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When the war ends, Gaara feels unbalanced.
He does what's required of him, of course. He joins the Peace Committee, making sure Suna has a say in the future of the Uchiha Clan and the remaining Bijuus. He meets with the Elders, placating their demands while vouching for Konoha's allegiance. He oversees the reconstruction effort, signing missives and moving funds around and assigning his best ninjas and diplomats.
People turn to him for wisdom, for leadership, for words of comfort, and he greets them all with a smile, even if he has nothing to offer. Even if he has nothing left to give.
By the time the reports he's given finally take a turn for the mundane, Gaara is a month over sixteen and running on fumes. That’s when it dawns on him that his mission is fulfilled. His purpose has run its course—the war is no more.
At the end of the day, what is he if not a warrior?
Maybe that's why one day he quits as Kazekage, looks to the horizon and disappears.
The first few days he travels east with no destination in mind. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he doesn’t even know what he wants. Deep down, he’s aware of his stupidity, of how he should slow down and reconsider what he’s doing. The thing is, though, he isn't sure he wants to.
When he crosses the border and leaves the Land of Wind behind, he realizes something that up until then was only a vague notion in his head—the war may be over, but that doesn't mean he knows what peace is.
That thought makes Gaara pause in his journey and, surrounded by strange lands, decides that this is as good a place to rest as any.
The Land of Rivers doesn’t hold the best of memories for him, but he settles down near Tanigakure anyway. The small country house he decides to rent looks like a shack at first. Time and disuse have not been kind to it, and the roof seems about to collapse. The owner says that she wouldn’t have put it on the market if she didn’t need the money, and then she apologizes profusely for the state of it.
She is an old lady, small and wrinkly. She reminds Gaara of Chiyo, only kinder. Her last name is Ogawa and she doesn’t know who he is, even if Gaara suspects she clocked him as a ninja the moment she saw him. In his defense, he did try to blend in, but there's always something distinctive about a killer.
“The house may need a little work, but the earth is good.” The woman glances at him with curiosity. “If you are into farming, that is.”
It’s isolated too, Gaara doesn’t say. That is a major feature for someone who wants to go unnoticed. He takes another look at the building. It needs repairing but otherwise doesn’t seem so bad. Gaara doesn’t need much anyway.
“I’ll take it.”
The woman smiles and doesn't ask what it is he's running from.
Although it takes time (and it wears Gaara’s patience thin on his worst days), fixing the house proves to be satisfying. He goes to sleep every night with a sweet ache in his body, a numb pain he is not used to but that he welcomes gratefully.
He finds the situation ironic—he was raised to destroy, not to create. Yet here he is, building himself a home.
When the house is liveable again, Gaara decides to put his siblings out of their misery and writes to Kankuro, telling him of his whereabouts. Gaara knows his family isn't one to fuss over him and his safety. They know he is capable of taking care of himself and he’s grateful for that.
Gaara is busy furnishing the house when his brother’s reply arrives four days later. Kankuro has always been a man of few words, always coming across as rude and tactless. Gaara suppresses a smile when he reads thank fuck you wrote, the Elders are driving me insane in his brother’s sloppy handwriting. The letter also informs him that Temari gave up and ran, the coward; she’s an ambassador in Konoha now and Gaara cannot say he is surprised.
He reads the scroll twice before writing back, asking about his brother's life and his sister's departure and the state of the cacti he left behind. He also asks Kankuro to disclose his location to the Elders, a token of goodwill to appease them. He's still an asset to Suna, after all. Even if he's technically on a break. Or retired, whichever it is.
Once his reply is sent, he goes back to his household chores until there are none left.
That's when he embraces his yearning for growing things and starts planning the garden.
The gourd is forgotten in one of the closets, mostly useless out here. Gaara can't pinpoint exactly when he let his guard down, but since he moved to Tanigakure he feels strangely secure. Almost as if he’s living in a sacred land where harm can't reach him. It’s a ridiculous idea and he’s aware of it. He is (was) a warrior—he has learned that violence knows no limits.
And still, he rarely conjures up his sand anymore, only using his skills with the land and the house. It's bizarre to know he’s safe.
It's bizarre to know he’s free.
As days turn hotter, the crops start to grow. It’s magical, watching them emerge from the earth. Gaara is not used to the humidity of this country, an encompassing character that makes movement slow and sluggish, so he sometimes lazes around in the shade and watches over the tiny green sprouts.
He gets by with the little money he has left from his previous missions and the generosity of his neighbors, experienced farmers who gift him with either food or knowledge. He knows they are curious about him just like his landlady, but he doesn’t need to worry about them. They all let him be, occasionally greeting him as he takes a stroll down dusty roads. (He hears what they say, though. He hears the whispers of he's so serious and lonely boy, isn't he every time they think he’s distracted).
Sometimes Gaara looks at his hands and finds the callouses there to be rewarding. It soothes him to know they are not the result of killing but quite the opposite. They are from getting water from the river to wash his clothes and clean the house. From entire mornings fixing the roof to prevent leaks. Even from making candles, a skill one of his neighbors teaches him to save energy from his little generator. He tends to his crops, and cooks, and naps, and there are times when he stops and thinks who are you.
There's no plan for this life he's living. That should scare him more than it does.
He’s found out, eventually.
The summer is hot and sticky in the Land of Rivers, the cicadas stuck to the trees singing non-stop. Gaara is by the creek, soaking in the cool water and enjoying the almost non-existent breeze. His initial plan had been to get water for a bath, but the mere sight of the silvery river persuaded him to get in. He has never been much of a swimmer, so he just stands where the current is less strong and occasionally cups his hands to wet his hair.
When the sun is at its peak, he gets hungry and decides to go back. He puts on his clothes, wetting them in the process, and fills a bucket with cool water. Then he heads home, thinking about what to have for lunch. The forest is quiet around him, except for the cicadas and the occasional bird. The warm breeze caresses his cooled shoulders and dries his clothes, lulling him into a dream-like state. By the time he reaches the clearing the house stands in, he's on the sweeter side of drowsiness, the bucket heavy in his hand.
Suppressing a yawn, he glances at his little garden, full of vegetables not quite ready for harvesting yet, and—his stupor evaporates in the blink of an eye.
A stranger is standing on top of the engawa, trying to peer inside the house.
It's muscle memory—Gaara goes for the kunai strapped to his thigh, widening his stance and calculating how fast he can command his sand to attack. It's locked inside his gourd, in the bedroom closet, but he's pretty sure he can make it burst through the stopper, tearing through the rice paper in the shoji and meeting its target. Hopefully, he isn't that out of practice.
He never gets to find out, though, because the moment he takes a step forward, the stranger turns.
“Wow,” a voice he knows all too well says, “this is unexpected.”
Uzumaki Naruto's face shows the same surprise Gaara can feel mirrored on his own.
Tamagoyaki, it is. It’s too hot for anything else, anyway. Gaara serves it with a side of rice and cold water, setting a small tray on the chabudai just as Naruto takes off his jacket and fans himself with his bare hand.
“This place is hell,” he groans, going for one of the glasses and downing half of it in one go. Amused, Gaara takes a seat on the tatami and grabs one bowl from the tray, sliding it across the table. Naruto looks at it and grins. “Thanks for the food.”
Gaara shrugs, focusing on eating. It’s been months since the last time he saw Naruto, months since they parted ways with the impossible task of putting the remnants of their villages back together. Months since Gaara last talked to anyone related to his past.
Naruto cuts the tamagoyaki with his chopsticks and pops a piece into his mouth.
“I gotta say, you look different.” He chews for a bit before squinting. “And less pale.”
Gaara's heart is beating too fast for his liking, his eyes following Naruto as he fidgets endlessly with his chopsticks. There are a thousand things Gaara would like to speak with Naruto about. Thoughts he would love to share and questions he would like to ask.
What comes out of his mouth instead is, “How did you find me?”
Naruto moves his rice around in the bowl. “Temari.” His cheeks are pink from the heat. “Man, your sister’s scary. She found out I was gonna be nearby on a mission and bullied me into passing on a message.”
Temari. Of course.
“Right." He finishes his meal, placing his bowl on the tray with the chopsticks resting on top of it. Then his hands fall on his lap. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way.”
Naruto stops chewing, eyebrows knitted. Despite the shade inside the house, he seems to glow almost blindingly. His eyes look troubled for a second, almost as if he’s gathering the courage to say something. Gaara waits patiently, refusing to feel naked under Naruto’s scrutiny.
The question comes soon enough.
“Why?” His lips purse, fingers lax around his bowl. "Why did you leave?"
Never one to leave things be, Naruto.
Gaara wants to lie.
“I don’t know.”
Before heading back to Konoha, Naruto promises to visit as soon as he can. Gaara is touched by the promise but doesn’t take it seriously. Tanigakure may be closer than Suna, but Naruto is a special asset to Tsunade. She won’t let him wander off as he likes. And—well. Naruto has his own life, doesn't he?
Despite it all, Gaara's heart can't seem to settle down even after the boy is long gone.
Temari’s message is neatly confined to a small scroll. Her handwriting is clear, but not exactly girly. She greets him and asks him if he’s taking care of himself and if there is anything he needs. Gaara’s not sure whether he's making it up or if she has gone soft, but she sounds like a worried mother.
The cicadas' song soon turns into a lullaby and Gaara falls asleep on the engawa, scroll in hand. He dreams of vegetables and rivers, of heat and surprises. He can almost hear Temari’s voice, mixed with Kankuro’s growls and Naruto’s laugh. He wakes up mid-afternoon, hot and sweaty, and with a terrible headache.
