TIE. ME. DOWN. (Chapter 8 :O)
Title: Tie Me Down; Chapter 8
Pairings: ShikaChou, ShikaTema(is mostly over). A mention of ChouOC.
Genre: Drama, Romance.
Rating: R on the whole. 14-A for this chapter. (OooOoh ;B)
Warnings: Non-Beta-ed, Post time-jump (But you don’t need to have read it to understand, just beware of some minor spoilers), AU, Yaoi, Het, character death, OC’s (Realistic and not central). Very possible that I won’t finish.
Notes: OHMIGAWD LONG FREAKIN WAIT MUCH?! Hehe, does anyone realize it's been over a year since I started writing this monster? X|
Maybe OOC? Tell me if so.
Also a WARNING: Implied naughty business with uh, one person...
That means implied wanking, you wanksters! *PPPFFTHPFPTPTTPPFFHTH!!!* XP
When Chouji spoke, his voice cracked.
“Dad?”
~~~
There was a resounding clunk and a few tinkles of breaking glass as Chouza dropped the bags he was holding. A jar of something or other toppled out of one the bags and rolled slowly across the floor, making it the only sound that lasted in the quiet room. A couple of whispers broke out and the crowd parted, as seamlessly as if they were a single unit, to let Chouji through.
He hesitated then slowly stepped forward, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight, as they tended to do with Chouza as well.
Now that Shikamaru looked at them next to each other (despite the dreadfulness of the situation) he couldn’t help but muse on how similar they were. Both with their untidy manes, their thin, tearing eyes, and their huge… well, everything about them was huge.
But, they were also different, Chouji was a bit taller than his father, his face was not quite as squinty as his fathers and his hair was a much different colour, he was also tanner and of course the symbols on their cheeks were completely different.
Still, there was no mistaking how much Chouji had grown to be like his dad.
As Chouji reached his father he put a hand on his shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes. Chouza’s face looked about ready to crumple in on itself, his bottom lip was shaking and his eyes were welling up with tears.
Any normal person would have been crushed from the hug Chouza gave his son.
“My son, oh my boy. My little boy…you came home…you came home…” Chouza muttered over his silent shaky crying, his arms wrapped tight around his only child. Chouji was also falling apart, emotionally and, well, it seemed as if all the traveling and stress of everything had finally done in his body too. He looked as unsteady as if Chouza was the only thing holding him up.
Everyone seemed to think this was a good time to leave, they all shuffled around a bit awkwardly then snuck by Chouji and Chouza and left, some of them saying good bye or patting Chouji on the back as they did so. Even Ino and Asuma left, knowing it was not their place to interfere just then.
Shikamaru turned away from the crying father and son and rubbed his forehead. He picked up the jar that had rolled toward him and looked at the label. Honey.
“I guess I’ll make some tea.” He muttered.
~~~
Soon they were all seated and drinking Tea. Chouji was explaining everything to Chouza… well not everything, but where he had been and why he was back. Shikamaru still felt as if he was hiding something.
Chouza was taking everything very well; he didn’t look at all angry, surprisingly. He actually looked the happiest and most relieved Shikamaru had seen him in a long time. He expected that Chouza was just happy to have his son home safe, alive and well.
“…So, there was nothing out there left for us. I thought we might-” Chouji was cut off by his father.
“Wait, us?” He questioned. Chouji hadn’t mentioned Cho yet.
“Well, dad… you’re a grandfather.” Chouji replied and slowly Chouza’s face broke into an astonished, rather confused smile.
“I am?!”
“You have a beautiful granddaughter. Her name is Cho, you know, I wanted to continue the tradition. She looks a lot like you.”
“Oh, dear. Poor child!” Chouza chuckled, Chouji laughed as well.
“Well, where is she? I want to meet her!” Chouza began to stand up and Shikamaru sighed and stood up too. Motioning for Chouza to sit back down.
“She’s with Shikari in the back yard, I’ll go get them.” He moved into the hallway and called down it.
“SHIKARI!” He yelled. He had to wait a few seconds before he saw the back door open and Shikari peek her tiny head through and glare at him.
“What?!” She called back.
“Chouza’s home, he wants to meet Cho.”
“’Kay.” She said and disappeared for a second before she reappeared, pulling Cho behind her by the hand. Cho, small and pink-clad, smiled and teetered along compliantly.
As soon as she saw Chouza she tilted her head in a confused sort of way.
Chouza looked about ready to start crying again.
