[Log] If You Can Mend It, You Can Break It [Part 4 of 4 ] BACKDATED
Characters: Gaara and Sakura
Date: Late June 30th
Location: Streets of Celo, Sakura's apartment
Warnings/Notes: PG-13; Violence, language, blood, Gaara's general creepiness
Summary: A simple stroll home after a busy day at work goes terribly awry.
Sakura had never really forgotten that little detail, it was just easier to push to the side while her mind focused on other things. But now that her hands were unoccupied and she found herself under such a direct and unwavering scrutiny, she couldn't help but fidget slightly and attempt to tug the edges of her shirt down just a little further.
Vaguely she wondered if she booted him out of her bed if she would have enough time to dive under the covers, or at the very least, make a make-shift skirt out of her blanket.
"So um, now that we got you what you wanted, think I could have a few seconds of privacy to change really quick?," she mumbled, just a little uncomfortable with this too close proximity. He was too quiet, which only added to her agitation, after dealing with the bustling clinic day in and day out, and most of her outside interactions were with a particularly loud blond, the silence unnerved her nearly as much as her state of undress, the only sounds in the room being their soft breathing and the light pattering of rain against her window.
Gaara was thankful for the rain. It had a nice pattern to it - a soft, soothing sound that calmed the nerves and quelled the remaining tremors that ran the length of his spine. She was still far too close, but with the rain to distract him, he could think about other things than just her proximity.
He smirked at her question, not because of the words themselves, but because she was actually asking him, instead of demanding he leave. This... was promising. It intrigued him, that the pink-haired girl could be such a spitfire one minute, then timid and what could almost be called demure the next. She seemed tameable... but not easily breakable.
Interesting.
His gaze never wavered from her face, inadvertantly showing her that, no, he wasn't the pervert she thougt him to be. If he was, he would have most definitely ravished her long a-
Anko.
The name filtered through his brain, making him inwardly growl. It was her doing that he would even think such things - he was sure of it.
Dropping these thoughts from his mind, Gaara turned his attention back towards Sakura, pulling away from her a bit so they were no longer touching.
"You're still injured." His eyes were still locked onto her own.
It seemed a little easier to breathe with that little bit of separation.
Other people being close had never bothered Sakura before, this new affliction seemed to be focused around this red-headed menace and was singular to him and him alone.
She just didn't understand it.
But that didn't mean she was going to spend forever focusing on it either. For now that smidgen of space relaxed her significantly and her nerves weren't nearly as taut as they were a second before. It made it a little easier to sort of shrug off the only words spoken from the other in a decent stretch of time and to fight the urge to press a hand to that steadily increasing throb she was hellbent on ignoring until she could fix it herself.
"It's not that big of a deal really, I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as it looks. Just a few minutes with some antibiotics and a band-aid and it'll be fine. It's still raining out there, so if you want to rummage up something to eat if you're hungry and I'll get change--"
Two strong hands settled against her shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed, her back pressed harshly into the soft mattress. Gaara twisted his body to the left, turning to face her and straddling her hips once again in the process. It was an exact replication of the position they'd previously been in not long ago. Redundancy. It seemed to be the recurring theme of the night.
"Shut up." He paused, deciding against adding the usual, 'I'll kill you', to the end of those words. They just didn't seem fitting for the moment - not when he was about to help her.
His eyes finally broke from her face, trailing downwards to settle on her hip. The action might have been provocative, if not for the mostly bored, slightly agitated look on Gaara's face as he did it.
"You're injured," he stated again, softly. His free hand moved of its own accord towards the wound, but the moment his fingers brushed her skin, he froze, as if just seeing his hand for the first time. The red-head hesitated, then lightly trailed the pad of his thumb along the underside of her wound before settling his palm along the aggravated skin; fingers stretched out to cover the entire thing.
"I'll fix it." Gaara glanced at her, his words a statement, yet his body language - despite being in a dominant position - gave it the taste of a question.
It was becoming old, the constant manhandling and assumption that what he said and wanted, was what would happen.
But at this point, Sakura was tired of arguing. If letting this happen the way Gaara wanted it to made it happen quicker so that she could finally get decent again, to get her cut taken care of and to get him out of her bedroom, then so be it.
"There's stuff in the bathroom through there," she grumbled, angling her head slightly towards the tiny closet off to the left.
The thought to run wasn't even hovering in any recess of her mind, she was wearing down and quick. A long day at the clinic went a long way to exhaust the young woman, the added events only emphasized how comfy her bed was despite the weirdo who seemed completely blind to the utter indecent state of his temporary seat.
