AN: Hey. Readers of my previous fics, please accept my humble apologies and a plate of virtual cookies *proffers*.
New readers; welcome to my literature and I'm sorry if I dissapoint you in the future by not updating often/at all. HOWEVER, my laziness is not the main subject here. The story is!
So, brief introduction - This will be Gaara/Lee, with hints of other pairings, although I will not let them take over. This chapter is mostly an introduction and definitely the most Gaara-centric of the story. Sorry, I'm minorly obsessed. Vocabulary will be more (forlackofabetterword) advanced than my other writing. Just because I want to try something serious for a change.
That being said - on with the show!
The Masseuse and The Manager
Suna Trading Inc.
Gaara stared with his typical deadpan expression as one of his underlings tried to explain why the latest shipment reports were running late. The employee stuttered and stammered as Gaara's eyes bored holes straight through his mediocre-at-best soul. The poor chap was sweating buckets by now.
Eventually, Gaara took pity on- no, that's not right. Gaara was completely incapable of feeling such human emotions as pity. Ahem. Eventually, Gaara got sick of the senseless drivel being fed to him and said with as smooth as silk and loving as sandpaper:
"Have them in by Monday morning."
"Yes sir! Thank you sir! You won't be dissapointed sir!" the conversation continued like this for the next two minutes until, Gaara's patience millimeter thin, the employee was dismissed… to put it mildly. A quaking middle manager scurried down the hallways outside Gaara's office.
The redhead frowned, closed his eyes and massaged his temples in irritation. This was the price of being the highest ranking manager in the highest ranking shipping company in the world. A reputation similar to that of the Boogie Man; an income that was longer than his PIN number and equally gargantuan amounts of stress. He hadn't had more than five hours sleep over the past week. Gaara pressed the small button on his personal intercom.
"Matsuri." He said in his flat voice.
"Yes, Mr. Sabaku?" the digitally filtered voice of his receptionist answered.
"Coffee; double cappucino, no milk."
"Right away, Mr. Sabaku."
He removed his finger and reclined in his executive chair in a half-hearted attempt to relax. The insomniac closed his eyes again and turned to face the dying sun outside his window.
At the tender age of eighteen, Gaara Sabaku, the youngest of the Sabaku children had taken over his father's company, Suna Trading Incoroporated. His father had been brutally assasinated by some thugs hired by their rivals and both his siblings had refused to take on the job; Kankuro, his brother, was a succesful comedian that worked with puppets – he had no idea at all about anything to do with business; Temari, his sister, quite content with her post as lobbyist also wanted nothing to do with management. This left Gaara. Poor, young, defenceless, psychopathically inclined Gaara. In charge of one of the biggest buisnesses in the world.
A few employees had called it Armageddon and jumped ship. Quite bad for them, since Gaara's no-nonsense attitude and, for lack of a better word, people skills had turned the sinking ship into the most powerful economical armada one could imagine.
Which was good, because Gaara could now help out his friend Naruto (the one who had marginally humanized him) capture the no-good bastard he was looking for. Detective work required ridiculous funding, exactly what Gaara had.
But it was bad for Gaara. His body felt like an exceptionally tightly wound clock – super efficient, sometimes too fast and just about to explode from tension and leave a mess of cogs and sprockets and other strangely named curly things on the floor.
Kankuro frequently joked that he would probably die of a heart-attack before he turned twenty-five. Temari frequently threatened him that he would probably die of a heart-attack before twenty-three. Twenty year-old Gaara said that the odds were that he was going to outlive both of them since he was the youngest, so what were they yammering about?
Gaara opened his eyes, as his secretary entered and placed his coffee reverently upon his desk and left the room quietly. Gaara glanced at the clock. It was 5:17 pm. At six he had arranged a dinner with his two siblings. In thirteen minutes, he would pack his briefcase, nod goodnight to his secretary and stalk past the many cubicles and the inhabitants that feared him so.
