tired, or something. Forcing his eyes back to looking at the wall, the puppeteer pondered what to do. For once, he didn't feel like working on his puppets, and he didn't have to cook until tomorrow. Sighing quietly, he glared out the window. Damn rain.

Sleeping seemed like quite a nice idea for the sculptor. It would give him something to do and restore a lot more of his chakra. He also didn’t really want to do some of his own artwork. He had recently felt the urge to paint some of his creations, but alas, he had run out of paint. Another thing he could get from the village when the rain had stopped. Though it didn’t seem like it was easing up. If anything, it was heavier than it was when he was out on the roof.
Preventing himself from being suffocated, Deidara turned over, his back to his partner. But this meant he was resting on his damaged arm. The pain killers were still working, so it wasn’t hurting much at all. He wondered how long he’d have to suffer with his arm in the condition it was in. Hopefully not too long.
His mother had been quite surprised that her long lost son had got in contact with her. And she was very supportive about his problem. Actually, the main thing they talked about was where Deidara had been for the last few years. His query was only brought up nearer to the end of the phone call. The main piece of advice that she had given him was to tell Sasori how he felt and hope that he didn’t react too badly. Deidara was a bit reluctant, but agreed. He’d just have to wait until they were both in a good mood. But not now. He was still pondering.

For once, the puppet was bored. He'd come up with an actual answer to 'that' question, didn't feel like working on his puppets, and thinking would only lead to unwelcome thoughts including the sculptor and the human-to-puppet process. Speaking of the blond, he wasn't talking or even looking at him, and was apparently going to sleep. It was times like these that he missed being able to go to sleep.

Silently, with just the soft creaking of his bed and the cracking of a joint or two, Sasori placed both feet on the floor and stood. Might as well give Deidara some peace and go see what those other fools were up to. With one last glance at his partner, he headed for the door and quietly stepped out.

And once out, he made his way down the hall and to the stairs, pausing for a moment before starting down them. Eh, there was always the television, and he could hear Kakuzu and Hidan arguing about the last of the popcorn from all the way where he was. Maybe he could also find that book again, or some other pieces of literature to occupy his time with in case the idiots watching the television were watching something really stupid.

The crystal blue orbs were once again visible when Sasori left the room. He had been quietly dozing off, but was disturbed by the closing door. He sighed, turning over to face his partner’s bed. There was little point in sleeping on his arm if the puppet wasn’t even there. Though now…he wasn’t very tired.
He reached under his bed a pulled out his rucksack. Maybe there was something in there he could mess around with. A few stale pieces of food, his wallet and a few books were all that lay in there. He took one out. ‘Harry Potter?’ he blinked, reading the title. How the hell did that get in there? He looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall the reason why the book was in his bag.
Ah yes. This was Tobi’s birthday present from a year ago. Deidara had just “forgotten” to give it him and instead given him a bomb. How thoughtful.
Well…reading about witches and wizards was better than nothing, so he began to read the book, absently.

Well, of course, they were watching something stupid. If the red head had to guess, he'd say it was one of those soap operas. How the hell any of those three could stand to watch those things... He didn't know.

Hell, they'd never be taken serious again if word of such things got out to the villages... Sasori sighed from his spot, leaning against the door way of the living room. At least something was going on, however; the pretty much empty bowl of popcorn sat on the floor, and Kakuzu was pretty much on top of the poor platinum blond Hidan, strangling him. 'Course, Zetsu was sitting as far from the chaos as possible, though he was watching the bowl hungrily. As if deciding bringing the wrath of those two other fools upon him was worth stealing it.

The puppet hurriedly made his way over to the bookshelf, grabbed a book at random, then made a quick retreat out of the room before any of the three took notice of him. He didn't really want to get mixed up in their... Tch. Whatever the hell that could be called.

Looking down to the book in his hand, he was dismayed to find that it was a book of fairytales. Why... The... Hell there was a book of fairytales in that damn bookshelf was anyone's guess, but he'd just assume it belonged to Tobi or Deidara.

But... It could give him ideas for his puppets. So it probably wasn't that much of a bad pick.

