"All right, I understand why you have all these trade agreements, but what I don't understand is why you're taking some of your imports from one country and turning around and exporting them right back out to another." Naruto was holding several folders and loose papers with a small frown of confusion. He was sitting on the corner of the Kazekage's desk, a spot he had claimed in the two weeks since being assigned as the leader's bodyguard, blatantly ignoring the chair that had been brought in for him and instead using the added furniture to stack up files his body displaced from the desk on top of like an impromptu table. "Wouldn't that just be a loss of profit or something?"
Gaara continued to skim a mission report from a chuunin team while he thought about how best to explain the irritatingly convoluted system of economics. The anbu currently sitting cross-legged on a third of his desk space had been helping him with his work for a little over a week. Gaara had figured that since Naruto wanted to learn what it was like to be a Kage, he could see what the work was like too. On one hand, having to take time to explain things to the blonde made things progress rather slower, while on the other hand having help actually increased the pace with which he could get all the work done, so in the end it about evened out. Naruto was getting better, though, so the speed was slowly beginning to outweigh the delay.
"Because one of Earth Country's chief exports is metal ore that they mine out of all their rocky mountains," the young leader began finally, judging a request for research funds as lacking sufficient information and put it into a pile without being approved. "which is used by all villages to forge weapons like kunai and shuriken and the like. Unfortunately, this country's mostly desolate; not so much near the borders but the things that manage to grow there aren't enough to provide a steady staple for our exports."
"Yeah I read that somewhere," Naruto interrupted with a thoughtful frown, "Wind Country mostly specializes in cotton and spices, right?" The redhead nodded absently and continued.
"And glass, but it doesn't travel very well. Some of that stuff is grown in oasis towns nearby that pay this village some in tithes in return for habitual guardianship by our shinobi, so we have a semi-independent trade income besides the general staples spread across the country – which are technically belonging to the Nation Lord – but at any rate our exports usually don't match our imports from Earth. That country is rough terrain so they import a lot of grains and food staples that they can't grow themselves, such as rice from Rain and even Waterfall and wheat from Grass." He paused then and glanced surreptitiously at the other male, his silence prompting an answer.
"So… you have to use some of your imports from trade with other countries to balance out your deficit with others…" Naruto guessed slowly, grinning cheekily when he got a nod in reply. He turned back to the files in his hands. "So then it's all right to approve these trade itineraries, right?" Gaara nodded again and the blonde reached across the desk, narrowly avoiding the petit hand as the other teen scribbled some notes, and grabbed the Kazekage's personal stamp, pressing it into the inkpad a few times and stamped it forcefully on each of the files. He blew on the pages a couple times to dry the bright red ink before snapping them closed and tossing them on the spare chair, which had perforce become his "Done and Approved" pile.
The chaos, disorder and general messiness that had assaulted his office in the past week occasionally grated on Gaara's nerves. Order and organization were his preferred state of life. The redhead bit back his protests and endured it, though, because he wanted Naruto near him more than he wanted a clean office. He told himself this as the precarious pile on the chair slipped and several of the top files slipped off onto the floor.
He could deal with it. Really. It was like early training for living together – if the desert ever froze over and that little fantasy became possible. Hah.
If you laugh any harder you're going to choke, bastard.
Gaara finished up with mission reports and moved onto the new mission requests that needed ninjas assigned to them. Given that anything regarding missions was still confidential to the village, he couldn't pass any of them off to Naruto to check out and help with, thus he did each of them personally.
"Don't you have people to help you with this?" Naruto asked with a sigh after a few more minutes passed. "I mean, I know Tsunade no baa-chan doesn't really do her job much but even then I know people help her, and Iruka-sensei is usually helping assign missions and such. So how come you don't have people helping you and you're cooped up in this room all day doing it all yourself?" Out of sheer laziness, the blonde quickly created a clone to pick up the scattered documents off the floor rather than get up off the desk himself, and dismissed the construction after it had put them back on the chair. A second later the top one slipped off again. Naruto decided the damn things were evil and out to thwart him.
"I do have help," Gaara answered coolly, not even bothering to raise his eyes. "Baki usually goes over anything that pertains to political matters, like those trade lists you had a few minutes ago. Kankurou sometimes checks the requests and requisitions when he has time, and Matsuri goes over all the mission reports and requests. She usually notes a suggested team for a lot of the genin ranked assignments and even a few of the higher ones occasionally. Temari used to help me like this when she wasn't on assignment."
"That reminds me, where is your sister anyway? I've been here almost three weeks and haven't seen her. She been on a long mission or something?"
"You could say that." Gaara agreed, smirking at the irony. "Who do you think you're replacing here?" The pure surprised confusion that blossomed on the tan face was comical.
"You mean you sent your own sister to Konohagakure?" Naruto asked with a degree of incredulity, turning his full attention to the redhead sitting a small distance away. "Are you serious?"
"Of course."
The anbu seated crossed-legged on desk spluttered a few times at the simple and direct answer. "Why?" he managed to choke out after a confused moment.
"Why not?" Gaara returned simply, quirking a brow and setting aside the current file – a request for assistance from the greenhouse gardeners to save the plants until the broken hydration systems could be repaired – to give his attention to the other teen.
"She's your sister, and you just sent her off to another country? What if she had gotten attacked on the way? What if something happens to her?" He began to flail a little as he worked himself towards a small frenzy.
"Your Hokage sent you here, didn't she?" the petit teen pointed out dryly, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together in his lap. Naruto scowled.
"That's different," he protested, "baa-chan knows I can take care of myself just fine, and she's not my sister. What if something happens to her while she's taking my place, huh?"
"What does it matter?" Gaara asked simply, frowning a little and honestly confused as to why Naruto had a problem with it all anyway. "Temari can take care of herself. She's my sister, after all. I'd had every intention of sending her to your village as soon as the exchange was suggested." The blonde opened his mouth again, doubtless to ask 'why' again so Gaara continued with a sigh. "She's in no more danger there than she was here. Besides, she wanted to go."
"Wait, so she asked to go? Are you serious? I always heard her complaining about it whenever you made her our liaison."
"Of course she does," the Kazekage agreed lightly, "But she likes it nonetheless."
"Whatever you say. Shikamaru's not going to thank you for it, I can tell you that. Another 'pushy troublesome woman' to deal with." He snickered pitilessly and the redhead's slim lips pulled into a smirk.
"That was the general idea, yes."
One could almost see the wheels turning behind the blue eyes as Naruto processed the comment… and the implication. "Are you saying that Shikamaru and Temari are…? Oh wow…"
The Kazekage stood from his chair quietly and stepped up to where the blonde was sitting, leaning forward and laying his slender palms on the desk around the black-clad hips, pausing as their noses just barely brushed and their breathes mingled. "You didn't really think I was the only one to be attracted to a shinobi of the Leaf, did you?" He didn't wait for an answer and closed the distance for a kiss, which was instantly and eagerly returned. Gloved fingers tangled in his hair as the anbu moaned into the mouth that claimed him, arching into the touch. Gaara explored the warm cavern slowly, lazily, reacquainting himself with the unique taste that he had become completely addicted to in recent weeks, despite the added taste of ramen that now never seemed to fade. Perhaps he shouldn't have taken Naruto out to that restaurant, the crazy boy had been returning on a nearly nightly basis ever since, trying out all the new flavors. But ramen was a part of him, just as highly caffeinated drinks were a part of Gaara, so he accepted this as another facet of the young man he cared so very much for.
