At precisely ten o'clock that night, Sakura found herself standing at the entrance of Gaara's tent, a tray holding a teapot and a cup balanced on one palm. There was only one problem.
How was she supposed to announce her presence to Gaara without resorting to yelling for him, seeing that tents didn't come with doors or knockers of any sort? Was she supposed to just walk in? What if he wasn't decent?
She was saved from frying her brain cells when the flap of Gaara's tent suddenly opened towards her, and Sakura found herself staring right at the redhead who was holding the tent flap up with effortless grace.
Quickly, she came back to herself and lifted the tray slightly to draw Gaara's attention to it. He nodded and stood back to let her inside, hand still holding the tent flap up.
Sakura had to fight the urge to scoot right into the tent – it was simply below Gaara's station to hold a door or its equivalent for her. She mentally reminded herself that if she spilt the tea all over Gaara's nice carpet - there was carpeting draped all across Gaara's tent that his attendants made certain to acquire in the middle of a war - she would look ten-times the fool.
She ended up taking precise, small steps into Gaara's quarters, which made her more self-conscious than ever. Deliberately avoiding glancing around, she headed straight for Gaara's table to set the tray down.
Except she was thwarted by the mountainous stacks of scrolls and paper that covered every square centimetre of Gaara's desk. Her eyes widened at the volume of paperwork Gaara was doing at this hour.
Meanwhile, Gaara had joined her at the table and was shifting the documents around to make a place for her to place the tray. When a patch of wood was finally visible, he looked at Sakura as he gestured towards it.
Still very much aware of all the papers surrounding them, she set the tray down carefully. Gaara lifted the lid of the teapot and took a sniff at the contents, brows furrowed thoughtfully.
"I can still smell the herbs, Sakura."
She had to glance around a stack of scrolls to see him, and Gaara did not look excited at the prospect of drinking the concoction before him.
She shrugged, "Well, I only promised that I'll make it taste better. I can't do anything about the smell without killing off the active components of the herbs. So you're just going to have to take it as it is."
Glaring at her out of a corner of his eye, Gaara filled the teacup, raised it to his lips, scrunched his nose, and downed it as if to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Sakura felt somewhat insulted. It was as if he was implying what she had brewed was barely fit for human consumption, but she wisely held her tongue.
Gaara looked down at the now-empty cup, then smacked his lips thoughtfully. And once more, just to be certain. Finally, he placed the cup down and looked at Sakura.
"It still smells terrible."
Translation: I can stomach it, but I'm going to gripe about something you can't do a thing about anyway.
"Too bad, Gaara – no one said taking medicine was a pleasant thing to begin with."
Gaara frowned, then stated, "I can add your nightly visits to my list of things I wish to avoid daily."
If only.
Sakura grinned, "You mean, like the stacks and stacks of paperwork a Kage has to do?"
"I should have delegated the overseeing of the village to someone else while we are at war. But both my siblings are at the front, and there are few others I trust enough to watch over Sunagakure," Gaara grumbled as he sat down and reached for some papers.
Sakura surprised him when she boldly pulled up a chair and sat herself down across him. She reached for a nearby brush and began scanning over a scroll.
"What do you think you are doing?"
"There's no way you can finish all these by yourself, and tomorrow morning you need to address the entire army. Two pairs of eyes work faster than one," Sakura reasoned.
Gaara frowned even harder at her. "These are sensitive documents pertaining to my village, and you're a Konoha shinobi. Do you see a problem here?"
She countered his frown with a sickly-sweet smile of her own, feeling slighted that Gaara had suspected her of ulterior motives. "I've been doing Tsunade's paperwork for her ever since I was twelve. I've seen and memorised the colour-coding of the documents and scrolls from all the hidden villages, and know which ones are politically sensitive. Those I will leave untouched."
"Does that mean you forge her signature as well?" Gaara asked sarcastically.
"Actually, I've gotten pretty good at it. I don't think you can tell which documents have been signed by me, and which ones by shishou herself anymore."
Gaara quirked a non-existent eyebrow at her, then mumbled, "I am going to have to double-check the documents from Konoha from now onwards. Someday, I might completely miss a clause stating that the Kazekage has to henceforth arrive in Konohagakure wearing nothing except his hat."
Sakura's only reply was a tinkling giggle.
In the end, though, the joke was on her. Gaara refused to stop working until he had an empty table, and Sakura did not have the heart to abandon him despite her years of steadily growing hatred towards paperwork. So she dutifully sat next to him, passing him documents to sign after summarising them for the better part of the next four hours.
It was either fate or coincidence, or maybe the world just had it out for her. Because when she finally left Gaara's tent, stretching and stifling the yawn, the changing of the guard was taking place. Half the shinobi stared at her as she emerged looking exhausted from the Kazekage's tent, and the other half just snickered. Having been so mentally drained, it took a moment for Sakura to put two-and-two together to figure out why everyone was looking at her like she had grown a second head.
That moment was all she needed.
Sakura didn't think she ever ran so fast in her life as she dashed into her own tent. And screamed into her pillow again.