It seemed that the book on the boy who lived acted as good as any sleeping pill. The blond had managed to fall asleep, the book lying over his face. But when he turned over, it fell on the floor loudly. Almost waking him up. Almost. He was far too wound up in his dream. The evil Itachi and his gang of followers, Hidan and Kakuzu were going around killing everyone and eating their souls. So it was up to Deidara and his companion, Tobi, to stop them from taking over the world. But Tobi wasn’t allowed to use a magic wand. Mainly because he had broken far too many beforehand. What a fun dream.
Wait…what was this? His skin was flaking away and being replaced with something smooth and hard. Wood? He whimpered in his sleep, holding out his arms as protection. He tried screaming, but nothing came out. He looked around frantically for Tobi or someone who could help him. Though, when trying to move, he was prevented by something…or someone. A thin piece of metal suddenly appeared before the sculptor’s, now wooden face. The blue eyes were drawn to the end of the blade, and widened when he saw the owner.
Deidara sat up, his eyes wide and beads of sweat running down his cheeks. He stared at his hands, shaking. They weren’t wood…it was a nightmare. No…a daymare. He rested his head in his hand, trying to get that thought out of his mind. Sasori wouldn’t really try to turn him into a puppet…would he?

The kitchen wasn't the best place to read. He didn't want to chance going back to the room he shared with Deidara, incase he might wake the blond up, assuming he was asleep. The living room... Was a place he was going to avoid for a while. The washroom... Nah. The puppeteer stopped infront of the door to the basement, then shrugged. What the hell, it was quiet down there. And barely anyone went into the basement for any length of time, anyway. To his knowledge.

Plus he wanted to check on the puppet 'corpse' set-up down there. Sasori opened the door, closing it behind him when he started down the stairs carefully. With only a glance over to the so-called dead body, he quickly made a turn and settled himself down underneath the stairs. And then he opened the book to a random page and frowned.

Pinocchio. He was instantly reminded of that argument with the blond. After quickly skimming over the story, he got the gist of it, not like he didn't already know; guy creates puppet. Puppet comes to life. Puppet does some random crap and wants to become a real boy. Puppet succeeds. The red head made a face - he was not like this fool; the only thing in common was that they were both living puppets. But! He was a real boy who turned himself into a puppet; not a puppet who turned into a real boy. And he didn't desire to become real any time soon, either.

Maybe the idiot really was an... Well, idiot.

Deidara was finding getting back to sleep to be quite a challenge. That dream had really worried him. Instead he was reading Harry Potter again, trying his best to keep his mind off that terrifying vision. And…to be honest, it was working pretty damn well. Though, whenever his mind began to wonder back to him being made of wood, he started reading out loud. Slowly. He wasn’t very good at that.
He looked over at the clock and blinked, quite surprised. It was already lunchtime, yet he wasn’t in the least hungry. Seeing as all he had to eat all day was leftovers from last night’s dinner, this was pretty surprising.
He eventually grew tired of the book, chucking it on the floor and lay back on his bed. Why had he dreamt about something like that? Something that sick and twisted. And he really wanted to find out if he could’ve stopped Itachi from taking over the world. What a shame.
It suddenly occurred to the blond that it was completely silent in the room. Wait… He got up and went to the window. Heh. Looked like the rain had finally stopped. Meaning he could go into the village with Sasori. When the puppet decided to reappear.

After skimming over a few more of the tales within the book, Sasori found himself growing steadily bored again. These were all children's stories - hell, his grandmother read a few of the vile things to him when he was still of flesh and blood. And that was a very damn long time ago.

Snapping the book shut, the puppet stood. With one last glance over at the supposed corpse, he was on his way back up the stairs and to the livingroom. Though he paused before entering the living room. It sounded like Kakuzu and Hidan were arguing about something stupid again. He sighed irritably, turning and headed for the stairs leading upwards. Tch, the book had good illustrations he could look off of, anyway...

Hopefully Deidara was still asleep. Then he would see the red head carrying the book with him, and wouldn't get any silly ideas.

He was quick to ascend the stairs, and was almost to the door of his and the blond's room, but he paused at the window and glanced out, smiling eerily. The rain had ceased. Good. He could get out of the insane house for a while... With his partner, of course. After he stashed the book away.

