Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lee has always been a heavy sleeper, especially for a shinobi, so it comes as a surprise when he is suddenly jolted from his sleep by a tapping noise at his window. He comes to with the awareness that someone else is in his room. Instinctively, he launches himself towards the window, leg extended for a kick that should disable whatever enemy has decided to invade uninvited. He feels the kick land, feels the shuddering reverb of a successful strike tremble up his leg. Without his weights on, his strikes are lightning-fast, if a little inaccurate since he hasn't yet seen his opponent. He tries to pull his leg back for a second kick but his foot won't move. He feels grit scraping against his bare foot, climbing up the leg of his pajama pants, trapping him.

Ah, he thinks, this old dream again. Although it's been a few years since he last had a dream about the sand, the textures of it are familiar. He remembers the scratching, the pulling feeling like being in quicksand, the unnatural slowness of his limbs. He is reabsorbed into the drawn-out struggle, like a full-body gasp for air. He struggles against the immense pressure, feeling like he’s being buried alive. That's when he hears it.

“Lee.”

That's strange, he thinks. There's never been a voice before. Usually the only sounds in his dream are his own panting breaths, sometimes a muffled scream from behind his teeth as he tries to cry out through the night terror. The only thing to do, he knows, is to fight through it. With his eyes still closed, he pulls back his left hand for a palm-heel strike - in his dream, it's always his left hand – and moves forward. His arm, predictably, is caught firmly in the grasp of the sand.

“Lee,” the voice says again, more insistently this time. “Wake up. I don't want to hurt you.”

That's even stranger, he thinks. Could it be that it's not a dream, but a genjutsu? Lee knows that he's vulnerable to illusions; he usually relies on his teammates to detect and interrupt them. It would take a skilled genjutsu user to replicate his recurring nightmare, but it's certainly not impossible. And if an enemy were to try to disable him in the middle of the night, this would be the best strategy. That, finally, is what makes him decide to open his eyes. If he is going to die in his bedroom, in peacetime, to an enemy who knows his worst memories, he wants to at least face the person who will kill him. He will die on his feet, with his eyes wide open. But when he wrenches his eyes open, what he sees surprises him.

“Gaara?”

Crouched on the windowsill behind a shield of sand is Gaara. An extension of sand runs from the barrier to Lee's hand. The sand is holding Lee fast, but it’s not crushing him. It's hardly even scraping him. It's just securing his arm so he can't break through the barrier and land a hit.

“Lee, are you awake?” Backlit by the moonlight, Gaara looks ephemeral, like a ghost or a memory.

“I think so,” Lee replies, finally, his voice abraded by sleep. “What are you doing here?” As soon as he speaks the words, Lee claps his hand over his mouth. That was rude. “I mean-!” He scrambles to correct himself, “Not that I'm not happy to see you! I just didn't even know you were in town. And, well,” Lee glances to his old analog alarm clock. Through the shadows, he can see that it's just become 3:00 AM. “It is a little bit late.”

“I apologize for waking you.” In the dark of Lee's studio apartment, Gaara's raspy voice sounds close, intimate. Satisfied with Lee's wakefulness, he withdraws his sand from around Lee's hand. The shield dissolves and slithers back into the gourd around his waist. “I'm in Konoha for trade talks with the Hokage. I came here because Kankuro kicked me out of our hotel room.”

“What!” Lee blurts, too loud. He knows the relationship between brothers is different than the typical relationship between a Kage and his subordinate, but surely that's not allowed. Remembering his neighbors and the thin walls between them, he lowers his voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Nothing is wrong. I still don't sleep well, and worse when I'm away from home. I believe his exact words were, 'If you don't stop moping around the room, I'm going to kick your ass out into the street.'” Gaara does a passable imitation of his brother. “So I left of my own volition.”

“Oh,” Lee replies lamely. “But you're all right?” 'Moping' doesn't sound very good, and Lee remembers Naruto telling him some years ago that Gaara hadn't slept at all until the one-tailed demon was extracted from his body. After going so many years without sleep, more sleepless nights couldn't possibly be healthy for him.

“I'm fine. I normally spend time with Naruto when I'm here on visits. But he has been unusually exhausted.”

Lee isn't surprised to hear this. He's seen Naruto shadowing Kakashi-sensei (or rather, Kakashi-sama, regardless of how often he chides people for using his formal title) around the village. The last time he and Naruto had spoken, he had mentioned that the Hokage was trying to “give me a sense of responsibility and maturity, or whatever.” Between that and his new girlfriend, he isn't surprised that Naruto doesn't have a lot of extra time to roam around the village late at night with a restless foreign leader.

“Temari is spending the night with her boyfriend, and Kankuro prefers to keep regular hours,” Gaara interrupts Lee's thoughts, “so you were the next person I thought of.”

Lee is immediately struck. How wonderful, that Gaara would choose him to spend time with after his closest friend and siblings! He's delighted at the idea that Gaara, with his immense strength of character, would take the time to seek him out in the middle of the night. He can only hope to prove himself worthy of such regard. He will impress Gaara tonight or do 1000 push-ups tomorrow!

“Of course!” he blurts out, not mindful of his volume. “What did you have in mind?”

“Naruto usually wants to go out for ramen. But I think I've visited every ramen establishment in the village,” Gaara says, voice still hushed. Lee is reminded to keep his tone low. His neighbors are still asleep. “If it's not too late for you, we could do something else.”

Lee grins. Gaara is so considerate. “It's not too late at all. I would be getting up in a few hours anyway.” Lee wakes up religiously at 5 o'clock every morning, to get in extra training before the rest of the world starts their day. “What do you normally do at home when you're up at night?”

“Paperwork, usually. Sometimes I patrol the village. If I have time, I tend to my plants.”

Lee isn't quite sure what to do with that information. They can't exactly patrol here, and he doesn't know too much about the local flora. Well, if food works for Naruto.... “Are you hungry?” Lee asks, mind racing with the possibilities.

“I could eat,” Gaara replies simply.

“Great! I know just the place.”

The automatic doors chime as Lee and Gaara step into the fluorescent-lit entryway of a late-night convenience store.

“Good evening, Hideki!” Lee greets the spotty-faced teenager behind the till.

“Hi Lee,” Hideki replies, his face reflecting that late-night boredom common to all third-shift workers. “It's kinda late for you isn't-” He spots Gaara behind Lee's shoulder and his mouth drops open.

“Oh!” Lee gestures between the cashier and Gaara, “Hideki, this is Gaara. Gaara, this is Hideki. Hideki and I went to school together before I entered the ninja academy!”

Hideki's eyes get wider and wider. “Um, n-nice to meet you, sir-!” he stammers out.

Gaara doesn't reply, turning instead to Lee. “Did you bring me here to meet your old classmate?”

“Oh, no! I mean, no offense, Hideki. We actually came to see if you guys have any saba-zushi?” Lee inquires, turning to the clerk.

“Uh, yeah, it's in the cooler,” Hideki gestures past his shoulder to a cold-case behind the counter, but he makes no move to retrieve the sushi, stunned by the appearance of the Kazekage in his store in the middle of the night.

Lee waits for a moment, realizes Hideki is still frozen, then says, “I'll just get it then, okay?” and leans over the counter to pluck two packages of sushi from the cooler. He pulls out his wallet and quickly calculates the amount owed before Hideki has even composed himself to ring them up, and places exact change behind the till.

“Thank you, Hideki! Have a great night!” Lee calls, as he and Gaara walk out of the store.

“Thanks, um, come again!” Hideki says as the door closes behind them, still sounding shell-shocked.

Lee heaves a deep breath. That was more awkward than he expected, even knowing that Gaara's social skills are lacking at best. He always forgets that the person that he sees as a dear friend is viewed as an intimidating figure by other people. “Well, shall we find somewhere to eat?” he asks, holding out Gaara's container of sushi to him.

Gaara plucks the sushi from Lee's hand, fingers brushing Lee's, and falls into step beside him. He doesn't reply for a long moment, before saying, “You remembered that I like mackerel.”

“Of course!” Lee says. It's true that he's noticed Gaara's preferences when they've had meals together in the past, but isn't that what friends do? “You almost always pick something salty when we eat. Is mackerel your favorite?”

“No,” Gaara replies, and Lee feels slightly crestfallen. “I prefer salted tongue or gizzard. But I've never seen anyone sell those in Konoha.”

Lee suppresses a slight gag at the idea of eating gizzard. “Um, no. I don't think many people here eat that type of thing.”

“Yes. You have access to abundant fresh water and the ports of the Land of Waves, so you have access to seafood. You have arable farmland and access to cold storage, so you are able to keep a variety of meat fresh and edible. In Suna, we have to preserve most of our meat. Large animals mostly can't handle the desert heat. When we have access to meat, we eat every part of the animal. One develops a taste for it. Just as you've developed a taste for curry.”

“Oh,” says Lee, beaming but not sure what else to contribute. He's overwhelmed by the idea that Gaara also remembers the foods that he likes. It's a sign of a true and enduring friendship. This is part of why he enjoys spending time with Gaara: after all, he is a genius, and his position has endowed him with a broad knowledge of politics, culture, and economics. Every time they talk, Gaara relays a little bit of information that Lee didn't know before. Lee feels edified in Gaara’s presence, so he tries to spend time with him whenever he's in the village, even if it's just for a cup of tea or a brief meal. Gaara is always gracious and accommodating. Although Lee doesn't have much to offer in the way of stimulating conversation, he hopes Gaara enjoys their time together as much as he does. And perhaps tonight demonstrates that Gaara truly does value his time spent with Lee, that he would seek Lee out to pass the wee hours of the morning with.

Lee brushes his shoulder against Gaara's, nudging him slightly. “Let's go up,” he gestures with his head to a tall municipal building.

On the roof of the building, Lee and Gaara sit side-by-side on a narrow ledge. The size of the escarpment necessitates that they sit close enough that their arms press together. There's a swooping in Lee's stomach, not quite like butterflies, more like flower petals carried by the wind. He attributes it to the height of their perch, though he's never been afraid of heights before. He must need to train more; tomorrow he will complete all his training on the highest building in Konoha!

“So, how were your trade talks?” Lee regrets the words the instant they leave his mouth. That information is probably classified; it's presumptuous of him to assume that Gaara would want to or even be able to share that kind of information with him.

“Exceedingly boring.” Saved by Gaara's diplomacy and tact, Lee grins. “Although the monotony was broken up by the repeated intrusion of a man in a wheelchair who kept breaking into the Hokage's office and insisting on a challenge.” Gaara delivers the statement in deadpan, but there's a slight twinkle in his eye that belies his intent.

“Gai-sensei is a passionate advocate of keeping oneself in peak fighting form and constant improvement through self-challenge. A healthy rivalry is a crucial part of his regimen of self-improvement!” Lee exclaims. “Gai-sensei has made it his own personal mission to ensure the Hokage does not become bogged down with the weight of his office. He has taken it upon himself to insist that the Hokage takes time each day to step away from his paperwork to train with him! It's as important to keep the body as strong as the mind, Gai-sensei always says!”

Gaara merely hums in reply. Lee glances over to him. From this vantage point, he's bathed in moonlight. His hair looks dark, almost wet, and the green pupils of his eyes reflect the light like a deer’s in the dark of a forest. He is stunningly beautiful, Lee thinks, unbidden. Of course, all of his friends are very handsome! He corrects himself. Gaara is just unique looking, and he sees him so rarely. Of course he would want to look at him more often than his other friends.

