Work in Progress
“Go away.”
“But Deidara-”
“That’s Mr. Bang to you.”
“Oh come on…don’t be so stodgy podgy, Deidara. Mr. Bang. You’re not busy. Anyway, I’m a patron. I can’t be expected to navigate the library by my lonesome.”
Deidara slowly lifted his gaze from his computer screen. He had encountered a number of strange individuals during three years of librarianship (the dregs of society borrowed books just as often as the pearls), however none of them were able to provoke vexation quite like Tobias Madara, who currently perched on the edge of Deidara’s desk as if he owned it, grinning a bright-eyed grin.
The very same bright-eyed grin he grinned every time he showed up for his weekly “annoy the shit out of Mr. Bang” session.
Initially, Deidara toyed with the notion that this grin must have ulterior motives of some kind (he leaned toward the sinister variety), but any suspicions of foul-play were quashed once Tobias-Tobi-established his character as a cheerful, albeit obnoxious, college kid who’d probably attempt to domesticate a fly before he’d dream of hurting it.
The grin still unnerved him, though.
Scowling, he removed his wire-rimmed glasses, set them on the desk beside his mouse pad, and kneaded the bridge of his nose.
“Listen, kid. First thing’s first. Who are you to tell me whether or not I’m busy? Here I’m the authority figure, understand? Second…I’ve showed you how to use the catalog. Do a search. And get off my desk, un.”
Tobi stayed where he was, grin firmly in place.
“But what if I need help finding a shelf?”
Deidara put the glasses back on. Today’s word is pest, he thought caustically, adding it to a growing mental list that included nuisance, parasite, lummox, and amoeba, among others. His personal favorite was dumbass.
Tobi certainly knew how to act like one.
“Off the desk,” he repeated, his attention focused on the monitor again, which displayed a blank-save for three terse sentences he’d probably erase once he read back over them-Word document that was supposed to contain a detailed review of the newest best-selling novel by the newest best-selling pop-culture panderer whose brilliant, heart-stopping masterpiece would be canon fodder come next year (or next month, or even next week) when fads changed and technology upgraded and another Big Name stepped into the spotlight.
Frankly, Deidara would rather discuss the merits of online Tetris. An ice age, and a few revamps, after its creation and the game’s charm hadn’t diminished; like wine, the older it was, the better it got.
He played a lot of online Tetris. So much, in fact, that he usually had the website minimized to provide easy access should he require distraction from work-related tasks (or people named Tobias Madara) throughout the day.
Now seemed like as good a moment as any to resume his attempt to advance a level.
“Tobi. Desk.”
“Right, right.” Tobi promptly hopped off-he’d learned the boundaries of Deidara’s patience via trial and error, so he understood when he was toeing the line. Before ambling away in pursuit of whatever subject currently claimed his interest (other than Deidara, who was a constant), he paused to dig through his pockets and, producing a handful of slightly melted Jolly Ranchers, dumped them across Deidara’s keyboard. “I eat those when I’m playing Tetris,” he supplied helpfully upon Deidara’s incredulous look. “Sugar rush, and all. Makes me extra responsive.”
Unaccompanied by a wink, the word “responsive” is relatively harmless, a synonym for “alert” or “open,” or “receptive,” even (six months in the cataloging department-the longest six months of his life-is enough to rewire one’s brain to automatically make connections between things, whether or not a connection is desirable or necessary).
When there is winking involved, however, “responsive” takes on a whole new meaning.
Tobi winked. He most definitely, without any semblance of a doubt, any possibility of dispute, winked.
Now what the hell was Deidara supposed to do with that?
Play Tetris. Lots of Tetris. And not eat those Jolly Ranchers all over his keyboard. He was half-tempted to sweep them off and pretend he hadn’t seen them, even when his coworkers wandered by and started asking why there were Jolly Ranchers on the floor-which they inevitably would. Librarians are a nosy bunch. Always in each other’s business, because on slow days, being in each other’s business was The Thing to Do (besides playing online Tetris or sitting behind one’s desk staring intently at one’s screen in an effort to appear busy).
During their phone conversations, Deidara often mentioned this fact, at some length, to his little sister.
“I have no bloody privacy, un. We’re supposed to be these die-hard advocates of privacy, and I have none. ‘What are you reading?’ ‘What are you looking at?’ ‘Do you have any plans for the weekend?’ ‘I want to set you up with my cousin, you’re too cute to be single.’ Sod off, the whole lot of you!”
