Gift for tehlils!
Title: This is a fine romance
Recipient's name: tehlils
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Shikamaru/Temari
Disclaimer: None.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: I hope you like this, tehlils! ♥
Temari raised her head from where it rested against his shoulder, body warm despite the cold morning air. It was much colder in Suna, where Gaara was awaiting her return.
Brushing herself off, she stood, only looking down at Shikamaru after a few moments. She didn't say anything, her eyes dark in the rising sunlight as they communicated wordlessly, an argument carried out by the wave of a hand and an avoidant glare.
At the end of it, he nodded and she began walking, figure disappearing fast under the red sky.
☆ ★ ☆
They hadn't talked in nearly three weeks by the time she had returned to Konohagakure on another mission. Shikamaru greeted her with a grunt, both falling into step easily outside of Tsunade's office, as if they'd just met earlier that day instead of nearly a month previous.
Most of the shops were empty as they passed by them, a few children and older women walking around lazily. Both listened to snippets of conversation, their steps soft on the dry gravel. The wind passed in a whispered breeze between them - growing thicker and more tense, finally broken by a loud sigh from Temari.
Shikamaru turned just in time to see her hand reach out, grabbing him by the elbow and tugging him alongside her at a brisker pace. They were obviously searching for something, though what it was, Shikamaru couldn't imagine. After a few minutes of scouring, she released her hold, leaving him standing outside as she entered a small grocery stall, emerging shortly after - cigarette in hand, the rest of the pack tucked neatly against her thigh.
“Sick of having working lungs?” asked Shikamaru, frowning slightly.
“I thought I'd try something new,” she answered off-handedly, flicking the small lighter and inhaling. She coughed shallowly, ignoring Shikamaru's glare as she tried a second time. The coughing soon subsided and they walked again, stopping against a tree. Watching him carefully, she put out the first one and lit up another.
“That's not going to work,” he said coldly.
“It's getting you to talk, isn't it?” she asked.
Shikamaru turned away, looking up at the sky. He watched as the clouds passed overhead, wondering how things had gotten so complicated. It wasn't like he was meant to live this kind of life: he'd just wanted to be a ninja, maybe marry someone normal, settle down...
His fingers brushed hers as he reached over, taking the cigarette and bringing it to his lips. Temari watched, unsure what to do. Shikamaru looked oddly attractive smoking; she wondered if it was selfish to be enjoying the sight.
He exhaled slowly, smoke pouring from his lips in a thin stream. “I hate nicotine,” he said, frowning. Sighing, he looked at Temari. “Is this really what you want?”
“It's not about what I want!” she said for what she felt was the thousandth time. “You're a smart kid - you should use your brain instead of dreaming about clouds all the time!”
Shikamaru's eye twitched. “...Kid?” he repeated, annoyed.
“Stop being so fucking lazy,” she said, ignoring his comment. Shikamaru muttered, taking another drag off of his cigarette. “You only have two more days to decide...” she added more quietly.
He dropped the bit of cigarette he had left, stomping it into the ground before looking at her. “You're pushing this too hard.”
An odd feeling welled up in Temari's chest: sometimes, when Shikamaru looked at her like this, she found herself at a loss for words. It's what had stopped them talking three weeks beforehand, when he'd mentioned that he'd been offered a position as an official strategist for Konoha. Temari had suggested he take the position and he'd just looked at her, thoughtfully; neither had said a word to each other since.
She knew by now what held him back: he'd wanted to follow in Asuma's footsteps - to become a Jounin, to lead and teach young Konoha ninja the way he'd been led and taught. What she knew even stronger than that is how much the offer he'd gotten was a good fit for him...despite it requiring more of his time.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Shikamaru focused his eyes on a spot just past Temari's cheek. “It's not that easy,” he said carefully.
“I know, but -”
“Temari,” interrupted Shikamaru, his eyes finally meeting hers. They watched her evenly, that silent, thoughtful look behind them, letting her know he was weighing what he wanted to say. “...Meet me here tomorrow at a quarter to midnight.”
“Why?”
“Don't ask so many questions,” he said, waving her off and walking away. “Just be here.”
