Well, I have been feeling uninspired lately. I wanted to do a short one-shot type thing that I could expand if I felt like it. Sometimes I look at all the stuff I should be doing and all my energy just sorta disappears, y'know? I haven't written any KankyGaa for such a long time, and I guess it's not even that slashy either. So if you're against it, just look at as brotherly love.
Warnings: Not edited well. I wrote it within a few hours, and only spent a few minutes proof-reading.
Light footfalls against cobblestone streets pervaded the quiet and often forgotten outskirts of Sunagakure. The fringes of the great village were desolate, save a few small homes and very minute shops. It was almost another place entirely, but it was here on this poorly maintained road that two of the most important people in Sunagakure wandered. The steps were not mindless. No ninja of any rank meandered about aimlessly, least of all in Sunaga. The duo had their sights set on a tiny coffee shop. Kankuro and Gaara rarely needed words. Walking along a road in complete silence was more entertaining than a long-winded pointless conversation. The siblings did speak of course but only if were significant or necessary.
Kankuro's face paint was gone but his hood remained atop his head. Tucked under his arm was a week-old newspaper. Gaara walked beside him, enjoying the saunter. They arrived at the coffee house and were seated quickly. They only spoke when the waitress asked their orders. Tonight, Gaara was not the Kazekage expected to be polite and charming, Kankuro was not another hardnosed jonin. As they waited Kankuro opened the newspaper and began skimming over the contents. Gaara's eyes were trained on him in an unusual manner. The brunette lowered the paper and began to ask something, however the mugs were set on the table with a loud clack.
"Is something wrong?" Kankuro asked.
"No," Gaara sipped his black coffee, "that paper is a week old."
Kankuro nodded, but sensed something else was making his younger brother pensive. Gaara fiddled with the mug. Kankuro couldn't make him speak and resumed reading. He knew his brother and if it bothered the redhead long enough he would say something. Kankuro took a sip of his own beverage and placed in back down. The staring became almost tangible and the brunette shifted uncomfortably.
"You're a poison expert, correct?" Gaara inquired finally.
Kankuro folded the paper and searched his brother. The redhead's brow was furrowed slightly in concentration, his lips tight in contemplation. The puppeteer was typically able to decipher Gaara, this time he hadn't a clue into what Gaara was thinking.
"I wouldn't say expert." Kankuro relented. He knew a thing or two about poisons, all puppeteers did. Poison was an integral part of their craft, as well as where to hide it. Kankuro watched from across the table still trying futilely to read the younger boy. Normally they had an unspoken form of communication. Kankuro could always figure it out and cut directly to the chase.
"Temari was an awful cook." a simple statement came from Gaara's mouth. Kankuro understood Gaara was asking his opinion, this kind of statement was really a question and as such, it demanded a reply.
"She still is." Kankuro answered cautiously. The brunette had no idea where Gaara was headed. He was beginning to worry. Night was fast approaching and the air was cooling down. Kankuro could see plumes of warm carbon dioxide and vapor as he exhaled. Sunagakure may be hot during the day but at night, temperatures would easily reach below freezing. There was no moisture in the desert, Kankuro mused, no moisture to hold heat in and distribute it evenly throughout the day and night. The ground absorbed all the warmth. Kankuro realized he was trying to distract himself from Gaara's intent gaze.
"I've never cooked." Gaara said. This type of statement also required a response. Kankuro got the impression he was walking into a trap. Despite the cool air, Kankuro was starting to feel sweat prickling at the back of his neck. Kankuro nervously drank his coffee, anything to avoid answering. Gaara blinked owlishly, eagerly waiting. Kankuro rolled the small cup between deft hands.
"No, I suppose you haven't." Kankuro said finally, unable to figure out Gaara's angle, or come up with a suitable reason to not answer. Kankuro's eyes flitted from his empty mug to his sibling's scrutinizing look.
"Then by default, you prepared the meals while we were on missions?" Gaara's question was more a declaration. Kankuro felt as though he were being crushed, he was so anxious.
"Yes. They probably weren't very good, but I did my best." Kankuro replied, sorely wishing he had more coffee. Gaara was getting to the point and Kankuro hoped he knew how to respond.
"So," Gaara's tongue darted out to moisten his lips, "you could have killed me?" Gaara eased back in his chair, though he was far from relaxed. Gaara watched his brother curiously, the brunette looked almost sheepish.
"Yeah. I guess so," He replied.
"Why?" Gaara's eyes had a wet glossy sheen. Kankuro swiftly grabbed his brother's hand. He didn't know why, it was pure instinct.
"Why what?" Kankuro asked leaning close and searching his siblings face. He was also subconsciously stroking his brother's hand.
"Why didn't you?" A tear fell. Gaara looked away embarrassed. Kankuro smiled softly and pulled his face back. He gently wiped the tear with his free hand. This was new for Gaara; he was never this open with Kankuro. The brunette didn't need to say anything, Gaara already knew.
"Could we have been close…?" Gaara didn't need to finish, Kankuro already knew. Gaara started to cry. In a deft motion Kankuro pulled Gaara up and hugged him. Gaara buried his face in Kankuro's neck. The older teen had one hand in Gaara's hair and the other around Gaara's slim waist as he held his brother tightly.
It's something I've always wondered about. Kankuro could have killed Gaara with poison, but never did. I think that, even though Kankuro feared Gaara he did care and had no wish to kill him. I think if Gaara had tried they all could have been a family, minus dear old Daddo. I haven't seen any stories addressing this, but I haven't been reading much either so if you have seen this concept please let me know and I'll remove this story, there's no need to create a cliche!