Series: Monoshizukanohi//Naruto AU
Pairing: Main pairing: Kiba/Gaara. Other pairings from the Monoshizukanohi series make appearances.
Word Count: Ongoing
Warnings/Notes: THIS CHAPTER: Angst, language, mild violence, handjob, sexual themes. Overall: Dark fiction. Bloodplay, angst, violence, abuse, gangs, D/s, bondage, impact play, other.
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Summary: The streets of Monoshizukanohi are not kind to youth, and Gaara is no exception. After running away from an abusive home, Gaara struggles to find meaning in life through violence, drugs, and anything he can manage to survive. Join him as Gaara and his ever-present friend Jody struggle from the streets to the top of the social strata. It's rags to riches, despair to hope, and everything in between.
Waking up in the darkness of an early winter evening with panic ringing in his ears was not something new to Gaara. In his life, there were many nights where a branch on a window became a trespasser in need of a gut wound; where Cat's gentle landing on Gaara's bed made him sit up and aim only to stare down a gun barrel at the animal's curious eyes.
Terror in the darkness was normal. However, hearing another person's breathing and realizing that despite the rising bile in the back of his throat, Gaara was hard and somewhat rested was a shock. Gaara patted the sheets: fisted, twisted and yanked on them to make sure they were real. The room stank of sex, and he pulled the covers back to look down at himself, saw the dangling fingers of another man's hand near his hip and the infuriating arousal below. Gaara dropped the blanket, brought his thumb to his mouth and bit. Hard.
The pain flared, and Gaara quietly gasped as other parts of his body lit up with dull aches. His neck felt tender, his nipple stung, and he tongued his swollen lower lip. He nibbled at the swell, made it hurt and bleed, and Gaara suckled at the blood. Gaara looked around the room, eyes searching for the impending disaster he felt breathing down his neck.
Idiot, that's just Kiba.
And with the thought, a hundred invisible things attacked Gaara at once. His mind replayed every nuance and detail from the time he'd met Kiba until the Inuzuka pulled Gaara close and they fell asleep in each others' arms. He heard moans, screams, a cry of, "I fucking stabbed you!"
Comfort warred with anger. Fear fought with denial. Better sense decked desire. Vince, Jody, Sora, Haku, and Itachi crowded Gaara's brain. Uncle's smile flashed, Father cried over Gaara's dead mother, and Gaara began to rock when he heard the rustle of bleeding wings.
"Shh," said a voice, and a large, warm body wrapped around Gaara. The first instinct was to fight it, and Gaara flinched hard. He jerked his shoulders and upper body away from the embrace, struggling.
"Not gonna shake me that easy, baby," Kiba husked, and his grip tightened. He pulled Gaara back against his chest and pet Gaara's hair.
"Why?" Gaara asked through clenched teeth.
"Because yer the only thing that matters t'me."
Clarity surfaced, and Gaara swallowed. "I'm not well."
"I know," Kiba answered, stroking Gaara's hair.
"No you don't." Gaara scowled. "You couldn't."
"Then explain it t'me."
Gaara shook his head, reason and rationale went under the riptide, and Gaara tried to curl into a ball, but Kiba's leg and arms wrapped tighter. It became hard to breathe, and Gaara had to focus on oxygen. One hand came up and clung to Kiba's wrist, nails digging into the skin.
"Let go," Gaara ordered.
"No." Kiba's voice was firm, and it made Gaara shudder. "Ain't lettin' go. Told you: ya can't shake me."
"I can't breathe," Gaara gasped, struggling.
"Yes you can," Kiba said, and now his voice was gentle. It made Gaara thrash, but a warm hand slipped, shifted, and rested on his chest. "Do it with me."
"What?" Gaara hissed.
"Fuck…fuck you…" Gaara said the words, shut his eyes, and held air trapped in his lungs until Kiba exhaled. Gaara did it with him, taking the following breath with the Inuzuka.
"Good, baby, good."
"Goddammit," Gaara spat as they breathed out together. "Stop…saying…"
Kiba snarled a warning, and Gaara went quiet. Kiba grunted once and kissed behind Gaara's ear, hand still over Gaara's breastbone and heart.
