Notes: I honestly thought that, by now, my other story, Tatties and Ink,would be updated. Clearly not. I am having MAJOR SUPER INDESCRIBABLE block for that story. It is NOT on hiatus, I just need to be struck by lightning or receive a visit from some divine entity before the next chapter comes out! I am hoping it will be shortly.
In the meantime... I love this story. I am going to marry it. One last thing - do you like my cover art? :3 It's watercolour and pen, and a combination of a couple of pictures I found on the internet - I will hunt them down and prove my non-plagiarising, but for the time being, I shall just assure anyone who may be reading - THEY DIDN'T COME ENTIRELY FROM MY IMAGINATION!
I DISCLAIM! Now read on!
Chapter 2
Birds of a Feather
Gaara stared up at the four curving beams that formed a bendy 'X' above his head. Moving his hand lightly along the sheets under the black quilt, barely eliciting the slightest rustle, he felt for the trailing switch just hanging off the side of the bed and pressed it. A dim spotlight glowed into sleepy luminescence above his head, inciting an ethereal glow from the thin layers of fabric on all sides of him.
It was the next morning. The day had dawned hazy but bright – the sun emitting a dozy kind of light with the lingering shades of dawn still present. It was eight o'clock. Escape day.
Gaara had no doubts that his… uninvited houseguest would be up. He was underestimating him no longer. He would assume the worst in all situations – with good reason too. He hardly knew this brunet stranger, this so called 'angel', this Neji. But what he did know… He held up both closed fists and began a tally on his fingers. Crazily strong. Probably able to fly. Arrogant. Temperamental. Intelligent. A bastard. Arrogant. Doesn't understand 'no'. Gets his own way.
The redhead frowned at the nine lifted digits. He was missing one. He raised his eyes skyward as if in deep, deep contemplation. Wait… I can almost remember – ah yes. Arrogant'. Gaara looked at the splayed hands before him and nodded. That about summed him up.
He sneezed without warning. Slightly groggily, he rubbed a hand under his nose; he must have gotten a cold from his extended freezing shower yesterday. A long exhalation of air that could have been a weary sigh peeled out of his lips. He was not ready to face this day yet. But nor did he want to hang around in such a vulnerable position with a stranger who refused to leave the premises still nearby. His head still a little heavy, the redhead slid out of the warm ball he had created in between the sheets and crossed the room to the bathroom, stepping straight into the shower.
The cascading water succeeded in clearing his head somewhat. Mouth quirked down slightly, he squeezed a generous dollop of shampoo into his palm and slicked it through his wet locks, scrubbing it vigorously to create a lather. He fleshed out his escape plan as he rinsed the suds from his body. Go to Lee's. That much was obvious. But so far, that was all he had.
The temperamental shower head gave a sputter as he tilted his head back into it, and the temperature dipped to an unacceptable luke-warm. Annoyed, the redhead knocked it off and stepped into the thick towel draped over the toilet seat. He could explain he needed to shop – for food or clothes… Gaara shook his head, mentally dismissing it. Either the prat would accompany him or just downright refuse to let him leave. Nor could he slam a frying pan over his head – he was pretty sure any attempt on the stranger's life would see him in a shallow grave. A shiver coursed through the redhead's body. He was genuinely scared of what this man would do. He couldn't stay here.
This left the third option: slipping out. Out of his bedroom window was an option, but it was a long way down. Out of one of the lower windows would be preferable, but more obvious. This Neji had already proven his strength by lifting him clean off the ground the day before and shoving him against a wall.
Slim fingers clutched at the hem of the towel wrapped around his body. And as for those… things. Gaara screwed his eyes shut for a moment. Those protrusions from the flawless back, bursting from either side of the faintly visible spine in lustrous glory. The eyes snapped open as he shook his head sharply – he wouldn't think about what abnormality was currently residing in his house.
Moving quickly, he pulled on some hastily snatched garments; his work uniform still stowed away in its drawer. He had the weekend off, but he didn't know if that was a mercy or not. Messily sweeping black lines were applied in the small mirror on his vanity, and as Gaara dropped the much-used stub of a pencil back onto the surface, he took in what he was wearing with a hint of a frown. Khaki jeans and a black vest. An almost army-style combination, but at the moment he wasn't bothered. He grabbed a blood red zip-up from his wardrobe and hurried out of the bedroom. He would try tactic one: attempt to leave in the normal way. If it didn't work, well then that was when things would get drastic.
Gaara took the stairs in a hurry, and it was only when he reached the bottom step did he realise with a curse that he should have done a sweep of the room to spot the brunet. From a restricted vantage point on the ground, the redhead had no idea where his unwanted guest was lurking.
"Don't look so edgy," a casual voice advised suddenly from somewhere in the room. Gaara tried to look for the source without seeming jumpy. "I have no desire for your body whatsoever. You're too scrawny, short and strange looking. And you dye your hair in a fake shade."
"It's natural," Gaara retorted in a flat tone.
"Strip from the waist down and I'll be the judge of that."
"Take your head out of your arse and maybe I will," the redhead countered irritably.
"Gosh, that sounds like a come-on. What do you propose we put there instead?"
Finally the shorter man spotted a long leg extended and resting carelessly on a makeshift footstool made of a pile of tattered paperbacks. Steel agate eyes flashed as their owner moved through the rainbow array of chairs on the abstract rug to take in the magnificent tribute to the male form reclining on Gaara's favourite sky-blue armchair. The stacks of books and notepads surrounding the chair had previously hidden the sprawled figure from view.
"You're a dick," he growled.
The sneer widened. "What a one track mind you have, little one."
"Don't presume you have the right to give me a pet name," the redhead rebuked him sharply.
Eyes of iridescent purple-ivory studiously studied a fingernail. Gaara felt sure he knew what was coming – "I have every right. You are my keeper."
The smaller man didn't dignify that with a response, trudging instead back to the kitchen and turning his back on his the wall clustered with shelves and the man cutting an arrogant pose in his favourite seat. The click of the kettle pacified him somewhat. He spooned the coffee into the mug, nostrils flaring at the barest hint of it in the air, and poured the water just before the whistle went off.
"It's that stuff again."
Gaara jumped horrifically, narrowing jerking his hand out of the way of the boiling water he sprayed over the counter. "Stop doing that," he snapped.
Mercury eyes penetrated deep into his own as he looked up. The silky lips were pursed. "Ouch."
Jade eyes flickered down at the alabaster hand which was palm down on the worktop. The scorching water had completely doused it, and the skin had already flushed and was beginning to blister. Thoughts had barely formed in the redhead's mind of cold water and a bandage when the skin gave an almost imperceptible ripple. The veins under the skin seemed almost to give a faint glow, and before the widening green eyes the burn was eating itself away from the inside out – until, just moments later, the glow subsided and the skin was unblemished white again.
"That's interesting."
Eyes narrow, Gaara just drank his coffee in silence. A pale gaze burrowed into his face as he turned away a few minutes later, a seeking look that he had no intention of being caught into. The man had wings – which, come to think, were absent this morning – and he could heal himself. Mind-reading was not too far out of the equation. "I'm going out."
"No."
The other man halted, slightly tilting his head around. "I'm your keeper, no? So pipe down and stop trying to dictate what I do."
The cool voice kept him from walking off. "I said keeper, not master. Your job is to feed me, clothe me, and house me, until I can leave this goddamn planet."
"And go where?" Gaara snapped, and stormed to the hallway door. He stopped so fast he nearly fell over when a tall, muscled body stepped in front of it.
"I said… no." The lashed orbs were solid steel in the hardened face, a black expression etched into the sculpted features. The rich earthen locks were loose, tumbling with serene grace over the toned shoulders and smooth ridged planes of the chest. The brunet was wearing a too-tight white t-shirt, one of Lee's that had been in the wash from when he'd last been over.
A frown formed like a growing storm over the redhead's features. "You can't stop me," he told him, somewhat incredulous that he was attempting.
