Chapter 8: Far Too Close For Comfort

Jeans. Blue-jeans and a t-shirt. A dark-green, long-sleeved t-shirt with complementary jade-green converse shoes. Naruto had never seen Gaara out of uniform before, and the clothes suited him quite well. Almost too well.

"You're not listening, Uzumaki," Gaara said suddenly, pausing in his reading to scowl at the blond.

Naruto cleared his throat and pretended to have been reading along the entire time. "Yes, I am." Following their strained encounter in the foyer, Gaara had led Naruto to a lavish study where they had proceeded to work. But Naruto was having a hard time paying attention. Again. Which usually got him into trouble.

Gaara tapped his fingers on the desk and closed his book. "What did I just say?" he asked, voice tinted in such a way that he communicated rather clearly that he knew Naruto was not listening.

Naruto smiled. "You just said, 'What did I just say'," he replied smartly, but Gaara was not amused. In fact, he only seemed to grow even more irritated.

"Impossible," Gaara said in a disgruntled manner. "You are impossible." He shook his head and looked away, as if he had given up on some futile battle. "You work so hard to get me to tutor you, and then you don't even pay attention. What is the point?"

Naruto frowned, sad that Gaara had not gotten the point. Not the right one, anyway. "I didn't work hard to get you to tutor me."

Gaara looked carefully at him, clearly confused, but in his own, angry manner. "You didn't?" He always used just enough inflection to turn certain phrases into questions.

"Well, no," Naruto crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair and looking as if he was attempting to make an important point. "I worked hard to get to know you better, to earn your friendship."

Gaara was clearly angered as he stood and glanced away, any other way that would allow him to keep his emotions in check. "You'll never earn it, Uzumaki. Get that into your head right now, if nothing else." Turning to walk across the room, he was slightly surprised to find Naruto by his side. Close.

"How much is it?" the blond asked, smug smile tilting his lip. Gaara only stared at him blankly. "Your friendship," he clarified, smile widening. "Since you seem to be implying that it's on the expensive side, I'd better start saving up now."

Gaara felt a strange tremor go through him, a foreign shudder passing through his body. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit, because he was starting to feel that strange, uncontrollable curiosity that had driven him to do something stupid in the past. Naruto's newfound confidence left him frustratingly incorrigible, and if he was difficult to deal with before, he was impossible to confront now. Did he think that one embrace would magically mend everything between them, immediately forging some intimate bond? He was out of his mind if he believed that. And if he ever tried such nonsense again, Gaara would give him a piece of his mind. Human contact was disconcerting. And Gaara certainly did not hug people. He didn't hug his brother. He couldn't remember ever hugging his father. The one time Gaara had ever performed an action even remotely similar to an embrace was when Temari had placed her arm across his shoulders to congratulate him on some school award. Even then, his obvious displeasure at the gesture had caused her to laugh and make some comment to the effect that she would never try such a move again. He just didn't like to be close to people. It made him nervous. It unsettled him. Probably the most unsettling thing about the whole ordeal with Naruto was that the hug hadn't felt as unsettling as Gaara had presumed it would. Why that was, he did not want to know.

"Well?" Naruto spoke up, placing a hand on Gaara's shoulder.

Gaara immediately shook his shoulder free, taking a step back. He was getting angry again. Why did Naruto infuriate him so? Gaara didn't want to feel anything—anger included—so it was starting to become a problem when the blond could elicit such emotions within him so effortlessly. A sentence, a touch, a word…that was all it took. Even with Kankurou, it required a little more effort.

"Please try and refrain from touching me," he stated levelly. "It's annoying."

Naruto stepped back, propping his hands on his hips and shaking his head. "Personality, Gaara. Personality." Looking around the small study, he noticed the blank walls, naked and bare without adornment of any sort. Naked. Gaara's body manifested unwillingly in his mind, and Naruto flinched and tapped his forehead lightly, as if to tap out the random thoughts.

Critically, Gaara looked at him, finding his actions suspicious, if anything. "What are you thinking?"

Clutching his hands behind his back, Naruto's efforts to make himself not appear suspicious only made him seem that much guiltier. "Not about you, if that's what you're thinking."

