Fic it to me: "Your wholeness..." Part 2/4(?)
So yup, LJ doesn't like how long my fics are. I will not be discouraged by this!
Here is part 2 of my Naru/Gaa. I hope you enjoy! It is mirror posted on Ao3 and FF.net. Please, let me know what you think!
I've divided it up into 4 parts or so, (probably will end up more like 6) because Livejournal has an issue with length. On Ao3 and ffnet it is a long ass two parter.
Title: your wholeness cascades into so many shapes: PART 2/4(?)
Fandom: Naruto
Warning: M (hella)
Paring: Naruto/Gaara, Naruto/Sasuke
Warnings: long-ass fic, sexual situations, alternate universe-Suna City, pyschological issues, drug usage, attempted suicide, mention of child abuse, mention of sexual assault, slight blood warning. (Dang..I've got to start writing less depressing stuff)
Your wholeness cascades into so many shapes Part 2
One of Naruto’s more harmless little quirks was that he liked to wear nail polish. It was shiny on his fingers,glinting in colors like pale indigo and minty white, deep black-viridian and sticky chartreuse.
It wasn’t that unusual of a thing for the group that they hung out with; the pocket of punk delinquents in Suna that lashed against conformity in any fashion, but Gaara had been surprised that Naruto took part in it, and seemed to do it more for himself than for any notions of rebellion. He painted them every week or so, on the kitchen counter with an array of tiny glass bottles before him and a concentrating frown on his mouth.
Gaara hated the acidic smell of the polish, but he loved seeing the vivid colors that popped on Naruto’s nails, colors so rarely seen in Suna City flashing when Naruto gestured wildly in some passionate speech, standing out bright when he ran a rough, long-boned hand down the column of Gaara’s neck. It was one of Naruto’s little eccentricities, like the odd, off-kilter scars on his cheeks, the way he slept on the roof sometimes or occasionally talked to himself.
Gaara watched from the other side of the counter as Naruto leaned over his hand while painting. He was so comically focused that Gaara couldn’t help but reach out and tip over one of his bottles.
Naruto indignant face was ridiculous, all open mouth and furrowed eyebrows, as he looked up at Gaara’s amused expression. “Oi! What the hell Gaara!”
Gaara reached forward and flicked over another one. The idiot shouldn’t leave the caps off if he didn’t want them spilled. Naruto made a horrified squeaking sound, and Gaara laughed out loud.
“That’s it, c’mere you little-“
Naruto manhandled him onto the couch, smile huge with gleeful retaliation. He shoved Gaara down, sat on his stomach, and proceeded to sloppily paint his toenails an unabashed shade of candy apple red.
“Hey hey, no! Wait a minute!”
“Too late now, Gaara-chan! It suits you.” Naruto’s grin is completely evil as he finishes the last nail and blew on them briskly. Gaara gave up escape and covered his face with a pillow in defeat.
“You should let me do your hands next.”
“No fucking way.”
Naruto turned around on his stomach, tried to tug the pillow off of Gaara’s face. “Aww C’mon! You like the way mine look, I know you do. Don’t even try to deny it Gaara, don’t even try.”
Gaara sighed. He flung the pillow off, grabbed one of Naruto’s newly painted and dried hands, and caught a colorful finger up into his mouth, sucking thoughtfully as Naruto became still and his eyes zeroed in on Gaara’s lips.
He released the finger with a vicious bite on the nail and smirked. “Maybe I do.”
Naruto grinned, his free hand sliding down Gaara’s stomach to his belt buckle. “Y’know really, on second thought, why don’ I just paint your nails some other time, huh?”
“Good plan.”
Later, when Gaara starts occasionally wearing polish on a few fingers of each hand, Naruto doesn’t bother to contain his gloating.
X
Naruto and Gaara spent days lazing in bed, drawing patterns into each others skin and counting the freckles that scattered over Naruto’s shoulders. They made piles of pancakes at three in the morning, drowning them in chocolate syrup because Naruto had a bigger sweet tooth than anyone else Gaara had ever met. They forget which day of the week it is, waking up in foggy early-morning light and peeling oranges in bed, letting juice dribble stickily over their fingers. Naruto’s hands smelled like citrus and Gaara liked to lick them clean, the sharp, powdery flavor coating his tongue with a bitter, intoxicating residue.
Gaara and Naruto did silly things, like spending a whole afternoon seeing who could build the most elaborate and complicated castle-fort from the silverware. (The winner was actually Gaara, even though Naruto claimed that his tea-cup turret tower was in fact an inch taller.)
