Choice
Nothing hit as hard when Sasori realized that he’d rather let Deidara stay as a human than preserve him as a puppet.
The thought of having to incapacitate Deidara and have him live through the gruesome conversion always bothered him, so he always put it off. The task was simple - he’d nick Deidara when he least expected it and carry his numb body to the same workshop that they’d both grew to nurture together. Deidara was tenacious, yes, but still human, and all Sasori needed to bring his partner down, as fiery and unyielding he may be, was one misstep.
Still, Sasori always found excuses. Deidara had developed somewhat of an immunity to Sasori’s poisons - taking him out with his standard poison just wouldn’t do. Sometimes, they had a mission to do. Other times, Sasori decided that he’d rather work on the puppets he already had at the moment. And then, one day, when Sasori couldn’t find any reasonable excuses as to why he should put off killing his partner anymore, Sasori turned to the unreasonable.
From that day on, Sasori’s reason became “because I said so.”
Even as the dull ache in his core hounded him to do what always made sense in his world, Sasori stood his ground. It didn’t matter that Deidara was aging, that unless Sasori finally did something about it, he would die just like any other human someday. That didn’t matter, because he said so.
He saw things more clearly one day, though.
Sasori sat behind Deidara as they flew past the destruction they’d made so finely it was like true art. Below them burned and crumbled yet another village that they’d both marked as their own little canvas. Deidara smiled down at their work, his features delicately painted in the hues of the golden sunset.
“I’ll never get tired of doing this with you,” Deidara sighed, and looked at Sasori with a big, childlike grin. The sun enclosed Deidara’s face in its ethereal, fleeting warmth. “I always have a lot of fun doing this with you, Master.”
Sasori couldn’t explain how or why, but the answer to his dilemma suddenly dawned on him. Deidara was the sun, a force of nature that Sasori could never hope to preserve forever - something that he could only ever appreciate briefly and from afar.
Sasori felt bittersweet at his realization, but returned the boy’s affection nonetheless. “That was a good raid,” Sasori agreed, with a small, gentle smile of his own - his pain ever invisible.
But Deidara had always known him better than anyone else; as if to cushion the blow, he wrapped his arms around Sasori in a tender embrace that felt tighter than usual. “Thank you, Master Sasori,” Deidara said softly, and if Sasori was still human, he could imagine the warmth radiating from Deidara’s touch alone.
Just when Sasori moved his arms to return the embrace, Deidara pulled away… but not without stealing a quick peck on Sasori’s lips. Deidara chuckled at the look on Sasori’s face as he went back to his spot.
Sasori realized, in that brief moment, that turning Deidara into a puppet meant he would lose his spontaneity and his soul; that he’d rob Deidara of his freedom just like how he’d shamelessly stolen kisses from Sasori.
He would rather pay the price of ephemeral beauty if it meant Deidara would stay like this with him.