"That's it…" Kiba encouraged. "You can--"
"Let me go," Gaara nearly begged as he strained against Kiba's embrace, air returned and sanity fracturing. Kiba growled, Gaara froze, and the redhead made a sound that was awful in its truth when Kiba's hand moved from Gaara's chest to his cock. Kiba's fingers wrapped around Gaara's length, which had gone soft in his panic and ensuing struggle but went hard at the mere touch. Desire spiked and made Gaara dizzy, and Gaara didn't know what he hated more: the reaction or the welling need that came with it. It was all stupid, insane--
"Crazy," Gaara grunted.
"Yeah, ya are," Kiba agreed. His other arm shoved under Gaara, making the redhead wince and then rest on the bend of Kiba's elbow beneath Gaara's head. A hot palm covered Gaara's chest, the other hand held his cock, and Gaara felt trapped between tortures.
"Talk to me," Kiba said as he deliberately expanded his diaphragm, and Gaara followed suit until his breathing hitched with a slow stroke up his shaft.
"How?" Gaara gasped, trying to shut down the screaming in his mind and not knowing how in the hell he was to find words amidst the chaos.
"Tell me somethin' honest."
Another breath, another stroke, and Gaara shut his eyes, trying to turn away from the rumbling, melodic, heated timbre that made Gaara want to answer, to obey, to do anything it asked.
"I hate you," Gaara whispered.
"Try again, sweetheart," Kiba said, but he didn't sound angry. His hand, however, stopped stroking.
"I hate it when you call me that." Gaara twitched his hips, but Kiba went along for the ride, merely holding Gaara's dick instead of doing anything useful with it.
"Third time's gotta be the fuckin' charm," Kiba grumbled.
Gaara's eyes opened, and the hand over his chest pressed in a light squeeze that made Gaara want to sob or scream or both. He couldn't fight and wasn't sure he wanted to in the first place. Kiba held him; Gaara couldn't get away, and it left him armed with only his insanity and betraying body. Frantically, Gaara searched darkness trying to see something true when all he felt were confusing lies. The windows along the wall were covered in their heavy drapes. The house was oppressively silent, making the thud of Gaara's blood obnoxiously noisy. He tensed in Kiba's arms, but Kiba responded with him: muscles dancing where they pressed against Gaara. The smell of strawberries filled Gaara's nostrils, sweat made Gaara's skin slippery within Kiba's grasp, and in a crazy flash of misplaced lust, Gaara realized the Inuzuka had shed his jeans and shirt, leaving him wearing only boxers. The skin-on-skin felt so damned good, and Gaara didn't know what to do with the sensory input.
"You're warm," Gaara said, words flying from his lips as both observation and complaint.
"Ooh, there we go," Kiba said quietly, and his hand slid along Gaara's cock. The sound the attention pulled from the redhead echoed in the room, and Gaara felt out of his mind. He wasn't going nuts, he was already there: nobody did this to him and lived. Nobody got this close. Nobody held him down, made him do anything, and then jerked him off like some sort of fucking reward. Gaara couldn't sort out body from brain from past to present, and he twisted in Kiba's hold when the Inuzuka stopped stroking.
"I've killed people for less than this," Gaara rasped.
"Good," Kiba praised and stroked Gaara again. He stopped when Gaara bucked into Kiba's hand.
"Why the fuck are you doing this?" Gaara asked, exasperated and terrified.
"To calm ya down, t'make you listen, to help ya out, and hopefully to make ya feel good once you stop fightin' me 'cause yer thinkin' too much."
Gaara froze, tense and taut, and he panted until Kiba's hand on his chest pushed them together and encouraged Gaara to breathe with the Inuzuka.
"What?" Gaara whispered.
"I'm doin' what I always do with you," Kiba said in Gaara's ear, kissing the shell. "Gettin' through the walls so I can touch the real man buried under 'em."