His sister had a very rich laugh, from years of practice spent laughing at people, including herself (though she laughed at herself the least; vanity ran strong in their family, a shortcoming they all embraced by varying degrees).
Like clockwork, once he finished ranting (and sometimes she wouldn’t give him the chance to finish), she’d laugh and tell him he picked the perfect job to accommodate his chronically loose jaw. He’d spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes violently protesting her assessment, and then, after he’d exhausted the topic, proceed to reiterate the rest of his day amidst more laughter, before she put his niece on the line to say hello to “Uncle Deidei.” Burnt out from unloading on his sister, Deidara would melt…as stoically as possible. Every time. His niece had a formidable power of her own, one that acquired promises, like hash marks on a chart, of gifts or piggyback rides or trips to the zoo.
Regardless of the laughing and the digs and the threats to his bank account, Deidara rang his sister weekly. He’d probably ring her tonight, come to think of it. With Tobias Madara (dumbass, dumbass, dumbass) in the picture, showering Jolly Ranchers on his keyboard…winking…Deidara needed an outlet for this…predicament.
“Oy, Dei-Mr. Bang. You don’t mind if I steal a green apple, do ya?”
Apparently, while he’d been brooding, Tobi took advantage of Deidara’s relaxed vigilance and hedged back to the desk.
Deidara frowned.
“Are you talking about the candy you threw at me?”
“Hahaha, I didn’t throw it.” Tobi flapped a hand nonchalantly. “But anyway, do you mind? I kinda gave you my entire stash, and green apple’s the best.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, expression somewhat sheepish. “I just…I was wandering around the 900s and I got hit by this sudden craving, you know? So I reached into my pocket, right, and then I remembered!” He smacked the desk for emphasis. “In a fit of generosity, I bequeathed my Jolly Ranchers to you.” Here, he paused in his dialogue to smile knowingly at Deidara. “Bequeathed is such a great word, isn’t it? I read it in this book we’re discussing for one of my English classes.”
Deidara agreed. Bequeathed was a great word.
“Get to the point, Tobi.”
He was under no obligation to voice his agreement, however.
“The point? The…oh, right! Yes! Point!” Tobi crossed his arms, and uncrossed them not a moment later. He always had to be moving in some way or another, whether he was jiggling his leg or scratching at an itch that migrated from spot to spot or gesticulating wildly (calmly, frantically, patiently, etc. etc. etc.)-Deidara was convinced he had to have a bit of Italian in him, because those Italians loved to talk with their hands. “My point is-hey, didn’t I already mention my point? Jolly Rancher? Green apple?” He motioned with his index finger between the two of them. “Share?” The smile was evident in his voice, as palpable as those instant messaging emoticons tacked to the end of a sentence, and just as irritating. Deidara hated emoticons. With a passion.
Actually…transcribed, pretty much everything that came out of Tobi’s mouth would conclude in an emoticon.
Yuck.
And then. And then. There was this issue about the Jolly Ranchers. Sure, Deidara hadn’t solicited them, and he didn’t necessarily intend to eat them (okay…well maybe he would or maybe he’d go with his original plan and toss them negligently on the floor), but they were his now. Tobi should’ve thought this through before he got it in his head that it’d be a wonderful idea to vandalize Deidara’s workspace (vandalize was a stretch, though he felt entitled to a little indulgence).
“No.”
Tobi puffed his cheeks like a blowfish. His eyes (one dark brown, one filmy and discolored) were squinted, his nose wrinkled, his eyebrows knit. Comical, really.
Deidara didn’t laugh. Part of him wanted to. The part that assured him it was acceptable to wear sweater vests and pin calendars featuring cute fuzzy baby animals on his kitchen wall and watch reruns of Golden Girls.
He did none of those things, by the way. His sweater vests stayed in his dresser except for when he had nothing else to wear, his cute fuzzy baby animal calendar was planner-sized (and therefore not on the kitchen wall), and Golden Girls…
Er. Perhaps he was guilty of watching Golden Girls.
Anyhow. Deidara remained positively statuesque. Positively-
“Please?”
-statuesque.
“I said no, un.”
“Pleeeeaaaaaseee?” Tobi’s lower lip quivered. He looked beseechingly at Deidara, who ground his teeth (too hard).
So this is what it’s like when you’re thrown to the wolves. (Where the hell were the other patrons? Could the library be this empty on a Saturday afternoon? Or what about his nosy colleagues? Now was a good time to nose. Now was a fucking stellar time to nose.)
“You’re deliberately trying to make me feel guilty for not sharing the candy you gave me, un.”