"Of course I can." The haughtiness of the statement was staggering.
"No," Gaara retaliated in a dangerously emotionless voice, "You can't restrict a person's free will."
A predatory tilt of the lips over the blank, imperious gaze was the only forewarning. A small gleaming pool of light lit the hair at the man's nape. The sharp chin and full jawline tilted back, knocking the waterfall of dark hair over his ears; the bare expanse of the throat glistened under the light of the fake chandeliers of Gaara's ceiling. An eyebrow arched into an expression of pure arrogance. "Of course I fucking can."
The wings snapped open to their full extent, catching the broken light the overhead glass threw and scattering it over the broad shoulders and gleaming torso. The man's sinuous body leaned forwards, and one strong beat later found the smaller man airborne, a gush of wind pulling his hair around where once it had been stagnant and breeze-free. The ride was fleeting – the brunet made a well-executed landing on the railing of the jutting inside balcony and the next thing he knew, Gaara was falling into his bedroom and the door was shutting behind him. The clunk of the key turning followed.
Gaara Sabaku was known for his ability to adapt, and within seconds his brain had pushed the fresh, unreal experience into a 'to-look-at-later' box in his brain, and he found his body flush against the door, hammering on it with his fists. "You cannot lock me in my own room, you arsehole!" He roared through the wood. His only response was a muffled 'whoosh' as the man took jumped through the air. He tried the knob, but the door was securely bolted. Knees weak, he sank to the floor.
"That guy is fucking being made into a pie," he snarled to himself, turned and looked around the room: his new prison. Time for Plan B.
Moving with urgency, Gaara pulled the larger towels out of the cupboard in the bathroom, stripped his bed of sheets and extracted his least loved pairs of trousers from the wardrobe. His bounty spread before him and a determined look on his face, nimble fingers made quick work of knotting the fabrics together. Eventually, several metres of makeshift rope coiled around him and a triumphant smile graced his face.
'Wait till Lee hears about this. He though my bed was princess-like enough, he'll have a field day when he hears I've turned myself into Rapunzel'. The smirk widened, and with a practiced movement, as if he'd been doing it all his life, he twisted the end of the rope – a pair of too-small jeans – around the curtain pole in the corner window. He knew that this one was not in front of any windows on the lower level, and he would not be spotted if Neji was looking outside. A slight wince crossed his features. If he was caught… An image of the enraged marble features, the flashing opalescent eyes, emerged from his memory. Well, if that was the case, he'd better hope the man was just as bad at running as he was.
It was with chagrin that he realised he hadn't snatched any of his sets of keys from downstairs – which meant he would have to walk to Lee's. Shrugging off the set-back, the redhead grabbed the hand-made coil and carefully lowered it out of the window. It was slightly too long, and folded on the smooth stone of the driveway. Gaara quickly ditched his red zip-up for a black hoodie, and he pulled the hood up to conceal his distinctive hair before he swung a leg over the window, straddling it. The drop suddenly seemed to stretch before his eyes; the wall became a dizzying mess of rows upon rows of red brick, the rusty Peugeot and the covered bike like ants on the ground.
Gaara steeled himself firmly. It would not do now to freak out on himself. He gripped the mock-rope tightly in faintly sweaty hands, and before his brain could scream another warning, swung his other leg out and began to abseil down the wall. His heart thundered in his chest at the pure rebelliousness of it, every little shift of the rope incited the fear that the knots were loosening. The climb took forever, the fresh terror that any minute now the massive winged man would be plucking him from his rope like a beetle from a vine twisting the redhead's stomach.
His foot touched something solid.
All the air whooshed out of the young man's chest in relief, and it took supreme effort not to collapse in a jellified heap on the stone. Instead, he slunk towards the brick wall enclosing his large drive and flattened himself to it. He stayed like that for long enough to determine that there was no movement before he began to slide along the wall to the exit.
It was the unfortunate truth that there was one way in and one way out in his driveway – the large double archway directly in front of the windows and door to his house. It would be stealth and no small measure of luck that was going to get him out unnoticed, provided as well, that the man's eyes were not as sharp as his tongue. As Gaara neared the covered bike, he crouched low behind it, eyes riveted to the windows of the kitchen. Nothing moved in them. Crouching low enough that his chin scraped the ground, the redhead made a speedy move in sideways crab-style across the open gap to the silver car. It was the last form of cover before the exit a couple of meters away. Gaara hunkered by the front wheels, eyes trained on the windows. Still no movement.
He sprinted for the archway, expecting wings at his back, hands on his hoodie, a snide, dangerous voice in his ear. He wheeled around the brick and set out down the road for the main street at a run, and it was only when he made a left turn on the street did he realise Neji hadn't followed him. A gush of warm relief tingled through his body, but he rebuked the urge to relax and catch his breath – instead slowing his sprint to an inconspicuous jog, keeping close to the walls. The small, nervous lump in his throat didn't leave as legs started to burn. Knew I should have been an athlete, he thought sourly to himself, crossing the road with a small crowd of people, unable to stop the urgency that pulled him ahead of their languorous pace.
The empty windows of a furniture store that had only last week been active slowed Gaara's purposeful stride. He stared deep into the shell of the little shop as he cut into the side-road next to it. The vacated premises were nothing new, but the type of business was worrying. Normally, the redhead would be crowing that it meant less competition for his work, but under the circumstances, it was just another ball of worry to contend with in his stomach.
His pace picked up as he delved further into the side road, until he finally came to the pine-green door of his friend's house. Instead of sprawling outwards, as did the homes further out in the suburbs, this house rose upwards in three stories. It was along a row of similar-looking buildings with a varied array of coloured doors. The redhead walked past the rain-faded 'For Sale' sign in the small yard and grasped the brass knocker – fish shaped – just before it was ripped out of his hands as the door swung inwards.
"Gaara!" Lee exclaimed, looking taken aback; his heavy eyebrows lifted above his penny-shaped eyes in surprise as he froze in the act of pulling his phone from his jean pockets. "What a surprise my friend! You didn't call me yesterday!" It was said in a disapproving tone as he wagged his finger at his smaller friend. The impassive green gaze didn't waver as he chastised him. "I was just coming over to see you."
A small hand came up and pulled the hood down, tugging distractedly through the flattened locks. "I have a problem Lee," he began haltingly, unsure, now that he was here, how to phrase it.
"Do tell Gaara!" The black-haired man prompted cheerfully.
I have a psychotic yet stunningly beautiful man with amnesia who refuses to leave my home and may or may not be human. It sounded stupid. "I have-"
"A lodger," came a smooth, dusky voice from the path. Both men whipped round to look curiously at the marble figure standing on the pavement, looking for all the world like he'd emerged from the stone under his feet. Recognition dawned, followed by dread which coated the pit of Gaara's stomach in a slippery black lining. In a detached part of his mind separate from the majority which was mentally writing himself a will, he noticed that the brunet still went shoeless.
Lee broke the silence. "A lodger!" He repeated incredulously, taking a step out of his house to clap a hand on the dumbstruck man's shoulder. "Gaara, what an excellent idea!"
"No, I-" he tried to protest, but the sight of the long-haired man walking sinuously toward him, mercury eyes burning themselves into the back of his skull, effectively stuck his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
"Hyuuga Neji," the pale-eyed man said warmly, holding out a hand to the beaming Rock Lee, who accepted it enthusiastically. One cold flick of the icy pupils into the redhead's own defeated aquamarine ones was enough to indicate him of the man's intense displeasure. It was like a rock dropping into Gaara's stomach.
"It is my extreme pleasure to meet you!" The excitable man said, a wide, toothy smile on his face. "Please, come in!"
"Thank you for the offer, but Gaara merely want to introduce me to his best friend," the Hyuuga declined in a smooth, apologetic tone.
