AN: Back at it with another really delayed update! Hope everyone's doing as well as they can be at the moment.

CW: Some smutty-smut at the end of the chapter. ;)

Chapter 15: Strawberries & Cream


Gaara didn't know the first thing about what girls liked.

For the longest time, the only girl he knew was Temari, and she was a raging bitch. Rasa certainly wasn't one to give detailed talks about the birds and the bees, so everything he thought he understood about girls and sex came from late-night TV and sneaking peeks at the bizarre magazines Kankuro hid under his mattress.

By eighteen, Gaara had it mostly figured out. You meet someone. You kiss. Stuff happens.

Hot, sweaty, stuff.

And that stuff happened enough to make all the annoying bits—sharing your space, gift giving, date nights—worth it.

If he was honest, some of it sounded nice. And sometimes he would think about it—the hot, sweaty, nice part—with a hand down his shorts and his nose pressed against the fabric of some sweater Sakura borrowed without asking.

But it wasn't like he was a pervert or anything.

She just had a scent that did something to him. Like Freesia, but different. Sweeter. Softer. Like ripe strawberries mixed with warm soy milk. Cloying, candy-like sweetness that should have been revolting, but just made his dick hard.

It was beyond pathetic.

Why did he like her? Of all the girls in the world, why her? Sakura was whiny and annoying and followed her shit boyfriend around like a dumb dog. She didn't even have a good figure—her friend Ino was the one with the curves.

And yet Sakura was the one he fantasized about in his bed. Touching her, cuddling her, on his knees making her come. Sakura, with her weird strawberry-milk smell, was just like a Freesia. Pure and pretty, but fragile. Sensitive to the slightest of changes.

And just like a flower, she needed attention. Patience. Care. For a while, Gaara thought he might be capable of that.

It wasn't at all like his dad said. He wasn't hopeless or pathetic or a monster.

If he could take care of plants, he could take care of a girl.

Luckily, things got easier with age.

Gaara wasn't sure if it was the new job or the wardrobe, but women were interested in him, and that was exciting.

Every week he saw a different girl—college students, lawyers, servers. Part of it was sheer boredom, and the other a hope he might connect with a woman in a way that wasn't torture. It should have been easy. After all, none of them knew about his shit childhood, or anger issues, or all the years spent painfully broke. They only knew a perfectly crafted version of himself, moulded by his father's hand, and destined for something great.

But no matter how many fancy trinkets he bought them, or how expertly he could make polite, inane chit-chat over expensive watercress sandwiches, everything always stopped short of the fullness of intimacy they desired.

It wasn't as though he didn't crave sex. In fact, the desire often nagged at him so much it hurt. But instead of seeking out women in bars like Kankuro, Gaara saw it as a problematic tension to relieve in the shower before work, or stave off with compulsive exercise and meditation.

Shijima was a godsend. His father set them up, so why wouldn't he make the best of it? And after the first time, the novelty wore off. Sex became just one more dull aspect of life for them both.

Gaara had a feeling he knew why. A nagging little thing he suspected that might explain Shijima's business-like view of their relationship and her similar blasé attitude about fucking, but neither of them seemed bothered enough to broach it. Rasa was proud of him when Shijima was on his arm, and though he told himself he didn't care, that was a special feeling.

That was everything.


The sound of the door unlocking sent Gaara into a panic. As it opened wide, he pushed Sakura off his lap and onto the floor.

"Hey!" she squeaked.

"Gaara?"

Kankuro stood in the doorway with an umbrella in one hand, and a plastic shopping bag in the other. He sighed with a little smile. "Oh man, thank fuck. I thought—wait, what the hell happened to your face?"

Gaara opened his mouth to explain, but then noticed his brother's gaze sliding over to where Sakura sat in a very soaked, very see-through silk dress.

"Shit, my bad." Kankuro grinned. "I didn't realize you were—"

"You're…Gaara's brother, right? From the party?" Sakura asked as she pushed up onto her knees. She glanced over at Gaara and made a subtle gesture to her chest. It took a second, but he used the distraction to hurriedly re-button his shirt.

"Yeah." Kankuro crouched and extended his hand for a shake. "And you're Sakura, right?"

"Right." She smiled, and he pulled her to her feet.

"Why's my little brother hiding you all the way out here?"

"Oh, we were just—"

"We got caught out in the rain," Gaara interrupted. "The apartment was nearby, so I thought I'd give Sakura a chance to dry off and change."

He tucked his shirt back into his trousers and stood. Though he could hear Kankuro's not-so-subtle snicker, he focused his attention on Sakura.

"I think I might have some old clothes in the closet. Have a look."

"Sure." She gave a little wave and headed out of the room. Kankuro craned his neck to watch her walk away, but Gaara was quick to step into his line of sight.

"Well, well… this is new." Kankuro, singsong-ed. "Can't blame you though—she really is in crazy good shape for a mom."

"Kankuro." Gaara rubbed his fingertips against his temple. Suddenly, the mild stinging of his nose was a brutal throbbing. "It's not what you're thinking."

"What?" Kankuro feigned innocence as he shook out his umbrella on the wood floors. "You mean you're NOT hiding out in your old apartment, trying to bang your friend's ex-wife?"

"Uchiha Sasuke is not my friend," Gaara snapped.

"Okay, but you were trying to bang her?"

Kankuro chuckled and then dropped his bag on the floor by the door. A few packets of potato chips, pocky, and other snacks spilled out at his feet. Gaara eyed the mess with a frown. It was through his father's hand that he learned to hate disorder, and Kankuro's carelessness was just another reminder of the difference in their upbringing.

"Why didn't you just bring her back to yours?" he asked. "And honestly, what's up with your face? She hit you? Some BDSM thing?"

As Kankuro rambled, Gaara crouched and picked up the bag. He placed everything back inside and then lined it up neatly by the door.

"I opened a cabinet into my face," he said. "And I told you, we got caught in the rain. This was the nearest place."

Gaara didn't know why he was lying, but figured the less Kankuro knew about anything to do with him and Sakura, the better.

"Yeah, sure." Kankuro put his hands on his hips and looked around before smiling. "Tell you what - I'll leave it alone if you let me bum a cig."

"I thought you quit."

Kankuro shrugged and Gaara patted his pockets down, only to come up with a squashed and soaked packet of cigarettes. He tossed them over. "What are you even doing here, by the way?"

"Me? Rasa gave me this place after you moved on up, remember?" Kankuro grimaced at the mush inside. "And there's a silent alarm. I get a text from security every time there's unusual activity."

