Naruto: Stepping Stones

[tuesdayfic]

Title: Stepping Stones
Fandom: Naruto
Pairing: Lee/Gaara, assorted (suffers from Nearly Everyone Is Gay syndrome)
Rating: R
Notes: For qbic1, who is awesome and patient and won me via Sweet Charity. This thing has been beta poison, so extra special thanks to hello_scorpling for doing a plot/characterization beta of this. Sorry that this isn't further betaed, but seriously. LIKE POISON. Thanks to everyone who tried. I am just glad to get this out of my wip folder. It's, uh, only a hundred or so off 11,000 words. I was originally thinking one to five thousand. Ahahaha, so wrong.

Originally this started as just Lee/Gaara with the intention of showing what many people in the village thought, but it ended up sprawling out with so many different viewpoints into a bunch of smaller stories set chronologically and centered around the story of Suna and Konoha moving from being tense, temporary allies to having built strong ties of friendship and a permanent alliance, as well as working out some of the problems I can see inherent in a relationship between Gaara and Lee. I may try re-writing this someday without so many weird self-imposed rules (like only repeating Lee and Gaara's povs, no major character death, etc). But not for a very long time.


The first time Lee noticed Gaara watching him, he ignored it. He only caught a glimpse of moving sand from the corner of his vision and he continued the kata smoothly, letting it draw him in, losing himself in the flow from form to form. If Gaara wanted something, he would ask. Meanwhile, Lee had a training schedule to keep if he wanted to open the seventh Lotus by the time he was twenty. There was only the burn of muscle and sweat sliding down his back; the curl of his fingers and the air against his skin. Lee didn’t notice when, exactly, Gaara left, only that his presence was gone by the time Lee finally dropped out of the last form and began his cool downs.

--

The first time Naruto noticed, he asked in that admittedly clumsy way of his, cutting to the heart like a small child with a training kunai-no grace, just curiosity and determination to know. “Why’re you watching Fuzzy Brows?” Naruto asked, crouched on the side of the tree trunk like a clinging tree frog, much more adept at seventeen than eleven. The bark no longer dented in impact from his chakra; in matters of ninjutsu, Naruto was learning control. His social manners, however, were still in need of extra training if Gaara's expression at his next words were anything to go by.

“I mean, it’s kind of freaky.” Gaara narrowed his eyes, and Naruto waved his hands in calming circles. “Not that it’s bad, just, it’s gotta make a guy wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

Gaara’s voice was perfectly flat; his eyes revealed less obvious emotion than would moss on stone. Still, there was something in him that Naruto responded to, recognized on some primal level. It was with a great deal of surprise that he turned back to watch Lee continue to pummel the training blocks in front of them. The large, sturdy blocks of rock, oak, and metal had been created especially for him, only days previous, but already Lee had reduced them to teetering, fragile wrecks, each light tag causing them to sway alarmingly into one another. His body was a blur of green, black, and orange, only the occasional brief deceleration to correct a kick into an infinitesimally more precise line allowing for a brief glance at his tense face, eyes wide, brows furrowed, lips pulled into a stiff line a direct contrast to their usual friendly curve. With one spin kick, the wood of one training block shattered; the pieces scattered across the clearing and Lee moved with them, through them, never faltering as he turned the movement of dodging larger flying pieces into a smoothly aimed punch at yet another block.

“I can see the appeal,” Naruto admitted finally, held the image of fierce will reflected in Lee’s dark eyes against another’s-a benchmark he could never abandon, even now, especially now-and couldn't find him wanting. But Lee had proven time again he’d choose friends and village above all else, and the thought alone still left a dull ache in Naruto's chest. Naruto could admire admiring that sort of loyalty. He couldn’t admit to the smallest spark of envy, instead clapping a hand on Gaara’s shoulder. “Good luck,” Naruto said, and, grin stretching his cheeks tight, shoved Gaara off the branch.

In hindsight, Naruto realized-the gourd’s sand flying out in two waves, one to slow Gaara’s fall into a controlled descent and another to rush in a wave of playful danger aimed at Naruto's face-maybe that he hadn't chosen the best of strategies. It took the better part of the afternoon to convince Gaara that, no, he really hadn’t wanted to spar, and the entire evening to convince him that no, he didn't really want to now, either. Lee had long since stumbled off to bed by the time Gaara believed him, or at least got bored with chasing Naruto around the village, and Naruto decisively crossed “matchmaker” off his list of potential talents.

--

Sakura noticed the turn before Lee did. "Are you happy?" she asked him.

"What do you mean?"

Sakura smiled and examined the fall of Lee’s hair over his eyes, getting a little long again; the way he clasped his simple, dark brown chopsticks loosely in one hand, not eating so much as waiting; the wander of his gaze despite his best intentions to where Gaara sat at the head table with Tsunade and Naruto, sharing a bottle of sake with them to commemorate another anniversary of Konoha and Suna’s official treaty. Tsunade waved at Naruto to pour for Gaara as though simply passing on one more important ceremonial duty to her chosen successor, and Sakura hid a smile at how Naruto turned red and gave a flustered sort of answer that meant he was probably complaining about only being given the ornamental rather than practical duties, and Tsunade's sharp retort that, if Sakura's lip-reading skills hadn't yet grown too rusty, said quite clearly that this instance was "both an important symbolic moment and extremely practical." Gaara took the bottle with a careful grace, pouring for both Tsunade and Naruto with the utmost of formality.

Sakura noted that after the first sip, Gaara didn’t actually drink. At first, he seemed to be listening intently to what Naruto was shouting happily as he flailed his hands and arms. Then, Naruto suddenly grinned over at their table, and Gaara, too, turned to look, eyes lingering briefly on Sakura and her proximity to Lee, then moving on to Lee himself. Sakura felt herself blush a little at the intensity of that stare, not even directed at her, and she saw Lee swallow hard. He fiddled nervously with the chopsticks for a moment, and finally Gaara turned away, back to Naruto. He said something, and Naruto laughed again, smile brilliant.

“Keep this up, Naruto, and Sai will get jealous,” Sakura muttered under her breath.

“What?” asked Lee.

“Nothing,” Sakura said. “Are you going to eat that?” she asked and snagged one of the dumplings with her chopsticks. Lee also dug in, and they spent several comfortable minutes enjoying the food, the heat of the summer night, the background chatter of their friends and teams around them.

“I am,” Lee said finally, putting down his chopsticks. He was watching Gaara again. “Happy, that is.”

“Good,” said Sakura.

Lee’s gaze returned to her. “I am lucky to have so many good friends.”

Sakura looked at Naruto and Gaara, whom Naruto had finally gotten to smile the tiniest, shocking bit, lips curling at the corners for a moment so brief she almost thought she imagined it.