Tobi appeared to mull that over (complete with chin-tapping and vacant expression, just like in the movies).
“Yep!” He said finally.
Oh, you think you’re so cute. Haha. Hah. Ha. Ha.
“Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?” Deidara replied, decidedly irritated.
“Yes,” Tobi said placidly, as if he were high on angel dust or some other recreational drug (which wouldn’t be surprising).
After a beat, Deidara sighed. A theatric sigh that he’d most likely look back on and shudder over, but he was already indulging himself, anyhow, so what did an additional concession matter?
“I suppose I should be grateful we’re on the same page, at least.” He crossed his arms and nodded sharply at Tobi, an unspoken invitation to take what he wanted but be quick about it.
“Haha, you’re the best, Deidara!”
“Mr. Bang.” A rote correction, really. Habit.
“Pfft.” Tobi waved his hand and leaned across the desk to root through the candies, snatching up every light green one he came across. “We’re on friendly terms, right?”
Just when he thought he might have his feet beneath him again, when things were settling down, rearranging themselves in patterns he recognized, Tobi shook everything up. Like a fucking snowglobe.
First, it was “responsive.” Now…“friendly terms”?
What went on inside this kid’s head? Did he even think before he spoke or was his mouth too damn fast for his brain?
Deidara wanted to scream. A nice, long, loud, dramatic scream.
Shame he didn’t have any of his special handcrafted fireworks on him. Nothing would make him happier at the moment than to see Tobi explode in a flurry of multicolored sparks and flash power. Dahlia. You’re worthy of a Dahlia, un.
“Tobi-”
“See? You’re already calling me Tobi! It used to be just “brat,” or “Tobias,” even, so I think that means you must’ve accepted me as a friend.”
Oh. Well…shit. Deidara didn’t realize the brat was paying such close attention.
“Quit making assumptions, un.”
“Is it an assumption?” Tobi unwrapped a candy and popped it into his mouth. “Oh, that’s so good. These things are like, the nectar of the gods, I’m telling you.”
Sure it was an assumption. Of course it was an assumption. Of all the stupid…
But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he had accepted Tobias Madara, if only just a little bit. A very little bit. Though that was to be expected, if he rationalized it. Tobi was in here every week, so Deidara got used to seeing him. He got used to him.
Not like he had much choice in the matter.
Bah.
“All right, all right, whatever.” Deidara waved his hand in a dismissal. “Just…go away.”
“Okay!” Jolly Ranchers secured, Tobi gave him a mock salute. “I’ll be back in a couple days. Got a paper coming up for Medieval History. Need to research and stuff.”
Deidara knew exactly what the “and stuff” consisted of.
“When’s it due?” He maximized the Tetris window. Pixilated wonderland of boundless distraction, meet too curious librarian who is Not curious one bit.
“Mmm…Wednesday? Yeah, Wednesday.”
Four days. Which meant Tobi would do his “research and stuff” on Monday, procrastinate until Tuesday night (technically Wednesday morning), write the paper half-asleep, turn it in, and receive the highest grade in the class.
Disgusting.
And mystifying, almost. Tobi was the last person Deidara would’ve pegged as valedictorian material, yet he’d received top marks since his freshman year at Princeton (uh-huh, The Princeton). The university paid him to attend, not the other way around.
“Bye-bye, Deidara. Nice talking. Kick some Tetris butt for me!”
Tobi disappeared before Deidara could get a word in edgewise. He heard him chattering loudly with the ladies at the circulation desk, though (they treated him like he was a stray cat they took in off the streets and raised).
“I love that kid. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“He’s a gnat.”
Nancy, the thirty-something children’s librarian who was a repeat offender of setting Deidara up with this friend or that friend or the girl she randomly met at the mall (“Hey, I showed her your picture, you know, the one we took at the convention in Vegas, and she’s definitely interested, you should call her; I wrote her number down on a piece of napkin…just mind the baby barf, Connor had an accident.”), stood beside his chair, one hand on the headrest, the other on her hip.
She figured out eventually that Deidara didn’t take kindly to her well-meant matchmaking endeavors, but that didn’t mean she’d thrown in the towel.
Far from it.
“Hm…he’s cute, isn’t he?”
“What?”
She took a step back and looked at him appraisingly, as if studying a piece of furniture in a showroom. He almost cringed.
“You agree, don’t you? You’re allowed to think another guy is cute, you know. I mean, hey, we’ve already played the girl card, maybe we should move on to the guy ca-”
Deidara threw a Jolly Rancher at her head. It hit her nose, rebounded, and dropped down the front of her V-neck sweater. Quirking an eyebrow, she hazarded a glance about, then plucked the candy from where it caught, in her bra, presumably.