☆ ★ ☆
She was surprised to see him there early; normally Shikamaru took his time to arrive. He looked quieter than usual, staring outward at nothing. Temari approached carefully, momentarily re-thinking her last-minute change of dress. She was pretty sure Shikamaru wouldn't care, and that it didn't matter, but for some reason, she'd decided to try wearing something different - more tightly-fitting. Kankuro would have laughed at her, but he wasn't here.
It was with a faint trace of pink on her cheeks that she greeted Shikamaru, legs crossed easily as she leaned back against the bench. “You're early,” she said offhandedly.
Shikamaru didn't answer, sinking down next to her, his hand resting neatly in his lap. He stayed quiet for several moments before looking over at her, his eyes darker than usual somehow in the faint moonlight. Temari shivered slightly, not able to remember him looking this intense; a lingering thought resurfaced at the back of her mind and she tried to push it down further. Not now, she told herself silently.
Shaking his head, Shikamaru sighed. He reached into his pocket, dragging out a half-finished pack of cigarettes. Slowly, he shook it, one cigarette falling into his palm. Lighting it, he took a shallow drag and re-pocketed the pack.
“What happened to hating nicotine?” asked Temari, frowning.
Shikamaru shrugged. He leaned back, cigarette dangling from his lips. “If Asuma were still alive, he'd tell me to take the position,” he said thoughtfully, eyes focused on the sky, head lifted as if he were intending his words to reach the stars themselves.
“So then you should take it,” said Temari plainly.
“Yeah...” Shikamaru reached up, exhaling against the night before re-depositing the cigarette into his mouth. “But I don't want to.”
“Stupid.”
“Ah?” Shikamaru turned his head to face her.
“Stupid,” Temari repeated, growing annoyed. “Everyone knows this position is practically made for you. And instead of taking it, you're being lazy -”
Shikamaru snorted.
Temari bristled. “Asuma didn't have the same mind you do! There's no reason for you to choose not to do this! Just because he died -”
“Why are you so upset?” asked Shikamaru, sitting up and letting the cigarette fall from his lips onto the ground, crushing it gently underfoot.
“I-I'm not,” said Temari, taken aback at the switch of conversation.
“Even the Godaime wasn't this upset when I told her I needed some time to think it over,” said Shikamaru. “And she was drunk when I asked.”
Temari uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, facing away from Shikamaru - arms crossing to match. She felt grateful for the darkness of night, which covered the red flush in her cheeks, quickly spreading at Shikamaru's annoyingly observant words. Why did he have to pick up on those kinds of things?
“I don't know,” she answered finally. “I just am, all right?”
Shikamaru leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I guess he was right.”
“Who?” asked Temari.
“Asuma,” Shikamaru answered. “He said there was an absolute certainty that I'd marry a woman who was too much for me to handle.” A faint smirk slid across his features as he glanced sidelong at Temari.
Her mouth opened in surprise before she huffed, “I don't know where you get the idea I'm marrying you. You're three years younger than me.” She looked at the ground briefly. “And you're a smoker.”
“Who said I was talking about you?” asked Shikamaru.
If Temari had been red before, it was nothing in comparison to the mix of anger, embarrassment and frustration currently coloring her cheeks. She rose quickly, not bothering to turn around before she began to walk - her eyes narrowing when Shikamaru's hand closed over her wrist, pulling her towards him. He bent low, mouth meeting hers softly. Neither's eyes closed completely, bodies relaxing into the moment just before Shikamaru pulled back.
He winced as Temari's palm slapped loudly against his cheek. Keeping his hold on her wrist, he watched her carefully. “Was that for the kiss?”
Yanking her hand away, she glared at him. “You're so smart - you figure it out.” She stormed off and Shikamaru turned, walking in the opposite direction as his cheek began to blacken at the edges.
☆ ★ ☆
She was surprised to find him standing outside of her door in the morning. His cheek was dark, the faint outline of fingerprints perfectly visible. “What do you want?” she asked, brushing past him to gather her equipment for her return to Suna.
“I took the job,” he answered, leaning against the doorway.
She stopped in her movements briefly; knowing Shikamaru, he would catch onto the hesitation. Temari didn't care.
