I wrote fluff! It's still weirdly introspecty, but there's not mutilation or dead bodies. Anyway, this is dedicated to StalkingGaara, because she's awesome and gives great feedback and draws me fanart. Light warnings of adult content.
Anyway, without further ado, for the 100 Themes Challenge...
30) Under The Rain
Rain is something of a novelty to Gaara. In Suna, there is never any rain – the whole city is fed by underground rivers originating in the scrublands around Wind's west border – and no open water. Konoha, by contrast, seems to ooze with damp; the air and plants and people all full of it, soaking in it, drowning.
He found it disturbing the first time he came, back when the demon tanuki prowled his mind; spent the first few nights staring out from the roof of the hot-springs at the steam in the night air, or listening to the roar of waterfalls crashing down from the top of the mountain that marked Konoha's history. It seemed sharp somehow, too intense compared to the racing wind, the myriad tiny scratches of rock dust that flew through his streets back home.
Still, it could be tolerated, predicted in a way the shifting sands couldn't, channeled by civilians, not just the lucky shinobi with a type-affinity, like Temari. He learned to live with it while he had to, and to ignore the way his lungs felt, cloyed by the moist air. It wasn't as if water was hard to avoid, once he had found it all.
This time though, it is different. This time it is winter – warmer, slightly, than the nights in Suna at this time of year, but still far cooler than the heat the desert feels at noon – and this time he is staying for a while. This time he is an ally, a friend, a lover, a leader. Temari is heavily pregnant now, and he wants to be close, just in case. Konoha has better medics than his own, and he doesn't want to risk anything unnecessarily. Even though he knows it is irrational, that the circumstances are completely different this time, he can't shake the dread that she will die birthing her child as his mother did for him.
That's not the difference that's bothering him now though. The difference is that this is the rainy season.
In Konoha, the rains are celebrated. They're not truly vital – there are so many rivers in this land, and even in summer it is not usually as dry as it was that first time (he wonders, half mocking himself, if his very presence caused the air to dry out, to whisk away the worst of the moisture) – but the village's couples have a tradition of jumping over the streams surrounding the village to determine how long they will stay together. He doesn't believe in it, but he understands the fear that all ninja live with, that the next mission their beloveds take could be the last.
And being Kazekage, and boyfriend of the most pushy (whiny) ninja in the village, he doesn't really have any option to stay at home. So, gathering his dignity, his robes, and an austere expression, he steps out into the falling rain; one Uzumaki Naruto gamboling like an excited child at his side.
The first thing that calls his attention is the sound – a constant but irregular put pf putter pip plop – resonating in his ears as droplets fall on his hat, on his robes, and the world around. It almost forms a background hiss like the desert's sand, but it is too disjointed, too awkward, like the man at his side. Only Naruto manages to make his clumsiness funny and reassuring, where as the rain is just a bother. The next irritation is the puddles – darkening the cobbles and leaving the surfaces slick beneath his feet. He doesn't show any signs of discomfort though, merely channels chakra to his feet to grip the ground as he steps.
It takes a while to reach an un-occupied patch of river, long enough that the damp has started to seep through to his skin. a gently increasing cold that leaves his skin feeling taut and heavy as the fabric hangs limply against him.
But Naruto is smiling and reaching for his hand, so he takes it and lets the blond – his friend, his lover, his savior, his everything – lead him to the bank. It looks dark and muddy, the way the water rushes past just ahead not at all pleasant to his eye, but he let his legs carry him into a run alongside Naruto.
Their feet leave the bank simultaneously, and for a moment as he looks at the water passing beneath him, some emotion sweeping through him; something akin to fear or disgust, but milder, gentler. It passes as his feet touch down on solid earth on the other bank, replaced with soft affection and humor at his companion's triumphant shout.
If that's the reward he will get for every jump, he can handle keeping it up all day despite the weather.
#
They failed, of course, almost immediately. And it was Naruto's fault, definitely. The blond managed to land on a patch of mud, sliding down the steep bank and dragging Gaara with him. And because Naruto was too surprised to waterwalk, he pulled them both down into those cold, rushing depths.
It was strangely liberating and terrifying at once, finding the full force of nature turning against him, and he realized in that moment what it must be like for most humans to face a desert storm. The sheer enormity or sensation was overwhelming – full of swirling cloth and biting cold and the warm wring around his wrist where Naruto's hand still gripped.
He wasn't a Kage for nothing though, and he gathered his wits immediately after that first, shocking moment; pressing chakra through his legs and feet he stomped up through the water, barely balancing on the shifting undercurrents and dragging his flailing lover behind him.
