He left the next morning after breakfast and went back to his apartment. Chouji was at work; he wouldn't be back 'til six. Shikamaru entered and tiptoed into the bedroom.

Gaara was curled up in bed, hugging a pillow. His soft breathing echoed through the room. Shikamaru approached the bed and paused, gazing down at him. Gaara was sleeping so peacefully. He hated to disturb him. He started to turn away, but was stopped by a drowsy voice: "Shikamaru?"

"Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"It's all right." He sat up, his eyes still fuzzy with sleep, and reached out to take Shikamaru's hand. He tugged, and Shikamaru climbed into bed with him. Gaara slipped his slender arms around his waist and nuzzled his chest. "How was it? Your visit with your parents, I mean."

"Troublesome."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really. It's just that every time I go there, they scrutinize me to death. Mostly my mom. She's always got a detailed list of the various ways I'm screwing up my life and disappointing them. I mean, that's not exactly how she says it, but that's the idea." He met Gaara's gaze and forced a smile. "Sorry. I don't mean to unload on you like that. I'm fine, really."

Gaara's brow furrowed. "If it's always like that, why do you go there?"

"Well, they're my parents. I can't just cut them out of my life. And I still love them. It's just hard to deal with them sometimes. I've always envied Chouji because his folks are so easy-going. They like him the way he is. I've never seen them get pissed or lecture him or anything. And Chouji's the same way. Very warm and accepting. Maybe that's why he and I always got along."

Gaara trailed his slender fingers up and down Shikamaru's arm, and Shikamaru watched, entranced by that simple movement. The sensation sent pleasurable little chills up his spine.

"How did you meet him?" Gaara asked.

"Huh?"

"Chouji."

"Oh." Shikamaru paused, collecting his thoughts. "Well, back in second grade, Chouji and I were always the last ones picked for gym class. He was always kinda chubby and clumsy, and I was kind of scrawny. Plus I just didn't care enough about gym to make an effort. If someone threw me the ball, I'd just stand there and let it bounce off me. Chouji would try to catch it, but always drop it. We were both people that no one else wanted. I guess that's how we first became friends. After class one day he looked kind of sad, so I made a joke to cheer him up. Then at recess we sat under the big oak tree at the far end of the playground and watched clouds, and he shared his potato chips with me. That was really the first time in my life I made a friend. I never reached out to people much, even back then. It just seemed like too much effort, and…God, did you hear what I just said?" He forced a chuckle. "I'm a terrible person, aren't I?"

"No," Gaara said quietly. "Why do you say that?"

"I'm just so fucking selfish. No wonder my folks are disappointed in me. I'm only kind to people when it suits me or when it's not too much work. And I'm a coward."

"I don't think you are."

"But I am. I'm afraid of so much."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, just life. I'm afraid of being an adult and afraid of taking responsibility for anything but myself and afraid of commitments and being bound to anything or anyone. I'm afraid of being overwhelmed and broken by the world. So I just avoid everything even slightly troublesome and shut everyone else out except those few people that I know I can deal with, and…" Shikamaru froze as Gaara placed a finger on his lips.

"You took me in when no one else would," Gaara said. "You cared for me when others shrank from me in fear. So why do you say that you're selfish and a coward?"

"I…" His voice shook. He realized, with surprise, that he was near tears. Maybe the argument with his mother had hit him harder than he realized, and he was just now starting to feel the full impact. "Because I am. I've been given so much, but I've done nothing with my life. I don't even have any values or beliefs, at least nothing I feel really strongly about. I'm no one."

"You aren't no one. You're Shikamaru."

"But what does that even mean? It's just a name. Just a string of syllables attached like a tag to this fucking void. At times I don't know if I even exist. I…" He took a deep breath. "Sorry, I barely know what I'm saying. I'm just in a weird mood right now, I guess. I'll be okay in a minute."

Gaara stared at his face for a moment. Then he leaned forward until his forehead almost touched Shikamaru's. "Look at my eyes. What do you see in them?"

