Welp, the chapter sizes are officially out of control again.
He got Tsunade's message midway through bounty contract negotiations that afternoon, pocketed it, and spent the rest of the discussion touching it to be sure it was still there. It wasn't until agreements were set in writing and the feudal lord had been sent off to await their team that Gaara was able to pay an appropriate amount of attention to the Hokage's words.
You might know that my student recently turned down an offer of marriage. Uchiha Sasuke has currently chosen to not send her a response. He expresses confidence that she'll return to him in time.
I hope Sakura is well, and that you continue to keep her safe.
Gaara picked it apart, line by line: The suggestion he hadn't heard translated to the Hokage not believing he'd pushed Sakura into her decision. And Sasuke's response, or lack thereof . . . Gaara wasn't sure if it was denial, delusion . . . Or possibly Sasuke just not understanding how Sakura could find life options that didn't include him.
But more interesting was the close: no matter how he came at it, it looked like Tsunade's response to Sasuke was to outright encourage Gaara to keep Sakura at Sand.
Well, he decided, this might make the coming stages go by a little easier. And at least the Hokage hadn't let him wait and wonder if the silence was because her city was burning down or amassing for a recovery mission. He might come out of this on reasonably good terms with Leaf after all. As a matter of professional courtesy, he responded in reassurances and lightly veiled promises:
Your student remains in good spirits, and has established herself amongst Sand's medics. Naruto will report on her well-being soon enough. He understands that as long as Sakura is here, I will protect her as one of my own.
Send Naruto to visit again sometime. We enjoyed his company.
He found Kankurou in the street a short while later and handed him the bounty mission scroll. "It's a few brigands, but a couple might have had some training. I need you to get your team and take care of them."
Kankurou read, frowned. "It seems a little . . ."
"Low-level. Yeah. But they said Leaf offered to fill the contract within a week. I need you to do it and make it back here in half of that."
His brother's frown turned into a scowl. "Are we starting to see blowback from Leaf already?"
"I'm not sure yet. They might have just been trying to drive a hard bargain." There was a spot of color in the crowd. He watched; in a second Sakura caught sight of him as well and started heading his way.
"Well," Kankurou said as he tucked the scroll away, "we've definitely seen worse."
"Definitely." It'd been harder before, when diplomats, merchants, and everyone else out to do business with Sand were suddenly faced with Gaara—too young, too strange, and with a slew of far-too-recent horror stories following along behind him. "But I need you back here as soon as possible. If we're not seeing blowback now, it might come soon."
"Why's that?"
"Sakura turned the Uchiha down this morning. Naruto gets back to Leaf in two days. I sent an official rebuke with him, and he's got his own thoughts on the matter. The Hokage is on our side." Gaara looked away from the rapidly approaching Leaf-nin for just a second, his smile triumphant. "And Sakura's staying here."
"What—" Kankurou started—but then Sakura barrelled into Gaara hard enough to knock him a step back. The words poured out of her, almost running over themselves with her excitement: She'd started her own negotiations for a better position, she told him; there were options now, possibilities. Space for her own research. Time for her own training. Students, so she wouldn't have to be the only one able to deal with particular crises. Full access to the medical libraries, so she could catch up on what Sand's medics already knew. A raise; maybe time for a vacation—
"Good," Gaara told her, and braced himself before her full-body hug could knock him back again.
Kankurou watched, open-mouthed, utterly failing to disguise his amusement at his little brother's manhandling. He couldn't say what had happened, but the frightened kunoichi of a few weeks ago had regrouped, gotten her feet under herself, and been reformed into fire. "It's really happening, then?" he asked. "Officially?" They all knew these things would only be possible under one final condition: her disavowing Leaf, then swearing fealty to Sand.
"Not officially yet. I'm gonna wait until we get more of the details solidified," she admitted, and backed a mostly-appropriate distance away from Gaara. Then, apologetically: "It's just good bargaining."
Gaara scowled. "I don't want you to sell yourself short here because of me."
She met his scowl levelly. "As long as you promise to not push this through because of me."
"Okay."
Her chin tilted upwards and she grinned impishly. "Do we need to shake on it?"
"Maybe," Gaara replied, and Sakura laughed, still giddy. And watching them—both of them—Kankurou saw exactly what it'd taken to make this change of heart happen.
