Author's Notes: I know everyone was really worried that I dropped this story. I assure you, I haven't. It's just that a few months ago, I moved to a different state, and only just today got internet access again. And so, without further delay, the fourth chapter.

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Sand In Your Shorts

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In Gaara's life, the sand was the one thing he trusted absolutely. He might not always understand it, but it was the closest he had ever come to having a friend. All his life the sand protected him, which was more than he could say for his other constant companion, Shukaku. But somehow the three of them made an odd sort of whole; the boy, the demon, and the sand. Shukaku was the power, the sand was the weapon, and Gaara was the will that controlled them both. No matter how much Shukaku disagreed with that.

But the sand was Gaara's favorite. The sand was… pure, somehow. Shukaku was undeniably evil, and Gaara knew he himself was a monster, but the sand was… instinctive, primal. Free of anything as human as "good" or "evil." Sometimes Gaara was sure he felt an intelligence within the sand, but it was a simple thing, like an animal. It protected Gaara, it fought for Gaara, like a sort of attack dog eager to please its master, needing only a simple gesture of affection for a reward.

The sand obeyed Gaara's conscious commands, but also reacted to him on a deeper level, responding to subconscious thought before Gaara was even fully aware of it. In this way, the sand could shield him from every attack, even ones Gaara was not consciously aware of. It was an invaluable asset, and throughout his life Gaara had always been very grateful to have the sand.

But right now, the sand was really starting to annoy him.

The sand did not speak to Gaara, as Shukaku did, but it had little difficulty in expressing itself. Currently it roiled within its gourd, a trapped sandstorm, with airy moans and sighs probably meant to impress Gaara into letting the sand out. Every now and again it tested the cork, letting out a gusty huff every time Gaara refused it. Gaara was not used to having the sand try to mutiny like this, and it took a good portion of concentration to keep it contained.

"Ought to set it loose on him," Shukaku advised. "Could be entertaining, at the least."

"I don't see what's so amusing about my sand trying to hump Neji's leg," Gaara replied. "I doubt it would convince him of that I'm safe enough to be around."

"Who knows, maybe he'd like it."

"Or maybe I'd be permanently banned from Konoha for molesting one of their shinobi with what basically constitutes as a deadly weapon."

"You worry too much," Shukaku griped.

Gaara didn't think being cautious was the same as worrying too much. This was a mission, after all. He couldn't risk a mission by letting over-eager sands grope the target.

However, Gaara was starting to wonder over the wisdom of taking on this mission. Anything that Shukaku considered a good idea couldn't be in the best interest of humanity. And the sand was definitely getting inexcusably distracted. What was the point in going through all this, anyway? For the longest time, Gaara knew it was safest, for him and the rest of the world, for him to be alone. It was useless to go through this farce, knowing that Gaara could never care for Neji, much less love him as his siblings were expecting him to. He ought to go right back to the hotel and forget the whole thing…

"Are you ready to go?"

Neji's voice startled Gaara, though the surprise didn't show. Neji had finished his sparring with his teammate, and was gently wiping away the light sheen of accumulated sweat from the workout. Gaara simply stared at him as he gathered his bearings; staring was an old habit Gaara had developed, as it tended to disturb his enemies. It didn't seem to bother Neji, though. Neji was one of the few people Gaara had met that could look him in the eye without flinching. Though Gaara found himself somewhat disturbed by Neji's stare, but for entirely different reasons.

Gaara had just realized he hadn't answered the question, when Neji spoke again. "You sure are acting strangely. Even for you. I don't suppose you're going to explain what's going on…?"

"No," Gaara said succinctly. "And I am ready to go." He turned and headed for the training ground exit, leaving Neji to follow bemusedly in his wake.

This mission was never going to work, Gaara berated himself. Temari had said that in order to get along with people, you had to be nice to them. Gaara didn't know anything about being nice. He could do coldly polite at times, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what Temari had meant.

But strangely, Gaara's lack of social graces didn't seem to bother Neji too much. He lengthened his stride until he was walking beside Gaara instead of behind him. Gaara glanced over at him; even though Neji wasn't looking at him, Gaara still felt as though he were under the Hyuuga's scrutinizing gaze.

