Tables Turned Part I: Temari
Gaara of the Sand was quite fond of his bedroom, which just so happened to be one of the largest rooms in the compound. Many eyebrows—not his, obviously—were raised when the redheaded Kazekage declared in his most intimidating voice that anyone who chose to comment on his decision to claim a bedroom would find themselves exiled faster than a jackrabbit on crack, which achieved the desired effect: nobody said a word.
Perhaps, considering the young Sand-nin's delicate condition—there are a select few people in the world who play house to deranged, hyperactive demons with major cases of cabin fever—Gaara did not exactly need the room, or the huge, king-sized bed complete with red sheets and delightfully springy mattress, but, as he had spent more than enough time deprived of both sleep and his own space to do it in, he was adamant on the matter. He wanted the room, so he was going to have the room!
At this very moment, he was sprawled on his bed, chin in his hands, feet bobbing back and forth, face a picture of childlike glee. Two journals, one with a blue cover, and one with a purple, were open in front of him, just waiting to be read, and he was more than happy to oblige. After his own experience of recording the chaos that went on in his head, he was positively itching to delve into the minds of his brother and sister.
"This should be good," he grinned to himself, deciding to start with the blue journal, which happened to be Temari's.
Just as he was about to take the plunge, he sensed a lurker standing outside his door, and sighed inwardly. He'd know that chakra anywhere.
Damn nosy ingrate…
"Quit loitering and get your painted ass in here," Gaara demanded, shoving the purple journal underneath one of the voluminous pillows near the headboard. It would be no good if he were caught with that one.
The door creaked open, and Kankuro poked his face in, which was clear of his usual violet, 'decorative enhancements,' as he enjoyed calling them, and his head was free of his cat-eared hood.
"I do not put paint on my ass," he scowled.
It was times like these that Gaara wished he had a pair of eyebrows.
"I'll take your word for it," he said, and then looked pointedly at the door, which stood ajar. "Do us a favor and shut that, eh? And put that little sign on the knob, while you're at it," he added as an afterthought. "No one will dare to interrupt if that sucker's there."
Out of sheer curiosity, Kankuro lifted the sign his brother indicated off of the inner doorknob and examined it closely.
DANGER. SHUKAKU CROSSING. DEMON WILL NOT STOP FOR TRAFFIC.
The elder of the two brothers let out a bark of laughter.
"You've got a twisted sense of humor," he chortled, and stuck the sign on the outer knob; a well-aimed heel closed the door.
Gaara inclined his head, and motioned Kankuro to take a seat, sticking the blue journal between them. "Look what I nicked."
Kankuro looked. After a few seconds, his eyes went comically wide.
"Dude! That's Temari's! How in all hell did you get it? I mean…dude…I've tried before, but she's always caught me!"
Apparently, his mouth had healed enough for him to talk normally again.
Hurrah.
"Yeah, well, I'm a sneaky bastard, what can I say," Gaara shrugged with infuriating unconcern, well aware that such an action would make his brother mad. Tormenting one's siblings was the civic duty of the youngest child, after all, and he was quite good at it. Granted, when he was a small, precocious boy, he had taken to tormenting them bodily, however he had progressed beyond those days, and found his niche in tongue-lashing instead.
As predicted, Kankuro made a huffy noise, though he was far too interested in the contents of the journal to remain perturbed for long.
"Let's just read it. The anticipation's killing me."
Gaara could have drawn out the torture for as long as he wished, but then he would have to wait, too, and…he didn't want to wait.
"We should probably start with something recent…"
"Yeah. Try the beginning of this week."
Monday--
Ugh. Today has been one of the longest days of my life. Time seemed to just draaaaaaag…good thing I know I can sleep in a bit tomorrow, because I've got nothing huge going on. At least, I think I don't. That may change if Gaara's in a mischievous mood, the little shit. I'm positive he sends me on these delegations to see how far he can push me before I crack.
I have half a mind to spank him with my fan. He's the kind of kid who needs to be spanked every now and then. Humph!
I mean, why do I have to be the one to travel all over the damn universe while he sits on his ass and laughs? He doesn't make Kankuro go.
Kankuro gets to play with his overgrown doll all day long.
Why is it just me who sees the injustice here?
