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Gaara couldn’t remember the last time he had been warm. Truly warm.
A body sits down quietly beside Gaara causing him to look to his side. Kisame is sitting there, a heavy quilt around his shoulders, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of what smells like chocolate, milk and a dash of some type of alcohol.
The peculiar looking human takes a look at him and offers a simple smile, his breath visible with each exhale he takes, before taking a sip of whatever human concoction is in the cup.
“I’m sorry it’s so chilly here. You’d think as a demon, I’d make the room hot as hell, but normally it’s quite the opposite.” He mumbles, looking away.
Kisame just shrugs and leans on him. “It’s not the worst thing you could do with your powers.”
“No? What would be worse?”
“Raise the four horsemen, kickstarting the apocalypse, and destroying the world.” He says without hesitation.
Gaara glances at the other and smiles softly.
“I’m sorry.” The words are unfamiliar on his tongue. Unfamiliar but not bad.
Kisame shrugs again. “It is what it is.” He takes a sip. “We have survived worse.”
“Yeah I suppose we have.”
Kisame leans closer to Gaara with a shiver.
“You don’t have to sit here with me if you’re cold.” He says with a sigh.
Kisame smiles, scooting closer, leaning his head on Gaara’s shoulder. “I’ll sit here with you until you feel warm again.”
“What if I never feel warm again?”
“Than neither will I.”