The restaurant district was easy enough to find. Gaara slowed, taking a moment to consider the options. Konoha had a handful of restaurants and food stands, offering a variety of foods. Gaara really should have picked a specific one beforehand, but he hadn't really given it much thought. After all, Gaara considered eating to be simply one of those necessary tasks for survival; as long as the food wasn't poisoned, Gaara had never cared what he was eating. But he suspected that "normal" people gave a little more thought to what they ate.

"There's a pretty good ramen stand," Neji commented mildly to the silence. "Unless you had something else in mind…?"

Gaara felt some relief that Neji had offered a suggestion. It saved him from having to labor over a choice, and in the process possibly pick something unacceptable. Who knew this dating thing was so hard?

"You could have just asked him what his favorite foods were," Shukaku commented. "You really are hopeless at this social interaction thing, aren't you?"

Gaara scowled. "And whose fault would that be?"

"Gaara?" Neji said. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Gaara growled. "Ramen is fine."

"Don't sound so eager," Neji said lightly. "Wouldn't want to get the impression you were enjoying this date." He turned away, heading for the ramen stand. Feeling chagrined- and not really knowing why- Gaara followed in his wake.

Late evening was fast encroaching, and most of the seats were taken up. Which didn't seem to matter, as most of the patrons hurriedly paid for their meals and left- sometimes without even finishing their ramen- after one look at Gaara's frown. Gaara didn't mind- he was used to this sort of treatment, after all. It was kind of flattering in a way, as well. People were afraid of him. Even in towns well known for their strong and fearless warriors, Gaara scared people.

Well, most people. The famous rookies of Konoha seemed to view Gaara in a somewhat different light. Naruto Uzumaki didn't fear Gaara, but then, Naruto was often too dumb to be scared of the things he ought to. Rock Lee didn't fear Gaara, but Gaara wasn't sure how much of that was bravado and how much was good old-fashioned lunacy. And Neji…

Gaara glanced over at Neji, who had calmly taken a seat and ordered his ramen. Neji Hyuuga didn't fear Gaara, and Gaara couldn't figure out why. Neji wasn't stupid. He may be confident in his skills, but he didn't have Lee's recklessness or Naruto's hyperactive optimism. So how could Neji simply sit beside a powerful and feared monster, eating ramen as if it were the most normal circumstance in the world?

Maybe those strange, opalescent eyes of his really did see something in Gaara that others did not.

"You're the one that asked me here," Neji said. "If you're not going to tell me why, you could at least have something to eat. Don't you like ramen?"

Gaara blinked, realizing he'd been caught daydreaming once again. It was becoming a rather annoying habit around Neji. "Oh. I… don't know. I suppose. I haven't had it for a long time…"

"Hm. Well, I suppose there's one way to find out." Neji dugs his chopsticks into the bowl, twirling a few of the noodles around them in a clump, held it out to Gaara.

Gaara blinked at the food, then at Neji's patiently expectant face. With some trepidation, Gaara ate the proffered tidbit off the chopsticks. He hardly tasted it, but when Neji smiled at him, Gaara decided that it was probably the best thing he'd ever eaten.

"Well don't you two make the cutest couple?" Shukaku snickered. The sand made a delighted little purr in its gourd.

"Shut up, both of you," Gaara said, though there wasn't much force to the command.

Neji returned to eating his meal, and Gaara finally ordered a bowl of ramen for himself. They ate in some semblance of companionable silence, but something was nagging at Gaara. And for once, it wasn't a homicidal psycho demon.

"Hyuuga," Gaara finally said. "Why did you agree to come on this date with me?"

Neji paused, then finished chewing his food, swallowed, and tapped his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl thoughtfully. "Because you asked," he said at last. The chopsticks tapped again, this time against Neji's lower lip, which Gaara found to be somewhat distracting. "Why did you ask?"

Because Temari and Kankuro all but begged Gaara to find a date. Because Gaara had agreed to the mission, no matter how misguided or useless it seemed. Because of everyone in Konoha, Neji seemed to be the least annoying. "Because… I thought you were pretty."

Neji blinked. Then he laughed, shaking his head. "Ah, of course. That explains it."

"It does?" Gaara wasn't sure it did.

