Hi everyone! Someone brought up a really good question that I thought I would address here. So Yukihana and Seiichiro were the same age but she was frozen in ice at 25. She was in there for about 12 years, which would make her legal age during the present 37. For our intents and purposes, though, Yukihana has the maturity and physical development of a 25 year old. I have been keeping with Tallman's story where all the canon characters start out two years older (so at the start of shippuden all the teens are 17 instead of 15. If you're curious about Hanabi and Konohamaru, at the start of ToTM they were 12-13 and are about 14-15 now). By that logic, Kakashi would be between 28 and 30 in this story. Legally speaking, Yukihana is almost ten years older than Kakashi, but thanks to her stint in the ice he's technically 3-5 years older than her. Its a lot of math (and frankly confusing to explain) so that's why I haven't made a big show of it. Hopefully that makes sense to you guys. If you have any other questions for me, please PM or review. If you're thinking it, someone else probably is, too, or it's something in the canon I can explain really quick. Thanks so much to those of you who have been reviewing! I always love to hear from you and you guys have lots of great ideas for me. Keep em coming!

Yuki and Beki headed to the inn, the early morning sun surprisingly strong considering it was early fall. Yuki groaned.

"Of course you had to do this sleepover crap in not-winter."

Beki ignored her as they walked inside. It was the same as last time, the surprisingly cool interior soothing their mood. The girls checked in and headed to their room. Beki noticed her mother must have called ahead in advance and booked them the suite. "Was a regular hotel room too much for you to suffer?" Beki asked.

"Here? Yes. If I'm stuck in this…" Yuki stopped herself from following with the string of expletives she had in mind. "Place, then I deserve to be comfortable. That means a king-sized bed and an honest to God bathtub for me to read trashy novels and drink champagne in."

"Did you boyfriend get you to start reading those or did that habit predate Kakashi?" Beki asked sheepishly.

Yuki opened the hotel door and shot her a dirty look. "Keep my sexy friend out of this."

"Your 'sexy friend'?!" Beki scoffed. "What the hell is that?!"

Yuki shrugged as she put down her bag. "Well, we're obviously more than friends in that things are definitely sexy. I wouldn't say we're in a relationship, though. So there you have it. 'Sexy friends'."

Beki shook her head and headed for the shower. "Do you think they let him know we're here?"

"I don't know, those two didn't seem like the brightest." Yuki laughed. "I mean, if you want you can just hang out here and play card games with me."

"I've spent the last three nights in the wilderness with you. If you make me play marry-f*ck-kill one more time I'm becoming a nun." Beki said as she stepped into the stream of warm water. "Can you pick out an outfit for me that looks like I don't give a crap?"

"I guess," Yuki grumbled. "I don't know why you're so ready to toss me to the curb to go do something that makes you miserable."

Beki gave a frustrated sigh. "Look, it's complicated."

Yuki opened her mouth but Beki interrupted her. "Uh uh. No. No lecturing me. It is complicated. Gaara and I started out really strong. He was kind, gentle, and always considerate. I know he looks really rough from the outside but he was the biggest teddy bear I had ever met. He made me feel really special, like I was literally the only girl for him and that my love meant the world to him."

Yuki groaned. "Here we go."

"But then it was like the longer I was with him, the more comfortable he got." Beki explained. "The less special time with me was. He was less considerate and more expectant of me. He cared less about how he made me feel and yet wanted me to be even more patient with him."

"Okay. I follow," Yuki said as she sorted through Beki's duffle bag with a general look of disdain on her face. "Do you like, go shopping in the defect bin at the store? None of your shirts look like they're cut right. The hems are lopsided."

"My options are kind of limited in Konoha." Beki sputtered as she shampooed the travel dirt out of her hair. "Besides, I've burned up most of my good stuff. It makes it hard to spend money on clothes when I know there's a good chance I'm just going to incinerate it."

Yuki shrugged. "I made all your clothes for you when you were a girl. I could start sewing for you again."

"No thanks, I don't want my mom to make all my clothes." Beki laughed.

