Sasodei rp part 16

The puppet of a puppeteer only looked back to his partner once Deidara unlinked their arms and walk on ahead. He had caught the blush before he looked off over in the general direction of the masked idiot. While it confused him slightly, it sent his 'inner-him' into a fit of giggles. Which he immediately blocked out.

Sasori gave a bit of a shrug before falling into step a few feet behind the blond. Whatever. Why should he let the sculptor confuse him, if even unintentionally? ... Hm. Perhaps he should find one of those 'guide to behaviour and emotion' books or something. He wasn't clueless, no, but a book could serve to be useful. For both understanding the blond and 'himself'.

The red-head frowned when he noticed his partner was just... Staring at the door to their bedroom. He observed the scene for a moment, coming to a stop just inches behind. From his vantage point, he could see that the blond had bent an arm, possibly raising the hand up to his face or something. Hm. The hell was he doing? "... Earth to Brat." And he meant the B-word in the nicest way possible. Really. "I doubt you can open doors with your mind, no matter how much you stare at them."

The hand fell from the blond's face and he gritted his teeth. He should really make a list of how many times he had been called "Brat" that day. Even though the "b" word had been said in the "nicest way possible" it was all the same to Deidara. It was just a way of Sasori showing how little respect he had for him.
He moved to open the door and go in the room, leaving it open for his partner. He then seized Scorpling the plush bird and hugged it tightly with his one arm. How long had he been out the room? Five? Ten minutes? And he was acting like he hadn't seen the poor strangled thing in years.
The sculptor was about to go to the bathroom when he had the sudden urge to ask the puppet about the little sign of affection he had given him outside Tobi's bedroom. 'Danna?' he asked quietly, averting his gaze slightly. 'You…you know before, un? Why did you do that?' The blue eyes then moved to the plush in his arm. It was so much easier to look at that rather than the puppeteer himself…even though, like the puppet…it gave little expression.

Entering the room moments after his partner and closing the door behind himself, Sasori immediately made his way over to his bed and picked up his discarded normal clothes. Placing them somewhat neatly on the bed, he quickly cancelled the vile henge and slipped out of the horrid red atrocity he had been stuck wearing before tossing it haphazardly away. And then quickly getting dressed again. Or at least halfly so, yanking on a pair of black trousers before sitting cross-legged on his bed in order to face Deidara.

He watched the blond pretty much hug the poor, non-living thing to death until, seconds later, that one, dreaded question was asked. Why did he do... That which he did just a while before? The puppet gave the sculptor a lengthy, half-lidded stare while trying to think of an answer. Anything, really. But... The little voice had betrayed him; it had gone oddly quiet, and he was left to think up an answer on his own.

Fat chance of that happening. "Does it matter, Deidara?" He tried, consealing a the slight hint of uncertainty that was trying to force it's way into his voice with annoyance. He noticed the blond had moved his eyes to the plush and away from him - which was slightly irritating, though he wasn't going to bring it up.

The blond averted his gaze as the puppet changed. It was only polite. And it would stop yet another unwanted blush appearing. That reminded him that he should also change soon enough. But not yet. He was still wondering about things. Which took a lot longer for Deidara than most people.
Then again…it would be better to get changed before venturing to the bathroom. If Itachi was in there then he'd have to see him in Zetsu's lovely blue dress and witness the flatness. The damned masculine flatness.
The blue eyes lifted as he received an answer and he blinked a couple of times. If it didn't matter then the sculptor wouldn't have asked in the first place, would he? 'Yes. It does,' he said firmly before repeating 'Why did you do that, un?' He was beginning to get a little agitated by Sasori trying to avoid answering that question.

As the red-head awaited a reply to his own little inquiry, he sent a withering glance over at his two blade-wings, of which still lay where he had put them before putting that damnable dress on. Then he reached over, picking one of the up and began the painstakingly irritating task of trying to put it back on again.

Hey, he did it before. Several times. Shouldn't be too difficult to put them back... Haa.

Trying to avoid answering was a bit of an understatement, almost. He was outright evading it. Then again... Avoiding and evading were, once one got down to it, pretty much the same damn thing. Instead of answering the blond's question, Sasori looked over at Deidara, pausing in his wing re-attachment before frowning, then answered with his own little question. "Will you need any help getting out of that dress?"

