(no subject)
Fandom: Naruto
Title: Kamen Maid, Onegai
Author: qismat_qami
Warnings: AU, Slash/Yaoi, crack!fic
Pairings: Gaara/Naruto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Owned by Kishimoto Masashi, et al.
Summary: Is your house drowning in filth? Your household falling to pieces? Enter Uzumaki Naruto, level D Kamen Maid, who dreams of putting to rights his 99th household and becoming the Queen-er-King of Maids.
::Kamen Maid, Onegai!::
A Kamen Maid should execute all peeping toms and destroyers of the household's harmony with extreme prejudice.
Unless the peeping tom happens to be your master.
Shit!
Naruto has a fraction of a second to change the trajectory of the shampoo bottle that has just left his fingertips. Protective instincts kicking in, he sends the conditioner to intercept the other hair-care projectile.
Success!
Blue shampoo gel splatters across the redhead's shocked face as the plastic bottle strikes the tiled wall and explodes. Naruto sags, razor-fine tension leaving his muscles. A close call. Little gods, he can almost hear the lecture he'd get from the old hag if he had actually managed to brain his master. Killing your master or mistress is a big no-no in the Kamen Maid Handbook. You can't bring harmony and compassion to a household with a corpse-unless it's a really, really screwed up household…
"Don't surprise me like that, master," he says with a growl, shaking the water out of his hair. "I could have killed you, seriously."
The kid opens and closes his mouth soundlessly; blue goop drips down his cheeks. Naruto scratches beneath the lower edge of his shower-proof, black plastic mask-a Kamen Maid must remain masked in all situations-and grins sheepishly. That stunned look is kind of cute, makes the whole homicidal, I'm-gonna-tear-your-spleen-out-and-force-you-to-eat-it air about Gaara a little less menacing.
Why is Gaara here anyways while he's in the bath? Another sneak attack? That little-!
The blond man takes a deep, calming breath of the fragrant, steam-laden air and exhales. Serenity and compassion.
"Do you need something?"
The teen makes a sort of weird gurgling sound, like he's choking and drowning at the same time. Naruto squints through the lazily rippling clouds of steam and takes a step closer. He missed, didn't he? Maybe the kid's got shampoo in his eye or something? Another step. The sound becomes worse. Concerned, he bounds across the short distance to stand-dripping wet and naked-before the redhead. Just in time, too.
A thin rill of blood dribbling from his left nostril, Gaara leaves the land of the conscious in a dead faint.
"Oh for the love of-!"
Now what, Uzumaki? The blond man sighs gustily as he catches the feather-light weight of his charge before the boy can knock his head loose on the doorjamb-and totally does not think, in the very back of his head, that brain trauma might improve this particular young master's disposition. Totally did not think that. Nu-uh. A Kamen Maid would never wish physical injury to strike down his master.
Okay, maybe he did, just for a second. Sorry.
~*~*~*~*~
"Don't even think about it."
Gaara withdraws his hand from the glass vase full of scraggly garden roses and glowers at the blond's back as the man pushes the mop across the kitchen floor.
Next time.
~*~*~*~*~
For the first time in his life, Uzumaki Naruto is actually looking forward to school. Granted, he's not the one going, but goddamn if he doesn't need a break of some sorts after the past three days. Humming softly to himself, he smoothes out a few wrinkles from the dark blue school blazer. Ideally, he should be putting it in Gaara's room, but with that brat… Ugh. The little insomniac would probably shred it with a number two pencil.
Still, he's getting a little misty-eyed thinking about seeing the hellion off to school. Ah, youth. Okay, rewind, he's not that old. He's barely into his twenties. He shouldn't be getting all sappy about sending some emotionally stunted brat to school. This is his first solo assignment, though. He's never been alone while waving goodbye to a young master about to embark on another enchanted journey into the hallowed halls of academia…
Sentimentalism dies a swift, painful death as the toaster oven cuts through the air where his head had been seconds ago and crashes into his closet.
"Good morning, master. I hope you slept well," Naruto says through gritted teeth. Serenity and compassion. Must. Not. Defenestrate. Master.
"Tch."