He nodded once, curtly, then relinquished his position above her, rolling off to the side to give her some breathing room. The slight tremors had started to race up his spine again, but he moved off of her before his body could actually begin to tremble. Wordlessly, the red-head lifted from the bed - it creaked softly at the absence of his weight - and made his way towards the door she had indicated.
Her bathroom was positively pristine, every accessory and toiletry placed in such a way as to be aesthetically pleasing. The walls were spotless - white-washed, bright -, and even the sink and bathtub were ridiculously unmarred. It reminded Gaara of a hospital, in a way. Everything was kept at a perpetually sanitized state, and even smelt faintly of the same kinds of cleaners used in medical rooms.
Briefly, Gaara wondered if her bathroom actually was a makeshift emergency room. Did she pick up strays like him often? Was she a 'good deed' kind of person? The thought made him smirk, yet the idea that she attended to other people the same way she fixed him up made a spark of anger surge through him.
Pushing the thought aside, Gaara searched her cabinets for some gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a wash cloth. He found everything all together, in a perfectly ordered line, and nearly rolled his eyes at the sight. One day, he would have to go in there and trash her bathroom, just to screw with her. After wetting the cloth and wringing it of all excess water, the red-head emerged from Sakura's bathroom, materials in hand.
He opted to stand beside the bed since her wound was in reach, and the position would be far less awkward than if he straddled her again. Using the wash cloth, he dabbed at the area around the cut, ignoring how his fingers brushed gently along the flesh of her inner thigh in the process. After it was sufficiently clean, he poured a small amount of antiseptic on the wound, giving her no warning for the slight burning sensation she would no doubt suffer from. It bubbled slightly, and Gaara watched in fascination for a few minutes, his eyes locked onto her agitated skin. Swiping at the cut with the cloth again, the red-head brought out his roll of gauze and taped up her wound. He had to shift her leg up and down while winding the bandage around her leg, but he made an effort to keep the contact minimal.
When he was done, he pulled out his knife, flicked it open, then cut the end of the gauze with ease, tucking the stray slip somewhere in the folds of her bandages.
"Better?" he asked, turning his jade gaze back onto her face.
Harshly exhaling a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding (she blamed it on the reappearance of that damned knife), Sakura nodded in response. Gently, she scooted herself to the edge of the bed to that her toes just barely skimmed the floor, not knowing how to act when there were no standing threats of violence.
"Thank you." The mumbled words barely carried over the soft patter of rain and the crinkling of debris as she automatically reached out to gather up the trash and dirty washcloth so she could dispose of them in their proper places. She cautiously tossed another assessing look at the other inhabitant of the room, trying to read what would happen if she tried for the needed privacy so that she could change out of her remaining damp clothes and into something warm, dry and far more comfy to sleep in.
"I'm just going to go into my bathroom really quick to change. I need you to please just stay here, and I'll be right out, ok?" The words were spoken slowly and clearly, so that there was no mistaking what she was saying even though she felt like she was giving orders to child with a decidedly short attention span. Since there was no obvious reaction to her words, Sakura quickly gathered up her previously gathered clothes and hurried into the bathroom, being careful to make sure the door closed behind her.
She moved quickly and efficiently, giving no reason for Gaara to come barging in on her - though at this point it was almost moot, being as though he'd already seen her half naked as it was. In a few quick moments she was reclothed and her spirits higher then they'd been in hours, being careful to pull open the bathroom door once she was finished, pausing only to quickly put back the antibiotic where it belonged and to toss the trash and dirty clothes in their proper compartments to be dealt with later.
He watched her move silently into the bathroom without protest, though he did slit his eyes slightly at how she talked down at him. He wasn't a child; he could understand her. But there was a huge difference between incomprehension, and rebellion. He chose not to listen to her words - as he chose not to listen to most people's words -, but it seemed she didn't quite understand that concept.
Or maybe she did, and was just being difficult.
Honestly, he couldn't tell.
Still, he felt no qualms with giving her a brief moment of privacy. She seemed adament about not changing in front of him - Anko was far less prudish, but then again, there weren't many people with Anko's... flambouyant... nature. In a way, he found Sakura's submissive behavior almost as intriguing as a round of verbal sparring with Anko. The pink-haired woman switched between bursts of dominant anger, and these odd spurrs of relative calm. He almost didn't how to react to such behavior, but it was interesting all the same.