"Nonsense!" Lee argued good-naturedly, grabbing the brunet's arm and pulling him inside, flapping a hand for the redhead to follow. He did so with a sombre expression. "But my, what's this! You have no shoes!" Surprised eyes traced the long-limbed, perfectly structured form. "And, Gaara!" The black-haired man turned accusingly to his smaller friend, who stood silently in the doorway. "Is that my shirt?"
"I apologise," Hyuuga intervened smoothly, "It looked like mine. I shall be sure to return it to you promptly. Gaara and I were just about to go shopping for some clothes of my own, as…" The brilliant silver eyes met those of the redhead, "many of mine were shrunk in the wash."
The smaller man recoiled under the harsh scrutiny.
Lee – completely oblivious – beamed with delight. "In the meantime, you may borrow some of mine! The shirts will doubtless be too small, but I have trousers that may fit!" he offered, an innocent smile stretching his mouth. It was returned by the brunet, although Gaara noticed that it didn't quite meet his eyes. The long-haired man allowed himself to be pulled through the bright hallway into the living room. It was furnished in light, subtle creams and warm browns – and Gaara knew instinctively that it was Lee's girlfriend, Tenten, who was responsible. The only anomaly in the room was a cross-trainer stood against the far wall. Neji was practically shoved into the beige sofa, and a few seconds later, the redhead followed as Lee prattled on about milk and a pair of loaned shoes. A grinned instruction to 'stay put', and the gangly man bounded from the room. An uncomfortable silence settled over the pair. Gaara, having been pushed by Lee into the chair, suddenly found himself too-close to the warm side of the taller man; tugging his elbow tight into his side to stop it from brushing Hyuuga's.
The brunet whipped round suddenly, making him jump. A hand rose and cupped his jaw, forcing his head round. Reluctantly, the redhead found himself face to face with the quietly livid angel. The thin, porcelain lips were parted to reveal the dark red interior, the eyes – framed by their thick lashes the same colour as the rich fall of hair – were narrowed.
"Care for an explanation?" he inquired flatly.
"No." Gaara replied in an equally dead voice, battling down his fear in favour of a frosty expression. "I don't need to explain myself when I want to see my friend. You've known me for two days – less! You intolerable pric-"
His head was thrust away, the subtly furious expression concealed under layers of pleasantry just as Lee walked in, carrying a large tray in his hands. Under his load, a pair of dark grey trainers swung off his pinky finger. Catching the corner of a small table with his ankle, Lee dragged it over the carpet in front of the duo and set the tray on it. It held four squat glasses of milk and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. The thickly-browed man snagged one just as his leggy beauty of a girlfriend walked into the room.
A waxed brow lifted on her sweet, heart-shaped face in confusion. "Lee, eating sweets? What is the world coming to?"
"Ah, Tenten," Lee shook his head sorrowfully at her, "Today is an exception! Gaara has admitted a new inhabitant into his living space!"
"Oh really?" An indulgent smile slipped onto the round face, the woman barely batting an eyelid at Lee's strange way of speaking as she turned to the sofa. Her face froze in its light smile for the briefest second – allowing a small flash of - something - behind her hazelnut eyes before she warmly bent and pecked the long-haired man on the cheeks. None of the three appeared to notice.
"Well, it's lovely to meet you…?"
"Neji," came the gentlemanly reply, "Neji Hyuuga."
She smiled distractedly at him, before she perched on the plush stool Lee had dragged over for her. It was still somewhat beyond Gaara's knowledge how the athlete had managed to score such a model-like partner. His friend was enthusiastic, sweet in a childish kind of way and undoubtedly a good man – in fact he possessed all the good qualities a human could have – but he did, and even he admitted this, fall a little short in the looks department. He was tall, but in a gangly kind of way, his hair was sleekly black and super shiny, and yet he wore it in a bowl-cut in respect of his favourite gym trainer – and nothing Gaara or Tenten said would change his adamant refusal to get a hair-styling. And his fashion sense was… bright on the best of days.
On the other hand, Tenten Oshimu – Lee's girlfriend of 8 months – was a tall, slender woman with a heart-shaped face, framed by wavy lengths of hair that was often coiled in two buns on either side of her head – her panda ears, she called them. Wide, round eyes with glimmering hazelnut irises were surrounded by long, naturally curled lashes above a cute button nose, and plush pink lips curved in a faint, unconscious pout. Her entire body – of which Gaara had seen flashes when they went swimming – was a flawless tribute to peaches and cream, and she kept herself fit by training with Lee. Gaara had seen her in action, and was morbidly afraid of the knives in his kitchen for about a week afterwards.
"So, how long have you been lodging with Gaara?" she asked in her birdsong-like voice, sipping the milk from one of the glasses. The redhead hadn't touched his.
"Oh, a matter of days," the brunet replied in a mild voice. "His house is very interestingly decorated, to say the least."
Liar, Gaara snarled to himself, recalling the man's exact words from the day before. He cast a heated glare at Hyuuga, who turned his head at that exact moment. Their eyes met for a half-second before the redhead turned away. He clearly saw the self-satisfied amusement in those liquid irises. Angrily, he grabbed a cookie.
"That's our Gaara for you! His mind is like his house, full of bright lights and strange colours!" Lee informed the long-haired man cheerfully, chugging his milk. Tenten giggled at the white moustache across his lips when he put the cup down. The young Sabaku sank even further into a pit of self-mortification; he could feel the waves of dark humour coming from the man next to him. He shifted away slightly. "How did you meet any way?" the athlete continued, a mildly bemused look on his face.
"Yesterday, in the park. We got talking, and the suggestion came to lodge," Hyuuga gave an easy shrug in the gap between his lies, "I didn't have enough to rent an entire apartment anymore, so this was a life-saving occurrence." A fake cheerful expression plastered itself across the marble features.
"Gaara! Your innovative ideas never fail to surprise and cheer me!" The black-haired man gushed, "And a lodger is exactly what you need in this ill-timed recession! Another source of income is always welcome!"
If only, thought Gaara resentfully. Little did his oblivious friend know, this was both an unwilling and unpaid partnership. In fact it seems like I'll be paying for him. A bit like having an ill-tempered dog.
His foul mood only exacerbated, he grabbed another cookie and bit viciously into it.
"So you two seem like a happily settled couple," Neji observed in a breezy tone that Gaara did not for one minute believe was real, "Have you been together long?"
"Nine months this October!" The athlete proclaimed proudly. Tenten laced her fingers in his.
"Ah." The Hyuuga nodded as if he were at all interested, "So what do you do then?" It was addressed to Tenten.
"I model," she replied with a genuine smile, "I'm with a company in the centre of Konohagakure."
"The Hub," the two men corrected simultaneously, out of habit. Tenten laughed at the pair; it was a long-standing joke that existed between the three of them. Lee and Gaara assured her that they would keep doing it until she dropped her Hub mannerisms and turned to their self-proclaimed dark side.
"Prestigious," the brunet noted in an offhand voice, causing a light blush to appear on Tenten's cheeks.
"I suppose. I mean, it pays well," she replied, slightly self-consciously.
"Tenten also has her hand in interior design," Lee informed the stranger among their midst in a proud voice. "She singlehandedly designed the rooms in this house herself!"
"Yet it is not enough to entice a sale?"
Hyuuga's apparently random point struck a chord. Lee's face turned uncharacteristically grave. "You yourself must know it, Neji," he said sombrely, "This recession is so fierce that it would not matter if this house had a pool and a helicopter launch pad, it still would not sell."
The woman next to him patted his hand comfortingly, and his smile returned, even if it was a little on the small side.
Tenten explained. "We were going to sell up and move closer to the centr-"
"The Hub," came the monotonous duet.
Smiling slightly, she carried on, "For my work and Lee's training, but the truth is that it is too expensive, and the way the house prices are at the moment, we would be hard pushed to buy anything closer to the cen- Hub –" she corrected herself at the glances of the duo, "with the meagre price we would obtain from this."
"Yosh," agreed the athlete sadly.
