Sasori found it hard to focus on the puppet he had before him; every now and again he would have to stop what he was doing so he wouldn’t mess anything up as he laughed. Not too long ago his friend Deidara had called him, having realized 30 minutes before his curfew that he was an hour away from his foster home, alone in the most dangerous part of the city with the buses no longer running. His first thought was to call him, seeing as how he lived close by with his grandmother (which was incorrect, his grandmother lived with him), but having been denied, he called the police to take him home. For some reason, he thought it would be a good idea to call Sasori again and tell him about it.
He had been laughing about it ever since.
°~•~°
Sasori put a hand up to his nose as water ran down to his mouth. You’d think he would have learned by now to not drink anything while talking with his friend, because no matter what he always pays for it. Well, at least it wasn’t coffee this time. “Could you repeat that?” he asked after blowing his nose. “Fuck you, yeah,” Deidara's voice came from the other end. “This is all your fault, un.” Sasori threw away the used tissue, asking, “How is this my fault?”
“I told you to come pick me up!”
“I’m not getting another speeding ticket because of you. I’ve done enough community service as is.” He could hear Deidara stutter on the other line before launching into a speech about how he was supposed to be there for the younger man and how scary his foster mom was.
Sasori just sat down at his desk, putting his phone on speaker as he began to work on his puppet once more. The young man was more worried about Konan? The woman was nothing compared to her brother, Nagato. There was a reason everyone called the man Pain. It was roughly 3 minutes later that sirens could be heard in the background.
°~•~°
His phone chimed, letting him know he had a new message. He smiled and picked up his phone, seeing it was from Deidara. He wasn’t sure what he expected it to be, but it most certainly wasn’t some hot 20-year-old man wearing a police uniform with the text saying that the man was a massive flirt. He had white hair that was slicked back and what looked like purple eyes; it was hard to tell with the lighting, city lights blurring the background while red and blue reflected off of store windows. The smile Sasori had before slipped as he stared at his friends' message.
This was… unexpected. And it certainly wasn’t funny anymore, either. He was still staring at the screen of his phone when he received another text. His jaw went slack as he read the text message. He had a date with the cop?!
Sasori’s eyebrows furrowed as he frowned down at his phone, suddenly feeling bitter. Deidara was (basically) his only friend and he was going to lose him to some cop that just swept him off his feet, then they were going to get married, and have kids and then he was going to die alone in his basement while his grandmother outlived him. He slowly beginning to hate the police just as much as his baby cousins did. He looked over at his glass of water and his frown deepened; he needed something as bitter as he felt. He needed coffee; black, with no cream and no sugar.
He pushed away from his desk and did not stomp over to the stairway leading to the kitchen upstairs, and he did not wake up his grandmother as he did not make all kinds of noise as he made coffee. It was noisy on his way up because the basement stairs are old and creak when stepped on and his grandmother woke up because she’s old and senile. When she asked what was wrong, three words slipped past his lips before he could stop them.
“Fuck the police.”