He hesitated. There were many different ways he could answer that question. But Gaara was a literal person, not given to poetic flights of fancy, so Shikamaru gave him a literal answer. "I see myself. My reflection, I mean."

"I see mine in yours, too." Gaara reached up and framed Shikamaru's face between his hands. "You know…before I met you, I almost never got this close to someone. Close enough to see my reflection in their eyes, I mean. It's a strange feeling. Not really like looking at myself in a mirror. It makes me feel like…like you're seeing me. Like I'm real to you." His warm breath tickled Shikamaru's lips. "When you look at me, I know I exist. I see the proof there, in your eyes. Do you feel the same?"

"Yes," Shikamaru whispered.

Gaara's thumbs brushed softly across Shikamaru's cheeks. "You're my savior. My hero. Do you know that?"

"I…I'm not a hero. Not really. I'm just…"

"In my eyes, you are."

"Gaara…"

"I belong to you," he whispered.

Their mouths touched, and Shikamaru parted his lips. His eyes slid shut as the wet velvet of Gaara's tongue filled his mouth. A small, soft moan rose from his throat.

Gaara's hand moved down to his thigh and rubbed gently. Shikamaru felt his cock hardening, and his breath caught in his throat as Gaara's hand brushed his erection. Slender, pale hands pushed him gently to the bed. "Let me do this," he murmured, his lips still touching Shikamaru's, his eyes so close Shikamaru could see every subtle shade of blue and green within. Gaara rubbed his cock. "Please."

Shikamaru had lost all capacity to speak. He managed only a small, strangled sound.

Gaara's body slid down the length of his, and slender, deft fingers unbuttoned Shikamaru's jeans, then the front of his boxers, freeing his cock. Gaara rubbed his smooth cheek against that hard, hot flesh, and a wave of pleasure and weakness washed over Shikamaru. He shut his eyes and swallowed, hard, trying to regain some measure of control. "Gaara…"

"What do you want? I'll do anything."

Shikamaru took a deep breath and sat up. He rubbed his forehead. This was all wrong. He'd promised himself that he would wait—that he'd prove to Gaara that not every relationship was about sex. But Gaara was so beautiful. So damn beautiful. "What do you want?"

"Just to please you. Please, Shikamaru…" Gaara lay a hand on his thigh. His voice was low, soft, almost a purr. "You've done so much for me. If this is all I can give you in return, then I'll give it gladly. I want to give you this. Why won't you let me?"

"I want this to be something we both enjoy, not just you letting me use your body. You've been used too much as it is."

"But I've been using you."

"For what?"

"Food. Shelter. Comfort. I've only been taking…and you just keep letting me. I know you want me. So why? Why not let me please you?"

"Because…damn it, because I know you're doing this because your perverted uncle trained you to think that you can't have love without being used by someone. I won't be like him."

"You're not." Again, he reached for Shikamaru's groin. "I do want this."

Shikamaru gently wrapped his fingers around Gaara's wrist. "You'll do anything?" he asked quietly.

"Anything."

"Lay back."

Gaara hesitated, then started to roll onto his stomach.

"No. Just on your back, like this." Shikamaru pushed him gently to the bed. "Just lay back and relax."

Gaara's brow furrowed in puzzlement, but he obeyed.

"Close your eyes," Shikamaru murmured, and Gaara's eyes slipped shut. Shikamaru kissed his left eyelid, very softly.

Gaara's breath caught in his throat, and a tremor ran through him. "That felt…nice," he whispered.

He kissed Gaara's right eyelid, letting his lips linger against it, feeling the small movements of his eye beneath that thin veil of flesh. A tiny moan escaped Gaara's throat. "You like that?" Shikamaru whispered.

"Y-yes." He paused. "Do it again?"

