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wing-ed-thing · 1 year ago

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Senioritis: Table 2 (Deidara x Reader, Chapter I)

Synopsis: Deidara was fully prepared to cruise through his last year of high school, but his plans are ruined when you sucker him into helping with the spring musical. Maybe spending all of his after-school hours with you will help him build up the courage to finally tell you that he’s had a thing for you for years.

Word Count: 4.8k

Tags/Warnings: TheaterNerd!Reader, ArtStudent!Deidara, American High School AU, Language, Idiots in Love @brokennerdalert

Notes: Another work rewritten! YAY!

There were eight slots for classes in every student’s schedule where four classes were taken on one day, and the other half were taken the next in a revolving schedule that led straight to hell. But once a senior had taken all their core classes and required electives, most of their free periods were supplemented with skippable study halls.

Deidara, being the below-average achieving senior that he was, managed to strike gold in the scheduling office. He walked out of his advisor’s cubicle at the end of junior year beaming at the four study halls that bookended his days. Fully intending to cruise his fourth year (he had been feeling the senioritis since sophomore year), Deidara would be able to sleep in every day and leave early in the afternoon: a killer scenario for an unenthused high school senior.

Deidara sipped the large, free coffee that he picked up from work with self-satisfaction. It was a little past noon by the time he strolled into his first official class of the day. He clutched a drink tray in one hand and his coffee (which was more of a milkshake) in the other, blissfully ignoring the annoyed eye-rolls of other students as he walked into class late as was his usual MO. As Deidara hummed through the door, Kurenai raised her thin brows in acute exasperation. He stopped at her large desk to offer her a medium beverage— which she took— before taking his seat in the corner of the class. Deidara missed the shaking of her head as she returned to grading papers.

The seat wobbled under him, making a metallic clanking noise as it rocked back and forth. The floor protectors at the bottoms of the chair legs were loose. At least two of them were missing. Deidara shifted his weight. Shit chairs would be his fate if he came to class late and that was a price Deidara didn’t mind paying.

He scooted a small, black coffee over to the seat next to him and the offering was accepted silently as Deidara unloaded his various artistic utensils onto the table. His backpack sat on the table in front of him as he flipped through his sketchbook to his latest piece. The same, pale arm that took the black coffee swatted at his things that were apparently encroaching on claimed territory. Deidara swatted it back, popping his earbuds in to settle into his mindless work for the day.

He didn’t make much progress by the time you knocked at the door. You gave the doorframe three light taps as you gingerly poked your head into the room. Deidara mindlessly scribbled on his paper, peering from behind his long bangs as he watched you talk to Kurenai. He couldn’t make out much of what you said. You held up a few papers and then a few printed photos from the school library. He craned his neck and tried to decipher your topic of conversation, oblivious to how obvious his snooping was.

You met his gaze, doing a double take before offering a friendly smile and a wave. Blinking himself out of his staring, he barely mustered the coordination to wave to you back before you resumed your coordination with Kurenai.

You were someone Deidara knew for most of his life, but he could probably count on one hand how many times the two of you spoke. The lack of interaction didn’t stem from dislike as much as it did from coincidence. Deidara, in fact, always thought highly of you, although he hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk in recent recollection. He told you that you had bad breath once and that was about as much as he could remember. And for the proceeding ten years, your schedules never aligned.

“They’re talking about the musical,” Sasori grumbled as he sipped his black coffee.

Deidara turned to him with a crinkled nose. Even the mere mention of the school musical was enough to draw a visceral reaction from him. Something about the amateur singing and cheesy production made him physically recoil. You always were a part of those sorts of shows, another reason you and Deidara often missed each other.

Sasori worked lazily on his piece; his cheek scrunched in his right palm. Deidara hadn’t even noticed how far he leaned until he nearly brushed shoulders with Sasori. Sasori’s bored eyes narrowed at him.

“You’re in my space.”