For an instant they broke apart as Naruto unfolded his legs and moved them to hang over the edge, Gaara pressed against the edge of the desk between his thighs, and used the grip he still had on those bloody-tinted spikes to dive back into the kiss with abandon. Shukaku growled in protest – he didn't like the youko or the host – and pointed out that he was developing a rather nasty habit of giving in to distractions, especially while working. The redhead ignored the complaints, both because he didn't much care what the brat wanted and because he also knew that he was right. He shouldn't allow himself to get distracted, he was the Kazekage and had a village to look after, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. It had been years since they'd started their strange little affair, sporadic and secretive though it was due to their distance. Meetings, summits and occasionally missions were all that had afforded them time together, so now… to have the object of his desire so close at hand for such an extended period of time was almost euphoric, and Gaara couldn't help but give in to the temptation while he could.
Smooth hands, unguarded by a thin veneer of sand, lifted from the cool tabletop to place themselves instead upon the black-clad hips, fingers flexing against the firm muscle and savoring the warmth radiating from the trim body. He tugged demandingly, yanking the enticing blonde closer and they rocked their bodies together with a low groan. Strong thighs tightened against his hips, denying him an escape that he didn't even want. Satisfied that he had thoroughly remapped the blonde's mouth, Gaara broke the kiss to delicately lick a trail along the middle whisker-line of the tan cheek down to the jaw, where he proceeded to nip along the length back toward the juncture and suckle on the soft skin below the ear. Naruto groaned, back arching and head falling back to bare his throat for further attention, as he leaned slowly back. Not needing the hold on his hair to guide him, the redhead followed the figure down, raised his hands from the rolling hips to fumble deliberately at the latches of the white anbu vest armor as he continued to nip and nuzzle at the strong neck. Said anbu decided it was a fantastic idea and released his hold on the soft tresses to tug at the white swathes wrapped around Gaara's neck, working the sash free and pushing it, along with the white robe, over the slim shoulders. The green robe below was, unfortunately, harder to remove, so he satisfied himself by returning the treatment to whatever pale skin he could reach.
A low growl rumbled in Gaara's chest as he finished with the armor, raising himself up enough to begin to pull the offending garment off. Naruto assisted by arcing and twisting to free himself as it was pulled off him whilst quickly removing the white bracers and gloves from his arms, so it was only a short interruption until the pieces all got thrown aside carelessly and they both rushed together in a heated kiss, picking up where they'd left off with fervor. With no more boundaries, the feel of warm flesh and silken hair on skin that felt oversensitive from deprivation sent a thrill of pleasure through the blonde, racing like a shock just below the skin, as he threw his arms tightly back around the lean shoulders above him.
Hungry lips swallowed a deep moan as the young leader slipped nimble fingers under the tight black sleeveless top that was the anbu's uniform shirt, palm exploring the new territory, touching all the trembling flesh available and brushing only teasingly across nipples. One of Naruto's more sensitive spots, he knew quite well, and he exploited the knowledge ruthlessly until the blonde was breathing hard and tearing frantically at the Kazekage's robes of office.
"Too many fucking layers, Gaara!" the usually-cheerful shinobi snarled quietly, breath ragged as he turned his full attention to removing the green robes, hissing when he succeeded only to meet another layer – his usual black clothes. Gaara smirked but otherwise did not comment as he was divested of some of his robes.
Strong tan fingers moved to the bindings of the black coat but paused when the redhead once more ground their bodies together, forcing another set of moans that ended more as a growl out into the air, and Naruto shifted his goal then to scrambling farther on the desk. Books and files fluttered, landing on the floor with a thump as they were shoved haphazardly out of the way – well, there went the last semblance of organization in the room, not that either figure cared. Lust had sunk its talons deep in the two young men, clawing brutally out through their bellies across every fiber of their being. Eyes and limbs beckoned the dazed redhead forward, demanding he climb up on the desk and continue to sate his appetite. He did not resist, on the contrary Gaara followed the silent order and came up to straddle the rolling hips, the thick black fabric of his coat flaring out over their legs.
On top of a desk wasn't the most comfortable of places for such endeavors and certainly not anywhere Gaara would have preferred, but he was past the point of caring – about comfort, about setting, even a little bit about romance. All that mattered anymore were the sensations that pervaded all of his demon-heightened senses, the sight of the glazed azure eyes as he toned figure writhed in pleasure, the unique taste of the teen's lips and skin, the heady scent of arousal that was thick in the air, the feel of the quivering flesh and muscle underneath his questing fingers, and especially sound of each little gasp and groan the escaped the kiss-bruised lips. He cared only to slake his need, to be as close as physically possible and then merge deeper with the blonde. His blonde. His Naruto. The thought alone sent an electrifying jolt of desire arching along his spine and Gaara keened as he once more attacked the swollen lips, kissing him savagely, possessively, lovingly.
Cool air on his neck surprised the redhead for a moment, he barely had time to realize that his jacket had been opened before teeth were biting down on the corded muscle of his neck and his whole body shook in reaction. His own weak spot, and Naruto was exploiting it just as ruthlessly, biting and then salving the mark with licks and kisses before beginning the onslaught again.
Shukaku snarled from within his prison, demanded they stop, that enough was enough. Oh yes, Gaara agreed, enough is enough. He was just beginning to relieve the anbu of the rest of his uniform when alarms sounded at the edge of his mind, an intruder at the edge of his sand perimeter and moving towards the office.
For the love of…! EVERY TIME! Two and a half weeks of nearly constant contact and something always managed to come up just when things were getting interesting.
His first instinct was to kill the interloper for daring to disturb him, his second was to merely block the door with his sand and keep the newcomer out and still living, but he recognized the chakra signature and knew that he could do neither to Matsuri. The younger girl was his friend, one of the few he had, but more than that she was his assistant and whatever she was bringing to him could be important Kazekage business. So many thoughts in just a heartbeat and his decision was made.
So Gaara did something he rarely did, he swore darkly in a loud whisper and pulled himself away from his not-yet-lover with an angry hiss.
"What's wrong?" Naruto asked, gasping quietly and eyes hazy as he tried to figure out what was going on.
"Company." Gaara said shortly, sliding off the desk and tugging the blonde with him. There was only about thirty seconds before the girl would make it into the office and panicked green eyes scanned the office quickly; there was no way to clean up the mess in time. Naruto was already pulling his armor back on, but there wasn't enough time for that either. The pallid leader quickly fixed the closures on his jacket, forgoing the robes as taking too much time, and managed to get a few of the folders straightened back on the desk.