Description
"Hn." 'Question Deidara again at a later date' was quickly filed away in the 'to do' part of the puppet's mental filing cabinet. There was definately something that the blond wasn't telling him. Now he was curious. And when Sasori was curious... He eventually found out whatever it was he was curious about. Somehow.

The silence that followed the little Q'n A session was slightly irritating to the red-head. He didn't know whether it was an awkward silence or just... 'Normal' silence. Then again, when the hell was silence between him and Deidara ever normal? ... When the hell were they ever normal? The puppet frowned, looking back up at the ceiling as well, trying to think of something to say to break the vile silence.

However, he found he didn't need to; the blond broke it first. Once again looking from the ceiling to the sculptor, he blinked. Then growled. "'Do I' what, Deidara?" He was not going to let the idiot get away without saying whatever the hell it was he started to say this time. Plus, his patience was running precariously short. "Say what you were going to say. Now."

Maybe asking Sasori if he liked guys was not a good idea, considering the tone of his voice when ordering Deidara to finish his question. The blond quickly changed the queer little question around to something a bit more innocent. 'Do you like me?' he asked, looking over at his partner. If Sasori’s answer was no, he wouldn’t ask any more questions. But a yes…well…then things would get just a little bit more personal.
He was hoping for a no, seeing as he didn’t want to go any further and keep his thoughts to himself. Although, a part of him was praying for the puppet to say yes. Not to use it as another excuse to kiss him again. But to know that he did have a heart. Not the physical heart he had only for chakra. A heart mentally to show that he actually could feel.
The sculptor had let his thought dance around just a tad too much and he had forgotten to avert his gave back onto the ceiling again. He quickly did so, feeling slightly foolish.

The question caused the puppet to blink. Then blink again. Did he... Like the blond? Given recent events, he figured that it was a justifiable question... Sort of. But one, Sasori knew, he'd actually have to think about; answering carelessly, knowing his luck, would lead to a hell of a lot of frustration.

So. Did he? The red head continued to stare at Deidara after the sculptor looked back to the ceiling, mind a whirl. Well, for all the damn arguments they got into about art, he offered a different point of view other than his own 'art is forever' ideal. Which - not that he'd say so - gave him something to think about during quiet nights when, for whatever reason, he didn't feel like tinkering with his puppets.

And... They did make a good team. Sometimes. Sort of. They were both artists, at any rate. And at least the blond wasn't as annoying as that masked idiot...

Even so, he hadn't the faintest clue how to answer that question. Deciding he'd hesitated long enough in answering, he sighed, looked back up to the ceiling, then closed his eyes in mock-tiredness. "... Maybe." He would really have to do some thinking on that question.

The ceiling was preoccupying Deidara whilst he awaited the answer to his question from Sasori. And, it was pretty crap at doing that. He began to wonder if he had even heard his question and looked over at him. Well…it seemed like the ceiling was help him think as well, so he must’ve heard it, otherwise he would still be glaring at him, awaiting the question.
But when the answer came, the blond’s heart sank. Maybe? Not yes. Not no. Maybe. The reply had slightly frustrated him. Had he just said maybe to annoy him? No…he looked like he was deep in thought again. He’d have to just accept it. ‘Oh…okay,’ he mumbled.
Should he just add a friendly little response? To kill the tension and sound unphased by the “maybe” Yeah, might as well. ‘I like you,’ he grinned, glancing over at Sasori again. He made no move to add that he liked him. That would just bring the awkwardness crashing back.

Ha, it sounded like Deidara wasn't exactly thrilled with his reply. Sasori smirked slightly; well. Too bad - 'maybe' was all he was getting. For now, anyway... The smirk froze on the puppet's face when the blond followed up the mumbling with an 'I like you'. At least it wasn't the other 'l'-word... But still.

He turned his head to look back over to his partner. For a moment, the red head's expression seemed almost innocent, before it was overtaken by the usual blank and indifferent stare. "Hn..." And that was all it seemed like he was going to say. Though, due to earlier, his curiosity had been awoken, and now it had found a new target.

"Why do you like me?" He wasn't the most agreeable person ever... And he was as friendly as a cactus, most of the time. Plus, he hadn't exactly been the nicest person towards the sculptor. Thus, it was sort of a mystery for him. Hell, the blond was a mystery to him, sometimes - one that made as much sense as a roof full of holes.

