Obito had seen everything: robbery, assault, human trafficking, murder, the cat stuck in the tree, you name it, and he's seen it. It was partially the reason why this new case of serial explosions didn't have him batting an eye. There was no clear pattern to the bombings, as if the bomber was tossing an explosive device any time an opportunity arose. The locations were rather dispersed, spanning across every division and sometimes between countries, meaning whoever was planting them had easy access to transportation. What remained consistent between each explosion was the method used, and that was clay sculptures stuffed with whatever means they bomber felt like using that day. Sometimes law enforcement was able to capture the oddly shaped sculptures before they detonated, but that didn't happen often enough, as far as Obito was concerned. Dozens of civilians and officers had been hurt, and while the goal of this bomber hadn't been determined – though they suspected it was for pleasure – the bomber had struck perpetual fear in the public. Obito had no qualms with referring to it as terrorism.
He'd joined the Akatsuki Task Force to further promote justice and prevent this sort of violence from soiling the world. So, while this turn of events didn't surprise him, it was fair to say that he was livid.
And finally, finally, they had a lead.
Obito slammed on the gas, responding to the emergency call with more vigour than his usual routines.
Kisame's voice sounded in his car, somehow audible through the static of the coms, "This guy's nuts. In broad daylight? What's he thinking? Ahem – excuse me. Bomb squad is at the scene, but he's on the run. Tobi, he's heading towards you. Coming in from Spiral Street, south side."
"Short, Caucasian male, long blond hair, young – early twenties, late teens, possibly armed," Itachi described.
Switching off his sirens and lights, Obito simply said, "Copy."
The tall, looming buildings of urban downtown faded away as he neared Spiral Street, a shadier, seedy part of town. He slowed down, camouflaging his black Charger to blend in with traffic. There were too many civilians on the streets to have a gunfight without risking casualties. He'd have to do this quietly. Thankfully, quietly was his specialty.
He signalled and turned onto Spiral Street.
There he was.
Huh. That brat was able to cause as much destruction as he had? It was... mildly impressive.
The kid was walking briskly, attempting to not make it obvious that he was running from the cops, but the sweat dripping down his skin gave him away. If the shock of golden hair wasn't enough, the wild look in his eyes was the final confirmation.
"Suspect in sight," Obito let them know.
"Be careful," someone said, "We're on our way."
Obito slowed down and parked his car on the curbside, far away enough from the suspect to not cause suspicion. He shut off the car and waited. Observed.
The suspect approached him, walking towards him, yet completely oblivious. Obito rolled down the ski mask he wore to cover his mouth. He waited. It was only when the brat sped-walked past his car that he got out, not bothering to shut the door behind him.
A blue eye met his black, and for a brief moment, Obito was sure he was staring up into the sky, flying then suddenly not, now falling down with nothing to hold him up. It jolted him awake, like nothing had before.
The bomber was fast, but Obito was faster. He tackled the suspect to the ground, uncaring for the man's bare arms that scraped painfully against the rocky surface.
"Get off me! Hm!" he shouted and pushed up against him.
Obito only held onto him more firmly, using his own bodyweight as an anchor. Elbow spanning across the man's shoulders, he grabbed his cuffs with his free hand, then twisted the man's arms behind him.
"What the hell, hm! You – "
"Shut up," Obito snapped, and monotonously said his required lines.
"You pathetic simpletons don't understand! You've never been able to! My art is pure, hm. It's perfect," he breathed in, and Obito couldn't help but be fascinated by the way it shook, "I'm trying to show you. Art is an explosion, hm. The sublimity of the final moment – there is nothing more beautiful, hm."
"You've taken lives," Obito eyed him in distaste, "Innocent lives."
"We all die," he whispered harshly, "What appeal is there in slowly rotting away, aging until your body only knows how to survive, until it forgets what it means to live? I'm doing them a favour, hm. I've given them a taste of art! They should be grateful! Hm."
"That's their decision, not yours."
