A/N: Bloc Party is a great band. Reason being: their song, 'Flux,' (and 'This Modern Love,' come to think of it) inspired this little oneshot, created for the purpose of NaruGaa Spam Day 2010, July the 26th. ;D …Even if I didn't end up making that date. #sweatdrop#

I won't lie, Silentz's newer fic, "Humerus," also helped inspire this a little bit. I just admire her too much, I suppose. XD

Takes place in the canonverse, although some time after when I assume the manga would end, so some things won't be correct. Is there such thing as AU canon? If so, then pretend that this is like that. Ehehe…

We were hoping for some romance;
All we found was more despair.
We must talk about our problems:
We are in a state of flux.

~'Flux' by Bloc Party

Flux: continuous change, passage, or movement; to vary irregularly.
Variations: fluctuate, fluctuating, fluctuated, fluctuation.
Example: "It seems our relationship is in a state of flux. At least, it seems to fluctuate a lot. At one moment we're friends, the next we're enemies, and sometimes we're like lovers or simply nothing at all. It's… confusing. But I think I kinda like it; the fluctuation keeps things interesting!"

She leans against the doorway, peering in to the would-be living room of the Kazekage's personal quarters, where she and her siblings live. The room is mostly empty, although it does have a television and a small fireplace for those cold desert nights. There is also a couch, wide enough for four people, parallel to the TV and adjacent to a standing lamp.

She shakes her head, her crossed arms loosening slightly over her chest. She sighs. Behind her, her brunet brother appears. He's chewing loudly on a sandwich, one cheek puffing out with food.

"What're you looking at, Temari?" he asks around a swallow. He goes for another bite, but pauses. He's glancing into the room from the doorway, now, just as the blonde had been. "Oh, I see," he says idly. "Them."

The older sibling nods her head. "Yes, them," she stresses. "I don't understand those two! Didn't we break up an argument-about-to-turn-physical just a moment ago? And now look at them: huddled together on the couch, chatting, as if nothing had happened." She turns to her brother and leans off of the doorframe. Softly, she asks, "Kankurou, just what am I supposed to do? I want to be a good big sister and keep Gaara's best interests in mind, but how am I supposed to do that when I don't even know if Uzumaki is detrimental or beneficial for him?"

Kankurou lets out a frustrated, exhausted breath. He's tired of this situation; he knows it all too well, and feels as though it's been set on repeat like a broken record. He snorts in reply. "How the fuck should I know? But as far as I can tell, we should just leave them be and do as they wish. Naruto transferred to Suna for a reason, and we both know that reason." He takes a chunk out of his sandwich and starts walking again. "And Gaara allowed it, I think, because of something he told me once: Naruto changed him. And to me, that's beneficial."

"I know, but…" Temari begins, and then bites her lip. She shakes her head again and uncrosses her arms as she starts heading toward the kitchen for her own lunch. "…Sometimes I wonder, you know?"

He stands there, not sure if he should knock, burst in, or leave. The door looks so uninviting, and the person he knows that is behind it is also not the most inviting person. And yet he can't seem to keep his distance.

Call it masochism, but Uzumaki Naruto doesn't know when to stop. He's been pushed away, punched, kicked, slapped, and whipped with sand, fists, and feet. He's been hurt to the point of bruising, bleeding, and, once, cracked ribs. He's suffered a great deal of miscellaneous bumps, scrapes, tussles, and battles. And all of this on the account of one person.

One person, just one individual in one village in one place on one world, an entire world full of other people, billions of people, any other person except this person. And yet, Naruto doesn't want anybody else with the same vigor and determination that he has towards this particular individual.

"Gaara?" he calls softly, his lips grazing the surface of the door. He knows that he probably shouldn't bother the Kazekage, but he also wonders what would happen if he didn't? Despite popular belief, Gaara is delicate; well, he is when it comes to his emotions, anyhow. He is… unstable. Unpredictable. And sometimes unresponsive. And because of this, Naruto believes he needs to give Gaara special attention, even when the redhead doesn't want it.

There is a shuffling noise, and then the lowest whoosh of a sigh. "Enter," a blank voice replies; Naruto can tell that the redhead is trying to keep out any hint of reaction in his tone. It's funny how only Naruto can even spark a reaction deep within Gaara. And that could be a good thing.

Except the sole problem with that is this: the blond never knows what sort of reaction he stirs, and that's part of the unpredictable, unstable emotions Gaara possesses.