"I would do a good job." Yuki said, her voice betraying how offended she was. "It's not like I would put ruffles on the butts of all your bottoms or anything."

"I'm more worried about how many outfits you would try to twin me in." Beki said.

Yuki grumbled. "It would only be like, one or two. You would think you would be more understanding since I missed out on that when you were a girl. You loved matching me when you were three."

Beki ignored the last comment and continued. "Just think about it, though. He's the Kazekage. I can't just decide I don't like him anymore and dump him. There are a lot of political ramifications-"

"F*ck 'em." Yuki spat. "I've got money. You can quit your job, move back in with momma, and then the politics don't matter."

"Are you kidding?" Beki leaned out of the shower. "He could literally go over my head and accuse me of taking bribes or whatever he wanted. Not that, you know, he would do that. If I know him he's more likely to go to the king and make some kind of trade deal wherein marrying me seals it."

Yuki looked up from the suitcase and said with a casual tone and a shrug: "I would murder him."

Beki balked. "Mom!"

Yuki snapped her fingers and shook her head. "No, you're right. He's a world leader. You assassinate world leaders, you murder street thugs. Nice catch."

Beki shook her head and retreated into the shower. "If this is going to work, I need to make it work. If it isn't…I have to be clever, levelheaded, and extremely public about how I do it."

"Or, I assassinate him." Yuki shrugged. "Save you the time."

Beki turned off the water and toweled herself down. "You just like killing high profile targets too much."

Yuki grinned. "Every time I do, that Bingo Book reward amount goes up."

"You've been dead twelve years." Beki scoffed as she dried her hair. "You haven't been in the Bingo Book in forever."

"Well, you know, when high profile people start dying in classic Yukionna fashion, it won't take long before blue eyes here gets herself back in the book." Yuki purred. "If I could break a million, I'd have the page framed and put up in my kitchen."

"You're sick," Beki spat as she lathered herself in lotion. As much as she hated to admit her mother was right, Suna was painfully arid. Beki ran hot as it was, so adding that into the mix dried her skin out. Beki noticed that when her skin was properly moisturized it sort of stretched to accommodate the rapid changes in temperature she was always putting it through. When her skin was dry, however, Beki got little cracks in her elbows and knees that took weeks to heal. She walked over to the bed with the towel wrapped around her and looked down at the outfit her mom had selected. A frown stretched across her face and Beki's eye twitched. "These aren't my clothes."

"Because, like I said, your clothes suck." Yuki folded her arms. "So you're borrowing some of mine."

"These aren't going to fit. You're tiny-" Beki protested but Yuki stopped her with a single gesture to the massive difference between their chests.

"You ever look at my tags, honey?" Yuki raised an eyebrow. "I may be narrower than you but I'm twice your cup size. My clothes will fit, trust me."

"Except for the fact that you've stretched out the boobs," Beki scoffed and Yuki swatted at her.

"Just put it on."

Beki groaned. After she had put on her bra and underwear, she slid on the flowy powder blue top her mom had picked. It had short sleeves that were rolled up. The pants Yuki had set out were a dark gray with a single stripe in the same blue as the top down the outside seam. The pants were made of a stretchy material, thankfully, so even though they were a little baggy on Yuki and tight on Beki, they fit. It almost upset Beki how well the shirt fit considering how different their body types were. Yuki circled her like a hawk, occasionally reaching out to tug a seam into place or to flatten a wrinkle. "This looks better on you than it does on me. You should keep it."

Beki cast her a suspicious glance. "This feels awfully new."

Yuki shrugged. "I buy a lot of clothes. I was in ice for twelve years, Beki. I missed a lot of fashion trends. It's fun for me to play with things and try to update my style."

"You wouldn't happen to have purposely bought this for me and are now trying to pretend this is a coincidence, would you?" Beki stared her down.

Yuki grabbed her shoulders affectionately and smiled. "You're giving me too much credit again. I'm not that smart, Beks." She glanced at the clock and sighed. "Didn't you say Red was going to get off around noon?"