Ten seconds, she was almost to the door. Naruto was still dressing, fumbling awkwardly with the straps and swearing in frustration under his breath. There was a small knock on the door and both heads rose towards the sound, eyes wide like startled animals. No time! Gaara grabbed Naruto, shoved him down behind the desk and out of sight, grasping the mask at the last second and tossing it down to join its owner. He barely managed to settle back in his seat and clasp his hands together on the desk before the door opened to reveal the brunette girl.
"Gaara-sensei, there's a package here for you." Matsuri intoned cheerfully, coming into the office but her steps slowed as her eyes wandered the room.
"I see," the Kazekage replied tonelessly. She turned her attention back to her leader with a very curious expression, stopping a few steps away from the desk.
"Where's Naruto-san?" she asked, once more scanning the room as though she might have missed him the first time. Said ninja was cramped under the desk trying not to snicker, bumping against the black-clad knees as he strapped on one of his bracers.
"An errand." Gaara lied smoothly. It was an effort not to look down at the blonde, sufficing with the peeks he got in his peripheral vision as he kept his gaze trained on his assistant. Her nose wrinkled slightly in thought.
"Really? I hadn't seen him leave…" she trailed off, inviting elaboration but Gaara provided none. He was more focused on presenting a veneer of calm that he in no way felt, answering in clipped tones when necessary and trying futilely to force his body to calm and the blood he felt sure was staining his face to fade. It was difficult when Naruto began trailing his fingers up his thighs teasingly. "What did he have to do?"
"Get a broom," he deadpanned despite the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips; he had easily followed her confused gaze to the mess of books and files littering floor. She blinked, trying to figure out if it was a joke, before shrugging one shoulder in defeat and placing the parcel on the desk. Gaara's hands were clenched tightly together, knuckles white from the strain, so he didn't dare to reach for the object. The gloved hands on his legs were inching higher, kneading alternately at the clothed muscles, and the blue eyes sparkled mischievously from where Naruto was resting his whiskered cheek against the redhead's knee. His mind betrayed him with very naughty thoughts given the blonde's position as he fought to appear outwardly calm. "Is that all?"
"Yessir," Matsuri answered, stepping back. She tilted her head a little to the side thoughtfully before continuing. "Are you all right, Gaara-sensei? You took off your robes…"
"Fine," he answered crisply, fingers twitching briefly as the inside of his thigh was teased. "It was hot." That wasn't exactly a lie, either. He really wished the girl would leave already; it was taking all his self-control not to moan aloud.
"All right then, don't work too hard Gaara-sensei. Remember to relax every once in a while," the chuunin girl admonished gently as she took herself out of the office. It almost made him laugh because working too hard definitely wasn't his problem at the moment. He waited until she had passed the edge of his sand perimeter before sighing gustily and using his hands on the desk to push himself back. Naruto lost his hold and his hands slipped down until he was kneeling hands and knees on the floor. The redhead slipped off his seat immediately, coming down to kneel before the other figure and, eyes bright, grasped either side of the tan face and pulled him into a deep, soul-searing kiss that left them both breathless.
"You're going to pay for that," he growled menacingly, nipping at Naruto's lower lip to emphasize his point. The growl, emanating from deep in his chest, as well as the silent possibilities in the threat, made the blonde grin as a pleasant shiver rolled through his body all the way to his hair.
"Promise?" he purred back. Gaara hummed but did not answer, stood instead and moved to pick everything up off the floor and regain some semblance of tidiness. With a small, disappointed sigh, Naruto joined him and started with the folders he had pushed off the desk.
Minty green irises appraised the swathes of white and green robes for a moment, debating putting them back on – they were official robes and he should wear them, but it was just as true that he sometimes felt hot under the many layers. Was it really so necessary to wear them? Most of the time all he was doing was paperwork, alone in his office with hardly anyone to see him. It was tradition, yes, but… he sighed mentally and folded up the material carefully to set aside. He would not put it back on, not just yet. And he did not miss Naruto's faint smile at this decision.
"So, what was in that oh-so-timely package?" Naruto asked a short time later, perched once more on a corner of the desk and flipping through the gathered folders in an attempt to re-sort them. Rather than answer, Gaara picked up the box and sat down in his chair.
The parcel was of a moderate size made of thick, heavy white paper that folded together on the top to seal the box. It wasn't heavy, seemed rather lightly packed, even, and there was a small card nestled into the top. He picked it up, turned it over and then back again, but there were no words. Just a hand-drawn image of a flower.
A camellia. Tsubaki.
Ah, so that's where he had seen the box before. He found himself smiling as he set the card aside carefully and opened the box, Naruto's bright eyes watching avidly though he pretended not to. Inside was a small trove of baked goods, mostly confections, all arranged with obvious care so that they would not smash into each other.
The nineteen year old leader was unprepared for the sensation – not pain, not exactly – that burst from his chest and made him ache, but in an oddly pleasant way. He had been surprised and flattered and pleased by her first gift, but he was touched beyond logic at this second gift. Hand-drawn and hand-picked and hand-packed, sent specifically to him; the unexpected emotions nearly floored him. At the same time, he felt rather guilty that he wasn't fond of sweets, as it would take him ages to stomach everything he had received.
Well, that was all right. Gaara smiled shyly, something he was unaccustomed to but felt helpless to stop as a sort of giddy excitement flitted through his system, and held out the box to the blonde. "Cake?" he offered simply. Naruto grinned broadly, abandoning the files to hover over the offering, eager eyes roving the selection of treats and, though he felt suspiciously like a child filching a candy when he knew he shouldn't have it, reached for a delectable looking orange cream pastry that vaguely resembled a cupcake but was much, much better. He hummed his appreciation as he tasted the confection, making Gaara smile more while he himself selected one of the less-sweetened items to nibble on. It was just as delicious as the orange thing sounded and he knew it wasn't just the heightened senses.
When he had taken the little baker girl out to tea, it had been as a sincere thanks for her gift as well as a kind of childish hopeful desire to explore something new: a being that did not fear him. He wanted to see if that kindness was feigned or if it lasted past the first awkward greeting. Her easy acceptance of him had been more than he had dared hope for, and now… now it was his turn again. Finishing the pastry quickly, Gaara stood and began shuffling through the files again, looking for one that had caught his eye before. Where is it, he thought to himself, the greenhouse assignment. Files were opened quickly, scanned for their contents and slapped closed again when they failed to provide the wanted information and he moved onto the next. Where had it gone? He had not assigned anyone to it yet, he was sure. The greenhouse grows herbs and spices, I'm sure many of them are used in baking. Another wrong folder; he moved to the pile Naruto had been examining. It's only a D-ranked mission, but she's genin and newly graduated. Maybe she'll be able to enjoy the plants anyway. Shukaku mocked him for his sentimentality but he ignored the beast. Gaara had few enough pleasures in life, he would not let the whiny bastard steal any more from him. Naruto continued to watch him and even voiced his curiosity, as well as an offer to help, but took another pastry when no reply was forthcoming.
