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Long Mission	By : Figaliz Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 860 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Long Mission
- 1
A/N: A sort of sequel to my story “Twisted” and Neji
and Gaara’s interactions probably make more sense if you read that fic first.
Just like “Twisted” this fic is a request—this time, however, the request was
“write fluffy!Shu/Neji” so I hope I managed both fluffy and IC, if not… Well I
challenge you to try it then. =D

Set during the time skip, before Gaara becomes Kazekage,
after Neji becomes a Jounin. So… Uh… Underage fooling around.

Long Mission

Neji wasn’t happy with the assignment, but he wasn’t going
to say as much. It wasn’t in his nature to complain about little things like
the fact that he was not comfortable with his partner for the mission, or the
fact that he’d probably rather wear Gai’s patented youthful green spandex then
spend a few weeks alone with only Gaara as company. A Jounin, especially a
newly promoted Jounin with something to prove and a history of being a stoic
hard-ass, just didn’t sweat little details like that.

So Neji’s discomfort was summarily locked up, and ignored.
Besides, Gaara didn’t even seem to remember him, which pissed him off slightly,
but was, on the balance of things, something of a relief.

The mission was going to be hard. It required incredible
skill and power, and both Suna and Konoha were stretched for manpower. The
mission was technically to be performed by Konoha, so Neji was de facto leader,
which mollified the Hyuuga’s dislike of the whole situation somewhat, but since
the goal was to take down a notorious gang of missing-nin that’d started border
raids on the lands of Wind and Fire, Gaara’s sheer power and absolute defense
were expected to spear-head the two-man attack squad. Neji was rather offended
by the whole idea, since his defense was just as solid as the sand, and he
might not have the range of Gaara, but anyone who did step into his range
wasn’t going to argue that the Gentle Fist style was any less devastating then
Sand Jutsu.

And all this competitive musing made Neji consider that he’d
probably spent too much time with Lee and Gai. Or perhaps he still had a chip
on his shoulder from the last time he’d encountered Gaara. But could he really
be blamed for holding a bit of resentment? At least Gaara wasn’t the type to
talk unnecessarily, so the time spent tracking the bandits promised to be not
entirely irritating.

Or at least that’s what Neji thought until their first night
camping together, when he woke sometime near three in the morning—or so his
internal clock informed him—to feel eyes watching him from Gaara’s side of the
camp. He activated his Byakugan without indicating he’d woken, and sure enough
Gaara was watching him, staring at him in an unsettling and entirely too
familiar way.

Try as he might, Neji couldn’t sleep for the rest of the
night.

The first two weeks were very similar to the first day and
night. By day Neji tracked their targets, by night, Gaara disappeared for the
first half of the evening, and returned sometime late into the night, at which point
the Sand-nin’s gaze would wake Neji up, and the Hyuuga would spend the rest of
the night stiff and irritated, attempting to sleep again until morning made the
whole thought of sleep moot anyway. The lack of sleep was beginning to get to Neji,
and he had to concentrate harder during the day just to keep tracking the faint
chakra signatures of their prey. It was really annoying. And giving him a
headache.

It was the third week when they realized they were catching
up to their prey. Neji announced they’d meet the squad of missing-nin in two or
three days. Gaara had nodded, and that had been the extent of their
conversation for that day, as far as Neji was concerned. The night was the same
routine—almost.

“I know you’re awake.” Gaara’s voice was low and rough and
carried an edge of menace that his daytime tones did not. Neji attempted not to
hear the howling of desert storms in that voice, because it would be whimsical,
and Neji was not whimsical by nature.

But there was no point in pretending to sleep anymore, so Neji
sat up, and looked at Gaara with a raised eyebrow that said ‘Yes, and? What are
you going to make of it?’ as eloquently and challengingly as only a raised
eyebrow can.

Gaara saw his raised eyebrow and countered with a shrug. Neji
could swear he saw a hint of yellow in the redhead’s eyes for a moment, but he
could have been imagining it. He rather hoped he were imagining it, at any
rate. “If you’re up, we might as well make up some of the distance between us
and them. I want to get this mission over with.” Neji wanted to inform Gaara
that he was only awake because it was, frankly, rather creepy to be stared at
every night, and by the way, he could really use a full night’s rest—but he
didn’t. Because it would sound like whining—and Neji did not whine—and because
he at least agreed with Gaara there; he wanted this mission over with.

So they packed up the camp and continued the hunt.

When they caught up to the squad of missing ninja finally, Neji
was really cranky—not that he’d show it—tired, and more then a little pissed
off with the way Gaara kept glancing at him during the day, as if making sure
he wasn’t going to mess up. If Neji messed up, it would be Gaara’s fault.
Nearly three weeks of high speed travel and hunting on bad sleep would take its
toll on even the best shinobi, and Neji considered himself one of the best. At
least Gaara was used to the lack of sleep. Neji was not, and he didn’t
appreciate being introduced to the feeling of chronic insomnia in the
slightest.