He didn't trust her, though.
The only reason he let her have her moment of privacy was because he had scouted out the bathroom earlier for any bugs, telephones, or ways she could escape or contact the Arma.
Of course, she didn't need to know that.
Coming out of the small bathroom, Sakura made a bee-line for an even smaller closet hidden in the far corner of her bedroom, raising up on her tip-toes to reach the extra blankets and pillows she kept on hand on the odd chance she were to have a guest. Granted so far her only guest was Ino on the rare occasion, so it served her well to have such things on hand since Ino had the tendancy to snore, making Sakura feel far less guilty about kicking her to the couch rather then the two of them sharing her bed.
"I don't know if you're hungry or anything, but there should be something or another quick and easy in the kitchen," she offered, tilting her head in the general direction of the kitchen. Even though she wanted to remain rude and uptight, maybe even boot his ass out in the rain uncaringly, that wasn't her. She may still like to think of all the painful ways a tongue depressor could be turned into an implement of torture, but she couldn't find it in herself to be blatantly cruel. Which would be why she was now making a make-shift bed on her couch, being sure to toss an extra blanket at the foot in case it dropped cooler then the heating system could handle.
Her hospitality was completely unexpected, and a little more than pointless. Gaara remained where he was standing, just to the side of the bed, and watched with curious eyes as she piled blankets and pillows onto her arms.
"You don't need to do that," he offered, eyeing the plush bedding with a look akin to distaste. He wasn't disgusted by it, per say... But he did almost consider the fabric offensive. It looked very comfortable to him, in fact. Only, he couldn't afford the mistake of ever falling asleep without the help of heavy sedatives - he had only found out that last part thanks to Kankurou's frequent needle attacks -, so to have a bed made out for him would be the greatest of ironies.
And damn well hurtful, too.
Tempting an insomniac with blissful, though unattainable, sleep? Oh, that was just cruel.
...He wasn't following her.
That was the first thing that registered in her mind after lying the last pillow in place. Surely he didn't believe he was going to stay in there with her?!
"Of course I do. It's still really nasty outside and you need some place to sleep, this here is your only option pal." Patting down the pillow a little harder then need be for emphasis, she stared him down and waited for him to leave her bedroom.
He disregarded her glare, eyes glancing towards the bed she had set up on the couch. She could have easily kicked him out on the street (Well, maybe not easily... but she could have at least tried.), but opted to deem him her temporary house guest.
As if forgetting the fact that he had nearly killed two men not too long ago.
As if forgetting the various death threats he had sent her way more than once that day.
As if forgetting her apparent disgust of him.
It was amusing, almost, how her inherit kindness mixed with her feigned intimidation. How she offered to let him sleep in the room next to her, but refused to entertain the idea of him lurking in her own bedroom for much long.
As if she could keep him out, if he wanted in.
Gaara blinked at her words, understanding what she meant, but knowing, too, that she didn't fully understand what he meant.
"It's not necessary," he tried again. "...I don't sleep."
Sakura stared blankly at him for a second, not quite sure that she heard him correctly, let alone the fact that he had the audacity to try and suggest such a thing.
"Nice try, but I'm not buying it. Everyone sleeps, you don't have a choice in the matter, your body shuts down in time whether you want it to or not." Rather then the irritated tone she was working for, Sakura instead sounded far too weary for her own liking, something she realized with a wrinkle of her nose. She stared back at Gaara for a moment, waiting for him to give in even though she knew it was a fruitless endeavor.
An annoyed huff was accompanied by the rolling of green eyes as Sakura turned away and headed off into the small kitchen, slamming doors as she dug out a glass and some juice to try and cool her temper - the last thing she needed or wanted was another huge blow out. Her nerves were about frayed to the point of disintegration and her bed was singing a siren's song that was becoming harder and harder to resist the longer she remained standing.
Gaara watched her silently, surprised she was still standing after all this time. A day at work, an evening of... exercise... and now housing him in her small apartment as some type of twisted house guest?
He moved forward, stepping around her to get to the coffee pot sitting to one side of the counter. Without any sense of preamble, the red-head snatched the container, filled it with water, and began performing the normal, mundane procedures of fixing himself a cup of coffee.
Obviously, he had decided to go ahead and make himself at home.
While the vanilla bean mix brewed in the coffee pot, Gaara opened and closed the various cabinets, finally reaching over Sakura to grab at a box of chocolate covered pretzels she had stored in the back of one of them. He shook it once in her direction, a smirk on his lips at the evident proof that he had been right - much earlier, when they were offhandedly discussing his stalker tactics.