~~~
The next few hours of reunion were filled with much familial bonding, many hugs, lots of laughter and crying and a lot of moments where Shikamaru felt awkward and out of place. He kept trying to leave but Chouza would always stop him, saying something like “Oh, but don’t you want to hear another one of Chouji’s stories, Shikamaru?” or “You’re one of the family, Shikamaru. Chouji wants you here too, don’t you Chouji?” then Shikamaru would feel the pangs of guilt and sit back down.
He didn’t want to be part of Chouji’s family right now, and he couldn’t understand how Chouza was so accepting of his son’s return. Was he just a horrible person? Was he supposed to just forget everything and welcome Chouji back with open arms, like his father had?
Wasn’t he supposed to be Chouji’s best friend?
Shikamaru shifted uncomfortably on his part of the couch, the other two thirds of it being occupied by a beaming Chouza, holding his sleeping granddaughter comfortingly against his chest. He hadn’t been listening the past few minutes but Chouji was apparently reminiscing with his father about some memory or another, avoiding any eye contact with Shikamaru. Every once and a while throughout the past couple of hours he had glanced worriedly at Shikamaru, and when Shikamaru would only stare vacantly back at him or even look away, he would just sigh quietly and continue talking to Chouza.
Shikamaru had no intention on being part of their conversation.
“I remember when you two were just boys...” Chouza began, starting up another ‘when you were just boys’ anecdote. The kind he couldn’t seem to stop telling, the kind that cause Shikamaru’s stomach to tighten and made him wish he could just use a replacement jutsu and get out of the situation all together.
Of course, he had already formulated over two-hundred-and-eighty strategies, all of which could get him out of his present discomfort, but he doubted that would bide well with Chouza. As much as he might hate being around Chouji at the moment, he didn’t want to hurt Chouza. So he dug his nails into the couch and readied himself.
“…You two were instant friends. I’d never seen two children get along so well, so immediately.” Chouji smiled uncomfortably and Shikamaru scowled and crossed his arms. “I always thought it was destiny that made you two meet each other. Just before you arrived at that old stone bench, Shikamaru… did I ever tell you about this? Anyway, just before you arrived I was telling Chouji-”
“Dad, come on. You don’t need to tell this one.” Chouji interrupted.
“It’s a good story Chouji. I don’t mind.” Chouza replied, brushing off Chouji’s protests. “Do you remember it Chouji? You were upset because some of the village children had mad fun of you, and I told you that one day you would find a friend who would see what a wonderful person you were, and that when that happened, to treat that person well.” Chouza smiled. “Then Shikamaru arrived and, well, you two were pretty much inseparable after that.”
“Now…” He paused for a second. “…It seems fate has brought you two together once again.” He then turned to Shikamaru and stared at him in an expectant sort of way. When Shikamaru did nothing he made matters worse by motioning towards Chouji with his head. What did he expect him to do? Shikamaru stood up.
“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll leave you two to talk some more and head over to Ino’s for the night.” Chouza looked confused.
“Why do that?” He questioned, “You live here.”
“Oh, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” Chouji chose that moment to butt in with another question. “How did Shikamaru end up moving in with you, dad?” He asked.
Chouza waved a dismissive hand. “It was just the way things happened to turn out.” He replied, avoiding an actual answer.
“It really doesn’t concern you,” Shikamaru lied, “but either way, it would still be too crowded with all of us here. I’ll take Shikari with me and we’ll stay at Ino’s tonight.”
“Psh, it won’t be crowded. I’ll pull out a futon for Chouji and little Cho here can sleep on the couch.” Chouza argued, his smile becoming somewhat impish. “Unless of course… you’d rather he sleep in your bed?”
Chouji broke out into a strained cough while Shikamaru glared fiercely at Chouza, a blush growing on both their faces.
“Um, heh, the futon sounds fine, dad.” Chouji muttered with an embarrassed chuckle. Shikamaru rolled his eyes.
“Che…how troublesome. Use the bed Chouji.” He snapped.
“What?” Chouji looked stunned, his blush still going strong.
“I’ll take the futon. You’ve been traveling for days, don’t be a hero and take the bed.” He shrugged, “It’s more comfortable, and I’ll have Shikari sleep out here as well. Your little girl’s obviously exhausted and it gets pretty uncomfortable on that couch. It wasn’t made for sleeping.”
Chouji looked about to refuse but Shikamaru shook his head pointedly and held up a hand, so he simply asked, “Won’t Shikari mind?”
“I’ll take the couch instead of her then, and either way she sleeps like a rock.”
Chouji still looked unsure, but Chouza was grinning; happy to see the two men were (at least, in his eyes) getting along at last. So he sighed and nodded.
“Excellent, everything all worked out then, Shikamaru?” Chouza asked. Shikamaru nodded.