Ah! There it was, half under the desk. He grumbled silently to himself because the anbu currently lounging on his desk and eating his present was supposed to have gotten everything off the floor. So, when he realized that he didn't even know if Tsubaki's team was already on a mission or not and that he'd have to search all over again to find the listing of free shinobi looking for assignments, he got a perverse sort of pleasure out of ordering Naruto to find it for him. There, let him look while Gaara ate a cookie.
"There you go," Naruto produced the list with a flurry, settling himself back on the edge and leaning across the desk to have better access to the dessert box. He chose a danish and crooned happily as he munched on it. "These are gooooood."
The Kazekage paid him no mind, his attention instead on the listing before him as he searched for one specific team – what was the instructor's name again? Ikari? – and was pleased to find the team on the inactive list. He removed Matsuri's note for a suggested team from the mission request and filled in the information for his own choice. He'd rather do more, but it would have to suffice for the time being. For now, he had to get back to work and make up for the prior… distractions. With a quick and sure movement, Gaara slapped shut the bakery box against questing fingers, noting that it was already a third empty but was amused rather than irritated. He hadn't planned to eat all the sweets, after all, so it was just as well that Naruto was so obviously enjoying them for him.
"Help me clean this mess up," he ordered the anbu quietly, moving the box at little further out of reach and began collecting the files once more and sorting them into piles again. Naruto sighed, disappointed. Gaara quirked a brow and stared at him levelly. "Who was the one who shoved them around in the first place?" he asked pointedly. Though he seemed to want to retort, the blonde didn't answer and sheepishly bent back to work anyway. It was with a small bit of dismay, tinted with tones of embarrassment and irritation, that he realized the sheer amount of data that was overrunning his office. In the past there had never seemed to be so much work, so he had to wonder if, despite his usually-best intentions, he was letting Naruto's presence distract him more than he could afford.
As Kazekage, Gaara had willingly assumed a powerful mantle which unfortunately also carried with it a hefty dose of responsibility. The duty to protect his village and all its occupants he had expected, the bureaucracy and paperwork was an unwanted bonus. Regardless of its severe lack of appeal, it had to be done and he had sworn to do it, so willfully accepting a distraction for the sake of his own personal desires would be succumbing to a level of incompetence that he was loathe to go near. Gaara didn't want to be that kind of selfish leader, and furthermore he doubted his blonde inspiration would want him to be, either. No, Naruto would not become that kind of Hokage, that was not his way.
As much as he hated it, the redhead knew he had to admit to the likely possibility that he had in fact been shirking his duties while he enjoyed the attentions of the Konoha anbu, and accept as well the likelihood that he may have to call an end to the bodyguard assignment. Cold tendrils curled around his stomach unpleasantly at the thought; he didn't want to distance himself from Naruto, not when they had so little time together as it was. Shukaku all but purred at the newest train of thought, goading him that it was the best choice if he gave up his little fantasy and concentrated on what was really important: his Village. The tendrils twisted into knots, a heavy lump weighing him down. He wanted to insist that Naruto was very important to him as well and felt terribly traitorous for the thought.
"Hey Gaara, where do you want this?" asked the blonde, unaware that he was at the center of some rather unpleasant musings. Distracted as he was, Gaara blinked owlishly a couple times as he cleared his thoughts and focused on the object in Naruto's hand. It was a private message scroll, still sealed. He wondered how he could have missed it and, as he closed his slim hands around the roll to take it, hoped that it wasn't something urgent that had required his immediate attention. The afternoon was well on its way into evening, after all.
A light snicker didn't quite make it into the air as cool green eyes scanned the succinct script across the scroll's surface. On the one hand, the words provided a welcome relief to his current predicament. Idiot, the redhead scolded himself, of course there's more work. I have all the usual as well as reports from my shinobi in the other villages, the ones that have come here, and having to keep up friendly alliances throughout this trading experiment. It made sense, of course, that given what was going on the paperwork would likewise increase. He wondered with chagrin why he hadn't realized that before, but when Shukaku sneered quietly Gaara aimed a mental kick at the beast's cage. Bastard.
When the relief faded the intended meaning of the missive set in, replacing one worry with another. There, on the other hand, was written proof of some of his Councilors' primary complaints.
Oh hell.
The next day found Gaara wandering a maze of white-washed corridors and resolutely refusing to admit that he was lost, even to himself and the annoying voice in his head. White walls, white ceilings, white tiled floors… the building was rather disturbing on a level he was unfamiliar with. The sterility was creepy even to a psychopath; it made him want to splash the walls with red, decorate in blood. Turning right at the next intersection led him into a corridor that looked just like the one he had come from, but he continued anyway. Like a maze, perhaps if he just kept taking rights he'd eventually find his destination. People in the halls looked askance at him, obvious in the heavy white robes which were uncomfortably similar to the walls, but he didn't ask any of the staff for directions.
He was the Kazekage, he was not lost in a hospital.
Not that he didn't have a perfectly valid reason for being unfamiliar with the building, as he'd very rarely stepped foot within a hospital throughout his life. He had the ultimate defense so he didn't get hurt to even need to see a medic. No doubt another reason for the curious looks as he passed. At the end of another bland corridor was an area behind glass doors that had a decidedly 'waiting room' feel to it, with a spattering of women sitting on the chairs that all raised their heads and swiveled their attention toward him as though they were one entity. Gaara paused, glanced quickly over the many pairs of eyes trained on him, noted the large letters OBGYN above the reception window, and decided it was prudent to beat a hasty tactical retreat. Two more corridors down he felt it was a safe enough distance from the room teeming with estrogen to pause. High-pitched demonic laughter was not so easy to escape. I've had enough of this he snarled to himself and closed his eyes with an irritated frown, pulling some sand off of his armor to form the daisan no me. With the optic connection complete, he once more opened his eyes and sent the third eye in his palm off to search the building for him.
Seven minutes and many wrong turns later, the enrobed teen found his destination and set off at a brisk walk towards that end. Irritatingly enough, the room he had been looking for for over half an hour was located a short distance from where he had entered the building. It figured.
Despite being the Kazekage, he didn't wish to disturb the room's occupants and paused in the doorway to observe silently until an adequate lull presented itself. There was no point in incurring a medic's wrath by being disruptive during a healing. Said medic and her current patient were the main sources of color in the disconcertingly sterile room, perched on and beside an examination bed as though a centerpiece to bland décor. The medic had her back to the door as she examined her patient so Gaara couldn't gather much of her features, nor could he recall them well to memory. The patient, on the other hand, was poised facing directly opposite the exit as he was examined and a small frown of pained confusion pulled at his features as he stared at his leader, but he did not speak out while the mess of wounds – mostly blades, Gaara noted, slashes and a few punctures – marring his body were force-healed by chakra.