Shikamaru smiled and obliged, and Gaara rewarded him with another little moan. He kissed the corner of Gaara's mouth, his jaw. Gaara tilted his head back, and Shikamaru trailed kisses down that smooth, pale throat. He tugged the collar of Gaara's shirt down and kissed the small hollow between his collarbones.

Gaara's breathing quickened. A flush rose into his pale cheeks. Shikamaru could see his small, hard nipples outlined by the thin cotton of his t-shirt. He brushed a thumb across one, then rubbed in a slow circle around it. Gaara let out a soft gasp. "Is this okay?" Shikamaru asked quietly.

"Yes."

His thumb circled Gaara's nipple again. Then he pulled up Gaara's shirt, exposing his slim, pale upper body and those little pebble-hard nipples. Shikamaru leaned down and kissed one, then the other. He took one into his mouth and sucked. A strange feeling washed over him. He'd gone this far with one of his girlfriends, but of course, he'd never done anything remotely like this with a guy. It felt so strangely right.

Shikamaru glanced down and saw Gaara's erection straining against his boxers. Gently, Shikamaru tugged them down, exposing his sleek, pink cock. "Can I?" he whispered.

Gaara gave a tiny nod.

Shikamaru brushed his fingertips across the smooth shaft, and Gaara's cock jerked. Slowly, very slowly, Shikamaru curled his fingers around it. It pulsed in his hand, living steel sheathed in velvet-soft skin. A bead of clear fluid welled up from the slit at its tip. Shikamaru's gaze moved back to Gaara's face as he slid his fingers up and down the length of his cock. He watched his expression carefully, alert for any sign of discomfort.

"Mm…" Gaara closed his eyes. His lips parted, and a small, pink tongue crept out to moisten them.

"God, you're beautiful," Shikamaru whispered. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met. You know that?"

Gaara's eyes opened slowly. There was a soft, dreamy look in them. The flush in his cheeks grew brighter, and he made a small sound deep in his throat.

Shikamaru continued to slide his hand up and down Gaara's dick, looking into his eyes. "I just want to make you happy," he murmured. "I just want to make you feel good."

"Shikamaru…"

He lowered his head and ran his tongue over the head of Gaara's cock. Gaara let out a little gasp. Shikamaru opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around that hard, hot flesh.

"Oh wow," Gaara whispered, a dazed look in his eyes.

Somehow, Shikamaru suspected that no one had ever done this for Gaara before. And of course, Shikamaru himself had never given head, but how complicated could it really be? He'd eaten popsicles before. He slid his lips down the length of Gaara's cock, trying to keep his teeth out of the way. He got about two-thirds of the way down before his gag reflex kicked in, and he paused. Then he wrapped one hand around the base of Gaara's cock and continued to slide his lips up and down its length. He'd always imagined that cock would taste bitter, but it wasn't bad, really. It just tasted like skin--natural, faintly salty.

His own cock was hard and throbbing for release, but he ignored it. Trying to jerk himself off and suck Gaara off at the same time would take a bit more coordination than he had. So he just watched Gaara's face, drinking in all the subtle expressions that flitted through the depths of those eyes, like water-shadows dancing at the bottom of a swimming pool. He watched those soft, peach-colored lips move, as if Gaara were trying to speak, but couldn't quite focus enough to form words.

Shikamaru pulled back and licked his lips. "You okay?"

"Yes!" he gasped. "Don't stop!"

He took Gaara's cock into his mouth again. As he sucked, one hand moved lower. He cupped those full, tight balls and massaged them lightly with his thumb. Sometimes when he jerked off he did this to himself, and it always felt good, but it took too much concentration to really keep it up once he started getting close to orgasm. Having someone else do it for him, he'd always thought, would be nice. So he did it for Gaara now, rubbing his balls in slow, gentle circles as he slid his lips up and down the length of his dick. He squeezed, very gently...

And Gaara came with a sharp cry. Thick, salty fluid spurted into Shikamaru's mouth and down his throat. He wasn't prepared; he pulled back, coughing, and pounded his chest with one fist.