“Great! It is however, like you said before, getting late and I think little Cho here should be put to bed soon.” He stared lovingly down at the mop of brown hair resting on his chest and smiled. Chouji made to take her from Chouza, so as to carry her to Shikari’s room but Chouza stopped him.
“I can do it. I did put you to bed every night for nearly seven years, after all.” He stood up carefully and carried the girl down the hall. Then he opened the closet door with one hand, softly lowered the sleeping child into the bed and safely tucked her in, all without her stirring even once.
He stared down at her for a moment.
“I remember when you were just a baby Chouji-”
“Dad.”
“Alright, alright, no more stories. I think we all better get to sleep, well, I should at least. You boys can stay up for as long as you like. You’re not children any more.” He smiled at them in turn, gave Chouji another hug (“It’s good to have you back home, son.”) and retired to his own room.
Shikamaru and Chouji were left alone in the living room, trying to avoid looking at each other. They stood there for several long, uncomfortable moments.
“Shikamaru-”
“I think I’m going to sleep now, too.” He interrupted, too tired and stressed to continue their conversation from three hours ago, “My room’s down the hall to the left, it used to be the dining room… goodnight, Chouji.”
“…Goodnight, Shikamaru.” Chouji replied, dejectedly and turned around, heading down the hallway and disappearing around a corner without a second glance.
Shikamaru sighed and collapsed onto the sofa. It was a good ten minutes before he eventually got up enough drive to get up, put the tea dishes in the sink, drag Shikari away from reading her books in the study and get out the futon, blankets and pillows for each of them. When he had finally gotten dressed for bed, said goodnight to Shikari and turned off the lights he didn’t even have to wait for his head to touch the pillow before he passed out, distressing thoughts melting away into nothing.
~~~
The next morning Shikamaru took a walk first thing. He normally didn’t like walking (or any kind of exercise) but he just needed to get away for a while.
Shikamaru was used to a routine in his life, not that he wasn’t always ready for a break in the routine, a Ninja had to be prepared for anything, but…
Well, lets just say that everything had been going “according to plan” for the past five or so years of his life. No power-thirsty warlords had invaded the town; he’d been given no backbreaking or traumatic missions, none of his close friends and/or family had been captured, tortured or killed.
He life was a breeze compared to some of Konoha’s inhabitants. He hadn’t gone through the hell of loosing someone he loved, like Naruto had with Sasuke and like so many Shinobi had gone through with their team mates, parents and children.
He had come close to it once, a few years ago, when Asuma was almost killed by a particularly sadistic Akatsuki member. Luckily, Ino had managed to get him medical attention quick enough. Shikamaru wasn’t doing heavy missions at that point and wasn’t there to see it happen, he couldn’t imagine what he’d have done if…
Shikamaru guessed it was just his turn. Everyone else had had a ride on the drama-train; he’d been waiting at the station for six years.
Shikamaru laughed quietly and it turned into a sigh. The sky was darkening, and with the dimming came a rather forced quiet; he could sense something was coming. Sure enough, it started to rain. It didn’t start lightly either, it all came down in an instant like a giant water-filled bucket had been dumped over his head, and it just kept coming.
He put his arms over his head and walked a little faster, heading towards Ichiraku Ramen (which he had just noticed was nearby) for temporary shelter. He reached it within a few moments but his clothes were already soaked by the time he sat down on a stool and hastily ordered sake from a rather taken-aback Ayame, who complied quickly.
Shikamaru, as well as not a big walker, was not a big drinker, but if there was ever a time to indulge and forget about life for a while this was it. Unfortunately, the warming sensation of the first cutting sip was quickly forgotten when a massive figure slid with surprising effortlessness into the seat beside him.
“Go away, you’ve ruined my life.” Shikamaru complained to Chouji, in a voice that was practically a whisper, but still seemed to carry over the surrounding storm.
Chouji didn’t say anything, he didn’t react at all, and in fact he didn’t even look at Shikamaru. He just ordered a bowl of ramen and while he waited the two men sat in silence, listening to the rain.
When the ramen arrived Chouji finally spoke.
“How did I ruin your life? How can you ruin a life that’s not being lived?”
“I was living my life.”
“You hate your life, that’s why you don’t do anything, that’s why you’re not fighting any more.” Chouji sounded odd, like he was a little boy again, pouting because it was still an hour to lunchtime and he had eaten his last bag of chips. He sounded like he was being denied something delicious.
“I don’t fight any more because of you. Everything wrong in my life has something to do with you and your stupid ideas…leaving town, coming home…” Shikamaru blinked at the contradiction that had just come from his own mouth. If that was the case then nothing Chouji could do now was right, nothing would please him.
