Lighthouse Chapter 11: Mr Uzumaki And His Ways, a naruto fanfic

A/N: A big, biiig thank you for all of you who have supported this story so far! Be it faving/following/reviewing/reading, or all of these, Thank You! *heart* I try to update more faster in the future, I know I am so bad when it comes to things like these XD

THIS CHAPTER IS INSANELY LONG. DDDDD: I hope it makes up the long wait? ^^"

There's so much in this chapter but I hope the circle will close, if you know what I mean. And I've been working on this for so long that I don't know if this is good or crap, it could be a bit of both, but in any case, I hope you enjoy and have a good time. :)

Chapter 11: Mr. Uzumaki And His Ways

It was 6 a.m. and Gaara buttoned up his woolen coat. Due to the nasty flue going around the office, many were forced to take a sick leave, and this in turn piled up assignments on the shoulders of those few lucky who had been so far saved from the illness. If he got to the office by seven, he would have a few hours of effective solitude until the rest of his colleagues began pouring in.

With one last glance Gaara evaluated the snoring heap snuggling under the blanket.

"Naruto, I'm leaving now. You should get up so that you won't be late," he called and the blond gave him a sleepy approval and a thumbs-up.

Cautiously Gaara closed the door and on his way to the train station he wondered what would happen to his… friend? Was Naruto his friend now or something more already? The idea of having a boyfriend made Gaara's knees suddenly wobble and before anyone could witness his momentary weakness, he fastened his pace with an annoyed expression on his face. When no one was looking at his way anymore, he let his facial features soften.

He had never really had a girlfriend, for Tsunade had hardly met the image of the term no matter how fiercely she had clung on the ideals of youth. He had never had a boyfriend, either, and all the courting with dates and such felt foreign to him. Then again, Naruto was already living with him, and they had reached the state most people got to only after, what, four or five dates? Gaara wasn't sure, and given how the stages of his life had so far been always easy to classify by the heteronormative mindset of their society, now he felt slight unease at being not able to put this under any common term.

His train was late. The digital numbers on his phone told it was 6:22 already and no matter how much he tried to distance his wandering thoughts from a certain blond man, they strayed back to the snoring heap on the mattress. He was about to call him and see if he had notoriously slept through his alarms like usually, but right then his train arrived.

Crammed into the vehicle with other early morning commuters, Gaara found a somewhat comfortable spot to spend his ride on. Naruto's number was still on his screen, as if waiting for him to take action. Hardening his expression into a look of annoyance, Gaara called him.

"Mmmh?" the sleepy voice of Naruto sighed on the other end of the line.

He knew it, the goof was still buried under the blanket, wasn't he? Gritting his teeth, Gaara commanded, "If you don't get up now, you'll be late Naruto."

"Yes, I'll get up right now," the blond mumbled and Gaara was sure he could hear his eyes close. When a co-passenger noticed his grumpy frown which intensity would be enough to cool down even the hottest of take-away coffees, Gaara touched the spot between his nonexistent eyebrows and willed his expression to soften.

"Did you get up?" he asked but only a soft, sleepy whine greeted him on the other end.

The idiot fell asleep again, didn't he?

And while he would've loved nothing more but to bark some selected threats to scare him sleepless, as if his unmerciful grip could shake the blond awake just through sound waves, Gaara decided to settle for a different approach.

"Na-Naruto," he said softly with a touch of velvet in his voice.

A bemused cough carried from the other end of the line, and then some rustling of bedclothes. Gaara glanced quickly around, feeling eyes on him but deciding it was none of their business how he chose to wake up his boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word made Gaara's cheeks warm up and he closed his eyes, hoping it would help.

"Gaa…?" a tired mumble asked and then some more rustling of sheets. When it fell silent after that, the redhead sighed in disappointment.

"N-Naruto," he tried again, his voice silky and inviting, "P-Please, get up."

Furious rustling of bedclothes was heard and then it sounded like Naruto was drawing in a sharp breath.

"Ga-Gaara?" he asked, caught up by the alluring bedroom voice like an unsuspecting prey. His voice was cleared of tiredness and his surprised, heavy breaths told Gaara that he now had his undivided attention. Most likely Naruto was already up by now, and the double-meaning of that thought made the heat on Gaara's cheeks darken.

"Naruto," the redhead whispered seductively and the blond's breath hitched in apparent anticipation. "Take off your clothes, all of them, and then…" he went on, his voice soft like satin until an amused smirk took over his lips, "Go to the goddamned shower and get the hell ready for work, Naruto, you're going to be late."

And with that, he hung up and wondered just how many pairs of curious eyes were currently glued to his blushing face in the packed train.

"Hi dad," Kankuro picked up the phone call with reserve so well-learned he failed to mask it.

"Kankuro, my boy, I hope you aren't busy this weekend. Your mom and I are going to make dinner on Saturday. It will be beef with vegetables and chanterelle soup, and I promise the meat won't turn out rubbery like last time," Rasa laughed.

Last time had been in spring, and far worse than the rubbery meat had been his father's rapid intoxication, which had led to near-violent threats much to no one's surprise. Only Sakura had been deeply shocked for having witnessed such savage family dynamics she had been protected from for so long. After the incident, his wife of that time had politely refused all similar gatherings, pleading to her increasing business trips.

Even after all those months, Kankuro could vividly recall his tipsy father accidentally dropping pieces of meat on the grass—they had been outside, taking advantage of their brand-new barbeque—only to toss them back on the grill like no hygiene was required. It was impossible to know if Mr. Hedgehog—who had been a keen visitor in their backyard that summer—had decided to take a shit on the lawn just by the grill like he had a notorious habit of doing, and if his unapologetic feces were now a part of their meal. The soiled food got mixed with the decontaminated pieces, and in the end Kankuro had found it difficult to find his appetite.

And now the promise of similar family-gathering loomed in front of him again. Kankuro responded with a nervous chuckle and then rubbed his forehead, "Did you say this weekend?"

"Yeah. We thought it would be wonderful to see that new girl of yours, too. What was her name again?"

Kankuro gripped his phone and forced a grin to his face, so that his smile would be audible in his voice, "Tenten would love to see you, too. I know you would get along great. Unfortunately she is not available on the weekend. She had to, uh, attend to a business trip abroad and I'm afraid it'll take a month until she's back."

"Oh, that's too bad. But you are still coming, aren't you?" Rasa asked.

"I would love to, that dinner sounds delicious," Kankuro replied and there was no denying his parents were more than skilled when it came to cooking—at least when even the most minimal hygiene requirements were respected. "Let me just check my calendar first. It has been crazy at work lately."

"Oh, that's my boy, working hard and making your parents proud," Rasa praised and the smile in his voice felt like a friendly pat on the shoulder. His voice was cheery and full of optimism, and for once the usual alcohol-infused indignation wasn't there. Even so Kankuro couldn't help but wonder if this was only thanks to his slowly ascending drunkenness, and if the boom of mood would soon descend to bitter anger and irritableness like so many times before.

Judging by the relaxed tone of his voice, Rasa was through his second wine glass or his first gin and tonic.

"You know, the last time you visited, your new car was the only thing those guys talked about for the next week," Rasa said with apparent pride in his voice. Kankuro remembered the solemn ring of old men from the neighborhood, gathered around his Mercedes, each of them showing off their apparent enthusiasm in automobile mechanics as if it were the highlight of their social lives.

"It's a fine car," Kankuro admitted without enthusiasm.

"Yeah, but you know nothing about cars," Rasa told and it started to sound like an insult. The edge of his voice carried resentment as if Kankuro had still managed to disappoint him even despite his best efforts.

"All you had interest in was theatre, do you still remember?" Rasa asked and his voice held a shade of unease.

"Yeah I remember theatre," Kankuro admitted and stopped to scratch some invisible dirt on the coffee table, as if it needed his immediate attention.

"Theatre is nothing but guys in pantyhose pinning each other down. It's disgusting. Those fruitcakes and feminists are everywhere these days and it makes me sick," Rasa growled and slammed his glass on the table. So he was indeed drinking.

"Come on, dad, aren't you exaggerating a bit?" Kankuro responded, once again refusing to pick a side—whether to correct his father's biased opinions about culture and art, or trying to soothe his unpredictable mood, hoping he wouldn't get too angry and end up taking it out on mom.

"Don't tell me you sympathize with those fags," Rasa barked and his son froze at the derogatory expression.

"D-Dad, you know I d-don't," Kankuro tried to laugh it off but it didn't come out right. He expected mom to say something in the background but she stayed silent. She always did.

"So is mom alright?" he asked as the image of Karura's defeated posture refused to leave his mind.

"She is here somewhere," Rasa said irritably and it sounded like he was getting up, "Do you want me to go look her up?"

"N-No, no. It's fine," Kankuro quickly said and gripped the armrest of the couch like it would stop his father. Just to change the subject, he forced the smile back to his voice and asked, "So dad, how's job hunting?"

"Pretty good, actually," Rasa replied and the upturn in his mood made Kankuro let out a sigh of relief, "I met these guys down at the pub and it looks like I can get a part-time job through them."

"That's great," Kankuro said and wondered what kind of occupational opportunities a shabby bar with a more or less changing selection of drunks could offer. Most likely it was just an excuse for his father to go there, but nevertheless he appreciated his efforts on striving out of unemployment.

