Gaara’s lover

“Welcome home, love,” you greeted, eyes fixated on the potatoes and carrots he had laid out in perfect rows on the kitchen counter.

You mused, making your way over to his standing figure and wrapped your arms around his waist, snuggling your head into his back as you inhaled his comfortable scent, “What are you making?”

“Curry rice,” he gladly answered, “I prepared a bath for you.”

You jumped slightly and pecked his cheek, playfully thanking him before taking your leave. While you were submerging your frazzled body in the warm water, you could not help but wonder how the red-haired was handling the situation in the kitchen. Gaara could cook, but only simple dishes that involved minimal technical skills. In fact, he usually prepared and washed the ingredients, then you would normally take the responsibility to cook them afterward. Gaara had no trouble seasoning the food, but you were weary but more curious as to how he was doing so far. To intrigued to wait any longer, you leaped out of the bathtub and threw on some comfy clothes, and went to Gaara, who was hunching over the counter, assumedly cutting something.

The red-haired successfully peeled the potatoes and he was cutting them into small cubes by the time you stood by his side, observing with uncertainty. He smiled blatantly, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all figured out, you can go take a rest.”

“What have you done so far?”

“I’m boiling the water,” he recalled, “oh shoot!”

Gaara dropped the knife and rushed to the stove right on time to lower the heat, seconds away from a potential disaster caused by the boiling pot full of water.

“Let me help you,” you offered, “did you prepare the chicken yet, or beef?”

“Already,” he beamed, though sounding apologetic, “it’s in the fridge.”

You stepped back to stand next to him at the cutting board and both of you resumed cutting. You shared a comfortable silence with Gaara, the only audible sound being the chops when the blades of your knives hit the wooden board. Gaara nudged you by your shoulder, “You really don’t have to help me, Y/N. I know your day has been laborious.”

“I want to help,” you insisted, whimsically adding, “besides, I don’t know when dinner would be served if I don’t help Chef Gaara out. I care for my dear tummy, love.”

“I can cook myself,” he huffed, "I'll do just fine."

“You just put half a potato aside without cutting it into cubes, Gaara,” you reminded him, stifling a laugh as you did.

The red-haired was embarrassed as he retrieved the said object and chopped it with a mild grudge. You found him too adorable to resist the urge to tease him further, “I told you. If I weren’t here we would be having halves of potatoes lying on our plates already. You just invented a new way to make curry.”

Gaara could not hold his laugh either. He always found it at ease to spend his time with you. You brought a bundle of love and joy to his life—you were his serenity and home. He chuckled, “I’m so happy to have you as my taste tester. It’s my honor.”

You decided to return his verbal challenge with a physical one. But since your hands were busied, you smugly swayed your hips and pushed him out of stance. However, Gaara had splendid reflex—too keen for your liking—as he skillfully dodged your attack, making you lost your balance, and you tumbled on your legs. You braced yourself for a rough landing but Gaara luckily caught you in the air, his strong arm circling your waist as he bolstered your body with ease. You released a sigh of relief, calming your flustered heartbeat, “That was terrifying. Thanks for catching me, Chef.”

“No problem,” he whistled, “I like the nickname though, Sous Chef.”

The two of you finished making dinner with, fortunately, no other accidents. The food came out nice, partially due to your rumbling stomachs, but you could not deny the appetizing display that Gaara crafted, together with the piquant scent of curry. You sat at the table when the red-haired proudly served your plate, “Bet it’s amazing.”

You swallowed a spoonful and hummed at the aftertaste, “Delicious indeed.”

Gaara grinned at the accolade and settled down across the table. Halfway through your meal, you spotted something peculiar—it was a heart-shaped carrot cube. You glanced at him and he gave you a funny look, “What? Does it taste bad or something?”

Your eyes drifted back down to the orange object, coated with a thin layer of curry, and up at his once more. Your heart melted at the sight as Gaara smiled at you with tenderness laced in his gaze. He put down his utensils and propped both hands up under his chin, “There’s more.”

Your orbs sparkled and you immediately dug through your plate, trying to find what he implied. Then, you discovered another letter ‘I’ and a ‘U’. All the puzzle pieces seemed to have connected themselves together in your head. You playfully exclaimed, “You’re too cute.”

“Can you use something else but cute,” he muttered indifferently but had a hint of adoration for your comment.

“I love you,” you delighted, “thanks for everything, love.”