"Hi," Naruto says weakly, a smile worming its way onto his face. He helps himself to a chair and fidgets even after he's seated. "So, um. I wanted to thank you for… well. Letting me stay here in Suna while I heal. You know, transferring. That last battle took a lot outta me, 'ttebayo. But I do think it was the last one; there's no threat of war anymore. All the villages – well, most of them – banned together against a common enemy, right? So things should be okay now?"

"For a while," Gaara supplies as he finishes off some of documents on his desk. "Peace never lasts for too long."

"Heh, I guess that's true," Naruto says with a scratch to his cheek. He forgot how imperfect the world could be, even around times of peace. "But hey, at least things are under control. Madara is dead, I have Kyuubi where he should be, and Konoha is being rebuilt from all it's gone through. Things are looking up, dattebayo." And he smiles again, but he notices that Gaara still hasn't so much as glanced the blond's way. He clears his throat. "And we're okay, aren't we?" he adds lowly, his voice wavering slightly.

Gaara finally graces Naruto with his gaze. His aquamarine eyes are cold, and they cause a shiver to race down Naruto's spine. "Your recent actions were very foolish," he practically scolds.

Naruto gulps. "Um, yeah, they were, but –"

"You could have died."

"I know, but I'm –"

"And you dared to attempt to… to…" For once, Gaara cannot finish his own sentence. His jaw tenses and his lips form a hard, straight line. "Why are you here, Naruto?"

The blond doesn't play dumb. He knows what Gaara means. Hanging his head, he fiddles with a loose thread on his jacket with one, unscathed hand. He shrugs one shoulder to adjust his sling. "To make amends. I'm sorry."

"For which foolish action?" Gaara snaps, his tone on the brink of leaking emotion. "For attacking Sasuke without thinking, precisely as I instructed you not to do? For nearly killing yourself over him, going it alone, even though I was there to protect and assist you like I promised? Or are you sorry for trying to kiss me on more than one occasion? Just what are you sorry for, Naruto? Because I would really like to know."

His voice is tense, firm; there is pain behind it, but only reflected through the fire suddenly flaring in Gaara's eyes. And the redhead's hands are in fists, balled up in his lap, out of Naruto's sight. He's shaking on the inside, and something is weighing heavily in his stomach like a stone, cold and rough and dense. Gaara doesn't know why Naruto always affects him this much, but it irks him to no end.

Naruto cracks a smile, one twitching with nerves and shame. He drops his gaze and idly tugs on the loose black thread dangling from his jacket. He hears a ripping noise as it makes the stitching break free. "I guess I'm not that sorry, then. Not about most of those things, anyway. I am sorry that acted more on impulse than rational thought when I was against Sasuke, 'cause that was pretty stupid of me, but…" He straightens in his chair and looks Gaara in the eye. "But I'm not sorry for trying to kiss you."

Gaara is taken aback for a moment, his brow muscles lifting for a short time before falling back into place. He looks away. "Why?" he whispers.

Naruto flashes a grin. "Because of a lot of reasons!" He starts listing them off, each one a finger on his hand. "I like you. You're the only person who understands everything about me, even my dark parts. I'm grateful to you for being my friend, and for being there for me when I needed you most. And, most of all, because I feel this indescribable pain and warmth whenever I'm around you, and I know that it has to mean something important."

The redhead can't speak. He doesn't have a response for something like that. Instead, he stands and leaves the room in silence. Behind him, Naruto sighs to himself and runs his undamaged hand through his brightly colored hair.

He knows that he should have left when the door was in front of him. But for some reason, Naruto can't seem to keep to his distance.

He paces back and forth, one hand to his lips and the other clenched and placed at a right angle behind his back. He idly rubs his middle finger on his chin, and purses his lips against his pointer finger. His thumb rests warmly on his jaw, and he focuses on these dull sensations while he thinks.

And thinks. And thinks…

He wishes it were different, but all he can think about is one person. One person he has fought repeatedly, been saved by twice, and returned the favor for once. One person he has had butt heads with him, one person who he has hated and befriended and secretly loved, one person he wants to keep close and push away at the same time. Over and over this occurs, like a vicious cycle of inconsistency.

And Gaara hates it.

But he also knows that while he dislikes the flux, he also craves it without reason. The cases in point would be the two instances that were brought up hours ago in his office: the fight with Sasuke, and the – Gaara is embarrassed to recall – attempts at kissing.