The only good thing that comes out of being stuck in Konoha is that Nara's there. He's an interesting guy, for all that he whines too often. And he always looks like he's high on angel dust. And he really could get his hair cut. That ponytail is so…not attractive.
Not that there's anything attractive about him to begin with.
"How many times do I have to tell you people? Karasu is not a doll! He's a puppet!"
"Don't get your panties in a bunch, sunshine."
A long pause. "I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear that."
Snickers. "I never realized Temari was such a naughty girl."
Confusion. "Eh? Whaddaya mean by that?"
"You saw what she wrote. She wants to spank me." More snickers. "Sad, really. She needs to find a boyfriend, if she has time to fantasize about spanking her baby brother."
A snort. "I hate to break it to you, slick, but you're not much better than she is. Who's the one who made out with himself, hmm?"
Without missing a beat, the younger replied tartly, "It's not my fault I make a hot chick." His tone became sly. "You're just jealous because you'd look like a shaved dog ass with eyes if you tried Sexy no Jutsu."
A spluttering noise. "WHAT? I would not! I'd be hotter than you!"
"Wanna bet?"
"Huh?"
"We can do it right now. How much will you wager, eh?"
"Woah. Now hold on a mi—"
"Come on! How much will you bet me that you'll be hotter?"
"……"
"HAH! Pansy. Not so confident anymore, are you?"
"Shut up, Chipmunk."
Ah, the trump card.
"Kankuro."
"Awww, poor widdwe chipmunk wost his nuts!"
"Kankuro…"
"LOOK AT HIS WIDDWE CHEEKIE-POOS!"
There was a loud crash, and a thump when Kankuro went flying from the bed and slid down the wall, Gaara watching him, wild-eyed.
"Don't mess with the Chipmunk, bitches!"
Monday night—
I've been thinking about this all day, so I had to make a list.
Things not Attractive about Nara Shikamaru:
1.) He's lazy.
2.) He wears mesh shirts. That's so lame. (Oh...wait...so do I...shit.)
3.) He has a really lethargic voice, and I want to punch him by the time he finishes blabbing.
4.) He talks almost as much as Kankuro when he's whining. Which is always.
5.) He plays Shogi and Go like an old man. (Booooring).
6.) He has to be goaded into doing things, because he has no motivation whatsoever.
7.) He's lazy.
8.) He's really lazy.
9.) He has that damn ponytail. (One of these days I think I'll just sneak up behind him and chop it off. He'll never know what hit him).
10.) He's the laziest person on the planet, and he wastes valuable air that could be used by the other upstanding citizens who deserve it more than he does.
I really don't understand why I hang around him so much. It kills me, because, most of the time, I totally rip him a new asshole, and he just sort of sits there like a lump and does nothing about it. That kind of weirds me out, to be honest. I'm more used to bantering and screaming matches than I am to this. Makes me wonder what he'd do if, oh, I don't know…a giant gorilla leapt out in the middle of his path when he wasn't expecting it.
I can't see him running away screaming, because I don't think he's capable of making a noise like that.
He'd probably say 'troublesome' and let the damn thing run him over.
How the hell he managed to become a Jounin, I'll never guess.
I'm glad I'm going home in a couple days. His sluggishness has started to rub off on me…
Definitely not a good sign.
I'm highly disturbed.
Looks like Gaara's not the only nutcase in our family.
Must be a defective gene.
"She's probably right about that one."
Kankuro had recovered from his abrupt lesson in the art of tumbling. Even better, nothing seemed to be broken or bleeding, which was a definite plus. He didn't care for a repeat of the fan incident.
"Well damn. I was under the impression that I'm special."
Shukaku, who had been silent for much longer than usual—Gaara had actually started to grow alarmed, since his uninvited tenant normally yakked on for hours without shutting up—had to throw his two cents into the hat.
You are special, dipshit. Nobody else has me! NOW LEMME OUTTA HERE! I NEED NEW SCENERY, DAMN IT! I haven't been polka dancing in ages! I don't remember how anymo—
"You can go to hell and rot with your damn polka," Gaara told him, speaking aloud while Kankuro looked at him as if he had sprouted extra appendages from places they should not have been. "And I was thinking more along the lines of my pointy hat, actually."
