Author's Note: So, hello everyone! Like many others have said, review, review, review, okay? And yes. Warning: Kiba is very, very angry. And when he's angry, he tends to swear.

But yes—Gaara does not know about how one makes babies yet. Don't spoil it for him, 'kay?

Fourteen. Broken

Kankuro

I woke up the next morning, feeling quite tired and a bit confused. My first instinct was to reach over and feel for Kiba. My fingers couldn't find him, so I lifted my head, opening my groggy, paint-smeared eyes.

Kiba was on the other side of the room, at least a good ten feet away. He had taken the sheet from me, and he was curled up in a tiny ball, like a budding flower.

I crept over to him, slinking low on my knees. I was still wearing boxer shorts, but I knew he was wearing nothing at all. His clothes were still on my floor. "Kiiiiba," I teased. "Where are you, you little mutt?"

He groaned and rolled over, looking at me with one glaring eye. Then he curled up into a ball again, back facing me.

"Kiba, is that any way to treat me, hiding from me like that?" I reached out a hand and grabbed his elbow, trying to roll him over onto his back.

He lashed out, and I could see his eyes were wide and bloodshot, like Gaara's. "DON'T TOUCH ME YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" he screamed, lashing out with a fist.

I fell backwards, caught by surprise. His fist collided with my nose, sending blood flowing from both nostrils.

"Kiba," I said, stunned, trying to stem the bloodflow with my hand. Why was he acting this way? Last night had been…wonderful. Everything had gone right, and I had succeeded in pleasing him. But why? "You little bitch," I snarled, suddenly angry. After all I had done—I had even pleaded to that damn sister of his, for Gaara's sake! "What do you think you're doing? Ungrateful little ingrate..."

Kiba tackled me with a force I hadn't ever felt before. His rage paralleled Gaara's, perhaps surpassed it. He dove, fingers reaching out and curling around my neck. I gagged, unable to breathe.

"Let go of him."

Temari stood in the doorway. I hadn't even heard it slide open. Kiba's eyes narrowed. "Have you come to destroy me, too?"

"Too?" I spat in his face as his hands loosened from my neck. "Since when have I destroyed you, you little—"

"Enough of the language, Kankuro," Temari said, shaking her head. "If Gaara hears any of this, he'll come to investigate. And we know how he'd deal with this situation, don't we?"

"He won't have to deal with it," Kiba growled. He stood up, gathering his pants and shorts from the corner of the room. I was amazed how calm he could remain in front of Temari, naked like he was. "I'm leaving. And I won't be coming back."

I laced some charka strings around Kiba's ankles, and tripped him dragging him back across the floor on his stomach. I turned him so he was facing me. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You should know." His eyes narrowed, glaring. I had to look away, it was so intense.

What the hell was I supposed to know? Granted, I may have been the shinobi in control of the relationship, but I still had no idea what Kiba was talking about. The taste of stale sake was present in my mouth as I opened it to speak. "What does that mean?"

Kiba shook his head, pushing past Temari. I swore I saw a bit of tear glinting in his eye, but he brushed it away. "Now who's the mutt, bitch?" he muttered. I opened my mouth to say something, but he cut me off with words that bit like a sharpened blade. "Kindly kiss off and die."

He looked away and disappeared. I could hear the rustling of cloth as he picked up his few shirts I had torn off in the hallway. Then the door slammed with a cold finality. He was gone.

Temari glanced down at me. "Oh, Kankuro," she whispered. "What did you do this time?"

I shook my head. "I honestly don't know." Then I sighed, heading for the kitchen. "You're not surprised?"

"About what?"

"My houseguest. Or, rather, my one-night stand, by the looks of how that went."

Temari shrugged. "I've learned that it's better to ignore details and treat people normally. I mean, it's not like we've ever been normal. We've had to deal with Gaara from little on. And when we first came to Konaha—remember how people stared? People always care more about their own feelings than the feelings of others. That's one of our problems. We've cared so much about surviving another day with Gaara that you and I have lost all sense of how to interpret the feelings of seemingly normal people. We care about surviving, about appeasing people by doing what we think they want." She smirked. "What did you do to that boy last night, anyway?"

"Do you want to know that much?"

She sipped at the mug of tea she was holding, tracing the rim of the glass with her fingers. "Not really. I'd actually care to spare myself the metal images. But I'm just thinking that, maybe if you tell me everything you remember, we can piece together what you did wrong."

"That's more kindness than I deserve," I said sadly. "He's right—I am a bastard."

"Well, Father is dead, now that you mention it," she laughed. "But I really don't think it's anything kind of me to do. You deserve to be happy, Kankuro. We all do. Even Gaara. And I've spent so much time protecting him, trying to help him, trying to save him—I almost think I lost out on being a big sister to you, too."

"That still doesn't tell me what I did wrong."

Temari bit her lip. "Tell me about it. Anything you can remember."

"Well, right after Gaara and you left, the doorbell rang, and it was him and I—"

"Go on," Temari goaded.

I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turned towards the shadows, where I knew a certain dark-eyed shinobi lurked. "Gaara," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "How—since—why—how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough." He closed his eyes, leaning into the light just enough of I could see the tips of his hair. "Your date didn't go very well?"

"No."

Gaara sighed. "Heart wounds hurt the most, Kankuro." He shook his head, baring his teeth and making a growling noise. H grabbed a mug of tea from the stove and drained it. He shook his head, as though trying to clear his thoughts. His hand gripped his chest, wrinkling the cloth of his robes. "That's better. I almost lost it there." He sat down next to me, and I could tell that from his closeness he was actually trying to sympathize with me. "Who is this houseguest of yours, Kankuro? Do you need me to pull some strings for you?"

"I can do the string pulling myself, thanks," I said, laughing weakly. "Although, love isn't something you can pull strings in, anyway. It takes time."

"You love him?"

Shit. I'd said far too much. Gaara had listened long enough to know it was a him, and now he knew that him, whoever he was, was someone I was in love with. "That doesn't matter. After what happened last night, I don't think he wants me anymore." I put my head on the table dejectedly, while Gaara awkwardly patted my back.

"What did you do last night, anyway? Did you try to make babies?"

I could feel my face heat. "Gaara, men can't make babies together! Where'd you pick up that dumb idea?"

Gaara crossed his arms, and his eyes narrowed. "Maybe it's because I'm eighteen, and you still refuse to tell me just how one goes about making babies. I should have the right to continuing my bloodline, shouldn't I?" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not that it matters. There's nothing left for us here in Konaha, anyway."

"What do you mean, Gaara?" Temari asked, finishing off her tea, which was most likely cold by now.

"My business here is done," Gaara whispered. "We're leaving at noon. And we're not coming back for a long, long time." He made a facial gesture halfway between a smile and a smirk. "Be glad, Kankuro," he said, his voice low.

I couldn't tell if he was trying to be cruel or make me feel happier. No matter what his intentions, hearing his voice like that--I felt like I had swallowed a pint of acid.

"Whoever it is you love, you won't be seeing them again for a very long time."

I swallowed, feeling a lump rising in my throat. I didn't know why, but Gaara's words made me want to vomit.