A/N: Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorrysorry. I'll try harder. Really, I will.

It hardly felt like he was sitting in his own vehicle. Neji had settled into the adjacent seat as comfortably as if he had been doing it for years, given the driver the address to which the pink hydrangeas needed delivering without hesitation, and managed to make Gaara feel ashamed of his own lack of social grace. He could never leap so smoothly into unknown territory – which begged the question, what was he thinking, attempting to go to a strange party and do just that?

With that thought in his mind he entered the grand foyer of L'hotel Napoleon (only four stars; they were being conservative this year, Neji explained), his mouth much drier than usual. The single concierge at the front desk gave him an appraising once-over, judging the less-than-formal clothes he had picked out this morning when even going as far as the shops hadn't occurred to him yet. It wasn't sweatpants, but it wasn't black-tie, either. Suddenly Neji's suit made more sense.

Then a bellhop rushed up to the concierge and whispered something in his ear, and the judgement was gone. Gaara suspected that until that moment the concierge hadn't realised who he was.

One maroon, velvet rope later, the two of them were ushered into the ballroom, and unlike the rest of the floor, there was noise coming from in here. The steadfast double doors muffled most of it, but it was there nonetheless.

"Nervous?" Neji asked as they entered.

"Is there something I should be nervous about?"

There was no answer. Of course there was no answer.

It was… not at all as bad as Gaara expected, he had to admit. It was neither a roaring rave nor a solemn banquet; just a collection of fifty, maybe a hundred smartly-dressed people, many of whom didn't appear over thirty years old. Weddings were a young industry, it seemed. The colour scheme of the night was a wintery blue and white, the colours adorning the stage and lectern at one end of the room, and the open bar at the other. Between them there were around ten tables at which only a few people were sitting. Most were still standing and floating from conversation to conversation.

"Is that a Hyuuga I spy?"

A young man with windswept hair and slightly-too-tight black clothes was approaching them. Out of the corner of his mouth, Neji muttered to Gaara, "Kiba Inuzuka. A musician and music coordinator."

"So," Kiba Inuzuka said, "what happened to the big super-sweet wedding tonight? I thought you were getting her to book me! I'd thrown out my invitation for this and everything!"

"I told you, she wanted to go another way."

"Are you saying I couldn't do this 'other way'?"

"She wanted a minimum sixteen-piece orchestra."

"So what? I can do the job of an orchestra!"

"Really?" Gaara asked sceptically. He hadn't meant to say anything, but it slipped out. Kiba looked at him, apparently only noticing him for the first time now, and did a double-take.

"Woah, I know you. I've seen you on TV and – shit, of course! I knew Neji was doing the presidential wedding. Now, I know it starts with a 'G'… ah, fuck, what's your name again?"

"Gaara."

"Gaara, that's it. Well, as a matter of fact, Gaara, I could outplay sixteen other musicians on sixteen different instruments in one-sixteenth the time. I'm that good. I know everything there is to know about music."

"Except how to make it profitable," Neji interjected. "Wasn't it only last year that you were homeless?"

"Ah, yeah, but that's what I've got Shino for, right? He does the business and wins the awards, and I just be my awesome self. Speaking of Shino… " Kiba whirled around, leaving them and going to intercept another man heading towards the bar. Gaara silently exhaled. He had survived. He could survive doing it a few more times.

That said, he had just noticed that he had moved marginally closer to Neji during that conversation, and hoped that Neji hadn't noticed the same.

Together they walked around tables searching for Neji's name on a place card, briefly greeting those they passed but only rarely stopping for a conversation. Twice Neji seemed to be deliberately steering Gaara towards certain people, all of them men and none of whom Gaara would ever have approached on his own. Worse still, these people were obviously much more interested in the celebrity to whom they were speaking than Kiba had been, so it was impossible to shrink into the background. It was all wedding talk, too, rather than about Gaara himself. They gave him a knotted feeling in his stomach, and Neji preferred to watch him struggle rather than commandeer the discussions for himself. Was he getting some demented pleasure out of Gaara's discomfort, or was he really using it as a way to procure more wedding inspiration?