"You're a good kid, Kankuro. And I know I shouldn't have any favorites, but you and I understand each other on a level no one else does, right? Gaara and Temari, they take after their mother," he said as if it was a bad thing, "But you are just like me, only more successful."

"Y-Yeah," Kankuro conformed uneasily, wondering if his father was drinking beer, wine or spirits as they spoke, if his mother was in the house or somewhere else.

"I am so sorry what happened with Sakura," Rasa said with empathetic melancholy, a state he reached usually after three glasses of wine. "I know you did your best, son, and no girl in this world could get a better husband than you."

"Thanks, dad," Kankuro replied meekly, "I really tried my best."

"I know, son, I know. To be honest I'm a bit worried about your brother. Your mom told me he has no girlfriend, no friends, no plans to start a family. What the hell is that kid doing with his life? It was all better when he still had his wife, even though there was a lot to be desired in that woman," Rasa growled and something clinked in the background—like a glass being refilled.

"Gaara is doing fine I'm sure," Kankuro cut in hurriedly before the old man's ramble could get any further, "Did you see the game—"

"I swear there is something wrong with that kid," Rasa interrupted him as if he hadn't heard a word. "Both of you were odd as kids that's for sure, but thank god you grew up to be a real man."

"Dad—"

"I still can't understand why he was so keen on sleeping in your room, or why you had to drag him to the rehearsals with you. I swear it did him no good, given the life he's leading now. You were too soft with him and you let him get ruined, didn't you?" Rasa muttered and the temperature in his voice rose higher and higher, towards the point where his mood would permanently sag into uncontrolled anger.

"Dad. He wanted to come with me. He had no hobbies of his own, so I tried to be a good big brother for once in my life," Kankuro snapped before he could mask his reaction, "And he was afraid of the dark." Or more accurately, his little brother had been scared of their drunken father bellowing behind the door, at first threatening to hurt them until eventually descending into self-pity and overflowing apologeticness.

"Don't you use that tone with me," Rasa snapped back and somewhere in the background it sounded like a door was shut. A thought of his mother escaping flashed in Kankuro's mind and his pulse sped up.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just… Did you see the game yesterday?" he asked with that fake-smile once again in his voice.

"What game?" his father asked, baffled.

"They lost by seven points," Kankuro told the only thing he cared to remember of the sport news he had gone through earlier. Little things like these were something he memorized just in case he ever needed to distract his father.

"Oh that. That was bad. They got their asses kicked like a bunch of girls," Rasa laughed but no one shared his humor.

"Yeah, well. It was bad, yeah," Kankuro rambled and rubbed his face, wishing he could somehow make sure his father's mood wouldn't drop even when their call would end. "Dad, hey. Um, I really wish you get that job. Please keep me updated on how you and mom are doing," he said the words he didn't agree with in his heart, "And I am more than happy to help with the bills. I'll call you next week about them. In the meanwhile, just try to relax, okay?"

"Ah, boy. What did I ever do to deserve a son like you?" his father praised again, tears in his voice. Rasa was just one breath away of spiraling into nostalgic memories of his own youth, of the rottenness of his long-dead parents, of all the injustices he had faced—and was still facing according to himself—but Kankuro stopped his train of thought.

"Dad, I'm afraid I have to get going now. I'm a little busy, but I'll talk to you later, okay?" Kankuro said and after taking in a deep breath, continued, "It was nice talking to you. Tell mom I said hi."

"Oh I get it, you young people are always so busy," Rasa chuckled and his good mood sounded genuine enough. Kankuro let out a relieved sigh and felt comfortable enough to let his father go.

Even when the call ended, Kankuro couldn't rid himself of the weight on his chest. No matter how far he ran, his father was only a phone call away and his mother's silent presence in the background revived the guilt in his guts each time.

He wanted the caress, he wanted the relief, yet every time he was a good son he got the punch, too. And his mother was black and blue but they never talked about it. Sometimes guilt and worry polluted his heart to a point he dreamed of stabbing his old man, just blind hits through the ribs towards the heart, a murder with passion.

-o-o-o-

A knock at his door startled him. He slumped against the couch even more, not feeling like letting in his guest. As always, Gaara was punctual.

"Hi, come on in," Kankuro welcomed him with an easy smile on his face, once again pushing away the tangle of undefined unease that pulsed in him somewhere.

Gaara stepped into the apartment. There was nothing in there that would remind of Naruto, or of any other person who might be living there now. The place looked exactly like he remembered. No photos, no memorabilia or anything that could be interpreted as a declaration of personal preference. The whole apartment was polished and eerily tidy, like those soulless compositions he had seen in magazines dedicated to interior design.

Gaara went to the kitchen cabinet in search of a bowl for the chips he had brought and was startled at the empty bottles stored on the lowest shelf.

"Kankuro? What the hell is this?" he asked, opening the cabinet more so that the brunet could see, too.

"Oh. I was hosting a party," Kankuro explained.

Gaara regarded his brother, at the wine glass in his hand, at the half-empty bottle of wine on the table.

They sat on the couch, watching a documentary. A monotonous narration filled the silent space around them.

Gaara evaluated his brother's bleak expression. The wine glass stood on the coffee table, long forgotten as if it had exceeded its ability to deliver ease. Naruto had demanded him to stay in touch with his brother, time after time reminding him how much the brunet cared for him. It seemed like the blond saw imaginary virtues in the people around him, for in the past years Gaara couldn't recall him and Kankuro having exactly warm relation. To end up in that point had been a mutual wish, he told himself, and felt comfortable again at his choice of not reaching out earlier.

"So…" Gaara began eventually, "How are things with Tenten?"

The unmasked accusation in his voice wasn't lost on Kankuro. His joyless expression didn't change, only changed its tone.

"I see Naruto told you," the brunet said and quietly ate the chips.

"I think your version of the story would be more interesting to hear," Gaara replied.

"Believe me, it's not," was all Kankuro settled for, until he turned to his little brother a bit more resentfully, "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Because you're my brother, and I am worried about you," Gaara fluently told the words that sounded more like something Naruto would come up with.

"Naruto told you to come here, didn't he?" Kankuro asked, knowing that it would be exactly what the blond would do. It made his heart hurt in a bittersweet way.

"I came here because I haven't seen you in a while," Gaara replied patiently, wondering why he was speaking these sentences that felt so foreign to him. He refused to admit Naruto had perhaps influenced him as greatly as it seemed, and before this strange imitation could go any further, he changed the subject altogether.

"How's work?"

Kankuro pursed his lips deep in thought. Ever since he had royally screwed up things with Tenten, the atmosphere in the office had changed for the worse. No matter how polite and good-mannered his colleague turned-ex-lover was, Tenten spared no wrath whenever she was forced to remember his betrayal. By now the whole office was aware of him mistreating Tenten, and his coworkers handled him with extra reserve. It made him feel even more isolated than before, and the only bright spark in the middle of this mess was that Tenten had not exactly mentioned with whom Kankuro had fooled around with. The gender of his secret affair was never really mentioned, but everyone who had to hear about the incident assumed it had been a woman.

He didn't know if Kiba had something to with it or not but whatever the reason, Kankuro felt relieved he hadn't been outed in a way like this.

"I've thought of looking for a new job," Kankuro told eventually.

"Why? You just got there. And isn't it making things easier with, eh, Tenten?" Gaara asked and the acid judgment was back there in his voice.

"We broke up," Kankuro told and hoped the subject would be dropped.

"How did that happen?" Gaara asked, a little bewildered at the rapid turn of events.

"You don't want to know," the brunet dismissed.

"Why?" Gaara asked and Kankuro frowned in irritation.

"I could ask you questions too, you know, like how did you end up kissing Naruto behind my back?" the brunet retorted and the redhead fell silent, an ashamed pink hue creeping to his cheeks. How was it possible for him to look so innocent and guilty at the same time, Kankuro didn't know, but he found it incredibly difficult to stay mad at him. He had never really seen such honest display of attraction on Gaara's face.

With a tired sigh, Kankuro pulled Gaara to his armpit and ruffled his red hair in a brotherly way.

"You are horribly see-through sometimes, did you know that?" the brunet teased and the redhead swatted his hand away.

While combing his hair back into order, Gaara gnarled, "And you are an idiot sometimes."

"I know I am," Kankuro agreed with a little chuckle full of sorrowful undercurrents, "There's no denying that."

Kankuro's phone buzzed on the table, signaling a new text message. By the time he tapped open the first one, another arrived. Kankuro's demeanor darkened like a shadow had walked through him.

The message read: 'You know nothing about real hardships or hard work. Compared to us, you have it easy. Your mother found a thick stack of bills she had forgotten to pay, so you need to take care of it. She keeps on forgetting stuff like that but if you visited us more often, you would already know this.'

And the second one read: 'If you really cared for us, none of this would've happened. Now we're heading to bankruptcy and it's your fault. How are you going to fix this? We need to find a solution, fast.'

"Shit," Kankuro cursed, putting his phone away. How long had it been since their little chat? Two hours?

"Who was it?" Gaara asked, curious. The phone buzzed again. Kankuro looked alarmed and pained.

