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Count to Five by EagerBeaver

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Chapter notes: Welcome to the story, there's not going to be any romance in here. There is going to be a big "twist" but it'll be a few chapters until we get into any of the action.

Beta'd! Thank you so much! A friend did it for me, I don't know if they have an acct here.
The blond man reaches up and peels the stray strand of hair off his forehead. Deidara's face scrunches up in disgust and finally lets go of the huff that he's been holding in. Sasori be damned, but this place sucks and they're almost out of water. Sweat drips down his face and stings his eye, he rises up, wipes it away; he ends up getting it in his eye and it burns anyway.

Sasori is somewhere beneath Deidara; the ex Iwa ninja sighs and walks towards the edge of the parched cliff. It goes down and down without end, he thinks there's maybe a river at the bottom. There's a satisfying pop as he stretches out in the sun; looking down is a little more than just unnerving. The air is without humidity and the dust that the wind kicks up gets caught in his throat, Deidara has been waiting for the Suna native to return, it's been half an hour. The sun is steadily making it's way to the middle of the sky before Deidara decides he might want to take a hike down the side opposite to the one Sasori's.

The large flat rock quickly turns to a sharp, sudden end on the western side. After a quick examination he finds a foothold, and then another, and another; soon enough he's onto a small shelf, a fissure in the stone leading in a space about a foot deep. After a moment of consideration he takes off his cloak and stows it in the small enclave. The path he's taking is nearly nonexistent and, to some extent, will only go on surviving in his mind, the shelves of rock here and there aid in his travel downwards. Sometimes when he grabs the edge of a rock he has to stop his hands from biting or licking at the rock, it's an impulse he's learned to identify, to manage and control. Climbing down brings back old memories; his muscles ache slightly from the few cases in which he's forced to stretch beyond his normal range of motion.

Despite having chakra on hand to simply walk down the side of the chasm, it will always seem to him to be much more rewarding to do it naturally. He takes his sweet time, hair whipped around by the strong wind, and at times nearly torn from the face of the cliff by it as well. Judging by the light, two hours has passed him by to reach this point. There's dust and dirt everywhere and his right hand feels dry and chapped. Deidara takes a seat and lets his legs swing off in the air while he flips his palms upwards.

It's his left hand, and after a second of staring at it he realizes he can't tell dirt from wounds. There's some scrapes and bruises after he douses both with water. The ninja lays the canteen next to his leg and flicks his hand out so the water drips from it,something about the left one is irritating him. He brings it up again and finds that the edges of the cliff left a long cut along the palm; a Glasgow grin on one side of his licking palm. Deidara picks at the cut, the skin left on it gets chewed off as he holds his palm to his mouth, the irritation turns into a mild stinging sensation as the wound starts to ooze blood into his mouth.

The blood tastes dirty and he spits it out and away. He digs his tongue into the wound until the dirt is all gone and finds himself reminiscing about his days as a wandering orphan. There used to be an older girl who watched out for him and she'd constantly bitch at him to keep clean so he could get adopted; he never was. After a few minutes of picking at the wound he finally gives in to simply lapping up the blood leisurely before locating a handkerchief to tie around it. A rather bright pink tongue lolls out of the mouth shortly before it bites at the cloth covering it. The cloth is dry and the one he procured had been used for nefarious purposes and tastes like ass.

Deidara makes a rather disgusted noise before reaching up with his right hand to catch the kunai heading for him. “Watch were you're throwing those, Danna.” there's heavy emphasis on “Danna” and if it had been Tobi and not Sasori there would have been a much harsher reply from the blond.

High above the Iwa nin stands the Suna native craning his neck over the edge of the cliff. The Akatsuki cloak billows around the surly figure; if he wasn't so heavy and solid, the sheer force of the wind might sweep him away. “Deidara.” the humongous man slowly calls back. Both voices are lost in the wind. There's a subtle feeling of rigidity from the dirt getting into the joints of the puppet shell, Sasori mentally curses.

The blond man sighs, cracks his neck and turns around before beginning to clamber up the side of the cliff. Although Deidara means to be quick about it- and he rarely is about anything but this is one of the few times he tries- he has to take his time. Deidara gets his cloak back and nearly loses it to the wind that's picked up; his hair is a complete mess by the time he hauls himself over the edge of the cliff. Once there the blond starts to wave at the waiting ninja.

Sasori stiffens, turns and gives Deidara that same disapproving look he's managed to keep the throughout their partnership. It's only been a few years that Orochimaru has gone, and they've all had their own agendas but Orochimaru just seemed to always go a step beyond the necessary. Sasori isn't as disgusted by Deidara as he is with Orochimaru. There's a hollow cracking as the puppet straightens Hiruko's neck. The puppet leaves a long trail behind him; like a gigantic snail in the middle of a parched grassland.

It takes less than a minute for Deidara to catch up to the older ninja, he grins at Sasori and puts on his very secretive hat. The Iwa nin has to yell while facing opposite the gusts of wind, “Hey Danna! What town are we heading to hm?!”

Hiruko doesn't stop, and his answer is muffled so badly that Deidara can't hear it. Everything does get better the further they go on. Within several hours they come upon an outcropping of rocks, turned out hideout, with just a few seals performed in front of it the entrance appears. The bunker inside meets Deidara's expectations for Kakuzu's stocks, at the very least it has a working generator and clean water. Sasori, well he's never seen his Danna eat or drink, but he's grown used to Kakuzu's warnings to stay away from anything not belonging to himself.

There's a dinning hall with a recreational room set next to it, the blond man has no problem with retrofitting it with blankets and their gear. Sasori calls him over; it's not Hiruko. Deidara has rarely seen the man outside of his shell. It reminds him of a newly shed scorpion or a bird mid molt. Sometimes he surprises himself with how much he notices; he knows Sasori doesn't blink, but when shocked he'll take in a sharp breath out of reflex.

Deidara mentally smooths over any worries; if Sasori's not in Hiruko it must be safe, and he's learned to trust the older ninja by now. The Iwa native takes a seat at one of the cold metal tables and shivers. “So what do we have on the menu Danna?”

Sasori walks to the adjacent seat and lays out a map, printed with discount ink, onto the table. “Cleanup, lost detachment of the Sacred Fire cult.” the redhead looks incredibly bored.

The Iwa ninja is listening “Didn't Kisame and Itachi get those assholes hmm?”

“The group defected mid mission and set up operations in a nearby town.”

He can hardly stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Leave it up to that red eyed asshole to fuck it up, un.” he shakes his head, tossing his hair back over his shoulder.

The smaller ninja places a file down onto the table, “We aren't sure what this location is for exactly, but there are some indications of a massive underground complex.” there's no light behind his eyes.

Deidara presses his fingers against one corner of the map and draws it closer, “So long as we aren't in it when it goes down.”

The Suna ninja offers out several pictures of ninja and a few rough outlines of what they think the underground area is like. “There is valuable information within.” neither him nor the blonde have particularly little interest in anything other than their art.

The blond picks out the prettiest ninjas, “Do we need it Danna?”

“I think we do.” he opens the file and hands over several thin sheets of paper.

Both mouths shut tightly before he accepts them, “More demons? Seals, oh Sasori-danna,” the mouth on his face smiles. “I agree with you umm.” and he can faintly taste blood in one of his smiling mouths.
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