And as strange as it sounds, Gaara is torn between regretting and cherishing both memories.

Stopping in his tracks, Gaara squares his shoulders and drops his arms lifelessly to his sides. He wipes his face of expression and collapses onto his bed, a rarely used item even after being allowed to sleep without consequence.

He closes his eyes – an action of lowering his defenses that is about as rare as sleeping itself – and dares to remember, if only to help sort his violent flow of thoughts.

There is blood, so familiar in scent; it tastes like an old friend, and it is everywhere. Naruto is bleeding. Sasuke is bleeding. Sasuke is dead; no, not yet, but on the edge, probably in that white place Gaara remembers being in before his own death, a memory that never fails to come with an accompanying shudder.

He runs to Naruto, panic in his heart. What if he's too late? Did Naruto feel like this when he saw Gaara's lifeless body on the floor of that cave? So many thoughts, so little time. He focuses on stopping Naruto's bleeding. Why isn't the Kyuubi healing the blond? Why did Naruto feel the need to face Sasuke by himself? Why doesn't the stubborn knuckleheaded ninja ever ask for a helping hand? He as plenty of friends, plenty of them skilled and willing to protect the blue-eyed boy they care about…

Gaara lifts Naruto's head and speaks to him, his voice hoarse. "Naruto!" he calls out, and he can hear footsteps approaching, but he cares not who it is. He prays that one of them is Haruno-san, a healer. He prays for any medical nin, in fact… Anyone who can save Naruto better than Gaara can.

He feels like a failure. He feels like he should slap Naruto once the blond is better, and yell at him for being an idiot, racing off to what could have been his death.

But Naruto knew that. He knew that both he and Sasuke would most likely tear one another apart and die together. Maybe that's what Naruto wanted. Maybe that's what Sasuke was hoping for. And maybe, just maybe, that's what's going to happen if Gaara can't figure something out, and fast…

He should have been by Naruto's side for this. He should have killed Sasuke back at the 'Kage meeting when he had a chance, and then Naruto wouldn't be so broken in his arms at this very moment. He should have done a lot of things, but this is no time to dwell on impossible could-have-beens.

Gaara lifts Naruto into the air, the blond's battered and crimson-soaked body dangling bridal-style in his arms. He can smell Naruto's pain, a bitter stench that resembles blood and despair and adrenaline and death. He winces visibly and shouts for assistance.

Thank Kami for the pink-haired girl. She is immediately by Gaara's side, her face oddly calm, even though tears are streaming down her cheeks at a swift rate. She blinks and wipes them away, but they keep pouring down even as she starts healing her fallen teammate.

Sakura doesn't even stutter as she says slowly, mournfully: "Sasuke-kun is dead."

Gaara nods his head, having predicted this. He feels the loss nonetheless, though; an echo of sorrow, something he knows is not his own – he despised the Uchiha – but belongs to the boy lying between himself and the medical nin. It is not unlike how he felt when he spoke with Sasuke and shed a tear for the raven-haired teen, because deep down, Gaara knew that it was going to end this way.

"We have to get him to a village for proper care," Haruno-san states, her voice wavering only once as she continues to cry. She's silently weeping for the collateral tragedy: Sasuke, Naruto, and everybody along the way in this great ninja war started by the master villain, Uchiha Madara. She feels it and displays it openly, her pain the pain of many, her soul so very empathetic. Gaara envies her a little; why can't he be kinder and more compassionate like she? Perhaps then Naruto would…

But no, Gaara blocks these thoughts as he takes Naruto and cradles him to his chest, the unconscious boy's head resting on Gaara's shoulder. He is warm, like the sun, even through blood-loss and murder and grief. Gaara treasures him, and wants him to be well again, even if part of him also wants to scream and yell and explode with anger, since Naruto was stupid enough to do most of this to himself, albeit indirectly.

"He can't go back to Konoha like this," Sakura murmurs as she follows Gaara's rapid leg movements. She didn't know he could run so fast, considering that he's carrying a Kami-knows-how-heavy gourd of pure sand, as well as a body slightly larger than his own.

"I know."

"He needs to rest for a while, with people who won't –"

"I know."

Sakura stops arguing, if that is even what she's doing. She looks at Gaara oddly, and then asks, "Can he stay with you?"

"Why me?"