The last thing he wanted to do was to let Gaara into his stress and worry. Today, it seemed, was one of those days their father had decided it was Kankuro's fault their lives had gone awry, that their incomes couldn't meet up with the costs they faced. Of course, his parents spiraling down into poorness had nothing to do with Rasa losing his ability to work due to his unhinged alcoholism he refused to admit. It had nothing to do with their reckless spending, which—Kankuro was slowly realizing—might've have more to do with Karura's aspiring dementia than with any other reason. But even with that taken into account, he had seen the amounts Rasa spent on liquor and tobacco. Karura had long ago lost her spirit to tell her husband otherwise.

"It's just dad. Nothing you need to worry about," Kankuro finally explained and ruffled Gaara's hair again.

But Gaara gripped his wrist and held his hand, an alarmed look in his eyes, "Why is dad texting you?"

Kankuro sighed, determined to not burden his little brother with this. But the hold on his hand tightened, not letting him forget that someone cared about him, too.

"Well… you know, ever since dad lost his job I've been helping them with the bills. Financially they rely on me a bit more heavily than what I could foresee, though," was all Kankuro said.

But the redhead wasn't so easily satisfied, "What do you mean by that?"

A calm, sunny smile came to Kankuro's face, an expression Gaara vividly remembered from the dark days of their adolescence.

"I have a job. I have nothing to worry about," the brunet dodged and his smile warmed up even more, "All I'm worried about is how mom is doing. You know how it is at home."

"How much are they straining your budget?" Gaara asked, not fooled by the shield of optimism. He had seen it far too many times to mistake it for a genuine state of mind.

Kankuro's smile slowly cooled away. The phone buzzed again at steady intervals as if someone was sending an army of bees at his way.

"I might start looking for a more affordable apartment. They have way more debt than they told me at first," Kankuro admitted and took a sip of his long-forgotten wine. The taste brought him no relief whatsoever.

"It doesn't sound right," Gaara argued, "Why are you suddenly responsible for their situation? Isn't Temari helping, too?"

"She is, to the extent she can. But the truth is, if we don't help them out, they will lose their place. And where do you think they'll go after that?" Kankuro asked and gave Gaara a grave look. The redhead gulped as realization gripped his guts with its harsh fists.

"So… what do you think will happen once their debt is gone?" Gaara asked quietly. Kankuro chuckled and threw his head back, an act resembling more of wild despair than actual amusement.

"The chances are that their financial situation will remain stable after that. The other option is that dad will continue to spend money on booze and slowly drive them back to the brink of bankruptcy. Mom will be too out of it to stop him, of course. What will happen then…? I don't even want to go there."

Another bold buzz told them that someone had obviously a lot to say to him tonight. By the number of messages, he could already guess what they were about. The stages his intoxicated father went through were the following: pleas of help holding apparent disappointment over his children, especially Kankuro. This would be followed by accusation filled with bitterness, as his father would compare his own rotten life to that of his ungrateful children. After that came a series of threats meant to make him feel guilty and submissive. If it wouldn't work, Rasa would send a message full of apologeticness and love, reminding him about their familial bond and the good times they had sometimes had.

Kankuro took his phone and went through the most recent texts.

'You are just another disappointment in my life.'

'You are not a real man. I swear if you ever show your face around here, I will shoot you.'

Kankuro's mood began to sink, and somewhere in the back of his mind he heard his father's voice full of accusation, screaming unfair obscenities at him when his teenage-self had asked for a permission to stay overnight at a friend's place—a friend from the theatre. He tried to be a good son. Why did it always end up like this?

"Show me," Gaara demanded and took the phone. Kankuro was about to protest but only settled for a tired sigh. Jade eyes widened as if Gaara couldn't believe the colorful use of language. When another message arrived, he left it unread.

"I'm turning this thing off," Gaara told with a good amount of anger in his voice.

"You can't do that!" Kankuro objected, "What if mom needs help?"

"She has my number. And has she ever called any of us even when she should've?" Gaara asked, and the brunet found it hard to argue with such a valid point.

"I'm worried about her. Do you think we should go and check them up?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Gaara asked as if he had just heard a bad joke.

"But what if he hurts mom?" the brunet argued back, "What if I could prevent it by going there?"

"Kankuro," the redhead said softly and squeezed the brunet's hand, "Even if we went there, is there any guarantee it would help? Don't you remember what it was like?"

"But mom—"

"I'm sorry. I know how you feel," Gaara told, "I fear for her too. And it's not right that you let dad abuse you like this. If you let this continue you will only get hurt and in the end, you won't be able to help mom. You are already offering them financial aid. It takes some of the stress away from their shoulders. But what dad chooses to do with his leisure time is not your fault, and you have to accept that you can't fix everything in our family."

Kankuro bit his finger nails and stared into nothing in particular. The turned-off phone on the table made him nauseous, for even if his father's messages were like punches in the face, at least then he knew he was texting and not hurting mother.

"We need something else to think about," Gaara told and took his hand, pulling him up from the couch, "Let's go out, to the movies or to a restaurant, where ever you want to go. It's my treat."

Kankuro hesitated but didn't object the idea.

It was not the movie or dinner that lightened up the burden on his shoulders. What eventually did the trick was feeling Gaara by his side, watching him try out foods he was not familiar with only to decide he liked them in the end. To see his little brother so lively and sharp relieved Kankuro on a level he had not thought possible.

Gaara was safe and out of their father's reach. Whatever was happening at home, Gaara was here with him, eagerly giving a review about his dessert.

"They could've gone a bit easier with the amount of sugar, but other than that, I can safely recommend this," the redhead mumbled between mouthfuls, "Here, have some."

And Kankuro opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful of chocolate pie.

Up until now, persistent sadness had embraced Gaara so tightly it had become his default demeanor. To see him this easygoing and vibrant made Kankuro realize how closed-off and depressed his little brother had been. Why hadn't he noticed it earlier? He could've helped him. Then again, for the past years he hadn't been interested in anything else but escaping his own guilt and unease in ways which eventually led to the end of his marriage. After that, he had found himself busy escaping the safe closeness Naruto had given him, as if he had been unable to trust someone could love him like that.

He had completely abused his position and hurt the person who saw so much good in him—according to Gaara, Naruto still spoke highly of him. He had ruined the whole thing in the most cowardly way possible. With blue eyes full of optimism Naruto had swallowed all his lies until they were too obvious to ignore. He had really loved Naruto, hadn't he? Only though… if the blond had been a woman, maybe his heart would've been more open to their strange relationship. Kankuro shook his head and denied the hypothesis. The thrill he had felt for Naruto had everything to do with his masculine physique. Tenten had been just a convenient tool to distract the prying eyes.

"Let's walk back home," Gaara said.

"But isn't your apartment on another district?" Kankuro asked while putting on his woolen coat.

"I thought I could stay the night with you. You have a guest room, right?"

The older of the brothers fastened his scarf around his neck in silence. He wondered if this had anything to do with preventing him from turning on his phone and reacting to the unread messages.

While it didn't snow anymore, the merciless wind swept through the streets and hungrily bit their faces. Kankuro pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, regretting his forgetfulness as he had left his gloves at home. Gaara took off one of his gloves and offered it for him.

"You keep it," Kankuro refused the kindness like so many times before. He was supposed to look after his little brother, not the other way around.

But Gaara put the rejected glove into his pocket and took hold of Kankuro's bare hand. His skin was so cold, like ice. When the brunet tensed, Gaara held him tighter.

"What if someone notices?" Kankuro whispered as if he was voicing out a carefully protected secret.

"No one will notice, or care," Gaara knew, "Besides, we are brothers."

"Yeah but no one knows that. What if—"

"Dad will never find out, Kankuro. And not everyone is like him."

A few street lamps were off, offering them a dark, brief shelter from the scarce amount of other pedestrians. Once it was too dim for anyone to really see their linked fingers, Kankuro let out a relieved sigh. This was where he belonged, in the shadows. Here he was invisible, from his father and from the world.

-o-o-o-

"Hey, not fair, Gaara! It's my phone!" the brunet argued, angry that the redhead went as far as to confiscate his property like that. How in hell did his little brother know he was going to check his messages once he could get a moment of solitude?

"Nice try, Kankuro," Gaara replied and pushed the phone into his pocket just when the brunet was about to steal it back, "You will get this in the morning. It's for your own good."

For an answer the brunet only pouted. Gaara smiled ever so faintly.

"Do you still remember when we spent the nights in the tent, in our backyard?" Gaara asked, seeing the blanket of stars with his mind's eye, as well as their parent's house oddly silent in the background. There had been no threat in the air back then.

"Yeah, I remember," Kankuro smiled and added mischievously, "You got so scared of those ghost stories! Every sound outside the tent made you yelp and dive into the sleeping bag."

"It was only because you kept on adding made-up twists to the stories," Gaara accused and now it was his turn to pout. Kankuro's grin grew more luminous and he ruffled the redhead's hair in a brotherly manner.

"I did no such thing. I merely performed the stories like an actor should," the brunet told and snickered. Back in the day, Gaara had jumped with every little 'boo' and gruff growl Kankuro had performed—he had really put his heart and soul into that storyteller's role, and now that he thought about it, his little brother was the only audience he had ever really cared for. Even now he could easily recall the unimpressed redhead sitting in the front row at the theatre, watching plays he had seen times and again but never complaining about the repeated experience. And whenever possible, Kankuro had spared him a glance from the stage, immensely grateful that his little brother was there, safe and sound.

