So I'm thinking just this and one more chapter and then I'll sign off on this project. My interest in Naruto has been petering out as a source of inspiration, and I was meaning to turn to original projects solely by my next birthday (January).

That being said, this idea smacked me in the head last night right before I went to sleep. And I mean right before. The dialogue and etc kept me awake an extra hour and darn it all I was stupid tired today. But as a result, you get a new chapter.

Weeeeeeee!

Disclaimer: See Part 1.

It had been something like a whim. Spring was shaking hands with summer and her finals were behind her long enough so that she had caught up on some sleep. When her parents had called, interrupting her in mid-nightmare of bad grades and attending tests with too little clothing they had asked and she had mumbled and that had bound her into a devilish verbal contract.

". . . and bring along that artist of yours. Your father and I are just dying to meet him."

"Ya huh. 'K mom. See ya soon."

Click. Snooze. Pause.

DOOOOM!

The way out had been so simple. There was no way Gaara would agree to this in a million years. Only he did. She had brought it up in an offhand way at first, thinking he would simply refuse like he did when she suggested anything that smacked of a vacation together. What with his own family issues, she assumed he would rather get teeth pulled than see her nice, normal, conservative mom and dad.

She had tried to warn him a little bit after that, bring up the inconvenience of the timetable her parents wanted them to visit in, maybe mention how her neighborhood was the very picture of suburbia and there would be plane tickets involved. Sakura had harped on about the costs so much, in an effort to dissuade him that he showed up one day with a wad of cash and shoved it into her hands as she sputtered.

"You said the opinions of your parents mean the world to you, didn't you?" He asked as she looked forlornly at what he said would be enough for first class round trip tickets if she would stop talking about costs.

"Yes," She answered honestly. Sakura loved her parents, for all their quirks, and it would destroy her when. . . if. . . they didn't approve of the man she had been dating for the better part of a year.

"Then we're going to see them next week."

She didn't even get mad at him for his autocratic ways because she wished she had half the confidence he seemed to that this situation would not explode in drama. Not ever her excellent test scores could console her about her immediate future.

He looked far too calm as they approached her parents' front door. In fact, how dare he look so collected when she was feeling like she was having a heart attack! She could already feel the way the neighbors were curiously peering from behind designer drapes to stare at the man who was invading their safe suburban world. Manicured lawns mocked his messy hair. Nicely kept houses in bright colors paled in shock at his insistence upon wearing all black on such a sunny day. If Sakura hadn't been there, she knew someone would have called the police already. They still might.

"We can still go back, you know." Sakura fidgeted, fingering the material of her pastel yellow sundress and trying to keep memories from rushing back and overwhelming her. She wanted to go home, she wanted it very badly, but not at the cost of this relationship that she found to be so special with Gaara.

Gaara rolled his eyes visibly and knocked on the door.

It was flung open and Sakura felt like she was a kid again. There was her mother, glossy hair pulled back and put up into a loose bun; there was no grey since her mother dyed it regularly. She had on an outfit that would have made any 50s housewife proud. It wasn't affected because that's the way she had always dressed. Sakura couldn't ever remember having seen her mother wear pants. Manicured hands extended to embrace Sakura and clucked over her as she led her little girl back inside. If there was any indication that she had seen Gaara, Sakura couldn't see it.

"Honey, I'm so glad you could come. Your father and I were just pleased as punch that you could come after all. You sounded so piquant when we called you I was very nearly going to send you one of those emails you seem to like so much." That was her mother, one of those people the women's liberation movement somehow missed on the outside. Sakura knew better. Her mother was a sharp woman. "And this must be your, er, artist."

Gaara cocked his head to one side. Sakura had thought about begging him to leave off the makeup for one day, but she had a feeling that he would be disappointed in her if she asked. There was no softening the blow. Her parents had to know the whole truth and that was that.

"I'm Mrs. Haruno, but you can call me Hana." She extended her hands and grasped both of his. She looked down and noted his nails were as carefully painted as her own, but in a deep shade of green.

"Gaara." For a moment Sakura thought she saw her mother's eyebrows draw down in the beginnings of a frown but soon they were being whisked away to the living room.