If Lee's absent smile was anything to go by, though, it had been as real, if fleeting, as the taste of rice wine and spices lingering on her tongue. Looking back at Naruto and feeling a distinct echoing pang of sympathy, she said, “We all are.”

--

Ino tended to notice anything related to Sakura, however indirectly, and couldn't help but engage in a little idle gossip with her team. "Did you hear Sakura got dumped?" she asked, leaning over Chouji's shoulder, the blonde of her ponytail dangling down his back and clashing with the red of his shirt. Chouji blinked and shifted to accommodate her weight. Shikamaru squinted at them, but wasn't jealous; if Ino wanted to get potato chip crumbs down her shirt, he wished her all the joy of that. The grass was soft under his arms and legs, and the bag half empty. Shikamaru could be patient.

"I wasn't aware she was dating anyone," Chouji said, cautiously encouraging her before shoving another handful of chips in his mouth in case he was expected to comment. Shikamaru'd seen that trick before, the last time when Ino'd demanded, face red and eyes flickering from anger to concern back to anger again, to know what happened with Temari and whether she needed to go choke a bitch. Shikamaru still didn't want to know which way that showdown would have gone; whatever happened, he would have been the one forced to clean up the mess of the aftermath.

Eyes on the sky and lips curving just the tiniest bit, Shikamaru enjoyed the weight of Chouji's hand resting on his shoulder as they listened to the rise and fall of Ino's voice as she cast aspersions on Sakura's entirely (despite Lee's past overtures) platonic relationship with Lee, then proceeded to make insinuations about Lee's current time spent with Gaara. In Ino's world, all that sparring had to mean something. There was the normal training to stay on top as a ninja, and then there were the implications of spending that much time fighting over who was "on top" (she said this time with a leer), with all that sweat and touching; and Shikamaru was seriously considering pointing out in return that Ino and Sakura were also spending an unusual amount of time these days training together.

As a distraction from the danger, Shikamaru rubbed Chouji's hand with his shoulder as though merely restless, and briefly considered the possibilities. Lee was requesting more of the message missions to Sand, and it was unusual for the kazekage to visit this often, even if it was only once or twice a season. But even at their current furthest possible progression, Shikamaru decided, Lee hadn't made any overtures past friendship, and Gaara probably hadn't considered more than that. Still, of the possibilities, Lee's chances were probably higher than the average person. The logistics of courting Gaara hurt Shikamaru's brain, but even he had to admit it would take someone with a thick skull and endless, tiring energy like Lee's to break through that shell.

Ino, however, didn't care about any of that. Eying her flashing eyes and waving hands, Shikamaru saw right through her. It was becoming almost tiresome, and there was at least a sixty percent chance of initial success (though a ninety-seven percent chance of later, horrible, screaming failure that Shikamaru and Chouji would probably have to deal with). "Have you considered just asking her out?" Shikamaru finally asked, pushing her gently out of the way to put his head in Chouji's lap now that the potato chips were gone.

"WHAT?" Ino screeched.

Shikamaru sighed and thought about how serene the clouds looked, so distant, floating free and away.

--

Temari was pretty sure her little brother had a crush. In some ways, it was the most disturbing thing ever, even more so than her realization at the age of seven that her other little brother was more interested in her dolls and make up than she was. In other ways, it was almost heartbreaking, calling up in her a breathtaking mix of hope and despair. More-so than perhaps even Gaara himself, Temari was aware of how fragile Gaara could be, of how the slightest words or actions could bolster him, or shatter important pieces of him beyond recall, like steel incorrectly forged. This was a situation beyond her wildest hopes and imaginings, and she was incapable of conveying just how terrified she was at things going wrong. Even that smart-ass Shikamaru would be daunted and uncertain how, exactly, to proceed.

"Gaara."

Gaara looked up from his strangely orderly desk, a few scrolls lined up on one edge, an ink pot and writing stylus along another. The wood shone and not a single grain of sand rested on its surface. Gaara had been still lately, in a way he hadn't been before. Even after he became kazekage, he'd retained some of his uneasiness, a restlessness best visible in his frequent patrols and constant training, in his persistent push to learn and invent, improvise and perfect his jutsu. Never, though, had she seen him this still, this focused in on himself. It wasn't the same as his fits in childhood, when hours after the bloodshed he would sit in the corner with his creepy, stained and torn teddy, crooning softly to himself. It wasn't even the same as the weeks following his fight with Naruto, when he'd gone quiet and then missing for days at a time, returning only to stare with an intent strangeness at her and at Kankurou, only to disappear again.

"Yes?" he asked after an awkward silence in which Temari desperately struggled with the protective urges that had first risen when she caught a glimpse of his red and squalling face half-hidden in her father's arms before he was taken away, urges that had somehow survived dormant through the years of blood and madness, only to bloom anew the first time Gaara told her, voice halting, stumbling through words he didn't fully understand, that he didn't know what family was supposed to be, but that he wanted to try to find out, if she and Kankurou had the time, the inclination, to see that like Naruto he could be more than a monster.

Steeling herself with the knowledge that there was little, if anything, she could protect him from, even himself, Temari said, "You really need to talk to him about it."

Temari watched the click-click-click of Gaara's mind slotting together her words, deciding who she was talking about, reasons why, and what it was he was supposed to relate to Lee. Gaara slid one of the scrolls forward to face Temari. She picked it up slowly, unrolling it and glancing over the flowing script. The scroll was fairly light for something weighed down with such heavy words. She looked over the edge at Gaara's carefully blank face, trying to capture the words tumbling around in her like pebbles tossed in a volcano spring, bubbling up only to be sucked back under.

"Lee always struck me as the type to say something in person rather than send love letters," she said in unbidden impulse.

Gaara no longer twitched at the word "love." His face changed, as though someone had smoothed all the rigid muscles to a true calm, and Temari felt that hard something in her chest unfurl a little at that. Even if it all ended in blood and disaster, it would almost be worth it to see his face so near relaxation that she could almost squint her eyes and pretend.

"He will be part of the team accompanying the Hokage to the festival of flames in six weeks," Gaara said, taking the scroll back and re-rolling it. He set it back down on the desk with the others. He resumed the same inner stillness as before, as though his entire being was focused on the days ahead, even as he pulled out a different scroll and resumed his daily duties as kazekage. Temari stood there for a moment, wondering if Kankurou knew, if Tsunade-sama knew, if Shikamaru had known when he'd told her that the only options open to her brother would never truly please her, before he'd just gotten vicious and said she'd never be happy with anything and she'd told him certainly not with him, and he'd said something to which the only reasonable response was punching him in the face so hard she felt the imprint of his cheekbone on her knuckles for weeks to come.

She rubbed her hands lightly together, bowed, and let herself out of Gaara's office to go sit on the east wall and await Kankurou's return.

