A/N: I forgot this the first chapter: I DON'T OWN. I make no money. I have no money. I just have a laptop. u.u

For Aneki. You know who you are, luv.

There was a knock at the door, and Itachi ignored it. He didn't want to deal with anyone. The knock repeated, and in a fit of rage, Itachi chucked his pillow at the door. It fell short with a soft 'phumph'. Staring back out the window, he pointedly ignored the opening door. Maybe if he looked extremely brooding and angry, whoever was bothering him might chicken out and leave him in peace.

"Itachi-san?"

No such luck. Shutting the door behind him, Deidara sighed mentally Lately, he'd found himself thinking about the stoic Uchiha more than he cared to think about anything other than his next masterpiece. There was something about the cold, quiet man that was drawing Deidara in, and he found himself wanting to know what had upset Itachi. In any case, no one else seemed to care about their comrade's situation. Maybe it was the fact that Deidara had come to see the Akatsuki as his family; that he didn't want them to be upset.

Well, except for Hidan. He couldn't stand that freak.

Itachi continued to stare out the window, ignoring his 'guest'. Deidara shifted, an irritated look on his face. He didn't like being ignored. Stooping, he picked up the pillow and threw it at Itachi. It smacked the Uchiha in the head, and his head whipped around, Sharingan swirling to draw Deidara into the Tsukiyomi techinique. Deidara lunged forward, eyes closed, his hands closing over Itachi's eyes, blocking the Sharingan from view.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

"Let go." Itachi's voice was a monotone, and he made no movements to remove the hands over his eyes. Deidara snarled at him, face contorting with rage.

"No, un. You've been a moody bitch, locking yourself away, yeah. No one wants to come near this wing; and we fucking LIVE here."

"I don't see why the blame should rest with me."

"Because they're all afraid of you, just because you're pissy about something, yeah. We're tired of tiptoeing past your room because you're pissed off that someone killed your brother before you could, un!"

Itachi resumed his self-imposed silence, and Deidara slowly pulled his hands away from Itachi's eyes. They were closed, and Deidara gave the man a look over. He looked paler than normal. Deidara knew he hadn't been eating the last three days. "Itachi-san… Is-is that the reason? Did your brother really die?"

Itachi continued his vow of silence, and Deidara pulled away, looking down at his hands. "I know we're not the best of friends or anything, but I'm worried about you, yeah." Deidara ran a hand through his hair, feeling fidgety and nervous. After another moment of silence, Deidara sighed. "I'll just go, yeah."

Deidara turned and stalked towards the door, when a shift from Itachi caught his ear. He turned to see Itachi leave his window side perch to stand in front of a hard white chair pressed against the wall, posture proud and threatening all at once. He watched the artist cooly for a moment before speaking again.

"Your concern is misguided and unwanted. Lay your affections on someone who might actually care."

Like a shot Deidara had crossed the room again, slammed Itachi back into the chair, one hand on the wall behind Itachi's head, the other wrapped in Itachi's ponytail. Deidara practically shook with rage, and Itachi stared him down through half-lidded eyes. Deidara leaned closer, snarling at the younger man.

"Listen, Uchiha, if I had affections, I certainly wouldn't waste them on you. You're not even fucking human, yeah. You're brother's fucking dead and you're shutting out the only person who wants to fucking help you." He let go of Itachi and stalked off, slamming the door behind him. Itachi sat there blankly, reflecting on the explosive tempered artist, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"What do you know, Deidara? What do you know?"

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