Out Of My Mind 3/? (AU, GaaSaku)

[AngelOfDeath]

Here?s another little vignette. Have the fun. It went in weird directions, but then again, there?s no plot. I can?t be in control all the time. :shruuuug:

Disclaimer: (See part 1)


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Gaara was worried. It wasn?t like him to worry, and no one really noticed this change in mood except for perhaps the people who were unlucky enough to see him on a regular basis. In their case all they perceived was that Gaara had gotten meaner for some reason. He was the type to fall in and out of moods, so people gave him a wide berth and thought nothing more about it. It was his job to be mean; after all, he was a bouncer.
People had laughed at him at first, when he had worked the club circuit. Other than a unique fashion sense and an arresting pair of eyes, he didn?t hold much promise. He was aware that he looked scrawny, short, maybe even weak to an outsider. What people came to know and respect about him was that even though he looked too small to be dangerous, everything about him was sharp as the knives he carried. Gaara burned with some inner madness people didn?t understand, and he himself was often confused as to his own motives for certain things, but Gaara was more inclined to look forward and take action rather than worry about what had brought him to yet another back alley with blood on his hands and an insane smile lighting his face.

Once people understood that he was as deadly a weapon as any big bruiser, he began to get more jobs thrown at him than he could handle. Naturally, he took them all, since he had nothing else to occupy his mind and the potential for legitimate violence was an attractive lure to someone of his temperament. Between the coffee, the alcohol, and the cigarettes, he was buzzing from one drug or another most of the time. Not that any of those things ever pacified him. He knew he was a weapon, and paid well to be one, a last resort for those people who couldn?t be dealt with in an ordinary fashion. The kind of places that Gaara tended to be hired at weren?t for the weak of heart.

Of course, now that he had a girlfriend, somehow everything was subtly different. He was slower to pull his knife on this thug or that one that broke into a fight in the pit at a thrash metal concert. He found that he was smoking less because she didn?t like it and she was more likely to kiss him when he got off of work. Sometimes, not very often, but enough to make people nervous. . . he would suddenly smile for no reason. In the past, Gaara?s smile had prefaced a spree of violence that rarely confined itself to just those that had initiated it. Gaara was still doing his job, and he did it well, but he had lost that berserker edge. Only he would have said this, because to everyone else he was as cruelly brutal as he had ever been, maybe more so to compensate for what he saw as his growing weakness.

That, his changing attitudes, were not what had Gaara worried. Last night before he had left for work, he had been with Sakura at her apartment. The school year had started for her, and she was bogged down with work most of the time. The weekends were the most time she had for herself and she wanted to see him, but the weekends were the times that he was most in demand for security work. Just back from class, dressed conservatively, with her hair straggling loose about her face, she had absorbed that information with a look that Gaara considered to be almost mischievous.

?And I suppose you?ll be sleeping all day.? Gaara shrugged at the question that was more statement. He didn?t know when he slept, just that it happened irregularly and he usually awoke in a bad mood. Sleep had never offered him solace.

She had run her fingers through her hair as if to comb out some of the tangles, and he suddenly wanted to touch it too, very badly. Gaara made himself step back from his desires, always feeling like he didn?t deserve them, deserve her.

?If you can?t get time off then I don?t see what prevents me from coming to see you. You?re working at clubs after all, and I could use some time to relax after this first couple of weeks. My mind feels a bit like it had a steamroller go over it a few times.? A fiery determination burned in her as she clenched one small fist. ?But I know I?ll do it. It?s just the start of things.?

It was a good thing she had pursued their relationship with the same sort of decisiveness, since Gaara felt lost in it most of the time. He was waiting for the day he got dumped, for the day she realized he was a bona fide psychotic and no prescription medication had ever stopped him from the delicious rush of putting a knife in someone. The worst part was being aware of his own sickness, and hating it. Gaara had been born in the wrong era, or the wrong part of the world. The need for born killers had passed in the civilized world. He had something like that once to Sakura, and she had corrected him, telling him he was a warrior, not a killer.

How he hoped she was right, for both their sakes. Warriors fought for a purpose, she had said, and they often abided by a code of honor of some kind. She had lots of romantic ideas. Gaara thought them quaint, but her faith in him was intoxicating.

