A/N: Just a little of what I was feeling tonight portrayed between two of my loved characters.

A different kind of writing style for me...

He sits on the edge of his bed, toying with a mound of clay. He's frowning but doesn't know why. His head feels stuffed but he knows he's not sick.

And suddenly he feels overwhelmed. There's too much going on. He can't focus. He feels as if the walls are closing in, his thoughts hazy, his senses clogged. He knows he needs to cut it off. The noise, the pressure on his body. The annoyance building up in him.

So he shuts it off.

The noise stops.

He can breathe just a little better.

He sits back down on his bed, no more sound coming out from his radio. With a sigh he lays down in bed, tosses and turns a bit with the quilts throw over him until he kicks them off. The same feeling of overwhelming takes over; he's suffocating.

Damn the heat!

Sasori watches the brat grow angry from across the room. He's sitting at his worktable, fiddling with a part of Hiruko in his palm. He smirks as his partner throws off all his clothes and falls onto his bed in nothing but his underwear. He thinks to himself what a child his partner is before standing and going over to his own bed where he simply takes off his cloak, hangs it on the corner of the bedpost, and then lays down.

He pulls the covers over him, up to his chin. He tosses in several positions and then in a fit of sudden aggravation, rips them off the bed and onto the floor. Another few seconds pass and by then he has long taken off all other particles of clothing, throwing them in a heap on the floor. He slams his head back onto his pillow, face to the ceiling and covers pulled back up. He feels better now. Not by much- but still better than before.

It really was hot.

And Sasori can feel the amused gaze of his partner on him having witnessed his tantrum, but chooses to ignore it as he rolls over and shuts his eyes.

He can breathe, just a little better now.