"Dear! Sakura and Gaara are here! Now get in here!" Hana fluttered around them, pushing a plate of gourmet cheese and crackers in their direction. "He's just so enthralled by our new barbeque. It's one of those new little hobbies he started up now that he's getting close to retirement. We even get magazines for it."

"Sakura!" Before she knew it she was being hugged by her father who smelled like smoked meat and sauce. "You're looking even more adult every time I see you."

She couldn't help but feel comforted, since it all seemed so normal still. "Daddy, I am an adult, remember?"

"Of course of course, and this must be your, er, artist."

Gaara was getting a glazed look in his eye that told Sakura she would regret that particular choice of words to her parents for a long long time.

"Dad, Mom, this is Gaara. . . . my boyfriend." She wanted to run away or vomit or die. The silence was oppressive while her parents waited for Gaara to add his introduction personally. He snorted out a small laugh, and Hana gave a displeased cough.

"Sakura, why don't you go help your father set up the little dinner we'll have on the patio?" Code red! Gaara and mother alone together! "Your, er, Gaara can help me in here while I get the side dishes ready."

"Sounds great, Mom." Helpless.

On the patio, Sakura looked in as Gaara chopped onions for her mother in the kitchen and seemed to respond in more than grunts to Hana's fast chirping questions. Clearly her mother missed her calling in life as a police interrogator. Meanwhile her father was flipping steaks and casually trying to express his concern in his own fatherly way.

"I have to admit, Sakura, when I first saw that boy I was afraid you had brought one of your college girl friends here instead."

"Daddy!"

"Sugar, he wears more makeup than you and your mother combined." He poked at a bleeding bit of beef and nodded before closing the top of the barbeque. "Can't a father be concerned? I'll admit you spoiled us by being practically perfect for all those years. Really, we always thought you'd end up with one of the neighborhood boys. Like Uzumaki. He turned out to be a nice boy, even with that rough background. . ."

This was starting to smack of her parent's usual elitism. She wasn't about to talk about Gaara's famous and rather powerful father just to waive her parents' opinion of him. But it was so tempting to anyway. However, she was trying to think about what she could say about Gaara. That he was good with knives? That he sometimes refrained from frightening people as much as he could? That he had quit smoking finally just last month for her?

"You know I never liked you talking about Naruto like that."

"I hope he's gotten a little more responsible. He was always a little too carefree with everything, time, money. . ."

"And friendship. Now, stop being mean. I know you hate Gaara, just say it." Sakura almost pouted. She had been a daddy's girl from way back, since mom had been the strong hand of justice.

Her father paused, seeming pained, and as he was about to say something Gaara and Hana sailed in with bowls of various things, salad (of the ceasar and potato varieties), vegetables, some tomatoes swimming in olive oil and vinegar, and a loaf of bread. It all looked great, and Sakura admired her mother's magic touch in the kitchen anew.

"My, but Gaara is a handy one to have in the kitchen. He cut up those veggies for me faster than the professional chefs I've seen on the cooking channel." Hana smiled at him and Gaara gave her a dazed look. Of course he would be good with knives. Sakura bit her tongue in an attempt not to laugh.

They all settled down to a meal, Gaara across from Sakura and Sakura's parents across from one another. From a certain point of view, everyone had everyone else surrounded. The food was good, and Sakura praised her mother while Gaara simply ate in his usual concentrated manner. At least he wasn't messy, just slow.

Sakura took the opportunity to tell her parents all about her finals and her plans for next year, and various anecdotes about her teachers and friends. Tales about Gaara were mostly absent, but he couldn't help but figure into a few of them. She simply couldn't resist the paintball story. Her father laughed at that one.

"Gaara, my boy, so you know a thing or two about guns do you? Come of back to the shed with me and take a look at the old hunting rifle. It was a gift from my father a long time ago, but I don't think it could possibly still be working after all this time." To her credit, Sakura did not choke on her glass of lemonade. Gaara. Her father. Guns. Shed out back. Her father was going to kill Gaara and stuff him behind the shed.

"Ok." Gaara seemed entirely unconcerned. Of course not. She knew he was sizing up her father and deciding in a fair fight that the older man had no chance. "Mr. Haruno." He added the last part slowly, after Sakura kicked him under the table.

"Call me Eiji."

The rest of the meal passed in something like a normal fashion and everyone took dishes in before the men began their stroll to the shed. The stress was killing her, and she was regressing what with all the memories of this place. Sakura bit one of her nails, only to be swatted by her mother for it.