Gaara clearly could not endure any single second of extreme affection, he would explode if you continued to look at him so lovingly. Timidly, he stared down at his plate, “Let’s finish dinner and go to bed.”

You did not want to make it difficult for him, quietly getting back to your unfinished meal. But you found it impossible to eat the three little carrot cubes that he had given you as a surprise. So you sat still and bit your lips, contemplating what to do with them. Gaara noticed your static state and arched a brow, “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I don’t want to eat them,” you grieved, pointing at the carrot cubes left on your plate.

The red-haired cackled, pinned one of them with his fork, and brought it up hovering at your mouth, “Don’t worry, I can make more if you please.”

“Promise?”

“Forever.”

------------------

“Y/N,” a voice behind your back whispered.

Gaara approached you with measured steps as though he feared you would disappear from his world. You spun around on your feet, blocking the still dwindling incandescence when you trudged to his side. The red-haired smiled at you—a delicate curve tugged at the corner of his lips made you experienced a sense of completeness, euphoria, and solidity. You took his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers, growing amused at the feeling of his digits wrapped around yours. Looking up to study his features, your face softened, “Do you know that you’re so beautiful, Gaara?”

Pink dusted his cheeks with the intensity being a tad bit lessened by the beaming sun. His crimson hair cascaded, curtained the side of his face. Gaara was ethereal with the dusking sun glimmering, casting a shadow over his ruffling red hair—which happened to carry the wash as the same one the sky used to paint itself with. He decided to stay silent for a moment, returning your compliment with his action instead.

Gaara took you in an embrace, enjoying the rare moment that he had with you, free from the bindings of work and responsibilities that laid themselves on his shoulders for so long. He missed it. He missed being able to hold you tight in his arms. He missed whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fiddled with his hands. He missed you accompanying his very existence. Gaara hated the idea of being dependent on something, or someone in his life. He was a strong Shinobi with minimal needs to rely upon an external factor—it was his veil for the loneliness hidden inside. But you were his savior. You pulled him out of the consuming darkness that was slowly seeping into his heart. You brought light to his life, sentience to his soul, and vitality to his eyes.

He often wondered your encounter years ago—when both of you were in the springtime of youth, unstrained and uncontaminated by the cruelty of the world. To the moments when you stood strong by his side, ready to give your life to protect the village—to protect the people that he loved and the land that he valued. And to the time when you finally confessed your feelings for each other, to your first time holding hands, to the first kiss that you shared. But the uncertainty that persisted forced him back to the moment you suffered from the wounds littered across your body, breath heaving as you clutched onto his arms—the moment you nearly lost your life and he nearly lost his light.

“Y/N,” he nudged his face into the crook of your neck.

You placed both hands on his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, tapping slightly to signal him to resume talking.

Gaara realized you were like a fragile snowflake in spring, beautiful but brittle. He never thought there would be something more precious than his people, his country, his nation. But then you came into his life and showed him everything that he did not know existed. The moment you almost left his world fighting for your village—his village, he was struck by a strong urge to protect you, to save you like you did for him years ago. It was the first time he experienced that kind of feeling—the need to protect someone other than his closest persons not because of formal ties, but out of pure love. And for that reason, he was sure you were forever to keep.

“I love you,” Gaara muttered, soothing the skin on the back of your hands with small circles, “I want to build a family. You and me, together.”

You were speechless, mouth hanging agape but no word rolled out to fill the complete silence. The sun was now fully hidden behind the mountain ranges, shedding itself into the final rest but the heat under your skin burnt rapidly. Your heart was beating thunder, thumping inside your ribs as you stood staring at the ground. Gaara patiently waited, slowly dragging a hand to his back pocket to pull out a tiny box. And the next moment you knew, he was already on his knees, holding out a ring as he asked for your hand. You were still in absolute shock, ogling at the red-haired and unable to move an inch. You found it impossible to draw out any reaction, even breathing was hard to manage.

Seeing your unstable state, the red-haired gently smiled to ease your perplexity, “I can’t see the rest of my life without you, Y/N. Will you marry me?”

You wanted to yell yes but the word could not get past your throat without turning into broken, choked sobs as your hands tremblingly reached out for his. You profusely nodded your head, tears streaming down your cheeks when he slid in the ring onto your finger and planted a kiss on your temple. Gaara wiped your tears away, mustering a grin to calm you down, but his eyes were welled with tears—you were finally his family, finally his.

-----------------