“Then what can I do?” Chouji responded, echoing Shikamaru’s own conclusion.
But Shikamaru had already reached another conclusion; a very painful and obvious one. He turned in his seat to face his former friend.
“Stay. All you can do is stay.” He looked at Chouji… except it wasn’t Chouji, he was younger. They were both young again and was anything better? Even if Shikamaru could rewind time this would have to happen eventually.
He reached forward and grabbed Chouji’s shoulders with his hands, pulling him into a kiss. He didn’t close his eyes but he watched as Chouji did, his face tightening and lips separating a little as they moved against Shikamaru’s; soft and hungry. Shikamaru felt like he was miles away from the other man and hazily deepened the kiss, willing it to solve everything. He not so much saw as felt Chouji bring a hand to his back and pull him in closer, and he wrapped his arms around the larger man and closed his eyes, their tongues touched.
A crash and a scream made him pull away; He turned and saw Ayame, who was standing behind the counter with a look of pure terror, dishes at her feet. She pointed a shaking finger at, no, past them.
Suddenly a horrible shriek sounded from behind them, it rang like a thousand angry bells in Shikamaru’s head and he turned sharply around to face it…
…and promptly fell off the couch, waking suddenly just before hitting the ground. He instinctually protected himself by lifting up his head and legs and absorbing the force with his back. He groaned and sat up, noticing he was tangled up in blankets and the futon beside him was empty and not made.
Oh God, just a dream...
He scratched his head. His stiff, coarse hair wasn’t in it’s usual elastic, but none the less stuck up and down in all directions from force of habit and poor maintenance. Some of it was stuck to his face, which was sweaty, as was the rest of him. He felt as wet as if he had just been in an actual rainstorm, and was breathing a little heavier than usual. He checked his pulse, it was bit fast.
Taking a minute to calm down, he then untangled himself from the sweat-drenched covers and stashed them hastily under a couch cushion, he’d deal with the mess later, or not. Right now all he needed to focus on was taking a shower, a cold one.
He stood up slowly and stretched, yawning. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all, the dream was the kind where it feels so real that you almost have trouble accepting that it wasn’t when you wake up. Like someone telling you your favourite television program never existed, or, in his case, that clouds didn’t exist, and were only figments of his lonely imagination.
Not that it was that good of a dream; in fact, it had served only to make him angrier and more confused than he had been when he went to sleep the previous night.
Shikamaru went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He stripped off his pajamas quickly and threw them into a corner before turning on the tap of the bath. Adjusting it so that it was just cold enough to send a person into hypothermic shock, he stepped in.
He hissed as the freezing water hit his body and washed-up quickly, barely letting the soap touch his skin before it was washed away.
The reason he did this was that he knew if he had he had a long, hot shower, it would give him time to think. He would inevitably end up thinking about the dream, which would cause him to think about the kiss. Which would probably lead to other thoughts and feelings he didn’t really want to think and feel and he couldn’t think and feel because he was so angry at Chouji and he had to go to class today and he had a daughter to raise and a sweaty blanket stuffed under a couch cushion to burn and-
Shikamaru groaned and twisted the bath knob to the left, causing heat to spill around him, as sharp as the cold had been. He stood for a moment then his knees weakened and he slouched against the shower wall, his bare shoulder flat against the cold tile. He closed his eyes and touched himself. First his neck, both hands, massaging away the stiffness from the couch and cold shower, then he moved a hand down across his prominent collar bone, Chouza said he should eat more and maybe he should. He felt so weak now, faced with the image of Chouji in his mind, strong and gigantic, unmovable, a wonderful father and a generous, decent person and most of all… twice the man Shikamaru was, not just literally.
Shikamaru almost smiled at the thought and unconsciously moved his hand lower, down his chest. How much had Chouji faced? An outsider, alone but for a civilian woman and a little girl in a foreign land with no one to protect him and everyone to protect.
He had to be so strong, so good, to do that much for the people he loved. He had to do it despite what everyone thought (never mind how much it pissed his best friend off) because it was the right thing the do and…they needed him.
“Agh, mnh.” Shikamaru groaned throatily as his hand moved lower. He was almost fighting it now.
He couldn’t have done that, right? Could he have done what Chouji had, could he possibly be that strong (oh God, so strong) for anyone in the world? …Could he have done that for Temari?
Shikamaru’s eyes sprang open and he realized where his hand now was and what he was doing with it, realized he was panting heavily and… he realized a few other things too.
“How…ah… troublesome.” Shikamaru panted, running a hand through his hair and trying to shake it off, his mind working at a heated pace.
He might hate Chouji for a lot of reasons, but he loved him for even more.
He switched off the tap.