"Pretzel?"
"Just go right ahead and make yourself right at home." Once again, her weariness was showing when her bitterly sarcastic tone was lost in one of tired resignation. It didn't however, prevent Sakura from scowling at the propitiatory way Gaara had just given himself free reign to go snooping through her kitchen cabinets nor did it stop her from snatching away her precious hoard of pretzels that he had called her out on earlier.
"Stalker."
Taking up her glass of juice and her pretzels, Sakura sulked off into the living room, curling up into an overstuffed chair she really couldn't have afforded when she first transferred Districts and it surely didn't match any of the other furniture, but it was the perfect chair to snuggle down into after a long day and that was the end of that argument. She chomped viciously on one of her snacks in hope for a bit of a sugar rush that would keep her running until her house guest passed out - no way in hell was she going to fall asleep until Gaara did. That'd be purposefully leaving herself open to the perverted stalker and that was not going to happen.
He blinked once, staring blankly at the empty space where the box of pretzels had once been. It seemed her hospitality didn't reach as far as the food in her cabinets. 'Tch'ing in mild annoyance, Gaara waited by the kitchen counter until his coffee was readying, watching her shuffle out into her living room. For a moment, he expected her to continue on to the bedroom - she look ready to pass out -, but instead the pink-haired medic settled herself in the plush armchair right across from the couch.
Ah, so she didn't trust him, after all.
In a way, that knowledge settled the red-head's own nerves. At least she wasn't a complete idiot. Still, her efforts would be fruitless. Trying to outlast an insomniac in an all-nighter?
'Good luck, Little One.'
The thought made a slight smirk settle upon his lips. A moment later, the coffee was ready, and he poured himself a quick cup. He had found a clean mug earlier while perusing her cabinets, and only briefly wondered if it would seriously cripple his male pride were he to actually drink from something that particular shade of pink, and with so many flowers etched into the sides. He had shrugged it off in passing - finding something more masculine was too much effort at this point.
Gaara stalked into the living room, settling into the couch across from Sakura, his back hunched forward as he cradles the steaming cup of coffee in both his hands. His entire posture screamed of wakefulness, and the slightly amused challenge in his eyes made it obvious enough that he wasn't planning on falling asleep anytime soon.
Sakura's scowl darkened as the entirely too chipper redhead seated himself across from her. Granted the very feminine and floral coffee cup helped to salve her irritation in his refusal to just go to sleep, it wasn't enough.
She met Gaara's smirk head on with her most deadly glare she could manage, the hunger pangs from missing a normal dinner subsiding with the pretzels and juice to fill that void. Neither of them spoke through the silent challenge and before too long the lure of the chair began to cause her eyelids to start drooping and her head to slowly tilt off to the side in her state of exhaustion. Of course each time she caught herself it only made her more determined to stay up until Gaara fell asleep, but eventually her tired body won out and the box of pretzels clattered to floor unnoticed by the sound asleep medic.
Gaara continued to watch her for several moments after she slipped into the blissful oblivion he was so very often denied. Softly, he slid out from his position on the couch, stooping over beside the medic's chair to pick up the box of fallen pretzels. Offhandedly, he scooped up those that had fallen on the floor and placed them on the coffee table off to the side. No doubt she would be grumpier than what was to be expected were she to wake up after having fallen asleep before him... and step on a minefield of chocolate-covered treats. He was closer to her now, and paused as he bent down to better study her features. In sleep, she looked almost peaceful... It was an odd contrast to the scowls and mistrust he usually saw adorning her features.
He had won, though.
It was to be expected, and it definitely didn't take long for the girl to pass out in her exhausted state.
He felt no sense of accomplishment for it.
Scowling, a sudden, intense sense of injustice assaulted Gaara's senses, making him grasp at the knife in his pants pocket. He snatched it out and flung it open, a small click the only warning sound it would ever give. Without a thought, the red-head inched the blade closer to Sakura's exposed jugular, that hint of madness scratching pleasantly along the back of his skull. His entire body shuddered with anticipation. He wanted to kill. He wanted to kill her.
The knife never made contact with her skin. Gaara snatched it away quickly, tucking it back into his pocket and pushing away from the oblivious girl before him. He gripped the handle of his coffee mug, downing the last drops of coffee before stalking back into the kitchen to finish off the pot.
In the morning, he would be gone.