She knows that Naruto trusts Gaara completely. She knows that Suna is close enough to home to be a safe, easy-access place, but far away enough to be like a vacation. She also knows a secret that Naruto told her before he went to face Sasuke. She told Gaara later that Naruto had confessed to her, 'Sakura-chan, if I don't make it out alive, can you tell Gaara that I love him? I don't know in what way, but I want him to know that. And I love you, too, but you already knew that, dattebayo!"

And she knows that the Hokage would want just the same thing, and would most likely be willing to transfer Naruto to Suna as a temporary ninja of the Sand, at least until he's healed and Konoha is generally rebuilt. She knows this because Tsunade is like a psuedo-mother to Naruto, and because there really is no other choice.

She offers a weak smile around her ever-falling tears. "Because there's nobody better."

And Gaara doesn't confirm nor deny this. He simply nods his head once, and he can tell by the relieved expression on Sakura's face that he had done right by her, and probably Naruto as well.

"You're awake," Gaara says, the shock left out of his voice, but felt all the same. He straightens up in his chair near Naruto's bedside, and he watches as the blond groans in protest of the pain and forces himself to sit up. "How do you feel?"

Naruto offers a partial smile. "Like I got hit by a tornado."

"You somewhat did. The Uchiha had some very powerful attacks."

Naruto shrugs, wincing. "Nhg. That smarts. But I guess that could be why I hurt so much. Say, what's the damage report? I feel like I have more bandages than skin!"

Gaara's jaw tightens. He glances out the window at a distant sandstorm. "Your right arm is broken in three places: humerus, radius, and the long metacarpus bones of your hand. Your right leg was shattered below the knee, and took a lot of mending, and will take a long time to heal. You have two broken ribs, and six cracked ones. Your nose was broken. Your skin was burned from the Kyuubi's chakra in ten places. But aside from that, there are cuts and bruises on your arms, stomach, chest, face, and thighs from weapon wounds." He pauses. "You two must have really torn into each other, Kankurou said." Scowling, the redhead stood up. His voice did not raise any octaves, but his tone was furious. "Just what were you thinking? I have half a mind to knock you unconscious again for being so idiotic!"

Naruto looks confused. "What do you mean, Gaara?"

The redhead turns away. "I told you that I would protect you. I owed it to you. Have you no sense of honor?"

"Now, wait just a minute!" Naruto retorts, inwardly wincing again at the pain that's constricting in his chest. "I have plenty of honor! Because of my honor, because of my ninja way, I chose to go it alone. I didn't want anybody else hurt – or, hell, killed – because of them interfering with my battle. It's a battle I started years ago with Sasuke when he tried to leave, and I caught up with him. We fought on the water, on the stone, and in the air; just like how we did again this time. And since it was something I needed to finish, I didn't want anybody else to have to be involved! So what do you mean, I was being idiotic? What do you mean, I have no sense of honor? I thought everything through and did what I thought was right!"

"Well, it wasn't," Gaara replies coldly. "Your honor is my honor, too; I have none unless I prove myself to you, and repay my debt. That has become my ninja way." He squares his shoulders and returns his gaze to Naruto's bandaged face. Even through a beating, the kitsune is still handsome beyond words. Gaara licks his lips, which have suddenly become dry. He doesn't miss how Naruto's eyes follow the action. Calming himself, the redhead continues: "You're still an idiot, though."

"Why?" Naruto challenges.

Gaara glares at Naruto's too-blue eyes. "Because," he states solidly, "You… worried everyone."

"You mean, I made you worry about me?" Naruto says, sounding a little touched and a little smug, as if he were trying to trick Gaara into confessing something. He smiles gently. "Aw, I didn't know you cared."

"Don't give me that!" Gaara throws back, his voice still lacking emotion but his eyes speaking volumes. He lowers his voice to a near whisper. "You know that I do."

"Oh?" Naruto says, smiling genuinely. "Why, because I'm your friend?"

Gaara doesn't answer. Naruto hadn't expected him to.

Sighing, Naruto waves his undamaged hand, the one he hadn't used for his ultimate Rasengan. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stir up the dog shit." He grins to himself as he catches the brief expression of disgust on Gaara's face at the mention of said phrase. The blond goes on to ask, "Hey, would you mind coming over here for a moment?"

Gaara looks up at Naruto's face, a question forming on his lips. "Do you need assistance? I could get a nurse –"

Naruto grins, his cheeks oddly flushing a bit. "No, that won't be necessary. Just come over here."