Gaara could only blink. "I wasn't, but that's good to know."

"Ah…Positivity," Naruto said with astonishment. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"You don't know very much, do you?" questioned Gaara, walking away before Naruto had a chance to respond.

Standing in the wake of yet another well-aimed insult, Naruto could only follow Gaara's retreating back with an amused smirk, before catching up with him. "Compliments are more attractive, Gaara," he explained, as they perused about the main floor of the house.

"To who, Uzumaki?" Gaara inquired, stopping momentarily to face him in annoyance. "To you? If that's the case, then I'll certainly never ever do such a thing. But I thank you for the warning."

Though his face was blank, Gaara's teal eyes were alight with a kind of sarcasm. Naruto was sure that the redhead wanted him to show displeasure, so he challenged him back with a cavalier grin. "You're very welcome, Mr. Frown."

There was a strange moment that passed between them then—a kind of welcomed silence in which an odd form of allure spurred forth in their midst. Naruto tried to analyze just what about the moment seemed out of place, before realizing rather disturbingly that their exchange seemed awfully…flirtatious. The witty exchanges, the hidden meanings…everything about their conversations was starting to feel reminiscent of the everyday discussions that evoked a kind of chemistry between two people, an inconspicuous bond. What was the most disturbing, if they were, in fact…flirting, was the fact that it wasn't very disturbing at all. It was actually kind of nice. Even Gaara had to wonder what in the world they were doing, because this unnatural behavior that only manifested itself around Naruto was starting to seem all too natural.

They both broke out of the strange, daze-like moment at the same, looking in opposite directions and shuffling unconsciously.

"Dinner," Naruto said, shattering the heavy silence, and even Gaara couldn't deny that he was grateful for the interruption to whatever he might have started thinking. Even his thoughts threatened to start taking a strange turn.

"If you want to leave, feel free," Gaara offered.

Exasperated, Naruto grasped Gaara's shoulders, looking at him with a dubious, but kind expression. "Wrong…What you should say is, 'Would you care to stay for dinner?'"

"Touching," Gaara warned, and Naruto begrudgingly removed his hands. "And I don't live in your imaginary world. I'm under the impression that you think I do."

Naruto arched a brow. "You're right about that," he said in agreement. "In my world, we're great friends."

"Keep dreaming."

"Maybe I will…Sometimes dreams come true." Naruto nearly slapped himself at the abnormally corny line that had just spilled from his mouth.

Gaara merely wanted to escape the living-nightmare with blond hair and blue eyes that stood in front of him. "I'm not going to change, Uzumaki," he finally said tiredly. "Ever. Let that be the second piece of information you retain."

The blond tilted his head slightly, looking at Gaara in puzzlement. "I don't want you to change," he said assertively. "I like you just the way you are."

Gaara's eyes narrowed as he fought the urge to withdraw into himself. He felt nervous and unsure of himself, and, like a cat when it is scared or frightened, he felt his defensive nature arising, confusion of feelings giving way to irritation. Irritation was simple. Whatever it was that passed between them every so often and was difficult to characterize was exactly that—difficult. School was easy. Gaara didn't mind school. People were another matter entirely. People came with feelings, and emotions, and all the other things that made life difficult…Sad.

"Aren't you leaving?" Gaara asked, crossing his arms and looking away again.

"I just got here," Naruto pointed out. It had been a good forty minutes, but still... "And besides," he faked a strange mix of hesitance and regret, "I'd hate to break it to you, but Kankurou invited me to dinner."

Gaara appeared doubtful, but retained the better portion of his calm. "Would you like his address so you can go and meet up with him?"

Naruto watched him for a moment, taking in the willful nature of the boy before him. "He actually invited me here tonight. Would you like to call him and confirm?" With a self-satisfied smile, he even pulled out his phone and extended it toward the red-haired boy.

Gaara could have slapped him. Thank goodness, the better part of his judgment activated, and he quelled such irrational (however tempting) notions. "Luckily for me, Kankurou is the only one with cooking abilities in this household…Sorry to disappoint you." He wasn't sorry at all. In fact, he was rather relieved that this opportunity to finally get Naruto to leave had arisen. He could at least thank Kankurou for that.

