The Flower Shop [A Gaara Love Story]

21: Normal

"It's strange," Gaara said, drawing her attention to him again, "We've eaten together so many times before, and yet this feels different."

"Those were never dates." She said, trying to say it casually despite the way her cheeks still colored a bit.

"No," He replied, "I suppose they weren't."

They sat in silence for a moment more, before she spoke.

"I'm surprised you asked, in all honesty." She admitted, and his gaze flickered up to her.

"Technically, you asked me."

She shifted in her seat, "I suggested dinner, or breakfast. I didn't think of it as a date until you said so."

"Do you not want this to be a date?"

"No!" She said quickly, so much so that it seemed to startle him a bit. Realizing her eagerness, Momoko fiddled with the hem of her dress, "N-No, I...I'm really glad this is a date."

"I'm glad, too."

Eventually, the more they sipped at their drinks and the more they adjusted to this new circumstance, things slipped right into place for them. Soon the nervousness of before had melted away and though they both knew that this was a very different context, they slipped into the familiar ease with each other that they had in the afternoons. She drank a little more than he did, but not so much so that she swayed where she sat or hiccuped when she talked. The sake filled her with a comfortable warmth and from the small smile that seemed to stay on Gaara's lips, he felt it too.

The meats and vegetables came out quicker than they expected, but they didn't mind. They talked about anything that came to mind, but the sight of a family getting up and walking past them drew her attention for a moment. She giggled at the silly little boy that babbled away in his parent's arms, then turned to Gaara with a new question on her mind.

"Gaara," She started, "What were your parents like?"

He paused, lowering his chopsticks as he turned his eyes up to meet hers. She was smiling at him, her cheeks red from both the company and the alcohol. It occurred to him then that they had never really talked about their parents- it hadn't come up before. Gaara didn't want to disappoint her, but the topic was already uncomfortable to talk about and the last place he wanted to do so was in the middle of a restaurant.

"I will tell you another time, if that's alright." He said evenly, then resumed turning the meat on the grill, "May I ask about yours?"

It wasn't very often that Gaara didn't answer her questions, which is why she knew better than to press on about it now. If he wanted to tell her, he would in his own time. For now though, she was more than happy to share that part of her life with him.

"Of course!" She said, "My parents weren't shinobi, as you probably guessed already. They met when they were teenagers, fell in love, and had me. They opened the shop a couple of years after I was born, they're the ones who made the flowers so important to me."

Gaara listened quietly and respectfully, just as he always did, before asking.

"What were they like?"

The smile that came to her lips was warm, and the look in her eye became a little more distant as she absently turned over one of the vegetables.

"They were wonderful. My dad was the one who dreamed about the shop, he taught me everything I know about tending to and planting the flowers. He always tried to make me laugh whenever he could, that usually meant throwing dirt at me or blowing bubbles in his tea at dinner," She laughed softly, "My mom didn't like the dirt part very much, but she was as silly as he was. When she read stories to me as a kid she always had different voices for each character and used these big, dramatic gestures on every page. They always left notes for me around the house, too, in places where they knew I'd find them. They were just little things, like wishing me a good day or telling me they loved me. I have all of them in a box at home."