"But I used the code." Gaara looked at the keypad on the wall opposite Kankuro's head. The number pad was flashing red.

"To get in. You didn't turn it off, boy genius."

Gaara stepped past and re-entered the code to disarm it. Just as he closed the door, a man's wet hand held it open.

"Hey, is everything…" Kiba popped his head through the gap and then furrowed his brow once he locked eyes with Gaara. "Oh, it's you! I totally knew your brother was overreacting, freaking out about burglars and whatever."

"It could have been!" Kankuro huffed. "But yeah, false alarm. He's just here making out with Sakura."

Kiba snorted. "Oh. The usual."

Gaara frowned at the dry remark, but his irritation switched to his brother as soon as he started making kissing noises. "Will you give it a rest?"

"Give what a rest?" Kankuro pouted. "Oh, hey kid—you've got some lipstick…" He gestured at his face and Gaara gave his mouth a frantic swipe with the back of his wrist.

It came up clean.

"Knew it!" Kankuro hooted.

Kiba jumped in between them, lightning fast. "Look—sorry to cut short this wonderful bit of brotherly bonding, but it's miserable out. Can we stay a bit?"

"Pretty please?" Kankuro added, already halfway through shedding his leather jacket. "Just until the rain lets up a bit. We had a boring night out and were trying to find another bar—won't stay long. Promise!"

As the two waited for his approval, Gaara thought of Sakura in the shower, and where they'd almost gotten to on the floor only moments before. It had taken a blow to the face to get her to trust him again—who knew when they'd have another uninterrupted moment together?

He sighed. "It's just rain. Can't you just call a car?"

"Gaara, don't be mean." Sakura chided.

Gaara's first reflex was to scowl, but as soon as he faced her, everything dropped away.

Sakura stood in the hallway's arch with a towel around her shoulders. She was barefoot and looked very much like a little strawberry in his faded red t-shirt and a pair of forest green lounge pants.

"Yeah Gaara, don't be mean." Kankuro stuck out his tongue and tossed his wet jacket over the arm of the couch.

Yet again, Gaara had to stamp down the urge to put his brother in a chokehold. He snatched the dripping jacket up and hung it up on the coatrack, then turned back to Sakura.

"Can I talk to you?"

She nodded and let him lead her back into the hallway. Once he was sure they were alone, Gaara backed her against the wall.

"What?" she asked, a playful smile on her lips.

With their faces close, he could smell the sweetness of plum wine on her breath. And though Gaara would never say it out loud, he always liked it when she drank. She was touchier and less self-conscious, and paid him lots of attention. But with his brother and Kiba around, that attention would have to be divided.

"Gaara?"

She stared at him—wide-eyed and flushed—as he skimmed his hands up to her shoulders, and the stretched neckline of his old shirt.

"Are you sure you want them to stay?" he asked.

Sakura hesitated briefly, but then wrapped both arms around his middle. "It's your brother and Kiba. Of course, they can stay. Why are you being weird?"

"I'm not. I just… I thought you might want it to be just the two of us tonight." He ran his fingertips over the exposed line of her collarbone. "You know?"

"Gaara." She squeezed in and pressed her cheek against his chest.

"What?" he asked.

It was a strange thing to be touched so eagerly or so often. He'd become more of an analytical person over the last ten years—a fact that Temari and Kankuro pointed out with constant frustration. Less angry, but deeply bothered by things that he decided didn't make logical sense. Spontaneous touch was one of those things. But the more Sakura melted her body into his, the more he understood. A little softness and sweetness could be nice.

"You can't kick them out in the rain just so you can get in my pants," she said, but there was a pretty pout on her lips that made him smile.

"I can't?" Gaara lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed under her ear. Each nudge of his nose against her skin elicited a sharp twinge of pain, but it was worth it just to taste her.

"No, it's… ah… mean." The breathiness of her voice sent Gaara further down the rabbit hole of exploration. He wondered what other lovely sounds she would make when he kissed her.

"You never used to mind it when I was mean." He lifted her chin with one hand and kissed along the underside of her jaw. Sakura let out a little squeak that stretched into a moan when he slid his free hand under the bottom of her shirt.

He knew he was pushing it, but it was especially satisfying to see the flush on Sakura's cheeks as he inched his fingertips toward her breast. Ten years ago, they seemed barely enough for a handful, but were now delightfully weighty in his palm. Sakura clung to his wet shirt with both hands.

"You're really sure?" He circled the pad of his thumb around her nipple until it stiffened.

"Gaara…" she moaned, and the drawn out, sugary sound of his name on her lips made every hair on his body stand on end. It was times like those when he thought she sounded way too good to be real.

"Everything alright back there, you two?" Kankuro called out from the living room. Gaara grit his teeth at the sound of his brother's chuckle, and Sakura took the opening to duck out from under his arms.

"Nice try," she said, still red. "Go change! You're soaking."

"Right, right." Gaara sighed and watched her disappear down the hall.

His old bedroom was the same as he remembered—the dull grey furniture, the starkness and sterility. Even the plants too large to move to his new apartment were still sitting on the wraparound balcony. A little crispy and overgrown, yes, but someone had clearly been around to check on them.

When Gaara reached the en-suite, there were little pieces of Sakura everywhere. Her earrings in the soap dish, her dress soaking in the sink's bowl. But the best evidence of her presence was a pair of thong panties hanging from the heated towel rack. Just the thought of Sakura wearing them made his body hot. The triangle of lace at the front would barely cover the most intimate parts of her, and the thin, silky straps would look gorgeous drawn up high on soft curves.

Don't be so pathetic, Gaara scolded himself.

He pried his gaze away from the heater and, after stripping off his sodden shirt and pants, checked over his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't often that Gaara put much thought into the way he looked, but it suddenly felt very important. The frail body he despised as a child was now sculpted in a generically pleasing sort of way, but he knew well that personal training and obsessive routine could only go so far. Toned muscle couldn't cover years of brutal scarring.

Gaara sighed out when the glass fogged over and stepped into the shower to let the warm spray drench his face. The pressure on his nose was borderline excruciating, but at least cleared the fog from his brain. Lately, it was like he was losing his mind.

"I can't give you the things you think you want."

He saw the hurt in her eyes when he said those words, but it didn't make them less true. It was one thing to want to have sex with a woman; that was basic animal instinct. It was another thing to want the "everything else" that came with it.

Gaara couldn't commit to things like that. He didn't know how. She was much better off if he just didn't try.