Beki glanced at the clock and nodded. She grabbed her purse and headed over to the door with a sigh. She paused once she reached it, her hand hovering over the door knob. Beki bounced nervously for a moment, inhaling sharply.

"Okay, either you go now or I knock you out," Yuki shooed her out the door. "You're making me antsy and I'm trying to enjoy myself here."

"Sorry," Beki sighed. "I'm going."

It had gotten warmer since the pair had arrived and the sun was viciously bright. Beki fished out a pair of sunglasses from her bag as she walked around. It was an internal struggle: it was too hot to dawdle but Beki wanted to walk to Gaara's office as slowly as possible. Beki hung in the shade, window shopping a bit as she went. When she finally did reach the Kazekage's office, it was almost thirty minutes after their agreed upon meet up time.

The guard posted by the door, a recent security addition since Gaara's abduction, stopped Beki as she approached. Strictly speaking, Getsu ambassadors were always supposed to have their badge of office visible, the same way shinobi always wore their headbands for identification. Seiichiro had always taught her otherwise. He never wore his village's headband or his badge of office. It worked for him because Seiichiro's presence spoke for itself. The purpose of this behavior wasn't pride or self-importance, however. Seiichiro had explained that badges of office were incredibly valuable. If stolen, major damage could be done by a person masquerading as an ambassador with an official badge. Even if it was accidentally misplaced a massive amount of shame followed a figure of state that couldn't keep their eyes on a badge. As for the headband, Seiichiro insisted it threw off the aesthetic of his armor. The damned thing had enough moons on it as it was, he always said. Any enemy with an ounce of brains could guess where he was from.

Instead of Beki flashing her badge, which she always kept in a small pouch in her bra for safekeeping, she announced herself. "I'm the ambassador for Getsugakure, Tsukimori Haruka. The Kazekage should be expecting me." She could have said Gaara was expecting her but there was always a minute chance he had forgotten. The beady-eyed guard grunted and held a hand for her to wait where she stood, across the bridge from the office. Beki almost laughed aloud at the whole spectacle. The Akatsuki hadn't walked up to Gaara's door, knocked politely, and carried him off. If a person really wanted to do some harm, being a few stride's distance away wasn't going to stop them.

The guard knocked on the door and Beki heard Gaara's voice. After that, the guard opened the door a bit, keeping his eyes on Beki, and started to talk through the crack. A moment or two later Gaara forced the door open, a tired expression on his face. He shared a few soft words with the guard, who kept shooting Beki suspicious looks as he protested. Gaara managed to gently shove him away from the door. He waved Beki to come across, holding it open for her as she crossed the threshold. The guard hung his head but kept his eyes dead ahead, staring right through her as Beki passed. Gaara closed the door and the bright light from outside was extinguished, plunging Beki into a momentary swirl of dark colors and spots in her eyes. She shut them tight to dispel the threat of an oncoming migraine.

"Sorry about him," Gaara apologized. "He's new and does his job with the gravest sincerity."

Beki shrugged. "I've been put through worse." She couldn't see him; Beki still had her eyes shut against her blurred vision but she could feel Gaara approach. He took her face in his hands and tipped up her chin. Beki opened her eyes and watched as his familiar features slowly took shape, the bloody splotch on his head sharpening to "love", and the mess of scarlet on his head defining itself into a mop of hair.

"You don't look so well," Gaara searched her face.

"I think I'm still acclimating," Beki said. "Its really hot here compared to Konoha this time of year."

"It is unseasonably hot, even for Suna." At his words, Beki internally screamed. Had she traveled three days into the desert to talk about the weather?

Gaara let go of her face and walked over to the sideboard. Gaara opened the cabinet, which Beki realized was a cleverly disguised fridge, and pulled out a pitcher of water. He poured it into one of the glasses sitting on top of the sideboard, replaced the pitcher, and kicked the fridge shut as he walked it over to her. Beki wordlessly accepted the glass and started to sip on it gratefully.

"You have good timing," Gaara glanced at the clock as he straightened some papers on his desk and slipped them into a leather folder. "I was running a little late. You showed up right after I finished the call."