Gone before she could awake.
Date: Late June 30th
Location: Streets of Celo, Sakura's apartment
Warnings/Notes: PG-13; Violence, language, blood, Gaara's general creepiness
Summary: A simple stroll home after a busy day at work goes terribly awry.
Sakura had never really forgotten that little detail, it was just easier to push to the side while her mind focused on other things. But now that her hands were unoccupied and she found herself under such a direct and unwavering scrutiny, she couldn't help but fidget slightly and attempt to tug the edges of her shirt down just a little further.
Vaguely she wondered if she booted him out of her bed if she would have enough time to dive under the covers, or at the very least, make a make-shift skirt out of her blanket.
"So um, now that we got you what you wanted, think I could have a few seconds of privacy to change really quick?," she mumbled, just a little uncomfortable with this too close proximity. He was too quiet, which only added to her agitation, after dealing with the bustling clinic day in and day out, and most of her outside interactions were with a particularly loud blond, the silence unnerved her nearly as much as her state of undress, the only sounds in the room being their soft breathing and the light pattering of rain against her window.
Gaara was thankful for the rain. It had a nice pattern to it - a soft, soothing sound that calmed the nerves and quelled the remaining tremors that ran the length of his spine. She was still far too close, but with the rain to distract him, he could think about other things than just her proximity.
He smirked at her question, not because of the words themselves, but because she was actually asking him, instead of demanding he leave. This... was promising. It intrigued him, that the pink-haired girl could be such a spitfire one minute, then timid and what could almost be called demure the next. She seemed tameable... but not easily breakable.
Interesting.
His gaze never wavered from her face, inadvertantly showing her that, no, he wasn't the pervert she thougt him to be. If he was, he would have most definitely ravished her long a-
Anko.
The name filtered through his brain, making him inwardly growl. It was her doing that he would even think such things - he was sure of it.
Dropping these thoughts from his mind, Gaara turned his attention back towards Sakura, pulling away from her a bit so they were no longer touching.
"You're still injured." His eyes were still locked onto her own.
It seemed a little easier to breathe with that little bit of separation.
Other people being close had never bothered Sakura before, this new affliction seemed to be focused around this red-headed menace and was singular to him and him alone.
She just didn't understand it.
But that didn't mean she was going to spend forever focusing on it either. For now that smidgen of space relaxed her significantly and her nerves weren't nearly as taut as they were a second before. It made it a little easier to sort of shrug off the only words spoken from the other in a decent stretch of time and to fight the urge to press a hand to that steadily increasing throb she was hellbent on ignoring until she could fix it herself.
"It's not that big of a deal really, I'm sure it's not nearly as bad as it looks. Just a few minutes with some antibiotics and a band-aid and it'll be fine. It's still raining out there, so if you want to rummage up something to eat if you're hungry and I'll get change--"
Two strong hands settled against her shoulders and pushed her down onto the bed, her back pressed harshly into the soft mattress. Gaara twisted his body to the left, turning to face her and straddling her hips once again in the process. It was an exact replication of the position they'd previously been in not long ago. Redundancy. It seemed to be the recurring theme of the night.
"Shut up." He paused, deciding against adding the usual, 'I'll kill you', to the end of those words. They just didn't seem fitting for the moment - not when he was about to help her.
His eyes finally broke from her face, trailing downwards to settle on her hip. The action might have been provocative, if not for the mostly bored, slightly agitated look on Gaara's face as he did it.
"You're injured," he stated again, softly. His free hand moved of its own accord towards the wound, but the moment his fingers brushed her skin, he froze, as if just seeing his hand for the first time. The red-head hesitated, then lightly trailed the pad of his thumb along the underside of her wound before settling his palm along the aggravated skin; fingers stretched out to cover the entire thing.
"I'll fix it." Gaara glanced at her, his words a statement, yet his body language - despite being in a dominant position - gave it the taste of a question.
It was becoming old, the constant manhandling and assumption that what he said and wanted, was what would happen.
But at this point, Sakura was tired of arguing. If letting this happen the way Gaara wanted it to made it happen quicker so that she could finally get decent again, to get her cut taken care of and to get him out of her bedroom, then so be it.
"There's stuff in the bathroom through there," she grumbled, angling her head slightly towards the tiny closet off to the left.
The thought to run wasn't even hovering in any recess of her mind, she was wearing down and quick. A long day at the clinic went a long way to exhaust the young woman, the added events only emphasized how comfy her bed was despite the weirdo who seemed completely blind to the utter indecent state of his temporary seat.