Timidly, Gaara makes his way back to Naruto's bedside, not realizing he had stepped so far away. He unclenches his first and leans forward ever so slightly. "What is it?" he inquires.

Without warning, Naruto yanks Gaara down until they are nose to nose. "I wanted to thank you," he murmurs flirtatiously, and before Gaara can wrap his mind around this, Naruto closes the distance between them, his eyes closing, and touches his lips to Gaara's.

The redhead freezes at first, his entire body flushing with warmth and tensing in place. Then, just as quickly as this had come about, Gaara shoves Naruto fiercely away at the chest – hating himself for watching the pain flicker over Naruto's face due to his cracked and broken ribs – and stands gasping for breath, an odd heat forming at the tips of his ears.

"What the fuck was that?" he demands, his fingers automatically ghosting over his mouth. They immediately fall to his side with a slap, the same fingers curling into a fist.

"That was a thank-you," Naruto says simply, casually, as if he did it all the time. He grins. "A special thank you for my Gaara-kun. And it was also an apology," he adds, softer, and without a smile. "Because I know that you swore you would protect me, but I didn't let you. And for that, for making you worry, I'm sorry."

"So you try to kiss me?" Gaara retorts hotly, his voice for once revealing emotion. He turns and abruptly leaves the room, hearing Naruto calling his name behind him, pleading for him to stay.

But he can't stay. Not when he is so torn between never speaking to Naruto again and going back for another kiss.

Gaara resumes present time as he opens his eyes, not sure if he wants to revisit the other two instances when Naruto tried to kiss him or if he should let his mind rest. But no, it seems that the blond can't leave him alone; the other two memories arise as Gaara hears the blond knocking outside of his bedroom door.

"Gaara?" the kitsune is saying, "Can't we ever talk peacefully?"

The redhead doesn't think that peace is possible between them. Not always. Not forever. Not recently.

"I see that you're up and about again," Kankurou smirks as he passes Naruto in the kitchen of the Kazekage mansion. "Are you healing well?"

Naruto nods. "Kyuubi is helping me out a lot lately. If things go well, I'll be off of these crutches and wearing a sling without a cast in no time!"

Gaara stiffens behind his book, pretending not to be listening, nor acknowledging the fact that Naruto is within the vicinity.

But it seems that Naruto has other ideas.

"Gaara!" he says cheerfully, he bounds (or at least tries to) over to where Gaara sits at the dining room table, planted firmly on a square cushion. "How's my favorite leader today? Still giving me the silent treatment?"

Gaara looks away stubbornly.

Naruto laughs. "Guess so! Say, Gaara, would you talk to me again if I treated you to some ramen? That always works on me."

The redhead doesn't answer.

Naruto pouts, his demeanor completely opposite as that of somebody who killed their best friend, was in a coma for a week, is badly injured (nearly dead), and had a spat with the same person they are approaching now. He sits down on the cushion beside Gaara. "Gaara… why won't you talk to me? I said before that I was sorry!"

Gaara sighs through his nose. He directs his voice at Naruto, but continues to pretend to read. "I simply have nothing to say."

"Nothing?" Naruto breathes, a puzzled look on his face. "Jeez, Gaara, I know that you can be a little reserved sometimes, but nothing? That's not like you; you always have an opinion on everything, at least."

"Then what do you want from me? My opinion?"

"Yeah, an opinion would be great! Like, what's your opinion of me?" he says, a sly grin curving one end of his lips. "Am I still an idiot?"

"Yes."

Naruto frowns. "Too bad, because in my opinion, you're not being fair."

"Am I not?" the redhead retorts flippantly as he turns a page of his book. He still isn't reading it, not really, but he already read it twice before, so it hardly matters. It serves as a barrier between them; one of the few Gaara has left to protect himself and his emotions.

"No, you certainly are not," Naruto responds. He leans in closer to Gaara, startling the redhead. "How can I make you understand? Will you hold a grudge on me forever?"

Gaara prickles at that. He could never hold a grudge on Naruto; and he knows that what he's currently doing is childish, but how can he brush off something as intimate as a kiss? Because, now, that is the sole thing bothering him, and the reason why he continues to think of Naruto as nothing short of a moron. A brash, impulsive moron.

