A/N: Still taking song suggestions!
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
"Home at last!" Temari said, stretching her arms as if to embrace the entirety of the building's interior.
Kankuro grinned as he stepped into the living room, "Yeah back where there are actually single hot girls."
"Please, Kankuro, if Taro can't get one, you sure as hell can't." Takira said. She flipped and lay down on the couch, not bothering to take her desert robes off. She yawned, "You should stick with dolls."
"Bitch."
"Man-whore."
"Kankuro…" Gaara growled warningly. He knew that they were all tired and Takira and Kankuro's insults were only half-hearted, but he was in no mood.
"What! She doesn't get yelled at!?"
"Come on, Takira, you can sleep in the guest room from now on." Temari said cheerfully.
Takira opened one of her already-closed eyes. "Oh so you knew about the guest room too, huh?" she said accusingly.
Temari nervously rubbed the back of her head, "Yeah well… ha ha… oh look at the time I've got to go put my rejuvenating mask on…"
Takira groaned as she got up; she was no doubt feeling the pain in her legs from running in the sand. Gaara remembered that whenever his Leaf ninja friends came for a visit, they would complain about aches and soreness in their legs from running in the sand. However, their aches were usually quickly remedied by Sakura, who now nearly surpassed her late mentor, Lady Tsunade, in healing. Gaara suddenly felt bad that he had not campaigned harder to get Lee and Sasuke (though perhaps not so much the latter) to stay the night, instead of running straight back to the Leaf Village.
Gaara noticed for the first time, the complete lack of noise in the room. His brother had somehow slipped from the room silently, and now (once again) he was left alone with Takira. She was sitting on the couch still, too tired to feel awkward. They stared at each other for a moment before Gaara slowly stepped away, into the kitchen.
Takira followed, mistaking his purpose. "If you're hungry, I could make something."
Gaara shook his head slightly and opened a cabinet on the same side of the kitchen's opening (there was not exactly a door; just a doorway, like the builder had forgotten to put the door there), over an old drainer to make coffee. Not there. He moved on the cabinet beneath the sink. Cleaning products, rubber gloves, but not what he was looking for.
"What are you doing then?"
Gaara did not answer. He was getting slightly frustrated.
This is my house, damn it! Why can't I find anything?
Welcome to being a man, hun.
Myobi, I thought we agreed that you weren't going to stay in your host's body.
No, you agreed that. I said nothing.
Myobi, I'm ordering you to get out of my head. Gaara thought, opening yet another cabinet.
It's in the drawer above the cabinet next to the sink. Myobi 'said' as she retreated.
Gaara opened the cabinet, and inside, was the little blue tube that he was looking for. He growled slightly, before taking it out and all but slamming the drawer. Calming himself so not to alarm Takira, he turned towards the woman and held the tube out to her.
"This will take away the pain," he muttered, still annoyed.
Takira, as if sensing that he did not want to be bothered unnecessarily at that moment, took the tube gently from where it lay stretched across his fingertips. She smiled.
Takira felt a compulsory urge to do something to thank him, not only for the ointment, but for everything. He gave her a new life before, and now it was (or so it felt to her) through his permission that she had something to live for other than drifting from village to village, warding off attacks from the silent and stealthy Akatsuki and the unorganized, erratic behavior from the Sound Village.
Kiss him. Said Myobi.
Thank him. Ordered common sense.
Takira did something between the two. She awkwardly (because she had never done it before except with Taro and that was very rare) put her arms around his shoulders, stepped in towards him, and gave him a quick squeeze. She quickly released him, lest she get on his bad side, and stepped away.
"I'm off to bed now," she said brightly. Quietly she added, "Thanks."
Gaara gave an imperial nod, which on any other day would have grated her nerves relentlessly, dismissing her. She chuckled lightly to herself, and walked out of the room.
She took a sharp turn from the door down the hall, pausing a moment to grab her bags. It was dark and narrow at night, and gave her the distinct feeling of a horror movie in which "she was never heard from again". She came to the last door, which was considerably older looking than the one on the right.
Opening it, she peeked inside. Sighing as the darkness limited her vision, she slipped inside, feeling along the walls for a light switch. She could tell the walls were circular or at least ovular. She stubbed her toe on something and muttered a few choice curses at it before feeling a string. She pulled on it lightly, and light flooded the room.
The string she was holding was to a small beside lamp, which sat upon a light wooden bedside table. The queen bed next to it as well, spread with a white quilt embroidered with pink and green flowers. The tall wardrobe tucked into a 'corner' of the circular room, right across from the door, was set at a 'catty-corner' and of the same wood as the two other pieces of furniture. Someone had tried to add a ' homey' look to the room, and placed a large, blue-green rush mat in the cent of the room. A faint glimmer of gold in a corner caught Takira's eye, and she noticed a floor-length mirror.
Takira looked next upon the walls. They had been painted yellow years before, and the window's sills were a gentle green, oddly enough, the color of Gaara's eyes. The ceilings were high.
An ache from her legs brought her down from the thoughts of hanging suspended from the rafters (the high she got she found quite exhilarating and the action itself helped her chakra control) to review the situation at hand. She quickly shed the desert robes and changed into the ruined maid's outfit from so long ago. She had accepted it as 'sleep-wear', for it was comfortable, but she could fight in it or flee down a crowded street in it without drawing too much attention to herself.
She rubbed some of the ointment on her legs and nestled under the covers of the blanket. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled as she drifted off, making plans for the next day.
A/N: Review! And don't heckle me about how long it took.