--

Getting to be part of the diplomatic team to Suna was an honor, Kiba told himself. An honor, like Shino said. Right. Kiba glared Shino’s way and wondered how much blame he could shove his teammate’s way if he convinced Akamaru to go on a rampage to maybe lighten up this boring festival. That long table with the piles of boring food and boring drinks and no real booze in sight was just asking for it, and he hadn’t used the fleas excuse in a while.

Shino drifted closer and whispered, “You are nearly nineteen. Act like it,” into Kiba’s ear. He stood way too close, but it was only to keep his words from drifting to any of the surrounding Suna shinobi, nothing fun at all. Shino was entirely too concerned with Kiba becoming a diplomatic incident, when really Shino might want to be a little more interested in their third teammate or Team Guy. If the kazekage’s brother didn’t stop looking at their innocent Hinata like that, Kiba would show him just what kind of diplomatic incident he could pull.

More disturbing than that (because Kiba could understand that his team was so smoking they had to hide their hot asses under baggy winter wear, disappointing as that might be to the rest of the world) was the kazekage himself and whatever was going on with Rock Lee. Seriously. Who knew what was going on there.

When they’d first arrived, the kazekage had pulled Lee aside, and the two hadn’t been seen more than forty feet away since. Currently, they were standing together by one of the large braziers, Lee’s face flushed red and easily visible in the pocket of light, and Kiba strongly suspected that the blush was less from the heat of the flames than from the fact Gaara of the Fucking Sand was only centimeters away.

Then Gaara was drawing away to make another boring speech, followed by an equally boring speech from Tsunade. Even Naruto stepped up in front of the mingling crowd to make his own boring speech, though it was thankfully much shorter, and he ended it with a cheerful, “Let the games begin!”

“Games?” Kiba asked Shino.

Shino was tracking Hinata’s path through the press to finally rejoin them. “It would appear,” he said, “that the Festival of Flames is a night not only of renewed vows, but also more specifically one for lovers. Oddly appropriate.”

It was at this point that Kiba noticed the small sparkling sticks being handed out and those making their way to some of the braziers in twos, hands clasped, to light their sticks together. “This is possibly the most perverted festival I’ve ever been to,” he said with no small joy. “And here I thought it was fucking boring.”

“Boring, yes,” Shino admitted and turned to look Kiba’s way, gracefully accepting two sticks from a petite brunette carrying a basketful. “But for the rest, who yet knows what the night will hold?”

Kiba maybe stared a little while, mouth open, and then Hinata had reached them. She placed a hand on Akamaru’s head and smiled at them. “Um, can I, uh, stay with you two tonight?” Kiba hadn’t heard her so out of sorts since she’d confessed she once had a thing for Naruto’s skinny ass.

He looked back out at the crowd and saw a disappointed-looking Kankurou staring forlornly their way, clutching two sticks of his own.

Shino snagged another stick and offered it to Hinata, and Kiba may have made a squawking, indignant noise. Or maybe it was just indigestion. “It is perfectly acceptable at this festival to burn alone,” Shino said calmly, and clasped Kiba’s forearm with one hand. “Please look after Akamaru for us.”

And if maybe Kiba’s eyes were subjected to things like watching Gaara and Lee light their sticks together and slink off into the night, or if he was restrained from going over there and having a talk with Kankurou, the end of Kiba’s night, at least, was far from boring.

--

"Guy, this is starting to get ridiculous."

"Shhh, they'll hear us." Guy held a pointed finger in front of his face, eyes wide with urgency. A stray leaf was caught in his hair, and a smudge of dirt ran the length of the left side of his jaw. Kakashi sighed and pulled the leaf out of Guy's hair.

"They know we're here." Kakashi began to straighten from his place crouched among the bushes like an unwary genin, but Guy pulled him down to land with a loud crash into an undignified heap. They were the antithesis of ninja grace and stealth, but apparently Guy felt a need to keep up the flimsiest of appearances. Kakashi sighed again and didn't point out that Gaara had been steadily gazing their way for the past five minutes, and Lee was so pointedly Not Noticing them that he hadn't actually glanced east since their arrival.

"I really hope that you didn't do this to Sakura," Kakashi muttered mostly to himself, shifting beneath Guy impatiently, and stared through the screen of leaves at Lee seated next to Gaara in the grass, a few battered weapons arrayed around them, remnants of their earlier spar. Their positions were almost innocuous, almost looked to be a coincidence of two people taking advantage of the same shade the large oak afforded, sitting a seemly two feet apart, almost maintained the illusion of their previous friendship in the ways their bodies did not shift toward one another's, maintained their own separate language and positioning-almost made it unnecessary for Kakashi to be here if not for their hands, Lee's stretched over Gaara's in a compromise of public affection.

"Of course not," Guy answered Kakashi, not shifting off him, mere inches away from snuggling, Kakashi suspected. "They were never serious about one another."

Lee flushed a deep red at this, but the only other indication he heard was a brief tightening of his fingers against Gaara's. Kakashi would have felt pity for the kid, but he still remembered that too long week when Lee had practically camped out at his doorstep and demanded to know if the rumors were true and if he was treating Guy well if so, and somehow had also managed to bring his teammates along for the ride. Honestly, whatever embarrassment Lee might feel at this moment was well balanced out by that he forced unto others, Kakashi especially, and knowing Lee's strange paternal relationship with Guy, Lee probably would have been hurt if Guy didn't show he cared through clumsy date stalking. Kakashi merely dreaded repercussions and possible revenge.

The one thing Kakashi didn't understand, eying their clasped hands thoughtfully, was why Gaara was putting up with it.

--

Gaara hadn't quite figured out what the appeal of this was, this slide of skin against skin. It was . . . nice, he supposed, tried to make that word fit with the feel of nerve endings lighting to life, awareness building in a slow burn.

It was better than the feel of small explosions tearing through skin, less significant than the gash of two heads colliding.

Gaara was gradually gaining experience with these conscious touches made without harmful intent, but he still didn't understand the difference between skimming his hand along Lee's side and the skittering fingers that covered his own hours before. Both fed some small flame inside Gaara, warmed a place he'd long thought cold and hollow, in which only ashes remained. But where one movement turned Lee an interesting pink to the tips of his ears and somehow caused his hands to shake when Gaara hesitantly mirrored that clasping grasp he'd seen others form before, the other motion elicited a low moan and Lee's surrender, neck bared and vulnerable.

Gaara wanted to ask if this was maybe some different form of fighting, then-it certainly felt like a struggle, adrenaline coursing through him-and if he should stop now that he was proven the obvious victor. Then Lee made an interesting sound Gaara had never heard before, a whine deep in the back of his throat, and some unknown impulse in Gaara rose up to lean forward and take what was offered.

With great caution, he did so, licking at Lee's throat, gently biting a shoulder. Lee made flustered sounds of encouragement as Gaara marked him, made Lee his in ways he'd never thought he'd be interested during that brief talk about sex when he was twelve and Temari thought he should know before he got any urges, "especially with that Naruto kid." And though Naruto had sparked in him a light in a place long gone dark, it wasn't the same spark, the same frisson he felt run down his spine preceding Lee's hands.

Lee swallowed twice, and Gaara watched the bob of his Adam's apple, mesmerized by the combination of fragility and strength in the curves there.

"Gaara." Lee paused, tongue sliding along his lower lip, and repeated himself, asked, voice low and breathless, "Gaara, may I?"

Gaara traced Lee's biceps, moved his hands from the tops of Lee's arms to the wings of his shoulder blades. He closed his eyes and weighed the moment in his mind, inhaled the musky scent of Lee and the clean smell of sand drifting with the heat in through the windows and parted curtains, felt with the tips of his fingers the sweat slicking their skin and the sun-roughened patches of Lee's skin clashing with the smooth lines of old scars, listened intently to Lee's deep, unsteady breathing and the sheets rasping together.

“No,” said Gaara. “Not yet.”

He opened his eyes and dipped his head back to the juncture of Lee's neck and shoulder, tasted the salt gathered there. Lee leaned back and hummed with a sort of pleasure. He didn't ask again.

--

“Are you paying attention?” Tsunade demanded, palms flat on her desk lest she do something she would regret, no matter how good it might feel right that moment.

The kazekage finally looked at her, away from the window, gaze blank, and answered, “Of course.”

Tsunade’s hands clenched, fingernails digging hard into her palm, and Shizune stepped forward to put a hand on her arm, tips of her fingers sliding along Tsunade's skin.

"Perhaps we should take a short break," Shizune suggested in her most calming of voices, as though taming lions or talking someone down from a ledge.

Gaara stood and bowed shortly.

"What's taking them so long to get back?" Tsunade growled. "He's useless like this."

Shizune smiled. "And you're too irritable. You're both worried."

“I'm not worried about anyone. The advantages of village truces have already been proven by our relationship with Suna. Naruto's had some experience with diplomacy, and all that's left is the formalities of signing the damn papers.” Tsunade got out a bottle of cheap rice wine from the bottom drawer. After only a brief struggle, she surrendered it to Shizune, who returned it to the drawer and fixed Tsunade with a miffed, disappointed expression, lower lip jutting out and eyes narrowed.

"You still have work," Shizune said pointedly.

"There's nothing to be accomplished for what could be hours yet," Tsunade replied.

They sat at the conference table for several comfortable minutes, shoulders nearly touching, and stared out the window as Gaara had before. The main gate wasn't quite visible from here, but the most direct path from it was. They couldn't see Gaara standing along it, but that didn't mean he wasn't there or waiting impatiently on the top of the village walls.

"It's kind of romantic," Shizune said finally, smile tinged with something like wistfulness, bumping their shoulders together with a gentle collision.

"It's annoying." Shizune went stiff and offended in a way that spelled out clearly to Tsunade that she would be doing all her own damn paperwork today. Tsunade sighed and mentally shoved it aside for Naruto to deal with on his return. "Look, I." Tsunade stopped.

Damn Dan anyway for leaving her in this situation.

She reached out a tentative hand, touching the smooth fabric over Shizune's shoulder. What was a woman supposed to say in a situation like this? Was it any different than a man? Jiraiya would have made a comment about how Tsunade was manly enough for the both of them at this point, and she'd have punched him, status quo easily reestablished. Tsunade stroked the fabric lightly, barely allowing herself to feel the shape of bone and muscle underneath.

"Not you," she gentled her voice. "I didn't mean-"

And then the damn kid burst in, her usually more sensible apprentice trailing. "Tsunade-sama, it's-" Sakura huffed out breathlessly.

"We need you downstairs. Now," Naruto interjected, eyes sharp and blood trailing down his chin. He didn't wait for her, skidding around and disappearing down the hall and out a window before Tsunade had done more than sling her med pack over her shoulder to follow.

The question of what happened with the Iwagakure treaty negotiations would have to wait until she’d seen to the wounded. By the time she got down there, though, Gaara had already taken off with Kankurou and Naruto had his hands pressed hard against Lee's stomach, thinking clearly enough to put pressure on the wound, but in no shape to answer any questions. "Gaara's taking care of it," was all he said, and Tsunade had to swallow back the first five responses.

"Fine, Sakura! I need you over here!" Tsunade had the feeling it was going to be an even longer day than she'd first anticipated. And Shizune was probably already hiding the liquor. Hands steady, but teeth clenched, Tsunade said, "Damn it." And to think that it had all seemed so simple only days ago.

--

Once when Kankurou was five he had defied his father and trailed after his little brother like a sparrow fluttering after a baby hawk. Like his brother, he'd slipped the leash and his keepers, though there was a lot more darting through the marketplace and slipping unseen into a nearby window on Kankurou's part than the psychotic breaks and accidents of too much force and too little understanding that marked Gaara's release into the general masses (though Kankurou now suspected some small measure of compassion might have existed there, before being snuffed out like a weak and flickering flame between his father's long, strong fingers).

Kankurou had waited five minutes to make certain he was safe from prying eyes before skulking off, excited to see the baby brother always sequestered away in total secrecy and separation. Kankurou'd never before even been allowed out of his rooms on the days when Gaara had somehow broken free and away. Kankurou had wondered, with the idle enthusiasm of that age, will he have hair like mine, or like Temari-nee-chan's? These days, Temari would say Gaara and Kankurou had the same bland desert hair, but at the time Kankurou had thought his a gentle, boring blend of adobe. Gaara's hair had shone and gleamed like the new-released blood he'd trailed his fingers through, fed to the sand drifting as eagerly at his feet as a pack of puppies begging for table scraps.

When Kankurou's trainers had finally found him, he'd been curled tight in Temari's arms and trying to blink the afterburn of the image from his eyes with little success.

That blank, empty look in Gaara's eyes that had so frightened Kankurou at five still scared the shit out of him at twenty, and Kankurou'd hoped never to see it again the day Gaara had solemnly accepted the kazekage's cap and robes along with the halting trust of all of Sunagakure. Then again, he'd also hoped not to be the only one of his siblings to die a virgin, and if he didn't get his head back in the game and off of the idea of what might happen to Gaara if that stupid reckless fucker he was dating hadn't pulled through the surgeries scheduled in the weeks they'd been gone, if he didn't pay more attention to the flash of kunai and blur of approaching skin and muscle that indicated someone slipping between Karasu and Sanshouo than to the all-too-familiar sound of sand grinding against blood and bone, if Kankurou couldn't just pull it together and focus past the lack of sleep and the burning muscles from three weeks' straight pursuit, then Kankurou was going to get his goddamn throat slit, and what use would his hopes be then?