“How’d you know I like cherry?” she said when she saw what flavor it was.
“Lucky guess,” Deidara replied dryly.
Nancy grinned, pocketing her prize. “He’s cute, Deidara.” She ruffled his long, blonde hair, for once out of its ponytail, and started back to her own desk. “Think about it!”
He did. That was part of the problem.
“Fuck.”
Deidara grabbed a Jolly Rancher (grape), yanked the wrapper off, and shoved it in his mouth.
Grape was no green apple.
………
“What the hell am I supposed to make of this shit? I just…the things he says! And Nancy! Nancy with her goddamn offhanded comments. ‘Oh, he’s cute, Deidara!’ Yeah, I get the hint, Nance, thanks a fucking million.”
Seven ‘o clock. Deidara, dressed in an old, clay-spattered T-shirt and oversized sweatpants, sat on a tall wooden stool in the corner of the dining room, where he’d set up his pottery wheel (lovingly dubbed Pandora). He’d spread a canvas tarp over the floor to protect the carpet (at his landlord’s behest), and his Jack Russell, Jasper, was currently gnawing on the edge of it-apparently, he found something appetizing about the tarp.
Dogs found something appetizing about poop, too.
He nudged Jasper with his foot. “Stop,” he mouthed. The dog looked up at him, tongue lolling, and returned to the tarp.
Wise guy.
“From everything you’ve told me, Tobi sounds adorable.” Ino’s voice, like his own, had a slight hint of an accent left over from their childhood in England (it really came out when they visited their parents, who hadn’t lost their lilt at all). She lived in Ohio now, the owner of an upscale flower store in the heart of downtown Columbus. Her husband was a chef at an Italian restaurant (she met him, incidentally, on a cruise to the Caribbean, where he was a server at the buffet).
Deidara hitched his shoulder a little, to adjust the phone. Hard to talk and sculpt at the same time, but he managed it.
“As adorable as a paper cut, un.”
Ino laughed her rich laugh. “I recall you saying something similar about Maddy when she was born.” The smugness behind that statement was apparent.
“She’s different. She’s my niece. Tobi is…Tobi’s a dumbass.”
“Do I detect affection?”
“No, you do not,” Deidara snapped quickly.
“And now we’re defensive,” Ino mused. “Fishy, Dei. Very fishy.”
“Oh shut up,” he grumbled, soaking his hands in the earthenware jar full of water next to the wheel. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am! You’ll thank me later, after you’ve sorted out your sexuality and are blissfully happy with some gorgeous beefcake-”
“Ino. Not you, too!”
“Yes, me too. Nancy has a point-ack, hold up.” Ino had lowered the receiver on her end. Deidara heard crackling, and then “It’s my brother-yeah! Just give her-Oh God. Well I think those washable markers aren’t toxic…she’ll pee orange for a week” -here, Deidara blanched- “Sure, I’ll let him know.” She spoke into the phone again. “Sorry, Maddy ate the tip of a marker. Anyway, Chouji says hi. He’s excited about Christmas this year.”
“Maddy ate a marker?”
“Not the whole thing. Just the tip. No big deal. She’ll pee-”
“Orange, yeah, I heard.” Deidara shuddered. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“What, mother a child? It’s tough. Somebody’s gotta do it, though.”
Deidara loved his sister. He really did. Even when she drove him crazy.
He deliberately steered around the subject of his sexuality and focused on the other topic of discussion.
“So you guys are definitely coming?”
Deidara offered to do Christmas at his place this time (it was at Ino’s last year). Their parents would stay at a hotel, and Ino, Chouji, and Maddy would sleep in Deidara’s spare bedroom. It’d be close quarters for everybody, and Deidara might end up regretting it, but it was a once-a-year thing, so he’d deal.
“Yep! We’ll be there on the 19th. Mum said something about the 22nd when I talked to her last. You might want to ring her to find out for sure.”
Ugh. That’d be a three-hour conversation.
“Why don’t you do it-”
There was a beep on his end.
“Another call?”
“Mm. Gimme a sec, Ino.”
“Sure.”
Deidara wiped his hands on his shirt and hit the “talk” button to switch to the other caller.
“Hello?”
“Deidara? Is that you?”
He nearly flung the phone across the room.
"...Tobi."
---
End, chapter one.
alfsj I really hope you guys enjoyed! *spaz*
“But Deidara-”
“That’s Mr. Bang to you.”