After all, Sakura was a good person. She would get a new job and get remarried to someone smart and kind and they'd have tons more children and…

Gaara glared and pressed his forehead against the shower tiles. Blood dripped from his nose and left light pink trails on their way down the drain. He hated imagining of Sakura by herself, but the thought of her with someone else was even worse. What if she really did get her "happily ever after?" What use would he be to her then?

He shook his head. Something like that would take a while. And until then, he could keep her all to himself.

A peal of high-pitched laughter burst from the living room, and Gaara startled back to reality. What was he thinking? Kankuro was a notorious flirt, and shit—was Kiba still single?

Gaara hurried through the rest of his shower, and after digging through a box of old clothing, settled on a pair of sweatpants and a navy t-shirt. As he unfolded the sweats, a photo fell out at his feet.

It was Sasuke and Sakura standing arm in arm in the kitchen of Naruto's apartment. Aggressive red pen marks obscured most of his face, but his trademark frown peeked out at edges. Sakura, however, was beaming at the camera. And her cheeks were bright red, the way they always got when she drank too much.

Gaara scratched at Sasuke's face with his fingernail, but another burst of laughter spooked him enough to shove the picture back down deep into the box.

When he returned to the living room, Sakura was giggling as Kankuro handed her a can of beer, and Kiba stretched out on the sofa, munching his way through a bag of potato chips.

"… all the time when he was a kid. Don't let him lie to you!"

Kankuro laughed loud, and Gaara paused in the doorway, heart pounding. What was he doing telling her stories about his childhood?

Don't let him fuck this for you.

"There he is." Kankuro tossed Gaara a beer. He attempted to catch it, but the can hit the floor and rolled to a stop at his feet.

"Never was very athletic," Kankuro joked, and Gaara's cheeks burned red. It was times like those that he remembered why he preferred to keep a comfortable distance from his siblings.

He forced a smile and sat down next to Sakura. "What's so funny?"

"Well…" She scooped up the can from the floor and tapped on the lid a few times before popping the tab open. "Kankuro was telling me you really do like sweets."

A bit of foam bubbled from the top, and she sipped it away before handing it over to him. Gaara stared at the wet spot where her lips had been and covered it with his own. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a beer, but that evening it was everything he ever wanted.

God, maybe I'm the pathetic dog.

"No, I don't," he said. "I mean, obviously if I was starving and there was nothing else—"

"He used to make himself sick on jam donuts when he was little," Kankuro said. "Once, we came back from vacation and he'd eaten this entire pack of stale ones right out of the trash. Dad…"

Fuck you. Don't you dare. Not in front of her.

"Out of the trash?" Sakura's voice was soft. Gaara clenched the can of beer with both hands, and a little spilled out over his knuckles.

Stop it. Breathe. Don't get pissed.

"I…Anyway…" Kankuro shifted his gaze down and cleared his throat. "It's not a big deal. He was just a little kid."

"Well, I guess we all do weird things when we're kids. It's kind of cute," Sakura said. She smiled to diffuse the tension, and for the first time in years, Gaara wanted to hug someone.

After a silence, Kiba sat up. "I used to run around the house on all fours like a dog."

Sakura snickered first, then Kankuro, and even Gaara cracked a smile. Though the mood brightened slightly, he spent the next few hours on high alert.

Kiba and Kankuro made their way through a bag of red bean buns, two more empty cans of beer collected in Sakura's lap, and yeast and hops slowly eclipsed her strawberry scent. Still, Gaara welcomed the way the buzz led her to him in search of touch—from the brush of her hand against his to the playful nudge of her shoulder. And when he was sure Kiba or Kankuro weren't looking, he stroked her forearm or slid his fingertips under the edge of her shirt. Like clockwork, Sakura would giggle or bite her lip and it was all he could do not to kick the boys out just so he could swallow her body with his.

But it was as if Kankuro could read his mind. His brother turned his focus and chatter to Sakura, and dragged her attention away from Gaara's roaming hands.

That left him with an uncharacteristically quiet Kiba. Though they'd never been close friends, if there was one thing Gaara knew about Kiba, it was that the man couldn't stand to spend a second in silence. Every so often he might give a smile or a chuckle, but completely shut down when Sakura said anything at all.

"…and she's always top of her class—really smart! I guess I should be glad she at least gets that much from me," Sakura said, gesturing at the class photo of Sarada she'd dug out from her purse.

"Excuse me." Kiba stood and fished a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He caught Gaara's gaze and gestured to the balcony. "Mind if I…"

"Sure." Gaara stood to let Kiba out. Instead of going back to join Sakura and Kankuro, however, he shut the door behind him on their laughter.

The rain had stopped, and they were both surrounded by a cool and peaceful quiet. Like the stretch of balcony that wrapped around from his bedroom, ivy and other neglected plants swarmed every free inch of concrete.

"I didn't know you smoked," Gaara said, startling Kiba around to face him.

"I don't," he said, and smiled a little at the pack in his hands. "Well, not really. Sometimes you just gotta make an escape."

Gaara was quiet at that and leaned against the closed doorframe. He wasn't good at talking to people organically, and could already sense the mood was off. His body itched to be close to Sakura again.

"Mind if I have one?" he asked.

Kiba smirked. "Shouldn't you be trying to quit? Sakura hates this shit."

Normally, Gaara might have mustered a chuckle, but there was a bitter edge to Kiba's comment that made him frown.

"Why would that stop me? She's not my wife," he said. It was almost certainly not the best way to object, and Kiba stared at him for ages before finally handing over the packet. Gaara shook out a cigarette, but instead of placing it between his lips, turned it over in his hands a few times to bide time.

"Are you okay? You seem… different," he said before Kiba could offer him a light.

"Yeah." He rubbed the space between his brows with the back of his thumb. "Look, sorry. I guess it's just weird having her hang out with us again like nothing ever happened."

Gaara put the unlit cigarette in the pocket of his sweats. "I understand. And I'm sure it must be strange to us here together."

Kiba gave a half laugh, half scoff, and leaned back against the railing. "Yeah, not really. Of all things, that's the least surprising. You've always been her enabler."

He chuckled, and Gaara narrowed his eyes. "What?"

Kiba put up his hands in mock defence. "I mean, no offense or anything. You've got money now and you think she's cute—obviously. And she's lonely and desperate. So, whatever, I guess. Quid pro quo."

"That's not what's going on," he said. His face burned, and it was getting harder to hide his growing annoyance.

"Right. Whatever." Kiba shrugged and tapped ash from his cigarette over the railing. He didn't look back at Gaara, and the casual dismissal made his face hot. It had been years since someone other than his father was so obvious about their disdain.

