Author's Note:

Burn by Alkaline Trio

Usual Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, it belongs to Kishimoto (lucky bastard)

Close Quarters Ch. 11

Hinata stared down at her mug of warm milk; the warm steam brushing past her cheeks in a soft caress. She kept her fingers firmly wrapped around the small white ceramic mug – to prevent her compulsive Hinata patented nervous finger-poke, and to prevent her nails from scratching at her tender sun-baked skin. She was wearing her unwashed black and cream coloured jacket that she had worn on her journey to Suna. The stitching on the interior was driving her nuts. She would like nothing more than to rip the horrid thing from her itchy flesh, but the very thought made her blush.

Not that there was anything embarrassing about taking off her jacket; it was underneath her jacket that made her keep the itchy thing on. She only had a thin cotton camisole and a pair of small shorts; she was also sitting in front of Gaara. She felt heat rise to her face at the very idea of Gaara seeing her in her pajamas.

Yes, she had been on numerous co-ed missions (the rest of her squad-mates consisted of boys, except for her sensei of course), but she always made sure she had a modest set of night-time attire, not a skimpy camisole and shorts. She was already embarrassed enough, with almost killing her fiancé and being caught crying; she did not need to add her indecent clothing into the equation.

Besides, Gaara seemed flustered, or as well as Hinata could guess from his stony face by the confused glances he gave her, whether or not he thought she was looking. What he was flustered about, she had no idea; maybe about sending her flying into a wall, perhaps?

Not likely, Hinata thought darkly. Gaara's emotions (should he have any) were difficult to gauge – his expression always seemed fierce and uncaring. Every time Hinata had tried to start a conversation it went nowhere – Gaara answered her questions as bluntly and as shortly as possible. He never asked anything personal about herself, he never initiated any conversations, really. To Hinata it felt like she was trying to communicate to an emotionless wall. Hinata had come to one quick conclusion; maybe Gaara did not care about her, or want to even know her. Maybe, in fact, he disliked the entire idea of the engagement as much as she did. The very thought made her stomach feel hollow, and her old feelings of incompetence crept up, making her want to disappear.

She thought she had figured him out, but then he did something so confusing and contradictory to what Hinata thought was his character! He did something that seemed thoughtful and sweet – he got her a mug of warm milk. Her mother had always given her a nice mug of warm milk to help her sleep on restless nights as a child, and those memories of comfort and nostalgia were floating through her head. It was strange to have such a pleasant feeling the direct result of someone so unexpected. Maybe she did not have Gaara as figured out as she thought she had (maybe old insecurities were paying a visit, and Gaara actually might care, just a little bit).

So, she contemplated into the milky goodness of warmed up two percent milk, wondering what the significance of this one mug meant. When, suddenly, she was struck by a revelation: she had yet to apologize for the accidental fight with Gaara! Now she felt like a right idiot, how could she forget to say sorry for something like that?

Staring into the milky depths of her mug Hinata started to stutter out an apology (her cheeks turning a rosy hue as she did so), "Ummm …. G-gaara? I'm r-really sorry about earlier. I … uh … j-just reacted without thinking … um …I'm sorry?"

Silence.

Hinata waited quietly, her fingers tapping against the mug as she flushed a deeper pink with every minute that passed by with no response. After several minutes had passed by the Hyuuga heiress sneaked a look up from her mug (what would the expression on Gaara's face be?). She was shocked to see he was not in the chair across the table from her, and a quick glance around her told her that he was not even in the kitchen. When on earth did he leave? Why did he leave? Hinata thought, completely shocked, and a little bit hurt. She had not even heard anything for the past while, it was eerily quiet.

Hinata sighed miserably; this was just not her night it seemed. In fact, everything seemed to be going wrong lately, when would things start looking up? There was one positive, though, she was finally able to get rid of the itchy jacket now that there was no one to see her indecency, which she promptly did: throwing it over the arm of her chair. Still, though, she was slowly sinking back into her previous melancholy when a small flicker of light caught her eye.

Curious, Hinata slipped out of her seat and moved to the window, the source of the little flicker. The window was higher than she was used to (it had to be at least five feet high) and was a perfect small circle. The kitchen was a few stories high, providing a perfect view of the village. Her eyes traveled over the tapered and towered houses and apartments of the village, her eyes looking further, beyond the village. It was there that she saw what had caught her attention.