The next encounter couldn't have been very enlightening if the latter was true. Gaara hardly got a word in from beginning to end. For that matter, the 'beginning' was so disturbing that it caused him to get rather tongue-tied. He had been wandering tentatively, eyes on the carpet, when something that felt like a cannonball rammed into his shoulder. Then, as he struggled to keep his balance, a blinding flash went off in his face.

"A perfect photograph!" a booming voice declared in front of him.

"Excellent!" said the thing that was still holding his shoulder. "Thank you for giving me this memory!"

"Would you care to see, Mr Sabaku?"

"Of course he would!"

Gaara didn't understand half the words that were being said to him. He was only just able to register what had happened and why the entire left side of his body hurt. The cannonball was a human, a young, tall and muscular-feeling man with wide eager eyes and hair that shone an unnatural black. He had collided into Gaara while trying to hook an arm around his shoulder in a pose for a camera, which was held by another man who had appeared just as suddenly and looked like he could well have been the other one's father.

Behind Gaara, Neji masked a chuckle ineffectively. "Lee," he greeted the younger of the two men. "Gai. It's been far too long." He shook hands with both of them, the older handing him a Polaroid straight from the camera. Gaara hadn't even realised those still existed. A smile graced Neji's features as he looked at the photograph.

"Do you approve?" the one called Lee asked excitedly.

"Absolutely. You two do better work using decade-old equipment than any of your so-called competition with the best of modern technology."

They conversed for a good few minutes; thankfully, Lee and Gai did most of the talking and any questions they posed to Gaara could be answered with a simple 'yes'. They mentioned at least three times how young he was and how remarkable youthful love could be. At first the whole experience appeared to be a waking nightmare, but oddly enough, the longer it went on and the more bizarre it became, the easier it became to relax. They were so strange that any pressure Gaara felt by being here was lifted.

When the two of them finally departed, he didn't even have to breathe a sigh of relief. With a voice that seemed to be permanently laughing at him by this point, Neji said lightly, "I do believe a small part of you enjoyed that, Mr Sabaku."

"I do believe that you've brought me into the company of maniacs," Gaara retorted, feeling bolder now than before. He could now look Neji dead in the eye as he spoke, daring him to deny it, while at the same time hoping this burst of bravery wouldn't fizzle out like other strong emotions so often did. But if Neji noticed the change in him, he didn't get the chance to comment: he got as far as raising his eyebrows when an M.C. cleared her throat into a microphone and effectively silenced the room. At her word the guests flourished over to the tables, and the sudden wave of moving, brightly-coloured dresses impressed upon Gaara the fact that the men with whom he had spoken were in the vast minority. At their table alone, there was only one other male.

"Maniacs?" Neji said as he seated himself. He nodded hello to the other man – who, Gaara saw, was wearing a mask over the lower half of his face like a doctor in quarantine – and some of the women. "Those two are some of my oldest friends in the business and you say they're maniacs?"

"You can't be serious," said Gaara. Not that he had given it much thought, but if he was even to assume that Neji had friends, he would have assumed they were as uptight and plastic-expressioned as he was. It begged the question: was Neji joking? Lying? Or just a reasonable human being who wore his disguise so often it was hard to tell? "What would make you want to be friends with them?"

"Well, whatever your definition of friendship is, I guarantee that Lee and Gai will fit it. Moreover, they are exceptional photographers."

Gaara must have looked doubtful because Neji handed him the Polaroid that Gai had taken earlier. With expectations not particularly high, Gaara only planned on looking at it for a second and giving an uninterested response. But when he saw it … it gave him quite a surprise.

It was, as expected, of himself and Lee – seconds after Lee had almost bowled him over, but you couldn't tell to look at it. Somehow, Gaara didn't look like he had just been thrown off balance, nor like his shoulder was in pain from any sudden impact. It looked exactly like a photo of two friends arm in arm. Gaara wasn't even scowling in it; he wasn't smiling, certainly, but the shot appeared to have been taken at the one precise moment in which the shock of what was happening had knocked his face into an agreeably neutral expression.

He stared at it in wonder. "How did they –?"

"Honestly, I still don't quite know, and I've worked with them for years," Neji replied. "You can keep that, by the way. I can't imagine there are many pictures of you that didn't get cut from a magazine."

