"Papa!" Risa says; Kakashi misses the time when she couldn't say her "p." Gaara had been a hot baba you know. Gently, he settles Karura on Gaara's chest, prompts Minato to sit. Everyone giggles through singing, eager for papa to try their pancakes.
He’s older now. Much older than the surely teenager he’d been nearly ten years ago, when he’d gone out of his way to avoid his birthdays. He’d told himself that it was because he had other things to do, that he didn’t have time for petty, ridiculous celebrations.
Gaara knows better now. He knows that, as much as he’d denied it, he’d been guilty for every year that passed where he was alive and his mother was not, even knowing that it was not his fault.
Now, there’s no irritated sigh or forced smiles. Now, the former kazekage’s smile is genuine as he sits up a little, resting against the piles of pillows so that he can cradle his infant daughter and kiss Minato’s little forehead.
His smile is genuine when he accepts hugs and kisses from his oldest daughter, and when he looks up at Kakashi — though then it’s just the tiniest bit wry.
Here, with his own little family surrounding him, Gaara has a reason to celebrate another year.
And the pancakes are amazing, he’s quick to assure his daughters, his son, and his husband.
