Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Gift ❯ Gift ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: woodenheart 
Gaara realises the importance of his birthday, with the help of a particular spandex-clad young man.
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.28.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 658 | Status: Completed
Gaara realises the importance of his birthday, with the help of a particular spandex-clad young man.
Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 08.28.2010 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 658 | Status: Completed
Gaara revelled in the sound of his joints crunching back into place, groaning tiredly as his muscles stretched and rolled under his skin after a long day or three of work. He stood from his seated position on the floor before his low desk, strangely tired for once - rare for him, as he’d become accustomed to treating night time as a human would treat day; just a lot more quiet and easier to get work done. But he supposed a few minutes rest curled up on the bed that was rarely used for sleep wouldn’t hurt, as long as he didn’t fall asleep.
He dumped the heavy gourd he carried with him everywhere by his bedroom door, before slumping down on the thick mattress with a yawn. He pulled his socks off, kicking them to some random corner of his room and scooted up the bed to curl in on himself in a foetal position that came naturally. He half closed his eyes, letting go of the strands of worry and thoughts about work-related things, clearing his mind as well as he could before -that- started to take over. This was so much easier with Lee cradling him, he thought regretfully, but then decided that his lover’s A-rank was the last thing that would make him relax.
After a few minutes of concentration, he succeeded quite well, until he realised that he was suddenly behind several iron bars.
Shit. He’d fallen asleep. It seemed that the very thought of his lover had made him drift off. He didn’t let the murderous, coiling demon opposite him faze him - that miserable demon stopped scaring him long ago. The seal was still in tact, which meant that he had not fallen into a deep slumber and was probably still half awake, and this informed him that he was standing in front of it’s cage, listening to the deep, hoarse voice whisper hateful, bloody words; words he no longer listened to. He sat down on the sandy floor of his subconscious, beginning work on the several meditative stages that he had trained himself to do in situations such as these. His mind wondered, though, as if it were tempted by the rare chance to explore itself on this level. He wondered about where Lee came into this, whether he penetrated his psyche, whether this part of his mind was trying to think of ways to cripple him-
He stopped right there. Those thoughts were no longer an issue to him. He resumed his meditation, clearing his mind of thoughts of Lee.
“He’s probably dead, you know,” it murmured. Gaara ignored the spiteful words of the thing that wrecked his life (yet was the reason why he was born), continuing his meditation to pull himself deeper out of the madness that bubbled beneath his conscious mind. The fact that he had heard the demon speak was proof that it was getting worse - he was falling into deeper sleep.
An hour or two later he woke up with a start, his eyes wide and seemingly even greener than before, as the whites had turned light pink in his struggle. He clutched his chest in alert, feeling like his heart was going to pound straight through his chest. His legs felt like they were stilts, even though they were not holding him up. The redhead slumped back against his mattress, trying to catch his breath. The longest sleep he’d had in months and he woke up feeling more tired than ever.
He sat up again and walked back into his living space to continue reading the reports of recent B-ranks to Rain; the secretive nature of the village made it difficult to obtain information, as was mentioned several times in the reports. It was slowly beginning to give the Kazekage a headache. He spent the next hour or so writing on scrolls, selecting nin for missions, going over reports and other mundane activities that took over his life when Lee wasn’t around. It filled up his time, but not the void the other man left behind when he went to risk his life.
When Gaara sent him to risk his life, the darker part of him said. But he ignored it, writing scrawled words on the scroll even faster, as if it would dispel the evil thoughts that leaked from deep inside his mind. A short while later, the sun was starting to rise on the edge Sunagakure’s skyline: short pink teeth that began to swallow the darkness of the night sky. He leant back in his chair, running long, pale fingers through his blood-red hair and blinking tiredly. At least Lee was due back in a few days, Gaara thought, knowing that it would be the highlight of his week. With this in mind, he decided to go back to his bedroom for another attempt at rest. He resumed his earlier position, but this time he managed to keep it at a light doze, undisturbed by hate-filled demons or bad thoughts about his lover that couldn’t be further from the truth.
When Gaara became more conscious, he was looking at what appeared to be a distorted version of Lee’s face. A nightmare, he immediately thought, and was about to prepare himself for another fight with his subconscious when his vision cleared up a bit, and he realised that he was, in fact, still in his bedroom, and that Lee’s face was not distorted. Beaten up and bloody, but not distorted. He smiled at Gaara weakly, not sitting up to look at him even as the redhead did so. He was laying full length on the bed, leg warmers and shoes still on, as though he’d just returned from his mission and come straight to the Kazekage’s residence. He had a trail of dried blood running from his nose, and his left eyelid was half closed and bruised while the other was slightly red.
“What are you doing back so early?” Gaara asked, “you weren’t meant to return until at Friday afternoon,” he finished, eyeing the other in the darkness with a look of concern.
Lee only shook his head tiredly, his breathing slightly laboured.
“How long have you been here?”
“Fifteen minutes,” he replied, closing his eyes and smiling weakly, “you look beautiful when you’re sl- resting…”
Gaara looked at him with a hint of incredulousness and a lot of concern mixed in there too. “Lee, did you run too fast just to get back here early? You need to see a medi-nin, I‘ll take you to the hospital-” He asked in his usual monotone, trying to help his lover up.