That evening, he awoke from disturbing dream in black, white and red so that he could put on his distinctive eye makeup. It had been part of his image for so long, that it seemed like a stranger in the mirror above his bathroom sink until he had it on again. The tired bags under his eyes disappeared with it on, the bruise-like markings from lack of sleep and more stress than was good for a person. His eyes were red as usual from poor sleep. Gaara?s skin seemed event more pasty and white with it on, and his tight frown turned down the edges of his mouth.

From the floor of his room he found some camouflage pants and a black tank top. A long black coat with a high collar was a quick addition as he walked out the door to his job, some place that had redecorated and was putting on a big opening concert. It had been a job that he had gotten through Kankuro, who fielded most of his calls anyway. Gaara didn?t answer his phone, didn?t see the point in having one. The only people who would even want to contact him were his brother, sister, and Sakura. Honestly, only Sakura, but he included his brother and sister in there almost as a nod to his beloved pink haired girlfriend because she seemed to set so much stock in personal relationships. Gaara?s frown deepened as he noted another way in which he was changing because of her.

A flick of his wrist later, and the collar was up and shielding part of his face from view. If only she weren?t so damned smart, then hiding from Sakura wouldn?t be almost impossible. Belatedly, he realized his clothing choices were attempting to do that: hide. Gaara had never seen the need to make himself less noticeable, but he wished she wouldn?t find him and then go home quickly. He only worked in shady clubs, with shady patrons, and it was no place he wanted her. Although, what he wanted for her to do and what she would do anyway tended to not correlate.

There was a new guy working the door tonight, one who probably must be new to town because he didn?t automatically defer to Gaara upon meeting him. Normally this would have ended with some swift and non-lethal violence and Gaara would be king of the heap again, but territorial issues were the last thing on his mind as he entered the club and scanned the crowd. Naturally she wouldn?t be here yet, far too early, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach was making him nauseated. He didn?t remember grabbing anything to eat before he left, and as things stood he didn?t want to chance being drunk just in case she got in trouble and he had to step in. Cigarettes, his most common defense, were barred for more intimate personal reasons. That left coffee as the last drug on his list, and he saw after a quick sweep of the crowd that he had plenty of time to get some swill at the gas station down the street.

By the time people started packing in and the music started making the tables quiver, Gaara knew that this must be what people on speed felt like. His stomach felt grossly acidic from the bad coffee, but his mind buzzed as everything became too real and too slow. Buzzing on caffeine, he processed the world around him with wild unblinking eyes. Those who knew him gave him more room to move that usual, but he didn?t seem to be reacting to any of the jostles or the insults that invariably were directed at him in big crowds like this while he moved with rude authority through the crowd.

Then, a blaze of recognition floored him and he did a double take. There was Sakura, but looking unlike his Sakura. This Sakura was a vision in red velvet and black vinyl. It was like and yet unlike her other dancing outfits, with a corset instead of a halter top, long black gloves up to her elbows, and a small shiny vinyl skirt that hugged her curves tighter than he thought his hands had ever dared. Black eyeliner, rather like his own, ringed her eyes and those lips of hers pouted with glossy red. It didn?t go well with her pink hair, all that red over her, but somehow that didn?t seem to matter. What mattered was that she was here. . .

. . . and he didn?t want her to be.

It was the decision of mere seconds to go up to her and tell her exactly why she needed to get out, but in even that space of time she managed to garner the attention of a tall man, handsome, with long dark hair and pale eyes who said something to her with a smirk on his face. Gaara vaguely recognized the man, but didn?t even bother to look over as he roughly shoved him with his shoulder so that he could get in front of Sakura.

In the back of his mind, he noted that she was much taller than he was now. She smirked down at him when his gaze fell to the floor where her feet were encased in stiletto platform heels. It was a long way up her gorgeous legs back up to her eyes, but Gaara made himself focus back on the task at hand.

Oh yes, but first. . .

?Get lost.? He turned to the man with the pale eyes, who gave Gaara a considering look and then backed off with a silent salute in Sakura?s direction. She seemed amused and anticipatory when he whipped his head back around. ?Go home.?