... He meant it in the most innocent way possible. Given that the sculptor's wrist was injured and all that... Plus, he needed to get his partner off of that topic somehow. What better way...?

He wasn't going to answer was he? Deidara's eyes narrowed as he watched his partner reached over for one of his blade-like wings. Hn…he was just ignoring him. How rude.
Well, fine. If Sasori was going to be like that then the blond would just have to ask him repeatedly until he received a valid answer and not just "does it matter?" The fact that he was purposely avoiding having to come up with an answer was making the sculptor suspect the puppet more and more. What was he hiding?
And answering a question with a question was just plain annoying. He was about to point this out when he thought about it. At first, he blushed. What sort of question was that? Of course he could. As a silent reply, he wandered over to the cupboard and started to get changed and out of the blue frilly dress. And it was proving to the quite difficult. Deidara had managed to get his good arm out and was unable to do so for his damaged one. 'Danna?' he called, feeling slightly embarrassed. 'I'm stuck, un.'

Click. Wing one was successfully attached... Or so the puppet hoped. It was in, at any rate, and wasn't falling back off. That had to count for something.

Hmph. Sasori stretched the blade-wing out, making sure it was in correctly. He was going to have to come up with a way to get Deidara off of that topic permanently - the blond could be persistent. And he was probably not going to let the damn thing rest until he got an actual answer.

Not just a question to a question. He watched his partner wander over to the cupboard. Why his partner changed in that thing, he didn't quite understand - it wasn't like he hadn't seen nude or semi-nude people before... Afterall, to make human puppets, he had to preserve and change some limbs to wood. That usually required stripping the victim in question - whether they be male or female.

But... Whatever. His attention returned to the blond - or at least the cupboard - when the one within it called out to him. Stuck? The puppeteer hid a smirk, about to stand and make his way over before something occurred to him. Why not get the sculptor to come out of that excuse of a change-room? "Come over here, then, Deidara."

Damn…he'd forgotten to take a picture of Sasori in that slutty dress. And that would probably be the only chance he could take a picture of him dressed as a girl to threaten to humiliate him with. Unless he forced him back into the thing. Nah, that'd never work…
He peeped his head around the side of the cupboard from where he had been attempting to get changed when he heard the puppet's demand of "come over here, then." He didn’t feel right changing in front of his partner and letting him rid him of the dress just seemed unheard of. Sure, they were both guys, but it still made the blond feel a little uncomfortable. And of course he had nothing to hide, yet he felt the need to.
Sheepishly, he made his way over to his partner. Oh! He'd managed to put the blade wing on himself. Deidara felt a little disappointed about that. He had been inwardly hoping the puppet wouldn't've been able to succeed in refitting it. He stood in front of him, looking away slightly. He was already predicting that this might cause a lot of pain to his poor arm. 'If I say stop…you have to stop, un,' he warned before holding his good arm out to the side.

The puppeteer rose a brow when Deidara peeped out from the cupboard. Then he turned around, hands in his lap, waiting for the blond to come over so he could help with the dress.

Sasori looked up at the blond for a moment when he'd finally made his way over. Already the little gears in the red-head's mind were turning, trying to figure out the easiest way to get the damnable thing off of his partner. It shouldn't be too difficult... He had a lot of practice at this sort of thing, anyway. He frowned slightly, however, at the sculptor's words. If he said stop... He most likely wasn't going to. His fellow artist would just have to suck it up and take it like the man he didn't look like.

... Or, find a way out of the dress on his own.

The red-head stood, not making any sort of acknowledgement to what the blond had said before reaching down, grasping his partner's injured arm a few centimeters above the wrist and 'gently' pulling it upwards over his head. He reached over to grab the blond's other wrist in order to do the same thing.

Then he stepped to one side. He wasn't tall enough to to the next step of getting the dress off without a little bit of cooperation. "Hn... Turn this way and bend over a little."