Well, the silence was once again broken, but the tension was rising at an alarming pace. So was the pain in Deidara’s stomach. ‘Uhm…’ That was actually a good question. Sasori usually acted unpleasant and mean towards him. But the blond respected him greatly. Mainly because of his fighting and artistic skills. He didn’t really like the puppet’s personality, but he liked having his attention. And he felt pretty happy when he did have his attention.
And Sasori was the only person who really talked to Deidara. Crossing out Tobi. He certainly didn’t enjoy it when he was forced to hang around the stupid Uchiha.
‘Coz I respect you,’ he replied, sincerely, looking over at the puppet again. ‘I wanna get closer to you, un.’ When it suddenly occurred to Deidara that what he had just said may be taken the wrong way, he quickly added, ‘By that I mean I wanna be your friend, un.’
He hoped his answer wouldn’t result in more rejection. He was feeling a little more comfortable telling his partner the truth instead of lying. Maybe it was because he felt much less awkward.

While awaiting an answer more to his question more than 'uhm', the puppet took a moment to study his partner from where they lay, filling in what he couldn't see from his vantage point mentally. Fine features; rather girly. Nice on the eyes. Shame he'd grow old, wrinkle, and eventually die and rot. Assuming he lived to that old... But either way; worm food. Unless...

Thankfully that train of thought was interrupted by an actual reply. Fiery red eyes widened a fraction, however. Well, he could have guessed the first thing; it was the second thing that worried him slightly. Until the blond added the third sentence. Ah, friends...

Then what the hell had that kiss been all about? Psh. Friends. He wasn't buying it - although... To save them both some grief, apprehension, or whatever, he didn't bring that up again. Instead, he frowned thoughtfully.

When it came to friends, Sasori had none, really. Except his non-living puppets, and they didn't really count. He didn't really see the point in them. "... Fine." But for the hell of it, he might as well humour the blond with his whole friend-thing. He didn't want Deidara to get any more depressed.

Not really noticing his partner’s gaze that was upon him, he smiled a little. At least the puppet hadn’t made a cruel statement such as, “I dun need friends blah blah blah.” Hopefully that was the last of the questions for a while now.
Blue orbs were then drawn to the lump of wetness at the end of his bed. Urgh, he’d have to go get that sorted out. He sat up, picking up his sodden clothes and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. ‘I’m gunna go take these to the washroom,’ he announced, getting to his feet. Luckily, by lying down for a bit, he’d managed to get enough chakra back to let him walk a bit more freely.
He headed to the door and stopped when he was about to reach for the doorknob. Seeing as he wanted to be friends with Sasori, surely a few friendly acts wouldn’t hurt. He looked over at him and grinned. ‘Want me to take your clothes too?’ he asked. His clothes were never going to dry whilst lying in a heap on the floor, were they? Plus they’d get all creased when they did eventually dry.
It wouldn’t hurt to call his mum whilst he was downstairs as well. There was only one phone in the building, which, much to many of the residents’ annoyance ran on money. Thinking he might end up being a while, he placed his clothes on the bed again and knelt down, digging under his bed for his rucksack. He took out his wallet and poured a few coins into his hand. Enough for a half an hour phone call. Maybe that was a bit too much…

The red head watched the sculptor get up, announcing that he was going to take his clothes to the washroom. Good - he'd be able to think without his thoughts wandering off to puppetizing the blond, or being interrupted, or something like that. Then maybe he could come up with a better answer than just... Well, 'maybe', to the whole 'do you like me' question.

He turned his eyes to the ceiling - only to look back to Deidara seconds later when he heard the blond offer to take his clothes down, too. He stared at his partner for a moment more while the blond dug under his bed for something... Ah. The only thing he could think of that needed money downstairs was the phone and - assuming he was downstairs - Kakuzu. And although he was curious as to who he was going to phone, Sasori didn't see the need in asking. He also didn't want to appear... Nosier than usual.

So, letting that curiosity go free, the puppet 'hn'd quietly, as if thinking. Then, he shrugged. "Go ahead." Truth be told, with everything else occupying his thoughts, he had forgotten all about his own little pile of wet clothing. He probably wouldn't get around to bringing them downstairs until hours later. So, why not let him take them down, instead? It might just wind up getting him a little bit more uninterrupted thinking time.