He nodded once, curtly, then relinquished his position above her, rolling off to the side to give her some breathing room. The slight tremors had started to race up his spine again, but he moved off of her before his body could actually begin to tremble. Wordlessly, the red-head lifted from the bed - it creaked softly at the absence of his weight - and made his way towards the door she had indicated.
Her bathroom was positively pristine, every accessory and toiletry placed in such a way as to be aesthetically pleasing. The walls were spotless - white-washed, bright -, and even the sink and bathtub were ridiculously unmarred. It reminded Gaara of a hospital, in a way. Everything was kept at a perpetually sanitized state, and even smelt faintly of the same kinds of cleaners used in medical rooms.
Briefly, Gaara wondered if her bathroom actually was a makeshift emergency room. Did she pick up strays like him often? Was she a 'good deed' kind of person? The thought made him smirk, yet the idea that she attended to other people the same way she fixed him up made a spark of anger surge through him.
Pushing the thought aside, Gaara searched her cabinets for some gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a wash cloth. He found everything all together, in a perfectly ordered line, and nearly rolled his eyes at the sight. One day, he would have to go in there and trash her bathroom, just to screw with her. After wetting the cloth and wringing it of all excess water, the red-head emerged from Sakura's bathroom, materials in hand.
He opted to stand beside the bed since her wound was in reach, and the position would be far less awkward than if he straddled her again. Using the wash cloth, he dabbed at the area around the cut, ignoring how his fingers brushed gently along the flesh of her inner thigh in the process. After it was sufficiently clean, he poured a small amount of antiseptic on the wound, giving her no warning for the slight burning sensation she would no doubt suffer from. It bubbled slightly, and Gaara watched in fascination for a few minutes, his eyes locked onto her agitated skin. Swiping at the cut with the cloth again, the red-head brought out his roll of gauze and taped up her wound. He had to shift her leg up and down while winding the bandage around her leg, but he made an effort to keep the contact minimal.
When he was done, he pulled out his knife, flicked it open, then cut the end of the gauze with ease, tucking the stray slip somewhere in the folds of her bandages.
"Better?" he asked, turning his jade gaze back onto her face.
Harshly exhaling a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding (she blamed it on the reappearance of that damned knife), Sakura nodded in response. Gently, she scooted herself to the edge of the bed to that her toes just barely skimmed the floor, not knowing how to act when there were no standing threats of violence.
"Thank you." The mumbled words barely carried over the soft patter of rain and the crinkling of debris as she automatically reached out to gather up the trash and dirty washcloth so she could dispose of them in their proper places. She cautiously tossed another assessing look at the other inhabitant of the room, trying to read what would happen if she tried for the needed privacy so that she could change out of her remaining damp clothes and into something warm, dry and far more comfy to sleep in.
"I'm just going to go into my bathroom really quick to change. I need you to please just stay here, and I'll be right out, ok?" The words were spoken slowly and clearly, so that there was no mistaking what she was saying even though she felt like she was giving orders to child with a decidedly short attention span. Since there was no obvious reaction to her words, Sakura quickly gathered up her previously gathered clothes and hurried into the bathroom, being careful to make sure the door closed behind her.
She moved quickly and efficiently, giving no reason for Gaara to come barging in on her - though at this point it was almost moot, being as though he'd already seen her half naked as it was. In a few quick moments she was reclothed and her spirits higher then they'd been in hours, being careful to pull open the bathroom door once she was finished, pausing only to quickly put back the antibiotic where it belonged and to toss the trash and dirty clothes in their proper compartments to be dealt with later.
He watched her move silently into the bathroom without protest, though he did slit his eyes slightly at how she talked down at him. He wasn't a child; he could understand her. But there was a huge difference between incomprehension, and rebellion. He chose not to listen to her words - as he chose not to listen to most people's words -, but it seemed she didn't quite understand that concept.
Or maybe she did, and was just being difficult.
Honestly, he couldn't tell.
Still, he felt no qualms with giving her a brief moment of privacy. She seemed adament about not changing in front of him - Anko was far less prudish, but then again, there weren't many people with Anko's... flambouyant... nature. In a way, he found Sakura's submissive behavior almost as intriguing as a round of verbal sparring with Anko. The pink-haired woman switched between bursts of dominant anger, and these odd spurrs of relative calm. He almost didn't how to react to such behavior, but it was interesting all the same.