But now there were no books filled with ghost stories, for the horror tales of today awaited them in the turned-off phone resting in Gaara's pocket.

"You could sleep in the guest room, too," the redhead said quietly.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of the headless janitor haunting the apartments," Kankuro reminded with a chuckle, a chuckle that was met with an eye roll on Gaara's part.

"Don't be stupid," the redhead replied but couldn't help a snicker at the memory of that particular, childish ghost story. With perfect accuracy he could still recall Kankuro's ghostly shrieks and the horrifying shadows on his face, cast by flashlight, while he had poured his deepest soul into the role of that lonely, murderous janitor.

At night, the guest room felt like another world. Moon sailed by the window on this side of the building. Its bluish beams touched the bare walls, coloring the room with tender hues. Like on so many nights before, years and years back, that silent, luminous sphere watched over them like a worried eye in the sky.

It was so quiet. Was Kankuro already asleep? Judging by the sound of his breathing, he was not.

"Is Naruto your boyfriend now?"

Kankuro's voice was not completely kind. Gaara felt his stare in the back of his head. He turned to face him.

"I don't know."

It was true. They had not yet sat down and discussed the terms of their relationship. Even so, he couldn't imagine being with anybody else. Hopefully Naruto felt the same.

"Do you want to be his boyfriend?" Kankuro asked, more gently this time.

"I think I do," Gaara replied.

A soft smile, which was not void of sadness, crossed Kankuro's face. He ruffled Gaara's hair again and then pulled him into a brotherly hug. It was just like in old times. Only the many layers of experiences, disappointments and worries that had piled up on their shoulders separated this night from their youth.

"Treat him well," Kankuro gave an advice, "Don't do what I did."

Gaara let out a deep sigh and shyly snuggled closer to his brother's warmth. "He was broken for a long time. Even today an occasional blue overcomes him but he never wants to discuss about it. I've tried. I don't approve of what you did, even if I have only heard Naruto's side of the story, given how you refused to open up about it."

"I'm sorry," the brunet whispered. He stroked his little brother's arm in a slow, sorrowful way, "I'm going to call him next week and apologize. We need to talk."

The redhead lifted up his head and evaluated the calm look on his brother's face. He looked trustworthy. "Good. You do that."

"I promise I will," Kankuro smiled and yawned. Gaara snuggled closer to him again and soon the brunet's hand sleepily petted his hair, escorting him to restful dreams.

Slowly the dream let go and the voice of someone talking got impossible to ignore.

"Seriously, you are even worse than Naruto."

Kankuro opened his eyes. Gaara stood there, fully clothed and a scowl on his face. The scent of coffee and something delicious floated in the air, telling him that the sour-looking redhead had made some effort in the kitchen.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've been calling you to wake up?" Gaara asked sourly.

Before the sleepy brunet had a chance to reply, the redhead's expression softened.

"You slept so tightly that for a moment there I thought you were dead," Gaara said and even though his expression was deadpan, his voice held shades of desperation and sorrow. Before Kankuro had any chance to address that emotion, Gaara began to lead the way to the kitchen.

"You're lucky if the coffee isn't tar by now, it's been standing in the pot for so long already. And don't blame me if the muffins have cooled down."

"M-Muffins?" Kankuro repeated and his steps gained liveliness he had lacked for years.

"Well there's that bakery down the street, and I thought you might still be into blueberry muffins, like you used to," Gaara started sheepishly but when he saw the surprise in his brother's face he quickly added, "You had nothing edible in the fridge, Kankuro. I had to go out to get breakfast, and then I happened to see the muffins on my way."

"Since when have you eaten breakfast?" Kankuro asked and sat down at the table.

Gaara re-filled his mug and took another bagel. He was not sure when his eating habits had adopted a more normal rhythm. Lately he had felt more balanced and hopeful, and the long-forgotten feeling of hunger had returned into the pit of his stomach. He had a hunch that it had everything to do with that certain blond beam shining in his apartment like a tireless lighthouse.

"The coffee tastes great," Kankuro thanked and went for the second muffin.

Outside, the sun was shining. Kankuro blinked and the light felt oddly bright and warm, as if he saw it for the first time in a very, very long time. In this little moment he felt warm and loved, and the combination felt so alien to him he decided to bathe in it as long as he could.

His phone lay on the table, screen black and ominous. Under Gaara's surveillance, he turned it on and entered his pin code. Before he could go to the anxiety-rousing messages, Gaara stepped in.

"I will go through them and if there's something you need to know, I'll tell you. After that, I will delete them."

"But—"

"No buts," Gaara ordered and silently Kankuro got back to his breakfast. As he had anticipated, Gaara didn't brief him about the contents of their father's thoughts.

"Here," Gaara gave him back his phone, "And oh, there was a message from your boss. I left in unread, of course."

With almost comical enthusiasm, Kankuro grabbed the phone. A stupid, goofy smile was already on his lips but he was too busy to see what the message was about to mask his emotions.

The message read: 'My sources tell me you are planning on switching jobs. Really, Kankuro? Running away from your problems again, am I right? If you can't face the shit you brought upon yourself, don't think it'll get any easier by avoiding Tenten. I will call you later and you better have changed your mind up until then.'

Kankuro's smile only widened.

"Don't even think of going in the shower. I called it first, so I'll go," Gaara warned in one particularly hectic morning, when it alarmingly looked like only one of them was granted the luxury of attending work shower fresh.

"Why can't we go at the same time?" Naruto asked innocently, throwing his T-shirt in the hamper. When he was about to strip his boxers in the same, carefree manner, Gaara gripped the waistband and prevented him.

"Isn't it obvious? Both of us would be late. And I am not going to arrive at work after nine just because certain someone decided to stay in bed until the last minute, again," Gaara hissed angrily.

Small smile graced Naruto's lips as he watched the redhead strip off his clothes in full confidence, seemingly smug of having won their little argument. When the aggravated jade eyes met his charming blue, he only smiled back friendlily. Gaara was aware of the way Naruto was subtly eyeing him and before he would visibly react to it in any way, he slipped behind the shower curtain.

Just when the water was at the right temperature and Gaara's irritated mood started to calm down, Naruto slipped into the shower like a thief, with the most unarming smile on his face.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Gaara asked but this time, his voice lacked the acidity.

"Let me wash my hair really quick. Look how greasy it is. Please, Gaara."

How could he say no to those pleading blue eyes? Naruto looked sincere enough and Gaara gave him the showerhead.

The closeness of the blond was distracting on its own, and in the mornings especially Gaara found himself affected by his charm. That was why he wanted to avoid these kinds of situations at all costs. From previous experience he knew how annoying it could be to have a resilient hard-on bugging him throughout the workday. Not only was it tricky to hide, it also made peeing downright impossible.

"Oops, sorry," Naruto laughed heartily as the proof of his affection—otherwise known as his morning wood—brushed against Gaara's hip. It was an accident. Probably.

"This is why…" Gaara began grumpily but instead of finishing his thought he only let out a deep sigh. The stupid, apologetic smile on Naruto's face started to annoy him.

"I can wash your back if you want," the blond offered and once again his voice sounded sincere enough. Gaara decided to let him but the moment Naruto touched his skin, Gaara realized his mistake. The warmth of his touch was simply addicting, something he couldn't ignore. The way Naruto caressed the width of his shoulders, the curve of his back, felt way too detailed to be brushed off as something accidental.

The devious, flirty contact awakened something underneath Gaara's skin, only to cause his irritation return tenfold. Just to distract himself from the primitive need that was shamelessly speeding through his veins, he began to pick on Naruto.

"Thanks to you, we're going to be late," he sighed pointedly but again, he couldn't bring the annoyance to his voice as he had hoped.

"I'm so sorry to hold you up like this," Naruto apologized and his comforting touch traced down Gaara's arms. He stopped at his wrists. Gaara inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, and the damned blond read him just right and captured his hands behind his back. It was only a gentle, loose hold, but then his teeth were touching Gaara's earlobe, and in that moment, he was pushed over the line of no return.

It was clear they would not get to work in time, but the moment Naruto's demanding touch caressed every inch of his soapy skin—except that one area under his navel that desperately begged for attention—Gaara found himself oddly uncaring of his accustomed schedules. Naruto's erection felt like a log of wood against his ass, promising him a ride he had been dying to have. Just the proof of Naruto's fiery affection was enough to make him lose his ability to speak coherently.

"Na-Naru…" he started weakly, gulping once or twice until the words returned to him, "Touch me."

"Are you sure?" the blond whispered, his voice soft as velvet when his breath walked along Gaara's wet skin, "I thought we were in a hurry."

Oh, he would unmistakably make the annoying blond regret his stupid seductiveness. No matter how much Naruto had shaken up his world, there were certain things not even he could get away with—and one of them was messing up his mourning routines audaciously like this.

With an air of irritation Gaara turned around to face the blond, breaking their bodily connection. He leaned against the tiles, eyes half-closed with theatrical desire, while he shamelessly began to stroke himself as if it was the most pleasurable thing in the world.

"Haah, N-Naru…"

Naruto was red as a beet. Words literally stuck into his throat and he sputtered incoherent syllables while staring at the quietly moaning redhead, at the explosive desire written all over his face. Naruto couldn't tear his gaze away from the lips that were pursed in pleasure, from the black eyelids that were almost closed, from the skin on his chest that was turning pink.

