Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

My Yakuza Baby
By : DevilnBlue
Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male
Views: 4234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or make a profit from this story.
Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Hello Everyone, it’s your girl Hopeless Blue Kiss here. I finally bit the bullet and merged my old pen names (Simply Hopeless, DevilnBlue, Assassin’s Kiss). I’m sorry it took me so long to write to write this fic. COVID and writer’s block just kept kicking the can down the road. But I’m back for my birthday and the best way to celebrate my birthday is to leave me a review letting me know what you think of the story. I don’t own Naruto. But this wonderful fanfic is mine.
My Yakuza Baby
“You’re honestly going to eat all that?” Naruto asked incredulously as he looked at the three thick waffles stacked one on top of the other. It was golden yellow, crisped and soft; all topped with a mountain of whip crème, walnuts, and chopped strawberries. It looked decadent as fuck and the blonde was itching to dig his fork in.
“Yes, that’s why I ordered it,” Gaara said in a no-nonsense tone.
Nevertheless, his bald brow couldn’t help wrinkling together in his confusion; a pout hovered on the horizon of his pink lips. He was immediately affronted and defensive at the questioning of his order decision. The redhead had a huge, sweet tooth and a thing for strawberries. He tried his best not to indulge in his weakness for sweets, except in the privacy of his own room, because he didn’t want to seem weak to his underlings and siblings.
Gaara was supposed to be emotionless, fear-inspiring, and volatile when necessary to keep both his allies and enemies guessing. But around Naruto he felt sort of soft and safe enough to be truly himself for as long as he could. Kami knew how long he would have this golden-haired Unicorn person at his side. He wanted to savor every minute as much as he was savoring the sugary sweet explosion of his waffles and strawberries on his tongue. So, for Naruto to question him like that, kind of made him a little insecure about revealing even this much about himself.
“Can I have a bite?” Naruto requested, eyeing the waffles hungrily.
He had four plates to either side of him laden with western breakfast foods like: bacon, eggs, hash browns, sausage links, biscuits. He hadn’t anticipated wanting anything sweet besides his OJ. But for some reason nothing seemed as tantalizing as the way the cherry nosed redhead in front of him systematically demolished the sugary mess as if it was the best goddamn thing in the world.
That pink tongue missed nothing. It poked out to catch a dab of crème on his chin or sucked purposely on a particularly juicy piece of strawberry on his fork. It was breakfast porn at its best and Naruto was getting fucking envious of Gaara’s single plate of waffles.
The blonde squirmed in his chair, trying not to pout or show his growing frustration as he waited for Gaara to recognize him, cave and then let him have a bite. He’d even be willing to offer him a piece of bacon or a bit of his scrambled eggs in fair trade. But it became clear as the seconds dragged into minutes with Gaara only giving him a cursory look, to acknowledge that he heard, that the redhead wasn’t going to budge. Stingy. So, Naruto did the only thing he could do. He tried to sneakily take a small bit of waffle; that honestly didn’t have that much crème and not a single strawberry or walnut on it. He felt that he was being quite selfless liberating such an insignificant morsel.
Quickly, before Naruto realized what was happening, Gaara wrapped his pale fingers around Naruto’s tan wrist. The blonde opened his mouth to protest, surprised by how strong the redhead’s grip was, before Gaara leaned forwards and descended on the fork. His pink lips wrapped around the metal tines and neatly pulled off the pilfered bit of sweet to chew in triumph.
“Well fuck!” Naruto exclaimed in disbelief. He watched as the redhead leaned back on his side of the booth; the blonde’s captured wrist released so the pale teen could stretch his arms out to rest against the top of his cushioned booth seat. His body and the small quirk of his pink lips were silently screaming smug triumph. His pretty seafoam green eyes dared the blonde to try to do that stupid thing again. Clearly the results would probably be the same and Naruto was sorely tempted to see if that was true.
His fork hovered in plain sight, descending and rising just to see Gaara’s body tense and his eyes follow the utensil with predatory intent. Then swiftly, before the blonde could change his mind, he scooped up a bit of strawberry, walnut and crème sans waffle, just so he could watch the redhead once again capture his wrist.
“Mine!” growled Gaara warningly. His grip was firm as he leaned forward once more, head tilted to the side for a better angle to bite down. Except he didn’t.
Gaara’s lips were drawn up in a disapproving pout, just a hair’s breadth away from the tempting mouthful. If the redhead wanted, he could have poked out his tongue and it would have stabbed into the creamy coolness without a need to move his head; but he didn’t. Just tensed up in obvious suspicion, trying his best to figure out why Naruto didn’t seem to struggle or protest this time around. What was his game? Was this a game that friends played at? Did people tease each other with food? Was he doing this right? Was he acting like how a ‘real’ friend would respond? Or was he failing just as miserably as he thought he was?
There were so many questions that plagued him now, that the yakuza heir was sorely tempted to pull away and demand for the check. Friendship dissolved; before it could eat away at his reasoning and drown him in self-doubt. But he couldn’t. He was on the precipice of something. It could be something great, something terrifying, or a little of both. Whatever, it was, it made him want to hold on more to the frustrating blonde, because he didn’t want to miss out.
His seafoam green eyes suddenly looked down anxiously at the blonde’s wrist to make sure he wasn’t gripping the American too hard that the blonde would bruise. Gaara was deceptively strong, despite his slighter form. He had been purposely groomed by the yakuza to be able to combat and restrain a full-grown man with or without a weapon. The same couldn’t be said about handling someone with kid gloves. Touch-starved as he was, he had little to no practice being careful and affectionate.
‘All clear there,’ he thought, relieved. Then he looked hesitantly up into those big blue eyes, through a fan of dark lashes, taking in every single one of Naruto’s movements. He hoped to find some wordless clue there. But he honestly doubted it. Who honestly knew what would drive Naruto away, when saner people would have bolted long before he threw his deer knife at the blonde last night?
Naruto, not realizing the turmoil he was causing with his silence and inaction, just stared expectantly. His mouth agape, as he waited for the suddenly bashful Gaara to once more take away the pilfered food. Honestly, the redhead reminded Naruto of one of those woodland creatures that brazenly ventured close to eat the food from your hand; but would bolt the moment you moved too suddenly. So, he tried to remain as still as possible. A small smile tugged at the drawstring of one side of his mouth; hoisting it up high as the redhead hesitated a heartbeat more before finally moving closer to the metal tines.