Sakura shifted first, then glanced between the two of them. "I need to go get a shower, change . . ." Then to Gaara: "Catch up with you at your place, we'll figure out dinner?"
Gaara nodded, and with a final, dizzying smile she turned and left.
Kankurou waited until she'd gotten out of earshot to say anything. "Gaara, you know what this means."
"Yeah."
The older Sand-nin hadn't forgotten how badly Leaf had shown Sand up two years before, in the debacle that'd left him poisoned and Gaara kidnapped. He hadn't forgotten what it felt like to be dying, to know he was dying, with Sand's medics unable to help him. Sand had been unsuccessfully trying to figure out Leaf's poison countertechniques since Tsunade was young, and now . . . "It means lives. Even if she holds on to every technique Leaf's taught her, she'll save lives here."
"Yeah," Gaara replied thoughtfully. "That too."
ooo
It took longer than Tsunade'd expected for two of the elders to seek her out in her office. "We need your help," one said, and she gestured to the seats in front of her desk magnanimously.
The men sat. Tsunade poured herself a drink and resisted the urge to put her feet up. "Tell me."
"Your student turned Sasuke down."
Tsunade nodded and waited, well aware of how they'd opened by putting Sakura's decision back on her.
"We suggested he find someone else, another suitable option," said the second. "He's refused to."
"Maybe it'll do him good to be the one pining after someone else for a change," she offered.
Their frowns told her they didn't think she was very funny. "He's certain she'll change her mind when she gets back," said the first, "and the Kazekage won't let her come back."
"We need you to talk to her—as her mentor," cajoled his companion. "Tell her to find a way to leave with Naruto or otherwise figure her way out of Sand, and get back here so—"
"So she can see if she'd like to make a life with a man who couldn't be bothered with her until he needed something from her?"
Blank stares.
Tsunade continued: "Remember, I spent years with her, trying to teach her when she was a lovesick young girl. It took her weeks to come to this decision—we all know she didn't make it lightly."
"Weeks of distance," came the rebuttal. "Weeks without the support of her village, but with the Kazekage telling her who-knows-what."
She raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. "You haven't let him know about how you talked to Gaara, have you?"
They hedged. "We can't," one said. "Those two have . . . history."
She set her cup down with a thunk. "They all have history. Gaara almost crippled Lee and those two still came to terms, and now Lee makes a point of visiting. From what I've gathered, he and Naruto came this close"—she held her thumb and pointer fingers up, an inch apart—"to beating each other to death, and look at them now. Which by the way, Naruto's already on his way back—without Sakura. I assume they all reached some sort of agreement."
One swore and covered his eyes with his hand; the other gritted his teeth and pushed on. "We need your assistance more than ever, then. If Sasuke finds out how much we've been hiding from him, or the degree to which Gaara is involved . . . He'll probably take it as a personal slight."
"So let me get this straight. You want me to talk Sakura into sneaking away from Sand and convince her to give Sasuke yet another chance, because you're afraid of what might happen or what he'll do if she won't, or if he learns the full story of what's going on."
"It's not about him. It's to rebuild the bloodline. Leaf needs—"
"The bloodline. Yes, I know." She looked between the two of them and felt her temper fraying. "How many children would it take to do that? Does he have a number in mind? Do you?"
The one had the nerve to look at her as if she was being purposefully difficult. "There's a reasonable way—"
"How reasonable are you being, here? What if she can't meet her quota? What if she can't have any? I suppose Sasuke could . . . What, just walk away from her like she's nothing and fuck his way through Leaf until he found someone properly fertile?"
"There's no need to be crude about it."
Tsunade came halfway out of her seat as she slammed her palms down against her desk, and both men jumped. "Do you really think you have the right to chastise me for anything after you came here asking me to help shove my student, someone I've come to think of as a friend, into the bed of someone she's rejected?"
No answer. She stood, glared. "We're done here."
The two elders got to their feet slowly, as if expecting her to lunge. "We'll try reasoning with Sasuke again."
"Good luck," she told them, and meant it.
