Hannah finished her sob fest at dawn, nearly falling asleep. Her life saver was drowsing too. She was comfortable with him. He held and consoled her when she cried, not berating her for being pathetic or judging her.
"What's wrong?" the masculine voice inquired softly.
Hannah kept her mouth shut. The question was a direct violation of her no trusting rule. If he began to understand her, he might hurt her or reject her. She didn't want to take the chance.
"I promise not to tell anyone."
"Promises are taken to be broken," Hannah said in an alien, dry, raspy voice. She cleared her throat several times, wincing at how raw it was.
There was a pause. "Your hair smells nice." The origin of the voice sounded mystified- or disturbed, Hannah couldn't distinguish which.
"It smells like grease," she murmured under her breath, more to herself than him.
"Why don't you take compliments? Why don't you believe them?" the voice demanded.
"It doesn't matter. Really," Hannah said sadly, moving with the intention of escape. He had other ideas, however. He wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her back gently. Then again, the American wasn't really resisting.
"Answer the question- how long have you felt this way?"
"A long time, but I've adjusted. I'm average in every aspect: talents, school, looks…No one has given me a compliment in a long time, so I guess they're joking or being cruel when they do," Hannah answered. "Like I said, it's no big deal."
"Why do you think of yourself that way?" His voice was icy and dangerous. More why's…
"It's the truth. I'm not beautiful nor am I bound to ever become so. It doesn't bother me. I don't care about stuff like that." Why was he getting so riled? This was her opinion of herself.
Hannah felt his body get rigid and his arms tighten. He was ticked- she could tell. "When did you begin to feel this way?" he insisted angrily.
"School. It's not hard to notice when you're leagues behind other girls. In school I was always invisible and really shy. I barely had any friends. But time stole my closest friends away as I got older and the other friends were really laughing behind my back," Hannah's voice had dropped to a raspy whisper.
"I got over it eventually, but the scars are still there. I really thought I'd made friends. Every time I've tried to make friends they've drifted away. Since the beginning of college, I stopped trying. I got the hint- no one was interested." Hannah paused to sigh. "I became invisible again, hiding myself in a geek's shoes. I had long, bushy hair, braces, glasses, and didn't develop any major female body parts until the middle of college. I studied hard and always did what I was told, nothing else. Girls ignored me. Guys only began conversations with 'what's the answer to this problem?' It was major hint. Even now, no one has seen me as anything less than average, depending on who you ask, so why should I waste my time pretending to be anything else? I'm not going to."
Hannah finished the speech with her voice in a light 'matter of fact' tone.
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"No one deserves to go through that," he said, feeling as if he had found a lost kindred spirit.
"And yet I did," she remarked bitterly.
Gaara twisted her body around until she was lying in his arms like a mother cradled her child. Hannah's face paled and flushed. The Kazekage knew she was surprised and unhappy that she had spilled her sour past with him.
"This is an order- listen to everything I say. Do not speak until I am finished," he ordered.
Hannah opened her mouth.
"Or I will expel you from this contest."
Hannah grinned wickedly and began to suck in her breath.
Gaara was slightly caught off guard. The American didn't want to be in this contest? What had she signed up for? "I won't expel you from my contest, but I will marry you," he threatened. The threat was empty, but it generated the correct effect.
Hannah sucked in her breath in one whoosh and bit her bottom lip.
The Kazekage was vaguely insulted, but seized the opportunity to speak. His eyes focused on her body- bottom to top. Naughty Gaara cheered happily as his aqua marine eyes fell on her legs. "You have long, toned legs. Many men would hassle you if you ever wore a skirt or dress."
His eyes roamed to her hips which were invisible under her baggy jacket. "You are to burn that jacket. I never want to see it again," Gaara smirked as Hannah's lips pressed together tightly and her green-grey eyes narrowed. She screamed in her mouth.
