Because the pizza man only brought the wings and shrimp and somehow forgot the actual pizza, I eventually got very bored of waiting for the giant/edible/circle-thing for 40X2 minutes. I also haven't made a one-shot yet.
LOL For GaarSaku fans and people who hate waiting for their rightful pizza.

ENJOY
-SCRY

*

They were so close.

Later, she thought that maybe it had been too close. He was still unstable after all, and she was far too volatile for their relationship—they didn't even have one—to possibly work. She supposed there might've been hope. The thought danced through her head while he loomed over her, absolutely seething.

He could've wanted blood, but at least it wasn't hers.

It wasn't ever really hers…

That night, well into the second month of the kunoichi's visit in Sand—give and take a few days—, was the first time she ever considered kissing him. It was only when he had placed both of his hands down onto either of her shoulders, keeping her in place, that an insane idea dawned on the lethal kunoichi. Sakura also wondered if at that point she had become his anchor for control.

But when he pulled her to him shortly after, allowing his nose to move along the side of her neck and ghost over her hair—she supposed not.

He had already begun to act fairly protective of her, scaring away all the flirtatious men he thought to be scum. It was unfortunate that he had that opinion for all of them. The young Kazekage had also started a trend of inviting—ordering—her to come and lather in his oppressive aura in the tower. Sakura, never really being one to decline—disobey—such luxurious invitations, accepted wryly.

There were also times when she would catch him staring at her from his place behind the large and thoroughly beat-up mahogany desk. She was also fairly certain that the blunt redhead caught her out of the corner of his eye from time to time as well.

She also enjoyed when he talked to her. It gave her an excuse to ogle over him. And every time her eyes would linger on the shinobi's lips for a little longer then was considered proper she would always question what he would taste like.

His lips were cracked slightly, she noted one blistering afternoon.

From her spot next to the lovely air-conditioning system Sakura was able to see all the expressions that happened to flitter over the teen's face. It didn't happen often, but when Gaara did find a scroll that was absolutely revolting his hands would clench menacingly around whatever writing utensil was closest. There were times when even the ink of his fine-point pens would splatter over the classified documents he was reading.

And there was one time; she had yet to see a repeat of the amusing incident—because she did fall from her perch on the air conditioner laughing hysterically more then once—when Gaara seemed so enraged that he turned his gaze onto her. When the Kage's glare only increased as Sakura pushed herself from her seat and moved towards the man, she decided that there was only one thing to do in such a situation.

As the rosette haired girl turned around the side of the desk by spinning on the heel of her foot Gaara could do nothing but watch silently as she came closer.

Even she knew that he was mildly surprised by her sudden hug, and promised him afterwards that the whole ordeal would remain a secret. That didn't however; stop her from telling the boy's welcoming sister who swore on her beloved fan that no one else would know. After all, Sakura just needed to tell somebody of the strange occurrence.

There was one night, when the redhead decided to have a spur of the moment party. The mirthless Kazekage asked her opinion of all the guests, making sure that Sakura at least enjoyed their company a little before sending them the lovely little invitation. The small, dark red cards were sent away immediately, of course, because the party was meant for the very next night.

The morning before was especially fun for Sakura and her spiky-ponytailed blonde companion. And eventually after going through nearly every dress store in all of Suna, the earth shattering little pinklette finally found a short—vibrant crimson—kimono that seemed to fit the young girl all to well.

Temari picked out an intricate blue one and made sure that the two of them entered at the exact moment, and relish in the way everyone's eyes seemed to automatically move towards the pair before sending the little Leaf-nin away to her all too eager brother.

Hours later, when everyone had finally left the large dancing hall and the only two remaining were the prodigious medic, and the monster who had never honestly dreamed that he would have her, Gaara confessed his reasons for having such an expensive, spring-of-the-moment gala.

It was really her fault for forgetting anyways.

"Happy Birthday," He had whispered to her, while inwardly he was still drooling over her attire. Red had always been his favorite colour, so it really wasn't his fault that he had thought he would've killed just to touch her.

Coincidentally, at the exact moment the words left his mouth, Sakura was focused completely on Gaara's mouth.

So when she finally snaked her hand to the back of the Sand-nin's neck and stood up on her tiptoes, Gaara decided that they had been wasting too much time and discovered for the millionth time that he was a very impatient man.

He was inevitably the one to deepen the kiss because Sakura somehow couldn't seem to get over the fact that he didn't really have a taste. It was a good thing though, that Gaara didn't seem to have had enough of her, so when their tongues met greedily Sakura changed her opinion of how the man had absolutely no flavor of any kind whatsoever.

Because he was intoxicating and after a series of colourful words had been exchanged they both decided that they weren't every really going to have enough of each other.

And Sakura finally came to the conclusion that Gaara tasted very, very good.

*

Dedicated to Brooklynne, even though she can't remember names.
LMAO

I promised you one.