With his glassy, wide open eyes and a mouth that was hanging open, Naruto looked like a complete dork.

Gaara wanted to laugh but he was too aroused and agitated to execute such a basic human reaction. When only a light, high-pitched sigh escaped his lips in response, Naruto cupped his cheeks and kissed him hungrily. Gaara moaned against his lips, encouraging him to continue, and then Naruto's touch was all over his skin again.

Naruto was such a dork, Gaara couldn't help but think, he was such an easily manipulated goof, wasn't he? And when the blond dropped down to his knees and took him into his mouth, Gaara had to admit that those smartass lips surely sucked him in a way he couldn't withstand much longer.

Fuck, the way Naruto handling him, he was going to burst like a bottle of champagne.

"I— I… I'm—" Gaara stuttered all but intelligently and after that, everything went white for a while.

Maybe it was just his wobbly knees giving in rather than the honest, alluring attraction displayed on Naruto's face, that made Gaara kneel in front of his boyfriend, gripping that log of wood and licking off the precum from the tip.

Naruto was hard like an iron bar and his high-pitched moans echoed unashamedly in the tiled bathroom. With his half-pleading, half-encouraging mumbles of syllables he sounded like a sexy moron Gaara was more than happy to suck off. Quicker than he had expected, the blond mess reached his peak and his wild moans momentarily deafened them both. There was no question whether or not the sounds of their little activities were carried to the neighbor via air condition.

With secret smugness Gaara thought it only served them right.

When they eventually got out of the shower, Gaara felt relaxed like a hammock. Naruto kissed him on the shoulder and gently dried him with a towel. Gaara leaned into that touch and he couldn't remember what had made him so grumpy in the first place.

On the train his usual morning scowl was gone and it threatened to cool no one's take-away beverages. At work, Gaara felt oddly productive and managed to finish his assignments early. Ino and Hinata were giving him a suspicious look at the copy machine, a clear sign that something was obviously different in him today. He couldn't care less what they thought.

The only regret he had was that he and Naruto no longer worked at the same place.

At the thought of the blond, his heart flipped and his regret was replaced by happy anticipation. In three hours, he was able to see the target of his attraction once again.

Unlike Kankuro had imagined in the very beginning, the young Inuzuka's house was not flooded with profuse luxury. Large windows letting in all the light in the world were very much the only thing that could be described as pompous. Other than that, nothing in the decoration suggested supreme wealth. Kiba Inuzuka was a practical man who had no interest for unnecessary flashiness.

"Have you already apologized to Tenten and Naruto?" Kiba asked, holding a glass of wine while he gazed at the snow-covered landscape.

Kankuro lay on the sofa, hands behind his head, taking in the view of his boss.

"Yes," he replied with a convincing smile. Kiba's evaluative stare lingered on him and it felt like there were no mask, barrier or role those eyes couldn't see through. Kankuro shifted his position a little when it started to feel uncomfortable.

"No," he meekly admitted.

"Care to explain why that is so?" Kiba wondered and took a sip of his wine.

"W-Well… I thought they might not want to see me. You know, I thought I should respect their feelings and stay away," Kankuro told and suddenly no position on the couch felt comfortable.

Kiba barked a laugh like he had heard a joke. Kankuro scowled a little, displeased that his explanation was received that way.

"By avoiding them, you are avoiding your own feelings, too. And as long as you stay away, you don't have to explain to them—or to yourself—what happened and why it happened," Kiba said calmly.

"I think you're wrong," Kankuro replied and closed his eyes. In the background, Kiba laughed again.

"Then tell me why it's so hard for you to apologize to them," Kiba asked casually. His voice was light and carefree like a wind traveling through summery meadows. Kankuro stayed in that mental image for as long as he could, feeling the sun on his skin, the breeze in his hair, his boss' hand on his…

"I just want to give them time to calm down," Kankuro replied a bit dreamily, and opened his eyes again.

Kiba offered him a serious look, "You are avoiding them because in order to face them, you would have to explain to yourself why you behaved that way. And you have no idea why you behave like that. That is the problem. You can't explain yourself, and that's why you keep on running away from your emotions."

"Fine. I will call them tomorrow and get it done with. Now… come here," Kankuro said temptingly and shifted his position so that it looked a tiny bit seductive.

"I am not kissing a mouth that lies," Kiba only said and made no move towards the couch.

"You don't have to kiss me on the lips," Kankuro said softly and the look in Kiba's eyes became slightly hazier.

"Look, there's no questioning whether or not I wanna do you, Kankuro. The thing is, if you don't work through your shit this relationship will never be anything but a carnal fling. And it's a shame because I really like you Kankuro, even when you're being such an asshole. I am not planning on living my life from a fling to another. I want something more lasting."

Kankuro fell silent. He knew Kiba was right. He was avoiding and running, hiding and distracting. It was not a perfect method but it felt better than addressing the undefined tangle of emotions pulsing in the back of his mind.

"And what the heck were you doing with that woman at that party last week?" Kiba asked, shaking his head.

It had been a small gathering of colleagues and friends, and one of the women had made a rather bold move on Kankuro. He had let it happen, not bothering to reject her advances. Somebody noticed him. Somebody liked him enough to thrust their tongue into his throat. He was being a good man, a good guy, someone admirable, right? He wanted the caress, he wanted it so much.

But he would get the punch too if he spoke up his mind, wouldn't he, and that was why he never told her he wasn't exactly interested. He remembered Kiba's worried stare boring into his head and maybe his boss had called him an unbelievable idiot, too. Unlike he had assumed, Kiba showed no jealously about it afterwards, only bottomless worry and concern.

"Oh that? I was not interested in her," Kankuro shrugged it off like none of it bothered him at all.

"If that's the case, you gotta learn to say no," Kiba knew and Kankuro pouted.

"I can say no, you know."

"Can you really?" Kiba wondered like what he had heard was some new, surprising information. It made Kankuro even grouchier.

"I don't have to listen to this," he said and got up from the couch. Kiba only gave him a level stare.

"You are free to go, free to stay. I gotta admit I'd prefer you stayed. But if you're that reluctant to face your issues, then maybe I can't help you. It's a shame, though. A good man goes to waste in you, Kankuro."

He stood by the couch, suddenly unsure if he should leave or give it a second chance, after all. Kiba sipped his wine again and spoke to the snowy landscape.

"You know, if you're not a complete bonehead like you sometimes present yourself as, you can have Tuesday off and go to an appointment at 10 o'clock sharp. After you've talked with the shrink, you can come here and we can cook something delicious."

Kankuro thought about the offer, "Are you telling me you've scheduled an appointment for me behind my back?"

Kiba laughed, "I told you I would put you into therapy if I deemed it necessary for your well-being. I care for my employees, you know."

Kankuro sighed, feeling uncomfortable with his emotions again. Just to distract himself, he lay down on the couch and eyed his boss meaningfully.

"Would you come here and show me how much you care for this particular employee?" Kankuro asked with a small smile gracing his lips.

Kiba abandoned his wine glass and walked to the sofa with a slight smirk on his face, "You are really something, aren't you?"

"I know you can't resist me," Kankuro laughed charmingly.

"I can resist you," Kiba corrected but the beginning of a blush on his face betrayed him.

Kankuro smirked, "Your eyes tell me otherwise." His gaze dropped down to Kiba's crotch, "And your pants don't lie."

Blush overtook Kiba's face completely and he tried to laugh it off. "Yeah? Well since this is your doing," he pointed down at the bulge in his pants, "Maybe you would like to take care of it then?"

"Oh, so you don't want to kiss a mouth that lies but it's perfectly okay to have those lips around your cock, huh?" Kankuro teased, "Don't tell me you're a hypocrite, Inuzuka."

"Don't twist my words," Kiba replied with a bark of laughter, "Since that mouth is so good at sucking dick, maybe it could learn to speak truth equally well, too."

"I am trying," Kankuro told. It was true this time.

Kiba sat down on the sofa and touched his face with a tender caress. Then he leaned in to kiss Kankuro on the lips.

It was a casual café on a casual evening. A soft murmur of conversation surrounded their table, and the large monsteras planted on heavy pots shielded them from the eyes of other customers.

Despite the pleasant atmosphere Kankuro was all but relaxed. Opposite to him sat his ex-wife, calm as ever.

In the middle of the table there was a black little gift box. Another expensive watch, huh?

Sakura's smile grew wider as he lifted his gaze up from the peace offering.

"Aren't you going to open it?" she inquired.

Kankuro hesitated. In two months their divorce would be final. Most likely this was just an innocent way of hers to tell him they should bury the hatchet. Keeping this in mind, Kankuro took the box in his sweaty hands and proceeded to open it. What was inside, however, was certainly not a watch.

"Sa-Sakura," he stammered and stared at the set of car keys. A little neatly-written tag connected to it told him the model. Without further information he understood that the price had to be a six-digit sum. It was an insane amount of money. To his horror he noticed his initials had already been engraved to the key fob: K.H. as in Kankuro Haruno.

"Why don't you come and see it for yourself, tonight?" she said softly over her cup of coffee.

"Why would you…?" he trailed off, utterly confused.