The minutes drew past, and the second time Kankurou came close to having to use his admittedly poor skills for hand-to-hand, a scythe of sand flashed in front of him, the only indication so far that Gaara was aware of more than vengeance and the tang of piss and copper in the air.

After the last thud of the final body to earth, Kankurou relaxed enough to wipe the sweat from his eyes and peel the worst of the dried blood from his hands. He checked on Gaara, then, standing back and assessing the way Gaara stood motionless, swaying a little, though not in time with the shifting sand-and for that, at least, Kankurou could be grateful.

"War, then?" he asked, moving to his weapons to start the cleaning process. If what they'd heard before the ambush and they'd had to abandon the captured Iwa shinobi to die was true-and with their training and Gaara's cold, burning anger, Kankurou was sure it was nothing more than truth and pain and terror-he would need his tools to be in their best condition for the trip home.

Gaara nodded, brief, eyes shadowed as he pulled away from the body. "Yes. Tsunade would agree. War."

--

"You will stay right there, young man, and you will rest." Guy had gone ultra-paternal, and Tenten was doing her best to stay supportively in the shadows where she couldn't be dragged into this latest argument.

If Guy would just leave, then she and Neji could tie Lee to the bed again and have done with it, at least until supper and Sakura came to keep him company. Tenten looked at Neji in silent pleading, but he just gave that small shrug as if to say, "What can you do?" Which, okay, yeah, Tenten kind of agreed-Guy and Lee were a force unto themselves-but if this weren't stopped, soon, there would be speeches and group hugs, and there was just too much testosterone and temptation toward wandering hands for Tenten today, especially considering Neji had his hair down and the hospital had caved to Lee's pestering on the spandex. Tenten couldn't be held responsible for ass-gropage if she was forced into close proximity. She still wasn't certain how she'd survived puberty with her team between the spandex and Neji's tendency to train half-naked when keeping track of his changing reach.

"Just a little training, to warm my muscles up," Lee protested.

"Get back in that bed before I come over there!"

Tenten wondered if Neji would kill her if she copped a feel, or if it would be like that time when they were fourteen when he had turned bright red like Lee opening his second gate, and then refused to acknowledge it had ever happened, even when she brought it up while trashed during her seventeenth birthday. She still suspected Lee subsequently having been given some of the alcohol was less accident and more the result of typical Hyuuga reticence.

"I'm not a child anymore!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

Neji huffed out a little sigh and moved closer to the wall. Tenten followed his lead and also got the hell out of the way.

"That's it!" Guy rushed through the space Tenten and Neji had occupied mere seconds before, grabbing Lee and wrestling him back in the bed. "Oh, Lee, why must you be so difficult? Your body needs the opportunity to heal."

This was it. Tenten braced herself. Any moment now would come the tears and the call for a group hug. She edged a little closer to Neji.

Sakura burst through the door. "What the hell is going on here?"

Lee and Guy stopped struggling, moving apart with all the air of guilty genin caught out by their team leader.

"You," she pointed at Lee, eyes narrowed. "Back in the bed." Sulking slightly, Lee lay back down on the hospital bed. "And you," she pointed at Guy. "Stop disturbing my patient." She turned then to Neji and Tenten, hands on her hips. "You're supposed to stop them." Neji gave his usual apathetic shrug, but this didn't seem to hold much weight with Sakura. She'd picked up all the bad-ass traits of Tsunade, and her temper hadn't exactly been the greatest before her internship. Tenten still remembered how Sakura'd smacked Naruto around when he'd really pissed her off.

Sakura turned back to Lee. "If you're good, I'll let you see your visitor later."

Lee sat back up. "Visitor?"

An unexpected voice came from outside the window, and Tenten nearly jumped. "I don't believe that's up to you," Gaara said, stepping off his cloud of sand and onto the window's ledge, ducking through and into the room.

Sakura had apparently had a Bad Day, and she merely crossed her arms and said coolly, "Lee is my patient. I believe it is." They stared at one another for one brief, intense moment, during which Tenten moved even closer to Neji, because she wasn't a coward, but damn, there were some battles one simply shouldn't fight.

And then suddenly Sakura was smirking, and said, "Well, I'm not one to get in the way of epic romance." Lee turned two shades brighter than Gaara's hair, and Sakura turned on her heel and left the room. Looking from Gaara to Lee and back again, Tenten took decisive action and grabbed Neji's hand and followed her.

--

Chouji bit down on the sour-sweet taste of the yellow pill, wincing at the bitter taste that flooded his mouth. He tried not to think of how the candy red pill was waiting, how likely it would be that he would need to switch to that, too, if he wanted to see everyone else live through this. Shikamaru would kill him. Never mind Chouji'd probably be dead anyway considering the dearth of med-nin available to help and their antidote supply having washed away during the river fight-Shikamaru would find a way. Chouji risked a brief glance his way, where he was listing slowly to the side from chakra exhaustion. Ino was already close enough to fend off the senbo wielder headed his way. Chouji swallowed hard and moved for the larger group in front.

Neji was forty feet behind him, and Shino was already withdrawing to the east. He'd lost track of Kiba, but that was miles ago, when he'd broken off with Hinata toward the southern camp. No friends or allies in the way, just ten shinobi with sharp weapons and sharper stares, never missing a beat, already dispersing or readying jutsu of their own. No two ways about it, this was going to hurt. He activated his jutsu, feeling the tearing and building of a quickened expansion, forest shrinking, enemies like ants before him, and then he was crashing forward, crushing any number of trees and at least two shinobi beneath him.

It wasn't enough, and when he'd righted himself he could see the small figures converging on Shikamaru and Ino. Neji was facing off against three enemies of his own, and already the world was expanding again. Reaching into his pocket, Chouji knew it was time for the rush of the red pill and chakra butterfly wings.

"Don't worry, chubby." Chouji turned his head to see Kankurou appear a little ways behind him, hands raised. His puppets blew past them to tear into those nearest Ino. Right behind, Temari flitted forward, fan at the ready, and took out one of Neji's enemies with a well-turned flick of her wrist. Kankurou smirked and leaned back against a tree trunk. "We've got this."

Chouji let the red pill drop back into his pocket, but rushed forward, back to Shikamaru. Kankurou made an indignant sound behind him at the treatment, and Temari was saying something disparaging to Neji off to his right, but Chouji paid attention only to the shinobi closest to Shikamaru's prone body, and, once they were taken care of, to bundling up Shikamaru gently in his arms.