He could just barely feel the heat of Gaara’s breath against his fingertips. It was so fleeting and didn’t ground Naruto in the same way the hand wrapped around his wrist or Gaara’s steady gaze did.
Those eyes demanded answers to why the blonde was doing this, even as the redhead committed himself to lapping up the whip crème, chopped walnuts and strawberries as daintily as possible. Only when the tines were clean did Gaara slowly pull away. His pale cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, along with his cherry nose. The warmth of his hand still lingered even after the redhead pulled his fingers away again.
Gaara crossed his arms defensively across his chest, grumbling about waffle pilfering blondes to mask his remaining embarrassment and discomfort. The yakuza heir hadn’t seen what was wrong with taking what was his. Before the doubt had set in, he had felt justifiably chagrined when it looked as if the blonde would test the boundaries of what the redhead would do to protect his sweets the second time around. But the way those hypnotic blue eyes took in his every movement and seemed spellbound just because of what? Him eating his waffle? Him sharing Naruto’s fork? It made him upset enough to want to punch something like that sappy, knowing smile on the blonde’s face.
‘If he wanted waffles he could have gotten some himself,’ the yakuza heir thought sulkily.
Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes to see if the blonde would stupidly try to make movements towards his waffles yet again. His hands quickly grabbed either side of his plate and pulled his dish a bit closer to himself. The bottom scraping against the wooden tabletop. But when all the blonde did was try not to make his smile bigger and sappier, Gaara just sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘Stupid golden unicorn,’ he thought, almost fondly. Slowly his body began to relax visibly by increments until he went back to eating his waffles properly. He wanted to eat them quickly before the whipped crème melted and made the waffles underneath soggy and undesirable.
He tried to unsuccessfully ignore the blonde. His ears visibly pinkened at words like ‘cute’ and ‘I bet a red panda would eat just like that’. He kicked Naruto in the shin for the last one, a smirk tugging at his lips at the grunt and colorful swear from the blonde. But he was then startled from enjoying his waffles once more when he heard Naruto call his name, followed by the sudden bright flash of what appeared to be a camera phone. He quickly gave Naruto a ‘What the Fuck!’ look, which was followed by another camera flash and a harsh kick from him to the blonde for his trouble. “Die already!”
“Aww, don’t be a grumpy panda bear. I’m just taking pictures to celebrate our first meal together as friends. Here—scoot over,” Naruto suddenly ordered. He was up and squeezing himself into Gaara’s side of the booth before flipping the photo icon on his phone over to face them in self-portrait mode. “Just look at the camera and try smiling. I know you can do it without bruising your ego too much,” the blonde insisted cheekily. He then threw his arm around the affronted redhead, so they could squeeze a little tighter together to fit in the camera’s view.
Gaara visibly stiffened, scowling murderously into the camera as the photo was taken. He wanted to snatch the camera phone away immediately and see what other idiotic photos the blonde took of him when he was unawares, and the flash was off. But just as he was about to elbow the blonde out of his personal bubble and snatch up the phone, their waitress came to the table.
“Could you take a photo of us? It’s our first meal together.” Naruto said excitedly, thrusting his phone at the good-natured waitress, not giving her a chance to protest.
Gaara huffed in irritation, rolling his eyes at Naruto’s enthusiasm. The blonde either didn’t know or chose to ignore that he was pissed at him. It wasn’t as if Gaara had ‘resting bitch face’; although some assholes might contest that. The redhead had prided himself in getting his looks just right to skewer people with just a glance alone.
“What’s with the sour puss?” The blonde finally acknowledged Gaara in a staged whisper, after helping the fumbling waitress figure out the controls on his camera phone.
“Are you like this with all your friends?” Gaara grumbled, arms crossed once more across his thin, muscled chest. He wouldn’t toss the heavy weight of Naruto’s warm arm off his shoulders; but he also wouldn’t be a willing participant in the blonde’s insanity.
“Worse,” the blonde chirped happily. Mischief shining in his eyes, because it was true.
Naruto had no real concept of personal space when it came to his friends. He had been deprived of the proper amount of affection after his mother died at a young age. His father and grandmother had shut themselves off and buried themselves in their work to escape the pain. This in turn left his newly single grandfather to pick up the pieces. A grandfather, who had meant well, but wasn’t fully prepared to raise his grandchild on his own, with a broken heart, and in another country.
Jiraiya had successfully raised his son Minato with his ex. So he could still handle simple tasks when taking care of his grandson. He laid out clothes for Naruto; took him to and from school; listened to Naruto talk about his day while helping him with his homework. Even helped him through the difficult hurdles of learning English so he could assimilate a little better into his classes and American culture. But the old man was shit at cooking; he’d order take out 9 times out of 10 or coaxed some of the neighborhood soccer moms to make them a dish or more.
Jiraiya also had a demanding job as a photographer for Time’s online magazine, that required him to go for a few days on end to take pictures of things around the world. At first the old man had stayed grounded, focusing his energy on making Naruto feel as loved as possible in this new, foreign environment. But the old man couldn’t control how people would perceive the exotic oddity of a blue-eyed, blonde-haired Asian boy in their class that spoke little to no English. Or help that sometimes he had to take Naruto out of class for a week or two just, so he could take pictures in a different country.
Jiraiya’s world was rarely full of parent-teacher conferences or Boy Scout meetings. It was more along the lines of dragging his grandson to New York gallery openings for a friend’s latest project at the last minute; or negotiating with a Sherpa to take him up a mountain to take pictures of snow leopards, while a young Naruto stayed safely behind in a neighboring village with a warm glass of yak milk held begrudgingly between mitten-garbed hands.
Jiraiya was there—but he wasn’t. They both just did the best they could with what they had.
So as soon as Naruto was old enough to watch over himself, he started seeing less of his grandfather as he took on month-long projects. He’d skype to check on the growing teen from the Amazon jungles or somewhere just as remotely exotic with bare-chested women for ‘research’. The rent was still paid, the maid still came, along with his Japanese tutor. But it was people like Mama Ruth-Ann, who taught him how to cook and became a surrogate grandmother to him. People like Killer Bee, Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji who allowed him to be selfish and clingy when he thought he’d never find people who would accept him for him and filled in the gaps where his family should have been.
Naruto grew up in an unusual, but surprisingly rewarding situation. He had a feeling he’d need ‘precious people’ here now that everything he knew and loved were on another continent. People who would recognize him and appreciate him for him and all his triumphs and flaws. He wanted Gaara to be someone he could take pictures with; invade his personal space; hug; have stupid little fights with; and so much more. Sure, it was a hell of a lot to ask of a practical stranger; especially one that wasn’t used to affection himself. But this was how Naruto showed he cared.
