Hey guys!

sry it look so long 4 me 2 update, i've been busy with like 50 projects

i swear, the teachers have some kind of conspiracy where they all give out the hard projects at one time... creepy

anyways, this chappie is in Naruto's POV, it pics up right where the last one left off. theres a little bit of sakura bashing

and btw, if you know the song that on ther adio, i'll mention you in the next chapter )

Chapter 2: awkward silences and a fake waitress

I absent mindedly hummed, glancing in the rearview mirror and waiting for an opening. It was quiet in my little honda, but I didn't mind. Silence was good. Silence was comforting. Sometimes, I think, the world gets a little too noisy, and forgets what living is all about.

My passenger shifted uncomfortably, and I could tell he disagreed. Despite being the silent type himself, his silence was awkward and cold, different that my warm one. I sensed that he wanted to start a conversation, so, relinquishing my silence, I decided to help him.

Reaching for the radio, I carefully met his eyes with a gentle smile. "You mind?"

He seemed to struggle internally for a minute, opening his mouth and then closing it several times. I'm not even sure he was aware he was doing it, but he looked hilarious. After numerous failed attempts to speak, he appeared to give up and morosely nodded.

I flicked it on, happy when I heard what song was playing. Sublime was one of my favorite bands, and never failed to cheer me up or calm me down. I began to sing along. "Life's too short, so love the one you got, cause you might get run over or you might get shot," I warbled, wincing mentally at the sound. I really always have disliked my singing voice, and I wondered what my companion's reaction would be. To my surprise, he visibly relaxed, the stiff, fake expression changing into one of actual calm. That was odd.

I decided to test him. "Hey, Gaara?"

He jerked back into his previous posture, looking slightly shocked and embarrassed before carefully hiding his emotions. For the first time, a pale pink blush covered his cheeks.

"Yes, Mr. Uzumaki?" Emotionless again. Huh.

"Call me Naruto, kay?"

No response. I think I intimidaded him.

"What kind of music do you listen to?"

Gaara fiddled with his cufflinks, and I took the moment to admire his profile. He really was attractive, his pale, unblemished skin contrasting with his scarlet hair. Maybe if he wore a little less eyeliner…

I let my eyes travel down, noting his slim torso. It looked odd encased in a suit jacket and tie. Somewhere in my mind I could see him in my apartment, unbuttoning that jacket, sliding it off, reaching for the tie and then starting on his shirt… Oh God. Did I just think about Gaara taking of his clothes in my apartment?

I felt my cheeks heat up traitorously, and I turned again to look out the window. When I looked back, Gaara's seafoam eyes were on mine, tracking my movements warily.

"I don't listen to music. None of it appeals to me." I could tell that was a lie by the way his pupils dilated and his voice wavered slightly, but I decided to let it slide.

"I see." I nodded, clicking off the radio. Silence resumed. He looked slightly dissapointed, but didn't do anything to break it.

Not everyone would have been able to notice Gaara's emotions, but ever since I was little I was good at reading other people and concealing what I really felt. I remembered the first time I ever saw Gaara on the subway, about a month ago, sitting staring at nothing, looking distinctly alone. My first instinct was to go talk to him, but my sister and her kid were there with me. Then I had an idea.

I ushered Nira to a seat closer to the lonely man, and I raised my voice, talking quite loudly about the picnic we had enjoyed the previous weekend. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw him direct his gaze at us, his eyes boring holes in the back of my neck. Nira gave me a furtive glance but played along. She was used to my urges to help people, and was often involved in the ensuing chaos. After a moment I pretended to drop something, turning around to pick it up. The man's eyes followed me down, full of emotion. There was hate there, envy, pain, and some kind of morbid fascination.

Pretending I hadn't noticed, I resumed my conversation, now slightly disturbed. Every day he watched me after that, until it became a routine. Walk on. Look for the man. Sit near him. Talk loudly. Ignore his stares. Rinse and repeat.

One day I remembered specifically. It was just me, Nira had broken her leg and was staying with her mother. Wondering what the man would do, I called her and asked her if she was okay, discussing the accident in more detail than was strictly necessary. When I came to the part where she was crying in pain and being rushed to the hospital, I glanced over at him. He was staring, entranced, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. Was it perhaps… concern? Worry?

