"You guys don't have to walk me home!" Machi scratches her head sheepishly. After she left the building, Kankuro and Temari caught up to her and insisted that they accompany her.
"We want to. What kind of friend am I if I let you leave unhappy after hanging out?" Temari grins her wolfish grin. "Let us at least take you to dinner."
"To make up for Matsuri's rudeness." Kankuro adds, falling in step next to the younger kunoichi.
"Oh guys, c'mon. She's just looking out for your brother. I get it. You really don't have to, both of you!" Machi reassures with flailing arms, already feeling embarrassed.
"Please. Matsuri's had the biggest crush on Gaara since he saved her from her kidnapping." Temari explains with a roll of her eyes, practically dragging Machi along downtown. "Now, what do you feel like eating?"
"I don't know?" The brunette shrugs out of her friend's firm grasp while simultaneously trying to swallow her welling curiosity. Trying. "What kidnapping?"
"You haven't heard?" Kankuro's brows nearly jump to his hairline in surprise. Machi shakes her head, muttering something about how current events aren't really her 'thing'. "Well, it actually happened right after Matsuri became Gaara's student, maybe a few days after, right?"
Temari nods in affirmation before taking over. "These assholes came after Gaara for his One-Tail chakra and-"
"Hold up, don't a lot of them do that anyway? Y'know, before he got…" Machi hesitates, unsure as to whether she wants to potentially reopen a freshly healed wound.
"Killed?" Kankuro finishes casually and attempts to steady Machi by placing a hand on her waist. Weird, the brunette thinks, she hadn't even stumbled. "Yes. But what's different about this one is that Gaara's changed after his whole encounter with that annoying blond kid from Konoha."
"Those bastards were the first ones to use people Gaara cared about to get to him. The first time Gaara actually cared about people, too." Temari clarifies with a strangled sandiness beneath her pleasant tone that anyone close to her can pinpoint to be a soft anger, simmering, waiting just for the last straw that sends it over boiling. "It was also the first time Gaara learned to suppress Shukaku and win with his own strength."
"It really surprised all of nobody that Matsuri started to want to screw our brother." Kankuro finishes with a laugh and dodges an impending fist from Temari, effectively tearing to shreds any wistfulness or tension. His hand finds its way back to Machi again; she lets it stay this time. "So, dinner?"
"You know what?" With a grin, Machi takes the siblings' hands. "I'll fix you both something better than the salty-greasies out there. To my place!"
November eventually melts into December, and Gaara doesn't cross paths with Machi again since their initial meeting. Still, despite having only had one encounter, Gaara finds her in his mind every once in a while, no matter how briefly it may be.
It is a chilly evening that foreshadows a very cold night in Sunagakure when Gaara gets out earlier than expected. Now, these days are not frequent occurrences, so Gaara is a bit surprised when he comes home to an empty house.
He goes over the day's work, mental flipping through all the ninja files he has sorted earlier. No, he is positive he did not send his siblings on any missions or errands, so he fixes himself a cup of tea as he ponders where they may be. Normally, by the time he does get home, Temari would have already placed his cold dinner in the microwave, and Kankuro would be lounging around, polishing his puppets or watching TV.
Tonight, the silence is almost unnerving. Perhaps it's the cold, Gaara figures. As someone who lives and breathes desert, the cold does things to him. Bad things. With his sand armor half on the kitchen tiles, he takes a moment as he presses his raw fingers to the warm cup. As soon as skin touches china, a sigh escapes his lip. It's these little pleasures that keep him sane from having sand constantly caked onto his body. To be able to feel…touch…
'Your hand feels odd.' He thinks he hears.
He jumps in the empty room, startling even himself as he jerks his hands from the cup that is suddenly way too warm. He fleetingly wonders if Machi's fingers are like that.
Right.
Machi.
Quickly pulling himself together, Gaara forgets the drink by the counter and heads to the microwave. Nothing. How unusual. For a minute he ponders, head inside the microwave in a twisted Sylvia Plath position, whether he is hungry enough to put in the effort to whip up his own meal.
He only pulls away from his strange pose when he heard the door bust open, followed immediately by the maniacal laughter that resounded from none other than his own dear brother. "Kankuro?"
