DISCLAIMER - I do not own Naruto.
Rated 'M' for sexual situations and lemons, violence and bad language.
I'll travel the sub-zero tundra,
I'll brave glaciers and frozen lakes.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg,
I'll do whatever it takes to change.
- Owl City, Tip of the Iceberg
I scuffed the tip of my protocol black sandals on the dusty ground of the Sand village as I made my way towards the Kazekage building.
I had been bemused to find out my "thorough medical examination" was being held in the Kazekage building anyway rather than the hospital but the near screeching of, "PRIVACY!" from the elders' secretary had been almost deafening.
Apparently, it was to be a covert operation, of sorts, unknown to the civilians. I was growing more and more doubtful about participation with every step I took.
Hiding it from the villagers? For what purpose? I thought incredulously.
The looming dome structure of the Kazekage building came into view then and I sighed heavily.
Several villagers greeted me on my way with cheerful smiles and shouts of, "Good morning, Miss Aimi!" and, "How is Lord Gaara today?" from the shinobi. They particularly, had really taken to him, his battle prowess and dedication to the village becoming something that had made him somewhat of a hero in a matter of less than a year or so. The change in reaction to him was incredible to witness. That was what would make this worth it.
I shuffled along the walkway to the Kazekage building and entered, trying not to frown. In the foyer stood a slender woman with immaculate auburn hair tied back in a long ponytail and side bangs that framed her pretty face perfectly. She was holding a clipboard. She was around twenty five years old, wearing a pristine white coat and an equally flawless smile, a smile so perfect, so refined, I almost didn't trust it.
"Good morning, Lady Aimi!" she greeted, bowing to me and beaming, the smile not quite reaching her lovely brown eyes.
Ugh, what was with the Lady Aimi? I groaned internally. Gaara and I aren't even married, he's not even Kazekage yet, what's with the sucking up?
"My name is Doctor Araragi, I will be heading up the medical examination today," she explained. "Now, I'm going to take you through what we'll be doing with you."
She paused then, presumably to give me space to nod, which I did and she continued. "We'll be measuring your height and your weight, that sort of thing. It's just to check that the future bride of the Kazekage is in shape and is leading a healthy lifestyle. This shouldn't be a problem for you, however, seen as you're already a skilled shinobi from what I'm told."
I nodded again, trying to listen closely to what she was saying, to pull it apart at any given moment.
"Then we'll be going on to blood tests, looking at your white blood cell count, any vitamin or mineral deficiencies, that sort of thing. We'll also be taking your blood for fertility reasons to check your levels of progesterone and oestrogen. We're looking for any degenerative diseases or issues that could affect the Kazekage's plans in the future if he decides he would like a child with you."
"Our plans in the future," I corrected, my voice dripping with sweet poison as I smiled at her widely, showing her as many of my teeth as I could. "If we decided we wanted a child in the future, you mean."
She paused then and her eyes went wide for a moment. "Erm, yes, s-sorry," she apologized, stumbling over her words and waving her hand dismissively. "If you both decided you wanted a child."
She smiled a little desperately at me then, but it was too late. I knew we weren't going to get along.
I was right, I knew this would be torture, I thought to myself, groaning inwardly.
"We'll need a urine test to look at things like your liver function. We'll also need a cell sample, preferably a skin cell sample."
"Woah, how do you get skin cells off me? There's no skinning me alive happening, right? 'Cause I didn't sign up for this," I warned warily, frowning.
Araragi gave a tinkling laugh and scoffed. "Oh, Lady Aimi, haven't you ever heard of," and then she whispered, "exfoliating?"
She laughed heartily then, stroking the milky skin on her own cheek with lithe little fingers.
I hated her already.
"I don't really have much time for skin products," I admitted, feeling a little inferior. "I just use face wipes when I've had make up on."
"That will be why you're already showing signs of wrinkles."
I reached up to my face automatically, feeling about for any signs of creases, a wave of relief washing over me when I found none.
"I'm only kidding, I'm only kidding," she laughed flippantly, waving her hand, long scarlet red fingernails in my face. "What we'll do is scrape a sample from the inside of your cheek, that's all."
Murder when you're not fighting the bad guys is not okay, murder when you're not fighting the bad guys is not okay, murder when you're not fighting the bad guys is not okay, I chanted to myself internally.
"Oh, okay," I agreed, nodding, trying to steady my anger.
"The next part is the tricky part," Araragi said, warningly, her tone condescending as if she were talking to a toddler. "We'll be doing a pelvic exam on you to check for any signs of lumps or tenderness and an internal exam. In the urine sample we'll have already done by this point, we'll be able to check if you have any sexually transmitted disea-"
I snorted. "I definitely don't have any of those. I'm a virgin."
She gave me a look that was clearly nonplussed, surveying me up and down, raking me with her eyes. "So, you and Lord Gaara are not sexually active?"
"Not really," I admitted, failing to mention that one episode of oral sex. "We're both still virgins."
"Well," she breathed, as if it was a piece of gossip she would be relaying to her friends later tonight over drinks. "That is certainly... virtuous. Nevertheless, we will check the urine test. We won't bother with an X-ray in that case, so long as you don't mind if we just check your hymen is still intact."
"Why?" I asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow at her and folding my arms.
"Just to check," she said, presumably attempting to reassure, her smile sickly sweet. The urge to vomit was intense.
I grunted.
"We will finish up by checking on your chakra network. We will need you to activate your Sharingan-"
"Woah woah, Gaara said no-"
"But we can assure you there will be no research done into your Sharingan, it's just the easiest way for us to circulate some chakra around your system while you're stationery. It's the easiest way to measure your chakra levels and to check that the network is fine." She gave me a much more convincing smile then, so much so that I even smiled back willing. "Now, if you'd like to follow me."
She led me off the foyer on a new route that I'd never travelled before, not when I had been to the ballroom or to the elder council room. She chattered on about Gaara's ultimate defense and how much money he'd probably pump into the medical core when he ascended to position of Kazekage.
Finally, we reached a long hallway, white walls and white floors, disorientating in its resemblance to a hospital.
I must've looked astounded because at that moment, Doctor Araragi turned to me with that cheap smile and asked, "Like it? This area of the building has been used as a hospital since Lady Karura gave birth to Lord Gaara."
Lady Karura? Gaara's mother? I thought, my breath catching in my throat at the thought of the woman who brought Gaara into this world.
"Wait, so Gaara was born here?" I asked incredulously as she opened a door to our left that led into a small room, the size of a walk-in closet.
Inside, on a counter was a small clear plastic beaker. Another door at the end of the room led off somewhere else.
She ushered me inside, as she said, "Yes, he was. Just down the hall from where you're being examined."
She seemed very flustered now. Then, she bustled over to the counter, picked up the beaker and handed it to me, along with a wipe and declared, "There is a bathroom through that door. I need you to go in there and gather a clean catch specimen of urine. You're going to wipe down your vagina with this alcohol wipe and then urinate into the cup. Leave it on the counter when you're done and step out. I will then bring you to the exam room."
I nodded and went off to do my business, making sure to wash my hands afterwards. When I returned, she greeted me with that false smile and took the beaker from me, heading for the hallway.
She pushed the door open and stopped a passing nurse.
"Nanami, this is Lady Aimi's urine sample. Take it to the laboratory and return quickly for the exam. I need you ready to take her blood," she ordered, very coldly. I sneered behind her, feeling a little insecure about this lady being in control of this examination, due to her personality. I wasn't feeling comfortable.
The girl named Nanami bowed with timid eyes and scuttled off. Doctor Araragi turned to me then and said, "If you would like to follow me, Lady Aimi, I will take you to the exam room."
