Gaara raked a lazy hand through his hair, massaging with his fingertips. His head hurt so badly he was nauseous. He desperately needed to bathe, but the idea of getting out of bed was terrifying. Any slight motion could yield his lips to the waves of nausea rippling through him.

Gaara grunted when he felt his insides twist, the pain in his head rebelling against the confines of his skull. His pupils had retracted to little drops of black, and his eyes were bloodshot.

With a soft moan, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, his mind reeling when upon fumbling with the light-switch, the florescent light burned into his retinas. A hasty flicker of his fingers turned off the overly bright light, and he sunk to the floor next to the toilet.

His stomach rebelled against him, trying plaintively to spill its contents into the smooth porcelain fixture he'd become quite friendly with over the course of his life. It was an old ward, and the toilets hadn't been upgraded to the sanitary, more functional steal toilets. He supposed that the additional reason behind the steel toilets was that there was less of a safety risk, especially when it came to someone breaking the porcelain toilets apart and using them as weapon.

He loathed the steel toilets. It was rather uncomfortable to take a shit when your ass was freezing. Men like his brother, whom he knew did some of their most important thinking on the john, loathed the idea of not being able to relax. Gaara's stomach tied up at the thought of his brother, drawing itself smaller and smaller, rudely purging itself of anything that Gaara had so thoughtlessly consumed.

Gaara groaned angstily, dragging his chin across the seat of the fixture in front of him. His pain was gone, for now at least. His hands cradled themselves against his abdomen, and he vaguely noticed that he wasn't as bony as he used to be. He'd somehow managed to acquire a thin, healthy layer of musculature. His chest wasn't nearly as bony and sickly looking as it had before- he could distinctly feel the manly muscles that he knew currently slack with fatigue.

He smiled to himself, though only slightly. It was a gathering of the muscles in his cheeks, and the slight change in lip posture did not meet his cold, blue eyes. They stared blankly, the odd and demented detachment in his gaze making for a very intimidating expression.

Tsunade, should she have seen his behavior, would probably say that was experiencing a psychotic episode when he began to hear things that he knew weren't there. Gaara would sit there blankly while she tried to explain to him what was wrong, and then she'd prescribe him a different medication, and he'd go to bed feeling just a little more like a blank slate then he usually did. He didn't like the way the medicine made him feel, and he didn't want to lose any more control than he needed to. But he knew better than to tell her that he was hearing things, especially the fact that he was hearing dead people talking to him.

"Do you miss me," Gaara distinctly heard the soft, masculine tone directly next to his ear. As if the person was standing right behind him. Gaara's entire body seized up, and he clung to the hard, reassuring coldness of his porcelain waste-taker. He carried a brief, vague notion of trying to cram his head into the drain to see if it could carry him away, but he knew that wouldn't work.

The reason he was so deeply unsettled by the voice was because he recognized the voice from the very first syllable uttered. Inside a deep-seated loathing was rekindled, while simultaneously an even deeper rooted debilitating sense of fear washed over him.

"Oh don't be like that, buddy. Don't you miss my presents? I can get you some more, you know... All you have to do is ask." Gaara had tucked himself into the corner of the room, between the toilet and the wall. It was improbable that he should even fit in such a space, but he had learned at a young age that survival out beat momentary pains. What was actually paining him most was that the voice was everywhere at once, and he couldn't even pinpoint his fear. That was natural, because it was inside his head, wasn't it?

"Go away," Gaara groaned his voice low and grating. It had a particular edge to it that was very uncharacteristic of Gaara. It was the edge that fear often lent to one's voice; the edge of panic and hysteria.

"Why? So you can go and cry in little Gaara's pity corner?" scoffed the voice, close to his left ear. "I don't think so. I think I need to cheer you up, little boy."

"I'm not a little boy!" Gaara snapped angrily, his eyes opening to reveal wide, timid blue orbs of terror. He gasped when he felt a hand close around his slim wrist and apply rapid pressure. Was this real, or make believe? He didn't know. All he knew was that he felt like he was five again, stuck in a place where he had no control, and had little choice in the actions he made. He disliked that almost as much as he loathed the voice and hand curled around his wrist.

Kankuro smile slightly when Sakura casually grabbed his hand, and brought it to her lips to give it a little kiss.

"What's up?" He asked with an inquisitive lilt of his lips.

