Ch. 2: Some Sort of Family
A/N: I have a feeling I messed up the tense in this one, but maybe it's just me. Oh and this type of text is Shukaku's thoughts/words/whatever
Kankurou doesn't know it, but Gaara loves watching him tinker with the puppet of his. It's not like he could very well be upfront about his interest anyway, it was very likely the brown haired boy would just run away. Not that that action would wound him or anything. People had been running from him his whole life.
That or trying to kill him.
He supposes the running is better.
Living with Kankurou and Temari still feels strange to him. He'd been living with them for a few years now, but it still didn't feel right. He felt like he'd intruded on something he shouldn't. They're always tense and jittery; something he supposes is his fault.
It's their fault. Ingrates. Treating their own flesh ad blood like they treat you. You should let me taste their blood.
The voice is louder now.
Much louder.
Sometimes Gaara imagines he should listen to the voice. Feed it. He'd killed many others before. He always considers yielding to it, just to shut the damn voice up. It always calls for Temari and Kankurou's blood though. Some nights he stands at the door of their rooms, sand swirling at his feet, contemplating ending their life. It's not like they mean anything. They were just…
But he never did kill them.
No matter how much the voice spoke.
He told himself he didn't kill them because right now they served a purpose. Temari cooked food. Kankurou helped Temari clean and usually fixed their broken appliances. No point in killing people who had an important function.
He walks into the home slowly, shutting the door behind him quietly.
Temari and Kankurou never do notice when he slips in.
They're yelling.
"Kankurou! Go to sleep, dammit!"
"I have to fix Karasu!!"
"You can fix it tomorrow!"
Kankurou is perched on the floor, his puppet in his lap, using those tools to poke at the puppet. Kankurou doesn't seem to know what's wrong with it. When Gaara had left the house earlier that day, the brown-haired boy had been attempting to fix it. Usually Kankurou fixed the thing easily; Gaara found it surprising that he is still struggling with it. Temari stands before Kankurou, hair down, eyes tired. She works too hard, Gaara thinks. He's seen her train; he thinks she's the oddest creature he's ever met. No one trains quite as hard as she does. Then again, the two people in front of him are quite odd.
"Just give me a few more minutes, Temari."
The blonde rubs her temple. "Kankurou," she groans, "don't be a brat. If you don't go to sleep you won't function well in the morning."
"Says who?"
"Says me."
"You're just a bossy wretch who—"
Temari's lips purse and she seems about ready to lose her temper at Kankurou when her hazy tired green eyes lock onto Gaara. She straightens abruptly and her eyes clear just a tiny bit. "G-Gaara."
Kankurou freezes.
The change in the atmosphere of the room is astonishing. It goes from warm and family-like to cold and scared.
Let me kill them.
Gaara doesn't say anything.
Kankurou puts aside his tools quickly. And pushes his puppet to lean against the table. Without a word the puppeteer walks up the stairs, most likely heading to his room. Gaara can hear his voice, as soft as it is, as he departs. "Fine. I'm going to sleep. G'night, Tem."
Gaara's always wondered what it would be like, if he could really be their brother.
Temari nervously looks at him. "Do you want something to eat – or…?"
She doesn't really care. She's just afraid of you.
"I'm fine." He rasps.
Temari nods nervously. She heads up to her room but pauses at the stairs. He wonders what she's thinking. She turns. "Gaara?"
He looks blankly at her.
Let me kill her.
"Ano…" she shakes her head. "Never mind."
Useless whore. Let me—
"Shut up." He rasps out loud.
Temari pauses halfway up the stairs.
Gaara thinks she's heard, but she just keeps going up.
Gaara sits on the couch and stares at the puppet Kankurou had leant against the table. He's never touched the puppet, but he thinks it's very interesting. He's watched his brother lubricate the weapons on it with a poison he himself had devised.
He still finds the entire contraption befuddling.
He walks over to the puppet and places it slowly on the floor. He looks it over, moving the limbs lightly, not really wanting to break anything. Not because he admires Kankurou or doesn't want the boy's treasured possession to break, but because he likes the puppet. He likes to see it in action. And if he happened to break it, it would be a while before he got to see the brown-haired boy wield it.
You stupid boy. That thing isn't even interesting. Go kill someone for me. Since you won't kill the idiot siblings of yours at least—
"I want to see what's wrong with it."
The next morning Gaara sits upon the couch, eyes closed, meditating. He can hear Kankurou's heavy footsteps as he jumps down the stairs. He can always tell the difference between Kankurou and Temari's movements just from hearing alone. Kankurou's steps are heavier, sporadic, and careless. Temari's are firmer, clumsy, numerous.
Gaara hears the puppeteer enter the room. "Oh, crap!" Kankurou mutters, stumbling across the floor. The puppeteer, Gaara thinks, has fallen on the floor. "T-Temari!" He calls, in what appears to be slight fear.
He can hear more footsteps – Temari's this time – and then swearing. "Ow! What?" A sharp intake of breath from Temari, (most likely she tripped over something and is now in pain). "What's wrong?" She hisses.
"He's not as-asleep is he?"
A long silence, then Temari's voice. "G-Gaara?"
It's always fear with them, he thinks. If he pretended to sleep, he would give them a great scare. But he was too annoyed. He cracks open his eyes and glares at the blonde. "What?"
She holds up her hands apologetically. "Ano, sorry Gaara. I thought…" A fake smile. "Sorry."
He can see her kick Kankurou firmly in the back.
The puppeteer struggles up, giving Temari a glare.
Irritating things.
"What do you want for breakfast, Gaara?" She asks nervously.
"I don't care."
"You never ask me." He hears Kankurou grumble bitterly.
Another kick.
The puppeteer picks himself up and takes that puppet of his from the floor to the other side of the room. Kankurou always does that. If the boy had to be in the same room as Gaara, then he would make sure to put the farthest possible distance between them.
Gaara never wanted to admit it, but he would like…like to know…like for Kankurou to act the same way with him as he did with Temari.
Foolish. They see you as a monster they must put up with.
It was foolish.
But he still wants it, because…Kankurou is particularly different with Temari than with everyone else.
With other shinobi he is proud, tough, firm, and blatantly cruel. With Temari, he seems to…melt. He is childish – immature. Granted he is still irritatingly sarcastic, and still insults her as he does others. But the tone in his voice is rather different. It's…warm. He is joking and strange. He is also rather…kind, Gaara figures.
Temari changes too.
With the outside world, the blonde is callous, indifferent, strong, tough, and vicious. Inside this home, she is…beautiful. She is firm and bossy, but caring. She smacks Kankurou, and kicks him, and yells at him; but she also laughs with him, smiles at him, comforts him, and plays with him. It is like the shell of her skin peeling off to reveal she is actually soft and fleshy inside.
He likes to see them change. He likes the way they relax with each other. It's…something. Something special. Something he wishes he could have with them, but knows he never can.
"Oy, Temari," Kankurou calls out.
"What?" she asks exasperatedly.
"Did you fix my puppet?"
The frown on her lips reaches up to her eyes. "What? No. I don't know how to fix that infernal thing. It's so complicated."
Kankurou's eyebrows draw together. "Then…?"
The puppeteer looks briefly at him, and then looks away.
Gaara knows what he's thinking.
No. Not possible.
Gaara doesn't even know why he did it.
They don't run from him, maybe.
They don't…they don't lock their doors, that's some sort of trust in him.
They don't pretend he doesn't exist.
Maybe it's because…even though he doesn't think they are a family to him, or he is a family to them, it's still the closet thing he'll ever have.
He can pretend right?