I nodded and followed her out of the room and down the hall to a set of double doors. I followed her through them and was led into a room with tiled floor, maroon walls, a wide, pristine bed in the center of the room with stirrups.
Like a goddamn horse, I thought sarcastically, trying not to roll my eyes. I was beginning to get sick of my own bad mood.
A machine that was probably something to do with heart rate was set up next to the bed and hanging over the bed with a straight black rectangular shape in the center of its makeup loomed another large machine. Two circular windows hinted at signs of life beyond the room and I longed to see the outside world. On the bed was a cyan hospital gown.
I found myself wishing I'd pushed Gaara into coming with me now, for moral support, for anything. I wasn't sure I could do this on my own.
"Now, just take off all of your clothes, underwear included," she added, "and put that gown on. I'll be back in a few minutes with the Nanami and the two trainee medics that will be accompanying me."
I inhaled deeply and nodded, closing my eyes, hearing her exit from the room. I changed into the hospital room, folding up my clothes and hiding my underwear very discreetly within their folds.
Doctor Araragi returned, her smile gone now. The nurse named Nanami was in tow, along with two other strangers. They must've been the trainee medics. They were both boys, both looking only a little older than myself, both with the standard head-wraps and cloth neck-covers of the Sand village. I greeted them both with a warm smile, which they returned.
"Now, then, Lady Aimi. Shall we get on with it?"
They started just as she said they would, measuring my height, weighing me.
"Don't tell me," I warned, as I stepped onto the scales. "I don't want to know. I really don't want to know. It's better if I don't know. Just keep it on your files."
Araragi gave a tinkling laugh and made a note of something on her clipboard.
"Your BMI is done," she commented. "Would you like to know?"
"No!" I shouted. "I mean, no. No, I'm happy not knowing."
She went on to measure my body fat percentage then, pulling out an implement from a drawer by the side and shooting a beam of infra-red light into my bicep.
"Er, you're not trying to laser my arm off, right, or anything? 'Cause I need it for hand signs," I muttered, giving my doctor a puzzled look as Nanami removed the device from her hand and put it away for her while Araragi noted something on her clipboard. As if she couldn't put it away herself.
Nanami beamed at me, clearly trying not to giggle but Araragi merely ignored me. I felt a little disgruntled. I knew at any moment she would be trying to probe inside of me and then our relationship definitely would become strained. At least she could make some effort before that moment.
I sat back on the bed then and Nanami took my blood. I yelped, hating every second of it, trying desperately not to shed tears. I hated needles, anything that wasn't supposed to be in my body that was.
Araragi hushed me then and said with that false smile, "It's only a little blood."
I tried desperately not to retaliate, to allow this to go as smoothly as possible for Gaara's sake, so I bit my lip. After that, the doctor took a strange metal implement and said, "Open wide now, Lady Aimi."
I did as she asked and she scraped the inside of my cheek with the cool object, leaving the remnants of what tasted far too much like blood in my mouth behind. She sent that off "to the lab" with one of the trainee medics.
"Tatsuke, hand me that clipboard," she commanded the other trainee medic. He did as she asked immediately, rushing to her wishes.
"Now, Aimi, how long have you been a shinobi?" she asked matter-of-factly.
"Like, two years? Maybe longer. I've been training since I could walk though and I've been at this academy since I was four," I told her.
"Have you ever had suffered any ill health?" she asked inquisitively, pen in hand. "Any serious or recurring physical illnesses?"
"Nope," I replied.
"Nothing to report?" she asked again, leaning forward now.
"No," I repeated, folding my arms now.
"So you didn't spend six months in the Hidden Leaf Village Mental Hospital?" she questioned, that vile grin on her face as she smirked at me smugly. "Or were these reports from the Hidden Leaf village wrong?"
I felt the blood boiling in my brain, seeing red. I was about ready to kill someone. That couldn't be brought up now. Not now. "You said physical illnesses."
"I also said ill health."
"My brother had just slaughtered her entire family!" I shouted.
"Emotionally volatile," she noted, writing on her clipboard in huge looping handwriting.
Calm. Stay calm, Aimi. You can go home and if you really want to, you can have this woman fired and you and Gaara can make out all night long. Fuck this woman. Just give it ten more minutes and walk out. Ten minutes, I promised myself, trying to avoid the doctor's eyes and gazing heavenward.
"Now, it's on to the fertility aspect of the examination. We won't need to do another blood sample so it's straight onto the physical examination. Please lie on the bed," she instructed and I did so, gingerly, watching her all the time, my shinobi senses tingling, as if I were about to be under attack. But I knew that was so very unlikely, it was just my flight or fight response stirring. I nestled into the bed and exhaled heavily. "Place your feet in the stirrups."
I did as she asked and I felt her cool fingers begin to probe my lower abdominal muscles, the skin above my pubic bone. I shivered. I had never been touched like this before and her fingers were unwelcome, too much nail catching on my skin, far too much pressure. The medical trainee named Tatsuke stood by with a clipboard ready to make notes.
She continued to explore my pelvis, muttering aloud to Tatsuke. "No signs of any tenderness, no lumps… everything seems fine. The skin is supple. The abdominal muscles are toned yet her hips are wide enough to bear children without issue. Note that. The elders will need to know that."
She looked up at me then, picking up a metal implement that looked strangely shaped like a duck's bill. "Now begin's the internal exam."
I sat up and gulped, nodding. I was trying to steel myself. I didn't like this.
"Please try and stay as still as you can. This will be uncomfortable but it shouldn't hurt if you stay still. This is to-"
"I don't need to know what it's for," I interrupted, lying back down on the bed. "Just do it."
It was awful. Truly awful.
Like the feeling of falling in love had been belittled into a mere chemical reaction as the Doctor explored the inside of me, making comments like, "There's the hymen indeed, Tatsuke. Make a note of that".
It got worse as she continued probing and I squeezed my eyes shut.
"That's the smear done," she declared finally and I knew she was finished. I scrambled away from her a little, my natural urge to get away from whatever had been making me feel so uncomfortable just moments before.
"Tatsuke, go into the control room and prepare the Dometer. Nanami, check Aimi's blood pressure and align the Dometer. Hibiki, prepare to take notes. This is the most important part," the doctor commanded, her voice dropping all pretence now and becoming extremely stern and cold as she ordered around her juniors.
They did as she directed and Nanami stood on her tiptoes to reach up and move the great steel machine that was looming over my head with its rectangular black emblem engraved onto it like a cult symbol.
"What does that thing do?" I inquired warily, pointing up at it with a stumpy index finger. Well, stumpy compared to Araragi's fingernails. I cut mine.
"It measures your chakra. It's like its own Byakugan, of sorts and it can see your chakra flowing around your body and it records it. That's what the black area is for. It records your chakra," she explained, as suddenly a humming noise began to emanate from the Dometer above me. The boy named Hibiki watched intently as Nanami reached for my bicep gingerly and strapped a cuff around my arm, beginning to measure my blood pressure.
She did so and nodded approvingly when it was done, unstrapping the cuff and taking the measuring device off with her.
"Nanami, if you'll take all the information we've gathered so far down to the laboratory and just leave it with them so they can create a full report on Aimi. I think Hibiki, Tatsuke and I can handle it from here," Araragi said, addressing Nanami now with that phony smile once more. What was she up to? But Nanami went to the counter by my bed and picked up the clipboards left there by the boy named Tatsuke who was now presumably in the next room and by the doctor herself. She carried them swiftly from the room and presumably to the "laboratory" for some reason.
I felt alone once Nanami had left, like she'd been the little moral support, the little refuge I'd managed to take in this room. In another world, we might have been good friends.