Naruto bowed his head slightly, as if he was admiring Gaara's words like a well-planned chess move. And then he grinned. "Luckily for you, I fancy myself an adequate chef." Shrugging just a tad, his triumphant attitude was anything but subtle. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Gaara almost did slap him then. Naruto was as infuriating as Kankurou—even more so—which was quite a feat, considering Gaara never imagined in all of his seventeen years that he would ever find anyone as unbearable as his brother. Defeat was imminent, and as much as Gaara didn't like to, and certainly would never willingly admit it, he was feeling tired again, and in such a state, he didn't feel up to bickering with anyone, as ironically stimulating as it could be. "Do what you want," he answered indifferently. "The kitchen is this way."

Naruto followed him as he wove throughout the house. During the short interlude, he became increasingly aware that there really were no embellishments in the house. Aside from the elaborate light fixtures and the mediocre furnishings such as carpets and drapes, the house seemed oddly incomplete. There were no pictures, not even a small one featuring the entire family, and as Naruto thought about this, he started realizing that Gaara's house held a kind of similarity to his own. It was empty. The kitchen was spacious and well-furnished, with appliances that were fairly new, if not the latest models. Again, though, it felt vacant.

"I don't really know where anything is," Gaara spoke up, "since Kankurou usually takes care of this, but feel free to have at it."

Naruto glanced at him, before looking around the room again. "Why does Kankurou cook? Isn't that weird?"

"Why would it be?"

"Well—what about your mom? And your dad?" He regretted asking, because questions of these sorts were dangerously presumptuous. He knew because people often asked him these very same questions. He knew, but he asked anyway. It made no sense, because he hated people to ask him such things, so there was an underlying hypercriticism to his words. He reasoned that seeing as he had been asked so many times, perhaps it was the normal and congenial thing to do. His formative years were spent, for the most part, in solitude, and so Naruto was more than aware that he lacked certain necessary social skills that could only be developed through interaction with others. Fortunately, he was exceptionally good at pretending he was like everyone else.

Looking back at Gaara, Naruto noticed that the other student had visibly stiffened, hands clenching at his sides. The blond knew that reaction, but surely it couldn't be so…Though, it might make a lot of things make sense.

"My parents are none of your concern," said Gaara after a moment, bland reverie restored. "Though I hate to say it, please limit your prying inquiries to myself." He took a seat at the kitchen table, pulling a book from the seat of one of the vacant chairs, and proceeded to read.

"You're right," Naruto said distractedly, turning toward the sink to wash his hands. Gaara lifted his eyes to his back as the blond discharged some soap onto his fingers and scrubbed them under the running water. "I shouldn't be so nosy."

Drooping. Was Gaara seeing things, or were Naruto's broad shoulders actually drooping? Admonishing himself for even caring about such things, he turned back to his reading.

"What do you want to eat?" Naruto called over his shoulder, turning off the sink and shaking his hands dry. "I'll make whatever you want."

The increasing number of similarities between Naruto and Kankurou were almost mind-boggling. Aside from that, they were enough to aggravate Gaara even more than his meddlesome queries. "I'm not hungry," he stated flatly.

"Well—too bad," Naruto replied, turning back to the counter, where he started opening cabinets and drawers in order to get a feel for the place. "I'll make you eat if I have to. Food equals energy, which equals a healthy, happy Gaara."

Gaara felt himself cringe as Naruto's sing-song voice carried back to him. He didn't know about healthy, but he knew that happiness was one emotion he was born strictly without. Or perhaps he had felt it at one time, one moment…with one person, but that time had been short—naïve, and did nothing to make up for the years of unhappiness that had followed it.

"I'm not eating," he said again, this time more strictly, but when he had expected Naruto to finally give in, the blond only turned and smiled.

"I wasn't kidding," he said jovially. "I will literally force you to eat if I have to." Gaara looked at him as if to imply, You would never, and Naruto just smiled even more. "I'm serious, Gaara. I will wrestle you to ground if I have to, force-feeding you until the last bite. I will find some rope and tie you up, if necessary, and plug your nose until you have no choice but to swallow. I will—"

"Fine," Gaara ground out in obvious displeasure, ready to agree to almost anything if it would shut the blond up. "My god, you're annoying," he grumbled in dulled amazement. "Have you always been this way?"