"I'm telling you it's not."

"Sure." He waved him off again. "You know, it's not like I think she belongs with that prick or anything. I guess I just thought you, of all people, might have grown up a little."

Gaara clenched his hand into a fist, but quickly hid it away in his pocket. There was a time when anger came easily to him—too easily—and it wasn't something he wanted anyone to see anymore.

"But what do I know, anyway?" Kiba shrugged. "It's your life."

"She needs support," he said. "That's all I'm doing."

"Okay."

Kiba still refused to look at him, and Gaara took a step forward so fast, the movement shocked the other man enough to turn around.

"I'm serious," Gaara said. "She has a child, and she's doing everything alone. She needs someone to help her."

Kiba's frown deepened. "Yeah, well, that's real noble and everything, but it doesn't have to be you, does it?"

"Well, it sure as hell isn't any of you, is it?" he snapped.

Kiba flicked the stub of his cigarette over the railing. "Do you have any idea how many borderline interventions Ino staged for her in college? If Sakura wants to wreck her life over that psychopath, that's her business. I just can't believe she was selfish and idiotic enough to bring a kid into that shitshow."

Gaara tore both hands out of his pockets and grabbed Kiba by the front of his shirt.

"Don't talk about her like that." He pushed him up against the steel railing so hard that Kiba had to arch his back over the side to keep distance.

"Hey! Dude, what the f—

"You don't just give up on people." Gaara balled his shirt in his fists. "You don't just take what you want and then throw them away!"

"Get. Off. Me!" Kiba growled and shoved back—hard. The push put only a little distance between them, but gave him enough time to stagger away from the railing.

Gaara stared at his open palms. They were bright red from where he'd fisted Kiba's shirt.

"Are you fucking insane?" Kiba struggled to steady his breathing. "What were you trying to do? Push me over?"

"I was just…" Gaara clenched and unclenched his fists. "Sakura needs to be surrounded by people who believe in her. If you can't support that, I think you should just stay away."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said. "Stay away from her."

Kiba shook his head slowly. "Sure. Whatever you want, Sasuke."

A flash of heat crept up the back of Gaara's neck. "What did you just—"

Gaara started for him, and the balcony door slid open. Kankuro poked his head around the corner.

"Hey, you ready to head out?" He looked at Kiba. "We might get last entry at Coral."

"Beyond ready," Kiba said, and turned his back on Gaara. "I'll be outside." He pushed past and stomped back through the apartment.

Gaara listened to the front door slam shut before the tension released from his jaw.

Kankuro looked over his shoulder and then back at his brother.

"What was that about?"

Gaara rubbed his temple. "Nothing. How's Sakura?"

"Passed out." Kankuro snickered. "She can really put them away. Remind me to take her out on a bar crawl someday."

Gaara looked through the glass and spotted Sakura stretched out on the sofa with her eyes closed and mouth half-open, a bag of red bean buns tucked securely under one arm.

"It's been a long night," he said, and crossed the balcony to lean against the ivy-covered railing. It was the same spot he'd pushed Kiba against, and when he looked down, all he could see were cars that looked small enough to be toys, and shining slippery pavement.

He let his chin rest on the back of his hands.

"You're very soft with her," Kankuro said.

It sounded like a benign comment, but Gaara could sense the same uncertainness in it that radiated from Kiba. Kankuro walked over and stood next to him. They were nearly the same height now, but even as an adult, Gaara couldn't get over the sense of smallness that came with their proximity.

"I hardly ever see this side of you," he continued.

There were so many things Gaara wanted to say to that, but let the silence between them grow. It was like Rasa always said – never let anyone know what you're really feeling.

"…but you must know dad would never accept someone like that," Kankuro said.

When Gaara looked up, he saw the playful smile was gone from his brother's face, leaving him set and serious.

"…someone like that."

"Then it's good we're just friends," he said.

Kankuro edged closer until they were shoulder to shoulder. "I'm not saying this because I think you're doing something wrong. I just worry if keep going the way you are now with dad, you'll have so many regrets. You'll become someone you hate."

Gaara stood up straight and put distance between them. "It's always the same thing with you, isn't it? Finding some new way to slander him. A few weeks ago, you were telling me he was worried about me. So, which is it?"

"Any kind of kindness he shows you is only out of his own self-interest. If he can get you married off, it means he finally has a perfectly acceptable golden child to flaunt."

"And you're upset because that's not you anymore." Gaara ripped a fistful of crisp leaves from the ivy and tossed them over the railing.

The wind blew most of them back in his face.

Kankuro snorted. "God, do you even hear yourself? You've been letting him hold this dream relationship over your head for years. And for what? So you can waste the rest of your life being his bitch?"

"You're jealous," Gaara said. He heard his brother's sharp intake of breath, but stared vacantly over the balcony. "You weren't smart or loyal enough to meet expectations, and it makes you sick that someone you hate so much has finally shown you up."

In his periphery, Gaara saw Kankuro white knuckling the railing. For a moment, he thought he might try to hit him, but instead, his shoulders sagged.

"Is that really what you think?" Kankuro asked. "That I hate you?"

Gaara tried hard not to react to the softness of his voice. They'd lived separate lives for most of their childhood, and in those days, he hardly remembered a kind word from Kankuro or Temari. Ever since they'd reconnected, he tried his best to slot into their lives as the kind brother and doting uncle, but Gaara knew better than anyone that most social interactions were only a façade.

"If you really care what I think, that's only more evidence of your inferiority," he muttered.

"I'm trying to help you," Kankuro said.

"I don't need your help," Gaara fired back. "Or your sly jokes or romantic commentary or any other misguided brotherly advice. I got on well for eighteen years without it, so we certainly don't need to pretend now."

"Gaara look…" Kankuro looked at his feet. "I shouldn't have told that story. I didn't think—I mean, I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking it was funny." Gaara stepped past Kankuro and opened the sliding door. "The way you always did." He gestured through with a hand. "You should go now. It's late."

Kankuro stood helplessly for a while before heaving a sigh. Unlike Kiba, he sulked his way quietly through the apartment and closed the door carefully behind him. As soon as the lock clicked shut, Gaara could breathe again. Behind him, Sakura remained dead asleep on the couch. He crouched next to her and spotted the class photo of Sarada on the floor.

It was still strange to him to think of Sakura as a mother, but every time he saw them together, it clicked. But if he thought about it too much, his mind drifted to an uncomfortable place. One where Sakura and Sasuke were happy together and planned out their perfect little family over pillow talk in bed. Sarada was practically his doppelgänger. Even down to the little apathetic frown.