Still silent, Gaara frowned imperceptibly at the bloody jounin. One of his own, recently returned from an escort mission, he recalled, moderately but not seriously wounded in an ambush. Dark rimmed eyes narrowed a fraction in displeasure. Those bandits were really getting to be tiresome. With half an ear he listened to the medic prescribe rest and limited activity as she bandaged up the freshly healed wounds, and forbidding missions above C-rank for at least three days while the injuries completed the healing. The jounin replaced his vest with thanks and she cleared away the excess gauze. It wasn't until the shinobi bowed and offered a quiet greeting to the Kazekage that the medic noted his presence. He returned the greeting absently and let the man pass; inside he was mildly perturbed. Even medics were trained first as shinobi, she shouldn't have been totally unaware of his presence despite his silence. She turned towards him, bowed respectfully and straightened again to stand stiffly with her hands clasped behind her back. During this, Gaara scrutinized her further.
She was young, younger than himself by a few years, even, and quite small. Petite or delicate seemed a fitting description. An average skin tone, neither pale nor dark, on an equally average face that could be considered pretty but not exactly beautiful. Her short light brown hair and dark eyes were not out of place in Suna, but her clothes marked her as foreign immediately, wearing a tight blue suit that encased her body from neck to calf, where it disappeared into a pair of almost-black boots whose design was mixed with that of standard shinobi sandals. Above the blue was a short white skirt, a thick belt holding several supply pouches to her hips, and a small white bodice that laced tight over a moderately sized chest but left the blue fabric over the midriff exposed. Over it all was an open, dark gray duster coat. The final touch, as if it were needed, was the hitai-ate marked with four vertical lines tied loosely around her neck and the single wooden umbrella strapped to her back. Calculating green orbs noted such things in the short moment it took for the medic to bow and straighten again. This was indeed Mizore of Amegakure.
"Kazekage-sama," the girl greeted curtly – for she was still only a girl, just fifteen if Gaara recalled and judged correctly. She stood ramrod straight as she waited. "Can I help you?"
Gaara shook his head slowly. "I just came to see how you're doing," he told the girl, making a half-hearted effort to put a tad more emotion into his usual monotone. "You've been in Sunagakure several weeks now." A flicker of confusion ghosted across her features before she schooled her expression back into that of polite attention. Curious…
"I see. I thank you for your concern but I am quite well."
The response was simple and crisp, manner detached and almost frosty without quite being so cold. It was interesting, and although the redheaded leader would have been perfectly content to accept the assurance and take his leave he knew that he had come for a reason and duty demanded he make more than a token effort. A pity that he had not been able to bring Naruto with him; the blonde had exceptional practice at dealing with aloof people, Gaara included, whereas he himself was used to being the distant person rather than dealing with them. It would not have been politic to have his bodyguard, though, so he had bade the other young man to amuse himself elsewhere while he went out.
"What do you think of this village?" Gaara asked, attempting once more to initiate some form of conversation, contrary to his nature though it was he had no choice. The missive he had received had been from Baki, warning him of whispers of favoritism from the rumors that he was being attended by the Konoha representative. The rumors were true, of course, but the fact that such whispers were one of the Council's chief arguments about his assigning Naruto as his bodyguard meant that he now had to work to rectify his recent neglect of the other representatives. If he failed to do so, the Council would be justified in pushing for him to retract the assignment and issue a different mission to the anbu, which he was not at all prepared to do. Thus this day was devoted to seeking out and paying personal attention to each of the representatives currently accessible within the village and not out on missions.
"It is different, sir, but not unpleasant."
"Oh?" Gaara prompted, swallowing irritation at her continuing terse replies. He was not at all accustomed to being the one to have to seek conversation and more and more he wished Naruto were with him. Mizore's lip twitched briefly in what Gaara guessed was mild irritation.
"It is hot and dry, Kazekage-sama, and I come from the Village of Rain. The differences are extreme."
"I suppose it is. Are you doing all right in our climate?"
This time her eyes did grow colder. "I'm faring well, thank you."
Just what was it about girls that made them so difficult? Gaara stifled a sigh and persisted. "I'm interested to hear any opinions you may have on my village or its workings. This is a diplomatic exchange for peace and learning, after all."
So the medic proceeded to do just that, rattling off a series of opinions that were more like casual observations with an occasional tactful suggestion in a curt, detached voice. It was strangely like hearing a mission report – all fact and no emotion. The irony of her similarity to himself was not lost on the Kazekage. He could well imagine the horror of his siblings if they knew of two such frigid brats in the world, one of him was more than enough for their tastes.
"Excuse me, but is there anything else you wish of me?" the girl asked after finishing her 'report'. A smirk pulled at Gaara's lips, for once amused rather than hurt that someone so obviously wished to escape his presence.
"You don't like me." A statement, not a question. "Why?"
Frigid didn't even begin to cover the depth of coldness that washed over her young features.
"You killed my brother."
Oh. Well, shit. That put an entirely different complexion on things and Gaara took a moment to firm his sand armor further, idly missing his gourd – but no matter, he could break down the whole building to be his weapon if he needed it, though he hoped he wouldn't as the staff would be very upset with him. He frowned and tried to recall all the Rain shinobi he had killed but it was rather difficult – his kill list was rather high. It had to have been years ago, Gaara hadn't had much opportunity to kill people since becoming the Kazekage, but he hadn't been particularly sane in those years either. Yes it's your fault, he snapped irritably at Shukaku, it's always your fault. Go choke on your tail while I try to fix this. No you can't eat her! Not that he was exactly sane now, either, he noted to himself dryly.
"Seven years ago at the chuunin exam," she prompted in a low hiss, body tense and rigid and dark eyes locked on him menacingly. The teenaged leader frowned deeper as he drudged up the memories.
Ah, right. He'd killed an Ame team in the Shi no Mori exam segment – their blood had made beautiful rain as he recalled. Cool green irises once more appraised the angry medic. The tall one, probably, he surmised, judging by the features they seemed to have the most similarity, the one that provoked me.
"So you remember?"
"Yes." A small, tense silence followed the admission. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Why?" she snarled quietly. Her hands were no longer clasped behind her but instead fisted tightly at her sides, shaking with visible effort to restrain herself – from rage or anguish Gaara couldn't guess, but he raised a brow ridge at the simple question. What is she asking me? Why do I remember or "Why are you sorry?" Mizore demanded, completing his thoughts in an eerie echo, but continued without giving him time to reply. "You're a murderer, Kazekage-sama. If you could defeat my brother's team then there was no reason to kill them. It was murder."
"Was," he corrected quietly, "but no more. And you are correct, I did not have the same regard for life that I have now. I wonder why you came, then, if you hate me so much. Have you come to avenge him?"
Mizore reeled as though struck, straightening once more until her back was painfully straight and erect, wrapping herself in a manteau of pride despite the tear that escaped her lashes and rolled unheeded down her cheek. "No," she answered firmly, indignantly. "I chose to become a medic so that I would not have to kill. I have no wish to inflict my pain upon another, only to try to spare them from it. Now, if your business with me is concluded, Kazekage-sama, I would like to request that you leave. I am expecting another patient soon."
