Is present and had better be one of those 5. . .
All is dark and quiet in their room, though Lee knows his love is not sleeping. Doing such is hard for Gaara, even now, so he does not begrudge waking up alone. Sheets are still warmed from shared heat, half-kicked off and tangled around his long legs. Gaara must have only rose recently. Without him here, the early morning-chill manages to produce a shudder. In an hour or so when dawn has come, all traces of the cold will be banished in favor of the blistering heat native to the desert. In light of that, Lee allows himself a moment to bask and simply stare up at the dark, domed ceiling.
Sunagakure architecture tends towards squat and low; clay and straw and sand. Resourcefulness in a place so seemingly devoid of natural resources; Lee respects the strong people who forge their own path out here. Now, he is one of these numbers. He does not mind it awfully. Forests may be from where he hails, streams where he played, but home is truly where his heart is.
Gaara has so completely taken residence there, fills every room to bursting. His heart is full. For that, his steps are light and joyous. Gai never lied when he’d gravely intoned that love was the greatest force in all the world. And oh, he had thought he knew what his sensei meant. Lee loved his village, his comrades, every leaf in the forest and fish and bird and stone. There are many things that Lee has treasured and protected with great ferocity, but those pale next to the man whom he devotes himself to.
With him, Gaara brings all sunrises, all radiance, all tenderness.
Were he not so dedicated to the patterns he has kept for years (it was his own body, not the alarm that woke him,) the idea of seeking out his partner would be enough motivation to rise. Dressing is quick and efficient, though he does stumble a bit in his eagerness to go to the kitchen. If Gaara has not already left for his office then he will be there, pouring over documents and barely touching the cup of tea that he has made himself. Lee knows that he will have to make Gaara a new one, as he will have since forgotten his drink. As a child of the desert, the Kazekage is not terribly fond of cold things.
Upon entering the other room Lee finds his prediction to be true. A familiar figure hunches over the kitchen table, brows furrowed and posture horrid. Even now, after all this time, fondness hums low in his chest like bees at so simple a sight. Forms spread across the table almost haphazardly, though he now knows there is some method to this madness. Last time Lee had sought to helpfully tidy everything up he’d been awarded with a pointed stare, only softened when he’d leaned over to kiss him in apology. After that, his transgression had been forgiven.
❛ Good morning, my heart, ❜ fond and soft, hand alighting upon the nape of neck and soothing through red hair. Recently, his lover has allowed it to grow longer and Lee simply cannot bring himself to resist the urge to touch it. The strands are perhaps not soft or well-conditioned, but the texture is one he knows well; a comfort all the same. Gaara leans towards the contact instinctively, so he must feel the same. Discovering that he wished for touch as much as Lee did, if not more, was a very pleasant surprise.
Reluctantly, he pulls away to set up another pot upon the stove, taking away the nearly-untouched mug Gaara has pushed aside. The quiet thank you that follows the action is enough to set Lee grinning, coming back to the table once more with a plate of Gaara’s breakfast. Slabs of the rich, dark bread that he favors and fruits, dried. Imported and perhaps a tad expensive, but Lee seeks to spoil him (subtly; he does not discuss the cost.)
As always, as clockwork, Lee leans over to kiss Gaara chastely before he sits. The redhead anticipates this, has already been watching his approach with a hungering gaze that does not waver. He lifts his head obligingly enough for the affection, but then he is the one to pull Lee closer with hands upon his shoulders and in his hair. He kisses him with a passion unwarranted but not unwelcome, mouth harsh and fingers dragging. Lee is barely capable of choking out his customary I love you before Gaara is returning it roughly against his throat, into his ear. This is not routine, but perhaps this is an exception that can be made.
Lee is good at adapting.
FREE LEE KISSES! | Selectively Accepting@sandshielded