Now they are back on dry land, both unharmed but frozen, still being spattered by the falling rain. He feels disgustingly wet, and utterly undignified. Luckily, he's known Naruto long enough to realise that those aren't the sort of things the man notices, and even if the blond nin noticed, he wouldn't care as long Gaara wasn't really upset. And he isn't really upset, because Naruto's top is clinging and his eyes are bluer than the sky, and he's grinning the grin that never fails to make everything okay.
He could look at Naruto forever, but a raindrop falls in his eye – or maybe it's just a drip from his soaked fringe, it makes no difference – and makes him blink, eyes stinging and refusing to open. He hears a laugh, closer than he'd expected, and then a pair of lips press against his own.
As with everything else on this day, Naruto's lips are wet, with rain and something more. They're warmer than the river though, burning against his own cold mouth, exuberant and questing but not demanding. He gives in, submitting to the thorough exploration of his mouth by a tongue that tastes of miso and water weed and the flavour he can only describe as Naruto.
He shivers, from equal measures pleasure and cold, and the man above him takes that as a clue to start preventing hypothermia. The next thing he knows, eager (and entirely too long) fingernails are tugging at his robes, none too gently. The sound the cloth makes as it rips it different, deadened by the moisture soaking it, but he's not really thinking about that because Naruto is putting warm hands – really, how come he's always so damn warm? - on his newly exposed skin, following the touches with hard kisses along his torso.
A moment later, Naruto appears to remember the rest of his first-aid training, and pulls his own clothes off, stripping down to those ridiculous green boxers and pressing the length of his body skin-to-skin against Gaara's. They both release long breaths of satisfaction, before he pulls the blond's mouth to his own again, wordlessly showing his appreciation – love – for every inch of that generously tanned body.
Soon, all thoughts of cold are forgotten, his body sheltered by his lover's larger frame and starting to dry a little despite the incessant rain. Occasionally a drip falls from the tip of Naruto's nose to slide along his cheek, but for the most part his mind is to busy processing the sensation of cold, damp boxers and hot arousal pressing against him to care. His hips twitch up as lips quest down his neck, forcing the blond to shift more weight back to his pelvis.
Naruto doesn't seem to be complaining though, and Gaara realizes, after the third 'position shift' that it's probably intentional. Somehow, he forgets how much wetter his face gets when he doesn't have a tanned face above him, and concentrates instead on more important matters.
When his hands reach out and pull the blond's hips firmly against his own, the both gasp. Naruto's makes his collarbone feel cold from the indrawing of breath just above the skin, and he does it again, making their damp, clothed arousals press and rub against one another. And then Naruto's face is above him again, and those lips are pressed to his – firmer than before, almost desperate – and there's a rhythm of thrusts established without any help from his hands, fast but steady.
He lets his eyes slide closed; partly to block out the raindrops falling all around them, but mostly because the combined sensations of lips and friction and the hot-cold all around him is enough to dull the ninja instincts he's only recently needed to learn. It's perfect this way, with nothing but Naruto with him, all around him, and those flexing buttocks within easy reach. He holds them, silently demanding more, faster, now.
Naruto complies with a grin against his mouth, setting a pace that has him breaking the kiss and panting in the crook of the blond's neck. His hands grip harder, but he doesn't have any real control here...not that it matters though, because he knows how attentive Naruto is as a lover. He's happy to hand over the reins once in a while, because he trusts the still-genin more than any other person alive, despite the differences between them in appearance, personality, nationality, and a million other things.
His brain stops working all too soon, as his back arches and Naruto pulls away to watch and he's falling – falling through rushes of pleasure love hope comfort exhaustion, and finally back to earth. For a few moments he just stares at the grinning, slightly awed look on that whiskered face, but then a raindrop trickles down his nose, and the spell is broken.
With a mental grimace, he realizes that he's going to have to get back to his guest apartment in wet, sticky boxers, and torn, muddied white robes. Then again, Naruto has such stamina that he's still hard, pressed against his stomach now, and unfulfilled. If they stop off at the blond's apartment, they can have longer together, with the excuse of needing dry clothes. Plus he'll avoid all the humiliation of being seen like this by his guards. Best yet, Naruto lives near the hospital, so he'll be able to check in on Temari later.
He lets a smile rest on his lips at the thought of getting out of this damned rain, and it stretches to a grin at the quirked eyebrow of his lover. One last kiss under the rain, and he stands, pulling on ruined robes in an effort to look decent, and extending his arm to haul Naruto to his feet too, sopping wet and already cold again.
"Let's go home"
The three most wonderful words in the world.
Mwee, fluffy boy love! Hope you all enjoyed, and remember - feedback costs nothing, and it fuels my muse!