"M'alright," Shikamaru mumbled into his ear. "I can walk. M'just tired."

"That's okay," Chouji said, confident that the rest would be taken care of by his team and the Suna shinobi, that Gaara was out there somewhere, probably saving Shino or off with Kiba and Hinata. "I can carry you."

--

"I forbid it."

Lee ignored this, pulling on his legwarmers, his sandals, reaching for his tack vest only to encounter a barrier of sand. “We’ve already proven I can force my way through this,” he said, staring at where his vest should be until the sand drew apart and away. He reached for the vest once more, and this time encountered resistance in the form of Gaara’s slim fingers closing over his wrist.

“You don’t have to go,” said Gaara.

“I’m a shinobi of Konoha,” Lee replied. “My duty calls me.”

“You could fulfill your duty here just as well.”

“I’m a shinobi of Konoha,” Lee repeated. “My duty calls.”

Gaara tightened his grip, but Lee didn’t pull away, simply followed with his eyes from the fingers digging into skin to Gaara’s bony wrists, along his forearm, to the crook of his elbows where Lee had once placed the gentlest of kisses, to Gaara’s sharp shoulders that had dug into Lee’s ribs during the night the once Gaara had deigned to stay. He traced with his sight the dip of Gaara's collarbone, the tendons of his neck tight with stress. Gaara's lips were pressed together in thin, sharp lines. His jaw led to ears partially obscured by the fall of his hair, gleaming copper in the low light. With a slight wince, Lee met Gaara's gaze.

Lee swallowed. "I must," he said simply, in lieu of apology. How could he apologize for his nindo, his way of life?

"I don't want you to," Gaara said, words almost urgent for someone usually under strictest of self-control, words normally measured and doled out in slow, careful pieces. This was the closest Lee had seen him to panic without buildings exploding or imminent mass bloodshed.

"I know." Lee looked away. "But that's irrelevant right now."

--

"After the war," Guy said. "What are your plans?"

Kakashi shaded his eyes with one hand, staring off into the distance. "You should know by now there is no after."

Guy smirked with a bitter sort of amusement. "You're right," he said. "But let's pretend this next peace will be a real one."

Kakashi drew a kunai and looked down the cliff as though contemplating the drop to the treetops. "The only peace is in the grave."

"We may be in luck then." Guy's lips stretched back into something closer to a smile as he stared at the enemies arrayed before them. "Challenge: first to twenty wins."

"Oh, please," Kakashi snorted. "That's hardly a challenge. First to get a message back to base buys the other dinner."

Guy thought fleetingly of the once he'd dropped in on Kakashi and his team eating ramen, of all the times he'd bought his own team barbecue and the cook-outs in the Forest of Death when they'd eaten whatever they could bring down, before the teams had split and Neji drifted into anbu and Lee into any missions taking him into Suna, and Tenten had turned a watchful eye toward maybe collecting a batch of genin to teach for herself.

Kakashi was a pale specter at his side, and everyone he cared for was settled in their correct places, or at least on the right path there.

Guy took a deep breath and moved forward.

--

"-Completely reckless maneuver. Did you both want to die, or are you really just that stupid?"

Tsunade's continued berating and the occasional grunt of pain from Guy drifted across the hall and through the door. Lee sat patiently next to Gaara, their thighs touching, and Shizune was glad Lee was here. Treating Gaara was bad enough usually, but having to do it herself while Tsunade continued to work on Kakashi and Guy was nerve-wracking. After Gaara's first few freak-outs over the sight of his own blood, he'd somehow mostly gotten over it (by which Shizune meant there were no psychic breaks and rampant destruction of nearby property and people), but he still kept a tight grip on Lee's forearm, knuckles white, and the gourd was making ominous rumbling noises.

"And done," she said, smiling tightly and finishing the last wrapping, glad the war was wrapping up and her having to treat the kazekage (and the kazekage and others having such a high injury rate) was coming to an end. Lee twitched the corners of his lips at her in return. His eyes were shadowed, and scratches littered his face and neck. He was beginning to list to one side, and Shizune patted him on the shoulder. "You should get some sleep," she told them, voice gentle. "Tsunade will be a while yet."

"I'm fine," Lee said, straightening, eyes dragging back to the door.

Gaara stood. He turned to Lee, said, "I'm going to bed." He waited expectantly.

“I should probably . . .” Lee blinked once, twice, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Probably . . .” he repeated, eyes closed and voice distant, dreamy.

Gaara gripped Lee's forearm and pulled. Lee stumbled blearily to his feet, leaning into Gaara's good side.

"Lee's apartment is on the other side of the vill-" Shizune started, trailing after them.

"I know." Gaara shifted, transferring most of Lee's weight to himself. "My guest quarters are closer." Gaara's eyes flickered as they passed the room holding Tsunade, Guy, and Kakashi, but he moved on without slowing, steering Lee determinedly away.

"I just want to see-"

"He'll still be there in the morning."

They disappeared around the corner, and their voices trailed off down the corridor. Shizune cleaned her hands and arms, then joined Tsunade.

"Did you hear that?" Tsunade said. "You're not allowed to die. Your students are coming to visit in the morning."

"Like he'd die before me," Kakashi mumbled, arm thrown over his face. "Stubborn bastard." He didn't mention his own interventions, but Shizune could read it in his stained hands and torn clothing, in the matching colors of the makeshift bandages Tsunade had already discarded to one side. His chakra was low, as if he'd spent most of it in the killing fields, more in dragging himself and another body to the closest allied camps, days away from where they'd last been spotted, and funneled away the rest to another in a desperate bid to sustain the smallest flickers of life.

"You realize you've completely exhausted your chakra," Shizune said. Kakashi lowered his arm and looked at her. "Right. How are you even awake?"

"Make certain the stupid bastard knows he's too stubborn to die," Kakashi slurred.

And really, Shizune couldn't blame him, watching the slow trickle oozing through the fresh bandages wrapped around Guy's torso, how he hadn't even worked up the energy to so much as make some quip about how he was too young and full of youthful vigor to die. He simply lay there, limp, unresisting to Tsunade's rough, practical hands, and breathed shallowly in and out. In and out. At every hitch in his breath, Tsunade cursed and worked faster, and Kakashi stiffened further, until he was like granite made flesh and bone.

Shizune sat on a stool next to Kakashi, watching Tsunade work, the stiff line of her back and her hunched shoulders. Shizune rested her hand on one of Kakashi's chakra points, and if he took some to stay awake, visible eye wide and hands shaking, who was Shizune to judge?

--

Neji knew he wasn't supposed to overhear, and that he had was a sign of how exhausted they all were these days.

"Are you sure?" asked Shizune.

"Yes," came Tsunade's voice, a little more muffled through the doors, indication that she was sitting at the desk again. "So long as the ceasefire doesn't end and he brings back the new treaty. It's time."