"Oh, nothing. Just felt like being that annoying kind of girl who has to touch you all the time and make you smile." Sakura said softly, her cheeks a soft pink. Kankuro smiled, and ducked his head. He liked the way she made him feel.

"You're not annoying; you're Sakura." He sighed then, lifting his hand from her grasp and clasping both of the pair behind his head. "What is this? Are we like dating now, or are we just fucking each other?"

"Hmm... I think technically we're just fucking each other. But, depending on what you wanna do, that could change at any moment." Sakura said with a soft smile, her eyes apologetic. Kankuro gulped slightly, because he didn't think he was going to like what he was about to hear.

"You're telling me one thing, but your face is saying another..." Kankuro's brown eyes narrowed in indecision, his chocolate eyebrows drawing together in perfect unison. Sakura bit her lip, and then sighed heavily.

"I like you Kankuro, I really do. But, I think that you still have unresolved issues with Kai, and well, to be honest, I have business with your brother that I fully plan on seeing through. Maybe... maybe we should see those things through before we try and start new things. I don't think they'd be happy and willing to let us right back into their little trust circles, but... we could get back to the way things were, you know?"

Kankuro was silent for a moment, his head hanging low as he thought about this. "How would I get Kai to trust me again, though? I don't think she'd even... consider it... And Gaara? Jesus, he's probably tearing apart everything he owns. Or that I own, because that would make more sense..."

"We'll give them a reason. We can probably just talk to Kai..."

"I doubt that- she's hard-headed about this kind of shit. I'd have to like, uber-suck up, ya know. To be honest, I kind of wish I never fucked you, because this would be a whole lot simpler. It was great and all, but now shit it is fucked and complicated to the nines." Kankuro slowly blinked, and then rubbed his face vigorously.

He didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew that whatever he was going to do he needed to start doing it fast.

Kallou tucked a strand of her light hair behind her ear, and bit her lip in apprehension. She rolled her eyes, amused by her own trepidation and bravely knocked on the door that waited somberly before her.

Her knock was met with a feminine, surly grunt of misery, but Kallou took no notice of that and calmly opened the door. "Now the Kai I know wouldn't be in here moping, she'd be out there getting back at that self-righteous bastard."

Kai removed her pillow from her face, lifting her torso from the body to see that Kallou was leaning casually in her doorway, arms folded across her slight chest. "The Kai you know is an idiot. If she had been smarter she'd have never gotten involved with freaking Kankuro."

"Don't say that. You're the only girl I know that could take a blow like that and not try and off herself- at least in a place like this."

Kai exhaled loudly, and flung her pillow at Kallou with a small smile on her face. "You're the only girl I know in this kind of place who can make me smile when I want to hide beneath a rock."

Kallou rolled her eyes, and shrugged her shoulders. "I try. "

"No you don't... What the hell am I supposed to do? Pretend that everything is fine, and that I never even lo- liked the guy?" inquired Kai, rubbing her face with the palms of her hand.

"Precisely. Now come on! Let's go... do something. I dunno what, but we need to do something." Kai stared incredulously at Kallou, and rolled over.

"I think I'm just going to wallow in my own misery for a little bit, okay?" Kai yanked her covers up over her head, and let out a low sigh. She didn't want to be with these people anymore. The act of Kallou coming to cheer her up only reminded her how miserable she was.

"Okay..." Kallou sighed, and wandered back out to the couch, shutting the door softly behind her.

Kankuro and Sakura looked up when she plopped down, and Kallou cast them a blank, bored stare.

"She okay?" Kankuro asked softly, his eyebrows rising hopefully.

Kallou curled her lip in disgust, and scoffed. "You want to know if she's okay? What about this situation makes you think she's okay?"

"I- nothing. I just wanted to-"

"I don't wanna hear it. You hurt her, and I'm not going to talk to you until you've made it up to her," snapped Kallou, rising from her position on the couch. She stood, and then marched to Kiba's room. She slammed the door behind her. She could hear Kankuro groaning in anger over the sound of the door slamming.

It was about two in the afternoon when Tsunade walked through their door, patient in tote. He was tall, and lanky but oddly enough seemed to have an air of strength to him. He had red-brown hair, deep blue eyes and an arrogant smirk that seem to be common place in their wing of the institution. Oh, and another thing- he looked exactly like Gaara.

Gaara, whom was no longer in his room and was on the couch watching a rerun of Law and Order sat up like someone had lit a fire under his ass.

