Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto it would not be for children.
A/N: Originally I made this in response to a request on AdultFFN for more Gaara/Temari fun, but since I am having so much fun with it I decided to make a slightly milder version here. There is no smut yet, but trust me, Gaara is a pouncy boy.
Sand and Wind
Frantically she raised her fan once again sending a cutting hurricane of wind towards her opponent. It was no use. In the glorious chaos of nature wind had supreme control over the small particles of stone commonly known as sand.
Unfortunately for her this sand had a mind of its own. No matter how many times she tried to blow it back it kept coming for her. It spread along the ground grasping at her feet as she tried to run.
"I do not think that is wise, Sister." Temari shuddered as she felt her foot sink slightly and had the unnerving experience of sand clasping her leg tightly in an ever upwards motion.
"Why do you always run?" Through her climbing fear her brother's deep voice agitated her even farther. He stood at a distance watching his blood saturated sand steal her sanity piece by piece.
"Have I ever hurt you before?" She was digging at the sand now. Every fistful she managed to claw off reformed immediately onto the vice on her left leg. She stood still. 'There is no escaping him.' Her mind turned treacherous as hope abandoned her.
"Am I all that bad?" Flat green eyes bored into her bowed head. She knew that every couple of seconds his right eye would twitch from impatience at her silence. A warm hand grabbed her chin and forced her eyes to meet his.
'He has never actually touched me before.' Temari raced to hide her confusion before Gaara saw it. This is where our tale breaks free from the monotony of their daily sparring sessions although each one ended with Temari's defeat. It had become ritual for Gaara to leave once his sand had her trapped. For some reason of his own Gaara decided to stay and watch his captured sibling. He had observed the will to struggle seep out of her and watched as hope deserted her.
'Her face is so expressive.' The next thing Gaara knew he was less than a foot away from her with his hand out to raise her face. He studied her near dead eyes and her ever so slightly turned down mouth. He brushed a grainy thumb over her cheekbone before releasing her and walking away.
The sand slunk after him like a mangy stray. When every grain of sand had left her body she slumped to the ground her face buried in her hands. She took in a shaky breath forced herself back on her feet and with one last glance in the direction her brother went, she made the short walk home in a couple jumps.
Gaara never showed up for dinner that night. Neither Kankuro nor their new guardian seemed inclined to comment on the demon vessels' absence. Temari picked at her bowl of rice unwilling to eat, fearing that it would come back to haunt her. She rose without a word towards her dining companions and retreated to her plain room.
She reached out a hand and touched the wall to the right of the door. Through that barrier was Gaara's room, with his unused bed and his worn floor. Her eye went from the familiar planks to her tidy bed over her dresser with the slightly cracked mirror. Her fan leaned against her wardrobe and its presence alone calmed her slightly.
She untied the knot on her village symbol and dropped it with a clink onto her dresser. The ribbons holding up her hair followed. She sat at the small stool in front of the mirror and brushed out the days tangles. She made a face at her reflection.
'I look strange with my hair down.' She rose stretching as she went. Undoing her red sash and draping it over the closet door which was slightly ajar. Temari reached into the dark depths of her closet and without looking selected her soft pajamas. They were plain. The cotton was worn and comfortable.
She rolled down her fishnet leg coverings and pulled her dress over her head. Temari slipped the faded green fabric shirt over her head and pulled on the pants which were slightly too big. Luckily she had hips or they would be constantly falling off. Not that she ever walked around in her pajamas.
At least she did not when no one had any chance of seeing her. She jumped into bed not bothering with the neatly folded down covers. Her eyes slid shut and she gripped her pillow in a death hug. She might be prepared for the dreams tonight.
He watched her. Every night he watched her. Since they lived in the desert she never found it strange to see small amounts of sand on her windowsill. He could spy on her all he wished. Through his sand he watched as she took down her dirty blonde hair and brushed it smooth.
His fingers rose of their own volition stopping right before his fantasy was broken by the intrusion of his pale digits. A small upturn at the side of his mouth appeared as she made a face at herself. He watched as piece by piece her clothing met the closet floor. Something was familiar about her sleepwear.
His brow furrowed as he tried to place the feeling of recognition. His mind worked over the problem as she slid into her bed and held onto her pillow for dear life. Suddenly, after five minutes of watching her body slip into sleep it hit him.
The pajamas were his.
A/N: I am going to actually try to make a story out of this couple request and not just have them jump each other. Although there will be plenty of that later.
Gaara: (pounce)
Flame: Not yet! mutters Damn horny teenagers.