"Half an ambassador's job is good timing," Beki explained. "The other half is knowing to use a soft sell or a hard sell."

"Are those Seiichiro's words or yours?" Gaara could see a lot of the man in his daughter. More than he had used to, in fact. Even in her writing Beki's word choice, the cadence of her message, even the pressure of her pen had changed. Maybe it was the job. Gaara certainly hoped it wasn't the adage that people become their parents coming true. He prayed that til the day he died he never resembled anything close to his father.

"Dad used to say 'knowing to use whiskey or the kanabo'. Same difference," Beki shrugged. "Where's your nanny goat? Out on a mission?"

Gaara shook his head. "Kankuro's working inside Suna. We're making an effort to improve security in general since the attack."

Beki's memory dragged her back to the two guards at the gate. The stickler made sense, now. She kept the experience to herself. She was on vacation, after all, and discussing security shortfalls with a kage sounded an awful lot like work.

"I was planning on taking you out tonight but if you're not acclimated yet, you should probably just rest." Gaara pushed in his chair. "I don't want you to get sick and spend the whole trip out here in bed."

Beki nodded. Her mother would be ecstatic to see Beki march back through the hotel room door. Beki probably wouldn't get a lot of rest but being with Yuki was much less stressful than being with the Kazekage.

"Where's your bag?" Gaara glanced behind her. "He didn't make you leave it outside, did he?"

Beki glanced down at her purse with a confused expression then realized his meaning. "Oh. My travel stuff."

Gaara inhaled deeply and shook his head. "You would think that they think I'm helpless, as if I couldn't handle one person-"

Beki raised her hands defensively. "It's okay, Gaara. He didn't make me leave it outside. I left it at the inn with my mother."

"Oh, well that's a relief," The tension on Gaara's face relaxed for only a moment before returning with twice the intensity. "Why didn't you bring it with you?"

Beki shrugged. "I didn't know what we were doing. The thing is like, twenty pounds and kind of awkward to walk around town with."

"Weren't you planning on staying with me?" Gaara walked around the desk and took ahold of her hand. "Wasn't that the whole point of this visit, to spend as much time together as possible?"

"Yes," Beki had to admit that leaving her bag behind was signaling a lack of commitment. It was a back door that someone trying to save a relationship wouldn't leave propped open. "I just…wanted to check in with you. I didn't know if you were still going to be busy and if we were going to get together later. Like we usually do when I come to town."

Gaara shook his head. "When I told you I was going to make this happen, I meant it. You are the most important person in my life. Getting this chance to be with you, to be a normal couple, even if its only for a short while…" Gaara pulled her into a tight hug. "I really miss you. All the time. While I'm in this office, it's a madhouse from the moment I get here until I leave. But you are always on my mind." He pulled away and pushed some of the sweaty hair out of her face. "Every request for intervillage marriage I grant, I'm thinking about you. When requests come across my desk for funding for the academy, I'm thinking about our kids. These couple of weeks are going to be a chance to have the life I've been working for."

The guilt was starting to set in. Beki had been arguing with herself the whole way to Suna, on the way to this office, even, about how Gaara felt about her. Most of her evidence was against him, that she was just an afterthought. The tiny little voice that spoke in his favor was often completely drowned out by the louder complaints against him. Here it was, though, right out of his mouth: he's busting his ass to make a future for us. Her heart panged and Beki cursed herself for having such a hot temper. "I could run back and grab the bag from the inn," Beki began.

Gaara shook his head. "No, you're mine now. Anything you'll need I'm sure I can provide. We have spare toothbrushes and I would actually prefer it if you slept in my shirt." Gaara kissed her forehead. "I would be lying if I didn't admit my favorite nightgown for you is none at all…"

He leaned in closer, going to nibble at her neck. Beki's hand shot up and she covered his mouth before it made contact. Gaara looked at her, genuine confusion and concern in his eyes. "What is it?"

"We should just get this out of the way now." Beki extracted herself from his embrace, further furrowing his brow. "I'm not okay with how you've been using me as a call girl recently."