He was face-to-face with the newcomer in a matter of seconds, his face surprised and interested. The face of the newcomer changed immediately from arrogant and smug to polite shock to complete and utter amusement. He smiled brightly, leaning forward to study Gaara's face. Gaara tilted his head to the side, and curled a lip slightly in confusion.

"Gaara, I would like you to meet Sasori. He is... well, he's your twin brother. Apparently there were some things that happened that we didn't know about..." admitted Tsunade, her eyes narrowed with an apologetic tone.

Gaara's pale, long-fingered hand slowly rose to feel Sasori's face, wincing slightly when his fingers made contact. He withdrew his hand, a look of shock crossing his face. "My brother?"

"Yes. If you'd like, I can take you and Sasori and I will fill you in on the many, many details," Tsunade wasn't sure which response she wanted to hear, but she tried to mask her apprehension with an air of confidence and cool. "Or, if you like, you can stay here and discuss this with him."

"You tell me. I want to make sure he's not lying." Gaara demanded wearily, leaning closer to his brother to his analyze his features. There was no denying the similarities in the eyes, the bridge of the nose, the tilt of the chin, and the shape of the cheekbones. Even the hair, though slightly differing in shade appeared to be cut of the same cloth. Gaara blinked, his stomach rattling oddly.

Tsunade frowned, seeing Gaara's sudden stiffness. She moved forward, momentarily forgetting that he didn't like to be touched, and reached out and touched him on the shoulder. "Are you okay, Gaara?"

Gaara turned his gaze to her, his eyes unfocused and hazy. He brushed her hand off, and nodded uncertainly. Gaara's hand moved to his stomach, and he promptly threw up on her shoes. Her expensive, favorite Jimmy Choo's that she'd saved up for a long time to buy. Gaara was slightly amazed to see that his bile was a strange brownish color, despite the fact that he'd only had water.

Tsunade scowled, and grabbed him by the back of his shirt and directed him towards the hall. Sasori stayed behind until Tsunade gently called for him. Sasori gave Kankuro a long smirk before turning on heel and slowly ambling after Tsunade, his long legs eating up the distance between him and Tsunade.

Just before the door close behind Sasori, he picked up the soft mutterings of Kankuro, demanding to know why he wasn't being involved in the explanation of his and Gaara's newly found sibling. Kankuro in turn could hear see Sasori's gleeful smile and hear the soft snickers. Kankuro moved forward to slam the door behind them, completely perturbed by the mental state of their newest discovery. What the hell was going on?

"You have some blood in your vomit; have you been throwing up a lot recently? It could be a tear or irritation in the esophagus when a capillary burst. Have you been experiencing any sort of pain, or trauma lately? Headaches, or anxiety?" inquired a tall, aging man with dark gray hair that was growing white from the temples to the middle of his scalp. He had deep scars in his face, scars that had caused literal lines to be cut into his cheeks. They looked almost like lines of tears. Gaara vaguely wondered if the man had been held down and cut, or if it was just coincidence.

"Headaches. I've been throwing up for a day or two, yeah." Gaara stiffly rolled his neck around, cracking and popping it as he could. His head was pounding again. Gaara admired the red scars on the man's porous, pale cheeks and absently felt the scar hidden beneath the hair on his forehead.

"What about anxiety, or trauma, anything like that? Any recent mood changes that we should be aware of?" The man was staring at the folder, intently studying it. When Gaara didn't answer he lowered the file, and looked over to Gaara. Gaara was biting his knuckle in a very absent manner, and looked to be deep in thought. "Gaara, is there something bothering you?"

"What do you care? The minute I tell you anything you're going to run off and tell Tsunade what I'm talking about," snapped Gaara, lowering his hands. His bared his teeth, curling his upper lip back in a disgusted snarl. "People like you are what make me so- so-"

"Angry?" Gaara's doctor offered. Gaara groaned under his breath and clutched his head, pulling at his hair.

"Gah! Don't act like you know what I'm thinking! You don't! Get out!" Gaara winced when the man scooted back from his desk, the chair created a very long, loud screech. The doctor apologized absently, but all Gaara heard was a blur.

"Would you like to be interviewed by a different doctor? Tsunade, perhaps?" The doctor sighed in relief when Gaara shrugged, and then quickly ducked his head in a nod. "I'm going to send in Tsunade, and go check up on your brother, to make sure he's okay. He'll be very excited to meet you; he hasn't stopped talking about it."

