A/N at the end.

Chapter 5

Sakura hated it, that oppressive feeling of being alone. The emptiness of the apartment draped around her like a heavy mantle that seemed to drain all ounces of energy out of her. The monotony of the task before her added to her listlessness. She sluggishly stirred the soupy content in the pot on the stove, while sprinkling pinches of seasoning. Her mind was elsewhere as Gaara's words from the other day rang through her head.

"It takes a toll on you, Sasuke's absence."

Sakura shook in her spot. Of course Sasuke's absence affected her. She was not some unfeeling robot!

Still, this was not something she outwardly admitted, nor a topic that her friends ever provoked her about. As time went on, everyone had become too engrossed in their own lives to pay mind to the symptoms of her distress. So she'd decided to keep up her cheerful pretense, because—one, she was too proud; two, she figured nobody would want to be around a downer.

But now that Gaara had gone and brought it up into the glaring spotlight, she couldn't help but feel indignant once again.

Sakura could literally count using one hand how many times Sasuke had been home in the last ten years—even then, five fingers was three too many. In between his travels, she rarely heard from him and could only held on to her assumption that he was even still alive. When he did return, usually unannounced and for a short duration, he showered her so little affection that it left her in quite a dry spell.

No, Sasuke wasn't just absent. It was more like abandonment.

Sakura could feel her teeth grit and her eyes moisten, as she resisted the urge to dwell on the same haunting thoughts that have become nightly intruders to her sleep. Fortunately, her gloom had no time to escalate when the knocks on the front door distracted her. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, adjusted the burner heat to a low simmer, and proceeded to investigate who was at her doorsteps.

Currently Gaara found himself in a less than ideal mood. His meeting with the Hokage had concluded later than expected. Thanks to pressure from the Konoha Council stemmed from budgetary concerns, he and Naruto spent a lengthy amount of time revisiting the terms of a joint assistance package to the Land of Rivers. And now, he was late to his scheduled training session with a certain young heiress of the Uchiha clan.

On top of that, the gray clouds looming over the skyline augured what he apprehended was an approaching storm. Having no desire whatsoever to be caught in it, he quickened his steps and in no time arrived at his destination. His plan was a straightforward one: He'd apologize for his tardiness, reschedule the training, and retreat to his lodging for the remainder of the night to shelter from the rain.

"Ah Gaara." Sakura appeared from behind the door to her residence. Per usual, her fashion accessory consisted of an apron with cherry blossom prints.

Before Gaara could even open his mouth, she read his intention and volunteered a slew of information: "Sarada is not here. Her team was assigned a mission on short notice. They left a few hours ago."

"She should be back in two days. I'm sorry you had to make the trip here…" she added meekly.

Rather than feeling inconvenienced, Gaara was relieved that his failure to be punctual hasn't resulted in dismay from any party. He held his hand up, expressing no offense on his part. "It's fine. When Sarada returns, we can resume the training sessions then."

That was simple, Gaara thought. Now he could move on to the last step of his plan.

"Have a good evening." Heels ready to turn, he half-heartedly expected her to reciprocate in a similar manner before he'd take his leave. Instead, what he received was a yelp.

"Wait!"

Sakura easily regained his attention. As though startled by her own outburst, she lowered her volume considerably to a whisper. "Wait…"

He looked at her questionably.

"Why don't you join me for dinner?" she asked, while putting forth her best inviting smile.

"I—" Gaara began articulating his response but was swayed.

Her pleading green eyes seemed to foretell the disappointment that was to come should he decline. He had little resolve to follow through with a rejection. Again, there was no reason; after all, he had no other engagement that evening.

"Sure..." He'd accepted out of practicality, at the very least. The low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. He supposed that he could adjust his plan and hope that by the time supper wrapped up, he'd not only have sated his hunger but also dodged the awful weather.

Somewhat expected, a bright smile found its way to Sakura's face. Without further ado, his host stepped sideways to let him enter.

Before long, Gaara found himself before the dining table within the Uchiha household. Opposite of him on the other side, Sakura was gingerly setting down a stockpot onto the table. Her sparkling eyes traveled to him as she declared almost ceremoniously, "On tonight's menu is beef stew. It's my new recipe!"

"That means, Kazekage-sama, you are going to have to be my guinea pig to try this dish." She grinned.

At the emphasis of his title and her proposition, Gaara cocked his head at her. She was subjecting him to an experiment of her cooking? Her words caused a bit of confidence to escape him.

