This was originally titled 'In Which there are Old People and Explosions.' Which, frankly, is a much cooler title than the current one. But it didn't fit the chapter after I edited everything. Gosh darn!

Sakura had stopped paying attention roughly twenty minutes ago. The counsel didn't seem particularly happy with her being there, and went out of their way to exclude her from the discussion unless completely necessary. Which in all likelihood meant they were sexist. Or that they had a problem with her shorts or something (like it was their business how much thigh she showed). In any case, Gaara seemed to have a smooth handle on things, and she let him take over, not really in the mood to press her authority.

Listening to Wave's Counsel talk was kind of like visiting an old folk's home. In all honesty, shinobi rarely lived long enough to be rewarded with wrinkles and senility, but there were always exceptions. Sakura watched The-Guy-Who-Talked-The-Most's mouth open and close, and felt detachedly fascinated.

Yeah, I was in the war and lost three of my limbs, and the one that didn't get blown off had to be amputated. We didn't have any fancy kunai either, we used what we could find on the ground or our bare hands.

She blinked slowly and felt that she should probably pretend to be something remotely similar to an adult, and she really would have if his lips weren't so goddamn hypnotic in the way they flapped around when he talked. Hey, she could almost imagine he didn't have teeth.

Where the fuck is my applesauce?

She fought a snicker.

Where the fuck is my applesauce?

Oh. Oh, wait, he was talking to her. What? Crap. Shit.

Gaara saved her. "That isn't a fair request. Konoha is still recovering from the invasion. It's in no position to offer financial aid."

She scrambled to get a hold on the conversation. "That's – that's right," she said quickly. "Our economy is struggling as it is, there's really no way we could handle the strain."

The one she had been staring at clenched his jaw – he clearly had teeth, sadly – and tried to smile at her. What, was she not supposed to talk back? "Surely, if Suna cannot offer us any help, the great Konoha can. From what we can see, your country is fairly wealthy."

"We don't have many starving people or mafia infestations, no," she said politely. "But we are still trying to repair the damage, and it's very likely we'll be attacked by Sound a second time. I'm sorry, but I have to decline."

The one next to him, Asshole (who really was missing some teeth), impatiently blew a lungful of air through his pursed lips. She debated whether she should ignore him or not. Really, these people made her look like a princess.

He addressed his fellows, irritatingly pretending she and Gaara were deaf. "Are we really going to accept her word for the Hokage's? She's just a child."

She chose not to ignore him, glaring stonily into the side of his face. "I'm her apprentice." Jackass.

He waved her justifications away impatiently, still not looking at her even though they were sitting right next to each other, and she seriously considered reaching out and snapping his hand in half. She had some qualms about Gaara thinking she was an immature maniac, though (even though she was fully aware he was right on her side), so she retrained herself.

He turned to Gaara to unleash some bitchiness on him, too. "And he is even younger than her. You think we should trust his judgment?"

That jumped up little bastard.

"How many criminals have you killed?" She snarled, patience snapping like a twig in the face of such blatant disrespect. They had been perfectly civilized yesterday, when they were under the impression they had money. "You don't trust us because we're young?"

"How dare you – "

"It isn't a matter of age," Gaara stepped in before the situation escalated into violence, and Sakura had it put on her personal record that she had murdered a senior. His voice held a curt edge that let her know he was just as ruffled as she was, though. "Neither of us have the money. End of story."

"No, not end of story," he spat. "We cannot accept your refusals!"

And Sakura immediately realized that he had gone one sentence too close to a threat, because the atmosphere changed as suddenly as if a switch had flipped off. Gaara's chakra roiled outward, enveloping the room. "Are you suggesting," he said slowly, lips peeling back into a freakish imitation of a grin that showed too many teeth to be natural, "...war?"

She felt an automatic lurch of fear. He was gone. He was this close to being gone, she could feel it. One more nudge, and the room would turn into a slaughterhouse. She turned wide eyes on him. His chakra, usually so trim and reserved, was radiating off him in waves, hitting her with the force of a steamroller and making her breath hitch. There was too much, she was drowning in it, while her instincts screamed death.

It had just taken a sentence for him to slip.

She finally realized who she was dealing with. Who she had started to remotely consider a friend. Who she had made herself inerringly killable to on more than one occasion.

Who had yet to hurt her.

"Gaara."

His eyes snapped to her, surprised, and his grin abruptly fell, leaving him looking shockingly vulnerable. They stared at each other for one agonizing second, and it seemed like all the fear, so easily pushed beneath the surface while they were traipsing around the desert or making half-assed seals with Naruto, was bubbling out and they couldn't control it. Then a counsel man – one who really hadn't said much the entire meeting – said something, and the moment was shattered and the pretense was back up.

"What?" Gaara snapped, obviously only halfway paying attention. She could see him seething, feel the self-hatred and disappointment and struggle for control.

"We never implied...taking it by force, Kazekage-sama. As you can see, Wave is really in no position..."

He trailed off when Gaara remained unresponsive. They looked terrified. All four of them were instinctively leaning away, looking like they might make a break for it. She silently prayed they wouldn't. Their best bet right now was to stay perfectly still.

She knew they would remember every second of what had just transpired with brilliant detail. They would report it.

"All right. Meeting over, then. We'll leave before sunset." She stood up and waited for Gaara to stiffly do the same, and they sped out without a backwards glance. The bitchy receptionist watched them leave.

