Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

Preamble: I used some American terms. Deal with it.

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The winter night found two-fifths of the Akatsuki sitting around a table, playing poker by the fireplace. Doing any kind of shinobiwork was made impossible by the weather – they were practically stranded in Rain until the blizzard broke. Frankly, they were all mega-pissed about it; but as it was, they hadn't gotten on each other's nerves yet too much, so games like this were still considered better than staring at the ceiling.

To some, anyway.

But Sasori couldn't resist a good game of cards, and Kisame was rather persuasive.

Even if he was smoking that damn cigar.

They bet with their own cash, menial work, slave labor, and food – Itachi kept meticulous score of what everyone owed.

Kisame took a swig from his beer and tossed three 20s onto the pile. The others followed suit.

Itachi's face remained impassive. Deidara cocked an eyebrow and smirked, then turned to Sasori. "Well? You hate making people wait, yeah. Make a move."

Lazily, he flicked thirty coins in.

"Hm." Nonchalantly, Deidara reached for his considerable wad of 20s; he then proceeded to throw half of it in.

"Shit, Blondie," Kisame said, "You tryin' to make me bankrupt?"

"Shut up and show us the cards," Sasori snapped. "Or fold."

All four men made eye contact – the suspicious, mistrusting eye contact that was unique to shinobi playing poker – and the air cracked with tension.

Twenty cards smacked onto the table almost simultaneously. Deidara cheered – his full house beat Sasori's three of a kind and Kisame's straight – and –

"HA!" Deidara stood and pointed across the table at Itachi. "I get the pot, yeah!"

His full house consisted of two kings and three tens; Itachi's was two fours and three twos. High card won, simple as that – he'd finally beat the Uchiha, ha, fucking take that Sharingan -

"Actually, you don't."

Deidara was abruptly brought out of his fantasies of rubbing this in Itachi's face for all eternity. "What?"

"Sit down, brat," Sasori grumbled next to him, tugging on his cloak till he sat down. "You're making a fool of yourself."

Kisame guffawed, and patted Deidara's head. "Wild deuces, kiddo. Itachi has a five of a kind – you're not even close."

"Five of a – since when was that a legal move?"

"Since forever," was Itachi's ridiculously calm answer. He'd already collected his money and was organizing it in front of him.

"I want to see a rulebook, yeah!"

"We're S-class missing nin. We don't follow rules." Kisame rolled his eyes and began collecting the cards to shuffle. "Not to mention that you people have managed to bastardize five card stud in a way that makes my soul melt a little. Now ante up, we're playing another round."

No one was anti-another round of poker, though Deidara's assent was sulkier than the rest.

Five rounds later and Deidara still hadn't won a single round – partly because Kisame was too damn good at this game and partly because he simply refused to fold - but he kept coming second-best to just about everyone. He still had his cash, because Leader had been pretty good on paying up for his last mission of leveling an entire city, but so did Sasori.

Okay. Time for change in tactic.

The only way he was going to win, he decided, was using his dirty, disgusting, almost-twenty-year-old-mind to make everyone else fold.

The only problem: Kisame had an even dirtier, more disgusting, twenty-seven-year-old-mind, and Itachi had been getting rather innovative.

This particular round had been pretty intense with the stakes – so far, if Deidara lost, he'd owe Kisame two sandwiches, a backrub (like, what?), and an entire day of being a slave (ew); to Sasori, he'd owe a day of silence (not bad) an admission that his art was better than Deidara's (never going to happen) and an all-expense paid trip to a city in Grass, the art capital of the world – which would cost a ridiculous amount of money; to Itachi, he'd owe five hundred (not specified what, just 'five hundred'), a day of being a target for 'target class' (bullshit), and he was about to toss his next demand into the pot.

Deidara himself had demanded more clay (boring), an entire day of cross-dressing (interesting enough) and an entire weekend spent with Tobi (probably the cruelest thing you could do to another human being, in his not-so-humble opinion.

Itachi cast his eyes around the three of them. Sweat had broken across Deidara's upper lip, and Kisame was chewing his cigar with renewed vigor.

Finally, he spoke.

"Prance around naked in front of the entire Akatsuki while declaring his undying lust for Hidan. Of course, you cannot mention that it is a lost bet."

"You are sick," Deidara exclaimed, at the same time that Kisame roared with laughter.

Naturally, Sasori promptly folded.

"Pansyass," Kisame admonished, nudging him. Sasori merely shrugged. "I have no desire to 'prance around naked' or see anyone else do it, for that matter." His eyes flicked over to Itachi. "Makes you wonder about his sexuality, you know?"

