I think the family is the place where the most ridiculous and least respectable things in the world go on.
-Ugo Betti

"Put him down Gaara--please? I know he deserves it," Temari smartly ignored the panicked grunt several yards above her head. "But we need him alive and he'll nose-bleed to death if you keep him upside-down much longer."

The youngest member of the family didn't spare her a glance.

In Gaara lay the culmination of decades of research, sacrifice, and avarice. He was, to date, the finest blend of artificially created occult inhuman power and shrewd human intelligence, while still seeming somewhat sane, if not actually being sane.

He was also just over fourteen years old with the mind of seven-year-old boy who didn't want to finish his spinach.

"No."

Temari's face darkened momentarily. Yes, she wasn't suicidal enough to provoke the baby of the family too much. Yes, she had a temper of her own. Yes, the eldest of the family irritated her lethally on daily basis and probably did deserve whatever got thrown at him. But...

It wasn't good to let an animal get used to biting the hand that fed it. It led to problems.

"If you hurt him, he'll bitch for weeks. If you kill him, we'll both have to fill out paperwork until we bleed and we'll get reassigned another new member."

Temari paused. Gaara hated people. Or rather, having to deal with people. He dealt with them badly, and they broke fairly soon.

There was a muffled, "Ie ate oo," from above that both ignored.

Temari tilted her head to one side. "If you put him down, I'll grind some ice for sherbets."

Gaara still didn't turn around to face her, his attention on the lump of sand and body against the pale sky. But he did answer.

"I can do that myself. I don't need you."

Which summed it all up rather charmingly in red. Gaara, in his own defense and for sick pleasure, had killed ninja more experienced and older than himself, and way more advanced than his siblings: chunnin, jounnin, and the rare fighter who rose above standard classification. He made it painfully obvious that he really didn't them to keep breathing. He still said he didn't need them at all, even after whatever Naruto had said to him. He didn't threaten them with death anymore--just prolonged hospitalizations.

Temari held in a sigh.

She was beginning to find it helped to think of Gaara not as a loose flying knife or half-starved predator (even if he did look like one), but rather like a wild animal finding that laying next to the fireplace was nicer than being out in the storm. Not necessarily better, which explained the occasional regressions, but warmer and more comfortable. It wasn't taming--it wasn't even domestication. It was more like reaching a compromise, an understanding between the normal and freaky.

"Yeah, but I'll be making it for you. Special."

Gaara didn't turn around.

Personally, Kankuro thought he hit the earth a lot harder than strictly necessary. On the ground, the flat still-not-alive ground, he groaned. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong or differently or even why he'd been attacked, but everything hurt unfairly. Individual muscles called out for a revolution and justice before getting tired and wishing they had a drink instead. Or some ice. And a nap too.

Temari snorted and kicked him in the ribs, "You're such an idiot. How the hell you managed to live this fucking long is--"

A lifetime is a long time--long enough to learn how tune that annoying monotonous little buzz buzz sound out, and Kankuro did, but not before reasserting his authority as head of the family.

Still face down, annoyed, pissed, and aching, Kankuro chose the best reflexive answer to most of his arrogant snot-nosed sister's sweet nothings. Temari glared at the raised finger, at the back of his head, kicked him one final time and marched inside.

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