"Now then, Aimi, please activate your Sharingan and just stare straight ahead at the black rectangular area of the machine," she instructed, all traces of a smile gone. "Try to keep extremely still. Extremely still."
"Right," I agreed, looking up to where the humming noise was coming from and focusing. And then, I activated my Sharingan.
I stared straight into the black box, trying to see through it for any signs of flickering as it measured my chakra network but I could see nothing, just a reflection of my own eyes. Was it a mirror? I shifted in my bed, trying to get a better look.
Damn eyes, I thought to myself, fidgeting a little. They're so clear I can even see a reflection of myself.
"Remember, Lady Aimi, think still," Araragi soothed, her voice no more than a whisper as she tried to calm me. I ignored her regardless.
I shifted a few inches to the left and angled my head towards the right, trying to see the colors of flickering chakra within the Dometer, measuring my own chakra but it was no use, I still saw my own eyes.
Maybe the machine is faulty, I thought to myself, cocking my head to the side.
I closed one eye very discreetly then and the mirror image did the same.
Hah! I thought, trying to see past my reflection for the flickers of chakra once again but nothing.
That's so weird! I pondered, cocking my head, once again.
At that moment, Tatsuke walked into the room. "Doctor Araragi, no disrespect but I cannot get a good look at her eyes when she's moving so much. Can't you get her to be still?"
Needless to say, sprinting through the streets of the Sand village in a hospital gown was not one of the ways I envisioned the day going, no matter how badly I thought it was going to go. Nor did I think I was going to have droplets of tears streaking down my face. Many puzzled expressions greeted me this time as I made my way hurriedly back to the Sand Siblings' apartment.
I pressed the buzzer, holding it down for an excessive amount of time, waiting for someone to answer since I had left my key back with my clothes.
"Please don't do that, it's a horrible sound," Kankuro's voice finally came over the intercom.
"It's me, let me in," I sniffed, my voice coming out no more than a blubber.
"What? Aimi?" he asked, clearly confused. He buzzed me in regardless and I rushed upstairs, throwing the door open to the apartment.
Gaara was sat on the couch, pouring over a pile of paperwork strewn out over the coffee table, Kankuro stood behind him, swigging a bottle of Ramune, his eyes already trained on the door, probably waiting on the moment I walked in.
Temari came out of the kitchen just at the same moment as Gaara looked up from his great mountain of paperwork. "Aimi, I just got back- what's wrong?"
"They- they put some- some goddamn beak or something inside me and she was all 'you have wrinkles!' and, and I don't and she made me pee in a pot and she took my blood and she was so horrible about when I was depressed after what happened with Itachi and she called me emotionally volatile.." the words were coming out in an endless stream as my hysteria escalated. "And then she tricked me and they were trying to look at me eyes behind my back!"
Silence.
"She brought up what happened with your clan and they looked at your Sharingan?!" Temari yelled, slamming her cup of tea down on the coffee table, the liquid sloshing all over Gaara's paperwork.
She gave him an apologetic look but he did not catch it. His eyes were on me, totally inscrutable, his expression stoic.
And while he did seem so very unreadable, I had never seen him looking so cold. He got to his feet very slowly.
"Kankuro?" he asked. His voice was calm as his gaze locked with mine, his sea foam eyes enigmatic. Temari walked over to me then and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, rubbing my arm to try and comfort me presumably.
"Yeah?" Kankuro's expression was wary as if at any moment, anyone could lose it. But I had stopped crying now. I merely held Gaara's gaze, trying to convey to him how much pain I was in, how uncomfortable and violated I had felt.
"Come on," Gaara directed, his voice as dark and bitter as a winter's night, just like it had been when we'd first met. He picked up his gourd and swept past me, not breaking eye contact with me until he was out of my line of sight.
It was obvious then what he was going to do.
Kankuro scuttled after him, down the stairs, shouting, "Gaara, wait! You can't just go in there, kicking ass! You're not even the Kazekage yet! What're you gonna do?"
His voice faded out as he slammed shut the door behind him. Temari sighed and wrapped me up in her arms. "Come on, sweetie. Let's sit down. I'll make you some tea and we'll watch some cheesy movie."
I watched her make a cup of tea for me and she grumbled about the old lady she'd just been in a meeting with who had apparently looked like she was ready for her coffin right there and then. She was obviously trying to make me laugh and she did succeed in making me smile slightly.
When she had finished, she put some romantic comedy on the television and the film began. We settled down into the couch, Gaara's soiled paperwork discarded on the coffee table. I leaned against her shoulder and relaxed.
She began to mutter things like, "Damn corrupt system of our father and all these elders thinking they can do whatever they like," and, "When Gaara becomes Kazekage thinks will be totally different."
About thirty minutes later, very suddenly, she turned her whole body in my direction, jostling me a little in her movement so I had to sit up and face her. "Did they seriously look at your eyes? After Gaara warned them?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yup. They told me they were reading my chakra," I explained, sitting up. "I'm sorry for crying like that."
"It's fine. I understand. The gynaecologist can be a pretty traumatic experience," she giggled, nudging me.
"I am never going again," I declared firmly, folding my arms and looking down. I cringed a little as I noticed my attire. "I can't believe I ran out of there. I'm such an idiot. Who runs through the streets a hospital gown?"
"Hey! It's understandable! They'd been probing you and messing with you and then they go and do that with you after you and Gaara both told the elders not to, it's ridiculous. I hope Gaara kicks their asses."
At that moment, we heard the sound of the door open downstairs, of someone making their way up the steps. I sat up, hoping it was Gaara, my eyes on the door to the living room.
The door was flung open, revealing Kankuro carrying a very neat pile of my clothes in his hand. His hood was down and he looked a little disheveled, his expression less cheerful than usual.
"What happened? Where's Gaara?" Temari asked, as he walked forward and placed the clothes in my lap gently, smiling at me as he did so.
"Thank you," I murmured tentatively.
"It's okay, little sister," he soothed, his smile spreading into a grin. He went to sit on Temari's other side, sprawling out on the sofa. "So, what're we watching?"
Temari gave him a swift smack across the back of the head. "Kankuro! What happened? Where is Gaara?"
"He went off to talk to the elders. He told me to go straight to the medical floor of the Kazekage building, tell them who I was and that I'd come to collect Aimi's clothes. Then, I was to inform then that Gaara would be along shortly to speak with them, gather Aimi's things and leave. So I did," Kankuro explained, all the time keeping his eyes on the television. He had a guilty pleasure for sitcoms and romantic comedies.
"Did they say anything?" I questioned shyly, snuggling into Temari's shoulder once more. She was so maternal, so caring when she needed to be.
"Some brunette doctor kept following me around apologizing but I just told her to take it up with Gaara. He's the one she's answerable to." Kankuro seemed to have lost interest in the whole thing now and was totally immersed in the movie so I figured that'd be all we would get out of him.
"Don't worry, Aimi. Gaara will take care of this," Temari assured me, giving me yet another smile. This one, however, I returned more surely because I truly believed her. I trusted Gaara.
The sun continued its plight to lord over the skies as the day passed and the movie finished. Kankuro switched to regular television, watching one of his favorite sitcoms. Temari went to get her fan from the locked utility room and began to polish it lovingly.
I got to my feet and set to work clearing away the soiled papers, now starting to dry and went to place them on the kitchen table. Gaara could do what he liked with them. After this, I'm sure the least the elders could do would be to copy him some more papers. If they were papers from the elders...
Oh well. They're just papers. I thought to myself. They'll dry.
