The Little Things

Chapter 11 – you’re falling, you’re rising

Gaara was at ease. The feeling didn’t sit well in him, but for a brief moment he fell back into his chair. The Hokage had given him his own office next to hers until they could be completely integrated. For now he would be dealing with all the problems. There didn’t seem to be any on the civilian side, who’d taken to getting themselves involved with the building of houses and flats, or opening new stores to add to the multitude which Konoha already had. The few children – mainly the older ones – had already been enrolled with the Academy and his teachers had joined them too.

His shinobi had nagged him with a variety of problems, but he found that glaring at them had made them retreat.

That too had changed. He’d had to find patience somewhere deep inside. Not just the strength to keep Shukaku at bay by not sleeping, but also the patience to deal with problems he would rather not deal with.

The first few days the urge to strangle someone with sand for their ineptitude was overwhelming, and he could feel Shukaku almost giggling with unabashed glee at the very thought of it. Temari had been there, had seen the sand snake automatically up the hapless messenger’s leg as he quivered in front of him. It had been her presence, the warning glare and the audible click of her fan that had stopped him, made the sand recoil. Shukaku had sulked, but Gaara had been shocked to find it so easy to hold him back, to not want to do harm.

It was easy to give in. And Gaara could still remember how his own sand had betrayed him, changing form under Naruto’s heat until it burnt him. And Naruto hadn’t been there, and he thought he’d nearly lost him.

Or how little he actually had to think when he directed his sand to cover Naruto. They worked well together, but it came out of a reflex to never lose. Not to lose something he wanted.

Gaara bit his lip, deliberately. The bitter metallic tang of his own blood ran onto his tongue, a warning to himself.

He could still hurt himself.

That’s what he was allowing Naruto to do, or was he? Guilt pricked at him, that sand crowding Naruto in a flawless dome. The screams he had ignored, pushing them to the back of his mind because he’d never repeat the first action, never try to pin him down.

Naruto was spontaneous, impossible to hold down. Fire. Licking across the landscape, and if he gave him too much room he’d burn everything alive. He left his mark on everyone.

The memory of pain had long dulled, but it had been a steady presence those first few days after his loss of control.

Gaara didn’t know what to call it. Naruto called it his temper, but Gaara knew better. He’d experienced it himself, when he was younger. That simple fast urge to act, regardless of any right or wrong. The only right that existed was survival.

Naruto was good at tricking himself into believing what he wanted, but Gaara knew better. He ran his tongue over his teeth, searching for the last traces of blood, wound already healed.

They’d always be watched. Right now, when they were smiling and laughing and helping the village all would be well, but he knew better, knew bitterly how their usefulness would end and then they’d be watched for hints of insanity. The first hints and they’d demand they leave, or chain them to the ground, stupid stupid thoughts when they couldn’t match them in any way.

So he didn’t really know why he did what he did for his village. Why he had brought them here. And he knew better than to lie to himself, because he didn’t have a convincing tongue that rose in tones towards a persuasive point like Naruto. He didn’t deal in semantics and other slick words, never pretended to move from one role into another smoothly. They still feared him, and in his mind he spat the words, as they should.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend when he wanted to. Even if he’d stopped his sand more often than even he wanted to.

He knew and he didn’t why he was here and it had everything to do with caves and a year spent abroad and hunts and night time prey and fire and sand.

The fence was almost at breaking point, Shukaku hulking behind and he knew it was time to see the Hokage because he had no intention of stopping now.

As he stepped back into the bustling front office of the building, he noticed how truly bare his room was in comparison. Whoever had occupied it before him had taken all of their belongings. The floor was unrefined hardwood, walls bare, windows uncovered.

They had become used to him. He nodded at his two guards, stepping through the room towards the Hokage’s door. The double doors opened to him without question.

“Hokage.” He spoke. The air tasted differently here, he noticed that much. Everything was different. He’d left his gourd in the other room, his shoulders felt deceptively light, but if he really wanted to he could dismantle this entire sector of Konoha for sand. She looked up at him, a brief raising of the eyebrow betraying her surprise. This was the first time he had stepped into her office without prior arrangement. Playing by the rules.