"Hmm." Gaara mused to himself quietly, sipping at his coffee. It was black and bitter – like his soul! his employees would sometimes whisper – and it reminded him of the wonderfully awful stuff that the nomadic tribes of his homeland made out of beans roasted in the midday heat and dates and (rumour had it) scorpion's pincers. Desert coffee (1) was terrible and gritty and very very strong; it had to be in order to keep the camels in line after dark. The corporate alpha-male hummed very lightly to himself, pondering all things that reminded him of home.
The long hot days, where one rose only in the late afternoon and slept a couple of hours after dawn. The rainy season, when it would pour torentially for a week and all the dormant seeds would burst into life and the desert became a garden. The blistering sun. The gently whispering, shifting sand that whipped around him like teasing friend asking to be chased. His lips, parched to the point that they bled. The kohl rimmed eyes (2) of his reflection in a silver ceremonial dagger, to shield their gaze from the sun. The smell of henna on sister's hands, the sugary sticky dates that he would often steal from his neighbour's plates at banquets. The reverance of life-giving water. The inherant and unforgiveable danger that was the desert.
And small Gaara, a child that had thirsted more than the dried wadis (3) and had been more deadly than the roughest shamal (4).
The cruelty of his family towards the boy, the result of culture and superstition, had turned him into a miniscule demon. Thankfully, when his father had decided to found Suna Trading Inc., they had left it all behind for the modern world. Gaara had been sent to boarding school and he had been humanized marginally by a pesky blonde kid who was four years older than him but acted like a pre-teen. That was Naruto… his friend.
Mr. Sabaku picked up his courtesy telephone and dialed a number. The phone rang twice.
"Hello, detective Naruto Uzumaki speaking."
"Naruto."
"Gaara!" Naruto's crackly voice chirped across the landline "Hey, what's up?"
"How would you like to come to dinner with my family tonight?"
"Sure thing!" Naruto shouted exuberantly. Gaara was holding the phone a good ten centimetres away from his face for a reason. "Hey, can I bring a couple of my co-workers along?"
"Certainly." Said Gaara curtly. Naruto was a fantastic social butterfly who had the ability to make friends even if the person had been a jerk to him. Which explained how Gaara and Naruto became friends. "We are going to Oasis. Meet me there at six."
"Alright. See you at six." There was a click as Naruto hung up.
Gaara replaced the phone and began to pack his briefcase.
The Oasis resteraunt prided itself for being one of the swankiest establishments in town. It was suitably themed like an Oasis, with date palms growing at the entrance and grand clay urns lining the corridors. It also happened to be Gaara's preferred establishment whenever he wanted to have a social dinner. The waitresses were garbed in loose harem pants and wore curled sandals. The elaborate lanterns cast multicoloured spotlights on the patrons and the smell of lamb and cinnamon was thick in the air. And best of all, they served traditional desert coffee and dates with every meal.
Naruto spotted Gaara and his siblings at the entrance. Temari had her golden hair loose around her shoulders and was wearing a long lilac evening gown. Kankuro was wearing a simple black pants and shirt combo, the amethyst tie highlighting the purple paint that he always wore in patterns around his eyes. Gaara was wearing his working suit – simple black and rust red making his chronically pale skin look even paler and the kohl on his eyelids darker.
"Gee, you all look glammed up for the Oscars." Naruto said sheepishly looking down at his own ensemble – a cotton suit bought on sale with a glaring orange tie. "I wish you'd told me it was going to be this swanky, Gaara. I might have dressed more appropriately." The blond chuckled.
Gaara simply gave him a deadpan look that could have meant anything. Temari came to the rescue of the conversation.
"So, Naruto. Who are your friends?" she asked, elegant hand on hip.
"Ah, right!" Naruto gestured at his two colleagues. "This is Shikamaru Nara." He indicated the pony-tailed man who looked as if he were half asleep. The sleepy man nodded his head backwards in greeting. "And this is Hinata Hyuuga." He gestured at a timid looking woman with long dark hair. She gave a quick smile and wave with a barely audible "It's nice to meet you."