The fight was brutal and vicious; Gaara went in first,
taking out the bulk of the group in one fell swoop. Then things got messy, and
tricky, because some of the faster ones escaped the first wave of sand and
scattered, and it was up to Neji to hunt down the ones that got past Gaara.
Glad to at last do something, Neji took off after the leader of the group, who’d
left with two of the reportedly more dangerous members, and left Gaara to deal
with the rest.

It occurred to Neji, three hours later when Gaara found him
amid the scattered bodies of the missing-nin leader and his two followers, that
his judgment and reflexes had been impaired by the afore mentioned lack of
sleep, and so the fact that Neji needed Gaara to pick him up and carry him to a
suitable camping site and tend to his wounds—well, that was all Gaara’s fault,
wasn’t it? So he was not going to be embarrassed by the fact that Gaara had not
a scratch on him, nor was he going to let Gaara undress him to reach the nasty
gash along his ribs, or the cuts dangerously close to severing muscle and
tendon on his legs—He could take off his clothes just fine on his own, and he
didn’t need any help from a god-damned, sand-peanut carrying prick, thank you
very much.

When Neji opened his eyes again, he had to try and remember
why he was on his back. He’d been taking off his shirt and then… And then the
blinding pain of moving that much had… Oh fuck, he’d fainted hadn’t he? He
struggled to sit up, only to be confronted by a scowling redhead in his face.
Had he ever seen Gaara scowl? He’d seen Shukaku pissed off… But who was to say
this was Gaara, anyway? There was a definite tint of yellow in those eyes this
close up. And Neji felt suddenly uncomfortably helpless—He could feel bandages
and the stinging after-effects of antiseptic, and he was naked except for
boxers, and how long had he been passed out anyway?

“That was stupid.” Gaara’s voice—Neji hoped it was Gaara but
he was growing increasingly unsure of that—had a harsh edge. “I thought you
were stronger then that.”

Neji could take a lot of abuse without comment, but he was
tired and that was just too much. “After weeks of my sleep being interrupted by
you staring at me? It’s hard to rest when you’re being watched. My timing was
impaired.” He snapped, eyes narrowing.

“I wouldn’t know.” Gaara pointed out, and then a slight
smile curled over those pale features and Neji was unhappily certain that Gaara
wasn’t the one in charge anymore. “Of course the brat doesn’t know what keeps
people up. And you were too polite to point it out to him. Or were you being
polite I wonder?” And then Shukaku threaded a hand in Neji’s hair and dragged
the Hyuuga to a sitting position—and Neji was not going to give him the
satisfaction of showing an iota of how much that hurt like a bitch.

“What do you want with me?” Neji asked, instead of
screaming, because he thought screaming was exactly what Shukaku wanted of him,
and he wasn’t in the habit of giving people what they wanted, especially people
he wasn’t very fond of.

“That’s a very dangerous question, my fragile little prey.”
Shukaku purred, and Neji got the very bad feeling that maybe screaming might
have been a better option after all. There was a feral light in those eyes he
wasn’t very comfortable with. “Personally, I want to rip you limb from limb,
slowly, watching you break until you scream. Then I want—Oh but don’t worry, I
won’t. Hey, don’t give me that look, it doesn’t matter what I want to do, kid.
What you should be asking is what I’m going to DO with you.”

Neji refused to give Shukaku the satisfaction of asking
that. “Why are you here? Let Gaara back in charge.”

“Feisty. I like that. But too hotheaded. Got you into
trouble, and worried Gaara. Ho yes, pissed him off a bit, running off like
that. Personally, I loved it. Who needs teamwork, right?” and before Neji could
reply to that, Shukaku—well technically Gaara—had pulled him forward and was
kissing him.

Hot and fierce and primal is what Neji expected, he was not
at all prepared for the very gentle tender caress of lips, the little flicker
of tongue that seemed almost shy—it didn’t jive at all with the hand fisted in
his hair and the arm nearly crushing his chest against Gaara’s. It was enough
to cause him to suck in a startled breath, and that’s all Shukaku needed to be
shoving his tongue into Neji’s mouth and down his throat in the kind of kiss Neji
had been expecting in the first place. A kiss that was more of an attack then
anything. Before Neji could bite down on that tongue he felt fingers pressing
at the hinges of his jaw, forcing his mouth to stay open. Bastard. He glared
into amused yellow eyes, as the kiss continued.

Shukaku let him lean back eventually, laughing as Neji
gasped for breath and glared death. Not giving the Hyuuga time to gather any
sort of defense, Shukaku shoved Neji back onto the blanket that had acted as
the surgical ward while Gaara had patched Neji up. It smelled of blood and
medicine, but Shukaku didn’t mind. Sand wrapped around Neji’s arms and pulled
them back when the Hyuuga finally gathered the presence of mind to try and
shove Shukaku away.