“Kazekage.” She nodded him into a seat. Despite how well this was going, they both moved around each other gingerly. Neither wanted this to go wrong, they both had more than enough to worry about.

“I require an examination.” Tsunade didn’t miss the thrust of the request. “I don’t have a seal for you to look at. Shukaku shares my brain. He’s been active.” Gaara clipped the sentences off. He resented having to ask for help, but if he didn’t where would that leave him? If he killed it would be in his name only. And even as he called Naruto naïve, there was something to be said for his belief in his Hokage.

“Fine.” She stood up, rolling sleeves to her elbow. She circled to the other side of the desk, standing in front of him because she knew better to try and do this from behind him. “I’m going to probe with a little chakra.” She warned, waiting for his consent before going further. The touch of her fingers, wielding benign energy, swirled into his skull. He itched for the sand. Shukaku itched for the sand, he could hear the angry rumbles in the back of his mind. “Hmmm.” She murmured to herself. Her fingers were quick and thorough, stopping as soon as they had begun.

She stepped back to her seat, and Gaara watched her movements, suppressing lingering hate, ancient darkness bearing down to the forefront of his mind.

“I don’t know.” Deep disgust settled into the pit of his stomach. “Rather, I’m not sure. I need to know some details. How did you get it?” Tsunade settled back into the seat, but Gaara knew it was a practised stance. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her anything about him.

“It was kept in a kettle. Somehow fed into me at birth. I killed my mother.” To her credit, she didn’t even flinch. “I can’t sleep, otherwise it takes over.”

“In that case, I would say that you are merging, only it is a little more complicated because there is no seal to control the merging. You’re going to have to exert all your influence to remain yourself, a distinct individual. Share too much with Shukaku, and it will begin to eat at those commonalities until it finds a way to your core. It will devour your personality.” Tsunade pinned him with hard eyes. Gaara stood, calming the dangerous thoughts, stilling and pushing them back. He knew this. This is why he couldn’t sleep. “This is all a theory, but if you keep at it, you should be able to sleep soon. Shukaku’s fighting because time is different to him. It thought it could outwait you. That you, as the medium, would have to give in eventually. Now it is scared because it sees that it isn’t so.”

He looked at her, and inside he felt a poorly concealed shudder from that thing hiding in the shadows.

“You mean to tell me that I have to be different to it?”

“I’m saying that you are merging, and you’re getting the skills and the chakra that go along with it. But the dominant personality will take over unless yours changes from his. Some of your emotions echo its, and they will overtake yours. You’re at the crossroads. It knows you’re more different now than you were before, and it is scared that it will lose.” He knew what she was truly saying. You’re both killers. And was Sasuke right for calling him a homicidal maniac?

Gaara inclined his head, lowering his eyes to the floor. It felt unnatural, and uncomfortable. He was aware this was the first time he had ever inclined his head since his father attempted to assassinate him over a decade ago.

He exited the room without another word.

The promise of something new, of the possibility of freedom…. He didn’t know what sleep was like, and he wasn’t sure what tired meant either. He knew what loss of stamina was like, but he’d been tired since the first day of his life, the word had lost its meaning.

That’s the thought that had always gone through his head when he watched Naruto sleep. He could have walked all night, every night. Instead he sat around the fire, watching his even breathing. And then later, after that episode, he’d sit in the shadows, watching him, stroking over the new skin on his arm.

Still. It didn’t change anything. He would still kill in his own name. What made him so different to Shukaku, then?

---

It had been weeks since he last saw anyone. Sasuke had withdrawn, not answering messages, not bothering to call. Sakura and Lee were busy with their own lives, Neji had a job, Hinata was studying and everyone else he knew was busy in one way or another. He had no intention of tracking Sasuke down. Not when he knew this new, priggish behaviour stemmed from Gaara.

And he hadn’t seen Gaara for a few weeks either. Once he’d helped him settle in – which had only taken two days – Gaara had made his excuses, helping Sand. He couldn’t fault him, but it didn’t change the fact that he was bored.

The beauty of Gaara, in his mind, was that he didn’t have to think of any conversation, anything entertaining or witty. They understood each other, and that said all it needed to, for both of them. There was a wistful drag to his steps through the village, forehead protector abandoned for the time being.