He pressed his cheek up against Gaara’s cheek; his smile was big and wide as the waitress took the picture. Then quick as he could he slid out of the booth and back on his side before the redhead could grump more about his personal space being violated yet again. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” Naruto said playfully, with a wink to the flustered redhead. He then offered one hand to the waitress for her to put his phone into and gave her a nod of thanks.
“If you like sir, I can get you your own plate of waffles,” their waitress offered, playfully toying with her hair. There weren’t that many cute guys that came in during this time of day and the fact that this one was a blonde foreigner that was so smiley and upbeat made her want to ask him for his phone number.
“Don’t. We are sharing,” the redhead said stonily. Gaara didn’t like the look of the waitress. She seemed a bit too keen on helping. Especially when she quickly scribbled something on her notepad, ripped it off and slid it, folded, to Naruto. The redhead didn’t want to share his food period. But reluctantly stabbed up a bit with his fork and offered the bit of whipped crème waffles in hopes of steering the blonde’s attention back to him. He stared with razor-sharp focus as Naruto smiled, pleasantly surprised, before leaning over quickly to take the mouthful. “How does this taste?
“Holy fuck, that’s good,” Naruto practically moaned out. His hand smacked down on the table to show his enthusiasm for the treat. He could see himself going for another bite or five. But he didn’t want to seem too greedy considering that was Gaara’s whole meal and he still hadn’t touched his biscuits. “Maybe I should pay for anoth—” The blonde began to offer, turning halfway towards the waitress when he was interrupted.
“Do you want some more?” the redhead asked, finally getting into the whole idea of feeding each other. It left him with a surprisingly pleasant, warm feeling having someone like Naruto enjoying his choice in food. He wouldn’t mind doing it again, if Gaara got the last strawberry.
“Are you really going to feed me again?” the blonde said jokingly. He then promptly opened his mouth for another bite, like a baby bird waiting for its’ Momma to feed him. He would offer Gaara a bite of his bacon if he asked and the blonde was all about his pork products.
“I… I’m sorry… I didn’t realize… You two make a cute couple!” The waitress exclaimed suddenly. Her hands quickly flew to her mouth as she saw two startled pair of eyes landing on her. She flushed deeply, bowed awkwardly and made a hasty retreat with some inane excuse about serving someone else.
Naruto for his part, took the information gracefully. Gracefully, if you defined choking quickly on his mouthful of waffle, before smacking his chest with a fist, and taking a huge swallow of his orange juice, as graceful.
‘Bitter’, he thought with a frown. The blonde knew it was never a good idea to drink something sugary when he just ate something that was sweeter, because it muted that flavor out. But his waffle went down wrong at the waitress’s conclusion and he needed something to do; something to occupy his mouth, while he tried to process what was happening. His head shook an affirmative ‘no’ as he set his empty glass of OJ down harder than he had meant to. “No, we’re just good friends.” He managed to say the words out roughly, his throat still slightly tender. He didn’t even realize the waitress had already bailed on them.
“Was her statement that strange?” Gaara said to Naruto. His eyes were narrowed on the meddlesome waitress, who was now far on the other side of the small diner, before he looked at his blonde friend. The same friend that had no qualms about invading his space, demanding his attention with outrageous and somewhat flirtatious words, was now silent and bashful.
Gaara should have gotten a thrill at Naruto being willing to admit that they were friends in public. That this wasn’t a fluke fueled by adrenaline, chivalry and a willingness to befriend anything within a one-mile radius after landing in a somewhat foreign land. But it didn’t—reassure. Thoughts of their friendship paled in comparison to how violently Naruto had reacted to the idea of someone mistaking them for something more.
“Well, when we just met a few hours ago, it’s kind of strange,” Naruto confessed, with a sheepish smile. Then greedily he went back to demolishing his own plate of food with gusto. His need to keep his mouth full so he didn’t somehow say something he would regret, taking high precedence. He was a very tactile person. But usually, his friends knew that their relationship was platonic, nothing more.
The blonde tried to appear nonchalant, like his logic was sound and that they should let the matter go. But Naruto still looked a bit flushed from his violent reaction, in a way it hadn’t when actively teasing his new friend. His gaze even refused to lift higher than his second glass of orange juice that was set at the side of his now empty glass.
“Would you have reacted the same way if I was a girl?” Gaara tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, even as he pushed around his forkful of waffles on his plate. His appetite suddenly disappeared, taken up by other immediate thoughts and concerns.
The redhead had never been attracted to anyone before. He had resigned himself to being asexual. It was probably for the best considering who he was and what he did for a living. Would make it easy for him to be place in an arranged marriage to strengthen yakuza bonds and possibly bring forth an heir that could take over the family business one day. But this blonde, he could find himself doing so many firsts with this blonde if he got even half the chance. Probably feel what it was like being a normal teenager for once; maybe date, even if it was specifically just one person he felt anything for. He could give two fucks if it was Naruto that was making him feel so much, so soon that it should be frightening; but it wasn’t.
“I—” Naruto began, trying not to choke on a mouthful of eggs. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He was confused by Gaara’s line of questioning because by ‘default’ he had always been straight, and he had assumed that Gaara was too. Not that Naruto would care if Gaara turned out to be gay. Whatever worked for him.
Naruto only hoped that he didn’t put his foot in his mouth and somehow ruin their friendship when he suggested as much. But let out a loud sigh of relief when his phone started ringing and vibrating insistently against his hip.
“Oh, it’s my brother!” Naruto said excitedly, already swiping to accept the call before the call went to voicemail.
“I thought you said you were an only child,” Gaara said, bitterly. He did not like that his question went unanswered. Or even the possible idea that his friend was already lying to him so early into their relationship.
“//Hold on a sec Killer Bee//,” Naruto said in English to the person on the phone; then to Gaara in Japanese, “Brother from another mother,” he explained. Then when he realized the redhead might not recognize that American phrase, he licked his chapped lips and tried a better explanation. “He is such a close friend that I consider him like a brother to me. Um... Do you mind if I get this? He probably wants to know how I’m doing.” Naruto looked and sounded apologetic, so Gaara let out an inaudible sigh and waved him off to get up to talk with his ‘American friends’. “Thank you,” Naruto said quickly. Then slid out of his side of the booth and moved to an empty booth a little bit away to talk to his best friend, for the first time in almost two days.