"Well, then at least I shall see more of you if you stay in the area," the brunet replied pleasantly. Gaara squashed the urge to gag at the smarmy tone. "And now I do believe we have imposed on your company long enough." He stood on those supple, toned limbs of his and reached an arm out to shake Lee's hand.
"It is no problem at all, any friend of Gaara's is a friend of ours!"
He is not my friend. The words already sounded tired in the redhead's mind.
He stood and waited as the tall brunet put on the shoes offered to him by beaming athlete and they were waved out of the house by the pair, who loudly wished them happy shopping before the green door shut behind them. Gaara was alone again.
"Well that was trying." The honeyed tone had slipped away completely, and the vainly bored expression was back on the brunet's face.
"I didn't ask you to come along," the redhead muttered through gritted teeth, half to himself.
"You didn't leave me a choice," Neji replied, irritation colouring the words.
A sigh made it through the shorter man's clenched jaw. "When are you going to go away?" It came out with a desperate, imploring inflection ringing through the words.
The pale pearl eyes turned on him. "You really dislike me that much?"
"Your personality gets a bit grating after a while," Gaara snapped back, flashing teal eyes turning on the refined figure walking alongside him.
"Rich coming from you."
"You're a first class arse," was the response as if the brunet's previous statement were complete testament to that fact.
"For that comment, you can buy me a new wardrobe and lunch." The superior smirk was back, twisting the masterfully designed face. Gaara watched the play of light on the strong cheekbones; it seemed the week-long summer storm had finally blown itself out, and the sun had decided to show its warm face in the sky again.
"Where did you come from?" the redhead asked in a weary curiosity.
"I fell." It was a short, sharp answer.
"From where?" He paused dubiously, "Heaven?"
Hyuuga halted in his tracks, and Gaara had walked a couple more steps before he realised his 'lodger' was not following. He looked questioningly at the brunet, but found the glistening ivory gaze clouded over and unfocused. The lips had abruptly dropped their cynical twist, the corners pointed downwards slightly. The redhead took a step back, head tilting quizzically, but it was as if he'd suddenly ceased to exist to the angel.
Thin brows dropped over thickly-shaded eyes. "Hyuuga," he said sharply.
Reflection returned to the glazed diamonds, and with a slow owl-like blink, the brunet returned. He took a few steps forward, until he was about a foot away from the redhead. He stood where a strong shaft of sunlight fell, and the effect was a burning, roiling mass of shimmering pearl and dew-encrusted lavender. Inner glow seemingly reignited, the Hyuuga said nothing, but stared intently into mystified agate eyes as if the answers he seeked were written in there.
"What?" Gaara forced out testily.
Long, soft lashes dipped over the opal pools for a second, before the tall man brushed imperiously past the smaller one. "Nothing. I just remembered something."
The redhead watched the retreating back, clad in Lee's too-tight t-shirt, very nearly but not quite struck dumb. He watched as the statuesque figure paused, half-turned and cast a presumptuous expectant look back at him. In a gesture that was fast becoming familiar, a noble brow lifted in a slight arch. "Those two sentences contradict each other!" He pointed out, feeling provoked.
"Would you hurry up," the liquid maple tones didn't even try and hide the evident impatience, "I've been wearing these trousers for over twenty four hours."
"And what do you propose I do about it," came the faintly hissed reply. Muttering under his breath, the redhead caught up with the stunning creation in front of him. The sun seemed to forego all other objects, and solely focused its soft, fuzzy-edged brightness on defining the contours of the brunet's face, picking out each strand in the luxurious head of hair and casting them in a different shade. Annoyance spiked in Gaara's chest as he appraised the sophisticated figure out of his periphery vision. He could have chosen anyone. They would have bent over backwards to help such a well-bred specimen. He dropped his gaze to the sun-warmed tarmac; he just didn't have the time or the money to look after some pot-head, no matter how attractive he was.
"I feel I've met that Tenten somewhere before." The contemplative voice broke through Gaara's self-reflective musing. He stared at the brunet in disbelief. The condescending expression was for once absent from the chiselled features; instead dominated by one of musing thoughtfulness. His bright eyes flickered over and noticed Gaara's shocked expression. "What?" he sneered at him.
The redhead turned his head away to look back up the street. He was back to normal again. "You weren't a bastard for a few seconds." He dropped an unconcerned half shrug. "Surprised me, that's all."
"I don't think I was a bastard before," Neji countered, again in that strangely amicable tone.
The young man flickered his gaze over him. "I find that hard to believe."
"Of course you would, you're determined to see the worst in me," the brunet said dismissively, enforcing it with a flick of his hand.
Gaara frowned at him. "I'm not determined to, I do see the worst in you. You're a poor excuse for a human being." The self-important silvery eyes flashed over to his face. The humour that Hyuuga was feeling at some private joke annoyed his unwilling companion.
"A poor excuse for a human being," Neji repeated sarcastically. "What a crap insult. I'm not human, dipshit."
"Then stop speaking our language," Gaara retorted brusquely, feeling the unquenchable annoyance flare up again. Gods but did this man rile him up.
"Your history is flawed, boy, you're speaking our language."
The redhead was just opening his mouth to make a cutting remark determining his age when the inwards-turned unfocused eyes of the brunet flicked to the front of his mind. "What did you remember?" he asked grudgingly instead, not entirely happy with being anything more than cordial with the other man, but being overridden by curiosity anyway.
"What's it to you?" Hooded eyes turned to him, the sunlight glancing off the partially concealed gems under the lids. He was messing with him, Gaara realised.
"Nothing. It's nothing at all to me," the redhead stressed, enunciating the words carefully. He felt a squirm of satisfaction at the barely concealed animosity in the other's face. The angel schooled his expression back into impassiveness and slid a hand through sleek, russet-coloured locks.
"I need clothing," he demanded blandly, "and other living necessities. Like a bed. That horror you call a sofa gave me neck cramp." Irritation flashed in his unwavering gaze, "And I haven't eaten all morning since you pulled that little stunt. I require feeding."
"What would you do if I didn't do all that?" Gaara asked suddenly. He noticed they were nearing the main road. "Would you kill me?"
There was no lavender, no pearl and no diamond in Neji's eyes when he looked at the redhead – they were flat white, blank like a pristine sheet of paper. "Killing you…" he considered it. "Would be ineffective in the long-run. Might as well torture you until you concede."
A shiver ran unbidden through Gaara's body. "Can't you pick someone else?" He asked straightforwardly. Neji turned to look hard at him, but the redhead kept his eyes on the road, on the store fronts, and refused to meet the brunet's eyes, to see if the haunting blankness were still in them. "Someone who would actually want you. Can't you change keeper?"
"Yes," was the simple reply. Startled that he'd gotten a straight answer, the redhead turned to his angelic companion. Reflective ivory eyes were staring down at him, unreadable. "Not that I will."
A scowl fell onto his face. "If you can then why don't you? You'd probably enjoy someone else's company more," he pointed out bluntly.
"I simply don't want to." With his superior height, the brunet advanced on Gaara and loomed over him, steely eyes daring him to object. Cold jade eyes searched in the striking purplish-white ones for any flash of motive, any reasoning.
"You're completely selfish," he deduced slowly.
A lazy blink. "Yes."
Gaara's shoulders dropped a little under the weight that was suddenly pressing on them. "And now you want me to buy you clothes."
"Yes."
A sigh, one of countless many in recent hours, passed his lips. "Fucking hell."
They had arrived outside the shopping centre, and Gaara could tell from the expressionless face of his lodger that he wasn't impressed. It wasn't hard to tell why. The recession had hit particularly hard here – there were few people entering and the ones already inside were moving with an uncharacteristic sluggishness. Actual shopping bags appeared to be scarce on their persons.
"We're shopping here?" came the disbelieving question.