How did she feel about her father? He wondered. Was he good to her? Was he proud of her?

Once Gaara decided he couldn't torture himself any longer, he found Sakura's purse under the table and unzipped it. He'd only just tucked the photo away when the sloshing of liquid stopped him short. He turned the clutch over in his hand, and a small, half-empty bottle of vodka tipped into his palm, along with a packet of strawberry-flavoured gum. Sakura stirred a little on the couch and he quickly shoved it all back in place.

There wasn't enough time to process it before she began to stretch and yawn in his direction.

"Hey." Sakura smiled and covered her mouth with both hands. "Oh God, what time is it? Was I drooling?"

"Late.… and yes," Gaara said, and took the little punch she threw at his shoulder with an exaggerated wince.

Her eyes were a little glassy, and she still smelled a little like beer, but it certainly didn't feel like the punch of someone intoxicated.

"Where are Kiba and Kankuro?" She looked around blearily. The stiff couch pillows had badly mussed her hair, and he had to resist the urge to tuck the stray pieces behind her ears.

"They had to leave," he said. "How are you? Do you want me to take you home?"

"Home?" Sakura's face fell. "I mean… well, do you want me to go?"

Though something nagged at Gaara to say 'yes,' the only words he could force out of his mouth were, "of course not."

"Then…" She sat up and gave a coy smile. "Should we go to bed?"

Bed. That was exactly where Gaara wanted to take her only hours before, but the confrontation with Kiba was still fresh in his mind. Now, he felt stuck. Was she suggesting it because she really wanted to be with him, or was it out of some twisted sense of obligation?

"Well…you do seem tired," he said.

"Carry me?" she stretched her arms towards him with a cheeky pout.

Gaara rolled his eyes, but easily gave in to lifting her up, bridal style. Once they reached the bedroom, he dropped her lightly on the mattress, and her little sigh of relaxation was enough to make him blush.

Sakura smoothed her hair down with both hands and leaned back on her elbows. "So…what do you want to do?"

What do I want to do?

Gaara let his gaze wander over her body. He wanted to peel her out of those baggy clothes and fuck her into the mattress. That was what he wanted to do. But there was something still nagging at him—Kiba's snotty behaviour and his brother's words.

"I have to get some work done," he said. "I'll be in soon."

"Oh, okay." Sakura pushed herself back up into a sitting position, cheeks a little red. "I'll wait. No big deal."

"Sure. Okay," Gaara said, and left the room without looking back.

While Sakura waited, he made quick work of cleaning the rest of the living room, but left Sakura's purse where it lay under the coffee table. Just as he'd said to Kankuro, it had been a long night. Who knew what Sasuke had done to her earlier on? Everyone had their own way of getting through things—it wasn't his place to judge. Not when he'd been the one to screw up everything by leaving her with him.

He couldn't forget the way she'd screamed at him in the rain. It was all his fault. It was his fault and he had to make up for it.

Gaara dug out his phone from the wet pile of clothes he'd dumped in the laundry closet. When he switched it on, there was a stream of notifications from his work account, but also a series of missed phone calls.

Three were from Naruto, but the one Gaara knew he had to return right away was from his father. He steeled himself as he dialled the number, and the phone rang for ages before Rasa finally picked up.

"So, how was it tonight?" he asked.

Gaara bit back a sigh. It was just like his father to be straight to the point. He made a loop back to the bedroom and peeked in through the gap in the door to see Sakura sound asleep on top of the sheets.

"Fine. He's pleased to have us handling his portfolio," he said. "Shijima did all the hard work."

"She's a very reliable woman."

"Yes."

There was a long silence, and Rasa cleared his throat. "You sound…down."

Gaara fumbled his cell phone, and only just stopped it from hitting the floor. Rasa hardly ever picked up on anything mood related, but this was the second time in recent weeks that he'd probed into his personal life.

"Just tired," he said, placing the phone back to his ear. "I need to be more intentional about my sleep schedule."

There was another long silence, and for a moment Gaara thought he might have hung up.

"Are you still on that medication?" Rasa asked.

Gaara's stomach twisted into knots. "It won't affect my work."

"That's not what I asked you."

"I…well…"

"Look. Your sister mentioned she and Kankuro are in some type of… counselling," Rasa said, tone flat. "I don't know what they expect from me, but it was a relief to hear you weren't involved."

Gaara dropped onto the sofa and sagged down against the scratchy pillows. "Well, I don't see the need for any counselling."

Rasa gave a soft hum of approval. "It's not good to let people know everything you're feeling," he said. "They'll only use it against you. I know you know that."

"Yes, sir."

"It was difficult with you for a while. After your mother…" he paused. "I never wanted more children after Temari and Kankuro. Did I ever tell you that?"

Only every day.

"No," Gaara mumbled.

"Well, what happened, happened. And it was difficult, but you survived. And you're the best off for it now, aren't you?"

Gaara thought of the scarring on his back and squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes, sir."

"I'm proud of you, Gaara," Rasa said. "Never forget that."

Before he could register what happened, Gaara found himself listening to the dial tone. Proud of him? When was the last time he'd heard something like that? It took a series of slow, deep breaths, but once his body relaxed again, the quiet of the living room was eerie. He stepped out onto the balcony for the second time that night and observed the overgrowth with a sigh. It wouldn't take too long to clear up, he thought. At least by then he might be tired.

He grabbed a pair of old gloves from a rusted cart of old gardening supplies, and then some pruning shears. Slowly, meditatively, he went over the ivy first—snipping black and brown leaves and then neatly piling them away in green trash bags.

Next were the potted plants. Several root-bound Monstera called out to him from the corner, and he pulled one into his lap.

It took a little patience to cut away the old plastic pot, but once the roots were free, he could safely slide it into a bigger home. Over and over, he repeated the motions, snipping leaves and shovelling fresh soil with his hands until he had half of the plants sorted. He was just about to start on a tortured-looking Adansonii when the balcony door slid open.

"There you are."

Gaara looked up, mid-cut, and narrowly missed snipping his finger. Sakura leaned against the sliding door frame, wearing little more than a sleepy smile. She'd lost the green sweatpants, and his red shirt only just reached mid-thigh on her bare legs. He remembered the pair of panties hanging from the towel rack in the bathroom, and his mouth went dry.

Is she…underneath….is she…?

"Hey." He placed down his shears. "Everything okay?"

She yawned. "You said you were coming to bed. That was hours ago."