They did stupid things, like going down to one of the darkest black market squares Suna had to offer and trying to sell Naruto’s prized guppy goldfish with the guise of it being the rare and extremely expensive “baby gold-finned angel skipper, one of a kind from the Cailouh Isles! Get it now, while it lasts!” (Gaara is still traumatized by the experience, and Naruto is now banned from that part of the district.)
Naruto was notorious at the grocery store for buying enough cup ramen to feed a small army, and then returning within the week for more. Gaara was partial to boiled eggs, and always kept at least three pre-boiled and labeled in the fridge next to regular ones. (Naruto rarely reads the labels, but Gaara perseveres anyway.)
Naruto and Gaara would go sand-surfing out on the city borders and stay until the sun hovered in the sky and illuminated the whole city in a dazzling yellow light, skimming along the surface and spraying dirt particles up into the air that caught in their eyelashes and mouths and tasted like smacks of freedom. Naruto was surprisingly good at it, which was disgruntling because it took Gaara ages to get even marginally proficient at basic tricks, but Naruto would angle his board into impossible stunts, swooping from the crest of a dune to fly across the sky, doing twist jumps that landed on the heavy metal tracks of the magnetic train rails that eventually coasted them back into the city.
Naruto broke his wrist in landing once, with a sickening crunch and then a weakly nonchalant chuckle, and Gaara had to drag his protesting ass to the hospital. Sand-surfing isn’t technically legal either, especially without a permit and on the city rails, which meant a lot of sidelong looks and muttered excuses and eventually bribing the hospital nurse.
Naruto thought it was hilarious.
And then, of course, were the nights upon nights Naruto and Gaara spent out, locked into a nightclubs gyrating beat, swaying drunkenly through a mass of constantly moving bodies. The parties they went to were wild, crazy, a blur of lights and bodies and sounds that washed over Gaara’s ears and flashed in his eyes. They were always a little gritty, a little circumspect, but Gaara liked it like that.
The rebellious 20-somethings of Suna explored farther every night, pushed the boundaries a little bit further with every new trend, every fleeting amusement, and Gaara loved it best when someone pressed something new into his palm, with a whisper and a smile. Something better, something more, something that was fresh, hot off of the streets, and everyones talking about it, the feeling is the best. It takes you to a whole new world.
Naruto would wink, put the pill on his tongue and clink their shot glasses together. “Here’s to trying new things!” The grin on his face is huge, shining brightly even on the back of Gaara’s eyelids.
They danced and laughed and sang with people Gaara had never seen before and rarely saw after, faces passing glazed before him. Naruto was quick to gather a crowd, a group that varied every time, cheering and chattering, kissing his cheeks, linking his arms, telling him their closest secrets and then disappearing into a hungover haze. They would begin the night on one end of town and end in the other, waking curled together, missing clothing and covered in glitter and sweat. Naruto would stretch his arms over his head and yawn luxuriously.
“That was a good one, Gaara.”
They broke into old warehouses, packed into clubs or flat parties, jumped city tubelines and swung on the power grids, laughing uproariously. They fucked on the dancefloor, against alleyways, in a bed that wasn’t theirs in a house they didn’t know who owned.
Gaara felt exhilarated, floating and easy and sweet-candy-mouthed. Naruto’s hand pulled him along, wrapped around the back of his neck possessively, hung across his chest protectively. Whenever he turned around, Naruto was there with his face crazy under the lights, his skin hot, and his laugh wild. Gaara couldn’t help but throw himself into it all, because Naruto was there, right there, and suddenly things were easy, beautiful, effortless.
Sometimes they were separated, and when Gaara woke up Naruto would be nowhere in sight. He’d pick his way out of the unfamiliar house, cross the city with dogged steps, make his way back to his apartment to unlock the door and find Naruto, rumpled but looking like he’d had the time of his life, making eggs. Naruto loved scrambled eggs in the early morning, and the smell of whites sizzling in the pan made Gaara want to throw up, but he would eat them anyway, with Naruto’s voice rambling and babbling about the night before humming like a mantra in his ears.
X
Naruto woke Gaara up by kissing him, morning breath and scrunched up smile, cheek-stubble tickling his nose.
“Ughhhh. Get off...”
Gaara blinked himself awake, pushing Naruto off of him.
“Good mornin’ sleepyhead!” Naruto looked entirely too awake to have consumed the amount of alcohol he had last night. Really, just entirely too chipper. It was like a mutation of his.
Gaara looked around, pushing himself up on his elbows. They were once again in an unfamiliar bed, at an unfamiliar house. It was a good sized room, which meant it was probably a rich-person flat. Suna just didn’t have the space to accommodate many people anymore, unless of course, you had the means. There was a small window with curtains blocking the sun, a few other people passed out against the wall or stretched out on the floor half out of the closet. The bed was low to the ground, fitted with blue sheets. There were books on a shelf, a few cracked pictures on the nightstand of some unknown boys with black hair.