WHAT? ARE YOU SAYING I'M NOT SPECIAL? ARE YOU—
"I'll listen to that song if you don't shut your yap, so help me."
The demon almost howled in anguish.
NOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT THAT ONE!
"Yes, that one. Buzz off."
Shukaku was as quiet as a mouse from then on.
Kankuro's jaw hung slightly agape.
"Wow…that...happens often?"
Gaara rolled his eyes. "More than you'd imagine."
"What song were you threatening him with?"
A wolfish grin. "The Swedish Chef Song."
Kankuro shuddered. He would've clammed up if he had to listen to that, too.
Another change of subject seemed to be in order at the moment.
"Temari talks a lot about that Nara guy."
"Of course she does. She wants to jump him. It's obvious."
This time around, the pause was tense, almost surly. "That's…ACKKKK!"
"Your grasp of language is astounding."
Kankuro plowed on as if his brother hadn't spoken. "She's nearly three years older than he is!"
"So she's a cradle robber. What do you want from me?"
He could not come up with a suitable reply to that. "I…just…It's wrong." He stated flatly, arms crossed over his chest.
"Oh-ho! Am I sensing…jealousy?"
"No! I'm not jealous! I just don't want some kid groping my sister!"
Gaara's voice oozed sarcasm. "Aww. That's sweet in a gag-me sort of way."
"Shut up! I'm serious!"
"I know."
But Kankuro was too busy muttering curses under his breath, most of which were directed at a certain, lazy, pony tailed Jounin who lived miles away.
He's jealous, Shukaku piped in importantly.
"You know, for once, I actually agree with you."
Tuesday—
Oh. My. Lord.
I cannot believe this is happening. I'm so PISSED! I can't BELIEVE this!
My face was clear when I went to bed. It was perfect. There was not a mark on it. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I washed it, I brushed my teeth, and I was satisfied. More than satisfied. Everything was normal. And so I went to sleep, not a care in the world, and I slept really well, too. Like a bomb. Once my head hit the pillow, I was out. I don't even think I dreamed—and if I did, I don' t remember what I dreamed about.
And then I woke up.
Everything was still normal.
I went into the bathroom. Peed. Looked in the mirror.
That's when everything STOPPED being normal.
There, right in front of my eyes, was a big, red, ZIT.
A ZIT! ME!
And where was it?
RIGHT SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF MY NOSE.
This is a catastrophe. I don't GET zits. I never do. Never. Last time I had one was when I was twelve.
SO WHY NOW? IS GOOD SLEEP AN INVITATION FOR A ZIT ORGY?
I have nothing to hide it with. I don't carry cover-up on me, because I've never needed it.
ARGH!
You know, it just figures. I'll be home tomorrow, and I get the zit today, when I'll be seeing him.
'Hey, Shikamaru! Look at the lovely honker on my nose! You think I'm hot, don't you?'
Why me? Why?
I'll bet that little witch Ino never gets zits on her nose. Her and her perfect hair that's blonder than mine, and her perfect outfits and her pretty blue eyes…
Bimbo.
Tuesdays suck ass, especially this one.
A zit…
DAMN IT ALL!
"Now that I think about it, I don't believe I've ever had a zit in my life." Instinctively,Gaara's hand went to his face, where it encountered smooth, unblemished skin the color of porcelain. He turned to his brother, expression grave. "Look at that. Flawless."
His face equally attentive, Kankuro reached out and brushed his fingers against his brother's cheek, as if he were an expert connoisseur of beauty products, and remarked in a fawning tone, "Oh yes. Absolutely ravishing."
Then he grinned, and patted Gaara's cheek, hard. He managed to yank his hand away in time to avoid the sand that swirled around the Kazekage as a shield, though a rather weak one.
"I really need to get rid of this garbage," he muttered disgustedly, and the sand spiraled about his head reprovingly. "Oh, stop that, for cripes sake."
The sand retreated, albeit crossly.
"Ridiculous," growled the redheaded young man. "I never get a break. There's always something."
Kankuro, between reading Gaara's journal and spending this bit of time with him now, started to develop a new appreciation for what his brother had to deal with on a constant basis. Sure, he and Temari had their own problems—like errant pimples—but they also didn't have half-mad sand trailing them wherever they went, nor did they have a polka-dancing, blood lusting demon sealed inside their bodies.