I went to dry up the remaining spillage on the coffee table with a towel from the bathroom and then disposed of it into the laundry pile in my room. After that, I went back into the living room and picked up the pile of clothes Kankuro had left me, took them to my room and changed back into them. Then I returned to the living room wearily and sat back down by Temari and Kankuro.
In truth, I was trying to pass the time, waiting to hear the sound of the door opening downstairs, for him coming home.
Not even to hear that he'd done something about what had happened, just so that he'd be here.
I grew more and more impatient as the minutes passed by and the reel of false laughter played repetitively on Kankuro's sitcom.
But finally, the downstairs door did open and I jumped, my eyes flitting to the living room door automatically.
"Come on, Kankuro. Let's make a start on lunch," Temari suggested, getting to her feet and slapping her brother's thigh.
"What? But it's just getting to the good-"
"No, come on," Temari said, pointedly, jerking her head between the door and myself just as the sounds of Gaara slowly ascending the stairs could be heard. She made her way to the kitchen, Kankuro following behind her sluggishly, grumbling about the "best part", and I was left in the living room alone.
It seemed to take forever for him to reach the top of the stairs, but he finally did, and he opened the door much more slowly than his elder brother before him.
He stood in the doorway boldly, arms folded, his gourd taking up the entirety of the space. He didn't greet me with a smile as most would but rather surveyed me, to see if I was okay. He could probably see that I had stopped crying and was thus taking it as a good sign. His blood red hair was windswept as if he had been rushing around all day, sea foam eyes alive with something I could not comprehend.
Gaara was what I had come to recognize as home. And right now, I needed some home comforts.
"Gaara," I whispered, in greeting, my voice pleading for comfort, my front cracking a little.
He didn't respond nor did his expression change, he merely stepped forward into the room and removed the white piece of cloth slung around his shoulders, carrying his gourd and placed it by the doorway so the gourd was leaned up against the wall. He shut the door behind him and then very purposefully walked over to me and sat down beside me on the couch.
He didn't speak; he just wrapped an arm around my shoulder and used the other one to pull one of my legs into his lap so I was angled towards him, allowing him to almost cradle me a little. He kept totally silent as he held me; the only sounds were his steady breathing, the buzz of the television and the faint sounds of Temari and Kankuro squabbling in the kitchen.
I placed my hands on his chest and rested my head underneath his chin, closing my eyes and soaking in the feeling of comfort, of contentment, as he held me like I was precious, like I was of some value.
Moments passed. "We have an appointment with a head medic the day after tomorrow at noon for your results," he suddenly said, holding me closer still, the hand that was on my thigh sending sparks to my very core.
"We?"
"Yes, we. I thought you might want me there this time," he confirmed, moving to play with my hair from the feel of it, twirling it in his fingers.
"I do. I want you there. They just don't listen to me. I know you're busy but... I would feel better... for now, at least," I admitted, leaning against him.
"That's fine. I can't be and I will never be too busy for you. If I can't look after you, how can I be expected to look after a village?" he questioned, still playing with my hair, his other hand stroking circles on the skin on my thigh softly, lovingly.
I didn't allow a pause to settle. "What happened? What happened when you left? What happened to Doctor Araragi?" I leaned back to make eye contact with Gaara then to watch his expression. "Tell me from start to finish. And don't leave out any details." He smiled wryly at me.
"It was Elder Yasushi who ordered the medic Araragi to study your eyes against our will and against the agreement of the council. He went to Lady Chiyo to seek her advice and she suggested research into your Sharingan. It seems she does not trust it, or anything from the Leaf," Gaara explained.
"Lady Chiyo? One of the Honored Siblings?"
Gaara nodded. "Yes. I thought it might have been him from something he said to me at the mission allocation last week. I went to confront him and he didn't deny it. Lady Chiyo doesn't usually involve herself with the current affairs of the council but she and Lord Yasushi are old friends and it seems he owes her a favor."
He paused then and grunted, grinding his teeth together in frustration. "My problem is, Aimi, that I'm not yet Kazekage. Right now, my official title is just Provisional Head of the Council of Advisors. I don't have the power to dismiss elders. But I can dismiss medics. So Doctor Araragi won't be practicing in the Sand village ever again."
"Wasn't she only under orders though?" I inquired curiously, cocking my head at him, tracing his strong jaw with my index finger.
"I didn't like the way she spoke to you." It was a simple explanation, but his words were so profound to me that I couldn't stop the ear-splitting grin that appeared on my face.
Gaara's upper lip curled at seeing me smile so and he continued, "I may not be able to dismiss Lord Yasushi but I have spoken to him. I have explained that research on your Sharingan is pointless and a waste of money. We don't need to know what it can do at this point through biological research and I told him I would not tolerate anyone treating you like that."
"What did he say?"
"He said to pass on his sincerest apologies and that he was just doing what he thought was best for the village."
I snorted, leaning back and closing my eyes. "I'm sure he was very sorry."
Gaara didn't respond, his fingers still tracing patterns on my thigh. I opened my eyes then. "Hey, Gaara. You know when you're Kazekage, will you fire his ass?"
His lips spread into a smile. "There are a few things that need changing in this village."
"And he's one of them, right?" I guessed, trailing my fingers up to his neck, the feel of his untainted soft skin under the pads of my fingers.
"I won't let him get away with it, Aimi," Gaara proclaimed, suddenly very serious, his fingers on my thigh ceasing their movements. He merely held me.
"I know you won't," I told him, sighing. We sat in silence for several minutes then, holding each another, listening to the sounds of Temari hitting Kankuro with presumably the same wooden spoon I had launched at him this morning for trying to test some of the rice. I nestled into Gaara's neck and his arm around me tightened, pulling me closer still.
"Will you still be able to cuddle when you're Kazekage?" I asked, my voice coming out muffled since my face was angled into the juncture of his neck.
"Yes."
"Will you still be able to come to bed with me and help me get to sleep?" My nose skimmed up to underneath his ear. We were certainly in a compromising position.
"Yes. Although if it were up to the council, that wouldn't be all we would be doing," he commented, rolling his eyes. I looked up at him, at that moment, puzzled, unsure of if I'd heard him right.
Had he really just brought that up first?
"You mean-? Do you...?" I lost my nerve then and I inhaled deeply. This was Gaara. We'd been through too much for me to chicken out when it came to stuff like this.
So I steeled myself and mustered my bravery. I sat up and placed both legs either side of his, straddling him, both of my hands in his scarlet locks. "Do you think we will?"
He raised an eyebrow at me, a little perplexed at my sudden boldness yet encouraging me to continue.
I sighed and said through gritted teeth, "Do you think we'll... have sex?"
I half expected him to smirk or avoid the question but he didn't; he held my gaze, honest and true to me. "How long do you expect to stay in this relationship, Aimi?"
I would be just as honest. "Indefinitely." I didn't even blink.
"Then I presume it'll probably come up at some point," he said, his hands on my hips now. He wasn't fazed at all by my proximity or by the topic; he took it all in his stride as if we were discussing the weather.
"Do you want to have sex?" I couldn't look at him then. My gaze went to my lap, hiding my blush, the blood flooding to my cheeks hurriedly in the moment.
Silence.
"With me, I mean," I mumbled, knowing the humiliation was now staining my cheeks a similar color to Gaara's hair.
I saw his index finger come to meet the underside of my chin, and felt him lift my face up so that my eyes met his, whether I liked it or not. I pulled a face, trying to save face but Gaara didn't look like he was about to disappoint me.
"Of course I want to," he said. His voice didn't sound shaky or full of anxiety like mine, it rang clear and deep. "But I won't push you or rush you."
"But you do you want to?" I asked, wanting him to confirm it, looking up at him under my eyelashes.