He didn't trust her, though.
The only reason he let her have her moment of privacy was because he had scouted out the bathroom earlier for any bugs, telephones, or ways she could escape or contact the Arma.
Of course, she didn't need to know that.
Coming out of the small bathroom, Sakura made a bee-line for an even smaller closet hidden in the far corner of her bedroom, raising up on her tip-toes to reach the extra blankets and pillows she kept on hand on the odd chance she were to have a guest. Granted so far her only guest was Ino on the rare occasion, so it served her well to have such things on hand since Ino had the tendancy to snore, making Sakura feel far less guilty about kicking her to the couch rather then the two of them sharing her bed.
"I don't know if you're hungry or anything, but there should be something or another quick and easy in the kitchen," she offered, tilting her head in the general direction of the kitchen. Even though she wanted to remain rude and uptight, maybe even boot his ass out in the rain uncaringly, that wasn't her. She may still like to think of all the painful ways a tongue depressor could be turned into an implement of torture, but she couldn't find it in herself to be blatantly cruel. Which would be why she was now making a make-shift bed on her couch, being sure to toss an extra blanket at the foot in case it dropped cooler then the heating system could handle.
Her hospitality was completely unexpected, and a little more than pointless. Gaara remained where he was standing, just to the side of the bed, and watched with curious eyes as she piled blankets and pillows onto her arms.
"You don't need to do that," he offered, eyeing the plush bedding with a look akin to distaste. He wasn't disgusted by it, per say... But he did almost consider the fabric offensive. It looked very comfortable to him, in fact. Only, he couldn't afford the mistake of ever falling asleep without the help of heavy sedatives - he had only found out that last part thanks to Kankurou's frequent needle attacks -, so to have a bed made out for him would be the greatest of ironies.
And damn well hurtful, too.
Tempting an insomniac with blissful, though unattainable, sleep? Oh, that was just cruel.
...He wasn't following her.
That was the first thing that registered in her mind after lying the last pillow in place. Surely he didn't believe he was going to stay in there with her?!
"Of course I do. It's still really nasty outside and you need some place to sleep, this here is your only option pal." Patting down the pillow a little harder then need be for emphasis, she stared him down and waited for him to leave her bedroom.
He disregarded her glare, eyes glancing towards the bed she had set up on the couch. She could have easily kicked him out on the street (Well, maybe not easily... but she could have at least tried.), but opted to deem him her temporary house guest.
As if forgetting the fact that he had nearly killed two men not too long ago.
As if forgetting the various death threats he had sent her way more than once that day.
As if forgetting her apparent disgust of him.
It was amusing, almost, how her inherit kindness mixed with her feigned intimidation. How she offered to let him sleep in the room next to her, but refused to entertain the idea of him lurking in her own bedroom for much long.
As if she could keep him out, if he wanted in.
Gaara blinked at her words, understanding what she meant, but knowing, too, that she didn't fully understand what he meant.
"It's not necessary," he tried again. "...I don't sleep."
Sakura stared blankly at him for a second, not quite sure that she heard him correctly, let alone the fact that he had the audacity to try and suggest such a thing.
"Nice try, but I'm not buying it. Everyone sleeps, you don't have a choice in the matter, your body shuts down in time whether you want it to or not." Rather then the irritated tone she was working for, Sakura instead sounded far too weary for her own liking, something she realized with a wrinkle of her nose. She stared back at Gaara for a moment, waiting for him to give in even though she knew it was a fruitless endeavor.
An annoyed huff was accompanied by the rolling of green eyes as Sakura turned away and headed off into the small kitchen, slamming doors as she dug out a glass and some juice to try and cool her temper - the last thing she needed or wanted was another huge blow out. Her nerves were about frayed to the point of disintegration and her bed was singing a siren's song that was becoming harder and harder to resist the longer she remained standing.
Gaara watched her silently, surprised she was still standing after all this time. A day at work, an evening of... exercise... and now housing him in her small apartment as some type of twisted house guest?
He moved forward, stepping around her to get to the coffee pot sitting to one side of the counter. Without any sense of preamble, the red-head snatched the container, filled it with water, and began performing the normal, mundane procedures of fixing himself a cup of coffee.
Obviously, he had decided to go ahead and make himself at home.
While the vanilla bean mix brewed in the coffee pot, Gaara opened and closed the various cabinets, finally reaching over Sakura to grab at a box of chocolate covered pretzels she had stored in the back of one of them. He shook it once in her direction, a smirk on his lips at the evident proof that he had been right - much earlier, when they were offhandedly discussing his stalker tactics.
