Potcallingkettle, take two.

Yes, this is revamped. Yes, this is still the same basic plot –ish.

Yes, I have changed this to a Gaara/Ino story. Why? Because there's too many Gaara/Sakura, I'm already writing Tenten and I'll be damned before I write a Gaara/Hinata.

So, enjoy, hate, do as you will.

Disclaimer: Don't Own Naruto.

.x.

Ino's espresso buzz was wearing off, she had failed a math quiz, and her knee hurt like a bitch after the nth laps of swimming she'd had to do at practice today. Her parents had been up all night arguing, again, and thusly she had been kept up all night, again. Her hair refused to obey her and swim practice hardly helped with that. The bathing suit was tight, as per usual, and she wasn't allowed to shave her legs until the day of the meet.

In short, she wasn't having a good day.

So when some KISS wannabe was blocking her way out of the girls' locker room, she was more than a little miffed. The actual exit was still inside a little alcove-closet thing, and you had to go out another door to get into the hallway – and presently her way out was blocked by an impassive young man.

She recognized him – Gaara no Sabaku or something like that. It was hard to forget him – he was the only person in the school with spiked, crimson hair, raccoon-like eye makeup, and so much metal. He hung out with Naruto and was in her English lit class – and there ended her association with him.

He was doing an effective job of blocking her way – he wasn't very tall, but he made up for it in sheer presence. Ino crossed her arms, cocked her hip, and said, "Excuse me."

Gaara regarded her a little lazily and a lot contemptuously. "Yes?" His voice was low and rough – she wondered if he smoked. Or more likely, he growls for some band or something. And now he's being difficult. Ugh, so not my day.

"You're blocking my way," Ino said in a carefully measured voice. Will he take the goddamn hint?

"I know," he said, and she definitely detected some smugness in his tone.

Ino probably should have been frightened. After all, this was Gaara, God of Goths, rumored to feed upon the blood of kittens and the dreams of underprivileged children. Rumors aside, he was somewhat asocial with psychotic tendencies – Naruto had met the guy in an anger management program.

But she was Ino, pissed-off swimmer extraordinaire and oblivious to imminent danger.

So she went for the proverbial throat. "So can you move?" she charged as much venom into her voice as possible and hoped that it didn't sound too whiney.

"I can," he said. Okay, there was way too much amusement in that tone for her liking – even if his tone was detached for the most part.

And it was just enough to send Ino over the edge.

"Then why don't you, oh wise one?" her words were laced with equal parts venom and sarcasm. He blinked, and she continued, "I'm having a really shitty day and I'm not about to let some Manson-worshipper intimidate me into…whatever the hell you're trying to do. So back off." In a moment of either complete anger or utter idiocy, she jabbed a still-pruned finger into his chest and glared up at him. "Got it?"

He looked down at her, and Ino noticed two things. The first was that, without all the makeup (or maybe because of it?), Gaara would have really pretty eyes.

The second was that he looked absolutely murderous.

Ino inwardly shied away, but she'd look absolutely ridiculous if she backed off now. She held her ground, but retracted her hand and fixed her gaze on his forehead instead of his eyes.

What the hell's that kanji mean? He had a tattoo on his forehead; it was red and it was some Asian character.

"I'd watch myself if I were you, bad day or not," Gaara said, slowly and deliberately, barely checked anger boiling just under the surface, "Blondie."

"Oh hell no," Ino huffed in exasperation. "You Goth people think you're so superior, enduring suffering that we mere mortals can't even begin to imagine. Well newsflash: the rest of the world has issues too and they get along just fine without wallowing in their own angst or making other people's lives hard. You're not fooling anyone with the masks. So, if you could be so kind as to move out of the fucking way so I can leave this building, hmm?"

Okay, so she had no idea where all that came from. She had nothing against Goths. But she was pissed, and this guy had invoked her anger. It was reason enough for him to become her verbal punching bag.

Gaara was looking down at her now and by all the laws of physics she should have spontaneously combusted. But she was Ino Yamanaka, so she only paled considerably and took a step back. He said nothing, only continued to stare her down. Ino mentally cursed herself. Gaara was by no means tall, but he had enough height over her for it to be annoying – and on top of that, she was in sweats, her hair was a rat's nest personified, and she reeked of chlorine.

It didn't do much for you when you were trying to tell someone off.

Especially when that someone was a psychotic gothboy who could very well want her blood.

"And the pot calls the kettle black," he said in a deceptively soft tone. Red flags went up in Ino's head.

But she was Ino Yamanaka, dammit. "And there you go again! Not everyone has the collective intelligence of an ape! You think you're so much better and all intimidating and ugh what am I doing here?"

And Ino shouldered (rather bodily) past Gaara no Sabaku.

Perfect ending for the perfect day, eh?

Sarcasm. You had to love it.

x.x.x.x.x.x

After practically sneaking into her own house and running up the stairs as lightly as she could, Ino purged the chlorine from her hair and skin in a long, hot, much-needed shower. Her parents were downstairs, caught in the heat of an argument that would probably lapse into stony silence over dinner.

She sighed. Dei, why can't you be home?

Stupid goddamn college kid for a brother.

Can't blame him. I've been at Sakura's and Shikamaru's more often than not nowadays.

School, friends, swim. She had cut herself out of the 'family' section of her life rather neatly over the past few months. Things were never as bad as they were now – there was a word for it, the slowly-but-surely getting worse: insidious.

Also was an up-and-coming horror flick, too.

And that kid from today. Okay, so maybe he hadn't completely deserved her going off on a tangent and going batshit, but he had caught her at a really bad time. Maybe, tomorrow, she'd apologize.

Well, only if he did first.

Seriously, who did that? There was no apparent reason for him to be there, either – he wasn't on the boys' swim team or any sports for that matter.

Ugh. People need to die. And what did he say? Pots and kettles? What the hell does that even mean?

It had been plaguing her. She had Googled it, and the results all had to do with some form of hypocrisy. What did that mean – did he think she was a closet Goth, or had a superiority complex?

Eh, maybe the last one wasn't too far off. She could hardly remember what she had said, so he was probably just being pretentious.

She groaned and flopped down on her bed, suddenly grateful that she had taken the time to finish her homework. All she had was that stupid report to do on Jane Eyre, which she'd probably SparkNotes anyway. The 'acclaimed novel' was three hundred plus pages of pure bullshit.

Seventeen chapters in and we haven't even gotten to the plot…meh.

She was too tired, both mentally and physically, to continue her mental ramblings or listen to her parents fight or try and pretend to eat dinner.

So Ino rolled over, turned off the lights, and promptly fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x

As always, let me know your thoughts.