Food exchanges are quite common between farmers in Tanigakure, or so Gaara learns. He grows extra tomatoes, onions, and daikon to trade them for other vegetables, fresh fruit, or game meat. He gets the rest from the forest, especially roots and wild berries. He isn't one for hunting, but he soon becomes an avid angler. And if he needs extra money, there’s always day labor waiting for him on other farms.
He does try to give the city a wide berth, though, but the trips to Tanigakure are unavoidable. Despite being mostly self-sufficient, the village is the only place to get generator diesel or mechanical tools. Thankfully, people in Tanigakure are very private and not prone to uncomfortable questions. It also helps that Gaara is very good at going unseen, making his trips quick and practical, and being home by nightfall.
Sometimes he finds himself drinking green tea and not missing going on missions at all.
It's funny, in a way—Suna's former Kazekage pretending to be a common country boy.
He gets home one afternoon from helping Ogawa-san with her garden to find Naruto sitting on his engawa, his feet dangling from the short platform and his hands holding a giant watermelon in his lap.
“Finally,” he groans with sun-kissed cheeks and sweaty hair. “I’ve been waiting for hours.”
Gaara stares at him, at his casual summer clothes and lack of headband. It's been three weeks since he last visited and Gaara thought he would have to wait even longer for the boy to come back. If he even did at all. And yet, there he is. Sitting on Gaara's veranda.
Something flutters in his chest, but he ignores it.
“You should’ve told me you were coming.” He walks past Naruto, opens the door, and takes off his sandals by the entrance. “I wouldn’t have made you wait.”
Naruto is right behind him, kicking off his own sandals and taking refuge inside Gaara’s house. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he grumbles, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. "If Sakura finds out, she'll be all mean. She's always telling me my timing is shit."
Gaara shakes his head gently but takes pity on Naruto and shows him to the kitchen.
“There's iced tea in the fridge,” he says. "Glasses are on the shelf." He points vaguely to the wall as he makes his way to the sink to wash his hands. As he flicks the faucet on, he hears a series of sounds—the watermelon hitting the countertop, his fridge opening and closing, the clinking of glass. By the time he turns around, drying his hands with a kitchen towel and leaning back against the sink, he catches Naruto pouring iced tea from a pitcher into two glasses and downing his in one go, manners be damned.
A contented sigh echoes through the kitchen. "Shit, that's good." Naruto licks his lips before catching Gaara's eyes and blushing. "Fuck, sorry. I was parched." He slides the extra glass across the counter with a flick of his wrist and an apologetic smile. "The tea is great, by the way."
Gaara keeps himself from snorting.
“Glad to be of service.” He hangs the kitchen towel from a small hook beneath the shelves before taking his glass. “Drink as much as you want.”
Naruto grins and points to the watermelon. “So, where do you keep your knives?”
Naruto is on his fourth slice of watermelon. His mouth is incredibly red when he says, “How long have you been living here?”
Trying not to stare, Gaara takes a sip of his tea. It’s lukewarm by now and he frowns.
“Five months, give or take.”
Naruto lets go of the watermelon’s skin, dropping it on his plate. There are dark circles under his eyes and Gaara wonders if he has been sleeping properly.
“And the heat hasn't scared you off?” He stretches his arms over his head with a groan. “It’s unbearable.”
Gaara shrugs, and a drop of sweat falls from his hair. “The heat, I am used to.” He swallows the dregs of his lukewarm tea and avoids grimacing. “The humidity, though... That’s new.”
Truth is, Naruto looks miserable. He glances at what’s left of the watermelon and pouts. Gaara thinks he hears him mutter ridiculous under his breath.
He may look tired, but his childlike charm is as present as ever.
“I cool down by the river,” Gaara blurts out without thinking. He isn't sure if he’s making a suggestion or an offer, but those blue eyes snap up, Naruto's pouty mouth red and distracting. “We could—”
The boy stands up pretty fast. “Yes, yes, come on.”
Gaara sighs, annoyed at his own idea, and starts clearing the table, ignoring Naruto's impatience. “Help me with this first,” he says. "And take it easy, you have to digest the watermelon before...”
“Oh my god, Gaara,” Naruto whines, “you sound like Tsunade.”
He doesn’t respond. It seems there’s still some Kazekage left in him, after all.
Naruto’s body is wet and relaxed next to Gaara's, his feet playing with the round pebbles by the shore. There’s a happy smile on his face, making his lips soft and inviting. Gaara doesn’t dwell on it and turns his head to look at the river.
“Are you here for a mission?”
He knows better than to ask about secret assignments. Except knowing better never seems to apply when it comes to Naruto.
Despite the sun starting to set on the horizon, the heat doesn’t seem to die down. Stretching like a cat, Naruto says, “Yep. Finished earlier than I expected, so I thought I’d drop by.”
Gaara runs a hand through his wet fringe, looking at his feet.
“When does your team head back?”
Naruto drops to his elbows, peering at him. “Solo mission, actually.” He grins at the correction, proud of himself. “But I do need to be on the road tomorrow after lunch. Tsunade’s orders.” He makes a face Gaara doesn't know if it's a mockery of Konoha's leader or an expression of annoyance. It's gone in a flash, though. “Why d'you ask?”
Gaara notices how the river reflects the last rays of the sun, the cicadas singing around them non-stop. This is a different type of quiet than in the desert. More alive, less lonely.
“You could stay for dinner,” he suggests. He’s not sure if that’s what he wanted to say, but it's what he does anyway. He glances at Naruto and waits.
The boy sits back up, considering. “Sure, man.” He’s suddenly silent, staring at Gaara with squinting eyes. Gaara has never felt self-conscious before, but there’s something about the way Naruto's watching him that makes him feel vulnerable. It's gone in a flash. The boy grins, his whole face glowing. “You do look different.”
Gaara averts his eyes. “Different how?”
Naruto grabs a pebble and turns it around. “I don’t know.” He throws it into the river. “Happier.”
The next day, Naruto drops by with instant ramen and they both eat without paying mind to the heat. “You should learn to cook ramen,” Naruto says, as serious as he’ll ever be, “for when I come back.”
It’s stupid, but Gaara feels reassured.
Naruto changes back into his ninja uniform while Gaara prepares him some food for the journey. He’s finishing a simple bento box in the kitchen when Naruto comes in, tying his headband.
“Damn, that's a lot of food,” he says, sounding more amazed than mocking as he stares at the lunch box. "You'll get me fat."
Gaara doesn’t bat a lash.
“It's not like you need me for that.”
“Hey! I have a high metabolism!” Naruto cries, outraged—and then looks surprised. “Wait. Did you just crack a joke?”
Gaara throws him the bento box and Naruto catches it easily, laughing at the top of his lungs.
When it rains, Gaara sits down and watches. Being born in Suna, he has always considered rain a blessing, and seeing it fall soothes him. The scent of wet grass, the sound of drops hitting the roof, the stillness of the forest.
When it rains, his past matters no more, as if it had been erased by some major power. He’s the only thing left—not a killer, or a ninja, or a demon. Just him. And the rain.
There’s something about this feeling that reminds him of Naruto.
The summer is almost at an end when he gets a new visitor. This time, however, it’s Kankuro. His brother knocks on his door, face free of his kabuki make-up, and then proceeds to come inside uninvited. Gaara doesn’t remember a time when his brother felt so at ease with him before.
“It took me forever to find this place,” he complains as he sits crossed-legged in Gaara’s living room. “The humidity is ridiculous.”
Gaara sighs. “So I've been told.”
Kankuro tilts his head, his eyes contemplative for a moment. Gaara waits for him to speak, but his brother ends up saying nothing.
“Would you like something to drink?”
Kankuro drops on the tatami, spread out on the floor like a starfish. “Do you have sake?”
Gaara blinks.
“No.” Temari’s letter comes to mind. Kankuro is kind of a douchebag, lately. I think he has finally hit puberty. Gaara squints. “Why would I have sake?”
Kankuro yawns and scratches his belly. “You missed my birthday,” is all he says, as if that's explanation enough.
There’s no actual heat behind the words, but Gaara averts his eyes. He then goes into the kitchen to fetch some iced tea, returning with two glasses. He passes one to a sitting Kankuro and then plops down next to him.
“So, what brings you here?”
Kankuro takes a sip from his tea. “What? Can't I see my brother?" They both know this newfound brotherhood between them is still quite fragile, not ready yet for big displays of affection. Kankuro's answer is more of an instinctive reaction, but Gaara isn't bothered by it. He knows Kankuro is trying and that's enough for him. His brother finally sighs, staring into his glass of not-sake. "Actually, I may have needed a short break.”
Gaara catches his eyes and nods softly. His brother sounds lonely and he can’t find it in his heart to make him feel unwelcome. They sit there in silence, drinking tea and listening to the cicadas.
It's nice.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Kankuro confesses in the dark. It must be around midnight and they can’t sleep, his brother spending the night something awkward after all these months. “But Suna is boring without you two.”
Gaara stares at the ceiling, hearing Kankuro’s endless tossing and turning in the futon. “I think,” he says, voicing the words slowly, “that with the war over, there wasn't much for us to stay for.”
Kankuro hums. “So you left to, what? Start your own life?” There’s no mockery in his brother’s voice. “That's what you are trying to do, isn't it?”
Gaara turns to his side, looking at the moonlight filtering through the shoji. He has asked himself the same question thousands of times and still can't find an answer that's good enough.
“I think so, yes,” he ends up answering. He hopes it doesn’t sound like a lie.
Kankuro stays silent for a minute, even though Gaara can hear him think.
“Well, no offense,” he says at last, “but you chose the most annoying place to settle down.”
Gaara’s still smiling when sleep claims him.