She got the message from Sand a while later, snorted at the piece of paper, and poured herself another drink. Gaara couldn't have been much more clear: Sakura was happy there. Sakura had found a place in Sand, in with Sand's medics. Sakura wasn't coming back.
ooo
To their credit, Sakura thought later, they did actually attempt to start dinner. But the little things all added up—any number of brief touches and smiles, how she made a point of running her fingers down his spine, how he made no attempt to disguise the affection or want in how he looked at her—and when Gaara finally reached for her he found her already halfway there. She kissed him like it was the first time: gentle, almost cautious, her lips wet-soft and parting under his as he pressed against her. And knowing how this would end as unquestionably as she did, Gaara set his hands at her waist and settled in to enjoy her.
The skin of her throat tasted clean, as did the delicate curves of her ears, and she murmured her appreciation against his jawline, against the join of his neck and shoulder. He whispered hoarsely to her between kisses, telling her to tell him what she liked, what she wanted him to do; the rasp of his voice in her ear made her shiver, made her body clench with anticipation. "Yes," she managed once as their hands started moving: first tentatively, then certainly, then struggling with the unfamiliarities of each other's clothing. The knot for her forehead protector was easier; Gaara dropped it onto the floor without ceremony, then ran both hands into her hair, over her shoulders and arms and down her back, pulling her snugly to him. When she reached for his face he caught her hand and flattened it against his chest—right hand, left side, willing her to recognize what he couldn't yet put to words—and as she stared up at him, her eyes huge and unafraid, he felt like she just might understand.
The late afternoon sun streaked across his bed, leaving his sheets warm under her bare skin as Gaara lay her down, stretched out beside her, leaned in to kiss her again. He touched her slowly, watching her reactions, learning what made her flinch away and what made her press against him for more. Sakura helped him, guiding his fingers with her own, murmuring encouragement: "Here. Go easier—yes. That." Needing to touch him as well as be touched, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs; craving more intimacy, he sat up, cupped the back of her head, and covered her mouth with his own. Upright, she could touch him with both hands, could drag her nails over his back and sides and fit her palms to the tightly-wrapped swell of his muscles. Finally, not wanting to deny herself any longer, she touched him like she'd wanted to that morning: stroking, squeezing, and lastly breaking away from his kiss to wet her hands with her own saliva and slowly, rhythmically caress him that way.
Her throat tasted like salt now, as did her shoulders, her collarbones, and Sakura arched upwards to him, encouraging. She rocked against his fingers, her hands still sliding over him and her uneven breathing turning to little moans as Gaara carefully began using his teeth on her as well. But they both still knew it wouldn't be enough.
She met his eyes and, not trusting her voice, nodded. This time she went down under him, kissing him deeply and continuously as his arm slipped under her shoulders to hold her in place. He let her feel him first, pinning one of her thighs down and rubbing himself against her until the friction wrung whimpers from her and her muscles trembled with strain—then fit himself to her and, as she pushed up from under him, sweetly, easily slid in. He moved purposefully, grinding down to give her every bit of himself, reveling in her as her gasps turned into little sounds and she grabbed at his hips to move him, pleading for just a little more, just a little faster—
She vised around him when she came, locking her legs around his waist and pressing her mouth to his shoulder to muffle her own cries. Sakura continued moving with him as the waves of it faded, deliberately squeezing him inside of her, needing to bring him to completion as well. And as the sensation began to overwhelm him he pulled back, desperate to see her face, to remember her, her, her—
His thrusts became sharp, quick, and his own climax engulfed him with his hand against her cheek and his eyes wide open.
They snuggled close afterwards, exchanging compliments in the form of tiny touches and smiles as the light faded around them. She walked her fingers over the lines defining his triceps from biceps and biceps from delts, finding the pleasure a simple one but pleasant nonetheless; his hand fit to the curve of her thigh where she'd draped it over him, feeling the strength under the softness. Through all of it he kept returning to her face, touching her hair, her cheekbones, her jaw, rubbing his thumb over her lower lip; and as she tilted her face up for more kisses, she wondered if she'd ever felt this safe, this cherished before.
And if this was what it meant for them to be together, with no holds barred . . .
"Hey," she said, and poked him in the chest.
"Hm?"
"We forgot dinner."
His arms closed around her with amusement, and she felt his warm chuckle as much as she heard it. "You didn't seem to mind."
Sakura stretched luxuriously, ran her hands through her hair, and leaned in to kiss him again. "No," she smiled. "Not at all."
When they finally got up to start dinner she grabbed his shirt from the clothing scattered on the floor, but left the worn metal of her forehead protector behind.