hands that god gave you | hidadei ✓

hands that god gave you

"Well," There's a pause and Deidara finds himself staring at the ruins of the sky he was busy admiring seconds ago. He holds his gaze in the open air (if he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine the blasts of colour behind the midsts of his eyelids). The corner of Deidara's lips are curled upwards, and Hidan thinks he looks stupid with that arrogant and prideful smile on his face. He clicks his tongue. "That sure was something."

(Things always end like this: Hidan makes a snarky comment and Deidara defends himself. He likes to believe that Hidan listens to what he has to say, even if he doesn't.)

"That something was my art," Deidara immediately snaps back, his bite harsher than he expects it to be. He's facing Hidan now; his big ocean eyes are narrowed, eyebrows knitting together and his face scrunches up. He thinks Hidan wants him to cross his arms over his chest. He thinks he wants him to tell him off and lecture him about how his art is superior. He thinks Hidan wants him mad; furious to the point he's pulling his hair out and enraged as the blue in his eyes melts into a fiery hot red. That's Hidan's thing: painting his enemy's faces red. So, he relaxes as the mouths on his hands chew and stretch out his patience. "Put some respect on my name, yeah."

"What? You're not going to tell me off today?" Hidan asks like he's demanding it. His palms support the back of his head, tilting his head at an angle as he leans back with a grin. Dragging behind him is his scythe, loosely hanging from his back as a blade cuts through the grass, pools of dark red trails from behind him. "Art is an explosion! Art is supposed to go out with a bang! It's awesome! None of that shit?"

Hidan accepts Deidara's silence as a yes.

"I never meant it as a bad thing."

"So, you think it's beautiful too?" The question blows up in Deidara's throat and fades like smoke through his lips. Like his sculpture set off at the wrong time, exploding for no show. A failure. He grits his teeth, staring at the rubble grazing the dirt. "My art, yeah."

"Beautiful is just a word," Hidan says and it leaves a rotten taste of blood in Deidara's mouth. "It can mean anything, blondie."

How insulting.

Deidara thinks, no, he knows he will go out in an explosion. One that will force Hidan to admit to his God that Deidara's art is beautiful. An explosion so vast and great will be engraved in the minds of those who see it. They'll consider themselves lucky to even witness something so full of meaning. He's sharing his gift, his talent, his creation with the universe and he will be remembered by the very trait the people in Iwa refused to acknowledge him by: an artist.

-

"You're stupid, yeah," Deidara's hands caress Hidan's face but with fingers and a touch so light, it doesn't even feel like he's touching him. His eyes are fixed on the newfound scar that runs through the side of Hidan's cheek, mindlessly tracing his thumb down the injury. "So, so, stupid."

The room the two got ( demanded ) for the night isn't bad for a shady inn. The lady behind the desk was more than kind to lend them a room (Deidara might have Hidan to thank for that one). A bed fit for two takes up majority of the space and, maybe, that's all they need. Its structure looks fairly traditional, Deidara notes. There's nothing flashy about the boring design that could appeal to his eyes.

Not that he's paying attention to it, anyway.

He doesn't need to when Deidara is sitting in Hidan's lap; not when Deidara is facing him, body relaxed and studying his fading bruises; not when Hidan's hands are resting on his waist, fingertips crawling, and staring at him like Deidara is his God. There's no need to pay attention to anything irrelevant when Deidara is focused on Hidan and how much of an idiot he is for getting hit by some standard attack. It's embarrassing, really, and Deidara doesn't care (he's worried, just a little though). Hidan is immortal, after all. He smells like dirt (they haven't showered yet) and if Deidara were to kiss him, he would probably taste like dried blood.