His brother doesn’t stay for long. I'm already in deep shit with Baki as it is, he says. They don’t talk much, but Kankuro does brief him on Suna’s new policies and Temari’s latest news. “She writes me letters just to scold me. Who does she think she is, our mom?”
The sun is not up yet when Kankuro sets foot outside the house. Gaara watches him give his equipment one last check before putting on his sandals. When he's all ready to go, Gaara says, “Say hello to Baki for me,” before passing Kankuro a box with food for the journey.
His brother nods and pats his shoulder. “You take care, okay?”
Then he disappears into the forest.
Soon enough, he’s back to his usual solitude. He starts reading again, buying used copies of epic tales from Tanigakure’s street market. He spends his afternoons by the river, reading haikus about life, about the soul. He even finds himself smiling at little morals some fables try to teach.
The heat starts to die down and the leaves turn gold very slowly. As fall approaches, Gaara finds himself drawn towards his garden. According to Ogawa-san, he must plow the earth for new crops to grow, so that he’ll have food during winter. There are a few other errands he has to get done before the cold weather sets in, like buying extra clothes and a brazier and stocking up on wood and diesel.
He won't tell anyone, but all these mundane tasks make him feel like he has a purpose again.
Naruto turns up by mid-September. He finds Gaara on his way home from a trip to the city, a paper bag full of new seeds in his hand.
“Hey, Gaara!” he shouts from the tree tops, climbing down to join him on the road. “Guess what!”
Gaara tilts his head, heart beating faster at the sight of Naruto grinning down at him. It’s been months since the last time they saw each other. “Mission nearby?” he guesses, idly wondering what interest does Konoha have in Tanigakure.
Naruto shakes his head.
“Nope,” he says breathlessly as he lands. “I’m on vacation!” He winks, opening his arms wide and standing way too close. The shock must show on Gaara’s face, because Naruto laughs and adds, “What? Didn’t expect me to come visit anymore?”
Missions ended earlier than expected? Yes. Courtesy visit? Of course. But Gaara would have never thought Naruto would be willing to spend his free time with him of all people. He doesn’t—he’s not—
Gaara's gaze flickers from those blue eyes to that red mouth.
“A pleasant surprise,” he confesses and Naruto’s grin grows bigger.
When asked how long he’s staying for, Naruto blushes furiously and mumbles something under his breath. Gaara gives him his most annoyed frown. “I didn’t catch that,” he drawls in a monotone.
Naruto clicks his tongue and then bites his lower lip. “I said I've got the whole week off,” he repeats, slower this time. “But I don’t want to be a bother, so if you’re busy I can just...”
His words trail off as he puts on his favorite puppy eyes, probably expecting some placating answer. Except Gaara doesn't reply right away. He’s busy figuring out if he can host Naruto for a whole week. He’s thinking about the food, and the work he still has left, and the sleeping arrangements, and the water, and—not to mention putting up with Naruto and all his quirkiness.
“Okay, I get it,” Naruto mumbles again, clinging to his backpack straps. “I didn’t mean—there's a guest house in town I can check into, anyway.”
His voice is so tiny that Gaara snaps out of it. “No,” he blurts out, a bit harsh, “you can stay for as long as you want.”
It's not what he means to say.
Naruto looks unsure at first, scratching the back of his neck. “Gaara, you are not forced to...”
“No,” he says, surer this time. “No, please. Stay.”
It's not what he means to say either.
Naruto’s face lights up anyway. “We are going to have such a great time, I promise.”
Gaara nods, swallowing back a few more words that need to stay secret.
“Remember when I said we were going to have a great time?” Naruto grunts, “I wasn’t referring to this.” He’s resting back on his elbows, a little straw hat on his head (Gaara has no idea where he found it), and a scowl on his face.
Gaara doesn’t pay him any mind as he keeps on plowing the earth. He isn’t planning on growing a lot. He has talked with Ogawa-san and decided to plant whatever she’s not growing, so they can exchange food if necessary.
“Livelihoods aren't always a great time,” he explains, “and I really need to do this before winter.”
Naruto whines from the engawa, falling onto his back with a thud. Gaara wipes the sweat from his forehead before continuing with the task at hand. The sweet burning ache on his arms is back and he massages his shoulder every time he has to pick up the hand tiller.
“Okay, enough,” Naruto says, getting up and walking directly to where Gaara is trying to break and turn up the earth. “Tell me what to do, and we will finish this quicker.”
Gaara leaves the hand tiller stuck on the ground. “You don’t have to.”
Naruto rolls his eyes. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, “I wanna help out. I have to pay you back for your hospitality, anyway.”
He looks so determined that Gaara can only give in. Naruto has always been a force of nature after all.
“Okay.” He picks up the hand tiller again. “We have to take out all the roots, rocks, and debris in general. Once we do that, all that's left is to rake. We can plant the seeds tomorrow.”
Naruto grins. “Great.” He adjusts his straw hat. “Then we can finally have fun and stuff.”
Gaara wants to tell him he’s not exactly fun to hang out with, but Naruto crouches down and starts removing grass and small rocks while whistling out of tune. Gaara averts his eyes and goes back to work.
Some days they work until noon and then they explore the forest or lie down by the river. Gaara takes Naruto to Tanigakure’s street market, watching him become distracted by every stand. He even puts up with Naruto’s insane obsession with ramen.
They make a strange pair, or so Ogawa-san confesses to him while Naruto sleeps in one morning. “But it’s good to see you hang out with boys your age,” she says, and Gaara wants to remind her that he’s not her grandson, that she shouldn’t look out for him.
When Naruto is not sleeping or eating, he forces Gaara to keep up with whatever he wants to do. He just won’t stop, doing thousands of things at the same time. Gaara wonders if it has something to do with the Kyuubi’s chakra. (“Kurama,” Naruto usually corrects him. “That’s his name.”)
It’s Naruto who suggests practicing hand-to-hand combat. At first, Gaara refuses, but then he thinks about getting out of shape and rethinks the whole idea. When he agrees, he pretends he’s humoring Naruto and not using the opportunity to learn a thing or two from him. Gaara is not exactly a fan of close-range combat, everybody knows that.
They don’t use Gaara’s sand techniques or Naruto’s extra chakra. “All this farming has gotten you slow, Gaara!” Naruto laughs at him. Gaara scowls and manages to hit him in the jaw.
Later, as they tend to their bruises, Naruto won’t stop chatting about inane things. Gaara half-listens, wondering why the boy has this desperate need to fill in every silence with words.
It all clicks into place one night. Naruto is tossing and turning in his sleep, a few painful sounds escaping his mouth. They make Gaara turn to him in sympathy, staring at his shadowy figure in the dark room and wondering what it is he's dreaming about.
That's when it hits him.
Naruto? Naruto isn't fine.
He is watering the newly planted seeds when there's a deep sigh behind him.
“My birthday is next month,” Naruto announces like it’s a tragedy.
Gaara glances over his shoulder to where Naruto is sitting cross-legged beneath a tree. His head is tilted forward, but Gaara can see the downturned line of his mouth. It's unsettling. Leaving the watering can on the ground, Gaara steps over the furrows and slowly makes his way to the inviting shade Naruto is benefiting from.
“You don’t want to get older?” he asks, taking a seat next to him.
The boy snorts. “It’s not that.” He plays with the wisps of grass under his fingers, silent for a change. Gaara looks up at the lazy clouds moving above them. “It’s just—there's nothing to celebrate.”
There are soil stains on Gaara's sandals. He tries to rub them away. “Why is that?”
Naruto hugs his knees, resting his chin on them and staring at Gaara with big blue eyes. He seems a little sad and Gaara's stomach knots uncomfortably. He doesn’t like that look on those charming features.
“I—” Naruto starts, but stops midway, sighing and averting his gaze. “This is stupid.”
Gaara clenches his jaw, swallowing all the things that want to spill from his mouth. Words about trust and friendship. All manner of promises he isn't sure he can keep, but that he wants to make anyway. Confessions he wouldn't dare say out loud, even under torture. The thing is, though, he isn't sure Naruto would believe any of it.
“There’s an onsen nearby,” he says instead. “We could go there.”
Naruto’s face lights up a little bit.
“You should’ve said that sooner.”
He methodically leaves his clothes in the basket, grabs his towel, and sits inside the shower stall. The onsen is not one of Tanigakure’s touristic attractions, so it’s almost empty at this time of day. He closes his eyes as he soaps his body, massaging his muscles and bruises. Naruto is in the stall next to his, his endless chatter the only sound in the place.
“This shampoo smells so nice,” he says.
Gaara nods, even though Naruto is not paying attention. He rinses and repeats the process all over again, enjoying the ritual almost religiously.
“Hey,” Naruto calls gently. When Gaara turns to look at him, the boy’s staring at his back with curious eyes. It makes Gaara feel bashful.
“Is there something wrong?”
Naruto’s hand reaches out but stops midway. “What’s this scar?” he asks, pointing to Gaara’s middle back.
Ah, the souvenir. Gaara knows they both have little scars. Naruto, thanks to the Kyuubi, and Gaara, thanks to his mother. Yet, the one that crosses his back is the constant reminder of war, of shields that can be broken.
“Uchiha Madara did it.” He washes his hands in cold water and presses them against his forehead. “Another one of my failed attempts at dying.” The words leave a sour taste in his mouth.
Naruto’s cheeks turn a slight shade of pink. “May I?” he asks.
Gaara nods, not really knowing what he's agreeing to. And then Naruto’s hand is warm against his wet skin, tracing the texture of the scar so slowly Gaara has to close his eyes to keep from reacting.
They do not speak of it.