"Not forever," Gaara decides with another turn of a page. He briefly looks at Naruto with one eye wandering up from his book. The blond looks hopeful.

"Well, maybe I can help time along some," Naruto grins, and Gaara does not like the spark in the kitsune's tone. He tense, preparing himself for the unknown.

It comes in the form of Naruto plucking the book from the Kazekage's hands and setting it on the table, prior to pinning Gaara to the floor.

Suddenly finding himself lying there, beneath the blond, uneven on some sitting cushions, and blinking with surprise, Gaara stills his breathing. "What on Earth –?"

Naruto merely smiles, appreciating the fact that Gaara hasn't begun struggling yet. He knows that it's coming, but while the redhead is reduced to an unmoving state of shock, Naruto chooses to try again.

He bends down to his stunned friend and, this time keeping his eyes open (wary of violent response), the blond brushes his lips against Gaara's chin before landing a kiss on the redhead's mouth.

Gaara hates this. He can hear his older brother laughing in the next room; he can hear Temari squeaking in surprise, dropping a plate; he can feel the vibrations in the floorboards as the plate shatters, the sharp sound ringing in his ears. And worst of all, Gaara can feel the warmth spreading from his lips to his toes, and the tingle of lips on lips, and a small happy hum coming from the back of Naruto's throat.

Growling, Gaara breaks the a-few-seconds-too-long kiss and knees Naruto in the groin, not caring how the blond grunts and thuds onto the floor, curling up into fetal position with his hands between his legs to cradle the pain. He doesn't care, and he flees. He shouts something – isn't sure what, in retrospect, but thinks that it might have been a simple, 'No!' – and slams his door behind him like an angry child. He then climbs onto the roof, shivering without being cold, and pretends to patrol the landscape for a while.

Thinking. The entire time he paces up and down the rooftops and walls, he spends it thinking. About Naruto. And their conflicting mess of a relationship.

The redhead shakes his head, but answers, "Perhaps we can, just this once. Come in, Naruto."

The blond slips into Gaara's bedroom, the sense of privacy and intimacy of location lost on him, but all too found on the owner of the room.

Gaara slides off of his bed and gestures to two vacant chairs in the corner of the bland room, and Naruto gives a curt, polite smile and bow before taking a seat.

"What do you want to talk about?" the Kazekage breathes out, almost sighing. His body language spells out that he does not wish to have any sort of conversation at all, but Naruto is all too insistent.

"Us," Naruto states flatly. For once, his facial expression and tone are utterly serious; there is no flirtation, no friendliness, and no cunning. Very state-of-fact. "I want to talk about… us. You and me. As ninja, as people, as friends, as past enemies, as…" he cuts himself off, but Gaara knows without verbal expression that Naruto had been on the brink of uttering the word 'lovers.' He clears his throat. "So will you? Talk to me, that is."

Gaara merges with his chair; he becomes just as rigid, just as blank, and just as unresponsive. Naruto makes a face, but wipes it quickly away and takes this as opportunity to rant.

"We're strange, aren't we?" he begins softly. "We were born of similar origin, with our mothers dying before we could remember them, and our fathers sealing monsters inside of us. Our villages despised us for a long time. But you knew about your beast, didn't you? And I didn't. And I don't know which hurts more: knowing why others shun you, and not knowing the reason at all. But I do know this much: we ended up going down different paths for a while because of it."

The redhead nods twice, agreeing. So far, this conversation isn't nearly as painful as he had previously thought; he relaxes a fraction.

Naruto goes on, "You came to hate the world and killed many people. I longed for affection, trying to worm my way into people's hearts. In a way, you and I got what we wanted, but not the way we wanted it. We got attention through murder and acting out, not from acceptance. But… then we met each other, didn't we?"

Gaara had been wrong; here it comes, the painful part, he's sure of it.

The blond gives an odd smile, and wriggles his shoulders to make his slinged arm more comfortable. "I met you, and you met me, and we fought long and hard, and we came to understand each other. I knew you as well as I knew myself, all of a sudden; I could feel your pain, your anguish, and I knew. And you could see that I knew, and because of that, you felt my pain, too. Without having to talk to me all that much, I think you came to know me, too. And since then, I've always been… curious about you." He looks up, searching for Gaara's face and any reaction on it. But the redhead is glancing at the floor, his expression as stoic as ever.

But the Kazekage does have something to say.

"Naruto… do I mean that much to you?"