“Oh come on…don’t be so stodgy podgy, Deidara. Mr. Bang. You’re not busy. Anyway, I’m a patron. I can’t be expected to navigate the library by my lonesome.”
Deidara slowly lifted his gaze from his computer screen. He had encountered a number of strange individuals during three years of librarianship (the dregs of society borrowed books just as often as the pearls), however none of them were able to provoke vexation quite like Tobias Madara, who currently perched on the edge of Deidara’s desk as if he owned it, grinning a bright-eyed grin.
The very same bright-eyed grin he grinned every time he showed up for his weekly “annoy the shit out of Mr. Bang” session.
Initially, Deidara toyed with the notion that this grin must have ulterior motives of some kind (he leaned toward the sinister variety), but any suspicions of foul-play were quashed once Tobias-Tobi-established his character as a cheerful, albeit obnoxious, college kid who’d probably attempt to domesticate a fly before he’d dream of hurting it.
The grin still unnerved him, though.
Scowling, he removed his wire-rimmed glasses, set them on the desk beside his mouse pad, and kneaded the bridge of his nose.
“Listen, kid. First thing’s first. Who are you to tell me whether or not I’m busy? Here I’m the authority figure, understand? Second…I’ve showed you how to use the catalog. Do a search. And get off my desk, un.”
Tobi stayed where he was, grin firmly in place.
“But what if I need help finding a shelf?”
Deidara put the glasses back on. Today’s word is pest, he thought caustically, adding it to a growing mental list that included nuisance, parasite, lummox, and amoeba, among others. His personal favorite was dumbass.
Tobi certainly knew how to act like one.
“Off the desk,” he repeated, his attention focused on the monitor again, which displayed a blank-save for three terse sentences he’d probably erase once he read back over them-Word document that was supposed to contain a detailed review of the newest best-selling novel by the newest best-selling pop-culture panderer whose brilliant, heart-stopping masterpiece would be canon fodder come next year (or next month, or even next week) when fads changed and technology upgraded and another Big Name stepped into the spotlight.
Frankly, Deidara would rather discuss the merits of online Tetris. An ice age, and a few revamps, after its creation and the game’s charm hadn’t diminished; like wine, the older it was, the better it got.
He played a lot of online Tetris. So much, in fact, that he usually had the website minimized to provide easy access should he require distraction from work-related tasks (or people named Tobias Madara) throughout the day.
Now seemed like as good a moment as any to resume his attempt to advance a level.
“Tobi. Desk.”
“Right, right.” Tobi promptly hopped off-he’d learned the boundaries of Deidara’s patience via trial and error, so he understood when he was toeing the line. Before ambling away in pursuit of whatever subject currently claimed his interest (other than Deidara, who was a constant), he paused to dig through his pockets and, producing a handful of slightly melted Jolly Ranchers, dumped them across Deidara’s keyboard. “I eat those when I’m playing Tetris,” he supplied helpfully upon Deidara’s incredulous look. “Sugar rush, and all. Makes me extra responsive.”
Unaccompanied by a wink, the word “responsive” is relatively harmless, a synonym for “alert” or “open,” or “receptive,” even (six months in the cataloging department-the longest six months of his life-is enough to rewire one’s brain to automatically make connections between things, whether or not a connection is desirable or necessary).
When there is winking involved, however, “responsive” takes on a whole new meaning.
Tobi winked. He most definitely, without any semblance of a doubt, any possibility of dispute, winked.
Now what the hell was Deidara supposed to do with that?
Play Tetris. Lots of Tetris. And not eat those Jolly Ranchers all over his keyboard. He was half-tempted to sweep them off and pretend he hadn’t seen them, even when his coworkers wandered by and started asking why there were Jolly Ranchers on the floor-which they inevitably would. Librarians are a nosy bunch. Always in each other’s business, because on slow days, being in each other’s business was The Thing to Do (besides playing online Tetris or sitting behind one’s desk staring intently at one’s screen in an effort to appear busy).
During their phone conversations, Deidara often mentioned this fact, at some length, to his little sister.
“I have no bloody privacy, un. We’re supposed to be these die-hard advocates of privacy, and I have none. ‘What are you reading?’ ‘What are you looking at?’ ‘Do you have any plans for the weekend?’ ‘I want to set you up with my cousin, you’re too cute to be single.’ Sod off, the whole lot of you!”
His sister had a very rich laugh, from years of practice spent laughing at people, including herself (though she laughed at herself the least; vanity ran strong in their family, a shortcoming they all embraced by varying degrees).