"You're still young for retirement."

Tsunade's laughter was thin. "No, I'm really not." Then, "See."

"You're still beautiful." Shizune's voice was soft, and Neji tamped down the smallest of temptations to look. Merely remaining outside the doors felt like a breach of trust, an intrusion he couldn't abide. Fingering his request papers, he walked away.

It could wait. In the meantime he would find Tenten and steal Lee back from Gaara for a brief lunch. It had been two weeks since they had last visited Guy together, and with everyone usually gone on missions, the last Neji had seen he'd looked like he had been close to stir crazy and about to start using the bed as a lifting weight again. Kakashi would kill them if Guy tore the last of his stitches, and even if he didn't, Lee would probably die of guilt, and then Gaara would kill them. Neji suppressed a sigh and wondered why his team couldn't have found anyone sane to date.

By the time he returned, the doors to the hokage's office were open. Though he felt a little more frazzled, the papers rumpled where he'd clenched them in his hands, Tsunade seemed cool and collected, and with gratitude Neji stepped into the office, saying, "Hokage-sama, I have a request."

--

"Hey, Hinata," Naruto grinned, and Hinata ruthlessly suppressed the blush that smile could still bring to her face by mere proximity. "What's up?"

She stepped into his office, a part of her still surprised to see him there and not running around the village, the same part that was surprised she held such an important place in her clan these days. "We need to discuss the inter-village teams."

Naruto's smile pulled at the corners into something a bit more rueful, less enthusiastic. "Neji's position on the Suna team isn't going to change. They're at the end of the trial period, and he and Lee both put in requests to remain there. They may visit occasionally, but they're outside of the village and most of the Hyuuga's jurisdiction."

"That wasn't what I meant," Hinata said, stopping herself from twiddling with her fingers or pulling at her hair, mustering up her discipline and trying to find the exact way to phrase her problem.

"Oh, Hinata," Naruto said, and now his smile really was kind of sad, and it was obvious to Hinata how much he'd matured in the last few months, years, at the toll his weeks in office had taken. "I'm sorry, but it was everything I could do to get Neji out of the village, and that was with Tsunade's help. I don't think I could-"

"I just want you to get him to stop pestering me!" Hinata burst out, face burning despite her best efforts and intentions, wringing her hands with a little panic. She could be calmer, more professional about this. "Er, I mean. Kankurou says Lee doesn't have family and he wants to get to know at least some of his siblings' future in-laws, but then he makes these comments and looks at me and then he talks about completely normal things like nothing happened." Naruto's flummoxed expression only goaded her on. "He, he keeps coming over for dinner and last time he brought flowers. Shino and Kiba just keep laughing at me, and I think my father might actually approve of him." Hinata looked at Naruto, trying to infuse her gaze with the surplus of desperation bubbling over in her. "Can't you do something?"

It was with no small amount of annoyance, and a sadly familiar lack of surprise, that Hinata watched Naruto collapse against the desk laughing, hokage cap falling over his eyes and arms.

--

Gaara watched with interest as Lee stormed in and halted in front of Gaara, pointing a finger in his face before withdrawing it to pace by the door a moment. Lee looked almost regrettably out of place in Gaara's apartments these days. Lee hadn’t visited since the last mission and their fifth argument over the same subject.

He still looked as appealing, if angry, as ever. Lee's dark hair had been pulled back into a ponytail since Temari had started hiding the scissors and threatening anyone who dared give Neji ideas with the very kunai they were attempting to use, and his signature jumpsuit had been traded in for light brown robes smudged with old dirt and heavy with a more recent encounter with a series of sand dunes. Lee's ponytail smacked against his shoulders with each agitated turn.

After a few minutes-during which Gaara watched without words and Lee waved his hands, the sound of his footsteps and the air rushing through his fingers the only accompaniment to Gaara's thoughts-Lee stopped. He retained the presence of mind to close the door. He glared at Gaara. He pointed again.

It was the same argument, the same words.

"You had no right." Lee’s lips trembled. His eyes were wide. "None."

"I'm the kazekage," said Gaara.

"Exactly!" Lee waved his hands again. "You shouldn't, shouldn't-No ninja comes before the mission. Especially not one from another village."

"Naruto would disagree."

Lee made a strangled sound. "This isn't about Naruto."

"If you wish to make this about our villages, about the kazekage versus hokage and Suna versus Konoha, then it is." Gaara had thought long on this, had weighed duty versus personal concerns. He'd taken into consideration Lee's position in the village, his own responsibilities, and the precedents Naruto had set. Gaara was correct in his assessment. His actions on the last mission were correct.

Lee was too stubborn to see this.

"I can't, I can't do this." Lee turned around and made for the door.

"Lee." Lee slammed it open. "Please." Gaara rarely used the word, didn't see the point in it. What he needed was generally provided. He was kazekage. He did not need to ask politely. He did not need to ask at all. For Lee, for the personal, he made concessions. He'd been informed by Temari that this was necessary if he wanted Lee, wanted anyone not his siblings, to stay.

Lee paused, hovered by the door, hand spasming on the frame briefly. "Gaara, I can't."

Gaara closed his eyes. He remembered the blur of metal streaking through the air towards Lee’s unguarded back. Gaara couldn’t summon any regret for abandoning his original position to see that Lee was adequately protected. Lee was angry, but alive. Gaara knew firsthand how easily that life could be snuffed out. His only regret was that Lee still couldn’t see reason.

When Gaara opened his eyes, Lee was gone.

--

"Are you sure it's okay?" Naruto asked in a dubious tone, lower lip jutting temptingly out and eyes scrunched together in an unattractive way.

Sai interjected, tone bored, "Weren't you just telling him that you were not a dating service and that it was not your responsibility to mediate intervillage relationship disasters?"

"I did not say-" Naruto began hotly.

"It's not a disaster!" Lee cried, tugging at his hair in distress.

The drama was almost worth Sai's attention for sheer amusement value, but there were really more constructive uses of their time at eight in the morning than deciding whether to bring one shinobi back home. Naruto really needed to learn to delegate, and not by shoving his paperwork off on Sai now that he was hokage. Sai eyed the folder in his hands with distaste. Naruto had said something about "building bonds through mutual suffering," but as Sakura had told Sai many, many times over the past few months, Naruto was, "hokage or not, full of bullshit."

"You're right," Sai said soothingly. "That haircut is a disaster. I should have said catastrophe."

"I liked you so much better before you learned how to be social," Naruto muttered.

"I don't want to come back," Lee protested. "I'm happy in Suna."

"And yet you're so worried that dumping the kazekage will cause an international incident that you come crawling back here."

"I didn't dump him!" Lee said once more at the same time as Naruto said, "So why couldn't you have also figured out how not to offend people."

