Sleep
When Deidara grew tired—which was incredibly rare, but it happened—he was the most beautiful contradiction that Sasori had ever seen. A far cry from the explosive little brat that gave Sasori hell, he looked uncharacteristically at peace in his sleep, settling atop Sasori’s lap like some delicate creature. Incoherent syllables would slip from his mouth when Sasori ran his fingers through the silk of his hair—he’d found it so amusing, because even in his sleep, Deidara still didn’t make sense.
It was amusing at first, but when Sasori realized that Deidara was actually murmuring his name in his sleep, he felt a strangely pleasant ache in his core—a contradiction in and of itself. Then it made him wonder—was this the first time he’d appeared in Deidara’s dreams?