Note: I am behind on my manga reading and only recently become aware that Gaara has become Kazekage and that it normally takes three days to travel from Konoha to Sand. So for the sake of the fic let's just pretend those two little facts don't exist, shall we?
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As soon as she saw him, Tenten realized her surprise was misplaced. He had, after all, been in her bedroom before. Still, it was broad daylight, and although he was no doubt experienced at skulking in the shadows, there was always the possibility of someone seeing him enter her apartment. She couldn't imagine what her old team mates would make of such a sight. Or Gai-sensei.
She closed the door behind her sharply. Briefly she debated locking it, but she felt vulnerable and opted to leave a quick escape route. Not that he had offered her any violence before, but the fact that he had a demon sealed within him and how he had almost killed Lee once put Tenten on her guard. She still did not trust him.
He was sprawled carelessly on her bed and did not turn his head at her entrance. If he could be casual, then so could she. Tenten set her hands against her hips and leaned her shoulders against the door. "Gaara," she prompted.
"Tenten," he drawled.
"What do you want?" No use beating around the bush.
"What a curious question," he murmured. He unfolded from the bed with the sinuous grace that marked him as a shinobi. Gaara of the Desert was not a large man, but he was taller than her, and he was imposing, and suddenly Tenten's room was a great deal smaller than it had been before.
"My lover vanishes weeks without a word, without a trace, then one day I come to speak to the Hokage, and there she is, standing behind two idiotic green men. And what does she have to say to me? Nothing. Not a single word. So ... what do you think I could possibly want?"
Tenten narrowed her eyes and stood her ground. "First of all, 'lover' is putting it a bit strong–"
"Oh, I beg your pardon. Do you prefer 'fuck toy'?"
She checked, but just for the second it took her to realize that she had never, once, heard him swear except when he was in bed, and usually then he really didn't know what he was saying. "–and, second;" she continued through her teeth, "it wasn't as if I had much of a choice. I was sent on a month long mission to Rain Country and I only just got back yesterday." Never in her wildest thoughts would she ever expect Gaara to be so angry.
And he was very, very angry. Tenten had known him often enough during recent months to know he was not someone who lost his cool easily. There were spots of color high on his pale face, and his bright eyes were sparking with temper. She slid her hand down her hips towards her kunai holster.
He saw, of course. In such a small space, it was hard to be subtle with her movements. There was a strange twist of emotion across his usually-expressionless face, then Gaara turned his back to her, walking over to a corner where his sand gourd stood and began to strap it on his back with practice ease.
She drummed the fingers of her right hand against the cloth encasing her kunai before deciding against drawing her weapon. He watched her from the edges of his eyes, head turned just enough for him to glance back over his shoulder. The silence was stifling. She was still puzzled over this odd visit of his, and not sure what she should say to him.
Gaara continued to eye her over his shoulder. "I'd love to make my dramatic exit here, Tenten, but you're blocking the door."
Her gaze wary, Tenten stepped away from the door. It put her closer to Gaara, too close, really, for although she had not thought of him at all during her time away, it didn't mean she had forgotten. Here, in this room with him close enough for her to breathe in his scent, it was all too easy to remember.
Even though she expected it and was braced for it, Gaara made no attempt to touch her on his way out. He simply nodded in her general direction and walked through the door with that peculiar slow stride of his. He didn't even slam the door behind him. It was all very ... odd.
As odd as the memories now flooding her mind, refusing this time to be banished to the recesses of her mind.