"Hey! Gaara! You're back early!" Kankuro exclaims with a face redder than usual, hurling himself onto the couch with a hiccup. Gaara rolls his eyes at the man's antics, briefly debating if Kankuro is actually the older one, before he spots his much calmer (thank the Lord) sister, shedding her vest by the door. She smiles when she sees him.
"I see they finally let their slave out early huh?" Temari jokes, approaching him to shove a tupperware into his hands and sauntering away after a rough ruffle of his flaming locks.
Gaara glares promptly. "Where were you?" he says to her retreating back, staring at his new gift, or whatever abomination his sister has left in the box.
"Machi invited us over for dinner." Temari calls out, already half way up the stairs. Gaara raises a nonexistent brow when the blonde swerves just the slightest bit.
"It was so good." Kankuro grins in satisfaction, letting out a loud burp to reinforce his point. Gaara takes his gaze away from the box, lifting it slightly.
"And this is?" He already has a vague idea.
"Leftovers. Or your portion. Or whatever." Another burp, and Kankuro leans back into the couch, seemingly dead. 'Or sleeping. Or whatever,' Gaara thinks mockingly.
Letting out a heavy sigh, Gaara situates himself at the dining table before peeling off the lid and starts to pick at his food in silence.
"Really good, right?" Kankuro asks half way through, causing Gaara to snap his head up to find his brother staring back at him. Slowly, then almost cautiously, the Kazekage nods, wide eyes and hesitant smiles.
"How is she…Machi?" He finds himself saying it aloud, earning an amused giggle from Kankuro. Great. And he giggles. "What?"
"Nothing! She's just fine." A passive-aggressive glare from Gaara only widens Kankuro's annoyingly pleased smirk. He just can't help himself, "Why? Why do you ask?"
His eyes are already twinkling into the sky when Gaara snorts, "It's just a question."
Kankuro stays silent, and Gaara is already beginning to relax, thinking Kankuro's moved on from his 'fascinating' imagination when Kankuro presses on. "You've never bothered before."
"You just weren't paying attention." Standing up abruptly, Gaara chucks the now empty tupperware into the sink and heads to the door.
"Aw Gaara! Innocent people don't run away from questions!" Kankuro yells over his shoulder in absolute mirth only to be answered with a more-force-than-necessary slam of the door. "Use protection!"
As soon as Gaara takes a step out, he immediately regrets leaving behind his Kage robe. The night desert wind now blew relentlessly, and the sand-manipulator instinctively thickens his armor.
He thinks about heading back in, but with Kankuro planted and probably growing roots from his asshole into the couch, the Kazekage would prefer not to. Folding his arms across his chest in an attempt to somewhat retain some warmth, Gaara trudges his feet down the street, red locks dancing like the wild flames in the middle of the night.
The streets are already deserted (no pun intended) except for the occasional passerby who, Gaara guesses, are probably homeward bound as well. He wonders whether these people have loved ones to go back to. Maybe kids to tuck in? A significant other to converse with? A pet waiting to be fed?
The wind picks up, and the night darkens along with Gaara's thoughts.
Nights like these remind him of the Shukaku days. At the time, no one cared whether he returned or not; in fact, they probably wished he hadn't. He isn't even sure if his own siblings fit into this category of people; he isn't sure he wants to find out either.
Gaara walks on. He wonders if these people will be missed if they don't make it home.
He doesn't know how long he's been out or how far he's walked, but when Gaara returns to his senses, he is standing in the middle of the children's park, haunted by memories and stared back by the ghostly forms of rocking horses.
There is a shuffle behind him.
"K-Kazekage-sama?" An unsure voice calls out. Gaara isn't exactly expecting company at this godforsaken hour, let along comfortable company. He squints a bit in the dark to make out the shape of a female by the park entrance; she doesn't approach him though. "Is that you?"
Well, if she's not coming closer… Gaara walks towards her, revealing his identity under the street lights, and he could swear the shadowed-figure smiled as she tugs her coat on tighter. "It is you! I thought so! Um, Machi, that's me, we met, a bit ago, Temari's friend?"