After dinner, it gets chilly. Gaara closes all the windows and tells Naruto to sit by the irori while he makes tea. The boy seems boneless after the onsen and complies easily, but he’s still unusually quiet, which doesn't bode well with Gaara.
“Here,” he says, passing Naruto a cup of tea.
They drink in silence for a while, warmed up by the fire and loose-limbed by the bathhouse. Gaara doesn’t sleep much, so he takes great comfort in the little rest he can get. Right now, he feels cozy and toasty, relaxed enough to dream for hours.
That is—until Naruto's whisper breaks the spell.
“I’m not really on vacation, you know.”
Gaara turns to him, sleep being slowly replaced by dread. There's an expression on those blue eyes that has no business being there. An expression Gaara has no name for.
“You're not?"
Naruto shrugs, hunching over himself. “Tsunade thought I should take some time off. She kind of kicked me out.”
Gaara leaves his teacup by his side and rests his hands on his lap. “Is everything alright?”
Naruto opens his mouth and then closes it, his gaze far away. Gaara stays silent, waiting for Naruto to take the lead, even if he doesn't know where he'll be leading them.
The wait is mercifully short.
“They are all different,” Naruto whispers. He fiddles with his cup, swirling the liquid around. “All of them. They have changed because of the war. I—” He takes a deep breath, “I mean, they are still them, but different.” He looks at Gaara as if searching for something. “Even you.”
Gaara wishes he didn't know what Naruto was talking about, but he would be lying. He thinks about his siblings, about himself. About leaving his village behind without a single look back.
Start your own life. That's what Kankuro said.
“And then, there’s Sasuke,” Naruto continues, interrupting Gaara's musings. “He went to trial before the Elders because, yes. He did some shitty things to everyone. But—well, we've all forgiven him. I've forgiven him.” He frowns as if remembering something. “And it's not as if we don't get along. I mean, he speaks to me and all, but he’s not—” He clears his throat. “He’s not the friend I once knew.”
Naruto’s eyes are devastated when he fixes them on Gaara. And that's not—that's not right. He saved them all in the war. He saved Gaara way before there even was a war. And now here he is, with that broken expression on his face. Opening up to Gaara of all people. And it is the most terrifying and important moment of Gaara's life.
He picks up his cup and takes a steadying sip from his tea before answering.
“I guess,” he starts, choosing the words carefully, “that they all grew up at one point.” He tries not to sound condescending or detached as he knows he sometimes can. It's no small feat—he has never felt this nervous of hurting Naruto before. “War changes people, and your friends are no different.” He taps the side of his cup where it's chipped. “But I don’t think you will feel this way forever.” He risks a glimpse at Naruto. “Maybe you haven’t finished growing up yet.”
Those blue eyes are staring at him, as open and intense as always.
“How is it," Naruto asks, scratching the side of his nose, "that you know exactly what to say?”
Gaara shrugs.
“I don’t.” A million thoughts cross his mind in that instant, like little flashes of light. “I guess I feel the same way.”
That’s another thing he didn't mean to say out loud. But what he wants doesn't much matter when it comes to this boy.
“Gaara,” Naruto calls, and he’s leaning closer, his face so sincere that Gaara feels like he’s drowning. “Why are you here? What are you looking for?”
He forces his voice not to waver.
“Myself.”
He wakes up before sunrise. Unmoving in his futon, he watches the first light shine through the shoji. Naruto is sound asleep next to him, sometimes mumbling fragments of whatever conversation he’s having in his dream.
Gaara gets up eventually, going out to breathe the humid chilly air. He can taste the leaves, the water, the wind. He can taste life.
“It’s really early, Gaara.”
Naruto drops down next to him on the engawa. He is wrapped up in the quilt, his face soft from sleeping.
“You can sleep in, you know,” Gaara says.
Naruto ignores him. “What are we doing today?”
Gaara stares at that messy hair. “Clean the house." He watches those eyes fighting sleep. "But we can do whatever you want later.”
Naruto yawns a sincere great. He then leans on Gaara, slowly resting his head on his shoulder. He’s warm and pliant, halfway to sleep.
“Naruto,” Gaara calls softly, resisting the urge to touch him. “Why did you come here of all places?”
Feelings have always been difficult for him. Not the negative ones—rage, sadness, pain; those have always been second nature. But the others? The others scare him. He has never truly had them before. Friendship? Love? He has been told he is unlovable. He has been told he is incapable of love.
Naruto's hair brushes against his neck and Gaara breathes deeply, relaxing as much as possible.
“I feel calm here." It's nothing but a sleepy whisper, but it feels powerful enough. "With you.”
Gaara looks up at the sky and swallows around the lump of emotion in his throat.
On Naruto’s last day, he discovers a gigantic tree in the middle of the forest.
“Gaara! Get up here! You have to see this!” he exclaims from the very top, laughing like a little child. Gaara humors him, climbing the tree as fast as his feet can carry him. When he gets to the higher branches, he understands Naruto’s giddiness. “You can see Tanigakure from up here.”
It’s a beautiful sight, especially when the wind blows and the tree tops move in tune. From up there, they can see clearings, rivers, and little towns. Flocks of birds fly near them, dodging the dancing leaves.
“Konoha is that way.” Naruto points east, his voice soft.
Gaara looks west. “And there's Suna.”
They stay there for a while, sitting on a large branch and softly talking about nothing in particular.
Naruto says goodbye with a faint blush on his cheeks.
Gaara can barely stand to watch him go.
Days turn shorter, darker. He doesn’t notice at first, trying to pick up his routine from before Naruto’s visit. Except—it’s impossible, isn’t it? Once Naruto enters your life, there's no going back.
Winter comes early. On a cold November morning, Gaara wakes up in a freezing bedroom, his breath condensing right before his eyes. He pads through the rooms, lighting the fire by the irori and putting a kettle over it to boil water.
Ogawa-san told him that it rarely snows in Tanigakure, but with the weather this cold Gaara is not sure he believes her. The snow is not the problem, though.
The problem is winter makes him think about warmer days and an even warmer smile.
New Year comes and goes without any fuss. He gets letters from his siblings and an invitation to attend Ogawa-san’s New Year dinner party. He goes just to humor her, and the moment he sets foot in her house, he knows it’s not much of a party as it is mayhem.
All attendants are farmers. Some of them, Gaara knows. Old men and women he has spoken to a few times. They give him a customary grunt in greeting and go back to complaining about everything old people like to complain about. Others introduce themselves, especially young couples with children who live farther down the river. Said children run around the house, playing and screaming, and making Gaara avoid everyone by hiding in the kitchen.
“Ah, there you are,” Ogawa-san smiles at him from where she’s cooking an intimidating amount of soup. “You don’t feel like socializing, I take it?”
Gaara shrugs, not hesitating to lend her a hand with the food.
“I’m not really good with people,” he admits.
Ogawa-san throws some mushrooms into the miso soup she’s making. “None of us are, dear,” she says, “but we still try.”
Gaara decides to ignore the slightly condescending words and starts cleaning after the old lady. “They all stare at me,” he says just to make her feel guilt.
Ogawa-san tastes her soup. “Of course they do.” She nods to herself before blinking at Gaara. “You are a young man living by yourself. And a foreign ninja at that.”
It’s the first time Gaara hears her say it out loud.
“Are they scared of me?”
He hates that he sounds like a little child.
Ogawa-san grins with her poorly preserved teeth.
“Not a chance, boy." She winks. "We are tough people.”
January arrives like a freezing and unyielding guest. Gaara trains in the forest just to keep his muscles warm when he’s not taking shelter by the irori. He hears villagers say this is the coldest winter in years.
Then one morning, all hell breaks loose.
Gaara wakes up to the sound of someone desperately knocking on his door. He pads to the entrance and opens it. There’s a young woman on the other side, looking frantic and with tears trailing down her cheeks. Gaara thinks he knows her from Ogawa-san’s dinner party.
“Thank God you are alright,” she says. Her voice trembles and Gaara’s training kicks in.
“What’s wrong?”
If he sounds a little too forceful, the woman doesn’t seem to notice. “They all started to feel bad. My daughter suddenly complained of stomach ache, and when I realized...”
She doesn’t make any sense, so Gaara puts on his boots and steps out of his house.
“Take me with them,” he tells the woman, kindly touching her elbow. “Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
The woman nods slowly. She takes a deep breath and goes back the way she came, Gaara trailing behind.
That’s when he notices it snowed during the night.
They are all lying down in Yoshida-san’s living room. Most of them are feverish, their bodies shivering under the blankets. “We think it’s poison,” Yoshida-san informs Gaara the moment their eyes meet.
He’s not a medic, but he has some training in first-aid. “We should lie them on their left side,” he says automatically, “and give each of them a cool compress for the fever.”
Poison. To affect all these people, it has to come from a communal source. Did they inhale it, swallow it? He’s still trying to do some damage control when he notices Ogawa-san among the sick. The old lady is gasping, eyes closed and skin sweaty.
“Some of them have had seizures,” Yoshida-san adds, his old frame bent over his cane. He looks like he could keel over any second.
Gaara stares at him, at all his neighbors softly moaning in pain. He realizes he won't be of much help to them and the sudden impotence that fills him scares him to death. “We need a doctor,” he rattles out, hands itching to do something. Anything.
The young woman who came looking for him is crouched by a small figure, a little girl who tosses and turns. “There should be one in the village,” she mutters, voice full of tears. "But we're short-handed and the trip is long—"
Gaara doesn’t hesitate. His hands automatically form the seals. There's a puff of smoke and another pair of teal eyes are looking at him.
“Go to Tanigakure,” Gaara barks at himself, ignoring the way people around him go silent. “Bring anyone you can.”
