Aha. My shortest fic ever. It was inspired by a picture I drew.

http/ in fact. Complete randomness. Was possibly supposed to be humor, but it ended up with some meaning to it. If you squint and tilt your head to the side.

Anyway, yeah. Don't belong to me. If it did, it wouldn't be in would it?

Kankurou had seen a lot of disturbing things in his fourteen years. Hell, he'd done a lot of disturbing things. But this…this was too much. This was just…wrong. He'd been standing there, minding his own business, trying to decide whether he could be bothered to go upstairs and wash his face.

He was sweaty and his face paint was itching. Fairly uncomfortable, but was it uncomfortable enough to make him go all the way up there to his room to fix it?

No, no it wasn't.

But yes. He'd seen disturbing things, but nothing, I repeat, NOTHING, compared to what had just happened. What was happening NOW.

Slowly, warily, he looked over his shoulder, a most disturbed, and slightly frightened look on his painted up face. He looked at the side of his brother's head, and swallowed.

Gaara was standing behind him, his head slightly turned as he watched Kankurou out of the corner of his eye.

Even slower, Kankurou's eyes traveled down. Down Gaara's arm to where his hand was…holding on to his own.

What the hell? What was he doing?

Kankurou's eyes widened. Oh God…he was holding him in place so he couldn't run, wasn't he? He was going to do something horrible to him!

Sure, he'd apologized, but that was what…a week ago? He probably forgot.

Gaara squeezed lightly, then let go and walked away, leaving Kankurou bewildered in the living room.

Like I said, he'd seen some disturbing things. But Gaara being nice? That was way beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Ever.

This is where I'd usually say R&R, but you don't need to x3 As long as I have somewhere to put these pieces of literary crap, then I'm happy. So R& maybe R.