She initiated her Byakugan, magnifying her focus – it felt like the ground rushed past underneath her until the magnifying capability of her kekkei genkai was at its limit. There she saw in all of its magnified glory an electrical storm, but curiously without the rain. It was fascinating to watch – streaks of lightning would rise up from the sand, and dance among the tall dunes. Even more amazing, she saw now that her vision was magnified, was the whirlwinds of sand rising up and falling down in grand spirals and chasing each other. It a natural display of raw power.

"What are you looking at?"

Hinata jumped in surprise, almost spinning around in a defensive stance, but, instead, used her Byakugan to look behind her (she did not want a repeat performance of earlier) – it was just Gaara. Funny how there seemed to be some strange comfort in the fact it was 'just Gaara' though it was also unsettling in how Gaara just appeared and disappeared without any trace or notice.

Uncomfortable with Gaara' sudden appearance and curiosity (not to mention a little hurt still from his sudden disappearance) Hinata kept her back turned to the red-head, stumbling over a whispered reply, "N-nothing r-really …"

She saw something appear in the corner of her eye. With her Byakugan still activated, she could see it perfectly without turning her head. It was a small clay jar. With a little concentration she could 'peel' away the layers of clay so she could see the interior of the jar – inside was a cream like substance with a white colour and thick, sticky texture. A baffled and confused look swept across her face as she unconsciously turned her face to the little jar – the veins around her eyes receding as she let go of her concentration of the Byakugan as she was filled with bewilderment.

"Your skin's sunburnt" was the rather simple statement made by Gaara. Hinata heard a small voice in the back of her head go duh!

If anything the Hyuuga girl was more confused than she was previously. What did her being sunburnt have to do with a little jar? Gaara held out the little jar inches from Hinata's face. What he was expecting, Hinata had no idea.

His face creasing at the forehead in what could be taken in frustration Gaara quickly pried the lid off the jar, before thrusting it back in Hinata's face. Hinata, forgetting who she was dealing with, raised her eyebrows in confusion and was tempted to take a few steps back. She resisted, having a mortified interest in what direction this would take. That and she really had no idea what was going on.

A few more moments passed, the now opened jar inches from Hinata's face. She could smell traces of some foreign plant; it had a moist, water smell. Gaara, with a sigh that seemed to show he was losing patience, moved behind Hinata. She was about to raise protest when her voice died in her throat when she took a surprised intake of breath. Gaara had smeared a large glob of the cream across her bare shoulders, and the cream was very, very cold.

Completely caught by surprise, Hinata could do nothing but let Gaara smear the cream across her shoulders, flinching every time more of the cold cream was placed onto her hot and sunburned skin. What could someone possibly say in such a situation -- you missed a spot?

Despite the coldness of the cream, Hinata felt she was in no position to complain. The cream was soothing to her blistered and raw skin, and she felt the dry itchiness that had been begging her nails to claw away at the dead, burnt skin fade away as her dehydrated skin greedily soaked up the cream. Gaara's fingers were also massaging away the painful knots of stress in shoulders as he liberally kneaded the cream across her back.

She could not help but blush, though, when Gaara's hands drifted from her shoulders to her sunburnt arms, plastering the skin on her arms thickly with the cream. It was done in silence, and not even a word was spoken when Gaara put copious amounts of the cream on her face (hiding Hinata's slowly reddening face) and neck. Gaara even swiped a large smear of the soothing cream across the red, burnt skin on her chest.

Hinata blushed a deep red that just had to show underneath the layered cream on her face, as her body unconsciously stiffened. She just remembered what she was wearing, how embarrassing the situation was. Not that she ungrateful for Gaara's careful ministration, in fact she was very thankful for the cream; it was just terribly embarrassing to be seen by a boy in her pajamas. Whether or not that boy was her future husband or not really did not factor in, it was still embarrassing no matter who Gaara was. Not that he seemed to notice, or seemed even embarrassed in the slightest. The lack of reaction from Gaara made a coil of annoyance settle in her stomach for some perverse reason.

Contemplating what on earth her female pride was thinking about, her thoughts were suddenly broken by the scratching noise of clay against clay as Gaara replaced the lid on the container. Just as suddenly, she felt the cool, rough texture of the clay jar pushed into her hands, its weight heavy in her hands.