His clone nods, stepping out of the house and disappearing into the forest. Gaara ignores the looks he gets and turns to Yoshida-san, asking him for something to do.
In the end, it’s water poisoning. A wounded animal drowned in the subterranean river all the farms use as their running water source, polluting the stream for just enough time to get everyone sick.
“Nature is a tricky thing,” Ogawa-san says, her small frame looking delicate next to Gaara’s. “But thankfully you were there to save us.”
This is the third day Gaara has been looking after her. She was the slowest to recover due to her age, and he barely moved from her side. He doesn’t know when he developed such a fondness towards his landlady of all people, but he feels relieved knowing she will be back on her feet in no time.
“I didn’t do much.”
Ogawa-san takes a sip from her tea, shaking her head. “You did enough.” She passes him the empty cup. "Gave your secret away and everything.”
They weren’t scared of him then, and they aren’t scared now. Yet, Gaara feels like they behave differently towards him, treating him with more respect than he deserves. He still finds gift baskets outside his house from those families he helped save.
“I did what I could,” he says simply.
Ogawa-san ruffles his hair. “You are such a silly boy.”
Gaara feels annoyed. “Not a boy,” he grunts, scowling. “I’m seventeen.”
The old lady looks amused. “Are you now?”
He sighs, realizing this woman is unbeatable.
"Ogawa-san, you're exhausting.”
The woman laughs, delighted.
On the last day of January, Gaara comes home from the onsen and finds Naruto at his door.
“You seem taller,” Gaara says by way of greeting.
Naruto gives him a beautiful smile. “And you need a haircut.” Gaara scowls at him but leaves the door open for Naruto to follow. It’s a little bit chilly inside, the whole house silent and calm. “I can’t stay for long,” Naruto says behind him, sounding apologetic.
“It's okay.” Gaara leaves his toiletries basket by the genkan. “Do you want something to drink?”
Naruto declines so Gaara leads him to the living room. He turns on the brazier beneath the kotatsu and Naruto shimmies under the blanket, shivering a little in the cold house. “Have I mentioned the weather in this land is ridiculous?”
Gaara rolls his eyes. "Once or twice." He takes his place next to Naruto, enjoying the way his hands immediately start warming up. “Back on active duty?”
Naruto nods.
“My team is staying in Tanigakure for the night.” He cracks his neck and then glances at the shoji. “I think one of Kakashi’s dogs may be spying on us.”
Gaara clicks his tongue, but Naruto only grins, trying to look as innocent as possible and failing miserably. “A tail means you're sneaking out,” Gaara scolds him, his voice a monotone. "You should go back to them."
Naruto plants his elbows on the table. “My team is awesome,” he says, those round eyes of his never leaving Gaara. "But they are not you."
Then Naruto reaches out gently, his long fingers brushing the back of Gaara's hand.
Oh.
Gaara freezes.
“Don’t,” he hears himself say, much more breathless than he meant to.
Before he knows what he's doing, he stands up and walks out of the room, heart beating a mile per second. He takes refuge in the kitchen, his hands automatically going through the motions of making tea as he fights an overwhelming wave of desperation pressing against his ribs. He has a good idea of what it is and what has triggered it, but he tries to sweep it under the rug where nobody can see.
He’s filling the kettle under the sink when he senses an extra presence lingering in the doorway. He turns off the faucet and hears Naruto’s footsteps getting closer. “You have to go back,” he grits out, putting the lid on the kettle. "Missions always come first."
The house is silent for a moment. Gaara ignores the panic pooling in his stomach and goes for a teacup.
“That's the thing,” Naruto suddenly whispers, closer than Gaara expected. His body heat slips through Gaara’s clothes, all along his back. “I don’t want to go.” His scent of peppermint and metal becomes so strong Gaara feels dizzy. He turns around and has to blink up at Naruto.
Oh, so he is taller after all.
“What are you doing?” he asks, expecting his voice to sound pissed off, but coming across as vulnerable instead.
Naruto slowly rests his hand on Gaara’s hip. “I just—”
He never finishes, words trailing off. And then he leans in.
The kiss is so soft Gaara thinks he's imagining it. Their lips brush against each other chastely, just a warm and intimate press that is so casual he feels his chest constrict. Naruto has his eyes closed, but Gaara can't stop staring. A million things are going through his head and he—
Naruto ends it, pressing their foreheads together. The headband is cool against bare skin.
“Sorry,” Naruto whispers, his breath warm on Gaara’s cheeks.
He wants to feel angry, but he just can’t. “I—” He closes his eyes. "It's okay."
Naruto grins. “Can I do it again?”
Gaara nods, not trusting his voice. Naruto leans in once more, this time kissing him with parted lips one, two, three times. It's an open invitation to move and Gaara allows himself as much, tilting his head and parting his lips, pressing forward and upward into a full mouth. Naruto sighs into the kiss and it goes straight to Gaara’s belly.
They aren’t even touching, their hands unmoving at their sides. Gaara really wants to touch, though. He doesn’t know where the urge comes from, but it's visceral. That’s when Naruto traces his lower lip with his tongue and Gaara gasps, his hands coming up to grab Naruto's forearms. There's a small noise that may or may not be a whine, but Gaara is too busy letting Naruto tease him with his tongue to figure out whose it is. Shit, he hears himself say in-between brushes and licks, followed by Naruto’s Fuck, I—
A sudden bark makes them jump apart. It’s coming from outside, insistent and demanding. When an annoyed Gaara deigns to open the door, a small dog is sitting on the engawa. The Konoha symbol looks like a curse.
“Pakkun!” Naruto whines at his back. “Pretty shitty timing, man.”
The dog seems unimpressed. “Break time is over, get your ass moving, kid.”
Naruto groans like a little child for a minute, trying to convince an unmoving Pakkun. Gaara is still flushed and confused, so he just orders them both the get out of his house.
“I’ll be back,” Naruto promises, his pupils dilated and his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink.
Gaara knows he will.
All of a sudden, the world seems—different. More bright. More hopeful. Gaara has to constantly remind himself to pay attention, to not get lost in thought. Because that's the thing: the moment he’s alone, his mind wanders to the scent of peppermint and the touch of soft lips. To all the possibilities that could've happened had they not been interrupted. His concentration falters, broken by fantasies about golden hair and warm skin and what would've felt like to have Naruto press him against his countertop.
“My, aren't you distracted today,” Ogawa-san says as he helps her do her laundry.
Gaara doesn't say it's not only today that he's distracted. Instead, he frowns at her and goes back to his task.
There's a word for what he's feeling. He refuses to say it out loud.
Spring arrives slowly and with it, his sister. She finds him planting new crops, his hands dirty and his forehead sweaty.
“When Kankuro told me, I didn’t believe him,” she says with a smirk. “You are very good at growing things, huh.”
Gaara stares at her in mild annoyance. “I won’t feed you if you get all sassy.”
Temari laughs obnoxiously, a carefree sound Gaara hasn’t heard before. She has always been a lethal and powerful woman, but now she looks relaxed and contented. Gaara realizes it’s been a whole year since the last time he saw her.
“Don’t be mean,” she teases him, just like Kankuro. Gaara is still confused with this new behavior, with this familiarity his siblings are showing him. “Come on, take a break. I brought you a present.”
Temari doesn’t wait for him as she walks into the house.
Unfortunately for Gaara, Ogawa-san visits him the next afternoon and ends up meeting Temari. The moment they exchange words, Gaara knows that gossiping about him will keep them entertained for years.
“Older sister?” Ogawa-san says. “He never mentioned anything about a sister!”
Temari shakes her head, playing her part so well that Gaara finds her terrifying.
“I bet he didn’t mention our brother, either.” She sighs. “He can be so shy.”
That’s when Gaara decides to ignore them and go down to the river, the book Temari gifted him under his arm.
“I like the old woman,” her sister says over dinner. Gaara bets Ogawa-san will be Temari’s next informant, and that in itself is a little scary.
“Me, too," he replies anyway. "She’s good to me.”
They eat in comfortable silence, enjoying the soft night breeze that comes through the windows. During dessert, Gaara asks Temari about her life and her work in Konoha. She answers with the same uninterested attitude Kankuro is capable of. That is, until Gaara mentions Shikamaru and she blushes like she's twelve.
“Ah, so you do like him.” It’s not a question.
Temari scoffs.
“Of course not.” Her voice is even, but she shovels the rest of her pudding into her mouth, her cheeks going even redder. She swallows, tilts her chin up, and squints at Gaara. “Anyway, so what? It's not like you are one to talk.”
Gaara blinks.
“Excuse me?”
Temari's frown turns into a smirk and Gaara regrets saying anything. “Ogawa-san has told me of your friend,” she comments like it has little importance. “Your very blond, very chatty friend.”
Gaara tries to keep the blush from his face. He shrugs instead. “Ah, yes.” His voice comes out bored. “He visits sometimes.”
"Ah, I see." Temari lifts her eyebrow. “Have you confessed, yet?”
Gaara has a hard time breathing.
“Confessed.”
His sister rolls her eyes. “You’ve had a crush on Naruto since the moment you met him.”
She’s teasing. He knows she’s teasing. It's not unlike his own comment about Shikamaru. And yet, a violent emotion settles in his chest. “No, I haven’t,” he grunts harshly. He glares at Temari and watches his sister recoil in surprise.
Thankfully, it's not fear.
“Oh.” She seems to be gauging his reaction. “Right, sorry. I just thought that after all these years—" She pauses, grabs her spoon, and taps her little plate. "You know what? Forget I said anything.”