"About as long as you've been a frowny-sad-face," Naruto laughed, turning back to the cabinets.

Frowny-sad-face. Mr. Frown. Wasn't 'Gaara' good enough? Did Naruto have to fuss up every facet of Gaara's life down to his very name? It took a moment to realize that he was, indeed, frowning, and his irritation nearly doubled. Maybe if he said nothing, then Naruto wouldn't speak to him. It seemed logical, as Gaara's curt comments only seemed to keep the blond talking, so the red-haired teen decided he would simply ignore him and read his book. With Kankurou, he could do just that, so if this tactic failed, Gaara might as well just give up and die. In fact, that option was starting to seem more and more appealing. It wasn't much longer after that that Naruto started singing a song that went something like, "A healthy Gaara is a happy Gaara," and Gaara was roughly five seconds from hauling his hard-bound book at the overly-enthusiastic blond's head.

"Seriously Gaara," Naruto turned around again, an oven mitt on one of his hands and a wooden spoon in the other. "I've seen you naked—you can't pretend that it didn't happen," he shook the spoon emphatically in the air with each word. "You are far too skinny, young man."

Slamming his book closed and gritting his teeth, Gaara was about ready to explode in anger. Instead, he took a few deep breaths, opened his book, and proceeded to read. Gaara was certainly not the one who had run away screaming like an immature child; that was for sure. Calm. Remain calm. But something wasn't right. Raising a hand to touch his cheek, Gaara was disturbed to find his skin warm, a steady heat flooding his face. He told himself it was only irritation, because why in the seven seas would he be blushing? To make matters worse, every time he tried to read, he found himself thinking about how utterly maddening Naruto was. He didn't want to think about him at all.

To his suppressed relief, Naruto didn't say anything else. He only hummed his own little tune as he proceeded to make dinner, meandering about the kitchen as if he had lived there for years. It was pretty sad that Naruto knew more about Gaara's kitchen than he himself did. The blond was slowly invading every aspect of his life with little effort and a keen smile to match. Despite of all this, Gaara felt himself nodding off, Naruto's calming song lulling him closer and closer to sleep. He had nearly collapsed onto the table, his book a makeshift pillow, when a warm presence gently lifted him out of his near-slumber. Blinking sleepily, he managed a half-glare as Naruto's curious face came into view. The other boy sat across from him, chin propped on one hand as he stared at Gaara in fascination, remnants of one of his many smiles still curving his lips, however slightly.

"What?" Gaara asked irritably, never glad to wake up, but expressly angered to find he had an audience.

Naruto shrugged his shoulders, head tilting slightly and golden bangs falling into his eyes. "When people fall asleep, it's always fascinating, but with you…" Pausing, he shook his head and turned, glancing at the stove that was occupied one-fourth of the way with a lidded pot. "It'll be ready soon," he said idly, attention seemingly drawn elsewhere, before he glanced back to Gaara with concern. "Are you okay?"

"You always ask me that," responded Gaara unenthusiastically. "And I'm always fine—." His words abruptly ceased as Naruto pressed his hand to his forehead, the touch cool and almost welcome, before the redhead backed away and stood.

"I know, I know," Naruto sighed. "No touching, but I'm worried about you. You seem a little feverish; if you're tired, you can go take a nap—"

"I'm fine," Gaara said firmly, blue-green eyes visibly narrowing.

Naruto rolled his eyes and waved an oven mitt in the air. "Are you really that afraid of me touching you? You'd think I had a disease or something."

"I'm not afraid," was Gaara's indignant reply. "I just don't like touching people."

"There no difference."

"There's a huge difference."

"Whatever makes you feel better."

"Anyone else can see there's a difference."

"Prove it."

Gaara paused. "What?"

Naruto smiled. "Prove it. I'm going to touch you for a minute. If you break away before the end of sixty seconds, I win and can ask you to do anything I want. If you stay still, you can do the same. Well?"