Gaara lay on his back, his eyes wide and unfocused, his hair mussed, his face flushed and sweat-damp. Then he blinked, his eyes focusing slowly. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Shikamaru smiled, his eyes watering. "A little just went down the wrong pipe, that's all." Once he'd cleared his throat, he stretched out next to Gaara, leaned down to kiss his mouth, then—remembering where his own mouth had just been—kissed his forehead instead. "You okay?"

"Better than okay. That was…I've never felt anything like it." He paused. "Thank you."

Shikamaru wrapped his arms around Gaara and hugged him tight, looking into his eyes. It was so easy to get lost in those eyes. He'd heard that cliché many times—getting lost in someone's eyes—but he'd never really understood it until he met Gaara. He felt like he could spend hours just staring into them…and as he did, the boundaries of his ego seemed to soften and dissolve, letting his mind flow into Gaara's, and Gaara's into his. "I love you," he said.

Gaara froze. His face went blank. "You do?"

"Yeah." Shikamaru stared into his eyes. He stroked one smooth, soft cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I do."

Gaara lay motionless for a moment. His breathing quickened. Shikamaru saw the pulse fluttering in his throat like a trapped bird.

"Gaara? Are you okay?"

"I…" His voice broke. He pulled his boxers back up, then sat up and turned away, shaking.

Shikamaru watched, nervous. Had he jumped the gun? Maybe he should have waited longer…but he did love Gaara. He was sure of that now. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he'd expected, but this wasn't it. "I'm not trying to make you feel rushed or pressured or anything, you know? I just wanted to tell you how I felt. I mean…this doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to. I just…I've never felt this way about anyone, and I thought..." He hesitated. "Gaara?"

For a long moment, Gaara didn't move or speak, just stared at the floor. "No one has ever said those words to me before," he whispered. "Not even him."

Shikamaru touched his shoulder lightly, cautiously. "I didn't think it'd upset you like this."

"I'm not…upset. I…" His fingers clenched on the bed-sheets. His shoulders trembled. "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?"

He rubbed his forehead. "When I was a child, Yashamaru once told me that only one thing can cure a wound of the heart, and that's love. I got the idea that love was like this magical medicine that would make all my pain and fear go away. I know now that probably isn't true, but…for awhile that hope, that fantasy, was all I had. But then he died and…I just…shut all my feelings away. Hope was too painful. Feeling anything was too painful. I was sure that no one would ever love me, so I decided to stop thinking about it, to just love myself, only myself, and never let anyone get close to me. I killed my heart. But now…everything I thought I'd lost is coming back. It's like my soul's been sleeping all this time, ever since his death, and now you've woken it up. I'm not explaining it well. I'm sorry. But this—all of this is really confusing and overwhelming to me." After another long moment of silence, he said—so quietly that Shikamaru had to strain to hear him—"I love you too. I love you so much. And I'm so very, very scared."

"Why?"

"Because you could destroy me if you wanted."

"But if I feel the same about you, doesn't that give you equal power? I mean…if I lost you now, it would be like having a piece of me ripped out."

Gaara met his gaze. "But you have other people who care about you. You don't need me."

"Yes I do. Besides, you have other people who care about you too." Shikamaru lay his hand over Gaara's. "You're a really nice guy, you know. People see that about you once they get used to you. I mean, look how quickly Chouji and Ino warmed up to you."

"They tolerate me because I'm your friend. But they wish I wasn't here."

"That's not true." Shikamaru rubbed the back of Gaara's neck with his fingertips. The skin was warm and soft, like living velvet. "You have to give people a chance. Let them in."

"I'm not even sure I know how."

"Just share more of what's going on in your head, what you're feeling."

"I'll try," he whispered. "But…it isn't easy for me. It seems like every time I start to trust someone, something bad happens. Like I'm being punished. Like I wasn't meant to have love, and when I try, fate rips it away."