~~~
End of Chapter Eight.
Pairings: ShikaChou, ShikaTema(is mostly over). A mention of ChouOC.
Genre: Drama, Romance.
Rating: R on the whole. 14-A for this chapter. (OooOoh ;B)
Warnings: Non-Beta-ed, Post time-jump (But you don’t need to have read it to understand, just beware of some minor spoilers), AU, Yaoi, Het, character death, OC’s (Realistic and not central). Very possible that I won’t finish.
Notes: OHMIGAWD LONG FREAKIN WAIT MUCH?! Hehe, does anyone realize it's been over a year since I started writing this monster? X|
Maybe OOC? Tell me if so.
Also a WARNING: Implied naughty business with uh, one person...
That means implied wanking, you wanksters! *PPPFFTHPFPTPTTPPFFHTH!!!* XP
When Chouji spoke, his voice cracked.
“Dad?”
~~~
There was a resounding clunk and a few tinkles of breaking glass as Chouza dropped the bags he was holding. A jar of something or other toppled out of one the bags and rolled slowly across the floor, making it the only sound that lasted in the quiet room. A couple of whispers broke out and the crowd parted, as seamlessly as if they were a single unit, to let Chouji through.
He hesitated then slowly stepped forward, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight, as they tended to do with Chouza as well.
Now that Shikamaru looked at them next to each other (despite the dreadfulness of the situation) he couldn’t help but muse on how similar they were. Both with their untidy manes, their thin, tearing eyes, and their huge… well, everything about them was huge.
But, they were also different, Chouji was a bit taller than his father, his face was not quite as squinty as his fathers and his hair was a much different colour, he was also tanner and of course the symbols on their cheeks were completely different.
Still, there was no mistaking how much Chouji had grown to be like his dad.
As Chouji reached his father he put a hand on his shoulder and looked him dead in the eyes. Chouza’s face looked about ready to crumple in on itself, his bottom lip was shaking and his eyes were welling up with tears.
Any normal person would have been crushed from the hug Chouza gave his son.
“My son, oh my boy. My little boy…you came home…you came home…” Chouza muttered over his silent shaky crying, his arms wrapped tight around his only child. Chouji was also falling apart, emotionally and, well, it seemed as if all the traveling and stress of everything had finally done in his body too. He looked as unsteady as if Chouza was the only thing holding him up.
Everyone seemed to think this was a good time to leave, they all shuffled around a bit awkwardly then snuck by Chouji and Chouza and left, some of them saying good bye or patting Chouji on the back as they did so. Even Ino and Asuma left, knowing it was not their place to interfere just then.
Shikamaru turned away from the crying father and son and rubbed his forehead. He picked up the jar that had rolled toward him and looked at the label. Honey.
“I guess I’ll make some tea.” He muttered.
~~~
Soon they were all seated and drinking Tea. Chouji was explaining everything to Chouza… well not everything, but where he had been and why he was back. Shikamaru still felt as if he was hiding something.
Chouza was taking everything very well; he didn’t look at all angry, surprisingly. He actually looked the happiest and most relieved Shikamaru had seen him in a long time. He expected that Chouza was just happy to have his son home safe, alive and well.
“…So, there was nothing out there left for us. I thought we might-” Chouji was cut off by his father.
“Wait, us?” He questioned. Chouji hadn’t mentioned Cho yet.
“Well, dad… you’re a grandfather.” Chouji replied and slowly Chouza’s face broke into an astonished, rather confused smile.
“I am?!”
“You have a beautiful granddaughter. Her name is Cho, you know, I wanted to continue the tradition. She looks a lot like you.”
“Oh, dear. Poor child!” Chouza chuckled, Chouji laughed as well.
“Well, where is she? I want to meet her!” Chouza began to stand up and Shikamaru sighed and stood up too. Motioning for Chouza to sit back down.
“She’s with Shikari in the back yard, I’ll go get them.” He moved into the hallway and called down it.
“SHIKARI!” He yelled. He had to wait a few seconds before he saw the back door open and Shikari peek her tiny head through and glare at him.
“What?!” She called back.
“Chouza’s home, he wants to meet Cho.”
“’Kay.” She said and disappeared for a second before she reappeared, pulling Cho behind her by the hand. Cho, small and pink-clad, smiled and teetered along compliantly.
As soon as she saw Chouza she tilted her head in a confused sort of way.
Chouza looked about ready to start crying again.
~~~
The next few hours of reunion were filled with much familial bonding, many hugs, lots of laughter and crying and a lot of moments where Shikamaru felt awkward and out of place. He kept trying to leave but Chouza would always stop him, saying something like “Oh, but don’t you want to hear another one of Chouji’s stories, Shikamaru?” or “You’re one of the family, Shikamaru. Chouji wants you here too, don’t you Chouji?” then Shikamaru would feel the pangs of guilt and sit back down.