“You packed quickly,” he noted, his brow creasing. “You must have been up half the night.”
“Anger is a great stimulant,” she answered tersely, shoving the last item she needed into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Did you want something or are you coming up with some great door-blocking strategy to use in the future?”
Shikamaru moved out of her way and she stared at him for just a few seconds before taking the opening to leave. His footsteps sounded after hers, walking at a calm place. She stopped walking, still faced away from him. “Going to follow me all the way to Suna?”
“I'll be gone two months,” said Shikamaru. Temari turned around. “Can you last that long?”
“What do you mean, 'last'?” she spat.
He walked towards her, one hand reaching into his pocket and fishing out the half-finished pack of cigarettes. Tugging her hand outwards, he placed the partially-crushed pack onto the middle of her palm, closing her fingers over it.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, looking up at him. “Give myself lung cancer while you're gone?”
“Can't you just accept something without complaining?” he asked with annoyance.
“Not from you.” Her eyes were downcast as she considered his words. “Two months, huh?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes searched his face. “Is that why you hesitated to accept?”
Shikamaru's cheeks warmed to a light pink. “This conversation is too troublesome,” he muttered, hand reaching upward to scratch somewhat sheepishly at his head.
Hand closing over the pack of cigarettes, she pushed it down into one of her pockets, suddenly able to look everywhere but at Shikamaru's face. She couldn't remember agreeing to anything, but for some reason, it felt as if unspoken words occurred between them, an agreement formed in the shift of their bodies as Shikamaru took a step closer, Temari's hand reaching up to trace the faint lines on his cheek - lines she'd put there - in a vain effort to smooth them away. He winced and she withdrew, both taking one step back, eyes meeting awkwardly.
“Shikamaru.”
“Hm?”
The air hung between them: full of expectation, uncertainty and anticipation. Shikamaru's fingers twitched.
“If you come back dead like Asuma, I'll kill you,” she threatened, turning around and beginning the walk back home.
“If you're going to threaten me, at least have it make sense,” muttered Shikamaru to himself, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and beginning the walk back, a rare smile playing full across normally disagreeable lips.
Recipient's name: tehlils
Rating: PG
Pairing(s): Shikamaru/Temari
Disclaimer: None.
Warnings: None.
Author's Notes: I hope you like this, tehlils! ♥
Temari raised her head from where it rested against his shoulder, body warm despite the cold morning air. It was much colder in Suna, where Gaara was awaiting her return.
Brushing herself off, she stood, only looking down at Shikamaru after a few moments. She didn't say anything, her eyes dark in the rising sunlight as they communicated wordlessly, an argument carried out by the wave of a hand and an avoidant glare.
At the end of it, he nodded and she began walking, figure disappearing fast under the red sky.
☆ ★ ☆
They hadn't talked in nearly three weeks by the time she had returned to Konohagakure on another mission. Shikamaru greeted her with a grunt, both falling into step easily outside of Tsunade's office, as if they'd just met earlier that day instead of nearly a month previous.
Most of the shops were empty as they passed by them, a few children and older women walking around lazily. Both listened to snippets of conversation, their steps soft on the dry gravel. The wind passed in a whispered breeze between them - growing thicker and more tense, finally broken by a loud sigh from Temari.
Shikamaru turned just in time to see her hand reach out, grabbing him by the elbow and tugging him alongside her at a brisker pace. They were obviously searching for something, though what it was, Shikamaru couldn't imagine. After a few minutes of scouring, she released her hold, leaving him standing outside as she entered a small grocery stall, emerging shortly after - cigarette in hand, the rest of the pack tucked neatly against her thigh.
“Sick of having working lungs?” asked Shikamaru, frowning slightly.
“I thought I'd try something new,” she answered off-handedly, flicking the small lighter and inhaling. She coughed shallowly, ignoring Shikamaru's glare as she tried a second time. The coughing soon subsided and they walked again, stopping against a tree. Watching him carefully, she put out the first one and lit up another.
“That's not going to work,” he said coldly.
“It's getting you to talk, isn't it?” she asked.
Shikamaru turned away, looking up at the sky. He watched as the clouds passed overhead, wondering how things had gotten so complicated. It wasn't like he was meant to live this kind of life: he'd just wanted to be a ninja, maybe marry someone normal, settle down...
