This chapter is pure....shit. Seriously, I'm still sorry that I wrote it-even though its been like a month.
But I'm too lazy to fix it o3o
So sorry~
~
Deidara zips around my room like a hummingbird on crack, motions blurred until he stops for all of two seconds to look through the drawers. I ignore him for the most part, because I have a faint idea as to why he's so damn nervous, and flip through my manga slowly, giving my two ninja the impression that I am actually reading.
But it's really, really hard to focus when you have a Deidara-bird humming about.
"Where is it, yeah?" He hums to himself, brows furrowed. The muscles in his neck and arms are tense, coiled tightly beneath his smooth skin. He shoves the drawer shut, making the wood thump slightly, and then moves to my desk.
Which is right next to Sasori.
He begins to shuffle through the mountains of paper and notebooks. I don't think too much of it, because I'm pretty sure I moved all my fanfiction notebooks into the floorboards beneath my bed. I thumb through my manga, watching Sasori's motionless form from the corner of my eye.
Said ginger lets out a long, irritated exhale. He climbs to his feet carefully, minding the unfinished puppet sitting before him on his bench, and picks up the book that sits beside it by the spine. Shooting a dark look towards Deidara, who doesn't see it, Sasori then glances to me, looking downright bored despite the obvious irritation that seems to emanate from him dangerously. "I will be downstairs. Try to get the brat to calm down." His monotone voice rings out.
And then he's gone.
I purse my lips.
"Deidara." I set my fold the corner of my page down and set my book down off to the side. My gaze flickers towards him and I watch him completely ignore me, bustling towards the closet next. I sigh irritably as he disappears within it's depths. "Deidara!" I repeat, a little louder, a little more strained.
He pokes his head out around the door frame, face twisted with worried confusion. "What, yeah?"
"Come hither." I beckon him forward with my index finger.
Deidara sighs softly and moves forward. He pads his way through the room until he reaches the bed and climbs onto it beside me. Before he can get settled or anything, I throw my arms around his neck and pull him into me. The back of his head hits my chest, which is actually a lot more painful than I originally thought it would be, and his hands reach up to grip my wrists. I rest my cheek on top of his head.
"Alright, you have ten seconds to tell me what's wrong with my favorite artist, or else I'll suffocate you." I tighten my grip on his neck slightly, in a threatening manner.His grip on my wrists tighten.
I blink, surprised, as he maneuvers out of my grasp and turns around so that he's facing me. With a halfhearted smirk, he draws my wrists upwards and pins them high above my head against the headboard. My breath hitches in my throat, blocking all air passageways, and my eyes widen into saucers.
"W-What are you doing?" I fumble over the words, cheeks flaming.
Deidara smirks and leans in closer. "I'm taking a different approach, un." He hums lightly, resting his forehead against mine. "Since I can't find what I was originally going to give you, yeah."
"You were going to give me something?" My voice cracks up an octave.
"Mhn." His eyes soften and he leans back slightly, a small, nervous smile flitting across his features. "I...uh..." He avoids my gaze, blue orbs glued to the gray sheet that covers my bed. "I made you something..."