She pulled him over next to a small fruit cart as soon as the building was out of sight, and gave him a frantic once-over. "What the hell was that!"

"I told you," he hissed, face contorting abruptly. "Do you believe me now? Do you get it?"

She crossed her arms and gave him her best 'be honest' glower. "How close were you to killing every person in there?"

He opened his mouth – to growl at her some more, she guessed – faltered, and changed his mind. "I could have stopped myself."

"You're sure."

He looked at her for a long time, brow creasing. "Yes," he said eventually.

She breathed a sigh. "Good." She uncrossed her arms and tugged on her bangs, her habitual reaction to stress. "Okay. Okay, all you did was smile at them, they can't turn that into anything," she muttered rapidly, half to herself. "And they threatened you, so you were perfectly justified...It should be fine. We're fine."

He let out a breathy little laugh that had her skin crawling, tinged as it was with derisive not-quite insanity. But she made herself not react, because he was right. He was not fine. He was so far from fine it made her ache.

"Gaara..."

He twitched like she had physically touched him, lowering his turbulent gaze from somewhere over her head back to her eyes. It only took one long stride to reach him and get right in his face, they had been standing unusually close anyways, and he didn't have any time to react before she was hugging him, toned arms wrapping around his chest and clutching him to her. She felt him stiffen in shock or confusion, she didn't know which. She pressed her face into his shoulder and held him tighter, trying to give him some semblance of comfort.

"Are you hugging me?"

"...yeah."

"Why?"

"Shut up and hug me back."

She felt his hands settle on her waist with the hesitant lightness of someone who expected the other person to pull away, and it made her feel sad all over again. Then he suddenly crushed her to him in a fit of abrupt desperation that had her feet leaving the ground.

They stayed like that for a while.

She let him go first, because the fruit vendor was starting to look at them funny. And it would undoubtedly cause an uproar if it got back to their countries that they were embracing in the middle of a street. Politics and emotions were a sticky, dirty business that screwed more people over than it helped.

She smiled at him a little shakily, not moving from where he had let her back down. "Sorry. I know you don't like being touched."

He was staring straight at her, not even trying to pretend that things were normal, eyes full of cautious wonder. "I never said that."

And if, as they returned to the hotel, they walked a little closer to each other than usual, well, who the hell was going to notice?

Holy shit. Holy shit, what did she want from him?

It was all he could do to keep his eyes stuck to what was in front of him. They were begging to roam all over the kunoichi next to him. Maybe if he stared hard enough he would figure out the answer.

A motive. She had to have one. He was reformed, but he wasn't stupid. Assassination was out, nobody wanted another war (though she was probably stoutly patriotic enough to go through with it if the Hokage asked her). Did she want something from him? A favor? Did she want him to kill someone for her?

Her hand accidentally bumped his, and she jerked it away, flushing. His mind went careening in a whole new direction. Did she not like touching him anymore? Why the hell not? What had he done in the past five minutes to change her mind?

He wanted her to touch him again, never mind her motives. Being touched was wonderful.

It didn't occur to him that hadn't worried about his mental state the entire way to the hotel. That had pretty much fled his mind the second she had come into contact with him. He only realized when Naruto asked why they were leaving.

"Things just got a little...edgy," Sakura explained, circling her room and throwing things haphazardly into her bag.

Naruto followed her, crystal eyes flicking to Gaara and back. "How edgy?"

"Edgy enough that they'll never threaten him again," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"They threatened you? Really?"

"They want financial aid," Gaara said, leaning against the wall a safe distance away from them with his arms crossed. "They implied taking it by force."

"What are they gonna do?" Naruto snorted, clearly unperturbed. "Attack us with their nonexistent shinobi?"

"We don't know who their allies are. That was kind of the point of coming. But if they can't talk like adults..." She trailed off scornfully.

"Geeze, they sound like total assholes."

Well, that was Naruto. Taking everything in stride. Come dangerously close to an explosion of ripped out intestines? Eh. No big.

"They are. And that's exactly what I'm going to tell Tsunade. I'm going to say, 'Shishou, Wave's leaders are total assholes, and we should not offer them any help.' And she'll take my advice and we'll never visit again."

"She's not going to like that..."

"If she were the one talking to them, she would have ended up breaking a table," she huffed. "I did pretty well for myself." She stepped back and surveyed the room, hands on her hips. "Am I missing anything?"

"There's a scroll under the night stand," Naruto said helpfully, pointing.

She tossed that into her bag as well, then zipped it up and slung it onto her back.

They left as inconspicuously as possible. Naruto was all for sneaking out the windows, but that idea was quickly rejected after Sakura pointed out that if they weren't already under suspicion, getting caught skulking around would definitely do the trick. Gaara was frankly, if not silently, on Naruto's side. In the ten or so seconds he had fantasized about bloody, exposed organs protruding from bellies connected to human faces, he had ruined any chance he might have had at making a good first impression.

Apologizing was out of the question. They needed to pretend like nothing was wrong, like the counsel was just a bunch of crazy old men who were too wrapped up in their own prejudices to see him clearly. They needed to lie, and he hated it and himself and the horrible twisting feeling in his gut, because those stupid old men were probably right. He was more unfit to lead Suna than he had ever been. They were right, and he was going to deny it even though he knew it was true.

There was no going back. He had screwed up too badly for that.

But there was no sense in tempting fate. They used the door.

wtf, Hug? Where did you come from? Why did you carve your way into my chapter?

WOAH, I updated again. Man, I'm on a roll.