He didn’t want to be part of Chouji’s family right now, and he couldn’t understand how Chouza was so accepting of his son’s return. Was he just a horrible person? Was he supposed to just forget everything and welcome Chouji back with open arms, like his father had?
Wasn’t he supposed to be Chouji’s best friend?
Shikamaru shifted uncomfortably on his part of the couch, the other two thirds of it being occupied by a beaming Chouza, holding his sleeping granddaughter comfortingly against his chest. He hadn’t been listening the past few minutes but Chouji was apparently reminiscing with his father about some memory or another, avoiding any eye contact with Shikamaru. Every once and a while throughout the past couple of hours he had glanced worriedly at Shikamaru, and when Shikamaru would only stare vacantly back at him or even look away, he would just sigh quietly and continue talking to Chouza.
Shikamaru had no intention on being part of their conversation.
“I remember when you two were just boys...” Chouza began, starting up another ‘when you were just boys’ anecdote. The kind he couldn’t seem to stop telling, the kind that cause Shikamaru’s stomach to tighten and made him wish he could just use a replacement jutsu and get out of the situation all together.
Of course, he had already formulated over two-hundred-and-eighty strategies, all of which could get him out of his present discomfort, but he doubted that would bide well with Chouza. As much as he might hate being around Chouji at the moment, he didn’t want to hurt Chouza. So he dug his nails into the couch and readied himself.
“…You two were instant friends. I’d never seen two children get along so well, so immediately.” Chouji smiled uncomfortably and Shikamaru scowled and crossed his arms. “I always thought it was destiny that made you two meet each other. Just before you arrived at that old stone bench, Shikamaru… did I ever tell you about this? Anyway, just before you arrived I was telling Chouji-”
“Dad, come on. You don’t need to tell this one.” Chouji interrupted.
“It’s a good story Chouji. I don’t mind.” Chouza replied, brushing off Chouji’s protests. “Do you remember it Chouji? You were upset because some of the village children had mad fun of you, and I told you that one day you would find a friend who would see what a wonderful person you were, and that when that happened, to treat that person well.” Chouza smiled. “Then Shikamaru arrived and, well, you two were pretty much inseparable after that.”
“Now…” He paused for a second. “…It seems fate has brought you two together once again.” He then turned to Shikamaru and stared at him in an expectant sort of way. When Shikamaru did nothing he made matters worse by motioning towards Chouji with his head. What did he expect him to do? Shikamaru stood up.
“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll leave you two to talk some more and head over to Ino’s for the night.” Chouza looked confused.
“Why do that?” He questioned, “You live here.”
“Oh, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” Chouji chose that moment to butt in with another question. “How did Shikamaru end up moving in with you, dad?” He asked.
Chouza waved a dismissive hand. “It was just the way things happened to turn out.” He replied, avoiding an actual answer.
“It really doesn’t concern you,” Shikamaru lied, “but either way, it would still be too crowded with all of us here. I’ll take Shikari with me and we’ll stay at Ino’s tonight.”
“Psh, it won’t be crowded. I’ll pull out a futon for Chouji and little Cho here can sleep on the couch.” Chouza argued, his smile becoming somewhat impish. “Unless of course… you’d rather he sleep in your bed?”
Chouji broke out into a strained cough while Shikamaru glared fiercely at Chouza, a blush growing on both their faces.
“Um, heh, the futon sounds fine, dad.” Chouji muttered with an embarrassed chuckle. Shikamaru rolled his eyes.
“Che…how troublesome. Use the bed Chouji.” He snapped.
“What?” Chouji looked stunned, his blush still going strong.
“I’ll take the futon. You’ve been traveling for days, don’t be a hero and take the bed.” He shrugged, “It’s more comfortable, and I’ll have Shikari sleep out here as well. Your little girl’s obviously exhausted and it gets pretty uncomfortable on that couch. It wasn’t made for sleeping.”
Chouji looked about to refuse but Shikamaru shook his head pointedly and held up a hand, so he simply asked, “Won’t Shikari mind?”
“I’ll take the couch instead of her then, and either way she sleeps like a rock.”
Chouji still looked unsure, but Chouza was grinning; happy to see the two men were (at least, in his eyes) getting along at last. So he sighed and nodded.
“Excellent, everything all worked out then, Shikamaru?” Chouza asked. Shikamaru nodded.