Gaara regarded him intently for a small span of time before breaking away and grabbing his book off the table. "That's absurd."

"You're right," agreed Naruto with a nod, turning back to the stove. "If you're afraid, it's your own problem. But I guess fears are reasonable; we all have them, and—"

"Sixty seconds, Uzumaki," Gaara cut him off in annoyance. Walking around the table, he stood a good foot or so away from Naruto, mouth set in a line and face dull as usual. "Let's just get this stupid game over with."

Naruto turned with a triumphant grin, rubbing his hands together and judging where to touch the other student. Where exactly would it annoy him the most—where would be an assured win? There were so many choices, some reasonable, many not, and he finally settled his hands on the area of the most borderline neutrality: Gaara's waist. Neither above nor below, in-between, a median of sorts, slender, warm, small—like a girl's—wait. Disregarding his thoughts, or at least trying his best to do so, Naruto looked from his hands on the green material of Gaara's shirt to Gaara's face. Gaara's blank face. And then Naruto realized that maybe this was not the smartest of challenges, because Gaara seemed perfectly in control, but it was Naruto who was starting to feel a little…odd. It was difficult to describe, but there was this weird, tingling sensation in his fingers, and a prickly feeling in his arms. What should have ended with his upper extremities seemed to travel even further, and suddenly his heart was thudding again, the sound almost in his ears as he scolded himself for thinking of such a stupid, stupid idea. Gaara was right yet again. This was absurd. This was extremely absurd, but what was the most absurd was the fact that Naruto was sure his face had inched closer to Gaara's. It was a small difference, but their faces were only inches apart—Close. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to… Naruto's brain was shutting down, relevant thoughts dissipating as the subconscious urge to lean forward took hold. And why would that be wrong again?

A jingling sound echoed off somewhere, before a voice called out, "I'm home," causing both Naruto and Gaara to jump a little. Naruto wanted to say something, but his thoughts weren't ready to start functioning normally yet. Gaara just looked at Naruto blankly, wondering what exactly had just transpired, before convincing himself it was nothing and refusing to dwell on it. When Kankurou strolled in, sporting an energetic aura, it took the other two a few more seconds, partnered with Kankurou's increasing expression of total astonishment, to realize that Naruto's hands were still resting precisely on Gaara's waist. Immediately, Naruto's hands sprung behind his back where they belonged and should have stayed and wouldn't do such stupid, absurd, brainless, backfiring stunts again. He envied Gaara's more subtle (lack of) reaction in which he stepped away from Naruto and walked past his brother as if nothing had happened.

"Aniki," he greeted dully, before disappearing into the hall.

Kankurou's eyes followed him until they focused back on Naruto, a dangerous glint in the grayish irises.

Naruto tried to smile, but an image of his body tied to a crashing motorcycle did little to quell his building fear. "Kankurou," he welcomed as well, raising a shaking hand in an attempt at a wave.

"You," the other blond said in an angry sort of disbelief, before charging up to him and making his whole three-fourth's-of-a-head-taller height painfully known. "Were you just making a move on my brother?"

Naruto blinked. "No…" Shaking his head, he could feel the urge to laugh hysterically. "No; for heaven's sake, no."

Kankurou glared and arched a brow, taking in the underclassman's words. "What do you mean by that?" He raised his hands as if preaching at a podium, face edged with Gaara-like annoyance. "Is my brother not good enough for you? Is such a thought really that disturbing? Heaven's no, you say? Well, might I remind you that it was your hands on his waist, kouhai. I could have you sued for sexual harassment. I could have you put away for years for reckless endangerment. With the kind of power I harness at my disposal, I could provide a lifetime's worth of little 'accidents'—," here he made exaggerated air-quotes, "Enough so that you'll be wishing you were in heaven…You get me?"

Naruto just stared at him, convinced he would pass out at any moment, and he probably would have taken a seat had not Gaara intervened.

"Aniki," he said, reappearing in the doorway with a new book. He was clearly irritated. "Stop pestering him."

In an instant, Kankurou's temperament morphed and he was grinning and slapping Naruto playfully on the arm. "I know; I just love to mess with this little guy. It's so easy."