Gaara pulled one of his gloves off and used it to brush a bit of dirt from his pant leg. "It usually takes me a while to get to sleep. Didn't want to keep you up with tossing and turning."

"I wouldn't have minded." Sakura smiled and stepped closer. "Might have enjoyed it, even."

Gaara picked up the shears again. "Don't worry about me—get some more rest."

He turned his attention back to the withered plants, but could sense Sakura looming. Her footsteps came closer, and he slid his gaze up her bare legs.

"Did something happen?" Sakura crouched at his level, and it took everything in Gaara not to peek under the edge of her shirt.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, ever since your brother and Kiba showed up, you've been a bit more…hands off."

"I thought I should give you some space." Gaara emptied a bit of soil into a new pot without looking at her. Sakura shifted from foot to foot on the cold concrete.

"Did I do something wrong?" She tried again. "With your brother? Because I'm sorry if—

"You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then… was it Kiba?" Her voice went a little higher, sounding panicked. "I know we're all friends, but we've had some weird moments, and… I just don't think he likes me very much anymore."

Gaara looked up with a frown. He always hated how over-apologetic she could be. It was just like with Sasuke. Always letting him take advantage and run all over her.

"Not everything's your fault, you know," he said. "You don't have to take responsibility for other people's problems."

"Sorr…" Sakura hushed herself. "Yeah. Well, force of habit, I guess."

She smiled a little, but Gaara could see the shame in it. He couldn't imagine what ten years with Sasuke Uchiha in the middle of nowhere had been like, but he certainly knew what it was like to always be a problem.

"Anyway, I… didn't mean to interrupt," she said, shifting back on her heels. "I'll get out of your—"

"Wait." Gaara grabbed her hand before she could rise back to full height. "Would you like to help me with these?"

"Really?" Sakura perked up as she looked around at the jumble of pots. "You'd trust me with your precious children?"

Gaara looked over the wrinkled, floppy Adansonii in his hands, and put it in her lap. "Only the bastards."

"Asshole!" she huffed, then shimmied close to his side. "Okay, what should I do?"

The sight of the eagerness on her face helped to chip away at some of the tension in his shoulders.

"There's a lot to cut away, but I think we can propagate some of these."

"Propa-what?" Sakura stared blankly at him. Gaara smiled. It was nice to be the smart one, for once.

"Don't worry." He chuckled. "I'll show you."

Sakura grabbed a pair of shears from the shelf, blade first, and winced. Gaara quickly slid in behind her. He caught her hand in his.

"Careful—they're sharper than you think," he said, and turned her palm over to inspect it. There was a pale red scratch, but no blood. "You're fine."

Without thinking about it, he sat back down and pulled Sakura in front of him, just outside his crossed legs. He could watch her better that way.

But when she shivered, Gaara looked more carefully at the back of her neck. There were little goosebumps on her skin, and her breathing was obviously coming faster than before.

Was it okay to hold her that way? He wondered. Did she mind him so close?

"S-sorry," she stammered. "I'm not great with this kind of thing."

Gaara smiled. After all the antagonism from Kiba, Kankuro and Sasuke, there was something sweet about her concern over something so small. Something important to him. He lifted both of her hands and carefully adjusted the shears to keep her fingers away from the blade.

"It's okay," he said, hands still in place over hers. "We can do the first few together."

"Right." She nodded, and the frizz of her hair tickled him under the chin.

Gaara lifted one of the trailing vines and guided her fingertips to where there was a thick, green protrusion. "That's what's called a node. We need to preserve that part, otherwise the cutting won't root."

Sakura nodded again, and he had to stifle a chuckle. Her body was so painfully rigid, she was clearly concentrating hard. It reminded him of their school days—she always had to be the best at everything, even on the first try.

"Did your mother teach you about gardening?" she asked.

The question caught Gaara off guard. He didn't talk about his mother with anyone—not Rasa, not Temari, not Kankuro. Not even Naruto.

"No," he said. "My uncle…" he hesitated, but Sakura placed a comforting hand over his, urging him to continue. "I just know it was something she liked. And it makes me calm. It makes me feel closer to her."

"That's sweet," she said, and looked over her shoulder. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"Ha. Ha," he said into her ear, and watched the goosebumps on her skin prickle back up to the surface. "Now clip here. Below the node." That time, instead of instead of stiffening, however, Sakura relaxed and pressed her back a little closer against his chest.

"Show me?" She turned again, and there was just enough mischief in her eyes to intrigue him.

Gaara took the shears from her hands and leaned forward to cut the vine. The move allowed his body to sandwich her firmly, and Sakura to sit right in his lap.

"Oh, I get it now," she said sweetly. "You're really great at all this. Your mom would be proud."

Sakura's voice was sugary sweet, and if he weren't so absorbed by it, Gaara might have teased her for the overzealous praise. She giggled, and it suddenly crossed his mind that he really shouldn't be thinking of his mother at a time like this.

"Now you," he said. This time, he held the vine just out of easy reach.

Sakura sat up on her knees and lined the shears up to where he instructed. But instead of watching the cut, Gaara kept his gaze low on the lift of her hips. Her shirt pulled up at the bottom, but not quite enough to give him a flash of what he wanted.

"Gaara?"

The sound of the shears clicking brought him back to reality. When he looked down, Sakura was holding a cleanly cut section of the vine.

"Perfect," he said. "You're a natural."

Sakura turned a little in his lap. "I like it when you show me what to do. You're an excellent teacher."

Gaara took in the cheekiness of her smile, and the almost nervous way her gaze darted from his eyes to his lips. Her hair was messy from bed, and he put the shears down to smooth a few wild strands from her cheeks.

"What else do you want to learn?" he asked.

"Anything." She turned bright red and looked down at the segment of vine in her hand. "Tell me more about the prop…"

When she bowed her head, Gaara could see the goosebumps on the back of her neck again, and the tips of her ears turning red.

"Propagation," he finished for her, and brushed his lips over her flushed skin. "It's like breeding."

Sakura inhaled sharply and he watched her ears get darker. Years ago, she was the one who made him blush, and it was satisfying to see how the tables had turned. Of course, propagation wasn't the first thing he'd expected her to say when he'd asked, but he'd be damned if he turned down an opportunity to have her so close.

"How does it work?" she asked.

"There's more than one way for plants to reproduce. Sexual and asexual." He said the last bit into her ear.

"So, is this sexual?"

Gaara smiled against her neck. "Asexual. You take a cutting from the old plant, and it can grow itself into something new."