"Of course," he answered smoothly, tilting his head in a not-quite-mocking acknowledgement before turning abruptly to exit. No more than a step out before he paused, back still to the room, and raised a hand to absently trace his scar, or rather where it was beneath the armor. Without turning he spoke quietly to the girl in the room. "It may mean nothing to you, but I truly am sorry. I learned many things during that exam, one of which was that all lives are precious, as well as the bonds that hold them."
"People don't change," was her cold answer. The redhead smiled a little and dropped his hand.
"Perhaps," he conceded, "It's what they've told me all my life, after all. I choose to believe otherwise."
With that he strode away down the pristine halls. If she spoke again he did not hear it, not a sound followed him as he turned the corner and made toward the exit. It was refreshing to escape the hospital, the painfully barren landscape was almost depressing, and the heavy dialog had not helped the atmosphere. The Kazekage hoped, as he headed down the dusty streets towards the Academy, that his next meeting would not be so sour. With this thought in mind, he didn't proceed with any particular haste toward his next destination, moving instead at a sedate walk through the streets. At least this next jounin was the last he needed to see for the day. Of the seven foreign shinobi currently working for him, he had already seen to the jounin from Kusa, the medic from Ame – oh how pleasant that had been! – and was now on his way to see the jounin from Kumo. While the latter two were stationed in the village itself, the former was conveniently between missions. The two jounin from Taki and Kiri as well as the hunter from Iwa were still out and the Kazekage would have to catch them when they each returned. The seventh, of course, was Naruto… and he had no need to check the status of that particular shinobi, as he was quite well aware of his status.
Turning his thoughts inward, Gaara decided it was prudent to review the information he'd read off the files that morning before arriving. The shinobi from Kumogakure was the eldest he had received, a jounin retired from active field duty due to a non-lethal disability to become an Academy teacher in his home village. Like Gaara had offered up an unorthodox anbu to Konohagakure, Kumogakure had been the only village to offer a teacher to Suna in trade. It was strange but the Kazekage had no problem with the proposal and scoured the thin ranks of Suna's teachers for someone willing to travel across the five or so countries separating their two villages. Gaara turned a corner and found the Academy building in sight a small distance ahead, musing as he walked that as much as things had changed since he had attended the curriculum was no doubt changing more due to the introduction of yet another foreign teaching tactic.
The gates to the stone building were open and inviting, washing a wave of nostalgia over the redhead as he passed – though not particularly pleasant nostalgia, it was a place of many painful and angry memories for him. He was halfway to the main instruction classroom when he realized that the mass of unsteady chakra signatures weren't in the direction he was expecting and he turned abruptly to follow that signal instead. Behind the Academy building was an open courtyard used for some training as well as general recess for the younger students and this is where he found the errant class.
Throwing shuriken.
At each other.
Gaara stopped and blinked, sure that he was seeing things wrong – because as harsh as Suna's old methods had been they had still never been that rough… not like Kiri! – but no, the sight remained the same and the students continued to use each other as target practice. For a moment he was horrified at the realization that he had subjected his future shinobi to the tactics of a madman and he opened his mouth to demand what was going on when one of the children yelped as he was struck by a shuriken. It wasn't the sudden cry of pain that gave Gaara pause, but instead the fact that the shuriken popped in a little cloud of smoke upon impact while the child rubbed at his wounded shoulder with an irritated scowl. A moment later he was dodging another projectile and launching his own as he ran, but there was no blood where he was struck.
Just what in the name of the desert sun was going on here?
"Oh! Why if it isn't Kazekage-sama," an elderly gravel called cheerfully and Gaara turned to see the Kumo teacher approaching him. The aged man was a full head taller than Gaara, dressed in the typical brownish-green jounin uniforms of his country, save for the gray color of the sash over the jacket and the multiple pouches hanging from it at the back of his hips. His tanned leather face had a long scar on the left cheek, running from the corner of the mouth up toward the outside of the eye, and the lines around his mouth showed a long habit of smiling. "What can I do you for?"
"Raiun-san," the village leader greeted simply, still glaring slightly from his reaction to the children's exercise, only to realize that the other man couldn't see his displeasure; his graying black hair was held back by a gray Cloud hitai-ate that was worn not across the forehead but instead lower over both eyes, with some more fabric peeking out under the right side and covering more of the cheek. There was no way to see through that much cloth and metal. Instead he continued tersely, letting his displeasure be known by his voice. "What exactly is going on here?"
"What do you mean?" Raiun asked genially.
"You students are using each other as target practice."
"Oh that, they're just playing Dodgeball."
Gaara stopped, thought about the simple response, and articulated his confusion on the matter with a simple "What?" After all, there weren't any balls to be seen anywhere.
"Dodgeball!" the teacher repeated cheekily whilst reaching one gloved hand into a small, bright bag being held by the other and removing something tiny which he then popped into his mouth. "Well, not exactly Dodgeball, because I'm sure you noticed the lack of balls, but it's based off that children's game where I come from. 'Dodge the pointy things being thrown at you' was a bit too long for a name, don't you think?"
Gaara blinked dumbly a few times at this explanation and decided that asking 'what' again wasn't likely to provide him with better answers the second time around. Raiun continued talking, apparently quite willing to continue talking once he got started, intermittently popping strange colorful things out of the bright bag into his mouth as he spoke.
"See, the actual game is played with a ball that the kids try to throw at each other; a 'last man standing' kind of thing. I just replaced the ball with shuriken and let 'em go. Much better practice than a stationary target, if I do say so myself, and without any casualties."
"Fake shuriken," the shorter male pointed out, finally kicking his mind into gear about the subject despite its strangeness. At the very least he knew that the shuriken had poofed on impact and the child had been unharmed. "Without the actual weight and feel of real shuriken then such a practice is pointless. The children will just have to relearn how to throw once they get the real thing."
"Of course not," Raiun scoffed, "They're all weighted like the real thing. Look," he dusted off his fingers and reached into one of the pouches on his hip, pulling out a shuriken and holding it up to display and even urging the younger man to hold it. Not exactly a master at the projectile weapons, the weight seemed about right to Gaara and he handed the object back with a confused quirk to his brow, even if it couldn't be seen. When he was sure he had the Kazekage's attention, Raiun closed his hand tightly around the shuriken, but instead of piercing flesh the chunk of metal exploded into a small cloud of smoke and when he opened his hand again there was a small ball of metal where the weapon had been. "Henge," he explained unnecessarily.
"You transform lead pellets…" Gaara surmised dubiously, still staring at the chunk of metal in the other man's hand. The point of the exercise still eluded him; what was the point of making fake shuriken when there were perfectly real ones to use? He also still doubted the validity of fakes being used to teach and held to the suspicion that the children would still have difficulty adjusting to true weapons. "Explain to me why transforming pellets into fake shuriken and having your students throw them at each other is a good idea…"
"Magic," the teacher retorted, chewing idly on whatever the strange little snacks were and oblivious to the irritation he was causing. "They're all going to have to throw them at real moving people eventually, might as well get them started early. A moving target hones their accuracy better than a stationary one." The short redhead had no retort to this logic.