Gaara openly glared at the back of Naruto’s head. He knew enough English to cobble together a decent conversation. But the blonde was talking so fast in his excitement that when Gaara had settled on the side of eavesdropping, it was damn near impossible to decipher. He hated this feeling of not knowing and being kept left in the dark ‘for his own good’. He didn’t need to be coddled. He wasn’t some weakling that always needed some blonde-haired, blue-eyed savoir to save him from his loneliness. He just wanted… wanted… Fuck, he didn’t know what he could want without somehow losing it or tainting it due to who he was.
“I’m sorry Gaara, but we should probably exchange numbers and part ways. It was fun while it lasted; but I can’t drag you around to the grocery store when your clearly still sick.” Naruto suddenly declared good-naturedly, yanking the redhead rudely back down to reality
“Grocery store?” The young yakuza heir wrinkled his non-existent brow in confusion. Naruto hadn’t answered his previous question. Besides they just ate. Why would the blonde need to go the grocery store now? Shouldn’t he be going to the home he was going to be living in for the next few years? Gaara was sorely tempted to reach out and shake the American idiot; if only to force him to make sense and explain his reasonings.
“Yep, want to make some downhome cooking. Not for my folks. They don’t deserve it for leaving me. But I’m hoping by creating something with my own two hands; that it will wash away the homesickness that seems to already be creeping up on me with that call with my friend, Killer Bee. I’m thinking maybe a nice shrimp and sausage gumbo with some buttermilk biscuits and sweet tea made from scratch.” He said with an affirmative nod.
Naruto needed to keep himself occupied. Not because of Gaara’s earlier question. He conveniently forgot about that with the wave of homesickness that struck him when Killer Bee spoke his piece before handing his phone in turn to his other friends who wanted to make sure he got their safely. He missed them so much that his stomach cramped up uncomfortably around the heavy breakfast he just had.
It wasn’t just that. Naruto didn’t want to think about how in less than two days’ time he’d be going to a new school. A school with new people he didn’t know. Who would more than likely judge him based on his appearance and cultural differences, until finally he found a niche of ‘precious people’ who got to know the real him. So, he took refuge in his mind by drawing up a grocery list of materials he would need, because Kami knew if anyone in his new home could cook or had the necessary ingredients. Jiraiya couldn’t and any attempts on the old man’s part to make anything more complicated than a simple sandwich was met with the annoyingly loud sound of the smoke detectors going off and the acrid smell of something burning.
“I want to go with you… to the… the grocery store and your house… If you don’t mind,” Gaara said hesitantly, but still eager as he slid out of the booth and stood. Head bowed, he could feel his alabaster skin flushing in his embarrassment and he hated feeling this uncertain of his place in this blonde’s world.
It seemed that ever since the blonde stumbled into him in that convenience store parking lot, that Gaara was continuously feeling unbalanced around the blonde. Yet, Gaara didn’t want it to end. This friendship. Fuck the unanswered question. He would be just as happy with just this. Harsh reality and responsibility will come soon enough, and he wanted to fight it back if possible. Kami knew how long they’d see each other again. If they would see each other.
Gaara had no doubt that the blonde in front of him could make new friends. He seemed so damn friendly and honest, not to mention exotic with his flaxen hair and almond shaped blue eyes. It would take no time at all before he’d be surrounded with new Japanese friends. But there was only Naruto for Gaara. He was the only one who hadn’t rejected him—yet.
“Great, that’s—great. Are you sure? I mean you look better already, but I don’t want to put you out? Your health comes first… But… I… It’d be nice to have someone who actually knows where to go. You know, to show me which grocery store I should go to and explain the currency to me.” Naruto eagerly began to babble, quickly getting on board with the idea. He beamed happily at his new friend, pleasantly surprised by this new turn of events. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to be left alone either.
Naruto then slid back into the booth to polish off the last bit of his food with enthusiasm. Mama Ruth had always emphasized the importance of finishing the food that was set on his plate. That if his eyes were big enough to want it; then his stomach should be just as big enough to eat it because there was no room for wastefulness. “Do you need to call anyone first? Let them know that you’re safe and sound?” The blonde said around his mouthful, before chugging down the last bit of his orange juice.
“Asshole brother and sister, remember. If they cared enough for me to worry over, I might have felt guilty enough to call them and let them know I’m safe; but since they’re assholes…” he trailed off meaningfully. His slim hip rested against the side of the booth; arms crossed as he waited for the blonde to finish devastating the rest of his plates.
“Say less. I completely understand. Asshole grandmother and father who abandoned me after ripping me from my old life, remember? Twice! Japan and America. So, they will hear from me when I’m good and ready,” Naruto said jovially. Then looked thoughtfully at Gaara’s waffles. “Sooooo… Are you going to finish that? Cause if you aren’t…” He trailed off hopefully, gesturing towards the leftover waffle with his cutlery.
“Touch it and this time I’ll stab you with my fork!” Gaara growled out, with just a hint of a smile. He leaned forward enough from his leaning position to stab his waffles viciously before cramming a piece into his mouth.
It was cold.
It was soggy.
But the startled look he had wrung out of the blonde with his declaration, made them taste sweeter than any strawberry, walnut and whip-creamed waffle he had ever eaten. He wanted that. He wanted to affect Naruto just as much as the blonde did him.
xXx
//Bocchan was spotted having breakfast with some foreign, blonde guy. // Kotetsu quickly texted to Temari while watching his partner Izumo flirt and reassure the frazzled waitress in equal parts.
The moment they walked into the restaurant and started to discreetly ask around if anyone had seen someone that looked like the picture of Gaara on their cellphone, it was clear the waitress knew something. She had nervously licked her lips and made furtive looks toward the ‘Employee’s Only ‘door and then back to them before she tried to dart inside.
Izumo smoothly cut her off with his winning smile and a soft request, that had the waitress unintentionally leaning forward to hear clearly. “Have you seen our lost friend Boc—I mean Gaara? He’s really sick and we are afraid he went out to play with one of his friends, when he shouldn’t,” he said as if saddened by the turn of the events.
She predictably gasped and nodded in sympathy before she hesitated and looked nervously at the barely hidden tattoos that peeked out from both their shirt collars and cuffs. Clearly, she was unsure if she should tell on the little lovebirds she had interrupted with her blatant flirting. But with a few more reassuring words and a candid picture of one of the goons next to a grumpy Gaara, she was finally convinced that they didn’t mean the blonde and red-head any harm. The waitress finally admitted, ashamed of her eavesdropping, that she had overhead them making plans to go grocery shopping.