He was feeling lonely. He just couldn’t hack being alone, and then to top it off, in this concrete cemetery! There might be people all around, and he was glad for it, but he didn’t feel connected to them. It was a changing perspective, he was over the rose-view of the world. Of Konoha. The year had made him miss everything, and everything about it had been the best he had ever known. Until he got back, and suddenly remembered what he didn’t like about Konoha. The people. The isolation. The stares.

It was difficult not to think about it when he didn’t have something else to think about. Concrete was concrete wherever. Paint felt the same on all surfaces. It wasn’t like the different textures on a strip of bark, or the changing gradients of sand in a cliff face.

He couldn’t even feel happy about having Jiraiya reassure him about his seal. The pleasure of seeing him again, even if it came with a bottle of sake and lengthy reviews of his latest Icha Icha Paradise Anthology, had still only had a transitory effect.

And Kakashi’s appearance, momentary as it had been, hadn’t served to cheer him up either. He’d waved at him lazily from a side street before disappearing in his customary way.

He was feeling desperately honest, he felt unneeded and neglected and bored and all those things, and he wanted to have some company.

It was the light knock on the back of his head that made him turn around to scowl darkly at them. The fan sat in her hand, balanced on a shoulder. Kankuro lazed next to her, looking off into the distance.

“Naruto.” He said, by way of greeting. A brief meeting of eyes, a nod, then back into the crowds down the road. Temari looks sharper after all these years, a tall solid willow figure. Naruto can feel the roots that she throws down wherever she stands, unmoveable. There is a huge wisdom behind her eyes, and Naruto guesses that the unchanging line of sand on the night horizon leaves room for thought.

“Temari. Kankuro. How are you adjusting to Konoha?”

“I see Toru. Excuse me.” Kankuro bit out in clipped tones, striking down the road for the person he saw.

“The amount of water makes up for it.” She cocked her gaze at him, and the air swirled around them, panicked.

“How’s your brother?” Naruto asked, following the line of lips back to her eyes. She smiled at him.

“He’s doing very well. Being Kazekage has helped him.” She assessed him, wondering if crossing a line would cause difficulties. She shook it off. “He’s changed. A lot.” She waited expectantly. Anything less than honesty with her would be dangerous, especially now that she had said this…. Naruto flicked his eyes at her.

“You’re being very open.”

“I wonder how much you had to do with this.” She said, idly, fan firm in hand.

“Perhaps too open?” he replied, just as idly. He didn’t know why she was generating this current of hostility. He didn’t mind her, but she’d touched on something that was purely him and Gaara. It had nothing to do with her, family or not.

She tightened her grip on the fan, he could see it in the way muscles stretched over the bridge of her hand, framing bone.

“Nearly all of my village is gone, and you’re telling me I’m being too open? Don’t be stupid.” She angrily reprimanded. “I don’t have time for secrets. No one does. Least of all shinobi.”

That took all of the anger out of him, dissolving it into the greater backdrop. Besides, she would say whatever she wanted to, he knew this, so he had no call to get upset at something like this.

She went on: “You’ve changed too. You both have.” The cause was implicit in her words, and Naruto did not miss it. Still, he resented it.

“For better, or for the worse?” he asked, nevertheless curious. He couldn’t help but want to know, it was in his nature.

She shook her head, declining to answer. She looked over his shoulder, presumably at Kankuro.

Making her excuses, she sidled past him. “Watch your tails, Uzumaki.” was her parting shot.

He was left frowning in the middle of the street.

---

The knock on the door was quiet, but it woke Naruto immediately. He had taken to sleeping on the couch, and it had worn a kink into his back that he tried to straighten out as he stepped across the room to open the door.

He didn’t expect to be faced with Gaara. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone for nearly two months. So Gaara, leaning against the doorframe was a surprise to him. There was a still urgency in him, a tightly wound spring ready to unfurl.

“Can I come in?” he asked, green eyes barely visible. But he could feel the heat under them, a heat that threatened to obliterate him if the full force of those eyes were turned on him. He opened the door wider. Gaara steps in, and he notices the lack of tension in his face.

That makes him relax, because it is proof that they can both win at this.