Shoving the money in his pocket, Deidara grinned and nodded. It would save his partner a trip downstairs later one, wouldn’t it? He picked up the two bundles of clothing and quickly exited the room.
Now to think about what the hell he would say to his mother. “Hi mum, it’s been a while. Guess what! I think I’m gay!”…No…Maybe not. “Mum…there’s this guy who I’m with 24/7 and I really like him, but he doesn’t like me.” No. “Mum…help.” Yes…that would work.
After putting the clothes in the washroom, he headed to the kitchen where the only phone resided. But sadly, someone had got there first. Kisame was prank calling again. And, by the looks of the money he had put on the side, he was going to be a while.
The blond sat on the counter, thinking up different things he could say to his mother. Heck, maybe it would get his question answered. Hopefully it would. But Kisame’s growling down the phone was preventing from thinking properly. ‘Hurry up, un,’ he muttered, agitatedly.

About a minute after Deidara had left the room, Sasori sat up and stared at whatever happened to be directly infront of him. Which, of course, was the wall. Now, a good way to come up with an answer to 'that' question would probably be to compare good and bad things about the blond.

Now, other than what he had already come up with... 'Art is a bang'. Bad. Art lasts forever, and explosions were annoying. Effective in battle, but loud and... Attention-grabbing. He could be hyper and idiotic sometimes - which could be bad or good. Bad when the puppet was trying to concentrate, good when there was nothing else going on. Hm.

He shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged, elbows on knees, head in hands, frowning thoughtfully. The blond could be helpful; as was seen just moments ago. And, he could be... Well, either impulsive or overly... Direct, he figured, as could have been seen what... An hour or so ago? ... Well, he couldn't truly say he totally hated or despised the guy... But he wasn't going to admit to liking him, either. He was of the flesh, afterall; which brought him back to the whole 'flesh eventually dies' thing. As per usual.

Even immortals got hungry. The Akatsuki's one and only, oh-so Holy Jashinist made his way to the kitchen, grumbling something about lazy, good-for-nothing fucktards. In otherwords, Kakuzu and that stupid, overgrown weed. He'd just stepped into the room, and that asshole of a partner of his pretty much ordered him to fetch some snacks.

And after almost ending up headless for the fifth time that week, Hidan quickly went to get them.

Once in the kitchen, he paused for a moment, rose a brow at the pranking fish-man and goldie-locks, then headed for the fridge. Eh, what the fuck ever. If he took too long in bringing the grub, Kakuzu would probably end up having an aneurisms or something.

When Hidan entered the kitchen, it suddenly occurred to Deidara that he didn’t really want anyone listening in to his rather…personal conversation with his mother. It would only end up with him getting teased. Either, “Mama’s boy” or “Queer.” Names he didn’t really want to be associated with. Hardly anyone called him Deidara anyway. It was always blondie, Dei or Deidei…which he hated. Actually, his only friend seemed to also be the only one who referred to him as Deidara. Aw.
Kisame had finally finished with the phone and slunk out the room, sniggering away evilly. The blond leaped off the counter top and grabbed the phone, practically ripping it off the wall. He put a few coins into the machine, around enough for ten minutes and slowly entered in the phone number. He was being sure to enter it correctly, seeing as he didn’t want to loose his money.
The sculptor was stalling on his way back upstairs, thinking about the conversation he had just had over and over again. He was very close to answering his question now. Very close. So close that he didn’t want to go back up to his room. He was really worried. What if he ended up doing something crazy like kissing Sasori again?
He slowly opened the door, closing it behind him. He chose not to look at his partner, but at the floor. Ah…his bed. Exactly what he needed. The blond collapsed onto his bed, his face in his pillow.

By the time the sculptor re-entered the room, Sasori had made good enough progress in answering his own question. Sort of. He got side-tracked courtesy of a mental scolding he had admistered to himself after catching himself in that act of plotting how and when to turn Deidara into a puppet. Again. Something he didn't want to do - at least not at that point in time.

Though he guessed it answered the question for him, as he tended to want to make it so that what he liked would live forever. Or at least last forever... Not exactly live.