“It was, it was the sweetest thing I ever seen. I… um… I…” she fumbled for the right words to say. She had never seen a same sex couple before, especially one so adorable and couple-y. On television and manga maybe, but not in real and she was still processing how okay with it she was. But that wasn’t the only reason she was fumbling with her words.
“What is it? You can tell us. You’re among friends… Keiko.” Izumo paused to read off her name tag.
“Well, I sorta took a picture of the two. Just to have. I wasn’t… wasn’t going to share. It wouldn’t be right, but the blonde was so cute, that I couldn’t help myself. It’s just too bad he’s taken.” She quickly explained before letting out a frustrated sighed. Just because she thought the couple was begrudgingly adorable together with their soft bickering and sharing of food, didn’t mean she wasn’t jealous.
“Is it possible for us to see? It’d really help us,” Izumo, insisted. He was trying his best to remain calm and even, despite the fact the waitress was taking her time in giving them vital information about their yakuza boss. They were on a time crunch here, but he knew if he used the usual bout of intimidation that worked to extort protection money from store owners, she’d either clam up, become even more incoherent and/or probably grow faint.
“I… Sure,” Keiko said nervously, showing her phone to Izumo. He quickly snatched it up from her slightly lax fingers; before she could quickly protest and snatch her phone back, the man had quickly sent the picture over in a message then deleted the picture and his number from her phone.
“Here you go miss. Thanks for your help,” Izumo said with a patronizing sneer. He was done with the niceties as he shoved his hands in his pockets and subtly bumped his partner against the shoulder as he walked by, indicating he’d meet him back at the car.
The waitress looked mournfully at her phone after thumbing through her photo gallery to find the picture gone. She had half a mind to walk up to the guy’s retreating back and let him have it for deceiving her. Her mouth was contorted to let him have it, at least verbally, when the remaining guy, with the hair covering have his face, gave her pause.
“Word to the wise girl, next time you go around taking pictures of someone without asking their permission,” Kotetsu warned softly. He paused to pull out his pack of cigarettes from his back jeans pocket. It was slow enough that when his t-shirt consequently rose up, baring his tanned, bullet scarred side from the movement, it also revealed the gun tucked in his waistband before the shirt fell back hiding it once again. “Make sure they and the people they call ‘friends’ aren’t dangerous.”
He finished off his warning with a flick of his lighter, lighting up his face in an orange glow as he took a pull from his cigarette. A smile appeared unbidden as he clearly heard the waitress let out an audible gasp before he leisurely turned and left, with a trail of smoke behind him. Kotetsu didn’t even need to turn to know the muffled thud he heard behind him was more than likely the stupid waitress falling to her knees in shock or her fainting completely at how naïve she had been.
Izumo barely looked over from the picture that was sent to his phone as his partner in crime got into the driver seat. He was grateful that the picture that the unwitting and nosy waitress provided was a better picture than the grainy one that was quickly recovered from the bookstore across the street of the convenient store. It was clear that his young boss had been the reason why it had been hard to get footage of him and his ‘little friend’ after taking care of the convenient store cameras and staying close to as many blind spots as possible.
He had never seen his young boss looks so young and non-threatening before. Like he was just a normal teen hanging out with a friend instead of a powerful yakuza boss-in-training that had learned before he was ten the different ways to expose a dead body without leaving a trace for cops to follow. Izumo almost hesitated to send the photo off, because Gaara looked kind of happy. But his partner’s phone lighting up with an upcoming call from Temari, had him hitting send quickly to Temari. His instinct of self-preservation kicking in hard to show Temari the picture of the blonde interloper, who had clearly caught the redhead’s attention.
“I see the picture now. As soon as you find them, I want you to retrieve Gaara immediately. Also, put a tag on the blonde one until we know more about him. I don’t want to take any chances with him. Not when my brother’s this vulnerable.” Temari ordered swiftly over the speaker phone, knowing they would obey.
“We’re on it, boss. The waitress said something about overhearing the blonde talking about going to the grocery store. Will look at every store in the Konoha area. Even further if we must,” Kotetsu reassured promptly. He handed his cell over to his partner so he could focus on pulling out the parking lot.
“Damn right you will or it’s your heads. I’m serious. If you can’t find my otouto by the end of the day; or if any harm comes to him, don’t bother returning. I will fillet you both open the moment I see you,” Temari said without any moment’s hesitation.
“I… Yes ma’am.” Izumo barely managed to choke out before ending the call with shaky fingers.
A heavy silence fell over the two. Temari may be younger than the two grown, seasoned men. But there was a reason why they secretly called her the ‘Dragon Lady’ behind her back. She would reign fire and brimstone down over the heads she felt wronged her; all the while she protected those who she deemed valuable, like a dragon would their treasure. She was a fierce ‘big sister’ to their yakuza organization and would have made a fine yakuza boss if the current head hadn’t decided to pass that heavy burden to Gaara.
“The sooner we find that red-haired bastard, the sooner we can save our necks. Both literally and figuratively,” Kotetsu muttered, making a sharp left towards the nearest shopping district before the light turned red. There wasn’t enough chain-smoking he could do to settle his nerves. They fucked up big and him puffing on his cigarettes when he promised his Ma days ago, he was quitting for sure, wasn’t helping none. Not the way Izumo purposely rolled down his window to escape the car smelling like one big ole’ ash tray.
“Siri, give me the names and directions of every supermarket in the Konoha, Japan district,” Izumo said into his phone. His partner’s look becoming even more alarmed when the female phone app declared there were over 300 supermarkets in the Konoha area, including the nearby ‘Go-Go- Groceries’.
“Fuck!” Kotetsu cursed. He started to blare his horn in frustration at an old bitty that was taking too long to cross the street. They had to get a move on it now if they were going to make a dint. He didn’t even hesitate to flip off the granny, sneering at her exclamation of “Oh dear,” before he pulled out the moment, she was far enough for him to whiz by.
“Looking up ‘Fuck’ now. There are several porn and sex stores in your ar—” Siri began before Izumo could canceled the message and pulled up the store search once again. His other hand double-checking his seatbelt was secure as his partner made another crazy turn. They honestly didn’t need to get the police involved for speeding.
“I don’t deserve this kind of shit,” growled out Kotestu thumping his head down on the dashboard.