She leaves it at that. They finish their dessert in a much less comfortable silence, Gaara feeling guiltier by the second. He wants to apologize. He’s not mad but disappointed. Not in his sister. He’s disappointed in himself for not being brave enough to say out loud how he truly feels.
Temari makes him promise to take care of himself, to write more often, and to eat more. Gaara nods to the first, grunts to the second, and sighs to the third.
His sister ruffles his hair and kisses his cheek before turning to the forest and jumping out of sight.
“I'm bad at emotions,” Gaara complains to Ogawa-san.
The flowers are in bloom, and they just sit before the hidden meadows of Tanigakure and watch them dance to the spring breeze.
“Can't blame ya. Feelings are complicated." The old woman takes a sip of lemonade. "Love is—if there’s something life has taught me is that loving a person is not enough.”
Gaara looks at her. “What is, then?”
Ogawa-san looks wistful.
“Oh, many things, my boy. Many things,” she whispers. “Respect, for starters. Support. A little bit of healthy anger sometimes.” She laughs, apparently remembering something from long ago. “But most of all, you have to accept and embrace the love others have for you.”
Gaara looks up at the sky.
“That sounds like a vicious circle,” he says.
Ogawa-san closes her eyes.
“Love can be pretty vicious.”
He wonders what Naruto’s doing while he's here, tending to his garden and trying to sort out his feelings.
He wonders if Naruto has gone through the same painful process of figuring out who he is.
He wonders if Naruto will kiss him again.
One morning Gaara takes all his furniture and belongings outside and gets ready to undertake a big cleaning. He knows Oosouji takes place before New Year’s, but he has this urge to do it now. It's not like anyone will judge him for it.
He starts with every piece of fabric he can find, washing it all and letting it dry in the cool breeze of April. He airs the futons and the carpets to the spring sun, hoping they catch the scent of grass and pine trees. Then, he opens every window and every door while he sweeps the place. The tatami is easy to clean, but he has a hard time with the bathroom and the kitchen, having to step aside a couple of times for fear of destroying everything on an angry impulse.
It takes him the whole day, but by the time he finishes, his house looks shiny and new. His body aches and he takes a short shower in his recently cleaned bathroom to take the sweat and grime away. When he later falls face-first on his futon, he feels reborn.
He’s buying noodles and curry when he hears the voice. It’s slightly huskier than when they last met, but the intensity and the tagline are unmistakable.
“But you said ten,” Naruto whines.
There’s a second voice, a male one that sounds beyond irritated. “I said fourteen.”
“Fourteen, my ass.”
When Gaara finally sees them, he has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Naruto is fighting a shopkeeper about a watermelon as big as his head. They are up in each other's faces, their voices growing louder and gathering a crowd.
“The watermelon is worth fourteen, kid,” the man says. “Pay up or go away.”
“If I'm late,” Naruto grits out, his chakra flaring a bit, “because of your stupid—”
“I’ll pay for that,” Gaara interrupts. Both the owner and Naruto jump apart, their eyes wide with shock. Gaara ignores Naruto's blushing face and stares at the shopkeeper, offering him the money with a mildly annoyed expression. "Ten is the usual price, I believe."
The man hesitates for half a second before accepting it, slightly scared. He then puts the watermelon in a bag and hands it out. Gaara takes it with a curt nod, turns to a grinning Naruto, and steers him out of the crowd.
“You weren’t supposed to pay for that,” he hears Naruto say. “It was meant to be a present.”
Naruto’s hand is suddenly grasping his. It's warm and callused and it prompts an urgent feeling in Gaara's chest.
“Any other errands I should know about?”
Naruto’s lips are by his ear when he answers. “Nope. I’m all yours.”
The way back is too long and too short at the same time. There’s some sort of electricity between them, an eagerness like Gaara has never felt before. Naruto leans in at every opportunity, subtly touching Gaara’s shoulder, his arm, even his waist. Gaara is thankful for the watermelon he’s carrying so that he can keep his own hands under control.
He’s been dreaming of this moment, much to his dismay. He’s been dreaming of the taste of Naruto’s lips, of how his skin will feel.
The moment they reach the house, he turns around and practically wheezes, “Wait in the living room.” He then goes (runs, hides) to the kitchen, keeping his breathing in check. He wonders if this is what other people—normal people—feel about the ones they like, this nerve-wracking sensation.
He attempts to cut the watermelon thrice before he actually succeeds.
When he gets to the living room, Naruto is standing by the open shoji, gazing at the garden outside. He looks handsome, lost in thought. The silly boy Gaara met all those years ago still lives in him, plain as day in his childish frown and impudent eyes. And yet, there's some new adult attractiveness to Naruto.
Gaara drops the plate of watermelon slices carelessly on the chabudai.
“Ah, there you are.” Naruto turns to him and smiles shyly. “I—”
Gaara silences him with a kiss. He stands on his toes and presses their lips firmly together—one, two, three times before he draws back, blood rushing to his ears. He tilts his chin up, staring at Naruto's face and finding dark eyes and red cheeks. One glance at Naruto's full mouth and he's gone all over again, want clouding his mind and pushing him forward.
“Gaara,” is the gasp he gets when he bites Naruto’s lower lip.
It all happens fast after that. In the blink of an eye, Naruto is framing Gaara’s face with his hands, kissing him so fiercely Gaara has to plant his feet to keep from toppling backward. His hands find Naruto's waist and hold on tight, exactly what he should've done during their first time.
They end up pressed against the shoji, a mix of sharp breaths and greedy fingers, uncaring about how exposed they are to the outside world.
“Do that again,” Gaara whispers when Naruto licks the corner of his mouth. Naruto complies before slowly parting Gaara’s lips with his tongue and pushing inside.
He lights up like he's on fire. When their tongues brush, his back arches forward and his hands end up tangled up in blond hair, involuntarily pulling Naruto closer. The kiss is just—too much. Hot and deep and dizzying. Gaara can't hear a single thing over the beating of his own heart, pounding against his ribs.
When they break for air, Naruto gasps, “I can’t stay for long.”
Gaara grits his teeth. “Why?” It sounds so petulant, Naruto laughs, even if he looks pained.
“Mission.” Those long fingers curl around Gaara's nape as Naruto kisses him again. The shoji’s delicate structure groans under their combined weight, but they don’t pay it any mind. “This one’s going to be a long one,” Naruto warns against his mouth.
He becomes distracted when Gaara bites his lower lip again.
“Do they trust you with those?” His voice sounds huskier and strange to his ears.
Naruto doesn’t seem embarrassed when he grabs Gaara’s ass and kisses his neck. “You are so mean sometimes,” he murmurs against his skin. The way he can tear Gaara apart is annoying in itself, but the fact that he can put him back together makes Gaara want to burn everything to the ground. Naruto kisses him behind the ear and says, “I like you so much.”
Gaara’s hands turn into claws, clinging to Naruto’s clothes as if they were a lifeline. He feels every emotion he has been hiding bubble up in his chest until he’s bursting at the seams.
“Naruto,” he almost sobs, his eyes searching for blue ones, “I went to war for you.”
The look on Naruto’s face is so open that Gaara feels himself break.
The kiss that follows is so desperate the rice paper finally tears beneath them.
Naruto tastes like the five slices of watermelon he has eaten when Gaara kisses him goodbye.
“This will probably take months.” Naruto's farewell sounds more like an apology. “I don’t know exactly when I’m coming back.”
Gaara shrugs, pretending like he doesn’t mind. But he does, doesn't he? So much so that he can barely stand it.
“I’ll keep myself busy,” he promises.
Naruto presses their foreheads together, breathing the same air before taking a step back. “Wait for me,” he says. It sounds cheesy, but neither of them cares.
Gaara wants to say I always do, but he only ends up nodding.
It's—strange. As a child, he got used to not hoping for things, knowing fully well that he would never get them. He couldn't afford fake hopes or fantasies, not with a father like his. Now, though. Now it's different. He has a real chance at getting what he wants.
It's a testament to his painful upbringing that he's not sure if he's excited or scared to death.
The first weeks aren't terrible. Sure, he occasionally gets distracted, but most of the time he manages to tend to his garden and carry out his other tasks.
Until the dreams start, that is.
Some are nice; they are full of colors, with an echo of Naruto's laugh, and the taste of summer. Some are frustrating, dreams where he runs and runs but never reaches his destiny. Some—and he will never admit it out loud—leave him gasping and sweaty, hard between the legs.
(Some dreams are frightening. They are filled with blood, and gore, and tears.)
When the anxiety becomes unbearable, he writes to his brother and asks for his first mission in more than a year.
Kankuro's reply arrives three days later. Attached to it there's a message ordering him to report to Suna's headquarters.
Ogawa-san promises him that she will take care of his garden while he's away. Gaara tells her not to overexert herself as he adjusts the strap of his gourd. It feels heavy on his back but somewhat comforting.
“Take care,” she says, her voice dripping with concern.
Gaara squeezes the hand she has on his shoulder.
“I always do.”
Or, at least, he tries.
Before he knows it, the trees become scarce and the wasteland he used to rule makes its appearance. It's been a year and a half since he left his home, but the dry air, the blinding sun, the grit of sand—they all bring back memories.
Suna stands among tall dunes, beaten by the wind. Not a particularly beautiful village, but still mother to thousands of warriors.
Gaara stops and stares at it from afar, realizing he hasn't missed it for a single moment since he left. Not like he misses his rented house and overflowing garden. His green tea and trips to the river. Not like he misses Naruto.
For whatever reason, that settles him enough to make his final approach on the city.
The thing about growing up here is that Gaara knows all the shortcuts and hidden entrances. He's too tired and irritable to face the guards, who will probably recognize him in a second. So instead, he sneaks in, navigating back alleys and narrow streets until he finds what he's looking for.