"You stopped doing that years ago! Nasty habit."

"I only stopped because you began painting my nails with that stuff that tasted like castor oil."

"And it worked, didn't it honey?"

Sakura glanced back at the shed as her mother checked on the state of a cake in the refrigerator. Dessert for later, she supposed, and it was probably something with strawberries because they were Sakura's favorite.

"Don't worry so much," Hana, in a rare moment of non-smiling, put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Your father is just looking for some common ground. You didn't give us much to work with, you know."

She did know, and she felt guilty for it. "I really love him, mom."

There were some fine lines around her mother's still somewhat youthful face when her lips tightened. "That's just what I wanted to hear from you." She sighed. "I wish I could read that boy at all. Other than finding out that he makes improvements on some of his own clothes he didn't give away much. And I suppose I should be happy so long as one of you can sew."

"Mom!"

"You really were hopeless with it, but it's a skill that every household needs. You'll understand when you have your first child. I wouldn't mind a grandchild soon."

Sakura felt like she was blushing from the roots of her hair out.

There was a distant crash and not long after that Gaara came staggering in, holding a hand to his head. "Daddy!" Sakura was ready to accuse him of assault against her boyfriend when Gaara made eye contact and shook his head.

"Your boyfriend has some fast reflexes there, Sakura. That old motorboat engine I was trying to fix finally got loose from those chains. I swear they weren't that rusty a year ago." Hana was fussing with Gaara, getting his a cold compress and checking to see if anything had broken the skin. "He pushed me out of the way but it knocked him a good one. Good thing the blade side was on the bottom."

Eiji smiled something real and steady, and Sakura could tell that maybe the day wasn't lost after all. Her mother wanted her to be happy, and her father really was trying to get along with him even if he had an unconventional appearance.

That night, as they slept in twin singles in her old room (which they pushed together as quietly as possible) Sakura reflected on how, if anything, her parents had doted on Gaara more than her after the engine attack. Her mother had shown him a million Sakura baby pictures and a healthy number of the older years (even the short time she had had braces much to her horror) up until high school. Gaara had looked at her high school pictures a little too long, particularly the ones from when they had been at the beach and she had bought her first two piece. She almost accused him of being a pervert in front of them, but he knew her tongue was tied on this one and smirked at her. Then Gaara and Hana had traded makeup tips while Eiji told Sakura about the trip he and Hana were planning for later that summer.

At the end of the night everyone was still a little awkward, and Eiji and Hana hadn't seemed to have decided what they would call this new person in their daughter's life, but it had been a day without tears and with only one possible concussion.

"You're lucky." Gaara said into the darkness, one arm probably falling asleep under Sakura's head.

"Why? Because my parents are crazy throwbacks to the 50s?"

"No. They really want you to be happy." He turned towards her, and she thought about how this was as close as she ever got to seeing him without his makeup. Gaara would always get up earlier than her to do it, and went to bed after the lights were out. Such a strange sense of vanity he had. "Your mother's hand was shaking when she met me. And your father always kept his distance. . . but they smile and pretend I don't bother them just for you."

He was underestimating himself again, though it was true that they weren't used to him. But Gaara, when he wasn't being jealous or going through mysterious throws of violent angst was a fairly calm and normal person. She didn't know why she had had doubts. Her parents were normal to the point of being weird, but they weren't close minded. They had simply approached "the American dream" with the same enthusiasm that they had taken to being hippy children way back when. And her mother insisted she had never worn pants then either. . . but also hadn't shaved her legs. This suburban life wasn't all there was to them just as the scary goth boy wasn't all that Gaara was, but it was a good beginning on both sides.

"I envy you."

Sakura didn't say anything, afraid in a sudden bout of affection to offer to make them his parents too and drive him away with such a radically committed statement. Right now she knew she loved him, and she knew that her parents maybe didn't approve, yet, but weren't going to object.

A sudden knock at the door had them springing apart as if they were kids about to be caught doing something naughty. Gaara jerked so far, in fact, that he fell out of bed with a soft thump onto the carpet. The door didn't open but Hana's voice was clear through the thin wood.

"Goodnight you two, sleep tight!"

"Goodnight mom!" Sakura called back, holding back her laughter.