He raised his eyebrows at me again and nodded. "Yes."
"Do you two want some yakizakana?!" Temari's voice came from the kitchen.
"Yeah!" I yelled back, turning in Gaara's lap so I was sat facing forward, rather than straddling him.
I turned back in time to see Gaara pulling a face, showing his distaste for fish.
I nudged him gently. "Don't complain. You need your Omega-3."
"Aimi, will you come give me a hand with this rice? Kankuro is totally useless in the kitchen," Temari called.
"Sure." I got to my feet and went to help with lunch. We spent the rest of the day hanging out. Gaara managed to dry out and salvage his paperwork and he worked on it all afternoon, sat on the floor by the coffee table, resting against my legs. I massaged his shoulders while he worked tirelessly from what I could see, proofreading files varying from missions about dog walking to those about espionage.
As the night drew in and Temari and Kankuro had retired to bed, I noticed him trying to disguise a yawn over a letter addressed to him from a shinobi pleading for a better vending machine in the jonin standby lounge.
"The insomniac in the corner yawning? What's up with that?" I teased, leaning down and resting my head in the crook of his neck. "Do you feel tired?"
"I always feel tired," he answered, his deep voice laced with undertones of bitterness.
"You've had a really busy day. I think you should stop for now. You've been at this all day and you were kicking ass and taking names for me earlier."
He didn't respond, his eyes staring at but not seeing the piles of papers he'd be sifting through all day. To be fair, from what I could see, he'd done an excellent job.
"Do you have a headache?" I murmured, keeping my voice low.
He nodded, leaning his head on mine.
"Come on, let's go to bed. You can do this tomorrow and I'll help you," I said, getting to my feet and yawning myself, stretching my arms out.
To my surprise, he didn't protest. He got his feet rather slowly and followed me into my bedroom. I wondered vaguely how often he went in his bedroom nowadays since we always seemed to stay here overnight.
Kankuro and Temari had gotten used to us staying in the same room overnight now since we already did it when we were in missions and there was little difference when we were at home. It was just routine now.
We got ready for bed individually. He went into the bathroom out of the courtesy to me and I changed into one of his old T-shirts.
I inhaled sharply through my teeth as I felt the chilly night air on my skin, Gaara's thin T-shirt and my underwear being the only things separating my body from the cold.
I snapped off the light and clambered into my bed, utterly fatigued from the day's exhaustions, and yawned again, tears springing to the corners of my eyes. I pulled the comforter over myself and sighed in contentment, staring at the darkened ceiling.
Gaara came in after several minutes, sporting nothing but a pair of sweatpants. I sat up immediately and felt a sly smile spread over my face as my eyes traced his torso.
"You look so nice without many clothes on," I commented, cocking my head and bending my knees under the comforter, resting my arms atop of them.
"Hn," he grunted, his upper lip seeming to curl in the darkness. He walked over to the bed slowly, like all the time in the world was his, like it would stop for him. He got into bed much more gracefully than I and his arms immediately reached out for me, snaking around me and pulling me to his body under the blanket, skin and cotton.
He pulled me up against his bare chest, as he always did and I relaxed as one of his hands went to my hair and I was enveloped in him, in his spicy scent, in his limbs, his skin. It was like he was trying to smother me, to own me, every primal urge he had in fusion with his compulsion to protect me.
"I love you," I said, my voice little more than a whisper, into the cool skin of his collarbone, the chain I had bought him for his birthday still slung around his neck.
"I love you," he replied, and I felt him kiss my hair.
Both of us knew rejection, we knew pain. But like he often said, we understood each other a little better because of that. We understood what it was like to feel alone, to feel like every single person you ever put your trust in seemed to turn around and stab you in the back.
That was why each of us knew how important our relationship was to each other, why I knew that every time he kissed me, he put himself at risk of being hurt again, he put all his faith in me to not tear him apart. He put all his trust in me to keep him from drowning, to keep him afloat.
It worked both ways. I trusted him not to run away, not to abandon me, that when he held me while we were bathed in the moonlight, that he truly meant it.
It was both precarious and bulletproof.
But I trusted him.
I fell asleep as I did every night, in his arms, content and safe.
I could feel unconsciousness ebbing away, my body obviously having its fill of sleep.
I stretched my toes out a little, feeling Gaara's own feet right by mine. The arm that was slung over me curved around my figure a little me, pulling me closer, hugging me to his body, now warm, so very warm.
"Good morning," he murmured, his voice gravely from disuse overnight.
I opened my eyes to big green eyes as I did every morning, eyes that whispered secrets and magic. Gaara exuded mystery, like he knew the intricacies of this world and if you held him close enough, he'd tell you.
"Did you sleep well?" I teased, winking at him, expecting him to roll his eyes.
Just as I thought, I noted internally, as he did just that, all the while his arms holding me tightly, his legs intertwining with mine.
"Even if I could sleep, I wouldn't manage it with all the noise you make all night," he quipped, giving me a deadpan look.
"Noise?" I asked. "Oh God, I don't snore, do I?"
"You sleeptalk."
"Oh my God!" I exclaimed, raising my hands to my face in shock. "What do I say?!"
His upper lip curled, obviously very pleased with himself. "Mostly my name. Sometimes you talk about the Leaf village. You reprimand phantom Narutos in your sleep a lot too."
I chuckled. "Anything else?"
He shook his head, that smirk still on his face. "Just my name a lot in varying tones and volumes."
My eyes darkened a shade. "What do you mean?"
Still with that damn smirk.
"Gaara!"
"Close," he commented, with a slight smile, the amusement twinkling in his eyes. It was like the very pallets of his hair, his eyes, his skin, like someone had spattered blood on a tropical beach somewhere, the pastel green of the ocean lapping on the white sands.
I gasped as I realized what he was talking about. "No! No. I don't believe you. You're lying! You're lying to me, Gaara." I pointed to him then, my fingertip brushing his angular nose. "That's not true. I don't make sex noises in my sleep."
"I'm not surprised Kankuro already thinks we have," he said, his arm that was slung over my body travelling down my hip and then under his T-shirt to clutch at my skin, his fingers brushing my panties as they moved. His fingers sent sparks shooting up my nervous system and I froze.
My bravery swelled then at his movements and I leaned into him, my lips mere centimeters from his. I ran my hands up his toned arms, musing at how strong they were now compared to when we'd met. They traversed around his shoulders, up his neck and I cupped his face, stroking his cheekbones with my thumbs. The whispers and flutters of our unsteady breathing were so concentrated in this tiny space, our tangled limbs creating a sheen of sweat upon our bodies underneath the stuffy comforter. But I wouldn't have traded this for anything in the world.
"Why don't we?" I whispered, leaning in and kissing him softly, mustering every ounce of smoldering passion I could in the moment. Our lips moved slowly, relishing each touch, each change in pressure. I held his life force in my hands, the future Kazekage, the pride of the Sand in between my palms.
"Why don't we what?" he murmured, as if he hasn't really been listening. I kissed him again, ever so slow, trying to entice him to push it, to move things further.
He played with me a little, caressing my lips with his own, capturing my lower one between his own and sucking. He seemed to work himself up, having been his own worst enemy since he was a young boy as he propped himself up to hover over me and his kisses became a little rougher, a little more frenzied. I allowed him access to my mouth and his tongue overpowered mine, roaming the crevices, taking control.
His hands slid up to my hair and he laced his fingers within my locks, pulling me closer to him, some frantic urge that I knew all too well telling him to fuse our bodies, to make me his, to own me so I couldn't abandon him.
