Your obedience is mine

2. ItaDei

Back at the hideout Deidara threw himself on his bed with a grunt. This stupid Uchiha with his stupid sharingan.

Who does he think he is? Just because he's an Uchiha prodigy didn't mean he was better than Deidara.

With a snort, he rolled over on his back. Itachi would recognize his art and if it was the last thing Deidara would do.

Stretching his hands in front of him, the blonde watched as the mouths on his palms grinned playfully and stuck out their tongue. "Are you mocking me? Don't you think I could beat him, un?!", he grumbled.

Of course, he could defeat the raven-haired, after all, he hadn't trained for nothing. He wasn't the 15-year-old boy anymore. A fair fight would turn out differently this time, for that Deidara was sure.

He slowly got up from his bed and began pulling his t-shirt over his head. After he blew up the little village, dirt and dust got caught on his clothes and in his hair.

Under normal circumstances he would not have gotten so dirty, but today was anything but normal. Normally Sasori would have been with him. As usual, they would have argued about their art.

The puppeteer would have said that art had to be eternal. His death had only proven that the redhead was wrong on this point, because his work of art passed away when the last of his life was squeezed out of him.

"That old fool!" Throwing off his shirt, Deidara marched into the adjoining bathroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he sighed.

"In the end, I was right. Art is ephemeral." He shook his head. "Oh well, it's still an ending worthy of art."

He freed his hair from his messy ponytail and opened the fasteners on his pants. Slowly it slipped over his waist before it came to rest at his ankles.

Carefree he kicked the garment aside and stepped into the spacious shower.

Hot water rushed down his body and with it the dirt that covered his skin. Sighing, he stretched his face towards the water while burying his fingers in his long blond hair.

It wasn't that he regretted Sasori's death. Not really. The old man was to blame for his foolish passing, but the way he died was not worthy of an akatsuki member.

If Deidara had been by his side, the old hag would never have been able to defeat them.

Shaking his head, he picked up a bottle of shampoo. His death would be more artistic. He would die with a bang and everyone around would know that he's passed away. That would be his greatest masterpiece.

Massaging the scented shampoo into his scalp, he thought back to the annoying Uchiha sprout and his hand around his neck.

A shudder ran over Deidara's body as he thought of how the delicate fingers wrapped themselves around his neck and slowly took his breath away.

Growling over himself, the blonde turned the water cold.

He was not allowed to associate his rival with such feelings or it could get very embarrassing very soon.

The emotionless gaze of the other annoyed Deidara tremendously. What had to happen that the raven-haired lost his damn composure? He didn't even break a sweat in fights. He wouldn't scream or curse like Hidan. All that the fucking Uchiha's face showed was emotionless emptiness.

How much Deidara would like to hear the other scream. Begging him. Desperately kneeling in front of him with his d... STOP! He wasn't allowed to think like that. Itachi was his enemy and nothing more.

Who cared that the man was a work of art himself.
With a look down he noticed who cared.

And that one cared A LOT.