“Looking up ‘Shit’ now—” Siri began to the horror of both harden yakuza members before they both fumbled to shut the oh-so-helpful phone app up.
xXx
“This is where I live. Or at least this is the address that Aunt Shizune text me this morning,” Naruto amended as he looked at the large two-story dwelling. It wasn’t anything fancy. It looked like any home on the block, except the walls were painted a sky blue and the wooden fence was a sunshine yellow with orange swirls that was clearly faded and chipped.
“Are we going to go in or are we supposed to just stand here all day and frown at the house,” Gaara requested, not sure how to proceed. They had been standing outside for a good ten or so minutes after their taxi had dropped them and their groceries off to the destination. He hadn’t visited many friends before, but he assumed at some point they would let him inside the house. Not stare morosely at the outside of the house as if it had personally offended him or something.
“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine. I’m just… I didn’t realize they hadn’t moved,” Naruto confessed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “This was my childhood home before… before my mother passed away and I was forced to move the first time.” He tried to sound nonchalant about it; but he could tell on his own that he was failing miserably.
“I’m sorry,” Gaara offered gruffly. It seemed like the right thing to say, even though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. How was he supposed to know that a simple request like ‘going inside’ would be a landmine just waiting to be stepped on?
“You didn’t know. We’re still at that getting to know each other stage,” Naruto quipped before pushing open the wooden gate. “If my memory is correct, there should be a spare key right around… HERE!” He crowed in triumph pulling out a spare key from under an ugly frog flowerpot that was halfway between the fence and the front door.
Gaara looked as if he wanted to say something, but then decided to stop himself. He was used to growing up in a fortress like mansion that had a very state-of-the-art security system. High outer walls, metal fence that you had to be buzzed to be let into, with attack dogs guarding acres of land that looked like you stepped into ancient Japan. Not to mention it was a place fit to bursting with seasoned yakuza members that lived there and would gleefully cut down any intruder who dared think to take one step towards his home with ill-intentions.
So, for a simple house like Naruto’s childhood home to be insecure and easily penetrable by a common way of retrieving a spare housekey, was a little worrisome to say the least. But if he said as much, that might lead to why he would desire such staunch security in the first place, and he wasn’t going to try to drive his friend away anytime soon.
“Hello?” Naruto said hesitantly after he opened the door and stepped inside. He was about to step pass the row of shoes, into the main part of the house before Gaara gave him pause with the hand not occupied with groceries.
“You’re supposed to take off your shoes when entering someone’s home. It’s a sign of disrespect if you don’t,” Gaara explained at the questioning look. He then quietly shucked his own shoes, lined them with the others, and then moved to grab some guest slippers that were set neatly to the side.
“Oh… my bad. I forgot about that,” Naruto said with an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s been almost a decade since I’ve been back, so I’m sure I’m going to slip up some more trying to get used to the old ways of doing things.” He sat down his groceries; then wobbled on one foot chucking off one shoe after the other before slipping on the guest slippers and reaching for his bags again. “Let’s just go and feel free to correct me if I mess up like that again. I’m sure I’ll need all the help I can get,” he sighed out begrudgingly.
Naruto didn’t really want to explore the house. He was too afraid of what memories it might conjure up while he was alone with Gaara. So, he just made a beeline towards where he was pretty sure the kitchen was and left the bags on the kitchen’s island marble top. It looked recently renovated with a double-doored refrigerator, state of the art oven and top of the line electric stove. “You’re my guest. Do you want something to drink before I start cooking?” He offered, already preparing to wash his hands in the sink. Then took a cursory look inside the fridge for possible beverage choices.
“You can cook?” Gaara asked in bemusement. He knew Naruto had mentioned making things from scratch and rattling a list of foods he wanted. Had even seen him expertly feeling up a few tomatoes and eyeing a few products up carefully, before finally making his selection and moving on to the next item. But it was still a bit of a surprise to see someone as close to his age, no matter his height, so eager and assured of himself in the kitchen.
“Ma Ruth-Ann taught me after seeing the sorry ass lunches my Grandfather was giving me. Lunchables, takeout and soccer moms’ casseroles can only take you so far, dude. I also didn’t trust my gramps in the kitchen without Pepno Bismal and a fire extinguisher close by.” Naruto said this with a careless wave of his knife and a fond grimace. “So, Ma Ruth-Ann coming into the picture because of my befriending her grandson, Killer Bee, was a godsend. She’s from New Orleans, Louisiana if you’re wondering. Been there since she was a little baby on her mama’s knee and only came over to California after Hurricane Katrina hit in 2005.
“Came with only the clothes on her back; a cast iron gumbo pot that was in her family for generations; a faded photo album with too many afros; a fat family bible stuffed with birth dates, death dates, and marriages that traced her family’s lineage way back when. Like I’m talking slavery old; and a head full of the best Southern recipes this side of the Mississippi,” Naruto rattled off. The blonde was unable to hide the pride he felt in his surrogate grandmother. She was the closest thing he had had to a grandmother or a mother for that matter. She hadn’t even hesitated to nurture him; it was as if he was one of her own flesh and blood.
“You really admire her,” Gaara said simply. He leaned forward on his stool, elbows on the marble island to fully take in Naruto at work. He even let out a hum of approval as the blonde switched some of the food over to the Island, so the young mafia boss didn’t have a conversation with the blonde’s back while his host was prepping.
Naruto was being very thoughtful. But it was as clear as the nose on any of their faces, that there was a fond sadness behind Naruto’s words. It worried the red head as he graciously took the bottled water that the blonde offered him. He began to fiddle nervously with the plastic cap, sensing that this talk of home wasn’t going to end well. It might have started out well, but he could already see this bright person dimming without the blonde realizing yet. So, he kept his blue-green gaze intent on Naruto, unsure how someone as emotionally constipated as himself could offer the blonde comfort once the other shoe dropped.
“Of course, I do. She’s like the grandmother I’ve always wanted. She acts more like a mother to me in many ways. Looked after me. Not just because I was best friends with her grandchild since we were both in Middle School. But because that woman has such a big heart. Drags half the neighborhood kids to church with her when she can get a hand on them. Cooks these big Sunday dinners for us like fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, shrimp and grits, catfish, gumbo, jalapeno cornbread; whatever might strike her fancy at the time.
“Gaara, I swear her Beignet’s our so fucking fluffy, powdery and gooey you’d think you’d died and gone to heaven just biting one.” Naruto declared this with an infectious smile and an enthusiastic thump of his fist on the kitchen’s countertop at just the thought of one of those savory pastries.