"I see. Do all the students in your village get trained in this fashion?" he wondered.
"All the ones I teach do," the elder man answered with a grin. He reached for another treat out of his bag – was that candy? – but instead of eating it Raiun flicked it out into the courtyard where it hit one of the boys in the forehead with enough force to halt him with a wince. "Ryuusuke!" he hollered, turning his blind eyes towards the student, "That's three hits you've taken now, you're out. Five minute break and then start practicing your hand seals with the others."
The boy grumbled but complied, walking out of the mass of children still targeting each other towards another set sitting against the stone wall practicing seals and studying jutsus.
"Cherry," the aged jounin said simply, drawing Gaara's attention back to where he was looking sightlessly at one of his treats, this one yellow, before popping it into his mouth. "I can't stand the cherry ones. Lemon are the best." Raiun held up the bright plastic bag in offering. "Sour Patch Nin?"
"Ah, no. Thank you," Gaara politely declined, fighting a twitch at the corner of his eye at the absurdity. He decided to change the subject. "Can you even see?"
"No?"
"How do you keep track of the students, let alone hit them, if you can't see?"
"Magic."
The young Kazekage waited almost a full minute but no further explanation was forthcoming. As much as it pained him, he was inclined to agree with Shukaku's assessment that the old man was perhaps a tad senile. Why the hell did all the villages send him crazy people? As if having a voice in his own head wasn't bad enough. Was he to be collecting a lunatic carnivale now?
"So, what brings the Kazekage-sama out here to the Academy?" Raiun asked, chewing on his candies and flicking the red ones at slacking students and calling out orders to them. "I assume of course that you didn't make the trip just to see what I'm doing to your younglings."
"Indeed. It has been brought to my attention that I have been remiss in my attention to you seven participating in the exchange," the pale redhead answered simply, crossing his robed arms over his chest. The sooner he got this over with the sooner he could leave, and at the moment he was pushing his social tolerance. "I've come to see how you're doing so far in my village."
"Oh? I'm quite fine, thank you. The dry weather is a little harsh on my skin, you know, but a generous use of lotion is helping with that, eh? Locks in moisture in my poor old hide."
"I see," Gaara muttered. Really, did every single one of the foreigners have to mention the weather? They came to a desert. It was, by definition, hot and dry. The man ate a handful of candies at once and continued cheerfully.
"But I do say it's a rather nice wasteland you've got here. Clever how that little mountain range you've got surrounding this village works as a defense wall as well as a way to conserve nightly chill to lower the daily heat. I don't doubt that guard duty up on those walls is an unpleasant prospect, though. Would you be terribly upset if I had some of the older children run races on the tops of the mountain wall?"
"Excuse me?"
"Yes! They could run relays along the top. On their hands! With shiny colorful streamers. It'll be glorious!"
The mental imagery made the dumbstruck teen shudder in horror. Dammit Shukaku stop fantasizing about eating people! The irritating tanuki chose the most awkward times to chime in and be bloodthirsty. We are not going to eat him… he'd probably give you indigestion anyway. Gaara thought it wise to once again beat a hasty retreat, though this time for rather different reasons. Mizore's deep-seated hatred of him was almost welcome compared to this… this oddity. Before he could speak though, he was thwarted in the attempt by the appearance of a very familiar figure beside him, a small displacement of sand the only evidence of his abrupt stop. The chakra signature was masked tightly, although Gaara could still feel it like a faint tingle at the back of his senses, he was able to recognize Naruto more by scent than feel. Before he could ask why he was there, the anbu held a finger up to the vulpine lips of his mask in a bid for silence.
Thoroughly confused and no little bit disturbed, Gaara complied and watched as the other teen silently produced a small white item between his fingers – was that a marshmallow?! – and flicking it at the blind teacher. Raiun caught the sudden projectile effortlessly and popped it into his mouth with a smirk.
"Ah, Naruto-kun eh? An orange for you," he declared before returning the attack with an orange sour candy from his bag. Naruto's shoulders slumped with chagrin as he caught the candy and slipped it into his mouth beneath the mask.
"Damn, I thought I had you that time Lion-san."
"You lost me?" the old man asked quizzically, but rather than be confused like the poor redheaded bystander, Naruto chuckled as though it were some hidden joke. This did not make Gaara feel any better about the situation.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded of the blonde instead, figuring it was probably a safer topic than anything involving the old man.
"Oh, we got worried about you so I thought I'd come look for you in case you got lost or something."
"We?" the Kazekage asked tightly, gritting his teeth in annoyance. Get lost? In his own village? He ought to strangle the idiot for even suggesting it – except that Naruto was usually worthwhile to keep around. Most of the time. Why did his best friend have to be so damn sexy and infuriating at the same time?
"Yeah. You know… the little birdies told me so."
Oh, dear desert sands…
The crazy was spreading.
Rather than continue in that inane discourse, he turned back towards the old Kumo teacher. "So Raiun-san, you're enjoying your stay in Sunagakure?" he asked pointedly.
"Oh yes, quite so!" the elder beamed cheerfully, crumpling up his mow empty bag of Sour Patch Nin and pulling another colorful candy bag from his hip pouch. Gaara was not quite convinced.
"Are you going to be all right?" he pressed, against his better judgment and fearing what the answer would be.
"Of course, but can the Gummi Worms really live in peace with the Marshmallow Chicks?"
… It hurt to even contemplate that particular question.
Gaara turned instead towards the blonde next to him. "Why do I even bother asking?"
Naruto tapped a finger against the chin of his mask thoughtfully before shrugging. "I dunno. Maybe it's all part of some huge, cosmic plot formula!"
Lunatics, the lot of them!
That was enough and more than enough. Gaara twitched, grit his teeth against the ridiculousness, and turned abruptly to walk away. He didn't wait for Naruto to follow, just tossed out a thin, hardly-visible tendril of sand like a leash and forced the anbu to follow him. Naruto called his name once or twice as they walked hurriedly through the darkening streets, but gave up and let himself be yanked along until they reached the office. It wasn't necessary, of course, and the redhead knew that the other teen would follow him even without the enforcement, but he was also couldn't deny that he rather enjoyed having such a binding on the energetic Leaf-nin and would take advantage of it for as long as he was allowed. Even so, it couldn't quite quell his growing irritation, despite the outwardly calm façade he projected as they walked. He did not speak, not as they walked through the darkening streets or even through the building, not even when they reached the relative security of the office and the door shut firmly behind them both. He only moved swiftly towards the windows at the back and stared tensely out over the twilit landscape of his village. Gaara found himself feeling irritated, and angry because he wasn't quite sure why he was so irritated in the first place.
"Uhm, Gaara?" Naruto inquired quietly from where he stood near the desk. There was a slight tug on the sand as the blonde wrapped his hand around the tendril and pulled pointedly on the leash. "Is this really necessary?"