Like clockwork, once he finished ranting (and sometimes she wouldn’t give him the chance to finish), she’d laugh and tell him he picked the perfect job to accommodate his chronically loose jaw. He’d spend the next fifteen to twenty minutes violently protesting her assessment, and then, after he’d exhausted the topic, proceed to reiterate the rest of his day amidst more laughter, before she put his niece on the line to say hello to “Uncle Deidei.” Burnt out from unloading on his sister, Deidara would melt…as stoically as possible. Every time. His niece had a formidable power of her own, one that acquired promises, like hash marks on a chart, of gifts or piggyback rides or trips to the zoo.
Regardless of the laughing and the digs and the threats to his bank account, Deidara rang his sister weekly. He’d probably ring her tonight, come to think of it. With Tobias Madara (dumbass, dumbass, dumbass) in the picture, showering Jolly Ranchers on his keyboard…winking…Deidara needed an outlet for this…predicament.
“Oy, Dei-Mr. Bang. You don’t mind if I steal a green apple, do ya?”
Apparently, while he’d been brooding, Tobi took advantage of Deidara’s relaxed vigilance and hedged back to the desk.
Deidara frowned.
“Are you talking about the candy you threw at me?”
“Hahaha, I didn’t throw it.” Tobi flapped a hand nonchalantly. “But anyway, do you mind? I kinda gave you my entire stash, and green apple’s the best.” He rubbed the nape of his neck, expression somewhat sheepish. “I just…I was wandering around the 900s and I got hit by this sudden craving, you know? So I reached into my pocket, right, and then I remembered!” He smacked the desk for emphasis. “In a fit of generosity, I bequeathed my Jolly Ranchers to you.” Here, he paused in his dialogue to smile knowingly at Deidara. “Bequeathed is such a great word, isn’t it? I read it in this book we’re discussing for one of my English classes.”
Deidara agreed. Bequeathed was a great word.
“Get to the point, Tobi.”
He was under no obligation to voice his agreement, however.
“The point? The…oh, right! Yes! Point!” Tobi crossed his arms, and uncrossed them not a moment later. He always had to be moving in some way or another, whether he was jiggling his leg or scratching at an itch that migrated from spot to spot or gesticulating wildly (calmly, frantically, patiently, etc. etc. etc.)-Deidara was convinced he had to have a bit of Italian in him, because those Italians loved to talk with their hands. “My point is-hey, didn’t I already mention my point? Jolly Rancher? Green apple?” He motioned with his index finger between the two of them. “Share?” The smile was evident in his voice, as palpable as those instant messaging emoticons tacked to the end of a sentence, and just as irritating. Deidara hated emoticons. With a passion.
Actually…transcribed, pretty much everything that came out of Tobi’s mouth would conclude in an emoticon.
Yuck.
And then. And then. There was this issue about the Jolly Ranchers. Sure, Deidara hadn’t solicited them, and he didn’t necessarily intend to eat them (okay…well maybe he would or maybe he’d go with his original plan and toss them negligently on the floor), but they were his now. Tobi should’ve thought this through before he got it in his head that it’d be a wonderful idea to vandalize Deidara’s workspace (vandalize was a stretch, though he felt entitled to a little indulgence).
“No.”
Tobi puffed his cheeks like a blowfish. His eyes (one dark brown, one filmy and discolored) were squinted, his nose wrinkled, his eyebrows knit. Comical, really.
Deidara didn’t laugh. Part of him wanted to. The part that assured him it was acceptable to wear sweater vests and pin calendars featuring cute fuzzy baby animals on his kitchen wall and watch reruns of Golden Girls.
He did none of those things, by the way. His sweater vests stayed in his dresser except for when he had nothing else to wear, his cute fuzzy baby animal calendar was planner-sized (and therefore not on the kitchen wall), and Golden Girls…
Er. Perhaps he was guilty of watching Golden Girls.
Anyhow. Deidara remained positively statuesque. Positively-
“Please?”
-statuesque.
“I said no, un.”
“Pleeeeaaaaaseee?” Tobi’s lower lip quivered. He looked beseechingly at Deidara, who ground his teeth (too hard).
So this is what it’s like when you’re thrown to the wolves. (Where the hell were the other patrons? Could the library be this empty on a Saturday afternoon? Or what about his nosy colleagues? Now was a good time to nose. Now was a fucking stellar time to nose.)
“You’re deliberately trying to make me feel guilty for not sharing the candy you gave me, un.”