Gaara pushed through the double doors without acknowledging the remark, letting them swing shut onto the brunet. The first two adjacent store fronts were untitled, with foggy glazed windows and neglected interiors, and the two opposite them were tired looking shoe stores with red sale signs in the windows. The redhead led the way past them, and then bypassed the next couple of pharmacies and convenience stores, leading the way into the circular lobby. The wooden benches were empty, the bins not even half full; betraying the lack of visitors the centre actually got on a daily basis. The lifts were against the wall next to a large map of the building; Gaara didn't need to look because he had a fairly accurate idea of the stores that would be open. The map was littered with red stickers over the squares of the out-of-business stores.
Without indicating to the Hyuuga, the redhead walked to the left set of stairs next to the lifts and advanced to the next level. In front of him were two shops opposite each other – men's fashion – with 'reduced price' notices in their windows. A small smirk crossed his face; at least he would get the clothes for less. One, and only one, good thing about the financial crisis. He led the brunet to the right, into 'Harver's', and was pleased to see that the racks were still haphazardly crammed with clothes. A snort issued from behind him.
Gaara whirled around. "If you want to shop in high class designer shops," he hissed savagely at the unimpressed angel, "Then you can damn well get a keeper in the Hub." Ascertained that he was not going to get any more complaints from the dissatisfied man, he started searching through the racks for clothes that would fit him. Extracting a pair of extra-long black jeans, he held them subconsciously up to the brunet's waist. "They'll fit," he muttered to himself and threw them over the now placid man's arm.
Two pairs of blue jeans followed, one that proclaimed itself as 'Discount Designer', and was haphazardly shredded and semi-sewed back up again. The thighs and calves were faded and there were small bronze buttons down one outer seam. They were half price.
"I am not wearing this," Neji said impartially, causing the perusing redhead to pause and frown at him. Mossy green eyes raked up and down the trousers he had just thrown over the brunet's arm.
"Why not?" he asked blankly.
"I don't know what you're trying to do, but I refuse to be turned into a punk rocker," the pale-eyed man returned smartly. The small, lithe form with the stop-light red hair simply darted down the aisle, picked up a thunder-storm grey pair of thigh-hugging jeans and added them to the pile. "Then I'll wear them." Small lips pursed, daring a retort. The brunet narrowed his opalescent eyes at him, but the redhead didn't bother hanging around to hear the rebuke. He disappeared down the next aisle, indicating for Neji to follow him.
They were in the shirt section. Gaara scanned down the rows with a calculating eye, but he turned to the angel before he dived in. "Do you want t-shirts or button-ups?" He asked, unenthusiastic at having to engage in conversation with the man.
"Both," was the indifferent reply.
Fighting back a snappish comment, he moved to pull three he'd spotted during his initial scan and held them up to the brunet. "Those two," was the thoughtful reply. He draped the red buttoned casual shirt on the man's arm and followed it by a light creamy turtle neck.
"Not this one?" He waved the third shirt slightly at the man.
"I told you, no punk rocker," he replied irritably. The redhead took a look at the top in his hand – it was illustrated with harshly coloured crows and daggers, and in the centre was a pink skull and crossbones. Well, it had been a long shot. Gaara put it back just as a shop assistant appeared at the top of the aisle, a look of palpable relief on his face.
"Can I help you!" he all but screamed and darted toward the pair, his shoulder length blonde hair flapping over his face. He made a beeline for Hyuuga and wrested the bundle from him. The redhead saw him give the tall man an appreciative once-over before he turned to the smaller man. "Is there anything you're looking for in particular, yeah!"
The redhead skewered him with his kohl-lined eyes. "No."
The blonde looked crestfallen. The overhead lights gleamed off his yellow name-tag, the black letters reading 'Deidara'. Turning toward the impassive man behind him, he cast him a hopeful glance. "Is there anything I can help you with, sir?" He chirruped in a polite voice. He reminded Gaara of an excitable little canary. The brunet allowed him a slight curving of his lips – the poor man nearly keeled in delight.
"Could you help us find some shirts to go with these..?" He fingered lightly through the trousers Gaara had already picked out. The lips quirked again, and the same satiny voice rippled out. "It would be a tremendous help."
"Sure…" The blonde acquiesced breathily, tearing himself dramatically away from the brunet and stuffing the bundle of clothes without a second glance into Gaara's arms. He crossed the shop and dived into the flap behind the counter, which assumedly was the store cupboard. The redhead turned back to the angel, and the divinely beatific mask which had just lit the glowing features fell away. The brunet smirked. "What?"
The redhead thrust the clothes back at the taller man with a scowl. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, yanking roughly through the clothes to spot the ugliest piece he could find. His eyes alit upon a black top of a clingy-looing soft material. Thin, thread-like chains wove over the shoulders like chainmail before they draped loosely over the back. The front dipped in a large semi-circle, more so than the other neck-tight ones he'd picked out. The sleeves were short cuffs. Gaara pulled it out thoughtfully.
As he surveyed it with an unreadable look on his face, long fingers plucked it out of his hands. The silvery eyes appraised it. "My, that's almost…" The brunet flipped a long, rich brown strand over his shoulder. "Kinky." He switched his gaze to the darkening face of the redhead, a sinful smile on his lips.
"Put it back, I was only curious," the smaller man said exasperatedly.
Smug smile widening, the Hyuuga added it to the pile just as the blonde dived back into their aisle. In his arms he carried an enormous pile of shirts. He dropped them on the floor, starting to rifle through them. "I found loads, yeah!" He looked up, and his eyes instantly fell upon the slinky new addition to the pair's pile. "That's – are you guys, you know, toge-"
"No." Gaara enunciated slowly in an empty tone.
"Okay!" was the bubbly response, and the shop assistant busily began pulling out shirts. They picked another two – a soft pure white business-style shirt and - Neji's choice, which he extracted with a guileful smile on his lips - a midnight purple t-shirt with a white wing decal on the back. Sighing, the redhead added it to the steadily increasing pile.
"Jumpers?" Neji asked, with a small smile directed at the blonde, who nearly threw up in joy. Moving like a rogue blonde tornado in need of a haircut, a plain black zip up and a creamy white pullover with large pockets in the front was added to the pile.
"Would you like a-"
"No." The brunet and the blonde turned to look at the third man. His face was murderous, his eyes narrow aquamarine slits which, surrounded by their midnight shadows, looked positively catlike. "No. We've got enough." He cast a vengeful glare at the Hyuuga.
The taller man turned to look at the shop-keeper and offered him an apologetic shrug. "You heard the man." He dropped the blonde a conspiratorial wink, and a delicate rose-petal blush formed across the other man's cheekbones. Amid unintelligible stammers, the stack of clothes was swept up and borne to the check-out desk.
The eleven items came to £70. Gaara winced as he handed his card over – there was seventy quid he wouldn't be seeing again. He walked away from the counter as soon as he was returned his credit card, leaving the angel to carry the bags as he was waved off by the shop assistant. He found himself half expecting a thank you when they exited the shop and the brunet caught up to him.
"I still need shoes." Gaara scowled. Or not.
They emerged from the shopping centre another twenty minutes later with a pair of shiny black faux-leather shoes and brown suede plimsolls added to their purchases. The redhead was only placated by the fact that they were 70% off the original price, because he could almost feel his card becoming weightless as the money was leeched out of it. The ungrateful prick next to him tossed his head to knock the hair out of his face – he couldn't use his hands because his so called 'keeper' vehemently refused to help him carry the bags. It gave the redhead a savage pleasure to see the brunet so encumbered. The man noticed his scrutiny and speared him with his spectral-pale gaze. "And I'm still starv-"
"There is food," Gaara snarled lividly, "At the house." His face left no room for discussion, and the brunet said nothing in response; instead driving his ice-white irises into the redhead's for a long second before walking in the direction of their apparently shared abode. "Prick," Gaara said incredulously under his breath as he followed, making sure to saunter to show off his lack of baggage.