"What?" Gaara blinked. "Beki, what are you talking about?"

"The last couple of times we were together, you made enough time to hit it and quit it." Beki shook her head, feeling the bile rise in her throat at the memories. "That really hurt me. It made me feel cheap and used, Gaara."

The moment she finished speaking, Gaara stepped forward with his arms out to embrace her but he stopped himself. He kept his arms up, hovering awkwardly as he tried to figure out whether touching her would help or hurt the situation more. "I never want to hurt you. I didn't think…I would not have done that if I had known it would make you feel this way." As Gaara searched her face, he saw it. The casual façade Beki had been wearing the whole encounter slipped just enough for him to see the sadness in her eyes. It wasn't a quick sadness, either, like a dropped lollipop or opening the refrigerator to find the ice cream carton was gone. Beki had been stewing on this for a long time, meaning not only had Gaara hurt her but that it kept hurting her, like a barb in her shoe. Gaara had known that sadness. It had been stinging at Beki so long it was turning into anger. No wonder she had been so cold and formal with him.

Gaara hoped his voice was steadier than the fists he was clenching to hide how his hands shook. "Beki, I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world. If I could have designed the perfect girl, she wouldn't have even come close to you. I have never been as attracted to anyone as I am to you." He hesitated, watching for a response. Beki was listening but the pain was still etched into her face, so he forced himself on. "You know as well as anyone how little experience I have with relationships. I never saw my mother and father together. I don't know what the normal boundaries are and it isn't fair for me to assume they're the same for you as they are for me. I physically want you, Beki. Sometimes so much that it keeps me up all night thinking about you. That physical need isn't anywhere near as important to me as your happiness. If you want me to keep my hands to myself, all you need to do is tell me. Just tell me what you want, Beki. I'll do whatever you need me to do to make you happy."

Gaara's heart was pounding so hard he could swear Beki could hear it. The words were spilling out of him so fast they were tripping over each other to get out, all desperate to reach her. The silence spanned only seconds but to Gaara it felt like hours. Had Beki changed her mind about him? Was that the real purpose of this trip, the reason why Beki had left her bag with her mother, because she was going to break up with him? He had been afraid of this for their entire relationship. She had done it once, right after the attack when Gaara asked Beki to wait for him for what could have been ten years or more. He had fully understood at the time, accepted it, even agreed with her decision. It would be the same now. If his treatment of her was so abhorrent, Gaara would rather she leave him than be hurt any more.

Beki let out an uncomfortable sigh. "I need you to remember to put in at least as much as you take out in this relationship. You can't just have me for an afternoon and throw me back out to sea. It doesn't make me feel secure, Gaara. It makes me feel taken advantage of."

"I love you," Gaara blurted. "That is the exact opposite of what I mean to do. I know you have been unbelievably patient with me Beki. Please don't stop now. You, my siblings, and this job are all that I have. If I screw this up, that's a third of my life out the window."

Beki shuffled self-consciously and her eyes darted towards the door. "You don't think your enthusiastic friend was listening, do you?"

Gaara blinked, desperately trying to reason whether he had been screaming out loud as much as he had his head. "Was I yelling?"

Beki shook her head. "That guy just weirds me out. Could we maybe go somewhere else?"

"I'm sorry." Gaara tried not to actually kick himself in frustration as he gathered the last of his things. "Would you mind if we just picked up takeout and went back to my house?" Gaara stopped himself and winced, angry at himself again for not considering her needs. "If you want to do a nice dinner somewhere, that's fine, too."

Almost automatically Beki followed him over to the window and took his arm. "No, takeout sounds fine. My one condition is that we get to change into our PJs when we get to your house."

Gaara wrapped an arm around her waist, grateful for an excuse to have her close. "Agreed."

…

For the first time ever, Gaara brought Beki through the front door of his house. She was so accustomed to entering and exiting via windows and balconies while in his company that entering through the front almost seemed wrong. In fact, the few times Beki had visited Gaara's house she had never even come downstairs. It was a big house by Suna standards, bigger than anywhere Beki had ever lived with her father. The furnishings were all simple but made of the finest materials. Beki didn't want to make it weird as they passed by but she was almost certain the dining room table was made out of solid mahogany. Beki, much to Yuki's chagrin, hadn't lived in opulence but had spent enough time around it to recognize quality when she saw it.