"Are you planning to use those two for the wedding?" Gaara felt an unpleasant lurch in his chest as he asked. He wasn't sure if it was the dreaded 'W'-word that triggered it, or the bizarre mental image of Lee ramming into two hundred of his father's most important friends.

"That was the idea. Anyone who can catch you halfway towards a smile deserves more money and publicity than even you or I can give them."

The sitting-down portion of the evening reminded Gaara strongly of the one formal event to which his father had dragged him. It was before the presidential days, when Mr Sabaku was just a lowly region representative, but he had attempted right from the start to use his children as tools of manipulation. Gaara, Temari and even Kankuro had been taken into the cheap rental hall, young enough to be given inappropriate hugs and cheek squeezes by total strangers. It would have been a tough guess as to which of the children would be the first to snap and hit someone, but in the end, Kankuro won that honour. None of them was ever made to go to events with their father again.

Of course, no one at the Wedding Industry Awards was squeezing Gaara's cheeks, but the fake smiles and subtle exchanges of business cards under the table bore a striking resemblance to that day. The food even had the same dusty taste.

He tried keeping his head down and eating silently, but the women at the table kept trying to engage him. There were only so many times he could be asked about wedding dresses before saying, "I really don't care," through gritted teeth and having Neji shoot him a warning look. Playing nice was dull and irritating. How the hell did Neji do it so seamlessly?

Somewhere between the main meals and desserts, the M.C. transitioned smoothly into announcing the actual awards. The early categories were so ridiculous that Gaara didn't bother to clap: Best Online-only Nationwide Stationery Service? Most Acclaimed Venue Determined by Social Media Upvotes? It was almost a relief to reach the more normal ones like Floristry – which, incidentally, Ino Yamanaka won. On her way up to the podium to accept her award, she paused beside where Neji sat and cheerfully half-whispered, "Thanks for doing the hydrangeas. The Plaza's concierge called to say the super-sweet's only screamed twice all night!" Then off she went.

"Why does she say that?" Gaara asked.

"What?"

"Calling the woman at that other wedding sweet, or super, or extra-sweet. And someone else said it too, the musician, I think. Are they speaking in code?"

"Actually, yes, believe it or not," said Neji, applauding with the rest of the room as Ino shook the M.C.'s hand. "We use code words to describe the clients so that nobody inadvertently offends them. So we have words like radiant, insightful, vivacious … and they mean extremely religious, tight with money, or controlling. 'Sweet' is our way of saying that this particular bride was, shall we say, rather emotional."

Saying nasty things about people right in front of their oblivious faces? This was exactly like something run by Gaara's father. Unable to stop himself from feeling disappointed, Gaara frowned, quietly trying to gauge what it was about this word game that bothered him. Meanwhile Ino was being clapped off stage and the announcement of Best Make-up was beginning, then Hairstyling, then Stationery. So far only one award recipient was male, but considering the numbers, that wasn't surprising.

Gaara found himself staring at Neji when he wasn't looking. In spite of his slightly two-faced personality, gossip and slandering clients should have been beneath him. It didn't matter that they did it to avoid offending someone; it still felt like a big inside joke at someone's expense. Nobody had ever dared to bully Gaara in his childhood, but that didn't mean he couldn't recognise it. To know that Neji, his charming sort-of friend Neji, would be a part of that was almost a pity.

Like he could sense it, Neji caught Gaara staring. "Something wrong?" he asked, bemused.

Answer honestly or take the easy way out? Gaara decided quickly. "I don't like your code."

"No? Do you have a better one?"

"I don't like any code. If you use it to talk about me, I may have to fire you."

Neji laughed, which was silly, because Gaara wasn't joking. "Right. Maybe I should have been clearer. When I say we use code, I was only peripherally including myself. I know the code words, but I'm yet to say them when introducing any client."

"Oh."

"Can you really picture me using the word 'super-sweet' while keeping a straight face?"

"… No." Gaara probably should have felt embarrassed about being so thoroughly shut down, but he had filled his quota of embarrassment in front of Neji long ago, possibly at their first meeting. Instead he felt lighter, pleased by the answer he'd been given.