His fingers brushed hers as he reached over, taking the cigarette and bringing it to his lips. Temari watched, unsure what to do. Shikamaru looked oddly attractive smoking; she wondered if it was selfish to be enjoying the sight.
He exhaled slowly, smoke pouring from his lips in a thin stream. “I hate nicotine,” he said, frowning. Sighing, he looked at Temari. “Is this really what you want?”
“It's not about what I want!” she said for what she felt was the thousandth time. “You're a smart kid - you should use your brain instead of dreaming about clouds all the time!”
Shikamaru's eye twitched. “...Kid?” he repeated, annoyed.
“Stop being so fucking lazy,” she said, ignoring his comment. Shikamaru muttered, taking another drag off of his cigarette. “You only have two more days to decide...” she added more quietly.
He dropped the bit of cigarette he had left, stomping it into the ground before looking at her. “You're pushing this too hard.”
An odd feeling welled up in Temari's chest: sometimes, when Shikamaru looked at her like this, she found herself at a loss for words. It's what had stopped them talking three weeks beforehand, when he'd mentioned that he'd been offered a position as an official strategist for Konoha. Temari had suggested he take the position and he'd just looked at her, thoughtfully; neither had said a word to each other since.
She knew by now what held him back: he'd wanted to follow in Asuma's footsteps - to become a Jounin, to lead and teach young Konoha ninja the way he'd been led and taught. What she knew even stronger than that is how much the offer he'd gotten was a good fit for him...despite it requiring more of his time.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Shikamaru focused his eyes on a spot just past Temari's cheek. “It's not that easy,” he said carefully.
“I know, but -”
“Temari,” interrupted Shikamaru, his eyes finally meeting hers. They watched her evenly, that silent, thoughtful look behind them, letting her know he was weighing what he wanted to say. “...Meet me here tomorrow at a quarter to midnight.”
“Why?”
“Don't ask so many questions,” he said, waving her off and walking away. “Just be here.”
☆ ★ ☆
She was surprised to see him there early; normally Shikamaru took his time to arrive. He looked quieter than usual, staring outward at nothing. Temari approached carefully, momentarily re-thinking her last-minute change of dress. She was pretty sure Shikamaru wouldn't care, and that it didn't matter, but for some reason, she'd decided to try wearing something different - more tightly-fitting. Kankuro would have laughed at her, but he wasn't here.
It was with a faint trace of pink on her cheeks that she greeted Shikamaru, legs crossed easily as she leaned back against the bench. “You're early,” she said offhandedly.
Shikamaru didn't answer, sinking down next to her, his hand resting neatly in his lap. He stayed quiet for several moments before looking over at her, his eyes darker than usual somehow in the faint moonlight. Temari shivered slightly, not able to remember him looking this intense; a lingering thought resurfaced at the back of her mind and she tried to push it down further. Not now, she told herself silently.
Shaking his head, Shikamaru sighed. He reached into his pocket, dragging out a half-finished pack of cigarettes. Slowly, he shook it, one cigarette falling into his palm. Lighting it, he took a shallow drag and re-pocketed the pack.
“What happened to hating nicotine?” asked Temari, frowning.
Shikamaru shrugged. He leaned back, cigarette dangling from his lips. “If Asuma were still alive, he'd tell me to take the position,” he said thoughtfully, eyes focused on the sky, head lifted as if he were intending his words to reach the stars themselves.
“So then you should take it,” said Temari plainly.
“Yeah...” Shikamaru reached up, exhaling against the night before re-depositing the cigarette into his mouth. “But I don't want to.”
“Stupid.”
“Ah?” Shikamaru turned his head to face her.
“Stupid,” Temari repeated, growing annoyed. “Everyone knows this position is practically made for you. And instead of taking it, you're being lazy -”
Shikamaru snorted.
Temari bristled. “Asuma didn't have the same mind you do! There's no reason for you to choose not to do this! Just because he died -”
“Why are you so upset?” asked Shikamaru, sitting up and letting the cigarette fall from his lips onto the ground, crushing it gently underfoot.