Gaara couldn't disagree, but he refused to agree, either. "He started dinner. There might be enough for you."

Scratching his head, Kankurou walked the short distance to the oven and glanced in the bubbling pot. "Doubtful," he said after a moment. "I'll whip something up else up to complement it, and we should be fine…You okay, Naruto?"

Unmoved from where Kankurou had put the fear of the gods into him, Naruto just swallowed and took a seat at the table. "Yeah."

"Yeah right," chuckled the senior, crossing his arms over his chest. "If that little tidbit was enough to frighten you, how are you ever going to gather the gall to make a move on my brother?" Naruto blanked at him again. "You know I'm right."

"Aniki," Gaara nearly growled, and Kankurou backed off with a smile.

"Yes, yes, of course," he said congenially. "He's just too easy not to play with. One almost can't help but like him." Opening up a cupboard, he pulled out a glass jar of some kind of spicy, reddish paste, attempting to twist off the lid, before giving up rather quickly and handing it to Gaara. "You know the drill," he said cryptically. Gaara took the jar and, to Naruto's confusion, popped the lid off with ease before wordlessly handing it back to him.

"You mean to tell me," Naruto began, squinting inconspicuously at Kankurou, "that you could probably kill an elephant with your fists…but you can't open a jar of bean paste?"

It took Kankurou a little longer to exhibit his usual grin, but he smiled and tossed the open jar between his hands. "I have a bad grip."

Naruto's brow furrowed in his blatant skepticism. "A bad grip—"

"Studying, Uzumaki," Gaara interceded, pulling out a chair beside him. Sliding the red-bound book before the blond, his only instructions were "Start reading." Grumbling, Naruto took the book in his hands and began to read. Gaara looked from him to his brother, who was staring into space, and when the older boy noticed his younger brother's stare, Kankurou smiled at him sadly. Gaara looked away.

With a small exhalation of breath, Kankurou turned back to the range, sliding open a bottom-drawer and pulling an apron on. Naruto liked to pride himself on the fact that he could drown out almost any external stimulus when reading, but the dancing blob of pink in his peripheral was far too extreme to ignore. Glancing upward, he was not as surprised as he should have been to see Kankurou in a pink apron. A frilly pink apron. His wayward chuckle caught the older blond's attention.

"What?" Kankurou inquired, spinning around and sending ruffles and bows fluttering about. "Oh," he said when he saw Naruto covering his mouth, unsuccessfully masking his laughter which still spilled out precariously from the sides. "You like my apron? Just because I'm secure in my sexuality…" he started, purposefully trailing off.

"What are you implying?" Naruto asked defensively. "I'm secure in my sexuality…too…" Why on earth had he trailed off as well? Instead of working to his advantage, like Kankurou had artfully accomplished, it only made him seem that much more insecure. "You're just like Sasuke," he finally muttered, red-bound book long forgotten.

Kankurou faked a curtsey, the image both amusing and disturbing. It would take Naruto a long time to forget such a thing. "I wouldn't mind meeting this 'Sasuke'," he said with a smug grin.

Naruto leaned on the table, considering the upperclassman's words. "You two would probably get along." Another subtle movement from Kankurou sent another dramatic wave of ruffles and bows flying here and there and seemingly everywhere. "He doesn't wear pink aprons, though," Naruto added, suspiciously eyeing the material.

Lifting a skillet into the air, Kankurou shook the pan, sending the mixture of sizzling contents every which way as he turned toward the seated pair. "Believe it or not," he started, sending a rain of vegetables into the air with a simple flick of his wrist, "Gaara made it."

Naruto seemed to choke on air, before retaining his pseudo-composure. It wasn't so unbelievable that Gaara had made the apron—on the contrary, it was rather impressive, but the fact that Gaara had made a pink…frilly apron…for Kankurou…Killer-Kankurou…Naruto looked from the apron to Gaara—who was ignoring the ongoing exchange by way of a book—before looking back at the apron, and finally to Gaara again. This time, Gaara was glaring at him.

"What are you thinking, Uzumaki?" he questioned uncompanionably. "It was originally for my sister."