~*~*~*~*~
Crouching on a sturdy tree limb, the masked blond whistles lowly in appreciation at the sumptuous school grounds spread about before him. Suna Academy has money and in no way minds letting everyone else in the world know. This place is like something out of a manga, so European and imposing that it almost makes Naruto feel like a westerner by just looking at it. Heh, the place even has a ridiculously tall clock tower and fountain with fish spitting clear streams of water dramatically into the air.
And this is Gaara's school? Really? Honestly?
Naruto would have guessed the kid would be going to some shady public school filled with graffiti and other delinquents. Well, the fancy blazer should have clued him in, but, come on, what normal preppy, private school only suspends a kid for two months after putting two classmates in the hospital indefinitely?
Argh, he doesn't understand. Gaara's got money somewhere looking out for him-or itself-but he lives like an animal in thoroughly white-collar middleclass house. It's enough to make the blond man tear his hair out. Nothing makes sense.
Suck it up, Uzumaki. You've got a bento to deliver.
And ten minutes to do it in.
Good thing he put that GPS tracker in Gaara's uniform, or he'd never find the teen in this obscenely huge complex. Even with said tracker, Naruto still has to accost-and probably traumatize-several students and faculty members before he finally arrives at the right room. Waving a quick thanks with one gloved hand to the silently gaping and pointing hall monitor, he pushes open the door to the lecture room his charge should be in.
And nearly drops the damn bento.
Fuck me sideways.
He takes a second to compose himself, to shove away the blank shock and horror that want to send him into manly hysterics, and then moves.
A Kamen Maid must protect the master at all costs, even from himself.
Girlish screams and boyish shouts fall to gaping silence as two bodies crash into the desks. The students, who had before been raising a clamor over two of their classmates tussling-or more like, Gaara bashing another boy's head into a desktop, since it was obviously a very one sided fight-now whisper sharp exclamations over this most unusual of sights: a lanky, blond man wearing a frilly black-and-white maid's uniform straddling the furiously spitting Demon of their school and expertly holding the redhead down.
"Master, violence is wrong, you know." The blond pauses. "Well, mostly wrong. I mean, there are some instances where you have to use it-like if a mugger attacks you-or wait, are you just supposed to give him the money then? Anyway, master, you can't do it."
The students exchange nervous glances, shifting restlessly, confusion thick and heavy in the air. A murmur of "Did that guy just call him 'master'?" threads through the growing stream of shocked conversation. The redheaded boy roars impotently, thrashing like a mad thing beneath the maid-er-man.
"If you don't settle down, I'll tie you up again."
Dead silence.
Then a collective, "What?!"
~*~*~*~*~
The principal, an unfortunate soul to be at this school during the reign of the Bloody Demon, also known as Sabaku Gaara, takes a shaky breath and tries his best to meet the eyes of the strange man sitting before him. The strange man wearing a French maid's uniform and a black mask. Oh, no good can come of this. No good at all.
He wipes at his sweating brow with a stained handkerchief and clears his throat-or tries to, except his eyes happen to wander to the man's right and catch the cold, I'm-going-stab-you-in-the-face-in-two-seconds glare the Demon, er, Sabaku-san is sending him. He chokes instead. Then gags as a strong hand comes down upon his back.
"Oi, are you okay there, ossan?"
How in the-?
The principle gapes over his shoulder at the blond standing behind him, arm raised to delivery another helping slap. The middle-aged man hadn't even seen the other move. What is he? A ninja?
"F-Fine. I'm Fine."
Bright, diamond-sparkle smile. "That's a relief."
Inexplicably, the man finds himself flushing under the masked maid's earnest regard. His wife and teenage daughter stare reproachfully out at him from the picture on his desk. This time he manages to clear his throat successfully.
"The school allowed Sabaku-san"-the principal flinches as the teen's glare intensifies-"to return under the condition that he would behave himself. It hasn't even been one day since he came off of his suspension, yet he has already severely injured another student."
"But I stopped him. It's not like there was that much blood anyways. Kids these days have hard heads."
The principal can feel his face blanch at the stranger's casual dismissal of the violence perpetrated in the classroom just fifteen minutes ago. The blond man smiles encouragingly at him as he knocks away the mechanical pencil the redhead had been ready to stab him with and resumes his seat on the other side of the desk.
"Y-Yes, be that as it may… Who are you again and what is your relationship with the Sabaku family?"