Beki hovered just outside the spotless kitchen as Gaara fished white porcelain plates out of red wood cabinets. He set them down with a clink on the marble countertops. Gaara had mentioned something about putting on a movie when they got home. She glanced at the living room, spying leather couches and a coffee table with a delicate finish; she would definitely need a coaster if they were sitting over there.

"So dining room or living room?" Beki asked, rapping her fingertips on the marble. She always liked the sound of clicking on stone: heels, nails, weapons.

Gaara glanced at her. "What would you prefer?"

Beki shrugged. "I don't mind either way. Just checking with the house rules, you know."

Gaara chuffed as he popped open the takeout boxes. "Beki, I'm the Kazekage. Who are we going to get in trouble with?"

"Temari," Beki practically spat.

"Usually, you would be right." Gaara gave a her a small smile. "I might have sent her to Konoha while you're here."

Beki's eyes widened in surprise. "Gaara, did you just…abuse your power as Kazekage?"

"Only this once," Gaara held a finger to his lips. "Keep this between us."

Beki's lips pulled back in a wicked grin. "Which one would Temari not want you to do?"

"She doesn't like us eating in the living room." Gaara watched her as he spoke, realization slowly crossing his face. "You are a bad person."

As Beki loaded up her plate, she gently hip bumped him. "Says the guy that sent her away so she wouldn't mess up my visit!"

Gaara gave a small shrug and followed her to the living room after grabbing a couple of dish cloths from the cabinet. When Beki shot him a questioning look, he laid them out over the coffee table. "She'll never be the wiser."

"You know, with how prim and proper you are all the time I forget you're a ninja," Beki grinned. "I kind of like this secret naughty side of yours, Gaara."

A small flush came into Gaara's cheeks. "Just for you, Beki."

They threw on an old action movie that both had seen at some point in their childhoods, Gaara because of Kankuro and Beki because of her father. It was familiar enough that they didn't have to pay close attention but sufficient time had passed that they had forgotten enough for it to be entertaining. After they had finished eating, Beki snuggled up close and Gaara wrapped an arm around her. This close, Gaara could faintly smell Beki's sweat mixing with her shampoo. It wasn't an unpleasant scent but it was sharp enough to catch his attention. He played with the tail of her braid, tugging gently at the soft paintbrush like end.

"How are things going with you and your mother?" Gaara realized they had been together for a few hours and he hadn't made any attempt at pleasantries yet.

"They're getting better. It was strange for me at first, suddenly having her around and in my business all the time." Beki shrugged. "It has its perks, though. She's a gifted shinobi and has a lot to teach me. Plus, I know I can always trust her to have my back."

"Its that way with my siblings," Gaara nodded. "In a world we are taught not to trust anyone, family is a huge comfort."

"Not to speak against my dad, but my mother is…I feel like she's more honest with me. She trusts me with more up front," Beki explained. "My dad tried to shield me from things so he kept me in the dark about a lot. I have to say I do really like that about Mom. If she's up to something, I'm either involved or informed."

"I was surprised she didn't come with you to the office," Gaara said. "For someone as overprotective as you've told me in your letters."

"It's instinct, I guess. There are times she's attached to my hip and in the same place under what seems like identical circumstances, she gives me a ton of leash." Beki paused and probed her memory for a moment. "Usually her gut is spot on about possible threats. When there's trouble, she's never far behind."

"I guess that means you're the same way," Gaara gave her a small squeeze. "You just seem to be on the receiving end of trouble more than on the rescue side."

Beki's smile slipped as she thought back through recent events. Gaara was dead on. Beki was like a magnet for trouble. In fact, in a lot of cases, it almost seemed like Beki was inviting it. "That was a little too on the nose."

"That's okay," Gaara pat her head. "People say I'm boring. We balance each other out."