He gave Deidara’s shoulder a harsh shove. Deidara’s chair tipped back on the two back legs. As his head slammed into a nearby drying rack, he completely folded as his seat gave out. A flurry of papers was knocked off the wire shelves, various ink and water-colored projects flying down onto the ground. The last quarter of Deidara’s iced coffee seeped onto the floor. A chorus of gasps resounded across the room mixed in with a few complaints of ruined artwork.

You quickly swiped a roll of paper towels from the corner of a desk as you hurried over to where Deidara was still folded. He rolled himself out of the tipped-over chair with a pointed glare aimed at Sasori.

“You’re an asshole. What the fuck is wrong with you—”

“Are you okay?” You appeared above him, concern painted on your face. You outstretched your hand, a bundle of paper towels in your palm. He didn’t even remember when he stood, but all he knew was that he was standing in front of you holding a wad of paper towels like an idiot, letting droplets of coffee drip onto the floor. Other students already began scooping art projects off the tile. You handed more towels to students who happened to handle a few coffee-soaked ones.

“Do I really have to tell you two no roughhousing?” Kurenai scolded from where she stood at her desk, a deep, exhausted frown tugging her lips downward.

“It was a shit chair, Ms. Kurenai,” Deidara muttered. “My bad.”

He kicked Sasori’s shin under the table. No one seemed to notice. Kurenai sat back down with a sigh, and you helped a few people put the projects back on the rack.

“Let me help you with that,” Deidara said, reaching for a small stack of the projects you held. You hesitated to hand them over.

“You should get your head checked out by the nurse. It sounded like you slammed it pretty hard.”

“He won’t be more brain-damaged than he usually is,” Sasori uttered, causing Deidara’s head to snap over to him. You snorted, caught off guard but not wanting to laugh. You offered Deidara a sympathetic expression. The rest of the class had settled back into their art projects, chatting quietly amongst each other as they worked.

“Really, I can walk you down if you’d like.”

Deidara’s heart pounded in his chest. He sputtered a bit, feeling like he’d just encountered a dialogue option in a dating simulator that hadn’t been recorded in the guide. Perhaps he could blame the fact that he had woken up less than an hour ago. You gave him a once-over, offering him the whole roll of paper towels. Deidara held a hand up and you put them down.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said before he could even think. “Thanks… though.”

He picked his crappy chair off the ground. A streak of coffee slid off the seat. He wiped it, hoping that your conversation would end soon.

You reached into your pocket and slipped something into your mouth, shrugging as you did so. You weren’t completely convinced, but you let it go.

“Let’s at least get you a new change of clothes,” you said in a low, considerate voice. You took Deidara by the sleeve and gave him a subtle tug toward the door. Sasori leaned forward to catch your eye. You met his glare head-on with a content— or Deidara would dare say indifferent— expression.

“Don’t even think about it…” Sasori scowled.

You leaned to the side to look past Deidara, still gripping his arm.

“Don’t worry, Sasori. We’ll be good,” You smiled. Deidara took a slight step to the side, to let you talk. He took to holding the bundle of paper towels to the wet stain on the bottom of his shirt. Some coffee still shone on the floor. He wiped it across the tile with his shoe. Sasori grunted in response.

“You vulture, you stay in your own department.” He tore his focus from his work, his exaggeration almost comical. Turning in his chair, he crossed his legs and sat back. Sasori gestured to you with the business end of his tool. “You came to me begging for help and now you’re planning on ruining my shit, you brat.”

Deidara watched out of the corner of his eye as you let out a hearty chuckle. He stood in the middle of your conversation with Sasori, head hurting, damp with beverage, and unsure of where you were slowly tugging him. You backed away slowly.

“We won’t ruin anything.” You rolled your eyes, but your pout proved less convincing as you glanced off to the side. You and Deidara already made your way to the opposite side of the table. “But, I mean, if you have any update on those costume alterations and wanted to come visit.” You snickered as Sasori stood up abruptly.

“How did I know?” The feet of his chair made a scratching noise against the tile floors causing Kurenai to look up from her work. She shook her head at him slowly and Sasori’s lips pursed. His tongue stuck in the side of his cheek. He met your gaze with piercing eyes and a scowl.

“Because you’re a very attentive friend who has a burning passion for art?” By the time you spoke, you were already halfway out the door with a coffee-stained Deidara in tow.

“No, it’s because you’ve been annoying.” Sasori’s criticism came out quieter than he intended. He sat down slowly, tipping his head from side to side to draw out an audible crack from his neck. He spoke again between cracks of his knuckles. “They’ll be ready at the beginning of next week.”

“Did I already tell you that you’re the best?”

“Damn straight,” he mumbled.

You and Deidara were already out the door.

***

You tugged Deidara down the hall.

The art department consisted of a long hallway adjacent to the rather large theater. A shared wall hugged the perimeter of the auditorium, wrapping around one side until it met the music department. Despite being just the other half of the U-shape that comprised the arts departments, Deidara had never actually stepped foot into theater territory.

You pulled him into an empty classroom. Rolling clothes racks lined the room, feathers, and furs sticking out the tops at various intervals. The classroom tables were collected in the center of the room. A tall stack of chairs sat in the corner. Deidara stood awkwardly in the doorway as you sifted through the assortment of clothes. A long piece of paper sat rolled up above the small window on the door, pinned up with a clothespin.

“Um…” He trailed off as you disappeared into the jungle of costumes. He took a few steps forward to find you but was only met with the vague rustling of clothing. Deidara looked up at the rack closest to him, eyeing a particularly flashy number with a sequin hat. He took the thick material in his fingers, a strangled noise of apprehension bubbling up in his throat.

“What shirt size are you? Medium?” You popped out from between two dark cloaks. A colorful feather boa draped over your forehead. Deidara nearly jumped in surprise as he instinctually took a half step backward.

“Large?” he answered quickly.

You nodded with a hum as you retreated into the assortment of racks. It didn’t take long for you to reemerge, taking a step over the lower bar of the rack with two dark shirts hanging off your forearm. You held the graphic t-shirts up by their hangers.

“These look like you.” Deidara glanced between the two and then back at you.

“The theater department shelled out for ‘Akatsuki’ band tees and—” He took the second shirt from you to read the back. His slender eyebrows furrowed as he glanced back up at you. “Is this a ‘Jashinist’ shirt from… 1989?”

“Yeah,” you laughed, “We think that Mr. Danzo went a little crazy when he was younger. That’s who I think donated it anyway. Even if he didn’t, it’s still funny.” Deidara shrugged and let out an amused snort as he made a motion to hand the shirt back to you.

“You could probably sell that for a lot of money. Those guys are like way underground nowadays.” You held up a hand as you hooked the other shirt above you on the rack, still within Deidara’s reach, and draped over the neat assortment of other hanging fabrics.

“Keep it if you like it. Sasori would be the only one to notice it’s missing and for all of his grumbling he doesn’t care that much.” You maneuvered past him, taking the wooden door in your hand as you unclipped the clothespin. The paper that the clip held together unfurled like the GameCube logo, coming to cover the door’s little window completely. You clipped the pin back at the bottom before turning to Deidara to give him a thumbs up. “Just leave the door open when you’re done!”

Before Deidara could thank you, you had already closed the door, leaving him alone in the costume room to change.

***

Deidara took his time traveling to his next class.

The T-shirt you picked out for him fit him better than he expected. Looser around his midriff and tighter around his arms, Deidara considered whether he would keep it after all. His white, coffee-stained shirt sat folded in his backpack. A large part of him lingered in the memory of you from his art period, but most of his thoughts dwelled on the fact that he had no idea what you were doing for him until a few moments after you left. Deidara sighed to himself as he rounded the corner to his class.

What a dumbass.

Deidara trickled into class with everyone else. The only person he could stand sitting with was already there with Hidan sitting at the opposite desk. Hidan barely sat in his seat, hovering over his chair as he leaned over his workspace to talk animatedly about one pointless thing or another. No doubt being an annoyance per usual.

Deidara took a moment to consider whether he should intervene. On the one hand, where you sat at the beginning of the semester dictated where you sat for the rest of the year. On the other hand: Hidan.

Kisame maneuvered passed him and approached the situation, though Deidara expected that he wouldn’t be too much help. Deidara settled at a desk closest to the door, just hoping for a quiet first day of his spring semester and for it to pass quickly.

“Oh—” He heard just as he was beginning to get settled. He looked up instinctually to see you standing just inside the door, an expression of pleasant surprise on your face. “I just saw you. Hey, that shirt suits you, just as I thought. What do you think, eh, Sasori?” You gestured over your shoulder with your head, not bothering to look as Sasori strode into class from behind you.

“Fuck you.”

You and Deidara watched as Sasori stormed to a far cluster of desks, completing the group of four with Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki. You laughed sheepishly under your breath before turning your attention back to Deidara. You gestured to the seat across from him.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Deidara gave you a quick series of nods and you sat, facing away from Hidan’s table. Deidara’s heart pounded in his chest as he tried to go back to unpacking his bag. He pulled out a pen, subconscious thoughts pestering him and whispering how he was being really weird right now. His lips pursed as he stared directly down at his desk, just a pen clasped between both of his hands.

“You don’t happen to have precalc after this, do you?” Deidara’s head shot up, his form still hunched over. You sat with a pencil and binder neatly in front of you.

“No, uh, I don’t. I actually have study hall.”

You let out a playful scoff, shaking your head as you looked off to the side.

“Lucky! You get to go home early.” Your face settled into the palm of your hand. You placed your elbow on your desk. “Good for you to be honest. Coming back from break with a full schedule sucks.”

You reached over to hand him a packet from the stack of papers on your desk. Deidara eyed it briefly, only managing to catch “SYLLABUS” and a large “2”.

“It’s alright so far,” Deidara said, completely unaware as to how to talk to you. He let a pause rise between the two of you. He wracked his brain as to what to say. “So… are you feeling the senioritis yet?”

“Ehh…” Your lip tugged down into a sheepish grimace. “Not really. I’m kinda here more than I’m at home nowadays so I won’t really catch a break until late May.”

“Hah?” Deidara exclaimed rudely, nose wrinkling up. “Why?”

“It’s musical season,” you answered.

Deidara sat back in his seat with crossed arms. With an active disgust for the school’s music program, Deidara never paid much attention to when the musical happened. If he was being honest with himself, he really should… to stay as far away as possible.

“Oh right,” he said, the fact that he had just been in the costume room and just talked to you about the topic completely escaping him.

“And, I mean, if you’re bored and have any downtime, we’re always looking for people to help with set design…” you trailed off, voice laced with playful suggestion as you made little gestures with your hands. Deidara couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in his chest. As soon as you saw his smile, you looked off to the side again with bashfulness. “Hey, it’s an offer.”

“I ‘preciate it, but I think I’m all good on all that song and dance stuff.”

“Well, set would be a lot of painting and making sculptures and stuff which I know you like. I mean I think.” Deidara couldn’t help the slight raise of his eyebrow. “And it’s a lot of downtime at this point because we won’t be running the entire show in rehearsals until the end of April. I thought Sasori would have invited you already. You’re such good friends.” Deidara almost laughed again. Perhaps you didn’t have all the information after all.

“So, you have a lot of free time? That’s good.” You nodded, completely oblivious. Deidara fiddled with the corner of his syllabus. He could hardly look you in the eye. “What do you do for the hours you have until you go home?” You shrugged, slumping a little bit into your chair.

“Honestly, we just all order takeout and hang out until we’re called into the auditorium for scenes. Sasori usually does his thing and we hang out together in the ‘stume room. That’s what I like to call it.” The corners of your lips twitched upwards, threatening to expose you as the dork you are. Unfortunately for you, Deidara already knew that.

The auditorium. The hall directly at the back connected the art department to the music department directly. And with the backstage open for student use, Deidara could travel from doing set in the art department to visiting you in the music department in under a minute, just as the two of you did earlier in the day. Deidara almost physically shook his head, trying to wave off the idea of him joining the school musical just to spend more time with you.

Your teacher entered the room as the bell rang out. Deidara could ponder over bad decisions later.

***

It turns out, Deidara didn’t have to think for long. It only took him until the next day.

“You? The musical?”

“Shut up.”

“What could you have possibly been thinking? Or do I even want to know?” Sasori leaned against the wall. arms crossed. “You do know it’s Shrek: The Musical, right?”

The hall of the art department was emptier than Deidara had ever seen it. He sat on the tile floor, staring at the set piece in front of him as Sasori hovered. Deidara’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he lowered his paintbrush. He didn’t even know what made him commit to something as stupid as driving to school twice in one day. Not when he purposefully tailored his schedule to maximize his downtime.

With a sigh, he heaved himself up off his heels and passed by Sasori. Deidara bent down and grasped a gallon jug of paint with a low grumble. He stopped again as he trudged back and motioned to Sasori in a slicing motion with his free palm. He shifted the jug which sat in the crux of his opposite elbow.

“Sasori, my man, you can shut the fuck up.” Sasori frowned, sticking an ankle out in front of him, causing Deidara to stumble. Deidara’s hand flew out to deliver a swift back-handed swat, but Sasori blocked it with another, equally petty slap.

Deidara moved on wordlessly as he poured a bit more paint into his palette and sank back onto the ground with his brushes. But Deidara found himself distracted once again as he heard a familiar ‘oh’ from down the hall.

You peeked around the corner from the open door that connected the two departments. You donned some functional athletic clothes and fanned off the light sheen of sweat that you worked up under the harsh theater lights.

“You know, I heard that you were the new addition to the crew.” You made your way down the hall, hands in your pockets. “I didn’t think you were interested.” Despite having just sat down, Deidara immediately scrambled to his feet with an urgency that was lost on you. He dragged a hand across his chin, unconsciously smearing paint down his jaw as he did. Sasori studied the scene out of the corner of his eye.

“What can I say, you convinced me,” Deidara said with an awkward chuckle. His previous annoyance melted away instantly. You scratched at the back of your head.

“Really? You and Sasori are so close, I thought you were here to help—”

“We’re not that close,” the two said in unison, throwing you off.

“Oh, uh, well, I’m just taking the dinner order and I wanted to know if you guys wanted anything.” You held up a tiny notepad. Half of the page was already filled, making Deidara wonder just how big the school production was. You glanced over at Sasori. “I already know what you want.”

“Where are you ordering from?” Deidara asked.

“Ichiraku.”

“It’s always Ichiraku,” Sasori murmured. He scowled, not moving from his spot against the wall. “Vegetable, don’t give me beef again.” You scoffed with a shake of your head and turned to Deidara. He waved his hands almost defensively in front of him.

“I think I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know how long they have you doing set, but if you’re here as long as we are, you’ll want dinner.” Deidara pursed his lips. In all honesty, he could leave whenever he wanted. The art director knew him well and left most things to Deidara’s judgment. You took his silence as hesitancy. “The skeletons and I are all getting stuff to share. I’ll bring you a plate.” You cast your gaze down to write.

“Skeletons?” Deidara mouthed to Sasori. Sasori rolled his eyes.

“The backup dancers,” he mouthed back. Deidara scrunched his face up in confusion and Sasori gritted his teeth in annoyance. “Dancing skeletons you dumbass.”

“Does that sound good to you?” Your voice cut through their silent battle causing Deidara’s head to snap toward you. He subconsciously palmed his pockets.

“I don’t carry cash.”

“I’ll spot you or you can just pay me back later. Noodles sound good, though, right?”

Deidara nodded and you scurried off to make the call. You said something before you left, but neither Deidara nor Sasori were listening. Sasori shifted his weight to push himself up from where he leaned. His back crackled.

“Wow,” Sasori mused, head bowed as he let out a single chuckle. He glanced down the hall in the direction you came and went, making sure that you were gone. “That might be one of the most painful conversations I’ve ever seen. It’s about time I find something to get you to stop talking.” Deidara flicked his wrist, casting some paint onto Sasori’s shoes. Sasori recoiled and stumbled back with a pointed leer. “What the fuck?”

“You won’t say a word,” Deidara growled lowly which caused Sasori to snort.

“What makes you think that I care enough to?” He turned on his heel, suddenly bored with Deidara. Sasori took a few more steps back as he began to make his way down the hall. “Tell me when my rolls get here.”

But Deidara didn’t. Deidara didn’t tell Sasori when the rolls came.

You arrived like an angel, fluttering over to sit down with him on the floor with a fixed plate and a pair of chopsticks. You were right about him becoming hungry after all because as soon as he took the plate into his hands, his painting was ushered unceremoniously to the back of his mind along with Sasori.

Deidara studied the receipt that was stapled to the outside of a brown bag you cradled in your opposite arm.

“That’s a lot of food,” he said, taking the long piece of paper in his fingers. The item number added up into the double digits.

“Sorry, it took me so long to make my way over here. There used to be two whole other bags.” You sat down in front of him and you pulled out a container and a small baggie.

The emptiness of the hall became apparent as you sat in silence together. Muffled music and shouted stage directions came from inside the auditorium and were just barely audible from the art department. You took a glance at your phone. You texted Sasori about his order a bit ago. By the time you looked up, Deidara had already cleared more than half his plate.

A few spots of paint speckled Deidara’s sleeveless hoodie and you tried to keep your staring discrete. You never spent much time with Deidara, which made you wonder if you made him uncomfortable by inviting yourself to eat with him alone. You caught occasional glimpses of all the art forms he dabbled in, but his affinity for art was about the extent that you knew about him.

You slumped up against the wall, your jacket stuffed behind you like a makeshift pillow. Deidara put his plate on the floor and maneuvered to place his paintbrushes in the appropriate water-filled containers. You, on the other hand, hadn’t finished eating. A pang of nervousness reverberated in your chest and you became painfully aware of the box of mints in your pocket.

“They didn’t exile you out here, right?” Deidara took his place back next to you. He played absentmindedly with the murky water cup between his hands. His empty plate sat to the side.

“No, um, the skeleton crew is in a scene that I’m not in so.” Deidara hummed, letting the silence drive space between the two of you once more. You cleared your throat, unwrapping a mint from your pocket and slipping it into your mouth. “I like being in this section of the school though. I usually come over here to talk to Sasori, but it’s a lot quieter here.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind it. I have all my classes down here.” He stared at the row of lockers in front of him.

You nodded but didn’t get to speak before someone from the cast rounded the corner and heard your name shouted down the hall.

“We need you for scene four.” You looked to Deidara and then back towards the direction that your castmate disappeared from. You scrambled up, your empty paper plate in your hand.

“I’m sorry, Deidara. I’ll see you later, okay?”

You dumped your trash in the nearest trash can. Deidara waved but you were already gone. He glanced at the takeout bag you left. He forgot Sasori’s rolls.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed and otherwise supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Table Four (Hidan x Reader), Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Table Two (Deidara x Reader), Part I

Senioritis: Lab (Sasori x Reader) Part I Part II

All of these parts interweave and exist in the same universe. You can read them in any order or just stick to a single path.

#Deidara x reader #deidara #akatsuki #akatsuki x reader #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto scenarios #naruto scenario #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto #x you #x reader #Senioritis: deidara #Senioritis

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