"Pansyass," Kisame said again. He adjusted his cards and thought for a minute, then smirked. "Stand on the corner and act like a hooker, with a dick drawn on your forehead."

"You're on," Deidara said, tapping slender fingers against the table. "Dry shave every day for a week, yeah."

"You motherfucker." Kisame glared at Deidara. "Seriously, that hurts like a bitch, no real man would make another man do that. Right, Itachi?"

"…Oh?"

Kisame stared. Deidara was smirking and Itachi was staring blankly. "Sasori?" he said weakly.

He was met with a blank stare.

Kisame, of course, took a moment to put the pieces together: Deidara was fair-haired and nineteen; both he and Itachi were strangely effeminate, and Sasori's body was a puppet. A puppet of a fifteen-year-old boy.

Kisame facepalmed. "I'm all alone here, aren't I?"

"Looks like it, yeah," Deidara said with a grin. "Write that one down."

"You are trying to kill me," Kisame moaned. "Well, Itachi, you're up."

"Successfully retrieve a pair of Konan's underwear without being caught."

"How the hell did you get this creative?" Deidara slammed his cards down on the table. "Fucking seriously, it's like all of a sudden – "

"Shut up," Sasori cut him off. "And up the ante."

Deidara glared. He tapped his fingers on the table. When that didn't work, he glared some more. He needed to use his gross, dirty, make-the-gutter-look-clean brain to think of something so disgusting, so repulsive, that even Itachi would fold.

When it dawned on him, Deidara had to resist the urge to grin. He kept his features perfectly blank when he said, "Blow Leader. I call."

Everyone stared at him for a beat, then –

"You douchefaggot!"

"You're joking."

"The fuck is wrong with you, boy?"

Deidara smirked. He knew he'd just won. "I'm not kidding, yeah. Now fold, or ante up."

"You fuckwad," Kisame said, "You really are trying to kill me. Fold. There's no way in hell I'm chancing at that. Screw the sandwich and everything else, I'm not a cocksucker."

Deidara looked across at Itachi. "Well?"

"You're bluffing."

Deidara almost blanched – almost. "You think I am, yeah, go ahead." He could feel his heart beating underneath his cloak. He forced himself to calm down, not breaking eye contact with Itachi. "Well?"

Itachi exhaled and glanced down at the royal flush he held. He was weighing the options – of Deidara having the same or higher versus Deidara bluffing.

He hasn't bluffed this entire game. The chances of him changing his strategy this late are slim. But five of a kind…

Itachi was not cursing the fact that they had played wild twos.

After much internal deliberation – and comments from the peanut gallery – (not to mention that alternating disinterested looks and challenging smirks from Deidara), Itachi swallowed his considerable pride and sighed.

"I…fold."

Deidara yawped and cheered, stood on his chair and downed Kisame's shot of whiskey in one go. "De-feat!" He grinned and hopped down, tousled Itachi's hair in a very, very condescending way. "I'll be taking this," he said, taking the slip of paper off the table, "And this," he took the money that was in the center. "Gentlemen," he said, and bowed. "I'll be collecting – soon as we get back."

"I could kill him right now and make it look like an accident," Sasori deadpanned.

"Except you don't make accidents like that," Kisame quipped.

"A suicide, then."

Kisame leaned back. "Let the kid have his fun, eh? Besides," and here he chuckled, glancing at Itachi, "It's not like we have to mouth-fuck Leader."

Itachi was looking paler than usual. In fact, he felt paler than usual, if that was possible. "I – I…I'm going to bed," he announced, standing.

Kisame snorted. "Don't you want to see what he won with?" He reached over to turn Deidara's cards over.

"I had a royal flush," Itachi was murmuring, to no one in particular. "A royal flush. And now –" he cut himself off and swallowed.

Kisame suddenly roared with laughter. Sasori soon joined him. Itachi looked over at the pair, slightly dazed and very confused.

"Shoulda stayed in, kid," Kisame said, slapping Deidara's hand down.

Itachi looked down and saw red.

Below him on the table was a king of hearts, a ten of diamonds, a three of spades, and two aces.

A pair. Of. Aces.

A pair of aces.

Itachi Uchiha – Killer of Families, S-class missing nin, ANBU-at-age-thirteen-Itachi – had lost a game of poker by a bluff with a pair of fucking aces.

He is a dead man.

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The next morning, Deidara woke up with cat piss all over his room.

Needless to say, he was less than pleased.

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Bahaha. The game of poker portrayed here is, as Kisame said, very much bastardized.

Might continue this, in a sort of 'akatsuki play board games' kind of thing.

Thoughts?