Archive of Our Own

He hates waiting. 

He checks his watch once more. Five minutes and forty seven seconds. He huffs. 

Sasori is always the first one to be released. He does not allow them to keep him a minute longer than he is scheduled. 

He looks down through his lashes, without raising his head, at the neon monstrosity Deidara calls work. Claire's is an affront to his senses, bright and shiny and attention grabbing to a nauseating degree. Deidara stands behind the counter chattering a mile a minute to some girl around their age, with brown hair pulled up in twin buns at the top of her head. He rings up her baubles and accessories, and if Sasori didn't know what to look for, he would have missed him slipping a few tiny ziplock bags into her larger shopping bag. She is less slick than him, but subtle enough about sliding him two extra twenty dollar bills. 

He rolls his eyes and turns to the left, towards the Kay jewelers. Kakuzu stands, back ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back, with a softly approachable smile but a cold, calculating gleam in his shockingly green eyes. His crisp suit does little to hide his rippling muscles and the prowling violence in his every movement, but it does keep his tattoos and scars well out of sight of polite company. 

He gestures the young couple towards a different display case. No doubt the expensive one, the one that will get him a higher commission. They follow him, too blindly enamored with each other to notice his smile has turned sharp and predatory. 

He's not sure how they could be so blind to the silently menacing aura simmering beneath the surface of Kakuzu's mild mannerisms and quiet self assurance. Then again, most people aren't too concerned with anything past their own nose, especially when it comes to a customer service professional. 

Say what you will about him, but Kakuzu is a professional to the core. He may not be a romantic, or particularly concerned with trinkets, but he is a viciously good salesman and attracted to whatever gives him the highest payout for the lowest effort. Manipulating young couples and desperate husbands comes easily to him, and therefore so do the commissions. 

Sasori has tried to convince him to get into the car business with him, but that would require Kakuzu actually knowing the first thing about cars. He is far too practical to lose himself in the delicate intricacies of a beautifully designed engine. What he does understand, however, is luxury. He may be a miser, but he can pick out a fake diamond with his eyes closed. Sasori's seen it. He once touched cubic zirconium and dropped it as if it burned him. 

Needless to say, he and Deidara did not agree on aesthetic sensibilities. 

Sasori looks to the right, towards the Spencer's. He can hear Hidan's boisterous laugh from here. He must be helping some blushing, bumbling, barely 18 year olds pick out their first vibrator. He always got some sick amusement from making them uncomfortable. 

He was lucky he was so handsome, or it would just be creepy. 

Kisame, as always, stood at the door of Pacsun, chopping it up with the surfers in their own odd invented language and enticing the beach bunnies in with his muscles and gleaming smile. They were lucky to have someone that effortlessly charming on the Akatsuki roster. Someone had to interact with the clientele, after all. Someone had to lure them in and maintain their public face, which Kisame and Itachi managed with subtle charm and silver tongues. Itachi, especially, made sure to use his position as the darling son of the police chief to keep their noses clean and the pigs off their backs. 

In the broadest terms, Sasori and Deidara were responsible for the delicate artistry it took to provide their goods, the most important job, naturally. Without them, the Akatsuki would have nothing to work with, and Southern California would be bereft of their biggest supplier of illicit goods. Cars, drugs, guns, illegal fireworks, even the occasional poisons all passed through their hands. Not that anyone could ever know that, of course, but they did not do it for acclaim. Whispered notoriety was good enough for them, as long as they were free to practice their art in peace. 

Besides, that's what the red scorpion and white dove calling card was for. Anything stamped with their signature carried weight and prestige in certain circles. Car dealers knew to check the muffler for Sasori's stamp of approval, and hitmen knew to check the barrel for Deidara's blessing. Rave bunnies knew to look for their iconic pressed pills; red scorpions for molly and white doves for cocaine, and their blotter sheets with all of the above. Deidara dealt to them himself, right from the counter of Claire's. They had to get their silly hair bows somewhere, after all, so why not make it a one stop shop? 

However, they could not do it all themselves and Sasori could begrudgingly respect the other members' roles as essential for making their skills remotely useful. What good did their art do if it languished away in a warehouse? What would they do without the Zetsus procuring their canvases and brushes? Or Konan cooking the books, keeping track of the money coming in to fund their future works and obfuscating it from the prying eyes of the IRS? Plus her forgery work is absolutely masterful, better than the DMV themselves, and her alibis were so impeccably woven they had yet to face any consequences for their many, many transgressions. 

When Konan's methods didn't work and people weren't quick to cough up the cash, well, they had Hidan and Kakuzu to step in and remind people exactly why they were the top dogs in their industry. Sasori and Deidara could hold their own in a fight, all of them could, but they did not have the raw power and bloodlust that Hidan and Kakuzu brought to the table. Much as Sasori was loath to admit it, they did not cut very imposing figures either. Both he and Deidara were of slight build and baby faced. He appreciated that it helped them fly under the radar, but sometimes he wondered how it would feel to make others cower in fear with one glare. They needed those powerhouses in collections, or they'd be shit out of luck when the money ran dry.