“It didn't really sound like a rivalry to me. It sounded more like dating,” Gaara finally says at length. Lee is startled from his reverie. Dating? What is he talking about? Lee racks his brain. Oh, right, they were talking about Gai-sensei! “Your teacher kept asking the Hokage to eat the bento he packed for him and take a lunch break so they could go for a run.”

“Of course! Gai-sensei is a firm believer in the bonds that are formed between comrades on the battlefield. A friendship forged in the heat of war is as enduring as the strongest steel. But a friendship must also be nourished and cultivated!”

Gaara just hums again and doesn't say anything more. He finishes his sushi and collects his and Lee's empty boxes, stacking them neatly next to him. Lee thinks he feels, or maybe imagines, a slight increase in pressure on his arm, as if Gaara were leaning into him ever so slightly. They sit there in silence for a long time. The swooping feeling in Lee's stomach dies down to a warm, fluttering purr that he attributes to the satisfaction of a good meal. They watch the moon set together.

At length, Gaara finally speaks again. “The sun is coming up. I'll walk you home.”

Although it would be faster to take the rooftops, Gaara walks beside Lee through the slowly brightening streets. It's still too early for much activity, but Lee can hear the soft clatters of housewives readying the day's chores, the hiss of gas heat as civilians light the fire under their kettles. He can hear his own heartbeat, too. Strange, he's usually not aware of it. He really needs to focus on his cardio!

When they arrive at the door of Lee's apartment building, Gaara stops while Lee keeps walking. Lee goes to turn and call a cheery thanks and goodbye, but the expression on Gaara's face stops him. He's wearing a soft, barely-noticeable smile, just a quirk of the corners of his mouth. Lee is struck dumb. He can't make a sound. He's never seen Gaara make this face before.

“I enjoyed myself,” Gaara finally says, quietly. “I'll see you again tonight.” It's not a question, but Lee hears or maybe just senses the hope there.

“Definitely!” he says, again too loud, disrupting the hush around them. He hopes he hasn't ruined the moment. Gaara merely nods, that small, odd smile still on his face, and turns to walk back to his quarters.

Lee rushes up the stairs, makes himself a pot and a half of coffee, and prepares to train.

Chapter Text

The next night, Lee is awake and pulling on his leg-warmers when Gaara arrives at his windowsill. After a brief power nap and an invigorating round of press-ups to wake up his body, he is ready to spend the night with Gaara.

“Hello!” Lee calls, trying to be conscious of his volume. He has been much too loud, and after a careful consideration of his actions the previous night (replayed in vivid detail in his memory during the flow of his training regimen), he realizes he made some missteps. He needs to be more considerate of others who are trying to sleep, of course. Beyond that, there is a certain still gravity to the hours that Gaara prefers to keep. Being too loud disrupts the magic of being awake when everybody else in the village is asleep.

“Lee,” Gaara says, nodding, stepping into his room. His shoulders radiate a quiet tension from under the dark red linen of his jacket. The gourd at his waist hisses with the quiet rush of sand. He seems disrupted, unsettled, altogether different from his calm approach the previous night.

“Is everything okay?” Lee asks, without thinking. Gaara's eyes widen, the area where his eyebrows should be rising.

“My chakra is under perfect control.”

Lee laughs and steps closer. “Oh, I can't sense anything like that! You just looked a little tense.”`

Gaara fixes a long stare directly at Lee's face. It's like he's trying to see through him, detect if Lee is being genuine. Lee understands that above all Gaara does not want people to be afraid of him anymore. Growing up as an outcast takes a toll on a person, Lee knows this from experience. It's hard to step away from the feeling that people still see you the way that they saw you as a child. He can only imagine it’s worse for Gaara, who, more than having to contend with teasing and ignorance, felt the weight of an entire village’s fears on his shoulders, and who spent his childhood in emotional neglect and isolation. And while Lee had been able to hurtle from being shunned by his classmates and family into the warm regard of his teacher and team through hard work and determination, Gaara still struggles through the thornbush of political maneuvering to earn the respect of his people. He continues to contend with being seen as a protector rather than a danger, a shield rather than a sword.

Gaara leans in a bit closer to Lee. Lee meets his stare unwaveringly. He isn't afraid; he's worried for his friend. Finally, after a long moment, Gaara speaks.

“It's the full moon tonight.” He doesn't say anything more, and Lee doesn't question it.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we could go down to the training field and spar! I didn't get as much training in today as I had hoped for.” Lee doesn't say that he was distracted all day by the thought of what he and Gaara would do tonight, that the swooping, nauseous feeling in his stomach hadn't subsided even after he was on the ground. He doesn't expect Gaara to say yes. After all, he is the Kazekage, and it would probably be below him to fight a chuunin, regardless of the closeness of their friendship. Gaara has always declined to fight him when Lee has challenged him in the past, ever since their first battle. He normally says that he has a schedule to keep, but of course tonight there can be no such excuses made.

“Okay,” Gaara says, and Lee thrills at the response.

“Great!” Lee punches the air in excitement, “I have a lot of new moves for long-range opponents that I want to try out!”

Gaara nods, then reaches out and pulls down the hand that Lee still has extended. He holds it for a long moment before dropping it. “I won't fight you at full strength. This will be a sparring match only. It's the middle of the night, and I am not interested in causing a diplomatic incident by destroying your training field.”

“Of course!” Lee says, although internally he's a little disappointed. “Follow me!” He leaps from his window and waits for the quiet rush of sand to follow him.

By the time they arrive at the training field, Lee is practically trembling with excitement. He bounds to the opposite side of the training field and stands between two posts, his left hand behind his back and his right arm extended.

“Best of three wins?' he calls to Gaara, who is standing with his arms crossed across the field from him.

“Fine.”

“Right!” With a whoop of joy, Lee leaps into action.

Whatever Lee had expected from the fight, it isn’t what he gets. He anticipated that Gaara would stay rooted to his spot at the end of the field and use his sand to fight for him. Lee has planned out several counter-moves for the sand shield that he's excited to try, including some kicks that, if he calculates them correctly, should cause a vibration that disrupts the shield long enough for him to break through. That's not what happens, however. Rather than standing far back and letting his sand do the fighting, Gaara throws himself into the fray. He meets Lee strike-for-strike for several kicks, pressing in close and forcing Lee to withdraw. He crushes his way into Lee's personal space, until their chests are almost touching, then aims for Lee from behind with a rope of sand that pulls his legs out from under him.

Lee laughs out loud in delight. “Gaara! I've never seen you use taijutsu before!” he calls, falling back.

Gaara presses his advantage, closing back into Lee's space. He's neither as fast nor as flexible as Lee, but he has the advantage of surprise, Lee's curious distraction, and of course his sand. They trade several punches, Gaara blocking two more strikes that Lee throws. He gets closer, forcing Lee to the edge of the training field.

“I've been training with our own taijutsu specialist in order to better counter close-range attacks. Do you remember Shira from the second chuunin exams?”

Lee is delighted. “Yes of course! But if you were training in taijutsu, how come you wouldn't spar with me before?” Lee flips over Gaara's head and tries for a strike from behind. The sand barrier crashes up to meet him.

“I don't usually have time for casual matches when I am here on official business.” So not having enough time really wasn't an excuse. Lee delights at the thought. Gaara has been willing to fight him all along, perhaps even sees him as a worthy opponent. Gaara turns and extends his hand, and a wave of spikes of sand rise up behind Lee, who closes in with an uppercut that Gaara blocks with a kick, spinning so Lee is at his back.

Lee spots his opening. He dodges between Gaara's legs and feints a kick to the chest. Dodging a wave of sand, at the last moment Lee lets the momentum carry him forward and lands a palm-heel strike right between Gaara's eyes. “Poi-!” he starts to call out, pulling his strike. His hand comes away bristling with sand particles and the facade of Gaara's face cracks and begins to fall.

“No fair! Gaara, I can't land a point and still pull my punches if you're wearing the sand armor!”

“Very well,” Gaara says, retreating to his side of the field. The sand sloughs off of him in a sudden hiss, collecting in his gourd. Gaara has told Lee before that he always wears the sand armor when traveling to a foreign nation. Even in an allied village and accompanied by his guard, the risk of an assassination attempt is higher here in Konoha than in Suna. Lee knows that the sand armor is heavy and drains Gaara's stamina. It also means that he's rarely seen Gaara's bare skin, certainly never up close. Something about the idea of fighting Gaara skin-to-skin causes a thrill to run up his spine. The churning feeling in his stomach rises; he feels as if flowers are blossoming within his chest. Of course, exertion and the excitement of a good fight can do that to a person. “You still earned the point.” Gaara says, and collects himself for the reset.

Lee falls back into stance and readies for the start of the second round. Gaara surprised him in the first round; he won't let it happen again. Knowing that Gaara will fight with taijutsu as well as his sand just means Lee needs to tweak his approach slightly.

“Ready, set, go!”

Lee executes a series of aerial maneuvers that bring him behind Gaara. Gaara begins to turn but Lee goes for a leg sweep, hooking his foot behind Gaara’s heel. Gaara is temporarily off-balance but the sand rights him, steadying his ankles. With his feet immobilized by his own weapon, Gaara is in the perfect position for Lee to execute a body blow. Lee elbows past another wave of sand and readies his strike, but is surprised again when the sand not only blocks him, but pushes him down onto his back, pinning his legs. In an instant, Gaara is on top of him, his hips riding just above Lee's waist. Lee, with the wind knocked out of him, raises up on his elbows to flip Gaara off of him, but stops when he realizes Gaara has spikes of sand hovering over his arms and shoulders. To move would be to impale himself on their points. Gaara leans in close and taps Lee in the forehead with the tip of his fingers.

“Point.”

They stay there, frozen for a minute, chests heaving with exertion, surrounded by sand. The blossoming in Lee's chest furls down into his gut. He feels his face go hot. His insides feel like they're being constricted by vines, like the tower of a fairytale princess grown over with weeds and thorns. He wants to open his mouth to speak but he's afraid that if he does that the vines will grow out of his throat and flowers will spill out of his mouth. He isn't even sure what it is he wants to say or do, but whatever it is he knows he shouldn't do it. Gaara is so close that Lee can feel his breath. Gaara's hand is still touching Lee's forehead. The rising tide of flowers in Lee’s throat threatens to strangle him. In the moonlight, he can see a thin, silvery line below Gaara's right eye. It looks like a tear, or a bead of sweat. Lee has never seen Gaara sweat before, although with their bodies so close he can feel the heat of exertion on him. A strange expression passes over Gaara's face, a minute widening of the eyes, his lips pursing just barely. The strange green of his pupils flashes, looking more animalistic than ever. He seems to loom closer in Lee's vision.

Suddenly, Gaara draws back.

“We're finished,” he says simply, drawing himself to his feet. The sand all around them collapses into two parts. A small wave rushes back into the gourd at Gaara’s waist. The remainder, presumably extracted from the ground around them, dissolves back into the earth. Gaara brushes his hands off on his pants, a strange, restless gesture for him.

“Wait!” Lee yells, scrambling to his feet. “What about the third round? Nobody won!”

Gaara fixes Lee with a strange stare. His gaze flicks from Lee's face, to his arms, down to his waist, and back up. “We'll call it a draw,” he says. His tone is final.

Lee begins to shake the sand from his arms and legs, grumbling slightly, the disappointment of a fight unfinished draining the strange feeling from his chest. He had really wanted to see if he could best the Kazekage, even if it was just in a casual match. Gaara is already pacing a hasty retreat across the training field. Lee scrambles to catch up.