“Great! It is however, like you said before, getting late and I think little Cho here should be put to bed soon.” He stared lovingly down at the mop of brown hair resting on his chest and smiled. Chouji made to take her from Chouza, so as to carry her to Shikari’s room but Chouza stopped him.
“I can do it. I did put you to bed every night for nearly seven years, after all.” He stood up carefully and carried the girl down the hall. Then he opened the closet door with one hand, softly lowered the sleeping child into the bed and safely tucked her in, all without her stirring even once.
He stared down at her for a moment.
“I remember when you were just a baby Chouji-”
“Dad.”
“Alright, alright, no more stories. I think we all better get to sleep, well, I should at least. You boys can stay up for as long as you like. You’re not children any more.” He smiled at them in turn, gave Chouji another hug (“It’s good to have you back home, son.”) and retired to his own room.
Shikamaru and Chouji were left alone in the living room, trying to avoid looking at each other. They stood there for several long, uncomfortable moments.
“Shikamaru-”
“I think I’m going to sleep now, too.” He interrupted, too tired and stressed to continue their conversation from three hours ago, “My room’s down the hall to the left, it used to be the dining room… goodnight, Chouji.”
“…Goodnight, Shikamaru.” Chouji replied, dejectedly and turned around, heading down the hallway and disappearing around a corner without a second glance.
Shikamaru sighed and collapsed onto the sofa. It was a good ten minutes before he eventually got up enough drive to get up, put the tea dishes in the sink, drag Shikari away from reading her books in the study and get out the futon, blankets and pillows for each of them. When he had finally gotten dressed for bed, said goodnight to Shikari and turned off the lights he didn’t even have to wait for his head to touch the pillow before he passed out, distressing thoughts melting away into nothing.
~~~
The next morning Shikamaru took a walk first thing. He normally didn’t like walking (or any kind of exercise) but he just needed to get away for a while.
Shikamaru was used to a routine in his life, not that he wasn’t always ready for a break in the routine, a Ninja had to be prepared for anything, but…
Well, lets just say that everything had been going “according to plan” for the past five or so years of his life. No power-thirsty warlords had invaded the town; he’d been given no backbreaking or traumatic missions, none of his close friends and/or family had been captured, tortured or killed.
He life was a breeze compared to some of Konoha’s inhabitants. He hadn’t gone through the hell of loosing someone he loved, like Naruto had with Sasuke and like so many Shinobi had gone through with their team mates, parents and children.
He had come close to it once, a few years ago, when Asuma was almost killed by a particularly sadistic Akatsuki member. Luckily, Ino had managed to get him medical attention quick enough. Shikamaru wasn’t doing heavy missions at that point and wasn’t there to see it happen, he couldn’t imagine what he’d have done if…
Shikamaru guessed it was just his turn. Everyone else had had a ride on the drama-train; he’d been waiting at the station for six years.
Shikamaru laughed quietly and it turned into a sigh. The sky was darkening, and with the dimming came a rather forced quiet; he could sense something was coming. Sure enough, it started to rain. It didn’t start lightly either, it all came down in an instant like a giant water-filled bucket had been dumped over his head, and it just kept coming.
He put his arms over his head and walked a little faster, heading towards Ichiraku Ramen (which he had just noticed was nearby) for temporary shelter. He reached it within a few moments but his clothes were already soaked by the time he sat down on a stool and hastily ordered sake from a rather taken-aback Ayame, who complied quickly.
Shikamaru, as well as not a big walker, was not a big drinker, but if there was ever a time to indulge and forget about life for a while this was it. Unfortunately, the warming sensation of the first cutting sip was quickly forgotten when a massive figure slid with surprising effortlessness into the seat beside him.
“Go away, you’ve ruined my life.” Shikamaru complained to Chouji, in a voice that was practically a whisper, but still seemed to carry over the surrounding storm.
Chouji didn’t say anything, he didn’t react at all, and in fact he didn’t even look at Shikamaru. He just ordered a bowl of ramen and while he waited the two men sat in silence, listening to the rain.
When the ramen arrived Chouji finally spoke.
“How did I ruin your life? How can you ruin a life that’s not being lived?”
“I was living my life.”
“You hate your life, that’s why you don’t do anything, that’s why you’re not fighting any more.” Chouji sounded odd, like he was a little boy again, pouting because it was still an hour to lunchtime and he had eaten his last bag of chips. He sounded like he was being denied something delicious.
“I don’t fight any more because of you. Everything wrong in my life has something to do with you and your stupid ideas…leaving town, coming home…” Shikamaru blinked at the contradiction that had just come from his own mouth. If that was the case then nothing Chouji could do now was right, nothing would please him.
“Then what can I do?” Chouji responded, echoing Shikamaru’s own conclusion.