"It isn't like that. You've had some bad luck with people, that's all. But it doesn't always have to be like that."

"I hope you're right." For a moment, neither one of them spoke. Then Gaara said, "Is there anything you want?" His hand drifted to Shikamaru's thigh. "You still haven't let me do anything for you."

Shikamaru hesitated. "There is something I want to do right now."

"What's that?"

"It'll sound weird. But I want to give you a bath."

Gaara blinked. A tiny furrow appeared between his brows. "A bath?"

"Yes. I want to draw a warm bath for you. Then I want to undress you and wash you. Can I do that?"

"I…yes. If you wish."

Shikamaru took his hand and led him into the bathroom. He turned on the water. As the tub filled, he turned to Gaara and said quietly, "Lift up your arms."

Gaara hesitated, then obeyed, and Shikamaru slid his shirt off, exposing his smooth, pale upper body. But not entirely smooth, he saw. Scars—evidence of past abuse—marred his chest, back and stomach. In the dim light of the bedroom, they hadn't been as noticeable. In the harsh glare of the bathroom fluorescents, they stood out like raw pink birthmarks against the almond-cream smoothness of his skin. Shikamaru touched one, very gently, and murmured, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That you were hurt like this."

"It isn't your fault."

"I know. I'm just sorry it happened." He kissed a small, puckered scar on Gaara's chest. Then he pulled down Gaara's boxers and let them slide to the floor.

The tub had just finished filling. Shikamaru shut off the water. "Let me know if it's too hot or too cold."

Gaara sank into the tub. Shikamaru wet a sponge, then squeezed some liquid body-soap onto it. "Here, sit up." Gaara did, and Shikamaru gently, carefully began to wash that pale, smooth skin. He imagined that he was washing away all the terrible things that had happened to Gaara, all the hurt and shame.

Gaara watched him, a tiny furrow in his brow. "Is this what turns you on?"

"This is what I want right now."

"Should I…should I do anything?"

"Just relax."

Gaara leaned forward a little, his eyes half-closed as Shikamaru washed his back. "This feels nice," he murmured.

Shikamaru gazed down at his back, the scars on his fair skin, the small bumps of his spine. He squeezed the sponge and let the warm suds run over Gaara's shoulders and back.

After Gaara had been washed and rinsed clean, Shikamaru drained the tub, wrapped a thick, soft towel around Gaara and lifted him out. He carried him into the bedroom, cocooned in the towel, and lay him gently on the bed.

"Shikamaru," Gaara whispered, "why are you doing this?"

"I just want to. That's all." He pulled the blankets up over Gaara and tucked them around his body. He ran his fingers through that soft, damp red hair. "I want to see you feeling safe and relaxed. That makes me happy."

"Really?"

"Yes. So if you want to repay me, just let me take care of you."

"You confuse me so much."

"Ditto." Shikamaru gave him a tiny smile. "I've been trying to get inside your head and figure out what makes you tick. I still don't have the first clue." He touched that smooth, soft cheek, caressed it with the very tips of his fingers.

He found himself thinking about those scars again. So many, like a road map of suffering carved into Gaara's skin. And he knew that he could never wash them away, as much as he might like to. "Gaara…" Shikamaru hesitated. "Don't take this the wrong way, but have you ever thought about getting help? Like therapy, I mean?"

Gaara tensed. "You think I'm crazy?"

"No, that's not it at all. I just…you've been through so much. After what your father and uncle did, and all you went through at school, all the teasing and bullying…I know you're hurting inside, and I want you to get some relief. That's all. I want to help you, but I don't know how much I can do on my own. I'm not going to push you into anything you aren't comfortable with, but I just wondered if...well, if you think that's something that might help."

Gaara was silent a long moment, his gaze downcast. "I've been on and off different psych-meds for most of my life. Some of them dulled the pain for awhile, but none of them really made me better. I've never been to a therapist. My father didn't want me to go to one. He wasn't a believer in psychotherapy."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know. I'd be afraid to, I think. I'm not used to opening up, and with a stranger it would be that much harder."