"Me? I'm Uzumaki Naruto, level D Kamen Maid, and Gaara here is my master."
"Gah?"
~*~*~*~*~
"Eat."
Gaara glowers at the much-abused bento placed before him and at the demanding, white-gloved hand holding it down against his attempt to swipe it off the desk. Bubbles of nauseating rage pop in his stomach. He digs the fingers of his left hand into his scalp.
"Eat it or so help me I'll force feed you like a stubborn puppy."
His classmates' low, buzzing, annoying voices fill the classroom as they watch the spectacle. If Gaara rips out their long, red tongues, they wouldn't have so much to say, now would they? They've never had to do anything to earn love, never had to fight and struggle and fail; all of them, the whole disgusting, rotting lot of them, get it served to them on a silver platter by parents and friends, by complete strangers. All of them. Every single one of them. Everyone. Everyone but him.
A strong, implacable grip takes hold of his left wrist and drags his hand away. There's blood beneath his fingernails.
"Stop that."
He jerks his head away, but he can't tear his eyes away from the pair staring directly, unflinchingly at him. Pins dig into his nerve endings. That gaze hurts. It sees too much, too deeply.
Don't look at me like that!
Smack.
"O-to, abune…" The blond maid holds both wrists now, the fist attached the right one centimeters from his face. "You really want me to feed you that bad, huh?"
Gaara growls, feral, enraged, and twists, trying to break free as the man transfers his captured wrists to one hand.
"Hai, master, a-ahn!"
The redhead clamps his mouth closed against the soggy, over-saturated ramen noodles the blond man holds out to him with bamboo chopsticks. The maid smiles brilliantly, blue-blue eyes squeezing up into happy crescents.
"I have a nutritional suppository in my pocket if you're not going to eat this. So, think carefully, which end is it going to be?"
Kamen Maid, Onegai! - 1
A/N: Despite what it looks like, Naruto totally bottoms. Um... so, yeah.... He's just a very toppy kind of bottom.
For the Brave: List of My Fics
Note: I friend anyone back who friends me on my main journal, qismat_qami. So no need to ask :)
Title: Kamen Maid, Onegai
Author: qismat_qami
Warnings: AU, Slash/Yaoi, crack!fic
Pairings: Gaara/Naruto
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Owned by Kishimoto Masashi, et al.
Summary: Is your house drowning in filth? Your household falling to pieces? Enter Uzumaki Naruto, level D Kamen Maid, who dreams of putting to rights his 99th household and becoming the Queen-er-King of Maids.
::Kamen Maid, Onegai!::
A Kamen Maid should execute all peeping toms and destroyers of the household's harmony with extreme prejudice.
Unless the peeping tom happens to be your master.
Shit!
Naruto has a fraction of a second to change the trajectory of the shampoo bottle that has just left his fingertips. Protective instincts kicking in, he sends the conditioner to intercept the other hair-care projectile.
Success!
Blue shampoo gel splatters across the redhead's shocked face as the plastic bottle strikes the tiled wall and explodes. Naruto sags, razor-fine tension leaving his muscles. A close call. Little gods, he can almost hear the lecture he'd get from the old hag if he had actually managed to brain his master. Killing your master or mistress is a big no-no in the Kamen Maid Handbook. You can't bring harmony and compassion to a household with a corpse-unless it's a really, really screwed up household…
"Don't surprise me like that, master," he says with a growl, shaking the water out of his hair. "I could have killed you, seriously."
The kid opens and closes his mouth soundlessly; blue goop drips down his cheeks. Naruto scratches beneath the lower edge of his shower-proof, black plastic mask-a Kamen Maid must remain masked in all situations-and grins sheepishly. That stunned look is kind of cute, makes the whole homicidal, I'm-gonna-tear-your-spleen-out-and-force-you-to-eat-it air about Gaara a little less menacing.
Why is Gaara here anyways while he's in the bath? Another sneak attack? That little-!
The blond man takes a deep, calming breath of the fragrant, steam-laden air and exhales. Serenity and compassion.
"Do you need something?"