Oh, how could he forget their illustrious leader and wrangler, Pain? Without him to bind them together and keep track of the many arms of the Akatsuki, they'd be no better than your local plug. He made sure Sasori could keep his desk clear of everything but his art, and he couldn't help but appreciate that burden being lifted. 

Sasori tilts his head back and looks over the balcony to the second floor. He can barely see the sign of the Hot Topic from here. Pain should be wrapping up his shift soon enough, too. It was the only place that would hire him with all those piercings. Once he started working at this mall, all of them ended up trickling into positions here as well. Easy to keep an eye on them up close, and keep their noses clean in the eyes of the IRS. That's how they got Al Capone, you know.

Hopefully they can get out of here before Pain can get them involved in any... extracurricular activities today. 

Sasori doesn't mind a bit of cash under the table, sometimes he even gets a kick out of it, but he doesn't particularly feel like committing felonies right now. He's tired and impatient and only wants to do one thing with the rest of his free time.  

Speaking of, he hears a familiar racket as his favorite voice loudly bids goodbye to his coworkers.

His head snaps back up at attention, his eyes immediately drawn to the eyesore of an accessories shop right in front of him. He could hardly stand to look at that explosion of neon and rhinestones for too long, but he would make entirely too many sacrifices for his spoiled brat. 

Deidara strolls out of the Claire's in a cloud of glitter without a care in the world. He carries his skateboard tucked under his arm and tightens the flannel wrapped around his slim waist with the other hand. He looks around, clueless, as if unaware that Sasori always waits for him in the same spot every day. 
Sasori clears his throat. Quietly, but pointedly. Deidara's head swivels towards him and his face brightens, a wide grin taking over the half of his face that Sasori can see past his long bangs. 

"Sasori, my man!" He launches himself at Sasori, dropping his board with a clatter in favor of wrapping his arms around his neck and plopping into his lap. He knocks the breath out of him and replaces it with a lungful of strong, sweet perfume. His many bangles press into Sasori's shoulder blades with the force of his hug. 

Sasori's arms wrap around his waist on instinct, pulling him close despite their location. He briefly forgot his disdain for public displays of affection when the knot of impatience in his chest finally unwound and relaxed in his partner's sudden presence. 

Deidara's hair tickles his nose. Half of it is pulled up into a high ponytail and held in place by multiple ridiculously fluffy scrunchies he no doubt bought with his employee discount. Sasori brushes Deidara's bangs back and looks into his glittering blue eyes. 

"You're late, brat," he chastises. "You kept me waiting for-"  

He peeks at his watch over Deidara's shoulder and his scowl deepens.

"Twelve minutes-" -and fifty two seconds, he silently adds in his head. 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry danna," he pouts, knowing damn well the venom dripping from Sasori's tone would dissipate at the reverence that seeps into his title. Sasori's shoulders relax, despite himself. 

"If you were sorry, you wouldn't keep me waiting so often," Sasori snaps back, but it is hollow. 

"I left as soon as Ino arrived, hmph!" Deidara insists with a nod. 

Sasori rolls his eyes and scowls. "I'll have to talk to her about respecting your time, and by extension, mine." 

"I'm sure she'll listen to you this time, hn," Deidara teases. 

"I could make her listen," Sasori grumbles under his breath. 

"Danna, you don't need a police report filed on you over a few minutes of my time."

"Its a few minutes today, a few minutes yesterday, a few minutes last week, all chipping into my time with you," he replied drolly, "I think you'll find that's worth quite a lot to me." 

Deidara looks at him dumbfounded for a moment, his kohl lined eyes going wide and his mouth agape. 

Sasori meets his gaze, unapologetic and arrogantly so. He raises an eyebrow, as if challenging him to contradict his statement. 

Instead, Deidara beams and plops a sticky, glossy kiss on his cheek with a wide, mischievous grin. 

Sasori wipes it off with the back of his hand, leaving a glittery smear across his cheek and hand. He groans. That won't be coming off for days. 

He should be used to being covered in glitter by now. He hasn't spent a single day glitter free since they started seeing each other. 

"There, now everyone knows you're taken, hmph," Deidara says with a satisfied nod. He slides sideways off his lap to land on the bench next to him, but leaves his legs carelessly thrown over Sasori's.

Sasori does not push them off. 

"I don't think anyone had any doubts about that," he replies as he places a possessive hand on Deidara's shin, gripping a little tighter than strictly necessary. 

Deidara's grin widens. 

Their faces inch closer together, Deidara's breath warm and sweet like bubblegum on Sasori's lips. His lips are plump and soft and so shiny, even without that thick layer of gloss that now resided on Sasori's hand. 