At first, I had thought it was Shukaku, his violent tendencies warping into sexual desire. I had worried he was the reason Gaara became a little rough when we did this, that the intense lust Gaara experienced in these moments satiated Shukaku's thirst for blood.
But I'd figured it out recently. It wasn't Shukaku, it was Gaara and all he'd been through. He was trying to dominate me, to force me to stay with him, to become a part of him. He was so invested in us; we both knew there was no way out for either of us now. And it scared him that any day, I could wake up and choose to go back to the Leaf village and leave him here, with all this love that he never meant to have for anyone except for himself.
It was a desperate ache between us, a slow building urge. As unconventional as it was, I wanted him to take control when we kissed and touched, I wanted to receive him and to have him leave his mark on me, like I belonged somewhere, like I belonged with him.
He was never violent with me and he never disrespected me. Every touch, as passionate as it was, was laced with reverence. Even as he held my head in this moment, trying to weld our bodies together, he was still gentle with me somehow, every rough kiss holding a delicate sort of savagery to it.
It was like the scars of his heart came to the surface of his very flesh in these moments and I could feel his ardent urge for something.
His urge was not to own me to show me that he had the power in the relationship - he knew that we were on equal terms - it was his way of begging me not to leave him, not to hurt him.
I pulled away then and he gave me a questioning look, as if to ask if he'd made a mistake, possibly if he'd gone too far. I gave him a reassuring smile in response and played with his hair in my fingers, marvelling at the magnificent color, the wondrous shades of scarlet. "Why don't we have sex?"
He rolled off me then, sighing heavily and collapsing by my side, his head buried in the pillow, the contours of his back like a rolling mountain range where his shoulder blades protruded from his body.
I felt the cool sickening feeling of rejection settle in my stomach and I rolled over, facing away from him to the other side of the bed, burying myself under the comforter and biting my bottom lip in an effort not to cry.
Minutes passed. The silence dragged on, every moment that he allowed to go on like another wound to my heart.
"Aimi?"
I ignored him, trying desperately not to cry as I felt tears brim to my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. I lifted the cover to my chin, trying to gain a little comfort, a little acceptance from something, anything.
"Aimi?" he repeated, his voice no more than a murmur. I heard him shift then, moving under the covers. I curled myself into a ball, trying to take up as little space as was humanly possible. I tried to ignore his movements but I found myself growing curious as to what he was doing, since he seemed to be fidgeting a lot.
Yet he continued to ignore me, busying himself with his movements.
Finally, he stopped and I could feel his weight being shifted from his side of the bed towards me, the sounds of him coming closer.
But that rejection wouldn't go away. I'd practically offered myself on a plate to him, I couldn't have been more pathetic and he didn't feel the same. Wasn't I good enough? What was wrong with me? Didn't he want to sleep with me?
Did I feel more for him than he did for me?
"Aimi?" He must've only been six inches away now, so close behind me.
What did he want?
'It's not you, it's me.'
'I just don't see you like that.'
'I'm only thinking about you.'
But his hands reached out for me again and upon his gentle touch, he immediately went under my T-shirt and I stiffened, still upset with him.
He shuffled a little closer to me, rubbing his hand up my side, down the hills and valleys of my body, as if to comfort me. I didn't respond to his touch and I tensed every muscle, letting him know he wasn't welcome.
He moved closer then and I could feel his body against mine. Only it wasn't the same as normal, when I could usually feel his sweatpants against my naked legs.
It was his legs as they tangled with mine that set off alarm bells in my mind.
They were bare.
My head shot round to peer at him, to stare down at his body to confirm what I was thinking. That was why he had been fidgeting.
He had been taking off his clothes.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, unable to stop my eyes tracing down his familiar torso, the contours of his faint abdominal muscles, down to the very length of him, at attention, shaded by the darkness of the comforter.
I'd never seen him naked before, not like this - hell, I'd never seen another man naked before in the flesh, not properly.
I nearly snapped at him to put his clothes back on, but two things stopped me. The first was that he was doing just as I had before, offering himself up to me and I knew Gaara had a fragile ego for all his tough talk, when it came to us. He was putting himself out there, showing me that he wanted me, that he was ready.
The second was that the very sight of him sent an aching heat in between my legs, so many inches of bare skin, the length of him between his legs, bold, uncaring, all mixed in with his ruffled bed hair, spikes of crimson in disarray and an expression of determination on his face.
I wanted this. I really wanted this.
I rolled over, images of what it's be like flashing through my mind. Would he be rough and dominant like he was when we kissed? Or soft and gentle? Lord knows he could be such a gentleman outside of the bedroom.
Would it hurt?
He hadn't even responded to my question, knowing perfectly well that I knew what he was doing.
"You sure?" I asked, biting my lip, unable to tear my eyes away from his body.
He nodded. "Are you?"
"Never been surer of anything in my whole life," I said, my breath catching in my throat, making my voice sound unsure. To prove my point, I sat up, leaning on my forearms and stripped myself of my T-shirt, discarding it by the bed.
His eyes were on me, devouring my breasts with his eyes, so he didn't notice me lift my legs up under the comforter, hooking under my panties, ridding myself of them too.
As I moved to dispose of them by the bedside, he caught on then and he leaned up on his forearms too, looking very much like a raccoon sniffing the air for food.
"Aimi, are you...?" he asked, trailing off, unable to see what I'd just done because of the comforter covering us both.
I felt vulnerable, exposed without my underwear, completely naked, the only thing hiding my dignity being the covers. But it felt exhilarating too, exciting, like something magical was about to happen.
I bit my lip as I met his gaze and I nodded. "I'm naked, yeah," I told him, trying to sound as calm and composed as possible, knowing the blood flooding to my cheeks would give me away.
He'd never seen me naked before, no one had. If we started this, it couldn't be undone.
But the pictures of merging flesh, the thoughts of him inside me, inside my body send an ache from my throat down to my sensitive spot.
He took a deep breath, discreetly moving back a little, possibly to give me privacy and he said, "Okay, if we do this, I want you to know that I'm not doing it for anyone other reason except for the fact that I'm in love with you and I want to show you."
He had never said he was in love with me before.
"Okay. I'm gonna show you now," I murmured, biting the inside of my cheek. "Don't laugh, okay?"
"Why would I laugh?" he mused, a little bewildered. He made a fair point; he was so serious that he rarely laughed.
"Because it's not-" and I sighed, "I just don't look good naked."
"I don't care what you look like, it's you that I love," he vowed, his eyes on my face now, having had his fill of breasts. I wondered vaguely if he'd be more of an ass man anyway.
I nodded and steeled myself, reaching out for him with my hand, trying to get him to make the first move.
He gave me a questioning look, but moved towards me, propping himself up and hovering over me. He placed his hands either side of my head, lifting the comforter up over his back, leaving my body thoroughly exposed to his hungry eyes.
I watched his eyes travel down my body, over the hills of my breasts and down my stomach, around the swell of my hips and to where a small tuft of dark curls nestled in between my legs.
I saw his length then, breaching the space between us as it hung down from his body, engorging before my eyes as Gaara's ravenous eyes soaked in every inch of my skin, licking his lips.
"You're beautiful," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."
And he leaned down, his hand coming to cup my cheek, the warmth of his palm seeping into my skin as he held me. He kissed me once more, pressing his lips to mine like I was of some significance.
"I thought you said you didn't care what I looked like," I said, raising an eyebrow as he pulled away.
"I don't. The way I feel for you is so because of who you are. But incidentally, you are so lovely," he commented, leaning up again. His hand went from my cheek to down by my hip and he glanced at me, clearly seeking permission to touch.
But he didn't need it, wasn't it apparent that we'd have to touch for this to work?