Gaara frowned, eyes burning holes in the drapes with his focused stare. He breathed with Kiba -- let the other man take charge of the rhythm of lung and diaphragm -- and Gaara reviewed his time with Kiba again, inklings of color bleeding into the black and white images. Life became a chessboard, and Gaara saw Kiba's moves with brilliant lines connecting them: the scene with Itachi, the way he used violence, the DJ booth, the letters, the gifts, the threats, the tenderness. Understanding swelled in a wave that threatened to swallow Gaara whole. He swallowed a sigh and felt buoyant on the tide of change Kiba apparently controlled.
"Aren't you…tired?" Gaara asked before he could feel angry or stupid or worse.
"No," Kiba answered, stroking again. Gaara shivered, and Kiba kissed the back of Gaara's neck. "I ain't tired 'a tryin' for ya, and I ain't gonna get tired. Not after all I went through t'get here, sweetheart." Gaara felt a smile form against his neck, and Gaara denied the noise that tried to bubble up his throat. "I want you, Gaara, an' I know some 'a what that means. Ya ain't easy, but I don't want easy. It's the hard shit that matters, and I'm willin' to work and hurt for ya."
Gaara strangled on a shocking sob and closed his eyes; this wasn't him, this wasn't happening. He couldn't possibly want something this goddamned much. His uncle told him no one would ever love him like Uncle did; his father told him Gaara wasn't worthy of anything. Gaara knew those men were long gone, their influence with them, and knew the sentiments weren't true. But the desire for someone else--
For him…for Kiba…
--to want him hurt, it burned; it made Gaara feel everything all at once.
"Easy, baby, I got ya." Kiba made them breathe again, and Gaara bit his bloodied lip. "I said all this before," Kiba said, voice much softer, kinder, gentler than anyone should ever be with Gaara. "But this time, I think ya might be hearin' me."
"I don't know if I should hurt you or not," Gaara said, feeling ill. "Don't know if I will…"
"'sokay if you do, and all right if ya don't," Kiba answered. "I'll like it no matter what." He dragged a nail over the head of Gaara's cock, and the redhead called out.
"I don't mean a goddamned Scene, Kiba," Gaara managed, eyes squeezed shut while his hips bucked into Kiba's hand.
"I know. Ya already stabbed me, remember?" The words were playful but the caress of lips over Gaara's skin was serious.
"I…" Gaara shook his head, frowning, and then Gaara was on his back, arm pinned under the weight of Kiba's side, other hand palm-up and open on the mattress. Kiba stopped stroking and slipped his touch down to grasp and squeeze Gaara's balls. The redhead's back arched, and one heel dug into the mattress as he stared uncomprehendingly at the Inuzuka.
"Damn," Kiba said, frowning. "That lip's pretty bad."
Gaara swallowed, and wondered if he was having an out of body experience. He almost wanted that -- but Kiba squeezed his nuts and made Gaara gasp.
"I don't care," Gaara said.
"I know," Kiba answered, mouth forming a smirk while his fingers caressed in response to the truth. "But I do. Part 'a wantin' ya makes me wanna take care 'a you. However you need me to do it." Kiba's eyes searched Gaara's. "Even when ya ain't got a clue that ya need carin'." Kiba studied him until Gaara squirmed, and Gaara saw Kiba's expression grow intent and focused. Watching so closely that Gaara felt terribly transparent, Kiba quested lower and his fingers slid between Gaara's cheeks, length of his middle finger pressing over Gaara's entrance. Gaara's hand shot down and wrapped around Kiba's wrist with bruising force before he even knew what he did.
Kiba's eyes narrowed, and Gaara felt frantic. "Who hurt you, baby?" Kiba asked: quiet, patient, tender.
"Everybody," Gaara croaked. For an instant Gaara watched Kiba as though he were the only thing in the world: the way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his lips turned up at the corners, the eyes that put gemstones to shame, the bump in the bridge of his nose, the long line of jaw and chin, his neck, shoulders, arms.