“I-I'm not,” said Temari, taken aback at the switch of conversation.
“Even the Godaime wasn't this upset when I told her I needed some time to think it over,” said Shikamaru. “And she was drunk when I asked.”
Temari uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, facing away from Shikamaru - arms crossing to match. She felt grateful for the darkness of night, which covered the red flush in her cheeks, quickly spreading at Shikamaru's annoyingly observant words. Why did he have to pick up on those kinds of things?
“I don't know,” she answered finally. “I just am, all right?”
Shikamaru leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I guess he was right.”
“Who?” asked Temari.
“Asuma,” Shikamaru answered. “He said there was an absolute certainty that I'd marry a woman who was too much for me to handle.” A faint smirk slid across his features as he glanced sidelong at Temari.
Her mouth opened in surprise before she huffed, “I don't know where you get the idea I'm marrying you. You're three years younger than me.” She looked at the ground briefly. “And you're a smoker.”
“Who said I was talking about you?” asked Shikamaru.
If Temari had been red before, it was nothing in comparison to the mix of anger, embarrassment and frustration currently coloring her cheeks. She rose quickly, not bothering to turn around before she began to walk - her eyes narrowing when Shikamaru's hand closed over her wrist, pulling her towards him. He bent low, mouth meeting hers softly. Neither's eyes closed completely, bodies relaxing into the moment just before Shikamaru pulled back.
He winced as Temari's palm slapped loudly against his cheek. Keeping his hold on her wrist, he watched her carefully. “Was that for the kiss?”
Yanking her hand away, she glared at him. “You're so smart - you figure it out.” She stormed off and Shikamaru turned, walking in the opposite direction as his cheek began to blacken at the edges.
☆ ★ ☆
She was surprised to find him standing outside of her door in the morning. His cheek was dark, the faint outline of fingerprints perfectly visible. “What do you want?” she asked, brushing past him to gather her equipment for her return to Suna.
“I took the job,” he answered, leaning against the doorway.
She stopped in her movements briefly; knowing Shikamaru, he would catch onto the hesitation. Temari didn't care.
“You packed quickly,” he noted, his brow creasing. “You must have been up half the night.”
“Anger is a great stimulant,” she answered tersely, shoving the last item she needed into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Did you want something or are you coming up with some great door-blocking strategy to use in the future?”
Shikamaru moved out of her way and she stared at him for just a few seconds before taking the opening to leave. His footsteps sounded after hers, walking at a calm place. She stopped walking, still faced away from him. “Going to follow me all the way to Suna?”
“I'll be gone two months,” said Shikamaru. Temari turned around. “Can you last that long?”
“What do you mean, 'last'?” she spat.
He walked towards her, one hand reaching into his pocket and fishing out the half-finished pack of cigarettes. Tugging her hand outwards, he placed the partially-crushed pack onto the middle of her palm, closing her fingers over it.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, looking up at him. “Give myself lung cancer while you're gone?”
“Can't you just accept something without complaining?” he asked with annoyance.
“Not from you.” Her eyes were downcast as she considered his words. “Two months, huh?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes searched his face. “Is that why you hesitated to accept?”
Shikamaru's cheeks warmed to a light pink. “This conversation is too troublesome,” he muttered, hand reaching upward to scratch somewhat sheepishly at his head.
Hand closing over the pack of cigarettes, she pushed it down into one of her pockets, suddenly able to look everywhere but at Shikamaru's face. She couldn't remember agreeing to anything, but for some reason, it felt as if unspoken words occurred between them, an agreement formed in the shift of their bodies as Shikamaru took a step closer, Temari's hand reaching up to trace the faint lines on his cheek - lines she'd put there - in a vain effort to smooth them away. He winced and she withdrew, both taking one step back, eyes meeting awkwardly.
“Shikamaru.”
“Hm?”
The air hung between them: full of expectation, uncertainty and anticipation. Shikamaru's fingers twitched.
“If you come back dead like Asuma, I'll kill you,” she threatened, turning around and beginning the walk back home.
“If you're going to threaten me, at least have it make sense,” muttered Shikamaru to himself, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and beginning the walk back, a rare smile playing full across normally disagreeable lips.