“Why the fuck couldn’t this wait?” Naruto yawns. The air falls and tenses between them, and Gaara pushes into action. It’s like watching him moving through water, Naruto almost sees every single moment, and then it simply is and Gaara’s lips are sliding against his demandingly; a sound forms at the back of his throat. It bubbles up into Gaara’s mouth, swallowing a deep moan. Gaara is ungraceful with his tongue, letting it flow over teeth, canines, in stilted gasps, while Naruto relaxes into his iron grip, almost bruising.

He’s not quite there, not taking in what is happening, but his body is reacting and he knows this too, in the way his stomach tightens at this. His tails are frizzing behind him and he has no way in controlling it, but the feel of hands on his sides, holding him there is comforting with the barely repressed violence that skulks beneath the surface. Naruto finds himself growling in response to the sounds Gaara is making, the one barely covered by heavy breathing and the shivery rustle of fabric and the pounding of heartbeats; a low near-keening noise that reverberates around them. Naruto finds himself wanting this, and his own hands rise to pull Gaara closer, so that hips meet to rub slowly, torturously, bunching his clothes, twisting the fabric out of shape.

He breaks off, and Naruto sees his green eyes, really sees them for a moment without a single twitch of fear following, because he knows that anything that will happen will come from Gaara alone, and that is reassuring, lets him lead Gaara to his room, lets him allow Gaara to push him onto the bed and hang above him.

Lets him pin his arms above his head, lets him bruise him with kisses to his lips, trailing desert heat down his jaw to an ear, rocking slowly into him until his trousers feel too tight, and he knows Gaara’s are too. The danger is there in his eyes, but Naruto knows Gaara sees it in him too, in the way his tails flicker between his legs in frustration.

And they both know this could be harder, but there’s a pleasure in keeping it back that they know only the other can understand. That only a year abroad with each other could possibly make clear. The shirts are gone in moments, and Gaara slips a hand down Naruto’s trousers, massaging without apology, relishing this feeling of almost control, exultant at this sight, at bringing such a look on Naruto’s face even if fangs glimpse sharply in the slatted moonlight.

Gaara lets go of his wrists, and Naruto pulls Gaara back up to him, dragging him flush to his body, twisting upwards to feel more of the heat that is being generated, delirious almost with a kind of fever flitting to the base of his spine. Gaara buries his hands in his hair, scratching along his scalp and Naruto is sure he can still taste the sand salt on his lips, the taste of Gaara that he follows from his lips to his collarbone, nibbling hungrily.

He pushes Gaara to his side, sitting up to root for lube that is somewhere under his bed. Gaara watches him, curious and apprehensive because he hadn’t planned on this but he should have known that this was Naruto, of all people.

Naruto returns to his side, and he almost asks if this is okay but those eyes, that stance tells him not to be so stupid as to actually ask something like that, because it is Gaara, even if he suspects this is his first time. Because Gaara has no time for this, and no one would ever pursue him. And Naruto isn’t sure he has been pursuing him, but what does it matter now when Gaara’s here? Here and ready and willing, helping him take off his trousers and then his own and he’s between his legs, tasting the musk and heat and force, bruising hips and skittering rough fingers across skin that has always been safe.

He makes humming noises that calm, but they are both ready and they move so slowly together it aches.

Naruto pulls off him, stretching muscles contentedly. Gaara lies to his right, eyes drooping closed.

---

What he didn’t expect was to wake up in the morning without an audience. His muscles were slack, in the only way a good release could make them, and he knew he had a grin on his face that only came from last night. Turning to his side, he expected to see Gaara sitting at the head of his bed, reading something, or perhaps just staring off into the distance, or letting the sunshine hit him on the face.

Gaara was sleeping. The yawn ended mid-realisation as he slowly but surely began to panic – how long had this been going on, and why? In the pauses between his heartbeat he could hear the quiet sliver, and looking over his bed he could see sand corns moving slowly under the bed to enshroud Gaara.

“Gaara!” No response. “GAARA!” And the panic came to him unbidden, and he could feel himself rising in a crouch and jumping over to Gaara, straddling his hips, seeing through a thickening red haze the peaceful profile of Gaara. The moment sunk into him, that peace, that quietness and embedded itself into his memory, never to be forgotten. The sand paced, and now that he could hear it he could feel the pall begin to cover him, even if it was from underneath and he could still move faster than it but Gaara was sleeping and there was no way Konoha could handle a battle so he did the next best thing and punched Gaara in the gut.