"Shikamaru, Hinata –" Naruto continued. "These are Temari, Kankuro and Gaara Sabaku." The other three gave their own gestures of greeting.
"So, who's hungry?" Kankuro said with a wry smile as silence crept over the group again. Naruto immediately made a ruckus of clapping hands on shoulders and great sweeping gestures that were supposed to encourage the group. Temari scoffed lightly at the childish display. Gaara lead the group inside, silent as always.
The group found themselves inside a small room that was reserved for Gaara. Beautifully embroidered pillows lay scattered across the low couches, ornamental table in the center of it all. Then the awkward process of seating themselves began. Naruto plopped himself down on Gaara's left, Hinata next to him. Kankuro claimed the redhead's right and Temari made herself comfortable between him and the drowsy Shikamaru. Appetizers and alcohol were called for and soon the tension in the room dissolved into amiable tipsiness.
Except for Gaara, who had coffee.
"Honestly, bro!" Kankuro exclaimed after a deep swig. "You're way too tense." He poked as his brother's shoulder.
"You said it, Kank." Naruto turned himself slightly to face Gaara. "Honestly Gaara, you should take a break from your job. It's killing you man." The blond glared at his friend hazily. "When was the last time you slept, eh?"
"Wednesday." Gaara said quietly, taking another sip of coffee.
Shikamaru and Hinata who had been conversing quietly about work both looked up in shock.
"It's Friday." Shikamaru said unbelievingly. "You haven't slept for twenty-four hours?"
"Didn't Naruto tell you, Nara?" Temari stated formally. "Gaara's an insomniac." She took another sip from her own glass, as if to wash the bitterness of the word away.
"Call me Shikamaru," the pony-tailed man said quietly, gazing at the red-headed man. "Naruto did tell me, but I thought he was just exaggerating."
Temari smiled into her drink. "You're right.. Naruto does exaggerate frequently."
"Hey!" Naruto frowned across the table. "I do not exaggertate. I'm a truth-teller." He said with a slight slur.
"Uhm," Hinata said quietly. Everybody suddenly turned their eyes to the shy woman. She blushed. "Uhm, I.. uhm. H-have you tried sleeping pills?" she stammered, averting her gaze to the table.
"They don't work." Gaara replied equally soft. "I have been sent to many doctors. They say it would recquire about the same amount of tranquilizer to subdue a rhinocerous to send me to sleep for a full night." He looked up at the woman. "Unfortuneatly, that could also result in my possible death."
A silence stole across the room. Naruto nervously turned his eyes to his drink.
"Oh." Hinata let out a mouse-like gasp. She fidgeted. "Uhm.. what about physiotherapy? To relieve stress?" She looked doubtful at her own words.
"That's right." Said Shikamaru, patting Hinata encouragingly on the shoulder. "You used to work at a spa, didn't you Hinata?" The rest of the room (excluding Naruto, who already knew) quickly grasped the fact that the sleepy man was not infact as dozy as he looked.
"Oh yeah." Naruto said, turning to Hinata. "That was before you helped me find the culprit from the arson case." The blond gave a mile-wide grin. "If it weren't for your eyes, we would have never found out that it was the store's owner." Hinata gave a small smile at being praised by her Boss. The rest of the room (excluding Naruto, who had no idea) quickly grasped the fact that Hinata had a thing for Naruto.
"Physiotherapy, you say?" Temari asked the shy girl, wondering if she was on to something.
"Ah, yes." Hinata nodded, turning her attention away from Naruto. "I used to see lots of high ranking buisnessmen and women come in. The stress had given them lots of back problems and sometimes they couldn't sleep because of it." Her confidence growing as she continued. "After a few sessions of intense physiotherapy, they were absolved of their back problems and said that they slept much better. Some even said that their social lives had improved from it."
Temari eyed Gaara. "Hmm." She pursed her lips in thought.
"You here that, red?" Kankuro said boisterously. "Better sleep and social life." He chuckled and ruffled his younger brother's hair, something that he wouldn't have done if sober.
Gaara gave him a steely glare. Kankuro withdrew his hand with a gulp.