Gaara saw the expression on Kiba's face go from curiously cunning to caring, and hatred spread in oil slicks over Gaara's heart and fear lit the match that set it ablaze. He twisted, bringing up a knee aimed at Kiba's groin. The Inuzuka managed to deflect the hit, making it glance instead of land, and Kiba snarled a string of curses. He grappled Gaara's leg between his own, trapping it. Gaara made a frustrated sound, but Kiba caught Gaara's other hand when it came up to smack over Kiba's ear, shoving to pin Gaara flat on the bed and laying on top of him.
"Get the fuck off of--"
Kiba kissed Gaara and the smaller man felt Kiba let go of his wrists. Gaara started to shove Kiba but got distracted by the gentle brush of lips; by the slow slide of a hand moving under his neck to cradle his head. Instead of fighting, Gaara lay still, wondering at himself.
Oh God…this feels…
Turning his head, Gaara opened his mouth, and Kiba moaned into it. Gaara's eyelids fluttered shut as Kiba kissed him in that all-consuming way that paralyzed Gaara as he never knew the wet slip of lip on lip could bypass all reason or lack thereof.
"Thank you," Kiba said breathlessly when he finally pulled back.
"For kneeing you in the balls?" Gaara asked, confused.
Kiba laughed. "Fer answering me."
"I don't understand you," Gaara pleaded.
"I know," Kiba said, and he traced the line of Gaara's jaw. "Ya don't have to, and God, but I love ya under me 'n honest." Kiba ground their hips together, wincing as he did so, balls still tender from the near miss with Gaara's knee.
"Nngh -- no, stop," Gaara gasped, but Kiba ignored him, rolling again. Gaara didn't like the pained expression on Kiba's face -- which he realized was ludicrous, but it was also true, and in Gaara's experience, the truth did tend to sound impossible. He wrapped his legs around Kiba's waist, immediately regretting the move as Kiba took it as encouragement.
"Fuck," Kiba hissed, and his mouth pressed to Gaara's neck.
"Damn it…" Gaara husked, body wanting and brain drawn-and-quartered.
"I love you crazy," Kiba muttered into Gaara's skin. "Fucked up, fightin', wantin' shit and angry 'bout it."
The next roll dragged noise from both men, and Gaara clutched at Kiba's back, panting at the friction, the weight, the way he got lost in Kiba.
"Makin' ya bleed, bleedin' for ya, holdin' ya down, doin' anything you'll let me…gah…"
Kiba's teeth nipped over tender skin, and Gaara's eyes squeezed shut as he fought with himself. The internal battle pushed him closer to Kiba -- pushed him closer to the understanding wrapped around what Kiba did and inspired and made Gaara feel -- and he wanted and needed with equal abandon.
"Won't get sick of it or you, baby. Don't know what -- ah! -- hurt ya. Know it was bad--"
"Shut up," Gaara moaned, head turning and hand pressing Kiba's face into his neck. "Fuck, shut--"
"No," Kiba growled. A hand dug into Gaara's hair and pulled. Gaara's neck snapped back further, and he arched into Kiba, cock leaking. He could feel Kiba hardening beneath the softness of the boxers, and the angle Kiba forced made it nearly impossible to breathe. Kiba licked up the front of Gaara's throat.
"Nngod…Kiba…" Gaara gasped.
"Want my hand again, sweetheart?" Kiba mumbled, teeth tracing Gaara's trachea.
"Yes," Gaara hissed.
"Wanna come for me again, baby?"
"Yes," Gaara half-yelled.
Kiba spoke into the hollow made by Gaara's collar bones: "Then tell me ya like what I call you."
Gaara wheezed and choked as he felt Kiba shift to work a hand between them. Gaara's legs tightened around Kiba's waist, making the Inuzuka grunt and nibble at Gaara's throat. When seconds passed and Gaara didn’t answer, the hand in his hair pulled harder on his scalp.
Shivering, memory told Gaara what happened when he did as Kiba asked. "I like it," Gaara said, voice a thin, watery version of its usual self.
"Good, baby, good," Kiba crooned, and Gaara couldn't work up words to protest.
"Tell me ya wanna feel my cock against yers."