Tobi appeared to mull that over (complete with chin-tapping and vacant expression, just like in the movies).
“Yep!” He said finally.
Oh, you think you’re so cute. Haha. Hah. Ha. Ha.
“Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?” Deidara replied, decidedly irritated.
“Yes,” Tobi said placidly, as if he were high on angel dust or some other recreational drug (which wouldn’t be surprising).
After a beat, Deidara sighed. A theatric sigh that he’d most likely look back on and shudder over, but he was already indulging himself, anyhow, so what did an additional concession matter?
“I suppose I should be grateful we’re on the same page, at least.” He crossed his arms and nodded sharply at Tobi, an unspoken invitation to take what he wanted but be quick about it.
“Haha, you’re the best, Deidara!”
“Mr. Bang.” A rote correction, really. Habit.
“Pfft.” Tobi waved his hand and leaned across the desk to root through the candies, snatching up every light green one he came across. “We’re on friendly terms, right?”
Just when he thought he might have his feet beneath him again, when things were settling down, rearranging themselves in patterns he recognized, Tobi shook everything up. Like a fucking snowglobe.
First, it was “responsive.” Now…“friendly terms”?
What went on inside this kid’s head? Did he even think before he spoke or was his mouth too damn fast for his brain?
Deidara wanted to scream. A nice, long, loud, dramatic scream.
Shame he didn’t have any of his special handcrafted fireworks on him. Nothing would make him happier at the moment than to see Tobi explode in a flurry of multicolored sparks and flash power. Dahlia. You’re worthy of a Dahlia, un.
“Tobi-”
“See? You’re already calling me Tobi! It used to be just “brat,” or “Tobias,” even, so I think that means you must’ve accepted me as a friend.”
Oh. Well…shit. Deidara didn’t realize the brat was paying such close attention.
“Quit making assumptions, un.”
“Is it an assumption?” Tobi unwrapped a candy and popped it into his mouth. “Oh, that’s so good. These things are like, the nectar of the gods, I’m telling you.”
Sure it was an assumption. Of course it was an assumption. Of all the stupid…
But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he had accepted Tobias Madara, if only just a little bit. A very little bit. Though that was to be expected, if he rationalized it. Tobi was in here every week, so Deidara got used to seeing him. He got used to him.
Not like he had much choice in the matter.
Bah.
“All right, all right, whatever.” Deidara waved his hand in a dismissal. “Just…go away.”
“Okay!” Jolly Ranchers secured, Tobi gave him a mock salute. “I’ll be back in a couple days. Got a paper coming up for Medieval History. Need to research and stuff.”
Deidara knew exactly what the “and stuff” consisted of.
“When’s it due?” He maximized the Tetris window. Pixilated wonderland of boundless distraction, meet too curious librarian who is Not curious one bit.
“Mmm…Wednesday? Yeah, Wednesday.”
Four days. Which meant Tobi would do his “research and stuff” on Monday, procrastinate until Tuesday night (technically Wednesday morning), write the paper half-asleep, turn it in, and receive the highest grade in the class.
Disgusting.
And mystifying, almost. Tobi was the last person Deidara would’ve pegged as valedictorian material, yet he’d received top marks since his freshman year at Princeton (uh-huh, The Princeton). The university paid him to attend, not the other way around.
“Bye-bye, Deidara. Nice talking. Kick some Tetris butt for me!”
Tobi disappeared before Deidara could get a word in edgewise. He heard him chattering loudly with the ladies at the circulation desk, though (they treated him like he was a stray cat they took in off the streets and raised).
“I love that kid. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“He’s a gnat.”
Nancy, the thirty-something children’s librarian who was a repeat offender of setting Deidara up with this friend or that friend or the girl she randomly met at the mall (“Hey, I showed her your picture, you know, the one we took at the convention in Vegas, and she’s definitely interested, you should call her; I wrote her number down on a piece of napkin…just mind the baby barf, Connor had an accident.”), stood beside his chair, one hand on the headrest, the other on her hip.
She figured out eventually that Deidara didn’t take kindly to her well-meant matchmaking endeavors, but that didn’t mean she’d thrown in the towel.
Far from it.
“Hm…he’s cute, isn’t he?”
“What?”
She took a step back and looked at him appraisingly, as if studying a piece of furniture in a showroom. He almost cringed.
“You agree, don’t you? You’re allowed to think another guy is cute, you know. I mean, hey, we’ve already played the girl card, maybe we should move on to the guy ca-”
Deidara threw a Jolly Rancher at her head. It hit her nose, rebounded, and dropped down the front of her V-neck sweater. Quirking an eyebrow, she hazarded a glance about, then plucked the candy from where it caught, in her bra, presumably.
