Notes: What? Canon? I think not. Contonuity is terrible and I don't care. This is my favorite secrete fetich pairing.
Warnings: Fluffiness overdose?
Disclaimer: If I did, a certain sibling of mine would be very happy. But I don't.
The Rule of Thumb
To my biggest fan.
There a rules, sometimes, to liking someone. Gaara had thought he'd had it down. Had the rules. But he can't love Naruto through sheilds and barriers and carefully placed words, even if he never says that he likes him that badly. Naruto seems to know and shatters through ever protective measure that Gaara has up, breaking it like thick layers of mud and sand, completely and utterly distorying them until they're pressed so impossibly, terribly tight togther. Until Naruto is in his sphere of comfort, his breathing space. Stays there, refuses to move.
Gaara knows he can be extremely selfish. Unkind. For a long time, he'd told himself he'd love no one but himself.
But...
That's right. He has to remind himself of that sometimes.
They're alike. The same.
He doesn't feel the need to claw open existence, to tear, render, slash it apart to find that meaning anymore. They're alike. That's enough a lot of the time. Being the same, but different. And when it comes down to it, Garra will be everything awakward in a contained away, unsure, not really liking it when people touched him for any reason. Having contact was odd. And having Naruto's hand confidently attached to his shoulder is everything tingly and warm, cornflower eyes spread with the warmth that the blonde's grin reaches with, and then they're nose to nose where Naruto has broken Gaara's sphere of comfort. Nose to nose, and eye to eye, and they're saying volumes without ever having to say anything. Naruto is everything that could describe as excited and grinning and probably a closet-case pervert if he can actually hand over a copy of those porno books to his teacher like he said he had.
It takes Gaara a moment to realize that the other hand been ranting before he'd just stopped mid-sentence and looked at him.
He was a little uncomfortable with that at first.
The redhead wasn't fond of space invasion, never has been, nope, but that doesn't matter against Naruto very much.
No more rules. No more reservations.
Naruto's hands are actually rather cool against the side of Gaara's neck and jaw when he leans in, and Gaara's not sure what a kiss is supposed to be --never had one-- but it's a little funny to have wind-chapped lips against his own dry ones, insistant and needy and hyper the only way Naruto can ever be. But Gaara only registers those cool fingertips at first, just he right hand, as the blonde's left grasps the white sash wrapped around the redhead's torso, pulling him in, even as the redhead's rigid. It's not a poignant feeling. Just simple.
Very simple.
Middle of the street, like he didn't care. If there were people who stuck around Gaara long enough, the blonde might not have cared just the same.
"You're supposed to kiss back, teme!"
Gaara narrowed his black-rimmed eyes, but not all that menicingly. More of just questioning, if he could remember how to look questioning anymore. Naruto just shook his head with that grin of his. That bright, liquid sunshine grin, dripping down on Gaara's bland world like molalsis. Thick, cocky, breaking down more and more barriers.
"Like this--" the blonde muttered as his left came up, thumb grazing Gaara's jaw before it light wrapped around the back of his neck, and the redhead is wondering where the hell he learned this from. The collar to his maroon jacket suddenly feel a little itchy. He's jerked roughly into chapped, peeling lips, eyes wide open, and the other's half-hooded like he knows a secret and wont tell.
He goes lax despite it all, Naruto's insistance against his mouth like a heady spice, and he's not crushing the other's wrists when he grips it firmly, not threateningly, around bone and joint and just... leaves it there.
It was stumbling sense of feeling really, gone before he could forget to breathe.
Naruto let go just as quickly, grinning still. "See? Told you!"
Told me what? Gaara wants to ask. Told me what? What did you say before it? I didn't-- But the how-he-got here had stopped mattering. The end result was a lot better, if gut extremely uncomfortable.
Inner peace, rules, barriers...
None of the survived Uzumaki Naruto.
Whether or not that was a good thing had yet to be decided on Gaara's part. For now he supposed it was. He was left standing, waltching the other in bewilderment as Naruto jerked his head towards the ramen stand far down the street, shoving his hands in his pockets once Gaara had let go of his wrist. But he's still left with the feeling of cool fingertips against his skin. And a smile that hurts to look at and to feel, though so much better than those smiles that had such terrible, exquisit pain in it. Gaara was left with a sense of belonging, that it was okay to exist.
"C'mon! My treat!"