If Gaara were a normal person he might've laughed at the way Machi strings her sentence together, and the even more ridiculous way that Machi thinks he doesn't remember her. But he's not, so. "Yes, I remember. What are you doing out so late?"
"Could ask you the same thing!" Machi grins, almost dancing towards him now that she knows for sure who he is. "I thought I saw you from my window, so I just kind of…I don't know, it's cold and late." She says with a satisfied smile as if her explanation made any sense at all.
"You live here?"
"Yeah, top floor on the building across the park." Machi points proudly with a sweet laughter, almost tripping over her own feet as she turns towards her home. Machi's two left feet. Temari's stumble. Kankuro's giggles. The pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place.
"Did you drink with my siblings?"
"…maybe." Machi smiles sweetly, looking like the picture of a guilty child if Gaara ever sees one. "But only thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much." She giggles, putting her index finger a thumb just a centimeter apart.
Gaara heaves another long sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose; he wonders how many times he sighed tonight. When he finally looks up, Machi is already in the middle of the streets half way to her building, beckoning for him to follow her.
What is he supposed to do?
As he walks up to her, so do a group of obnoxiously loud guys from down the street. One of them must've spotted Machi because all of a sudden, sexist slurs are being thrown all over the place, none of them aware that the Kazekage stands just out of their line of sight.
"Hey little girl, you shouldn't be out so late!" one of them says.
"Unless you're looking for some fun!" shouts another.
"Nice tits! Wouldn't mind putting my face in those!"
"I'd love to show her a good time."
Machi flinches, instinctively taking a step back into defensive, hands patting around for a kunai pouch that isn't there. Shit. She came for Gaara, everything else is upstairs. Curse the alcohol. "C'mon, those pants would look better on the ground, don't you agree?"
They piss Gaara off. And it's not even in a 'I'm a responsible Kazekage' kind of way; Gaara is surprised to find that it's in a very, very protective kind of way. He is brought back to his office, when her first met Machi, her cerulean eyes so earnest and genuine, and he notes that the old him would've made it raining men already. Very literally so. Still, even though Gaara is a new man, seeing those blue eyes frightened is like seeing the rarest sapphires crushed to pieces, and yes, that pisses Gaara off.
"I disagree," Gaara's chilling voice takes on an eerily raspy roll as he steps fully into view. For a second, it seems like everything has stopped.
Machi allows herself a moment to take him in. Without his robe, Gaara somehow appears even more threatening; his posture, upright and dangerous, exudes a sharpness that becomes confined with the robe of authority. With the robe, he is the law; without, well, he's just Gaara. And that name does not carry good connotations at all.
"K-K-Kazekage-sama!" cry an orchestra of stuttering fools. "W-We were just joking we-"
Gaara's eyes narrow like a gunshot in a crowd, effectively sending the males scrambling for their lives. But for the first time since Matsuri, Gaara is doing this for someone else.
"Thanks. You didn't have to." Machi slumps dramatically to the ground, hiding her face with an embarrassed chuckle after the quick and frantic disassemble. "Who'd have thought I'd be rescued by the Kazekage of all people? I'm a little ashamed, to be honest."
"I'm just returning a favor." Gaara states monotonously, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He merely flicks his wrist, and sand starts to swirl around the blue-eyed kunoichi, gently lifting her to her feet.
Machi stares at him curiously. "What for?" She curls tighter around herself, hoping to get some relief from the cold.
"Your input." A puzzled look. "For the trip." Gaara clarifies, cursing silently at the wind that just won't quit. Machi simply gives him a quick nod before ushering him towards her apartment complex.
"Please, come in. You can warm up inside and I'll put on the kettle." Machi beckons pleasantly, willing her shivering hands to stop trembling enough that she can successfully open the damn door. When Gaara looks up at her, she suddenly feels nervous all over again; so she quickly adds, "if you want to, that is. If you have places to be, I won't keep you."
Gaara tenses a little, weighing her offer. "I…don't need to be anywhere." It couldn't hurt, right?
Just hearing his confirmation makes Machi relax, like she is not actually crazy for thinking the Kazekage wants to spend some time with an expendable kunoichi. But he could just be being polite, Machi thinks, and her guard is up again. They pile into the elevator, both of them too absorbed in their thoughts to be able to hold a legitimate conversation.