"Besides," Neji added, "I don't think the code is advanced enough to keep up with someone like you."

Coming from anybody else it would have been backhanded, but from Neji there was no doubt that he meant what he said with no malicious intent. No matter how disingenuous his manner could seem, Gaara was quite certain that he wasn't a liar. Moreover, Gaara felt his face get hot at the comment, and that wasn't likely to happen unless it was sincere. Suddenly that stifling, awkward sensation from the flower shop was back and it became harder to make eye contact again.

More awards swam past – the masked man and one of the young women at their table took trophies for suits and dresses respectively – and right towards the end, Neji's name was read out in the list of nominees for one of them. The interest in the room was high, voices buzzing keenly, so this one must have been important. Neji continued eating like he barely noticed, but Gaara saw that he was pleased from the way he sat up a little straighter and briefly adjusted his hair tie.

"Congratulations to all of our nominees, of course," the M.C. said, glowing with pleasure. "But for the winner… well, why am I telling you this? It should be left for our special guest to announce."

The stir going through the room was confused now. The smallest of creases appeared on Neji's forehead, letting Gaara know that whatever was going on was not normal.

"To present this award, let's give a hand for one of the biggest names in the industry! He's won over thirty regional awards –"

"Oh," said Neji.

" – and a massive seventeen national awards –"

"Damn."

His tone was casual and he was completely straight-faced, but his words obviously told a different story. Gaara opened his mouth to ask what this was, but the M.C. continued over him.

" – so we welcome to the stage the head of HHN Planning, come all the way from the other side of the country, Hiashi Hyuuga!"

The applause was loud and punctuated by nudges and glances at Neji, who did not seem to appreciate it. He had an icy smile on his face and wasn't even looking at the podium as an older man walked on from the side wing. The resemblance was striking.

"Your father?" Gaara asked quietly, very aware of all the eyes on the person next to him, occasionally flickering over to himself.

"Uncle. And he wouldn't have come without bringing bad news with him."

The middle-aged man smiled as he reached the lectern, eerily similar to Neji, with his long, dark hair and cool, pale eyes that sought out his nephew's among the crowd. His expression didn't mask his shrewdness as well as Neji's did, though, and Gaara did not get the friendliest of vibes from him. Not that he found himself on friendly terms with many people. He tried to recall what he'd read about Hiashi Hyuuga when he'd looked up Neji's sparse biography, but nothing came to mind.

The man started speaking, giving a traditional introductory spiel, but Gaara was only half-listening. It was far more interesting to watch Neji's reaction to it; he was certainly paying close attention, sitting stiffly and looking like he was waiting for the bombshell to reveal itself. What was there between these Hyuugas?

"In short, you must view your community as a family. Cheap words from one in a family empire, I know," Hiashi said with good humour, causing some to chuckle. Neji looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Empire," he muttered in disbelief.

"But while families don't always agree –"

"Hm."

" – they understand what goes on in each other's minds so well that their flow, their coordination, is inimitable in efficiency. We in the wedding industry strive to bring five, ten, twenty professions together for months at a time, culminating in one extraordinary day for so many people, and this is a feat of impossible proportions without coordination. Obviously, as a coordinator, this is largely my job, and the job of our current nominees. However, even those of you not present on the day of a wedding you helped to create are vital to the smoothness of the event. Everybody is. Everybody must be as close – not as loving, just as close – as family, in order to survive here.

"The commitment and camaraderie of this region's suppliers are truly outstanding. I have been fortunate enough to work alongside family and to develop many other small families with each wedding assignment. Now, I wish to expand my opportunities and welcome each of you into my family by relocating HHN Planning here within the month."

It had been a bad idea for Neji to take a mouthful of food right at that moment because the announcement made it catch in his throat. To his credit, he barely coughed, but he couldn't hide his surprise. Even when Hiashi continued and declared that Neji had won the Best Wedding Coordinator award, it took him a good ten seconds to stand up.

