Fanfic Gift for demonoflight
Title: Table Manners
Gift For: demonoflight
Gift From: Tosca
Pairing: Shikamaru/Temari
Genre: Fluff?
Rating: G
Word Length: 1.100 aprox
Summary: There is a guest at Gaara’s dinner table. So… why the hell is he there anyway?
Author’s notes: Done for the naruto_rabu gift-exchange. Fluff isn’t really my thing, but this seemed like a fun idea. I mean… Shikamaru, having dinner with the sand-siblings? XD Priceless. I tried to keep Gaara clueless without making him seem dense, mainly because I think the concept of Temari dating would be completely alien to him… so much so he wouldn’t even consider it.
Table Manners
“So.”
“So...”
“Hm.”
“Why is he here again?”
“He came for dinner.”
“I can see that.” A pregnant pause. “Again: why?”
“Because I invited him?”
“Didn’t we just see him during the diplomatic meeting?”
“Your point being?”
Gaara opened his mouth to reply, but Kankuro’s muffled snort made him reconsider. Temari kept her arms crossed firmly over her chest, not giving an inch. Kankuro snorted again and gave their guest a rather awed - if not incredulous - look.
“You, man, have balls”, Kankuro said, pouring himself a rather hefty glass of wine.
Gaara examined the large quantity of alcohol his brother seemed to want to ingest, he examined Temari’s guarded frown and, last but not least, he examined the blank-faced shinobi that sat across the table. Gaara shook his head and gave Kankuro a heavily quizzical stare. “Why are you telling him that?”
Kankuro rolled his eyes and Gaara, not for the first time, felt that things like politics and human interaction were still way over his head. He had appointed Temari and Kankuro as diplomatic aides for a reason.
Now he just had to figure out how that was tied down to having Konoha’s diplomatic envoy at his table, sitting in front of him.
“So.” Gaara searched for something to say and came up empty-handed. “Shikamaru… is it?”
“Yes, Kazekage-sama.” Formal, stiffly formal. Gaara surmised it could be due to his presence, given that he did not make people feel at ease as a rule. But then, Temari’s obvious tension was not easily understandable. And Kankuro was… laughing. He was actually laughing behind his fists.
The sand rattled ominously in the gourd, drawing Shikamaru’s attention momentarily. Gaara studied him, trying to figure out why he would be there. The meeting had been strictly about their alliance, so there should be nothing that could not have been said there. Unless there was more news? Bad news? The kind that couldn’t be put before him in a meeting as Kazekage? What kind of news would that be?
Or was it something else? What did Temari know? And why the devil was Kankuro still laughing?
Gaara gave Shikamaru a hard stare as he came up with a possible reason. “Did you overbudget?”
Shikamaru blinked. “What?”
“Did you abuse your stipend during your stay?” Gaara pressed.
Kankuro seemed to be choking.
Temari passed her hand over her forehead. “Gaara… what on earth…?”
“So you are not in… “ Gaara’s mouth twisted in distaste. “… financial problems.”
Shikamaru’s puzzlement had fled, and a look of quiet amusement twinkled in his eyes. The sand hissed Gaara’s irritation, and the look fled.
“Then… why are you here and not dining at a lodge?”
“Because I was invited?”
Gaara processed that, realising that it had been a willing invitation, not just a matter of keeping the envoy comfortable. And speaking of comfortable… Gaara twisted his neck to give Temari a blank look. “You invited him to eat your cooking?”
Temari cracked her knuckles, a gesture Gaara understood well enough. “What about my cooking, little brother?”
Gaara rather liked it when she was pissed off at him; it was a simple emotion he could understand and relate to. She was also one of the few people who ever showed her displeasure with him with such clarity. Gaara didn’t usually stop to think about it, but he did feel there had to be something awry in him loving that his sister got angry at him. It sounded incoherent, at the very least.
“What. About. My. Cooking. Gaara?” Temari punctuated, eyes turning colder by the second.
Shikamaru sighed and murmured something that might have been about Temari being troublesome, though Gaara couldn’t be sure. He gave Shikamaru a dark, murderous frown just in case it had been that. Shikamaru, for all his shinobi training, seemed to be only minutes away from oozing under the table; and - interestingly - not out of fear.
At least, not fear of him, Gaara realised, with an insight he didn’t know he possessed. This was about… about… Temari?
“Why did you invite him?” Gaara asked, turning back to his sister.
“Because I want to poison him with my horrible cooking,” she snapped back.
Gaara blinked, once, and turned to Shikamaru. “And this is not about any diplomatic issue?”
Kankuro made a noncommittal sound. “It might be, if he’s here for dinner with the family.”