No that the Kazekage's Office is easy to miss. With its circular stucco walls and huge 'wind' kanji, it manages to draw the eye of any visitor.
Thankfully for Gaara, Suna's villagers—and especially, its ninjas—tend to avoid gossiping in public. That's why nobody utters a single word when he walks into the building in full gear. Not to his face, anyway.
Yakku is the one behind the main desk today. He makes a double-take when he sees him.
“Uh.” His eyes are wide. “You are back, Lord Gaara.”
Gaara keeps his face stoic. “Not quite.” He adjusts the strap on his gourd and doesn't turn around, even if he knows he's being stared at. “And drop the honorifics, Yakku. I'm no longer Kazekage.” He grabs the scroll Kankuro sent him and puts it on the table. “I've been assigned to a mission.”
Yakku takes a quick look at the scroll, clears his throat, and turns around. He quickly goes through several filing cabinets, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at Gaara. He finally finds what he's looking for—an even tinier scroll with Suna's imprint stamped on it. Yakku forms a couple of hand seals and it opens. The young man reads it and hesitates.
“It, um, it says here you have to report to the Kazekage.”
Gaara was expecting this. It doesn't make it any less annoying.
Baki didn't want the position. He didn't want the responsibility, of this Gaara is certain. However, he accepted it with honor when he was asked. Kankuro complained to him once about Baki being a different kind of Kazekage, more lax and less resolute. Gaara replied that Baki was ruling under peaceful times, so he could afford to be that way.
“You wanted to see me, Lord Baki,” he greets as he enters the room.
Lord. That's how he used to address his father too. Thankfully, the man staring back at him is not Rasa.
Baki sighs, the Kazekage's robes funny on him. "Actually, I wanted to say hello,” he grumbles, “seeing as you didn't give me the chance to say goodbye.”
Gaara averts his eyes, hoping the gesture looks apologetic. It gives him the chance to look around his old office, noticing a few small changes. There are no cacti, for starters.
“I'd like to get on with my mission as soon as possible.”
Baki, just as Kankuro, is a man of few words. He's also one to understand when Gaara doesn't want to talk about his life choices. He stands up, a scroll in hand, and walks toward Gaara.
“It's a low-ranked mission,” he says. “Our A and S-Class ones are already taken.”
Gaara doesn't mind. He only wants something to do.
“I'll take it.”
Baki hesitates, searching Gaara's face, but he gives up and hands him the scroll.
“Good luck, kid.”
Jiraigakure is a tiny village in the north of the Land of Wind, practically on the border with the Land of Earth. Their livelihood is based on selling precious metals to the rest of the country.
One of their mines collapsed five days ago, trapping several workers inside. Jiraigakure does not have enough manpower to set them free, so they have hired Suna's services.
It's not a fancy mission, but lives are at stake and Gaara never liked fancy missions anyway.
He does the job quickly. The rescuing part, at least. What he does take his time with, though, it's the restoration of the mine, so that the villagers can continue their work. He helps them build new foundations, making them stronger and more durable. All in all, it makes him feel useful, scaring away that powerlessness he felt when he couldn't help his neighbors.
When he's done, he realizes that one mission is not enough.
He reports back to Suna five days later and asks for a new assignment.
His summer is a blur of names and locations, lending a hand to villagers, escorting important businessmen, and fighting low-ranked criminals. Kankuro offers him to work together in a S-ranked mission, but Gaara declines. He'd rather do quick jobs, those on which he doesn't have to dwell.
By the time he returns to Tanigakure—and a voice in his mind whispers home—, it's mid-September and he has to hurry with the new crops. Ogawa-san is waiting on his veranda, balancing her feet, and Gaara wonders if this old lady has some kind of sixth sense.
“Well, I'm back,” he says stupidly. And he tries not to think about how much that sounds like Naruto.
Ogawa-san smiles.
“Welcome, my boy.” She has a bag of seeds on her lap. “You've been missed.”
Gaara believes her.
Autumn turns to winter, trees standing naked under the early snow. Gaara watches the snowflakes fall, silently sipping his tea. New Year is less than a month away, and he has gotten invitations from both Ogawa-san and his siblings.
The forest is so quiet.
Gaara carries on, burying sorrow deep inside and reminding himself that ninjas cannot hope for more.
The walk back is slow, maybe because of the snow, maybe because he feels like it. It's not like he's in a hurry to get home. He would've stayed with Ogawa-san, making sure she was taking care of herself in this cold, but the old woman ordered him to go back and stay indoors. If Gaara walks even slower just to spite her, nobody needs to know.
His hands are freezing, the hanten he's wearing doing little to protect him from the cold. He can't smell a thing due to a chilly nose he can barely feel. With every step, his boots sink deeper in the snow.
When he reaches the clearing, he notices the figure on his engawa and stops. The uniform is unmistakable.
That's a member of Konoha's ANBU.
The first thing he feels is dread, a foreboding feeling tearing him apart from the inside. Then he remembers there's no way he'd be notified if Naruto were to suffer any damage, and least of all by an ANBU ninja. That's when he becomes paranoid. His mind provides him with thousands of other explanations: an assassination attempt; a personal missive from the Hokage; something to do with Temari's wellbeing.
He takes a deep breath and marches towards the ANBU. He's armed under his hanten. In the case of actual combat—well. He used to be a powerful ninja once.
Hopefully, he still is.
The strange figure looks impatient, cracking their knuckles and tapping their foot. The nearer he comes, the more certain Gaara is that he's dealing with a man. A slightly taller man who likes to fidget and who wears a fox—
His mind clicks at the same time the ANBU turns around. Even the beady eyes on the mask make sense and Gaara suddenly feels stupid for not noticing sooner.
“This fucking weather,” Naruto grumbles, his voice huskier than the one Gaara's used to.
He thinks, thank God. He thinks, why did you take so long. He thinks, I missed your sorry face. What he says, though, is, “Did you just blow your cover?”
Naruto takes off his mask out in the open and Gaara is half scandalized. There's a lecture on the tip of his tongue about the need for the ANBU's secret identities, but Naruto never lets him say a word. He takes two steps towards him, grabs him by the waist, and grunts, “I don't give a shit.”
Then he gives Gaara the kiss he has been dreaming of for months.
They fall to the floor in a heap of clothes and limbs, Naruto barely managing to close the front door.
Those lips are everywhere, on Gaara's mouth, on his temple, on his neck. It's more desperation than kissing at this point, but Gaara lets himself be dragged under. He forgets about the cold weather outside and briefly closes his eyes when Naruto's hands start roaming through his arms and chest, pulling at his clothes.
“This mission took forever." That full mouth finds a spot beneath Gaara's jaw, breath scorching hot against his skin. “And the only thing I could think about was—”
Gaara no longer has control over his body, instinctively looking for Naruto's touch.
“Don't tell me anything about your mission,” he grunts while framing Naruto's hips with his thighs, trying to keep him in place. “I shouldn't know. Missions are secret, you idiot.” He gasps when Naruto licks over his pulse point, his fingers digging into the ANBU vest.
There's a breathless laugh and then Naruto is sucking on Gaara's neck, his tongue lapping at the same patch of skin over and over. Gaara has to bite down on his lower lip to keep in whatever sound his throat wants to make, embarrassing him further.
“Shit, I've wanted to do that for so long.” Naruto groans, his body involuntarily bucking against Gaara's. "Your skin is so distracting."
And he—he feels like he's caught fire.
“I'm not supposed to know you are ANBU.” Gaara drags Naruto by his hair just so he can steal a kiss. “For the love of—since when?”
He shouldn't be asking. He doesn't even want an answer. Too bad Naruto never backs off. “A year.” His hand finds Gaara's left knee, spreading it open and thumbing his inner thigh. “And I couldn't tell you. Because I—shit. Gaara, you look—”
Suddenly, Naruto stops. Gaara gasps in protest, but the small pause turns his brain back on. He notices they are lying on the tatami floor with their shoes barely off. Their clothes are a mess, their lips are swollen, and their breathing rings uneven in the empty house. Naruto's mask is probably broken into little pieces somewhere between the engawa and the entrance. But most importantly—Naruto is hard against Gaara's inner thigh.
They both seem to realize at the same time and Naruto blushes furiously.
“I'm, uh, sorry.” His eyes zero in on Gaara's neck. There must be a bruise there by now if the way Naruto's cheeks turn even redder is any indication. "I, uh. I have better control than that, I promise."
Gaara swallows, still panting. He then grabs Naruto's wrist and presses that hand between his legs. He rolls his hips up and sees Naruto's pupils dilate.
“Don't apologize.”
It takes Naruto a second and then he's pulling at their clothes like a madman.
It's hot and it's sweaty and it feels so good.
Gaara's thighs tremble atop Naruto's, sitting practically in his lap. His back protests at keeping a straight posture, but Gaara doesn't want to take his eyes off the boy in front of him, his mind blissfully blank.
Naruto leans in for a kiss as his hand speeds up on Gaara's cock. “Like this,” he pants between their mouths. "Touch me like this."
Gaara mirrors the movements, his skin in goosebumps. They move together in the dark, with their fingers around each other and their mouths breathing the same air.
Naruto sometimes thrusts up into Gaara's hand, and the sight alone is enough to make Gaara gasp. Ninjas are supposed to use their bodies for the fulfillment of their missions, whatever the situation—he knows this. Still, he hopes nobody gets to see Naruto like this. The jealousy alone might kill him.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his thumb stroking the head of Naruto's cock, spreading the wetness all over it.
