Few things provided the Kazekage of Sunagakure as much pleasure as simply watching Uchiha Sasuke attend to the most mundane of tasks. More often than not Gaara would find himself absently gazing at his beloved; quite observations broken only by the raven’s gentle knowing chuckle (which, Gaara mused, echoed a sound surely crafted by the Heavens).
"You’re staring," Sasuke would tease. Despite his reluctance to agree, Gaara found himself unable to stop.
Sasuke was, as the redhead soon came to realise, a creature of instinctual habit. Minute nuances in Sasuke’s behaviour, which would have been greatly over looked by any outsider, seemed to captive the young Kage; attentions held by the slightest of movements, the softest of sounds. Meticulous actions and patterns were a circadian occurrence to the young raven, from the way he thoroughly set about washing the dishes, to folding the laundry in precise angles. Even the way he swept the floor, mapping a mental grid along the floor, and completely one small square after another. Gaara often wondered if Sasuke realised his own perfectionism.
Such was the way one simple Sunday afternoon, a rarity in the fact neither were shackled by the chains of work. Gaara had awoken to the lulling patter of rain dancing across the rooftop; sharp aroma of fresh coffee prompting the man from the warm confines of his bed, down the dimmed hallway and into the kitchen.
Tempting as the coffee smelt, Gaara found himself pausing beneath the archway leading inside, temple resting against the doorframe as he silently watched Sasuke potter about. Rhythmically switching between stirring the coffee pot and cleaning the counter, it seemed as though the Uchiha was off in his own world, unawares of the presence gazing upon him. Not that Gaara minded; viewing Sasuke in such a state was great enough compensation.
It was as the redhead was mentally comparing his lover to a housewife when Sasuke’s attentions focused on him, sly smirk playing at his lips, brow cocked in question. Having poured the dark brew into a mug Sasuke leisurely waltzed over to the Kazekage, offering the coffee to the man.
"You’re staring again," he chuckled as Gaara secured the mug. "I fear you’ve become obsessed."
Clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Gaara took a slow sip before replying. “I know. Want me to stop?”
The ring of laughter which escaped Sasuke was as sweet as it was condescending. “You couldn’t stop yourself even if you tried,” he scoffed, smug grin splayed across his features as he returned to retrieve his own coffee cup.
Gaara remained silent, following behind the raven to settle himself at the counter. After all, Sasuke was right; he couldn’t stop staring. Yet as he continued to watch his love tend to their breakfast, supercilious air following his each and every motion, Gaara couldn’t bring himself to care.