“I’m the only one of her children, adopted or otherwise, who has really taken a knack to cooking. Sure, she taught her only daughter and a nephew or two here and there a few family recipes; but it was me she chose to mold. Mama Ruth-Ann saw me and breathe the love of cooking into me so all that I want to do once I graduate High School is go to culinary school. She even gave me the family gumbo pot. I swear, snot and tears when I had to say goodbye to that special lady. There ain’t ever going to be another one like her!”
Naruto’s infectious smile suddenly fell as he braced his hands against the countertop; head drooped down as he tried to get it together. The wave of sadness had hit him like a sledgehammer to the back of his head. He was dizzy with the sudden grief that crashed over him. He could already feel tears itching and burning at the corner of his eyes. It fucking hurt. So, he did what he did best when he couldn’t fight the demons laid out before him; he cooked.
Naruto suddenly turned away from Gaara with a cheeky smile and dramatically rolled up of his sleeve as if he was about to show the redhead a magic trick. But to be honest, whenever he saw Ma Ruth cooking, it was a performance worth watching.
The once chatty blonde silently pulled out his ingredients from the grocery bags. He pulled out a cutting board, cleaned it off in the sink and before Gaara knew it, Naruto was dicing fine little pieces of carrots, onions, tomatoes and what have you, in neat little piles.
The blonde was afraid to speak now. Afraid that if he opened his mouth and shared more about his precious people, his voice would warble and crack into pointy shards that would shred his throat with sadness. But no, once that door was open, the memories came beating at his mind like a steel drum at a Caribbean festival.
BEGIN FLASHBACK
The music always came first.
It always did.
Just some little bluesy, jazzy music that poured down sticky and so sweet like molasses into every crevice and divot of his consciousness. It warmed him up seeing Ma Ruth-Ann pointing her sauce covered, wooden spoon, which she wielded with tyrannical grace, at one of her grown ‘kids’ loitering in her kitchen. She’d ordered one of the young’uns or an adult, whoever was closest, to put down her baked goods they were trying to sneak and do her bidding. She was in the mood to hear from that ‘Billie Holiday girl’ on her phonograph next. Her quick threat of a freshly cut switch finishing close behind if any of them broke her records or her machine while complying to the task at hand.
“It was a present from Charlie from after the big war, you know.” Naruto and Ma Ruth-Ann said the words at the same time. Her large, brown eyes, slightly cloudy with glaucoma, narrowed as she looked up at his towering, lanky frame at her elbows. Her plump lips were pursed together before she rapt Naruto’s knuckles with her hard, wooden spoon.
“Don’t get fresh with me boy. You ain’t too old to be placed across my knee,” she hissed. But when it looked like the blonde would brush it away good-naturedly even as he nursed his hand, she directed another threat that was closer to home. “Or— I could just put you out my kitchen right now and not show you how to make this savory fish stew.”
Naruto straightened up, a protest on his lips, even as the melodious peels of ‘God Bless the Child’ started warbling up from the hallway. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me and see how you fair boy,” she quickly fired back. A smug smile spreading across her face, before she quickly swatted the blonde teen that suddenly converged on her to hug around her middle and beg her to forgive him.
When Naruto didn’t let go, his face tucked against the side of her housecoat, his longs limbs still wrapped around her middle, she sighed and patted his head. Her fingers running fondly amongst the buttery locks. “What I’m gonna’ do with you boy. Just what?”
“Teach me.” Naruto insisted dutifully to the mother-woman, who had been raising him like her very own when Jairaya wasn’t around. He turned his head up, looking up at her with blue eyes, trying to make himself look small and vulnerable, despite the fact he was a good head or so taller than the black woman he was still clinging to like a limpet.
“Fine, boy. But any more lip and you’re banned from the kitchen for a week,” she said sweetly, even as she successfully pried the teen from her person. “Now, get my biscuits out the oven. I ain’t trying to have my things burnin’ every time you feel like being fresh with your ole’ grandma.”
Naruto quickly moved to obey his Ma-Ruth’s words. Letting out a giggling shout of surprise when the old black woman took a passing swat at his rear with her wooden spoon as he moved pass her.
“That’s for lipping off. You better be glad you my favorite or I’d have you getting a branch off the switching tree,” she scolded wagging her bony finger at Naruto’s fiend outrage.
“It’s more like a big stick at this point than a tree as many generations of our kin you had breaking out switches,” Killer Bee interrupted as he entered the room. He knew better to have his sunglasses on or his hoodie up when in the presence of his grandmother. But he couldn’t help putting his foot in his mouth otherwise.
“Do you want another taste of this spoon! Now get out my kitchen and take this one with you. Ya’ll both running up my blood pressure up something fierce,” she muttered, grabbing the dishtowel on the counter to dab her forehead and take a large swig of his cold sweat tea she left beading on the counter when she was parched.
“What I do!” Naruto exclaimed, looking comically surprised with before his friend yanked him away before Mama Ruth could get to swinging with the spoon. A handful of stolen goods pilfered by the both of them.
END FLASHBACK
The blonde forced himself to suck in air. His hand froze on the cabinet door he had just pulled open. His search put on hold as he tried not to drown once more in the emotions that crashed over him like a damn tidal wave slamming this time against into his back. He quickly hid his face behind the cabinet door. Just pressed his forehead against his outstretched forearm as he clenched his teeth. His jaw muscles jumping and his eyes itching with fresh, unshed tears.
He forced his hands to half-hazardly knock against the contents inside the cabinet so it would appear he was still searching for something. Meanwhile, Naruto’s heart squeezed painfully at the recollection of precious people, who he wouldn’t be near anytime soon. It hadn’t even been a whole week and he was ready to pack everything up and run back to the airport.
‘Fuck! I promised myself that I wasn’t going to cry. Especially not in front of Gaara. How uncool am I?’ Naruto scolded himself even as he squeezed his eyes close, letting a few treacherous tears fall.
He was too old to cave in like some unprepared souffle. It took everything in him not to sob openly even as he stubbornly rubbed his hot, blotchy face against his sleeve. Naruto’s treacherous mind supplied him with more memories of his precious people behind the thin layer of his eyelids. The way they laughed, the way they argued, cursed, smiled, and just felt like family because they embraced him for all his differences.
He huffed angrily knowing Ino would smack him upside his head for even daring to hold back his emotions when he was clearly so raw. But he didn’t have her here to pull him into her arms to hug and threaten to paint his nails if he fed into that macho bullshit. Or a Chouji who would have shoved some barbeque chips up against his chest before Killer Bee and Shikamaru tried to device a plan to cheer up their fearless leader.