"Just because he's got my DNA doesn't make him my brother..." whispered Gaara, raising his bloodshot gaze to meet the dark eyed view of the older man.

"Fair enough. If you want to talk to me, or even ask me questions about anything, ask Tsunade for Jiraiya. She'll know what to do, okay? Whenever, whether it's two in the morning. I'm going to leave you with this. I know how stressful it can be finding out you have a brother." Jiraiya, as Gaara now knew to call him, set a small black devise on the bed next to Gaara, and then quietly left the room.

Gaara's hands rested on the bed as he stared at the little black device. Gaara slowly slipped his hand over the small pager, and then quickly picked it up just before the hinges of the door creaked as it opened up. Gaara curled his fist around the object, holding it tight, and he placed his hand into his lap.

Sasori sighed with boredom, glancing over to the girl across the room. She was sitting in one of the stiff blue chairs opposite him, trying to cut through her skin with her finger nails. Sasori's lips curved back in a soft, amused smile. She glanced over to him, her pale blue eyes narrowing in suspicion.

He absently noticed that she had a star shaped tattoo on her cheek. Sasori idly picked at his nails, wondering what Gaara was up to. The girl across the room hummed loudly, and then began to thump her head against the wall in time to her humming. Sasori snorted with laughter, and then folded his wiry arms across his chest. Screw Gaara, this was more entertaining than anything that could be going on in there.

Tsunade quietly closed the door behind her, and the motion sent a breeze of air in Gaara's direction. He could very distinctly smell the odor of his vomit, still staining her ineffectively cleaned pumps. His eyes drifted to the shoes, noting that the soft, looking black fabric was stained a brighter, strange looking color.

Tsunade stood before him, tucking a lock of hair behind her eyes as she adjusted the hem of her shirt. She lifted a foot, looking at her ruined pumps for a moment, and then sighed in self-despair. Gaara frowned, a strange empty feeling seeping into the upper portion of his stomach, and into his throat. For a moment he thought it was remorse, but it was just more vomit working its way up his throat.

Tsunade, noticing his strange facial contortions, moved her feet in time to avoid the inevitable spray of vile, water, and small amounts of blood. "Are you trying to single handily ruin my shoes?"

"The smell... is terrible," admitted Gaara, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Tsunade sighed softly, and then sat down in a chair across from him.

"How are you feeling? Would you like to talk about it, or is there something else that you wanted to discuss?" Tsunade crossed her left leg over her right, and Gaara closely eyed the motion, his bloodshot blue eyes glued to her shoes. She followed his gaze, but made no mention of it.

"Those stink." Gaara said absently. "Does my Mom wear those?" He leaned forward, pressing his hands against the mattress, forgetting about the pager clutched in his left hand.

"Wear what?" Tsunade asked, tilting her head to the right in polite inquiry.

Gaara scowled, and then inhaled anxiously. "Those! Those things. Your weird ass shoes," Gaara smiled slightly, swinging his legs like a giddy child might. "What's she like? Do I look like her? Does she miss me? Does she..." His giddy motions stopped, and his child-like demeanor changed to that of a frightened puppy. "Does she … remember me?"

"Gaara, the minute she found out that you were still alive she's been calling me six times a day, sometimes once every to talk about you. I simply can't talk to her all the time and tell her everything she wants to know about you and your brother. She misses you so much, and is distraught that you and your brothers are all institutionalized. We've determined, simply by the fact that all of you are institutionalized, that your psychological dysfunctions are genetic as well as environmental."

"Do... Will I meet her? I don't know... what if... Does she want to see me?" Gaara asked, his blue eyes roving across Tsunade's mature, calm features with apparent apprehension.

"Do you want to see her? If you don't want to see her, you won't have to. It's up to you. She left when you were younger, and gave up all parental rights to you in doing so. Please keep in mind that she didn't want to leave you, but that she did so to protect herself and her other son. But, if you don't wish to see her then you won't have to." Tsunade pulled a notebook out of her file, and sat it gently in her lap. "If you have something you want to say to her, you can write it down. It will be private, between you and her only. Whether or not she decides to share information is up to her and to you. Would you like to write a letter to her?"