He bolted awake, and in reflex the sand propelled him off his lap, sending him sprawling to land awkwardly on the other side of the room against the wall. But it relaxed him, made the red recede, soothed away the pain. His shoulder throbbed in angry reply to the sand, but Gaara was awake and it allowed other questions into his mind.

“Gaara?” and he wasn’t sure why his voice was this shaky. And Gaara was in no better shape, looking more surprised than the time Sasuke had managed to actually hit him.

“I’m— I’m sorry, I don’t understand….” He rattled off, and Naruto knows there is something below the surface that Gaara hadn’t planned for and it made him wonder what this was now, between them. He didn’t want to think about it, wanted to go back to what he knew and understood.

“Why were you sleeping?” he asked, and the rising tone is in his voice too. Gaara falls back against the headboard, slumping out of stiff-backed surprise.

“I’ve…managed to sleep a few minutes every now and again most of my life, but over the past two weeks I’ve been able to sleep for nearly an hour at a time.”

“Your sand was rising.” Gaara says nothing to this. “What if it takes over?” At this he fixes Naruto with a gaze, and he understands that Gaara knows.

“I know.” He confirms, and Naruto understands why Gaara was at his door last night, and he can almost laugh if Gaara let him fuck him in exchange for guarding his sanity.

And he’s sad if it was that, because Gaara should know he’d do anything for him, no questions asked, because he understands him.

As simple as that.

---

The sun was shining down on Konoha brightly, and Naruto couldn’t help but have a slow roll in his step, infused with the sun’s warmth. His thoughts skittered around a single issue, reinforced by the summer’s edge. July. He had only one day before it was Sasuke’s birthday, and he had nothing to show for it.

It was a Saturday, and he’d rung up Sakura, begging to see her. He hadn’t been totally isolated so far, and Gaara coming to visit from time to time made him always feel better. They kept it simple and without words, but he was left unsure at the edge somewhere, of something.

And now, Sasuke’s birthday and he still hadn’t seen him, so this was as good an excuse as any to get him something. He didn’t know why and he was almost sure it wouldn’t do anything. He didn’t want it to do anything.

He found himself outside her door. A ring of the bell and he had little to wait before the door opened up on him, Sakura clad in easy clothes, hair tied back high on her head.

“Morning!” she chirped brightly, leading him into her flat and down to the couch.

“Hey.” He replied, and suddenly he wasn’t sure this was the best idea. She was still soft around the edges about this entire affair.

“Want something to drink?” she asked. Naruto was sure she could be walking on air if she tried just a little harder; she was that radiant. He’d managed to push it back, and he felt sincerely happy for her, but he was jealous of what she had. He wanted that something that could make him walk around with a ready smile on his face. Those first few hours with Gaara the first time around had made him feel so great. Like feeling new again, of going somewhere.

“No, no, I’m fine. Thanks.” He says, and she settles back down onto the couch, fingering the ring around her neck once more. He almost wants to ask her to stop doing that. She can’t help it though, while he can.

“So…?” she asks, knowing he wanted something. Naruto doesn’t really want to get straight to the point though.

“How have you been?” he asks instead, hoping to distract her and gather his thoughts.

“Good. And you?” she replies, almost automatically.

“Not bad.” He answers, and he knows there is no point in going on like this because he’s going to have to broach the issue eventually. “You know what day it is today?”

“July 22nd.” She looks at him with some interest, there’s a sharp refocusing of her pupils that tells him everything he needs to know.

“Tomorrow is the 23rd.” he emphasises.

“And?” face carefully blank, but she knew he knew what that face meant. He could still read her emotions, even as she sought to hide behind a polite sigh.

“Sasuke’s Birthday.” Naruto sighed. “I don’t know what to get him, so I was wondering if you had any suggestions?”

“I don’t.” She replies, immediately.

“You haven’t even given a thought to it!” Naruto accused. It is half-hearted though, and she knows it too; they both know the other too well. Naruto never expected to know Sakura this well, never expected to have the chance to do so.