Rather than answer, he merely released his hold on the sand and let it drift slowly to the floor. Without turning, he posed a question in return. "What were you doing there? I thought I told you to take the day off." A hint of accusation slipped into his tone but it was too late to call back, so he just waited for an answer. He did not much care for being disobeyed, even by someone he cared about.
"I was just coming to check on you," he answered cautiously, brushing at non-existent specs of sand on his uniform, "You were gone all day, and it's my job to look after you, after all."
"That's why I gave you the day off, Naruto."
"I wasn't aware that meant I wasn't allowed to see you."
"You knew I had work to do."
"You always have work to do!"
"I'm the Kazekage!"
"ARGH!" the blonde snarled in frustration, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was a crime to want to see you."
"It is when you're disobeying my commands," Gaara answered quietly, eyes narrowed at the glass as he watched his companion in the window's reflection. He told himself not to feel bad for the angry and hurt look that blossomed on the other's face; the anbu brought this on himself.
"I'm so sorry that I didn't run off like a good little boy," he grumbled darkly, "Sorry that I wanted to check on you, to make sure that you weren't working yourself into the ground as usual. Sorry that I figured it was safe to stop by when you were just chatting it up with Lion-san, I didn't realize that it would throw you into a hissy fit, Kazekage-sama!" The title dripped venomously from the tight lips and the leader winced internally. His own anger was quelled a little in the face of Naruto's own temper, but another point of contention rose to take its place.
"Just what was that about, anyway?" he demanded coolly, finally turning to face the other shinobi. "How do you know each other? And why do you call him 'Lion'?"
The anbu pursed his lips in annoyance at the subject change but went along with it, adopting a slightly aloof air as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Of course we know each other, we all know each other. I call him Lion-san because that's his name, like Kakashi-sensei is 'copy-ninja Hatake' and you're 'Gaara of the Desert' he's 'Dandy Lion'. He's been in Bingo Books…"
"Not in Suna's," the Kazekage uttered dismissively, then blinked as the words set in. "Wait… 'Dandy Lion'?" he repeated incredulously. "You're telling me someone called Dandy Lion is actually in Bingo Books? What does he do, kill people with flowers and sugar?"
Naruto gave him a very reproving stare and tapped his foot, causing a rather irritating staccato beat against the stone floor.
"Fine, whatever," Gaara growled, dropping the subject as not worth thinking about. Seriously, dandy lion, that man was either stupid or had no shame to go by a name that sounded like a happy little flower. "What did you mean, you all know each other?"
A quizzical frown pulled at the tan features and Naruto explained in open confusion, "We all – meaning those of us that are part of the exchange – already know each other," he repeated slowly, "We're all quartered in the same area, after all, it was inevitable that we'd meet. About a week after I arrived, Raiun-san and Hirame-san invited the rest of us in to get acquainted over tea." Naruto paused to scratch at his cheek thoughtfully, "I guess the tradition kinda stuck, we've been having the same little get-togethers about twice a week or so, with whoever of us that are available at the time."
"Why didn't you tell me about this?"
"Was I supposed to?"
The honest bewilderment helped to diffuse Gaara's irritation even further, but still he sighed and sank slowly into his chair, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the soft leather. "So that's why there's rumors going around now," he murmured aloud without opening his eyes. The anbu wisely refrained from comment. "I've spent the day playing gracious host to the others because of suspected favoritism, only to find out that they know because you've been having weekly tea parties with them."
A quiet whisper of fabric in the silence alerted the Kazekage to movement and he opened tired green eyes to see blonde moving towards him, carefully climbing onto the chair and straddling his legs. Gloved fingers brushed across his cheek and there was a small smile on the lips of the darker jinchuuriki.
"I didn't tell them, Gaara," Naruto murmured gently, "but it was bound to happen. Did you really think that no one would make the connection between my constant presence here and your sudden new appointment of an unprecedented bodyguard?" Gaara didn't answer except to scowl darkly, so he continued, "It's our job to suspect, you know that. But I can tell you, at least, that I highly doubt anyone honestly suspects favoritism or secret plots and the like. Don't worry so much."
It wasn't a comfort though, and the pale leader leaned forward to bury his nose against the black-clothed neck and breathe in the familiar scent. "But they're right," he admitted slowly, "and I can't afford for them to realize that that I am favoring you. You, not your village – not exactly, at least – but others won't see it that way. I shouldn't…" he trailed off and reached out to wrap his arms around Naruto's waist, forcing the other to shift his legs as he was pulled closer, and nuzzled against the neck with a sigh. "but I can't help it; I want to spend as much time as I can with you, perhaps even at the risk of my competence as a leader."
For his part, Naruto didn't try to offer empty reassurances. He merely wrapped his arms around the slim shoulders with a sad sigh and ran his gloved fingers soothingly through the bloody red tresses. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're incompetent Gaara. I'll talk to the others and try to find out what the really think, all right?" He twisted a little to place a soft kiss on the temple, the only place he could reach while the redhead was still resting against his shoulder. "I want to spend time with you too, as much as I can, but I don't want you to get in trouble on my account. We'll find a way to make things work out, hm?"
Gaara didn't answer, only hummed a little and shifted his grip to try to pull the other teen closer. Naruto laughed quietly and pulled back, gently guiding the shorter shinobi back to look at him. Tired eyes blinked up at him in protest, but fluttered shut again when the blonde moved to tenderly press kisses on the dark lids. It still amused him that even after years of being able to sleep, Gaara still looked like a raccoon. Well, fifteen years of insomnia wasn't going to be cured by four years of sporadic sleep; the circles were a little lighter, slightly more gray than the dark blackish color that had stained his eyes a few years prior. Maybe in time, a few decades maybe, they would fade away entirely. Smiling, he pressed another kiss to the 'ai' scar.
"It's been a long day, why don't we head to bed for the night?"
Not bothering to speak with a simple grumble got his point across, Gaara nevertheless allowed himself to be pulled up out of the chair and led out of the office. He even deigned to let himself lean heavily against the blonde as they walked, resting his cheek against the bare shoulder and matching steps so that they didn't jostle against each other. Frankly, it had been a long day filled with far more social contact and forced pleasantries than he was normally capable of and he was past his limits. Added to that was the irritation that had erupted and all in all he felt rather drained.
Quietly, the two reached the Kazekage's room and stripped out of some layers, pulling on some of the simple nightclothes that the redhead had kept stored in the room. The blonde smiled and coaxed his pale friend into the bed, lying down and letting the smaller teen shift and settle against his side, half draped across over his body and cheek resting over the beat of his heart, lulling the tired male further towards unconsciousness.
"Sweet dreams, Gaara," Naruto murmured and received a drowsy murmur in reply as the pair slipped off to sleep.
notes: I know nothing about politics and trade. If anything to that degree doesn't make sense... ignore it?
What can I say? I like TemaShika, I think they're a cute couple and would like if they'd be canon.
I hate character creation, but there's not a lot of living non-evil foreigners in the Narutoverse to draw from. Still, Raiun amuses me greatly and I had much fun writing him :3 Thankies to doragon for making him up for me.