The red-head watched the blond, taking note of how he kept his gaze to the floor. His thoughtful frown deepened just a tad. Either it had been a run-in with one of the other guys, or whoever he had phoned... He decided not to say anything after he watched his partner collapse onto the bed. The idiot seemed tired, or something. Forcing his eyes back to looking at the wall, the puppeteer pondered what to do. For once, he didn't feel like working on his puppets, and he didn't have to cook until tomorrow. Sighing quietly, he glared out the window. Damn rain.

Sleeping seemed like quite a nice idea for the sculptor. It would give him something to do and restore a lot more of his chakra. He also didn’t really want to do some of his own artwork. He had recently felt the urge to paint some of his creations, but alas, he had run out of paint. Another thing he could get from the village when the rain had stopped. Though it didn’t seem like it was easing up. If anything, it was heavier than it was when he was out on the roof.
Preventing himself from being suffocated, Deidara turned over, his back to his partner. But this meant he was resting on his damaged arm. The pain killers were still working, so it wasn’t hurting much at all. He wondered how long he’d have to suffer with his arm in the condition it was in. Hopefully not too long.
His mother had been quite surprised that her long lost son had got in contact with her. And she was very supportive about his problem. Actually, the main thing they talked about was where Deidara had been for the last few years. His query was only brought up nearer to the end of the phone call. The main piece of advice that she had given him was to tell Sasori how he felt and hope that he didn’t react too badly. Deidara was a bit reluctant, but agreed. He’d just have to wait until they were both in a good mood. But not now. He was still pondering.

For once, the puppet was bored. He'd come up with an actual answer to 'that' question, didn't feel like working on his puppets, and thinking would only lead to unwelcome thoughts including the sculptor and the human-to-puppet process. Speaking of the blond, he wasn't talking or even looking at him, and was apparently going to sleep. It was times like these that he missed being able to go to sleep.

Silently, with just the soft creaking of his bed and the cracking of a joint or two, Sasori placed both feet on the floor and stood. Might as well give Deidara some peace and go see what those other fools were up to. With one last glance at his partner, he headed for the door and quietly stepped out.

And once out, he made his way down the hall and to the stairs, pausing for a moment before starting down them. Eh, there was always the television, and he could hear Kakuzu and Hidan arguing about the last of the popcorn from all the way where he was. Maybe he could also find that book again, or some other pieces of literature to occupy his time with in case the idiots watching the television were watching something really stupid.

The crystal blue orbs were once again visible when Sasori left the room. He had been quietly dozing off, but was disturbed by the closing door. He sighed, turning over to face his partner’s bed. There was little point in sleeping on his arm if the puppet wasn’t even there. Though now…he wasn’t very tired.
He reached under his bed a pulled out his rucksack. Maybe there was something in there he could mess around with. A few stale pieces of food, his wallet and a few books were all that lay in there. He took one out. ‘Harry Potter?’ he blinked, reading the title. How the hell did that get in there? He looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall the reason why the book was in his bag.
Ah yes. This was Tobi’s birthday present from a year ago. Deidara had just “forgotten” to give it him and instead given him a bomb. How thoughtful.
Well…reading about witches and wizards was better than nothing, so he began to read the book, absently.

Well, of course, they were watching something stupid. If the red head had to guess, he'd say it was one of those soap operas. How the hell any of those three could stand to watch those things... He didn't know.

Hell, they'd never be taken serious again if word of such things got out to the villages... Sasori sighed from his spot, leaning against the door way of the living room. At least something was going on, however; the pretty much empty bowl of popcorn sat on the floor, and Kakuzu was pretty much on top of the poor platinum blond Hidan, strangling him. 'Course, Zetsu was sitting as far from the chaos as possible, though he was watching the bowl hungrily. As if deciding bringing the wrath of those two other fools upon him was worth stealing it.

The puppet hurriedly made his way over to the bookshelf, grabbed a book at random, then made a quick retreat out of the room before any of the three took notice of him. He didn't really want to get mixed up in their... Tch. Whatever the hell that could be called.

Looking down to the book in his hand, he was dismayed to find that it was a book of fairytales. Why... The... Hell there was a book of fairytales in that damn bookshelf was anyone's guess, but he'd just assume it belonged to Tobi or Deidara.

But... It could give him ideas for his puppets. So it probably wasn't that much of a bad pick.