He asks because he never felt like he ever made much of a difference to anyone. He asks because even now, when his people like him and respect him as a reasonable leader, he still feels a chill now and then of a cold shoulder or the possibility of rejection. He doesn't even know if his siblings care about him as much as Naruto seems to. But he needs to know: why?

The kitsune blushes and rubs the back of his head with his good arm. He isn't looking at Gaara. "Dammit, Gaara, do you have to ask something like that? Of course you mean that much to me! Why d'you think I risked so much to come save you when the Akatsuki took you? Why d'you think, when no one else could reach me that day it was snowing, I let you touch me when you showed up? It's because you mean a lot to me, Gaara. You and Sasuke and Sakura and Iruka- and Kakashi-sensei are my precious people. I couldn't live without you, though; you're my most precious."

"Most… precious?" Gaara murmurs, his eyes flickering up to look Naruto in the eye.

The blond nods, his face still flushed. "I guess that's why I still fight with you, and why I keep coming back for more: because I'm fighting to keep you. I don't ever want you to hate me, no matter how foolish I might act." He smiles, blush gone. "Got it, dattebayo?"

For the first time in a long while, a teeny smile softens the very edges of Gaara's mouth for a fraction of a second. "Yes, I get it."

Naruto looks relieved. He laughs. "Good, because I was afraid that I was going to have to be so blunt as to use the 'L' word."

Love. Gaara knows the word all too well. Absentmindedly, the redhead's left hand drifts up to his forehead, his fingers feeling out the rough bumps of an old scar.

Naruto leans forward and catches Gaara's hand. He brings it down between them, and nearly falls out of his chair as he leans further forward to press his lips to the red mark on pale flesh. It's an action that feels vaguely cliché, but Gaara ignores the feeling as he permits this action, just this once.

As Naruto pulls away, he stands up and hobbles for a moment. Then, he says tightly, "I know that our relationship will always fluctuate; we're very different people, but similar enough in that we both are very stubborn and competitive. I guess that comes with being men, huh? We'll always – pardon the nostalgic pun – butt heads, but that comes naturally to us, so I think we'll always even out in the end, don't you?"

Silently, Gaara nods. He says nothing more, and Naruto has nothing more to say; all he needed was that bit of confirmation.

He smiles. "Okay, so at least that's settled. But, ah, I have one more thing to ask: can we… try to be together? I don't have many people left, and you know me: I need somebody. And I want that 'somebody' to be you."

Gaara thinks about it. He thinks about being deprived of physical contact; he thinks about how, if no one else, he feels close to Naruto; he thinks about how they conflict, but also how they mesh; and, he thinks about his buried, previously denied feelings.

And, just as Naruto is sighing and about to leave without an answer, Gaara replies: "We can try."

"Boys, stop it!" Temari commands. "Kankurou, help me!"

They tear the two apart, Naruto bleeding at the lip, still bandaged and on crutches, and Gaara sulking with a bruise forming on his wrists.

"Why do you two do this to each other? I thought you two were friends!" Temari huffs. "What's your problem?"

"He attacked me," Naruto says dryly, "And all because I tried to give him another kiss."

"Why do you keep doing that, if you know that he's going to hurt you?" Kankurou says, trying to hold back laughter. Oddly, someone crushing on his little brother is funny to the brunet, even if that someone is another male.

"Because I need to break down his walls if he and I are ever going to have any sort of relationship, romantic or not," Naruto retorts. A smirk forms on his lips. "Besides, I like how his lips feel. It's oddly addicting, even if I get punished for it."

Kankurou can't help it. He bursts into a fit of laughter.

Temari, on the other hand, doesn't look quite as amused. She places her hands on her hips and frowns at the two younger teens. "Gaara," she scolds first, "Stop hurting Naruto; he's damaged enough already, and he's supposed to be healing! And Naruto… stop trying to force your affection on my baby brother, won't you? Or I might just have to get out my fan."

"Get out your fan…? Hey, I thought you said that I shouldn't get hurt anymore!"

The blonde woman smirks. "Well, then you better not make any more hasty moves, then, huh?"

Naruto grumbles something under his breath, but agrees.

But part of him kind of likes the verbal and physical violence; call his masochistic, but it's some of the only ways that he can come into contact with Gaara, and steal Gaara's precious time.

"I promise, Temari. No more funny business; but you can't blame us, not really. After all, it's all because Gaara and I are in a state of flux."