Warnings: Slash/Yaoi, humor (bordering on crack!fic-ness), neko-itis
Pairings: Gaara/Naruto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Owned by Kishimoto Masashi, et al.
Summary: Naruto thinks he's a cat, and Gaara's fine with that.
A/N: Be forewarned—this is a peculiar child of a peculiar brain. Whether the reader may find anything worthy of approbation, the author cannot say—except that zie hopes the reader will show enough human respect and dignity to refrain from sacrificing zir upon the alter of the reader's indignation. Thank you most kindly for your time and for, if you may be so inclined, a memento of your visit in the form of a review. The author is, as always, the humble and pitiable servant of your entertainment.
::Cat Scratch Fever – 2::
"You know," she begins, holding the steaming cup of tea before her mouth like a shield, "you can't have sex with him." Three quick breaths interrupt the lazy curlicues of humid, pungent vapor. Still too hot. Maybe she has a—mental snort here—cat's tongue? "Not when he's like this," she adds with calm finality.
To his credit, Gaara doesn't try to prevaricate that sex with Uzumaki isn't even on his mind. He gives her a tepid version of his once-immolating glare and fends off one of Uzumaki's feints for attention, which involves trying to nibble on his right earlobe and the silver piercings there. At least he's given up on sticking his face in Gaara's crotch—and, again, she wonders how much is the cat-genjutsu and how much is Uzumaki.
Team Seven, or the remains of it, left two days ago with the remaining rogue-nin, all of whom were tied up with Hatake-san's specialty knots; said knots were strangely similar to the kind most often used in her "Bondage Boyz" graphic novels… Hmm…
Unfortunately for Uzumaki, the genjutsu will continue for another week or so, and any attempt to disrupt his chakra flow or the use of other techniques to break the genjutsu will reset the illusion-trap's timeframe. So, in favor of dealing with only one menace at a time, the Konoha team has decided to leave the blond in Suna's care for the interim while they return home with their prisoners. And every time she sees the boy, he seems to be wearing less and less—hence the whole sex talk right now during their family tea in the Kazekage's office.
Uzumaki has once again claimed her brother's lap for his own, while she sits across the polished stone desk from the two. Poor Gaara hasn't had a single sip of the ginger-cha; he's more like to spill it all over the place what with Uzumaki-nekochan's constant movement. Temari is on her second cup.
Yesterday Uzumaki still had his orange and black jacket on. Today he's down to boxers and the mesh undershirt. Does she even want to know where the rest of his clothing went? No. Not in the least. But, damn, the boy's got better legs than her. All smooth and sleek and well shaped. She wonders if Haruno-san is jealous of her blond teammate's calves. They're very nice. Why do the gods give such features to those who will never appreciate them?
"It would be considered rape," she continues after a few more sips of the aromatic tea. Gaara maintains his almost-petulant silence. Still just a boy for all that he's Kazekage now. "Having sex with someone under a genjutsu is the same as having sex with someone who is intoxicated or drugged. It all comes down to whether or not a person can legally consent when his or her judgment is impaired."
"I am aware of that," her brother replies with a deliberately uninflected voice. She raises her brows in provocation and smiles behind the rim of her cup. Uzumaki bumps his nose against Gaara's cheek, displeased that the scratching has temporarily ceased.
"Then where do his clothes keep going?"
The saturnine redhead, her strange and rather adorable little brother, snorts derisively and then resumes petting the blond when the other boy starts to make unhappy mewls. "He refuses to wear clothing. It has been a struggle to keep him decent by any stretch of the imagination."
She's about to suggest that he receive some help with the fair-haired nuisance, then she remembers how pissy he gets when anyone tries to separate them or interfere. He's actually enjoying having Uzumaki like this, the little perv. She bites back a wide, sisterly-knowing smirk and reaches for one of the square pink-and-white tea sweets stacked on the gray ceramic serving dish. For the amount of sugar that actually goes into them, the sweets aren't that sweet, but she likes them anyways. They offset the bitter and spice of the tea.
"Try to keep his boy-bits covered for the council members' sake, won't you, Gaara? You two nearly gave them all heart attacks when you went to that meeting yesterday and he didn't have any pants on."
There, another blush crawls down her brother's pale cheeks. This is—what?—four in the past forty-eight hours?
"He makes things difficult," is Gaara's terse reply to her affectionate teasing.
"But you wouldn't have it any other way."
He smiles, the faintest up-curving of his lips. "No, I would not."
Uzumaki purrs contentedly.
End
A/N: People kept bugging the author for another. But this is the end. Totally the end. /suspicious look around/