The American took off her jacket and crossed her arms. The Kazekage was surprised how full and slender her body was. It took him a minute to recover. "Your hips flare out and your legs slowly curve inward from there like a paint brush. You have hips to hold onto."
Gaara's eyes moved up. "Flat, toned stomach and a waist that bends inward." The Kazekage gave a nod. His eyes momentarily settled on Hannah's chest and he blushed. "Your breasts are alluring as they are. No reassurance is needed there."
Hannah's cheeks burned. She looked like she was going to explode.
"Your shoulders are aligned and strong. The face is the most important part of the body. You have high cheekbones, nice lips, fair skin, and interesting eyes. A kawaii, contagious smile always graces your lips."
Gaara felt his cheeks warming with each description. Why was he saying these things? He had never spoken this much to anyone. He decided not to tell Hannah about his obsession with her chocolate moles or the fact they sprinkled her body.
The Kazekage's tongue itched to play connect the chocolate dots. But he didn't think the American would appreciate the game at all. "Your hair style is unique. The top is auburn yellow and the underside is dark brown. It's feathery, layered, and smells like berries."
Hannah averted her eyes, face bright red with smoke spilling from her ears, and her head tilted down but Gaara caught it. The red head forced her head back up and her green-grey eyes met his. They are intricately designed up close, he mused. The iris is particularly fascinating.
"Finally, you're slender and curvy. Most women can't pull that off. Men love curves and yours are well balanced. You are definitely not average," Gaara finished in a quiet hush. Perverted Gaara hinted constantly their faces were inches apart, but the Kazekage ignored him.
"Your past sucked, but its over. You are attractive. Don't doubt compliments."
Gaara leaned back, face red.
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It was difficult for Hannah's jaw not to crash to the floor or break. She was too taken aback to deny his compliments. Gaara actually believed all those things about her. Hannah recalled the day the Kazekage refused to comment about her clothing that night he had spent over during the sandstorm.
There had been a weird expression on his face for a moment as he had stared at her legs. She had thought he was being weird.
The American decided, seeing the red head uncomfortable, to return his compliments. Hannah took a breath, knowing she was going to regret this. She decided to begin describing him from top to bottom, ignoring the perverted feedback from Naughty Hannah.
"Your hair is very catching, making you easy to find in a crowd. Red heads are often artists and deft with their hands," Hannah began. "Your pastel complexion contrasts well with your fiery, soft-looking hair, creating a striking and unforgettable image."
Gaara stared at her as if she had grown another head.
"The black rings bring out the color of your sapphire eyes- another unforgettable feature. The red tattoo on your forehead is" -the American hesitated to use the word- "sexy and attracts attention to your face."
"Your shoulders are strong, broad, and leveled. Your…chest is perfectly fine as are your abs I'm sure," Hannah rushed on, getting flustered. "Your stomach isn't bulging, but flat toned. Your legs are long too, but it compliments your body, giving you the appearance of being stretched and mature."
"You have a great personality, despite you don't speak much. But when you do speak, you don't mumble or spit when you talk; so I encourage you to converse more. You respect those under your authority and watch over them but not possessively," Hannah ranted. "Your soul aged faster than your body due to a traumatic past experience, like my own, and it has given you wisdom beyond your age.
"As for trusting, you and I are on the same level of distrustfulness and need to improve on venturing out of our shells. Neither of us can stay holed up forever, and now I'm going to shut up," Hannah cut off abruptly, not like the expression on the Kazekage's face.
He was staring at her with total disbelief.
The American shivered and grabbed her baggy jacket. She didn't want to throw it away. "I'm not going to throw this teal jacket away because it's fuzzy and has been my companion for years, through sickness, storms, and tests," Hannah declared stoutly.
As she went to pull her arm through the sleeve, she cringed and jerked her arm out. The American bit her bottom lip as she surveyed her torn up, bloody hands. She glimpsed at the rest of her body and picked a few clear shards from her knees and shoes.
Hannah was totally torn up.