Not anyone Gaara knew. He shifted, pulling closer to Naruto, nuzzling into his scent and the smoothness of his bare skin. He had no clue where his clothes were, but didn’t particularly care. “Any idea where we are then?”
Naruto made a humming noise. “Nope.” His lips popped the ‘p’ sound exaggeratedly, grinning.
Gaara rolled on top of Naruto, kissed him despite the morning breath and hangover stink because, well, what the hell. It’s too nice a bed, too groggy a morning, and too good an opportunity to pass up. Naruto chuckled, ran his hands up Gaara’s back to tug him closer, tangled their tongues together.
When Naruto flipped their positions, his lips clever against Gaara’s chest, along the curve of one hip, Gaara curled fingers into the dirty strands of Naruto’s hair, breathless and frustrated and---
“...Ahem.”
There was a creak from the door as someone leaned against it’s frame. A disgruntled cough came, as though irritatedly amused. Naruto twisted around, and Gaara closed his eyes, simultaneously slightly embarrassed and ridiculously annoyed.
It looked like Mr. Rich-boy-who-owns-the-flat was home. Now they get to be kicked out. Wonderful. Gaara reached around off the bed to try and look for his pants.
A mistake, as it turned out. Naruto had turned at the sound of the cough, and now suddenly his eyes light up.
“What..?! You bastard! What the hell are you doing here!?”
The huge, shit-eating grin on his face is completely at odds with his words as Naruto jumped out of the bed, entirely naked, and proceeded to tackle hug the man leaning against the door. Pillows went flying.
Gaara found himself in a mild state of shock.
He scrambled the sheet around his hips, watching incredulously as the dark-haired man struggled, rather half-heartedly, to get out of Naruto’s chokehold.
“This is my flat that you’ve been fucking in, loser.”
Naruto’s expression got even brighter. “Fuck no!” His hands ruffled the already mussed hair excitedly. “Fuck no it’s not! I thought Itachi wasn’t gonna let you come to Suna anymore? Somethin’ about how a certain Uchiha has to crack down on his studies or risk gettin’ cut out of the will?”
The man grimaced a bit, finally disentangling himself enough to stand face to face with Naruto. He was maybe an inch or so taller, with finely cut aristocratic features and the same slightly twanging accent that Naruto had, although his speech was softer, more restrained.
He sounded expensive.
He was also smiling, a quirked upward lip that seemed to contain a lot more hidden happiness than he was letting on.
“Let’s just say I convinced Itachi. I’ve been here about a month.” He raised an eyebrow at Naruto. “I can see you’ve been doing the usual. Maybe you should put on some clothes?”
Naruto didn’t seem to care. “Maa, It’s nothing you ain't seen before.” A wink. “Maybe a little more ink than last time I got to see you. I can’t believe you didn’t let me know you were here, bastard.” Naruto gripped the man’s head between both hands and kissed him firmly.
Gaara's eyes widened. Naruto was friendly, but he didn’t usually go around kissing people. It was a quick kiss, a friendly kiss. It barely lasted long enough for the other man to kiss back, but Gaara still felt like perhaps he had suddenly woken up in an alternate version of reality.
He sat up a little straighter, about to do something stupid like clear his throat or make a commotion, when Naruto suddenly turned around, one arm still around the dark-haired man’s neck, his face glowing and the smooth planes of his skin golden in the morning light through the curtains.
“Oi, sorry Gaara! This piece of shit is Uchiha Sasuke, old friend of mine.”
Sasuke’s wry smile widened, once again prying his way out from under Naruto’s hands. He had the tail end of a swirling tattoo peeking from under his shirt, a line of studs up one ear, and Gaara noticed that, like Naruto, he painted his nails. A small hoop glistened on one corner of his lip.
It was all extremely attractive, and Gaara felt increasingly uncomfortable. He wished Naruto would put on some fucking clothes.
“Sorry to interrupt. Pleased to meet you.” Sasuke sounded like he could’ve been meeting a foreign dignitary with the amount of carefully disguised neutrality in his voice, instead of a guy who by all accounts and purposes had been about to get sucked off by his ‘old friend’.
Naruto laughs harder.
“Well, I guess it is your bed. Sasuke, meet my boyfriend, Gaara.” Naruto’s smile is contagious.
Amend the previous conclusion to about to get sucked off in his bed. Gaara suddenly imagines Sasuke sleeping here. Every night. Splayed over the covers, sweating from the heat, pierced mouth hanging open. Which side of the bed did he sleep on?
Gaara shifted uneasily. He really does not need this mental image right now, half-hard under the flimsy sheet anyway and already annoyed with the awkwardness of this morning.