The blond winced as his bad arm was taking and help above his head. Gently? Ha! More like forcibly. But he kept quiet. Complaining would probably result in him being left in the lovely bloodstained dress and having to get out on his own way. Most likely chewing through the fabric using his palmouths.
With both his arms above his head, Deidara was beginning to wonder if the puppeteer was going to hang him from the ceiling or something crazy like that. How was he planning on getting the dress off anyway? Slicing it with his blade-wings? Pulling it over his head? Feh, like the puppet was even capable of doing that. He was too-
Shut up.
Obediently, the blond turned around to face Sasori and bent down a little. Well, that sorted out the height problem. But it was also now proving to be difficult holding his arms up and bending over. "Hurry up, un," he growled inwardly.

Sasori had to force down a chuckle at the odd position the blond was currently in. He made a mental note to, later, along with the fairy puppet, to make a miniature one of Deidara... If only so he could put it in odd positions when he was bored as hell with nothing else to do. Plus, it would also be a nice tool to use in creeping the fuck out of his blond little companion.

A creepy, contemplative grin etched itself onto the puppeteer's face, though it was gone as soon as it came when the sculptor turned to face him and bent down a bit. Ah, there. Now to begin phase two of operation Get Dress Off Brat.

With experienced quickness, the puppet reached forward, grabbing the tops of the sleeves of the dress before pulling it towards him and, effectively, over the blond's head. He took a few steps back in order to get the whole damn thing off and not just half an arms length, and once it was more-or-less free of his fellow artist, he tossed it off to the side, onto the blond's bed.

"There." Now he had to go reattach wing number two. What fun.

As the dress was pulled off, the other half of the blond's lip also ended up being ripped by his teeth. Either that or it was the repetitive use of the word "ow." Though the only sound that managed to get out was a pained squeak.
Once the damned dress was finally off, Deidara scurried over to his bed, picking up the pillow and grabbing the oversized t-shirt he slept in. Once again, he was making sure the puppet was unable to see his body. And his flatness. He blushed slightly as he slipped the t-shirt on. 'Thanks, un,' he mumbled, smoothing it down a little. Seeing as it had been living under his pillow all day it was all creased.
A glittery blue wing then caught his eye. Shit. He was still in fairy form. Closing his eyes tightly, he lifted his hand up to perform the hand signs needed to end the henge. There was no way he was sleeping with wings in order to let his arm heal.
Once the wings had vanished the sculptor edged over to the puppeteer shyly. 'Uhm…Danna?' he asked sheepishly. 'Can I give you a hand with your other wing…thing, un?'
Perhaps it could be repayment for helping him rid himself of the dress. And it would save him quite a bit of trouble too.

The puppeteer watched the blond scurry over to his bed, blinking slowly at the use of the pillow as some sort of vision shield. Eh, whatever... Sasori rolled his eyes, sitting back down, 'hn'ing quietly in reply to the thanks. And then smirking when he, too, noticed Deidara had forgotten to get rid of the wings for the longest time.

Speaking of wings. The red-head grabbed the second blade-wing from the bed as the blond finally got to dispelling that horrid henge. He reached back with both hands, groping around to find the right spot and---

He looked up when he heard his 'name', tilting his head just slightly at the offer of help. Should he accept it? The blond wasn't the most... Careful of people, so knowing his luck it would end up broken or something... But he was nice enough to offer. Not accepting could be seen as rude.

Then again, when did he worry about coming off as rude? Hell, most times he tried to come off as rude to the sculptor for reasons better left unsaid. Even so. Despite his better judgement, the puppet found himself nodding. "All right..."

Whilst awaiting an answer the blond then remembered that he would need to ask about the wiping lip thing. How could he even let that slip? Okay…pain could block out some thoughts, but this was different. Sasori had wiped his lip. Probably the most un-Sasori…ish thing that the puppet had performed all day. Even more so than that rather amusing yelp that had occurred on the journey to the village.
Though he beamed when his offer was accepted. He'd ask after he'd completed the task at hand. Reattaching the blade wing.
Deidara went over to his partner and took not of what he'd have to do. It looked somewhat like a hip joint. All he'd have to do was click the wing into the hole…thing on his side and hopefully it would be able to move. Similar to the way the other wing had been fitted into place.
The sculptor got on his knees and directed the end of the wing to the puppet's side. 'It just fits in here, doesn't it?' he asked, just verifying what he had to do. It would suck if he screwed this up. As repayment he might even be sliced to little chunks by those very sharp blades. What had captivated Sasori to even add them to his prosthetic body anyway?