Gaara's voice cut through Hinata's confusion, "Put the cream on every night to help with your sunburn. It has a plant called aloe vera in the cream that helps with the healing of burns. Until your skin has had a chance to heal I would advise you from going outside; a sunburn on top of a sunburn is extremely painful."

Hinata nodded numbly, but her attention was fixed on the little jar. She felt suddenly extremely tired for some reason, and utterly confused, but it felt like her mind was fuzzy and she could not concentrate. She chalked it up to be tired.

"Come on, it's late," Gaara's voice cut through the fog in Hinata's mind. She moved her attention to the direction of Gaara's voice, finding him at the kitchen's entrance with a wad of blankets under his arm. She might have laughed if she was not so tired: Gaara with a bunch of blankets under his arm like some housewife was funny for some unexplainable reason. Before she could reply, Gaara disappeared around the corner and Hinata rushed forward to keep up – grabbing her jacket and mug of milk as she made her exit.

MWMWMWMWMMW

"I'm s-sorry, Gaara, I'm just no good at this. You know, I can j-just sleep how it is. Y-you've already gone to too much trouble to replace the old s-sheets. You r-really should rest, it's l-late and you need your sleep."

Gaara sighed – a small, sharp exhale that was barely audible. The old sheets of the guest bed had been there for who knew how long. They smelled of dust, and were unsuitable for a guest. The old sheets had mostly been for show than anything else. No one really ever thought the room would ever be used, and thus no one had ever put practical and comfortable sheets on the bed. There was no time like the present, however, to change that.

Gaara had been trying to teach the girl how to properly make up a bed in true Suna fashion: the thinner sheets that would be underneath the comforter first, the edges tucked securely between the board and mattress, and then the thicker comforter over top, again, tucked in securely. Hinata had no trouble with the thin sheets, though she was ramming the sheet edges into the allotted space rather than tucking them, it was the rather thick comforter that was giving her problems. She was unable to tuck the edge properly into the space between mattress and wood.

As a result, the half of the bed Gaara had put her responsible of was a mess and untidy compared to his neat and tidy side. It was to be expected though, it took children a long time to master it, and he could tell the Hyuuga was frustrated, overheated and tired. Not a great combination, especially since he got the feeling that if Hinata was faced with anymore failure for the night she was likely to start crying. He really did not feel like heating up more milk.

Moving around the bed so he was beside Hinata Gaara indicated for her to pick up the comforter edge again, while he also held an edge.

"Fold it the width of your hand, and tuck it down to keep out the sand," Gaara said slowly and quietly, illustrating the child's rhyme exactly. After a couple of tries, with Gaara and Hinata reciting the little rhyme in time with each other, the Hyuuga was finally able tuck the comforter properly. Thick creases were still widespread across the comforter, but at least the bed was made somewhat properly.

"See? Not that hard," Gaara stated bluntly, proud that was able to impart some wisdom. He never knew that teaching could be an enjoyable experience, but the same pride that had shockingly overwhelmed him at Matsuri's rapid progression when he started training her was again evident when he looked at the gleeful expression on the Hyuuga girl. It filled him a warm feeling that infused him to the tips of his fingers, and even the corners of his mouth attempted at a very small smile.

"It's late, and you need your sleep. I'll send a healer to take a look at you later in the morning, just in case," were Gaara's final words, as he turned around to leave, but not before Hinata stopped him by grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Looking utterly surprised with herself, Hinata immediately let go of his sleeve and stumbled over a response. "Um …t-thank you Gaara, but b-before you go can I ask a question? Where d-did you learn that rhyme?"

The warm pride that had infused him just minutes before was suddenly extinguished by bitter memories. His expression must have hardened on his face because Hinata was giving a worried look that had frightened eyes peering at him.

"I'm s-sorry, did I s-say something wrong?"

"No. You should go to bed, it'll be morning soon."

Hinata's expression fell, "Oh … okay. Good night."

Heading to the door Gaara mumbled, "yeah, good night," back before he disappeared, leaving Hinata more confused than ever -- knowing she had asked the wrong question but not why.

Author's Note:

Hmm ... it's getting interesting neh? I don't know wether or not to like this chapter. It's passable but not that great, I think. Also, forgive the dlight lateness, I'm addicted to Primal right now lol it's an older PS2 game which totally kicks butt. Also, any FOP fans in the house? If so feel free to R&R my newer fic 'World is Black'