It is when warmth hits them when Machi opens her door that both of them jerk back to reality.
"Nice place," Gaara finds himself saying, proud and a little surprised that he manages to sound remotely like a normal human being. Compared to Machi's flat, Gaara's house is huge – two floors, three bed two baths, a guest room, spacious living room and kitchen, and a very nice backyard. Machi's, on the other hand, is little and quaint: a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen/dining area (he spares a moment on it, trying to imagine his siblings sitting around the table with Machi, having a home-cooked meal paired with a bottle of wine or two… like a family), a decent-sized living room littered in memorabilia and stuffed animals (no family photos, he notes), and sure enough, a wide enough window to get a full view of the park and general city lights. It takes on such a homely air that Gaara wouldn't mind spending his time here. Not at all.
"Thanks. Please, sit, make yourself at home." Yes, Gaara thinks, he can do that. As he slowly makes his way to the living room, he finds himself a seat that faces the kitchen where Machi is turning on the stove and placing above it a worn silver kettle.
"Tea or coffee?"
"Coffee." They quickly fall back into silence, and Gaara is only pulled out of his trance when the kettle screams and Machi addresses him without turning like she knows his eyes are already trained on her.
"How do you like your coffee?"
"Black is fine." Machi whirls around in mock horror as her face scrunches up in disgust. Gaara really wants to roll his eyes, but has to remind himself that might not be the best image to present as a Kazekage. Then, as if trying to prove a point, Machi takes a generous scoop (or three) of sugar with her cup, topping it with an equally generous splash of milk. She sets both cups on the small coffee table and takes a seat across from him. Gaara takes an experimental sip, winces, then swallows.
"I was taught that people who take their coffee black are all psychopaths." Machi deadpans, and Gaara feels a smile bubbling to the surface. This is surprisingly comfortable.
"Well…" The smallest quirk of his lips breaks through, and Gaara gestures to himself as his gourd shakes a bit, like little excited demons waiting to be released. "They're not wrong."
The blue-eyed brunette just can't help herself as a loud laughter resounded from her lips. "Oh, Kazekage-sama, you're too much." Her laugh transitions seamlessly into a grin, and after a second of contemplation, she reaches out and switches their cups. Gaara seems to vaguely get her action.
"You want me to…"
Machi nods enthusiastically, her previous shyness dissipating with every smile that escaped the redhead. Or maybe it's the alcohol. "Try. Maybe you just haven't ventured farther than black to find what you like. That, or you really are just a psychopath."
Really, he doesn't mind black coffee all that much. It's the way Matsuri prepares it, and it keeps him energized through late nights and nestles warmly in his stomach – there is nothing to complain about. Nevertheless, this time, Gaara does roll his eyes, but the hint of a smile that lingers on his lips shows her that it is all in playfulness.
"It's okay if you're scared." Machi teases, eyes brightening. Gaara most definitely doesn't wonder what he can do to make that happen more often. He doesn't.
"I'm not scared of coffee." He sneers, swiping the café au lait from the table. As he brings it to his lips, he finds himself just the slightest bit hesitant. Machi's eyes soften and she seems to want to say 'Not coffee. New things.', but she doesn't. He takes a sip.
Pleasant surprise seems to course through him as the gentle sweetness takes over, washing down all the bitterness that has been previously sitting on his tongue. The taste of coffee is overpowered by neither the milk nor the sugar, and is just warm. He thinks about the wind outside, the cold, the village, but none of it matters right now, thanks to the girl sitting before him, looking at him expectantly with those big, sapphire eyes. "It's good." He decides, earning a victorious yelp from his companion.
Gaara doesn't know it then, but his late night coffee runs gradually becomes a thing when, a few times a week, he would casually stroll past the park. It is a bit out of the way from the tower to his house, but a detour and some exercise never hurts anybody, Gaara reasons. When he's there, he can't help but ring up the intercom the way Machi showed him at one point, and she would always be awake to buzz him in, always ready to make him a beverage, or just have a light chat about everything and nothing. Gaara would leave when he deems he's overstayed his welcome (Machi never complains, Gaara just does it) and she would accompany him to the lobby, bidding him goodnight with a sleepy wave and a soft smile.