༺ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛɪɢʜᴛʟy, ʟᴇᴛ ɢᴏ ʟɪɢʜᴛʟy ༻
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- ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ : <ᴛ> -
[ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀy ] :
ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴩᴏɪꜱᴏɴ. ꜱʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴜʀᴇ.
{ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ} : 1,463
༺°•✮・※꧁༺༒༻꧂※・✮•°༻
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She was his poison.
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Their relationship was vitriolic at best and abusive at worst - at least, to the untrained eye.
But really, what do you expect when you put an emotionally challenged former Jinchuuriki and a stubborn apprentice of Lady Tsunade together?
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When Sakura visited Suna as ambassador, she was never at want for anything. At first, she figured it was the desert hospitality combined with her being the Hokage's apprentice. She was pleased - though all ninja lived an almost Spartan lifestyle, the Sand were particularly so.
Then she found out, via the grapevine, (AKA Kankuro) that it was because she was the Kazekage's favored. (Whatever that meant.)
Naturally, she was terrified.
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She discovered that the Kazekage was fond of her through Kankuro, Kankuro of all people. The next day, he was sporting two black eyes - one from Sakura, who had thought he'd been screwing with her head, the other from Gaara, who'd also cornered her in the greenhouse the next day and informed her that she would be having lunch with him to discuss alliance details.
That, apparently, had been his way of asking her out.
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Being the object of the Kazekage's affections entailed several things, namely:
1. She was practically coddled when she was in the Sand - she stayed in nothing less than a master suite. (This she would not complain about.)
2. Flowers. Mostly large bouquets presented in some grandiose fashion.
3. Gaara made a conscious effort to appear wherever she'd happen to be - and look at that, she had to report to him as well.
4. Odd requests - like healing paper cuts (the only thing that seemed to harm him) or re-piercing his ears (which she thought was totally, completely, utterly random but nonetheless complied because he was the Kazekage for heaven's sake.)
And when Sakura wasn't terrified out of her wits, she quite enjoyed it.
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Lying here in the predawn light next to her, Gaara reflected. He'd drifted in and out of sleep all night, but was soothed by her steady breathing, the beat of her heart. He could feel it, and by extent hear it, if he focused. It was a soothing sound, a unique sound, and Gaara knew that he wanted it to be the ambience he fell asleep to every night.
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She was the sweetest thing when she was half awake, super affectionate and warm.
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Gaara liked touching. Her, anyway. He'd go out of his way to look for excuses for physical contact - a brush of the shoulder there, a quick hug there, some handshakes in between for professional reasons (he was the Kazekage, after all) even after they were an official, no-room-left-for-questions couple.
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On that note:
Snuggling. He liked it.
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His hugs were the best, Sakura secretly thought. (He'd grown up, filled out over the years, and was the right height for her to rest her head on his chest.) His arms would come up and around and hold, tight, and he wouldn't let go until he was good and ready (or, on the occasion that Sakura pulled away first, he'd mutter death threats to whatever was taking her away from him - namely, her job.)
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And on that note:
Initially his possessiveness had been intimidating, scary even. Now she realized that that was one of the ways Gaara showed affection, and no, it wasn't going to warp into something bad. She was used to it, and, dare she say, it was a little cute.
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Gaara would make trips to Konoha whenever possible, usually under some kind of official pretense when in reality he was visiting her. Sakura half-suspected that Tsunade was in cahoots with him, because the woman would assign Sakura as his guide with a wink and a nudge.
Later, Sakura would learn that Tsunade had placed bets on her and Gaara, and was using her position as Hokage to manipulate as she pleased.
It would also be the first and only bet the lady had won.
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Ever since they started going out - and perhaps a few months before - Sakura had become sort of notorious in the workplace. She was always 'that girl' with 'that boy' who acted 'that way.' This translated into the other employees at the hospital originally giving her a wide berth when she was accompanied by Gaara; now, while she still had the aforementioned wide berth when he was around, when alone there was affectionate teasing because, really, his obvious faking of illness was so touchingly endearing (if not a little counterproductive) that, they figured, he couldn't be that bad, right?
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Gaara knows that she likes him; he knows that she likes him a lot. But when, after a long day of being Gaara no Sabaku, she comes up to him and smooths the hair out of his face and plants a kiss right on his tattoo before asking him how his day went and if he needed anything...
It is then that Gaara thinks that he is loved.
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He liked her eyes. They reminded him of leaves or cacti or lily pads on a pond. That being said, something needed to be done about her hair.
Because there was no way he was allowing his future children to inherit that.
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When he first saw her, he nearly killed her.
Needless to say he was sort of regretting that now, because she wouldn't look him in the eye when they were alone.
He'd have to change that.
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And he did change that, with kisses and touches and bouts of affection.
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Though he'd long-since had the ability to sleep without putting everyone around him in imminent danger, other people's sleeping habits fascinated him.
When she slept her entire face would soften and her body would melt, and Gaara would kiss her eyes and wish he could suspend that moment in time.
Because nothing was as peaceful as that.
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"So," he said one day, running his fingers through her hair as she cleaned off medical equipment, "Is this natural?"
An absentminded mhm was all he got in affirmation.
Dammit, he thought, but didn't cease playing with her hair.
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To hell with it. It wasn't bad parenting to use hair dye, was it?
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Sometimes, Sakura feels like their relationship is a little one-sided on his part. His level of affection was hard to compete with, particularly since he had no shame whatsoever in his administrations. He didn't seem to understand that, while discreetly holding her hand under the table at a meeting was acceptable, stroking her arm or her face and having her in his lap while blatantly making plans for dinner in front of his entire Council was more likely to get her banned.
When she pointed this out to him, he retorted that he was the Kazekage and that he had to approve every action the Council made, so that was moot point, and could she please move her elbow, it was digging into his stomach most unpleasantly.
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Sakura was his, plain and simple. He supposed that he could be hers, too, if she'd have him.
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A mixture of anger, anxiety, and jealously was a potent cocktail for destruction, Sakura found out.
Especially when these emotions were coming from Gaara.
Really, she probably shouldn't have started talking to the man from Mist at the club after storming out on Gaara, but really, it was unnecessary for Gaara to beat the man within an inch of his life.
Ever since then, men of all ages more or less treated her like she had the plague. At this rate, she'd wind up with Gaara by default because no other man would look at her.
We're not even a couple, she'd grumble to herself. It's only a rumor that he likes me.
Needless to say, being favored by the Kazekage really hampered her social life.
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He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but he always feels better-rested when she sleeps next to him.
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Sleep has become an easier task since she moved in, less plagued by nightmares and more of sweet oblivion.
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"Five more minutes," he'd always ask in the mornings when she'd make to get out of bed. Though he didn't sleep much, and didn't really need the rest, there was nothing, repeat nothing better than being under the warm covers and holding her. Sometimes she'd roll her eyes but comply, others she'd already be late and need to get up then and there, but mostly she'd smile blearily and settle back down, arm thrown over him as he pulled her close to his chest.
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It was in moments like these that Gaara knew he was loved
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She was his cure.
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༺°•✮・※꧁༺༒༻꧂※・✮•°༻
♛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ :『@ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱᴏꜰɢʀᴇy』ᴏɴ ꜰꜰ.ɴ!