Arriving back at the house was a sordid affair, as Gaara was still fuming that the prick was still here in the first place. Never mind that a spike of fear ran through him at the thought of the man, having witnessed his powers and his… extra body parts.
"Hey, little one," the brunet growled sarcastically after they had been standing silently outside the door for a couple of minutes, "Open. The damn. Door."
Something inside Gaara coiled nastily. He realised he'd never outright let the angel into his house before; the one time he'd entered he'd literally forced his way in without any kind of permission. This time would be the first that Gaara would have allowed the brunet to walk through his doorway – opened the door for him to do so. His gut twisted uncomfortably at the notion.
He stirred as the muffled thumps of soft-filled bags hit the floor, and then Hyuuga was snatching the keys from his limp fingers and opening the door himself. Annoyance was tinged healthily with relief as Gaara barked not to barge in uninvited, while the man ignored him, slinging the numerous bags in and walking past without even looking at the protesting redhead.
Gaara shut the door behind him quietly, questioning the relief that had blossomed when the chance to allow the man in had been snatched from him. Inviting him in was too much like bending for him, he realised, too much like giving in. He didn't want to give in to this sarcastic, arrogant bastard of a stranger – that much was starkly clear.
Most of the shopping bags had gone through with the brunet, but Gaara noticed one that must have slipped from the man's fingers. He sneered as he snagged it off the ground. Clearly the guy wasn't perfect after all. He threw it onto the pile next to the door of his huge open plan room when he entered.
"So… lunch then-" He looked up and stiffened, statue-like, where he stood. Neji stood a few steps more into the room, his back to the redhead, peeling the too-tight top over his head. The muscles rippled under the alabaster skin as the white tee came over his head – the intensely dark silken locks tumbling over his shoulders as his head came free, falling in a chocolaty mass over his back. The longest point came to the middle of his spine.
The white cotton was dropped carelessly to the floor as the brunet turned, noticing his audience. In a flash, Gaara managed to compose himself, but the gleam in the pearl eyes indicated that Neji had seen the redhead's stupor.
"It's rude to strip in public places," the smaller man reprimanded tightly, allowing outrage to colour his tones. He crossed to the kitchen and busily set about pulling out bread and butter and transferring it to the island unit. He slammed the cheese on the surface and distractedly reached for the knife next to him. Instead of the cool handle he was expecting, his hand closed around something warm and fleshy, and he looked up to see what he'd grabbed.
His fist was closed around the back of Neji's hand, which held the knife he'd been aiming for. The redhead looked up, perplexed, to see the glint that was set back in his eyes.
"Who knew taking my top off would produce such an effect," the brunet said in a suggestive, husky tone. Gaara flinched away from the hand like it was burning hot.
"It's not producing any effect," he said flatly, "Put a shirt on." He slid the cheese out of its wrapper and held his hand out for the knife Neji held. He refused to meet the man's gaze.
The brunet dropped the sharp utensil in the outstretched palm, scraping his fingers against the flesh as his own fist opened. "I need to stretch my wings."
Gaara slid the knife through the cheese several times, ignoring the shirtless angel. He created a small stack of thin, pale yellow rectangles and moved onto the loaf of bread, concentrating as he cut four slices.
"Want to see?"
"See what?" He snarled, startled. He glared at the fourth slice: it was shredded.
"You seem… nervous." Damn him, the man was purposefully making his voice silky and luxurious. "Maybe I should make you lunch." The brunet curled his tongue around the vowels of the 'you'.
Gaara slammed the knife down. "Maybe you fucking should," he hissed savagely. He met the piercing eyes of his not-quite guest. "I seem nervous?" The torrent he'd been keeping bottled up in the hours since the brunet had appeared in his life came gushing out. "I have a fucking winged thing who won't goddamn leave me alone, who is making me pay for crap I can't afford, who is stripping half naked in my own home – which, may I just add, he isn't paying for being in, and is making me do everything, all while being a fucking arrogant bastard about it." The redhead shut his mouth with a snap and began cutting another slice of bread to make up for the one he'd massacred.
The brunet said nothing, although in front of his vision, Gaara could still see the glistening cream plains of the naked chest. It disappeared as he began to butter the bread, and the slight pat of footsteps faded across the room. He's leaving! No – the footsteps were coming back. The exhilaration died down again. He trained his eyes on what he was doing, ignoring the angel.
SLAM.
Gaara shot out of his skin, newfound terror surging through him as he looked up. The brunet was bent over the island counter, staring intently into… a copy of the Yellow Pages. The hackles that had risen along the redhead's shoulders relaxed as he stared at the man, baffled by his strange behaviour.
"What are you doing?" he asked tentatively.
The Hyuuga didn't look up as he flipped a page with an absorbed hum in his throat, looking completely engrossed in the directory's content. "Finding you an anger management class," he replied distractedly.
The confusion morphed into consternation… and then into irritation. Gaara flung the piece of mauled bread at him.
It bounced off the strong jawline – later the redhead would realise that the man could have easily deflected it – and the man rose to his full six feet, brushing crumbs out of his long hair. The smaller man glared at him until a thoughtful expression crossed the finely angled face.
"I know something that might cheer you up." The smug sneer was back, a return to normality – although what was normality when he hadn't even known the man for a whole 48 hours anyway – and he advanced on the redhead. Gaara backed up as the angel stalked around the island, eyes flashing in a beast-like way.
"I don't need cheering up," he said coldly, hoping it would deter the brunet from whatever he was going to do.
A satiny chuckle that made the flawless outer walls of the long neck vibrate gently. "You liked it yesterday."
"Yesterday was the worst day in my twenty-three years of living," argued Gaara, almost frantically now. His back bumped into the wall, and he was hard-pushed to bite back the yelp that almost formed. Before he could twist out of the way and dart somewhere else in the huge room, a pool of heat appeared that just barely preceded its source; the Hyuuga's naked expanse of chest. The smaller man was trapped.
"You liked watching this yesterday," came the huskily shimmering voice – so close now that Gaara could feel the vibrato of it in the air. He remembered now – the thwarted 999 call, how he'd been pinned, feet off the ground, in the corner of his bedroom, watching the light form from that unmarked back.
This time it was different; Neji bent instead of lifting him, until the redhead's face was no longer inches from unblemished, silky-skinned chest as the striking features once again buried themselves into his neck. Gaara had an unbroken view of the flawless expanse of the muscled back. The brunet's scent pervaded the air – a natural, musky aroma suffused with a warm streak of cinnamon and something else – a rich, low, clean smell like bright, nocturnal flowers.
"Fuck off now?" The redhead said in what he hoped was a reasonable tone.
Lips brushing faintly on the curve where his neck and shoulder joined. "You'll enjoy it."
"I won't en-"
His words tailed abruptly off as intricate swirls began to appear on the cream skin – pure, glowing white lines that twisted in elegant patterns like liquid light in the purest marble. Ivy leaves and flowers with slender petals seemed to grow and ebb in the artistic masterpiece that was forming in a large V on the brunet's back, starting at the top of the shoulder blades and ending just below them. Gaara's brain was whirring – trying to remember if this was what it had looked like yesterday. All he could remember from then was light.
It was as if it were the key word the design had been waiting for – like a bud cracking open its leaves, the pattern swelled and exploded a gleaming beam of light into the wincing jade eyes. Like purest sunlight, it lit every item in the room in an untainted, majestic colour before it focused into a smaller space. Forcing his eyes to keep from shutting under the intense brightness, the redhead could see - something - slithering out of the tattoo; a translucent lavender gauze, like an ethereal veil, which thickened and solidified as the light seemed to absorb into it. Feathers formed, sensuously tapered and satiny soft, as the light slowly dimmed to a comforting purple-hued glow that emanated like an alternate light source from the pearlescent wings. Up close, Gaara could see that they weren't transparent as he'd first thought, but a lush variety of duck-egg blue and pale cream and lavender. The milky watercolour hues blended together to create a soft, light-refracting combination – the effect was a gorgeous gossamer-soft curtain of down that blurred the edges of the day into the feathers – or the other way around.