He must have reapplied before he left. 

Sasori's lip twitched into a tiny smile at the thought of Deidara taking a moment to doll himself up before coming out to meet him. Those extra fifty two seconds may have been worth it. His eyelids droop and he tilts his head to the side, leaning in further until-

"What's up, fuckers?!" Hidan's grating voice yells, inches from his ear. 

Sasori startles violently, wrenching his head away to find Hidan's nose inches from his and Deidara's. 

Hidan is leaning over the back of the bench, a wide grin overtaking his face.

Deidara cackles and punches his arm. "You ruined my moment, hmph!" 

He did not sound nearly angry enough. 

Sasori's eye twitched, but otherwise, he kept his disdainfully bored composure. 

"You can have plenty more moments later," Hidan replies flippantly. He vaults over the back of the bench and lands next to Deidara. He slouches back, resting his arms on the back of the bench and letting his legs splay out in front of him. 

Sasori scowls and grabs Hidan's wrist, pushing it off its perch behind Deidara's back. He replaces it with his own arm, tugging Deidara closer possessively. 
Deidara scoots closer, a sly smirk on his face as he looks at Sasori out of the corner of his eye. He drew his legs back off Sasori's lap and crossed them elegantly as he pivoted slightly to lean back into Sasori's chest. 

Sasori smirked back. It was hardly more than a twitch of the corner of his lip, but Deidara knew how to read him like no other. 

"You'll never fuckin' believe who came into the shop today," Hidan proclaims, pausing dramatically for them to express their curiosity at his inanities. Sasori rolls his eyes and twirls Deidara's silky hair around his finger. 

"Hn?" Deidara grunts, expressing the minimal amount of interest to set Hidan off. 

"Fuckin' Shikamaru has the nerve to show his face after the stunt he pulled last week," Hidan rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his white blonde hair in agitation. "He nearly got me fuckin' fired today!"

Sasori rolls his eyes. This little feud was getting tiresome. 

"Didn't you start that little fight?" Sasori asks casually, inspecting his nails for any chips in the teal nail polish. Just as he expected. Flawless, as always. 

"Yeah, hn, you can't go picking fights and expecting him to roll over and take it," Deidara adds. 

"I wouldn't want them to," Hidan says with a manic gleam in his eye. He was always the most bloodthirsty of them. He fought for the thrill of spilling blood. Any reason to fight is a good one, in his book. "Besides, his little friends started it with me and Kakuzu weeks ago, I was just returning the favor!" 

Sasori's eye twitches at his volume. 

"And didn't you start it by going after his friend's friend?" Sasori retorts. 

"Oh come on, that snitch had it coming," Hidan scoffs. "You really expect us to sit back and let this fuckin' goody two shoes stick his nose in our business?" Hidan stresses the word like he thinks he's subtle. "Pain's had it out for 'em for weeks! I'm just doin' my job here!"

Deidara nods thoughtfully. "It is known that snitches do get stitches, hn." 

"That's what I'm saying! I had to put the fear of Jashin into them, just to make sure they don't get any bright ideas about running their mouths about-"
Deidara elbows him in the gut. "Not here, idiot, hmph." 

"Right, yeah," Hidan rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "Well all I did was scare 'em a little, no harm done." 

Sasori looks at him drolly. "You put him in the hospital, Hidan." 

"And he would have put me in jail. I'd say we're even," Hidan says with a cocky smirk. 

"I think Asuma would disagree," Sasori replied. 

"Asuma can disagree all he wants, but he knows he still owes us money, I made sure of that," Hidan says as he licks his lips and grins. 

Sasori rubs his forehead and sighs. He can't reply to that. Not the way he wants to, not here. 

"And now you've gone and pissed off Shikamaru and he's gunning for your job, hn?" 

"As if! You think I'm gonna let a set up like that go unpunished?" Hidan's eyes gleam. "He's lucky I was on the clock today. He just came to taunt me, knowing I couldn't do anything about it! He had me cornered, I tell you, and I won't stand for it!" 
Hidan cracks his knuckles, one by one. 

"You won't be able to outsmart him, you know," Sasori does not think his lack of foresight really needs to be pointed out. Anyone with eyes could see it. Trying to get anything past Hidan's thick skull was futile, but there's no harm in trying. 

"I just need to get my hands on him, that's all," Hidan says, more to himself than to them. "Just one good punch, just a bit of blood on the ground, nothing too crazy." 

"You? Self restraint? Hn," Deidara scoffs. 

"Who said anything about restraint?" Hidan cackles. 

Sasori flinches at Hidan's excessive volume bouncing off the stone and tile. Does that kid not know they are indoors? 

Sasori cannot find a single thing to say to Hidan that would not include spilling their business all over the mall's sticky tile floors. So he says nothing. He knows a losing battle when he sees one. 

