Unbearable Weight of Leaves

Delivery Part 2

I didn't care about the technicality of our marriage. Neither of us had been present. I may have consented, but it was out of... I wanted to be married to her. It was selfish, to a degree considering her state of unconsciousness. If I had chosen not to, the council may have been irritated but they wouldn't have said anything against it, not directly.

Finally, I heard steps coming down the stairs. I narrowed my eyes at the door frame which led to the stairs where the late culprit, whomever he was, would be arriving. I would accuse him of being late, and if confusion ensued, I would know I had forgotten the important task of telling them about the meeting to plan the day's events. I heard as the sound transitioned from stair to solid floor. Soon, I would chastise whomever approach.

"Sorry, Gaara, I got caught up in something." Kankuro spoke before he even entered the room.

So I had said it. "You are extremely late."

"Yeah, I know. Important day, and all that rot." He turned around the corner.

Every thought about yelling at him or crushing him to death in my sand left my mind the moment he came into view. I stared at him blatantly, confused as to why he did... whatever it was he had done. "What are you wearing? Are you attempting to mock me?"

He frowned at me, the slight gloss to his lips catching the light as he did. "What, can't a guy change his makeup around for a day to see what it looks like?"

"You decided on ceremonial bridal makeup as an experiment?"

He gave a small shrug and flopped into a chair. "So what's for breakfast?"

"Air. You are more than an hour late."

He groaned. He muttered an 'I'm gonna kill him' under his breath then folded his arms.

I tilted my head in question to his reaction, but before I could voice it, steps bounded down the stairs and my son appeared in the room. "Hey, cooking this morning?" He fell into the chair next to me and gave me a blank stare.

"You are late."

He hummed. "Not cooking then." He looked over to the cupboards and a frown formed. "I could do it I guess."

"Yes, you should." Kankuro narrowed his daintily outlined eyes at my son. "You owe me."

"Fine, whatever." He shoved off of his chair and started to grab things out of the cupboard and fridge.

"What does he owe you for?" I shifted my eyes to my brother, curious to what they were talking about.

He shifted in his chair and looked over to Shinki. "Oh, uh, I cooked him breakfast the other day."

I raised one of my brows at him. Kankuro, cook? "You cooked for Shinki?"

"Trust me, it isn't something you wanted to experience." Shinki shot me a pained look.

"Hey!" Kankuro leaned forward in his chair.

"Then why are you paying him back?"

Shinki chuckled as he began to chop onions. "Because the other option for breakfast would be a repeat of his cooking." He turned to me. "How do you want your eggs?"

"Scrambled."

I glared at Kankuro. "Poached with a side of toast."

Shinki turned back to his pan. "Scrambled it is."

I sighed. I should have known it was a trick question. Shinki never showed much interest in cooking and usually took the act of doing it as a punishment. I turned my attention back to my brother, my ridiculous looking brother, while my more sane son cooked us breakfast. Though, admittedly, at this point it was more like lunch. "After we eat, I would like to rehearse the story with you. I want to make sure I include every necessary point and make sure I enact it perfectly."