Short note: I've really appreciated all of the great feedback I've received for this story! I'm so glad you guys like it as much as I liked writing it. However, as much as I enjoy getting undeserved praise for my quick updates, I just want to remind you all that this story is (as far as I know) completed! I've just been posting the drabbles periodically to avoid throwing this (I think about 12,000 all together) long series at you!
Also, don't forget there's a link to a collage of some of Gaara's outfits on my bio! Don't forget to check it out! (All current artwork for Stranger Than Fiction was done and is owned by if i had wings, a.k.a AstroAutumn of dA).
Stranger Than Fiction
By Socially Suicidal
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
Drabble # 6
Settling against the wall with a huff, Gaara lit a cigarette and took a long drag, deciding he had found a good spot to wait for the moody girl to get off of work. Sakura had left a rather demanding voicemail on his phone earlier that afternoon, suggesting… or ordering, his presence at some nearby café she liked to go to after work. "You'll just love it!" he recalled her voice insist enthusiastically in the message, followed by a rather dangerous, falsely cheery comment of, "You better show, Gaara!" The redhead's brow had twitched as she continued to mention the incident that had occurred weeks ago and had not repeated itself since.
His head rolled unceremoniously against the brick behind him, his energy draining at the very thought.
And that's how the pink haired doctor found him, leaned casually against the wall as if he owned the world and hadn't a care of what went on in it.
One of his customary metal boots was placed heavily supporting him against the brick wall, a pair of destroyed maroon pants, that made his hair look especially flaming red, tucked into them. He hadn't noticed her yet, so she decided to silently study the way he puffed away on his cigarette, staring up at nothing with his hands shoved roughly into his pockets. The long black kanji tattoo on his left forearm arm was exposed by his black tank top, with thin straps and a short sleeved mesh shirt underneath. The graffiti pattern on his shirt, which upon careful scrutiny exposed itself to her as reading "Fuck Off," made her suddenly grateful he has chosen to wait outside for her instead of coming in and giving her coworkers the shock of their career.
Withholding a small smirk and the urge to shake her head at the eccentric redhead, Sakura strode up to his side and leaned her shoulder awkwardly against the wall next to him. Tugging on a strap of the suspenders that hung uselessly from the studded belt that hung low on his hips, she gained the privilege of his attention and he slowly turned his head to gaze down at her. Smiling, the girl leaned onto her toes and quickly plucked the cigarette from his pale lips and promptly stomped it out, "Hello, Gaara."
The bland look on his face shifted into a frown and he exhaled sharply, his equivalent of a sigh, as he grunted back to her in greeting and stood from the wall. "So kind of you to wait for me," said the girl sweetly as she commandeered his arm and began to stroll down the sidewalk.
Ignoring the voice in his head that screamed and demanded for the insolent female's pink little head on a platter for her impudence, Gaara rolled his eyes at the falsely sugary words of the vixen that had just, so heinously, thieved his cigarette and ended its life far before its time.
Gaara was finding he required less and less cigarettes the more time he spent with her. If it was from waning addiction or the fact that she plucked it right from his mouth whenever he lit one, he didn't know.
Sakura elbowed him in the ribs, staring up at him with a frown, "Stand up straight, you'll get back problems from slouching."
He could really go for a nice strong shot, though.