"Pretzel?"
"Just go right ahead and make yourself right at home." Once again, her weariness was showing when her bitterly sarcastic tone was lost in one of tired resignation. It didn't however, prevent Sakura from scowling at the propitiatory way Gaara had just given himself free reign to go snooping through her kitchen cabinets nor did it stop her from snatching away her precious hoard of pretzels that he had called her out on earlier.
"Stalker."
Taking up her glass of juice and her pretzels, Sakura sulked off into the living room, curling up into an overstuffed chair she really couldn't have afforded when she first transferred Districts and it surely didn't match any of the other furniture, but it was the perfect chair to snuggle down into after a long day and that was the end of that argument. She chomped viciously on one of her snacks in hope for a bit of a sugar rush that would keep her running until her house guest passed out - no way in hell was she going to fall asleep until Gaara did. That'd be purposefully leaving herself open to the perverted stalker and that was not going to happen.
He blinked once, staring blankly at the empty space where the box of pretzels had once been. It seemed her hospitality didn't reach as far as the food in her cabinets. 'Tch'ing in mild annoyance, Gaara waited by the kitchen counter until his coffee was readying, watching her shuffle out into her living room. For a moment, he expected her to continue on to the bedroom - she look ready to pass out -, but instead the pink-haired medic settled herself in the plush armchair right across from the couch.
Ah, so she didn't trust him, after all.
In a way, that knowledge settled the red-head's own nerves. At least she wasn't a complete idiot. Still, her efforts would be fruitless. Trying to outlast an insomniac in an all-nighter?
'Good luck, Little One.'
The thought made a slight smirk settle upon his lips. A moment later, the coffee was ready, and he poured himself a quick cup. He had found a clean mug earlier while perusing her cabinets, and only briefly wondered if it would seriously cripple his male pride were he to actually drink from something that particular shade of pink, and with so many flowers etched into the sides. He had shrugged it off in passing - finding something more masculine was too much effort at this point.
Gaara stalked into the living room, settling into the couch across from Sakura, his back hunched forward as he cradles the steaming cup of coffee in both his hands. His entire posture screamed of wakefulness, and the slightly amused challenge in his eyes made it obvious enough that he wasn't planning on falling asleep anytime soon.
Sakura's scowl darkened as the entirely too chipper redhead seated himself across from her. Granted the very feminine and floral coffee cup helped to salve her irritation in his refusal to just go to sleep, it wasn't enough.
She met Gaara's smirk head on with her most deadly glare she could manage, the hunger pangs from missing a normal dinner subsiding with the pretzels and juice to fill that void. Neither of them spoke through the silent challenge and before too long the lure of the chair began to cause her eyelids to start drooping and her head to slowly tilt off to the side in her state of exhaustion. Of course each time she caught herself it only made her more determined to stay up until Gaara fell asleep, but eventually her tired body won out and the box of pretzels clattered to floor unnoticed by the sound asleep medic.
Gaara continued to watch her for several moments after she slipped into the blissful oblivion he was so very often denied. Softly, he slid out from his position on the couch, stooping over beside the medic's chair to pick up the box of fallen pretzels. Offhandedly, he scooped up those that had fallen on the floor and placed them on the coffee table off to the side. No doubt she would be grumpier than what was to be expected were she to wake up after having fallen asleep before him... and step on a minefield of chocolate-covered treats. He was closer to her now, and paused as he bent down to better study her features. In sleep, she looked almost peaceful... It was an odd contrast to the scowls and mistrust he usually saw adorning her features.
He had won, though.
It was to be expected, and it definitely didn't take long for the girl to pass out in her exhausted state.
He felt no sense of accomplishment for it.
Scowling, a sudden, intense sense of injustice assaulted Gaara's senses, making him grasp at the knife in his pants pocket. He snatched it out and flung it open, a small click the only warning sound it would ever give. Without a thought, the red-head inched the blade closer to Sakura's exposed jugular, that hint of madness scratching pleasantly along the back of his skull. His entire body shuddered with anticipation. He wanted to kill. He wanted to kill her.
The knife never made contact with her skin. Gaara snatched it away quickly, tucking it back into his pocket and pushing away from the oblivious girl before him. He gripped the handle of his coffee mug, downing the last drops of coffee before stalking back into the kitchen to finish off the pot.
In the morning, he would be gone.
Gone before she could awake.