"I'll take you to the hospital," Gaara offered, standing and coming up behind her.
"There's no one there," Hannah frowned, recalling hospital hours.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there," the Kazekage persisted, ushering the wounded teen toward the door. Hannah was surprised to see how Temari's tomboy side clashed with her girlish, purple, green, and gold room as dawn's dim light illuminated the place.
The two arrived at the front of the hospital and found the doors locked. Gaara merely used a simple transportation jutsu to take them inside. Hannah sat on the counter as the Kazekage uncovered a roll of gauze and ointments.
The American admired the white countertop as the red head gently cleaned the blood from her cuts, applied the stinging poultice, and wrapped her wounds with the gauze.
"Say 'thank you, Gaara,'" the red head smirked.
"Thank you, Kazekage-sama," Hannah said sweetly.
Gaara gave her a look and the American ignored it. She slid off the smooth, sterilized countertop, realizing how much she disliked the color shiroi (white). She limped to the door because her knees were bandaged. Halfway, she turned back with a smirk, "Come over some time and I'll teach you how to make pizza. I'll have Rin taste test it."
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Temari woke up, starving. She was ravenous all the time, craving the strangest food combinations- like ice cream on pork with a meatball on top. Damn, her hellions were hungry.
The kunoichi paused. Them? There's only one right?
The blonde checked her stomach size again, staring down at the rotund bulge. After four months she hadn't been able to see her feet. Her fingers probed her belly as if the answers would come like a crystal ball summoning a spirit.
The only reply she got was an excited tingling that she would be a mother very soon.
It was the beginning of her seventh month of pregnancy.
"Does your stomach hurt?"
Shikamaru lifted his head from the side of her uncomfortable hospital bed. He had the cutest, sleepy expression. Temari would have kissed him had her large tummy allowed her to bend that far over without fear of tipping over.
"No, I'm wondering if we're going to have two babies," Temari smiled.
"Troublesome," the cloud-staring Konoha ninja sighed. His hand flopped lazily on her bulge and a finger traced invisible lines. The sensation tickled.
"BABIES ARE NOT TROUBLESOME!" The female sand sibling roared. "THEY ARE CUTE AND ADORABLE!"
Shikamaru decided, for benefits to his health, that he should change the subject. "What do you think about the contest's progress from what I have told you?" he inquired, laying his head down while facing it toward his wife.
"I think Gaara is a bit attached to a few of the girls," Temari mused, instantly calming down, "Especially the American, Hannah. She is a real asset to Suna. And she traveled the farthest out of all the other competitors- the other side of the world."
"Did my brother-in-law have anything to add in the contest?" the lazy Jonin asked.
"Of course," she snorted.
(flashback) "I have my own terms," the Kazekage spoke up.
Temari's happy moment shattered. "What about?" she asked dazedly.
Her youngest brother met her green eyes. "If I fall in love with a contestant during the course of the contest, it shall be cancelled on my say and I shall marry the chosen girl."
(end flashback) "Hm…" Shikamaru murmured, thinking.
"Please go get me something to eat," Temari begged, tugging at her husband's sleeve. Her voice took on a thoughtful tone. "A stack of chocolate pancakes with broccoli sounds pleasant…SHIKAMARU GO GET IT NOW!!! Please?"
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Two beings dressed in complete black appeared before one another. No flesh was revealed or eye color behind their identical yet opposite masks.
"Should my team and I strike again?" Sad mask inquired in a changed voice.
"Yes, frighten house six as a distraction while I terminate those in house fifteen," Angry mask nodded in a sexless accent.
"What about the traitor of the Seven? When shall he be dealt with?" hissed Sadness.
"Soon. Quite soon," assured Anger. " 'Beware the anger of a patient man.' "
Author's note: I apologize for not updating sooner, but I had a badminton game today. I won Singles and Doubles (yay me!) For anyone interested, the scores:
Singles: 11-4, 11-2
Doubles: 15-4, 15-2
Shiroi- white