Epilogue
THREE YEARS LATER
"For God's sake, Gaara," Himari snapped at her husband, fuming like a crazed dragon. "I'm pregnant. Not incapacitated."
Since he'd learned about her pregnancy, his protectiveness had reached off-scale levels and she was about to lose her mind. The redhead followed her around the house at every time of the day. He'd barely leave her alone to make herself some tea, water the plants or even to simply pee. The young woman glared at him, annoyed, but he didn't cave under her deadly stare. He simply blinked, unimpressed, before laying his shoulder against the doorframe.
"I'm asking you to reconsider," he replied calmly, arms crossed over his chest.
She huffed. "You're impossible. The baby's barely a pea size right now. We've already talked about it. I'll step down from on-field missions once I reach my second trimester."
He'd taken yet another day off from work to watch over her, overly paranoid. His papers were scattered across the living room's coffee table, among some of her medicinal books and flowerpots. He'd barely touched them, busy following her around the house like a guard dog. In response to her unfavorable retort, he pouted. She rolled her eyes at him. The great Kazekage of the Sand was pouting like a child.
"Fine, but I'll be accompanying you on your missions."
Freshly out of the shower, drops of water were dripping from his wet hair. One particular drop, round and shiny, caught her attention. It lazily traced its way down his neck, trailing down his collarbone, before disappearing under his shirt. While his seafoam green eyes trailed on her face, glistening with unhidden lust, something twisted inside of her stomach. Her cheeks burned under his intense gaze. As his lips lightly stretched in a half smile, knowing he'd made her blush, Himari remembered the reason of their actual disagreement.
"No, you won't," she retorted. "You can't just leave your position to your siblings for six whole months. Kankuro's probably going to set fire to your office within two weeks and there's a great risk of Temari strangling half of the councilmen in the meantime."
"But-"
"Please, Gaara. Let it go. I won't change my mind about it."
Turning her back to him, she started to scrub her mug with more vigor than necessary. Internally, she was freaking out. She hadn't been prepared to bring a child to this world at such a young age. Three weeks ago, she'd just woken up with the urge to puke her organs out, and she'd spent most of her morning keeping company to the toilet's seat. When he'd came back from work that day, finding her on the couch with an empty bowl on her lap, paler than the bed's sheets from not eating any solid food in twelve hours, Gaara had paled. In the blink of an eye, he'd rushed her to the hospital, threatening half of the staff of an impending death if they didn't find out what she suffered from. Pregnancy wasn't the word she'd expected the doctor to tell them as a prognostic. Gaara hadn't really reacted at the news, unreadable.
Light on his feet, she barely heard him approach her from behind. His breath caressed her bare shoulders. He'd categorically refused to touch her since the doctor's prognostic. Another thing that drove her crazy, apart from the overly protective behavior, when he treated her as if she was made of the most fragile of glass.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly. His hand brushed past her shoulder in a natural gesture, but he retracted it the moment the tip of his fingers touched her skin. "I'll take care of the dishes. It's better if you rest a bit-"
She turned around sharply, frowning at him. "Stop treating me like a fragile doll, Gaara. I'm not."
"I know," he whispered, his eyes softening as his hand gently cupped her face. He gently rested his forehead against hers and sighed. "I'm the fragile one. I'm scared, Himari. What if the child doesn't like me?"
His pained smile at the thought broke her heart, as if he'd already given up about that fact. Sometimes, he'd still feel as if he didn't deserve other people's love. She stuck her nose in the crook of his neck, clutching at him.
"The little pea is going to love you, Gaara."
Hesitatingly, he wrapped his arms around her, tensed. "How can you be so sure of it?"
"Because I'm completely in love with you, slowpoke," she smiled, raising her head to look at him. "He'll adore you. There isn't a single doubt about it."
"He?"
"Yes, that little pea is going to be a boy. I can feel it."
He chuckled lightly. "Shukaku says it'll be a girl. That she'll be like you."
"Like me?"
"Yes, like you. Kind, considerate and prettier than any flower."
This time, he blushed at his own word shyly. A moment later, he'd lifted her up on the kitchen's countertop, and was claiming her lips with kisses full of hunger. Her hand tugged slightly at a strand of hair, and he groaned against her mouth. But before she could ask him to take them upstairs, utterly under this man's charm, Kankuro barged loudly in the house and he wasn't alone, arguing with a feminine voice Himari instantly recognized as Aiya's. Gaara's annoyed sigh brushed her skin. The redhead frowned, but he didn't hold her back when she swiftly slid off the countertop, replacing her hair.
The loud duo appeared into the room, not even acknowledging them, sucked in a staring contest.
"What's wrong with my gift, clown face?" snarled Aiya, irritated. "It's cute."
Kankuro gave an incredulous glance at the pink, sparkling gift wrap in the blond's left hand. Her acrylic nails showed off a similar color as her gift, a pastel pink, as if they were taunting him. The puppeteer shook his head, frowning.
"It's all pink," he emphasized, gesturing at it. "And these sequins are a choking hazard."
"The baby isn't even born, jackass. How could it possibly choke on it?" Aiya threw a pleading glance at Himari, on the verge of hitting the puppeteer to death with her gift. "Please, tell me he isn't really the baby's godfather. I can't share the godparent's duties with this idiot."
With the years, Aiya's opinion about the puppeteer hadn't changed, if it hadn't even worsened. Her evident distaste towards the sand sibling was turning more venomous with every passing year. Himari didn't have the time to intervene. Kankuro's gaze lifted from the blond's features, glancing at his brother's. He smirked, his gaze alternating between the two of them.
"Are we interrupting something, little brother?" he teased his sibling.
At his comment, Aiya's intrigued gaze trailed over their reddened lips, the stretched neckline of Gaara's shirt and the busted cup on the floor, which had slipped off the counter without them realizing it. As she met her friend's gaze, Himari could almost see Aiya's inner self clapping approvingly at the situation.
"Yeah, we'll leave you to it," declared Kankuro. "Maybe married life really isn't as boring as I initially thought."
Himari felt her cheeks reddened. For the first time, Aiya didn't argue with the puppeteer as she dropped her gift on the coffee table alongside Kankuro's unwrapped small puppet, meant to be a toy even if Himari would inspect it thoroughly later to ensure the sand sibling hadn't added any 'special' features to it.
"Anyways, I'm late at my shift," the blond added. "So, I'd better go. Congratulation again about the baby."
Himari tried to stop them from leaving, blushing and babbling gibberish.
"Wait, I-"
Gaara buried his face in her neck, nibbling softly at the sensitive skin. Unable to think straight, she barely had the time to register Kankuro's form disappearing at the angle of the corridor, pushed forcefully by Aiya's hands struggling to reach his broad shoulders, before Gaara's fingers sprawled over her waist, gently stroking her small belly bump.
"They're gone," Gaara whispered. But he didn't lunge himself at her, simply rubbing his nose tenderly against her bare shoulder like a lazy cat. "I still can't believe you're here. With me. Sometimes, it feels as if I'm dreaming."
She played with his hair, smiling.
"You're not dreaming, slowpoke. I'm here," she said. "With you."
"Only me?" he asked innocently.
She chuckled. "Yes, Gaara. Only you."
Her gaze landed on the collection of sand flowers displayed by the window, beautifully lit by the rays of the sun. It had always been him. Her sand flower.
Author's note:
Yep, this is the end. Thank you for reading Sand Flowers. Don't be shy to leave a review! It would be nice to know your thoughts about the story. And who knows? Maybe I'll find the time to update the story of a certain puppeteer and a petite nurse…
Until then, take care :)