Basket Weaving (Deidara x Reader)

Slight crack story!




Basket Weaving




“Like this?”

He bent down to examine the sculpture. “Hmmm...” After a moment of quiet observation, he pulled back and clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Nope. Un.”

You hung your head in exhaustion. “But I really tried this time...”

“Well,” he replied stolidly, “I don't see it.”

Your jaw tightened but you didn't respond. For two hours you had been stuck in a smelly, hot room with a pyromaniac who refused to let you leave until you made the “perfect” art. He had given you a leering grin when relating this news to you, and something inside your mind nagged that you were probably going to die. There was no way to please someone like him – an egotistical, self-centered and vain bastard who would gladly marry his artwork if it were possible. Basically, you were screwed.

You gripped the clay so tightly it oozed between your fingers. “But I'm no good with art! It's not my talent!”

“Sucks to be you.”

“That's all you have to say?”

“Sorry, should I have handed you a tissue?”

“Go blow yourself up.”

“Don't worry, I plan to.”

You honestly had no reply to this.

Ten minutes later you handed Deidara the best bird you could manage and crossed your arms. “That's as good as it's gonna get, so if you don't like it then it looks like I'll just have to die in here.”

He tossed it from hand to hand as if he were weighing it, and then he held it straight out. You crooked an eyebrow in question as he stared at your sculpture. After a moment he threw the bird into the air and pulled two fingers together. Your eyes bugged as you dived behind the table, the bird erupting into a ball of cinders and flames. Deidara's laugh boomed through the small room and you jumped to your feet.

“What the heck was that for?!”

He gave you a bemused look. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” You gasped in disbelief, pointing a finger to where the bird had previously been. “You just blew my clay figure up! I worked so hard on that!”

“I blew it up because I liked it! Un!”

You hung your head in exhaustion. “I really don't understand you...”

“True art is fleeting,” he explained, waving a hand importantly as he spoke. “Like an explosion. Art should be a bang, not a boring picture hanging for hundreds of years in a museum. Un.”

You scoffed. “Your reasoning is really twisted.”

He shrugged indifferently and picked up the leftover clay. You watched him for a moment before leaning back against the table, weight resting on your elbows.

“That wasn't the real reason you brought me here, was it?”

Deidara peeked through his curtain of hair. “Eh?”

“You didn't really bring me here to make some crappy sculpture just so you could blow it up, right?”

He chuckled. “Guess you caught my bluff.”

You narrowed your eyes skeptically. “Then why did you bring me here?”

He didn't answer, just continued to pick the clay off the table and floor until not a speck was left. You dropped your elbows and leaned into the table as you watched his movement with close precision. He balled the clay and unzipped one of the bags at his hip. He tucked the gray sphere into the pouch neatly before zipping it closed. Your eyes flickered from him to the door, and you gave a low huff when he continued to take his time.

After a moment he advanced towards you, his steps slow and deliberate and his eyes sharp. “You're right, the reason I brought you here wasn't to have you make some stupid sculpture...”

You made to step back but you were already pressed into the table. “O-oh? Then, pray tell, what is the real reason I'm here?”

His lips tugged up into a wolfish grin. “But my dear, it would be better if I showed you, yeah?”

“He-heh?” You staggered away from him, his unusual behavior setting your nerves on edge. “Deidara, w-what are you d-doing?”

“Say, [name], did you know there is another form of art I enjoy?” He murmured silkily.

“Painting?”

“No...”

“Pottery?”

“Wrong again.”

“Basket weaving?”

He froze, face dropping into a dull look. “Seriously?”

“Holy crap, how should I know, you psycho?! You're making me all nervous when you're coming at me like that!”

“I was trying to be sexy and alluring, idiot! You totally ruined it!”

“Well excuse me! I was busy mentally debating whether you were going to stab me or rape me!”

“I'm done,” he threw his hands up in defeat. “All I wanted to was to have a nice, good make-out and you went and trashed all my efforts.”

“Be a little more straightforward next time, creep!”

His eyebrow twitched. “I was trying to! I was planning on pinning you to the table and–”

“Oh my gooooosh, don't explain it to me! Ew, ew, ew! Pervert!”

“I AM NOT DEALING WITH THIS!” He yelled, stomping away and towards the door.

Most unfortunately he wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and tripped over the table leg. He attempted to catch himself but only managed to tip the table over with him, bringing you down too. Alas, Deidara's not-so-straightforward attempt to kiss you managed to work out in the end, but it was most unfortunate that Hidan had to walk in at the moment he managed to take advantage of your surprise.

“Oh... my... Jashin-sama...”

You blinked in surprise, Deidara's mouth still firmly attached to yours. You spluttered and tried to shove him away, but he was adamant about his make out plan and refused to pull back.

Click!

Flash!

“Ha ha! This is perfect! I wonder how much everyone will pay for this...”

You brought your knee up and into Deidara's stomach, effectively breaking free. “HIDAN DON'T YOU DARE! IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK!”

He ran away giggling, and you left poor, wounded Deidara on the floor as you attempted to behead Hidan before he could continue singing “Deidara and [name] sittin' in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Unfortunately, Hidan, even when beheaded, could still manage to talk...

To your utmost disgust, the photos spread like wildfire both inside and outside the Akatsuki. You were left to deal with the detrimental humiliation by yourself, for Deidara had not an inkling of shame in him for his actions. He also managed to force Kakuzu into splitting half the spoils he earned from the photos. As for Hidan, Kakuzu was forced to spend many hours sewing his partner back together. Many hours.

It also became widely known through the Akatsuki that Deidara's favorite form of art was not explosions, but was, in fact, kissing you. He quickly shot these accusations down on the grounds that you would only be his favorite art if you exploded.

You avoided him after hearing this.

- - - -

///Bonus Ending!///

“It's official,” Deidara said, planting himself on the couch beside you. “I'm signed up for basket weaving lessons. Hm.”

You gave him a “what the heck” look and lowered the novel you had been reading. “Basket weaving?”

“It's a decent hobby.”

You stared at him. “But... you like to make... things go 'boom'...”

“So?”

“And... you can't exactly do that to a basket...”

He ran a hand through his hair and gave a smug smile. “Well, just because it doesn't explode doesn't mean I won't enjoy it. After all, you don't explode and I enjoy you–”

You shoved the book into his face. “Pervert!”

He barked a laugh and moved the book away, grinning joyously. “And guess what? You're signed up too! Now we can make baskets together like an old married couple!”

There was just no way to properly deal with Deidara. He did what he wanted and that was final. Despite this, you couldn't help but smile in defeat. Basket weaving wasn't your idea of fun, but knowing Deidara, something interesting would happen in every class.

“Eh, why not,” you finally said, shrugging. “What can it hurt?”

“Exactly!” He cheered, scooting closer to you so his face was mere inches away. You felt him trace his thumb over your hand before lacing his fingers with yours. “After all, we can make all the explosions we want when we get home...”

Click!

Flash!

“Good job, Deidara! Think of how much money we'll make off the look on her face!”

“HIDAAAN!”

“RUN FOR IT! UN!”