The teen makes a sort of weird gurgling sound, like he's choking and drowning at the same time. Naruto squints through the lazily rippling clouds of steam and takes a step closer. He missed, didn't he? Maybe the kid's got shampoo in his eye or something? Another step. The sound becomes worse. Concerned, he bounds across the short distance to stand-dripping wet and naked-before the redhead. Just in time, too.
A thin rill of blood dribbling from his left nostril, Gaara leaves the land of the conscious in a dead faint.
"Oh for the love of-!"
Now what, Uzumaki? The blond man sighs gustily as he catches the feather-light weight of his charge before the boy can knock his head loose on the doorjamb-and totally does not think, in the very back of his head, that brain trauma might improve this particular young master's disposition. Totally did not think that. Nu-uh. A Kamen Maid would never wish physical injury to strike down his master.
Okay, maybe he did, just for a second. Sorry.
~*~*~*~*~
"Don't even think about it."
Gaara withdraws his hand from the glass vase full of scraggly garden roses and glowers at the blond's back as the man pushes the mop across the kitchen floor.
Next time.
~*~*~*~*~
For the first time in his life, Uzumaki Naruto is actually looking forward to school. Granted, he's not the one going, but goddamn if he doesn't need a break of some sorts after the past three days. Humming softly to himself, he smoothes out a few wrinkles from the dark blue school blazer. Ideally, he should be putting it in Gaara's room, but with that brat… Ugh. The little insomniac would probably shred it with a number two pencil.
Still, he's getting a little misty-eyed thinking about seeing the hellion off to school. Ah, youth. Okay, rewind, he's not that old. He's barely into his twenties. He shouldn't be getting all sappy about sending some emotionally stunted brat to school. This is his first solo assignment, though. He's never been alone while waving goodbye to a young master about to embark on another enchanted journey into the hallowed halls of academia…
Sentimentalism dies a swift, painful death as the toaster oven cuts through the air where his head had been seconds ago and crashes into his closet.
"Good morning, master. I hope you slept well," Naruto says through gritted teeth. Serenity and compassion. Must. Not. Defenestrate. Master.
"Tch."
~*~*~*~*~
Crouching on a sturdy tree limb, the masked blond whistles lowly in appreciation at the sumptuous school grounds spread about before him. Suna Academy has money and in no way minds letting everyone else in the world know. This place is like something out of a manga, so European and imposing that it almost makes Naruto feel like a westerner by just looking at it. Heh, the place even has a ridiculously tall clock tower and fountain with fish spitting clear streams of water dramatically into the air.
And this is Gaara's school? Really? Honestly?
Naruto would have guessed the kid would be going to some shady public school filled with graffiti and other delinquents. Well, the fancy blazer should have clued him in, but, come on, what normal preppy, private school only suspends a kid for two months after putting two classmates in the hospital indefinitely?
Argh, he doesn't understand. Gaara's got money somewhere looking out for him-or itself-but he lives like an animal in thoroughly white-collar middleclass house. It's enough to make the blond man tear his hair out. Nothing makes sense.
Suck it up, Uzumaki. You've got a bento to deliver.
And ten minutes to do it in.
Good thing he put that GPS tracker in Gaara's uniform, or he'd never find the teen in this obscenely huge complex. Even with said tracker, Naruto still has to accost-and probably traumatize-several students and faculty members before he finally arrives at the right room. Waving a quick thanks with one gloved hand to the silently gaping and pointing hall monitor, he pushes open the door to the lecture room his charge should be in.
And nearly drops the damn bento.
Fuck me sideways.
He takes a second to compose himself, to shove away the blank shock and horror that want to send him into manly hysterics, and then moves.
A Kamen Maid must protect the master at all costs, even from himself.
Girlish screams and boyish shouts fall to gaping silence as two bodies crash into the desks. The students, who had before been raising a clamor over two of their classmates tussling-or more like, Gaara bashing another boy's head into a desktop, since it was obviously a very one sided fight-now whisper sharp exclamations over this most unusual of sights: a lanky, blond man wearing a frilly black-and-white maid's uniform straddling the furiously spitting Demon of their school and expertly holding the redhead down.
"Master, violence is wrong, you know." The blond pauses. "Well, mostly wrong. I mean, there are some instances where you have to use it-like if a mugger attacks you-or wait, are you just supposed to give him the money then? Anyway, master, you can't do it."