This was bizarre, Gaara thought as he watched the two Hyuugas shake hands onstage. The air around them seemed to frost over and their eyes contact didn't break even for an instant. It was practically the opposite of what happened when Neji and Gaara were near each other. Gaara didn't have any living uncles so he had no idea how the uncle-nephew relationship usually went, but any idiot could tell this one was strained. At least, he would have thought any idiot could, but everybody else in the room seemed unperturbed. The M.C. standing right next to them was beaming like she was proud of orchestrating this family reunion.

Neji started to return to his seat after a very brief speech, but froze as Hiashi took to the microphone again. "Congratulations, Neji, and may this fifth award be a sign of many more to come. Though you mustn't forget that from now on, HHN will be your competition instead of your supporter."

This time, Gaara knew he wasn't the only one who noticed. Neji abruptly changed his course and headed straight to the bar, and plenty of people watched him go.

Hiashi Hyuuga joined a table right up the front, the evening continued, and Neji didn't come back. It put Gaara in the uncomfortable position of needing to talk to others. He learned names that he had no intention of memorising and made the smallest possible small talk, but Neji was always in the corner of his eye. He couldn't see what he was drinking but it was being refilled quite regularly. Not a drinker himself, Gaara wrinkled his nose.

He didn't question too deeply why Neji's uncle might want to uproot an entire business to go into competition with his nephew. It might have been as simple as being vindictive, which he knew plenty about, or there could have been some concentrated unpleasant history behind it. Most likely the latter; he couldn't imagine something as simple as a mean relative making Neji lose his composure. Gaara wondered whether their problem was personal or business-related. Money? A will dispute? Stealing ideas? Or something more private…

Gaara felt that without Neji's insistence that this evening was good for getting his wedding put together, he was overstaying his welcome. Neji wasn't being productive if he was drinking himself to death over a family drama, and Gaara wasn't exactly having fun. He cursed himself as he realised he had forgotten to tell his driver to stay; it was Christmas Eve and by now the old man would have been long gone, probably at a suburban home hours out of the city. At least Gaara had deigned to take Temari's Christmas present out of the car with him.

Debating with himself about how the hell he was going to get home now (he could easily call one of his father's chauffeurs, but he and they were not on good terms and no amount of money could make them pretend), he abruptly stood up, chair sliding out far behind him and almost tripping a waiter, and went to the bar himself. He probably looked rude since the M.C. was speaking again, but it wasn't as if the people here would be the first on Earth to think poorly of him. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to Neji, exactly, but something would come out.

On closer inspection, Neji was clasping what looked like a brandy glass and making a subtle signal to the bartender to get another refill. He wasn't drinking quickly, but with a kind of determined stubbornness, as if he hated the taste and was only doing it under duress. There were no seats, so he stood and occasionally leaned on the counter, holding his head in one hand.

It was the first time he didn't smile as he saw Gaara. "Relatives," he said darkly.

"I know."

"He enjoys trying to make me suffer. He gets a kick out of it. He wants to prove that I can't survive in the industry as long as I'm at odds with his methods."

Evidently when he was drinking, he turned into a real person again. Gaara relaxed, and lost the desire to leave. "I would have thought you were successful enough to prove him wrong. Aren't you the highest rated planner in the country?"

Now Neji smiled. "Only once in my last four years working. Every other time it's been second. And guess who's first."

So it was only professional. How odd that people would take business – and the wedding business, at that – so seriously. Granted, Gaara had never had a job so he wasn't the most qualified to judge.

"Does it matter?" he asked. Neji gave him a strange look.

"It's my job."

"So?"

"It's my –" Neji paused. "Look, your sister's working in politics. Does she work with your father?"

"Of course."

"Does she agree with him on policies?"

"Not at all."

"What do they think about each other?"

Gaara understood his point. "He's a slavedriver and she hates him. All right."

"Hence," Neji said, "the brandy. Did you want something? I don't imagine seeing me drunk is particularly enlightening for you."

"You're drunk?"

"I'm not exactly hiding it."

"Drunk people usually stop acting normal, don't they?"

"Give me twenty minutes and I won't even be able to walk to the car."

Car. "Right. I meant to say, the car's gone. I didn't tell him to stay. Is there –"

Neji waved away his question. "No problem. I just called a limo and it'll be here soon. I'm done with this evening."

"Me too."