We're such virgins, I thought to myself, secretly pleased that he was being so mannerly. I expected it of him but not to such an extent. He left all of the control in my hands.
I nodded to him and his big hand went to shape itself around the curve of my hip, the top of my thigh, the part of me he'd truly never seen before. I felt a spark at his touch and his grip tightened a little, so I could feel his fingers in the soft flesh of my butt.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back a little, clearly relishing the moment. At that moment, his manhood swelled once more, brushing my stomach and I jumped a little at the feel of it, already a little moist.
"Are you okay?" he asked, gaze locked on mine, immediately checking for any signs of reluctance.
"Yeah. Come on, let's do it," I suggested, grinning at him, the anticipation sparking through my veins, one of my hands going up to lace in his hair, the other on his shoulder.
At that moment, however, we heard stirring within the house. Someone was waking up.
Gaara and I groaned simultaneously.
"It's Kankuro," Gaara surmised, his familiarity with his siblings' habits and patterns surprising me. "It's only seven so he'll go back to sleep."
We remained frozen, naked, literally on the edge. The comforter was strewn over us both, Gaara still suspended over me, his head cocked towards the door so he could hear better.
It seemed like Kankuro was heading for the bathroom, down the hall, past our room, so we walked, listening with every step as his heavy footfalls made their way past the bedroom.
"Do you think we woke him up?" I whispered to Gaara and his sea foam eyes slid to me.
He shook his head, crimson spikes quivering with the movement. "We weren't that loud."
At that moment, we heard the flush of the toilet and Kankuro humming to himself and I held my breath, praying he would just go back to sleep.
He made his way down the hallway and his strides neared our doorway. I looked up at Gaara, who turned his head back towards me and smiled.
His smiles were so few and far between yet they were glorious, majestic, as if he was born of angels.
And it reminded me so of a time during the Chunin exams, in the preliminary rounds when I'd seen his face in total juxtapose to this now, a manic grin stretched across his features, sea foam eyes wild and blood shot, fissures in his sand armor, like he was conceived by demons.
But it didn't matter to me. He was neither angel nor demon to me, he was just Gaara.
Gaara.
How did my whole world suddenly fit into five little letters?
I supported myself up on my elbows then, wanting to press my lips against his. He noticed my movements and angled his head towards me obligingly, his mouth meeting mine eagerly.
At that moment, however, the door to our bedroom was flung open, Kankuro sauntering in. "Hey, have you guys seen Temar-? OH MY GOD!"
Immediately, I felt Gaara's body flatten on top of mine and I grunted a little at the sudden weight.
Gaara's torso rested directly on top of mine, his chest obscuring my breasts from Kankuro's eyes. Gaara hissed towards his brother animalistically, his arms trying to shield me from view, to cover any inch of skin that Kankuro could see.
I could see Kankuro stood in the doorway to our room, his face nonplussed, full of horror, yet watching on the scene as if he couldn't tear his eyes away. And I realized then.
He must've thought we were in the middle of sex.
"Kankuro, get out!" Gaara snarled towards his brother, the whole time concealing my body from view of his brother. I could practically feel his fury but he had no choice, he either defended my honor and dignity or kicked Kankuro's ass, he couldn't do both right now.
Kankuro's face was still that of extreme horror. "You guys-!"
"GET OUT!" Gaara yelled, throwing out his arm and pointing out of the room.
Kankuro scuttled out of the room, stealing one last peek behind him, possibly to see check if he'd actually seen what he thought he had. He shut the door behind him and Gaara and I sighed, his head coming to rest on the pillow by my head.
"Temari's going to kill me," I groaned, raising a hand to my face, covering my eyes and massaging my temples.
"You always say that," he commented, his voice much milder than it had been only moments before.
"This time I really mean it. It could not have looked more like we were having sex," I moaned, sneering.
He didn't respond, his head still buried in the pillow. His body was still pressed against mine, yet he seemed to be resting some of his weight on his forearms either side of me.
I could feel him flaccid against my pubic bone now, the intrusion of his brother stealing all the passion from the room.
If he told Temari, she would kill me.
"Is there such a thing as Wind Coffin?" I inquired, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I had enough time to pack before she woke up.
Gaara's head turned to face mine then, the only response he would be giving to my joke. "I don't think she's home."
"Why not?" I asked, mockingly gleeful. "That means I have enough time to pack, move to the Land of Rice Patties and become a farmer. She'll never find me."
He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. "She'd have heard me shouting and have come to see what was happening. We're fine for now."
I sighed. "Do you think we should get up and go talk to him?" I questioned, wrapping my arms around his back, feeling down his spine, the ridges and plains of his body, the feel of smooth skin rather than grains of sand armor, so supple, so soft.
"No. Just leave him. He shouldn't have come in without knocking anyway," he deduced, moving his head so that the tip of his nose touched mine, the feel of his warm breath washing over my face. "It's none of their business what you and I do together when we're alone."
At that moment, I heard the sound of the front door slam downstairs and I tensed, the sound of Temari's hurried footsteps coming upstairs. She always came up quickly, like I did, unlike Gaara who took his time. They were quirks you picked up when you lived with the Sand Siblings, like that Kankuro never remembered to turn off the bathroom light and that Gaara always left the carton of milk out on the counter.
"Aimi, she'll be more worried about you becoming pregnant or me rushing you, not the other way around," he chided gently, a small smile playing about his lips. He didn't seem as frightened as I was. After all, he had his Ultimate Defense.
"You don't know!" I hissed. "You're her baby brother!"
"Guys?!" Temari called down the hall. "Are you up? I have something to show you! Get up, get up, get up! It's really important!"
She sounded cheerful; Kankuro couldn't have intercepted her yet. She certainly wouldn't sound cheerful then.
"Come on, Lord Gaara," I groaned, teasing him a little, reaching up to kiss his noise. "Let's go face the music."
"If she gets out her fan, we've always got my sand," he replied, that lovely smile still on his splendid face.
"I'll hold you to that," I told him, running my hand down his chest one last time, memorizing the delineations, the shape of his body. He did the same, his hands spending a little longer cupping my breast, holding the swell of my hips, his eyes following the path he made for himself, committing it to memory.
He shifted off me then, sighing and sat up on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes and sitting on the edge of the bed, a blood-red Adonis in his luster.
I rolled off the bed and onto my feet very slickly, going to my chest of drawers and pulling out a pair of little black cotton panties, tossing them onto the bed. I pulled out a matching bra then, hurling it to the bed also. I didn't notice Gaara watching me.
"What? What're you looking at?" I asked, folding my arms and raising an eyebrow at him, smirking.
He didn't reply, the shadows of a smile on his face as I stuck my tongue out at him and walked towards the bed, trying quite desperately to carry off looking attractive for him, knowing he was watching.
I stepped into the panties and put the bra on, sea foam eyes analyzing every movement, every motion like it was important. Next, I went to my drawers and pulled out a clean catsuit, pulling it on in a much less attractive fashion I thought than the underwear had been. But still, he watched, still naked himself.
When I was dressed, I pointed out, "You need to put your sweatpants on for this to look more like we didn't have sex, Gaara."
He gave me a withering look, but nevertheless, obliged, pulling his sweatpants on and the T-shirt I'd originally worn to bed last night.
"Are you two coming out here or what?!" Temari yelled from the living room. "I'm getting old here!"
"Yeah, we're coming now, hold on!" I shouted back.
He walked towards me, composure itself and took my hand, completely unfazed, leading me out of the room and down the hallway into the living room. I looked around wildly for Kankuro and, unable to find him, I settled a little.
Where was he? Was he about to burst in momentarily and scream, "They were doing it!"?