“I don’t want to.” She replies, easily.

“Why?” he demanded. He only got an uncomfortable shrug. “Don’t you care?”

“He didn’t care.” Her face sets, hardens, glassy eyes flashing solid.

“You don’t understand.”

“And? I don’t want to give him something. When has he ever celebrated our birthdays?”

“When did we ever celebrate each other’s birthdays? Not until he left. We should get him something.”

“If you want to, go ahead. Count me out.”

“That’s cold, Sakura. I can’t believe—”

“So what? It’s my choice, just as he chose to run off. I’ll live with it.”

“Look, I’ve never agreed with him going, you know this. We’ve talked about this. He should have stayed, but I still understand why he had to do what he had to do. Sometimes there are things that cannot wait. Itachi was one of them. If you can’t understand that, then there’s little hope of understanding Sasuke.” Sakura was still stubbornly holding to her opinion. Naruto stood up. “If it wouldn’t kill me, I’d kill the fox. Do you understand what I’m saying, Sakura?”

She didn’t say anything. Naruto picked his way across the carpet over to the door.

“I have to forgive him completely before I can happily pretend on his birthday, Naruto.” She paused, searching his face. “But if you already have, get him something practical.”

Naruto searched the ceiling for cracks, for a pattern to follow.

“I—Thanks. I’ll see you around. Say hi to Lee for me please?”

“I will. Stay safe.” He stepped out of the door, closing it softly behind him. It hadn’t gone as expected, and he wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than expected. It didn’t matter. Practical, she said. Usually she was more specific, but she was too upset to be that gracious with her advice.

He wandered the streets, dipping in and out of stores. Nothing spoke to him. Everything was too beautiful, or too useless for a gift for Sasuke, never mind one given by himself.

A card would have been easier.

He finally came across a store that hadn’t been there the last time he had visited the main shopping square. He recognized it as one of the stores that Jiraiya liked to visit for stocking up on shinobi-related gear before he went off on another trip. Nearing the end of any sort of patience, and the day, he entered, the bell ringing to alert the shopkeeper. He recognized the grizzled old man.

“Can I help you?” he croaked, but it was with a firm, no-nonsense approach.

“I’m looking for something to give a friend.”

“A gift?” the old man frowned, disapproving of the thought of any of these weapons, pills and assorted materials being gifts.

“To a fellow shinobi. Something he doesn’t have yet. It has to be useful.”

“A jutsu scroll?” The man offered, reassured they weren’t talking about a civilian.

“No, I don’t know which he already knows.” And Naruto knew he probably wouldn’t care for any Jutsu that didn’t have ‘Forbidden’ written on it. He wouldn’t be surprised either if he hadn’t already copied it from someone during his time with Orochimaru.

A weapon was out of the question. The thought of giving him something like that simply didn’t sit well with him. He took a look around the store, but nothing truly spoke out at him.

“Is there anything else you carry that isn’t on display?” he asked him.

“Yes, there are some types of soldier pills behind the counter…” he patted the glass, and Naruto quickly dismissed them. After hearing about Chouji, he never wanted to have to rely on them. “As well as sticks of explosive, poisons and kuchiyose scrolls.”

“Kuchiyose scrolls?” The thought turned in his head, that perhaps he had found a suitable gift. Something practical.

“Yes. Would you like to see them?”

“Yes, please.” He waited as the man drew out a collection of scrolls from an iron box, spreading them out over the counter. He dismissed the first few, even if the thought of Sasuke riding a huge grasshopper was an amusing thought. “These are quite heavily priced.” He remarked.

“That’s because they are the last ones from Konoha. Here are the new ones, from this area. A lot cheaper because no one wants one.” Naruto took a look over the new ones, and spotted one that looked promising. A family of large cats, with a few lesser relatives. At home in the jungle and similar geography.

“What about the large cats kuchiyose?”

“Excellent at doing what they are supposed to, but very strong-willed. Hard to control. Especially the largest puma, he tends to argue a lot or simply ignore the summoner.” Naruto wavered briefly, but he needed a present and this one was a good choice. And Sasuke could handle it, he was sure of it. He never backed down from a challenge.