Gaara looked at his hands, which now rested in his lap. His left hand was still curled around the pager that had been left to him by Jiraiya. He wasn't sure how he felt about writing his mother a letter. He was contemplating pushing the button on the pager, in the hopes that it would call Jiraiya, but he had no idea what would happen.

"I've been having really bad headaches, you know?" Gaara asked suddenly, his eyes concentrating hard on Tsunade's face. "The only way I can get them to go away... I either wait until I throw up and pass out, or I just get myself knocked out. But... if there's no one else to do it I'm just... I'm pulling my hair out and trying to bash my own skull in. It's terrible, and I don't want to... to deal with it anymore."

Tsunade raised a brow, ducking her head as she made a note of that on a page in the notebook. "I'm just writing that down so I won't forget to do something about that. What your describing sounds like... cluster headaches. How often do you have them?"

"Not all the time! Just... for certain periods. But when they start, good God, they're there for weeks. I can't sleep, think straight..." Gaara laughed humorlessly, and rubbed his left ear vigorously with the heel of his palm, the edge of the pager scraper against the delicate that thinly covered the cartilage. "I don't function right!"

"We can give you a bracelet or a necklace with a "panic button" so to speak, so that you can get help when you need to for your headaches." Tsunade sighed, and then checked her watch. "Gaara, I'm sorry but I need to get you back to your room. We can count this as our session for today. If you need to talk, you can always talk to me. "

Gaara nodded, and stood up quickly. "I... about the shoes."

Tsunade's cheeks turned pink with pleasure at his awkward attempt of an apology, and she rushed to smile and say it was okay. "You're not feeling well, right? It's just a natural response. I'll miss my shoes, sure, but as long as all my patients are feeling well and doing well, that's all I care about. I want you to get better, Gaara."

Gaara's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment and he looked down to his feet and shuffled them nervously. "Okay..."

Tsunade smiled and led Gaara out into the hall and then waited for Sasori. She was going to take them both back to their wing. She knew it wouldn't be a smooth transition, seeing as how Gaara had almost completely reverted to a child-like state of dependency, something she'd never seen from him before.

Naruto sighed, looking away from Kankuro's distraught features, and then back to the intense brown orbs that glared at their owner's hands. Kankuro was angry, angrier than Naruto could recall seeing him in a while.

"I love how Gaara gets all the attention, and once something big happens that affects the both of us, I'm fucking forgotten. Does that even make sense? It's not fair!"

"Maybe she's not worried about how you'll take it; she knows that you'll be okay," offered Naruto. As displeased as he was with Kankuro, he knew that people made mistakes and he didn't want to further ostracize Kankuro. He'd done a pretty good job of that himself

"Maybe she should. What if I- God forbid- kill somebody? Well then she'd worry. But... maybe it is best that she doesn't worry, considering that we have killed people..." Kankuro sighed, and then lifted himself from the abused couch. Naruto's deep, ocean-blue eyes followed his movements.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep." Kankuro snapped shortly, scratching the back of his head. His neck ached. He vaguely wondered if Sakura would give him a neck massage. He missed Kai's. She knew all the right spots to hit, and where to rub and how to do it when he was sore like this.

Looked like he was screwed either way, though. He liked Sakura, but he had the strong feeling that she didn't really like him the way he liked her. And he missed Kai. What the hell was a guy supposed to do?

Sasuke was in his room, lying on the top bunk. Naruto's bunk. He was idly tossing a stress ball up and down, up and down. It felt like some strange, metaphorical play on his life. He was the stress ball, on a perpetual path of ups and down and God was the hand that flung him to and fro. He might've been gay, and in a mental institution but he still very strongly believed in God.

He had different views than most, but he still believed and that was all that matter to him personally. Sasuke hated being such a deep, emotional person though. He was playing the soulless man's gig, and he felt ready to be booed offstage. He couldn't keep up the charade of being cool and all-impartial with everything and everyone he met. Sasuke was the kind of man who could only take so much before he broke down and cried. He was desperately glad that he still had Naruto and Shikamaru to confide in. For a straight man, Shikamaru had some of the greatest insights he'd ever heard.

That wasn't to say that all straight men had no sense of deep insight, but it was the mere fact that once other men realized you were gay they weren't as likely to have heart to hearts with you.

Sasuke wondered if anyone else had lain in this bed, tossing a ball up and down, up and down. Had they simply been bored, or had they been pondering their existence- the very fabric of their being? Sasuke smiled because he knew that they weren't, and that they were probably thinking of trivial, everyday things.