Gaara released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding and composed himself quickly. "You're still manhandling me," he said pointedly. The man, with his two extra limbs, stepped away, and as the redhead slid past him he saw the smug smile on the perfectly formed lips. Arse, he thought to himself. A dark chuckle bloomed behind him, as if the brunet could hear his thoughts, and the smaller man repressed a growl.
"I'm going to change." In the corner of his vision he could see the angel – his wings glistening with a gentle inner light – grabbing a couple of the bags. Arranging a neutral expression across his features, Gaara turned to sharply say –
He was speechless again, as the diamond purple wings flared wide in the malleable air, and with a quick sharp beat, lifted the brunet off the floor. The air scudded against the redhead's body, lifting the short crimson locks off his forehead for a brief moment – another beat as the angel rose in the almost warehouse-like main room and angled for the slim inner balcony. A graceful landing later, the angel studiously pretending that he hadn't noticed the riveted emerald eyes, and the man was stepping lightly off the waist-high railing and disappearing into…
His bedroom. Gaara's eyes widened as his body, seemingly of its own accord, dived to the spiralling stairs. He was shouting as he scaled them at a run; "Hey fucker, get out of my room!" The door was unlocked, mercifully, as he arrived at the balcony, and he threw himself inside. Daylight streamed through the windows, but the angel wasn't present.
"Neji?" he called suspiciously.
"Are you really that eager to see me naked?" came the wry tone from the direction of the closed bathroom door.
Anger filled the redhead, anger that his haven – his favourite room – had been voyaged into again by the smarmy intruder. "Don't just go barging into other people's bedrooms, you prick!" he yelled in the direction of the door. He received an indifferent grunt in reply, and stomped off to straighten the small carved wooden statues on his low mahogany-and-glass coffee table. It crouched on a round rug in fiery shades of orange and red. He hadn't made the table himself, but he had fitted a different coloured spotlight on each leg, pointing upwards, that lit the ornaments atop the transparent surface in unreal tinted colours. He clicked the little switch that hid under the wooden edge, and soft green, yellow, purple and orange pools of light glowed into existence. That done, he threw himself grumpily into the crimson bubble chair – which hung from a thick coil of chain from the ceiling – to wait until he could usher his 'lodger' out.
A hum ran through the piping in the wall, and the distinctive sound of the shower being turned on seeped in from the adjacent room. The scowl forming across the redhead's brow intensified. The presumptuous shit. He hoped he drowned.
It was a whole half an hour later, after the water had abided and the scuffling sounds of dressing had quieted, when the elusive lodger made his grand exit.
Gaara was daydreaming absently in the hanging chair, swinging himself from side to side with his foot, when the door clicked open. Alert, he sat upright and affixed his scowl. The man entered the room slowly, the last vestiges of the shower emerging in small wisps of steam that floated out in quickly dissipating tendrils around his body. The coloured spotlights the redhead had turned on earlier eagerly illuminated this new marble masterpiece. The irked frown remained only through sheer force of will.
The storm-cloud grey jeans – was it only an hour earlier that he'd bought them? – hugged the muscled calves and thighs all the way down to the ankles peeking out cheekily from the denim. The long-sleeved red button-up, a rich auburn like autumn leaves, fit perfectly; clinging faintly to the defined muscles of the biceps and the powerful torso, before falling more loosely over the hard stomach. The colourful iridescence of the light washed the fabrics in an unworldly tinge – and smoothed the alabaster skin in an almost unnatural clearness. The purple fell upon the jawline, hardening it, and the orange and yellow gave a sun-washed brilliance to the flawless skin. The hair was swept over one shoulder, the deep, warm brown darkened into a gleaming volcanic cocoa-black from the water, and the miniscule droplets caught the luminosity and flung it around in small sparkling rainbows. The magnificent wings had apparently been retracted – the redhead couldn't begin to imagine the effect they'd have added to the overall image.
Well aware of how he looked, but feigning oblivion, the angel sauntered into the room, patting his sleek hair with a towel. Glistening diamond eyes, absorbing every inch of the colour and brightness in the room and multiplying it tenfold, shone with glorious undertones of lavender and white-gold. They seemed, much like the wings gracing the same body, to momentarily emit their own radiance. The coralline lips parted gently. "Your shower went cold on me," the brunet said carelessly, "I suggest you fix it."
The image was partly broken. It was still the same prick inside the shiny exterior after all.
"Bastard," Gaara countered, eyes hardening, "If you'd asked beforehand, I might have warned you that it has a tendency to do that."
"You'd have told me to fuck off and grow mould for all the shits you'd give," the brunet replied with a sneer. The redhead had to privately agree – it did seem like something he'd say.
He followed the man out of his bedroom and down the stairs – the angel managing to traverse them now his wings were retracted – and watched him self-assuredly stride over to the kitchen. Feeling like some kicked puppy, Gaara trailed behind him.
Neji picked up where he'd left off, haphazardly throwing the sliced cheese on one of the buttered pieces of bread before rooting around in the small fridge behind him and pulling out the packet of ham. The man straightened, and as he did so, one dark, wood-brown eyebrow lifted at the redhead, who stood a little way away from the counter. It was with a surge of self-loathing that Gaara realised he was dithering. Snapping himself into action, he ignored the small pretentious smile curving the slender lips and set about making his own sandwich crossly. The next few minutes were spent in silence as the redhead glowered at the nearly tangible vibes of self-satisfaction roiling from the taller man.
It was only when they sat down on opposite sides of the island that the quiet was broken.
"I'm curious…" The redhead looked up to see an angled chin resting cockily on its owner's palm. The opal eyes drilled into his. "About that tattoo of yours."
Quelling the snort of derision that the living embodiment of arrogance was actually expecting answers from him, Gaara said nothing. He took a bite of his sandwich – finding it less satisfying than it should have been after the angel had taken half of the cheese that he'd cut for himself, and wished he'd picked up a newspaper to occupy himself with.
The next words came out almost as a croon, a tantalising tease. "I'll tell you what I remembered, if you like…"
He had him. The redhead chewed deliberately slowly, swallowing and placing his bread on the plate, carefully in the centre of the blue rim. He looked up into the luminescent eyes of his lodger. "There's not much to tell," he said bluntly.
A small bending of the pale pink lips. "But there's obviously something..?"
God, he was so annoying. "It was an act of teenage rebellion," he supplied in a blank tone, shrugging slightly.
"I'm especially intrigued by the universal subject."
"You can read it?" The smaller man asked sharply. Purple-white eyes raked over the symbol on his forehead, tracing the edges of the crimson lines with a focused intensity.
"I understand it," was the ambiguous reply.
"You understand a foreign language," Gaara pressed shrewdly.
"It's not a foreign emotion," the brunet replied testily.
Yeah right. As if this guy had gotten a woman to put up with his stinking attitude and unfortunate prick-ism. "Bet you loved her and she left you," he guessed crisply, amusement filling the words. The distinct hardening of the polished ivory gaze seemed to clarify his guess.
"No." the brunet retorted shortly, his maple voice tinged with annoyance.
"You left her?" The redhead smirked, elated with the reactions he was eliciting from the normally cool Hyuuga. "You cruel bastard."
"I've never loved anyone," the brunet retaliated harshly, flicking his head back and causing a miniature wave to surge through his long hair. The light glanced off the princely features as his expression melted into one of pure condescension, "But I'm assuming you felt it so hard you had to go and write it on your skin."
Dull jade eyes shuttered uncaringly at the other man's sneer. "I didn't know what love was." Cupids-bow lips thinned, parted. A glint of teeth peeked through the gap. "That's why I got the tattoo. So people would see it on me and tell me what it was."
The dead eyes stared balefully at the glaring Hyuuga. Slowly, the brunet's mouth spread into a calculating smile, which ignited a small, bright glow far back in the reflective irises. A scheming look came about the flawless face. "Well, when you love someone," the angel explained silkily, "You do this."