Naruto was too busy praising Hinata on her brilliance to notice the exchange. "Hinata, you're a genius! I've been trying to get Gaara to relax for years and here you got it figured out in a couple of minutes! Not only are you the fiercest female detective out there, but you're also a great counsellor!" He chattered on excitedly, oblivious to Hinata's rapidly reddening face. "Gee, I sure envy the guy that's lucky enough to get you for a wife." He chuckled and turned to Gaara, asking him rhetorical questions about his colleague's brilliance.
Hinata swooned lightly.
Shikamaru pressed a refilled glass into her hands.
She took a steadying gulp and thanked him.
Shikamaru said nothing and focused on the conversation that was happening in front of them.
"So, Gaara, whatcha say?" Naruto grinned at his friend, one arm slung around the other's shoulder. "Are you gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?"
Gaara arched an invisible brow.
"Are you going to go to physiotherapy by yourself, or do we have to drag you there by the tie?" Temari asked, a smirk playing across her lips.
Gaara merely gazed into his coffee cup.
The others waited with bated breath.
Was the red-headed insomniac going to go for the advice or would he brush it off again and remain an unhealthy wreck for the rest of his quite possibly shortened lifespan?
"Alright." The kohl rimmed eyes flickered over to Hinata. "What is the number of the spa?"
The rest of the room burst into celebration as Hinata quickly scribbled down the details on a piece of paper from her purse. Naruto cheered and toasted glasses with Kankuro exuberantly. Temari gave Hinata a grateful smile and asked the by-standing waiter to bring them their food. Shikamaru gave out a small yawn and let a satisfied smirk play across his lips.
Several hours later, Shikamaru was shouldering a drunken Naruto. Hinata was trailing slightly behind them, trying to find her cellphone in order to call a cab. Temari stopped the dark-haired girl for a moment.
"Thanks" she said sincerely.
"Ah, no problem." Hinata responded, she bowed her head slightly. "It was a pleasure meeting you."
"Likewise." The three siblings said simultaneously. Kankuro waved goodbye and headed off to catch a taxi off the road. Hinata nodded again, and jogged off to catch up with Shikamaru and Naruto.
Gaara was of course the last one out. He and Temari walked silently to the car park.
"I'm glad you took Hinata's advice."
Gaara glanced at his sister. There was a crease of worry between her finely arched eyebrows and her lips were tugged slightly to the right. Gaara concluded that Temari Was Concerned for his Health.
"I have nothing to lose from it." He murmured.
"Except perhaps those bags under your eyes." Temari chuckled and nudged her brother with an elbow.
"Hn." Was Gaara's only reply.
AN: So, what do you think? I'm sorry that my syntax structure was so terribly redundant. I began nearly every sentence with a noun. D:
Also, lots and lots of reference to desert culture - I live in one so most of it is accurate.*dork*
(1)I've rarely tried arabic coffee but my dad tells me that it is gritty, nasty stuff and you are better off with something like Somalian or Columbian coffee. But I guess if you've been drinking it since childhood, it must hold some nice memories.
(2)People in the desert do line their eyes with kohl to protect them from the sun. So, kinda slap-dash excuse for Gaara wearing eye-liner to work.
(3) A wadi is something like a quick-sand riverbed. Whenever it rains really heavily, these "riverbeds" soak up all the water deep into the ground. Then, days, sometimes weeks later, all the water comes back up to the surface and creates a flash flood. It can wreck you pretty badly if you get caught in it and afterwards, all the water sinks back down underground.
(4) Shamal is the local (to me) word for a sand storm. They are pretty hefty. Once, at a sporting event I was volunteering for, a shamal blew straight through the stadium - it was gone after about five minutes, but it kicked up MASSIVE amounts of sand - so anyone who was eating got sand in their food. When you get caught in a big one, you could get sandpaper'd pretty badly or alternately shocked from the static. Nasty, eh?
SO. Review please and CMS readers, I shall whip my ass into gear pretty soon- the KH DS game should provide good inspiration.
Thank you for reading. :D