"If I shall require medical attention after consuming this, I trust that your abilities as a medic will come in handy," he stated, eying her as she ladled plenty into his bowl.

"Hey!" Despite his jest, her playful tone registered no offense on her end. She coolly brushed off his concern with the crinkling of her eyes. "Don't worry. Either way, you are in good hands."

After helping herself with a serving, Sakura took her seat and faced him. She folded her hands and pored over him with obvious anticipation. Gaara brought his attention from her to the filled ceramic vessel before him, assessing the steaming melange of meat and vegetables contained within.

It looked harmless enough.

With his spoon, Gaara slowly swirled a few circles in his bowl and brought a modest amount to his lips. Finding the temperature of the food agreeable, he took in the morsel on his utensil.

"You like it?" Her body leaning closer, Sakura could barely contain her curiosity.

It took a few seconds for him to savor the taste, during which he noticed that her intent eyes never left him. After fully swallowing, he remarked, "It's fairly enjoyable."

Seemingly relieved at his verdict, Sakura let out the breath she'd been holding. She eased back into her chair and focused on her own portion. Digging into her own bowl, she took a bite… and promptly spat, "Oh good lord, it's so spicy!"

Mouth agape, brows furrowed, she fanned at her half-protruded tongue. Her movements were full of exaggeration. Gaara watched amusedly the dramatic act that unfolded before him, while taking in more spoonfuls of stew.

"Why are you still eating it?" She managed out her sentence after a good few minutes. A mixture of amazement and exasperation painted her features.

"Because you made it."

Through his time as a shinobi and a leader of a populous village, Gaara had learned to appreciate works by others who have put efforts in the process. His host's dish, although not the epitome of gastronomy, was no exception. He'd finish it out of gratitude regardless.

His sincere comment must have come unexpected, for the meal's preparer simply blinked at him, then looked away at once. A tinge of pink dusted her cheeks. "You don't have to torture yourself. I know my food is not great. Sarada complains a lot about it."

"If that's the case, I suggest you invest in interests that are supported by your talents."

"Really? My cooking can't be that bad!" At his comment, Sakura met his eyes again and huffed.

"It's adequate. However, given your credentials, I'm certain that your contribution to the field of medical ninjutsu will be far more substantial."

Even though Gaara hasn't perceived Sakura's dish as distasteful as she'd expressed, but to an extent he'd agree with her that her strength did not belong in the culinary arts. He was very well aware of Sakura's notable accomplishments as a medic and a prized pupil of the Godaime Hokage. After all, Gaara had personally witnessed her incredible feats during the war. So it was wholly beneficial that she should pursue and develop those talents, in his opinion.

His audience fell temporarily silent to his advice, her eyes softening just a touch. After some time, she spoke, "I appreciate the recognition... As much as I'd like to make that dedication, sometimes priorities change. Having a family and juggling different responsibilities makes it hard to focus on a career."

Her pensive expression kindled his memories of their previous exchanges, in which sullenness saturated her words and actions.

"This is not the life you want." These frank words fell straight out of his mouth, before he could rethink them.

Gaara wasn't sure what had compelled him to make such an observation so unconditionally. Perhaps it was the discernible wistfulness in her voice, which oddly didn't sit well with him. Though his statement must have struck a sensitive cord within her. Her momentary shock, as made visible by her rounded eyes and parted lips, transformed into an evident state of agitation.

"What do you know about what I want?" Sakura challenged him, matching his gaze evenly with the narrowed set of her own. Vivid emerald orbs clashed with his.

Twice he had been direct with Sakura, Gaara recounted, but she was clearly unappreciative of it this time.

As if corresponding with the rising tension within the atmosphere inside, the sky outside bellowed once more with a crack of thunder. Soon Gaara heard the muffled drumming of the rain against the pavement in the background.

As the Kazekage, Gaara had developed a habit of being candid with others over the years; never one to be roundabout, he'd comment as he saw fit, especially in his business dealings. It was always an art to balance between bluntness and honesty, as he'd learned; and the drawback of it oftentimes involved bruised egos and feelings. Nevertheless, he'd found that his approach has made things more efficient, at the very least.

He'd noticed signs of Sakura's despondency since their encounter a few months ago. He could continue being transparent with her, carrying on the subject so to make her acknowledge her vulnerability and motivate a positive change. But she was not one of his council members, nor his subordinate. She was, by association, a friend. If she were unwilling to explore further a personal topic, he'd respectfully withdraw. Sakura was right: Although he had a slither of idea about what she might need, he didn't know her well enough to be in a position to pass judgment.