They establish themselves on a stone bench at the edge of the field. Lee pulls a water bottle from the pack he brought with him and offers it to Gaara. Gaara accepts, his fingers brushing against Lee's just as they had the previous night. The sensation of the touch lingers on Lee's hand as Gaara takes a long pull of water. The pale column of his throat is stark against the dark red of his high-collared shirt. He hands the bottle back to Lee and Lee is unable to resist allowing his fingers to linger in a returning brush as he takes the bottle. He takes a sip, trying not to think about the fact that Gaara's lips were just where his are, that their mouths have touched the same place. An indirect kiss, he thinks, then immediately dismisses the thought. Just friends, sharing a bottle of water after a lively sparring session. Gaara is still looking at him strangely, so Lee casts around for a conversation topic.

“So, what's that thing below your eye?” Lee blurts out, then immediately shuts his mouth and wishes he would never talk again.

In typical fashion, Gaara doesn't seem to notice the rudeness of Lee's question. “It's a scar. You don't remember? You gave it to me.”

Lee searches his memory. He remembers kicking Gaara down his right cheek during their fight in the first chuunin exams, but he thought jinchuuriki-

“I thought jinchuuriki had like super-healing. I didn't think you could get scars.” Lee says abruptly, before he even thinks. What is wrong with me? Surely the last thing Gaara wants to talk about is how he used to be a demon vessel.

Gaara remains nonplussed. “That's true, but the healing factor is controllable and requires effort to induce. I chose to keep the scar as a reminder of the first time I was ever injured. You were the first person to ever reach me, the first person to cause me pain externally, rather than internally. This scar is a memorial to that.”

Lee isn't sure what to say to that. He searches the ground, then the sky, for something to talk about that doesn't bring back memories of Gaara's horrific past or their brief time as enemies. He's about to speak when Gaara interrupts him.

“I have another one from then too.” Gaara's still radiating that strange tension, his fingers twitching and flicking at the high collar of his shirt.

“Oh?” Lee has completely lost the thread of the conversation, distracted by the erratic movement of Gaara's hands.

Then, without warning, Gaara begins unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. Lee panics. What is he doing? Is he getting undressed? Lee is fully out of his depth, floundering. His friend appears to have suddenly gone mad.

But then, Gaara pulls down the left shoulder of his shirt. Reflecting in the moonlight, Lee can see the silvery glimmer of a sunburst-shaped scar on the front of his left shoulder, just below his clavicle. Without thinking, he leans in closer to get a better look.

“Sasuke Uchiha struck me here with a lightning attack, the chidori. It was the most pain I had ever felt.” Gaara is unexpectedly forthcoming. It makes sense, Lee guesses. Gaara as a child was rash, impulsive, and fixated on causing pain to others while avoiding it himself. It’s not completely surprising that he would keep mementos to remind him of significant occasions in his life, even if his method was unconventional. On the other hand, Lee is utterly overwhelmed by the newly revealed expanse of Gaara’s skin, by the fact that he hasn't replaced his sand armor even though they've long stopped fighting. Before he can think about it, he has reached out his hand towards the jagged, silver-white shape.

“You can touch it,” Gaara says. Lee opens his mouth to apologize but his words form a lump in his throat. Rather than speak, he moves. His hand connects with the bare skin of Gaara's shoulder. Delicately, he brushes his fingers over the edge of the scar, tracing around the perimeter where ropy silver gives way to pale, unblemished skin. The slick tension that has been building between them all night comes to a head. Gaara's eyes slip closed with a sigh. Lee leans in closer, presses his whole palm to the span of Gaara's shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” Lee whispers, dumbly, his throat still constricted.

Gaara doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes. He sits perfectly still and moves only his mouth. “No,” he says simply. “It itches sometimes, or pulls. But it doesn't hurt.”

Lee is no stranger to scars, knows the familiar tug of newly formed skin that never feels quite the same as the original. He understands the itch of flesh that can never be scratched. He wants to say something, to express to Gaara that they're the same in this way, but he can't find the words.

“Of course, you know that,” Gaara says, barely audible. Lee is struck by Gaara's understanding. His heart swells with the warm affection of comradeship, forged in battle and built on shared experience. Although it isn't quite familiar, he's sure that this feeling in his chest is the feeling of a bond of friendship strengthening between the two of them. How lucky he is to have a friend like Gaara!

They sit there for a very long time, the world silent around them. Gaara is utterly still, the tension of the evening draining from around him. Lee keeps his hand on Gaara's shoulder, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his scar.

Eventually, Gaara speaks, “This bench is uncomfortable.”

Lee startles back to himself. He pulls his hand back rapidly and shakes it, numb from resting on Gaara's shoulder. “We could sit on the ground,” he offers. Gaara doesn't respond, merely lowers himself from the bench to the carpet of grass below. Here, on the edge of the training field, the grass is thick and lush. The dense forest around the village opens up here to an expanse of bare land, affording an excellent view of the night sky. The stars are out in full tonight, although they pale next to the full moon. The vast, sidereal expanse of the sky crescendos above the two of them as they make themselves comfortable.

Gaara is sitting somewhat stiffly, his hands behind him propping him up. Lee notices that he hasn't buttoned his collar, and the arc of his neck stretches delicately, distractingly backwards as he looks up at the sky. As if to encourage his friend to relax a little bit, Lee throws himself down on his back, arms and legs akimbo. He is painfully aware of the proximity of his hand to Gaara's. Just a few scant centimeters separate their fingertips. It would take only the slightest movement on either of their parts to bring their hands together.

“The stars are really beautiful tonight, huh?” Lee says. Gaara looks at him; his gaze lingers on the space between their hands, but he doesn't reply. He nods slightly, the barest incline of his head, before turning back towards the sky.

Lee, undaunted, continues on. “Look, you can see Altair and Vega. It's going to be the Tanabata festival soon, I almost forgot.” Lee pauses for a long moment, measuring Gaara's lack of response. “Do you celebrate Tanabata in Suna?”

“No,” Gaara says simply.

“Oh, well, it's to celebrate the reunion of Orihime and Hikoboshi. See those two bright stars?” Lee points to two stars on either side of the Milky Way.

“Yes, Altair and Vega. You just said.”

“Right, well the legend goes that those two stars are actually a princess and a cowherd. The princess, Orihime, was a weaver, and she was so engrossed in her work that she could never look for love. So one day her father arranged for her to meet Hikoboshi, a cowherd, who lived across the river - the Milky Way, right there.” Lee gestures, and continues, “They fell in love instantly, but this caused them to neglect their work. Orihime put her weaving to aside and Hikoboshi let his cows run all over heaven. So Orihime's father cast the river down between them. Now they can only meet once a year, when a flock of magpies creates a bridge for them to cross the river and see each other.” Lee blurts out this information almost in a single breath. He chuckles a little bit, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes. Something about this story always makes him emotional. Those poor stars, separated by such a great distance and only ever seeing their most precious person once a year.

Lee looks over at Gaara, who does not look particularly impressed. He's still staring at the stars impassively.

“Anyway, the festival is great. Everyone gets dressed up, and they have booths with food and games. And everyone writes a wish to hang from a bamboo branch.”

Gaara merely hums in response and closes his eyes. He settles back on his arms, his shoulders noticeably relaxed. Lee continues to prattle on about the festival. He tells Gaara stories from last year's festival, how Naruto made himself sick in an eating competition with Chouji and how Gai-sensei competed for, and almost won, the Miss Tanabata contest. Gaara barely responds but Lee notices him settling; he seems almost calm, or perhaps just less tense.

Gradually, the glare of the full moon fades to the gloaming of sunrise. The sound of crickets fades to the dawn chorus of robins and wrens. At length, Gaara opens his eyes.

“It's morning,” he says, without preamble. He stands, buttons the collar of his shirt, and begins to walk off the training field, in the direction of Lee's apartment. It takes Lee a moment to collect himself, blinking the stillness of night from his eyes. He gathers himself up and catches up with Gaara in a few long paces.

When they arrive at the door of his apartment building, Lee isn't quite sure what to say, so he says, “Thanks for the fight!”

Gaara is looking at him strangely again. He doesn't respond initially. Finally, he says, “I'll see you tonight.” Without another word, he turns and begins to walk back towards his hotel.

Lee races himself up the stairs so he can stand at his window and watch Gaara walk away. As Gaara reaches the end of the block, Lee can barely make out the flow of sand rising up and settling over his face and hands as he restores the sand armor.

Chapter Text

The next day, Lee takes a long lunch. He knows he's been slacking on his training, and he promises that he will make it up to himself with 1000 kick-punches before bed. It's just that he's been thinking about flowers a lot the past couple days, for some reason. And Gaara mentioned that he likes to take care of plants. And Gai-sensei has always said that all the strength in the world is useless if you have no one to defend with it - not that that’s particularly germane. Lee has just been thinking that Gaara might be interested in getting acquainted with some of the local flora. Feeling justified, Lee steps into the warm, perfumey enclosure of the Yamanaka Flower Shop.

“Hi Lee!” Ino calls cheerily from behind the counter. Her smile is radiant. Peacetime looks good on her, Lee decides. During the war she had always looked drawn and thin with stress.

“What can I help you with?” she asks.

Lee hadn't expected to be confronted with a choice so soon. He's overwhelmed with the possibilities. Camellias in all colors burst in a cheerful spray from a nearby bucket. The pink-and-white heads of carnations peer cheekily from overflowing vases. A fragrant bunch of lavender blooms to his left. At the counter, Ino is arranging a spray of daffodils artfully in a vase.

Lee is inundated with color, scent, light, and meaning. He searches his memory for his training from the academy. Although the boys hadn't had to sit through classes on flower arrangement, he remembers Tenten reciting the meanings of various flowers. He hesitates uncertainly over a bouquet of varicolored lilies. The little white ones mean sweetness, or is it purity? And one of them means revenge, or is it wealth? Or lesbianism? No, lilies probably weren't right.

Lee has never been any good at the more delicate arts of being a ninja. He’s much better at solving problems with his fists. Shaking his head to clear it and feeling unresolved, Lee decides to stick with what he knows. He approaches the counter.

“Did you pick something?” Ino asks.

“Um, do you have lotuses?” Lee stammers out.

Ino's eyes widen. She sucks air through her teeth. “Yeah, Lee, but they take a long time to grow and they're a little finicky, so they can be kind of expensive. Are you looking to impress someone or something?” There's a teasing twinkle in her eye.

“Yes!” Lee replies. He is, after all, looking to show Gaara his deep and abiding regard for their friendship, and impress him with his gratitude for their time spent together.

“Ooh-la-la,” Ino sighs. “Hmm… purity of intentions and being far from the one you love. Who's the lucky girl?”

Lee turns bright red. “It's- it's not-”

Ino's expression suddenly turns dour. “Wait, Lee, this isn't for Sakura is it? Because you know she's not interested. And as much as I want to make this sale, I'm not gonna put two of my friends in an awkward situation.”

Lee is bowled over. He hasn't thought about Sakura like that in ages. Of course, for most of his teenage years he had carried the flame of her in his heart, holding out hope that one day she would turn around and see him patiently waiting for her, ready to protect her with his life. But during the war it had become clear that Sakura didn't need him in that way. She was more than capable of protecting herself. And of course she was still fixated on the dream of a reunion with the object of her own childhood affections, undeserving though he may be. Eventually, Lee realized that he would always be standing behind her, unnoticed as anything more than a friend, watching her chase after Sasuke. And after a few rejections and a few long, tear-filled talks with Gai-sensei, he had resolved himself to move on. Sakura was a dear friend, and a strong kunoichi whom he respected to the utmost, but nothing more.