It seemed that the book on the boy who lived acted as good as any sleeping pill. The blond had managed to fall asleep, the book lying over his face. But when he turned over, it fell on the floor loudly. Almost waking him up. Almost. He was far too wound up in his dream. The evil Itachi and his gang of followers, Hidan and Kakuzu were going around killing everyone and eating their souls. So it was up to Deidara and his companion, Tobi, to stop them from taking over the world. But Tobi wasn’t allowed to use a magic wand. Mainly because he had broken far too many beforehand. What a fun dream.
Wait…what was this? His skin was flaking away and being replaced with something smooth and hard. Wood? He whimpered in his sleep, holding out his arms as protection. He tried screaming, but nothing came out. He looked around frantically for Tobi or someone who could help him. Though, when trying to move, he was prevented by something…or someone. A thin piece of metal suddenly appeared before the sculptor’s, now wooden face. The blue eyes were drawn to the end of the blade, and widened when he saw the owner.
Deidara sat up, his eyes wide and beads of sweat running down his cheeks. He stared at his hands, shaking. They weren’t wood…it was a nightmare. No…a daymare. He rested his head in his hand, trying to get that thought out of his mind. Sasori wouldn’t really try to turn him into a puppet…would he?

The kitchen wasn't the best place to read. He didn't want to chance going back to the room he shared with Deidara, incase he might wake the blond up, assuming he was asleep. The living room... Was a place he was going to avoid for a while. The washroom... Nah. The puppeteer stopped infront of the door to the basement, then shrugged. What the hell, it was quiet down there. And barely anyone went into the basement for any length of time, anyway. To his knowledge.

Plus he wanted to check on the puppet 'corpse' set-up down there. Sasori opened the door, closing it behind him when he started down the stairs carefully. With only a glance over to the so-called dead body, he quickly made a turn and settled himself down underneath the stairs. And then he opened the book to a random page and frowned.

Pinocchio. He was instantly reminded of that argument with the blond. After quickly skimming over the story, he got the gist of it, not like he didn't already know; guy creates puppet. Puppet comes to life. Puppet does some random crap and wants to become a real boy. Puppet succeeds. The red head made a face - he was not like this fool; the only thing in common was that they were both living puppets. But! He was a real boy who turned himself into a puppet; not a puppet who turned into a real boy. And he didn't desire to become real any time soon, either.

Maybe the idiot really was an... Well, idiot.

Deidara was finding getting back to sleep to be quite a challenge. That dream had really worried him. Instead he was reading Harry Potter again, trying his best to keep his mind off that terrifying vision. And…to be honest, it was working pretty damn well. Though, whenever his mind began to wonder back to him being made of wood, he started reading out loud. Slowly. He wasn’t very good at that.
He looked over at the clock and blinked, quite surprised. It was already lunchtime, yet he wasn’t in the least hungry. Seeing as all he had to eat all day was leftovers from last night’s dinner, this was pretty surprising.
He eventually grew tired of the book, chucking it on the floor and lay back on his bed. Why had he dreamt about something like that? Something that sick and twisted. And he really wanted to find out if he could’ve stopped Itachi from taking over the world. What a shame.
It suddenly occurred to the blond that it was completely silent in the room. Wait… He got up and went to the window. Heh. Looked like the rain had finally stopped. Meaning he could go into the village with Sasori. When the puppet decided to reappear.

After skimming over a few more of the tales within the book, Sasori found himself growing steadily bored again. These were all children's stories - hell, his grandmother read a few of the vile things to him when he was still of flesh and blood. And that was a very damn long time ago.

Snapping the book shut, the puppet stood. With one last glance over at the supposed corpse, he was on his way back up the stairs and to the livingroom. Though he paused before entering the living room. It sounded like Kakuzu and Hidan were arguing about something stupid again. He sighed irritably, turning and headed for the stairs leading upwards. Tch, the book had good illustrations he could look off of, anyway...

Hopefully Deidara was still asleep. Then he would see the red head carrying the book with him, and wouldn't get any silly ideas.

He was quick to ascend the stairs, and was almost to the door of his and the blond's room, but he paused at the window and glanced out, smiling eerily. The rain had ceased. Good. He could get out of the insane house for a while... With his partner, of course. After he stashed the book away.