"You gave me a lift here, I'll give you a lift back. I did promise we wouldn't stay long. And you'll be happy to know that I got enough information to handle all of your wedding. You won't have to be involved at all anymore."

Gaara nodded slowly. "Good."

And it was good, he thought as they weaved through tables to the door. For someone who had downed five to ten drinks Neji had no problem being smooth and unobtrusive. The lobby was empty but they went outside to wait for the limo, the street also unusually quiet. At some point it must have rained because the ground was slick and even in the darkness thick clouds were visible. Unfortunately Gaara didn't notice until it was too late and his foot slipped up from underneath him. His stomach dropped and he felt himself go horizontal before hitting the footpath – though not as hard as he expected. Something stopped his head connecting with the cement.

"Sorry," said Neji, moving his hand from the back of Gaara's neck. "I would have caught you properly, but my reflexes are a little slow right now."

He must have thought Gaara was the clumsiest idiot in the world. Maybe he was. Maybe it would be a relief to not have to see him for a while since it would mean a while in which he wouldn't be humiliated.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." Gaara got to his feet hastily, very reluctantly accepting Neji's attempt at helping him. The drunk man helping the sober one! If this kept up they might as well just spend the trip home holding hands, Gaara needing constant protection, Neji keeping him safe… He blinked. That was an odd image. Hand-holding wasn't exactly an activity he did often. He didn't find the idea all that appealing.

Despite the lack of traffic, the limo seemed to take forever to arrive, and the thought gradually slipped out of his mind as the two of them waited silently. The alcohol finally seemed to have a noticeable effect on Neji: he began blinking more often, like keeping his eyes open was growing difficult, and he slid down the wall he was leaning against until he was on the ground. His back was flat against the wall, one leg out straight and the other bent at the knee, suit jacket hanging loosely open off his body. Some of his hair had escaped from its tie and was falling in front of his ear. Still, though, he didn't look drunk – just human.

"So what business methods did you disagree with?" Gaara asked, voice cutting through the soft, damp background noise. Neji snorted.

"You're not interested in that. I don't expect you to pretend you care about my job just to make small talk."

He was right, of course, but it sparked a bit of obstinate annoyance in Gaara. He sat himself down right next to Neji, close enough for it to be confrontational. "For what I'm paying you I can make as much small talk as I like. Don't be evasive."

"Discussing my family wasn't part of my contract."

"It's still about business, though. You're definitely contractually obligated to tell me about your business."

They heard the sound of a car approaching and looked up, but to their disappointment, it was an ordinary taxi and it drove right past. Neji studied Gaara with some combination of puzzlement and suspicion. "To clarify," he said. "You don't care about weddings, do you?"

"No, but you're being –"

"And you don't care about your wedding?"

"No."

"You and Tenten are in no way in love with each other?"

"I've met her fewer times than I've met you."

What happened next came as a complete surprise to Gaara even though it seemed to happen very slowly. Neji leaned over towards him and, without any kind of doubt or hesitation, kissed him on the lips. Gaara froze instantly. He didn't know where this had come from. Was Neji now so inebriated that he didn't know what he was doing? Because surely if he were in his right mind, there would be no way he would ever do something so…

Or would he? Suddenly something clicked for Gaara, something he knew he should have realised much, much earlier: Neji paid attention to him. Smiled at him. In spite of surliness and outright rudeness, liked him. Was it such a leap to assume he was attracted to him?

And not only that, Gaara understood the strange, tense feeling that crept around him today whenever they looked at each other for too long or when Neji gave him a compliment. It wasn't just tension – it was practically sexual tension. Now that was even less familiar to him than hand-holding, but he could still manage to recognise it.

He hadn't ever thought of Neji like that, as far as he could remember, but now he didn't really have much choice. Moving by instinct, he kept the kiss going, letting it give him time to think – only, thinking while kissing was actually rather difficult. It didn't feel sexual, but it did feel as if Neji was taking advantage of an opportunity for which he had been waiting. Gaara could feel him smiling, probably in that smug way of his. He was attractive and they both knew it.

Still, he was drunk, and this didn't make sense. Gaara pulled away. "Why would you do that?"