“No, it's not for her,” Lee says finally. “It's for someone else.”

Ino raises one eyebrow and says, “Okay, but I'll know if you're lying to me.” She taps her temple threateningly.

“I promise! I'm not. It's for, um-” Lee's throat freezes up before he can blurt out Gaara's name. It's not that he's ashamed of giving Gaara a flower – of course not! There’s nothing shameful about one friend giving another a gift to convey his respect, particularly if the other friend is already interested in gardening and might enjoy learning about foreign botanicals. But, well, Ino can be such a gossip. There's no way she wouldn't make this out to be something more than it is. And in a ninja village, one person’s business quickly becomes everyone else's business.

Ino levels a curious stare at Lee. “Come back in a couple days and I'll have it ready for you.” She turns back to her arrangement with finality.

Lee hastily paces his way to the door.

“Say,” Ino calls at his retreating form, “I heard the Kazekage has a delegation in town…”

“Bye Ino! I’ll see you later!” Lee cries. He scurries out of the shop, the bell ringing madly behind him, promising himself to head straight home and get right back into his training. But not before he stops by the library to check out a book on the language of flowers.

That night, Gaara arrives silently. Lee feels as though he is bursting with boundless energy at the prospect of spending another evening with his friend, but Gaara appears tired. His forehead is creased with fatigue and he looks like he's barely keeping his eyes open. His hair looks more mussed than usual around the temples, as if he has been rubbing at it.

“Gaara, are you okay?” Lee whispers, trying to be mindful of his neighbors.

“It's the heat,” Gaara says lowly. It has been hot all week, although Lee barely notices it anymore. Konoha is moving into the full breadth of summer, and with that comes the humidity. Until the first big rainstorm of the summer, the heat will build up all day and linger in the moist air into the nighttime hours.

“Isn't it hot in Suna?” Lee hisses back, uncertain.

“It's a different kind of heat, dry heat. I'm not used to how humid it is. And it doesn't get cool at night here either. There's no relief.”

Of course, Lee thinks, feeling foolish. He racks his brain for something he could offer Gaara that would get him out of the heat. Ice cream? No, the shop will be closed. And the swimming pool won’t be open either.…

“Oh!” he says finally, forgetting to be quiet yet again. “We could go to the river!”

“Swimming?” Gaara's eyebrows quirk minutely, dubious.

Lee claps his hand over his mouth. Of course, Gaara is from Suna, how presumptuous of him! He might not even know how to swim! And his sand armor is weak against water! Would it be an unthinkable breach of etiquette to suggest something that could be so risky?

“Um, do you know how to swim?” Lee squeaks out.

“Yes,” Gaara replies, offering no further explanation.

“Great! I'll get my swimsuit! Do you have a swimsuit with you?”

“I think so. Temari, Kankuro, and I are making a stop in the Land of Waves on our way back home.”

Lee tries his best not to imagine Gaara on an actual beach. He's so fair-skinned, he would probably have to wear a massive sunhat and high SPF sunscreen. Lee wonders if he puts a stripe of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose. He must spend most of his time under an umbrella, but maybe he likes to collect shells, or explore the tidepools….

“Great!” Lee interrupts his own thoughts, “I'll go change and get us some towels!” He ducks into his bedroom and tries not to slam the door in his hurry.

Once Lee is properly attired in his green swim trunks and a plain pink t-shirt just this side of too short that he mostly wears as pajamas, he grabs an armful of fluffy towels. Lee is a stoic in most regards, but there is something to be said for the rejuvenating power of wrapping yourself in a plush towel after a long, hot soak in the tub. He leaves his leg warmers and weights off – surely Gai-sensei wouldn't expect him to wear them to go swimming, even if it would be excellent training – and unwraps his bandages. As he slips on some flip-flops, he glances at himself in the mirror. The scars are a little unsightly, but nobody but Gaara is going to see him, and Gaara already knows about them. Has acknowledged them, even. Has expressed his understanding of them and their importance to his story as a ninja. Feeling not-quite-confident, but at least encouraged, Lee emerges from his bedroom.

Gaara is standing at Lee's kitchen table, leafing through the book on flower language that Lee had left sitting out. He lifts his eyes to Lee, his gaze lingering for a long moment on Lee's exposed midriff.

“I didn't realize you were interested in botany,” he says, finally.

“I'm not, really!” Lee blurts out, “I just, um -” Lee isn't sure how to explain what, exactly he was thinking. I’ve been thinking about you a lot! No. I wanted to find a flower that expresses how I feel about you! Definitely not, that would just make Gaara uncomfortable.

“Right,” Gaara says, after Lee has gone several seconds without finishing his sentence. “My swimsuit is at the hotel.” He turns abruptly and makes his way out of Lee's front door. Lee scrambles to follow him.

When they arrive at the door of Gaara's hotel room, Gaara turns to Lee and presses a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

“Kankuro is probably still asleep.”

Lee blanches. He looks down at his exposed stomach, his bare arms and legs. He had forgotten that Gaara was sharing accommodations with his brother. A brief rush of mortification washes over him. He hadn't expected anybody other than Gaara to see him looking like this. He knows he's not exactly a stunning specimen, and his scars are pretty gnarly looking if you aren't ready for them. He crosses his fingers and prays that Kankuro stays asleep.

Lee's hopes are dashed the moment the door cracks open. A panel of light falls into the room from the hallway, and he hears Kankuro stir.

“What the hell? Gaara, is that you?”

Gaara steps into the room, “Yes, and Lee. Go back to sleep.”

Lee follows Gaara into the hotel room. He can barely make out the silhouette of Kankuro stretching and sitting up in the bed on the far side of the room, closest to the window.

Kankuro yawns immensely. “Like hell I'm going back to sleep with some rando in the room with me,” he says.

“It's Lee,” Gaara says sharply.

Lee can't see Kankuro's face in the dark, but he can hear the eye-roll when he says, “Fine, it's Lee, whatever. I'm up anyways.” His feet shuffle against the floor to stand.

“Have it your way,” Gaara says, and flicks the lights on.

“Auugh!” Kankuro yells, reeling backwards onto his bed, an arm thrown over his eyes, “Warn a guy, will ya?”

“You said you were awake,” Gaara says, his mouth pursed in a way that would be almost prissy on anyone else. On Gaara's face, the expression is comical; it looks like he just tasted something unpleasant.

Lee is struck by the normalcy of their bickering. He hasn't seen Gaara with his brother very often, and when he does, it tends to be in a formal context, with Kankuro acting as Gaara's bodyguard. He remembers the frightened deference with which Kankuro had regarded Gaara so many years ago at the chuunin exams. Obviously things have changed since then, but Lee didn't expect that the two of them would banter like teenagers. Lee's heart warms at the prospect that Gaara has such a wonderful brother, who was able to overcome the darkness of their childhood and provide him with the genuine warmth and companionship of a typical sibling relationship.

Kankuro finally makes it to his feet, stretches, and scratches his stomach. He's clearly been in a deep sleep; his puppet-patterned pajama pants are bunched up and wrinkled. Without his face paint and with his hair uncovered, he’s almost unrecognizable. He seems different, young even, with the imprint of the pillowcase on his cheek and traces of purple paint smeared into his hairline.

“So, what are you guys up to at- “ Kankuro glances at the alarm clock between the two narrow hotel beds, “Three thirty in the morning?”

Lee opens his mouth to respond but Gaara cuts in, “Do you know where my swimsuit is?”

“Side pouch of your bag,” Kankuro replies almost instantly, then, “Wait, you guys are going swimming?”

Gaara doesn't reply, merely grabs what Lee assumes is his bag and disappears into the tiny en-suite bathroom, shutting the door behind him, and leaving Lee the sole focus of Kankuro's attention.

Seeming to be fully awake now, Kankuro looks Lee up and down. Lee braces himself for Kankuro to say something about his appearance, but Kankuro just whistles lowly and says, “Tough guy, huh?”

Lee isn't sure how to respond to that, so he doesn't say anything, just gives Kankuro a weak smile and a thumbs-up. The Nice Guy Pose is renowned for its ability to smooth over all awkward interpersonal interactions.

Kankuro squints, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Ri-ight,” he says, finally, “So what gave you the idea to go swimming in the middle of the night?”

“Gaara said he was hot!” Lee exclaims. “There is no better cure for the summer heat than a rejuvenating dip in the cool and refreshing waters of Konoha's river!”

Kankuro holds his hands up, as if to stop the assault of words, “All right, man, I don't need a dissertation. Yeah, the squirt never could handle the humidity. He's a bit of a chuckwalla, you know.”

“A what?” Lee has never heard of such a thing in his life. He narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath, ready to defend his friend's honor.

“You know, like a desert lizard? A chuckwalla,” Kankuro sighs. “Never mind. You know, Gaara's been talking about you nonstop since we got here.”

Lee is taken slightly aback. “About me?”

Kankuro chuckles. “As much as Gaara ever talks about anything, yeah. I can barely crack my neck without him going,” Kankuro lowers his voice in an imitation of Gaara's rasp, “'Lee says that Tiger Balm is best for sore muscles.'”

Lee opens his mouth, about to extol the incredible rejuvenating powers of Tiger Balm, but Kankuro holds a hand up again. He glances warily to the bathroom door, where he can hear Gaara still clattering around. He turns back to Lee and lowers his voice, “Listen, Lee, I know you and Gaara have been friends for a long time.”

“Yes!” Lee exclaims. “Through the power of youth we have developed the exceptional bond of close friends and compatriots!”

Kankuro moves his hand in a 'keep it down' gesture and says, “Right, and that's great. That's … awesome. I know Gaara doesn't have a lot of friends and I'm glad he has you. But this,” he gestures between Lee and the still-closed bathroom door, “seems different. This doesn’t seem like all the times he’s gone out for late-night ramen with Naruto and come home sick to his stomach. I don't know what it is, and I don't necessarily want or need to know, but just ... be careful with him, okay?”

“I promise- !” Lee is about to launch into a passionate speech about how he intends to hold his friendship with Gaara to the absolute highest standard of devotion and dignity, when Gaara opens the door and emerges from the bathroom. He's wearing what looks like a 1920's style swimming costume, a full-coverage top and bottom patterned with horizontal red-and-white stripes. He looks, in a word, adorable. Lee feels his eyes get wide and a grin begins to creep its way across his face, but he quickly schools his face into a more neutral expression.

“I forgot my flip-flops,” Gaara says, then looks back and forth between Lee and Kankuro. Before either of them can speak, his eyes narrow just slightly. “What were you talking about,” he says, flatly, barely a question.

“You can borrow mine!” Lee cries, racing to pick up his shoes from the entry to the room and hand them to Gaara.

“Your shoes will be way too big for me, Lee, and you'll hurt your feet.” Gaara turns to Kankuro while Lee is starting to explain how walking barefoot will be excellent training, and says, “Kankuro.”

Kankuro raises his hand in a conciliatory gesture, “Ahh, I was just telling him what a wimp you are about the heat.”

Gaara narrows his eyes further but seems satisfied with that answer. He nods minutely and turns to the door. “I'm ready to go,” he says, and steps out.

Lee, as always, is left scrambling after him. He pursues Gaara's quick footsteps down the hall, still holding out his flip-flops and insisting Gaara take them. As they reach the exit to the hotel, Lee throws out his arm. He can't let his friend just walk barefoot into the street!

“Please!” he half-shouts, “Take the shoes!”

Gaara stops, but makes no motion to take the shoes from Lee's outstretched hand. “Lee, people are still sleeping,” he murmurs. Lee snaps his mouth shut. “I can't wear your shoes; they're too big. And I'll be fine.” Gaara taps his heel twice on the wood just inside the doorway. It makes a hollow, thunking sound. “Sand armor.”