And Naruto was looking back at Kankurou again in a critical manner.

"What?" the senior asked innocently. "I like cute things."

Suspicion still present, Naruto slowly looked away from him and back down at his book. He wondered where their sister was, the one the apron was truly intended for, but he was hesitant to ask. Kankurou watched him with a smile, shutting off the oven and setting the table with plates.

"Sis has been away at an all-girl's college for the past two years," he freely conversed, setting chopsticks and napkins and things of that sort around the table. "She's our breadwinner," he commented in a lighthearted manner, bringing the skillet over to the table. "She's scary as hell, but that mind of hers…it's sharp. My only fear is that she'll never marry, feeling herself superior to the male populace—the human populace."

As he dished out the food, Naruto tried to ascertain how such a trio of siblings could have been born into the world. When he could find no logical answer, he decided that he would simply be glad that they were, because as odd as they all seemed, they added a fun element to his life, an invigorating joy that had not been there before. As they ate, Kankurou took every chance he could to poke fun at Naruto, and Naruto, of course, fed right into his plot and quibbled back. Gaara's look of mild irritation seemed permanent as he asked them several times to "just shut up and eat". The two blond-haired boys would always wince at the reprimands, before one of them (usually Kankurou) would say something that would set the other (usually Naruto) off on another defensive spree. Kankurou even told an apathetic Gaara about Naruto's "exhibitionistic theatrics" on the motorcycle, and Naruto's renewed attempts to defend his diminishing dignity were lost amidst Kankurou's bouts of laughter. Gaara just rubbed his temple and finally explained (to Naruto's blatant horror) how he had even rolled into the house "James Bond style," and Kankurou's laughter rolled on. They were an odd pair of brothers, but in their own way, they seemed to get along quite well.

When nine o'clock came around, none of them had realized it had gotten that late, and Naruto pulled out his phone to call Sasuke for a ride home. Kankurou had started washing dishes, insisting that Naruto accompany Gaara, who had somehow disappeared undetected. Walking out into the main hall, he glanced at the ornate staircase at the far end of the corridor, before a wavering flicker caught his attention. Naruto stepped across the hall, surprised to see the large, lit fireplace that occupied the open chamber before him. Gaara sat in the plush, burgundy couch, his arm across the back of it as if to support someone else. If Naruto squinted, he could picture it. He could see a small girl in the space beside him—someone like the shy girl of their class, Hinata—but he knew this vision was incorrect. It didn't take much more effort, but if Naruto tried hard enough, he could picture another guy there. That was how it was supposed to be. Not Gaara with a girl, and certainly not Gaara with Naruto. Because Naruto liked girls. Only girls. He only felt the urge to kiss Gaara (as if that was supposed to comfort him), and that was only stress-induced. Or was Sasuke right in declaring that that was only the answer Naruto wanted to hear?

The conflicting thoughts threatened to overcome him, and Naruto finally gave up and walked into the room, but Gaara never once looked up.

"Uzumaki," he breathed out resignedly, eyes still drawn toward the seemingly-dancing flames. Naruto put his hands in his pockets and came to stand in front of the couch, looking uncertainly at the open space. "Sit if you would like. I'm too tired to squabble with you now."

Leaning gratefully into the welcoming cushions, Naruto sighed and absorbed the comfortable heat of the fire. "You finally admitted it," he said with a small grin, glancing momentarily at Gaara. The light flickered rather nicely on his face, illuminating his pale skin and causing his turquoise eyes to adopt a glowing quality. He really was attractive. Naruto looked away.

"It is nighttime, Uzumaki," Gaara answered, but neither worried about the fact that such a comment was relatively delayed. It had seemed like a long day, far longer than the few hours it had really been, but, more than that, it had been an eventful day.

"You should go to bed, get some rest," suggested Naruto, feeling a yawn pulling at him by the mere mentioning of sleep.

"I still have work to do."

Naruto's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You're telling me that we don't even have school tomorrow, and you won't even let yourself take a nap?"

Gaara felt that age-old irritation bubbling up within him again. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

Naruto shrugged, finding the beauty of the fire enrapturing. "While some might call that impressive, I call it stubborn."