Her smile was sweet but not to be trusted, of course. Gracefully she stood up and claimed the seat next to him, and just as beautifully her arm now rested on his shoulder. She smelled expensive and sophisticated, while Kankuro sweated in his spot.

"During these past months I realized what a fool I was. I've missed you, Kankuro, and I want us to try again."

"Why?" he repeated his question, unable to fathom why anyone as wealthy and successful would choose him in the end.

"I want to give you the life you always wanted, and this time I believe I'm able to fulfill my promise," Sakura explained and caressed his cheek ever so affectionately. Kankuro was trapped between the monsteras and her.

"N-No, I don't think we should…" he trailed off.

"Don't make up your mind until you've heard what I have to offer," she chuckled like he was just a foolish young man, "I want us to move abroad. My family has some business in there, and I already have purchased a house where we will stay. You will receive a respected job at our company, too."

Kankuro flashed a quick smile, just to ease out his nervousness. His hands were trembling so he hid them under the table. It sounded like it was all settled already, and the last step of the plan was now this, kidnapping him to where ever she wanted to take him.

"I—I can't leave my parents. They need me, as you already know. I can't leave mom with someone like dad. Gaara and Temari can't look after them like I can, they don't have the financial resources for that," Kankuro said and wished this would be the end of this little meeting. But Sakura caressed his cheek and her delicate thumb ran over his lower lip.

"I have a solution for that," she told and for the first time that evening Kankuro let his gaze linger on her for longer than two seconds. Her expression turned more business-like, as if they were now negotiating a contract.

"It could happen so that your father would meet someone at the pub he patronizes, someone like a friend. Later that evening, in some private apartment, it could turn out as a brawl between drunken buddies, in which your father would unfortunately lose his life. There would be no link to any of us, and the police would deem it as another altercation between intoxicated bar-goers."

Cold shivers ran down Kankuro's spine. They were talking about a murder here, weren't they? Sakura touched his chin and made him meet her eyes again.

"Your mother's debt would be taken care of. She would have someone taking care of her daily business and health. You wouldn't have to worry about her anymore," Sakura told and her gaze dropped down to his lips.

"Why would you do any of this for me?" Kankuro asked, finding it hard to believe his problems could be solved effortlessly like that. Sakura's expression softened and once again she looked like a charming young lady instead of the ice-cold business woman he had learned to know.

Out of nowhere a waitress brought them two glasses of champagne and a tray of desserts one more delicious after another. Sakura thanked her with a smile best described as cute and harmless, and the waitress bowed at them with happy respect. Once again Kankuro was reminded of how they must've looked to everybody else. With her petite, short built Sakura met the standards of a perfect, cute girlfriend every guy would dream of, and with his masculine, strong looks Kankuro would be viewed as the caring, protective husband starring any average rom-com blockbuster.

No one was looking at them with disdain or shock. Their assumed relationship was instantly accepted by the society. They fitted within the image of normal, within the image of admirable.

"I realized how much I still love you, Kankuro," she spoke in his ear, her voice soft as silk, "I need you."

If anyone saw them, no one was offended by their public displays of affection. Even Rasa would give them his blessing. Kankuro gulped and didn't respond to her affections. She was just a cute, harmless woman confessing her love to him. And he was a strong, independent man completely in charge of the situation, wasn't he?

"I want to be inside of you," Sakura whispered so that only he could hear, "I want you to be an uncontrolled mess in the brink of release, begging for me to never stop. I want to hit that spot that makes you see the stars, Kankuro."

By now he was most embarrassingly blushing. Her manicured nails touched his silken tie.

"You like that, don't you? The feeling of someone doing you that way," she whispered again but this time her voice was not as sweet anymore. The grip on his tie tightened, "They say your recent girlfriends aren't girls at all, Kankuro."

"T-That's not true," he instantly denied before he could stop and think. Under the table, Sakura rubbed his thigh.

"I thought so, too," she said and took a sip of her champagne, "Come with me tonight."

"No," Kankuro said but despite that, he found himself following her to the mansion.

That night, he didn't object her. Maybe it was those walls around him that made him subconsciously follow the behavioral patterns that ominously defined their relationship. In the middle of this breathtaking luxury, he was just a nobody masked in an expensive suit.

He closed his eyes but she didn't seem to care. In his mind, it was not her entering him with a strap-on but someone with brown hair and sharp fangs.

Sakura stared at her husband's face which was now twisted into an expression of unashamed pleasure. Her heart hurt like it was stabbed with a dagger. He wasn't thinking of her, was he?

When she had slowly realized her husband was not into women exactly, a small fraction of her soul had died that day. He didn't want her but he never made a move to leave. Instead he stayed, abusing the safe luxury she offered, and without guilt he seemed to enjoy his generous paycheck that was paid by her family company. It made her bitter and angry. In years to come her anger had morphed into something way uglier until seeing him trembling under her with his legs spread was the only thing that brought her satisfaction. If he wanted a man so badly, she could be that for him. Why wasn't she enough?

Whenever he tried to reject her, it only fueled her more until in the end he stopped all objects and passively let her do him whichever way she pleased.

She wanted him to reject her. She wanted to see that familiar shame and fright blossom in his face. He would learn his place. He would love her again, wouldn't he? Sakura had done so much for him, why couldn't he see it? Even now she was hurting herself in order to fulfill his fantasies. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Why wasn't she enough? Anger boiled inside of her but by now he was too caught up in his pleasure, eyes closed and lips half-open, ready to come.

And when he did, she knew it was not her he thought of. It never was.

Cool anger unfurled inside her heart. This was not what she wanted from sex but she did it all for him. Why wasn't he grateful?

When he opened his eyes, the submissive shyness glinting in there instantly eased out her wrath. Her expression softened into a friendly little smile. He needed to feel safe, so that she could control him the way she wanted to. The shame on his face made her fall in love again, not with him but with this twisted game they were playing. She wanted to own his body and mind, his hurt, shame and fear. She wanted to control his fantasies, sexuality and freedom.

It was a reasonable price for betraying her, wasn't it?

In the morning, Kankuro was more than ashamed of what he had let happen to himself. Sakura had left the house as a little note attached on the mirror told.

He winced at the pain in his behind but proceeded to get dressed the best he could. He should not let this continue, for god's sake! Once already he had escaped this place, and damned he was if he now willingly returned here. Most certainly he did not view Sakura as his future wife or anything similar. The only thing was, he hadn't really expressed this to her last night.

He had meant to, he really had, but the perfect moment had never come and by then she had already mistaken his submission as affection. Briefly he wondered if his father was already on his way to meet the fateful buddy planted in the neighborhood pub. Or perhaps someone equally shady would be ordered to sneak into Kankuro's life the moment he least expected it, in case he began to back down from whatever future Sakura was planning for them.

With some bittersweetness he knew his father would approve of this marriage. This sickening relationship would come to solve his family's problems and guarantee his mother a life worth of living. Temari and Gaara would be able to breathe more easily after that, maybe even get their lives finally on a better track they both deserved. Saying "yes" to this would offer him financial stability and a social status many would kill for. In exchange, all he had to do was sacrifice himself.

By now he was well aware that he could never ever confess publicly how she violated him in the bedroom. Police would hardly believe him, or his inability to stop it from happening. His friends would not buy that a petite, well-mannered lady such as Mrs. Haruno, could ever be capable of doing the things he accused her of. They would say he wanted it, wouldn't they? That he asked for it and forced her to participate in his sick fantasies. And his father, he would just beat him up the second he learned Kankuro had taken anything into his ass, voluntarily or not. Not even Kiba knew. His shame and hurt was something he intended to keep solely to himself.

"Shit," Kankuro cursed as he couldn't find his wallet anywhere. He was sure he hadn't misplaced it from his pocket last night. As funny as it sounded, his phone seemed to be missing, too. With an eerie feeling, Kankuro made his way down to the hall, relieved to see his coat was at least still there—but unlucky for him, his shoes were nowhere to be found.

He was feverishly trying to figure out how to call a cab or take a hike without phone or shoes, when the front door opened and a widely beaming Sakura walked in, carrying a bag of freshly baked pastries.

"Why are you wearing your coat?" she asked.

"Oh this?" Kankuro laughed uneasily. "I was just…" he trailed off as he realized what he was once again doing. "I can't do this, Sakura," he finally told the truth, "I am not in love with you anymore. I'm sorry."

"Why is that a problem?" she asked and brushed past him towards the kitchen. He followed, feeling stupid in his socks and winter coat.

"O-of course it's a problem," Kankuro replied, feeling strange at defending his point of view, "I… I believe I actually do prefer men over women, and that is why it will never, ever work between us again."

With almost eerie calmness Sakura placed the pastries on a tray and turned on the coffee maker. In their neat little kitchen, everything looked perfect on the outside.

"That is not a valid reason to leave this marriage," she told and the expression on her face was soft as stone, "Many men of your kind have a wife."

The flicker of defeat and submission on his face pleased her, and a small smirk appeared on her lips. Oh, her Kankuro was not going to wriggle out of this deal. She needed him, his humor, laughter, smile and looks. Kankuro took a step back, no doubt wondering where his shoes were hidden, confused like a mouse in a maze. Wasn't that just adorable?

"Take off your coat and sit down," she told and took out two mugs from the cabinet. To her displeasure he did not comply.

"No. I'm afraid I'll be leaving. This is not what I want, or what is good for either of us."