Lee, feeling abashed, pulls his hand back. “Of course!” It still feels wrong to put his shoes on when Gaara isn't wearing any, though, so he says, “I won't wear mine anyway! It will be a great training exercise to endure the uneven terrain.”

Gaara turns away. “Fine,” he says, simply, and steps into the street.

When they arrive at the river, Gaara takes a moment to carefully fold his towel and place it gently on the ground with his gourd resting just-so atop it. Lee drops his items in a heap and rushes to undress. While his shirt is halfway over his head, he hears the susurration of Gaara’s sand armor shedding into the gourd. He glances over at Gaara; he can see a damp ring of sweat at the nape of his neck. He feels oddly compelled to reach out and wipe it off for him. Or lick it off. Wrenching his thoughts back into a more appropriate direction, he whips his shirt all the way off and hurtles himself into the river in a cannonball.

The water is cool and refreshing, murky near the bottom where Lee has disturbed a layer of silt. He stays under for a moment, herding his thoughts back into line and letting the water drain the heat from his face. When he surfaces, he sees Gaara gently lowering himself into the river. Gaara dunks himself under and resurfaces, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. Even from the middle of the river, Lee can hear his sigh of relief. Gaara’s hair, already dark in the moonlight, looks darker still when wet. Lee can see rivulets of silvery water dripping down his forehead and streaking down his neck. With his hair pushed back, every part of Gaara’s finely featured face is visible - his high cheekbones, his pointed hairline, the smooth angle of his jaw. Lee kicks his way over before he can even think, drawn closer.

“How is it?”

“It’s good.”

“It’s even cooler towards the middle of the river,” Lee offers. “The water is deeper there.”

Gaara is treading water awkwardly, close to the bank. Lee wonders if Gaara might not be able to swim very well after all.

“Or you can stay over here. It’s your choice,” Lee says awkwardly.

“No, it’s fine.” Gaara turns, clumsily, until he’s floating on his back. He uses his legs to kick towards the middle of the river, his hands paddling awkwardly to keep him afloat. Lee keeps accompanies him in a slow backstroke. He challenges himself to make each pull perfect, so that he doesn’t outpace Gaara. Even so, it’s a struggle to move so slowly.

When they reach the middle of the river, Gaara stays floating on his back. He only moves occasionally, just enough to keep himself afloat. The river is still and quiet. Lee treads water dutifully beside him. This isn’t quite what he expected out of a trip to the river; usually he immerses himself in self-challenges whenever he goes swimming - after all, swimming is an excellent low-impact training exercise! - but perhaps this is a challenge of a different kind. He promises himself that he will continue treading water until Gaara is ready to leave, even if it takes all night! If he doesn’t, he will- !

His thoughts are interrupted when Gaara speaks. “You can swim around if you want. I can tell you’re restless. I’ll be fine here.”

“Right!” Lee salutes, legs still churning the water. He immediately launches himself towards the other bank. He will complete 10 laps before the next time Gaara kicks, or he will have to hold his breath for as long as he can stand it!

Lee’s laps are a bit slower than normal, because he feels compelled to check on Gaara each time he passes him. He hasn’t completed nearly 10 laps when Gaara kicks again. Lee swims back to the center of the river.

“Are you doing all right?” he asks.

“I won’t drown, you know,” Gaara says.

“Of course!” Lee ducks down under the water, ready for his next challenge. He’s been holding his breath for one minute and thirty-two seconds, by his internal clock, when he feels a firm grip in his hair. Gaara hauls him to the surface of the water. Gaara’s treading water too now, awkwardly bobbing, his face not far above the surface. Lee comes up with a gasp.

“Don’t do that,” Gaara says. His eyes are wide and his breathing comes quickly. “You could drown and there would be nothing I could do about it. My sand is weak in water.”

“I promise I won’t drown either!” Lee beams. He gives Gaara the best Nice Guy Pose he can while his legs windmill wildly beneath him. His heart is beating fast, but perhaps that’s just oxygen deprivation. It almost certainly has nothing to do with Gaara’s hand in his hair, or the worried look on his face when Lee was underwater too long.

He resigns himself to a few cooldown exercises, to get his heart rate back to normal. He completes several laps from one bank to the other. He practices his freestyle, crawl, and backstroke. He contemplates practicing the butterfly but worries he might splash Gaara too much. He dives down to touch the bottom of the river, aiming to come up in a different, precise location each time. When he tires of this, he simply paddles in circles around Gaara, who has resumed floating on his back, careful not to disturb him.

After some time, Gaara speaks. “It’s getting cold.”

Lee startles to attention. “Oh! I think there’s a lotus pond just a little ways down. We could swim down there and take a look. Gai-sensei always says there’s nothing better for a chill than vigorous exercise!”

Gaara turns slightly and looks down the river. “I’m not a strong swimmer,” he says at length.

“I hadn’t noticed!” Lee blurts out, disturbing the still of the night. A frog splashes, startled, into the river.

“Don’t flatter me. I know my limitations,” Gaara says, but there’s a quirk to the corner of his mouth that lets Lee know he must not mind too much.

“We can walk instead,” Lee offers. He pauses. “Um, do you need help getting back to the bank?”

Gaara clumsily rights himself and begins an uneven doggy paddle. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just … stay by me.”

“Of course!” Lee half-shouts, keeping pace with Gaara in even strokes.

It’s slow going to the bank of the river. When they finally emerge onto dry land, Lee rushes to grab his towel and dry off as quickly as possible. Gaara moves sedately, carefully patting himself dry inch-by-inch. Lee, with his towel already around his neck, stands by uncomfortably and tries not to stare. When Gaara stretches to dry his hair, the top of his swimsuit rides up, exposing the small of his back. Lee can see where water has collected in the divots on either side of Gaara’s lower back, just above his backside. Lee turns to stare hard at the ground, furiously willing the blush to drain from his face. He’s in the midst of chastising himself for improper thoughts when he feels a hand on his arm. He chances a glance up; Gaara is standing with his towel draped around his shoulders like a cape, his gourd fastened back around his waist. His hand is resting on Lee’s bicep, and as Lee looks up, his hand drags down, past Lee’s elbow, over the worst of his scars, towards his wrist. Lee wants nothing more than to take Gaara’s hand in his own, but Kankuro's warning rings in his head: Be careful.

“I’m ready,” Gaara says, voice low. “My skin has to be completely dry to avoid disrupting the sand armor.” With that, the sand rises up around Gaara’s body. Lee feels the gentle brush of the sand against his wrist as Gaara pulls his hand back. The sand closes completely around his bare palm, conforms to the shape of Gaara’s body, and solidifies.

“Right,” Lee says quietly, “It’s up this way.”

As they walk towards the pond, the path along the bank of the river narrows. Even being warned, Lee can’t help but let the back of his hand brush against Gaara’s. He’s not even sure if Gaara can feel the touch through the sand armor; when he glances to his right, Gaara’s face is impassive, undisturbed. But when the path widens again, Gaara doesn’t step away, and Lee feels the back of Gaara’s hand brush against his own.

The lotus pond isn’t actually much of a pond at all. It’s a small, semi-manmade shallows, protected from the flow of the river by a barrier of reeds. Weeds grow thick around the bank where the trees give way to the open night sky. Floating on the surface of the water are circular leaves, scattered throughout with flowers that look almost purple in the moonlight.

“Here we are!” Lee announces. “Oh, I’ve never seen the lotuses this color before.”

“These aren’t lotuses,” Gaara, says, already kneeling in the weeds, reaching his hand into the water to coax a leaf towards himself. Lee hears the hiss of the sand armor racing back up Gaara’s arms, away from the water. “These are night-blooming water lilies.”

“Oh,” says Lee, chastened.

“It’s a common mistake,” says Gaara. He’s looking closer at the leaves now, running his finger along the edge of one. He glances back at Lee, seizes his hand, and pulls Lee towards him. Lee drops to his knees next to Gaara. Gaara doesn’t let go, but rather pulls Lee’s hand to touch the leaf where he’s holding it.

“See here, how the leaf is floating just under the water? That’s the difference between water lilies and lotuses. Lotuses are emergent, their leaves and flowers rise above the water’s surface. Lilies float.”

“Uh huh,” Lee nods vaguely. He’s listening, or at least trying to listen, but it’s hard to appreciate the depth of Gaara’s knowledge when the smooth skin of his hand is brushing over Lee’s knuckles, almost a caress, as he guides Lee’s hand to a flower.

“You can see they don’t have the same center as a lotus. Some water lilies trap bugs inside overnight, and their centers are open. Lotuses have a seed pod in the center.”

“Right,” says Lee, but he isn’t looking at the flower anymore. He’s staring, transfixed, at Gaara, at the movement of his mouth as he describes the lilies’ life cycle. Gaara’s hand continues to move, gently, over the lilies and his other hand moves over Lee’s hand at the same time, as if he has forgotten what it is doing.

To distract himself, Lee reaches to grab a leaf from beneath, to bring it closer to him and get a better look, but Gaara tightens his grip and pulls his hand back.

“Careful,” he says. “Some lilies have spines on the underside of the leaf to defend against predators. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Right,” Lee says. “I don’t need any more scars,” he chuckles, self-effacing.

Gaara fixes him with an odd look. The green of his pupils flash in the darkness. “No,” he says, shifting his attention to Lee’s scarred hand in his own. He pulls his other hand out of the water, and traces his damp fingers up the underside of Lee’s left arm, where the scarring is the most severe.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you without your bandages,” Gaara says, slowly. His eyes flick from Lee’s outstretched arm to his face, and back again.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” Lee wants to pull his arm back, to hide it behind his back or under his towel, but he feels pinned down by Gaara’s stare. “The bandages are a real pain when they’re wet.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Gaara is staring straight into Lee’s eyes now. Lee feels like the ground has fallen out from below him. There’s a swooping, soaring feeling in his stomach that he associates with fighting in mid-air.

Lee opens his mouth to speak, but Gaara’s hand grips his again, insistently. He doesn’t break his stare. Gaara’s voice is low, hushed even in the quiet of the night. When he speaks, Lee leans in closer to hear him.

“Just like mine, your scars are a sign of all that you’ve survived. This,” he squeezes Lee’s hand, still held between them, “And this,” he pushes up the leg of Lee’s swimsuit, exposing the scars on his left thigh. With one hand grasping Lee’s and the other hand on his knee, the pond beside them and its flowers completely forgotten, Gaara leans in even closer. “And you’re still here,” he breathes. Gaara is impossibly close now; Lee can feel Gaara’s breath on his mouth. He can see the individual grains of sand that make up the near-perfect illusion of the armor over his face.

Lee struggles to ground himself. Gaara is so close and he wants- … He wants- ...! He doesn’t know what he wants, and if he could just get a moment to think, he could-

Lee leans back, just slightly, just enough to take a breath of air that isn’t crowded with Gaara’s own breath. And just like that, the spell is broken. Gaara lets go of his knee, settles back into his own space. His hand still touches Lee’s, but it feels like an afterthought. His hand feels light, diaphanous, like the brush of a moth’s wing. He’s still staring at Lee with that strange expression.

Lee stutters, tries to force his mouth to form words, and settles on, “I read that water lilies symbolize purity of intentions.”

Gaara’s mouth opens slightly, then closes. “From your book. Yes, they also symbolize rebirth, sexuality, and eloquence.”