"Nope. But I'm often considered to be a genius, so I try not to let people know when they're completely confusing me," Neji said lightly. "It would ruin my reputation."

Gaara stared at him.

Shukaku laughed at him. "He's teasing you."

"Oh," Gaara said weakly. Neji just smiled at him, and returned his attention to his food.

They finished the meal in silence, which was fine with Gaara, as he couldn't think of anything else to say. By the time they left the ramen stand, night had fallen, and darkness softly enveloped the town.

"This was… nice," Neji commented. "Weird and completely unlike you, but nice."

Gaara remembered something else Temari had said about proper behavior on dates. "Can I walk you home?"

"Mm. No offense, but I'd rather you didn't."

Oh, right, Gaara thought. No shinobi worth his kunai would show their enemy the way to their stronghold. "Fine. I guess I'll be going then."

"Wait." In the dark, Neji's strange eyes almost glowed. "I know somewhere else we could go." Neji grinned, then leapt easily to a rooftop, running off as if he fully expected Gaara to follow. And Gaara did, without a second thought.

It was almost a chase, Neji pausing sometimes on rooftops to wait for Gaara, then darting away before Gaara could fully catch up to him. It was almost playful, lighthearted, and for some reason Gaara found himself breathless, from a strange feeling of excitement, if not from the run.

Neji finally came to a halt in the park, the same park in which Gaara had chosen him as the target for this mission. It looked different in the dark, shadowed and still, private. The trees blocked the view of most of the town, and it felt like the two could very well be the only two people for miles around. Neji plopped down on a park bench, and at his inviting gesture, Gaara unslung the gourd and sat down beside him.

"Why are we here?" Gaara asked. His voice was hushed; somehow, it seemed wrong to intrude upon the silence.

"Look up," Neji said.

Gaara looked. A great expanse of sky spread out above him, a thousand stars dazzling like fine crystal sand. A sliver of moon touched everything with a hint of silver. It was a perfect, dark desert, a beauty that Gaara had simply never bothered to look at, never cared to admire. It resonated with something inside him. He wanted to be up there. He wanted to be a part of that, of that dark, welcoming bleakness. Free of this world…

"I've always loved the sky," Neji said softly. "Up there… nothing on this earth can hold you down."

"To fly… would be freedom," Gaara said, not taking his eyes from that rolling, starry desert.

"Exactly."

Freedom. It was an abstract, wholly impossible concept that Gaara had always dismissed as a useless and annoying thought. For one with a demon trapped within them, wishing for freedom, or happiness, or love, was a pointless activity. Survival was the most you could hope for, and even hope was a luxury Gaara was not often afforded. But here, under the stars, viewing Neji's dreams reflected in that glittering darkness, Gaara ached for that freedom. To be free of this world, high above it. To look down on the earth and its problems, and not have to care. To share that freedom with Neji.

At last, Neji stood. "Thank you, Gaara."

Gaara blinked at him. "For what?"

"For coming here with me." Neji offered an idle shrug. "For asking me on a date, I guess."

No one had ever thanked Gaara for anything, as far as he could recall. "Ah… you're welcome."

Neji lingered a moment more, then sighed, shaking his head. "I have to go. They'll come looking for me if I'm out too late."

Gaara felt a bitter twist of disappointment, not wanting Neji to leave. The rest of the world wasn't supposed to intrude upon this silent world, where it was just the two of them and the sky. He felt a sudden urge to take Neji away from all of this, away from "them," whoever they were.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" Gaara asked quickly, before Neji could walk away.

"Tomorrow?" Neji sounded surprised, as he had when Gaara had first asked him on a date. "I… sure."

"Good." The disappointment eased, knowing Gaara would see Neji again soon. "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning then," Neji said. Gaara could hear amusement in his voice. "Until then, Gaara. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Gaara said.

Then Neji was gone, as silent as a shadow, as a good shinobi would. Gaara considered returning to his hotel, then decided against it, reclining back on the park bench to admire the sky. The sand hummed peacefully in the gourd, and for once, Shukaku was quiet. Gaara felt as though some weight had been lifted from him. The stars glittered down at him, invitingly. Unexpectedly, Neji had given him a gift, a precious treasure. A dream of freedom.

Perhaps there was something good about the night after all.