For once, Sasori could admit that he was actually nervous about something. Or, something other than being off of the ground, anyway. There were reasons why he didn't like people messing with his puppets - or in this case, parts. Most of them were the obvious things - like... Fragility, and so on. Others... Well... Okay, all of them were the obvious things.

And the puppeteer definitely didn't 'feel' particularly safe in letting Deidara help peice him back together, but... He'd already agreed to let the blond help him. No going back, now. The red-head cursed mentally.

He 'hmm'ed at the sculptor's question, peering back to see what he was talking about. Ah... "Yes." That was just about right. It did fit there... "Use the other wing as a guide. Example..." He chewed warily at his bottom lip, left eye twitching - though not in annoyance for once, but anxiety. He was really, really hoping the blond didn't fuck anything up. It would really, truly suck if they were sent on a mission in which he'd need both wings for whatever reason, even though such missions only came about if Hiruko was damaged beyond use.

Plus if by chance his fellow artist did screw up his little task... Well, red-heads usually were known for their temperament, were they not?

It then dawned on the blond that this whole wing fitting business might be quite a challenge with one arm rendered useless. Although…it didn't look too hard. Just one good push and it would be in.
If he grabbed a hold of the puppet's hand and made him hold onto the wing to keep it from slipping whilst he pushed it back into place himself it might prove to be useful. But that might distress his partner and shoo him away. Deidara really wanted to help, thinking that doing so would get him into Sasori's good books. And it even might give him a better chance of receiving a decent explanation for that incident.
He lifted his injured arm and used it to hold onto the other's waist as support. Sure, it hurt like hell, and a whimper escaped as a result. With his other hand he fitted the end of the wing into place with a click.
That click sounded like the voice of God to the blond as he let go of the puppet and stood up. 'There,' he sighed with relief. 'I think it's okay now, un.'
Of course, Deidara couldn't tell. He was unable to control it willy nilly. But the puppet was. Therefore, if the puppet could move it, the fixing had been a success.

Obviously, the puppet wasn't deaf - he heard the blond's whimper as Deidara made use of his injured arm... Stupid. If he needed assistance, he could have asked. Sasori would have been all too willing to lend a hand in helping his little... Er... Helper, for reasons easily figured out.

The click caused the red-head to internally cringe. The 'moment of truth', so to speak, was upon them. In other words, they'd soon find out if the sculptor successfully re-attached the wing, or if he botched the whole damn thing. It didn't even need to be said - the puppeteer was hoping for the former. The latter would just suck.

He carefully tried to extend the newly-attached wing. A wave of relief surged over him as the bladed thing did, infact, move in the correct way that it was supposed to. Smiling ever-so-slightly, he folded both extra appendages neatly on his back and turned a little so that he could see the sculptor. "Yes, it's okay." He paused, before almost hesitatingly adding on the words, "... Thank-you."

That was another reason why he didn't like letting people help him with anything. He didn't quite like thanking them.

Deidara watched eagerly to see if he had done it right. Oh, he hoped he did. He didn't really want Sasori to be broken by his hand. That would suck.
He watched as the wing stretched itself out and squealed inwardly. YES! He hadn't fucked it up. Maybe this meant the blond could be his partner's "fixer" from now on. Like his little helper or something.
Nah…better not voice that.
He lifted his head when the puppet thanked him and smiled. 'You're welcome, un,' he giggled, walking over to the chest of drawers. He moved his fringe away from his left eye and pulled the scope off his skin. Poor scope. It hadn't been used properly all day. And with that it was dumped in the draw amongst the rest of the sculptor's belongings which lay within.
He glanced over at the red head and smirked. 'Now...Do you feel like telling me why you did that, un?' he asked mockingly. If he received a "no" or something along those lines he'd just continue to ask until he received an answer…or until he was knocked out. Persistency doesn’t always work.

The puppet let the smile dissolve into the usual apathetic look when the blond moved away and went over to the chest-or-drawers. Mm, now what to do... Oh, right. Sasori stood, busying himself with the self-appointed task of organizing the wood and sheets of metal he'd bought that day, placing them in places at his little workplace where he could easily get at them.