“Eloquence, huh?” Lee almost wants to laugh; he sure could use some of that right now. “I- “ he starts, but he doesn’t finish. Suddenly Gaara is climbing to his feet, brushing the dirt off his knees.

“The sun is coming up,” Gaara says. Lee hadn’t even noticed, but the sky is indeed lightening to the east. Lee is reeling, disoriented. He feels like he spent the night away from time, like heroes in fairy tales who are taken into the spirit world, only to return and find that no time has passed at all, or too much time has passed and everyone they knew is gone.

Gaara is already walking up the path, making his way towards Lee’s apartment, when Lee regains his footing. He catches up with Gaara and they walk back along the bank of the river in silence. This time, when the path narrows and their hands brush, Gaara looks at Lee directly. Lee doesn’t quite meet his eye, uncertain, but he slips his hand into Gaara’s. Gaara squeezes his hand, tentatively, and Lee squeezes back. Sparks shoot up his arm, explode along his shoulder, and shower down into his chest. His heart pounds the entire walk out of the forest.

When they reach the transition where the forest gives way to the village proper, Gaara squeezes his hand once more, and drops it. The sand barrier rushes down his hand and closes over it. He crosses his arms over his chest. Lee understands, or hopes he understands, the fragility of the gesture. The village is just waking up, and it wouldn’t do for the Kazekage to be seen holding hands with a Leaf Village ninja, even if they are just friends. But something in Lee yearns to maintain that contact. It feels like every fiber of his being is straining back towards Gaara. Impulsively, he slings his arm over Gaara’s shoulder and pulls him in. Gaara’s shoulders tense, then settle. He doesn’t uncross his arms, but he leans in closer. Lee feels the slight dig of Gaara’s shoulder into his side. Lee is just tall enough that his arm can drape fully over the breadth of Gaara’s shoulders without straining. Gaara fits perfectly under his arm, like he was always meant to be there. Lee can hear the blood rushing in his ears at the thought, but he doesn’t let go.

They cross a few quiet streets and make it to the alcove that shadows the entrance to Lee’s apartment building. Gaara steps in close. He takes his towel from around his shoulders and presses it into Lee’s hands, but he doesn’t release it. They stand there, each clutching one side of the same towel, for a long moment before Gaara speaks.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he says, and then, after a pause, “It will be my last night in the village.”

“Oh!” Lee breathes out, the blood that was rushing in his ears stills and drains to his stomach, where it pulses with a dull, nauseating feeling. “So soon?”

Gaara doesn’t reply. He lets go of the towel and turns to leave. “Tonight,” he says firmly, like a promise.

“Tonight,” Lee responds. He tries to muster up the full force of his intentions behind the word. He is about to open his mouth to speak again, but there is a rushing hiss, a swirl of sand, and Gaara disappears from his doorstep, vanishing into a Sand Transportation jutsu.

Lee presses Gaara’s towel to his face and inhales.

Chapter Text

Later that day, Lee and Tenten are sparring at the training field. She's been dying to try out a revised bukijutsu with some new, super-lightweight kunai she picked up on a recent pass through Takumi village, and Lee is delighted to assist her.

“All right!” Tenten yells, pulling out a scroll, “Check this out!” She leaps vertically, unfurls her scroll over Lee’s head, and unleashes a barrage of kunai.

He dodges gamely, although slower than usual, and calls out, “Nice one!” With the new kunai, her attacks are certainly swifter. Her third and fourth passes nearly caught him. The sleep deprivation is also getting to him a little bit, and he wavers slightly on his feet, but that's no reason to stop training! In fact, it means he should push himself harder, farther. To atone for his slowness, he will add an extra 50 – no, 100! - cycles of the Passai kata to his cooldown routine. Tenten cuts behind him and is prepared to unroll a second scroll when suddenly she stops.

“Say, Lee,” she says, covering her mouth and feigning a yawn, “I'm pretty tired. I could use a break, couldn't you?”

Lee knows, immediately, that Tenten is not actually tired. He also knows that she has noticed that he is tired and is kindly trying to give him an opportunity to rest. Lee cannot accept this; he must fight through his fatigue and prove his worth as a ninja!

“Tenten, in order to become stronger, we must not allow the indulgence of rest to tempt us from our goal! We must press on and seize this day with both hands! Only in the full blossom of the springtime of our youth, can we- !”

“Oh, give it a rest, Lee.” Tenten rolls her eyes and starts to walk towards her pack at the side of the training field. “I'm going to sit down and have some water, will you join me?” Lee knows that this is as gracious as Tenten is going to get. If he insists on continuing training, she won't ask again. He also knows that she knows that he won’t be able to resist the offer of friendship that she's extending. It would be unthinkable to turn her down when she is trying to be so accommodating of him. Not to mention, she has provided him the perfect excuse for slacking off. He's not shirking his training, he's merely accompanying a friend!

“Yes, of course,” he scrambles to join her on the edge of the training field. Tenten plops herself onto one of the stone benches. She takes a small scroll out of her pack, unrolls it, and uses it to awkwardly fan herself.

“Man, it's so humid today! It's like it wants to rain, but it can't. Ugh!” Tenten takes a long gulp of water and passes her canteen to Lee. He accepts it and takes a drink.

It's strange how different this scenario is in the light of day, with someone else. There's none of the strange tension, none of the awkward, meaningful touches. Lee wonders if this means that his interactions with Gaara were somehow different than he thought. His mind certainly isn’t racing with thoughts of Tenten right now. He doesn’t feel flowers blooming in his stomach, not even a seedling. There is no nervous tension, no desire to reach out and grasp at something he can’t name.

“Take a seat!” Tenten pats the space next to her on the bench. Lee hovers tentatively near her, not wanting to sit down, worried that he'll somehow disrupt or tarnish the memory of the last time he sat on these benches. Besides which, if he sits down, he'll probably fall asleep.

“That's okay, I'd rather stand. Even standing can be training, if done in adverse circumstances! I will remain standing for the duration of our break or- !”

“Lee, if you don't sit down, you're gonna pass out and you know it.” Tenten grabs the corner of his flak jacket and pulls him down to sitting. “Besides,” she says with a wink, “I don't think your paramour would be very impressed if you fell asleep on them. Lot of late nights recently, huh?”

Lee flushes violently. He's been caught. “Who told you?” he asks.

Tenten bats her eyes and purses her lips demurely, “A kunoichi always protects the sources of her intel.”

“Was it Ino?” Lee knew she wouldn’t be able to keep any gossip to herself.

Tenten leans back and lets out a hearty guffaw, “Yeah, it was Ino. She said you were buying expensive flowers for some girl from Suna? Plus you've been pretty tired for the past few days. Is she the one that's been keeping you up at night?” There's a twinkle of mischief in Tenten's eyes, but also an undertone of concern. Lee can tell that she's worried for him. She's probably thinking that Lee is throwing himself headfirst after some stoic Suna kunoichi who would never give a bug-eyed, long-eyelashed loser like him the time of day. She's probably worried that Lee is going to get his heart broken. Lee knows he has to be honest with her. Tenten is a dear friend, and he trusts her to keep his confidence.

“Actually, the flower is for Gaara. That's who I've been visiting at night.”

“What!” Tenten almost spits out her mouthful of water. She practically jumps forward into Lee's face. “You're seeing the Kazekage?”

Lee blushes even more strongly, if that's even possible. “Um, kind of? Not like that. At least, I don't think so. I think it's more like a friends and rivals-type thing, sort of like Gai-sensei and Kakashi-sensei, but without the challenges. We sparred the other night, and last night we went swimming.”

Tenten narrows her eyes, “Lee, Gai-sensei and Kakashi-sensei have been dating for months.”

Now it's Lee's turn to almost spit out his water. “Are you sure?” he gasps out, his eyes watering as he nearly chokes.

“Uh, yeah?” Tenten looks slightly bemused, “I'm pretty sure Gai-sensei has been pursuing Kakashi-sensei for years, and after the war I guess Kakashi-sensei had enough and finally said 'yes'.”

Lee is flabbergasted. How could his beloved teacher have hidden such important information about his most important person from him? Although, in retrospect, it did make a lot of sense. Gai-sensei was always talking about the deep and enduring bond between eternal rivals and how a rivalry could blossom into a warm and mutual regard for one another.

Tenten takes another swallow of water and goes to stand. “Well, I'm off,” she says.

Lee jumps to his feet, “What about our training?”

“Lee, I'm going home to get some rest, and if you know what's good for you, you will too.” Tenten innocently spins a kunai around her finger, but the gleam in her eye belies the underlying threat.

“Right!”

Lee intends to go home and rest, he really does, but when he gets to his apartment, he's awash with nervous energy. His mind is racing with information and he finds himself pacing back and forth between his bedroom and kitchen. He decides to put his restlessness to good use. He gathers up his carpentry supplies and makes his way to Gai-sensei's apartment.

When everyone returned from the war, Gai-sensei had staunchly refused to move into the first-floor, wheelchair-accessible apartments designed for wounded ninja. He had insisted on remaining in his third-floor walk up, saying, “If it was good enough for me before the war, it's good enough for me now. A truly determined ninja won't let a little thing like stairs stand in his way.” So Lee and Tenten (with the help of some of their friends) had taken it upon themselves to slowly replace Gai-sensei's furniture and modify his home into wheelchair-friendly accommodations.

Of course, they couldn't let Gai-sensei know they were doing this; he would have refused outright. His students had initially tried to replace things when he was home, but he would constantly interrupt by trying to show how he could still use everything, and he usually ended up making a mess or at least delaying the work by a few hours. He continued to insist that he could do everything just as well now as he could before the war, even if he had to do it all standing on his hands. His students had determined the best strategy was to sneak in while Gai-sensei was out and replace things one at a time.

Constructing the roll-in shower had been the most harrowing. They had had to send Naruto out to encourage Kakashi-sensei to challenge Gai-sensei to a dango-eating contest so the grout could dry before he came home. Lee and Tenten still hadn't solved the problem of how to get a ramp to go up three stories without violating the building code, but Lee was sure they would figure it out soon.

Gai-sensei was, naturally, always deeply excited about the modifications to his apartment after-the-fact. And Lee suspected he knew who was responsible for them, even if his pride wouldn't allow him to accept or acknowledge charity. For all his hotheadedness and forgetfulness, Gai-sensei was not a stupid man. He always greeted his students with an enthusiastic recounting of the new modification and insisted on showing off the work. In order to preserve Gai-sensei's dignity, Lee and Tenten never mentioned that they were the ones behind it all, and if Gai-sensei had his suspicions, he never mentioned it either.

Today he hopes to finish up moving all of Gai-sensei's cabinets to counter height. They had gotten about half of them done last week, and Gai-sensei had been overjoyed with the fact that he no longer had to stand on his hands and use his one good foot to retrieve ingredients from the top shelves. He had demonstrated his thanks by preparing Lee and Tenten a meal of dumplings that left them running to the bathroom for the rest of the next day.

Lee arrives at Gai-sensei's door, arms full of hammers, nails, and two-by-fours, and shifts them all to one arm to knock. He crosses his fingers and hopes Gai-sensei will be out training. When he hears Gai-sensei's booming voice yell, “Coming!” from inside the apartment, he has to hastily stash his supplies to the side of the entryway, where they won't be seen. It wouldn't do to blow his cover now, not when they were so close to fully outfitting the apartment.

Gai-sensei throws the door open and greets Lee with a shout. “My beloved student! What a surprise! Come in, come in.” Gai-sensei seizes Lee in a crushing hug and steers him into the apartment.

“This is certainly unexpected, Lee. Normally you would be out training at this time of day,” Gai-sensei says as he leads Lee into his kitchen, “Is anything the matter?”