"I don't know how you do it, man," he said, shaking his head.
"Neither do I, to be honest."
"But at least you have your pointy hat."
"I do have my pointy hat," Gaara agreed. "And a beauteous complexion to match."
Wednesday—
Shit.
That's all I have to say…
Oh bother.
That's NOT all I have to say…
All right, all right, here's what happened. There was an impromptu get-together with a bunch of the Chuunins and Jounins, and I did my best to cover up the monstrosity on my nose, but…my best wasn't good enough. At all. It was so obvious I had a zit. First off, it was so red that nothing I put on it would mask the color, and secondly, the color I did settle on was two shades darker than my original skin tone…so it…it clashed. I swear, when I walked in, I could feel the eyes being drawn to my nose. As if it were a bright, shiny beacon, screaming "LOOK AT ME!" Not only that, but my hair decided not to cooperate with me as well, and my ponytails were droopy, not springy like usual.
I wanted to die. Seriously.
And OF COURSE the bimbo was there, and she snickered at me behind her hand, and I knew what she was doing too, the bitch. I wanted to take my fan and cram it down her throat.
She wouldn't be laughing anymore then, that's for certain.
But that's not the worst part.
Shikamaru is a tactless bastard.
'Your nose looks weird,' he said.
In front of everyone.
Your nose looks weird.
GEE, THANKS, SHIKAMARU! I HAD NO EFFING CLUE! HOLY SHIT, WHAT A REVELATION!
Yeah, you like that?
PARDON ME WHILE I KICK YOUR STOMACH THROUGH YOUR ASS!
Boys are the scum of the earth. If I didn't need them for future reproductive purposes, I'd swear them all off entirely.
………
Or not.
As one, both Gaara and Kankuro winced.
"I thought Shikamaru was supposed to have an I.Q. that went off the charts."
"Yeah, so did I."
A pause.
"Well, there you have it, Kankuro. Looks like she won't have some 'kid' mooning all over her after all."
But he was still skeptical. "We'll see."
"Yeah, and soon," Gaara said, and snapped the journal shut, chucking it beneath the comforter. "She's outside. Don't let on that you've seen it, or I'll tell her you stole it."
With that incentive, Kankuro would have no trouble keeping his mouth shut.
There came the knock.
"Gaara? What are you doing? Can I come in? I heard voices, and Kankuro's disappeared."
"Guess she ignored the sign," whispered Gaara to Kankuro. "Yeah! Come in!" He called to Temari.
The door banged open, and there was another communal wince.
"Oy, sorry about that," the blonde apologized, looking sheepish. Her eyes locked on her brothers, who were stretched out on Gaara's bed, and she immediately grew suspicious.
"What the hell have you two been doing?"
"Having some brotherly bonding time," Kankuro replied with aplomb, wrapping an arm about Gaara's head. "Are we not allowed to do that now, Mommy?"
Gaara snorted, and Temari turned the same shade of purple she had when the Kazekage left her earlier.
"I can knock all of your teeth out, if you'd like," she said menacingly, hand on the hilt of her fan. "I think I missed a few on the last go."
Kankuro paled.
"I'll leave them where they are, if it's all the same to you."
Rolling off the bed, he nodded at Gaara, then swept past his sister, but not before saying, "Nice nose," at which point she tore after him, the sounds of their heavy footsteps and shouted insults echoing through the hallways.
"About time," Gaara remarked, and felt around for the purple journal, which was still nestled safe beneath his pillow. "I'll have some peace and quiet…"
Like hell you will, sniffed Shukaku. You keep leaving me out of the action, and I refuse to be left out now! He punctuated that statement with an intimidating growl.
Gaara sighed.
"Oh, whatever. Just keep your babbling to a dull roar, okay?"
Shukaku made a rude noise.
"Yeah? Well I feel the same way about you."
Just read, would ya?
"Fine, fine."
He opened the journal on his lap and began to read.
XD This story is so much fun to write. HEHEHEHE. I HAD to throw Shukaku in, because...I just see him as being this crazy, off-the-wall character, and I wanted to give him some time in the spotlight. He'll be around in Kankuro's chapter, too. Hee-hee!
Again, thank you so much for the reviews! MUAH!