"It's up to you. It's just something to think about."

"Even if I wanted to, I don't know how I'd pay for it."

"I could pay for it."

"You have that sort of money?"

"Not right now. But I could find some way to make the extra money if I needed to. Just let me know, okay? Anything you need, anything you want, if it's within my power to give, I'll give it to you."

They lay in silence for a few minutes. Then Gaara said, "There is something I've been meaning to ask. A favor."

"What is it?"

"There are some things at my old house that I want to get. I don't like the idea of going back there, but hopefully it won't take long. I wondered if you could drive me."

"Sure. What kind of things do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, the only picture I have of my mother is there. Even if I never knew her, I still like having it. And my journal. It's not that I really want it back all that much, I just don't want my father to find it and read it. And…" A flush rose into his cheeks. "My teddy bear. I do sort of want that back."

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows. "Your teddy bear?"

"I've had him since I was three. If I leave him there my father will just throw him away. If he hasn't already." He looked up and met Shikamaru's gaze, his jaw clenched, as if daring him to laugh. "I know it's stupid, but I have a certain attachment to it."

Shikamaru felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're laughing at me." Gaara's lower lip pushed forward slightly. Someone who wasn't used to reading his subtle facial expressions might not have noticed it, but he was pouting.

"No, I'm not, honest."

Gaara sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, his cheeks still slightly pink. "It helps me fall asleep. That's all. When you've dealt with insomnia as long as I have, you use whatever methods are effective."

Shikamaru lay a hand on his shoulder. "We'll get it back, then. I promise."

"Thank you." Gaara hesitated. "I'm not looking forward to seeing my father again. And I don't think he wants to see me either. But maybe if I promise him never to come back after this…"

"I'd go there and get those things for you if I could, but I doubt your dad would let a perfect stranger come in and rummage through your stuff. But I can go with you if you like."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all. We can go there right now."

"Hold me for just a few more minutes?"

Gaara lay down, and Shikamaru wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. Gaara rested his head on Shikamaru's chest. "You know," he said quietly, "I've only lived here with you for a month or so, but already, this place feels more like home than my old house ever did."

Shikamaru didn't say anything, just held him a little closer.

"Shikamaru…" Gaara hesitated. "Are we friends or lovers now?"

"The two aren't mutually exclusive, you know. No matter what happens, you'll still be my friend. Love is something that grows out of friendship. Sex is just a physical need." He stroked Gaara's hair. "Our culture makes too big a deal out of sex. Everyone is obsessed with it and people are made to feel shitty about themselves when they aren't getting it, like there's got to be something wrong with you if you're not having all your orgasms inside someone else's body."

"But don't you want to have sex with me?"

"Well…yeah." Shikamaru swallowed, suddenly very aware that Gaara's slim body was pressed up against his. His mouth went dry, and his cock started to harden again. "But we just did, didn't we?"

"I mean, don't you want to fuck me?"

Well, that was blunt. "Um...kind of. Well, yes. I do."

"I'm here," said Gaara, his expression unreadable.

Why not? he thought. Gaara was willing, he wanted it, and a part of him—a part that was currently straining against the confines of his boxers—thought that should be enough. Still, something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of those scars. Maybe it was the knowledge that even though Gaara might seem willing, even eager, he was still very damaged, very fragile. A child who was terrified of being abandoned. A child who'd essentially been trained as a sex slave, then betrayed by the one person he'd cared about.

"I don't want to rush," said Shikamaru. "When we do that, I want...hell, it sounds so girly, but I want it to be special."

"Special?"

"Yeah. You know, something we'll both remember for a long time." After another minute, he stood, grabbed a shirt and tossed it to Gaara. "We can talk about it more when we get back. Let's go get your stuff."

Gaara hesitated…then nodded. "Okay."

-To be continued