And with that, the man stood, reached over the island for the neck of the redhead's shirt – dragging him upright to meet him in the middle of the counter – and crashed his lips onto his.
Shock, that was what registered first. And then, when the numb tingles from that faded, the rough plushness of the lips against his own, the slight throb of the impact working its way through his jaw. Teeth nipped at his lower lip, and his senses abruptly returned.
"Get…OFF!" He protested, the words a little muffled around the unprecedented liplock, slamming his hands into the iron chest of his assailant. It barely moved him, but it caused enough of a jolt to free his mouth. Gaara wriggled, and the fingers loosened their hold on his top. As soon as he was free, he backed a few steps across the kitchen. The angel sat back down and took another casual bite of his sandwich as if they'd literally just been discussing the weather.
Gaara slid a hand over his mouth. He could taste cinnamon. "You fucker," he snarled viciously, "Do you know no boundaries?"
The Hyuuga blinked at him innocently. "You said you wanted people to tell you what love was. I was just helping." He returned to his food.
The redhead returned to his seat cautiously, muttering fragmented phrases that sounded along the lines of 'should rip your face off', and 'complete fucker'. The legs of the chair scraped on the honey floorboards as he edged backwards.
The brunet looked up, and the pseudo-innocence fell away to be replaced by the customary supercilious smirk. "Nervous?" The predatory smile widened.
"Just what the fuck did you remember?" Gaara snapped – his foul mood worsening.
It was with no small measure of relief that he watched the other man's eyes cloud over in self-reflection. The slim fingers ripped a fingernail's width out of the bread and pressed it into a compact ball. Apparently distracted, the angel raised it to his lips and slid it in. One excruciatingly slow chew followed another, and like a switch had been flicked, the eyes were back to normal. "Oh, nothing much," came the breezy reply.
The emerald eyes darkened to black. "Get out of my house," he said coldly.
Neji almost looked surprised at the demand. "You don't get laid often, do you?" His alabaster cheeks lifted over the mockingly serene smile as the redhead glared with utter hatred at him. A flash of raven-black hair flashed suddenly through the angel's mind, onyx eyes blinked once before they disappeared into a grey haze. His brows furrowed as he tried to concentrate. It was the one memory that encompassed all the others – the undeniable sensation of falling. A large blue hole above him, vanishing as wisps of cloud-like greyness consumed him. A biting voice echoed through his memory, the flashing black eyes.
Gaara watched the glazed expression irritably. "Hey," he said roughly, watching the brunet emerge from wherever he'd gone. "Are you done?" he asked crossly when he was sure he had the other's attention again.
"Sasuke…" came the slow response.
He was a complete headcase, the Sabaku decided incredulously. "I'm Gaara," he said dryly, "But I don't expect you to remember that."
"Shut up Gaara," the angel said to the affronted redhead, "I mean Sasuke. That's who I remembered. And… Itachi, I think."
"Right," the redhead said mockingly, "Well when you remember something… oh, you know, interesting, do come and find me." He picked up his plate and turned to load it in the dishwasher, but apparently the brunet wasn't finished.
"The love, that's what reminded me again." A wince crossed Gaara's features as he placed the dish on the rack, feeling the lips pressing harshly against his all over again. "Sasuke loved someone… but… I can't remember…"
The smaller man plopped himself wearily back down on the stool, sensing that this would be a long one. "Who is this… Sasuke?"
"A good friend," the brunet replied immediately, and then looked puzzled at what had come out of his mouth. It was, the redhead decided, a better display of expression than his usual shades of egotism.
"And Itachi?" he pressed tiredly.
"His brother." Another prompt response, and again Neji looked surprised he had even said it.
"And Sasuke loves..?" Gaara prompted, feeling like an unpaid counsellor. The brunet shook his head, indicating that his memories stopped there.
"I can remember… flashes." A small frown creased the smooth, marble forehead. "But nothing substantial. Bright gold wings." The green-eyed man perked up at that titbit, almost leaning forwards despite himself. The lines deepened as the man seemed to suffer an internal battle. They evened as he relaxed. "No, there's too much fog. I can't remember."
Gaara sank back, feeling a little disappointed. "What was he like," he asked, blanching at his conscious continuing of the conversation, but feeling curious despite his snide words earlier.
"Short… blue-black hair." The Hyuuga's thoughtful expression looked almost excruciating. "Bit… duckbutt-ish…"
Gaara snorted before he could stop himself, and covered his mouth with his hand in shock. Oh dear god, had the brunet poisoned him when he kissed him? Fuck, the angel actually kissed him didn't he? Fuck.
He looked up to see the pale eyes narrowed at him. "Why are you laughing?" he asked accusingly.
The redhead waved a hand for him to carry on. "I'm not, I swear."
Still looking suspicious, the brunet returned to his pained expression. "Black eyes and a sarcastic, kind of nasal voice. A bit of a bastard…" Gaara's eyebrows quirked up at this, but he pushed down the biting remark that emerged. "He was a bit vain as well. And Itachi," he continued before the smaller man could prod on that topic, "Was – is – a coldly intelligent superior arsehole." Neji finished with a rounding-up nod of the head.
"Sounds familiar," Gaara muttered darkly, and the smirk flashed back as if it had never left; the arrogance seeping from the invisible pores as a dangerous chuckle slid from the elegant throat.
Face stony, the redhead leaned over and yanked the plate out from the last chewed corner of the angel's sandwich, depositing it on the table, and put it in the dishwasher. He studiously ignored the prick as he curled his tongue around the bread before he ate it.
"I have another question," the man's silky voice addressed him as he made to walk past him, "What's that door over there?"
Aquamarine eyes followed the pointing finger to the white-washed door next to the spiral staircase under the balcony. It hadn't been opened since the brunet had arrived at his home. "That's nothing," he said dully, sufficiently ending the conversation, and walked into the living room area.
XXX
It was as Gaara, in bed after what felt like the longest day yet, looked back over the day's occurrences that his mind returned to his angered outburst when he'd been cutting the bread. His memory offered the brunet's perplexing, yet astoundingly irritating actions – the yellow pages and the trapping him against the wall to force him to watch his wings coming out – and a thought suddenly occurred to the redhead. Had the angel been… trying to placate him? He hadn't apologised, but had he been trying to make amends..?
Green eyes blinked, before Gaara shook himself. No. He'd had to fight tooth and nail to stop his self-labelled 'lodger' from following him upstairs and crawling into bed with him because he didn't like the sofa. The prick had no sense of boundary, no morals, and no remorse. Feeling both better and more ill at ease, the redhead settled into the downy mattress and willed that the man be gone tomorrow, one way or the other.
Notes: Gaara's house is VERY weird, just to clarify. It's hard to completely describe without going… 'and then there's the window, and then next to the window there's'… etc. So just quickly – the interior is oddly structured. The hallway that the door opens onto is narrow and quite dark – and there are TWO doors (second hasn't been mentioned yet, I don't think), which BOTH lead into the same room – the kitchen/living room. This room is HUGE, I'm not kidding, it is positively massive. There is no dividing archway in between at all; instead there's just a gap of floorboards between the two sections, and then there's a fuckload of chairs on a brightly coloured rug. The book cases/shelves go up to the ceiling – it's literally a wall of shelves. The room is also tall, VERY tall – it is, in essence, a bit like a pimped-out warehouse with central heating – which is why there's room for a spiral staircase against the wall which leads to the balcony which I keep mentioning. The balcony is slim; if Gaara lay down on it, it would probably be the length of him, and he wouldn't be able to stretch his arms out. This leads to his bedroom, which hovers over ANOTHER room which hasn't been mentioned yet. And this is why Neji is able to somewhat take off, because of the height and size of the room. Okay, SORRY FOR THE SPIEL! (I just want everyone to understand how a six foot angel can fly in someone's house :3)