Gaara's lips parted, and his eyes slid closed while Kiba manipulated clothing and himself, pausing when he was done to wait for Gaara's response. Heartbeats, rushed breathing, the smell of sweat and the heavy press of tangible body and intangible patience, and finally Gaara found his tongue and the words on them. "I want…to feel…" Gaara whispered and couldn't say the rest, so he whined low in his throat.
"Oh, sweetheart, that's perfect," Kiba praised, voice strained with emotions that were not pleasure or pain, but Gaara didn't try to figure that out; didn't have to. Instead, he shuddered when Kiba's palm wrapped around Gaara and himself, and gasped when Kiba thumbed through the beaded moisture at Gaara's head. The pleasure knocked the remaining air from Gaara's lungs, and his mouth opened in a silent cry. Kiba rocked into Gaara, rubbing and stroking and moving, and Gaara trembled like a lone desert tree in the face of an impossible hurricane.
"So fuckin' incredible, Gaara. The way ya move, sound, smell…" Kiba kissed Gaara's bared throat, reverent and chaste. He let go of himself in lieu of stroking Gaara, faster and harder. Unable to move and caught by Kiba's hand in his hair and torso against his, Gaara groaned an unintelligible sound of encouragement, body writhing in prelude to another release. He felt connected -- crazily, wonderfully, bizarrely connected -- to Kiba in that instant: like Kiba could do anything and Gaara couldn't fight it. And wouldn't want to.
"Tell me ya like the way this feels."
"Like it," Gaara said, shaking and so close he caught the pleasure with his back teeth.
"Tell me who's lovin' you, baby."
"You…" Gaara gasped as Kiba's hand on him moved just so and Gaara's body tensed.
"My name, sweetheart. Call my name." The gentleness in the command shoved a noise up from Gaara's gut and into the air around the moving men, and he loved that he didn't care; loved that there was only Kiba's voice, Kiba's touch, Kiba's rhythm and the way the Inuzuka annihilated everything but the good.
"Kiba," Gaara moaned in compliance, coming again and helpless against it. His body went rigid as he rode sensation, and a contented sigh filled Gaara's ears.
"Good, baby, so, so good." Kiba took Gaara through peaks and valleys, letting go of his hair and cock at the same time. Carefully, he settled between Gaara's legs, turning the redhead's face into a kiss. Gaara managed to kiss back before he breathed in ragged pants over Kiba's lips, and the other man swiped his mouth over Gaara's, gentle and reassuring.
"Here for you any time ya need it, sweetheart," Kiba husked, and the way he nuzzled at Gaara's cheek made the redhead wrap arms around Kiba's head to hold the man still. They breathed and held one another until Kiba rose up, smiling. "I--"
The front door opened. "Gaara?" Jody bellowed. "It's me."
Gaara and Kiba lay still, and Gaara frowned when Kiba made a small noise of what Gaara thought might be panic.
"Boss?" Jody said, giving plenty of warning. "Everybody doin' okay?"
Absently, Gaara wondered at the turn of phrase; he couldn't imagine Jody would be too upset if Kiba weren't breathing. Or shocked, for that matter.
"We're in--" Gaara started to call back, but Kiba made a distracting distressed sound.
"What?" Gaara asked.
"Nothin'," Kiba slurred, sliding off Gaara. "I was really hopin' for somethin' to kill the fuckin' mood."
Gaara snorted, watching Kiba roll to the side while Gaara slipped off the bed, pausing for a second while his legs grew steadier. He was a sticky, cum-covered mess, but Jody'd seen worse. At least it wasn't blood, bile, or brains. Gaara stretched his neck, resolutely pushing everything aside other than the task at hand, and he walked toward the bedroom door. Behind him Kiba made another noise, and Gaara looked over his shoulder just as Jody walked into the room.
"Boss, I…" Jody cut off mid-sentence, eyebrows going impossibly high on his forehead as he looked from Gaara's nude body to the bed. Gaara turned to see Kiba raise one arm in a mockery of a wave before he groaned and covered his face with both hands.
"Ho-ly shit…" Jody muttered.