“How’d you know I like cherry?” she said when she saw what flavor it was.
“Lucky guess,” Deidara replied dryly.
Nancy grinned, pocketing her prize. “He’s cute, Deidara.” She ruffled his long, blonde hair, for once out of its ponytail, and started back to her own desk. “Think about it!”
He did. That was part of the problem.
“Fuck.”
Deidara grabbed a Jolly Rancher (grape), yanked the wrapper off, and shoved it in his mouth.
Grape was no green apple.
………
“What the hell am I supposed to make of this shit? I just…the things he says! And Nancy! Nancy with her goddamn offhanded comments. ‘Oh, he’s cute, Deidara!’ Yeah, I get the hint, Nance, thanks a fucking million.”
Seven ‘o clock. Deidara, dressed in an old, clay-spattered T-shirt and oversized sweatpants, sat on a tall wooden stool in the corner of the dining room, where he’d set up his pottery wheel (lovingly dubbed Pandora). He’d spread a canvas tarp over the floor to protect the carpet (at his landlord’s behest), and his Jack Russell, Jasper, was currently gnawing on the edge of it-apparently, he found something appetizing about the tarp.
Dogs found something appetizing about poop, too.
He nudged Jasper with his foot. “Stop,” he mouthed. The dog looked up at him, tongue lolling, and returned to the tarp.
Wise guy.
“From everything you’ve told me, Tobi sounds adorable.” Ino’s voice, like his own, had a slight hint of an accent left over from their childhood in England (it really came out when they visited their parents, who hadn’t lost their lilt at all). She lived in Ohio now, the owner of an upscale flower store in the heart of downtown Columbus. Her husband was a chef at an Italian restaurant (she met him, incidentally, on a cruise to the Caribbean, where he was a server at the buffet).
Deidara hitched his shoulder a little, to adjust the phone. Hard to talk and sculpt at the same time, but he managed it.
“As adorable as a paper cut, un.”
Ino laughed her rich laugh. “I recall you saying something similar about Maddy when she was born.” The smugness behind that statement was apparent.
“She’s different. She’s my niece. Tobi is…Tobi’s a dumbass.”
“Do I detect affection?”
“No, you do not,” Deidara snapped quickly.
“And now we’re defensive,” Ino mused. “Fishy, Dei. Very fishy.”
“Oh shut up,” he grumbled, soaking his hands in the earthenware jar full of water next to the wheel. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am! You’ll thank me later, after you’ve sorted out your sexuality and are blissfully happy with some gorgeous beefcake-”
“Ino. Not you, too!”
“Yes, me too. Nancy has a point-ack, hold up.” Ino had lowered the receiver on her end. Deidara heard crackling, and then “It’s my brother-yeah! Just give her-Oh God. Well I think those washable markers aren’t toxic…she’ll pee orange for a week” -here, Deidara blanched- “Sure, I’ll let him know.” She spoke into the phone again. “Sorry, Maddy ate the tip of a marker. Anyway, Chouji says hi. He’s excited about Christmas this year.”
“Maddy ate a marker?”
“Not the whole thing. Just the tip. No big deal. She’ll pee-”
“Orange, yeah, I heard.” Deidara shuddered. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“What, mother a child? It’s tough. Somebody’s gotta do it, though.”
Deidara loved his sister. He really did. Even when she drove him crazy.
He deliberately steered around the subject of his sexuality and focused on the other topic of discussion.
“So you guys are definitely coming?”
Deidara offered to do Christmas at his place this time (it was at Ino’s last year). Their parents would stay at a hotel, and Ino, Chouji, and Maddy would sleep in Deidara’s spare bedroom. It’d be close quarters for everybody, and Deidara might end up regretting it, but it was a once-a-year thing, so he’d deal.
“Yep! We’ll be there on the 19th. Mum said something about the 22nd when I talked to her last. You might want to ring her to find out for sure.”
Ugh. That’d be a three-hour conversation.
“Why don’t you do it-”
There was a beep on his end.
“Another call?”
“Mm. Gimme a sec, Ino.”
“Sure.”
Deidara wiped his hands on his shirt and hit the “talk” button to switch to the other caller.
“Hello?”
“Deidara? Is that you?”
He nearly flung the phone across the room.
"...Tobi."
---
End, chapter one.
alfsj I really hope you guys enjoyed! *spaz*