Hidan catches sight of something over Sasori's shoulder and brightens like a puppy. "Oi, Kakuzu!" 

Oh thank god. The only person who can keep this lunatic in check strides over to them. Kakuzu is twice as dangerous for his silence. Hidan is good muscle, sure, but he needs a strong hand to keep him in check and a level head to point him in the right direction. 

"Back me up here, yeah? These guys think I can't take Shikamaru and his little crew." 

"You can't. They proved that last week." Kakuzu approaches their bench and looms over Hidan with one acerbically raised eyebrow. His green eyes are piercing in their reproach, but Hidan is not  cowed. If anything, he takes it as a challenge to be even more obnoxious than ever. 

"Well maybe if you would just step in and help I would have been fine! It was four against one, 'kuzu, and I took three of them out before Shikamaru cornered me! Besides, I wouldn't be in this damn mess if it weren't for that job you-" 

"What have I told you about running your loud mouth in front of my place of business?" he growled menacingly as he placed a heavy hand on the back of Hidan's neck. 

Hidan smirks. "I don't think I remember, 'kuzu, maybe you should take me back to your place and remind me." 

Kakuzu grabs the scruff of Hidan's neck and pulls him to his feet. "Let's go, before you make an even bigger fool out of the both of us." 

He nods at Sasori, ignores Deidara's wolf whistle, and drags Hidan out of there before he can get on Sasori's nerves even further. 

Thank god. 

"See ya later, nerds," Hidan yells with a wave and a cackle. He stumbles behind Kakuzu, who has yet to let go of his neck. He guides him out of the side door without a word. Sasori has no idea how he stands that guy. Must make for some wild chemistry, though. 

He shudders and shakes that thought out of his head before it can take root. 

"What do you want to get up to today, hm?" Deidara purrs in his ear, no doubt inspired by Hidan's brash display. 

A delicate blush creeps up his neck. He clears his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he watches Deidara's eyes flicker down to that small movement and his smirk widen. Sasori struggled to breathe past the lump that lodged itself in the center of his throat. 

 Sasori sprung to his feet before the intoxicating scent of Deidara's perfume could get to his head and cloud his good sense. He stuck his hand in his pocket and adjusted his pants discreetly. 

No one else was around to notice. Except for Deidara, who looked down at his hand and then back up to meet his eyes with that insufferable smirk of his. 

Sasori wanted to smack it right off his face, but that line of thought would only make his attempts at discretion even more difficult.

"I suppose we could go to my place," Sasori suggested oh so casually. 

Deidara's face lit up and he sprung to his feet. "Lead the way, my man!"

He turned on his heel and strode towards the exit, confident that Deidara would follow him loyally. He did not look back to check, he did not even strain his ears to pick out the sound of his footsteps amid the din of the mall. He pushed the door open and stepped out into the glaring late afternoon sun, stepping to the side and holding it open for Deidara to bounce through seconds later. 

He smirked, a quiet little satisfaction bubbling beneath the surface. 

"Thank you, danna," Deidara gave him a wide grin before heading straight to Sasori's car. 

It was hard to mistake it for any others. He used quite a bit of their extracurricular funds on a mean little coupe the same cherry red as his hair. It took after its owner; sleek, fast, short, and temperamental. It did not have much in the way of a backseat, but Sasori was not the sociable type. As long as it got him, his partner, and their many purchases wherever they needed to go, quickly and stylishly, he was satisfied. 

He ran a hand over the sleek hood, noting the fine layer of dust that had settled on it from the construction down the road. His lip curled downward and he made a mental note to take it by the car wash tomorrow.

Deidara noticed, of course. "Hiruko's looking a little dusty, hn." 

"Watch it, brat," Sasori growled as he opened the passenger side door for Deidara. Just because he's right doesn't mean it needs to be pointed out. 

Deidara smirked but wisely did not say another word. He carelessly chucks his skateboard in the back and gracefully takes a seat. Sasori rolls his eyes and gently shuts the door behind him once he's settled. He cannot see him through the dark tinted windows.

He walks around to the other side, opens the door and settles into his beloved Hiruko with a sigh of relief. He always feels safest, most comfortable, most at home in his car. It wraps itself around him in a protective embrace, hiding him from the world and protecting him from prying eyes. 

Deidara immediately busies himself flipping through Sasori's cd's until he finds the mixtape that he burned for Sasori's birthday. He waits until Sasori turns the key to push it into the cd player and cranks the volume to obscene levels, the heavy guitar riff and pounding bass of some Deftones song Sasori doesn't know the name of yet. 

He revs the engine and feels Hiruko come alive around him. The engine purrs, rattling satisfaction all the way down into his ribs. He shifts it into first gear, then second, then third, and peels out of the parking lot. 

He's got important plans, after all, and he hates to be kept waiting.