"What?" Gaara asked, wondering if Jody was more surprised to see Kiba alive or to see that Gaara was finally, as Jody would put it, gettin' some. Gaara'd never had someone who wasn't a one-night stand, a whore, a dealer, a contract, or a sub. Most of them never made it to his bed, and none of those options had been in Gaara's life in ages. Head tilting as he considered, Gaara supposed he could understand why Jody stood slack-jawed and blinking at the sight of a mostly-naked Kiba. It was hard for Gaara to fathom kissing Kiba when his brain wasn't clouded with post-coital white noise. But thinking like that made the buzz go away, so Gaara resolutely didn't reflect.
"Uh…" Jody said, shaking his head.
Gaara crossed his arms, staring at Jody.
"N-nothin', boss…" Jody mumbled.
"Fuckin' A," Kiba complained, grabbing a pillow and covering his head with it. He formed a fist and punched at his own face, and Gaara frowned, thinking that would be more effective without the pillow in the way.
"You, ah, okay?" Jody asked.
"Fine," Gaara answered.
There was a moment of silence. "Right," Jody said as Kiba punched the pillow again. "There's somethin' you need to see, boss." Jody sighed, entire body changing as he focused on business. "Somethin' not good."
Without another word, Gaara walked past Jody to his closet. If Jody needed Gaara to see something that he defined as unpleasant, then Gaara needed clothing, shoes, and a weapon. He donned the first two and grabbed the Glock off the shelf, shoving it in the back of his pants.
"What's wrong?" Kiba asked in the hallway, hopping on one leg to get into his pants.
"The Dogs," Jody said darkly, and Gaara looked at his old friend, anxiety stirring again.
"The guys who threatened you at the shop?" Kiba asked.
Gaara nodded once.
"Eyah," Jody said, turning to Kiba. "And you should come to. I'm…" Jody licked his lips, frowned, and ran a hand over the back of his neck. "I'm awful sorry you're mixed up in our mess to be frank and honest 'bout it."
"Jody." Gaara's tone sliced air, and immediately Jody headed for the front door. Gaara followed, Kiba on his heels and pulling on his shirt. Jody and Gaara left Kiba yanking on his shoes and made their way out of the house, down the walk, and to the garage. Jody keyed in the code, Gaara waited with his brain on mute but with worry rumbling his insides. It was the same unfortunate mix he'd felt back at the shop while he waited on Kiba to arrive, and Gaara gnawed on the inside of his swollen lower lip.
"The hell did he do to your mouth, boss?"
Gaara shrugged, and Jody didn't ask again. "Dogs were busy while I was down at the station and you two were…doin' what you were doin'. I'm…concerned."
Gaara leveled a look at the bigger man.
"I got right to be," Jody said. "You'll see…" Jody walked ahead of Gaara in the garage and hit the button to raise one of the metal doors. Gaara registered Kiba's arrival and the three men waited while the mechanism above their heads cranked. Gaara saw the Charger and realized what had happened a second before Kiba did.
"What in the ever-loving blue fuck?" Kiba cried as he ran outside.
The Charger was stripped. The tires were gone, blocks under the axels, the paint was scratched and engraved with various Devil Dog phrasing. The seats were ripped out, the mirrors taken off, and Gaara saw the way the hood didn't quite meet center. It was a safe bet that the engine was missing more than a few parts or had at least been rendered defunct.
Kiba stood with his hands in fists, staring with a dropped jaw.
A strange mixture of emotion bubbled in Gaara's stomach. He was angry, yes, and frustrated -- the latter mostly at himself for not hearing anything or having the forethought to tell Kiba to park in the garage. He'd been so distracted by the Inuzuka that he didn't even consider that the Dogs were nearby and, upon seeing Gaara's security system, they would quickly decide to attack and do what damage they could. Probably the only thing that spared the glass of the car's windows or Gaara's house was the Dogs' desire not to be caught.
"Fuck," Kiba said, the volume shocking Gaara. Kiba lifted his fists like he wanted to throw a punch but didn't have a target.
"We'll fix 'er up, Kiba," Jody said steadily. "Absolutely free of charge. Make her better than new, if you like. Could do some nice things to a body like this one."