But Shikamaru had already reached another conclusion; a very painful and obvious one. He turned in his seat to face his former friend.
“Stay. All you can do is stay.” He looked at Chouji… except it wasn’t Chouji, he was younger. They were both young again and was anything better? Even if Shikamaru could rewind time this would have to happen eventually.
He reached forward and grabbed Chouji’s shoulders with his hands, pulling him into a kiss. He didn’t close his eyes but he watched as Chouji did, his face tightening and lips separating a little as they moved against Shikamaru’s; soft and hungry. Shikamaru felt like he was miles away from the other man and hazily deepened the kiss, willing it to solve everything. He not so much saw as felt Chouji bring a hand to his back and pull him in closer, and he wrapped his arms around the larger man and closed his eyes, their tongues touched.
A crash and a scream made him pull away; He turned and saw Ayame, who was standing behind the counter with a look of pure terror, dishes at her feet. She pointed a shaking finger at, no, past them.
Suddenly a horrible shriek sounded from behind them, it rang like a thousand angry bells in Shikamaru’s head and he turned sharply around to face it…
…and promptly fell off the couch, waking suddenly just before hitting the ground. He instinctually protected himself by lifting up his head and legs and absorbing the force with his back. He groaned and sat up, noticing he was tangled up in blankets and the futon beside him was empty and not made.
Oh God, just a dream...
He scratched his head. His stiff, coarse hair wasn’t in it’s usual elastic, but none the less stuck up and down in all directions from force of habit and poor maintenance. Some of it was stuck to his face, which was sweaty, as was the rest of him. He felt as wet as if he had just been in an actual rainstorm, and was breathing a little heavier than usual. He checked his pulse, it was bit fast.
Taking a minute to calm down, he then untangled himself from the sweat-drenched covers and stashed them hastily under a couch cushion, he’d deal with the mess later, or not. Right now all he needed to focus on was taking a shower, a cold one.
He stood up slowly and stretched, yawning. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all, the dream was the kind where it feels so real that you almost have trouble accepting that it wasn’t when you wake up. Like someone telling you your favourite television program never existed, or, in his case, that clouds didn’t exist, and were only figments of his lonely imagination.
Not that it was that good of a dream; in fact, it had served only to make him angrier and more confused than he had been when he went to sleep the previous night.
Shikamaru went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He stripped off his pajamas quickly and threw them into a corner before turning on the tap of the bath. Adjusting it so that it was just cold enough to send a person into hypothermic shock, he stepped in.
He hissed as the freezing water hit his body and washed-up quickly, barely letting the soap touch his skin before it was washed away.
The reason he did this was that he knew if he had he had a long, hot shower, it would give him time to think. He would inevitably end up thinking about the dream, which would cause him to think about the kiss. Which would probably lead to other thoughts and feelings he didn’t really want to think and feel and he couldn’t think and feel because he was so angry at Chouji and he had to go to class today and he had a daughter to raise and a sweaty blanket stuffed under a couch cushion to burn and-
Shikamaru groaned and twisted the bath knob to the left, causing heat to spill around him, as sharp as the cold had been. He stood for a moment then his knees weakened and he slouched against the shower wall, his bare shoulder flat against the cold tile. He closed his eyes and touched himself. First his neck, both hands, massaging away the stiffness from the couch and cold shower, then he moved a hand down across his prominent collar bone, Chouza said he should eat more and maybe he should. He felt so weak now, faced with the image of Chouji in his mind, strong and gigantic, unmovable, a wonderful father and a generous, decent person and most of all… twice the man Shikamaru was, not just literally.
Shikamaru almost smiled at the thought and unconsciously moved his hand lower, down his chest. How much had Chouji faced? An outsider, alone but for a civilian woman and a little girl in a foreign land with no one to protect him and everyone to protect.
He had to be so strong, so good, to do that much for the people he loved. He had to do it despite what everyone thought (never mind how much it pissed his best friend off) because it was the right thing the do and…they needed him.
“Agh, mnh.” Shikamaru groaned throatily as his hand moved lower. He was almost fighting it now.
He couldn’t have done that, right? Could he have done what Chouji had, could he possibly be that strong (oh God, so strong) for anyone in the world? …Could he have done that for Temari?
Shikamaru’s eyes sprang open and he realized where his hand now was and what he was doing with it, realized he was panting heavily and… he realized a few other things too.
“How…ah… troublesome.” Shikamaru panted, running a hand through his hair and trying to shake it off, his mind working at a heated pace.
He might hate Chouji for a lot of reasons, but he loved him for even more.
He switched off the tap.
~~~
End of Chapter Eight.