He was only half-way done with it all when he heard that question. Again. The puppeteer stopped what he was doing, frowning slightly and peering over at Deidara. Hmph. He really didn't like that tone... Well, at least the sculptor had made it easy enough to say 'no' without saying it outright. "You know I don't feel. I especially don't feel like telling you something that doesn't matter." And with that, he continued organizing things.

Ergh. That was the second time the blond had asked... If he asked anymore... Well, the puppet knew what he was going to do. The closet didn't only contain fatal poisons and painkillers. Although some of his sleeping toxins weren't exactly nice either, they'd do the trick, wouldn't they?

Deidara "hmph'd." And if he had two useable arms, he would've folded them too. Jeez, the puppet had "awkward" written all over his face, didn't he? And the more he avoided, the more the suspicious the blond grew. It wasn't exactly a hard question. All he wanted was an exclamation, yet Sasori insisted it "didn't matter" and didn't answer his question properly.
He walked over to the red head's work station and blinked at him, his expression as apathetic as his partner's, as if he was mirroring him. 'Like I said. It does matter, un' the artist confirmed firmly. A mere second had passed before he lunged forward to grab the wooden wrist that was being used to sort out the sheets of metal and wood, holding it still. 'Why aren’t you telling me, un?'
He kept a firm grip on his partner's wrist, and his gaze locked onto him, hardly even blinking. He was so desperate for a valid exclamation. No matter what it was.

While waiting to see if the blond would ask a third time, Sasori went over several concepts for his new fairy-puppet in his mind. That fairytale book had some nice pictures, but he didn't want something that looked too nice. Plus, his reputation would probably dwindle down to nothing if he whipped out an overly girly-looking thing that looked like it walked right out of a little girl's imagination. Seriously. Then again, it would be highly embarrassing for an enemy to be defeated by such a thing...

His odd little train of thought was interrupted when he was joined at his little workstation by Deidara. Damnit, persistent little... He apathetically stared at his partner's equally apathetic face until the blond spoke. Before he could again retort and say that it didn't matter, the sculptor had lunged forward and grabbed one of his wrists. If the puppeteer hadn't been irritated before, he sure as hell was, now.

At least he didn't ask that question again, but the new, related one was just as annoying. The puppet looked to where the blond had grabbed his wrist, quiet for such a lengthy moment until he finally said something. And no, of course, it wasn't an answer. "Let go, brat." Emphasis on the 'B-word'. Yeah, he was mildly annoyed.

Damn, it just wasn't getting through to him, was it? But that only spurred the slightly displeased Deidara on and his grip on the timbered arm remained tight and firm. 'No,' he muttered in response. The use of the "b" word made his eye twitch a little. Sure, he wanted to point out that he wasn’t a brat, but at the moment he was awaiting an answer.
And it never came.
The grip loosened slightly as the blond wracked his brain out to try and remember what Sasori had done. Oh, yes…he wiped his lip…that was it. It seemed he was so obsessed with receiving an answer he had forgotten what he had been asking about.
And once again the brace constricted. The cerulean blue eyes stared into the red, almost pleadingly. 'Why do you keep avoiding answering me, un?' he asked. 'It's not exactly a hard question. Just tell me why you wiped my lip, un.' He had given up on asking and was now demanding. Firmly at that.
He then smirked. 'And calling me a brat is no way to get me to let go,' he said coolly.

Sasori was as stubborn as Deidara was persistent.

The puppet's expression darkened just slightly at the negative response to his order for the blond to let go of his wrist. The blond was just damn lucky he didn't have any poisons laying around his work station, or he'd be in so much damn pain right then...

Looking up from the grasp his partner had on him, the red-head shot a fiery glare directly at the blond, catching the almost pleading look. Geez, why couldn't he just drop the damn subject?! "Because," was the simple, pretty much hissed answer to the actual question. Ha! So the brat was now demanding an answer to that other, more damnable question, was he? Even so. "I don't want to," he added. It was a rather generic answer, which pretty much - in his not-so humble opinion - answered all.

He snorted at the little tidbit of information, though. So, insulting the twit wouldn't get him to let go, huh? Then what about this? The red-head's free hand shot out to grab the blond's injured one, just above the wrist. Tightly. "Now. Let go. Or I make it worse." While the tone was neutral, his expression... Obviously wasn't - glaring and almost murderous.