The blue eye was piercing through him again, and Obito felt a shiver curl down his spine at the stare.
This man may have seemed like a young boy from a distance, but up close, he all but screamed danger.
"You fear death, hm. You're scared of change. Have you lost a loved one? I see it in your eyes, hm. You lot disgust me."
"The feeling's mutual," Obito snipped, unhappy to admit that this terrorist he'd met not more than five minutes ago had him figured him out quicker than anyone he's ever met, "What's your name?"
"Deidara," the man replied without missing a beat. He then squinted at the embroidery on his jacket, "Uchiha Obito."
"Don't call me that. At work, it's Tobi. Now, get up," he stood, and pulled up Deidara – if that was even his name.
"Woah!" the kid seemed shocked, "The hell? How much do you even lift, man?"
Obito ignored him, shoving him into the back of his car before sitting in his own seat and locking the doors, "How do you manage to detonate as many explosives as you do? Are you working with a team?"
"You can't interrogate me now, hm. That's not how this works, yeah."
Obito glared at him through the rear-view mirror, "We work differently."
"Who's we?"
He grabbed his radio, once again ignoring the cuffed criminal, "I have him."
"Fucking finally!" Hidan shouted, and judging by how loud the noise was, he likely had the mic pressed right against his mouth.
Obito lowered the volume of his coms to be nearly muted, knowing from experience that Hidan and a few others would not stop the chatter.
"Are you guys even cops?"
"We work for the international government. You, Deidara, are an international criminal. Do you see how things add up?"
"Shut up, you ass, hm. I'm not a dolt."
"I never said you were."
"Yeah, well you implied it! Hm," Deidara turned his head to the side and glared out the darkened windows, "You guys going to torture me then?"
"N – "
"Because I'm sort of into that," he grinned, teeth sharp and pearly white.
Obito breathed in sharply, before exhaling. It was a bad time to notice how attractive the kid was. It was also a bad time to remember his old job description. He felt a migraine forming, and all he could muster was a faint, "Alright."
"It was a joke, man. I'm not into that weird shit, hm."
"How about you tell me more about your... art?" he said the word carefully, like the three letters were the detonator, "Why do you use clay?"
"It isn't flat, hm," he stated, as though it explained everything.
Obito sighed, "Where do you get your supplies?"
"I make them, yeah."
"I mean the TNT, RDX, nitroglycerin, and black powder, Deidara. You don't make these."
"I said what I said, hm."
Obito started the car, and they were driving off. The silence didn't last long, unfortunately. Deidara had to open his mouth.
"Are you sure I can't just suck you off and get away with a slap on my wrist? That always works in movies, hm."
Fucking hell. Obito exhaled through his nose, "This is reality, kid."
"I'm not a kid, hm."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen, hm!" he exclaimed.
He sounded so proud too. Cute.
Obito frowned at his own thoughts, "You're a kid."
"And you're an old hag, hm."
"Shut it. I'm not old," Obito said, feeling a bit self-conscious. He was only thirty. He was still young, dammit!
"Hit a nerve, did I? Fucking hypocrite, hm," Deidara attempted to move his arms, seeming to forget he was cuffed. The rattle woke Obito from his stupor. What the hell was he doing, chatting up a criminal for?
Obito parked into their base station, before dragging Deidara out of the vehicle.
With Deidara standing so close to him, he seemed so much smaller than from at a distance. Obito hated the way it made him feel. It was relieving to know that this brat would be behind bars, out of sight and out of mind by the end of the week.
"He's joining us," Madara declared, hardly looking up from the reports in his hands.
"Excuse me," Obito cleared his throat, "But could you repeat that? What you just said?"
"I want him to join the Akatsuki. We need a bomb specialist. It took us nearly a year to crack his case, which is bad for our name and therefore our funding. He's necessary, so this doesn't happen again," his eyes darkened.
"Understandable," Obito nodded, not daring to question Madara when his eyes were burning red, "However, will the public not be concerned over us hiring a criminal?"
