It's been a minute.
RIP, narrative voice.
Let's try this again.

She coaxed him out of bed for their regular walk, knowing how things would end if they stayed cuddled up together for very much longer. Walking almost brought a sense of normalcy; this was just a regular night, something they always did . . . And almost let her get past the fact that she, already burdened with too many deadlines and life-altering decisions, had chosen to heap yet another one onto the pile.

Gaara tucked his hands into his pockets and watched the sky, aware of her silence but unwilling to push.

Eventually she spoke. "I want to be sure you know I'm not holding back because of you. It's just . . . I'm already having a hard time making a judgment call, and . . ." And she was starting to recognize the depths of her feelings for him, but wasn't ready to put words to them yet. And it didn't seem like too absurd an idea to drag the Kazekage back to bed and figure out how she felt about all of it in the morning.

He waited, guessing what she was thinking about when her cheeks colored and she suddenly seemed unable to look at him.

She tried again. "It's just . . . What if this doesn't work?"

"What if it does?"

Sakura froze, her thoughts a cacophony—this is real, this is happening, he's serious, dead serious—and he pressed on: They both knew how fragile and fleeting life could be. They both knew any day could bring a new enemy that could change their lives forever. But they had a good thing here, and he refused to let fear of what might go wrong stop him from seeing where it took them.

He caught her wrists and backed up, tugging her gently along with him as he spoke. His shoulders hit a building's wall and Sakura took the last step on her own, fitting closely, easily against him. "You think we're a good thing?" she asked.

"Feels that way."

He inhaled against her cheek, then her throat, trying to commit the smell of her skin to memory, and she shivered. "You make it hard to think straight."

"I can stop," he offered.

"I know you can stop, it's—" Sakura bit her lip and squeezed his arms. "It's that I don't want you to." She pulled back, sighed, and scanned the empty street around them as if looking for answers. It took effort to force the words out. "If this goes past us just fooling around, then . . . I know I'll be that much closer to staying here. And if I stay here, if I stay, it means I give up my entire life at Leaf. At best I'll be able to visit and send letters. And it's just . . . a big step, you know?" She smiled ruefully. "It hasn't even been a month yet."

Yet, he thought. But with time, as she built a life for herself in Sand, the transition could become easier. "It feels like it's been longer."

She nodded agreement, smiling, and he pressed her hands to his chest. "Sakura. I want you . . . but I will not coerce you." The world shifted, ever so slightly, and he set his feet. Years of practice helped his expression hold steady. Here, he reminded himself. Now. Her.

"I know. I can count on that."

His declaration wasn't of love, but of stability and safety—and at that moment, both held more weight for her. But while she absolutely believed he wouldn't coerce her, she was just as sure they'd end up back in bed again . . . sooner than later.

She reached for his face; he caught her hand, brought it to his lips—and bit her fingertips. She blinked, confused; for a second she hadn't been able to read anything from his expression. But just as quickly he released her, then smiled and pressed her palm to his cheek. Sakura relaxed and smiled along with him. He had an odd sense of humor. That was certainly all it had been.

ooo

An unfamiliar team of genin found them on the wall at sunrise. "Special ops," Gaara murmured to her as the three bounded up, pulling out scrolls and rattling off notes about delivery dates, busy times, specialty recipes, and addresses. After a moment, she started to recognize the places they were talking about: some of Sand's better ramen shops. Gaara nodded along, occasionally correcting them: the last place hadn't been that slow, Naruto'd just gone to sleep on the bench because he'd had a particularly hard trip.

Gaara glanced over at her, then paused, his eyes narrowing. He looked back to the genin, who turned as one to fix her with identical considering stares—then they simultaneously turned to him, he nodded once, and the trio disappeared.

"It helps them learn about research and how to report," he told her, "and about dealing with official visitors. Plus it keeps them out of trouble . . . Usually."

"So they figure out where you and Naruto should eat when he's around?"

"Yes."

"Gaara."

"Hm?"

"Are your genin setting up a date for us?"

"It'll tell us a lot about what they think of us—as people, as a couple, so on."

"Should I be worried?" she asked.

He grinned.

"Gaara."

"The food'll probably be good. They've gotten better with that."

"Gaara."

"Did you bring any formal clothes?"

Both of her hands met her forehead with a thwack, and she groaned. Undeterred, Gaara gleefully hooked an arm around her waist and started dragging her towards the stairs. "C'mon. Let's go help give them ideas."

"Not even a month," she muttered.

"Not yet."

"Not yet," she agreed, sighed, and smiled despite herself.