Neji closed his eyes and gave a laughing exhale of air. "Because it's Christmas and I didn't get you anything."

"Really. Why? I never told you… in fact, I specifically told you I wasn't gay."

"Well, I once told you that you're a terrible actor. You can't lie at all. Quite frankly I'm surprised no one else has called you out on it yet."

"Even… even so." Gaara scowled, realising his heart was racing with adrenaline and willing it to slow down. "That was stupid."

"You didn't like it?"

"No."

Neji shook his head. "It's like you don't even hear yourself. You've got to at least try to sound like you mean it."

Knowing his face must have been going as red as his hair, Gaara stood up and looked away. He could almost hear his own heartbeat. He felt exposed and unsure what to do with his body, so he folded his arms and paced back and forth. Things like this didn't happen to him. Good-looking and charismatic men did not worm their way into his life and become attracted to him. It felt like one big joke.

"Why did you do it?" he demanded again. Neji also tried to stand up, but true to his word at the bar, he was starting to struggle. Somehow, though, his speech was still unaffected.

"Because my evening just turned to shit and I decided to make it better by doing something I'd been interested in trying for a while," he said. "I know it was unwise, but I wasn't drinking for the wisdom. And it did make the night better. Most assuredly."

That was the first time Gaara had heard Neji swear, and it made his resolve waver. He wasn't sure why he was being defensive about this. The longer he stood here, the more he found himself wanting to try that kiss again, only this time without all of that interfering thinking. Yet he still wanted to be combative; maybe he didn't want to let Neji know how disarmed he'd been, or how quickly being kissed had made him re-evaluate their friendship-or-whatever-you-called-it. "So… we agree that it was stupid."

"Absolutely." Neji nodded. "But once again, I can blame the brandy for any lack of good judgement."

"And… if I were to do it, being sober, it would be even more stupid."

Neji considered him scrutinisingly. "Well, that depends."

"On?"

"On… if you actually do it, or if you take the really stupid route and don't do it."

Caught by impulse and that unmissable taunt, Gaara moved closer and kissed him again, this time more firm than the last. It was clumsy – he fisted his hands on the lapels of Neji's jacket and pulled him down so their heads were at the same height, throwing off his balance – but it was heated and very enjoyable. He'd never kissed like this before. His brain may have sneered the word 'stupid' about a hundred more times, but it was impossible to care, impossible to notice anything but the fact that this was the first thing he had really liked doing in months. He could have kept this up for hours, days, hell he could keep hold of Neji like this for weeks –

Until the beam of a car's headlights swung around a corner, blasting them, and they jerked away from each other like a pair of guilty teenagers. Gaara's body objected, but their privacy was gone as another taxi pulled up to the kerb. The passenger side window rolled down and the driver called, "You boys need a ride?"

They looked at each other uncertainly. That tension that Gaara had taken so long to recognise was back, and about twenty times worse.

"I should take it," he said finally.

"A taxi?"

"I'll live. We shouldn't –"

"Right. Shouldn't get a ride together. This way I won't be putting the limo driver out of his way, and it made no logistical sense in the first place. I don't live anywhere near you."

Gaara swallowed. "Good. Leaving together would be –"

"Stupid."

"Yes."

"And we wouldn't want to be that."

As he got into a public taxi for the first time since he was ten, Gaara felt inexplicably exhausted. It wasn't that late, still technically Christmas Eve, but those few minutes of craziness drained his energy as surely as if he'd not slept in a month. He gave the driver his directions (at which point the driver laughed, "The President's house? Are you kidding?" before recognition dawned on his face), then immediately closed his eyes. He thought he felt his phone vibrate, but he ignored it. Images were swimming before him and he didn't try to stop them.

Neji sitting next to him. Neji talking to him. Texting him from the next seat. Drinking brandy next to him. Leaning over and kissing him, that brandy still fresh on his tongue… and this was his wedding planner. His wedding planner. Ridiculous! There was no way this sort of thing could happen. Was he even certain it did? There was definitely an unrealistic quality to it. He was tired; maybe all of it was just a dream… a dream that he could still feel pressed against his mouth… and if it wasn't…

If it wasn't, he supposed he'd have to find out if it was just as ridiculous in the morning.