Naruto's response is to moan, half-nodding. His back curves until his forehead rests on Gaara's shoulder. Sitting like that, Gaara can see the bruises on that broad back and the recent bandage on a right bicep. Naruto ignores his injuries completely, too busy mouthing at Gaara's skin and curling his left arm around his waist to keep them close.
With blood rushing to his head, Gaara slides his free hand up Naruto's back until he can comb through his hair with trembling fingers. "You feel good, Naruto," he hears himself say, mouth dry from gasping. "I knew you would."
The sight of Naruto's reddened ears is the last thing Gaara sees before he comes.
He can't sleep. This time, however, it has nothing to do with his insomnia and everything to do with the sleeping human being on top of him. Naruto usually mumbles, tossing and turning, but tonight he's still as a statue, his head resting on Gaara's chest and breathing to the beating of his heart.
When he was younger, he never dared to hope for a moment like this. Not him, not the monster. He never hoped to feel as much as Naruto makes him feel, to understand as much as he understands now.
Naruto's thumb unconsciously caresses him over the ribs. It's so hot under the quilt that Gaara feels uncomfortable, but he doesn't move a muscle. Naruto hugs him tightly and Gaara holds him through the night.
He manages to fall asleep at some point. When he wakes up, it's to breakfast in bed.
Naruto's stalling. That's what he says after wringing another orgasm out of Gaara. They are taking a bath, calmly soaking in the water as Gaara traces Naruto's ANBU tattoo.
“Stalling,” he repeats, suspicious. "What do you mean, stalling?"
Naruto turns and gives him an apologetic smile.
“I may be taking extra time to, uh, complete my mission?”
Gaara counts to ten just to keep himself from committing murder. Then he pushes Naruto against the other side of the bathtub, the water sloshing to the floor. He gives his most intimidating scowl, but Naruto only grins wickedly.
“One of these days,” Gaara says, "your Hokage will kill you."
He's hovering above Naruto, but the absolute airhead ignores all warning signs, too distracted by the drops sliding down Gaara's chest. "Nah, she won't,” he says before leaning forward to lick a trail up Gaara's throat. When he speaks again, those lips brush the bruise on Gaara's pulse point. “I'm way too good.”
He is, but Gaara has enough self-respect left not to say that to his face.
“Are you, now,” he hisses instead. His hands disappear underwater and close around Naruto's cock.
There's no more talking after that.
Naruto promises to be back within the week. Gaara thinks that's undoable, but he has learned his lesson when it comes to underestimating Naruto. Instead, he plays along, telling Naruto he better keep his word if he knows what's good for him. Later, Ogawa-san catches him strolling by her farm and ushers him inside for a cup of tea.
“You seem happy,” she comments.
Gaara knows she wants some new gossip. Thankfully for him, he's a trained ninja and knows how to be cryptic.
“That I am.”
Commitment is no stranger to him. He did commit to his position as Kazekage, after all, keeping Suna safe during a terrible war and leading a whole army against dangerous tyrants. What he doesn't know, however, is whether he's able to emotionally commit to another person. He wasn't lying—he isn't great at emotions. And what scares him the most is hurting Naruto.
So he starts by being patient. It's no small feat, considering Naruto returns with enough condoms and lube to promote safe sex among the entire population of Tanigakure.
“We are going to need it,” Naruto tells him seriously.
So, yes. Gaara can be patient. He just wants to be sure he can be everything else—open and affectionate and capable of silly little words. Like Naruto is.
They are cleaning the house for New Year's while Naruto babbles about his friends, his sensei, his Hokage. He is so charming that Gaara has to avert his eyes to keep from staring for days.
“Naruto,” he suddenly calls. What he really wants is to ask Naruto to Ogawa-san's party. What comes out, though, is, “Am I enough?”
The look he gets from Naruto is too strong to bear.
That night, they make good use of Naruto's provisions. Gaara closes his eyes as his hips roll down, his body opening up and taking Naruto in deeper. His chest to Gaara's back, Naruto moans low against his skin, repeating the same words over and over again.
“You are. Fuck, you are.”
As with most things, the winter becomes colder before giving way to spring. Water freezes, snow falls, people get sick. At Naruto's fourth sneeze in a row, Gaara decides enough is enough and tells Naruto to go back home to warmer weather.
Naruto whines, and frowns, and throws little tantrums. Gaara doesn't give in.
“The Kazekage in you is showing, you know,” Naruto grunts.
He goes home. Only to come back two weeks later, the little shit.
On Gaara's eighteenth birthday, Naruto doesn't let him leave the bed.
He had always thought that loneliness was something he was kind of destined for. He understood later in life that solitude does not equal loneliness, and the mere idea of having friends is enough to light the darkest of nights.
He wasn't expecting company when he rented the house and started building what he now sees as a home. Peace and quiet—those were his goals.
Now, however, he's never alone. There's an old lady who pesters him like a grandmother, siblings who drop by unannounced just to spite him, and his best (first, only, perfect, his) friend who no longer qualifies as a mere friend, and who always kisses him behind the right ear in greeting.
One day he takes a look at his life and realizes everything is completely different than he expected.
And that fills him with joy.
They watch from the engawa as the snow starts to melt, wrapped in their quilts and sipping tea.
“I think Tsunade is favoring Sakura,” Naruto pipes up.
Gaara rubs at his nose. “What for?”
Those longe fingers play with the teacup, swirling the liquid inside.
“The Hokage position.” Naruto purses his lips. “I bet she wants Sakura to have it.”
Gaara sighs. “You earn the position,” he explains, even if it's hypocritical coming from him. “And I'm pretty sure you'll be chosen.”
Naruto makes a non-committal noise and Gaara knows his mind has wandered someplace else. Sometimes it's difficult to keep a conversation with a guy whose focus changes constantly.
“If I were—” Naruto stops, seems to think hard for a moment, and then tries again. “When,” he grins, “I'm named Hokage.”
Gaara rolls his eyes. “What?”
Naruto stares at him in earnest.
“Will you come with me?”
Gaara starts, eyes wide. Naruto laughs and informs him that he is blushing, grinning from ear to ear. Around them, water drops from the small stalactites hanging from the ceiling.
“I—" He swallows, looking for words. "That would be extremely complicated.”
Naruto tilts his head to the side. “Why?”
Gaara likes him, but Naruto can be really slow sometimes. “To begin with, I am from Suna.” Just in case, he quickly adds, “That means I have a duty to my village, and me being with another Kage would raise suspicion.”
Naruto doesn't seem anywhere near convinced. He raises an eyebrow which is something he has to have learned from the Haruno girl, his sensei, or even Tsunade herself.
Gaara tries not to think about how charming he looks.
“There's also the fact that we are both men,” he continues.
To that one, Naruto laughs out loud. “Yeah, like that would be a problem.” Gaara doesn't have time to ask what that's supposed to mean before Naruto leans in and asks the question again. “Will you come?”
He doesn't—
“I don't know,” he confesses. “It's not an easy decision to make.” He watches a drop fall from the nearest stalactite. “You'd have to give me time.”
Next to him, Naruto sighs. “Well, can't say I wasn't expecting that.”
It's disappointing, Gaara knows. But he can't lie to Naruto.
He can't lie to himself either, though.
The words are out before he can swallow them down. “That doesn't mean that I won't always be there for you.” He peers down at his cup of tea because it's easier than looking Naruto in the eye. “I'll always be by your side, no matter what.”
His voice cuts off and he refrains from hiding inside his quilt. A long index finger suddenly pokes his cheek.
“Gaara,” Naruto begins with a shit-eating grin, “you are blushing again.”
They are still ninjas and that's a habit they can't shake. They train together sometimes, dancing among the trees, and secretly measuring their strength. When Naruto's away on a mission, Gaara chooses his own. These assignments aren't too serious, but they make him have a purpose.
It also makes it easier to wait for Naruto to come back home.
Once, Naruto returns from a mission with a bandage around his torso. A half-healed rib, apparently. He says that's his only injury, but Gaara notices his downcast eyes and his sad smile.
That night, Naruto only says please, and so Gaara rolls him onto his hands and knees and takes him apart with his fingers until Naruto is half-sobbing with pleasure. The house is silent as he fucks Naruto from behind. He doesn't know what else to do; he's no good at reaching out to people and putting them back together. So he drags Naruto to an intense orgasm and hopes the message is understood.
Later, when they are lying side by side, Gaara whispers, “You've proven yourself more than enough.”
Naruto's hands find his beneath the covers.
Less than a month later, Naruto announces he has quit the ANBU. He says he had the stomach, but he didn't have the heart.
Gaara secretly agrees. Then he helps Naruto make ramen for lunch.
They don't say the words. Gaara is extra careful because, even if he wants to say them, he doesn't want to rush and hurt Naruto. That's why he makes an effort in other ways. With actions, gestures, advice. Naruto smiles brighter when Gaara kisses him suddenly, laughs louder when Gaara cracks an acid joke, seems happier when Gaara lets him cuddle.
They don't say the words, but Gaara grabs Naruto by the wrist once and says, “Be patient with me.”
Naruto turns pink and then gifts him with his goofiest grin.
“Whenever you are ready.”
Naruto's waiting for Gaara, that's the reason why he doesn't say them either. Not that he has to. Gaara already knows.
There's an empty bowl of ramen in the kitchen sink, clothes that don't belong to him in the laundry basket, and an extra futon placed right next to the one he uses. The garden is in bloom again, the vegetables plump and colorful and waiting to be harvested.
The house needs a deep cleaning but is otherwise cozy and inviting.
By the river, Gaara watches the clouds like Temari taught him to, Naruto napping next to him.
The cicadas sing.