“I’ll take it.” It was cheaper too. He pulled out his card and handed it to the old man. Once he had signed for it, he heaved the roll over his shoulder and proceeded to make his way home.

---

It was late evening, and most certainly the 23rd of July. It was making him nervous, and for what reason he couldn’t say. Sasuke knew he was coming over, they’d spoken briefly over the phone. He couldn’t gauge Sasuke’s mood, but he hadn’t said he couldn’t come over.

Picking up the scroll, now bound with a bow – Hinata, removing the twine he had used, insisted it made all the difference – he went over to Sasuke’s. The breeze cooled his anxiety, and he was trying to suppress all the reasons to be nervous. He knew Sasuke, Sasuke was a friend, an old team mate, an academy member and he liked him so it made sense to give him a gift, didn’t it?

The thoughts circled in his head, snapping at the corners of his mind.

Eventually he was at Sasuke’s flat. He wondered how the building of his estate was going. He knocked on the door.

“Hey.” He said as soon as the door opened, heart rate pacing upwards. Sasuke nodded for him to come in, closing the door behind him. Naruto shifted awkwardly on his feet, and Sasuke was closed off. Sasuke looked at him, eyes drifting to the scroll balanced on his shoulder. “Happy Birthday, you old goat.” A smile tugged at Sasuke’s lips, almost visible, and Naruto relaxed.

“Thanks. Have a drink with me?” He padded over to the kitchen, drawing out a bottle. “The Hyuuga’s sent a bottle of fine wine.” Naruto followed, taking the proffered glass. Undoubtedly Hinata’s doing.

“For you.” He placed the scroll on his table. On the other end he could see a card idly thrown back onto the envelope it had emerged from. The card that came with the wine. He should have just gone for the card, this had been a bad idea, no matter what he told himself.

“You didn’t have to.” Sasuke said, frowning at him. He wasn’t the type to get excited about his birthday, and before Naruto had never wanted to think about his and what it meant.

“I know.” Sasuke looked at it, drew it closer and undid the bow. Naruto knew he cared far too much about Sasuke liking the gift. He held his breath as he unrolled it, concentrating on his long fingers as they skimmed the top.

“A kuchiyose?” he asked, disbelieving. His eyes snapped back to Naruto, Sharingan swirling at an agitated, but safe pace. Naruto wasn’t sure what to say.

“Yeah, I mean… I thought you’d like something like this. Something practical.”

“Fuck…” he began. “Thank you…. I really mean it, this is amazing. You shouldn’t have, but… thanks.” Naruto thought that alone had made it worth buying. Seeing Sasuke nearly speechless was worth it.

Sasuke read the rest of it, and Naruto watched him, sipping at his wine.

“Here, take a look at this.” Sasuke pushed a take-away menu at him. He rolled up the kuchiyose, tying the ribbon around it again. Naruto scanned the menu, selecting a few numbers that looked good. Sasuke took it back, having carefully put away the scroll for now. He rang up, ordering for them both.

“What have you been doing today?” Naruto asks once he hangs up. They take seats on a cough, Sasuke resting a leg on his knee, Naruto slouching backwards into a relaxing stance, tails flaring at his sides.

“Not much. Stayed in, received the card from the Hyuuga’s. Checked up on how the building is going.”

“How is it going?”

“Not badly. They are getting on with it. I insisted they did the roofs now.”

“Good idea, you don’t want to be surprised by the monsoon rains.”

“Exactly. So. Not much really. If you want to see how it is going you should come with me on Monday. They are going to start plastering the inside.”

“Sure. I’d love to.” He agreed, and Sasuke nodded.

“What have you been doing lately?”

“Not much either.” He didn’t want to talk about Gaara. “Everyone is busy. I saw Jiraiya and Kakashi. Not for very long, but at least they are still around.”

“Kakashi. Haven’t seen him yet. Saw your old sensei though.”

“Really? Talked to him?”

“No. We were both passing through, I don’t think he saw me.”

“Oh.” He sipped at his wine. “It’s been so many weeks since we last saw each other, and yet it seems nothing has happened.”

“Sand arriving was a pretty big event.”

“There haven’t been any problems.” He forestalled, thinking that was perhaps not the best move.

“Not even with Gaara?” he asked. It was a deliberate question. Naruto frowned, still unwilling to give anything away.