The corners of her mouth turned down sharply, well outlined in that apple skin red. Tempting, forbidden. At least it was forbidden here and now. ?After going to all this trouble, that is not going to be enough to get me to leave, and you know it. Now stop being angry that I got hit on.?

?It doesn?t matter how you?re dressed, I would have told you the same thing no matter how you looked. You aren?t safe here.?

?Aren?t I safe when you?re around?? She cocked her head to the side and took a deep breath to sigh. He breasts strained in the corset and Gaara clenched his fists at his sides. Sakura was too smart, and too desirable right now for him to be able to reason with her.

?Yes, you?re safe, but I can?t watch you all the time.?

?However did I get along before I had you?? This time her tone was less flirty and more sarcastic.

Gaara felt how he was losing this battle, and the old anger rose in him, the need to lash out. It might have gone much worse for him with her if that same cocky security guy hadn?t chosen that moment to assert his superiority. If it had been a lame attempt to attract Sakura?s attention it would have been futile anyway, but with Gaara involved it was downright dangerous.

?Stop trying to pick up women on the clock and get your ass to the door, man.? The hand that landed on his shoulder only remained there long enough for Gaara to look over at it. He was high on caffeine, anger, and lust, a potent cocktail, and when he moved like lightening to pin the man?s arm behind his back he nearly broke the bone.

Sakura watched, her mouth in a silent shocked ?o? while the larger man begged to be let go before Gaara did permanent damage. Under the gaze of those pale emerald orbs of hers Gaara found the will to release the man, and he pulled Sakura with him by her hand to the door.

?Please. I can?t do my job when you?re here. You distract me.? They were desperate words, but she sensed their honesty and something about that seemed to thrill her even as her eyes still searched him for any signs of that aggression she had just seen with great concern.

?I distract you, do I?? She smiled, her mouth looking wide and inviting even under the harsh street lamps. ?Well, I wouldn?t want you to lose your job. Come see me when you finish, I?ll wait for you. It will probably take me that long to get out of this damn skirt.? She grimaced. ?You know, I thought it would be fun to surprise you, but this really upsets you. . .?

Thank everything under the sun she finally understood. Though, even Gaara wasn?t sure he understood entirely why he was so worried. Answers weren?t what concerned him, what concerned him was the fact that she was lingering here in front of the club as if she needed some reassurance. After his little display of temper inside, maybe she did need a sign of faith from him. Gaara didn?t know what to offer her, so instead he took what he wanted so very badly and hoped for the best. Everything in him was drawn tight with tension, and this promised a small measure of relief.

It was strange, to say the least, to have to pull her shoulders down so he could reach her lips. The kiss was a crush of lips, his arms pressing her against his chest harshly, and when he pulled away from her she had a smear of lipstick down her lip that made it seem as if she were bleeding. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, and it came away red.

?Very distracting.? He reiterated, returning to her lips for a longer, steadier drink.

She was breathless and embarrassed when they separated, after having done this on a public street in front of who knows how many people waiting in a line to get in the club. ?We?ll discuss it later after. . . well, after.? Always with the words. She would probably have a lot of very choice words to offer him after she got out of whatever daze she was in, but that would wait for later this evening.

?Just let me ask one thing. . . is this better or worse than usual??

?I don?t want you for your clothes, Sakura.?

?Ah.? She grimaced a bit as she walked away from him, and he watched her hips move as if she were a snake charmer putting him into a trance. ?Then I?m returning these damnable shoes tomorrow first thing. Oof.?

That was his Sakura. Suddenly all of those little changes he had been noting in himself faded beyond his concern. She was changing too, or trying to for him, but she was still essentially herself. There was nothing to worry about.

?7 bucks,? he snarled at the man waiting impatiently at the head of the line. The manic mood shift made the man take a step back before depositing the money in Gaara?s hand. He had four more long hours of his shift to go before he got back to Sakura?s apartment for a lecture. . . and whatever came before that lecture.

The smile that he gave upon thinking that made the man step back even further.

[Kuroi Ruy]

Awesome chappie as usual! :razz: