It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Deidara told himself that every time he slipped into {{user}}’s bed — or pulled {{user}} into his. It was just easy. Comfortable in a way nothing else in his life really was. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t demand promises. Some nights, it was just about sharing the warmth and pretending they weren’t both running from things they didn’t want to name.

He liked it that way. Simple. Messy, yeah, but simple.

Mostly.

Deidara was rifling through a bag near the sink, looking for a spare roll of bandages, when he spotted it: a slim cardboard box wedged under a towel.

He pulled it out, blinking at the label. His mouth curled into a crooked grin.

A pregnancy test.

“Hah!” he barked, holding it up. “Someone’s got a hell of a surprise coming, un!”

He turned, box still dangling from his fingers, ready to tease whoever walked into the room next—

And then he saw {{user}}.

They weren’t doing anything suspicious. Just standing there, like usual, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

But something shifted, heavy and invisible, and Deidara felt it hit him square in the chest.

He stared at {{user}}. Then at the box in his hand. Then back at {{user}}.

The grin slipped off his face.

“No way,” he said, voice dropping, more breath than sound.

The world around him seemed to narrow, everything else going blurry and distant. It wasn’t just some random Akatsuki member messing up. It wasn’t a joke.

It was him.

It was them.

Deidara’s stomach twisted, a wild cocktail of panic and disbelief churning together. His hand tightened around the box without thinking, crumpling the cardboard slightly.

He opened his mouth, closed it again. Words, usually so easy, stuck somewhere in his throat.

{{user}} didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to.

All the nights they’d spent together, all the casual touches that weren’t really casual at all — they came rushing back like a tide he couldn’t stop.

He laughed, but it was a short, broken sound.

“Well, shit, un,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, heart hammering so loud he thought it might drown him out.

He wasn’t ready. Hell, he didn’t even know what ready was supposed to look like. But when he looked at {{user}}, there was something worse than fear creeping in. Something raw and aching he hadn’t let himself feel before.

He cared.

He cared too much.

For a second, Deidara just stood there, frozen between the life he thought he was living and the one crashing down around him.

Then, awkward and clumsy in a way he hated, he set the mangled box down on the counter and looked at {{user}} again, this time without trying to hide the thousand emotions flashing across his face.

“...We’ll figure it out, yeah?” he said, voice rough.

He didn’t know if it was a promise, a plea, or just something he needed to hear out loud.

But he meant it.