Naruto slumped over his desk. "Look, Lee, if you want to come back, you can come back. There are several people interested in seeing what Suna's like now that trade's increased even further and Kankurou's flashed his damn puppets around everywhere."

Lee fisted both hands in his unevenly shorn hair. "That's what I'm trying to say. I don't want to come back permanently."

"Then for a break." Naruto rested his arms on his head.

"I don't need a break."

"Lee," Naruto said, looking up at him from under his arms. "They can act as substitutes as a five-week long A mission. We can find plenty of things for you to do around here, and I'm sure Tenten's dying to show you her genin, and Guy's been getting after me to send him to Suna to see you for the past three weeks. It'll be good for everyone. Especially me." He added the last two words in an audible undertone he'd picked up from Tsunade. Sai wondered how much chamomile tea Sakura was going to brew and shove down Naruto's throat in the name of relaxation tonight. However many pots, from the way he looked despondently from the towering piles of paper on either side to Lee and the problems he represented, Sai thought it couldn't possibly be enough.

--

Ino was on a mission. Mission Release Sakura from Lee Moping Duties.

She hadn't run a mission since their chuunin days, when Shikamaru was too much of a lazy-ass to bother putting any of his vast knowledge of strategy to work, and it was all she could do to bully him and Chouji along. And she couldn't even be bitter that of them all, he was made chuunin first, because it finally motivated him to get off his ass and do things, if only to try to escape from Asuma-sensei's expectations. Now, however, Ino was in charge once more. Shikamaru had looked at her and said, "So I see you've finally decided to take my advice," and he was still out of commission. He had taken Chouji with him to go sulk in the forest.

Ino understood wanting to stand by your friends when they were going through a rough time, but it had been a week and Sakura had more important things to do than bring Lee tea and sandwiches and ask how he was doing. She already did that enough for Sai and Naruto. Between them, her patients, and her medical research with Tsunade, Sakura had been slacking on her training. Ino had maybe seen her once in three days, and that was only when Sakura had gone crashing by, telling Ino for the brief seconds they were close enough for her to hear, "Sorry, no time to talk, medical emergency."

That was Ino's time Lee was taking up with his air of doom and despair. So it was with great determination that Ino interrupted Tenten's genin from their squabbling on the training grounds. They quickly agreed to her plan when Ino pointed out that Rock Lee was a genius at taijutsu, and it would be a valuable learning experience. That, and she agreed to treat them to barbecue, always a winner with growing youth. They ran off, and she trailed slowly after, kept her cool, detached demeanor. Any accusations that she laughed (perhaps a touch vindictively) at their pouncing upon Lee and interrupting his picnic with Sakura were vicious lies. And if Ino happened to sweep in and drag Sakura off with a parting glance over her shoulders and the words, "Train more, Fuzzy Brows!" then maybe that was just an indication of the dire need for Lee to keep his sweet strong hands to his own damn self, or at least take them back to Suna.

That Sakura protested that it really wasn't like that was simply further proof that she really belonged with Ino, who could at least properly appreciate her. After a few more minutes of Ino dragging her away, Sakura finally seemed to get the point, and blushed. "I, you. Are you JEALOUS?"

"I. NO. I JUST. NARUTO IS GAY," Ino blurted out. "AND SO IS ROCK LEE."

Sakura grinned like she did when she had the upper hand. "You know, Ino, there is such a thing as bisexual," she said, tone teasing and eyes crinkling at the corners.

A few days later, Ino heard from Chouji who'd heard from Hinata who'd heard from Kankurou (who was apparently stalking Lee when he wasn't stalking her), that Rock Lee really was spending more time training by himself, but at this point he had passed out of Ino's thoughts entirely.

--

Lee came to an awkward and abrupt halt, arms aching, knuckles stinging, every muscle in his body burning in protest. He pushed away from the teetering wreck of a training block in front of him. At the touch, it crashed to the ground in a jangling, tangled mess of warped wood and metal. Lee wiped the sweat and tense frown from his face with unsteady hands, turned to look at Gaara.

"You don't have to wait over there," Lee said, waving a hand at the tree Gaara was standing on, feet stuck to the bottom of a branch and wave of hair a bright red-orange, almost like flame in the slanting beams of morning's light filtering through the treetops. His eyes were darker than usual, raccoon outline around his lids deeper. Gaara stared at Lee as if considering, taking apart his every nervous twitch, the exhausted blush he could feel heating his face, the sweat-matted, poorly shorn hair that he knew from the mirrors looked as though he'd gone at it with the his kunai the moment he'd entered Konoha's gate. It wasn't even that far from the truth-Tenten had spotted him, and her genin were merciless when Lee had let slip he wanted a trim. In the past few weeks, it still hadn't grown out enough to hide the uneven lengths of hair, some pieces sticking out at odd angles and others falling flat over his ears and a little down his neck.

"You look like shit." Gaara detached his chakra from the tree, flipping over midair to land with grace and flair. Even with the obvious sleep deprivation, Gaara still managed to look amazing, Lee thought, depressed. He considered taking a step back as Gaara stalked forward, but held his ground. He was done running from this. Gaara reached up a tentative hand, always awkward at any overt displays of affection. He smoothed his fingers firmly along Lee's jaw, twisted them up into Lee's hair. "Come back to Suna."

This was it. This was Lee's moment to protest Gaara's treatment, the unfair advantage he afforded Lee which ultimately became something of a security threat for both villages. Gaara's fingers threaded roughly through his hair, tugging at strands as if to test their new lengths. Lee braced himself.

"Okay."

Gaara's fingers tightened, pulled down Lee's head to a more even level. Lee rested their foreheads together gently and wondered how he'd lived without this for two weeks, for the three months of not-quite quarrels before Lee had finally started sleeping in his own chambers, cold, cramped, and bare as they were in comparison. Embracing the simple gravity of the moment, he fell into Gaara, wrapped his arms firmly around Gaara's ribs, back, shoulders. Lee clenched his hands in the rough fabric of Gaara's robes and inhaled, breathed in copper and ink, blood and sand.

"But, Gaara," and Gaara stiffened the tiniest, most infinitesimal bit in his arms, such that Lee wouldn't have noticed if they weren't pressed so tightly that Lee could feel the outline of every wrinkle and fold of Gaara's clothing, every shudder of breath, and the pulse of his heart at the junction of his neck where Lee buried his head, doing his best not to kiss and yet brushing his lips against Gaara's skin with every word uttered. "We have to discuss this. This is not optional."

"Fine," said Gaara. "At home."

"Mm," Lee murmured in agreement, simply breathing and listening to their breaths align, heartbeats clicking into shared pace like one of Kankurou's puppets unfolding. "Home."