Gaara digested that too. He went back over the conversation in his mind and tried to shut out the mad, raucous laughter that rang cruelly at the back of his mind. He reviewed the past few meetings and conversations, what had been said, and who had said what to whom… and… after the meetings, Kankuro usually reviewed the files with Gaara while Temari… and the envoy - always the same envoy - … hm….
Temari and this shinobi always talked before and after meetings. What if it wasn’t only political talk? What if they were friends? Temari wasn’t completely intolerable… she had Gaara to compete with after all. So maybe they were friends.
But one didn’t invite friends to have dinner with one’s family. That much, Gaara did know.
And Kankuro was still laughing. And he had said this might turn into a diplomatic issue, and that meant that…
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Kankuro mimicked, pouring himself another glass between guffaws.
Gaara gave Shikamaru the boldest stare he could under the circumstances and Shikamaru had the grace to pale. “So you want to… marry my sister?”
This time, Kankuro was choking.
“Did you HAVE to sound so incredulous?” Temari demanded.
“That was rather… unexpected.” Shikamaru commented faintly.
“Then you don’t want to marry my sister,” Gaara went on, unflinching.
A heavy silence descended; Gaara became alarmingly aware of the fixed quality in Temari’s stare, as if she were almost… afraid?
“I… didn’t say that,” Shikamaru groused, visibly irritated. The sand rustled in response and Shikamaru gave the gourd a nasty glare. Gaara found himself liking the man… somewhat.
Temari was still stiff as a board. “What did you say, then?”
Shikamaru’s expression was bland as milk. “That dinner would be fine?”
“Temari’s cooking isn’t exactly fine…” Kankuro snickered. For a moment, Gaara thought she would try to kill him.
Shikamaru merely shrugged and leaned his chin in one hand. “If it’s edible…”
Gaara watched Temari rake her nails over her fan. Shikamaru only smiled as if such a gesture were fond to him. Kankuro was still enjoying himself far too much for his own good, and Gaara hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of being rather out of the loop. Temari was muttering something markedly obscene at all of them, and the look of blind fury on her face was daunting indeed.
Shikamaru, however, seemed to find it rather amusing.
Well, Gaara surmised. Either he’s mad, or he must love her.
Not that Gaara really knew much about that topic, but it was the best explanation he could find.
Important families are like potatoes. The best parts are underground.
--- Francis Bacon
The End
Gift For: demonoflight
Gift From: Tosca
Pairing: Shikamaru/Temari
Genre: Fluff?
Rating: G
Word Length: 1.100 aprox
Summary: There is a guest at Gaara’s dinner table. So… why the hell is he there anyway?
Author’s notes: Done for the naruto_rabu gift-exchange. Fluff isn’t really my thing, but this seemed like a fun idea. I mean… Shikamaru, having dinner with the sand-siblings? XD Priceless. I tried to keep Gaara clueless without making him seem dense, mainly because I think the concept of Temari dating would be completely alien to him… so much so he wouldn’t even consider it.
Table Manners
“So.”
“So...”
“Hm.”
“Why is he here again?”
“He came for dinner.”
“I can see that.” A pregnant pause. “Again: why?”
“Because I invited him?”
“Didn’t we just see him during the diplomatic meeting?”
“Your point being?”
Gaara opened his mouth to reply, but Kankuro’s muffled snort made him reconsider. Temari kept her arms crossed firmly over her chest, not giving an inch. Kankuro snorted again and gave their guest a rather awed - if not incredulous - look.
“You, man, have balls”, Kankuro said, pouring himself a rather hefty glass of wine.
Gaara examined the large quantity of alcohol his brother seemed to want to ingest, he examined Temari’s guarded frown and, last but not least, he examined the blank-faced shinobi that sat across the table. Gaara shook his head and gave Kankuro a heavily quizzical stare. “Why are you telling him that?”
Kankuro rolled his eyes and Gaara, not for the first time, felt that things like politics and human interaction were still way over his head. He had appointed Temari and Kankuro as diplomatic aides for a reason.
Now he just had to figure out how that was tied down to having Konoha’s diplomatic envoy at his table, sitting in front of him.
“So.” Gaara searched for something to say and came up empty-handed. “Shikamaru… is it?”
“Yes, Kazekage-sama.” Formal, stiffly formal. Gaara surmised it could be due to his presence, given that he did not make people feel at ease as a rule. But then, Temari’s obvious tension was not easily understandable. And Kankuro was… laughing. He was actually laughing behind his fists.
The sand rattled ominously in the gourd, drawing Shikamaru’s attention momentarily. Gaara studied him, trying to figure out why he would be there. The meeting had been strictly about their alliance, so there should be nothing that could not have been said there. Unless there was more news? Bad news? The kind that couldn’t be put before him in a meeting as Kazekage? What kind of news would that be?
