Snow Storms & Snake Wine

Cabin

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm actually kinda mad. A little disappointed. Definitely insulted."

Deidara picked his head up from the door frame he'd been smacking it against and turned a withering glare to the shinobi standing in the middle of the cabin and nudging the bear rug with his foot. He was dressed in maroon pants and a sleeveless light gray turtleneck—what a damn idiot. How had this bastard not gotten hypothermia with the literal blizzard fucking up the world outside? "In that particular order, yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Fucking absolutely." Hidan of Yugakure bent down to flick the bear rug in the nose, his hitai-ate swinging around his neck and his red-bladed kusarigama coiled on his hip. "Because there's four of us in here, the snow's stacked so high it's gone over our heads, and I'm pretty sure there's, like, a snowman trying to kill us."

A kunoichi walked into the room, actually dressed for this shit weather in a forest green parka and layered beige leggings, and tossed a dusty black jacket to Hidan. Its hood was lined with fur.

"The fuck's this?"

"A jacket. So you don't freeze to death," Haruno Sakura of Konohagakure deadpanned. She was younger than he thought she'd be and there was still some baby fat in her cheeks. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather have you not die of frostbite if you can't help it."

"Aren't you a medic?"

"Yeah, but I can't cure stupid."

Deidara snorted and thumped his head back against the door frame.

The cabin wasn't actually the worst thing in the world and he was sure he'd be admiring the rustic architecture if it weren't for the situation he and three other perfectly decent ninja got themselves into. And—And it wasn't even a normal way to end up!

Four strangers stuck in a cabin in the middle of the Arctic Zone far off the northwest coast of Lightning Country.

He was going to find a God and punch the bitch so hard.

At least they weren't warily watching each other from different corners of the cabin anymore. A temporary truce after twenty-four hours wasn't a short time to give in, right?

"Okay, so." Hoshigaki Kisame of Kirigakure lumbered up the stairs leading up from the basement with two crates in his arms, both of which he dropped on the floor for them all to see. His cloak was draped on one of the rickety stools in the kitchen and had to be made of some sort of animal skin, something slick and water-resistant. Pretty fashion forward, too, especially next to that ginormous sword that he swore was breathing. "I've got some good news, bad news for that good news, more good news, but also bad news for that good news, and good news that doesn't have bad news."

Deidara rubbed his hands all over his face and dropped into one of the recliners. "Just save the good good news for last. Spare me the heartache, yeah."

Sakura sat on the arm of the couch and Hidan flopped onto the bear rug, all of them a respectable distance away from one another but close enough to look like they were first year Academy students gathered around for show and tell.

"First good news, we've got food." Kisame pointed to the first crate. "A lot of it, actually. A good corner of the basement is covered in it, but..."

Hidan leaned forward and pried the top off the crate with his bare hands—animal—and pulled out the first can to read off the bolded words on the threateningly orange label. "Snake soup." A pause. "Are you fucking—snake soup?!"

Kisame's gaze darkened. "I wish it was only that bad."

He and Hidan locked eyes for a long moment before the latter dug back into the crate with desperation and read off all the cans he, well can. "Pork brains in gravy, canned whole chicken, roasted scorpions, creamed deer, chocolate covered silkworms, corn smut—"