"Don't be silly. You just think you feel that way," Sakura shrugged it off. When he only looked at her gravely, she abandoned her coffee altogether.

"Your mom loves you. Don't you love her, too? Or do you want her life to get even worse? It will, if you don't stop it from happening. You have the power, Kankuro. Don't tell me you are that selfish?"

There it was, that familiar pain and shame she was so used to digging up from the depths of his heart. Her smile got warmer from all the nostalgia. He had already hung his head in defeat. Only one tiny push and he would cross the line and stay here forever.

"I made some arrangements this morning and the removal company will arrive at your apartment later in the afternoon to drop off the boxes. You can start packing right away," Sakura told and Kankuro looked at her, surprised.

"Don't worry. Everything will work out. Your parents' problems will be solved. Your mom will have a dignified life she deserves and your brother and sister will be freed from the emotional burden that's been weighing them down. You will be free from the abuse of your father."

If only that beautiful future she painted was to be trusted. Kankuro shook his head in denial. He wanted to go. He wanted to go away so much.

"Your mom will love you again. Is it still Gaara she calls every time, never you? Oh, don't worry. She will see what a great son you are. She will love you so much," Sakura said with an unarming smile. He wanted to believe her, he really did.

"With your father gone, she will be finally able to tell you it's okay to be gay. Isn't that what you've wanted to hear all your life?" she said sweetly and Kankuro felt ill, "You have the power to make that happen. You want to be a good son, don't you?"

"I do," Kankuro admitted and choked on something that had risen to his throat. So this was how his life was going to go, was it? Maybe his mother would start loving him like she had loved Gaara all along? Maybe his mother would finally drop the veil of silence and tell him it was alright to be like this, to feel what he did when he was with Kiba.

Kiba.

"You gotta learn to say no."

His boss' factual words echoed in his thoughts. Kankuro felt ashamed. What would Kiba say if he saw him now? If he knew of the things that he let happen to himself? Kiba had never promised to help his parents but he had always treated him as an equal. Relentlessly Kiba held him responsible for his actions and tried to guide him towards healthier direction, no matter how difficult Kankuro made it for him.

"I do want to be a good son," Kankuro said, "But I don't see the two of us together like this. I'm sorry but that's how it is."

She laughed as if he had told a joke. For a moment there Kankuro wished she would've choked on the bun she was chewing but of course his prayers were not answered, not now or ever.

"Once we get abroad you will change your mind," she promised like their future was already sealed.

"No," Kankuro denied the idea more firmly now, and she fell eerily silent, "I won't be moving there with you. This is not what I want. Please give me my belongings and I'll see myself out."

She smacked her mug on the table so angrily he flinched. Coffee spilled on the tablecloth and ruined the pristine linen with angry, hot stains.

When she walked towards him, Kankuro instinctively stepped aside as if anticipating a punishment. But she never touched him, only made her way to a nearby room. Before Kankuro could make up his mind whether or not to follow her, Sakura came back, holding his missing possessions.

He never had time to dodge that shoe flying his way, and when it hit him in the face he retreated in fear. His phone met the wall right when he understood to duck, but the broken screen was the least of his worries at the moment.

"You have the guts to come here and take advantage of my kindness, only to betray me like this in the morning. You're pitiful like always, Kankuro. And how foolish I was to ever think you were worth my efforts. Go back to your family, they won't love you any better," Sakura cursed, holding his other shoe still in her hand. With an angry throw she tried to hit him but he managed to move aside. But he was not able to foresee a wallet speeding right at the back of his head, and when it hit him he yelped.

His first thoughts were to flee the scene and avoid her for the rest of their lives. This was all somehow his fault, wasn't it, for he had once again managed to be a disappointing husband and an inadequate son, hadn't he? But in his mind he heard Kiba's bark of laughter and suddenly he felt oddly more confident.

"I am not the only one to blame here," Kankuro said and dusted his clothes. His behind hurt but greater than that was the shame. "I won't let you treat me like this anymore. I'm sorry for all the resentment I've caused you but clearly this—" he said, gesturing at the two of them, "—is just one big mistake I don't want to make twice. I'm sorry it had to end like this, and I wish I had been a better husband for you. I wish you all the best in the world. Goodbye, Sakura."

Only an eerie silence on her part escorted him to the door. When he walked through the winter garden for the last time, relief and sadness followed him with each step.

Sakura had been just another Rasa in his life, hadn't she? And when he thought about it, hadn't he treated Naruto with similar kind of abuse?

Wind blew through his clothes and he rightfully shivered in the freeze. An apology he had never delivered haunted him. Hopefully it wouldn't be too late to receive Naruto's forgiveness.

"They're at it again," Naruto pointed out the obvious as the ferocious yells of the neighbors disturbed their peaceful evening.

Gaara stopped in the middle of the room to listen to the racket. Ever since he had moved in here, his neighbors' verbal fights had gotten louder and louder. One of them was screaming on top of their lungs. A seizure would be only a matter of time, Gaara thought, and instinctively glanced at his watch.

"You know what's even more distracting than that?" Naruto asked and changed the channel, "The sounds of lovemaking. One of my friends used to have a couple like that next door. Trust me, you wouldn't trade this for that."

"I wonder," Gaara replied tiredly and put down the book he was holding. There was nothing interesting on TV. He was not hungry but his mouth wanted something to eat. It was slightly cold in the apartment but not enough so that he would go through the trouble of finding his woolen socks. The slight discomfort he felt bugged him, but it was not disturbing enough to be done something about.

"Can I help you with those books?" Naruto spoke in his ear when Gaara forgot himself standing mutely in the spot. The damned blond was so close to him, once again inviting himself on his skin like that. He liked it. He liked it a lot and the friendly blue in Naruto's eyes got him to momentarily forget about his unease.

"I've got everything under control here," Gaara told and tried to remember what plans he had had for the books again. The closeness of Naruto worked like amnesia for him. All there was left in his memory was the frenzy that took over his system whenever the blond was near him like this.

"Sometimes it's better to lose some of that control," Naruto whispered and kept a polite—however minimal—distance to the distracted redhead, "Maybe we should let your neighbors taste their own medicine. Show them how thin those walls are."

Gaara lowered his gaze and he really couldn't remember anymore what he had been doing a minute ago. He wanted to get angry at Naruto for affecting him like this, but his usual inner reserves of grumpiness were suddenly void.

"I am not going to pretend a fight with you just to prove a point to them," Gaara sighed. He placed his palm on Naruto's chest, pretending to inspect the material of his shirt. It was so thin. Warmth radiated through it easily like it was a naked touch, just like in that one particular morning in the shower. Heat flared up to his cheeks and he wasn't able to let go of his boyfriend's shirt.

"Well… there's always something else we could do to get back at them, if you know what I mean," Naruto chuckled innocently like it was only a joke and not an invitation into something that would surely open up their vocal chords.

Those charming blue eyes looked friendlier than ever, but it was the minimalistic way they slightly narrowed that got all kind of secret scenarios blossom in Gaara's mind: Naruto's sultry sighs growing louder, his hands on Gaara's hips, guiding him gently as Gaara lowered himself down on that iron-hard cock that he had dreamed of on some many occasions. Or Naruto's lips when they were swollen and red from all the kissing, the almost innocent quiver that made them tremble when Gaara kept on squeezing his erection through the material of his orange chinos.

Naruto stared at the blank, dreamy look in Gaara's face. It looked like the lights were on but no one was home. For a reason yet untold, the redhead sometimes got like that—he would suddenly just disappear into a world of his own, staring back at him like he was bewitched by something. It was an interesting combination of cute and odd.

Gaara was still fiddling Naruto's shirt, his lips slightly parted, a hazy look clouding his eyes. Naruto gulped and blood coursed down to his pants, making it obvious how he found the dreamy redhead. Slowly he leaned into a kiss and Gaara let him. It started out as light and polite, yet soon it got undercurrents of sensual desire that made Naruto's skin prickle. His pants were so tight by now he feared his zipper would break.

He wanted Gaara sitting on his lap, rubbing his crotch against his to relieve the unpleasant pressure just enough to make them both go crazy. He wanted Gaara clad in his pajama top only, lifting up the hem seductively while biting his lower lip with feigned innocence. He wanted Gaara to ride his lubed fingers until the desire would be too much to handle, and he would grip Naruto's hard cock in desperate demand.

"Yes," Naruto said dumbly, not sure if there had been a question or if he was simply responding to his own fantasies. Gaara looked equally hazy and nodded in response—to what, maybe neither of them knew.

Ding dong.

The sound of doorbell broke their fantasies apart and slowly they began to descend back to reality. Gaara let go of Naruto's shirt, and the blond took a step back, the tightness in his pants easing out a bit.

"Are you expecting someone?" Gaara asked, and his voice still carried traces of dreamy desire.

"I don't think so," Naruto replied and tried to recall what they had been doing with the books only moments before. The only thing he was able to recall was the imaginary Gaara's bare legs sprawled on the bed, while his loose pajama top tried its best to cover up his naked upper body.

Thanks, brain. How helpful!

Gaara smiled at the blond. Naruto had that dumb look on his face again, the one he sometimes forgot on for quite long periods of time. Naruto was strange like that, and Gaara was secretly thankful that at least his own face was unreadable at all times.