“He hasn’t killed anyone, if that’s what you mean.” He tried to joke, but it came off flat in his own ears, because he knew Gaara and a year didn’t change cold killer eyes in the dark or death on the way to a chuunin exam. He wouldn’t call it murder. Inside him, something couldn’t call it murder, even if that is what it was. The shock of that had worn off soon enough; it was the fact that it could have been him and Shikamaru instead of those grubby fixers.

“I’m surprised.” It was meant to fill the space, but there was a tone in the back of it that Naruto heard, dimly. Making him forget the day.

“Why?” it was a loaded question, tearing the conversation from no man’s land into the trenches.

“Everyone expected him to lose his mind.” He replied, simply. Naruto kept still, tension clutching with claws at his stomach. So had he. There was only so much he could hide from himself, and in this case it slipped from the bindings and to the forefront of his mind. Only the comfort of the recent examinations eased the cold fear, and the memory of sand piled high in dome shapes, the gilded panic of Gaara, eyes closed.

And now, he slept little, listening for sand.

“I suppose so.” He replied finally, in an easy way.

The conversation found itself onto lighter topics. There had been talk across the town of moving deeper into the island, establishing new evacuation points, temporary shelters, as well as clearing land towards the east of the island away from the mainland for a farming community.

The bell finally rang, heralding delivery.

Sasuke sprang up and collected the food, handing him a few bills and declining change. The next few moments were taken up by organising plates and cutlery until they could sit, helping themselves to the food.

They soon finish eating in comfortable quiet, broken only by the subtle clink of chopsticks against the plates.

“Here, let me.” Sasuke reaches for the plate in Naruto’s hands. He hugs it to himself.

“No, let me, it’s your birthday.” He demanded.

“You’re in my house, fool.” The insult had no bite, and they were both mellowed by the wine and the hot food settling in their stomachs.

“I’m helping, either way.” He insisted. They cleared up, taking them over to the sink.

“Fine. Break the plates and I’ll make you pay for them.” Sasuke warned. Naruto looked at a plate.

“These ugly plates? I’d be more than happy to. Even I have better taste.” Sasuke held up a plate at that, examining it from every angle. He crinkled his nose in consternation at what he found. Dull and beige.

“You’re right. They are ugly.” They both laughed at that, quietly.

“So, washing or drying?”

“You’ll dry.” He commanded, clearly refusing to budge. Naruto grabbed a dishcloth. Sasuke began to wash up, and soon they had cleared everything up, stopping to finish the bottle of wine, then putting away the dishes.

They returned to the table, Sasuke setting up an easy card game to while away the hours.

It was late, and Naruto was feeling sleepy. He’d been full of energy that morning, but the entire day and the wine had taken a toll on him, and he felt ready to nod off.

“Time I think about going home.” He said. Sasuke looked up from the card game they had been playing.

“Really?” he twisted around to look at a clock. “It’s only…midnight.”

“Sorry. I had a lot of fun, but if I don’t get a move on you won’t be able to shift me.” He smiled, getting up. Sasuke followed him to the door. His head at an angle, his hair hid him from view. “Your first day of being 19, last year of being a teenager.”

“Cheerful thought.”

“I thought so. Happy Birthday.” Naruto opened the door, hanging on to the knob, half in, half out. He felt paused, as if something hadn’t been quite said. The entire evening had been close to feeling awkward.

“Thanks.” Sasuke looked at him, then, eyes piercing him, sending his heart rate rocketing. A firm hand grasped his wrist, pulling him towards him, sending him off balance even as his tails sought for the edge. He could feel the heat falling in waves off Sasuke, even as he seemed to suck it all in from Naruto, slick lips kissing his, he too stunned for a moment. It sunk in, even the answering reply from the rest of his body and he jerked back, skittering through the doorway out of the flat. Sasuke stood inside the door, a tugging smirk in place. “Again.”

He wanted to say something, anything to refute what had just happened. He almost wanted to think it had ruined the evening, they had been getting along so well, but he was fooling himself, if anything he would be thinking about this for quite a few nights.

“Good night.” He said instead, setting off, feeling Sasuke’s watchful eyes on him down the hallway.