An interesting segment picked up in the movie and the pair fell silent. They followed the protagonist through the climax. In classic retro action film fashion, the falling action was brief and ended with a warm-hearted scene with a cheeky one liner at the end.

"Didn't you say you wanted to get in pajamas earlier?" Gaara brushed hair out of Beki's face.

"I would be much more comfortable if we did." Beki held up the arm she had slung across his torso as they snuggled. The imprint of a belt buckle was clearly outlined against her skin.

"Sorry," Gaara took her wrist and kissed the indent. "I could press my arm against your jaw. That's almost as sharp."

Beki furrowed her brows and hit him with one of the couch pillows. "Let's not start taking pot shots at each other's facial features, Gaara. That's one fight you aren't going to win."

"Or, I will win because I don't care about my appearance and anything I say about yours will give you a complex." Gaara's expression was blank but mischief danced in his eyes. Beki opened her mouth to protest. "We could start with the caterpillars you have nesting above your eyes-"

"I'm not listening!" Beki clapped her hands over her ears and darted off the couch. Gaara followed her as she ran over to the stairs and started mounting them two at a time.

"How about that wrinkle coming in on your forehead from all the frowning you do?" Gaara grinned as he chased her.

"LALALALALALALAAAAA!" Beki ran into his room and dove under the covers, pulling his pillow over her head.

Gaara came in after her and closed the door. He let out a small chuckle and held up his hands. "Please tell me it wasn't always this easy to get you in bed?"

Beki peeked out from under the covers and stuck her tongue out at him. Gaara shook his head, a smile still tugging at his lips. "Here," He said as he threw a black t-shirt sitting on top of his dresser at her. "Get changed."

"What, no pants?" Beki shot him a questioning look.

Gaara glared at her. "You. You of all people are asking me for pants?"

Beki tried to keep a straight face and failed in a burst of laughter. "Sorry. I was just seeing how long I could keep that up."

"I thought so." Gaara sighed as he started to unfasten his jacket. "The day you ask for pants is the day I know you were replaced with a spy."

"Or a wad of explosive clay." Beki grinned but shrank at his sour expression. "Too soon?"

"You're lucky you've got me on a 'hands off' ban or that one would have gotten you spanked." Gaara scoffed.

Beki shrugged as she pulled off her shirt. "It isn't a good joke if spanking isn't on the line."

Gaara paused and tried not to be obvious about watching her change. No matter how much Gaara tried to focus on the wall in front of him, it was as if his eyes were drawn to her of their own will. He forgot to move, so transfixing was the sight of her skin as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. Beki's body was exactly as he remembered it: athletically toned but still filled-in in the places it counted. Long, muscular legs leading to a plump rear, a lengthy torso, full but impossibly perky breasts, broad shoulders, and strong arms that ended in delicate fingers. His subconscious was immediately awash with visions of that body beneath him, on top of him, asleep beside him. It took physical effort to restrain himself from touching her, from kissing her all over. Then in an instant, the black shirt was on and her body was hidden away. She hopped off the bed and Gaara's disappointment was soothed by the way the v-neck exposed her cleavage line and the hem was just short enough to give him a peek at her rear.

The sound of the front door opening drew Gaara out of his thoughts.

"Is that Kankuro?" Beki asked.

Gaara listened to the familiar footfalls in the entrance. "Yes." He reached over and grabbed a pair of shorts out his drawer and tossed them at her. "And now you get pants."

There was a dramatic, girlishly high pitched gasp from downstairs. "You guys ate in the living room!"

"I'm the Kazekage!" Gaara called downstairs. "If I want to eat in my living room, I will!"

Kankuro was silent for a moment. "I don't know if you're the bravest man I've ever met or the dumbest. I'm…I'm going to pretend I didn't see this and we'll never speak of it again."

Beki blinked. "Is Temari really that crazy?"

Gaara cleared his throat. "I might also be sending her to Konoha because I'm hoping that Shikamaru boy takes her off our hands. We love her dearly…but…"

Beki laughed. "She's crazy."

Gaara nodded. "Why do you think I'm always at the office?"