"Amazing." She turned her head a little to let his lips drag along her skin. "Tell me more, plant whisperer."

"Well, you can propagate them in water, or sphagnum moss." He wrapped one arm around her waist and used the other to brace on top of her bare thigh. There was hardly anything separating him from her naked body, and he for the second time that night, wondered just how far he could push it.

"O-okay."

Sakura let go a soft sigh she was holding, and Gaara planted little kisses just below her ear. They were slow and gentle, and not much at all, but still her body felt tightly wound—a coil of tension just begging to be released. As his mouth left wet trails on her skin, she shifted her body against his in a slow grind. Though a part of him felt like he could go on like that for ages, a bigger part wanted more.

"Sakura?" he asked.

"Mm?"

"Are you paying attention?"

"Yeah. Water, moss… reproduction…" She reached behind her with her free hand to grope at him, and Gaara was grateful when she only caught hold of his calf.

"Would you like me to keep going?" He toyed with the edge of her shirt and let his fingers dip under to make short, light strokes at her tummy.

"Yes, please." Sakura's voice was airy as she leaned into his touch. "What happens next?"

Gaara slid both hands underneath her shirt to cup her breasts, and sighed against her ear. The move was just what he needed to lift it high, and when he looked down at the gap between his lap and her back, could see the bare apples of her cheeks pressed tight against his crotch.

Fuck.

"Gaara…" she whined.

He nipped at her shoulder with his teeth, and then sucked gently at the red spot left behind. The desire to bend her over and take her on her knees was intense, but going slow meant more opportunity to explore her body and take in more of those lovely little moans.

"It takes a little while, but if you keep them comfortable and moist, they grow roots," he said. "Then you can plant them."

Her breathing deepened as Gaara brushed the tips of his fingers against her nipples until they stiffened. Even the lightest touch and pinch pushed her closer to him.

"How?" she gasped out.

"Well, fresh cuttings are delicate," he said, pinching her nipples between his fingertips. "You need to be gentle when you put them in the soil, and make sure to keep the exposed edges moist."

As she squirmed, Gaara locked the reaction away in the back of his mind. In bed, when they were alone and he could touch her more freely, he would take his time with those spots—suck and bite at her flesh until she begged him for more.

"You should always be gentle." He shifted her more securely in his lap, then buried his nose in her hair. The sensation burned, but covered him with the scent of strawberries. "Plant them deep enough to take root, but not so deep to where they won't have space to grow. Where the soil's still moist."

"Okay," Sakura hummed, as if in a trance, still holding onto the shears with one hand.

Gaara edged the front of her shirt up a little and when he looked over her shoulder, was pleased to see nothing but a slightly wild patch of pink hair. When he touched her, his fingers slid easily against her skin.

"Tell me when it feels right."

Sakura gasped, and the shears clattered against the floor. "Ga-

"Here?" he asked.

Gaara started slowly, focused on each and every one of her reactions. Long strokes made her shiver, and quick circles with the pads of his fingertips elicited delicious little pants and whimpers. But even better were the half-sobs that came when he combined them, murmuring praises into her ear.

Sweet. Wet. Beautiful.

Still, nothing was as good as the way her body shivered and arched when he pressed the length of his finger inside her.

"There." She huffed for air. "Fuck, there's good."

"You're sure?" he withdrew slowly, and then pressed back in, pulling a high, desperate moan from Sakura that—combined with the erratic grinding of her hips—made him so hard it hurt. He felt like a teenage boy again. But instead of jerking off to a fantasy of the girl he wanted, there she was-in his arms, open and wanton.

"Yes!" Sakura arched in his lap. "Right there."

"Yes, you're right," he whispered into her ear, dipping in and out with deep, relaxed strokes. "That feels like a very good spot."

"Gaara please…" she begged, and he guided another finger in to rest snugly beside his first. The more he mimicked the slow rhythm of sex, the more she ground her hips back against his, and the more he was desperate to bury himself inside her. To feel that slick, snug heat around him with every thrust.

"What do you think?" His voice was rough and heavy against her ear. "Should we plant deeper?"

"I don't… I can't…" Sakura swore and dug her nails into his thigh with an aggression Gaara might have found painful if it weren't so fucking hot. Instead, he held her firmly, desperate to keep the friction against his cock to a tolerable minimum.

She pulled her knees up to squeeze together, but Gaara pressed the weight of his legs against them to hold her wide open.

"You can." He matched each thrust with her rocking hips and took pleasure in the slick sound that chased her moans. Sakura knocked a pot of soil over with her hand and dragged her fingers across the concrete in search of something to hold on to.

"You're so good at this," he breathed heavy against her ear. "You're so perfect."

"Gaara please—I'm going to—" She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her soil-streaked fingertips into the flesh of his upper thigh. The harder he pushed, the more incredible he sounded—almost animal in the way she begged.

"What do you need?" he grunted into her ear. "Tell me."

"Use your—more—on my—"

Gaara let her grind against the heel of his palm, and in a matter of seconds, her body went rigid and pulsed strongly around his fingers. Even as she whined and twisted, he persisted, quick and rough enough to push her over, slowing his fingers on her clit to a lazy stop only when she tried to drag his hand away herself.

"Understand everything?" He asked and sucked at Sakura's earlobe as she fought to catch her breath. His hand was slick and the entire back of her neck was bright red with blush and love bites.

"Yes. I… Yes. Yes."

"Good." He pulled the bottom of the shirt back down over her lap. His own breath was coming fast against the back of her neck, and he considered it a miracle he hadn't finished along with her.

"Are you okay?" He pressed a kiss in her hair, and Sakura turned, still shivering.

"God, you're really fucking good at…" She stopped to look down at the very obvious tent in his sweatpants, and Gaara felt a strange mix of pride and embarrassment at the way her eyes widened.

"Are you okay?" She gave a breathless laugh, but kissed him hard before he could get out a response.

"Let's go inside, plant whisperer," she said, fingers twisted in the front of his shirt. "Breed me."

She grinned and Gaara's mind went blank.

Fuck. Yes. Please.

They fumbled together through the house, groping and kissing and narrowly avoiding stubbing toes on sharp, impractical pieces of furniture. By the time they made it to the bedroom, they were both breathing hard and more than a little frantic.

"Do we need a condom, or…" Gaara tugged at the knotted ties at the waistband of his sweatpants as he backed her into the room. "I don't think I have—I mean, not here, but I could run out-

"It's fine." Sakura slung her arms around his neck, and he tossed her down on the bed. She let out a squeak of laughter, but then pulled down the edge of her shirt to hide herself from him.