Madara went back to looking at his papers, "We'll frame some other terrorist or arsonist, it doesn't matter. Figure it out. You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir," Obito nodded, unhappy with the turn of events.
He was just about to leave when Madara spoke up again, "Oh, and one more thing. He'll be your partner until further notice."
Obito didn't trust himself to say anything polite, so he walked out and shut the door quietly behind him.
"Am I being executed?" Deidara grinned, as if it were a dream come true.
"No," he said, "Follow me."
Deidara did, still cuffed, and not having made any moves to attempt an escape. Either he was very stupid or very clever; Obito was unsure. But if everything he'd been suspected of committing was true, then the young explosive master here was something else.
He led them to the training grounds, and Obito hated how he noticed the glimmer of wonder in Deidara's eye when they walked by the weapons room. Their explosive devices had gone by mostly untouched, as most of the Akatsuki force had other means of combat. Obito gently pushed him, and Deidara stumbled.
"H-hey, hm!"
They stared at each other for too long, before Obito tore his gaze away, "This way."
They walked into the back room, where spare uniforms were held. A cheap table was set up in the middle, with unspecific maps and charts thrown over it. A few knives had been dug deep into the plastic, and Obito was certain it was from one of Kakuzu's and Hidan's daily – hourly – brawls.
Once Deidara stepped inside, Obito locked the door behind them, and shut the blinds that covered the windows on all sides. He felt Deidara's eyes on him the entire time, up until he grabbed the remote to turn off the cameras as well.
He kicked out a chair, "Sit."
Deidara held a small smirk but complied. He sat down.
Obito slipped a gloved hand into the pocket of his vest, pulling out a key for Deidara to see, "You have two choices. Freedom, including a complete erasure of your criminal record, in exchange for your controlled use of explosive knowledge for our purposes. You'll be hired to work with us. Or, you go to court under charges facing the risk of a lifetime in prison to rot away with no means to complete your 'art'. It's up to you."
Deidara didn't think to hard about it, "I'll work for you, hm. That's generous of you, though. So, what's the catch?"
"You're working with me."
"Fuck, I take it back, hm," Deidara grinned, "Joking."
"Funny."
"You're the catch. Hm."
Obito waited for the next "joking" but it never came. He coughed, "My supervisor seems to trust you, but I don't. He hasn't met you. How do I know you won't run off and go back to your old ways? How do I know you won't self-destruct on the spot?"
"You don't, hm. You've got to give me something to convince me not to. What more can you offer me?"
"You'll be able to blow things up without legal repercussions – though there'll be a lot of paperwork if you kill any innocents. You'll have access to our resources, and you'll be paid well."
"...Fine. As long as I can keep up my art, hm," Deidara's expression looked determined, and Obito was unsure if he felt relief or exasperation. Then he continued, "Show me your face, hm."
Obito was about to protest, but when he looked into that eye again he suddenly made up his mind. He set the key on the table and mechanically pulled the fabric off his face.
Deidara's eyes widened, and the look was just too much. Obito couldn't take it anymore. He leaned in, pressing his lips against the other's soft pair. The brush was enough to send a jolt down his spine.
Deidara moved in closer, pressing his mouth harder and oh god – he was moving against his lips, and it felt so, so good. Obito squeezed tightly onto his shoulders – when his hands got there, he couldn't tell you – and Deidara must have liked that because he groaned, and the sound shot straight through his body.
Obito licked at the petals of his lips, nibbled on them, wanting to hear more sounds. He got them, and each breathy moan had him returning one. But then he remembered where he was. He pulled back, flushed.
"Is this, is this why you disabled the cameras? You, you're a freakin' perv, hm," Deidara stuttered, looked quite dazed, yet still so sure of himself. Obito almost caved and leaned back in for more.
"Truthfully, I was contemplating torturing you," Obito stated bluntly.
Deidara paled, "Oh, hm."
"Anyways," Obito said with a shaky breath, holding up the key, "Do we have a deal?"