"This is why I don't base my life on your opinions."

"At least lean on me for a little while—until Sasuke comes," Naruto offered, turning toward Gaara again. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. It isn't safe."

Gaara faced him, eyes revealing nothing but dissatisfaction. "I'm not leaning on you, Uzumaki."

"Come on," Naruto teased, wrapping his arm around Gaara's waist. "Don't be so modest."

Gaara looked at Naruto's hand, and then into the blond's blue eyes. "Modest?" he asked in an insulted tone, annoyance slowly unfolding on his face.

Naruto smiled at him and turned back toward the fireplace. "Yep."

Sitting still for a couple of moments, Gaara finally asked, "Are you going to let go of me?" It was clear that he was troubled, and how could Naruto forget the redhead's dislike of touching? That alone gave him a small enjoyment.

"Not until I'm confident that you're asleep," he answered, tugging Gaara closer.

"…You're annoying," Gaara muttered, clearly frustrated as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"Well, then I'm doing my job as a friend, as Sasuke would say." Shifting his right arm around Gaara's shoulders, he gently pressed it to the right side of Gaara's face, fingers delving into his copper hair as Naruto pulled the other boy to his chest. "Now close your eyes."

It was with great effort that Gaara did not lash out at him. Violently. He did not like to be forced into any position of any sort, and while it was usually never as literal as the current situation had become, Gaara still felt that cornered-animal defense kicking in. More than that, however, he felt a more overriding part of himself that found comfort in the situation, a reverse-psychology kind of reaction in which maybe all Gaara wanted all along was for someone to come along who wasn't afraid of him, who didn't take him seriously. But even if this was true, Gaara refused to accept that that person would be Naruto. Why did the possibility disturb him so? Gaara was at least glad for the provisional heat of the wispy flames, because he also refused to accept that his cheeks were warming on their own again. He really was so very tired…he had pushed himself too hard. And Naruto's chest and shoulder were much more comfortable than he had credited them to be, the steady rise and fall of the blond's chest lulling him gradually toward sleep. It wasn't long before he had closed his eyes.

"See?" Naruto spoke up, rubbing Gaara's arm. "It's not so…bad." Peering a little into Gaara's face, it was not difficult to discern that he was asleep. A soft whish of breath escaped his lips every few seconds as his body slumped against Naruto's. But that was more than fine with him. He felt inexplicably content watching the red-haired boy's sleeping face, and with a sigh of satisfaction, he leaned back into the couch, fingers toying with a few copper locks, before gently stroking the copper strands. He watched the curling threads of heat as they coiled about the brick, confined to the limited space by the stone that surrounded them. It wasn't long before his eyes drifted closed as well, head nodding until he finally succumbed to sleep, resting his cheek on the top of Gaara's head.

Not long after that, Kankurou walked in, drying his hands on a towel. He advanced inward, confused at the mass in front of the fire, before finally making sense of the montage of limbs on the couch. He didn't even realize he was smiling until his cheeks started aching a bit. "Would you look at that…"

And not much later, when Sasuke finally arrived, letting himself in as Naruto had instructed, he, too, was drawn toward the room of flickering light. He walked in, the sight before him substantially easier to understand.

"They're cute, aren't they?" Kankurou asked, coming into the room behind him and leaning on the doorframe.

"They're something," Sasuke agreed, face unreadable as he regarded the unusual pair on the couch. "…I just haven't figured out what that 'something' is yet."

Kankurou only smirked. "That's half the fun."

oooTBCooo

Hm. I don't know how I feel about this (late T.T, but long :3) chapter. Moving out pushed me back a day. Please tell me what you thought about this fluff-tastic tidbit, because I don't know what to think. This story won't be ending any time soon, either. I fear how much has yet to come. What I can say is I'm fairly sure there will be a kiss in one of the next two installments. Would that make you happy? I know I certainly would be, because these two are driving me crazy. Cheers!

EDIT (5/5/08 Cinco de Mayo, baby!): I changed some things around in this chapter. Nothing major at ALL, but I rewrote some parts very slightly, changed some adjectives, took out some sentences, things of that nature. This chapter was weirding me out, yo. I don't know why.