“No, not really,” Lee says, allowing himself to be guided to a chair and forced to sit with a firm clap on the shoulder.

“Well, you've come at the perfect time. I was just making tea!”

Gai-sensei's tea was unilaterally regarded as the worst tea in Konoha. He had a tendency to use too much matcha, and he over-steeped it, so it was much too strong. He also served it piping hot, and frowned on anyone who tried to blow it off before sipping it, chiding them for lack of fortitude.

“Thank you so much for the very generous offer, sensei! But I don't-”

“Nonsense, Lee!” Gai-sensei thunders, “You look almost dead on your feet! My tea is sure to stir your spirits and fill you with youthful energy that will carry you through the rest of the day!” Gai-sensei thumps down a mug in front of Lee and pushes it into his hands. “Drink up!”

The tea is a sickening dark green and strangely foamy on the surface, but Lee manages to choke down a couple of mouthfuls. At least the fact that it burns his tongue and the roof of his mouth makes it more difficult to feel the grittiness of the excess matcha.

Gai-sensei's kitchen has been almost completely remodeled. Lee and Tenten have taken out all his under-counter storage and replaced it with wall units at chair height, replacing all his counters with roll-under countertops. When they were first installed, Gai-sensei had gone on at length about how he had appreciated the challenge of preparing all his meals sideways and one-handed, but this new setup was just so convenient, wasn't it?

Lee glances at the three cabinets in the back corner of the kitchen that he has yet to replace and has to sit on his hands so he won’t jump out of his seat right now and start moving them. Gai-sensei shouldn't have to do acrobatics in his own kitchen just to get down a few pots and pans.

Gai-sensei wheels through his kitchen and rummages around in the cabinets before pulling out a packet of what are ominously labeled simply 'Protein Snacks'. He pushes them over to Lee. The packet contains a number of long, brown strips of an unknown substance that glisten slickly. They have the unsettling appearance of a bag of bait worms. “Now, I didn't make these myself, but you can trust that they have been fully vetted for having the ideal proportions of protein, carbohydrates, and essential vitamins and minerals to propel you through your training with gumption! Eat a few of these, and a guarantee that you'll feel right as rain!”

“Thank you, Gai-sensei! That is so thoughtful!” Lee seizes a handful of the Protein Snacks, which are oddly slippery, and shoves a couple into his mouth. They're not bad, exactly – of course, nothing that Gai-sensei promotes could possibly be bad! - but they do have an unctuousness to them that makes it difficult to eat more than one at a time. Lee imagines they would taste great on a long mission, especially if you hadn't eaten in a few days.

Gai-sensei nods and fixes Lee with a serious stare, “Now, snacks aside, what are you really here about?”

Lee gulps down the last slippery segment of his Protein Snack. He considers what he should say, Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Kakashi-sensei? or I'm having a lot of confusing feelings about Gaara, or What does it mean when someone is your friend but you hold hands and maybe want to kiss them a little bit? but finally he settles on, “Are you in love with Kakashi-sensei?”

Gai-sensei pauses for a moment and seems to think before replying, “Yes, I think I am. I was wondering when you might figure it out. I meant to tell you, you know, but for a long time I thought you already knew. And by the time it became clear that you didn't know, everyone else seemed to be aware of it. I thought it might be embarrassing for you, so I decided to let you figure it out in your own time.”

“How did you know?” Lee blurts out, before he can dwell too long on the thought.

“That I was in love?” Gai-sensei thinks for a long moment and leans back until only the back wheels of his chair are touching the floor. If Tenten were here, she would have an absolute fit. “Hmm, well, it certainly wasn't love at first sight, I can tell you that much. We were rivals first, of course, and still are. And from that rivalry, we forged a bond of friendship. When you are close with another person, and you both have experienced great loss, that bond grows even stronger. And I think sometimes, over time, that can grow to be something even stronger than friendship, maybe even without you realizing it. Sometimes it can become more like love.”

“But how did you know?” Lee presses. “How did you know you wanted to be more than friends or rivals?”

“Hmm,” Gai-sensei furrows his brow. He seems to think for a long moment before speaking. “I suppose it was a difference in my feelings more than anything else. I felt differently with him than I did with my other friends. I could picture myself spending the rest of my life with him. I don’t know that I can describe it better than that.”

Lee regards his teacher with rapt attention. He wishes he had his notebook with him; his fingers itch for a pen, so he can take notes on Gai-sensei's immense wisdom.

Gai-sensei levels Lee with a stare and leans forward so all four wheels touch the ground. “Are you thinking of taking notes? You don't need to take notes on this. It's a feeling, not a training method.”

Lee sits up, ramrod straight, and raises his hand into a salute, “Yes, Gai-sensei!”

Gai-sensei reaches over and claps his hand on Lee's shoulder, so hard that Lee feels his bones vibrate. “Now get out of here! You're burning daylight and there's still plenty of training to be had!”

Feeling fully energized, Lee races out of his sensei's apartment, calling behind him, “Yes, Gai-sensei! Thank you, Gai-sensei!”

When Lee returns to the flower shop that evening, he is startled to find not only Ino, but also Sakura in the shop. Sakura is sitting on the low edge of a shelf behind the counter, swinging her legs. In the half-light from the street, both women look radiant, young and innocent. You might even mistake them for civilians, chatting and carefree at the end of their workday.

As the bell rings over the shop door, Sakura catches sight of Lee and beckons him in. Both women regard him with identical prying looks. Lee feels trapped, like a butterfly pinned to a scientist's board, dissected by their gaze.

“I – uh – I came to pick up my lotus,” he stammers out.

“Got it right here,” Ino says with a quiet smirk, pulling the flower from beneath the counter. It's beautiful, in a shallow blue bowl of water decorated with a pattern of leaves. Each white petal is perfectly formed, glossy and gold-tinged in the low light of sunset. Ino places the lotus on the counter, close to her, but doesn't hold it out for Lee to take. He's forced to step closer.

“So...” Ino says slyly, “We never got to finish our conversation earlier. Sakura was just telling me more about the delegation from Suna that’s visiting the Hokage tower this week. That couldn't possibly have anything to do with your sudden interest in purchasing a flower, could it Lee?”

Lee feels his face heat up; his eyes grow wide. How could they know? He feels cornered, even though he’s on the other side of the counter with several available exits.

“Ha!” Sakura jumps down from the shelf and moves closer, boxing Lee in. “I knew it! Some of the kunoichi in the Kazekage's guard are pretty cute, huh Lee?”

“Yeah, if you like scrawny girls who don't even wear make-up, I guess,” Ino comments, rolling her eyes.

“Don't be rude, pig,” Sakura retorts dismissively. “I'm happy for you, Lee. I hope you found someone very special.” Sakura beams at him. In that moment, Lee misses her with his whole heart. Or rather, he misses the idea of her that he had when he was younger. Everything seemed so much simpler back then. This new, unsteady territory into which Lee has accidentally trodden seems so much more precarious and uncertain. But who would Lee be if he didn't charge headfirst into uncertainty? Nobody ever grows by remaining in a holding pattern. Sakura holds the bowl out to Lee. He accepts it with a smile.

“All of my friends are very special,” he replies. There seems to be no better way to put it. His heart swells with determination.

Ino rolls her eyes so hard they threaten to fall out of her head. “Anyway,” she says, holding out a slip of paper, “I wrote you some care instructions. Lotuses need a lot of water, so if your girl is really from Suna, it probably won't last long.” She taps the side of the bowl, “I put the root in there, though, so if she decides to preserve it, she can sprout it again in a year.”

“Thank you very much!” Lee says, taking the paper. He glances it over; some of these instructions are a little complicated! He hopes that Gaara, with his interest in botany, can understand them. What on earth is scarring a seed?

“Good luck,” Ino says. “And try not to cause a diplomatic incident if you can help it.”

Lee nods and races out the door. The last thing he hears is the open-palmed slap of Sakura's hand against the back of Ino's head.

That night, Lee isn’t able to sleep at all. He does 100 push-ups, then 100 burpees, and is just about to begin doing pull-ups when his downstairs neighbor begins hammering on their ceiling with a broomstick because he’s being too noisy. He sits at his kitchen table, leafing through his book on flower language and nervously adjusting the lotus in its bowl, until Gaara arrives.

Gaara shows up earlier than usual, too. Lee hopes this means he’s as nervous and eager as Lee is. He appears in Lee’s window, backlit by the sodium yellow of the streetlights, his face in shadow. Lee lurches to his feet, bumping his kitchen table partway across the floor and just barely avoiding spilling the lotus’ bowl.

“Hi Gaara!” Lee whispers, as enthusiastically as he can manage. “I think you’ll really like what I’ve got planned.”

Gaara merely nods. Lee steps up into the windowsill next to him. Feeling self-assured, he takes Gaara’s hand decisively in his, and leaps.

They cross the rooftops of a sleeping Konoha in perfect sync with one another. Lee is mindful to measure his pace so Gaara can keep up. He can’t keep the grin off his face when they land in front of the gate of the Yamanaka Flower Shop’s gardens. Gaara doesn’t let go of his hand.

“This is where they grow all the flowers for the shop in town,” Lee explains, fiddling with the catch on the gate. The gardens are one of the few places that aren’t kept locked overnight, and Lee is a little ashamed that he hadn’t thought of them earlier in Gaara’s visit. Nonetheless, he is excited to be here now, and he hopes that Gaara will feel the same.

Lee has never been to the gardens at night time, and as the wrought iron gate creaks open, he crosses his fingers and prays it won’t be too dark to see anything. When the gate falls all the way open and he and Gaara step inside, he hears Gaara draw in a sharp gasp.

The gardens are breathtaking. Lit from above by the pale moonlight and sidelit by the yellow shine of the streetlamps, the blossoms seem to practically glow, ghostly blues replacing their daytime whites. The foliage, too, is radiant. Beads of humidity have collected on the lush leaves and make them glisten in the low light like a blanket of stars. Fireflies blink in languid circles, gracelessly dancing from flower to flower.

Lee feels Gaara pulling him forward before he can speak. In moments, they’re kneeling side-by-side in the dirt, Gaara’s free hand tracing over the soft yellow-orange petals of a flower.

“This is calendula,” he says, without looking at Lee. “You can use its oil to make a cream for burns.”

“Oh,” Lee says. His eyes are fixated on Gaara’s hands where they caress the flower’s petals. Gaara’s fingers are long and narrow, dextrous as they run along the underside of the blossom.

“It’s also used to brew a healing tea, and its flowers can be used to dye food or textiles.” Suddenly, Gaara climbs to his feet and begins pulling Lee forward, further into the garden.

Over the next few hours, Lee learns more about flowers than he ever thought there was to know. Gaara is a font of knowledge, obviously well-read and well-researched about the practical uses of almost every flower he encounters.

“Lavender,” Gaara says, pausing over a spike of pale purple buds, “For relaxation. Also an excellent insect repellant, and useful in soaps.”

“It represents faithfulness,” Lee responds, thinking of the library book unceremoniously abandoned on his kitchen table.

Gaara hums in response, tugging Lee to a vine dotted with wilted, pale white furls of petals.

“Morning glories,” he says, “Like your princess.”

“My princess?” Lee asks, bewildered.

“From the Tanabata story. The morning glory princess.”

“Oh!” Lee shouts, then bites his tongue. “Yes, that’s another name for Orihime. But I thought you hadn’t heard of the Tanabata festival?”