Lee waved a hand in the general direction of his lover, blindly grasping for his hand as he lowered it. “I got you something,” he answered, brushing off the question. With some effort, he sat up and rummaged around his kunai pouch that was strapped to his leg with his free hand and drew out a small, powder-blue box. He handed it to Gaara, who stared at it for a moment before taking it carefully. He gingerly slid his finger under the paper sticker that held the lid down, trying not to rip the paper. The lid of the box popped open fractionally, and the redhead opened it up the rest of the way as if it contained the meaning of life. Inside was a tiny white cake that read, ’Happy Birthday’ in light blue icing, with little blue squiggles around the outside. He looked up at Lee.
“You didn’t seriously think you could give me the slip with something like your birthday?” Lee asked, smiling at him even through exhausted eyes. It was his birthday?
Gaara glanced over at the calendar he kept on the wall by his bed. Being an insomniac and the Kazekage meant he lost track of days quite easily, so he made sure to keep a clear calendar where he could see it. He had one on his desk as well, but he rarely looked at it. A quick study of the calendar confirmed this information - January 19th. He didn’t know what to say. It was common for him to forget his birthday - in fact, until now he didn’t even notice that such a day existed for him, and so he had gone year after year of not celebrating his birthday. But here Lee was, giving him a gift. Something that he noticed, quite belatedly, he had not received before. “Oh.” He uttered after a long moment, wishing that the answer hadn’t sounded so pathetic.
Lee had opened his eyes to look at Gaara with a tired grin. “You like it?” He asked, seeming to have caught his breath and regained some of his famous energy. Gaara looked up at him, staring at him in a way that the other couldn’t read. “Say something,” he said, beginning to get slightly worried. Gaara glanced back down at the small, open box in his palm. What was he meant to say?
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” the redhead said solemnly, his eyes a darker green, Lee imagined, with painful memories gliding through his mind. He wrapped his tanned hands, peppered with new scars around his lover’s pale, almost untouched ones as he held the small present.
“Then I suppose this is the first gift you’ve received, too?” He asked, resting his forehead against the others in half-fatigue, half-affection.
Gaara looked up at the other through his eyelashes, not wanting to tear his eyes away from his gift, but wanting to look at his lover as well. “Yes,” he answered finally, noticing how his whole body had heated up since Lee touched his cold hands.
Lee pecked him gently, leaving a few tiny red splotches on Gaara’s lips before speaking again. “Then get used to it,” he whispered softly, before he slumped against the Kazekage in apparent exhaustion.
Gaara looked down at the dark mop of hair that was snoring against his shoulder softly with a hint of affection. A few minutes later, he spoke. “Thank you,” he murmured, hardly loud enough to hear.
Maybe this whole birthday thing wasn’t so bad after all.
He dumped the heavy gourd he carried with him everywhere by his bedroom door, before slumping down on the thick mattress with a yawn. He pulled his socks off, kicking them to some random corner of his room and scooted up the bed to curl in on himself in a foetal position that came naturally. He half closed his eyes, letting go of the strands of worry and thoughts about work-related things, clearing his mind as well as he could before -that- started to take over. This was so much easier with Lee cradling him, he thought regretfully, but then decided that his lover’s A-rank was the last thing that would make him relax.
After a few minutes of concentration, he succeeded quite well, until he realised that he was suddenly behind several iron bars.
Shit. He’d fallen asleep. It seemed that the very thought of his lover had made him drift off. He didn’t let the murderous, coiling demon opposite him faze him - that miserable demon stopped scaring him long ago. The seal was still in tact, which meant that he had not fallen into a deep slumber and was probably still half awake, and this informed him that he was standing in front of it’s cage, listening to the deep, hoarse voice whisper hateful, bloody words; words he no longer listened to. He sat down on the sandy floor of his subconscious, beginning work on the several meditative stages that he had trained himself to do in situations such as these. His mind wondered, though, as if it were tempted by the rare chance to explore itself on this level. He wondered about where Lee came into this, whether he penetrated his psyche, whether this part of his mind was trying to think of ways to cripple him-
He stopped right there. Those thoughts were no longer an issue to him. He resumed his meditation, clearing his mind of thoughts of Lee.
“He’s probably dead, you know,” it murmured. Gaara ignored the spiteful words of the thing that wrecked his life (yet was the reason why he was born), continuing his meditation to pull himself deeper out of the madness that bubbled beneath his conscious mind. The fact that he had heard the demon speak was proof that it was getting worse - he was falling into deeper sleep.
An hour or two later he woke up with a start, his eyes wide and seemingly even greener than before, as the whites had turned light pink in his struggle. He clutched his chest in alert, feeling like his heart was going to pound straight through his chest. His legs felt like they were stilts, even though they were not holding him up. The redhead slumped back against his mattress, trying to catch his breath. The longest sleep he’d had in months and he woke up feeling more tired than ever.