Ding dong.

Gaara went to the door, slightly cautious who there might be. Whom he saw in there took him by complete surprise.

"Temari? What are you doing in here?"

"I'm happy to see you too, little bro," a woman with sandy-brown hair greeted wryly. Even despite winter freeze, her leather jacket hung unzipped and her ripped boyfriend jeans told clearly that she hadn't bothered with a layer of warm underwear. Gaara sighed at her older sister's choices. Youngsters and their questionable "trends"! Unlike Gaara, Temari was not born mentally middle-aged.

Temari glanced at his formal slacks and wrinkle-free dress shirt. With his sour expression, he looked downright cute. With a goofy chuckle she decided to tease him about it later. When her teal eyes landed on an orange-clad young man standing cautiously in the background, she stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, I didn't know you had company," Temari apologized, "I can come some other time."

"No need. This is Naruto," Gaara started, unsure how to continue. His mouth opened and then closed a few times, his gaze was searching the floor as if words could be found there. The orange stranger was smiling more relaxedly now, hands in his pockets, and when Temari saw how Gaara looked at him, she suddenly understood.

"Oh," she said and couldn't help a hearty grin from spreading to her face, "I see."

Gaara looked shocked, as if he had no clue how easy to read he sometimes was. Temari chuckled and pulled him into a hug.

"When mom told me that you had no girlfriend or family plans, I got a bit worried but now I think I understand. I'm so happy for you, lil' bro. Does Kankuro know yet?"

Gaara was still shocked at how fast his sister was reading the room. Before he could worry about the blond's possible reaction, Naruto was already there by his side, all smiles and so convincing that no trace of sorrow had room in his features.

"He kinda figured it out, too," Naruto explained and put his arm tenderly around Gaara's shoulder.

Temari evaluated the bright young man that was standing proudly by her little brother's side. It was such a sweet sight. She couldn't recall seeing Gaara this happy, well, ever before. A grin even wider took over her face when she realized that the orange-ness that had happened to Gaara's apartment was no doubt this man's doing.

"You could've told me you had a hot boyfriend, you know," Temari teased and playfully punched Gaara in the arm, sending a friendly wink at Naruto's direction.

A miniature shock took over Gaara as he realized they had still not thoroughly discussed the terms of their relationship. Naruto was his boyfriend only in his thoughts so far. The blond noticed his confusion and smiled warmly in return.

"I am blessed to be with him," Naruto cut in again, as if social interactions were his natural specialty, "And I promise to treat him with the respect and love he deserves."

"Where have you been all his life?" Temari asked, and there was no mistaking the rapidly growing admiration in her eyes. Gaara felt proud. Why, he wasn't thoroughly sure, but there was something rewarding in seeing his older sister welcoming his first ever boyfriend with open heart. He had been scared of the opposite but when he now watched the two of them talking, his fears felt irrational.

Of course, Naruto invited her to have tea with them, as if his politeness knew no limits. Gaara and Temari sat at the kitchen table, watching the blond who was carefreely preparing them supper and mint tea.

"Where can I get one of those?" Temari whispered so loudly even Naruto could hear. The blond only chuckled amusedly, not taking part in the siblings' conversation.

"If you're ever so dumb to let someone like him go, I swear I'm gonna call dibs on him," Temari continued and Gaara only rolled his eyes in response. But the moment he saw the wide, goofy grin on his sister's face, he couldn't help but crack a smile, too.

During supper Naruto entertained her with a story of how they had met, and Gaara was sure some turns of events were slightly overexaggerated. Certainly, when they had met for the first time, he had not been noticing Naruto like he was some godsend gift among the mortals of their shabby office. What a ridiculous little lie. He had certainly not been infatuated with him at the very beginning, unlike the blond let her understand. Temari was swooning at the false mental image, and Gaara sighed by himself, not bothering to correct the chatty little storyteller. Sure, he had been decent enough to offer Naruto a place to sleep in, but other than that, he had not shown him any extraordinary friendliness.

He noticed how Naruto avoided mentioning his prior status, his homelessness. He never really denied it either, but hid it behind terms such as "not living with Gaara yet" or "finding it more exciting to travel than settle down".

Sure, by now Gaara knew the nightly train rides Naruto had been forced to take in order to find shelter not only from wintry freeze, but from the motives of shady acquaintances. Finding "traveling exciting" was indeed a creative way to put it.

As expected Kankuro was not mentioned in Naruto's narration. When forced, the blond spoke highly of him and gave away no clues what kind of history lay between them. Temari was drinking all the information thirstily like she had found a hidden world of his little brother she had never even dared to hope existed. She was beaming maybe even more brightly that the blond itself.

Naruto sipped his tea and forced all anxiety out of his mind. This was going well. First impressions were most important, and this was Gaara's bad ass sister they were talking about. He knew the redhead thought highly of her, and distinctly Naruto had a feeling that if she found something to be criticized in him, it could affect on Gaara's view of him, too. He didn't want that. If anything, this was something he could not screw up.

He could not screw this up.

And he was more than well aware of the way older sisters looked at him when they learned about his vagabond status. No matter how good he was, how good he had been, that information was always the thing to rouse suspicions. What was a homeless guy after if not for money or something to steal—someone to take advantage of, right? In his thoughts, Naruto huffed in annoyance. It was a stigma that lasted long, a mark that kept on strengthening itself like a fatal virus.

"I'm afraid I have to get going now. Shikamaru is waiting for me, you see," Temari said and stood up, "It was really nice to meet you, Naruto. Let's have a dinner together sometime, the four of us, and get to know each other better. I swear, Gaara, that I never knew how funny and sociable you could be."

"I am not funny or sociable," Gaara corrected her dryly, "Naruto only made me sound that way."

"Don't beat yourself up like that. You're fun, in your own special way," she cooed and gave the redhead a warm hug.

When Naruto was draping his hand for her, anticipating she would much rather go for a handshake with him, she surprised everyone by pulling him into a tight embrace.

"You hurt him and you're dead, right sweetie?" she whispered and then quickly let go.

Naruto nodded and planted a soft kiss on Gaara's hair, proving his endless loyalty once again. The way Gaara got all flustered made Temari laugh, and like that Naruto was once again in her good graces.

Gaara and Naruto were lounging on the bed, holding their aching tummies. They had overeaten, and as a proof of their feast, there lay pizza boxes and empty candy wrappers on the floor. The place was starting to look like a pig stew, but this time Gaara didn't mention it, for he knew more than well that he was equally guilty of the situation.

Naruto was rubbing the redhead's belly and Gaara settled more comfortably on the mattress, sighing in contentment. They were sleepy and lazy and stupidly happy in the middle of their mess.

However, there was one thing that didn't let Gaara be.

"Naruto," he called, and the blond glanced at him, "What are we?"

"We are pigs," he replied and patted his belly affectionately, "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

Gaara suppressed a smile and tried to get serious once again. It was hard when the blond was studying his belly button, trying to push his finger in there like a curious child.

"That's not what I meant," the redhead responded, "Are we a couple, or just friends?"

Naruto stopped goofing around and met his stare. The tenderness in his blue eyes was breathtaking and before Gaara could (and would) get lost in them, he blinked and cleared his throat.

"Well, I see you as my boyfriend," the blond told, lowering his gaze as if he was suddenly very shy, "I don't want to be with anybody else but you. At the moment the only future I'm able to fathom is with you." And then he lifted up his gaze again and the blue in his eyes had deepened into velvety cobalt.

"I feel the same way," Gaara whispered while his heart rate sped up. His stomach hurt but his pumping heart gave no shit, as the only thing it seemed to care about was the declaration of affection Naruto had performed.

Now the blond was smiling, it was that same confident, trusting smile he had seen on him so many times before. He loved that, he absolutely adored the cheery light Naruto shone all around the place, and into the depths of his heart and soul. It was a complete mystery to him how someone good like Naruto had ended up choosing him.

"Why me?" Gaara asked, finding it hard to believe that he had really made it to the top of the list somehow. Surely there were many others eagerly waiting for Naruto's attention to land on them?

A small grin made Naruto's lips curve up alluringly. In the moment his charming blue eyes met his, Gaara understood that those cobalt depths had no desire to look elsewhere.

"I like myself when I'm around you. You make me feel better about myself. And when I'm near you, I forget all about what life used to be at its worst. I hope I'm able to make you feel the same, too."

For an answer Gaara kissed him softly. He snuggled closer to the blond's chest and wondered how all of this had happened. His horizon was not murky like it used to be. There was now a lighthouse on the shore, rotating its tireless searchlight around the landscape, guiding him through the rocks into a safe hug of land.

And when seconds later Naruto burped in his ear, mumbling a half-hearted apology before scratching his swollen belly, Gaara couldn't help but smile a little. He closed his eyes, hoping his metabolism would quickly do its job and rid him of his aches. When a moment later Naruto's finger pushed at his belly button again, like it was a doorbell or a doomsday button, Gaara admitted that with Naruto around, everything felt goofier and more fun. He wouldn't trade this for anything in the world. As if reading his thoughts, Naruto sleepily ruffled his red hair and then pushed his nose like it, too, was yet another button.

A/N: Thank you for surviving through this, somehow. I try to make the next chapter WAY shorter XDDD

And, in the next chapter I try to get more into Naruto's head!