“Ah-ah. No touching.” Shukaku smirked, trailing a hand down Neji’s
side. Neji knew the monster could feel the way he tensed in pain from the touch
across his wound. It just seemed to amuse Shukaku even more, and the damned
frustrating thing was that, under the pain, having someone actually touch him
that way, intimately—even this sick parody of it—felt strangely good. Like
water to a man who didn’t realize he was dying of thirst.

Neji refused to acknowledge that disturbing thought. He
decided a good dose of anger might be in order at this point. “Alright, this is
enough of your game, let me go, and let Gaara back.”

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say, from the way
Shukaku grabbed his chin and jerked his head back, staring down into his eyes
with a hideous expression that might have been a grin if it didn’t show so many
teeth. “You think this is a game, little prey? This is the second time you’ve
faced me like this, had to have Gaara come and fetch you and stop you from
bleeding. Do you know how frustrating that is? To see that red on your flesh
and know I wasn’t the one to cause it? To know someone else got to rip you
open, make you bleed, but that I don’t? The brat won’t let me, you know. ME!
I’m the fury of the desert, and some brat who has barely hit puberty commands
who I kill. This isn’t a game, kid. This is me being really, really pissed
off.”

Neji felt a chill, and it wasn’t the fact he was in little
more then boxers and bandages. Those words were deadly with rage and killing
intent, the eyes he was looking into were black and yellow, and spinning
slowly.

“No, kid, this is me blowing off some steam. And the brat is
just pissed off enough at your actions to let me. Lucky for us, isn’t it?”

The shiver that had been working its way along Neji’s spine
suddenly changed to shaking. He wasn’t shaking in fear either, he was quivering
with anger. “You planned this!” Neji spat, eyes narrowing, lip curled in
disgust and realization. “The insomnia… You knew I wouldn’t comment and Gaara
wouldn’t know. And you knew it’d affect my ability… You manipulated us both!”

“Got it in one.” Shukaku acknowledged, tracing fingers
lazily across Neji’s hips, smirking. “I knew you were bright. But honestly, I
expected you to figure it out sooner. Now be a good boy and ask what I’m going
to do with you.”

“No.” Neji hissed, glaring as Shukaku shrugged and wrapped
his fingers around Neji’s hips—wait, no that wasn’t right, he was wrapping his
fingers around Neji’s…. Boxers…? And tugging. It wasn’t fair that a frame so
small could be so inhumanly strong, but there it was; using Gaara’s body,
Shukaku was finishing the job of undressing Neji, without Neji’s help, and it
looked like he was having a depressingly easy time of it. The question left Neji’s
mouth before he could kill it. “What are you doing?”

Shukaku grinned at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Lots of
will power there, kid.” Neji cursed himself silently as Shukaku ran a hand up
the Hyuuga’s inner thigh—and he refused to jump or flinch at that touch. “I’m
not going to answer.” And Shukaku laughed and laughed, as if that were the
funniest joke in the world. Neji wanted to punch him, but that wouldn’t be
right either—even if he could move his hands, which the sand was making sure he
couldn’t, Shukaku was using Gaara’s body. Neji was pretty sure the demon might
let him land a hit, just to make him feel guilty any time he looked at Gaara.
It would be the sort of thing that would amuse the monster.

So Neji grit his teeth and did his best to ignore the demon
fondling him—and Shukaku was fondling, him, the lewd bastard. And worse it was
beginning to feel good. But this time Neji had plenty of pain to concentrate on
and no pain killers clouding his mind. He could focus on the pain, think of it like
a genjutsu, break any hold the tendrils of—not pleasure, definitely not—feeling
might gain on him.

Shukaku kept stroking and caressing him for what seemed
forever. And then the damn demon yanked him into another kiss—by the hair, of
course. What did he have against Neji’s hair, anyway? And then, just as he was
trailing his lips down Neji’s chest and stomach, which was a direction Neji
really did NOT want to see Gaara’s face moving in, the demon was gone and Gaara
was looking rather disoriented somewhere near Neji’s crotch.

They stared at each other for a moment, dazed blue eyes
meeting really righteously pissed off—and not at all aroused goddamnit!—lavender
ones.

And then the sand was no longer binding Neji’s arms and
Gaara was… Was offering him his boxers and looking so cool about it, which was
worse, in a way, then screaming and running off, or making some sort of snide
comment even. Neji could deal with snide comments, but that sort of vaguely
embarrassed help that Gaara was offering was just… Too much. Neji snatched his
shorts and struggled them on. He wouldn’t be able to look at Gaara for the
entire trip back, which, though it would be faster since they weren’t tracking
anyone, suddenly seemed like it was going to be a very, very long trip indeed.
- 1
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Long Mission