The corner of Gaara’s mouth twitches up in the imitation of a smile. “I did some reading, since you were so enthusiastic about it. I’ve requested Temari begin developing an inventory for a trip back to Konoha in time for the festival next year.”

Lee’s heart pounds in his chest. He can tell from the quirk of Gaara’s mouth slightly downward that he might be squeezing his hand too hard.

“Next year?” he asks, breathlessly. He makes a conscious effort to loosen his grip.

“If that’s alright with you. Your description made the festival sound … enticing.”

Lee’s face heats up near instantaneously. He turns his face away, hoping that Gaara won’t be able to see how red his face is in the low light. He racks his mind for a distraction, and comes up with little.

“So, I guess these will bloom in the morning, huh?” he asks, awkwardly.

“Not these ones,” Gaara responds, “These will die. Morning glories only bloom once. The act of opening is the flower’s last act. These ones down here,” he gestures to a few blossoms further down the vine, just now unfurling, “will bloom this morning, and by tomorrow they too will be dead.”

“Oh,” Lee says. “How sad.”

“They’re only plants,” Gaara replies. “They live and they die, most of them on a shorter timescale than people. They don’t form bonds, so there’s no one to mourn them. When they’ve served their purpose, they simply pass on. Their lives seem short to us, but it’s nothing to be sad about.”

“Right,” says Lee. Gaara seems to be sinking deep into reflection, and Lee doesn’t want their last night together to be weighed down with heavy thoughts. He decides a change of scenery might be best. “I have one more thing to show you,” he offers. “It’s back at my apartment.”

“Let’s go.”

When they arrive back at the apartment, Lee is practically shaking with nerves. He fumbles awkwardly into his small kitchenette and says, “So, do you want some coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee is fine,” Gaara says, sedately taking a seat at Lee’s worn kitchen table. He leafs idly through the book Lee has left sitting out. Out of the corner of his eye, Lee can see Gaara examining the lotus in its bowl, still resting at the edge of the table.

Lee uses the time it takes to prepare the pot of coffee to steel his nerves. A few years ago, Tenten had gifted him a small French press, and he finds that the morning ritual of preparing the pot of coffee helps him focus his senses. He tries to anchor himself in the moment, focusing only on the measuring of the grounds, the heating of the water - not too hot and not too cold, and the slow pouring of the water over the beans. He resolutely does not let himself be distracted by the scraping sound the ceramic bowl makes against the wood of his kitchen table as Gaara moves the lotus away from the table’s edge and closer to himself, or the sight of Gaara’s pink tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his fingers before he turns a page in the book. He brings himself back to the moment again and again, focusing on selecting a nicely matching pair of cups, wiping the dust from their interiors with a kitchen rag, and slowly pressing down the handle of the coffee pot. Feeling centered, he returns to the table balancing two full cups of coffee, one of which he sets in front of Gaara.

Taking his seat, he orients his cup of coffee in front of him and takes a long sip. The coffee is piping hot, bitter and strong. Lee inhales deeply. He watches as Gaara blows gently over the surface of his cup.

“It’s best to drink it hot, that’s what Gai-sensei always says. It strengthens your fortitude and your tastebuds!”

Gaara hums in reply, then blows over his coffee again before taking a sip.

“I got you a present,” Lee blurts out, before he can think better of it.

Gaara’s eyes widen minutely, questioning, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I guess you’ve already seen it. Here,” he pushes the lotus closer to Gaara. Gaara accepts it into his hands, his fingers brushing Lee’s.

“Thank you,” Gaara murmurs. His fingers trace the edge of each waxy petal, delicately, as if handling something precious.

“It represents purity of intentions, and being far away from the person you- um, care about….” Lee falters.

“Yes, I read in your book.” Gaara looks up, pinning Lee with that strange stare that he’s seen more and more over the past few nights. “Lotuses are aqueous flowers, Lee. I’m not sure how long it will survive in Suna. I suppose I could try to-”

“That’s okay!” Lee interrupts. “It won’t live for much longer anyway. The root is in the bowl too, so you can sprout it again next year. Ino wrote me some care instructions, here,” Lee grabs the book and rifles to the front cover, pulling out the handwritten instructions and passing them to Gaara. Gaara’s eyes dart back and forth across the neat script quickly, taking everything in. Momentarily, he raises his gaze back to Lee’s.

“This is helpful. The instructions are very clear.”

“I- I mean- you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Lee stammers. “I just thought, since you like plants so much! And,” Lee gestures, uncomfortably to himself, “The lotus of the Leaf Village always blooms twice!” He sticks out his thumb and gives the best Nice Guy Pose he can while a bead of panicked sweat trickles down the back of his neck.

“Indeed,” Gaara purses his lips together and stares at Lee for a long moment. Then, abruptly, he stands from the table. Lee is momentarily frantic. He looks out the small, high window over his kitchen sink. Could it be morning already? The faintest blue light is just barely cresting the horizon.

Gaara just stands, unassuming, next to Lee’s kitchen table, for what seems like a very long time. He doesn’t move to leave, or to do anything else. Finally, at length, he speaks:

“I’d like to kiss you now.”

Lee’s eyes go wide. He flushes so suddenly that it almost feels like opening the first gate, but without the pain. He staggers to his own feet, jostling his chair roughly out of the way.

“Okay,” he says, and steps towards Gaara.

When Gaara takes the final step forward and fists his hands in Lee’s flak jacket, it’s a revelation. All of Lee’s nerves drain away with the rushing hiss of Gaara’s sand armor dissolving. He isn’t quite sure where to put his hands, so he settles for placing them gingerly at Gaara’s waist, careful not to disrupt the gourd. Gaara’s face is suddenly very close to his. Lee wonders if this is his cue.

“Um,” he says, and then Gaara kisses him.

For a first kiss between two inexperienced, touch-starved former child soldiers, it’s very nice. Gaara’s lips are soft and warm, insistent but tentative at the same time. It’s clear he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, but Lee’s fine with that since he’s equally out of his depth. Gaara’s breath still smells like coffee when he breaks away to inhale.

“That was great,” Lee says, dumbly.

“Yes. I’d like to do it again.”

“Whatever you want,” Lee breathes. Whatever space there was left between them, Gaara closes it. Lee finds himself staggering backwards until the edge of his kitchen counter digs into the small of his back. Gaara fills his perception entirely. He adjusts his hands further up Gaara’s back, pulling him in closer. Their mouths slot together, clumsily, but satisfactorily. Gaara makes the same small humming sound he makes when he’s deep in thought, then Lee feels the lightest touch of Gaara’s tongue to his lower lip. Lee opens his mouth, just slightly, and is delighted when Gaara opens his mouth in return.

They stay like this, chest to chest, absorbed in one another, for an inestimable amount of time. Eventually, Gaara pulls back. He looks to the window and sighs, barely audible over the faint sound of birds chirping awake in the distance.

“It’s morning,” he says. He stalks to the kitchen table, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket, and picks up the lotus and the care instructions. Lee is still forcing himself upright when Gaara crouches in his kitchen window.

“My delegation leaves today at noon,” he says. He’s cradling the lotus gently under one arm.

“Can I come see you off at the gate?” Lee asks, flattening the wrinkles in the front of his vest.

“Yes,” Gaara says simply. Then there’s a rushing sound, a swirl of sand closes over him, and he’s gone.

Lee plops himself into his kitchen chair, where his coffee sits, cold now, on the table. He takes a deep breath and swallows it in one gulp.

Lee has barely had time for 30 laps around the village and his second cup of coffee before it’s almost noon. He takes to the rooftops and rushes towards the gate, hoping that Gaara’s delegation hasn’t decided to leave earlier than expected.

He’s overcome with a wave of relief when he reaches the roof of the guard station next to the gate and he hears Naruto’s crowing voice shouting, “Yeah, it was a real pain we didn’t get to hang out much! Ichiraku just debuted a cheese curry ramen. I’ve been dying to try it out!”

Lee can’t hear Gaara’s murmured reply, but he sees him, flanked by his siblings and the rest of his guard, standing at the gate with Naruto in front of them, grinning. Naruto must have recognized Lee’s chakra signature, insubstantial as it is, because he raises his hand over his eyes and looks up at the rooftop, calling out, “Hey Bushy-Brows!”

Lee offers his best Nice Guy Pose, letting his teeth catch the sun, and tries at the same time to do a subtle pit-check. He hopes he hasn’t gotten too sweaty during his morning workout. He hops down to the ground and approaches the group.

“Hi Naruto. Temari, Kankuro,” he nods at each in turn, “Gaara.”

“Ahh, so you came to say bye to Gaara too!” Naruto says, oblivious as ever, in his deafening voice. “Well, I’ll let you get on with it. See you later, Gaara!” Naruto quickly elbows Lee in the side and gives him an exaggerated wink and waggle of the eyebrows before throwing his hands behind his head and striding off, whistling. Maybe not completely oblivious, then.

“Hey Kankuro,” Temari says, with a sly look, “Shouldn’t we check the packs one more time? Over here?” She starts to walk backwards, away from Lee and her brother.

“What? No, I just checked them!” Kankuro replies. Quick as a flash, Temari reaches one sharp-fingered hand into his hood and pinches his ear. “Ouch, okay! Checking the packs, got it!” He follows his sister. “Good to see you, Lee!” he calls over his shoulder.

“Likewise!” Lee flashes his cheesiest grin.

Alone now, or as alone as a pair can be at the gates to a major village, Lee isn’t sure quite what to say to Gaara. Instead, he spreads his arms wide and offers a hug. Gaara steps in and returns the embrace. Lee had expected Gaara to be tense, unused to public displays of affection, but instead he seems comfortable. He exhales deeply, relaxing into Lee’s arms. He squeezes Lee once, lingering perhaps just a moment too long for propriety, and then steps back.

“I’ll miss you!” Lee blurts out. “I had a really nice time together.” He’s doing his best not to cry, but he can feel a lone tear prickling in the corner of his eye. He offers Gaara the widest grin he can muster.

Gaara nods his assent, then extends his hand as if to shake Lee’s. Lee finds it a little strange that Gaara would offer such a formal salutation, especially since they just hugged goodbye, but he supposes it might be part of an unfamiliar Suna custom and offers his hand in return.

Gaara clasps Lee’s hand, then encloses it between both of his own. Lee feels a scraping, twitching feeling in the palm of his hand. He briefly considers pulling his hand back, but he trusts Gaara, now more than ever. Gaara meets Lee’s gaze firmly.

“Thank you for your hospitality. I enjoyed myself,” he says, “I will see you again soon.” He presses Lee’s fingers closed around a rough, sharp object now in his hand and steps away.

Lee forces a grin. “Right!”

“Let’s go,” Gaara calls, motioning to his delegation. The other ninja assemble fluidly into formation, and with a single gesture from Gaara, they take off as one, running into the forest that surrounds Konoha.

Lee races all the way back to his apartment without opening his hand. As he steps into his kitchen and sits down at the table, he lets the tear that has been lingering in the corner of his eye fall. It won’t do to fall apart, not over something as simple as a beloved companion leaving for a short period of time, but there is no shame in a man’s honest expression of his emotions. After a few moments to compose himself, he opens his hand. Nestled within is a figure crafted from sand. A tiny, perfect replica of a morning glory, the furl of each delicate petal absolutely true to life.

Lee sets the figure on his table and leafs through the pages of his book until he comes to the entry for morning glories. He traces his fingers beneath the words, mouthing them as he reads along.

“‘Meaning:’” he murmurs, under his breath, “‘Willful promises.’”

Lee regards the tiny flower on his table and beams. He wipes the tears from his eyes and stands. He will see Gaara again soon.