Kiba merely nodded, dumbstruck and shaking. He cursed quietly under his breath, and it sounded helpless to Gaara's ears. Slowly Gaara turned his head to look at the man who not five minutes ago brought Gaara to orgasm and called him incredible. Kiba's jade eyes were wide, his shoulders tensed before they slumped, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Only three of the buttons were done on his red-orange shirt, and Gaara thought he must be cold. Thought Kiba looked good, was struck again by how handsome the man was, even like this, and Gaara didn't like the numbed expression that blanketed Kiba's face. Gaara watched the Inuzuka and felt something churning that made Gaara silently gasp, a victim of its intensity.
"Boss?" Jody asked, taking a step closer, hands out like he was ready to catch. Gaara scowled at that before he realized he swayed on his feet. He widened his stance, struggling to breathe as his head began to ache.
God damn those assholes for hurting this car: a beautiful machine, an obviously well-loved possession, something Kiba could be proud of and care about. And now it was in ruins because Kiba had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fault and blame filled Gaara in an agonizing wave, and one of his hands covered his breastbone, rubbing. Because Kiba had promised Jody to keep an eye on Gaara, the Dogs had done what they could to strike at something that Gaara cared about.
"Gaara?" Jody asked, but Gaara barely heard him, brain working furiously. Something was wrong with his logic: the car belonged to Kiba, not Gaara. He shouldn't be so upset over all this. They could fix it; would fix it. It would be all right, and Kiba didn't need to look so defeated and angry and stunned. Didn't need to look so damned--
"Hurt," Gaara said.
"Say what, now?" Jody asked, voice careful. "What hurts?"
"Those mother. Fuckers." Gaara growled, loudly and with sudden vehemence, and Jody took a step back.
"Boss…?" Jody sounded uncertain.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Kiba asked, coming closer, and when Gaara felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder -- felt Kiba's hand cooled by the crisp air -- Gaara hated that Kiba was outside and cold and suffering. Hated that Kiba's left shoe wasn't quite on his foot and that Kiba was out here instead of back in Gaara's bed; hated that he had to ask how Gaara was fucking doing when it was Kiba's damned car that took the brunt of the first assault wave.
Gaara despised that Kiba was collateral damage, and for the first time, Gaara felt that damage like it happened to him. In a mean and cruel instant, Gaara wished someone would just shoot him; getting shot was nothing in comparison to the rage and the fear that felt like fire and ice in Gaara's veins.
With a vicious twist, Gaara yanked away from Kiba's touch, reached into the waist of his jeans, and pulled out the nine. He aimed up into the air, thumbed off the safety, and fired into the night. The steady crack of weaponry soothed Gaara's frayed nerves, and he emptied the clip, the trigger clicking once before Gaara stopped squeezing. He didn't realize he was yelling until the silence invaded his senses again, and he clacked his teeth shut on the roaring wail coming from the bottom of his soul.
"Boss," Jody said, a call and question and request all in one. Gaara swiveled his gaze to glare at the man. Jody returned the look and flashed him a "V" with two fingers.
Lowering the gun and aiming at the ground, Gaara grinded his teeth and returned the gesture to show Jody that he was in his right mind. As right as it ever got, anyway. He looked around for Kiba and found the Inuzuka near the fence, crouching low to the ground with his arms up to protect his head. The white glow thrown by the safety lights cast Kiba's face in shadow, but watchful eyes regarded Gaara, waiting.
"I will fucking kill them for taking away my peace," Gaara said, evenly and calmly. Kiba waited a handful of seconds and nodded once.
Without another word, Gaara stalked back toward the garage, knowing he couldn't hunt the bastards tonight. He soothed the rage with promises of blood, oaths of vengeance, and images of the broken and battered.
Jody and Kiba followed Gaara in silence, and Gaara felt eyes on his back as the garage door lowered behind them.
A/N: Song for this chapter is, "Always" by Saliva. Thanks to everyone who's reading, commenting, and supporting. Check out the Monoshizukanohi community on Y!Gal to see the fantastic fanart being done for this piece! (Link to the side on my sidebar.) Much love!!!