"Hey." She bowed her head. "Listen, you can't laugh."

"What?" Gaara could only focus on the way the moonlight coming through the blinds illuminated her thighs, and the soft, creamy skin she tried to conceal with both hands.

"Honestly, Gaara. I swear to God if you laugh at all, I'll leave. I'll kick you in the balls first, but then I'll leave."

"Why would I laugh?" After a bit of a struggle, Gaara kicked off his sweats and crawled to her on the bed. Her eyes darted between his legs to his face and she looked so adorably flustered; he had to chew the inside of his cheek to hide a smile.

"I'm not the same as you remember," she said. "I mean… I was hot back then. But when women have kids…"

Gaara looked down to where she gripped the edges of her shirt. Her knuckles were white and her fingers trembled.

"You're hot now," he corrected.

"I'm just saying. Your body changes," she whispered. "I'm not the same."

Gaara covered her hands with his and kissed her until he felt her fingers loosen on the fabric. Gently, he coaxed her to raise her arms above her head, and peeled the shirt up to reveal her body to him, inch by inch. He tossed it over the side of the bed and Sakura's hands twitched on the sheets, fighting the urge to hide herself.

She was right. She wasn't the same. The Sakura Gaara remembered from college was sculpted and athletic, yes, but almost worryingly thin. She was curvier now—her breasts fuller and her tummy a little soft and striped in areas where Sarada must have pushed and turned.

"I know you must have been with so many beautiful women…" Sakura smiled and then crossed her arms over her chest. "If I'd known this would happen tonight, I would have made more of an effort. A wax, or…"

"Sakura." Gaara crawled over her and placed his hands on either side of her head. "You look beautiful. More beautiful than I've ever seen you."

His mouth found hers again, and then her neck and throat, and down between her breasts. He sucked and licked at every exposed bit of skin, wanting nothing more than to kiss her all over. But when Sakura wriggled her fingers underneath his shirt with urgency, he was quick to help her get it the rest of the way off. She let her hands wander his chest, and then over his sides and down. Her fingertips lingered at the small of his back, and he knew she had to feel the grotesque patches of raised flesh. Their eyes met, but instead of the pity he expected, there was only warmth.

"You're beautiful too," she said, and any logical response stuck in his throat.

He kissed her again—harder—and pulled her hips from the bed up to connect with his. Sakura gasped into his mouth, and so he did it again, over and over until he could feel the wet heat of her spread over the thin stretch of fabric between them.

"I have to fuck you," he panted in her ear.

He hadn't meant to sound so vulgar, but there was something about having Sakura in his bed that made him lose all sense of self-restraint. He tugged down his briefs so fast, his cock made a sharp slapping noise against her thigh in the quiet room. Sakura snorted, but then placed both hands on his shoulders, holding him steady above her.

"Gaara?"

"Mm?" he struggled to focus on her face, rather than the urge to spread her legs wide.

"Um, I'd really appreciate it if… I mean… just… if we could… the first time, maybe…"

Gaara trailed a hand over her tummy, but stopped when he felt the tremble of her body. It wasn't like on the balcony. This was more tense. More... scared.

"What? What's…"

"I'm sorry, I..." She dropped a hand from his shoulder and used it to cover her face. "It's just been a long time for me and…"

His chest tightened, watching her blush and fumble for the right words. Kiba's voice nagged at him.

You have money now and she's lonely and desperate, so…

"If we could just go slow?" She turned her face to the side, eyes squeezed shut, as if it might suddenly make her disappear. "I promise I'll do—I mean, I'm not a prude or anything. Honest. The next time, I'll do whatever. Whatever you want."

Gaara slowed his breathing to take in her face. He meant what he said—it was just as beautiful as he remembered. Even so, there was something different. Something so shy and… fragile. A coldness washed over him as she babbled on, and he could smell the sourness of beer and wine on her again.

"Don't apologise, okay?" He moved his hand to her chest and could feel her heart racing under his palm, like a caged rabbit's. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

She nodded, but the coil of tension in her body was still wound tight, and she was worryingly mute. When she opened her eyes again, he could see the uncertainty there.

"Sakura? What should we… what do you want?"

"I just want to be with you," she said.

Suddenly, Gaara could see Sasuke's smirking face in his head.

"All that desperation… she just doesn't get that it's candy for men like us."

When he didn't respond right away, Sakura bit down on her lip and slipped her hand down between his thighs to fit them together, only to find him half-hard.

"Is that okay?" She searched his face for a reaction, but Gaara could feel the intense desire waning. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to focus. Her lips. Her breasts. Her eager body.

This was what he wanted. This was exactly what he always wanted.

She's lonely and desperate, so…

By the time Sakura wrapped her hand around him, he'd gone completely soft. Neither one said anything, but she licked her palm and grasped him again. For what felt like ages, there was nothing but the sound of her heavy breathing as she tried to stroke him back to life.

"Is...am I..."

Gaara pulled her hand away and flopped down on his back. "Sorry, I don't know what—sorry. Fuck."

"No, it's okay!" Sakura sat up and combed the hair from her face with both hands. Her cheeks were red and there was a frantic sort of look in her eyes. "I'm… I'm bad at this. I'll try something else. Don't worry."

She rocked back on her heels and then scooted herself down on the bed until her face was in line with his chest. Then, he felt her tongue trace a slow circle around his nipple. Normally, it was a progression that might have excited him, but as soon as she moved lower, he panicked. Losing his erection was one thing, but the thought of Sakura trying to suck his limp dick was too much to bear.

"No, look… stop. I don't think I can…" Gaara grabbed at her shoulders with both hands. "I can't, okay?"

The sudden aggression seemed to trigger something in Sakura, and she sat up quickly, wrapping both arms around herself to cover her chest. "Sorry-I'm sorry."

"Look, don't—" Gaara covered his face with a hand. "It's not you. It's me. I just…" He wracked his brain for an excuse. "I don't usually drink so much, you know?"

"Oh." Sakura gave a tight-lipped smile. "Of course. Yeah, I get it."

"It's not that I don't want to—

"No, it's fine. Totally."

She laid down on her back and awkwardly shimmied under the sheets. Then, when the silence became too much, turned on her side, away from him.

Gaara stared up at the ceiling.

What the fuck was that?


AN: So close, yet so far.

This story is so depressing - sometimes I make myself tear up writing some parts, but I love misery! lol And here's hoping you love it too. One of these days I'm going to write a cute, fluffy Gaara & Sakura piece just to make up for it all. But until then, please enjoy the mess!