Calm down, Aimi. Like Gaara said, it's none of their business what we do together when we're alone, I told myself as we rounded the corner and found Temari settled onto one of the sofas with two huge shopping bags.
"There you are!" she exclaimed. "Look what I got!"
And she thrust out one of the bags in our direction.
"What is it?" I asked, stepping forward to take it from her and looking in to see an array of maroon colored fabrics, black pants and a gray holster vest. "What's this for?"
"Well, I've been thinking, you know, since Gaara's going to be the Kazekage, maybe he needs to dress more like a Kazekage," she hinted, gesturing towards her little brother who was looking over my shoulder down into the bag. Then, she picked up her own bag. "It's not just you, Gaara. I went out and got some new clothes for myself and Kankuro too since it looks like he might be heading up the new jonin forces and I'll be a diplomat. I think we could all do with making a better impression."
I turned to see Gaara's expression and found he was cocking his head. I grinned at the sight of him, watching his intrigue.
"Sounds like a good idea to me, Temari," I agreed, nodding appreciatively, handing the bag to Gaara. "Wait, how come you didn't get me anything?"
"I think you look fine. The elders might not agree with me," she admitted. "But you're a kunoichi, not a diplomat."
I nodded in agreement. "Hey Gaara, why don't you go try that on?"
"Yeah. Hey, do you guys know where Kankuro is?" she asked quizzically, looking between us both. I gave Gaara an alarmed look out of her sight line, but he kept his expression steady.
"I think he's in his room sulking. He walked in on something he probably wished he didn't this morning," Gaara explained, turning on his heel and walking off, to get changed presumably.
And that was it. Temari didn't question what or ask why; she merely pulled out her new outfit, a black kimono with a red obi and asked me my opinion on it.
"I love it! I love the colors! It's gorgeous. It'll really bring out your eyes," I complimented, sitting by her on the couch and beaming at her. She grinned back.
"So… what was it that Kankuro walked in on?" she inquired tentatively, raising her eyebrows at me as she folded up her kimono and placed it back in her shopping bag.
"Oh… that. Er, you don't want to know," I mumbled, looking at my feet.
"Aimi, would you rather I found out from my knucklehead brother or from you?" she probed, giving me a look that told of the comradeship we'd built up between us.
"Oh, alright then," I grumbled testily. "I think he thought we were having sex. But we weren't!" I said before she could cut in. "We were… discussing the possibility of it and I'm not gonna say it wasn't on the cards but there was no actual, er… you know."
Temari crossed her legs then and tilted her head. "You need to wait."
Here comes the lecture. "Why?"
"Because neither of you were clever enough to think about contraception," she answered and I gasped.
"Oh my God, you're right!" I exclaimed. "I didn't even think – How do I get it?"
She turned to me and gave me a cynical smile, nevertheless laced with love. "The council will probably provide you and Gaara with contraception anyway once he's Kazekage if you request it. Until then, I'd just wait if I were you two. Otherwise you have to go and buy it yourselves and if civilians found out, it'd be all over the village."
"Or we could get other people to-"
"No," she interrupted, giving me the same withering look her brother had shot me only minutes before. "Just wait a while, okay? I know you and Gaara aren't just fooling around, I get that. But I'm not ready to be an aunt yet so just wait a while, let things settle down. Maybe wait until he's Kazekage?"
I groaned. "But that could be so far away!"
She shook her head. "It won't be. The council wants to pass it through quickly so the Sand can have a leader and be stabilized once again."
At that moment, Gaara walked back into the room dressed in a long-sleeved crimson coat with flaring hemlines, emphasizing his grandeur even before he spoke. Over the top, he wore a gray holster vest that seemed to be held in place by a single strap over his left shoulder and by two buckled belts. He wore a pair of casually wore belts around his waist and full length black trousers with a pair of laces on each leg.
Temari was right.
He looked like the Kazekage.
"Oh my God!" Temari and I exclaimed simultaneously, Temari clapping her hands together.
"See how much older you look, Gaara? You look the part now. It looks great! Seriously, it looks amazing!" Temari stated, getting to her feet and circling her brother, grinning at him before going heading down the hall to get Kankuro.
"Aimi?" he questioned, clearly seeking my opinion.
"She stole all the words. You look… incredible. You look really amazing," I breathed, getting to my feet and moving towards him. "You look so damn handsome as well."
I couldn't resist kissing him once more, a fleeting, rough kiss full of fiery passion as I pressed my lips to his and clutched at a clump of his scarlet hair before releasing him and taking a step back, looking him up and down. "Seriously, you look like a Kage. You look like a leader and… did I mention you look real handsome?"
At that moment, Temari and Kankuro came down the hall, Kankuro unable to meet my eyes.
"Doesn't he look like the Kazekage?!" Temari cried, gesturing to Gaara who rolled his eyes and moved to sit down on the couch, probably wanting to be left in peace.
"He does," Kankuro agreed, although he seemed unable to meet his eye.
Temari went into the kitchen then, to begin preparing breakfast and I went to sit by Gaara, splaying my legs out across his lap and leaning against his side, his arm coming over my shoulder protectively.
"I do like this new outfit, Gaara," I murmured to him as Kankuro sat on the other sofa, seemingly unknowing what to do with himself. In the end, he switched on the television. "It looks great on you."
"Er… you guys? Can I talk to you?" Kankuro began. I turned to him, finding his eyes glued to the screen.
"Sure," I said coolly, knowing Gaara was listening too.
"You… er… need a lock on Aimi's bedroom door… I think… y-you know, so no one walks in and sees what I saw," he stuttered, refusing to make eye contact with us.
"You decided to burst in," Gaara stated. "You know the rule in the house- knock. You've been teasing Aimi for weeks about me and her, and now you're upset that it's come back on yourself. You only have yourself to blame."
Kankuro had no response; he merely looked dumbfounded that Gaara had so much to say on the subject.
"We weren't doing what you think we were doing either, Kankuro," I told him truthfully, smiling at him, finding that he was making eye contact with me now. "I'm not going to lie to you, it was on the cards, but we weren't doing it and we wouldn't have done it with you on your way to the pot."
He nodded vigorously. "Well, I appreciate that. I can go to the bathroom in peace now."
"Why? Were you having some pretty frightening experiences beforehand?" I tormented, sticking my tongue out at him.
"Yeah, but only because I've seen your face in the morning and the image is forever burned onto my memory and it just won't leave," he shot back with a smirk on his face.
We would be just fine.
Author's Note: Long ass chapter.
Also, just checking. Is everyone okay with Gaara and Aimi sleeping together when he becomes Kazekage pretty soon? Speak now if you're not or forever hold your peace.
Do you think fifteen is a sickeningly young age to make a little lurrrve?
Review!
Also, if you've read a good story recently, PLEASE TELL ME OF IT.
Okay, so if you want to know why I have Gaara a tiny tiny tiny bit dominant in the bedroom sometimes in this fic and if it offends you in any way shape or form or you just want to know more, leave me a review and I'll PM you and I'll explain if it bothers you because the reason is because I think that is genuinely what he would be like sometimes.
I promise you this WILL NOT AT ALL become a dom/sub fic. AT. ALL. But like in waaaaay later lemons, just picture that they're not always going to be making slow love to like, Adele discussing what sandwich they ate for lunch between sipping tea.
But consider that it will all be mainstream fic lemons.
Do you get where I'm coming from? Please let me know if you do.
I really value your opinions. Do you think this is how it'd be? I don't know, I understand that this is my fic but you guys read this too and I feel like we're friend, like internet friends and you give me inspirations so you should REVIEW and tell me what you think! :)