He sat up again and walked back into his living space to continue reading the reports of recent B-ranks to Rain; the secretive nature of the village made it difficult to obtain information, as was mentioned several times in the reports. It was slowly beginning to give the Kazekage a headache. He spent the next hour or so writing on scrolls, selecting nin for missions, going over reports and other mundane activities that took over his life when Lee wasn’t around. It filled up his time, but not the void the other man left behind when he went to risk his life.
When Gaara sent him to risk his life, the darker part of him said. But he ignored it, writing scrawled words on the scroll even faster, as if it would dispel the evil thoughts that leaked from deep inside his mind. A short while later, the sun was starting to rise on the edge Sunagakure’s skyline: short pink teeth that began to swallow the darkness of the night sky. He leant back in his chair, running long, pale fingers through his blood-red hair and blinking tiredly. At least Lee was due back in a few days, Gaara thought, knowing that it would be the highlight of his week. With this in mind, he decided to go back to his bedroom for another attempt at rest. He resumed his earlier position, but this time he managed to keep it at a light doze, undisturbed by hate-filled demons or bad thoughts about his lover that couldn’t be further from the truth.
When Gaara became more conscious, he was looking at what appeared to be a distorted version of Lee’s face. A nightmare, he immediately thought, and was about to prepare himself for another fight with his subconscious when his vision cleared up a bit, and he realised that he was, in fact, still in his bedroom, and that Lee’s face was not distorted. Beaten up and bloody, but not distorted. He smiled at Gaara weakly, not sitting up to look at him even as the redhead did so. He was laying full length on the bed, leg warmers and shoes still on, as though he’d just returned from his mission and come straight to the Kazekage’s residence. He had a trail of dried blood running from his nose, and his left eyelid was half closed and bruised while the other was slightly red.
“What are you doing back so early?” Gaara asked, “you weren’t meant to return until at Friday afternoon,” he finished, eyeing the other in the darkness with a look of concern.
Lee only shook his head tiredly, his breathing slightly laboured.
“How long have you been here?”
“Fifteen minutes,” he replied, closing his eyes and smiling weakly, “you look beautiful when you’re sl- resting…”
Gaara looked at him with a hint of incredulousness and a lot of concern mixed in there too. “Lee, did you run too fast just to get back here early? You need to see a medi-nin, I‘ll take you to the hospital-” He asked in his usual monotone, trying to help his lover up.
Lee waved a hand in the general direction of his lover, blindly grasping for his hand as he lowered it. “I got you something,” he answered, brushing off the question. With some effort, he sat up and rummaged around his kunai pouch that was strapped to his leg with his free hand and drew out a small, powder-blue box. He handed it to Gaara, who stared at it for a moment before taking it carefully. He gingerly slid his finger under the paper sticker that held the lid down, trying not to rip the paper. The lid of the box popped open fractionally, and the redhead opened it up the rest of the way as if it contained the meaning of life. Inside was a tiny white cake that read, ’Happy Birthday’ in light blue icing, with little blue squiggles around the outside. He looked up at Lee.
“You didn’t seriously think you could give me the slip with something like your birthday?” Lee asked, smiling at him even through exhausted eyes. It was his birthday?
Gaara glanced over at the calendar he kept on the wall by his bed. Being an insomniac and the Kazekage meant he lost track of days quite easily, so he made sure to keep a clear calendar where he could see it. He had one on his desk as well, but he rarely looked at it. A quick study of the calendar confirmed this information - January 19th. He didn’t know what to say. It was common for him to forget his birthday - in fact, until now he didn’t even notice that such a day existed for him, and so he had gone year after year of not celebrating his birthday. But here Lee was, giving him a gift. Something that he noticed, quite belatedly, he had not received before. “Oh.” He uttered after a long moment, wishing that the answer hadn’t sounded so pathetic.
Lee had opened his eyes to look at Gaara with a tired grin. “You like it?” He asked, seeming to have caught his breath and regained some of his famous energy. Gaara looked up at him, staring at him in a way that the other couldn’t read. “Say something,” he said, beginning to get slightly worried. Gaara glanced back down at the small, open box in his palm. What was he meant to say?
“No one’s ever said that to me before,” the redhead said solemnly, his eyes a darker green, Lee imagined, with painful memories gliding through his mind. He wrapped his tanned hands, peppered with new scars around his lover’s pale, almost untouched ones as he held the small present.
“Then I suppose this is the first gift you’ve received, too?” He asked, resting his forehead against the others in half-fatigue, half-affection.
Gaara looked up at the other through his eyelashes, not wanting to tear his eyes away from his gift, but wanting to look at his lover as well. “Yes,” he answered finally, noticing how his whole body had heated up since Lee touched his cold hands.
Lee pecked him gently, leaving a few tiny red splotches on Gaara’s lips before speaking again. “Then get used to it,” he whispered softly, before he slumped against the Kazekage in apparent exhaustion.
Gaara looked down at the dark mop of hair that was snoring against his shoulder softly with a hint of affection. A few minutes later, he spoke. “Thank you,” he murmured, hardly loud enough to hear.
Maybe this whole birthday thing wasn’t so bad after all.
*****
I wrote fluff with Gaara involved. I feel very proud of myself, ha.