His memories were so bittersweet and filled him with a bit of resentment towards his flesh and blood family that had dragged him away and abandoned him. The blonde was especially upset at Jiraiya because he knew the old man cared. Just not enough to fight harder for his only grandchild to stay.
Naruto tried to shove down the feeling of betrayal and sadness as he straightened his spine and look this time with earnest for more supplies. He forced himself to move around the kitchen to find the rest of the cooking materials he would need to assemble the food. Measuring cups and measuring spoons, sifters, and metal bowls. They clunked hollowly in his ears as he set them down and gestured silently for Gaara to wash his hands before allowing him to cut up the onions he offered. The redhead wearing a facemask to help prevent any germs.
Naruto, swallowing thickly, refused to look up at Gaara because he knew the redhead could tell his eyes were glassy with more unshed tears. It honestly didn’t take much to see that the redhead was incapable of handling his own feelings, let alone Naruto’s silent meltdown. So, he fumbled to pull out his phone in attempt to fill the kitchen with some poppy tunes to fill in the growing silence. But seeing it dead, he silently cursed and moved to plug it in a nearby wireless charger. Glad at least that he didn’t have to grapple with trying to figure out a foreign wall outlet with his US wall charger.
The blonde realized Gaara wasn’t much of a talker, but seemed willing to listen. Or at least he believed he was willing to listen by the way the redhead hadn’t told him to shut up. So, he made himself talk to fill in the awkward silence. Unbidden, he started to tell a story to Gaara about the time Ino wiped all the boys out in the pool hall. The bet resulting in the boys toting her things around for a week because him and his friends were always perpetually broke. Or the time they went joyriding in Killer Bee’s Uncle’s powder blue Cadillac and took out the mailbox and nearly ran over the family’s three legged cat, Tootsie. The same gray-haired cat, who still gave them the evil eye anytime they walk into a room the feline was occupying.
He forced a laugh, rubbing his backside at the memory of the whipping Killer Bee and him both got. Mama Ruth whipped him like he was hers before taking a turn at Killer Bee while he tenderly sat on her plastic slip covered couch. He didn’t say boo to his grandfather Jiraiya because that old coot loved Mama Ruth’s cooking too much to complain about how she disciplined his blood. Plus, there was no way he could stand not being over Mama Ruth’s house for more than a few days at a time.
Naruto shook his head and chuckling earnestly this time when he saw the odd look that Gaara gave him over his face mask at attempting to laugh at being punished. Naruto shrugged nonchalantly, gently hip checking Gaara before he gently drew the onions to his own person to make sense of the mishappen pieces.
“I’m guessing you never cooked before, huh?” Naruto stipulated as they lulled into a more relaxed silence. His movements were quick and efficient as he diced the onions a bit finer before brushing them into a bowl to deal with later. He then pushed Gaara the cutting board offering carrots on top while the blonde started to make quick work with shaving a potato.
He could recall at time when Mama Ruth had started Naruto off with a plastic butter knife to use, not trusting the fledgling blonde cook to handle anything sharper. He had butchered the food just as easily as Gaara did, but other than a tongue click of wonder at the mess, she had passed him some more veggies to cut up next and rested her wrinkly, brown cheek against the crown of his head, hugging him in approval with the smell of Bengay and cinnamon enveloping him.
Just the sensory memory alone made him want to sob as he stupidly kept walking into these emotional traps and it hadn’t even been more than two or so days he had been gone from them all. ‘It’s cause you know she might not be alive the next time you manage to get back to America,’ a treacherous thought popped into his head.
“You go right ahead and take your medicine and I’ll be right back!” Naruto shouted, startling Gaara.
Before Gaara could ask where he was going and/or if he could come with, the blonde was darting out of the kitchen and apparently up the stairs if the sound of feet thundering up, or possibly down the stairs was any indication.
xXx
The redhead was getting emotional whip-lashed with Naruto because when minute the blonde could talk so animatedly about his friends and family back at home; paint a picture so beautiful that you yourself ached to be there just to experience one-tenth of the warmth and excitement. Then the next he stops and switches to another subject to stop his heart from breaking at the mere lost.
Gaara didn’t like to see the blonde sad. This had been happening most of the day and part of yesterday too. He would be all happy and animated and then fall into pitfalls of depression as he recalled the home and people he left. Then Naruto would try valiantly to pretend as if he wasn’t as sad as he was, forcing smiles and conversations until finally he dragged himself out of his depression and his blue eyes got that familiar twinkle of mirth. Gaara wished he could do more than just pretend as if the blonde wasn’t about to fall apart any moment at the possibility of never seeing his friends again. Or possibly drifting apart after a few months apart from each other. But he also selfishly hated that Naruto wanted to go back to his home. It was clear the America and his family there was where he wanted to be. Yet and still this blonde teen new nothing about his parentage and societal status and chose to stay by him, snotty nose and all. He wanted to protect whatever they had no matter what.
His mint green eyes zeroed on the blonde when he came back minutes later empty handed and eyes red and slightly puffy from crying. His heart clenched seeing the blonde unicorn hurting so much. Gaara didn’t know what to do with hands. They opened and close, unsure if he was allowed to reach out and comfort him, if he could comfort him. The inexperience he had being in the environment he lived in him prevented him from led to him feeling touch starved and unable to deal with situations like this.
“I was alone for a long time before I found friends that would accept me for me,” Naruto started in a monotone, breeching the awkward silence as he stepped closer to Gaara. “They didn’t see just my looks or my connections, they saw me. One day you’ll see I want you for you too. So stop looking like you have already lost me. It’s just… just I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to leave, but it’s my shit to deal with,” the blonde said.
He tried to force himself to smile even as hecaressed the bit of Gaara’s cheek not covered up by a face mask and smoothed the wrinkle between Gaara’s non-existent brow with his thumb.
“I want you because you’re you. I know I don’t know you and you don’t really know me. But what I’ve seen so far I like and did I mention, you’re cute?” Naruto chuckled wetly; his smile more genuine this time.
Gaara was so overwhelmed by such care and warmth, that he leaned into it like a stray cat bathing in the warmth of the sun. But it wasn’t enough. Not for this occasion. The only way for him to respond to the warm feeling bubbling up inside of him was to kiss the blonde. So, he did. He gave his first kiss to this annoyingly wonderful blonde. Just yanked down his face mask and pressed his lips clumsily against the blondes, luxuriating in plushness and warm comfort.
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My Yakuza Baby	By : DevilnBlue Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4234 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or make a profit from this story.

My Yakuza Baby