Or was it something else? What did Temari know? And why the devil was Kankuro still laughing?
Gaara gave Shikamaru a hard stare as he came up with a possible reason. “Did you overbudget?”
Shikamaru blinked. “What?”
“Did you abuse your stipend during your stay?” Gaara pressed.
Kankuro seemed to be choking.
Temari passed her hand over her forehead. “Gaara… what on earth…?”
“So you are not in… “ Gaara’s mouth twisted in distaste. “… financial problems.”
Shikamaru’s puzzlement had fled, and a look of quiet amusement twinkled in his eyes. The sand hissed Gaara’s irritation, and the look fled.
“Then… why are you here and not dining at a lodge?”
“Because I was invited?”
Gaara processed that, realising that it had been a willing invitation, not just a matter of keeping the envoy comfortable. And speaking of comfortable… Gaara twisted his neck to give Temari a blank look. “You invited him to eat your cooking?”
Temari cracked her knuckles, a gesture Gaara understood well enough. “What about my cooking, little brother?”
Gaara rather liked it when she was pissed off at him; it was a simple emotion he could understand and relate to. She was also one of the few people who ever showed her displeasure with him with such clarity. Gaara didn’t usually stop to think about it, but he did feel there had to be something awry in him loving that his sister got angry at him. It sounded incoherent, at the very least.
“What. About. My. Cooking. Gaara?” Temari punctuated, eyes turning colder by the second.
Shikamaru sighed and murmured something that might have been about Temari being troublesome, though Gaara couldn’t be sure. He gave Shikamaru a dark, murderous frown just in case it had been that. Shikamaru, for all his shinobi training, seemed to be only minutes away from oozing under the table; and - interestingly - not out of fear.
At least, not fear of him, Gaara realised, with an insight he didn’t know he possessed. This was about… about… Temari?
“Why did you invite him?” Gaara asked, turning back to his sister.
“Because I want to poison him with my horrible cooking,” she snapped back.
Gaara blinked, once, and turned to Shikamaru. “And this is not about any diplomatic issue?”
Kankuro made a noncommittal sound. “It might be, if he’s here for dinner with the family.”
Gaara digested that too. He went back over the conversation in his mind and tried to shut out the mad, raucous laughter that rang cruelly at the back of his mind. He reviewed the past few meetings and conversations, what had been said, and who had said what to whom… and… after the meetings, Kankuro usually reviewed the files with Gaara while Temari… and the envoy - always the same envoy - … hm….
Temari and this shinobi always talked before and after meetings. What if it wasn’t only political talk? What if they were friends? Temari wasn’t completely intolerable… she had Gaara to compete with after all. So maybe they were friends.
But one didn’t invite friends to have dinner with one’s family. That much, Gaara did know.
And Kankuro was still laughing. And he had said this might turn into a diplomatic issue, and that meant that…
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Kankuro mimicked, pouring himself another glass between guffaws.
Gaara gave Shikamaru the boldest stare he could under the circumstances and Shikamaru had the grace to pale. “So you want to… marry my sister?”
This time, Kankuro was choking.
“Did you HAVE to sound so incredulous?” Temari demanded.
“That was rather… unexpected.” Shikamaru commented faintly.
“Then you don’t want to marry my sister,” Gaara went on, unflinching.
A heavy silence descended; Gaara became alarmingly aware of the fixed quality in Temari’s stare, as if she were almost… afraid?
“I… didn’t say that,” Shikamaru groused, visibly irritated. The sand rustled in response and Shikamaru gave the gourd a nasty glare. Gaara found himself liking the man… somewhat.
Temari was still stiff as a board. “What did you say, then?”
Shikamaru’s expression was bland as milk. “That dinner would be fine?”
“Temari’s cooking isn’t exactly fine…” Kankuro snickered. For a moment, Gaara thought she would try to kill him.
Shikamaru merely shrugged and leaned his chin in one hand. “If it’s edible…”
Gaara watched Temari rake her nails over her fan. Shikamaru only smiled as if such a gesture were fond to him. Kankuro was still enjoying himself far too much for his own good, and Gaara hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of being rather out of the loop. Temari was muttering something markedly obscene at all of them, and the look of blind fury on her face was daunting indeed.
Shikamaru, however, seemed to find it rather amusing.
Well, Gaara surmised. Either he’s mad, or he must love her.
Not that Gaara really knew much about that topic, but it was the best explanation he could find.
Important families are like potatoes. The best parts are underground.
--- Francis Bacon
The End