He rolled off of the bed that the state government had paid for, and landed heavily on his feet. He was still on anti-depressants and some of them made him very groggy. Sasuke stretched out his arms, and arched his back. It popped a little bit and he sighed in relief.

Sasuke pulled up his sleeve to itch at his arm, and then yawned. His brain was on fire with things to think about, but his body was frozen in a treacherous loop of fatigue. He wondered if Naruto ever felt this tired. Sasuke bet that Naruto did- he'd experienced days when Naruto would refuse to roll out of bed, simply because his body was so tired that he couldn't force himself.

Sasuke smiled. He liked that boy more than was good for the either of them. He just didn't want to fuck it up.

Sasori leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms out across the back of it. He rubbed a thumb against the battered suede material, and raised a brow. It was a battered, abused, well-used couch.

He suspected that someone had loved it when they bought it, but had grown tired of it when it was donated to the institute. He had been loved once, before he'd been donated her. His mother still loved him, but a whole lot less than she would admit to. Sasori sighed, glancing over at Gaara.

Gaara was sitting in the joint of the couch where the two halves came together; knees scrunched up to his chest, arms poised casually on top of them. His eyes however, told a whole other story. They were hard and judgmental, but Sasori knew that behind those pretty, clear-blue marbley orbs there was a burning passion to find out about the life that had so narrowly evaded him.

Sasori knew that Gaara was curious, and he was going to take full advantage of that. He would dangle that knowledge before his brother's very eyes, like meat in front of a starving dog. Gaara was starved, by the looks of it. He was wildly thinner than Sasori. Sasori's doctors had always been worried about his weight, because he was considered underweight. Gaara made Sasori feel like the fat kid at recess, the one who puffed after only a few turns of tag.

Sasori turned his attention to the television, sighing with relaxation as he felt his mind begin to wander. He remembered his childhood, and long rides in the car. His parent's conversations would gently aid his sleep, the soft hum of voices like a caressing lullaby. The very thought of his father sent Sasori into full alertness. Gaara didn't know. Kankuro didn't either. Their father was not who they thought he was. Gaara and Kankuro's father was Sasori's father, not the man that they had grown up with.

A slight frown curved Sasori's lips as he imagined Kankuro's face when he heard the news. He knew it would upset Kankuro more than it upset Gaara. Everything seemed to upset him more. He'd seen the way that Kankuro reacted when he found out that he wasn't going to learn anything about his newfound brother.

Sasori's pale lips curved back into a somber grimace, and he lowered his eyes to his hands. Gaara was in a more relaxed posture, which he supposed was good. He wanted to be on good terms with his brother, but he wasn't about to be taking orders from someone he could easily overpower.

So, granted this chapter is very short. I apologize for that. Please forgive me, but I couldn't bear to write anymore and then waitttt for you all to reply! And from the reviews, I concluded that I would pair Kai with Sasori. Don't like it, tough nubs. As Kacie Pie mentioned, GaaSaku was the main pairing, so whether or not you like Sasori/Kai doesn't bug me a bit. But please, be NICE. If you like it, I'd love to hear it. If not... comment with your preferred pairing Might not change anything, but who knows? :D

VOTERS' CORNER!

A- Sasori tries to befriend Gaara, but it ends badly. Sasori tries to pit everyone against Gaara.

B- Sasori tries to befriend Gaara, and they become a terrifying duo of mischief.

C-Sasori and Gaara immediately wreak havoc on the wing, instantly bonding over their love of wrong-doing.

(Section two of voting!)

A- You want to see a real lemon! WITH FLUFF!

B- HARCORE KINKY LEMON ALL THE WAYY!

C- Um... I don't want to read smut!

D- I have no sense of fun, and don't understand sexual enterprises.

(Section threeee of voting!:D)

A I want Gaara to be in the lemon!

B-I want Kankuro to be in the lemon!

C-I want Sasori to be in the lemon!

D-I want Naruto to be in the lemon!

E-I want Sasuke to be in the lemon!

F- What about KIBA?

(You pick WHO the male has sex with!)

I missed you guys! :D Review, and if you have time, COPY the WHOLE sentence that goes with the letter, or write out what you want. Just leaving me letters makes it hard to go through and evaluate your reviews!

Love with all my heart on this wonderful holiday season,

Lauren.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!