Hiding a smile, I said goodbye and hung up the phone. He watched me even more carefully the following week, almost smiling the day when Nira was well enough to come.

When I had met him in the conference room I had been surprised and not a little excited. Here was a chance to find out more about him, perhaps even become his friend. Of course, I knew it was him from the moment I his foot crossed the threshold, but I decided to play dumb and see what would happen. It was slightly odd to have a name to put with the face, but it also fit him in a strange kind of way.

When I asked him where I knew him from, I watched him struggle with the answer. Tell him, don't tell him, tell him, don't tell him… until he blurted out, "The subway. I've seen you on the subway. You're the Father of the Family."

I noticed immediately that "Father of the Family" was a label, and not just an observation, so I commented on the obvious capital letters. I was slightly put of by his cold answer, so I acted offended for the rest of the meeting, wondering what he would do.

Really, I wasn't surprised that he assumed we were a family. Everyone did. Actually, people wanted to believe we were a family, that there was such a perfect family actually out there. The American stereotype family, with the handsome, businessman father, the pretty blonde housewife, and the cute little boy. People were always dissapointed when they found out we weren't. It disgusted me.

I thought this over through the meeting, waiting impatiently for the end when I could put my plan into action. I feigned leaving, walking towards the door and opening it. I happily watched Gaara stiffen. He didn't wan't me to leave. Good.

I knew what his answer would be before I asked him, but I asked anyways, rejoicing at his tentative nod. I walked him to his car, chatting happily, and here we were now. At first I had been perplexed about where to take someone like Gaara to eat, but I decided on a pretty little café that served some of everything.

The car ride had been going well, until I found myself undressing him with my eyes. Although I doubted he knew why, I stuttered slightly the rest of the way there, unable to get that mental picture out of my head.

I was relieved when we got there, pulling into the almost empty parking lot. It was late for lunch, about 2:00, and not many people were there. However, before we could walk in, Gaara stopped me.

"Are you okay?" I knew he was referring to my stuttering, and I smiled happily that he had noticed and cared to ask, reassuring him that I was fine. Thankfully the stutter was gone.

Gaara stared bewilderedly at the menu as we waited for the waitress to come. I had already decided on a light soup and a sandwich, but the way he was looking at me made me think maybe he hadn't ever been to a restaurant before.

"Hi! I'm Sakura, I'll be you waitress for today. Are you guys ready to order?" The waitress was young, with bright pink hair and a layer of makeup so thick it looked like a mask. I told her my order, not liking the way she looked at me or how low her shirt was. When she turned her predatory gaze on Gaara, I instantly felt horrible for him. He probably hadn't encountered this kind of thing before. Acting instinctively, I reached out and put a hand on his, giving him a smile.

"He'll have the same as me."

She looked disgustedly at our hands, grabbing our menu's and hurrying back into the kitchen. Homophobe.

"Sorry 'bout that, had to make her leave somehow. What a slut."

In a second, Gaara's face went from milk white to cherry red, quickly pulling his hand back.

"Thank you," he mumbled, still red, "I didn't know what to order."

"No prob."

I chatted idly about whatever came to mind, rejoicing when he answered or tentatively flashed a smile. I could tell he was opening up to me.

While we talked, I played with my silverware, picking it up, twirling it around in my fingers. I was telling him about the time when I went skydiving with my friend, sliding my knife across my thumb, when it slipped and made a deep gash.

"Shit," I mumbled, slipping it into my mouth to clean the blood. "Gaara? You think you could get me some napkins?" I took my thumb out of my mouth and winced at the damage, waiting for Gaara to answer. "Gaara?" I looked up, and froze.

Gaara was staring at the thumb, breathing raggedly, eyes huge. He gripped the edge of the table with both of is hands, veins standing out.

"No…. not here..." He pushed back his chair and rose shakily, hands curling into fists.

"G-gaara? Are you… what..?"

He simply shooke his head, tears running down his cheeks, before turning around and springting out of the restaurant. By now, everyone was staring at me.

What the hell did I just do?

thts it! I'll have the next chapter up soon. R&R!