Consequently, Gaara thought it appropriate to apologize for his unbidden input. Before he could initiate a retraction, Sakura, on the other hand, broke their stalemate:

"Oh no, the sheets!"

Gasping, his female companion kicked to push her chair back and immediately jumped to her feet. She raced for the patio door of the living room, stumbling over the legs of several furniture pieces as she did so. Once she reached her goal, she slid open the glass door. No longer insulated, the cacophony of the violent patters outside grew unpleasantly loud.

Without any hesitation, Sakura stepped into the dark of the night.

Startled, Gaara beheld the unexplained behavior with wide eyes. Has she gone mad? Over what he said? He had little time to get over his surprise before pulling himself out of his seat and following suit. When he arrived at the exit to the patio seconds later, he saw colors of pink and red outside swaying within the thick curtains of rainfall.

Then the situation became clear to him: Sakura was struggling in her attempt to collect laundry off the clothes line. Her first-floor apartment offered the benefit of extra space in the form of a small backyard, but the open-air design left Sakura unsheltered in the downpour.

Gaara grimaced, knowing what was needed to be done and what he was about to do. Stepping forward, he immediately felt his body recoil at the dreadful sensation of the heavy shower battering his form. Unfortunately, his sand was ineffective against such work of nature. He pressed on nonetheless and joined Sakura by her side.

His height would prove advantageous, for he easily unclipped the clothespins and snatched the dampened fabric off the washing lines. The ordeal was over in a matter of minutes when the last of the bedsheets was cleared off the lines and they were able to retreat into the haven that was the living room.

Gaara wrinkled his nose. He could smell the scent of the rain lingering in his scalp. Liquid drops dripped off the tips of his hair onto his shoulders. He really hated the rain, he reaffirmed. Behind him, Sakura had already closed the patio door. The sound of the storm was muted once more. He rotated toward her, intending to transfer the load of laundry into her arms. It was then he saw the twitch in her lips.

And, Sakura had the nerve… to laugh.

Gaara raised a brow. "I find your humor baffling."

"It's-it's just that… your expression…" Her attempt to stifle her giggles was insufficient.

"Remind me not to extend my assistance to you next time. Not only it's unappreciated, I also always seem to end up dealing with unpleasant consequences." He was miffed, feeling his own usual stoic facade crack.

"Forgive me, Kazekage-sama. I know I'm a terrible human being." Sakura wiped away a tear. Her feigned apology undermined any sincerity that she might have even meant to convey.

Regardless, in that moment Gaara decided that her gleeful countenance was much more preferable to the usual sulk she bore. Her melodic laughter must have been infectious, for he felt the corners of his mouth lift. He too chuckled.

Apparently, his mirroring of her mood on open display was enough to put an end to her amusement. At the sight of his relaxed features, she broke eye contact. Red hue tinted her pretty visage. Without facing him, she mumbled, "Wait here. Let me get something to help you dry off."

While Gaara wondered about the abrupt change in her demeanor, Sakura retreated to the inner chambers of her apartment with the bedsheets in her arms, only to reappear later with a set of clean towels. Wordlessly, she handed him a towel.

Blotting and dabbing, both began working on drying themselves. Silence settled between them. Gaara ruffled his hair with his towel, while his mind drifted to the apology he owed her from earlier. However, Sakura was the first to disrupt the silence.

"Hey…" she murmured.

He saw her peering up at him from under the edge of her towel that loosely hung over her head. A few strands of her damp pink hair stuck to her cheekbones, complementing the redness that was still faintly there.

"You are more than welcome to come for dinner anytime, if you'd like." she said softly. "It's… lonely eating by myself."

Gaara paused in his movements, as he considered her proposal, as well as the meaning behind it. Perhaps it took longer than she'd hoped for him to make a commitment, so she tried once more with a demure smile:

"I promise not to try my new recipes on you anymore."

A/N: Uhh. Finally, some sparks in this chapter. Things will start to pick up pace a little from this point and on, for all those of you who have been impatient for some GaaSaku action. I'm all for a good slow burn, but I don't intend to make this story very long and I don't want the most juicy stuff happening between Gaara and Sakura 10 chapters in is just them talking with each other platonically... ;P

That being said, do expect slower than normal updates for the upcoming month or two, as I'm dealing with a big move (and vacation!). But I will still try to make my bi-weekly updates whenever I can!

In the meanwhile, thank you to all of you who are sticking with my fic. I'm glad that you are enjoying the story. :) Until next time!