The students exchange nervous glances, shifting restlessly, confusion thick and heavy in the air. A murmur of "Did that guy just call him 'master'?" threads through the growing stream of shocked conversation. The redheaded boy roars impotently, thrashing like a mad thing beneath the maid-er-man.
"If you don't settle down, I'll tie you up again."
Dead silence.
Then a collective, "What?!"
~*~*~*~*~
The principal, an unfortunate soul to be at this school during the reign of the Bloody Demon, also known as Sabaku Gaara, takes a shaky breath and tries his best to meet the eyes of the strange man sitting before him. The strange man wearing a French maid's uniform and a black mask. Oh, no good can come of this. No good at all.
He wipes at his sweating brow with a stained handkerchief and clears his throat-or tries to, except his eyes happen to wander to the man's right and catch the cold, I'm-going-stab-you-in-the-face-in-two-seconds glare the Demon, er, Sabaku-san is sending him. He chokes instead. Then gags as a strong hand comes down upon his back.
"Oi, are you okay there, ossan?"
How in the-?
The principle gapes over his shoulder at the blond standing behind him, arm raised to delivery another helping slap. The middle-aged man hadn't even seen the other move. What is he? A ninja?
"F-Fine. I'm Fine."
Bright, diamond-sparkle smile. "That's a relief."
Inexplicably, the man finds himself flushing under the masked maid's earnest regard. His wife and teenage daughter stare reproachfully out at him from the picture on his desk. This time he manages to clear his throat successfully.
"The school allowed Sabaku-san"-the principal flinches as the teen's glare intensifies-"to return under the condition that he would behave himself. It hasn't even been one day since he came off of his suspension, yet he has already severely injured another student."
"But I stopped him. It's not like there was that much blood anyways. Kids these days have hard heads."
The principal can feel his face blanch at the stranger's casual dismissal of the violence perpetrated in the classroom just fifteen minutes ago. The blond man smiles encouragingly at him as he knocks away the mechanical pencil the redhead had been ready to stab him with and resumes his seat on the other side of the desk.
"Y-Yes, be that as it may… Who are you again and what is your relationship with the Sabaku family?"
"Me? I'm Uzumaki Naruto, level D Kamen Maid, and Gaara here is my master."
"Gah?"
~*~*~*~*~
"Eat."
Gaara glowers at the much-abused bento placed before him and at the demanding, white-gloved hand holding it down against his attempt to swipe it off the desk. Bubbles of nauseating rage pop in his stomach. He digs the fingers of his left hand into his scalp.
"Eat it or so help me I'll force feed you like a stubborn puppy."
His classmates' low, buzzing, annoying voices fill the classroom as they watch the spectacle. If Gaara rips out their long, red tongues, they wouldn't have so much to say, now would they? They've never had to do anything to earn love, never had to fight and struggle and fail; all of them, the whole disgusting, rotting lot of them, get it served to them on a silver platter by parents and friends, by complete strangers. All of them. Every single one of them. Everyone. Everyone but him.
A strong, implacable grip takes hold of his left wrist and drags his hand away. There's blood beneath his fingernails.
"Stop that."
He jerks his head away, but he can't tear his eyes away from the pair staring directly, unflinchingly at him. Pins dig into his nerve endings. That gaze hurts. It sees too much, too deeply.
Don't look at me like that!
Smack.
"O-to, abune…" The blond maid holds both wrists now, the fist attached the right one centimeters from his face. "You really want me to feed you that bad, huh?"
Gaara growls, feral, enraged, and twists, trying to break free as the man transfers his captured wrists to one hand.
"Hai, master, a-ahn!"
The redhead clamps his mouth closed against the soggy, over-saturated ramen noodles the blond man holds out to him with bamboo chopsticks. The maid smiles brilliantly, blue-blue eyes squeezing up into happy crescents.
"I have a nutritional suppository in my pocket if you're not going to eat this. So, think carefully, which end is it going to be?"
Kamen Maid, Onegai! - 1
A/N: Despite what it looks like, Naruto totally bottoms. Um... so, yeah.... He's just a very toppy kind of bottom.
For the Brave: List of My Fics
Note: I friend anyone back who friends me on my main journal, qismat_qami. So no need to ask :)