He manages not to flush, nodding awkwardly to Sasuke instead. “I wasn’t planning on running into one of Naruto’s old friends quite like this.” Naruto snickers into his palm in a really obvious way and Gaara feels like slapping him.
“It’s nice to meet you. Thanks for the bed.”
As he spoke, Gaara let his voice get a little bit smug.
He hadn’t quite recovered from his boyfriend laying a wet one on someone else yet, and felt the need to claim some territory here, okay, despite rich-boy-old-friend-Sasuke being the most hospitable person yet to walk in on Naruto and Gaara about to start banging.
Sasuke blinks, raises one eyebrow in a thoughtful way for half a second before tilting his head graciously. (Seriously, Gaara thinks the guy knows how to be a diplomat with those manners, considering the situation.)
Naruto smirks, comes back to the bed and slides a warm hand over Gaara’s shoulder, almost like a reassurance. Gaara relaxes a little, tugging Naruto down and crossing his arms over the other man’s chest possessively. Naruto turns within the hold of Gaara’s arms to watch as Sasuke, determining introductions to be over, decided to busy himself with systematically kicked out the other party-goers who had crashed in the room, and then walking into the bathroom to apparently brush his teeth.
“God, I missed him.” Naruto’s voice is quiet, a sort of peaceful wistfulness lingering under his words.
Gaara strokes his hair. “How does he know you?”
It was clear that Sasuke knew Naruto, evident from the way Sasuke had immediately responded to Naruto’s kiss, as though expecting it.
Naruto always seemed to know everyone, but someone being close with him in return is far less common. Naruto sighed a little. “We were kids together. The bastard. I’ve always had to cover his ass.”
A toothbrush still dangling from his lips, Sasuke reappears at the words and throws Naruto’s jeans at the bed. “More like I’ve always had to save yours. Get dressed, I was out all night and want to sleep.”
Naruto pouts. “Well, so do I! Gaara and I had to hit double just to have a good time.”
Gaara can’t stop a slight half-groan escaping his lips, suddenly becoming aware of his splitting headache.
Sasuke smirked. “Not my problem, loser. By all means, stick around. But you gotta share the bed.”
Gaara stiffens without even thinking about it.
“Tell your charming boyfriend to relax.” Sasuke’s bored look was a little too understanding. “I’m fucking exhausted and I paid for this flat. You’re used to begging anyway, Naruto.”
Naruto bundles himself over to one side of the bed, taking Gaara with him, who fees nonplussed by all this conversation that seemed to hold some sort of dialect that he didn’t understand, an undercurrent of banter which only comes from familiarity.
Sasuke strips his shirt off, revealing an intricate black-ink dragon tattoo that coils around his sternum and makes Gaara catch his breath in surprise, and collapses on the other side of the mattress with his back towards them.
Naruto snorts.
“Sure, sure you paid for it. Don’t try and tell me you didn’t get all this from big brother Itachi. Stop trying to sell drugs Sasuke, you suck at it. “
“Shut up, fuckwit.”
With much maneuvering of limbs, Gaara manages to get himself untangled from Naruto’s arms and out of the bed. He is massively uncomfortable, but Naruto seemed completely ready to relax back into a lazy morning in someone elses bed. (Not that this isn’t abnormal, but usually the owner of said bed is assuredly absent.)
Ignoring the half-question, half-whine noise Naruto makes, Gaara grabs his jeans and a pack of smokes and slips from the room. Naruto would just go back to sleep anyway.
On the roof things smell a little better, Suna winds sweeping away the smell of vodka and party-vomit that Sasuke’s whole apartment reeked of.
Gaara smokes cigarettes for breakfast and waits for Naruto to groggily wake up in a few hours and come to find him. The sun is steadily inching it’s way up over the horizon, a faint hazy-white smog hanging heavy over the city and getting caught in whorls on the spires of New Suna skyscrapers. The air feels like dust and flame and the slow rise of heat.
Gaara waits. He is shaking off the image of Sasuke and Naruto, the way Naruto’s hands fit against Sasuke’s face. There have been plenty of people Naruto knows in their life together.
He waits patiently for Naruto to come, smelling like a mixture of warm exhaustion and cheap booze, dribble-dripping his brown-sugar morning kisses up to Gaara’s lips.
It takes a long time, too long for Gaara, who likes to think of himself as patient but should really know better. When the sun has burned away the white haze in streaks of sizzling concrete and car horns, Gaara walks back into the flat to see Naruto and Sasuke still asleep on the bed, facing towards each other.
There is about a foot of space between them, and Naruto is dreaming deep enough that he isn’t even muttering in his sleep, but Gaara finds himself unsettled by the picture.